After Hours

by Lynda Aicher

  Leave what, exactly?

  A slower rock song played over a sound system that intensified the bass and did an excellent job of blanking out a majority of the noise. Rooms were sectioned off throughout the space by a series of rods holding different-colored curtains. Some were completely black, one was boxed in red and another had plain white.

  The shadowed outline of a couple in the obvious act of sex showed through the white sheets. The guy was thrusting hard, head bowed, back arching with each jarring jerk into his partner.

  She sucked in a breath, both stunned and not. She’d assumed he was bringing her to a sex club, but she had zero knowledge of what it would be like. Books and movies didn’t compare to reality. Not even close.

  The guy behind the sheet reared back, grabbed his partner by the hips and flipped her onto her stomach. He hauled her bottom up and dipped to smother his face in her pussy.

  Oh my God. Avery watched, fascinated. The woman squirmed, head tossing, breasts jiggling, and Avery imagined what she was feeling. The wet heat on her pussy. The hard licks and lighter flutters over her clit.

  Her pussy clenched, want flaring without heed, just like in the Boardroom.

  A swipe of that damn shame washed over her despite her effort to reject it. There was nothing wrong with being turned on by what she watched. Nothing.

  Carson turned from the bouncer guarding the elevator and guided her into the space. She stuck to his side, scanning everything but holding on nothing. She refused to stare, even if she couldn’t define what that couple was doing along the wall behind the circle of watchers.

  “What is this place?” she asked softly when he’d drawn her to an alcove not far from the white sheet room. They had a front view now. The guy had returned to fucking his partner, each thrust rocking the woman forward.

  Avery leaned into Carson, needing to be close to him. His reassurance maybe. Definitely his security. She was safe with him, no matter where they were.

  “What does it look like?” He urged her around to stand in front of him, and she welcomed the familiarity of it. Her muscles relaxed, mind loosening as she settled against him. Every part of her screamed yes.

  She turned her face up to his, smile soft. “Like a sex club.”

  His brow twitched in time with the corner of his mouth. “Nothing gets past you.”

  She elbowed him lightly in the ribs, her laugh releasing a round of nerves. Where had this man come from? How was she even here with him?

  The couple behind the sheet finished on one last crushing thrust that forced the woman to her stomach. The man followed her down, his deep cry floating over the music to accent the climax.

  Avery sucked in a breath at the visceral show. Her abdomen contracted in time with her pussy, want blazing. She squirmed against Carson, at once uncomfortable and totally enthralled.

  “This is another option,” Carson explained, his breath warming her ear. His hands drifted over her abdomen, one rising higher to caress her ribs. “More autonomous in some ways, but less controlled.”

  Her eyelids lowered beneath the languid flow of lust and excess seeping into her. Maybe it was the wine she’d drank, and maybe it was simply the man behind her. Either way, it really didn’t matter. Not right then.

  “Do you know anyone here?” she asked. She scanned the faces she could see without registering details. She had no idea what she’d do if she actually recognized someone.

  “I know people who come here.” He ran his thumb under her breasts in a hard line that lifted each one and taunted her for his full touch. He slid his other hand over her hips, tugged her back.

  His erection nestled into the spot on her lower back, and she hummed at the rightness. Her pussy clenched in an almost Pavlovian response to the contact.

  A couple kissed on a couch. Another couple openly groped each other on the same couch. The displays were countered by the subtle unknowns. Moans drifted randomly through the room, indistinct yet pervasive. And beneath it all was the scent of sex and lust and want. Heated. Predatory. Naughty.

  She turned in Carson’s arms to draw his mouth to hers. Her moan rumbled through her chest at the first touch of his lips. They were hot, firm and oh-so perfect. She opened to let him claim her, and he did. With deep strokes of his tongue and the hard press of his demand.

  He tipped her back, and she simply held on. Her mind blanked, heart pounded. There was nothing besides Carson. And this wasn’t just sex. Not anymore. He’d said as much tonight.

  She could trust this crazy, spiraling feeling buzzing within her. Finally set it free with the hope she’d been feebly holding back.

  He wanted her. Only her.

  Her desire jumped from smoldering to inferno in one dizzying moment. She clamored to get closer to him, uncaring of where they were. The music held a solid beat that matched the slow grind of their hips. A teasing pace meant to entice, tempt, incite.

  She was vaguely aware that anyone could be watching them. Her neck prickled with expectation. What would they think? Would they be turned on? Think they’re hot?

  She stretched up and wrapped a leg around Carson’s hip, seeking the touch to her pussy she desperately needed. His growl flowed over their kiss as he cupped her thigh, lifting her leg higher.

  “Damn,” he rumbled against her jaw. “You’re so fucking hot.”

  She tipped her head back, neck stretched to receive his trail of nipping kisses down her throat. The sharp little bites stung for a blink before merging with the passion blazing beneath her skin. She sucked in air, lost to everything but his touch.

  He skimmed a hand up her leg with slow intent. It slid beneath her skirt to cup her ass in a firm grip, fingers spreading, searching. He froze, pulled back and she slowly lifted her head, a coy smile in place.

  His eyes were filled with lust, his smile a dark promise. He ran his fingers down the crack of her ass, stopping before he reached her pussy. He ran them back up, her whimper escaping as a low plea. “You’ve been keeping secrets.” He traced his fingers back down to coast the tips through her heat. Her lips parted on a silent gasp. Power and need collided within her as each finger dipped into her, only to slip back out before fully breaching her. “Do you have any idea what this does to me?”

  He circled her clit with his pinky, slow soft strokes that shot daggers of want through her core. She gripped his neck, hips jutting forward in a hunt for more. Harder. Anything.

  He drew her closer, lust purring in his voice. “I want to fuck you.” He thrust a finger into her, and she cried out, pussy clenching. “Right here.” He stroked her, hard long plunges that slid over her walls in another tease. She needed more. Something bigger. Firmer. More filling.

  She needed him. All of him.

  “Yes,” she pleaded. “Do it. Here.”

  Anyone could see them. Literally. She had no idea who was watching, who was even there. But there was an anonymity in that. In not knowing, despite the public setting. She never would’ve dared to be this wild, this uncaring before Carson.

  And she loved it. Wanted it.

  She scrambled at his belt, frantic with the desire coursing through her. He growled into her neck, fingers working her pussy. Her standing leg trembled, but he held her up.

  His belt slipped free, and she had the button freed, zipper lowered in the next beat. She gripped his dick, shoving his underwear down to stroke the velvet stiffness. God, yes. Need raced through every fiber, buzzed on her skin and tossed out every ounce of rationality.

  This was good. Right. Okay.

  She whimpered in protest when Carson yanked his hand from her pussy. He knocked her hand away from his dick, pushed her skirt aside and slid home before Avery could complain further. Oh...fuck. Her walls contracted, hugging him within her. Pleasure raced from her full pussy to wrap her in warmth. This. Yes. This.

  Just him. No barriers.

 
She should say something, remind him, yet the words wouldn’t form.

  He jerked her closer, hips rocking to fill her again and again. Music blanketed the room, but she heard only his rasping grunts in her ear. She clung to him, unable to do anything except take his dick. He held her one leg up and her other shook in a warning of potential collapse.

  Tension spun through her core, tightened, grew, spread.

  His fingers dug into her thigh in a possessive, desperate clutch. She loved that too. Loved all of it. Every crazy, frantic, gasping second of it.

  She loved him.

  Her heart burst open on that nugget of truth, her orgasm shattering on her next breath.

  Joy and amazement blasted through her on wave after wave of pleasure. She shuddered, face buried in his shoulder as she rode the sensations threatening to drop her.

  He grunted, thrust hard and growled his release into her neck. His hold bit into her thigh as he dipped her back and drove into her one last time.

  “Fuck.” His curse vibrated over her skin. “Fuck.” The second one was softer, less violent. His hold loosened in increments and he sagged back, drawing her with him as he leaned on the wall.

  She gasped for air, world spinning as she descended from her high. That was...

  Beyond description. Not perfect, even a bit awkward, but so out of this world. The daring alone had her buzzing with adrenaline.

  He let go of her leg, and it slid down. She was simply too tired to hold it up. His dick slid from her when her foot touched the ground. Her pussy clenched in an attempt to hold him in her when it was impossible to do so.

  He groaned, and she chuckled softly as a sticky wetness coated her inner thighs. The aftermath of sex was never graceful—especially without a condom.

  Their surroundings wove their way into her awareness on the familiar words of a song lyric and a rambunctious burst of laughter. She’d just had full-on sex in public. Yes, it was a club meant for it, but it was still public. She waited for the trace of shame or embarrassment, but none came.

  She stepped back just far enough for him to tuck himself away. She smoothed her skirt down, distinctly aware of the line of liquid easing its way down her inner thigh.

  She squeezed her eyes closed, heart hitching, before she lifted her head to look at Carson. “We forgot the condom.”

  * * *

  The condom. Fuck.

  “I know.” Carson winced. “I’m sorry.” He cleared the rasp from his throat and tried to clear his head. “I don’t know how that happened.”

  He never went without a condom. Never. Not even in the heat of passion—until Avery.

  “It’s okay. I could’ve said something.” She stepped closer to smooth a hand down his chest. “I have an IUD.”

  A small sigh of relief eased through his chest at her reminder. He’d known that detail about her, from the medical information she’d submitted for the Boardroom. But that didn’t excuse his carelessness, no matter how fucking good she’d felt.

  She straightened his collar, focused on her task. Her lipstick was mostly gone, and he damned the darkness for hiding the flush of her skin and the lingering heat from her orgasm.

  She was waiting for him to respond, and he was fumbling the pass.

  He grabbed her hands, halting her fiddling. Her head jerked up, those expressive eyes of hers showing every fear and desire.

  He tipped her chin up and kissed her lips. His own were tender, his dick limp in his pants, yet he wanted to dive right back in for more.

  “I should’ve stopped,” he told her. “I’m sorry. But I won’t give you anything. I swear.”

  Her lips quirked, a smile itching to break free. “Like a puppy? Or fleas?”

  He groaned at her joke, hauling her in for a hug. He buried his nose in her hair, eyes squeezed closed against the happy flutter around his heart. “You are not funny,” he told her around his amusement.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled into his neck. “But I have come sliding down my leg and you get to tuck everything away.”

  He snorted into her hair and hugged her tighter. “For your information, I have come plastered to my dick and groin, which is probably going to dry into a sticky glue in my pubes before I get home.” Her giggle tickled his neck but he didn’t move away. God, he didn’t want to let her go.

  “I’m good too,” she said, a laugh still in her voice. “No fleas, bugs, ticks or puppies to share.”

  He swatted her bottom, gaining a squeak from her. “The bathroom is down that hall,” he said as he loosened his arms. “You can clean up in there before we go.”

  “Thank you.” She shoved a hand through her hair and straightened her blouse.

  He smiled at her attempts at modesty in the midst of a sex club—after they’d just fucked against the wall. That dichotomy was so her.

  He traced his fingers down her hairline, tucking strands behind her ear. He kissed her again, still awed at the passion he’d discovered beneath that conservative shell of hers.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said before moving away. He tracked her progress down the hallway. Her skirt swayed with each step in a tempting reminder of the secret hidden beneath.

  His heart did another of those flighty fluttery things that warned of emotions he wasn’t ready to claim. How could he trust it—this? Would it last?

  He adjusted himself and contemplated a quick trip to the restroom. They had supplies stocked in there and around the room.

  How had he forgotten the condom—even for a moment? Fuck. There was a bowl of them on the table not more than five feet from them. But damn, it’d been amazing. That hot, wet heat had gripped him so tightly he’d almost come when he’d entered her.

  And he’d known, in that instant, that he was bare.

  It hadn’t mattered to him then. Not even slightly.

  He hung his head, another wave of shame washing over him. He’d been all in at that moment. No panic attacks. No oh-fucks at the undiscussed relationship leap.

  Or the potential of a fucking baby—even if it was remote.

  He’d never been that reckless, not even when he’d been a teenager. His dad had hammered home the importance of protection, as had his mother. It didn’t take a mathematician to count the six months from their anniversary to his brother’s birthday.

  “Hey,” Avery said at his side. She touched his arm and he lifted his head. “Are you okay?” Concern pulled on her brow as she rubbed his arm.

  “Yeah.” He threaded his fingers with hers, drew her in. “I’m good.” He swallowed her response, diving in to taste her again. To find the sweetness and passion. To drive out the emotions racing free in his chest.

  Because he had never contemplated having a kid with anyone and now he couldn’t shake the idea of having one with Avery.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The scent of freshly cut onions and green peppers teased Carson’s nose as he sprinkled the diced vegetables over the egg mixture. He covered the frying pan, slid two pieces of bread into the toaster and took a hit of his coffee before turning back to the omelet.

  He lifted and maneuvered the runny eggs to the underside, then layered fresh spinach leaves over the top. It’d been forever since he’d taken the time to cook a big breakfast, but his stomach was growling in anticipation.

  “Wow,” Avery said as she stepped into the room. “You really do know how to cook.” She rubbed her eyes, yawned. Her smile held that lazy morning softness as she shoved her hair away from her face, which was still rosy from sleep. She wore his gray T-shirt again, the one he’d left out for her this time. His dick twitched at the thought of her naked beneath it.

  He’d intended to put some distance between them after that night at the private club, only to wake up the next morning thinking about her. Having dreamed about her.

  Wanting her even more.

 
Which had led to coffee that night after work, and their date last night, along with a few dozen texts in between.

  “I’m not promising anything,” he told her, refocusing on his task before he burnt everything. The shirt was hers now, really. He’d never be able to wear it without thinking of her. The microwave beeped, and he opened it to take the bacon out.

  She inhaled. “It smells wonderful.”

  “If nothing else, we’ll have bacon and toast.” He added the pieces to the ones he’d already cooked and turned back to sprinkle cheese on the omelet. “It’s almost ready.” He motioned to the pods lined up by the coffee pot. “I bought some new flavors.” He flipped the omelet in half, success blazing when it didn’t fall apart.

  Her arms snaked around his waist, and he stilled, a sense of peace weaving through him. She laid her head between his shoulder blades, and he absorbed the sensation of having her pressed to him.

  It was simple, nice and way more intimate than a lot of the sex he’d participated in.

  “Thank you.” Her breath warmed him through the silky material of his athletic shirt. A wave of goose bumps chased the heat, and that crazy fluttering kicked up in his chest. “But you didn’t have to.”

  “I know.” He turned the burner off, used the spatula to cut the omelet and then slid each half onto a plate. “I wanted to.” She moved with him, swaying with his little shifts as he finished.

  “How come?” She pressed a kiss to his back, then stepped away to read the labels on the coffee pods.

  He frowned, distracted. “How come what?”

  “How come you wanted to cook?” She plopped a pod in the reservoir and closed the lid. Her smile held nothing but curiosity when she glanced at him.

  He waited for the coffee machine to finish its preparatory grind and chug before answering. “Because I haven’t in a long time.” Not for someone else.

  “No?” She quirked a brow at him. “Well, for the record, you can cook for me anytime you want.” She took her mug and sat down on the bar stool on the other side of the kitchen island. Her smile grew after her first sip of coffee. Not quite orgasmic, but definitely satisfied.