“I want to punch him.” Turning to Meg, he pressed his forehead against hers. “Why on earth were you meeting with Gavin Aronson? He’s an absolute prick.”
“You didn’t have to get in the middle of that.” Meg lifted her chin with pride, though John noticed it was quivering. “I was handling it just fine.”
“Handling it by letting him drool over your boobs?” He held up a hand when Meg’s eyes flashed blue fire. “I’m not saying you should have dressed differently. You can wear whatever the hell you want. But why didn’t you tell him to get his eyes back in his head?”
“Uh, because then I wouldn’t have gotten a chance at the contract?” The look she cast him was incredulous. “It’s not like he touched me.”
“He did! He brushed your breast!” John scrubbed a hand over his face, frustrated. “He was testing the waters this time. Next time, maybe he’ll grab your ass. You don’t know!”
“I know. Every woman knows far better than you do.” Meg slapped a hand on his chest, warning him to shut up. “Look, I want my business to survive. To thrive. I have goals. Dreams. A contract with Hyde Park Entertainment would be huge. Huge. So, if I have to let an old white man ogle my tits, I’m going to do it. It’s not fair, not at all, but my hands are tied.”
John felt his mouth fall open. She believed it—she believed that to get this deal, she had to let Aronson get handsy.
“Look, it’s embarrassing enough that he wasn’t listening to me until you showed up.” He opened his mouth to reply, but she just shook her head wearily. “I don’t know why he wanted a meeting in the first place. He must have seen me at an event and thought he’d get more bang for his buck with a female caterer that he could strip naked in his head. Or maybe he just saw an opportunity to be the big man. Whatever. I want that contract, okay? And I don’t need your judgment about it.”
“That...sucks.” John finally found his voice. “You’re good at what you do.”
“How do you know that?” Shaking her head as though shaking off the encounter with Aronson, she arched an eyebrow at him. He was instantly locked into her gaze. In the background, he heard the front door slam open again, the cacophony of multiple voices, but his focus was on Meg.
“Because you’re good at everything you put your mind to.” Placing a single finger against her lips, he trailed it down, through the hollow of her collarbone and into the valley between her breasts. She sucked in a sharp little breath, and his cock swelled to half-mast. “I liked that little noise. Will you make it again when I’m inside you?”
“Only one way to find out.” Her smile was a challenge, cast over her shoulder as she placed space between them, just before Beth, Ford, Amy and Mamesie entered the kitchen.
She lowered her voice to a pitch only he could hear. “I’m going to our storage room. Watch where I go, wait two minutes and follow me.”
“You’re topping from the bottom,” he informed her, unable to hold back a grin when she simply flipped her long waves over her shoulder.
“You love it.” And then she was on the move. He watched her hips sway, that scarlet skirt swishing around her creamy thighs as she walked away. He tracked her progress to a door on the far side of the kitchen and started counting.
He only made it to sixty.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WHEN GAVIN ARONSON exited her kitchen in his stupid, too-tight T-shirt, it took all of Meg’s self-control not to throw tomatoes at his back. She hadn’t expected anything different from him, not really, but there was always that spark of hope that a man might treat a woman as his equal, just for the hell of it.
She hadn’t wanted John to intervene, and yet watching him prove his point with Gavin with a few well-placed words was... Well, it was hot. Here, here was a man she didn’t have to prove a damn thing to. Hell, she’d already admitted her kinkiest yearnings to him, and there was no judgment. There was encouragement.
With John, she could be who she was and want what she wanted. The freedom of that was the most arousing thing she’d ever experienced.
The storage room was also the rear entrance to the building, an unfinished, cavernous concrete space. She was ready, the empty space between her thighs aching as she perched on the edge of a shipping crate.
She’d told John to follow in two minutes, and it already felt like twenty. They wouldn’t have much time.
She was going to get a head start.
Hiking up the skirt of her little red dress—this one a Victoria Beckham—she hooked her fingers in the sides of her matching red silk bikini briefs. Working them down her thighs, she stepped out of them, then slid her hand between her legs.
“God.” She slid a finger inside—she was already wet, just from wanting John. She gasped when the door she’d just passed through opened, the threat of discovery heightening her senses, even though she knew it was John.
“Don’t you dare.” Striding forward quickly, he caught her wrist and tugged her hand from between her legs. “Don’t you dare.”
“I couldn’t wait.” Her words were breathless.
“You made me wait to see you. Don’t you dare cheat me out of one of your orgasms.” Eyes boring into her own, he slowly lifted the hand that had been so busy. Sliding her finger into his mouth, he sucked, and she went weak in the knees, knowing that he was tasting her.
“What’s behind this building?” With his free hand, he gestured to the garage doors; with the hand that still held her, he tugged her against his chest.
“A... An office building.” Her arousal skyrocketed when she saw the hint of a smile that curved his lips.
“Open one of the doors.”
She didn’t think about whether or not to obey; she was moving before she’d consciously absorbed what he’d said. Pressing one of the buttons mounted on the wall by the door they’d both passed through, she returned to him, anticipation making her limbs heavy.
She knew suave John, the businessman, and she knew sexy John, the man she’d given her body to. But as she looked at him in the dim light, she saw the absolute certainty he held that she would obey him...
This John was one hundred percent in control. Dominant. She hadn’t met this John before...but she liked him.
“See those windows in that office building? The first-and second-floor ones?” He smiled darkly when she nodded, her throat dry. “If we can see them, that means that they can see us if they only look hard enough.”
As he spoke, he cupped her right breast in his palm, as if testing the weight. She gasped when, without warning, he tugged the neckline of her dress down, and her bra with it, exposing her breasts. Her nipples tightened in the cool air, and she arched into his touch greedily.
“I don’t care if people see us.” She pressed against him, desperate for something. “I’m okay with it.”
“Oh, Meg.” Dipping his head, he kissed her, taking her deep from the moment their mouths pressed together. His tongue swept along the seam of her lips, demanding entrance. She opened, and he swept inside, exploring and tasting and making her his own.
She whimpered when he pulled away, but he didn’t go far. With his mouth still so close that his breath misted warm on her skin, he whispered the words that made her lose control.
“Unless you tell me to stop, it doesn’t matter if you’re okay with it. You’ll do what I tell you to, because you trust me to give you what you need.”
“God.” She shuddered, a sudden wild thing trying to get closer to him, closer to what he promised. “Please.”
“I’m not God.” He smiled again, that sinful curve that seemed to belong to this dominant John alone. “But I’m going to make you think you’ve died and gone to heaven.”
“I don’t know what—” He cut off her words by placing a finger on her lips.
“You don’t have to think about anything. Don’t have to worry about anything other than doing what I tell
you.” With sure hands, he turned her in the circle of his arms until she faced away from him. “Right now, all you have to do is feel. Give yourself to me, and trust that I’ll catch you when you fall. Or better yet, when you fly.”
Placing a hand flat on her back, he bent her over the crate she’d been perched on when he’d joined her. Hand over hand, he placed her palms flat on the wood.
“Don’t move.” She felt him crouch, then startled at his touch when he placed a hand on the inside of her ankle. He trailed something silky up, up to the curves of her leg to her inner thigh, and she gasped when his finger, just the edge of it, brushed her clit.
“These are pretty panties.” He continued up, trailing them through the cleft of her behind, over the nape of her neck, around to her cheekbone. “Since you couldn’t wait to take them off, I’m just going to keep them. Going to tuck them right into my pocket here, so that when we go back out there, when you feel naked under that sexy little skirt of yours, you’ll look at me and know that at any minute, I can run my fingers over this and feel just how wet you got at the thought of me.”
Her mouth opened to reply, but all she could manage was a gasp. Then he was crouching behind her again, but this time it was his hand on her skin. He cupped her left ankle, then painted a ribbon up to her center. This time he slid a finger right inside her, stopping when she clenched around him.
“That’s my girl.” Pulling out slowly, he thrust his finger back in, and her palms slid on the crate. The scent of pine filled her nose as she pushed back against him, desperate for more. “You’re so tight. Swollen and wet, waiting for my cock.”
“Please.” Her voice was a scratchy whisper. “John, please!”
Behind her, he rose to his feet, brushing against her with every movement. The weave of cotton, the knit of wool, the cool hardness of his belt buckle awoke her nerves, her skin hot and sensitive to the touch.
“Well, since you said please.” She heard the metallic clink as he undid his belt. Her arousal skittered to a higher plane at the rasp of his zipper lowering, and again at the soft sound of his pants being lowered to his hips. The crinkle of the foil as he opened a condom, and his subtle exhalation as he sheathed himself.
She jumped when he pressed the head of his erection to her waiting heat, arching her back as he thrust his hips against hers.
Pressing himself against her, their bodies melting together, he gave one more small thrust, but this time, instead of a tease, it was a promise. He leaned forward, which forced her to do the same, then brushed his lips over the shell of her ear.
“Hold on.”
She couldn’t stifle the soft cry when he entered her, one rough thrust bringing him home. Instinctively, she rose to her toes to ease the ache from the onslaught of sensation, but with his body cradling her own, she couldn’t move away. She whimpered, rocking her hips against the fullness.
His breath was hot on her ear as he pulled back, just an inch, then moved forward again. This time her body gave way, melting around him, and she made a sound that was very close to a growl as he stilled, hips flush with the curves of her ass.
His hands found her own for a moment, pressing them down into the rough wood, a reminder of his words. Hold on.
He tangled their fingers together for the next slow, hard thrust. His hands moved up her arms and over to cup her breasts as he continued to move. Finding her nipples, he pinched them tightly in his long fingers, rolling and rubbing with slightly more pressure than was comfortable.
She wouldn’t have dreamed of asking him to stop. The firm thrusts with little foreplay, his demanding fingers, the fact that she couldn’t move with his body pressed over hers—she had no choice but to do what he’d told her to.
She had to stop thinking. She had to give herself to him and trust that he’d take her where she needed to go.
She didn’t realize she was crying out, over and over again, a little louder with each thrust, until he nipped at her earlobe with a whispered reminder.
“Careful, kitten.” Hauling her back against him, filling her just the tiniest bit more, his laugh in her ear was dark and without mercy. “If you scream, people are going to hear you. They’re going to be curious. They’re going to come looking, and guess what they’re going to find?”
She moaned, grinding down on him. More, she wanted more. She wanted whatever he would give her.
“They’ll find you bent over a shipping crate, full of my cock.” His words were smug, and why wouldn’t they be? At that moment, he was her entire world. “They’ll see your perfect tits bouncing in my hands, your gorgeous ass bare while I make you cry out for more.”
“John...” Her voice didn’t even sound like her own—who was this needy, begging creature who cared about nothing but the tide rising inside her? “Please. Please!”
“Speaking of that gorgeous ass...” Pulling out abruptly, he ran his swollen cock through the cleft that divided her buttocks. “I told you I want you to give yourself to me. That I want every part of you. And I do mean every part.”
He pressed the head of his erection against the tight little pucker, not hard enough to enter, but with enough pressure to awaken nerve endings she didn’t even know she had. And then he returned to his work in her slick channel, increasing his pace until her gasped breaths sounded with every thrust of his hips.
Her thighs shook, her knees buckled, and if the crate weren’t there, she would have collapsed. She arched her back, fingers digging into the wood of the crate, body writhing as she strained toward everything he’d promised her in that dark, sinful voice.
“I’m the only one who can do this to you. The only one you need.” His hands worked the tips of her breasts, and she knew she was going to feel that touch for days. “And I’m going to make sure that you need it, that you need me, forever.”
What? Was he saying... But then he released the pressure on her breasts and she couldn’t remember what she’d wondered. Blood rushed back into the nipples he’d so relentlessly teased, and they were on fire from the sudden onslaught of sensation, and the fire traveled, licking over her skin, sinking into it, joining the burn in her core until she succumbed and went up in flames.
Through the roaring in her ears, she heard his own guttural groan, felt him pulse inside her as he pulled her back against him, on him, rough hands driving her flames higher when she thought they would burn themselves out. Grabbing her hips, he surged again once, twice, three times, then stilled, filling her to the point that she didn’t know where he ended and she began.
“Holy hell, Meg.” His thumbs rubbed circles over her hip bones. “That was... I’ve never felt anything like that. Never.”
The words were rain and she hadn’t had water in days. She sucked them up greedily and wanted more.
He might be a playboy. He might be leaving. But he couldn’t fake the wonder in his voice right now.
She was the one who made him feel that way. It was her body, her submission, that had brought him to his knees.
Her submission... As she slowly came back down to earth, she realized that she was splayed over a packing crate, the garage door open, her ass in the air and John between her thighs. No matter how good that had been, her neighbors could have seen... Her family could walk in...
Panic started to trickle in, and she stiffened in John’s arms, the way she’d done after the first time they’d had sex. What was she doing? How could she get pissed at him for butting in on her meeting with Gavin Aronson and then give herself to John so shamelessly?
“I can hear those wheels starting to turn.” One of the hands on her hips moved up to her waist and squeezed reassuringly. “Remember what we talked about? It’s okay to want to be taken care of. It’s okay to like it. It’s your decision. You hold the cards, always.”
And since he had a direct line to her body, she felt her muscles relax at his words. She pressed back against him for a
moment to show her gratitude.
She could let herself go, let herself want what she wanted here and now, because John created a safe space. But what would she do when he was gone?
When he pressed his forehead to the space between her shoulder blades, the panic was back, but it was a different kind.
John took the utmost care of her body. But what about her heart?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“HOW DO I LOOK?” Meg asked as she smoothed her hand down the length of her sexy dress and worked for some semblance of control.
John stood there for a moment, his eyes glued to the woman who was crashing through his well-constructed barriers without even trying. Her face was flushed, and her hair a tumbled mess. She looked like a woman who’d just been fucked, and he felt prouder than he should have at knowing that he was the one who’d made her look that way.
“You look like you just had the best sex of your life,” he said honestly, smirking. But the panic, and something else, something he couldn’t quite identify that flashed in her blue eyes, burst the satisfaction welling up inside him, leaving the air to escape his lungs like the hiss of a slow-deflating balloon.
“My family is out there,” she said, her breath shaky. “And the last thing I want is for them to know what the two of us have been doing in this storage room.”
Those words shouldn’t have pricked his flesh like a thousand angry hornets—he didn’t want them to—but damned if they didn’t sting, and there was not a goddamn thing he could do about it.
And I’m going to make sure that you need it, that you need me, forever.
He said a lot of words during sex. Made many commands, but never, ever in his life had he talked about the future. He didn’t make promises, because he knew that they would be empty.
But the fact remained that he’d said them. Were they words just spoken in the heat of the moment, or had they meant more...much more?
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