by Finn, Emilia
“I gotcha.” Stopping at the back of the building beside a set of metal stairs, instead of going up, he carries me to a different door and drops me to my feet. His hat brushes against my skin; his teeth nip my throat; his lips have yet to touch mine, but from his pocket, he pulls out a set of keys and unlocks the garage until we crash into the dark space and slam the door behind us.
Kissing my neck and shoulder and dropping my handbag by the door, he crushes me against the wall with rough shoves so that each time the oxygen is torn from my lungs, he swallows it down and grins as though he just won another round. “I’ve wanted you for the longest time, Katrina.” He bites my neck until my body bows and a gasp tears along my throat. “I’ve watched you for more than a year, hoped you’d see me, hoped you’d want me, too.”
“I wanted you.” I knock his hat to the floor when it annoys me, then I take my own pleasure when I latch my teeth onto his skin and taste man and sweat. “I wanted you to fuck me for the longest time. I wanted you to follow me to the storage room and fuck me until I cried for you to stop.”
He lifts me with a groan and slams his hardened cock against my core. “So much pride.” He nips at my jaw. “We wanted the same thing, but your pride kept you from saying the words out loud.”
“I can’t do it.” My breath comes heavily, my heart pounds as he carries me further into the dark garage. The only light comes from the skylights above and the moon shining through. A soda machine sits in one corner and casts a red and white glow over the space in front of it, and a blue light shines from the office, a computer screen left on but the computer turned off. “I can’t admit I want something. I don’t have that luxury in my life.”
“You do tonight.” Finally, his lips slam against mine and steal my breath. “For the next forty minutes, you get to ask for anything you want, and I promise I won’t hold it against you. I won’t ever bring it up again, except when I thank you for my free cookies.”
My giggle turns to a groan when he sets me on the hood of a car and unsnaps my jeans. Forty minutes is all we have, so he skips romance and goes straight to tearing my jeans down my legs until they catch on my sneakers and tangle my legs.
But he doesn’t free me.
“Let’s keep those there,” he whispers. “It’s my small slice of control. And I know with you, I gotta take my control where I can.”
He leans back with a twitching lip as he studies my cotton underwear, tempting me to cover up, tempting me to be embarrassed for my not-sexy lingerie, but then he pulls his shirt over his head and reveals a chest full of ink: a stormy sea, clouds, birds, shading, then a name. Gemma. Reality encroaches on my fog and leaves me with a frown, but then he turns just a little more and reveals a ribcage filled with fire, with Latin script, with a sinking ship, and a sea serpent swallowing it all up. His ink spreads from hip bone to shoulder, down his left arm and up the side of his neck with another woman’s name. Callie. Red lights flash in my brain and warn me this is a terrible idea, but then he tugs my underwear aside and slides his fingers in.
I throw my head back with a cry and flop onto the hood of the car until I’m nothing but a blob of nerves and overwhelmed sensations. I open my legs as far as my jeans allow, lift my hips when I want more, then my first orgasm races me to the edge, flings itself forward, and wrings my body dry while Eric stands over me with one hand occupied with my pussy, the other rubbing his cock through his jeans, and an arrogant smirk twisting his features until I simultaneously want to fuck him and smack him for his smugness.
“One down. Not done yet.” Before my body has a chance to stop twitching, he starts moving again, adding another finger and stretching me wider, then he unsnaps his jeans and pulls his hardened cock out. Stroking himself, he pumps hard and times his hands so he works us both to the same rhythm.
“Oh, God.” My hips jerk and chase another release. “I’m making a mess.”
His chuckle is desperate and crackling. “I live for this kinda mess, babe.” He grunts and tightens his hand around his cock. Pre-cum beads on the end, dribbles over the side, and lands on my thigh. “I’m making a mess too. See what you do to me?” His voice is gritty and tempered with grunts. “This ain’t the first time I’ve pulled my dick and thought of you. You’re lucky I promised to get you off before I took mine, because I’m tempted to let you taste.”
Pushing me back with a rough shove, Eric hugs my thighs and buries his face against my pussy until I scream and bite my fist to keep the noise down. Suckling on my clit, then pushing his tongue inside, Eric does something for me that no man has ever done before.
Selfish men don’t do this for women. Selfish men don’t give a damn if I come first… or at all.
Part of me is embarrassed that Eric’s face is so close to my privates, but the other part of me, the more dominant and sensible side acknowledges I’ve never felt anything this intoxicating before in my life, so I ride the wave of pleasure. I don’t overthink the fact we’re practically strangers, and when he leans back to slide a finger in, I explode and try to ignore the gushing my release triggers.
“So perfect,” he groans. His fingers continue moving and triggering explosion after explosion. My body is a live wire, and Eric laps up everything I give, suckles on my clit and restarts my release, then laps me up some more. “So tasty, Katrina. I’ve wondered.”
My body turns too sensitive, so when he dives back in for more, I skitter along the hood and try to escape his reach, only to come to a sharp stop when he grabs my ankles and yanks me back down until his cock touches my fiery core and I slam my head back with pleasure.
“We’ll count that as just one.” His voice is arrogant, smug, just like his smile. “So now we’re two for two, and I still didn’t come.”
“I don’t want more,” I whimper. “I can’t do more.”
“Yes, you can.” Digging his wallet out of his back pocket, he takes a foil packet from inside and tears the package open. “One more, beautiful. Just one, then I’ll drive you home and have you tucked into bed before our forty minutes are up.”
My chest lifts and falls erratically. My breath whistles through my lungs, and my throat is bone dry because all of my energy is directed further south. “Eric…”
“Katrina.” He fixes his condom and stares into my eyes, flashing an arrogant smirk when he’s done and the rubber is in place. Grabbing my legs again, he yanks me closer so my skin makes the dragging noise against the steel frame of the car, then he looks down and fists his cock, lines himself up, and pushes in until he stretches me wide and draws a pained cry from my throat.
He doesn’t slow for me. He doesn’t wait for me to adjust or ask if I’m okay. At thirty years old, he couldn’t know that he’s essentially working with a born-again virgin. He probably assumes I take my fun most weekends and that it hasn’t been years since I was last touched, so he throws his head back on a powerful roar, bruises my legs with his strong hands, and pumps so hard that the car rocks beneath us and his balls slap against my skin.
Pain turns to pleasure; the slick between us makes it easy for him to move, and before I can catch my breath, he lifts my bottom half off the hood, holds me up so he can straighten his back, then he keeps pushing in until my next orgasm races through my blood like wildfire.
“So fuckin’ tight,” he grunts. “So hot and tight.”
“Eric…” My word is just a whimper, a plea for mercy under his pleasurable assault. I can’t take more; I can’t come without falling into a thousand pieces, but he remains merciless, pushing until I stand on the edge of a cliff. Then he tosses me over so my orgasm tears me apart, brings tears to my eyes and pressure in my brain when I hold my breath for a minute too long.
My pussy clamps down on his dick until he’s brought to a standstill, my release washing between us and dripping onto the hood of the car. Then he uses his impressive strength to move me again as he grits his teeth, seesaws against my body, and takes his own on a groaned “three.”
* * *
&
nbsp; My hands shake the next morning as I walk through the diner with my head bowed low, my hair a little messy since I slept past my alarm, and my heart slamming inside my chest. Stopping by his table, I very carefully place a plate down beside the newspaper he’s pretending to read.
Three cookies stand in a tall pile, and somehow, my dignity remains intact.
Smiling just like he did last night, Eric winks, picks up a cookie, and takes a fast bite. “Thanks.”
I turn away and prepare to dash. “Welcome.”
13
Eric
Watching her work before last night, watching her ass sway in her jeans, watching her smile for Ray or nag at Mac—it was all good and fun. It was entertaining, dream-inducing, and enough to make me smile every single day while I sipped my coffee and daydreamed about fucking her. But watching her work after last night: heaven. I know what she’s got under that tight top. I know what that denim hugs, and what her hair smells like when I have my face buried against her neck. I know what her pussy tastes like, and best of all, I know she wants me too.
Fucking her was supposed to be a release of energy and tension in the same way working out lets off a little steam, but I’ve never smiled so much after a workout before in my life. It should scare me to my core, but I’m still cruising around in the clouds and can’t find it in my heart to regret last night. Yet.
Twenty minutes after leaving the diner with a belly full of cookies and a silent goodbye with a blushing Katrina, I walk into my office and make my way past Dolly with a grin, past the boardroom occupied by Soph as she speaks with a client who’d like a little cyber payback, and stop in the main office where the rest of my colleagues and friends commune each day when they’re not actively working or doing anything productive.
Angelo sits on a roller chair with his elbows on his knees, his hands steepled, and his pointer fingers pressed to his lips. He’s in thinking mode, while Jay sits at a desk and plays on the computer, snickers like a child, then continues doing whatever he’s doing.
“Morning.” I have a skip to my step, a weird flutter in my stomach, and a grin I just can’t tamp down, no matter how many times I tell myself to cool my shit. She’s just a girl, a fun time, a delicious snack I’d like a little more of.
“Morning.” Jay wears a grin similar to mine, but his eyes stay on his work. “You’re running a little late this morning, Cap.”
“I don’t clock in with you.” I move past and flop down at the desk beside his. I’m both energized and exhausted. Pumped with adrenaline, but dragged down with what ifs. I fulfilled a fantasy last night until I could barely stand anymore, tasted Katrina on my tongue just like I’ve dreamed about for the longest time, had my cock wrapped in her amazing warmth, and when I took her home, was rewarded with a kiss at the door that hinted at a second round the very next time we have a moment in private.
But when I got home again, I lay awake in bed until four this morning as my mind fucked me over and images flashed in my head. Katrina. Gemma. Callie. Katrina. Gemma. Callie. And then, just because I wasn’t done hurting myself, a new face was added. Katrina. Gemma. Callie. Mac.
I tried my hardest to push the others out, to live in the now and enjoy what I finally got with Katrina, but inevitably, I turned over in bed and was faced with framed photographs of Gemma’s smiling face looking back at me. Her smile sent a bolt of guilt slicing through my heart.
The day that photograph was taken was warm, but perfect. It was a cliché spring day; birds sang in the breeze and trees swayed against a perfect blue backdrop. It was date day because Gemma and I went out of our way to make sure marriage wouldn’t kill the way we romanced each other. Every Saturday we were both off work, we dated each other and remembered why we made the promises we did.
It’s all gone now, and instead, I lay in bed thinking about the fact I’d just finished fucking someone else.
I was enjoying someone else.
I was worshipping someone else.
“You get in late last night, Cap?” Jay swivels on his chair, grins and allows mischievousness to shine in his eyes. “You look beat is all I’m saying.”
“Yeah, personal business.” I frown as my memories ruin my good mood. “What have we got today? What jobs are on the list?”
“Kane and Jess just went to their scan.” Spence walks into the office and sets down an arsenal of weapons as he fixes the thigh holster he’s been bitching about for weeks. “Literally just drove off.” He grunts as he fixes the buckle on his leg. “Next time we see them, shit’s gonna be a little realer for them.”
“It’s weird Jessie’s gonna have a baby,” Ang murmurs. “I swear we were just kids the other day.”
“She doesn’t look like a kid to me,” Spence adds with a filthy smirk. “Sexy as sin, and I ain’t afraid to admit it, since Bish ain’t here.”
“Motherfucker. I’m here!” Ang turns in his seat and pins our friend with a glare. “I’m in love with her identical twin sister.”
“Laine’s sexy too,” he adds casually. “I watched you guys down at the range. Kept the footage where it was just her, added it to my spank bank.”
“Spencer!” Ang shoots to his feet and reaches to the back of his jeans. “Kane isn’t the guy you gotta be worried about.”
“Children.” Jay tuts and continues working his computer. “Can you rein your shit in? We’ve got work to do.”
“What work?” I repeat. “What are we working on today?”
“Break-ins,” he mumbles. He tap, tap, taps at his keyboard, reaches for a TV remote tossed haphazardly on my desk, then points it at the flat screen on the wall and brings up twenty squares of footage. “Alesi Auto was broken into last night.” He bites his lip and zooms in on one particular square. Every man in this office gets a high definition view of me carrying Katrina around the side of the building and through the door. “Oh wait.” He cackles. “I think we solved this one already.”
I dive over my desk with a roar until Jay and I crash to the ground and his roller chair pings off the wall. We battle for control of the remote. I’m in it till the death if that’s what it takes to save Katrina’s dignity, but my opponent only laughs, rolls around and hides his ribs as though my jabs tickle, then escapes when Spence pulls me back with a deep chuckle.
“You gotta cool it, Cap. It’s not like we didn’t all get the alert last night.”
“What?” My breath races as I search each set of eyes. “Last night?”
“Katrina was trying to open the slip doors,” Ang chuckles. “The second she tried, alerts went out. I was putting my shoes on to come let her in, seein’ as I knew why she was there.”
“But then her knight in shining armor rounded the corner and started humping her leg,” Spence adds. “Figured you had it under control from that point.”
“You better have fucked on her car and nobody else’s,” Ang smarts. “We’re glad you got laid, so we aren’t judging, but if I find her panties stuck on Art Montgomery’s windshield when he trusted me to take care of his Cadillac, I might get a little pissed.”
“You gotta delete that footage. Now.” I climb to my feet and slam Jay out of the way. Head wounds be damned, I’ll slam him with a baseball bat until he stops giggling at Katrina’s expense. “Delete it, and never tell her you got it.”
“Relax.” Spence pushes Jay back when he laughingly tries to come closer. “Feed inside the garage was switched off the second you unlocked that door. We don’t care about your ass being on video, but we figured Katrina would die if she was filmed and found out. It breaches some privacy rights, I think.”
“No footage?”
“Nothing,” Jay giggles. Giggles! “We see you taking her through the door, then nothing. It’s like the worst porn ever.”
“You don’t see me and her… You see nothing?”
“Nothing,” Ang confirms. “Relax, she’s free and clear. You’re lucky I trust you, because nobody has ever let themselves into my garage before without my permission. Now
there’s gonna be sex germs everywhere.”
“You mean, sex germs separate from your own?” Spence asks with a chuckle. “I know you fuck that pretty girl against the hoist. You’re a sick motherfucker, Riggs, so I know you make shit kinky for her.”
“You don’t get to ask about that shit.” Ang points in Spence’s face and doesn’t back down when seven feet of muscle and death steps up. “You better mind your manners around her, Spence. You tease Jess, and it’s cool because she’s got the sass to back it up. You tease Soph, and that’s okay, because she’ll slit your throat if you take it too far.”
“Yeah I will.” Stopping at the boardroom door and folding her arms, Soph watches us with a smile as her client walks toward reception. “I’m not a sissy, and I don’t mind getting blood on my hands.”
“Love you, Sugar Plum.” Forgetting me, Jay walks across the room and takes his girl in for a long kiss. “Your badassery is most of the reason I love you.”
“Most? Asshole, my beauty and wit are why you love me.”
“You’re a package deal.” He slides his tongue into her mouth and makes the rest of us turn away.
“Katrina’s free and clear,” Ang repeats. “We saw nothing but you taking her through the door. I saw you leave again and lock up.”
“Thirty-four minutes,” Spence chuckles. “Reasonable amount of time. Could’ve done better, but you definitely could’ve done worse. She was smiling, so…”
“You fuckers sat and waited for us to come back out?”
Ang shakes his head, but Spence nods his like a bobble head toy. “I totally waited. Thirty-four minutes was a long time for me to watch a door, but my imagination got me through it.”
I turn away before I’m tempted to hit a guy bigger than me. We’re friends, brothers, even, but if I start hitting, he’ll retaliate, and I don’t feel like adding a broken face to my healing shoulder. I’m man enough to admit who would win that fight, and there’s no arguing with obnoxious or stupid, so I turn away from the TV screen that plays a ten-second loop of me and Katrina letting ourselves into the garage and go back to my desk.