His hands found her waist, drawing her closer. Her body was perfectly soft and rounded with a sexy dent at her waist followed by the flare of her hips. Like an hourglass. Touching her was like being on a roller coaster—each smooth curve made his heart thump as he chased the next high. The next stomach-summersaulting dip.
It wasn’t enough. Nothing would be enough until he dragged her to some dark corner and got between those soft, curvy thighs.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he growled into her ear. “Why have you been hiding from me all this time?”
She rested her cheek against his, her lips brushing his skin. “I’m not hiding now.”
They moved together, the stiffness leeching out of her limbs as she followed his lead. Mimicking him. Finding the beat for herself. Her dress had ridden up her legs, tempting him to brush his hand along the inside of her thigh. Everything about her was a trip for his senses—all that smooth skin and silky hair. She was a goddess.
“I want to touch you,” he said, pulling her earlobe between his teeth.
“But the people...” Her words faded into a gasp as he brushed his knuckles over her sex. Her underwear was already damp. Fuck, the woman was a firecracker. His cock twitched, pressing hard against the fly of his dress pants. “They might see us.”
“It’s dark, baby. No one cares.” He continued to stroke her through the thin cotton, rubbing his fingertips between the lips of her pussy. Her nails dug into his skin with a sharp bite as he nudged her clit. “I want to feel how wet you are.”
Imogen’s eyes were wild—her pupils black and wide, lashes fluttering as he stroked her. She squeezed her thighs, trapping his hand there. But when he thought she was going to pull away, she rocked against him.
“Fucking hell,” he groaned. “You’re killing me.”
He breached the elastic band around her leg and brushed the back of his finger along her sex. Christ. The smooth, slick skin had him foaming at the mouth. He wanted her orgasm and he wanted it now.
“We should go somewhere private,” she said, dragging his head down to hers. Her lips landed on his, so soft and sweet—positively chaste, all things considered.
“Not yet.” He pushed the fabric aside and ran his fingertip along her seam. She was dripping wet, so ready for him. “I’ve got this fantasy, Imogen, and it won’t let go.”
She bit down on her bottom lip, stifling a moan as he pushed against her entrance. “What fantasy?”
“Of getting you off in a roomful of people.” He kissed the tender spot behind her ear. “Originally it was in the middle of a board meeting, but this will have to do.”
“A board meeting?” she squeaked. “Caleb, you’re... Uh!”
He ground the heel of his palm against her clit, teasing her for a moment before backing the pressure off. There was no way he was rushing this. Someone bumped against Imogen and she pushed harder against him. “Disgusting? Exciting? Thrilling?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
He brought his mouth down to hers, coaxing her lips open so he could taste her better. His free hand pressed into her lower back, shielding their activities as best he could. Her tongue swiped along his lip, leaving the taste of orange liquor in its wake. When he pushed a finger inside her, Imogen’s moan vibrated on his lips.
“That’s it, baby. I want to feel you shake on my hand.”
Imogen was holding on tight, her fingers thrusting up into his hair as she kissed him back with brute force. The chaste kiss was long gone—this was raw and desperate. Her breath quickened and her forehead dropped to his shoulder. A second later she shattered, the inner muscles of her sex squeezing him rhythmically as she shuddered against his chest.
Caleb cradled her, his cock impossibly hard and the voice in his head screaming at him to push her up against a wall. Or down to the ground. Or fuck it, maybe he should pick her up and wrap her legs around his waist right here. Anything to sate the beast she’d unleashed.
No. He couldn’t waste this moment—the perfect, dirty, sexy moment.
The DJ shouted something over the music and a whooping cheer rose from the dance floor. The crush surged and Caleb tucked Imogen under his arm. Time to move the party to a new location.
The club was enormous. Much bigger than it looked from the sedate bar area where they’d shared a drink. There were several more rooms depending on your music taste—chill R&B, hard-core dance music and a lounge area that was better suited to talking. But none of those interested Caleb.
He dragged Imogen toward a set of stairs leading up to a walkway that ringed the main room. It was mostly used by bouncers, since their staff room was located on this floor. He’d been to this club several times and often came up here to people watch. But tonight, he had different plans.
“Where are you taking me?” It was easier to hear as they moved away from the speakers, although the bass still rumbled through his veins.
“Somewhere we can finish what we started.”
CHAPTER NINE
HOLY FREAKING POODLES. Had she really done that? Had an orgasm in the middle of a nightclub surrounded by, oh, at least a few hundred people?
Imogen’s knees wobbled as she climbed a flight of stairs tucked around a deserted corner of the club, her hand nestled in Caleb’s. The waves of post-orgasm bliss continued to roll through her, leaving her foggy in the most delicious, endorphin-drenched way. It was like he’d filled her veins full of cotton candy and glitter, coaxed her eyes open to a world of pleasure she hadn’t known existed.
“Whoa there.” He steadied her as they took the last few steps up to a black balcony overlooking the dance floor. Frowning, he cupped her face in his hands and looked closer. “You haven’t had too much to drink, have you?”
“Nope.” She giggled.
Imogen was as sober as a judge. The two wines at dinner had been soaked up by their delicious meal and she hadn’t even finished her cocktail at the bar downstairs. She was floating on a cloud made of pure desire. No alcohol required.
“I might not be a perfect gentleman but I want my partners in crime to be willing accomplices,” he said, staring her down. “I don’t want you waking up tomorrow and regretting anything.”
“I’m not sure I even know what regret is at the moment.” Her voice sounded softly distorted, like her brain hadn’t quite caught up. “Wait, ‘willing accomplice’? What are we doing up here?”
“Getting you ready for round two.” He nuzzled her neck and led her farther along the walkway.
Bright lights swung from a contraption on the roof, flicking on and off in time with the beat. Beams of green, blue and purple light changed direction with mechanical ease, bathing the floor below in supernatural colours. From above, the dance floor didn’t look as though it was filled with people, rather it was some kind of mythical heaving mass. A place where people ceased to exist as individuals, and became absorbed by the crowd.
Imogen had never thought that kind of feeling was a positive one. But now the anonymity of the darkened club was...freeing. She could leave her uptight, type A persona at the door. No questions asked.
Caleb wedged her against the balcony railing, his chest lining her back as he gripped the black metal rail. Penning her in. Her hips dug into the metal as he pressed against her backside, lips at her neck. He was hard as stone and knowing that she’d gotten him so worked up only fuelled her euphoric haze.
“What does round two involve?” she asked, turning to look over her shoulder.
Caleb’s thumb traced the line from her jaw down to her collarbone. “Another orgasm for you. One for me.”
“Here?”
Despite being more alone here than they were downstairs, she felt exposed. Anyone below them would be able to look up and see what was going on. Not to mention the fact that the stairs were open. What if a group of people stumbled across them screwing around?
; Literally or figuratively.
But she didn’t want to put the brakes on. Instead, her body temperature shot up a few hundred degrees. Excitement scraped along her nerve endings. She wanted this.
“Yes, here.” His breath blew hot against the back of her neck.
His hand was still at her throat, pressing lightly but possessively. In that moment, he owned her—owned her pleasure, owned her fear, owned the words before they came out of her mouth.
“Do you want me inside you, Imogen?”
“Yes,” she whispered. Her agreement came without hesitation.
“Louder,” he growled.
“Yes.”
“I want everyone to know it.”
“Yes!” she shouted into the abyss, but the rising pulse of the music swallowed it. “I want you inside me.”
Caleb yanked the hem of her dress up and his hand searched for her underwear. “Bloody hell, how high up do these things go?”
Crap. She’d totally forgotten about her granny knickers and now Caleb would be getting an eyeful of them in all their stodgy, beige glory. She wriggled, humiliation overriding her lust as she tried to get out of his grip. But Caleb had her trapped.
“Let me go,” she said, cringing. Dear Lord, could she not get through one date—even a sort of fake one—without making a fool of herself? She could already imagine the story he’d tell. Hot and heavy night ruined by underwear big enough to carry your groceries in.
Maybe she could flip them inside out and use them to hang-glide off the balcony and escape her bad decisions.
“Stop. Moving.” The words were short and sharp—more commanding than she’d ever heard from Caleb before. There was a seriousness in his tone, a presence that swelled in the air around them. “I don’t give a fuck about your underwear. Because as far as I’m concerned, it’s a barrier to me getting my cock inside you. And that is unacceptable in any form.”
Sweet. Baby. Jesus.
Imogen curled her hands around the railing, panting with need as he finally got a grip on the top of her underwear. Then he yanked them down all the way to her ankles. Strong hands guided her feet, helping to free her. The soft, floaty fabric of her dress smoothed over her bare backside and the sensation was startlingly erotic. It was like he’d sensitised her skin, so that even the gentlest brush felt like a thousand-volt shock.
He hadn’t asked her to stay still, but Imogen couldn’t bring herself to move. There was something about playing a passive role that eased the concerns in her mind. That quietened the shrieking doubts telling her she wasn’t going to be good enough for someone as experienced as Caleb.
“Spread your legs.”
Imogen gingerly moved her feet farther apart, unstable on jelly-like limbs. His hand slid up the back of her thigh, curving over her butt and squeezing hard.
“Perfect,” he growled into her ear.
Her dress swished as he moved behind her, the sounds lost in the thumping techno beat. Then his hands were back and the blunt head of his erection pressed against her entrance. His fingertips danced up her inner thigh, teasing her by inching forward and then retreating. Dancing in a way that had her begging.
“Please. More.”
The words evaporated into a hiss the second Caleb’s fingers parted her. Shutting her eyes, she let the sensation wash over her. There was nothing but flashing lights, the beat of the music and the pain-pleasure snap of being stretched by him as he entered her. The music swallowed her words and that meant she could say whatever she wanted without fear of repercussion or judgement or humiliation. She let the words fly—every four-letter word under the sun, and a few that probably came from another universe, as well.
Caleb’s front lined her back, his hips pressing into her backside with each stroke. His hands were everywhere—plucking her nipples, tugging her hair, holding the railing in front of her for extra leverage. It was dirty and hot and nothing she’d ever experienced before.
“Anyone could see us.” His lips were at her ear, his free hand snaking over her hip to dip between her legs.
Imogen’s dress bunched around her waist and she fisted the fabric in one hand to give him access. Sighing, she leaned back and let her head rest against his shoulder. He wasn’t rushing things, wasn’t mindlessly pounding away like her ex used to. No, Caleb had rhythm. His moves on the dance floor totally translated—he wasn’t too quick nor too slow, he balanced the perfect line between forceful and gentle. The man was the goldilocks of fucking.
She giggled at the thought. It was like he’d pulled the stopper out and all the naughty words she’d bottled up for the last twenty-something years had come flying out.
“Can you see all those people down there, Imogen?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Are you watching them while I fuck you?”
A tremor ran through her. “Yes.”
“What are you going to do if someone looks up and sees me playing with this perfect little pussy of yours?”
Her eyes fluttered shut as his fingers circled her clit. “Nothing.”
“Are you going to let them watch?”
She nodded, mostly out of her mind with lust and the pressure of the orgasm welling inside her.
“What if they want to come up here and get a better look?”
She knew it was bad to want this. What if someone she knew came up those stairs? What if it was someone from work? She’d be caught with her legs spread, half-undressed while the guy she was supposed to avoid screwed her senseless.
But she was all in with this fantasy—hook, line and sinker.
* * *
It was entirely possible that Caleb was in a coma right now and this was a drug-induced dream. Because how else was he lucky enough to get the girl of his literal dreams writhing beneath his hands while they fucked in the middle of a nightclub? The thrill of knowing they could be caught made his cock hard enough to hammer nails.
Imogen’s blond hair tumbled over his chest, her head resting against him. She was wet and hot as a summer storm, and a tight fit. Her muscles clamped down on him as he thrust in and out, keeping his pace steady so he didn’t reach the finish line too quickly. But everything about this was his catnip—the semipublic location, the spontaneity of it. And Imogen.
“The thought of having an audience gets you all hot and bothered, doesn’t it, baby?” He curled his fingers over her damp sex, teasing her. “Who would have known you were such a sexy little minx? You hid it so well.”
He continued playing with her clit while his other hand came up to her throat, tipping her head back so he could see her face. Her mouth was slack, her eyes hooded.
“I think you’re ready to orgasm again. Your sweet little pussy is feeling very needy right now.” He dragged a finger between her lips, coating himself in her. “I want those sexy thighs to shake for me.”
She was so close to the edge it barely took any pressure at all and within seconds she was shuddering around his cock, crying out something hoarse and incoherent. It sounded like his name repeating on loops so close together the syllables blurred into one another.
“Yes, baby.” He nipped at her ear lobe. “Let everyone know how good it feels.”
He was calm and in control until the second Imogen let go of the balcony and her nails bit into his skin. She sagged back against him—giving herself over completely. That trust was more than he could have asked for and—along with everything else she was doing out of her comfort zone—it fuelled the primal side of him. Instinct took over, turning his smooth words into a garbled mess. He thrust into her harder, wedging her against the railing as he stretched the last waves of her orgasm out while chasing his own.
She turned her head, and he bent forward, capturing her mouth as best he could at the awkward angle. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted that pouty mouth in all its glory—the way a mouth like that was meant to
be taken.
Caleb pulled out so he could spin her around and drag her thigh up over his hip. “I need to see that beautiful face of yours.”
Her cheeks were pink, as if she’d spent a day in the sun. A drop of red clung to her glistening lower lip where she’d bitten down, and Caleb swiped it away with his thumb. “Kiss me,” she said.
“Gladly.” He angled his mouth over hers, fisting one hand in her hair and curving the other over her sexy, rounded butt as he drove them toward the edge. In this new position, his pubic bone brushed over her clit and soon she was shaking with need again.
“It’s too much,” she gasped. “Too sensitive.”
“You want me to stop?” His lips were at her neck, teeth marking her skin. Claiming her. She tasted like honey with the faintest salty tang of sweat.
He wondered if she would taste so sweet between her legs. The visual of him going down on Imogen rocketed through him, causing his hips to jerk as he ground into her.
“No. Don’t stop.” She buried her face against his shoulder. “Just don’t let me fall.”
“Never.” Determined to get as deep into her as possible, he lifted her other leg so she could wrap them around his waist. Fucking hell, she was tight. He buried himself to the hilt, and encircled her with his arms. “You’re safe with me, baby.”
“I know,” she whispered.
The sincerity in her eyes was the final straw. This was all he could take. With a deep groan, he thrust into her one last time, letting the release barrel through him as he clung to her like she was the most precious thing in his life.
CHAPTER TEN
REALITY WAS A BIG, fat B-word. Mondays were bad enough, but the beginning of a new week after terrible life decisions was downright cruel and unusual. Imogen took the stairs, climbing eight flights rather than risking being trapped in an elevator with Caleb.
She took the long way to her office, avoiding his, and slammed her door shut the second she got inside.
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