Dangerous Desires

by Siren, Tia

  One-Night Stand

  Jess Bentley

  1

  “Can I get you another one, Harlow?”

  I look up from my glass and nod a quick yes. Ben, the bartender at my favorite dive bar in Chelsea, was already pouring me a fresh gin and tonic before I had a chance to answer. This was the first night I made it out of the office before midnight in weeks, my latest trial finally complete. I was exhausted, because I’d been working sixteen-hour days for the last three months. But when you’re an Assistant District Attorney for the Violent Criminal Enterprises Unit in New York City, every case is the most important you’ve ever had.

  This last case has had our office in a panic for almost a year. My entire team has been focused solely on bringing down the Adelardi crime family, and we just officially prosecuted one of their major players, Carlo Adelardi. The district attorney has given us two days to recover because all too soon we’ll start over again on the next scumbag, and I’m planning on using my time off to get good and drunk. I need some time to myself. It’s been ages.

  This isn’t the kind of novelty I usually get to enjoy. As Harlow Bullock, daughter of a state senator and rising ADA in one of the most respected divisions of anti-crime in Manhattan, I’m expected to always be on my best behavior. But sometimes, a girl just needs a damn break. And tonight, this dive bar of questionable repute is going to be my break.

  I’m reaching across the sticky wooden bar to grab my glass, when a deep, growl of a voice next to me says, “I’ll take one of those too, please.”

  There is a man standing next to me, unlike any man I’ve ever seen in my life. He is beautiful, with the build and face of a boxer at the beginning of his career. He has huge, crystal blue eyes and scruffy, sandy blonde hair, but his beard almost has a tinge of red to it. He’s wearing a tight black t-shirt and a corduroy jacket over snug jeans that show off his… everything. I try not to stare, but I realize he’s staring at me too.

  “I’d offer to buy you a fresh one, but I don’t want you to think I’m trying to get you drunk and take advantage of you,” he says in a voice so low, and so deep, it sounds like pure sex. There is a hint of an accent, as if he moved here from England as a kid.

  “Who says I’d object?” I answer before thinking about it. What are you doing, Harlow? You can’t be this reckless. But he’s inching his stool closer to me, and his leg brushes the bare skin of my thigh where my skirt has crept up just a little bit, and I feel my common sense slipping away.

  He laughs lightly, and it’s an endearing, soft, boyish chuckle that I didn’t quite expect given his intense exterior. “You’re a little more sassy than I expected.”

  “What did you expect?” I ask, sipping my gin.

  “You to tell me to fuck off, honestly. I can’t say I hit on women in bars a lot, but it seems like the appropriate response. If I were a woman, I’d tell me to fuck off.”

  “A handsome man like you? That’s crazy.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “You’re odd.”

  “So I’m told. Do you want to get out of here?”

  I look around at the other people in the bar, suddenly convinced he’s talking to someone else. There is no way this god of a man is asking me to leave the bar with him right now. There is no way a man this handsome would ever ask me something like that. But he’s looking right at me, and the only other people in the bar are Ben, an old man alone in a corner booth, and a couple making out by the bathroom. I drink down the entirety of my gin and tonic, and turn to him.

  “Where do you want to go?”

  You’re losing it, Harlow. You’ve had too much to drink. Settle down…

  “We could take a walk. See where we end up. New York is a great city for taking a walk.”

  Like he said, I should tell him to take a hike. Thanks to my job, I know better than most women that wandering off with a strange man for “a walk” is a terrible idea. But there is something about him, something I can’t put my finger on. There is a sadness in his eyes, and a desire that mirrors my own. He is looking for a night of trouble too, and maybe…

  We’ve found it in each other.

  * * *

  I don’t quite remember how it happened, but I’m sitting on a soft bed in a hotel three blocks from the bar. Across from me this muscular, stoic man is pouring us whiskey into two rocks glasses as my hands shake in my lap. I barely remember the walk here, only that it was quiet, except when he stopped to press me up against a building and kiss the life out of me. That’s when I knew I was in for some trouble.

  I’m lost in his cool blue gaze. There is something about this man that captivates me. That held my attention long enough to get me in this situation: in this room, on this hotel bed covered with a fluffy duvet. He doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to get into my pants. If anything, he’s taking his time as we watch each other, surveying each other, cautiously. He crosses back over to where I’m sitting, and plops down next to me on the bed. I can feel the warmth from his body reaching mine, even from where he is sitting.

  He reaches out to me, and runs his long fingers up and down my bare arm. His languid caresses send my heart rate into overdrive. Christ. Can he hear it thundering? I wonder as I try to calm my jangled nerves.

  He stares at me, mesmerizingly, his huge sparkling eyes taking in every inch of me. I feel as if he’s a leopard, and I am his prey. With a gentle hand, he lowers me back on the bed, so I’m lying down, and his strong form is hovering over me. He brings his hands up to my face, and he tenderly pushes my hair back, touching and stroking it, fanning and arranging it out on the white swath of the bed. His thumb lightly brushes over my brows, around and down over my cheeks, over the bridge of my nose and down to my lips. His hungry eyes follow the lazy trace of his fingers.

  Bending over me, he brings his face closer to mine, stopping a hair’s breadth away from my lips. My lips tingle as if he has been kissing them all night, when he hasn’t touched them since we were out on the street. He doesn’t move any closer until my lips part. As soon as they do, he kisses me with a passion and heat that I have not felt from another man in years, perhaps ever. It sets something inside me aflame. His tongue snakes into my mouth and explores me with a biting intensity, licking and rubbing along mine.

  Where the hell did this man come from? More importantly, where has he been all my life? He needs to bottle whatever it is about him, his alpha male aura, his intense vibe, and sell it. He would make millions—maybe even billions.

  His kisses leave my panties drenched. My lips are swollen, throbbing and tingling with every lick, nibble, and suck from him. Our mouths explore each other for what seems like hours. I can’t get enough. He tries to pull away, but I won’t let him.

  Chuckling, he finally breaks our connection and stands up, pulling me along with him. He removes my jacket, tossing it onto the leather wing chair. Unbuttoning my silk blouse, he drags it free from the waist of my black pencil skirt. It joins my jacket, tossed aside. My breathing quickens as his rough, callused hands rub over my skin. He seems to moan or hum, the sound coming from deep in his chest, as he caresses me. Turning me around, he unhooks and unzips my skirt, pulling and tugging it down over my curvy hips.

  After he has removed my clothing, including my underwear, he turns me to him and places my hands on his chest. I undress him, his hands moving all over me, drinking me in as I pull his clothes from him.

  His corduroy jacket and tight black shirt displayed his broad shoulders and muscular physique quite well. What they hid makes my mouth water and my pussy throb. Forget about his dirty blonde hair and his blue eyes; these features are common. He has an intensity I can’t pull away from, and his cut, muscled body, veins and sinews proudly showing under his pale skin, keeps me fascinated. Tattoos decorate his biceps, forearms, chest and back. A detailed depiction of the Madonna and Child spreads over one well-formed bicep, and I trace it with my fingers.

  My hands move down his chest, over his taut, washboard abs, down to the most beautiful cock I have ever seen. I
t’s long, smooth and thick without being monstrously so; dusky, lightly veined. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pull him to me. I can't wait to taste him. I kiss just below his belly-button and watch the muscles in his abs and thighs tighten and flex, as thick as tree trunks. Hmmm... I think I might play with him a little. Grasping his shaft in my hand, I pump him slowly, then press it along his belly pointing straight up. Kissing and sucking down his body, I finally focus on the peachy sac below.

  I suck one small globe into my mouth, pulling on it gently before I do the same to the other, licking up the underside of his cock and stopping below the corona, sliding my tongue torturously slowly along the seam on its underside. Hearing his moans and sharp intakes of breath spurs me on. I continue my teasing, stopping before I put my mouth where he really wants it. Finally, he grabs my hair and yanks my head back. A smile tugs at my lips; he’s waited long enough.

  In a low, raspy voice he says, "Open your mouth."

  How can I say no, when he asks so nicely?

  My mouth open, his grip holding me still, he pushes his cock into my mouth. I moan in ecstasy. He tastes so good, salty and sweet. The perfect recipe for me to forget my real life.

  His grip on my hair loosens, and I miss it already, that little bit of pain igniting a spark in me. It's something I want him to do to me again. My mouth and tongue hungry over his silky hardness. His words, urging me to suck him, demanding that I touch my pussy as I suck him off, calling me a dirty girl in a rumbling voice as my hand strokes in between my legs. I am so wet. My finger rubs and flicks over my swollen furrow.

  He pulls out of my mouth suddenly and pushes me back on the bed. Kneeling between my spread legs, I watch him pump and stroke himself as I rub my fingers over my clit. Reaching below, I dip my finger inside, pull it out and slide over my skin. His heavy-lidded stare rakes over my face, going lower to my full breasts, undulating hips, and resting on my hand rubbing at my core. As I touch myself, I feel the beginning twinges of an orgasm. The movements of my finger quicken and my hips undulate on their own volition.

  I feel his big, rough hand engulf mine and pull it away from my body. I'm about to protest, when he bends forward and sucks my fingers into his mouth. He licks my honeyed essence, causing me to clench and quiver deep in my core. When he's done, he settles his big body on top of mine, his weight pressing me into the bed. His elbow rests on the bed beside my head, and I turn and suck the skin on the inside of his bulging bicep. Pressing my thighs open a little more, he turns and sheaths his cock before rubbing against my opening, the blunt head of his perfect cock teasing into me.

  Gasping as he fills me up, I lift my head and suck on his chin, nipping it before going lower to suck on his neck. His strokes into me are long and hard, and they make my breasts bounce and jiggle at the end of each thrust. He feels so good inside me, on top of me. I want to bathe in the smell of his skin, sandalwood and a tiny hint of vanilla. It’s a fragrance I never want to forget. Searching for my lips, he plunges his tongue into my mouth when he finds it. He moans as we kiss, pulling back from my seeking mouth and holding my gaze as he thrusts into me. I look away, not wanting those eyes to search me the way that they are. I feel suddenly vulnerable, when I want to keep this anonymous.

  His hot breath warms my skin as he says roughly, "Please baby, don't do that. Don't hide from me." His teeth nip my earlobe, and he nudges my face to him and kisses my lips. I open my mouth, beckoning his tongue inside. His thrusts come quicker and harder; he pistons into me as our tongues dance. As his grunts and groans get louder, I feel my channel fluttering and quaking around his shaft. My fingernails are like claws, digging into his ass cheeks, trying to keep him close as I beg him to fuck me harder.

  His lips find mine once again, our teeth clashing a little as he gets wilder. My back arches off the bed as I explode in bliss. As I shiver and cry out, I feel him stiffen over me, then convulse a few times as he comes. We pant and gasp, kissing and touching each other before collapsing. He lies down beside me and pulls me close to him. I turn my back to him, the little spoon, snuggling my ass against his firm body. Feeling the heat radiate off of him. I stay turned from him, not wanting him to see the panic rise in my eyes, as the full gravity of what I’ve just done starts to settle into my bones.

  What the hell are you doing, Harlow? What the hell have you done?

  2

  It’s almost nine in the morning, and I’m sitting at my desk in my office at the courthouse downtown. I’m sipping hot tea and wearing my sunglasses. My head throbs. I can’t believe how bad this hangover is. Moreover, I can’t believe I did the things I did last night. If any of my team knew what I’ve been up to, they would never let me hear the end of it. Frankly, I am having trouble processing anything that happened. The fact that I had sex with a man and never even bothered to learn his name is completely out of character for me, not to mention the fact that I crept out of his room before he could wake up. But the last thing I wanted to deal with this morning was a big scene where we had to pretend we were going to see each other again.

  Even if, as I walked out the door, my stomach lurched at the thought of leaving him behind forever.

  I’m startled from my thoughts when my assistant, Amy, knocks on the door; the sound of her fist rapping on the wood sends throbs from temple to temple. She walks in and gives me a suspicious smile, cocking her head to the side.

  “Do I need to get you some ibuprofen? Or cancel your first meeting? You look like you need a nap… already.”

  I groan and set my head on the cool wood of the desk. “I’m fine. I will be fine. I’m… here. Who is my first appointment? And can they talk quietly?”

  “Doubtful. It’s Alexander, and I don’t think he’s ever been quiet his whole life.”

  I moan softly into my desk. Of course, my first appointment of the day is District Attorney Alexander O’Connell. The youngest DA in the city’s history is also one of the most ambitious. He’s probably never taken a day off in his life. He’s the reason we’ve taken down as many of the heavy hitters of organized crime as we have, but he’s also why we’re all so stressed out all the time.

  “Do we know why he’s coming in?” I ask as I start squinting my way through my email. I don’t see any messages from him, so there is no telling what he wants. Amy shrugs and hands me a huge stack of files.

  “No clue. But this is all the paperwork on Carlo Adelardi that needs to be entered in the system, and some of it still needs to be sent to the clerk. I can’t do it until I get your signature on some of it, so I need you to go through the whole thing ASAP.”

  I look around her, and see Alexander walking in. All of the women in the office immediately begin fawning all over him, and I have to fight not to roll my eyes. He’s a good-looking man, with his salt-and-pepper hair and tailored suits, but I know way too much about him to find him attractive. I wave Amy away.

  “And take these files with you, please. I’ll deal with them after King O’Connell leaves. I’m sure he already has another disaster for me to take on.” Amy nods and grabs the stack, then disappears out my second door as Alexander walks in the first.

  “Harlow Bullock, you’re looking…” he pauses as he surveys what I imagine is a rough scene. “Well, you’re here and that’s what matters. Congratulations again on Carlo Adelardi. That was quite a win.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I mumble as I sip my tea and try to discreetly swallow another painkiller.

  “But no rest for the wicked, as they say. A new case came across my desk this morning, and I’m going to handle it myself, but I want you to sit second chair—if he won’t take a plea, that is. This may be bigger than Adelardi, and I shouldn’t get to shoulder all that glory alone.”

  I manage to force myself not to roll my eyes. “Sounds good, sir. Any information?”

  “Have your assistant cancel your morning. I want you to come with me to the precinct. This guy, Vincent Loretto… he may be one of the major hitmen for the Adelardi family. And I think we can eith
er turn him, or at the very least, make an example of him. Either way, the Adelardis are about to take another major hit in a short amount of time and it could be enough to send them running.”

  I force on a smile. The absolute last thing I feel like doing is going down to one of the holding cells at the police station, but sitting second chair to the DA on a case like this could be a big deal. “What time are we meeting with him?”

  Alexander scoffs. “Criminals don’t get to set meetings. This is our game, Bullock. Get your coat; we’re leaving now.”

  * * *

  Alexander and I are sitting in the interview area of the Major Crimes squad room, waiting for two detectives to bring Vincent Loretto in to talk to us. I shift uncomfortably in the cold metal chair; I understand why they have these seats for the criminals, but I’ll never get why they can’t bring in better chairs for us, the good guys. I let out a sigh and look at my watch; we’ve been waiting for an hour, and at this rate, I’m going to miss another appointment. Alexander looks at me with a chuckle.

  “Am I keeping you, Bullock?”

  I don’t get a chance to answer, because my phone rings. I pull it out of my briefcase, and it’s Amy. “One second,” I say as I leave the room to answer. I wander down the hall and lean against the wall nearest a window so I have some chance of picking up a signal.

  “Amy, we’re still waiting on this Loretto guy. Just go ahead and clear my afternoon. I don’t know when we’re going to get out of here.”

  Amy sighs. “Yeah, okay. But you were meeting with those guys from the Special Victims Bureau about the sex trafficking case connected to Adelardi.”

  “Dammit. Reschedule them for eight a.m. tomorrow. I’ll come in early. I don’t want to put them off. Look, Amy, I have to get back in there. From the sound in the hall, it seems the detectives finally showed. If any other meetings come up, just book me back-to-back tomorrow. I’ll stay late if I have to.” Hanging up without saying goodbye, I hustle back to the holding cell. I open the door and slide in backwards, trying not to cause a commotion.