Off the Clock

by Roni Loren

  He wanted to give it to her.

  Starting tonight. He reached over and rested his hand on her knee, stroking the delicate skin with his fingertips. “You’re quiet over there. You okay?”

  She peered over at him. “I’m good. I guess I’m just not sure if we’re still in role-playing mode or not.”

  He kept his eyes on the city streets. “Who said I was playing a role? Everything I said to you in there was one hundred percent true. That was me saying whatever I wanted to say, doing what I wanted to do to you, what I’ve thought about doing to you all day.”

  “Oh, well . . . oh.”

  He glanced over at her with a half-smile. “That make you nervous?”

  She considered him, the sharp therapist still there despite the hum of lust. “No. Well, yes, but in a good way.”

  He let his hand slide toward her inner thigh and pulled gently. “Spread your legs for me.”

  Her teeth dragged along her lip, but she let him guide her knees apart. He wrapped his fingers around the hem of her dress and eased the fabric up. He couldn’t see much in the dark car, but her scent hit his nose and went straight to his cock. “You’re still soaked, aren’t you? I can smell how turned on you are.”

  She groaned in what distinctly sounded like embarrassment. “Jesus, West, way to make a girl feel self-conscious.”

  She tried to clamp her knees back together, but he squeezed her thigh and kept her in place. “Don’t you dare. It’s sexy as fuck. It’s got me hard as iron.” He took her hand and placed it on his erection to prove his point. “If I wasn’t driving, I’d bury my face between your thighs and lick up every bit of it, wear that scent like goddamned cologne.”

  A soft expelled breath hit his ears. He moved her hand away from him, worried he wouldn’t have the restraint not to pull over to the side of the road and fuck her right there in the car. He placed her hand back on her own thigh, dragging it up and down, making her fingers glide along her own skin. “Lift your dress to your waist and touch yourself for me.”

  Her arms tensed beneath his fingers. “What?”

  He sent her a look. “Recline the seat, keep your legs spread, and show me how you get yourself off.”

  Anxiety flickered in her gaze, and she glanced at the road before them. He’d taken a back way, gotten them out of the French Quarter and was now heading back out to The Grove on a quiet state highway.

  “Donovan, I can’t—”

  “The windows are tinted and it’s nighttime. No one will see you but me. And I want to see.” He couldn’t tell in the dark, but he had a feeling her blushing problem had returned with a vengeance. “Are you blushing, Marin?”

  “You know I am.”

  “All the more reason to do this.” He placed his hand high on her thigh and stroked as he rolled up to a stop sign. “Own it. You are a beautiful woman who knows how to give herself pleasure. That’s hot as hell. After I caught you getting yourself off in the lab that night, I couldn’t get the image out of my mind. That sight of you so turned on, fingers rubbing between your legs, so needy and desperate to come. I only saw you from the back but man, did I imagine what it might’ve looked like from other angles. Now I want the privilege of seeing it in person.”

  Her eyes were wide, but he could tell the nerves weren’t going to be a match for the desire swirling there. “Are you going to do the same for me one day then?”

  He smiled. “That something you want to see?”

  “You have no idea,” she said in a rush and then winced like she hadn’t meant for that to slip out.

  “Sneak over one morning before work, and I’ll give you whatever kind of show you want.” He reached over and hit the button to recline her seat. “But you’re going to show me first.”

  She bit her lip. “Maybe I should’ve had that second drink.”

  He shook his head. “No. You’re going to do this for me stone-cold sober. Show me how you like to touch yourself.”

  For a moment, he thought she’d call a time-out or use the safe word. This was past her comfort zone. Hell, she’d hardly been able to talk about masturbation with him that night by the fountain. But after a few long seconds, she leaned back against the seat and lifted her dress the rest of the way.

  The dark hair of her mound in the ambient glow of the streetlights was a sharp contrast to the pale skin, giving him more of a view than he’d hoped for, and when she spread her knees, the slick pink lips of her shaved pussy came into view.

  Fuck. He’d felt that smooth skin when he’d played with her in the bar, but seeing it was an entirely different thing. She’d shaved for tonight. He didn’t have a preference so much on whether a woman went smooth or not. But God, it did something to him to think of her preparing for him. He couldn’t resist reaching out and dragging a fingertip over her newly exposed skin. “Trying a new look?”

  She closed her eyes, shame clearly still fighting for a hold. “I—I did some research. A lot of women report that they’re more sensitive this way, that things . . . feel more intense. I thought I’d try it.”

  She’d done research. Of course she had. Marin wouldn’t go about things any other way. He smiled to himself. He was also happy to hear she’d done it for her own enjoyment. So many women he saw in therapy got hung up on what look would please the guy they were with, never even considering how they personally felt about it. “Well, let’s see if it worked. Touch yourself, Marin.”

  Marin’s hand rested on her inner thigh, her fingers twitching ever so slightly. Her anxiety was a flavor on his tongue, an aphrodisiac. Knowing she was willing to push past those fears for him did more to him than it should. He stayed at the stop sign, no one behind them to rush him, and watched as her hand traced closer to the place where she had to be aching. Then as if she were jumping off a cliff, she quickly put her hand on herself and rubbed her fingers over her clit.

  The simple touch made her jolt and the sharp sound she made went straight to his cock. She was a vibrating cord of tension, so on edge that the slightest stroke was going to feel like too much. “That’s right, baby. Give yourself some relief. It’s been such a long night already.”

  He made sure his voice was quiet, soothing, wanting to add to her experience instead of distract her. And it seemed to work. The tense scrunch of her shoulders eased against the seat and she rubbed herself again, pushing fingertips between her lips and exploring. Any reservations she may have had got swept up in the need for release, for stimulation. He was learning with her that she just had to get to that tipping point and then that secret side of her came out, the one who had dirty fantasies of her own.

  Donovan pressed his hand around his erection, needing the pressure but also not granting himself a stroke. He wanted to enjoy the view, savor this. Marin’s nipples became visible through the fabric of her dress and her neck curved as she began to softly pant. He wished he could photograph her just like this, show her how fucking gorgeous she was when she let go, but he settled for burning the image into his mind.

  “Oh, God.” Her plea was soft, breathless.

  “It’s okay, take what you need,” Donovan said, reaching over and brushing his knuckles over her nipple, back and forth, back and forth.

  Marin gasped at that, her back arching and her fingers working harder, more focused. The sounds of slick flesh and the scent of arousal filled the car, and Donovan couldn’t tear his gaze away as Marin brought herself to a quick, but what looked to be intense, orgasm.

  Her chest rose and fell with gulping breaths and her eyes stayed squeezed shut. But after a few last cries of release, she moved her hand away, letting her arm fall to the side.

  “Shit,” she whispered, almost to herself.

  Donovan gave her breast one last stroke. Then he reached down and righted her dress. “Beautiful. Feel better?”

  “I can’t believe I just did that.”

  “You’re more daring than you think. Your desire’s there. You just need a nudge.” He finally rolled forward through the stop sig
n and tried to mentally tamp down his own level of arousal. At this rate, he was going to walk into his place with a monster hard-on leading the way.

  She shifted in the seat. “You make me stop thinking. It freaks me out a little.”

  He smiled and reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers and hitting the gas to rocket them down the dark road. “I make you stop thinking, and you wake me up.”

  The statement slipped out, the private thought hijacking his vocal cords. He almost snapped it right back, said something to undo it. But her fingers simply tightened around his. “Guess we’re a pretty good match then.”

  The words should’ve scared him.

  But with her next to him and the night in front of them, he couldn’t access that fear. “Guess we are.”

  26

  Marin kept her hand linked with Donovan’s for long, quiet minutes—both of them lost in their own thoughts. She stared out the open window, hair whipping in the humid breeze. The scenery had shifted from civilization to the eerie beauty of the bayous—towering shadows of cypress with low-hanging moss that seemed to grow out of the water, the occasional crane perched on the side of the road, and the dark smell of wet earth drifting in on the air. Another world, really.

  It seemed fitting. Since setting foot on the grounds at The Grove, her world had morphed, too. Her feet weren’t steady under her yet. Like running on that slippery bayou silt at full speed, she could tumble at any moment. Fall. Get dragged under.

  Donovan could drag her under.

  They were only playing a game tonight, acting out a fantasy, but her mind was having trouble keeping the lines straight between that and reality. She needed to remember that this was a script, that they were in roles. It felt intense because it was set up to be that way. But the words he’d said, the ones she’d sensed he hadn’t meant to let slip out, wound through her head like a drug.

  You wake me up.

  Four simple words. But they’d crashed into her like a semi-truck, bending and twisting everything inside her.

  Why did he have to say things like that? Why do that when he knew this setup had an expiration date? Why try to make her feel something she couldn’t risk feeling? Like she was special to him in some way.

  How idiotic a thought was that? Donovan was a good guy. She knew he was. But he was also a guy who’d outright told her he was skilled at getting women into his bed and then leaving it. Maybe that’s why McCray had been so pissed. He’d made her feel special, too. McCray had thought she was different, that she’d be the one he couldn’t walk away from.

  But Donovan would walk. That’s what he did. That’s what he was good at.

  Marin needed to keep that at the forefront of her mind. She could give herself over to this affair but not like that. She couldn’t plant false hope and let it grow into something that would only die from lack of light when the sun set on this relationship.

  “What time is your brother supposed to be home tonight?” Donovan asked, glancing her way.

  “He should get in around four.”

  “Okay.” He looked back to the road.

  “Why?”

  His lips quirked like an afterthought. “Just making my devious plans and I like to know the schedule.”

  She sniffed. “Is that going to be enough time for all your depravity? I could text him and tell him that he shouldn’t expect me until morning.” She winced slightly when she realized how presumptuous that sounded. “I mean, not that you’d want me to— Never mind.”

  His jaw tightened along with his grip on her hand. “I’d love for you to stay the night.”

  The words sounded genuine, but it cost him something to make the offer. She could tell by the lines that appeared around his mouth, almost like he’d wanted to keep the words in. “You sure? You don’t have to feel obligated or whatever.”

  He looked over at her. When she sent him a no-big-deal shrug, his expression softened around the edges. “Obligated to do unspeakable things to you all night and then sleep in on a Sunday morning with a beautiful, naked you next to me? Yes, sounds horrid. I can’t believe you’d suggest such agony.”

  She looked down, her lips curving on their own volition. “Yeah, sounds awful.”

  “Text him. We’re almost there. You won’t have time for your phone after that.”

  The small warning zipped through her, lighting up things she’d barely dimmed with the relief of her earlier orgasm. She reluctantly slipped her hand from his and fished her phone out of her bag. But when she pulled up the messaging screen, reality wedged its way in.

  She’d made the offer because she wanted to spend the night with Donovan, but she hadn’t thought through the fact that it would mean telling Nate outright that she was staying overnight with a guy—after only two weeks here. She considered lying. That would be easiest—too tired to drive home, getting a room, whatever. But she’d built her relationship with Nate on being straightforward and honest. She couldn’t bring herself to fib.

  She sighed and typed out a message.

  Marin: Not going to be home til morning. Text me when u get in to let me know ur safe and remember to lock up.

  The message went through, and she had a pang of anxiety. It was her brother, but in a lot of ways she felt like she was texting her kid, Hey there, son, Mom’s about to get laid!

  The response took a while to come through since he was probably busy working, but after a few minutes, her phone dinged.

  Nate: Srsly? Just friends. Yeah. OK.

  Marin grimaced. She could hear Nathan’s irritated, judgy tone even through words on a screen. But she had her own surge of irritation to match it. Really? He was going to be angry with her over a night out? How long had she put her own life aside to be the responsible one, to be the grown-up? She never resented Nate or regretted the choice she’d made to raise him, but hadn’t she earned a little adventure? She would not let herself feel guilty about this. Would. Not.

  Marin: It’s not Lane. Old friend. Long story.

  The little dots indicating a response being typed seemed to shine on the screen forever. But when the message came up, it was short. Like he’d deleted a whole lot more.

  Nate: Whatever. See u tomorrow.

  Marin exhaled loudly and didn’t bother typing a response. She had no doubt she’d get an earful tomorrow—or more likely, the silent treatment. She tossed her phone back in her purse.

  Donovan sent a lifted eyebrow her way. “Everything okay?”

  “It’s fine. Nate’s just in a shit mood. This whole move has been a big transition, and he’s taking it out on me. He’ll be all right.”

  “You want to call him?”

  She shook her head. “We won’t get anywhere. It’s best to just let him cool off. I’ll talk to him about it when I get home tomorrow. Right now I’ll let him think what he wants.”

  Donovan sniffed. “Which is?”

  “That I’m some sex-crazed woman who’s jumping in bed with a stranger.”

  “Hey, I’m not a stranger,” he said, as he took the back way into The Grove. “The sex-crazed part is dead-on though.”

  She laughed. “I will not deny this.”

  He reached out and cupped her neck. “You should put your head in my lap.”

  The flip in subject threw her. “What?”

  “If you want to be safe, make sure no one sees us.”

  “Oh.” She shook her head, trying to clear her head of other thoughts. “Right.”

  He guided her down to his thigh, his fingers stroking her hair as he drove the winding road that led to his place. She felt a little ridiculous at the sneaking around, but soon his touch was too distracting to let her think of much else.

  “When we get to the house, you’re all mine, Rush. Your safe word applies always, but you need to let me know now if you have any qualms about this. We can take things down a notch if you’re not ready to continue what we started at the club. It’s your call.”

  His fingertips were gentle against her scalp, bu
t the words were like droplets of ice water against her skin, making everything hyperaware again. What did she want? What was she ready for?

  She closed her eyes, giving the question honest consideration. She was a novice at this. She had no idea what she was doing. Taking the safe route would be smart. They could take things nice and easy, cover the basics. Sex with Donovan was going to be fantastic no matter what. But a little pang of disappointment went through her at the thought of going that way. She wasn’t experienced. But some part of her knew instinctually that her wires weren’t straight and neat. They were crossed, tangled. That was one of the reasons things had gotten so electric with Donovan so quickly in college. All those vague cravings and fleeting fantasies had been given names when she’d listened to Donovan’s recordings.

  So all she could muster up at the thought of what might happen if she gave him the green light tonight was anticipation. She’d gotten the painful part out of the way with her virginity, so she wasn’t worried about that. And Donovan had told her he liked things rough, but she didn’t get the sense he was a sadist who’d bust out whips or knives or anything. Even if he was, he’d listen to her safe word. “I’m ready for this.”

  His fingers paused for a second, and his thigh tensed beneath her cheek. She worried then that he’d take it back, that he’d decide for her that they’d go easy tonight. But after a moment, she felt him relax. “Me, too, Rush. Me, too.”

  The sound of a garage door opening and shutting was the last moment before Donovan slipped right back into the place he’d been in the darkened hallway of the club. He palmed the side of her head and lifted her from her spot on his lap. His blue eyes were dark when they landed on her. “Stay put until I get you.”