“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.”
* * *
My hands shakethe 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.”