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‘Not really my type. I prefer someone a little more... professional looking. My downfall? A man in a sharp suit.’
The pitch of her friend’s response had been too low for me to catch, but when Louise raised her head, our gazes met. Lifting an enquiring brow, I’d pointedly glanced down. Yes, my shirt was open at the neck, but my suit? Tailor made. Saville Row all the way. Her mouth formed a soft“o”at my suggestion, eliciting a twitch in my pants. I’d felt the urge to introduce myself—I do have a soft spot for disconcerted women—but I’d managed to curtail the urge.
Lately, I’ve found it’s best not to get involved, no matter how tempting the prospect sounds. She seemed to make a concerted effort to ignore me from then on. And she was good at it, too; her eyes didn’t meet mine once. And I watched. And stayed, telling myself I was enjoying Kit’s company and the change of scenery. More drinks were ordered, others joining the pair shortly after; men and women, all dressed similarly. My theory of an office outing confirmed. One guy—grey suit, fair hair—made a play for Louise, but she rebuffed him easily as though his interest was a long-standing joke. I could see at once it wasn’t, for one party, at least, but grey suit played along then moved along to other more willing prospects.
I couldn’t make myself leave after that. Not even as Kit left for next door and his assignation with the married couple he’s currently fucking. I sat alone, observing the group dynamic from a distance while biting back the need building inside me. I’d like to think fate rather than tequila pushed her into my lap. Despite splashing me with her cocktail, she wasn’t what I’d call drunk, butuninhibited. Definitely well lubricated, her attitude a complete turnaround. Together, we’d drank more, and it was she who’d suggested, rather euphemistically, that we retire to somewhere quieter.
My mouth curls into a half smile as I recall her coy suggestion. And her reaction as I’d answered.
I told her I’d fuck her, but that I enjoy sex a certain way. While I hadn’t expected her to run from me screaming, I had foreseen her at least drawing away. And true to my experience, her smile faltered as was often the way with the inexperienced. No matter how daring they think themselves. I’d leaned back in my chair, allowing her to move from my embrace, but she didn’t move. She’d just stared at me from under her lashes, the light from the dance floor turning her hazel gaze from a mild flicker to a flame. To my absolute surprise and delight, she’d asked me in a small voice to elaborate.
Fuck. I have work to do. I can’t sit here reminiscing all day.I head to my private bathroom and throw a couple of handfuls of water against my face. In the mirror, my tired expression stares back at me. Tired and behind on work, but so worth it as I get lost in the feeling of my abdomen tightening against the roundness of her arse.
‘It wasn’t real,’ I tell my reflection.
Just because I can recall every tremble and shudder doesn’t mean we had a connection. And she didn’t tell me her name for a reason. We were each just fulfilling a primal need last night. She was merely walking on the wild side, and I was breaking a dry spell.
And we’d both been pretty clear on our desires.
She’d wanted to be bound. Tied like a sacrificial lamb. I’d told her I’d fuck her for my pleasure. And to both of our satisfaction, I had.
I’d fucked her thoroughly while limiting her movements and not allowing her to contribute to the act.Which isn’t strictly true, my expression reminds me, an almost rueful smile reflects back. My cock stiffens as I recall the sensation of her insides tightening greedily, almost pushing me over the edge. And that was allherpleasure, the lines blurring further as I’d slammed into her again and again. Unbidden, my mind slips back to that precise moment...
As I’d fast approached the last point for lucid thought, I’d gripped her tits tight, and she’d groaned. Sweat glistened against her neck, and I’d bent forward, tasting it with my tongue before biting her perfect flesh.
I’d drawn my body lower against hers as she’d climbed higher, imploding powerfully, calling out, her body willing mine on. I’d pushed her arse higher, my hands tight on the flesh of her hips, pulling her back, her body pounding to my very hilt. I’d come hard, shooting hotly, snarling and grinding, growling obscenities and calling out abhorrent words.
Her delicate hands were gold against the pale of the sheets, balled into fists as she writhed under me in the last throes of her own ecstasy, milking sensation from me. Collapsing next to her, I’d held her, my body already mourning the loss of her wet warmth. My heart beat wildly as I’d moved the mass of tangled hair from her cheek. She was smiling, her eyes almost closed, and on the very edge of sleep.
‘Was awesome,’ she’d murmured, her tone filled with that uniquely sleepy satisfaction that only comes from one kind of physical exhaustion. She’d kissed her own fingers then placed them against my lips. The action was unexpected and somehow more intimate than what we’d just done. I caught her retreating hand and brought them back to my mouth, kissing the tips before returning her hand to the bed. ‘Didn’t use the cuffs,’ she murmured, so sleepily subdued.
The truth was I hadn’t thought; I’d just needed to be inside her at that point. Instead of admitting this, I’d just growled, ‘Maybe you weren’t a good enough girl.’
She snorted, might’ve even rolled her eyes, but when she didn’t rise to the bait, I kissed her forehead and murmured, ‘Next time.’
In the bathroom mirror, my expression blinks back as I recall that, to both our satisfaction, they’d been used later during the night. But I’d expected—wanted—there to be at least one more next time before morning fully broke and we parted.
In my arms, she shifted, and her eyelids became heavy. I hadn’t wanted her to leave. She’d rolled away, seemingly not the type for post-coital canoodling. Ordinarily, this would’ve been more than fine, but for some reason, this time it didn’t feel right. I’d pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind, wondering if I should loosen her bra, but then she’d sat up, feeding her hands behind her back. Pulling the bra down her arms, she’d shoved it against my chest and immediately lay down again, releasing a very soft breath.
Standing and stripping completely, I’d dealt with the first of the night’s condoms then slid back under the warm sheets. Pulling her body to me, I’d breathed out in relief at the touch of her warm skin. Settling into the soft pillow, I was utterly content.
Back in the softly lit bathroom on this cold Sunday, I suddenly realise something monumental. Something I’d hereto missed. I’d taken her back to my house—my place of sanctuary. I hadn’t fucked her in my apartment, here, above the club. How come I’d only just realised that?
Chapter Two
LOUISE
Everyone has one-night stands
At home on Sunday evening, I curled into the arm of the sofa with a glass of wine by my side and a pile of work reports on my lap, my mind still lingering over last night. The thoughts are seductive, and my physical reactions to them very real. I rub my bare arms, telling myself my skin still tingled from my second cold shower of the day, the result of Flo using all the hot water, rather than some kind of sensory memory.
‘You’re sure you wouldn’t like to tag along?’ Flora asks, fastening the clasp of her earring. ‘You know what they say about all work and no play.’
‘Who’s they?’ I counter, not really expecting a response.
‘Luke from the office, for one.’
Flo’s use of an even tone causes me to lift my eyes from the row of columns holding my attention. Sliding my glasses higher on my nose, I realise she’s wearing my Michael Kors dress.I knew she’d been hunting for more than my fedora yesterday.
