Secret Pleasure

The thrill of wanting to touch him but not being able to heightened her pleasure as he buried his lips against her neck and pushed deep inside her. She was so wet, so primed for this, the culmination of this incredible night, and the hot, sweet friction didn’t disappoint. He growled with pleasure, nipping the sensitive skin of her neck before laving it with his tongue.

Oh God. This illicit tryst made her feel so damn sexy, like being onstage but more potent. More visceral. To be lusted after by this man she’d wanted for so long was everything. She locked her ankles together at the small of his back, glorying in his panting thrusts, loving everything about the moment. The clean, spicy smell of him, the rasp of his beard abrading her skin, the sound of his ragged breathing.

Aidan was fucking her in a dive-bar supply closet.

Aidan was fucking her like he meant it.

Aidan.

It was too much. Too much sensation. Too many feelings.

The tingling in her abdomen said she was close, even though it was way too soon.

Desperate to touch him, she let go of the shelf above her head and grabbed his face. His beard prickled the palms of her hands as she buried her fingers in his hair and dragged his lips to hers, gasping against his mouth as she came.

The orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, gathering force as it rolled through her before crashing in a burst of pleasure that put everything she’d ever accomplished with her showerhead to shame.

This was not what she was used to—staid, missionary sex with a long-term partner.

This was passion unleashed. Elemental.

This was a decade of wanting made real.

When he’d grabbed her hand and tugged her into a supply closet, Aidan had been expecting a quick, utilitarian fuck against the wall. He sure as hell hadn’t expected her to melt all over him after a couple of strokes, but she’d definitely come, gasping against his mouth before she’d kissed him into oblivion.

Sexy as fuck.

And yeah, it had been a while for him, sure, but that didn’t explain the way she was blowing his mind right now. There was something about this woman, something different that he didn’t understand at all.

He slid his hands up her torso until his thumbs made contact with the soft, sweat-slick undersides of her breasts, and he wondered what shade of pink her nipples might be under the sparkly pasties. Not knowing just made him want her more. He flexed the fingers of his left hand on her rib cage as though he might be able to feel the butterfly etched into her skin.

He was so goddamn close, but he wasn’t ready to lose this mindless pleasure quite yet, wasn’t ready for this to be over. And then, to his surprise, she tightened her legs around his waist and started undulating her hips. The way she was grinding and twisting herself against him and the sudden restlessness of her body, the soft noises she made in her throat, signaled she was going for round two.

Jesus. She was going to come again, and the realization made him so hot that it took everything in him to hold off the heat and desperation that was building in his balls, the unstoppable rocking of his hips.

He focused on the bite of her nails on his skin, doing his best to read the rhythm of her movements, granting her wordless requests as she brought herself to the brink again, falling over the edge with a sweet cry, and this time, he couldn’t help but follow.

His thighs shook as he twisted his hips as high inside her as he could get before he gave in to the inevitable, riding the contractions of her muscles to a climax that rocked through him with such force he had to grab the shelving unit to steady himself.

She was kissing him as she unlocked her ankles and slid down his body, a decadent, satiated kiss that felt like thank you and you’re welcome at the same time. When Aidan had recovered enough to open his eyes, it was to find her staring up at him, sexy and triumphant.

Which he understood. He felt like a fucking conqueror just then.

Aidan leaned down and kissed her again, lingering over her mouth before he pulled away. She smiled to herself as she tugged the skirt back down her thighs and reached for her discarded clothing. Aidan took care of the condom and zipped himself back into place before donning his T-shirt.

On a whim, he grabbed his leather jacket from the ground, pulling his phone and gloves from the pocket before he draped it over her bare shoulders. Startled, she looked up from fastening her corset, and something...familiar flashed through his chest, but he couldn’t quite place it. There’d been a flash of vulnerability, a glimpse of the woman behind the vixen, but he couldn’t get the pieces to fit.

“Take the jacket,” he told her, his voice sounding gruff, even to his own ears. It was too big on her, obviously, and there was no reason he should like seeing her in it, but he did. The realization made him uneasy.

He didn’t like the sudden shift in his chest. Meaning being assigned to what was nothing more than some great fucking in a supply closet. A momentary and mutual escape into pleasure. It was just a jacket, he assured himself as he turned away from her and pulled the door open a crack to check if the coast was clear.

It was, and he let her duck under his arm and slip through, awareness prickling all over his skin as she pressed into him more than necessary on her way out. Those electric-blue eyes snagged with his for a split second, a final farewell, and then she was gone.

Aidan closed the door behind her and wrestled his body, so recently sated, back under control before he, too, ducked out of the supply closet. He didn’t look for her again, just pushed out the side door, revved up his motorcycle, and took the long way home.

CHAPTER FOUR (#udce100c3-b252-58fe-b0fd-5aebcd84969f)

AIDAN WONDERED IF Lola performed on Saturday nights.

Which was a pretty fucked up thing to wonder.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much else to distract him from thoughts of her as he sat alone in a booth in a shitty pub, waiting for a smug prick. Classic rock and the crack of pool being played in the back corner had nothing on his X-rated memories. He tried to blame his single-mindedness on the fact that he’d broken his sex fast, reminded himself how good it could be and that this...infatuation was just the result of being horny.

Except he wasn’t just looking for a willing partner, because if he had been, any number of the flirtatious glances he’d received when he’d walked in would have enticed him.

He wasn’t thinking about sex.

He was thinking about sex with her.

His abs knotted at the memory, drawing tight beneath his T-shirt. Sure, some of it could be chalked up to newness, to the risk of being caught, but that wasn’t the part that still had him by the balls. There was something deeper, something so...trusting about the way she’d looked at him, taken his hand, followed him.

It was almost as though—

“Christ. Remind me not to let you pick future meeting locations. This place isn’t ‘under the radar.’ It’s ‘waiting to be condemned.’”

Aidan’s head shot up at the verbal attack. Liam Kearney, Cybercore’s CEO, had managed to surprise him. And that wasn’t good. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by a hot body and a butterfly tattoo right now. He stood and shook the man’s hand once, quick and hard, and if he’d gripped too tightly, it was only because his adversary had done the same.

Kearney ran an assessing gaze down Aidan’s brown leather jacket and jeans. “So nice of you to dress up for the occasion.”

The two of them slid into the booth across from one another.

“Yeah, I’m the one who looks like a fucking moron here.” Aidan rested an arm along the top of the beat-up pleather bench. Like he was going to take shit from some prick who wore a three-piece suit to a dive bar. He pulled an envelope containing their agreed-upon price out of his pocket and tossed it onto the table in front of Kearney. “Funny how your distaste for my clothes never keeps you from taking my money.”

Liam bared his teeth. It wasn’t quite a smile. “Of course I’ll take your money. You think Tom Ford suits come cheap? Besides, one of us should look good.”

Aidan caught the waitress’s eye, and with a tip of his chin she started toward them.

By the time he turned back to Kearney, the envelope was tucked away. Discreet. The prick had style; that was for damn sure. “You want a drink?”

Liam glanced at their surroundings and gave a disdainful shake of his head. “I’ve got a date with a supermodel in a couple of hours, so it’s in my best interest to avoid contracting hantavirus between now and then.”

Their server sidled up to the table. “What can I get you, hot stuff?”

“Scotch. Neat.”

“And for your handsome friend?”

“He’s not my friend. And he’s not staying.”