Chapter Two
Nora
Emily slides into the passenger’s seat of Lauren’s car seconds before Lauren pulls out onto the road with a promise to not fall asleep until I get there. That’s all fine and good. I hope it’s a very long, wet time before I show up to Emily’s house.
Kip takes a step, the another, toward me. I back into the heated bar, the door snapping closed behind us.
“Well, Nora,” he says, his boots heavy on the floor. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’m wet?” I offer, leaning against the bar. “My pussy throbs? Does that suffice?”
His grin darkens, his eyelids growing heavy. “I’d say it’s a good start.”
“You want more detail?”
“Always,” he growls. He stands so he’s in between my legs, the fabric of his pants rubbing against the tender skin of my legs. “Why didn’t you answer my calls this week?”
“I was busy,” I tease.
“Too busy to return a fucking call?”
“Well, if I knew the call was about fucking, I might’ve answered.”
“Is it ever about anything else?”
Grabbing the lapels of his shirt, I jerk him toward me. “It better not be or I’ll never answer it again.”
His lips crash against mine before I get the last syllable out. He breathes in the words, captures them with his mouth. My hands are in his hair, working the silky strands between my fingers as our kisses grow deeper.
Our tongues dance as his hands grasp my ass, fingers digging into the denim covering my bottom. He lifts me up, sitting me on a barstool, never breaking the kiss.
My head spins like it does every time we hook up because that’s just what it is—a hookup. That’s also why it’s amazing. I can enjoy myself, be myself, and then be myself with someone else tomorrow if I want to. It doesn’t matter.
“I’ve dreamed of this fucking ass,” he growls in my mouth.
“You’ve dreamed,” I pant, “of this fucking ass or fucking this ass?”
“The first but I’ll happily take the second.” He buries his head in the side of my neck, kissing and biting his way to the hollow of my throat. “Is Machlan here?”
“Nope. He’s with Pec … He’s not here.”
He pulls back as I make a face, catching my slip-up.
“I know he’s with Peck and I know they left when I got here. I’m not fucking stupid.”
My legs swinging off the barstool, I grin. “Apparently you are because I still have clothes on.” Hopping off the stool, pressing a palm against his chest, I look up at him. “Guess I’ll finish closing.”
“The hell you will.”
He lifts the hem of my shirt up and over my head before I realize what he’s doing. The air, combined with Kip’s hooded eyes, peaking my nipples. The ends of my hair brush against my bare shoulders as he makes quick work of my pants. I assist by sliding out of my shoes and socks and kicking everything to the side.
“Like what you see?” I ask, taking my breasts out of the bra and letting them sit on top. “Because if you do, and by the strain of your pants right now—I think you do, you better lose some clothes, Kip.”
He flips me a look, but frees the buttons dotting the center of his chest. “I hate how bossy you are.”
“I think you really like it,” I tell him. Closing the distance between us, I undo his belt. “I need you inside me. You’re taking too long.”
“You could’ve told me Peck was in the back and I could’ve tossed those friends of yours outta here earlier. I could’ve been buried in that sweet little pussy by now.”
My thighs clench, my stomach aching with the need to feel his cock part me in two. My hands fumble with the button on his pants. All I can think of is the release he’s about to give me.
“Here,” he says, working faster. “Let me help.”
His pants are pooled at his feet around his work boots, his body otherwise on full display. Shoulders, as broad as the room, cut narrowly to a trim, fit waist. You can tell he runs by the leanness of his body, but he fills out just the right parts to keep from looking too thin.
He’s glorious. The little scars and wounds speckling his torso and thighs adding that much more mystery to a man I don’t ever want to solve. It’s the mystery that keeps this fun. Sexy. Exciting. If that dissolves, he’ll just be like every other guy on a Friday night. And, as I look down, I’m reminded just how much he’s not like every other guy.
His cock is pointed to the ceiling, a dot of pre-cum catching the light. He’s so hard, so thick, so perfectly sized to stretch me open and fill me up.
“Wait,” I say, wrapping my hand around the base. My tongue hits the salty liquid, smearing it over the head before I suck him inside my mouth. The rawness in his groan, the way his hands sink in my hair as he thrusts forward and rocks himself into my mouth, has my entire body screaming for him.
“You know what I hate about this?” he rasps.
“Hmm,” I hum, flicking the tip with my tongue. I pump his length, swollen and veiny, as I suck him in and out.
“That I’m on duty. I gotta make this quick, sweetheart.”
“Ew,” I say, standing up. “Don’t call me that.”
He rolls on the condom, grinning. “I forgot. Nothing feel-y.”
“Nothing remotely feel-y, please. You’re my guilty pleasure.”
There’s a sparkle shining in his eye that should warn me, but I’m too high on pheromones to read it correctly. He reaches into the heap of clothes at his feet and brings up a set of handcuffs. “If you’re guilty, then I’m gonna have to cuff you, Miss.”
“Oh, no,” I say as sweetly as I can. “Please no. I’m a good girl.” Batting my lashes, I resist the urge to giggle. Holding my hands out, palms up, I pout. “What will I ever do with cuffs on?”
He slaps them against my wrists, the cold metal biting my wrists. It sends a wave of fire through my core, landing at the apex of my thighs.
I can feel my heartbeat in my pussy, my legs feeling like I’ve ran a marathon as they fill with adrenaline. The sound of the metal zipping as he latches the cuffs on tighter, making the bite sting even more, has me almost moaning.
“I’ll tell you what you’re gonna do,” he whispers. Holding my gaze, he drops to his knees in front of me. “You’re going to stand still and not shout, okay?”
“When am I ever quiet?” I say, breaking character. “I mean, I’ll try, Officer.”
A hand slides between my legs and urges them apart. One hand cupping each side of my groin, his thumbs perilously close to my ass, he buries his face between my legs. My hands bound together, I bring them over his head and pull him toward me.
He inhales roughly, breathing in the scent of my arousal. His hands shake, betraying the cool confidence he tries to portray.
“Lean back,” he orders as he rocks back on his heels. Checking to ensure the bar is behind me, I do as I’m told.
His thumbs part my slit. The contact alone, of his hands on my delicate flesh, sends ripples of excitement through my veins.
“I lied to you.” He moves the pad of one finger over my clit. I have no idea what he’s going to say and lying is a hard limit for me, right along with feels, but I don’t care. All I can do is melt under his touch. “I said this was going to be quick.”
“Keep rubbing me like that and it will be quick.” I moan, tilting my hips toward him.
Contact breaks. “Better stop then.”
“Kip,” I warn, my eyes flying open, “I swear to you, if you don’t—ah!”
His mouth is on me, sucking in my swollen bud. It’s a shot of ecstasy straight to my blood.
“Fuck you,” I barely get out, my brain-mouth connection fraying. “Don’t. Stop.”
His tongue is thick and heavy, working its way around my body like a backroad. One finger slips inside me, giving me a taste of what’s to come.
“Still,” he growls. The vibrations of his voice against me makes me shudder. It also makes me not still, much to his frustration. One hand flat against my stomach, one wrapped around my backside, he holds me tight. “Still, Nora.”
“The fact I can still talk makes you not quite as effective as you want to—damn you!”
Two fingers are inserted, taking away my breath. I rock myself onto them, needing the friction. Dying for the friction. Craving the friction.
“You are so fucking gorgeous when you’re like this,” he says, the need in his voice undeniable.
“Like what?” I grumble, irritated at the slow in tempo.
“On the cusp of getting off. It’s fucking awesome.”
Glancing down at this man on his knees in front of me, I grin. “You know what’s awesome? And don’t stop that motion while you talk,” I warn, swirling my hips against him.
“What’s that?”
“Seeing your face with my juices all over it.”
This sparks something inside him. His eyes darken to a shade I’ve only seen a couple of times before. His hand falls away from my body as he stands.
“Fuck you,” he says, echoing my earlier sentiment.
“Please do.”
He grins but catches himself. Instead, he takes my cuffed hands and guides me to a table. He sits on a chair and turns me away from him.
I glance over my shoulder to see him sitting, legs apart, cock in hand. It’s struggling against the rubber of the condom, bulging for me.
“Let me sit down on you,” I almost beg.
“I might.”
“Dude, what if you—”
He stops me with a glare. “Don’t call me dude.”
“Fine, Officer,” I hiss. “What if someone is dying and they call you out? Want to deal with that with blue balls?”
“I’m about tired of your bossiness.”
“Fine,” I say, starting to turn around. “I’ll get someone else to get me off.”
I’m jerked back around, my blood pressure spiking, as he grips both hips with his hands. He lowers me onto his cock inch-by-delicious-inch. Each movement filling me until the head is slammed against the back of my pussy.
“That,” I breathe. The feeling of him at the wall is my kryptonite. It’s the place not all men can hit but Kip can every fucking time. It’s almost irritating how perfectly he can do that, but I’m not in a place to complain.
My body sags at the pressure building inside me. He doesn’t move, doesn’t thrust, just leaves himself seated deep inside my body.
I lean back against his hard chest, his hands coming around and cupping my breasts. He plays with my nipples, twisting them between his fingers, as he presses kisses up and down my shoulder.
“Kip …” My voice trails off as I succumb to the moment. I don’t have to think like this. There’s nothing to worry about, nothing to consider. Just enjoying myself with a man that wants me, flaws and all.
“I’m going to tell you a secret,” he whispers against my neck.
His lips touch the area right behind my ear, the place that leaves me breathless every time. There’s something about that gesture that I love.
“This is your real guilty pleasure,” he breathes.
“What?” I try to sit up, but he clamps me down against him. “You like this. As much as you want to pretend you’re a little badass that doesn’t want a connection, it’s the connection that you really crave.”
My head spins at his accusation. My body stills against him.
“You’re wrong,” I say, my voice without the strength I usually have.
“Fine.” He chuckles, shoving his hips up. “You want to be fucked hard? You got it.”