Fifteen

Dahlia

 

He wore all black.

Jacket, shirt, pants, shoes. If it weren’t for the light behind the bar illuminating the different fabrics, they’d have all blended in together.

Damien Fox was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. At least he would be until he opened his mouth, then there would be several adjectives one could replace ‘handsome’ with.

I’d taken up position behind the bar when I’d finally emerged from the staff room half an hour ago. It was nothing more than a stall for time. I’d hoped we’d be busy enough at this point that I’d have to cancel to work, but apparently, Abby and Fergus had seen right through that and had called in reinforcements.

Abby nudged me. “Go.”

I made a face at her. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

“I don’t. That’s why I’m making you go. I’m getting annoyed being in the same building as him.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know I’m being forced into this.”

“Yes, your ability to say ‘no’ has mysteriously disappeared,” she replied dryly.

She wasn’t wrong there.

“Go, Dahlia. He’s only going to sit there all night if you don’t.”

That much was true. As much as I wish it weren’t, I knew better.

“Fine.” I grabbed my purse from beneath the bar. “You’ll call me if there’s a problem?”

“As always. What can I get for you?” She turned her body away from me and toward the customer she was about to serve.

Sighing, I tucked my purse against my body and stepped out from behind the bar. Damien was perched at a tall table and the center of attention for every woman within ten feet of him. If he noticed, he didn’t show it. His eyes were fixed firmly on me as I approached him.

His gaze was as compellingly intense as always, even as he dropped it to my feet and slowly crawled it up my body with obvious appreciation.

I stopped in front of the table. “Do you want me to take a step back so you can undress me with your eyes again?”

He tugged his lips up to one side. “It’s not my eyes I want to undress you with.”

“Carry on making promises you don’t keep, and I’ll start thinking you’re full of hot air.”

He stood, taking a step toward me, and reached for my face. He trailed his thumb along the curve of my bottom lip, his eyes darting to my mouth for a moment. “Well then, I feel obliged to tell you that after dinner, I’m going to take you home and fuck you ‘til you scream.”

I looked him dead in the eye and said, “You better eat quickly, then.”

His eyes widened. They went back to normal so quickly it could have been a twitch, but the slow way his lips formed a smirk told me it was deliberate. “Are you being…agreeable, Ms. Lloyd?”

“Are you talking shit again, Mr. Fox? Because we’re still standing here.”

“I have a better idea.” He dropped his hand to my waist and pulled me against him. “I’ll cook at my place. Then you’ll already be where I need you to be.”

“Then let’s go.”

Damien took my hand in a firm grip, and we wove our way through the crowds building in the bar.

I’d lost my damn mind, because despite my resolve earlier this evening, now I felt sick. Butterflies swarmed in my stomach, flipping it this way and that, yet there was a fission of excitement, too. One that danced its way through my veins and sent goose bumps up my arms. One that tickled its way down my spine until I had to hide a smile by dipping my head.

We stepped outside into the evening warmth. It was still too hot to be entirely comfortable, and if I was hot in a dress, God knows how he was cool wearing all black.

Even his fucking car was black, for the love of God.

“How are you not too hot?” I asked as he reached for the back door. “Does your clothing match your soul?”

He looked back at me, still gripping my hand, and half-smiled. “They say dress for the job you want.”

“Judging by your all-black attire, you either want to be a pimp or Satan.”

“I’d take Satan,” he said, his eyes crinkling as he fought a laugh. “The power to make people do what I want would be fun.”

“By that logic, you’re already the devil.”

“Says the one wearing red.”

“It’s my color.” I flashed him a smile and got in the car.

He leaned forward to the front window before joining me in the back. The partition between the front and back of the car was closed, and the black, tinted glass afforded us almost complete privacy.

My cheeks heated at the memory of what happened last time we were in the back of this car. It wasn’t just my cheeks that got warm—my clit ached at the memory of how easily he’d turned me on without kissing me. The firm way he’d touched my body and pushed his fingers inside me flashed in the forefront of my mind, prompting me to reach for the seatbelt in an effort to shake it away.

Damien was staring at me.

Was he thinking the same thing I was?

Was he remembering, too?

Did I want to know what he was thinking?

Why did any of it matter?

He turned away without speaking, but a smile played on his lips. Silence descended between us, but it was less awkward, more…comfortable.

I didn’t know what to think about that. Just this morning, it’d been strange to be silent together. Yet now…the only thing that had changed was my willingness to accept my attraction to him.

I refused to believe that was the reason for this newfound comfort. It couldn’t be that simple. Deciding to fuck someone didn’t equal this strange kind of peace that hovered between us.

Or did it?

I’d stopped fighting him. Was that it? Was that the key to this? The fact I’d decided to go with this? Maybe it was. I’d stopped fighting and because of that, I’d all but stopped caring about the things I couldn’t control. My attraction to him being one of them.

Or maybe it just was. Maybe I was overthinking it. I did tend to do that, after all.

Over-thinking was exactly why I was in this situation.

I should have been born with an ‘off’ switch.

“You get this little twitch in your eyebrow when you’re thinking really hard about stuff. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

I turned to face Damien. “How do you know I’m thinking really hard?”

“You have a little twitch in your eyebrow.” Laughter twinkled in his eyes.

My eyebrow twitched when I thought hard? I didn’t know that. Why had nobody else ever told me that?

“It’s twitching again. Are you thinking about thinking?”

I blinked at him. “I didn’t know that. Nobody’s ever mentioned it before.”

“Then it’s likely nobody has ever paid as much attention to you as I do. Which is a damn shame.”

Self-consciousness washed over me. I covered my eyebrows with my fingers, just in case they decided to twitch again, because what did he mean by that?

“Dahlia.” He leaned over the seat and gently wrapping his fingers around my wrists, lowered my hands. “Don’t. It’s cute.”

“Great,” I said, letting my hands fall. “That’s what every self-respecting businesswoman wants to be called. Cute.”

“What’s wrong with cute?”

“Is anything right with it?”

“Kittens are fine with it.”

“You’ve probably only talked to male kittens, then.”

He laughed, resting his elbow on the back of the seat and leaning his head against his hand. “You’re probably right. Although past you, I can’t say I talk to many women, either.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“I don’t talk to many people in general,” he clarified. “And the women who are worthy of conversation make it known relatively quickly.”

“That’s the most chauvinistic—”

“Ah, good. We’re here.”

“—sexist, bullshit thing I’ve ever heard you utter, and that’s saying something,” I finished. Annoyance prickled at my skin, making me sit bolt upright.

Damien unclipped his seatbelt, apparently unfazed by my miniature rant. “Are you coming or not?”

“Certainly not now.”

“I didn’t mean it like that and you know it,” he replied, opening the door and getting out. He bent down, one hand on the top of the door and the other on the car. “Are you coming to continue this conversation, or are you going to go home and stew, only to ultimately realize we should have carried on, if only for you to get justification for what you’re pissed off about?”

Goddamn it, I really hated him sometimes.

“Motherfucker,” I muttered, unclipping my own belt and shoving it off me. I scooted over the seat to the tune of his laughter. My dress rode up my thighs as I did, getting caught under my ass, and as I stood, Damien reached for my leg.

“I like these,” he murmured in my ear, fingering the lace top of one of the stockings. “Bet it’ll feel even better when your legs are around my neck.”

“Right now, it’ll be the stocking sans leg around your neck,” I shot back, pushing at his chest so he moved. “Until you justify that ridiculous comment, they’re my potential murder weapon.”

“You watch a lot of TV, don’t you?” He smiled, closing the car door.

I glanced at the car as it rolled away. “Where does he go? Don’t you ever invite him in?”

“Would you like me to invite him in? It’s not usually my thing, but if you’d like someone to watch you come on my cock…”

“I shouldn’t have gotten out of the car.”

He laughed. “Maybe not, but you did, and you’re here, so come inside.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me up the wide driveway to the front door.

His house wasn’t huge, but it was well secluded, and I recognized it as one of the houses in a gated community not far from my home. Damien fumbled with the key for a second and moved to an alarm box as soon as the door was open. It beeped a few times, and he flicked on the hallway light.

Bare.

That was the first word that sprung to mind. Not in a judgmental way, but as a general observation. Despite the fluffy rug on the tiled black floor and one mirror on the plain white walls of the entryway, there was nothing else. A stark contrast to my own warm entrance.

“Wine?” Damien asked, touching his hand to my back and guiding me into the kitchen.

He flicked another light switch, and the room lit up thanks to several spotlights spread across the ceiling. A few were concentrated over the large, rectangular island in the middle of the room, their brightness glinting off the shiny marble countertop.

“There’s rosé in the fridge,” he continued, motioning to a backed stool at the island.

I arched my eyebrows. “You remembered. I’m impressed.”

A tiny twitch caught the corner of his mouth. His eyes flashed with something genuine—something I couldn’t quite pinpoint because he turned around. “Of course I remembered.” He pulled the bottle out from a rack inside the fridge and shut the door. “Like I said in the car…I pay a ridiculous amount of attention to you, Dahlia. It’s an easy thing to do.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I swallowed and watched as he poured the pink wine into a glass. He followed up by placing the bottle back in the fridge and pulling out a beer. Popping off the top with a satisfying hiss using an opener attached to the side of his fridge, he caught the cap and threw it into the trashcan.

“Do you want to eat before or after I justify my perfectly sane comments to you?” he asked, wiping the side of his bottle.

“Oh, the one where you deemed women unworthy of your conversation?”

“If it were women in general, you wouldn’t be putting wine in your mouth. You’d be putting me in it.”

I took a big mouthful of wine and glared as I swallowed it.

He sighed, despite the smile playing with the corners of his mouth. “It’s so fun to mess with you.”

I carried on glaring at him. He may have thought so, but I couldn’t say I agreed. Messing with him was probably way more fun.

“There are three types of women in my world.” Damien held up three fingers, leaning back against the kitchen counter, before bending two down so only one was up. “One: the types who come to me for a job. They do it for fun, for college, or for their kids. Maybe even for their parents. Mostly, they’re good people, stuck in a tough place. Our conversations are short and sweet.” He flipped up a second finger. “Two: the types who get dollar signs in their eyes when they look at me. You’ll know them as gold diggers, and I bet you’ve seen your fair share of male ones. They don’t care about me or my business. They care about my car, my bank, and whether or not I’ll spend fifty grand on a fucking handbag for their birthday or not.” The third finger went up. “Three: the very rare women who actually give a shit about me. Maybe we’re colleagues, family friends, or we have business to do. Those are the two-way relationships and the conversations I have time for.”

All right.

“Your explanation is spot on, but your original delivery needs some work.” I leaned onto the counter and propped my chin up on my hand. “And yes, I have seen my fair share of gold diggers who see money when they look at me. That doesn’t mean they aren’t worthy of my conversation. I can’t adequately tell them where to go if I don’t talk to them.”

“You tell one to fuck off and you’re feisty. I do it and I’m an asshole.”

“A label that shouldn’t bother you, given that you are. Mine doesn’t bother me.” I grinned.

Damien smiled behind the rim of his beer. “I forgot the fourth type of woman.”

I watched him expectantly, twisting my glass in my hand.

“The business rival who drives me crazy.” His smile twisted into a dirty smirk. “She goes by Dahlia Lloyd, but I prefer to refer to her as my little pain in the ass.”

“I can be a pain in a whole lot more.” I blinked at him innocently, lifting my glass to my mouth.

He put his bottle down on the island and rounded it. His eyes were fixed on mine as he approached with slow, calculated steps that made a shiver run down my spine. His dark eyelashes fanned across his cheeks every time he blinked, and the closer he came to me, the more the memory of his kiss tingled across my lips.

He stopped right in front of me.

Pulled me up.

Held me against him.

Ran his lips across my jaw.

“My sanity?” His lips brushed across my earlobe as he spoke. “My resistance? My common sense? My ability to make good decisions? My ability to leave you the fuck alone, Dahlia? ‘Cause I can assure you, you’re a pain in all of those. In fact, they’re all non-existent where you’re concerned.”

My heart thumped.

“You make me insane. I can’t fight you. You kill my common sense. I make nothing but bad choices around you. And you’re sure as shit too damn irresistible for me to leave you alone for a single day.” Damien dug his fingers into my skin, shooting thrills throughout my body. He dipped his face right against mine. His stubble scrubbed across my jaw, rough and tough, tickling as the hairs flicked across my face. “I want you,” he breathed, lips barely a heartbeat from mine. “And if you had any fucking idea how badly, you’d run into the wind.”

His shirt was as smooth as silk, flawless beneath my fingers as they mapped their way across his muscular body. The fabric rippled and slipped beneath my touch, and that smoothness only stopped when my fingertips left the material and fell upon his neck. Hot yet rough courtesy of his trimmed stubble, his skin sent tingles across mine, starting from where we touched until I felt them all over my entire body.

“This is a bad idea,” I said breathlessly, hand on the side of his neck.

“Good things come from bad ideas.” His eyes bore into mine, a raging inferno of want and lust that burned. “Didn’t you know that?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever really carried out any of my bad ideas before.” My voice gave out on the final word as the truth hit me.

I hadn’t.

Not ever.

Except him—except every idea I’d ever had that he was involved in.

“Then,” his voice was low, and he slid one hand down my back, holding me tighter against him. “I’ll be the first.”

His mouth covered mine before I could think of a response. Not that I had one—hell, if I had to make a really bad decision, it might as well have been this. I’d already made it, too. After that kiss this morning, there was no way I’d be ending this evening without sleeping with him.

I’d come here to do that, hadn’t I?

I shut off the voice inside my head and fully gave myself over to the man in front of me. His lips were hot but slow, moving over mine in a way that was firm yet easy—that put him in control. It was a kiss that laid out his intentions.

His intentions to control this, to dominate me, to own this entire thing.

I had no chance of taking any of that away from him, so I rolled with it. I let him think he did, even as he broke the kiss, clasped my hand, and pulled me toward the stairs. I paused at the bottom to remove my heels, but he stopped me.

Damien shook his head. “Don’t even think about taking those off.”

I raised my eyebrows but said nothing. I wasn’t against it or anything…

We carried on up the stairs until we reached the upstairs hallway. Like the one downstairs, it was plain and clean, almost clinical in its appearance. But I didn’t have a whole lot of time to focus on it, because Damien dragged me down the hall to a door at the end. All the doors were ajar except this one, and when he opened it, I saw why.

“This is your room,” I said, not bothering to hide my surprise.

He rolled his head to the side and looked back over his shoulder. “What were you expecting? A sex dungeon?”

“Now that you mention it…”

He laughed and pulled me inside, pushing the door shut behind me. He walked backward as he guided me into the room with slow steps. “No dungeon, no special room, no sordid basement…I promise. I don’t usually…entertain…at my house.”

“Then why am I here?”

He stepped toward me, slipping his fingers between mine and holding me close. “I make exceptions for exceptions.”

“What does—”

He silenced me with a kiss. His fingers slid into my hair, easing to the back of my head and cupping it. I gripped his shirt, leaning into him. A shiver raced across my skin when he flicked his tongue across my lower lip, and my toes twitched as if they wanted to curl. Just when I thought he’d deepen it, he released me.

My lips parted. I drew in a deep breath, my lame attempt at hiding the desire that was building.

Damien’s footsteps were silent on the plush carpet. He came behind me and rested his hands on my waist, stopping me from moving, and reached up. Hair rose across my skin as he ghosted his fingers over my shoulder to my hair. He swept it to the side, brushing it over my other shoulder, exposing the curve of my neck and top of my dress.

His fingers closed around the zipper pull.

Warmth flushed through me.

With my harsh breathing as the only sound for it to contend with, the deep buzz of the zip as he undid it seemed unnaturally loud. The brush of his knuckle following the zip down my spine only heightened the sound—heightened the way my heart beat a little too fast. But then—then, he touched his lips to the base of my neck, and I shivered, my entire body feeling the effects of just one touch.

He smiled, mouth still against my skin. “It’s coming off.”

Working the sleeves over my shoulders, he peeled the fabric down my body, bending his knees and crouching until it was pooled at my feet. I closed my eyes. I was wearing nothing but my heels, the new bra, and one of my sexiest thongs.

“Out,” he said, tugging at the fabric.

I stepped out, squeezing my eyes shut. A swish sounded, and then Damien’s hands were on my legs, fingers splayed as he ran them up my calves, over my knees, up the backs of my thighs until he cupped the curves of my ass cheeks.

“Can’t imagine why you wore these.” His lips brushed my skin, just next to the band of my underwear, and stood, gripping my hips. He spun me, nothing but carefully controlled restraint in his eyes.

“You’re overdressed.” I popped open the top button of his shirt and moved to the next one. I did them all in seconds and yanked on the material to free it from his belted pants.

His body was rock solid, packed tight with muscle that just begged me to touch it. I glided my fingers over his enviable stomach lazily, teasing him back the way he had when he undid my dress.

I could take it. I didn’t think he could. He wasn’t great at patience, after all.

I used that to my advantage, exploring his body entirely at my leisure. From his hard chest to the tempting ‘v’ that curved over his hips and disappeared beneath his pants, pointing right at the hard bulge against the zipper. I even brushed my baby finger over his cock once or twice before I finally grabbed his shirt and tugged it over his shoulders.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Damien’s tone was deep and guttural, so husky that my heart thumped at the frustration in his voice.

He yanked himself away from me.

Ripped off his shirt.

Threw it down.

Grabbed me around the waist. Threw me back onto the bed. Pounced on me.

Immediately fisting my hair, he leaned over me and kissed me. He didn’t mess around this time. His tongue found mine in an instant, the ferocity of his kiss wiping all thoughts from my head and replacing it all with him.

With how his toned body burned against mine.

With how my scalp stung from his tight grip.

With how my fingers dragged over his skin, my nails lightly scratching him.

There was nothing but Damien and the lust that pooled between my legs, making my clit ache.

He tugged my head back and kissed down my neck, his cock pressed between my legs. I gasped when he shifted, pressing harder against my clit. Relief washed over me when he released my hair to undo my bra, but within seconds, he had his mouth over my nipple.

Nibble, suck, graze, lick—he alternated between mild pain and wild pleasure. I wanted more and wanted him to stop. It was a crazy sensation, needing to get both closer and further away at the same time. It didn’t stop as he turned his attention to my other breast where he did the same thing until I whimpered.

Pain? Pleasure? I didn’t know.

He leaned back up over me, kissing me again. The light smattering of hair over his chest rubbed against my tender nipples, and he flexed his hips, once again teasing my clit with his cock. I reached between us, desperately trying to get hold of his belt, and felt his grin against my lips when I finally made contact with the cold metal of the buckle.

He laughed quietly into my neck.

“You’re wearing too many pants,” I murmured, breathless from the kiss.

He laughed a little louder and got up. I propped myself up on my elbows and watched as he undid the buckle, then the button, then the zipper. My mouth went dry as he bent over and pulled off his pants, but that was because he didn’t stop there.

He pulled his boxer briefs off, too.

I took a deep breath in as he wrapped his fingers around his cock and gently stroked it. He kept his hand there as he opened a drawer in the nightstand and pulled out a condom. He kept it there as he climbed back up onto the bed, positioning his body over mine, between my legs, and kissed me again. The corner of the foil packet tickled my hair, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling myself up to kiss him deeper

Using his legs to open mine further, he released his cock and brushed his thumb over my thong. My clit throbbed beneath the light touch, and I gasped when he moved my underwear to the side and pushed one finger inside me. I was already wet—wet enough to take him, and that was all I wanted to do. I didn’t want to mess around with foreplay any longer.

I wanted his cock inside me, and I wanted it now.

He grazed his teeth over my lower lip, breaking the kiss. As if he’d heard my inner thoughts—or my moans against his tongue—he pulled back and ripped open the condom. My entire body jolted into high alert, tingling with anticipation.

My legs drifted shut as he grabbed his cock at the base and rolled the condom on in one smooth motion. His gaze traveled hotly from his cock to me, and he knelt with one leg on the bed reaching for my thong. The lace tickled as he peeled it down my legs and over my heels, dropping it on the floor.

“Open your legs,” he demanded hoarsely.

I clenched them together and drew in a deep breath.

“Dahlia.”

That sent a jolt of desire straight down my spine.

“Open. Your. Legs.”

I clenched them even tighter.

Damien gripped my knees and shoved my legs open, unwilling to wait for me any longer. My muscles were still tight, so he ran his hands up the insides of my thighs, digging his fingertips into me, applying enough pressure that I couldn’t move against him.

Then, he dipped his head and ran his tongue along my pussy, pausing at my clit and closing his lips around it. He sucked, pulsing his tongue against the taut bundle of nerves.

I gasped, grabbing the sheets as an uncontrollable burn of pleasure flushed through me.

He moved, laughing breathlessly, and covered my body with his. His hand between us, he guided the head of his cock to my pussy and lightly pushed himself inside me. He eased in, inch by inch, my muscles clenching and hugging his hardness. Heat washed over me. I cupped the back of his neck and his shoulder, closing my eyes.

Slowly, he moved, pulling out almost entirely before he buried himself back inside me.

The slowness didn’t last long. I wrapped my legs around his waist and crossed my ankles, basically curling myself around him as he found a rhythm. He picked up speed, our skin slapping together as he fucked me harder, deeper, faster.

My heart pounded. Sweat slicked across my body as he moved. I grasped and grabbed, digging my fingers into his back and his shoulders, scratching at his neck, arching my body and taking all of him.

He paused, sitting up. His fingers were hot against my legs as he unwound them from his waist, and the question of what he was doing died on my tongue as he slid off the bed, yanked me by my thighs to the edge, and guided himself inside me again. At the apex of my thighs, he splayed his fingers, holding my legs wide open.

If I thought he was fucking me hard a moment ago, I was wrong.

This was hard.

It was rough. Relentless. Greedy. Each thrust of his hips slapped his skin against mine and forced pleasure onto me. His grip meant I could do nothing but lie there and take it. Arch my back and writhe as the heat of an impending orgasm swamped me, tickling my skin, tugging at my senses, drying out my throat as moans escaped my parted lips.

My fingers dug into the sheets, gripping desperately. Something had to ground me, hold me here, because the sensations wracking my body were overwhelming. Blinding, almost. It built and built and built and built until the gentle rise of pleasure mounted and slammed into me, taking me over the edge into an orgasm that had bright spots dancing behind the lids of my closed eyes, that had all my muscles clenched, that had my entire body trembling with its strength.

And somewhere through it was Damien, releasing my legs, bending over me, groaning. Groaning my name…Clutching the back of my neck…Buried so far inside me that, for the barest moment, in the middle of heightened senses and wild pleasure, we were a whole lot more than two pawns in a game.