Chapter Thirteen

 

Connor

 

I park in an underground garage below the office building that houses Nichols and Associates – Zoe's father's firm – and climb out of my car, heading for the elevators. I decided to wing it here. I don’t have a plan. All I know is that I woke up with a raging hard-on and couldn’t get her out of my head.

So, after jerking off to her in the shower again, I got dressed and decided to come down to her office. I want to see her. Need to see her. The need is powerful, and the craving is overwhelming.

The elevator doors chime and slide open, revealing a lobby with marble flooring, beautiful artwork, and a few well-padded, comfortable looking armchairs. The place doesn't scream money so much as whispers it. Everything is tasteful and understated, and totally not what I expected for a firm of sleazy ambulance chasers. Zoe excluded, of course.

Instead, it's upscale and classy. Based on the refined decor alone, I imagine they tend to cater to a wealthier, high-class clientele.

“May I help you?”

I look up to see an attractive redhead smiling at me from behind the reception desk. Ordinarily, she's the kind of woman I'd be angling to get in the sack. As I look at her right now, however, I don't feel any compulsion to get her into a closet with her skirt up around her waist. That’s usually my default setting when it comes to a good-looking woman. All I care about right now, though, is Zoe.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I walk over to the reception desk, trying to clear my head a bit.

“Yes, love. Connor Grigson,” I say, flashing her a smile. “I'd like to see Zoe Nichols.”

“Do you have an appointment, sir?”

I shake my head and give her what I hope is my most charming smile. “Do I need one?”

The redhead smiles. “Ordinarily, yes you do.”

I nod. “Well, I'm at bit of a loss then, love,” I say. “I really need to see her though. If there's any way you could sneak me in, I'd be very, very appreciative.”

She looks at me, batting her big green eyes, and a flirty little smile. I could have this girl if I wanted her. Yeah, this tells me just how well and truly fucked-up in the head I am right now because although she's a beautiful girl, there is absolutely no desire there.

“Are you her boyfriend?” she asks.

“No,” I say. “Not at all. I'm here to discuss a proposal her father made.”

A look of relief flashes through her eyes and she turns that dazzling smile on me once more.

“Well, that's good,” she says, her eyes never leaving mine. “In that case, let me just give her a call and see if she's available.”

“I'd appreciate that...” I say and take a quick look down at the nameplate on her desk, “Tabitha.”

“Tabby,” she says.

“Well, I'd appreciate that a lot, Tabby.”

She picks up the phone, and I take a step back to give her a little privacy. Thirty seconds later, she sets the phone down and gives me a smile.

“Ms. Nichols has a few moments for you between meetings,” she says.

“Excellent,” I reply. “Thank you for checking.”

“My pleasure,” she purrs.

Tabby stands and crooks her finger at me. “Follow me please, Mr. Grigson.”

She leads me down a hallway, swishing her hips to draw my attention to her ass. Tabby looks over her shoulder at me and gives me a sultry smile.

She stops in front of an empty conference room. “Wait right here and Ms. Nichols will be with you in just a moment,” she says. “In the meantime, is there anything I can get for you? Water? Tea? Anything at all?”

Her eyes look over my body once more, and I think I understand how women must feel when men give them the once-over. Like a piece of meat. Not that I mind it in the least. I just wish I had the desire to act on such a blatant invitation.

“I'll be fine, thanks, love,” I say.

She licks her lips suggestively and presses something into my palm. Glancing down, I see it's a business card with a phone number and a heart written upon it. I slide it into my pocket and give her a wink.

Tabby closes the door softly behind me, and I drop down into a seat, letting out a long, pained sigh. I look down at my crotch and shake my head.

“You're really not helping me out at all here, buddy.”

A couple of minutes later, the door opens, and Zoe walks in. She's dressed in a dark blue pencil skirt, white blouse, and blue blazer – looking every ounce the career-woman. Her long raven-black hair is neatly braided and pulled to the side. As always, she looks utterly flawless.

Zoe avoids making eye contact as she moves around the table and takes a seat across from me. She flips open the notebook she's carrying and clears her throat. An awkward silence fills the room, a sense of expectation hanging heavy in the air between us.

“Mr. Grigson –”

“Connor,” I say, cutting her off.

She looks at me evenly. “What can I do for you today, Mr. Grigson?”

“To be perfectly honest, I don't know,” I reply. “All I know is that I needed to see you.”

Her cheeks flare with color as she looks away. Zoe takes a minute to compose herself and I wish like hell I could read what's going through her mind.

“About the settlement,” she says, still not meeting my gaze. “You needed to see me regarding the settlement?”

A low chuckle escapes me. “Oh, I think we both know that's not the case now, don't we, love?”

“Please stop calling me that,” she says, though her voice lacks conviction. “You may call me Ms. Nichols.”

“I can't stop thinking about you, Zoe,” I say. “It's the damndest thing. I've never had a –”

“This is entirely inappropriate,” she says.

Zoe looks at me and I see something in her eyes I didn't expect – hope maybe? Maybe she's flattered? I don't know, but it doesn’t match the unmasked hostility in her words. She shakes her head gently and I see her try to put her lawyer mask back on.

But she can't fool me.

“Mr. Grigson,” she says, “if you're not going to take the settlement – and I think we both know at this point that you're not – then you need to formally reject it and let the matter proceed.”

“Have lunch with me, Zoe,” I say. “Or dinner. Maybe even breakfast. I don’t really care which.”

She looks at me, dumbfounded. “Did you hear a single word I just said?”

“Every last bit of it,” I reply. “Have lunch with me.”

“I don't think that would be appropriate, given the circumstances we’re in,” she says.

“If I took the settlement and we put the whole matter to rest,” I say, “would you go have lunch with me?”

“That's thirty-million dollars,” she gasps.

I shrug. “It's just money.”

She lets out a long breath, an inscrutable look back on her face. She looks torn. Zoe opens her mouth to speak, but the door to the conference room opens, and her father steps through it, causing me to grumble to myself.

Zoe quickly closes her mouth and looks down at the notebook on the table in front of her, a dark look crossing her delicate features.

“Mr. Grigson,” he says, his voice a low, rumbling baritone. “I heard you were here.”

“And here I am,” I say. “Your sources were correct.”

He gives me a smirk that's half-amused, half-irritated. “I hope this means you're ready to sign the settlement paperwork.”

I look at Zoe, who seems to be doing her best not to glower at her father. There's definitely some friction between the two of them. The last thing I want to do is get involved in family drama. Got enough of my own, thanks. As I look at the two of them, an idea pops into my head – an idea Zoe might kick my ass for.

“Actually, I wanted to discuss some of the details with Ms. Nichols here,” I say. “I thought if we went to lunch, she could explain some things to me. Assuage any concerns I might have, and all that.”

Zoe looks at me, her eyes impossibly wide, and I just give her a little smile. She opens her mouth, undoubtedly to protest, when her father's loud, booming voice cuts her off.

“That sounds like a good idea,” he says. “I think it best that you feel comfortable before signing anything.”

“I have a meeting in twenty minutes with Mr. Arias,” she says quickly – too quickly.

Her father waves her off. “I'll have Simmons talk to him and get the details.”

“Well, right after that, I have to meet with –”

“I'll have Simmons cover for you there as well,” he says, casting a dark look at her. “Honestly, Zoe, this place isn't going to fall apart without you.”

She lets out a long sigh of frustration, obviously out of viable excuses. The look on her face is one of pure defeat.

“Great,” I say and look at Zoe. “It's a date, then.”

She looks flustered and her cheeks are an unnatural shade of scarlet, but she manages to pull herself together pretty quickly.

“It's a business lunch,” she clarifies. “A business meeting.”

“Sure thing,” I say.

“Great,” he father says. “I'll leave the two of you to it then.”

He leaves the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. Zoe rounds on me, absolute fury in her eyes. She opens her mouth to speak but then closes it again – knowing it's likely not going to do any good anyway. Her father has spoken and for whatever reason, she doesn’t seem capable of standing up to him.

Or rather, she does but doesn't know how to tap into it yet. This woman is strong. I can see it in her. But, when it comes to her father, for some reason, she seems to lose that strength.

“I'm happy to drive,” I say.

She rolls her eyes and lets out a derisive snort. “Fine,” she says. “Let me get my bag and we can get this over with.”

 

~ooo000ooo~

 

“This is a nice place,” I say. “I haven't been here before.”

“Yeah, that's great,” she replies without looking at me as she scans the menu.

She'd picked a little hole-in-the-wall, Mom-and-pop Mexican food joint. Admittedly, I’ve never been a huge fan of Mexican food, but when we walked in here, the smells wafting out of the kitchen made my mouth water and my stomach grumble.

“What are you having?” I ask.

“Lunch,” she says, her tone curt. “You?”

“You later, if I'm lucky,” I say, partly just to irritate her enough to get her to talk to me.

She slaps the menu back down on the table and stares at me, her eyes narrowed, and her jaw clenched. Irritation is etched into her every feature. Mission accomplished.

“Yeah, that's not going to happen,” she says flatly.

“Never say never,” I tease.

She leans across the table and stares at me. “Look, Connor,” she says. “What happened that night in San Francisco was great. It never should have happened, but I don’t regret it. I'm not going to even try to deny that I enjoyed every second of it. But, that was then, and this is now. Those two worlds can't and won't come together again.”

I lean back in my seat and nod as if I understand. But then, I give her a slow smile. The harder she fights it, the more it feels like she's in denial about something. Maybe I'm cocky, but I get the feeling she's trying to convince herself – unsuccessfully – that she doesn't want me.

What happened between us that night in San Francisco was tangible. It was real. I felt it, and I know she did too.

The waitress stops by the table, drops off our sodas, and takes our order. I didn’t even bother to look at the menu, and just said I wanted whatever Zoe was having. The waitress smiles and heads off to put our orders in.

“You feel it too,” I say. “Don't you?”

“Feel what?”

“That connection between us.”

“There is no connection between us.”

I give her a laugh. “That so?” I ask. “Then how do you explain what happened at my house? Do you typically kiss and grope men you don't feel something for?”

“Maybe I do,” she says, trying to put a note of haughtiness in her voice.

“Yeah, that's bullshit,” I say and laugh. “And we both know that.”

I see her blush again, but whether it's because I called her out or because she's remembering the kiss in my house, I don't know. I certainly remember the way she'd kissed me and how it felt to have her hands on me – as my now stiff cock can attest to. I'm just glad it's under the table where she can't see it.

I clear my throat. For better or worse, it's time to lay my cards out on the table.

“Zoe, something about you has stuck with me. I don't know what in the hell it is, but I can't get you out of my head,” I say. “I haven't been able to since that night in San Francisco.”

She looks at me wide-eyed and swallows hard. Her normally pale face seems to have lost even more of its color, and in that moment, I know for certain that she feels it too.

“I – I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that information,” she finally says, looking away from me.

“Admit that you feel the same way too.”

“What if I don't?” she asks. “Feel the same way, that is.”

“I know you do, Zoe,” I reply. “I can see it on your face.”

“That's pretty arrogant, Connor,” she says. “Just because I slept with you –”

“And grabbed my cock in a completely separate encounter,” I cut her off and grin. “Let's not forget that.”

She sighs. “Regardless, that only indicates that I may feel a certain sense of – lust – toward you,” she says. “It doesn't mean we have any sort of emotional connection.”

I shrug. “Maybe not,” I reply. “But, isn't it worth exploring?”

“Not for me, it's not.”

“Because of your father?” I ask. “Or is it that other guy – Bryant, I think his name was?”

She scoffs. “Hardly,” I say. “On the arrogant asshole scale, Bryant makes you look downright humble.”

“Well, gee,” I say. “I'm flattered.”

The waitress drops off our food and hustles away as the place starts to fill up. I dig into whatever it is I ordered and groan with delight after the first bite. Whatever it is, it's amazing. Maybe I need to reconsider my stance on Mexican food after all.

“Good call,” I say. “This is delicious.”

“Been my favorite since I was a little girl,” she says, her voice sounding wistful – almost nostalgic.

“Grew up here, huh?”

She nods. “Yeah. Been in the area my whole life,” she says. “Except for the time I spent at Stanford.”

“Stanford,” I say. “Very impressive.”

“I would've preferred going somewhere back east,” she says. “Notre Dame or Georgetown maybe.”

“So, why didn't you?”

She laughs bitterly. “My father wouldn't allow it,” she explains. “He was paying for my education, so that gave him final approval of the school I attended.”

“You don't sound too pleased with that,” I say.

“I liked Stanford well enough,” she says. “I just wish I had a choice in the matter.”

I nod and start to understand the dynamic of her relationship with her father. It's obviously a patriarchal power structure in the Nichols clan – with Papa Bear making all the decisions for Baby Bear here. And though she hasn't said as much, it's clear that Baby Bear doesn't like it one bit.

I'm just playing armchair shrink here – and having spent so much time with my own army of therapists and psychologists gives me some perspective – but it could be part of the reasons she has issues with men and making emotional connections.

“So, does your dad make all of your choices for you?” I ask.

She pauses mid-bite as a sour expression crosses her face. Clearly, I hit the nail on the head. Zoe finishes her bite and then looks up at me.

“It's not really like that,” she says softly. “I mean, it is, but...”

Her voice trails off and I see a look of profound misery on her face. And seeing that, I can't help but feel for her. I mean, genuinely feel for her. I'd be lying if I said the despair I see in her face doesn't tug at my heartstrings. I'm not a completely heartless prick. Not always.

“Why do you let him?” I ask. “You're a grown woman –”

“It's – complicated,” she replies. “Just really complicated.”

“Is little girl lost still looking for daddy's approval?”

I don't say it with the intention of being mean, but I see a flash of pain in her eyes. Bingo.

“That's pretty presumptuous,” she says, her tone suddenly icy. “You don't know the first thing about me.”

“That's true,” I say. “That's why I'm talking to you. Trying to get to know you.”

“Maybe I don't want to get to know you.”

“Perhaps,” I say. “And that's your choice, of course. I just don't think a person can have too many friends who are willing to listen. I've been in some really bad spots, Zoe. I know what it's like to be at rock bottom and feel like you have nowhere to go.”

“Is that what you're trying to be? A friend?” she says. “And here I thought you were just trying to get in my pants again.”

I shrug and give her a roguish little grin. “Can't I do both?”

She stares hard at me for a moment and then the facade cracks. She erupts into laughter and shakes her head at me.

“You are something else, Connor Grigson,” she says.

“Well, that's certainly a step up from arrogant, condescending pig,” I say. “So, I'll take that.”

“No, you're still a pig,” she says. “But, I think there may be more to you below the surface. Shockingly enough.”

The mood between us seems to lighten. It's not as tense or saturated with as much anger. When Zoe looks at me, I can see it's without contempt – or at least, less than before. It's a nice change. I like it.

“Where did you go to school?” she asks.

“The school of hard knocks,” I reply.

She cocks her head and looks at me as if it's unthinkable that I didn't go to college.

“I was a rock star, Zoe,” I say. “I was too busy partying for school.”

“But, you're so – articulate,” she says. “I wouldn't have expected that.”

I give her a grin. “Just because I didn't go to school doesn't make me an idiot,” I say. “I read a lot. Everything I can get my hands on. I'm never afraid to try new things. Learn new things.”

“Like winemaking,” she says.

I nod. “Exactly like that,” I reply. “One of my addiction therapists thought I needed a hobby. Something about it called to me, and all these years later, here I am.”

“With one of the most successful wineries in California.”

“I have some great people working for me,” I say. “Without them, I'd probably still be making it in a bathtub and selling it out of my car.”

She finishes a bite of her meal and washes it down with some soda, cocks her head and looks at me.

“Why did you leave Ireland?” she asks.

“Well, when the Lucky Charms factories closed, it was hard to find work,” I reply. “There are only so many openings in the Leprechaun Union –”

She cuts me off with another burst of laughter, a smile stretching wide across her face. It's a musical sound. When she looks at me, there's a sparkle in her eye that I haven't seen before, and I find myself being drawn in and losing myself in the bottomless depths of that dark gaze.

“I was being serious,” she says.

“Yeah, I have a hard time with serious sometimes,” I say. “Character flaw of mine. One of many.”

She shrugs. “I honestly don't know the last time I've laughed this hard,” she says. “So, thank you for that.”

“Laughter is good medicine,” I say. “To answer your question though, my best mate Ronnie and I were in a – bad situation – back home. And we both knew if we stayed, it was only going to get worse.”

“What kind of situation?” she asks.

A rueful grin touches my lips. “One that would've probably ended up with both of us dead.”

“Oh,” she says softly and leans back in her seat.

“Anyway, when we were fifteen, we found a way to get to the States,” I continue. “We found some work, started playing music, and by the time we were twenty-one, we were playing sold-out stadium tours.”

“I have to admit, I don't know much about your music,” she says. “I only know what I was able to read about online.”

I don't know why, but I like the fact that she's not some foaming-at-the-mouth groupie. That she doesn't know me from my FUBAR days. It almost feels like I get a clean slate with Zoe. The man she's getting to know is the man I am today –a much better person than who I was back in my rock god days.

“It's not a time I'm particularly proud of, to be honest,” I admit. “There were plenty of good times, yeah. But the lows were – they were bad. I'm grateful to have had them. I probably wouldn't be where I am today if not for them. But honestly, I'd trade everything to have my mate Ronnie back.”

She nods like she understands. I doubt it. Somehow, I’m doubtful that Baby Bear has witnessed her best friend OD and die right in front of her. Just the mention of his name, all these years later, still brings the pain back to the surface. It hurts as bad today as it did then.

“I read about him,” she says. “I'm sorry. I can see how much it still hurts you.”

I nod. “Hasn't gotten any easier with time,” I say, feeling a familiar melancholy rising within me. “Apparently, they lied. Time doesn't heal all wounds.”

“Not the ones etched that deep,” she says.

“The bitch of it is, it should have been me,” I say. “If one of us was going to go, it should have been me. It's my fault. Ronnie was a good man. He was trying to kick the stuff. I convinced him to have one final hurrah and...”

I let my voice trail off and look down at the table. I don't know why I'm admitting this to her and why I can't seem to shut up about it. It took me damn near a year to admit it to my shrink. But, something about Zoe makes me feel comfortable opening up to her. She makes me feel safe. It's crazy, I know that. I barely know the woman. But, I know the connection I feel between us is real. And the fact that I'm willing to be this open with her only reinforces that idea.

“It's not your fault, Connor,” Zoe says.

She reaches across the table and takes my hand, giving it a squeeze. I look into her eyes and see nothing but sympathy and compassion. It melts my heart, and I have to physically fight the urge to lean across the table and kiss her. Something tells me it might not be entirely unwelcome. It feels like the world around us is holding its breath, the air laced with anticipation.

Zoe leans back, removing her hand from mine.

“Anyway,” I say, clearing my throat. “Enough of that. Let's get back to you.”

She gives me a wry smile. “Let's not.”

I shrug. “What's good for the goose, love,” I say. “Look, all I'm going to say is that I see this vast, untapped well of strength in you. It's deep and powerful. I can see it. For whatever reason though – and I know it's complicated – you let your father rule your world. It seems like he's the one in command, and you just follow along, doing whatever he says. And I'm of the opinion that you're a lot stronger than that.”

She looks down at the table. “Yeah, it's kind of like that, I guess.”

“It doesn't have to be. I mean, I know it's complicated. I know that things like guilt and grief, and a bunch of other shit, can really fuck with your head. Believe me, I know,” I say. “At some point though, you need to put your foot down and say, enough. You need to live your life for you. And only you.”

Her eyes soften as she looks at me. “Why does it matter to you?” she asks. “I don't mean that to be rude, I'm honestly curious about why you seem so passionate about this.”

“It's because I see this light inside of you,” I say. “It's this bright, amazing, vibrant light. And I fear that if you let your father, or this Bryant clown, keep dimming it, they're going to snuff it out entirely one day. And that would be a shame. A goddamn shame. It would rob the world of something great.”

Zoe sits back and looks at me like I just dropped a bomb that's shaken up her entire world. Honestly, I don't know where that little speech came from. But, I do know that I meant each and every word of it.

Zoe looks at me with shimmering eyes. Her full, sensuous lips are parted slightly, and it's all I can do not to kiss her. A lone tear races down her alabaster cheek and I lean across, wiping it away.

“Shit, I'm sorry,” I say. “I get on my soapbox sometimes and –”

“No, don't be sorry,” she says, shaking her head. “I appreciate what you said. It means a lot. I don't think anybody's ever put it to me like that before.”

We sit in silence for a few moments as she seems to be absorbing my words. As I look at her and see the distress in her eyes, I feel a longing inside of me. One that, shockingly enough, doesn't have anything to do with sex. I want to comfort her and soothe her pain. As I look at her, I find that I want to right all those wrongs in her world.

And it scares the shit out of me.

Zoe looks at her watch and grimaces. “We should probably get back to the office.”

 

~ooo000ooo~

 

I pull the car back into the underground parking lot and cut the engine. The ride back was more or less silent. Zoe would barely look at me. I don't know if I pissed her off or just made her feel worse. Either outcome is not what I'd intended with my little outburst.

I turn to her. “Listen, I –”

Zoe cuts me off by leaning across the seat and pressing her lips to mine. She slides her tongue into my mouth, and I run my fingers through her hair, sliding them down her back. Our kiss intensifies, and I feel my cock grow almost painfully stiff in my jeans.

She pulls back and holds my gaze. “Thank you,” she said. “For what you said at the restaurant.”

A small grin touches my lips. “I'll keep talking if it'll get you to kiss me like that again.”

She giggles. “Idiot. Shut up and kiss me.”

I press my mouth to hers again and our kiss is full of passion and fire. It's fueled by our shared longing. And overwhelming. My car is a 1957 Chevy Bel Air that I've restored over the years. I collect older cars and fix them up. This one is my pride and joy. Fortunately for Zoe and me, it has bench seating.

I slide across the seat so I'm not directly behind the wheel and push her skirt up as I pull her onto my lap. She groans as she grinds herself against the hard bulge in my jeans. I slip my hands beneath her skirt, relishing the feel of the soft silky stockings and the smooth, porcelain skin of her legs.

A car door slams somewhere in the garage, causing Zoe to abruptly stop and look around. The windows are tinted a shade darker than legal, making it hard to see inside the vehicle. The door slammer never appears, and after a few minutes, it seems like the garage is relatively deserted once again. Zoe leans back in and kisses me, with even more force this time.

My hands roam her body. I knead her breasts through her blouse, pinching her hard nipples, eliciting a gasp from her. She continues to grind herself against my cock, harder and harder, her breathing growing ragged. Reaching down, I squeeze her tight, toned ass, before sliding one hand up to touch her through her panties. She's already dripping wet, and moans as I rub her through the silky material.

“I need you inside of me, Connor,” she whispers in my ear. “I need you to fuck me.”

I cut a glance outside, keenly aware that anyone could walk by at any moment. And though they might not be able to see us through the tinting on the windows, the rocking of the car would be a dead giveaway that a couple inside was fucking their brains out. It could end very badly – especially if her father happened by.

But hell, what are the odds of that happening? What are the odds of her father walking by my car, in this giant parking structure for holds hundreds and hundreds of people?

Of course, I could just be trying to rationalize it to myself but fuck it. My need to be inside of her is too great to worry about things like that right now.

“Glove compartment,” I say. “Get me a condom, love.”

She leans over and opens the glovebox, revealing a rather large box of condoms inside. She pulls one out and gives me a curious look as she holds it up. I flash her a roguish grin and shrug.

“As the Boy Scouts say, always be prepared,” I laugh.

“I doubt this is what they had in mind.”

“I've got a merit badge that says otherwise.”

She laughs. “You were not a Boy Scout. No way.”

I raise my hips and grind my cock against the warm, wet center of her. She gasps and bites her bottom lip as she looks down at me. I slide my hands up and push her panties to the side, stroking her wet, swollen lips with my fingers. She throws her head back and moans softly. I kiss her soft, smooth neck, letting the tip of my tongue trail down her chest.

“Okay, I was never a Scout,” I say. “But, you should see the way I can tie knots.”

“Maybe you can show me sometime,” she purrs, her gaze locked onto mine.

“Count on it.”

She reaches down and fumbles with my belt and zipper. My cock is straining hard against my jeans, begging for release. When she finally has them undone, I raise myself up a bit and slide my pants down just far enough to give her access.

Biting her bottom lip, Zoe tears open the condom package and slips it over the tip of my dick. She slides her hand down, unrolling it as she goes. She's gripping my cock hard, and a low moan escapes me.

“We should be quick,” she says, a mischievous grin on her face. “I can't believe I'm doing this.”

“Honestly, I can't believe you are either,” I say. “But hey, I'm all for it.”

She squeezes my cock nice and hard. “I can tell.”

Zoe presses her mouth to mine, kissing me softly as she raises herself up and guides my cock to her hot little opening. Slipping the head between the velvety folds of her lips, she slides herself down onto it. Her eyes squeeze shut and jaw clenches as she slowly takes me in, inch by inch.

When I'm fully sheathed inside of her, Zoe begins to ride me. Her pace is slow and deliberate at first as she gets accustomed to having me inside of her again. I reach up and unbutton her blouse before unclasping her bra.

Her full, amazing tits fall free and I cup them in my hands, reveling in the soft skin, and her perfect pink nipples. Leaning forward, I flick my tongue over her stiff nipples, drawing a gasp from her. I squeeze one breast and suck on the other, as her pace starts to pick up.

I slide my hands down and cup her ass firmly as Zoe starts to fuck me even harder than before. She's moaning loudly as she bounces up and down on my cock. She fucks me with so much zeal, waves of ecstasy roll through my body. Fuck. Her big, dark eyes stare into mine as she rides my cock. The look of joy on her face makes my heart swell as much as my erection.

“This feels so fucking amazing,” she says, her voice breathless.

“Yes, you do, love,” I say through gritted teeth. “Fuck me harder, Zoe. Ride my cock, baby.”

I slap her ass to emphasize my point, prompting a squeal and a giggle from her. I can't believe we're doing this in the parking garage of her father's office. I slap her ass again, harder this time, encouraging her to pick up her pace. Zoe complies, riding me even more vigorously. I know if anyone happens by, they're going to see my car bouncing wildly. They might even hear the moaning and groaning – then they’d know exactly what's going on inside.

It's crazy, even by my standards – at least in recent years. But fuck me, if it doesn't seem to make it all the more intense.

“Oh shit,” she says, her voice choked and gasping. “Oh, my God. Oh. Oh, God...”

Zoe's body spasms on my cock as she lets out a long, loud, moan – one that I'm sure can be heard all the way up in the law offices of Nichols and Associates. Her body is trembling, and her nails dig into my shoulders as her orgasm rocks her body.

A few seconds later, her eyes are closed and her face is still burning red, but a sultry little smile touches her lips.

“That was amazing,” she says. “Fucking amazing.”

“I do love that dirty mouth on you,” I say.

“Then you're going to love when I put your dick in it.”

She quickly climbs off my lap and strips the condom off, throwing it to the floorboard. She pushes me over toward the wheel a bit, so she can kneel on the floorboard. Zoe grabs my cock and squeezes it firmly, drawing a gasp from me. Small currents of electricity shoot through my body as she moves her hand up and down my hard shaft.

“Tell me you want it.”

I chuckle. “Giving orders now, are we, love?”

“Shut up and tell me,” she commands. “I want to hear you say it.”

I've never been a submissive one in the bedroom, always preferring to be the one in charge. But, I have to say, this little role reversal, with her ordering me about is kind of hot. There's something about that fierce hunger in her eyes and commanding presence, that's turning me the fuck on.

“I want it, Zoe,” I say.

“Want what?” she asks as she grips my penis even tighter.

“I want your hot little mouth on my cock,” I say. “I want you to suck me off, beautiful.”

Her full lips curl into a devilish smile. She runs the tip of her tongue around the head of my cock, licking the underside before tasting the pre-cum that's seeping out of the tip. Never taking my eyes off her, I lean back against the headrest and let out a soft moan.

Zoe slips the head of my cock into her mouth, sucking on it at the same time as she starts to jerk me off. I watch her head bobbing up and down on my thick shaft as she works her hand and mouth hard, like she has something to prove.

“Christ, Zoe,” I mutter as lightning bolts of pleasure shoot through me.

She tightens her grip as well as her mouth around my cock, sucking and stroking me even harder. I feel the pressure building up inside of me and know I'm not going to last much longer.

“Fuck, baby,” I groan. “You're going to make me come.”

She lifts her head for a moment, a playful twinkle in her eye. “That's the whole point,” she teases. “Cum for me, Connor. I want to taste you. Cum in my fucking mouth.”

Zoe stares up at me as she puts my dick back into her mouth. She licks and sucks, stroking me hard and fast. Watching her blow me with such intensity and purpose is intoxicating. The sensations echoing throughout my body are unlike anything I've ever felt before. It's fucking amazing.

The pressure builds to a crescendo, and I press my head back against the seat and cry out as I feel my cock throbbing. A moment later, my cock pulses erratically as I blow my load, filling her mouth with my seed. She stops moving and focuses on taking all of it in. Zoe swallows it all down, not missing a drop, before looking up at me with a smile as she licks her lips.

I wipe away the sweat drops on my forehead and try to get my breathing and heart under control again. I feel lightheaded but can't help a goofy smile from growing on my face.

“That was incredible, Zoe,” I sign.

She smiles, her eyes glassy and unfocused. I can relate to the feeling.

We bask in the afterglow until I see a familiar look of uncertainty darken her face. She looks around as if waking up from a dream and finding herself in a nightmare. Zoe sits up and quickly buttons her blouse, tucking it in as best she can as she, given the situation. She's silent and stares straight through the windshield.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She looks at me and I see the fear in her eyes again, along with a slight trace of satisfaction. “I can't believe we just did that.”

“Yeah, it was pretty unbelievable,” I say and laugh, trying to lighten the suddenly dark mood.

“That's not what I meant,” she explains. “I told myself I couldn’t do this again. That I wouldn’t.”

“Zoe, there's nothing wrong –”

“There is, though,” she says. “There is.”

“What?” I ask. “What's wrong with what we did?”

She shakes her head. “This – this can't happen again, Connor,” she says. “It just can't.”

Before I can stop her, she gets out of the car, shutting the door behind her. I jump out from behind the wheel and almost trip over my pants, which are still bunched around my knees. I quickly pull them up and get myself zipped and buttoned, cursing at myself under my breath.

Zoe checks her hair and makeup in a small compact mirror before turning and heading for the elevators. I catch up to her at the elevators and stop her.

“What's wrong, Zoe?” I ask.

“I just – we – this can't happen, Connor.”

“I don't understand,” I say. “There's obviously something between us. I think it's worth –”

She shakes her head and I see the tears standing in her eyes. “I can't, Connor.”

A black Jaguar pulls into the garage and parks near us. I turn and see Bryant Brooks get out and close the door behind him, his eyes fixated on us. As he walks to the elevators, he raises his key fob and the alarm on his car chirps.

“What's going on here?” he asks, his eyes full of suspicion.

Oh, you know, just banging in the car like a couple of horny teenagers. The usual, mate. I can tell that he doesn't like seeing me with Zoe.

“Zoe here was just clarifying a few things about this proposed settlement,” I say.

“Oh?” He turns to Zoe, the suspicion in his eyes not diminishing. He can tell that something is going on – and the fact that Zoe looks guiltier than a prostitute in church isn't helping. And Bryant obviously does not like it.

He looks at her the way a father would a misbehaving child. Or worse, like his favorite possession.

“Yeah, Bryant,” Zoe chimes in. “We were just going over a few things. No big deal.”

Bryant steps closer to her, basically wedging himself between us. He puffs out his chest and stares at me like he wants to throttle me right then and there. For such a small statured man, he certainly likes to pretend he's a lot bigger than he is. I take a step back, chuckling to myself.

“Something funny?” he asks.

I shrug. “I just wish I'd worn my waterproof boots,” I say. “I didn't know I was going to have my leg pissed on this hard today.”

Bryant's face darkens as he looks at me. “You are absolutely vile,” he says. “What a disgusting piece of filth.”

I laugh in his face. “That's just part of my charm, lad.”

It's obvious he's trying to hold his temper in check – which is probably for the best. I have a few inches, and probably a good fifty pounds of muscle on him. Plus, he's the pampered, college prep, frat boy type. I really doubt he'd know what to do once it comes down to throwing blows. It's been a while since I was in a good street fight, but I was a scrapper back in the day.

His glare might work on lesser men. But not me. It's a look he probably practices in the mirror and uses in court to badger people into doing what he wants. To me, it’s laughable.

“Stay away from her,” he says. “I'll only give you this warning once.”

I flash him a crooked grin. “You'll have to excuse me if I don't fall over and tremble in fear at your feet. I've been threatened by far better – and scarier – men than you.”

His face darkens, and his look transforms to one of pure malevolence. If he had a gun in his hand, I have no doubt he would love to shoot me right now. His territorialism is mind-blowing to me. He actually thinks he owns her, or that she's his possession to keep, or something. It's disgusting.

He puts his hand on Zoe's lower back and starts to usher her toward the elevator. She recoils from his touch and walks ahead of him. He looks back at me, glowering, his face pinched and angry. I know Zoe is going to catch hell from him, and I wish there was something I could do to head it off or bear the brunt of it for her. She doesn't deserve it.

As the doors on the elevator start to close, she looks up and catches my gaze. I can see the confusion on her face and the uncertainty in her eyes. But, I also see something buried even deeper. A faint beam of light struggling to break free of the darkness.

The doors slide shut, leaving me alone with amazing memories of our afternoon together, and an overwhelming desire to make more, as well as confusion on Zoe's hot and cold ways.