“What have we here?” she coos.
“Present for you.” My breathing is hectic, my brain on vacation.
“I love presents.” She strokes me while kissing my neck. I flatten one hand against the wall, my hips rocking in time with her hand. “I want you, Fox. Here. Now. Tell me you planned ahead.”
“Shit.” I didn’t plan ahead. So far our sexual encounters have happened at my place or hers. I mutter another curse, frustrated by my lack of foresight.
“Lucky you.” She reaches into that red lace bra and comes out with a condom.
“I could kiss you.” I snatch the foil packet from her hand and do just that—lighting her up with kisses while my free hand roams over one of her breasts. I tweak her nipple as she sags against the wall. I push her legs open and palm the gusset of her thong. She thrusts against my fingers.
Voices come close, then closer, and this time don’t recede. When the closet door opens, I press Catarina’s back against the wall, hiding her behind the coats. Her eyes widen and she bites down on her bottom lip. I wink to let her know I’ve got this.
“Barrett, is that you?” It’s Nanci from the office. Her date pokes his head in behind her. “What are you—”
“Get your shit and go. We’re busy.”
After sending me an affronted look, Nanci opens her mouth like she might say more.
“Close the door,” I tell her.
She does and I return my attention to Catarina, half expecting her to reprimand me for being rude. Instead, she bursts into laughter.
“You like that?”
“I love it. She’s been wanting to put her hands on you since you started at the paper.”
“Whose hands are on me now, Kitty Cat?”
She peeks through a fan of thick, black lashes, her expression both demure and shameless, a tantalizing combination. She runs her hands over my chest. “Mine.”
I roll on the condom, my hands shaking since she’s kissing my neck again. I’m also starting to sweat. Faux fur is fucking hot and it’s summer and we’re in a closet.
No matter. I’m not stopping.
“How do you want it?” she asks. Sweetly.
This woman.
“I want it slow and sweaty. How about that?”
“Ohh, just what I was going to suggest.”
I pull aside one cup of her bra and suckle a nipple, earning a sharp yip of surprise followed by a sigh of sheer bliss. I move to the other while I work on rolling the thong from her legs. Then I’m bending at the knees, lifting her halfway up the wall, and hanging on tight.
“You like this position,” she observes with another grin.
“So do you.”
“Yeah, other than that time in your kitchen, this position is a new one.” She surveys our surroundings. “So’s the coat closet.”
“Your idea.” I tilt my hips and nudge her entrance. She crosses her ankles at my back and digs her high-heeled shoes into my ass. I slide in slowly, blowing out a harsh exhale once I’m rooted to the hilt.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, mussing it as I set us into motion. The heat in here is killer. I’m doing my best to hold onto her, but her body is glistening, and my shirt is damp with sweat.
“It’s fucking hot in here.” I tear the fur off the hanger and chuck it aside. Already, I can breathe better. That thing was insulated. “Now where was I?”
I slide deep again, and she tosses her head back and lets out a moan.
“There,” she says. “Theretherethere.”
Pleased to have found what I was searching for so quickly, I home in on that magical spot, and pull her down onto my cock. She flattens one hand against the back wall of the closet while her other hand wraps around the bar overhead.
“Taking you there, honey,” I huff between pumps. “Do it.”
Her face screws into satisfied pleats as I screw her. Then her channel grips me and I tumble over with her. A bolt of pleasure grips my balls and electrocutes my spine.
Her arms loop my neck. I shut my eyes, letting my other senses take over.
I feel her fingers stroking my hair, hear her breathing into my ear, and luxuriate in the now familiar feeling of being nestled inside her.
Catarina
After a pair of spectacular orgasms, Barrett and I need a minute. My nipples are still peeking out of my twisted bra, my ass pressed against the wall. My thong is curled into a lace ball on the floor next to my feet, which are still encased in a pair of sky-high heels.
Barrett’s hand is flat on the wall by my head, his forehead resting on my shoulder, his breathing ragged.
No one came in after Nanci left. No more voices are echoing down the foyer. I smile as I stroke his hair. This was...crazy. And fun. Like everything else I’ve done with him.
Finally, he raises his head and I have my first good look at him since our tryst in the governor’s coat closet.
His eyes are hooded, thick lashes hiding the blue. His hair is a mess thanks to my tugging fingers. His mouth is a flat line, his forehead creased.
He runs his fingers along my jaw, stroking his thumb over my bottom lip. His open eyes follow the motion from my lips to my chin, down to my chest and to my breasts. Rather than tweak my exposed nipples, he adjusts my bra cups so that I’m covered. Then he buttons up, tucks in his shirt, and drops to his knees in front of me.
He unknots my thong and I use his shoulders to hold myself steady while I step into it. Then he places a soft kiss next to my belly button before bending to retrieve my dress. Carefully, quietly, he finishes dressing me.
My clothes straightened and in place, I study him and try to figure out what’s causing his deep contemplation. Or...regret? I’m not sure which.
“Fox?”
He blinks out of his stupor and meets my gaze. I’m not sure what to ask. If he’s okay? If he’s ready to leave? If he’s worried about walking out of here looking thoroughly sexed up?
“Ready to go?” he asks, saving me the trouble of deciding.
“Um. Yeah, sure.”
He tips my chin and kisses me as chastely as a first time. When he whispers “Catarina” against my lips, it sounds like a prayer. “You wreck me.”
The words are achingly sincere. His eyes sink shut before he drops his forehead on mine.
I palm his neck and hold him there. We stand like that for a few minutes, not saying a word. Me gently rubbing his neck, him breathing me in, his lips closing over my pulse with a gentle kiss every so often.
When we finally exit the closet, we do so with our heads held high. No one is in the governor’s foyer waiting to bust us. Our steps echo on the marble floor leading to the front door. Only then do we encounter a woman in a prim black dress who opens the door and thanks us for our attendance.
After retrieving Barrett’s car from the valet, we climb in—him at the wheel. The air conditioning sends chills over my skin when I lift my hair off my damp neck.
“That was a workout,” I say to break the silence.
I notice a half smile, but his attention stays to the road. Once we arrive at my apartment and step out of the car, I take his hand.
“Wrecked,” I repeat—belatedly, but I can’t get the word out of my head. “Is that good or bad?”
“I guess that depends,” he says cryptically as he opens the building’s door for me.