I lower my eyes to meet hers to let her know I’m dead serious. “I want to lick your pussy while you’re sprawled out on this desk and then fuck you into tomorrow.”
Her eyes dilate into a blackened pool of lust. Her legs spread wide, letting me know she’s eager for the taking.
“Please,” she breathes.
Her clothes fall to the floor in shreds as I drop to my knees and lay my mouth over her lace panties and nibble at her core.
She leans her head back in a gasp, so I do it again, hooking my fingers on the top of her sexy as sin lingerie and pull them down to her ankles. She’s bare and open for me. I flick my tongue against the pink rosebud and lose myself in the heavenly scent that is Jolene.
“Holy mother of … that feels so good,” she pants.
My hands have to keep her thighs from closing. She does that when the sensations are too much. With my palms on the insides of her legs, I rub her clit with my thumb and then feast on her warm, wet, sinful clit.
“Right there. I’m about to come.”
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!
“Zack, you in there? There’s a situation downstairs, and we need you!” Stella rasps from the other side of my office door.
Jolene scurries off the desk and straightens her skirt as if Stella could see through the mahogany.
“I’ll be right there,” I growl, pissed to have the moment interrupted.
My dick is hard as a rock as I rise and settle it inside my pants. Jolene’s arms are crossed against her chest, and she has her back turned to me.
If there’s one way to pour metaphoric ice water on a heated situation, it’s being disrupted by an employee during a moment of out-of-control lust.
I rub my hand over my chin and can still taste Jolene on my lips.
I can’t believe we were just about to fuck on my desk. Two hours ago, I’d thought the universe was playing a sick game with me. I went from being a brooding asshole to being a consuming asshole, and neither is a good person for me to be tonight.
“You okay?” I ask her.
She looks back with a coy, albeit unsure smile. “I’m good. You go take care of what you have to.” Her posture shows she’s just as uncertain about what just happened as I am.
“I’ll be back,” I say, wondering if this is also the universe telling me to slow the fuck down. If I could, I’d punch it in the face.
I head downstairs to see my bouncers dealing with the stragglers. The lights are on to full capacity, and the sidewalk outside the window shows a loud crowd hanging out, smoking cigarettes, calling for rides, and talking like it isn’t two o’clock in the freaking morning.
“You can’t tell me to leave!” I hear a guy say.
I make my way through the crowd and get up close to him. “What’s the problem here?”
The guy stumbles back into one of his buddies, who pushes him back with an elbow. “I paid for this beer,” he says, wobbling his bottle in the air. “I paid. I drink.” He makes a show of taking a painfully small sip and then laughing.
“Pound your beer and get in a cab. Bar’s closed,” I say with a grunt.
“What’s your problem? Did we interrupt you trying to get laid or something?” The guy starts gyrating his hips to drive home his joke.
My fist goes for his shirt as I push him against the wall. “Watch your fucking mouth,” I state as my bouncers come over—one making sure his friends don’t try to pull me away, the other to take the guy out of my hands and physically remove him from the bar.
In all my years, I’ve put my hands on very few patrons and only when it was to stop of fight. I’ve never charged one before.
The bouncers get the last of the stragglers out of the bar, and I roll my neck, trying to figure what the hell just came over me.
As I turn to walk back to my office, I don’t miss the way Stella’s leaning against the bar with the biggest shit-eating grin covering her face.
“Don’t say it.” I point at her as I walk by.
I hear her laughter as I grab Jolene’s bag to make sure she understands just how serious I am about having her stay the night. Then, I make my way back to the hallway and to where I really want to be.
Standing outside my door, I take a deep inhale, trying to get myself out of work mode and back to ten minutes ago when I was wrapped between her legs that have haunted my dreams for a decade.
I open the door to complete emptiness. My place isn’t big, so I glance around as my heart pounds.
No, she didn’t leave. She couldn’t have.
Her voice echoes from the bathroom, and I realize my heart is racing.
“That can’t be!” I hear her say as she slumps against the door. “Dammit,” she says, pounding her fist against the hard wood. “No, I’m sorry. It’s just …” Her voice is laced with concern, making me wonder what’s going on. “Okay. No. I understand. If that’s protocol. I’ll check in with them tomorrow.” There’s a pause in her words. “Yeah, you too. Good night.”
It’s quiet for a few seconds, so I knock on the door. “Everything okay?”
She opens it with her sulking eyes, glassy and glazed.
“What happened?” I ask as she holds one side of her head, her face twisted in agony.
That’s when I notice the rag on the counter with a tiny bit of blood on it. I reposition my arms to get a better look, and she flinches in pain.
“Are you bleeding?” I walk over to her and run my fingers over the side of her head and down her hair.
She sighs in frustration. “It’s my ear. It never popped from the air pressure in the cabin. Damn change in altitudes. I came in here to clean up when I felt this sharp, piercing pain inside my ear, and then liquid came out of it. It hurt so bad that I freaked out. I called the doctor we have on call, and he said I ruptured my eardrum.”
I push her hair out of the way to look more closely. My fingers gently caress her neck below the injury. “Are you still in pain?”
She sways her head to the side. “A little uncomfortable, but no pain now. It was just that one quick burst.”
Her phone is in her hand.
I nod toward it with my chin. “You didn’t sound too happy with the doctor.”
“I’m supposed to go to Paris. Instead, I have to go to the airline infirmary tomorrow. They’re reassigning my route to someone else until I get medical clearance.”
“You’re here for another day?” My heart starts that racing shit again.
She clenches her eyes closed. “I hate this.”
“Being grounded?”
Her eyes open, but they don’t look up. “Being stranded.”
I’m glad she has her head tilted down because if I see those puppy-dog eyes, I just might kiss her again.
With a sigh, she moves around me and into the office area. The desk is still a mess from when I had her hoisted up, legs spread. I run a hand through my hair and pull on the ends.
She grabs her suitcase, lifts it onto the desk, and starts to unzip it.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my hands halting at the back of my head.
Looking over her shoulder, she gives a shrug. “Changing.”
My brows rise. “You’re staying?”
“Monica’s son is sick, and I gave my hotel room away to a family in the airport. I can look for another place if you—”