Chapter 15 #2
It’s like he gave me permission to surrender to this all-consuming need that has possessed me. I lift my chin. “What are you waiting for, Stone? Find us that broom closet.”
His pupils dilate, but it’s in contrast with his casual smirk. He leans back in his chair. “Not so fast, Thunder. I might have let you hump my leg before, but when it comes to sex, I’m in charge. So be a good girl, go to the bathroom, and take off your underwear.”
I push the chair back and stand up. “I’m wearing pants. What’s the point?”
“Panties off. Now,” he growls.
Jesus.
I’m not proud of myself, but I practically run to the ladies’ room. My pulse ricochets through my body as I shut the stall door, my fingers trembling as I strip. I’m so embarrassingly wet, I’m sure the linen will show it.
This is as exciting and unexpected as my night with Romeo. My pulse is tripping as I put my pants on, shoving my panties into the pocket.
Perhaps I need to pretend to be someone else to step out of my comfort zone.
To leave the woman who needs to deliver, achieve, prove something every single day at the door, and step into this free, liberated version of myself.
Just for tonight.
“I can be someone else.” I smile, and step out into the dimly lit corridor only to collide with something.
Someone.
A wall of muscle stops my forward motion, firm hands gripping my upper arms before I can stumble back.
“Easy,” Liam murmurs. His breath brushes my temple. Warm, controlled, too intimate for a hallway full of strangers.
Except… the hallway isn’t full of strangers. It’s empty.
“You done?” His voice scrapes along my skin.
I nod, swallowing through the sensation clogging my throat.
His gaze flicks down, taking in the outline of my pants and the knowledge of what I’m no longer wearing beneath them.
Heat darkens his eyes, slow and deliberate like the curl of smoke.
“Such. A fucking. Good girl,” he drawls, every syllable filled with worship and lust.
The praise hits harder than the earlier command. My knees almost fail me.
Before I can gather myself, Liam threads his fingers through mine and starts walking. It’s not hurried or reckless. Just purposeful, like he already mapped every shadow in this restaurant and chose one specifically for us.
I follow, and I realize I trust him. At this moment. For this game. For tonight. But I can’t surrender completely. “Where—”
He squeezes my hand. “Patience.”
We move deeper into the hallway, past a row of framed black-and-white photographs. Every step is a tightening coil inside me, each breath harder to conceal.
He turns a corner into a darkened alcove with a counter. A coat check. Probably closed for the season.
We’re only steps away from the restaurant, but its hum is distant, muffled by thick carpeting and dim lighting.
He pulls me behind the counter and deeper into the room. We’re exposed, but still covered by the rows of empty coat hangers. My back hits the wall, his body blocking mine from the view of the corridor.
He lifts his hand, brushing the backs of his fingers along my jaw, tilting my face up.
It’s a lazy, languid motion, the polar opposite of the galloping heart in my chest.
“Last chance,” he murmurs, towering close enough that my breasts brush his chest when I inhale. “Tell me to walk you back to the table.”
As if such an option existed.
“Why would I?” I challenge. “We’re pretending, after all.”
He chuckles. His hand skims down my arm, catching my wrist, guiding it behind me, away from the wall. My ass hits something and Liam lifts me up.
A counter.
Empty.
Perfect.
I’m about to grab his lapels and finally claim his mouth, but he steps away.
Of course, he does. When it comes to sex, I’m in charge.
“Your panties,” he rasps.
Trembling with need, I reach into my pocket and hand him my underwear. He covers his nose with the cotton and breathes in.
My core explodes; my pulse quickens. Why is that so hot?
Putting the panties into his pocket, he steps between my legs. “Lift,” he orders, slides his fingers into my waistband, and before I know it, my pants are just a pool of fabric on the floor.
The heat of him… the scent of him—clean soap, warm skin, a hint of leather—wraps around me like a spell. I almost whimper when he steps back again.
“Spread those pretty legs for me, Thunder.”
For a brief moment, I’m Foxy and he’s Romeo, and I’m transported into the room at the sex club.
“Roxy!” He growls, his velvet baritone snapping me back to here and now.
Spread those pretty legs for me.
I push away the déjà vu and open my legs wide, the cold, hard surface uninviting.
“You can do better.”
It’s a command and an encouragement. I might fight for the remains of control here, but he knows I want to do better.
He knows before I’m ready to admit it. To surrender.
I scoot back on the counter, lift my heels to the wooden edge, and lower my knees. “Better?” My question is a whisper against his throat.
“Much better. Look at that beautiful cunt of yours. And so wet for me.” He pulls out my underwear, unzips himself, and wraps the cotton around his cock.
And what a cock! Jesus.
“You’ve been such a good girl for me so far, Roxy. Do you want to see what you do to me?”
He gives himself three rough strokes. I want him to step closer, but at the same time, I need him to stay away.
He’s playing a dangerous game. Delayed gratification. Edging without touching. I’m on the brink of madness.
“I asked you a question.”
What? Jesus, I swear there must be a pool below me on the counter, and he hasn’t touched me yet.
“Yes,” I whimper. I fucking can’t stand this buildup anymore. “Can you just fuck me finally?”
He tuts. “Not so fast, Little Thunder. First, touch yourself for me.”
I don’t hesitate, and my fingers find my clit fast. A moan slides from my lips.
“Now you make yourself come,” he demands.
My head falls back, my eyes closing as my own fingers send an electrical current down my spine.
“Eyes on me. The. Whole. Fucking. Time.” Liam’s voice is labored, and when I snap my gaze to him, it’s clear why.
He’s watching me, but he’s also stroking himself. With my underwear. Heat spreads through me, and I’m not even sure if it’s my fingers, his gaze, or his hand on his cock that drags me closer to my release.
“You’re so fucking beautiful. You should see yourself. I can watch you like this and never stop.”
Pre-cum covers his head. I’ve seen him flexing his hand so many times. What a great rehearsal for this. I never knew that watching someone jerk off could be this heady.
Still, he’s too far away. Perhaps a good thing, because the man is packing. His cock is… definitely not going to fit. My pussy clenches, and this time it’s more anxiety than excitement.
“Thunder,” Liam grits out. “Where did you go?”
Jesus. The man reads my mind already. “I need you closer,” I moan.
“Just come for me first. I need you ready.” His jerks are almost aggressive.
Watching him lose it is intoxicating. It pulls me out of my head. I massage my clit, the buildup curling at the base of my spine. I’m so close, but I know it’s not enough.
“Now, Thunder, hurry.”
He’s close, too, barely hanging onto his control, and that is my undoing. My arousal coats my hand as I bite my lips to stifle a scream while I let go.
I’m spent in my lust-induced fog, but I can’t take my eyes off him. With a few bold strokes, he stills, a string of curses falls from his lips, and ropes of white coat my underwear.
“Now you know what you do to me, Little Thunder.”