5. Lacey
CHAPTER 5
LACEY
As soon as I hit the ladies’ room, I yank off my earpiece, unclip the receiver, and drop down on the sofa in the lounge.
“Fuck,” I mutter, adjusting in my seat. Five minutes talking to Eagle and all I can think about is having sex with him.
I stand from the sofa and splash cold water on my face, grateful all the guests have left. I run my wet hands over the back of my neck to cool down, when I hear a light knock on the bathroom door.
“What the hell?” I storm through the sitting room, concerned and more than a little confused. I yank the door open, relieved not to see Dylan. And incredibly stunned to see Eagle, his dark dress shirt filling the doorway. “Eagle? What are you…”
He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even blink. He looks from me to the mirrors that line the ladies’ room lounge, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m pulling him inside and flipping the dead bolt on the lock.
He’s on me in a second, shoving his hands beneath my hair to cup the back of my neck. “Am I wrong?” he asks, his lips against my ear. “Do you want this? Tell me if you don’t want me as much as I fucking want you.”
My eyes flutter shut, and I practically throw myself against his chest. I swallow back every hesitation, every rational thought about why this is wrong, why we shouldn’t do this. Yes, he’s my employee. Yes, I know we’re at my place of employment. My job. With security cameras that no doubt caught him letting himself into the ladies’ room. But the door is locked, and right now, I would much, much rather have him quench the throbbing need between my legs than the silicone I’ve got waiting at home.
“I’ve wanted you for so, so long,” I say, reaching to lace my hands behind his neck. I scratch my nails through the short hairs on the back of his head, and he groans, lowering his face to mine.
Our first kiss isn’t the demure kiss of a bride and groom. It’s ravenous and needy, our mouths pressing hard against each other, his lips crushing mine until they feel swollen and raw. I pull back only when I’m desperate for air, panting through parted lips and scraping the tips of my teeth against the scruff on his chin. He tastes so good. His mouth is sweet and almost smoky, like the aroma of coffee without the bitterness.
I grab his face, raking my fingers over the scrub of stubble that gives his dimpled chin texture. My nipples harden, yearning to feel my softness against that firm jaw, those perfect lips. When he cups my ass and presses my hips to his, I release a groan so throaty and deep, I’m almost embarrassed.
But I shouldn’t be. Eagle chuckles and meets my groan with one of his own.
“Lacey.” That bedroom voice makes my name sound new, sound like the most erotic and beautiful word I’ve ever heard. “You are so fucking gorgeous…” He pants his praise against my neck, bending his mouth to devour me. He kisses, licks, and nips my throat, the light stubble of his chin scraping my skin and leaving behind the most delicious burn.
I’m writhing with desperation for more, more of him. More of this. I lift his face with my hands, and he slams my body against the wall, bracing a knee between my legs as he explores my mouth with his tongue. We fit together like two halves of one whole finally reunited.
He tastes like heaven—sweet like soda and a little salty—a perfect flavor against my tongue. We kiss and groan, huffing hot breath and banging our backs against the wall as we press every inch of our bodies together. I squirm with need, the ache for him so deep, if he moves his knee just a little higher, I’d grind out a climax against him.
“You’re fucking filthy,” he pants, pulling his face from mine. “And I love it. I want to watch your face in the mirror while I fuck you from behind.”
I open my eyes, my lids so sluggish and heavy with arousal, I have to struggle to peek at him through my lashes. “What?” I mumble, immediately missing his mouth.
“On the couch,” he orders, pointing a tattooed finger.
I look at the rose-colored velvet settee and wonder how the hell I’m going to explain ruining it to the facilities staff. Because I have no doubt if I let Eagle get me on that couch, we’re going to do unspeakably dirty things to it.
“Hold on,” he says, following my eyes. He unbuttons his shirt so fast that I hardly register what he’s doing until his sculpted chest is bare, and he’s laying the shirt over the seat of the couch. “I’m about to make a big fucking mess eating your pussy.”
My knees go so weak at his words that I nearly stumble, but he’s got me around the waist and is steering me toward his shirt. When I’m standing in front of the sofa, he kneels and puts his hands on the exposedskin of my thighs. “You want this, Lacey? Because if you don’t, say?—”
“Fuck me,” I beg. “Eat me, fill me. I don’t care. I want it all. Give me everything.” It occurs to me that I should ask if he has a condom before I tell him he can have his way with me. Before I can form the question, he’s pulling his wallet from his back pocket. He opens the trifold and pulls out not one, but three foil packets. A nervous giggle comes over me. “You really keep those in your wallet?”
He tosses the condoms onto the sofa beside his shirt and lifts a brow at me. “I’m old-school, and I’ve been praying I’d get the chance to do this for the last two years.”
I almost gasp at his admission, but before I can say anything more, his warm hands find their way up my thighs and under my dress. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my thong. He’s so gentle tugging it past my ass that I have to reach under my dress and yank it off for him.
I drop back onto his shirt, a little shy about sitting on the fabric. “Are you sure you don’t care about this shirt?—”
“Ruin it,” he orders, his bedroom voice filling the silence of the lounge. He pushes the fabric of my dress to my waist, still kneeling on the floor. “Sit and open for me, baby. Show me how bad your pussy wants me.”
I do as he says, sitting gingerly on his dress shirt and opening my thighs. I haven’t had sex with anyone since Dylan, and I haven’t exactly trimmed myself much, but if hair bothers Eagle, he doesn’t show it. He sucks in a breath, and his bright-blue eyes darken as he flares his nostrils and breathes me in.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re so wet.”
“I’ve been like this all night,” I admit.
“You this wet for me?” he asks, taking the tip of one finger and teasing a trail up my thigh and through my curls.
My hips buck at the light contact, and I lift my ass, trying to get closer to him.
“Nuh-uh,” he says, withdrawing his fingers. “Answer the question, and I’ll take good care of you, baby. You wet for me?”
I snap my eyes open and meet his gaze. “Yes,” I breathe. “I want you so damn bad, please…”
“Good answer,” he says, returning his fingers to my pussy. Every light touch of his fingers is a brutal tease. I want him inside me, filling me, but he takes his time, studying my body and fingering his way through my arousal until he finds my clit. I throw my head back against the sofa and spread my legs wider, parting my thighs with my hands.
“Eagle,” I say, his name shuddering through my breaths. “For God’s sake.”
He slides two fingers inside me, then pulls his fingers out and licks them. He curses under his breath, a stream of hot, panting words I can’t make out through the haze of lust and heat. “Sweet as fucking honey,” he grunts.
He lowers his face between my legs, kneading the muscles of my thighs with his hands and licking long, slow strokes across my clit. I’m panting, moaning, and gripping the crisp dress shirt under my ass between my fingers, lost to the bliss of his mouth on me.
I want to come, but I won’t. I need him to fill me, need him deep and hard and fast if he’s going to hit that spot to send me to the stars. I tell him I want him inside me, that I need to feel him, and he curses again.
But this time, it’s not from arousal.
“Old knees,” he laughs, bracing himself on the couch and groaning as he stands up.
I want to help, offer him a hand or anything, but I’m useless. My legs are like syrup, slow and thick and hot as he helps me to stand.
“Tits,” he says, that single word sending another tidal wave of heat through me.
With my dress already pushed up to my hips, all I have to do is shove the front of the dress down and my breasts will fall free. I wear this dress so often, I had a strapless bra sewn into the top, so when I push down the material, my breasts rest on top, looking massive and full.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, his eyes widening. He grabs my hand, then bends to suck a nipple into his mouth. Sparks shoot off behind my eyelids, and I gasp, gripping his massive shoulders and clawing against his smooth back, bringing him closer.
“Turn,” he says, pointing at the vanity counter. The entire lounge area is lined with mirrors, so now that I’m standing and my eyes are open, I can see us. Really see us. My dress looks as tiny as a bandanna; the bodice is pushed low, and the skirt is pushed high to cover my belly. Every other inch of my flesh is exposed, revealed to him. In the mirrors that I have looked in so many times that I can see a thousand reflections of myself over the years in my memory.
For a split second, I really think about what we’re doing, and it hits me hard.
I’m naked in the ladies’ room of the Lantana.
I work here.
This is my dream job.
My nipples are exposed and so erect they hurt, and a massive flush has stained my cleavage a dusky rose color. But this is where I work. This shouldn’t be happening. This can’t be happening.
My mind starts to race. This is a bad decision. Not just another bad decision in a string of bad decisions. This is like, what the fuck am I doing, have I lost my mind bad.
It all hits me like a bucket of water.
If I want to stop this, now is the time.
“I want to watch your face when I make you come,” Eagle says, nodding toward the counter.
I should have used those useless brain cells when I had the chance, because as soon as he says those words, I’m boneless, thoughtless, too far gone to stop what’s happening. Maybe nothing bad will happen. Maybe no one will ever know. There are no security cameras inside the bathroom, and the door is locked. Isn’t it?
But then the what-ifs fill my brain…
I’m bent forward, my face so close to the mirror, I leave a hot little circle of mist on the glass when I pant.
I can hear Eagle unzip and then hear the foil wrapper tearing. I feel his hands on either side of my thighs, like he’s lining himself up to slide inside me, and fuck, I want this. I don’t want to stop. I don’t want this pleasure to end. But I love my job, and I know with all my heart that if there is anything that could get me fired—and right now, I’m afraid there are many things that might—letting Eagle take me from behind in the ladies’ room would do it.
This is a line I cannot cross.
I’ve made enough bad decisions. I don’t want to make one more. I’ve lost too many dreams to toss away what little I have for even the mind-blowing orgasm I know I’ll have with this man.
Looking in the mirror, I meet his eyes and whisper his name. “Eagle… I don’t think…”
He must sense a shift in me as I feel him tense behind me.
His mouth opens, and he tightens his hold on my thighs, but not in a bad way, not like Dylan gripped me earlier. He kneads my muscles, and he lowers his face to whisper against my hair.
“Fuck,” he breathes, panting hard against me. I know he put the condom on already, and I feel like shit. We shouldn’t stop. But we can’t keep going. “Did I hurt you?” he asks. “Fuck it, Lacey, what did I do?”
“No.” I give him a wooden smile, no heart behind it. I feel like exactly what Dylan called me. A tease. But I know I’m not doing this to be cruel or to toy with him. So, I tell him the truth. “This job, it’s all I have. I mean that. This job means everything to me, and this… We can’t.”
Eagle closes his eyes for a second, and then he does something that almost breaks me. He draws in a shaky breath, then plants a kiss on the back of my head. After that, he leans back, his hot thighs no longer pressed against mine. He quickly peels the condom from his cock—and oh God, once I get a good look, I’m hating myself for what I’m missing out on—and tucks it neatly back into the foil wrapper.
“Got it. This never happened,” he says quietly. Then he tucks the condom into his pants pocket, pulls his shirt from the settee, and shrugs it on.
I am yanking my dress back over my bare ass, and I don’t see the look on his face as he dresses. I can’t talk to him now, not with my tits out and my pussy still soaked from his mouth. As soon as I’m decent, I’ll apologize. I’ll…I don’t know, offer to make it up to him. I’ve never been in this situation before. I’ve never been so reckless and mindless—and I don’t think I’ve ever been so damned turned on. I’ve made a lot of bad choices, but none that have ever felt this good.
But I don’t get the chance to explain or even to tell him I’m sorry. That I would go there with him in a heartbeat if we weren’t at my place of employment and if he weren’t technically my employee—even though he’s a contractor and not actually a Lantana employee.
But I don’t get the chance to say any of that. As soon as his shirt is buttoned, without even a look at me, he reaches for the door, unlocks it, and says, “Goodnight, boss,” and rushes out of the ladies’ room.