18. June #3
“Dumb accident. I was carrying stuff and missed a step. Cut my face and bruised my knees. Anyway, Magnus was still leaving when he saw me fall, and being the sweetheart that he is, he insisted I stay with them until I get things sorted.”
Cora narrows her gaze and slowly bobs her head up and down. “You’re totally a sugar baby now.”
“Am not.” I grin and down the rest of my bourbon, courtesy of my blast from the past.
“J, I love you and all, but you are oblivious. You’re wearing designer everything from head to toe and those earrings…” She continues to study my appearance. “Wait, what did you say they do for a living?”
“I don’t know, security or something.” Isn’t that what Coen had told me before I knew the truth?
Cora puts up both hands to use air quotes. “Security. Okay.” She shrugs. “Whatever. If my bestie is happy and healthy, that’s all that matters. The wealthy part is just a perk.”
I can’t keep continuing to talk about this unless I’m willing to risk confessing details I shouldn’t. “You want to dance?”
Cora puts both palms on the side of her face and squeals. “Really?” She immediately grabs onto me and tugs me toward the steady moving group of people. “I’m not letting you change your mind.”
The music gets louder the closer we get; the temperature rises under the strobe lights.
I shift my gaze to where Coen once was, but struggle to spot him. It’s not that I mean to obey him, but he did tell me to stay in his line of sight. Surely, he didn’t expect me to stay in one place all night.
Cora weaves us through the swaying bodies and further into the center of the floor.
She spots an opening and settles us right into it.
Spinning me in a circle, she lets go and laces her hands up her neck and into her hair, her hips immediately finding a groove with the song.
Her heather grey crop top has a plunging neckline and draws the attention of nearly every surrounding human with a thing for females.
Between my skimpy dress and her high-waisted, short black skirt, we have people gravitating toward us within moments of stepping foot onto the dance floor.
Cora beams, her bright white smile glowing with happiness.
A decent-looking man approaches her from behind, his body floating along with hers to the beat.
A cute, short, curly-haired brunette steps in front of me, grabbing my hands and putting them on her shoulders. We finish out the song and both the girl and the guy flutter away and out of sight.
Cora laughs and continues dancing her little heart out.
Two more guys get closer, more attractive than the last. One with dark brown skin, a jawline to die for, and beautiful green eyes.
The other with fiery red hair and freckles galore.
They take turns circling us, their hands gripping our waists and dancing along with us.
They stick around longer than our last partners.
Every time I spin around, I scan the crowd for Coen, never once spotting him. I shouldn’t care, and yet I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing, who he’s talking to, if he’s miserable by himself. Is he watching me? Fuming over the sexy men giving me their attention?
A hand latches onto my wrist, tugging me toward the person it’s attached to.
My sights raise, settling on the man I was looking for. “Co. What the hell?”
“We need to talk.” He continues to pull me, his expression unreadable given he’s always in a grumpy mood.
Now? Of all the fucking opportunities he’s had, he’s choosing to communicate at this very moment?
I turn toward Cora and the guys. “I’ll be right back,” I call out to them, because it’s not like I have another choice; Coen is practically dragging me away.
We thrash through the crowd, Coen not giving a shit about the shoulders he’s bumping into and people he’s disregarding. He leads me down the hallway that’s labeled bathrooms, walking us past the few couples lining the space and making out. He stops at the very end of the dimly lit corridor.
"J." His expression is hard and stern. He grabs onto my hand, spinning me toward him and pinning me up against the wall with his body. One hand slams the surface beside my head, the other hovering just along my face. "You think this is a game?"
I blink in an attempt to figure out his angle here. “No. Do you?”
Coen’s gaze trails mine, frantically glancing back and forth. His jaw is tighter than anything I’ve seen before, something that can’t be good on his pretty teeth.
People don’t pay us any attention when they pass, probably because they’re drunk or assuming we’re another one of the duos trying to get a little privacy.
“Do you have no idea what you’re doing to me?” Coen’s nostrils flare.
“Considering you won’t speak to me, no, Co, I don’t. Care to fucking enlighten me?”
His breath grazes my skin, a mixture of bourbon and mint. “I will not allow you to flaunt your ass around here and disrespect yourself by letting any random man put his hands on you.”
“I have needs, Coen, desires that you know nothing about.” I take a step, but he pushes me back.
He brings his palm on the side of my cheek, his touch warm and electric.
I can’t be this close to him. Not if I stand any chance of maintaining my resolve.
Coen runs his thumb down over my bottom lip, his fingers wrapped around the base of my chin and neck.
"What are you doing?" My body comes alive with his every movement. The undeniable chemistry is still there despite our aversion to each other.
He continues his descent, tracing the area between my collarbone and my practically exposed breasts. “What I’ve wanted to do for years.”
I have no will left to make him stop, because it’s the last thing I truly want. He was the first person I ever longed for, and that craving never went away, no matter how hard I try to fuck it out of my system with anyone but him.
Coen makes his way over my waist and to the bottom of my dress, his body shifting to block the view from anyone who might glance our way. His growing hardness presses against my leg. He snakes his hand up and glides it over my panties. “Tell me to stop.”
I exhale and bite my bottom lip, my body hungry with the need for more. I eye his mouth, the same one I’ve kissed a million times.
He stares at me, his eyes pleading like they’re begging me to put an end to whatever is about to happen next. Because once we open those flood gates, what if there’s no going back? It’s been over a decade and yet I lust for him like no time had passed at all.
My body gravitates toward him, inching forward for just a little more.
He obeys, slipping his fingers under the hem of my panties and gliding them down. Coen’s dick throbs against me as he feels my eager wetness. He presses a digit on my aching clit and slides it further until it’s resting just along my hole.
I pulsate, my pussy impatient for him to penetrate me.
“Last chance,” he tells me, moving his fist from the wall onto the base of my skull and tangling it in my hair.
My eyes roll at the layers of pleasure he’s already providing with minimal effort. “Kiss me before I change my mind.”
Coen brings his face closer, floating it next to mine. “I’ve missed you,” he murmurs and finally closes the void between us.
His lips are everything I remember, except the passion has increased, like they’re yearning to erase all the lost time. An endless apology in his kiss. Our tongues reacquaint themselves—two old lovers finally reunited at last.
I gasp as he inches his finger into me, slow at first, but then he shoves another one in, filling me a bit more.
We continue to make out without a care for anyone who might witness this indecent public act. The only thing on my mind is scratching that figurative itch that has plagued me for so long.
He rocks the base of his hand while sliding his fingers in further, inching them back and forth.
I pivot toward him to give him a silent approval to keep going, my leg raising and wrapping around the bottom of his to give us both a better angle.
I grip his waist and pull him toward me, dying for him to be closer.
If only there was a way to actually fuck in this hallway without causing too much of a scene.
Coen fills me with a third digit and positions his palm to apply pressure to my clit.
I dig my fingers into him and stifle a moan, my orgasm already growing near.
He’s well aware of it, too, moving in just the right ways to keep me on that decadent path to explosion. His tongue goes deeper into my mouth, mine into his, the frenzy we’ve created becoming more out of control with each passing second.
Coen clenches onto my hair, pulling it tightly and kissing me harder.
I come undone in this dark hallway, my pussy clasping and pulsating around him while drunken people walk on by. I bite at his lip with a bit too much pressure and whimper as the pleasure of the entire experience cascades over me.
He carefully pulls himself out from under my dress and breaks away from our heated kiss. Coen brings his fingers to his mouth, gliding them in and sucking me off them, his blue gaze piercing through me. “You are not to flirt with another man in this bar. Do you hear me?”
If I weren’t riding this wave, I’d protest, but watching him taste me, the little bit of blood I drew from his lip mixed with my lust, I find myself unable to object.
After all, I got what I wanted anyway—we can argue about my disobedience later.
I’ll allow him to think he’s in control for now.