Chapter 27
Samantha
The Jacques was classy, but Shaker’s was trendy, expensive, and crowded. It was on the roof of an office building, twelve stories up. Fifth Avenue stretched away below, surrounded by skyscrapers—the view dominated by the Empire State Building, still Art Deco perfection after so many years.
It was a beautiful night when I arrived—just after nine, as instructed. The days were getting longer, and the sun had set just a little while ago. A warm breeze blew and the New Yorkers who were drinking up here, high above the city, were just warming up. I threaded my way through them and walked to the bar.
Aidan was there.
I had to pause for a minute, because he was sitting on a bar stool, drinking a glass of whiskey, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Jeans and a T-shirt. The jeans were worn, and the shirt was light gray, fitting him to perfection. His biceps—had I ever noticed Aidan’s biceps before? I noticed them now. They were perfectly shaped and hard as granite. The shirt fell straight over his flat stomach. The line of his shoulders was to die for.
He was gorgeous in a suit, and he was gorgeous in jeans and a tee. It wasn’t fair.
No one was looking at him, except for a couple of women who were checking him out. He was hot, but he wasn’t recognized as the Man in Black. I took a breath and got into character, preparing to play the game once again.
I was wearing a skirt, blouse, and heels. My name was Leigh, and I’d just left the office after working late. I had recently been dumped by my long-term boyfriend, who I’d thought would marry me, and I was low on confidence but determined to get back into the dating pool and meet someone. Tonight I screwed up my courage to approach the hot guy in jeans sitting alone at the bar.
A seat opened up next to him and I grabbed it. I signaled the bartender and ordered a glass of white wine spritzer.
As the bartender pushed the drink my way, Aidan turned and looked at me. He smiled appreciatively—a cocky grin. God, he was so gorgeous.
“Hi there, Spritzer Girl,” he said.
“Hi, Whiskey Guy,” I replied.
And just like that, the game was on.
His name was Max, and he was an airline pilot on leave. In fact, he had to be at JFK in a few hours for a trip to Seoul. He was hot and very, very aware of it. He was looking for a gorgeous woman to spend time with before he left again, and he said I fit the bill.
I told him my story—the breakup, the late-night working. “I don’t usually work so late,” I said, “but my boss wouldn’t let me leave.”
“Your boss sounds demanding,” Max said.
I looked at his familiar dark eyes, feeling myself smile. “He’s not an asshole, not really. He’s just moody.”
His eyebrows went up. He was definitely interested in this topic. “You think he’s moody?”
“Sure he is. He’s rich, but he hasn’t always been rich. He isn’t spoiled—part of him is still rough. When he’s in a good mood, he’s nice. But then he gets dark. For example, there was an entire week when he barely spoke to me.”
Max frowned, ready to argue. “He probably had a good reason.”
“No, he didn’t.” I was enjoying this. I took another sip of my spritzer. “Everyone in the office is terrified of him. No one wants to cross him. I’ve never seen it happen, but I know it’s bad.”
“Um.” Max cleared his throat. “Well, maybe the guy is under a lot of stress.”
“Maybe. It doesn’t make him any less intimidating, though.”
He looked at me in shock. “Your boss intimidates you?”
I laughed. “Of course he does. He’s intimidated me since the first minute I met him. I can’t believe I’ve worked for him all this time and he hasn’t caught on.”
There was a second of silence between us, louder than any of the laughter at the bar. Just him and me and the air practically shimmering. I could feel every part of my body, my blood pulsing, the breeze on my skin.
“You know what, Leigh?” he said at last.
I shivered. “What?”
“I feel bad for you, working for this guy. Dealing with his moods and his intimidation. Staying at the office until nine at night. I think you need to release some tension.”
I could feel his gaze on me like a touch, brushing along my neck, down past my collarbones. “I could do that,” I said slowly. “Release tension.”
“Good, because I have an idea.”
That was how we ended up in one of the bathrooms ten minutes later. The bathrooms at Shaker’s, it turned out, were beautifully decorated and incredibly clean. And private. Especially the one at the very back of the last corridor, where it seemed that no one else went.
Max—Aidan—pressed me against the counter, his strong arms boxing me in, his hips against mine, his lips moving expertly up my neck. Familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. I could feel his rough jeans through my skirt. I had never done anything like this before, but I let my head fall back, let my eyes close. “How much time do we have?” I breathed.
“Fifteen minutes, maybe,” was the answer against my skin. “Twenty tops.”
“I don’t think?—”
“Don’t think. Relax. I’ll take care of it. Tension release, remember?”
His mouth took mine, tasting of warm man and whiskey. His teeth raked against my lip and I felt the sting through my body, down between my legs. His hands moved to my skirt, pulling it up gently and then pulling my panties down.
I felt my fingers dig into the hard muscles of his shoulders. Aidan, I thought crazily. This is Aidan, the man I went to look at real estate with the other day. The man I see at the office almost every day. The man who had given me the orgasm of my life just by sitting on his sofa with me naked in his lap. That had been so intense I’d been dazed. I barely remembered leaving, had no idea what I’d said. I had the feeling I’d done it wrong somehow, but it hadn’t occurred to me until I was sitting in Aidan’s hired car, his driver taking me home in the rain.
If I’d done something wrong that night, he’d obviously forgiven me.
This wasn’t me, this office girl who let herself get seduced by a cocky pilot, who was locked in a public bathroom with her panties on the floor and a man’s gorgeous hands lifting her skirt up. Except for in my fantasies, this had never, ever been me.
The still-functioning fragments of my brain managed to remember something practical. “Do you have a condom?” I asked.
“Don’t need one,” he said against my mouth.
“But—”
“I’ve got it handled. Relax.”
I was going to argue, but then I saw what he meant. Because he put his hands on my hips, lifting me to the counter. Then he lowered to his knees.
I had definitely, definitely never done this.
Hardly ever, in regular circumstances. And never in public, fully dressed except for my panties, with a stranger.
But his touch was familiar as he pushed my knees apart. And even though he’d never done this to me before, his mouth still felt familiar when he licked between my legs.
I gasped aloud, my hands gripping the edge of the counter, my hips lifting off. Flinching and at the same time wanting more. The reaction I always had when he touched me there.
He took it as an invitation.
He was right.
How did he know what to do? Because he knew exactly what pressure to put where, exactly how hard, for exactly how long. He knew how to make me crazy, how to make me lose my dignity. Ten minutes ago, I’d never done this and as far as I knew, I never would. Now I had my legs open in a bathroom and I was going to come, fast and hard, dirty and intense, and it was pure bliss.
He was as good as his word. I bit my lips, trying not to cry out as the orgasm hit me, shaking me to my core. He was merciless all the way through, teasing every ripple out of me. Then, instead of taking pity on me, he slipped his fingers through my hot flesh and rubbed me, punctuating the movement with his tongue. I moaned in surrender, and incredibly, I felt the pressure building again. I gave in to it, letting him do everything he wanted, feeling the pleasure go up and up, tighter and tighter, until I came a second time.
When I was finally finished and coming down, he backed away and put the hem of my skirt down, almost polite.
He stood, picking up my panties from the floor. He was unbearably beautiful in that moment, sexy and dirty and daring. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. My entire body was high with bliss. I had never seen a more perfect man in my life.
He’s mine,I thought. He has to be.
He put my panties in my hand. “Stress relief, like I promised,” he said. For a second I thought he was going to lean in and kiss me, but instead he smiled. I could have sworn that something behind that smile was a little sad.
“Thank you. Time for me to leave,” he said.
By the time I remembered that was what I’d said to him the last time, the door had already closed behind him.