Chapter 2
Chapter Two
The Hideaway is packed. I look out at a sea of pretty people and smile. It will be a good night for business. It will be a great night for hookups. I’ve got Eddie and Will working behind the bar with me to keep up with orders.
I notice an empty glass a few barstools down and make sure I’m the one that fills it. “How are you doing, Constance?”
“The Gimlets are great.” Her mood has improved significantly, and I like the way she’s looking at me.
She’s funny. “How about you?”
“Feeling . . . crowded in.” She glances over her shoulder before returning her eyes to me while a finger runs over the top of the glass. “I’ve been thinking that I might like a taste of that gin you mentioned earlier.”
“I can arrange that,” I reply, getting closer and making sure only she hears me. “We have a rule here at The Hideaway though.”
Leaning in, she asks, “What’s that?”
“We keep the good stuff in the back.”
A smile tickles her lips and a giggle slips out. “Am I allowed back there? I’d hate to get you in trouble with the boss.”
Fuuuuck. She’s playing a game with me. I knew I liked her. “Could be risky.” It’s good to be the boss right now.
Sliding off the stool, she grabs her purse, and says, “Risks are just dares you were brave enough to take. Are you brave enough to take me, Hardy?”
“I can take you.” Over my knee. From behind. Sprawled out across my desk. Against the liquor locker. My cock pings against my jeans, and I shout behind me, “Cover me, Eddie.”
“Gotcha covered.” He eyes Constance and gives me a look of approval.
I toss my towel in the corner before I walk around and hold out my elbow for her to take.
Her slender fingers wrap around my arm and we walk through the crowd toward the hall that leads to the offices.
A door is pushed open and the crowds and music fade behind us.
I say, “Right down here.” I pull my keys out and unlock the door.
Letting her go first, she steps in and looks around the large space. “It’s big.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet.”
With a laugh, she leans her fine ass against the desk and I can’t say I disapprove of this—her ass on my desk. My dick is starting to ache. “You’re very good with the innuendoes.”
“I’m good with a lot of things. Want me to show you?”
All the bravado that she carried in here starts to sink. “I don’t do this.”
That’s okay. I’m kind of liking the banter enough to continue, “Do what, Constance? Taste good gin?”
Her smile is back, but it’s a weaker version of the one that lit up the bar earlier. Her hand waves between us. “This. Did you make that last drink stronger?”
“Despite what you might think, I don’t get women drunk to get laid. I don’t have to.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
Moving in, I take hold of her flailing hands, and still them, hoping to reassure her. “It’s okay. You’re nervous. I get it. We don’t have to do anything but taste some gin together. Would you like that?”
She blows out a breath, and nods. “I’d like that, but not much. I’m feeling lightheaded.”
Our bodies are close, her knees against my legs. “We can do this another time.”
When she looks up at me, I can see the trust in her eyes. “I want to be here.”
“Okay. Be here with me.” Not a question. A request.
Her voice softens, her body following suit. “Did you know I’d end up back here?”
“No. But it doesn’t change the fact that I hoped you would.”
Her smile grows and she stands. Giving me one easy search of the eyes, she moves and I step back, letting her walk around the office freely. “This place must see a lot of action?”
“It does.” Honest. No apologies.
An amused scoff whips through her lips. “You’re kind of arrogant.”
“You’re very pretty.”
The shyness from earlier returns, but she pretends to own the compliment. For someone as beautiful as she is, I would think compliments are commonplace, but by her reaction, I get the feeling she doesn’t receive many. Tapping the top of the desk, she asks, “How much action has this desk seen?”
“Too much.” Honest. No apologies.
She turns, so I give her space and retrieve the gin from the liquor locker. Touching the chair, she asks, “How about this chair?”
“More than the desk.” Honest. No apologies. When I have the bottle in hand, I waggle it for her to see. “Got it.”
Constance is keeping herself entertained by trying to find a surface that hasn’t been fucked on, under, or over. “The loveseat?”
“I can’t even talk about the deviant acts that have taken place over there.” Honest. No apologies.
“Deviant? I’m very intrigued.”
I take the shots I just poured and hand her one. “The most baseline sexual acts you can think of and I’ve done them in this room.” Honest. No apologies.
“Will you do me in this room?”
Surprised by her initiative, my attention lands firmly on her. “My pleasure is your pleasure.”
She sips the gin shot and sets it on the desk. “That’s good. Smoother than I expected. How about you?”
“I’ll let you determine that.” I shoot the shot and set the glass down. “Take off your jacket, Constance.”
With her eyes latched onto mine, she lets the jacket slide down the arms of her hot pink silky shirt. Being careful not to wrinkle it, she hangs it over the back of one of the chairs. “Now what?”
“Why’d you come to The Hideaway tonight?”
The Gimlet speaks for her. “My college roommate has known you since the summer. Katie O’Dowd.”
The name brings back memories, memories I’m probably okay not recalling. “Katie O’Dowd. I remember her. I fucked her in the bathroom. She liked the door unlocked so people could walk in and see us.”
“That’s what she said.”
“Is that what you’re into? Do you like to be watched?”
“No. I don’t know. I don’t think so. What about you?”
The stammering is a clear sign I’ve touched on something that makes her uncomfortable. I attempt to get her back on track. “Not really. What brought you here?”
“A date, like I said earlier.”
“No,” I say, “Why did you come to this bar tonight?”
“Katie. She made me promise to stop by and just see where the night went.” A hint of something hides in her tone when she speaks.
“Do you regret coming?” I walk around her, eyeing her to watch her reaction.
“I haven’t come yet.” She’s got spirit. I like her wit. “I’ll let you know if I regret it later. “
“Tell me, Constance. What do you want me to do to you?” My shoulder is pressed to the front of hers as we face opposite directions. With my lips to her ear, I whisper, “What gets you off?”
Her lips part and I think she’s going to speak, but she sucks in a ragged breath instead. Keeping her eyes forward, she releases it.
I place a small, and light kiss just under her earlobe. Her neck is tilted away, opening her up to me. I ask, “What is your pleasure?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You don’t know what you like?”
She licks her lips, then as if she’s confessing a dark secret, replies, “I know what feels good.”
“Tell me what makes you feel good, Constance.”
“Being touched.”
Placing my hand on her thigh, I tease her. “Like that? Does that feel good?”
Her small smile kills me in the best of ways. “It does, but—”
“But what?” I kiss her neck again, and then slide the bridge of my nose against her, taking in a deep breath.
Rich vanilla coats her skin. She’s absolutely edible.
Her shyness is an aphrodisiac. My cock reacting—hard, a throb buried within building.
I move my hand higher and when I cup her pussy I hear the soft hitch in her breathing.
“That. I want to be touched there.”
“Touched or licked or eaten? Tell me exactly what you want, baby.”
Her lids flutter closed and she leans back opening like a flower for me. “I want your hands on me.”
“My hand is on you,” I challenge, wanting her to say it.
“Vocalize it. Own it. Give into that carnal side I know lies just beneath this fancy suit you wear as armor everyday.” I scrape my teeth across the base of her neck while I rub gently between her legs.
“Here, between these walls, with me, you can drop your shield.”
“In me.” Like a flurry from the sky, the words fall from her lips, “In me. Deep inside me. I want you to make me come.”
The right side of my mouth quirks up. “You’re so fucking sexy, Constance.” My fingers are deft, her belt opened, the pants unbuttoned, and the zipper down.
She watches the frenzy, keeping her eyes focused below her waist. “Go slow. It’s been a while.”
My hands stall. When I look up, a contradiction is laden in her eyes. Innocence comingles in the brightest greens, which is so unexpected from a woman who wears a power suit. “How long?”
The pink that highlights her cheeks isn’t from shyness this time, but embarrassment. I hate it on her.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Is everyone you’re with . . .” She looks around while building her courage. When her gaze returns to mine, she finishes, “Experienced?”
Yes. “No,” I lie so she doesn’t wither before me. She’s so beautiful when she’s blooming. Taking each word into careful consideration and using her chosen one, I ask, “Are you experienced?”
“Not fully,” she confesses.
Narrowing my eyes at her, I probe, “Not fully as innnnn . . .”
Her voice is so quiet I barely hear her when she says, “Not all the way.”
Virgin! I try to keep my eyes from bulging.
I didn’t know there were virgins in New York.
She’s like a unicorn. A rainbow unicorn that shits Skittles.
A myth. An urban legend. Damn. She’s a virgin.
Just Wow. I want to ask how she held onto that V card for this long, but at the same time, I’m so fucking turned on that she seems to trust me with it that I’m left perplexed over how this night should go.
There’s no way I’m bending her over like this is just any other night.
It’s not for her, and I’m starting to think it’s not for me either.
“So maybe we don’t have sex.” As she swallows my words, I zip her pants back up, and she buttons them closed while looking disappointed. I ask, “Do you like to dance?”
“Yes.”
There’s that pretty girl again. Knowing I’ve put her at ease, I rub the back of my fingers over her cheek. “Let’s start there then.”
“Okay.”
I pull my phone from my pocket and flip through my playlists.
Seduction is too sultry. Hard Fuck is too, well, hard.
Lots of Nine Inch Nails on that playlist. Scrolling down, I find my Take Your Time playlist. This is actually one I listen to when I’m at home and trying to wind down after a long shift.
I’ve never played it for a woman. It makes me feel unsteady, but she opened up to me, so I feel safe to share a private side of myself with her.
The first song starts playing through the speaker on the filing cabinet and her smile grows. “I love this song,” she says much more at ease, her shoulders relaxing.
Taking her hand in mine, I put my other on her hip and slide it up to her waist. “Dance with me, Constance.” Our bodies are flush, her breasts rising and falling against my chest. When we start to sway, her breathing picks up.
I press my cheek to her temple and we move together.
I close my eyes and get lost in the feel of her and the music.
Our breath is the only sound between us.
Our hearts beat, the thump felt hard in my chest. “You’re so beautiful. ”
She leans farther into me. Reaching up, I pull the silver clip that’s holding her perfectly in place hair, and toss it onto the desk. Her hair comes tumbling down over her shoulders burying my nose in her soft locks. I stay, not wanting to move away.
Intimacy is not my specialty. It’s not something I crave or need. I have a good life. I’m happy. A successful business. I have great friends and I’m close to my family. But this feels good. Being this close to her, feeling her nerves soften her edges as she molds to me—I like this. Maybe too much.