Chapter 3 Aidan
AIDAN
The moment her lips meet mine, I know I’m doomed.
She’s a little young, sure, but she’s exactly my type, and kisses me like I’m her last breath, her tongue sweeping hungrily over mine, sweet with the taste of cupcakes and gin.
Her hands find the lapels of my jacket and tug me into the heat of her.
I’m so taken aback that I’m powerless to do anything other than let her kiss me, and before I know it, I’m kissing her too.
Just like I’ve imagined doing since she sat down beside me.
It takes a good ten seconds for my brain to come back online and remind me what a terrible idea this is. I don’t mind a casual hookup—in fact, I prefer them—but in my experience, the worse a woman’s emotional state, the better it is to stay away.
I knew talking to the woman at the bar was a mistake. I should have left her alone with her cupcakes and gin, like every rational instinct told me to.
But, hell, she just looked so fucking miserable, I had to say something.
Miserable and pretty. So pretty.
I peel myself from her as delicately as I can and take a step back, catching my breath. Her face morphs with horror at the rejection, and she turns to go, but I grab her arm. Her embarrassment is palpable, and I can’t help but feel bad.
“Wait.”
“I can’t believe I just—” She gathers herself, pressing her hand to her forehead. “I’m so sorry.”
I sigh, closing the restroom door and flipping the lid down on the toilet, motioning for her to take a seat. I don’t need to use it. I came in here so I wouldn’t be tempted to follow her onto the street and ask for her number.
I’m not the type of guy to ask a woman for her number, and the urge set off an alarm bell in my head. But I felt compelled to talk to this woman. When her sad, cornflower-blue eyes met mine, something clenched in my chest. There was pain there I recognized.
And despite myself, I wanted to comfort her.
“Don’t be sorry,” I say. If anything, I’m flattered. I can’t remember the last time a woman her age made a move on me. Probably when I was in my early thirties myself.
She drags a hand through her long, caramel-colored hair, her cheeks pink as she sinks onto the toilet lid. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
I hesitate, then decide to be honest. To put the poor woman out of her misery. “I do. You’re not imagining the spark between us.”
Her gaze lifts to mine. “I’m not?”
“No, Cupcake. You’re not.”
I don’t know what I’m thinking, calling her this cute little nickname as if we’re lovers, but it suits her. She’s sweet, delicious enough to sink my teeth into, but also a little fragile, like she might crumble if I’m not careful.
Her mouth tilts into a pleased smile at my words.
God, she’s beautiful. Those eyes are breathtakingly blue, and her hair falls to her waist, long enough for me to wrap in my fist and tug.
Then there’s the indigo knitted dress she’s wearing that hugs her luscious curves, the heeled, knee-high leather boots that cling to her long calves.
What man in his right mind wouldn’t be attracted to her?
Today’s the first time I’ve eaten lunch away from the office in months.
Usually, my assistant, Mandy, brings me whatever I ask for, but she left last week and I’m lost without her.
She’s been invaluable over the past few years, and I dread the process of finding someone else and training them, so I thought I’d treat myself to lunch and a drink while I work out how I’m going to replace her.
The last thing I expected was to have a young woman sit beside me and offer me a cupcake.
Make me feel like I know a thing or two about life. Compliment my beard.
So, yeah. I flirted, figuring we would both feel a little better. I didn’t expect her to pull me into the restroom and want more.
Even if part of me wants to give it to her.
I rake a hand through my hair, glancing away. My lips tingle from being pressed to hers, and I can’t shake how damn good it feels. It’s an effort not to pull her close and do it again.
She rises, closing the distance between us.
I pick up the faint scent of her, bright and floral—orange blossom maybe?
—as she slides her hand up my chest. The feeling of her warm palm through my shirt ignites heat in my abdomen, and I suck in a sharp breath.
I haven’t felt this intense physical attraction to a woman in a while.
Usually, it takes work. Dinner. Drinks. More effort than I care to give.
But her hand is enough for desire to burn hot through me, and that’s a dangerous feeling. One I know better than to indulge.
I gaze at her expectant face, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes, trying to be the good guy. “You’re having a bad day, sweetheart. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
Her brow knits, and she shifts her posture, nudging her breasts into my chest.
Shit. She’s not making this easy.
“Sir, I am throwing myself at you. Please, take advantage.” She looks up at me, breathing hard, her fingers digging into my biceps through my suit jacket. “Take whatever you want.”
“Sir?” I ask, cocking a brow. I could get used to being called that, especially by someone as cute as her.
“Sorry.” She blushes again. She has a peaches and cream complexion that shows her blush easily, and I fucking love it. “I didn’t—”
“No.” A dark chuckle rumbles from me. “You can call me that.”
Her eyes light with a wicked glint, and she smiles. “Well, then, why don’t you tell me what you’d like to do to me, Sir?”
Fuck, it’s hard to resist an offer like that.
My resolve weakens, and I lean closer. “I’d like to kiss you again,” I admit, my voice thick.
Christ, why did I say that?
But I can’t fucking help myself.
“I’d like to push that pretty dress up your thighs and see if you’re wet for me.”
Her mouth falls open. Too far?
Of course that’s too fucking far. It’s 2 p.m. on a Monday, and she’s a good decade younger than you. What the hell are you thinking, Brooks?
“I’d like that, too,” she says, surprising me. “But before you do that…” She falls to her knees, gazing up at me from under her lashes as she reaches for my belt buckle, and blood rushes to my cock.
Am I dreaming right now? This beautiful woman, voluntarily on her knees for me? She’s the one having a bad day. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?
The thought vanishes as she cups my stiff cock through my slacks, sliding her tongue hungrily along her bottom lip.
She’s not that much younger than me, I reason. Definitely old enough to know what she’s doing—a thought that’s confirmed as she unzips my fly, wrapping her fist around my length and jerking me with long, assured strokes.
And she won’t even tell me her name. She clearly wants nothing more than this.
Nothing more than I’m prepared to give.
But I think of what she told me at the bar, that it feels like her life is out of control. I hate myself for being so reasonable, but I have to ask. One more time.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” I choke out, already losing the battle.
“Yes,” she breathes. “I need a distraction from this crappy day. Please.” And then, because she seems to know the effect it has on me, she adds, “Sir.”
Fuck.
I’m a decent guy, but I’m only human. Besides, I can’t even remember the last time I had sex. I’m so damn focused on work, I could use a break. A little fun. And as she licks her lips, her gaze fastened on my throbbing cock, I know there’s no way I can stop her.
She’s a grown woman. Who am I to tell her what she can and can’t do?
I hiss out a breath as her thumb swipes over the tip of me, my dick pulsing in her hand, and when she draws me into her sweet, wet mouth, heat flashes through me. I can’t remember the last time a woman went down on me so eagerly, and it makes my head spin.
“Look at you down there,” I rasp, gripping the wall behind me as pleasure floods my veins. It’s either that, or I plunge my hands into her hair, and I can’t guarantee I’ll be gentle.
She hums down my shaft, fingers tight around my base as her head bobs back and forth.
I’m still in disbelief that this is actually happening, at Marco’s Bar, in the middle of a workday, but the thought evaporates as she draws me in deeper.
My knees weaken at the pleasure, and my resolve caves as I reach for her, threading a hand into her hair.
My fingers slide through the silky strands, making her whimper.
She pops off to look up at me with dark eyes and flushed cheeks, stroking me as I grip her hair.
Something in her gaze tells me she likes it, and I tighten my hand into a fist, drawing a moan from her throat.
Yeah. She likes it.
“You look so pretty on your knees for me, Cupcake.” I stroke a thumb across her cheek, guiding her back to my dick. “Is this what you wanted? To taste me?”
“Yes,” she breathes.
I growl and tug on her hair, all restraint gone, and she gives me a naughty grin.
“Yes, Sir.” Heat dances in her eyes, her breath hitching on the word. It’s not only me who loves it.
“Good girl,” I grate out, watching as she seals her lips around me again. The warmth and wetness of her mouth makes my balls draw up tight. “Fuck yes, just like that.”
She sucks harder now, taking long, deep pulls on my cock, and heat rushes down my spine. The combination of her mouth and her hands drives me wild. I won’t last much longer.
“Where do you want me to come?” I rasp.
Her fist tightens around my base, drawing me down her throat. Not in her mouth, surely? She doesn’t even know me.
But there’s no mistaking the way she deliberately holds me tighter, the way she groans as I grip her hair, fucking her hot mouth. I’ve lost all control, hips bucking as I ride her tongue, frantic with the pleasure building inside me.
“I’m so fucking close,” I growl, giving her one last chance to pull away, but when she takes my balls in one hand and tugs, heat explodes through me.
I groan through the blinding flash of pleasure, spilling onto her tongue.
She doesn’t let up, swallowing every last drop, until I release my grip on her hair with a shuddering sigh.
Then she rises to her feet, mouth hooked into a dirty, satisfied grin.
Holy hell. Who is this woman?
My pulse slows as I tuck myself into my boxer-briefs, zip my fly and buckle my belt.
I should thank her and leave, get the hell out while I’m still alive, but the deep flush of pleasure on her cheeks has me leaning in to capture her mouth with mine.
I can taste myself in her kiss, and it’s fucking hot.
She moans as I part her lips with my tongue, demanding entry, my hand straying up her thigh, hating that she’s wearing tights under her dress.
When my fingers push below the waistband into her panties to find her soaked, my cock twitches.
“Fuck,” I say roughly, stroking my fingers through her wetness. “You liked being on your knees for me, huh? You liked having my cock in your mouth?”
“Yes,” she whispers, quivering as I slide my fingers through her slippery folds. She’s so responsive to my touch, so restless in my arms, that my dick throbs again, as if my balls haven’t just been drained.
Shit, I need to go for round two.
“Yes, what?” I grit out.
“Yes, Sir.” She moans as I flick her clit. “I need—”
Her words falter as the shrill sound of my phone ringing pierces the silence.
“Ignore it,” I say, focusing on the feeling of her slickness on my palm, pushing a finger into her tight pussy. Goddamn, it will feel so good to thrust into her.
My phone rings again, interrupting our flow, and I pull away with a curse, fumbling in my pocket to silence the damn thing.
Then I catch sight of the name on my screen. And the time.
Jesus, how long have I been in here with this woman? She’s a vortex, making me lose track of time and space.
John’s name flashes on the screen, along with two missed messages. My pulse scrambles. We had a meeting this afternoon. An important meeting, too. One I shouldn’t have missed.
This is why I need Mandy. She would have reminded me on my way out to lunch. Or she would have gotten my lunch for me, like she usually does.
Then I would never have come to Marco’s at all.
I suck in a breath, casting my gaze around the small space as I suddenly remember where I am and what I’ve been doing.
What the hell was I thinking?
Time to return to the real world.
With a grimace, I shove my phone back in my pocket and drag myself away. “I— I need to go.”
She blinks. “Oh. Okay… sure.”
Ah, I feel like an asshole.
“It’s work,” I say.
She nods. “Of course. I should… I should go too.” She inhales deeply, looking around, as if coming out of a trance, as I did a moment ago.
I gaze at her, the urge to ask for her name tugging at me.
It’s better if you don’t know. The sooner I can get away from her and forget about this, the better.
She stares back at me, awkwardness ballooning between us. Did I really just come in this woman’s mouth? How on earth did that even happen?
“Well…” She twists her lips to one side in thought, then sticks her hand out. “It was nice to meet you, Aidan.” The same thing she said to me at the bar.
Despite myself, I ignore her hand to lean in and press a kiss to her soft cheek. She sighs, fingertips landing on my chest, eyes fluttering closed for a second. I hesitate, inhaling her orange blossom scent, knowing that if I walk out of here, I will never see her again. That’s it.
That’s how it has to be.
I swallow. “Take care, Cupcake.”
She huffs a laugh, glancing down. Her cheeks are still flushed, and I let myself mentally record the image. I don’t want to forget today, even if I should.
I don’t want to forget her.
And that’s the thought that pushes me out the door, onto the street, striding purposefully toward the office.