6. Meghan
SIX
Meghan
I have had way too much to drink… but I’m having the best time.
Other than being hit on by a few of the creepy guys from work—who got the message when I made my lack of interest clear—nobody has paid me much attention.
Alex has been so supportive. She’s stuck by my side all night and included me in conversations with her work friends.
Compared to me, she’s such a social butterfly .
Passion opened at eleven and our work party moved upstairs to the VIP area we’d booked. The party is in full swing. The balcony has a great view overlooking the dance floor, and I sit watching the crowd of bodies moving to the rhythm of Piece Of Your Heart by Meduza and Goodboys.
Nobody seems to dance up here. Instead, people are hanging out in groups having animated conversations. I fidget in my seat, trying to keep the urge to go and dance at bay. My body is begging to be touched, to be caressed, even by a complete stranger.
Maybe Alex had the right idea to get me laid.
At this point, I’d even settle for a gentle graze of my breast.
Taking a moment to survey the crowd, my thoughts are pulled to Mr. Jackson—as they so often are.
I haven't seen him tonight aside from the moment when I arrived, and it wouldn’t come as a complete shock if it turns out he’s already left for the night.
He isn’t really one for socializing at the office, so I’m not surprised he isn’t doing it here.
It would’ve been nice for him to come and say hi.
A part of me had hoped he would stalk across the club and whisk me away to some secret location to act on the need I think I saw reflected in his gaze.
Did I imagine the looks he’s been giving me recently?
Maybe . I feel dejected at the fact that he’s probably left and didn’t bother to say goodbye to me.
“Hi, mind if I take this seat?” a deep masculine voice asks.
“No, of course not,” I reply, expecting him to literally take the seat and move away.
“I’m Alfie, do you work for Jackson and Partners too?” he asks, causing me to turn in my seat to face him.
He’s holding his hand out to me and I place my own in it as I look him over from head to toe, not bothering to hide my perusal of his body.
He’s a handsome guy, I guess. He stands about six-foot and has dark blond hair that’s cut short.
He’s got an obviously muscular body based on the way his shirt looks like it could rip with a wrong move, but he just isn’t my type.
He isn’t Cooper Jackson .
“Hi Alfie, yes I do. I’m Mr. Jackson’s Assistant, Meghan,” I shout over the music before sipping through the straw of my drink. I guess I really do look different tonight, seeing as Alfie works on my floor as an associate.
“You look different… like good different. Have you had a fun night, Meghan?” he shouts back, leaning into me, resting his hand on the back of my chair. I nod in response before he continues, “We’re heading to another club, if you wanna come?”
“I’m gonna stay here, but thanks for asking,” I reply.
“Maybe next time. We should grab lunch or something soon,” he responds. Standing from the seat, he looks down at me as if he wants to say something else before saying goodbye and walking away. He’s gone from my mind and sight within seconds.
One of my favorite songs, Gold by Kiiara , blasts through the speakers and I glance over at Alex to see if she wants to come and dance, but she’s immersed in conversation. I don’t need Alex to dance. I’ve got this by myself.
I’m going to dance and I don’t need Alex to hold my hand .
Standing on not so steady legs, I make my way toward the stairs that lead to the main floor of the club. The bouncer manning the VIP entrance moves the rope aside and I totter in my heels down the stairs, holding onto the railing as I go.
Whoever thought it would be a good idea to put stairs in a club is a fool.
Safely at the bottom, I make my way through the crowd of revelers before stepping onto the dance floor.
Swaying my hips to the beat of the song, my hands roam up and down my body and through my hair as I make my way to the center of the dance floor. It’s crowded with people moving as one to the music, bodies crushing against bodies. I lose myself to the music and it’s as if everyone else fades away.
Desire by Meg Myers comes on and as I’m getting lost in the song, I feel a warm body pressing up against my back. This is different to the crush of strangers that I’ve been moving to the beat with for the last thirty minutes.
This body feels… connected to me.
The scent from whoever is behind me is familiar, and I close my eyes as the smell I’ve inhaled for the last year meets my senses. I imagine it’s Mr. Jackson behind me; his clean, woodsy, masculine scent envelopes me as our bodies move as one.
It’s been so long since I’ve been sexually satisfied—and I’m so fucking horny—that’s the only excuse I have for my actions.
I grind into his crotch, feeling an impressive bulge that seems to be growing with every swipe of my ass. A moan rises to the tip of my tongue, begging to burst through my lips.
I hope he’s hot, because I just might end my drought tonight .
Large masculine hands slide around my waist, pulling me closer, before settling on my hips, pushing me further into his hard cock.
When one hand moves up to cup my chest just under my breast, holding my torso in place. I know I should be worried about the power he has over me, but instead, I relax back into his embrace as we grind into each other.
All of my instincts are telling me this is a safe place to be, that what I’ve been waiting for is going to be mine tonight.
Lost in the rhythm of the music, I move my hands up behind me into his hair as I tilt my head to the side and bring his mouth down to the crook of my neck, practically begging him to taste me… to do anything and everything.
If he moves his hand under the hem of my skirt, and I’m secretly hoping he does, he will find me dripping wet.
I think I hear him whisper my name, but with the loud music and how much I’ve had to drink, I can’t be certain.
For a brief moment, I contemplate pulling away and asking him what he said, but the moment his tongue comes out and swipes across my neck, my mind goes blank.
When his mouth moves up to nip my earlobe and he releases a growl next to my ear, I’m lost, and honestly couldn’t tell you my own name, let alone form a question.
I feel sexy and… desirable.
Maybe tonight I can finally get over Mr. Jackson—I just have to work up the courage to burst my own bubble and face the man I’ve been grinding on for the past thirty minutes.
Before I can make a move or any sort of proposition, his warmth disappears and an overwhelming feeling of disappointment comes over me.
I was so close to ending my dry spell.
I’m about to groan in frustration when someone grabs my wrist, causing a gasp to escape my lips as a bolt of electricity jolts through me.
Suddenly, I’m dragged through the crowd by the same, oh-so-familiar, muscular hands that had been all over me moments ago.
My disappointment fades, but as we make our way to a secluded part of the club, it dawns on me that I still haven’t seen his face.
I follow him down a corridor and through a door that leads into a small room. It’s dark, but I can make out a table in the middle with high backed chairs surrounding it. He closes the door behind us before pushing me against the back of it.
There’s still no worry or fear in me, but I can’t be certain that isn’t down to a false bravado the drinks I’ve had tonight have given me.
I can still hear the music from the club, although it’s much quieter now. His hands rest on my hips, and I lift my gaze to his face. It’s illuminated by the glow of the green exit sign above us. My stomach clenches and plummets to my feet as I look up .
Oh God, I’m in so much shit.
I was practically riding him on the dance floor.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t him and he just pulled me away from a stranger.
Come on, Meghan.
Deep down, I knew it was him. Nobody has caused a reaction in me like he does. Cooper Jackson.
“Meghan, what are we doing?” he growls, his voice husky as he moves his body closer to me and I feel his hardness pressing into my stomach.
I release a tortured moan before my tongue darts out and over my suddenly dry lips. I’m fairly certain I’m dreaming—I’ve had a dream like this once before.
I’m going with it’s a dream.
Resting my hands on his chest, I glide them down to his belt buckle before moving lower over his impressive erection, giving him a gentle squeeze.
His moan fills my ears and I rub my thighs together to try and relieve the ache forming in my core.
I’m too busy following the movement of my hands and don’t fully register the way his eyes have darkened with lust or that his own hands have fisted at his side in an attempt to not touch me.
As this is a dream, I take my time to think about what I want to do first. My dreams usually end with him devouring me in bed—against a wall will be a new experience that I’m definitely not against .
I want a kiss.
Removing my hands from exploring his lower half, I glide them up his chest before throwing my arms around his neck and pressing my body further into his. I kiss him softly at first, my lips coaxing his own open.
This feels like… coming home .
“Cooper,” I purr against his lips. “You’re still here. I thought I’d missed you. Have you come to dance with me?” I say, as I pull back fully from him and smooth my hands down his solid chest.
I barely notice the way his eyes rake over my body or how his jaw is clenched and ticking. He looks sexy in his slim-fit black jersey trousers, white shirt, and dark gray jacket.
He was wearing this when I saw him in real life.
I hear him say fuck before his hands coast into my hair and he lifts my face to his, crashing his lips against mine.
It’s messy, and our teeth clash as we give into our hunger for each other. He nips at my lips, and the sting shoots straight to my core, causing me to moan into his mouth.
My final thought before I give myself up to the sensations he’s awakening in me is… Is this real?