Section 13
Found You
Lucky
The moment she says game, something in my brain lights up like a Christmas tree wired by raccoons.
I don’t ask questions, I stand very still and try not to grin like an idiot.
Five minutes.
I watch her walk away and immediately regret being a man with object permanence.
Okay. Focus.
This is a task.
A mission.
A sacred responsibility bestowed upon me by a woman who definitely should not have said whatever you think I’m offering.
I count.
Not out loud.
Out loud would be unprofessional.
I hit zero and move.
I sweep the floor the way I always do: pattern first, instinct second. I check the obvious spots fast just to clear them from my head.
Storage? No.
DJ booth? Too public.
Office? Not her style tonight.
Gia Serrano doesn’t hide where she can be interrupted—she hides where she can decide. The thought sends a jolt through me that has nothing to do with adrenaline. Straight to my balls.
I take the back stairs. The lights are off in the dusty mezzanine corridor. Quiet enough that every sound feels louder—my breath, the faint echo of music bleeding up from below.
There.
A door not quite flush with the frame.
“Found you,” I say.
Silence.
Then the door opens just enough for her to be there—jacket off, hair tucked behind one ear, eyes bright in the dark like she’s been waiting too long to pretend she hasn’t been.
“Five minutes,” she says coolly.
“I know,” I reply. “I was trying not to sprint.”
Her mouth twitches, and my dick does the same.
I step inside and close the door behind me.
The room feels smaller immediately.
We stand there for half a second too long, the air thick and waiting.
“Uh,” I say. Smooth.
She raises an eyebrow.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” I blurt. No, fuck! Abort, abort! “I mean—not like constantly. Just. Regular amounts. Normal amounts. Which are—”
“Lucky,” she says.
My back hits the desk behind me.
Oh. Okay. So this is happening.
She braces her hands on either side of me, trapping me without touching me.
“So…”
“So?”
“I found you,” I offer. Like the excitable moron I am.
“You did.”
Her face is devastatingly sexy and giving me absolutely nothing.
Fantastic.
I’d been planning to say something clever.
Something about finally getting snacks? Maybe?
Instead, my brain has wandered into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and forgotten why it came.
“This is still a game,” she reminds me.
“I know.”
“And you don’t get to forget who I am.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” I say earnestly. “You scare me in a way I find extremely sexy—uh, grounding.”
Goddammit.
“What about the helmet?” Gia says, after around sixty billion Mississippis, eyes twinkling in the dull light.
“Uh.” I glance around the old office, then back to the goddess in front of me.
There’s something wrapped around her belt loops and tied with a nice bow. A scarf? Fuck if I know, but I feel like a kid in a candy store unwrapping her. I gently tie the silk over her eyes, ensuring it’s snug but not too tight. I step back to admire my handiwork.
“Can you see anything?”
“No.”
“Good,” I whisper, and switch our positions so she’s between me and the desk. I lift the helmet and let it thud to the floor, the room bitch-slapping my senses.
Holy shit, if I’m dreaming, please don’t let me wake up.
I gently lift her shirt, exposing her stomach. My fingers feel like useless sausages trying to work the delicate buttons of her blouse.
“Is this okay?” I ask. “Can I…?”
She doesn’t answer immediately. Her head’s cocked to one side, and even though she’s blindfolded I can feel her studying me.
“You did find me.” Her breathing is slow and even.
“Right,” I say quietly.
I don’t move. If I move I might make a huge mistake.
“Lucky?”
“I’m thinking.”
“I thought I smelled something burning,” she mutters.
“Oh, no, I had a whole plan.”
One corner of her mouth lifts.
“Did you?”
I nod before remembering she can’t see anything. “Yeah.”
“And?”
“You looked at me,” I admit.
She shakes her head, something suspiciously close to amusement escaping her.
“That seems like a flaw in the design.”
“Massive flaw.”
Another quiet beat stretches between us. Anticipation wearing a very bad disguise.
I draw a careful breath and try again.
“Can I start over?”
She pulls me closer instead of answering.
“You may.”
Relief floods through me so fast I almost laugh again.
“Right,” I murmur. “Okay.”
This time, when I reach for the top button of her blouse, my hand is steadier.
I pause anyway.
“Still okay?”
“If I wanted you to stop…” She tips her chin toward me. “You’d know.”
I nod once, working the buttons until I finally set her tits free. My eyes may or may not widen like a cartoon character.
Thankfully she’s blindfolded.
Right. Professional.
Be professional.
“First course,” I murmur before capturing her waist in my hands and lifting her onto the desk.
Her fingers dig into my shoulders as she steadies herself, and I let out a groan.
“Fuck—keep doing that,” I growl and yank my t-shirt over my head. Her nails rake over my bare back, scraping my scars, and I press myself closer between her thighs.
“You hungry?” she says.
“Ravenous,” I manage to say and sink down to my knees, pulling her pants down and bury my face between her legs. “Goddamn, you smell good,” I murmur, pressing kisses along her inner thighs. I spread her legs wider, pushing them up over my shoulders. “Like a McFeast.”
“Lucky… please stop talking.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I dive in without hesitation, gripping her thighs tightly, and holding them open. “Copy that.”
She tugs my hair urging me on. My tongue works faster, my lips wrapping around her clit and sucking hard before diving back in. I slip two digits inside her easily, wetness coating them immediately.
As I finger her sloppily she pulls my hair hard enough to draw blood, probably—and it’s everything. I add a third, stretching her wider as I suck and lick relentlessly.
She chokes out a string of curse words, pulsing around my fingers. I keep eating her through her orgasm, drawing out every last second of pleasure.
Then she scoots back and reclaims herself like nothing happened. I’m still leaning my forehead against the desk, stunned.
“Helmet back on,” she commands, buttoning her blouse.
I rush to follow her instructions. Normally I feel safe with my helmet on, but for the first time it’s suffocating.
“Okay, coast is clear,” I say and move to remove her blindfold—but she beats me to the punch.
“Game’s finished,” she says.
I nod. “Did I win?”
She considers.
“No,” she says. “But you did very well.”
She turns and walks out before I can say anything else.
I stay exactly where I am for a full ten seconds.
Catastrophic life choice.
Absolutely worth it.