Give…
Triumph
At least one question was answered. When he looked at her nipples in the bathroom, they were jewelry-free. Guillermo wasn’t tracking her that way. While she’d been in the shower, he’d texted Midas. No jewelry tracker.
But now he had a problem. She needed to sleep. Putting this woman to bed was the last thing he wanted to do.
Damn, did she look good in his favorite T-shirt. She could keep it as long as she wore it to bed every night. With him.
He helped her slide under the sheet. There, she was covered. Temptation avoided.
“Rest. We’re going to be on the road in about six hours. It’s all we can spare, but you need real rest.”
She stared at him for a few seconds, indecision in her eyes. Then she patted the bed next to her. “You need sleep as well.”
If he got in that bed, it was over. There was no way he’d be able to keep his hands to himself. Or his mouth. Or his dick. All of him would be touching her, around her, and inside her.
He tried to go for a humorous refusal. He squinted at her. “I’m not sure I trust you to not besmirch my honor.”
“Besmirch your honor? What the hell?”
He squinted further. “You’ll keep your hands to yourself?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, stop being a goober and get in the bed.”
“Goober? Not sure that’s better than besmirch.”
“Well, it certainly fits. Are all NSA analysts such nerds?”
“Probably. Maybe they’ve gotten sexier in the last ten years, but I highly doubt it.”
“Get in the fucking bed, sexy nerd.”
As soon as she invited him into the bed, his body took notice.
All the blood rushed to his dick, and it was torture.
He was going to hell. That’s all there was to it.
That soft skin under his hands. Those long legs with the strong thighs that would squeeze the hell out of him when she wrapped them around his waist. Those gorgeous tits that he couldn’t wait to redecorate with new jewelry.
Jewelry he picked out. Preferably, small gold hoops that he could attach weights to.
Quickly, he stripped down to his boxers and slid in beside her.
He noticed her wince slightly when she shifted to make more room for him, which basically put her on the far edge of the bed.
“Nope, none of that.” He slid an arm under her shoulders and another under her thighs, making sure to slightly tilt his body so she didn’t know how his dick was reacting to her before gently pulling her back against him. “Can’t have you tumbling off the bed.”
“I thought you were worried about me keeping my hands to myself,” she asked, her voice breathy.
“I am. But your hands are on the other side of you, away from all this temptation.”
Ha! What bullshit. He may have been joking about her keeping her hands to herself, but it was more that he was worried about keeping his hands off her. And that was clearly an issue because once he’d moved her close to him, he refused to let go.
Yeah. Definitely going to hell. Oh well. Might as well enjoy the fall.
They lay in the quiet and watched the drops of water that hit the windowpane, looking out onto the road in front of the building. Between full stomachs, the warmth of their bodies, and the light patter of the rain on the tin roof, a sense of intimacy developed.
Apparently, she was feeling it, too, because when she spoke, her voice was quiet, as if she worried about ruining the atmosphere.
“So. Food and sex noises.”
He snorted. He couldn’t help it. “I heard what I heard.”
“What kind of sex noise did I make?”
“Your eyes closed, and you made this humming noise. Like you’d never had something so good in your mouth.” He snuggled her a little closer, his mouth next to her ear. “It reminded me of a couple I caught enjoying a private alcove at Elysium.”
Snuggling. He was snuggling. What was happening to him?
He didn’t think he’d ever held a woman like this except during aftercare, and to be honest, they usually did all the clinging and rubbing on him.
He didn’t dissuade them, but he knew it was more about them being comfortable and coming down from the high of subspace. It had nothing to do with emotions.
This? There were definitely some emotions happening here on his end.
Tilting her head so she could look over her shoulder at him, she asked, “Care to share?”
“Hmm,” he considered, an overexaggerated sense of fake concern in his voice. “I dunno. You don’t think me telling you a sexy story won’t add to all the pent-up frustration you’re holding onto about me?”
A very unladylike snort erupted as part of her laughter. “It’ll be tough, but I’ll hold myself back.”
“All right. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.
” He took the pillow and scrunched it up tight, then lay on his back and leaned his head, neck, and shoulders against the thin piece of bedding so he was slightly elevated.
He still had one arm under Glennon, forming a pillow for her as she lay on her side, her body tucked tight to his.
“I told you that I’m part owner in some nightclubs with a couple of friends.
There are two in L.A.—a private BDSM club and a regular dance club that caters to the LGBTQ+ crowd, although not exclusively.
“Then, there’s our fantasy hotel in New Orleans and another BDSM club that’s hidden outside Chicago and is cosplay themed.”
“Seriously?”
“I shit you not. It has the longest waiting list of all of them.”
“Wow. I’d like to see that.”
“Yeah.” He paused. Should he let her know the door was open?
That he’d love to show her The Lucky Rabbit?
That he’d be happy to escort her to any of the clubs?
“When this is all done, I can take you as my guest, if you want.” He cleared his throat.
“Our newest club just opened in London. It’s called Regency, and it’s themed like an old-fashioned gentlemen’s club. It caters to the BDSM crowd.
“And then back home in San Antonio, we have our adult-themed circus.
That club is only semiprivate. You can have a membership, which gets you unfettered access, or you can buy a ticket, but you have to plan quite a ways in advance.
We also host private dinner parties, bachelor parties, that kind of stuff.
“So my job there as the tech guru is to man the main control booth at Elysium. I travel around to all the clubs, but I spend the most time there. It’s kind of hard to explain, but basically, the club is a labyrinth.
People wander through, and there are all these hidden performance rooms with circus-style acts.
We also have a dance-club area, which is basically a big-top tent, and then there’s an arcade with games, indoor food trucks, and other stuff. Plus, several bars.”
“Sounds fun. I can’t wait to see it.”
“Yeah, it’s my favorite of the clubs.”
“Even over the BDSM ones?”
How did he answer this? He didn’t want to lie, but he also wasn’t sure about discussing his place in the kink community. “I love all our clubs, but I don’t play at them. It blurs too many lines for me if I work and play in the same space.”
He watched her play with the end of her braid for a moment, then let it go as if she realized it was a tell she was thinking hard.
Rather than let her dwell on it too long, he changed the subject.
“Elysium is different than anything else I’ve ever seen or heard about.
How Tripoli ever came up with the idea is beyond me because I know I’m not that creative.
It has a huge membership base. We don’t want them to be bored, so we’re constantly reinventing what we have there.
For example, every few weeks, we switch up the walls so they still have the fun of getting lost and whatnot.
“Anyway, a few months back, I was watching from above, as usual, and I caught a couple on surveillance. One of the fabricated walls didn’t get latched into the floor properly, and they discovered they could swing it the opposite direction. Created themselves a little ‘public-private’ alcove.
“We’re really tight on our security—much of that is motivated by what happened at The Library with Tilly.
Given my own personal kinks, I’m definitely not one to begrudge them their harmless semipublic exhibitionism.
Honestly, as well as they hid themselves, no one would have seen anything, and they weren’t hurting anyone.
No different than a couple hooking up in a bar restroom, I guess, but we aren’t licensed for that sort of thing in San Antonio.
And I wanted to make sure she wasn’t being taken advantage of if she’d imbibed too much.
By the way she was giggling and stumbling around prior, the woman had clearly had a few drinks.
“So, I went down and did my due diligence. Talked to them through the wall. But before I did that, some noises were coming from within that little alcove they’d created that were… well, let’s just say it sounded a lot like your soup reaction.”
“All righty, then” was all she said.
Several minutes passed. He realized that this time here with her was different.
They were alone in a small space where no one could look over their shoulder to see how they were doing.
No bumpy roads to jostle them around. Yes, they were still on the run, but the little apartment gave them the illusion of safety that the truck did not.
She seemed to be feeling it as well because she gently rolled over to her other side. His arm still pillowed her head, but one of her hands rested on his chest, and her top knee slightly overlaid his.
He didn’t want to move. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to draw attention to where she’d positioned herself, just in case it was subconscious. But the truth was, he just didn’t want her to stop touching him.
The arm under her head curled slightly so his fingers could touch her hair, and he absentmindedly wound a tendril around his finger, then unwound it. Still slightly damp from her shower, it smelled flowery, like the shampoo she’d used. “Can I ask you a question?”
“I think you just did.”
“Ha ha,” he quipped. “That joke is older than my repertoire.”
“Ask away, Mr. Dad Joke.”