Page 85 of Conquering Conner

Forty-four

Conner

I’m a rational human being.

I think things through. I weigh the pros and cons. Consider the consequence. Apply logic. Even when it looks like I’m an out-of-control hothead, the truth of the matter is, I map my way through every possible contingency in the time it takes me to blink and I make a choice. I choose my behavior and I either accept the fallout or manipulate the situation to avoid it.

The point is—I know what I’m doing.

Usually.

I say usually because right now, I don’t have a goddamned clue.

Right now, rational me is bound and gagged and tossed into a deep, dark hole.

Right now, I’m half naked, dragging Henley through the bar, with only a vague idea of where I’m going or what’s going to happen when we get there.

Liar, liar. You know exactly where you’re going and you sure as fuck know what’s going to happen when you get there.

“Conner.”

I can hear the fast click of her heels behind me, practically running in an effort to keep up with me.

“Conner, please just…” She digs her heels in and tries to stop our forward progress, but it does little good. “I can’t. Tess and Dec—”

“It’s fine.” I tell her, slowing down just enough to prevent my stride and grip from pulling her elbow out of joint. “I took care of it.”

I always take care of it.

“What? How did you even know what…” Whatever she was going to say fades away when she figures out where I’m taking her. I half wish she’s start fighting me for real. Screaming and yelling. Making a bigger scene than we already are.

She doesn’t. As soon as she realizes what’s happening, her arm relaxes in my grip. She lets me guide her through the crowd and into the hallway. Ignoring the line of women waiting to use the bathroom, I push through the door and drag her through it along with me.

There’s a group of women, clustered around the large mirror, fixing their make-up and fluffing their hair. Laughing and joking about someone named Tim. One of them catches my reflection in the mirror and straightens, silently signaling to her friends. They all turn and see me standing there, my hand around Henley’s elbow. In a matter of seconds, they’re scampering out, shooting us knowing looks as they pass us on their way out the door.

Of the six of them, I’ve fucked four, and I’m sure the other two have heard all about me.

As soon as they're gone I pull her deeper into the bathroom, maneuvering her until she’s standing in front of me, facing the mirror above the long row of sinks I have her pinned against. “You need to say it.” I watch as my reflection grips the front of her open shirt to yank it free from the waistband of her skirt before jerking it down her arms. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Say what?” She whispers it, her voice so soft and thin I can barely hear her.

Reaching up, I cup my hands around her breasts. “Now is not the time to play games with me, Henley.” I squeeze, brushing my thumbs over her lace-covered nipples. “Say it,” I growl at her and I wonder if she can hear it. That fucked-up animal inside me.

The thing that wants to have her.

Own her.

Keep her.

“Yes.” She plants her hands on the sink in front of her and pushes back, grinding her ass against the hard length of my cock. “Yes, please.”

“Christ.” I hook a finger around the delicate scrap of lace holding the cups of her bra together and give it a sharp jerk. It comes apart in my hand and her breasts tumble free. “Touch yourself.” I run my tongue up the side of her neck. Scrape my teeth across the knot at the top of her spine. “Pinch your nipples for me.”

Her hand come up, fondling one of her breasts while mine find the zipper on her skirt and resisting the urge to yank and tear, I pull it down as gently as I can. Pushing the waistband past her hips, I listen to it slide down her legs while she strokes my throbbing cock with her ass through my jeans.

I turn her, close my lips over her breast and suck, pulling her nipple into my mouth. As soon as my mouth makes contact, she moans. Pushes the hard, swollen bud against my tongue.

“Conner, please…” She moans, her hand fisting in my hair while the other one reaches for the waistband of my jeans. Her fingers wrap around me and I groan, my already hard cock jerking almost painfully in her grip. It’s suddenly too much. The taste of her skin. Her hand on my cock. Knowing what she thinks of me. What she expected to see when she barreled into that hallway tonight.

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