Page 28 of The Shadows We Keep

“And if I did?” Her cheeky delayed response catches me off guard.

I’d forgotten about my question as my hands wandered across her body. It’s so easily distracting, and I could let it slide, but the glint in her eyes tells me she doesn’t want me to.

“Come with me.” I slide my hand into hers and yank her away from the table. Her friend calls after us, but with the way John had his sights set on her earlier, I have nothing to worry about. Her feet stumble under her, tripping her body against mine. Snaking my arm around her waist, I pull her warmth against me, dragging her along to the empty office I know is in the back of the bar.

Pushing open the door, I shove her—not so lightly—into the vacant room. It’s dim, the only light from a small lamp in the corner towering over a leather chair.

“Harkin, what are you doing?” She stumbles over her feet, catching herself against the desk.

“You call me in the middle of the night. Tease me with those beautiful, lust-filled eyes. Stumble off the call. Make me worry. And then roll your eyes? And you wonder what we’re doing in here?”

Her body straightens. The alcohol running thick through her veins, she sways, catching herself against the mahogany desk.

I stalk toward her. Her body retreats, stopping when she’s flush with the desk. Nowhere to go. Her knuckles turn white against her grip. Boxing her in, I take in her state: eyes dilated, skin flushed, breathing rapt. I smile down at her.

“Tell me what I should have done, little one?” Her eyes close, and I lean in to rest my forehead against hers, her chest bursting in quick flutters against my shirt.

Those big golden eyes stare up at me through thick black lashes. Her nose nuzzles against my own.

“I’m glad you came,” she confesses before her lips collide with mine.

My mind blanks, thoughts of punishing her attitude forgotten. I’m too wrapped up in the searing heat radiating from our joined lips. I dive in deeper, pushing apart the seam of her full lips and slipping my tongue inside. She must be drunker than I thought because the sting of alcohol is potent on her tongue.

I grip her narrow waist, lifting her body and dropping her to the top of the desk. Her legs wrap around me, and I’m pulled against the junction of her thighs. I thicken against her heat and thrust forward. Her guttural moan encourages my hands exploration down her sides, landing on the band of her leather pants.

I pull away, taking in a deep breath, bringing clarity to my brain. “Tell me why you called, sweetness?”

I lick against her lips, teasing our joining, but controlling the pleasure. She whimpers against me but doesn’t answer. My finger traces along the band of her leggings, dipping through the tightness as I push through toward her core.

Her wetness coats my fingers. No barrier meets my assault. The slickness pulls me down and her hips widen, giving me permission and access all-in-one.

“Tell me to stop, little one.”

Only a whimper answers my pleas. I have no self-control now to stop myself from plunging deeper into her heat. I need to feel her on my skin.

“Harkin.”

My name–a plea on her lips—spurs me on as my fingers rut in and out. The tightness squeezes me, throwing me down a warpath to bury my cock deep inside her and feel the same. I curve my fingers forward, rubbing a spot that makes her cry out my name in a broken whisper. My lips find hers, pressing deep, nipping and sucking, pulling every moan and sigh inside me before it escapes for anyone else’s ears.

“Harkin, please,” she whines, making my fingers pump harder, her cunt pulling me deep.

“Tell me what you want, little one.” Her walls flutter against my fingers. Her arousal dripping down to my wrist. I want to drive myself deep inside her, fill her full of my cock until her eyes never roll in my direction again. But the way she’s clinging to me seconds away from falling apart, beautiful, and free, I can’t stop myself from driving her toward the edge. I need to watch her fall apart in my hands.

My lips surge forward, capturing hers. Biting and pulling, nipping, and sucking, until her breath is uneven, and her cunt has a vice like grip on my digits. She pulses around me and then her head throws back, her throat beautifully displayed to me.

I bite down, sucking the slick flesh in with a tight nip, soothing away the pain with a warm lick and a sweet kiss. Her breathing slows. My fingers pull free. Bringing them to my lips, I lick her juices and she tastes just as sweet as I imaged.

“Fuck,” she huffs out.

Her naughty mouth doesn’t give up, even with the pleasure I’ve just given her. I shouldn’t have. She should have been punished for the excessive drinking—and especially for the eye roll. But that’s all over now. My mind is blissed out and my cock raging against the teeth of my zipper.

Her chest bounces, deep breaths pulling in as she regains awareness of her surroundings. Her slender fingers dig sharply into my shoulders as her eyes find mine and a shy smile pulls at her lips.

“Was that my punishment?” Her sassy satisfied smirk should irk me, but the taste of her cum still on my lips makes that hard; it makes me hard.

Her dainty hand pushes against my chest, trying to make space between us, but I’m not ready for her heat to leave my body. Instead, she closes her thighs, shoving me back inch by inch until they’re closed. I drop into the chair in front of the sturdy desk and heave a sigh.

“That was definitely not your punishment, sweetness, and you know it.”

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