That guard I’ve never dropped outside of the bedroom hits the deck. Fast. And I let it. I let the demand for physical pleasure—hers and mine—bleed in and blur the line of what’s allowed. What’s appropriate between me and Stella.
Blood pounding in my head, I pull her toward the dark corner of the roof that is the farthest out of view from the bar. She gasps when I press her up against the brick wall with my body, letting her feel every hard inch of her effect on me.
“Aiden,” she breathes, going pliant, eyelids fluttering.
I drop my mouth to her ear, inhaling the singular scent of her. “Do you want some proof I can be more than a nice guy, sweetheart?”
Stella nods, letting her head tip back and hit the wall. “Yes. Anything. Yes.”
Anything.
Permission granted, I reach down and yank up her skirt.
As soon as I get the garment bunched up around her waist, my hand is delving down the front of her tights and panties. My middle finger parts the flesh of her pussy, finding her hot and slippery. Perfect. She’s already whimpering when I slide that digit high and tight inside of her, so firmly and without warning, she shoots up onto her toes, her thighs dancing around my hand. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”
“Nice guy?” I slip my middle finger out, almost the whole way, then push it back in accompanied by my ring finger. “I’ll fill this tight, little thing up so full, you won’t know whether to open wider for it or slap me across the face.”
The awareness that transforms her features is satisfying. I’ll admit that. I lust for this girl more than I’ve ever lusted in my life and now she realizes I have what it takes to gratify her. That’s not to say she was totally skeptical before, but she can’t know how close I’ve been paying attention to try and determine her preferences, painting a picture of what it would take to get her off good and hard. She gave me a hint the night I carried her up to my office, her eyelids turning leaden when I settled her butt on the edge of my desk and let myself linger between her thighs for a few seconds. She arched her back and panted once, twice, like she’d die for that quick, dirty release. A boss going to town on his employee after hours, right there on top of the profit and loss statements.
And again this morning in my car, her pulse ticked faster, more insistently when I grazed her lips or jawline with my teeth, the tighter I fisted her clothing, the more anxious she became. No soft and slow for Stella. Yeah, I’ve got her number. It’s the same as mine.
I curl my fingers inside of her and rotate them, watching her pupils dilate in the moonlight. Her mouth opens in a soundless O and then her tits start to labor up and down. “Please, Aiden.” She fists the front of my shirt, half tugging me closer, half pushing me away. And she’s turning slicker by the second. “Please, please, please.”
“Tell me I’m your type again.”
“Y-you’re my type,” she gasps.
“Not that tattooed child.” I enunciate every word and feel her pulse around my digits in response. “Not anyone else, either. Just me.”
“Oh. Ohhh my God. J-just you. Yes.”
Gratified as hell by that instantaneous agreement, I pull my fingers halfway out and sink them back in fast, hard and watch her mouth form my name without a sound, feel the clench of her little muscles around my digits. “That’s it. Good girl, Stella.” God, I need to experience that tightening on a much lower part of my anatomy. Need to feel her milk me.
Need her now.
I’m taking her home. There’s nothing else to it. There’s a warning in the back of my head telling me I’ll regret letting my hunger for Stella trample my willpower, but right now all I can think about is getting her alone and planting myself so deep inside of her, her thighs will still be shaking on Christmas morning. I can only think about getting rid of the density gathering in the deepest regions of my loins. Calming her inner frenzy as well. Letting my guard down the rest of the way. A way I’ve never done with anyone. Physically. Mentally. All of it.
When voices from inside the bar seem to grow louder, traveling closer to the open-air rooftop, I lumber through the fog of hunger and remind myself where we are. As hard as it’s going to be to stop touching her now that I’ve got that perfect slickness wrapped around my fingers, there’s no choice. Goddamn. Reluctance grits my teeth as I slide my hand out of her panties, fixing them back into place and tugging down her skirt, resting our foreheads together while we get our breathing under control. Some people walk out onto the roof behind us, lighting up cigarettes, but I don’t recognize any of the voices and we remain just like this until finally, my brain is able to form semi-coherent thoughts.
“I’ll go downstairs first. Wait five minutes and follow me. I’ll meet you outside.”
Stella’s eyes lift to mine, searching. “I’m pushing you to do this and it isn’t you. I can’t…”
I panic when she shakes her head, beginning to slip out from between me and the wall. But I press her back firmly to the brick, letting her feel my hard cock. I look her in the eye as I do it, cupping her chin in my hand and lifting. There’s a part of me that knows she’s right. This isn’t me. Sneaking around. Hiding what I feel and want and know is right.
And because I never want to be anything less than one hundred percent honest with Stella, I tell her exactly what I’m thinking. Exactly what’s in my head and heart. “Being dishonest is not me. You’re right. But it’s not you, either. I don’t think it ever was. We’re going to meet somewhere in the middle tonight and find out who we could be. What that could feel like.” I drop my mouth to hers and kiss her for the first time, pressing my tongue deep into her shocked mouth, moaning in my throat when she responds, her body melting against mine, our tongues stroking like they’ve been starved for contact. She’s about to scale me like a rock-climbing wall, and while I want that more than my next breath, I pull away, panting, before we can make a scene. “Meet me downstairs in five minutes.”
9
Stella
After Aiden leaves, I lean against the cold brick wall on the rooftop for a few minutes trying to catch my breath. Then I pull the quickest goodbye in history, which consists of me passing by the lounge section where everyone is sitting with my phone pressed to my ear, grabbing my jacket and mouthing I have a family thing okay bye. I definitely take note that Jordyn and Seamus are sitting beside each other. Jordyn looks nothing short of dazed and Seamus might have just won the lottery for the triumphant set of his chin. I’ll definitely be getting the inside scoop tomorrow. For now, though…I’m apparently going home with my boss.
No. He’s more than that.
He’s Aiden.
And…I’ve never felt like this. Never had these fluttering fingers of sensation in my belly over anyone. Or this hot-cold tremor in my knees. As I step into the elevator and hit the down button, I’m worried I’ll burst into hysterical laughter at any moment and freak out the other passengers. But oh my God, my body. What did he do to my body? Inside and out, I’m a mess of shivers and hormones and need. I actually need him.
His hands. His voice. His mouth. His weight against me. Above me.