Booty Call(6)

By: Amy Brent



“Do you do this a lot?” I breathed, and he shrugged.


“Will it change your mind if I give you an answer you don’t like?” He pointed out. He was right. I was here now and nothing was going to convince me to back out of this. It was…it was too much, too good, too tempting. I looked at the glass in his hand, but I knew that I was already tipsy enough on desire for him to need anything resembling a drink.


“No,” I conceded, and realized my voice had dropped to some sultry tone that I had never heard out of my mouth before. But then, I didn’t make much of a habit of stuff like this, hooking up with near-strangers who I also happened to be working for. He put his drink down, tracing his fingers briefly around the rim before turning his attention back to me. I shivered. I could already imagine how those fingers would feel against my skin, and he seemed to be playing on that, playing on the way that I was looking at him right now.


“This stays between us,” he took a step towards me, his eyes drifting down to my mouth like they had done back in the office. “Nobody hears anything about this, alright?”


“Works for me,” I agreed at once. “The last thing I need is anyone thinking I’m hooking up with the boss for favours.”


“Agreed,” he reached up, and traced his thumb over my mouth for a split second, so fast that I could almost convince myself it hadn’t quite happened the way I thought it did. I closed my eyes. I felt drunk on him already.


“I don’t normally do stuff like this,” I burbled, knowing it was irrelevant but not able to stop myself. I just needed him to know me, in some way, before this happened. He grinned.


“But you want to do this?”


“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” I confessed.


“Tell me,” he ordered, voice firm. I blinked at him.


“Huh?”


“Tell me you want this.”


“I…” I trailed off. I had never much been one to give myself a voice when it came to sex, and I was surprised he was giving me one. “I want this.”


“Certain?” He looked me dead in the eyes, so close that the rich, sweet scent of his aftershave was swirling around me, enclosing me in this bubble that only contained the two of us. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him, didn’t want to.


“Deadly,” I replied at last, my voice so low it had almost dropped to a complete whisper. He reached out and trailed his fingers down the side of my waist. And then he leaned in and planted his lips against mine.


As soon as our mouths touched, any last doubts that I might have had about this vanished from my mind. I didn’t care if it was just this once, if he was my boss, if this was a bad idea – for the first time in a long time I wasn’t focused on anything but the moment unfurling in front of me and it felt so damn good to forget for a while. I wrapped my arms around him and he pushed his tongue into my mouth, and I found him tasting of scotch and skin and something sharp and startling and new. I couldn’t get enough of it. He pulled me sharply against him, and I found him already growing hard as I pressed my body to his.


I couldn’t get over the fact that this was actually happening. I never did shit like this, but maybe that had been my problem. Maybe, now that the path I had been so sure was going to work for me had failed, I should start from scratch and see what doing something a little different my do for me. Or doing someone a little different.


“God, you feel good,” he groaned, leaning down to kiss up my neck and to my ear. His breath was warm and bright on my skin, pushing me out of reality once and for all. Nothing mattered but this moment, but this feeling, but how good he felt up against me. He ran his hand up my back, tugging my hair back slightly and making me wince with pain and pleasure. He pulled back an inch and looked into my eyes, and a small grin flickered across his face. He liked this. He loved it. It was what he was good at.


He kissed me again, this time backing me towards a counter behind us; he hitched me up on to it and a clatter of glasses startled me slightly; this was the bar, the place he’d gotten his scotch from, I assumed. He parted my legs and stepped between them, hands on the small of my back as he pulled me towards him a little roughly. I hooked my ankles around his back, kissing him back, revelling in this, needing it.

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