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He didn’t check the room for any other people, he just pushed me back against the door and reclaimed my lips. My eyes were open, wide and unsure as I took in the surroundings. Rich people really did have it better. If I walked into the bathroom in the main terminal I’d instantly want to take a Purell bath. Here, the bathroom was like a freaking hotel. Pedestal sinks, hand towels instead of paper towels. Glittering chrome fixtures. There was even some classical music flowing from speakers above us.
Jacob paused, his eyes hot with disapproval as he looked down at me. “Where are you, Leila?”
“I’m here.” In the bathroom. “I just--”
“Are concerned about our location?”
The fact that his fingers were already at my zipper, pulling it down, told me he wasn’t. “I’ve been thinking about being with you, touching you since I got on the plane a week ago. I’m not waiting one more second.”
I felt the whispers of protest on my tongue. I wanted him, God I wanted him--but in the car or at least in a room where we could lock the door. Yet as soon as my dress puddled at my feet and he let out a deep, rumbling groan of approval, I said the hell with it.
Let them walk in. We’ll give them a hell of a show.
He gripped my breast, kneading it as a finger flicked over the nipple. “Good girl.”
I reached forward, hand cupping his erection. “I don’t want to be good.” I watched the wild lust stampede across his usually controlled expression, setting his eyes on fire when I undid his belt. “I want to be bad. I want to be punished.”
He closed his eyes as I stroked him, giving in for a few minutes, for a few blissful moments before his hand abandoned my breast and gripped a fistful of my hair, tugging my head toward him until pain rippled across my scalp and met the wetness growing between my thighs.
“You like provoking me, don’t you?”
“I love it,” I said hoarsely. Defiantly. Knowing he loved it too. Loved my headstrong spirit. Loved it when I disobeyed or forget to ask his permission so he could punish me.
He released me, pulling his belt loose. “Go over to that chair. Hand on the cushion. Ass facing me. Count every strike.”
Human nature amped up my nerves as it sunk in that he was about to use the belt on me, but I practically ran to the chair, wasting no time before I put both hands down, bottom up and waiting.
As much as I liked to pretend I forgot my training to get a rise out of him, I knew how important it was to count. It would give me something to concentrate on besides the fear that bubbled in my gut and the sting of the leather, but it also grounded him.
The whistle cut through the silence. When it collided with my flesh, the hiss of pain became a shout.
“One.”
We didn’t make it past five before I was using the color. His eyes were wild, crazed with a need that could have made me climax all by itself. And then I saw him bulging, every inch solid. Lips, core, ass--I didn’t care. I just wanted him. I stepped forward, catching his eye as my lips trembled with anticipation. I was sure that he was about to corder me to my knees, but I was wrong.
“Turn back around.”
I wheeled back around, feeling the chilly air agains the wet of my juices before a moan ripped from my lungs. He moved inside of me, reminding me of everything I missed, everything I ever needed. When the first climax rocked me I knew I was losing it. Moaning, crying out. His moans matched mine.
His fingers cut into the tender flesh of my hips as he released, filling me. Pieces of him mixing with pieces of me.
We pushed out of the bathroom. Me tugging at my dress, he looping his overnight bag over his shoulder, pointed toward the exit. Most people avoided our gaze altogether. Maggie was near the concierge desk and flashed me a wink that made me whisper ‘oh my god’.
I looked up into his blue eyes. Embarrassment and shame made me want to die right there. “Just how loud were we?”
His eyes smoldered. “Loud enough.”
My whole face tingled as I squeezed my eyes shut. “They know...they’re looking at us...”
When it came out I wished I could take it back. Whenever we fooled around at the office and I brought up concerns about other employees gossiping about it he’d comment they’d be out of there so fast their head would spin. He had enough clout that he’d make anyone looking at us sideways regret not averting their gaze and I didn’t want anyone to get in trouble because we couldn’t contain ourselves.
But the look he wore wasn’t the one he used when he was on the warpath. The look was playful and heart meltingly sexy. He gripped my hand with a smile.
“Let them talk.”
****
I knew it was gonna be one of those days before I even walked through the revolving door at the Whitmore building. One of those days that made you wonder why you got out of bed in the first place. A kind of day where the stars align and everything that could possibly go wrong does.
