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“He’s an asshole. He doesn’t know you.” He went on as if I needed any more convincing. But then mercifully he stopped talking, pressing his lips to my throat, kissing, sucking, licking his way down to the hollow of my neck. It felt so rough and possessive but exactly what I needed, like he wanted to devour me whole and I’d love every second of it.
“You’re not wearing a bra, Emma,” he whispered, almost reverent, sliding his hands down my shoulders, along my sides, up from my waist. I shivered in anticipation, my fingers digging into his shoulders. “It’s been driving me crazy. How easy it would be to touch you, but not doing it.”
“Touch me,” I moaned, almost not recognizing my own voice, so husky and desperate with need. With a satisfied, masculine groan, he reached up and untied my top at the back of my neck with one, deft pull. As if he’d been thinking about doing exactly that since the second he’d seen me.
The shirt was made of a thin rayon, and it pooled instantly at my waist, baring me to him completely under the exposed lightbulb of the closet. I panted, vulnerable, as he held me still, his hands wrapped at my waist.
“So fucking beautiful,” he hissed, drinking me in with his gaze. My nipples were already hardened with arousal and he hadn’t even touched me yet. I craved it so much I nearly whimpered as he slowly lowered his head to my breasts.
“So perfect, Emma,” he murmured, cupping my breasts gently in his hands, licking my soft, sensitive skin, kissing me as I gripped the shelf beside me, my head tilting back, eyes closing in pleasure. When he took my aching nipple into his hot, wet mouth I gasped.
“Chase!” My voice sounded so needy, pleading, urgent for everything he could give me. I’d never felt so crazy with lust before, so consumed and unable to think about anything but how insanely fucking good it felt as he licked and laved and sucked on my breasts, first teasing one nipple, then the other, his hands massaging, stroking, cupping me as I arched my back and offered myself to him completely.
“Do you know how much I want you?” he whispered against my wet skin, one hand starting a path down my stomach. “How crazy I am for you?” I groaned, digging my hand into his bicep, the feel of his hard, driving muscle making me so wet. “I want to taste you,” he continued, licking between my breasts, taking his time as I squirmed and twisted with need. And still his hand traveled lower, along my hip, then dipping down my thighs. “Emma,” he murmured, giving my nipple a hot lick, sliding his fingers up my inner thighs to where I quivered and ached for him. “I want to make you come.”
I gasped as he brought his fingers up to my panties. There wasn’t much to them, just a lacy G-string, the type that wouldn’t cause panty lines, or put up any fight when a big, sexy beast of a man pulled them to the side and palmed me in his hot, huge hand.
“So wet for me, baby,” he groaned, rubbing me, sucking my nipple, starting to stroke my slit. Arching into him, I moved my feet farther apart so he could have all the access he needed. The man had such skills. I was clearly in the presence of a master, as the wide pad of his thumb brushed right up against my aroused clit, giving me a nice press right where I needed it.
“Yes,” I cried, pushing against him, letting him know it felt so good.
“You need this, baby?” he asked, starting to fuck me with his fingers as he began a rhythm with his thumb. “You’re worked up, too, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I admitted, a needy sob escaping my lips as I threw my head back. He was so good, so commanding, the firm way he held my tits, the way he sucked me hard, almost to the point of pain but not quite, just right at the edge where I could feel a white heat burning, licking, flaring up though my body.
“That’s it,” he coaxed me, picking up the rhythm. “Give yourself to me, Emma.” Eyes closed, his voice poured over me. I thrust my hips in time with his hand, riding him, wanting more. “I can’t wait to make you come.”
Holding onto the shelf so tight my knuckles turned white, I bit my lip and whimpered, trying to stay silent. We were in a restaurant. Loud as it was outside, I couldn’t exactly scream.
“It’s hard staying quiet in here, I know,” he whispered in my ear, making me shiver. He thrust his fingers up inside me, working my slick, wet pussy, demanding the orgasm that waited to quiver, shudder and explode from deep inside me. “I know you want to scream when you come, Emma.” He leaned down and took my nipple in his mouth, sucking, then giving my tender, aroused tip a light bite. “You have to keep quiet in here, baby. But back at the hotel I’m going make you scream all night.”
Panting, moaning, I was so close. I could feel it, mounting, cresting as he pulsed against my clit. Standing up, he leaned down to my ear, one hand still cupping my breast possessively, the other fucking me so good.
Licking my earlobe, he murmured low and wicked, “Are you going to come for me?”
Then the door opened with a loud smack against the wall. Chase drew himself to his full height, hands on either side of my shoulders, his body covering mine.
“Sorry!” Whoever it was apologized before heading back out again.
“Fuck.” Chase exhaled, touching his chin to the top of my head.
“Oh shit! Who was that?”
“Someone who works here. I don’t think he saw you. Fuck.” He smacked his palm against the shelf. A can of tomatoes threatened to topple over, but with quick reflexes he caught it and put it back.
“Oh my God.” Fumbling, shaking, I picked up the strings to my top and tied them behind my neck. What had we been thinking? Well, we hadn’t been thinking. “This isn’t the place. We shouldn’t—”
“I’m sorry, Emma. I really don’t think he saw you. I didn’t mean to embarrass or expose you.”
“No, it’s my fault, too.” I tried to get my bearings. The door was right behind him. Damn it, a minute ago I would have let him do anything to me in that closet. Anything. And the entire team—swimmers, colleagues, the managers who’d given me this coveted job—were standing mere feet away. I’d shown all kinds of restraint in the privacy of his hotel room. Now this was where I chose to cut loose? How stupid could I be?
“I’m sorry, Chase. I have to get out of here.”
“Wait, Emma,” he called after me, but I needed to go. I felt so out of control that I almost frightened myself. Tori was the one who did this kind of thing. When we went out dancing I’d had to rescue her from all kinds of messy situations. I wasn’t the one who got fingered in a supply closet. I was the one who gave my friends a safe, sober ride home.
On the way out, I saw the woman who’d driven me over. We were both headed toward the fron
t door. It looked like she was wiping back tears.
“You OK?” I asked, seeing she clearly wasn’t.
“I’m heading out if you want a ride.” Fueled by rage, she drove us home in about half the time it took to head there earlier. Apparently the guy she’d been hooking up with over the past week had a serious girlfriend, a fact he’d failed to mention until she surprised him by showing up at the party tonight.
I was sorry for her hurt and pain, but it did come in handy that she was so caught up in her own drama. She didn’t notice my own flush and agitation, or the number of times I brought my hands up to cover my face and rub my forehead. I could barely keep up with her as she strode into the hotel, then hopped into the elevator.
“Thanks for the ride. I’m sorry that happened.” I gave her a quick hug before stepping out of the elevator at my floor.
“All men are assholes!” she called out at the doors closed.
In my room, I ran the tap water as cold as I could and took big, long gulps. In the mirror, my lips were still swollen from Chase’s kisses. My neck looked pink where he’d rubbed me with his stubble, grazed me with his teeth. And as I looked at how he’d marked me, my nipples stiffened again with arousal. The way he’d held me, torn into me like I was a feast he’d been craving. I’d never felt so desired, so dangerously on the edge of being entirely consumed.
The feel of him, those hard-as-rock muscles rippling through his T-shirt, the flex of his biceps, the way he’d talked to me, so dirty and sweet all at once. I couldn’t help it. My fingers traveled their way down to finish what he’d started. I was still so wet, soaked through my panties, my clit swollen and aching for release.
He’d told me he wanted to make me scream all night long. He was so driven, so intense, the way he tore through the pool, the way he tore into me. He’d be so relentless, fucking me, rough and hard over and over. I came, harder than I thought I ever had in my life, standing there by myself in the bathroom, rosy and glistening with sweat, my fingers deep up inside my throbbing, wet pussy and Chase’s name on my parted lips.
