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He entered her, her cheeks flushing bright pink, eyes going wide, mouth forming a perfect O.
His cock strained while her tight inner walls hugged him, and he groaned at how wet she was, her arousal spreading onto his sack with only a few strokes. She moaned, and while he felt lost in the intensity she brought out in him, he didn’t want to get her fired. He moved his hand to her mouth, placing his fingers atop her lips, keeping her quiet. With his free hand he grabbed her hip and did what he’d wanted to do for an hour now. He thrust his hips hard and fast, bringing them high into pleasure, quickly and forcefully, muting her moans with his hand, until he set a rhythm that she wouldn’t be able to ignore, nor could he.
There was nothing sensual about this. Their sex was raw, rough, and primal, and he gave it to her like he used her for his pleasure. And she liked it. He saw that right away. She melted into his roughness, becoming wetter, rising into her climax quickly.
Seconds became minutes, and those minutes quickened his thrusts, until his pelvis smacked against her ass hard and her inner walls tightened like a vise around his shaft. He caught her moans in his hand, and when she finally broke apart, her clenching pussy took him over the edge with her. Heat roared down his spine until he was bucking and jerking his orgasm, grunting and riding the pleasure alongside her.
In those exhausting seconds after his climax released him, he played up this game between them further. She liked being manhandled a little. Now that he knew that, he’d give her a full taste of that fantasy.
As quickly as he’d undressed her and fucked her, he had her soaking wet panties and shorts back in place, and the rope removed from her wrists. Breathless, he turned her to him, finding her face flushed with the lingering effects of her orgasms. Christ, she looked well-fucked, and it was a look he was growing fonder of each time he saw it. He settled the hair around her face, gave her one last once-over, making sure everything was in place, then grinned. “Now, darlin’, stop teasing me, and get back to work.”
Her cheeks burned. “I cannot go out there. I’m going to get fired.”
“You won’t if you get back out there.” It’d only been a handful of minutes since he’d gotten her into the bathroom. Megan would still be on stage, keeping the crowd engrossed.
He spun her around, opened the door, and smacked her ass on the way out.
Before he could shut the door, she turned. “You do realize that all this did was ensure that I tease you again.”
He gave a knowing grin and winked. “And that, darlin’, is exactly the point.” Then, with her sexy smile lingering in his mind, he shut the door on this fantasy.
* * *
The crowd began thinning out ten minutes ago, closing time was only an hour away now, and Emma’s body would be glad for it. So maybe she wasn’t in tip-top shape. Her panties were still uncomfortably wet. Everything hurt from her head right down to her toes. Exhaustion pressed down on her eyelids. She’d happily give anything right now fo
r her pillow.
When last call came and then went, Emma finally got the break she needed and made a beeline for the bathroom. After she finished up she came back out, finding herself face-to-face with a woman she’d never met before. Something about the blond bombshell—with the big tits and tiny miniskirt—didn’t seem particularly friendly.
When Blondie broke the silence, she asked, “So, you’re the next Blackshaw conquest, huh?”
Emma blinked. “Excuse me?”
Obvious venom lived in the depths of Blondie’s blue eyes. “Listen, you seem really nice, so let me give you a piece of advice: Stay away from them. Every single Blackshaw brother is trouble. They’ll give you nothing but heartbreak.”
Emma’s glanced over Blondie’s shoulder, finding Shep at the bar. He was laughing at something Nash was saying. “The advice isn’t necessary,” she said to Blondie. “I’m not dating Shep.”
The woman laughed, giving her the most condescending look. “Oh, honey, no one dates a Blackshaw. Those men don’t love women; they fuck ’em and leave ’em.”
Emma’s throat tightened, even though she knew she shouldn’t listen to this woman. She scanned the crowd, suddenly realizing that to everyone here, she and Shep were dating, or at least they’d think she was sleeping with him. Which, of course, she was, but everything had been so natural, she supposed she hadn’t thought about what that all meant, or how others would perceive their relationship. “Thanks for the warning.” Emma forced a smile. “But you’ve got the wrong idea. Shep’s been nothing but a gentleman, and we’re just friends.”
The girl snorted and quipped, “Keep telling yourself that, honey.”
Emma’s lips parted to give some witty reply she couldn’t think of quite yet, but the words burned in her throat. She was doing what she swore she wouldn’t do again. Dating a guy with a reputation of having commitment issues, which apparently Shep had ever since Sara. And she was about to defend his actions. Obviously, he’d hurt Blondie. Emma recognized the anger in the woman’s eyes, because she’d seen it in hers, staring back at her in a mirror after Jake.
How had she let this happen . . . again?
Needing desperately to get away, Emma said nothing more to Blondie, hurrying back to the bar. She caught Chase’s gaze, and he was watching her closely, a frown marring his face. Emma tried to force a smile but guessed she failed miserably. Suddenly, though, her skin flushed and heart raced. She needed to get out of there. Now.
She rushed over to Megan, standing at the cash register. “Is it okay if I take a quick break before helping you close?”
“Go for it,” Megan said, closing the till. “We’ll be shutting things down in a few.”
“Great. Be back soon,” Emma managed to choke out. She hastily moved through the bar and made it outside not a second later.
Standing under the bright-pink neon Kinky Spurs sign on Main Street, she drew in a big, deep breath of fresh air, trying to fight off the rising panic. Ever since the accident with Bentley, she’d been in a world of all her own, where Shep made everything brighter. More vivid, even. God, could she be letting the exact same thing happen all over again? Was she simply following where he guided her without even questioning if it was the right thing for her to do? Wasn’t a woman supposed to learn from her mistakes, not repeat them?
“Emma.”
