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She flashed him a sultry grin as her thumb brushed over the crown of his shaft, making his cock jerk in her hand. “I’m not opposed to that idea, but I really want you inside me. Right now.”
She lined him up again, and wrapping her legs around his hips, she drew him closer, until a few inches of his erection pushed into her sheath. He lost his breath at the amazing feel of her snug flesh already clamping down on his dick.
“Fuck me, Remy,” she whispered, spurring him on.
With a long, hard, driving thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, matching Tempest’s pleasurable groan as her tight heat completely engulfed him. He slid out, then back in, taking a moment to luxuriate in the intense sensation of finally being inside this woman he’d wanted for so long.
She made an impatient sound, her hands grabbing at his hips, yanking him forward. “Don’t be so slow and gentle,” she said, trying to make him go faster. “I want . . . I need . . .”
Already knowing what this woman preferred, he thrust into her full force before she could ask, stealing the rest of her words before she could voice them. His body met hers in rapid succession, again and again. Each time he filled her, he gyrated against her sex, then withdrew all the way to the tip before he slammed harder, deeper, giving her everything he had.
“Oh, God,” she moaned. “Yes.”
Her eyes went dark, her jaw slackening as she started panting for breath, while he lost all sense of time and place as he pounded into her, needing the unrelenting pace as much as she did. Her legs came up to lock higher around his waist, her body shuddering from the impact of each brutal, dominant stroke. He dropped his head against the side of her neck, and feeling a possessive, animalistic urge to mark her as his, he sank his teeth into her flesh and bit her—and savored the tight throb of her inner muscles squeezing him as she started to come around his cock with a soft, keening cry of pleasure.
He lifted his head just so he could watch her expression in the throes of passion—and it was so fucking hot and sexy the way she completely let go, holding nothing back as she enjoyed every ounce of the pure bliss coursing through her veins.
She was stunningly beautiful, and with another deep stroke, his own orgasm hit him like a Mack truck, driving the air from his lungs. With a guttural sound rising up from his throat, he mindlessly ground himself into her, against her. His release became a long, endless surge of ecstasy as he lost himself to everything but the mind-blowing feel of being inside her.
It took him a while to recover, for his thundering heart to calm. He took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control as he met Tempest’s sated gaze and her satisfied Cheshire cat smile.
“Wow, Remy,” she murmured huskily. “That was worth waiting for.”
He couldn’t have agreed more. He was still inside her, and he glanced down at all the clothes they still had on. In their haste, they’d only removed enough to join their bodies. “Jesus, we’re still dressed.”
She laughed. “Next time, we’ll get completely naked,” she promised him. “And the comfort of a soft bed would be nice, too.”
The fact that there would be a next time made him way too happy, he realized as he finally separated their bodies so they could both get cleaned up. God, he could get used to this. Not just the sex but her. She was intoxicating. Addicting. Funny and sassy and sexy. And while they’d made a pact to enjoy this affair while it lasted, Remy honestly wondered if he’d ever get enough of Tempest Wilder.
“So, where do we go from here?” he asked, trying to navigate this new relationship between them that wasn’t a relationship.
“How about dinner?” she suggested, not missing a beat, her voice tinged with humor. “You made me work up an appetite and I’m starved.”
He chuckled, grateful that she’d taken the playful route instead of a more serious one. “Dinner it is. The least I can do is feed you.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Remy took Tempest a block down the street to O’Brien’s, a pub that he frequented—a lot of times by himself, since it was within walking distance of his place, and occasionally with his project managers after a late evening meeting at the office. As soon as they entered the joint, it occurred to him that he should have chosen somewhere more . . . tasteful.
O’Brien’s was an old, run-down establishment that had been around this neighborhood forever and had been passed down through three generations. To everyone in the area, it was known as a blue-collar workman’s pub where laborers came in after a hard physical day at work to pound down a few beers, eat one of O’Brien’s famous Fat Burgers, and to blow off steam with their buddies.
There wasn’t a slick businessman or neatly pressed suit in sight. The place was dimly lit, loud, and rowdy, and most of the conversations that could be heard were crude and punctuated with colorful language that a lady did not need to hear or be around. The smell of ale hung in the air, nothing had been updated in a few decades except for the necessities, and the customers were encouraged to toss their empty peanut shells onto the concrete floor as part of the rustic décor.
Remy glanced at Tempest, who was taking in the atmosphere with curious eyes, and cleared his throat to get her attention. “You know what, there’s a nice, quiet Italian restaurant a few blocks down the street. Why don’t we go there instead?”
“Why?” She met his gaze and arched a delicate brow, accentuating that daring light in her eyes. “Are you embarrassed to be seen here with me?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. Oh, she didn’t miss a trick, this one. Remy wasn’t embarrassed as much as he was concerned, considering the rough-around-the-edges clientele. She had to have noticed that she was one of the few women in the place, and hands down the best dressed one at that.
“No, I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you,” he said, squashing that notion, even if he knew she’d been goading him. “I just realized, belatedly, that this probably isn’t your kind of place.”
“Stop trying to judge me, Remy,” she said, calling him out. “I know this may shock you, but I’m a girl who loves a good beer and a burger.”
“Okay, then,” he said, and turned toward the young hostess who’d been waiting for them to make a decision. “There’s just the two of us. Do you have a booth available?”
The girl nodded as she collected their menus. “Sure do. Right this way.”
Remy’s request for a booth was twofold. He wanted privacy, and he definitely wanted to be as far away as possible from all the rowdy, on-their-way-to-getting-drunk guys sitting at the tables in the middle of the pub. But in order to get to their seats, Remy and Tempest had to walk past the roughnecks, and they weren’t shy about staring and ogling Tempest, who, in her classy but tight black skirt and those designer heels that gave her legs for days, was an anomaly in this joint. He wanted to punch a few of them in the face for even laying eyes on her, but instead kept his cool and placed a protective hand on her back to make it clear she was his, while shooting any man he caught leering at his girl a fuck-off death glare.
