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Who was this guy? How did he have such a hold on me?
He stepped forward, placing one hand on my shoulder. I felt the warm hardness of him against my lips, a soft gasp of anticipation pulling into my lungs as I stood on the verge of being filled by him.
“Now,” he said, his tone still even and commanding. “Tell me what you want and ask for it politely.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” His words came out with a slight sharpness, an edge to his tone that somehow turned me on even more than I already was.
“I want you to fuck me.”
He moved just a bit closer to me, enough for his head to part my lips. I gasped again, on the verge of simply shoving my hips back and moving him into me.
“Ask for it politely.”
I swallowed, then spoke.
“Please. Please fuck me.”
“Very good, love.”
With that, he pushed hard into me, his cock so thick and long I felt as if I were being stretched to my limits in the best way possible. I gasped, the pleasure so intense, so irresistible and—
The sing-song chime of my phone alarm yanked me back into the real world.
“What the hell?”
I felt like I’d just come out of a coma. With all the strength I had, I rolled over and grabbed my phone, seeing that I’d forgotten to turn it off for the weekend. I let out a groan, both at the fact that I’d gotten up way too early when I’d earned a little sleeping in, and the little fact that I’d just experienced what had to have been the hottest sex dream of my life with the last man who should’ve starred in it.
See?I thought as I rolled out of bed and into my slippers.This is what happens when you get too obsessed with your career… the sexual frustration builds and builds, and before you know it, you’re having sex dreams about the first handsome dude in a suit you come across.
I threw my robe on, making my way to the shower and trying to figure out the last time I’d even had sex. It took me a moment to jog my memory, but the guy soon came to mind. It’d been a guy in New York, a spur-of-the-moment Hinge date with some Big Law big shot. I hadn’t evenlikedthe guy all that much. He’d been handsome, well-dressed and charming enough, but he’d also been a total douche. I’d all but had to talk myself into hooking up with him just because I knew it’d been so damn long since my last time.
I stepped into the shower, pushing such thoughts out of my head as best I could. I was meeting with whatever-his-name-was soon and I needed to get my head on straight.
That meantnotfantasizing about him screwing me up against the wall in the back hallway of his strip club.
* * *
I winced as I caught myself in the reflection of one of the mirrored windows of the façade of Pussycats. I’d tried on a ton of different outfits that morning, but all of them had been too…business. While I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea, at the same time, I didn’t want to come off as too serious, either.
I’d decided on a purple wraparound dress that was, funnily enough, something Kat had brought over for me to borrow one night a few months back. We’d had plans to go out clubbing, and she’d been forced to put her foot down and not let me out of the house wearing some pantsuit that would be more at home in the courtroom than on the dance floor.
It was kind of surreal to see myself in the dress. It was tight, like the black cocktail dress I’d worn the night before. There was something slinky to it, something that radiated sex appeal. I kind of liked it, which was out of character for me. More worrisome, however, was the realization that I also liked the possibility that the Irish Mob goon might enjoy the sight of me in it.
Focus. This lunch isn’t for fun, it’s about getting info on Kat.
I nodded, giving myself a final once-over. Finishing off the dress, which revealed a touch of cleavage and reached just above the knees, were a pair of black, knee-high boots and a long, matching coat. It was chilly out, the sky above a brilliant blue despite gray clouds that were moving in from over the bay promising rain later.
I scanned the parking lot, part of me wishing that I’d picked somewhere else to meet. I was technically on his turf. Aside from a few restaurants across the street, I was isolated. There was really nothing stopping him from pulling up in a van and tossing me into the back, taking me to the same place Kat was.
A sleek, black car pulled up alongside of me just then, one of the back doors opening slowly and revealing the man I was there to meet.
He was dressed in a long, black coat and dark suit, and he leaned slightly toward me, that damn sly smile on his face.
“Get in, Claire. I’m very, very hungry.”
Chapter 11
