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The secret room was small, just big enough for a love seat and two large sitting pillows on the floor. A dim wall sconce was the only source of light, but I was betting that anyone who knew this room existed didn’t care that you could hardly see your hand in front of your face.
“This is cozy,” I said, my awkward words thudding against the soundproofed floor.
“Don’t lose your nerve now that you’ve got what you’d been wishing for.” His dark voice fully engulfed me.
My spine straightened. He was right. The buzz of my confidence had faltered for a moment, but I had him all to myself. I was going to seize the moment because I had fantasized about Ezra fucking St. Croix since I was a teenager.
I reached up and cupped the back of his neck to bring his mouth to mine. His soft lips tasted like whiskey, nicotine, and power. When my tongue slipped between them, he welcomed me with broad, slow swipes that stirred a tension in my core and instantly soaked my panties. He tangled his fingers through my hair, and the palms of his hands cradled my jaw and brought our kiss deeper. The overwhelming flood of endorphins made my head swim.
He held the back of my neck with one hand as the other smoothed down my back to my ass. With a firm grip, he hoisted me up to wrap my legs around his waist and pinned me to the wall. My already short dress hiked up to my hips and bared my ass for him. The front of his jeans stretched tight over his hard cock and pressed against the very thin fabric of my panties.
He gave me another rough grind of his hips, and I gasped, but the sound was quickly eaten up by his demanding mouth. He wasn’t in a hurry, but every moment of his lips on mine built a furious, sinful feeling that had me drowning. I was desperate to feel him closer, deeper.
His mouth slipped down my jaw as two fingers pushed the soaked silk of my underwear to the side and brushed my eager center.
“Oh God,” I moaned at the circles he made.
He grunted then pulled away. His craving eyes focused on my lips.
“This is your last warning,” he said, his voice husky. “Because once I’ve had a taste of you, you’re mine.”
“I’m not afraid of you, Ezra.” I was breathless, but it was answer enough for him.
He groaned and let me down to my feet. “On your knees.”
I did as he demanded.
The cold floor sent a shiver through me and bit into my exposed knees. My hands smoothed up his thighs to the button of his jeans. I rolled my eyes up to his face and was met with an icy blue stare. He placed a hand on the wall behind me, his stance broad and expectant.
Our eyes locked in our next dare: a game of how far I was willing to go and how far he could push me till my breaking point. But I’d probably never get this chance again. It was now or never.
The button popped open easily, and the zipper didn’t catch on its way down. His fingers curled around the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up to clutch it to his chest. I took in every tattoo and ripple of muscle I had only seen in magazines. His most well-known tattoo was at eye level with me now. The black rope-shaped cursive letters, bracketed by the notches at his hips, read, “Giddy Up.”
I bit down on my lower lip, to keep a giggle of anxiety trapped in my throat, then pulled his jeans down and past the perfect outline of the impressive girth showing through his tight briefs.
My hands shook; there was no going back or losing my nerve. I needed my A game because it would have been shameful to give this man and that cock a bad blow job. He pulsed, the obvious jerk from his swollen head a silent plea for relief. I took one last steadying breath and pulled at the thick elastic band at his waist just when a pounding sound came from the other side of the door, making me shriek.
“Occupied!” Ezra boomed above my head. He looked over his shoulder at the source of the interruption but didn’t move from his position over me.
The door opened, and a voice flooded in with the loud EDM music from outside. “My office. Now.”
The door closed without another command, and Ezra’s shoulders fell with a sigh. He pushed away from the wall he’d caged me against and offered me his hand. By the time I’d gotten to my feet and straightened my dress, he’d already zipped and buttoned his pants.
He reached for my hip, bringing me into him. That hand slinked up to my chest then came to rest on my neck. He ran his other hand through his hair, the wicked, rebellious strands falling perfectly over his temples. He dipped down and pressed the lightest kiss to my lips.
“What’s your name, beautiful?”
“Pru,” I squeaked, still breathless and slightly lightheaded from horny whiplash.
“Wait for me at the bar, Pru. We’ll finish what we started.” His tongue ran over my bottom lip.
I nodded, or at least I tried. His hand at my throat cupped my chin and gently forced my gaze to focus on his.
“That’s my good girl.”
As if those words weren’t enough to make me melt into a puddle, the kiss he gave me before turning and walking away left me boiling from the inside out. I was no longer solid matter as I floated out to wait at the bar.
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