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“Nope.” I lean in closer so we are only inches apart. “I don’t need your name or your number. I’m not interested in your hopes or dreams, your career, or your family. But I would very much like to know what’s under your dress.”
Honesty is always the best policy. Here’s the point where I either get slapped or blown, there’s not usually an in between. Judging by the twinkle of mischief in her eye, it would be the latter. “Let’s start with that drink and then I’ll show you whatever you want.”
The cubicle door slams in my haste to close us in and I fumble for the lock while my lips are sealed over Nameless’ neck. I might not be interested in seeing her after tonight, but I want my mark on her for days. She moans beneath my touch as I palm her breast through her dress.Yep, definitely fake. She grabs at my t-shirt, pulling at the fabric, but I’m not interested in stripping for her.
“On your knees, take it out,” I rasp into her ear.
Without hesitation, she drops to the grubby floor and swiftly unbuckles my belt and lowers my zipper. Taking me in her cold fingers, she makes a show of appreciating my dick. She bites her lip and groans in apparent delight.
“Enough theatrics,” I growl at her. “Suck my cock and if you please me, I’ll let you come.”
Eagerly, she takes me into her mouth, her fist wrapped around my base and moves like a fucking piston. My eyes widen at the sudden assault and I fist her hair, pulling her back slightly.
“Fucking slow down,” I snarl.
She nods sheepishly and takes me back between her lips, sucking and licking at a more reasonable pace. I watch her taking me as far as she can and gagging over my tip. I let the sight of this woman on her knees blanket all other thoughts bouncing around my head. Once I’m relaxed enough to let myself come, I pull her off me and to her feet. Spinning her, her palms land on the divider between us and the cubicle next door, I reach into the back pocket of my jeans, still sitting on my hips and pull out the metal cuffs there. Clicking one bracelet closed around her left wrist, I pull her right one close to give it the same treatment.
“Wh…what are you doing?” she stutters, looking at her hands now bound together. I chuckle as her arousal mixes with a slight fear and hook the metal chain between the two bracelets on the hook designated for jackets or bags.
I ignore her question and ask her one of my own. “Are you wet for me, gorgeous?”
She takes a moment to decide if she’s scared enough to stop this, or too horny to care. I use the seconds to run my hands over her body and yank the neckline of her dress down to expose her bare breasts. When I roll her nipples between my thumbs and fingers, her decision seems to be made as she arches her back to push her arse onto my exposed cock. “Yes,” she breathes.
I bunch her dress up to her hips and move her black thong to one side, swiping my finger up her slit to find her slick. The condom in my pocket takes seconds to roll on and I’m lining myself up before pushing in slowly. I’m big, so I take it easy until she is adjusted. She moans like a fucking porn star.
“Oh God, baby. That feels so good, you’re so big,” she pants, and I roll my eyes behind her. I want to get mine, not a fucking show.
I slide one hand up to clamp over her running mouth and a zing of arousal licks over me as I feel her squeal behind my palm. “Quiet,” I snap.
Once I’m balls deep, I pause a couple of seconds until I feel her relax under my hands and around my length. Then I let go. I thrust my hips with little regard, chasing that moment of ecstasy, that split second when nothing exists but your own pleasure and your mind is blank.
“You want to come?” I rumble in her ear and groan with pleasure when her nod is restricted by my hand across her muzzle. I take my other hand from where it’s grabbing at her tits to slide down between her legs. Her pussy is completely bare and smooth, and I find her clit, rubbing in rhythmic circles.
She begins to pant against my palm, and small whimpers escape her which I allow as they’re genuine and not an audition for PornHub. My balls draw tight and I can feel my orgasm building from the base of my spine. A slight increase in speed and pressure on her nub has her coming with shrill squeaks. I close my eyes and try to ignore the cloyingly sweet smell of her perfume and the sound of her orgasm fading, concentrating on the wet heat around my dick and the sound of the metal links of my cuffs on the hook.
I ram into her with little finesse, losing my mind as my orgasm implodes. I groan and slow my movements but still work myself in and out with lazy thrusts as I fill the condom. As soon as I’m spent, I pull free, removing the condom and tying it off before throwing it in the wastebin next to the toilet. I right my jeans and buckle my belt leaving her slumped against the divider, still restrained by my cuffs. I can’t help my smile looking at her nearly hanging there with her dress bunched around hermiddle and her thong still askew so her pink and swollen cunt is on display for me.
Once I’m fully dressed, I lift her hands so she’s no longer hooked in place and take the chain from around my neck, the small key hanging from it unlocks the bracelets and she’s free. I watch her pull her dress back into place and run her fingers through her hair.
“You need a ride home?” I ask.
“Nah, my roommate is out there, we’ll leave together,” she answers brightly while dabbing around her mouth to control wayward lipstick. “Cab fare wouldn’t go amiss though,” she smirks, completely unashamed.
I return the smile and nod, pulling a hundred from my wallet and passing it over. She steps toward me, taking the notes from my hand and tipping her chin, offering her lips. I just smile down at her and keep my face out of reach. “Get home safe, gorgeous.”
She winks and leaves me alone in the club bathroom where my respite comes to an end and my head once again drowns in thoughts of an uncertain future and having to make nice with the Wicked Witch of the Northwest.
2
ANNIKA
The man in front of my desk is not what I was expecting. Not that I’d really given much thought as to who Stuart was bringing in today. It doesn’t matter, I won’t be hiring them. But when Javier Campos walked into my office, I temporarily lost any awareness of anything but him. He’s tall and broad, a tight black polo shirt strains over massive biceps and does little to hide the contours of defined muscle over his torso. Deeply tanned skin and dark hair clipped close to his scalp, his lashes are so thick and dark, he looks like he is wearing makeup. A smattering of tattoos cover his arms in not one cohesive sleeve but several individual pieces. Dark brown eyes hold mine, a respectfully neutral expression on his face while I stare at him with pursed lips and eyes I’m hoping don’t betray my admiration of this gorgeous man. But there’s something bothering me…
“Stuart, how long have you worked for me?”
The Scotsman pushes off the far wall and comes to stand by the man sat opposite me. “Twelve years,” he answers confidently.
“Would you say you’re loyal?” I ask, pinning him with cold eyes.
