Naked Sushi. Jina Bacarr
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of his angular jaw. “Security?”
His hand edged toward his pocket, a movement that didn’t escape my eye. What was he reaching for? His smartphone?
I laughed in a casual manner, trying to keep the conversation light. “Who needs security with you around?”
He grinned and then took his hand away from his pocket and cupped my chin. When he stared into my eyes, my knees turned to honey, all warm and melty. A shiver went through me.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Pepper.”
“Are you as hot as your name?” he wanted to know, bumping his hip into mine, his hot breath steaming up my glasses. His tough, sexy talk took me to a place I’d only dreamed of going. His voice gripped me, making me squeeze my pubic muscles in a delicious manner and then release them.
“How’d you like to find out?” I said, tossing him a wicked grin.
I loved saying that, figuring he’d laugh like the other programmers and then slap me on the back and ask me to go have a beer.
Imagine my surprise when he didn’t.
* * *
His mouth claimed mine, his lips moist and hot rubbing on my dry, cracked skin. He extended his curious journey to my bottom lip, nibbling on it until I surrendered to him like a hungry guppy. As if I had any choice. Before I could take a breath, his tongue darted into my mouth, sucking the air from me. That delicious moment stirred the fires in me left unattended for too long.
I couldn’t get enough of him.
Tasting, probing, exploring me in a long, uninterrupted kiss. I was acutely aware of his intentions, that he was demanding something I wasn’t ready to give. Sex with an improper stranger. Something new for me, seeing how I’d always skated through life on the sidelines.
Not tonight.
We were alone in here. Kissing like two teenagers, making loud noises and tearing at each other’s clothes. Nothing but the sound of our ragged breathing and the steady hum of the copy machine to keep us company. Drumming through my head like a vibrator on cruise control. I purred like a kitten, listening to my inner rhythm and loving it. I gave in willingly, my hormones flowing in harmony with his need, my need.
“Silly, dumb, stupid” were adjectives I’d use to describe my actions, but what girl stopped to think when a kiss was this good? I didn’t. My body became the prey of this corporate raider Casanova. His hands were all over me, toying with my heavy red-plaid flannel shirt, yanking at the buttons hanging on for dear life. With one small tug, he popped off the top two.
Oh, Lord, what next?
I did nothing to stop him when he cupped my breasts, wondering how far he’d go. He trailed his fingers along the flimsy black lace edging of my bra.
“Mmm...” he moaned. Was he enjoying the kiss? Or surprised that a geek like me was into sexy underwear?
Just wait until you see my new French-cut black satin panties, I wanted tell him. But I was so conscious of his devouring mouth on mine, my entire being trembling with suppressed emotion, I didn’t dare break the lip-lock.
Besides, I wasn’t going to let him get that far.
Was I?
Pressed up against the copy machine, I began to have my doubts. I couldn’t move, as surely as if I were tied down, my legs spread wide apart, his groin pressed into my mound. His hands wandered. Oh, boy, did they wander, searching up and down my body, his fingers pulling apart my shirt and letting it flap in the cool breeze blowing through the overhead AC vent.
“Oh, yes,” I barely breathed when he broke the kiss and then placed his hands on each side of my waist and squeezed it. I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through me when he touched my bare skin. I wanted him to go back to eyeing the cute black lace edging of my bra with a front hook.
A front hook, I wanted to shout.
No fancy maneuvering needed to prove to me how much of a stud he was by reaching around and undoing my bra with one hand.
My nipples ached for his touch, but he seemed fixated on stroking and then pressing the flesh on my hips. His hands roamed over my buttocks and then up and down my legs, gripping and squeezing them with a cavalier vigor that did me in. I arched my back toward him to give him greater access to me.
He grabbed my crotch.
I moaned. Damn, did it get any better than this?
Who would have thought I’d get caught in the copy room with a sexy guy when I had to work late? Not me. Had the geek fairy godmother heard my prayers and brought me a man of my own?
A little voice crept into my head, telling me to grow up and quit believing in fairy tales like my best friend, Cindy, but I couldn’t turn back now. I pretended I was a bucking bronco and this cowboy was taking me for a long, sexy ride. I writhed, humped and nearly assaulted him. I grabbed his black T-shirt and raked my nails up and down his chest. Wanting to touch him, feel him.
I breathed desire in his ear, not wanting to let him go. Still, I walked a delicate tightrope with this man. My ego was on the line. On one hand, I yearned to break boldly out of my shell. To act upon this chance encounter without guilt, no regret. Let him touch me, fondle me.
On the other, I was scared shitless.
What if I disappointed him?
This was a common problem with me. Analyzing the hell out of everything I did, even sex. I was no sleek avenger with all the right moves. I was more like the sassy-mouthed brainiac in the spy flicks who sat at her computer, tapping out answers on her fancy keyboard. Not that I’m bad looking, but I came off as an easy mark when I tried to flirt. I was too eager to please without thinking about the consequences.
Not tonight.
Sexually charged up, incredibly intense, I decided to go for it. I stepped out of my ordinary world and relished this escape from reality. My blue-rimmed spectacles slid all the way down my perspiration-slick nose. I didn’t push them back up.
How could I?
I was completely helpless in his arms when his hand dropped down between my legs, his fingers pressing against me. I wiggled my ass. I wished my jeans were off and he was pushing through my pubic hair until he found my throbbing clit.
Just thinking about it made me moan again; the steady pressure of his fingers rubbing against the rough denim stressed me out. I sensed this man possessed an enjoyment of sex that went way beyond a casual cop-a-feel.
A buzzing excitement slithered through me when I rubbed up against him, primal-like, daring him to tame me. I imagined him pulling down my jeans and panties and then probing me with his tongue, massaging all around my clitoris with his mouth. I growled, the low sound coming from the back of my throat.
That aroused him more.
I wiggled my hips, hoping he’d get the message. Something about the methodical yet sensual way he touched me set off a slow burn between my legs I couldn’t ignore.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered, pulling on the drawstring of his sweats, but I couldn’t untie the knot. “It feels so good.”
“You tempt me, babe,” he said, kissing the nape of my neck. “Are there cameras in here?”
I shake my head. “Mr. Briggs is too cheap for that.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” He kissed me again, deeper this time, his hands holding me tighter. Pulling at my jeans and searching for the zipper hidden beneath the button-down flap in front.
“Allow me.” I unbuttoned the flap, nearly ripping it off.
“I’m curious,” he said, drawing down the zipper on my jeans with an alacrity that set me on edge. “How did you know I was in here?”
“I didn’t. I thought