EXERCISES. Pain meds. But the splint was off. Thank God. The bruises weren’t gone and her muscles still ached, but it was all progress. Every minute was progress.
As promised, she’d kept Connel up to date by text and sent him the audio of her appointment. He was up on her location all day. Right up to the point he’d requested her company.
Then she screwed up by going to her apartment for a dress and sitting down to collate her internet printouts. Somehow, she’d fallen asleep only to be awoken by her cellphone after eleven when Daly panicked something was wrong. He’d been waiting at the curb to pick her up for more than an hour.
After running around, getting ready as fast as possible, she’d jumped into the car. They were cutting it close, maybe too close. What if she arrived after midnight? What happened at pumpkin time?
Connel didn’t usually give her deadlines. Something about that night had to be different.
Which she discovered on rushing into his office to immediately be faced with breasts. Naked breasts. As they turned away, they revealed another pair beside them. She’d never seen the office so crowded. Women, all naked, completely naked, of every variation, all fawning over the sporadic men dotted around the room. There had to be four women for every guy. She wasn’t even sure where to look or what was going on.
Still bug-eyed, she squeezed her way through the people, feeling rather conspicuous in her strapless ombre dress.
Seeking Connel at the desk was sort of a shot in the dark. Finding him there was a relief. Less welcome was the naked woman in his lap and the one behind the chair massaging his shoulders. With his concentration on the couple of men he was talking to, he didn’t pay much notice to the three women on their knees fawning over him.
His lips moved until he spotted her. She smiled and stopped, but his head moved just a fraction to the side, the way it did when he wanted her closer. His conversation with the men forgotten, he said something to the woman in his lap. She pouted and got up to strut away. Whatever he then said to the other women fighting for his attention caused them all to turn to her.
Having his absolute focus was exhilarating. Could she have that much sway with the man he’d dismiss five other women in favor of her? The guys he’d been talking to parted as she put her purse on the desk.
Connel leaned forward to snag her right wrist and tugged her into his lap. “Eleven fifty-nine,” he murmured, sweeping her hair from her face. “You know how to follow an instruction to the letter.”
She laughed, landing her smile on him. “Aye.”
The side of his mouth tilted a fraction as it came toward hers. Everyone else faded to nothing, vanished from existence. His palm skimmed up the front of her thigh, squeezing her, possessing her, as the heat of his tongue sought hers. She’d thought he might be mad, that he might be upset. Why did it seem he was just happy to see her?
On an exhale, he turned his head, breaking the kiss. “Who’s ready to play?” he called to the room.
Everyone cheered in response.
The grate of her zipper descending prompted her to grab the fabric at her chest and angle her chin to him. “I’m not wearing underwear.”
He kissed her shoulder. “Can’t get easier.” His voice rose again. “Fuck off, all of you. Niall!”
Rising, Connel picked her up and dropped her on the narrow unit behind the desk, up against the backlit stag head emblem on the wall.
People filtered toward the curtain, the open curtain. Had she ever seen it pulled back like that? In spite of the guests slowing at the bottleneck, Connel unbuckled his belt as though they weren’t even there.
Fuck, he turned her on.
“You hard for me, baby?” she asked, slipping off her shoes to slide the soles of her feet up the back of his legs.
“Aye,” he grumbled.
“For me?” she asked. Damn it, damn the question. It wasn’t meant to come out like that. Needy. Vulnerable. Weak. When his eyes rose to hers, it was clear he’d heard the doubt too. Shit, she’d meant to tease, not show distrust. Memories of his naked beauties apparently hadn’t disappeared. “Sorry, I don’t know why—”
“Shh,” he said, cupping her jaw to raise her mouth higher. “How the fuck do you do this to me?”
Working on the buttons of his shirt, she gave in to the depth of his kiss. She hadn’t even finished but spread her hands on his chest inside the fabric.
He broke the kiss, still cradling her face. “Missed that?”
Apparently, the thrill was no secret. “Feeling you with both hands? Yes.” She laughed. “You have no idea.”
His mouth sank onto hers again. The push and pull, gentle press, harder demand, it woke her need for him. Did it ever sleep? She couldn’t believe it did. Even just thinking of him got her tingling in anticipation of the next time they’d be intimate.
As she opened his pants, it occurred to her she didn’t know if they were alone. Shielded from the room by his body, she raised the embrace of her legs, pulling him closer.
“We need a rubber,” she gasped her mouth from his, though he didn’t give her the space to beg for long.
He surged forward, one hand leaving her face to descend between them until the head of his cock was right there at her threshold.
“Do we?” he panted, searching her eyes. “Your call, Macushla.”
But it didn’t need thought. Her head shook slightly, brushing her lips back and forth on his. The sweet solid girth of him forged forward inside her, slow, steady, his eyes assessing hers as a searing curl of pleasure coiled up through her gut.
Her eyes drifted shut. “Conn…” she breathed his name against his lips.
Catching the back of his neck, she moved, wriggling closer, arching and bowing, writhing against the delight she hadn’t thought could get better. Damn, had she been wrong.
“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, his forehead landing on her head. “This was a mistake.”
“Baby?” she asked, trying to stop moving, though it was near impossible. Her hand slid from the back of his neck around to his jaw, forcing him to lift his head to meet her eye. “Want to stop?”
“I couldn’t pull out now if I had a damn cannon to my head.”
Tipping her chin, she bounced higher, snagging his lower lip in her teeth.
As it slid free, she salved it with her tongue. “Fuck me, baby,” she whispered, kissing his chin, his jaw, his throat. “Come in me. Inside me. Please.”
Slowly, he withdrew only to surge in faster and pull out again, right to the cusp of her pussy, teasing her. His next harsh thrust wrung a yelp from her throat. The astute bastard knew what he was doing, exactly what he was doing. As proven when he took her hips and angled them, forcing her shoulders into the wall to hit her even deeper.
“Conn,” she gasped as he sped up, slamming into her and sliding out, varying his pace as one arm hooked around the curve of her back.
Holding her there, he massaged her clit, accepting her clawing fingers and desperate cries as he forced her into the oblivion of orgasm. She called for him. Called for more. Begged for mercy. She didn’t know what she wanted, what she needed. That didn’t matter, he knew it.
“Conn! Conn!” she screamed.
He drove into her hard, yanking her body against his. Her muscles tensed, all of them, holding him in place as they reached their completion.
Something was… wrong. Different. What was…? Hard against him, him still inside her, there were blurs in her vision, prickling in her extremities. Her stomach was tight, her chest sore.
“Shit, Macushla,” he breathed, his words as heavy as his exhales. His face was still in her hair; she couldn’t see him. “You’ve never screamed for me like that… And I get you every time.”
He did. With him, her needs were always met. Just like they’d started, he scooped up her face and married their mouths.
Was it the trust? Was it the lack of a barrier? That had been more intense. Hotter. More profound than anything they’d shared in the past.
“So this is doing business the Midwest McDades way?”
The female voice that interrupted their kiss startled her.
Connel twisted to look toward the door. “Doherty.”
“McDade,” the woman said.
He backed up to put himself away, giving her space to push down her dress and cover herself before he turned around.
She peeked by him expecting to see one woman. Instead, there were two, and a tall guy right behind them. Tall like Connel. Dark hair. The eyes…
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “That’s Razer McDade.”