Drunk on Love (Cock Tales #1)

by S. L. Scott

Her voice softens, her body following suit. “Did you know I’d end up back here?”

  “No. But it doesn’t change the fact that I hoped you would.”

  Her smile grows and she stands. Giving me one easy search of the eyes, she moves and I step back, letting her walk around the office freely. “This place must see a lot of action?”

  “It does.” Honest. No apologies.

  An amused scoff whips through her lips. “You’re kind of arrogant.”

  “You’re very pretty.”

  The shyness from earlier returns, but she pretends to own the compliment. For someone as beautiful as she is, I would think compliments are commonplace, but by her reaction, I get the feeling she doesn’t receive many. Tapping the top of the desk, she asks, “How much action has this desk seen?”

  “Too much.” Honest. No apologies.

  She turns, so I give her space and retrieve the gin from the liquor locker. Touching the chair, she asks, “How about this chair?”

  “More than the desk.” Honest. No apologies. When I have the bottle in hand, I waggle it for her to see. “Got it.”

  Constance is keeping herself entertained by trying to find a surface that hasn’t been fucked on, under, or over. “The loveseat?”

  “I can’t even talk about the deviant acts that have taken place there.” Honest. No apologies.

  “Deviant? I’m very intrigued.”

  I take the shots I just poured and hand her one. “The most baseline sexual acts you can think of and I’ve done them in this room.” Honest. No apologies.

  “Will you do me in this room?”

  Surprised by her initiative, my attention lands firmly on her. “My pleasure is your pleasure.”

  She sips the gin shot and sets it on the desk. “That’s good. Smoother than I expected. How about you?”

  “I’ll let you determine that.” I shoot the shot and set the glass down. “Take off your jacket, Constance.”

  With her eyes latched onto mine, she lets the jacket slide down the arms of her hot pink silky shirt. Being careful not to wrinkle it, she hangs it over the back of one of the chairs. “Now what?”

  “Why’d you come to The Hideaway tonight?”The Gimlet speaks for her. “My college roommate has known you since the summer. Katie O’Dowd.”

  The name brings back memories, memories I’m probably okay not recalling. “Katie O’Dowd. I remember her. I fucked her in the bathroom. She liked the door unlocked so people could walk in and see us.”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “Is that what you’re into? Do you like to be watched?”

  “No. I don’t know. I don’t think so. What about you?”

  The stammering is a clear sign I’ve touched on something that makes her uncomfortable. I attempt to get her back on track. “Not really. What brought you here?”

  “A date, like I said earlier.”

  “No,” I say, “Why did you come to this bar tonight?”

  “Katie. She made me promise to stop by and just see where the night went.” A hint of something hides in her tone when she speaks.

  “Do you regret coming?” I walk around her, eyeing her to watch her reaction.

  “I haven’t come yet.” She’s got spirit. I like her wit. “I’ll let you know if I regret it later. “

  “Tell me, Constance. What do you want me to do to you?” My shoulder is pressed to the front of hers as we face opposite directions. With my lips to her ear, I whisper, “What gets you off?”

  Her lips part and I think she’s going to speak, but she sucks in a ragged breath instead. Keeping her eyes forward, she releases it.

  I place a small, and light kiss just under her earlobe. Her neck is tilted away, opening her up to me. I ask, “What is your pleasure?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “You don’t know what you like?”

  She licks her lips, then as if she’s confessing a dark secret, replies, “I know what feels good.”

  “Tell me what makes you feel good, Constance.”

  “Being touched.”

  Placing my hand on her thigh, I tease her. “Like that? Does that feel good?”

  Her small smile kills me in the best of ways. “It does, but—”

  “But what?” I kiss her neck again, and then slide the bridge of my nose against her, taking in a deep breath. Rich vanilla coats her skin. She’s absolutely edible. Her shyness is an aphrodisiac. My cock reacting—hard, a throb buried within building. I move my hand higher and when I cup her pussy I hear the soft hitch in her breathing.

  “That. I want to be touched there.”

  “Touched or licked or eaten? Tell me exactly what you want, baby.”

  Her lids flutter closed and she leans back opening like a flower for me. “I want your hands on me.”

  “My hand is on you,” I challenge, wanting her to say it. “Vocalize it. Own it. Give into that carnal side I know lies just beneath this fancy suit you wear as armor everyday.” I scrape my teeth across the base of her neck while I rub gently between her legs. “Here, between these walls, with me, you can drop your shield.”

  “In me.” Like a flurry from the sky, the words fall from her lips, “In me. Deep inside me. I want you to make me come.”

  The right side of my mouth quirks up. “You’re so fucking sexy, Constance.” My fingers are deft, her belt opened, the pants unbuttoned, and the zipper down.

  She watches the frenzy, keeping her eyes focused below her waist. “Go slow. It’s been a while.”

  My hands stall. When I look up, a contradiction is laden in her eyes. Innocence comingles in the brightest greens, which is so unexpected from a woman who wears a power suit. “How long?”

  The pink that highlights her cheeks isn’t from shyness this time, but embarrassment. I hate it on her.

  “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “Is everyone you’re with . . .” She looks around while building her courage. When her gaze returns to mine, she finishes, “Experienced?”

  Yes. “No,” I lie so she doesn’t wither before me. She’s so beautiful when she’s blooming. Taking each word into careful consideration and using her chosen one, I ask, “Are you experienced?”

  “Not fully,” she confesses.

  Narrowing my eyes at her, I probe, “Not fully as innnnn . . .”

  Her voice is so quiet I barely hear her when she says, “Not all the way.”

  Virgin! I try to keep my eyes from bulging. I didn’t know there were virgins in New York. She’s like a unicorn. A rainbow unicorn that shits Skittles. A myth. An urban legend. Damn. She’s a virgin. Just Wow. I want to ask how she held onto that V card for this long, but at the same time, I’m so fucking turned on that she seems to trust me with it that I’m left perplexed over how this night should go. There’s no way I’m bending her over like this is just any other night. It’s not for her, and I’m starting to think it’s not for me either. “So maybe we don’t have sex.” As she swallows my words, I zip her pants back up, and she buttons them closed while looking disappointed. I ask, “Do you like to dance?”

  “Yes.”

  There’s that pretty girl again. Knowing I’ve put her at ease, I rub the back of my fingers over her cheek. “Let’s start there then.”

  “Okay.”

  I pull my phone from my pocket and flip through my playlists. Seduction is too sultry. Hard Fuck is too, well, hard. Lots of Nine Inch Nails on that playlist. Scrolling down, I find my Take Your Time playlist. This is actually one I listen to when I’m at home and trying to wind down after a long shift. I’ve never played it for a woman. It makes me feel unsteady, but she opened up to me, so I feel safe to share a private side of myself with her.

  The first song starts playing through the speaker on the filing cabinet and her smile grows. “I love this song,” she says much more at ease, her shoulders relaxing.

  Taking her hand in mine, I put my other on her hip and slide it up to her waist. “Dance with me, Constance.” Our bodies a
re flush, her breasts rising and falling against my chest. When we start to sway, her breathing picks up. I press my cheek to her temple and we move together. I close my eyes and get lost in the feel of her and the music. Our breath is the only sound between us. Our hearts beat, the thump felt hard in my chest. “You’re so beautiful.”

  She leans farther into me. Reaching up, I pull the silver clip that’s holding her perfectly in place hair, and toss it onto the desk. Her hair comes tumbling down over her shoulders burying my nose in her soft locks. I stay, not wanting to move away.

  Intimacy is not my specialty. It’s not something I crave or need. I have a good life. I’m happy. A successful business. I have great friends and I’m close to my family. But this feels good. Being this close to her, feeling her nerves soften her edges as she molds to me—I like this. Maybe too much.

  Chapter Three

  Vanilla is now my all time favorite scent, dark brunette with a heavy dose of midnight mixed in, and a pink that reminds me of a rosé wine I discovered at a winery in Sonoma last summer. Constance—my new favorite name.

  I know she can feel how hard my body is, and I’m not referring to the ab or bicep muscles I’ve worked hard to achieve. She’s polite enough not to say anything, and if I’m not mistaken, she might have moved closer. Constance might have a naughty side after all. I can’t resist her any longer. I kiss the back of her jaw and she bends away, giving me more access. My tongue traces the outline and I press my lips to her skin again, this time gently sucking. I whisper, “How do you feel about kissing?”“I like,” she starts, then clears her throat. “I like kissing.”

  “Good because I really want to kiss you right now.” I take possession of her lips just as she opens her mouth to speak again. Her heated breath coats my tongue as it peeks out to run along the inside of her upper lip.

  The sweetest of little moans drifts from her lips when we part. Her eyes remain closed, a small smile on her mouth, and a satisfied release of breath is heard. I kiss the corner of her mouth and whisper, “Open your eyes, beautiful.”

  When she does, the smile is still there. “You’re a very good kisser.”

  Holding hands with her, I reply, “So are you.” I chuckle looking down and rub my thumb over my bottom lip. Biting it, I look up, now suddenly feeling shy—so unlike me that I take a moment to take her in. What is it about her that has me off my game? I shake my head just enough to shake some sense into myself. “I want to kiss you again.”

  “Why does it sound like a question?”

  “Because if I do, I might not stop with a kiss.”

  “Then don’t stop with a kiss.”

  Back in the game, I run my fingers into her hair and grip the back of her head. “Oh baby, you don’t even know what you’ve done.”

  “Tell me.”

  “How about I show you instead?”

  One nod. Instant permission to make her feel so good she won’t stop thinking about this night for months. Our mouths crash together and our tongues begin to embrace each other. With her hands on my waist, I take them and slide them over my chest and around my neck. “Hold onto me.”

  As soon as I feel her hold on me tighten, I spin her to the side and move her quickly back against the wall with the dry erase board. Her hair messes up the tally the guys and I had going, but I don’t give a damn. She tastes too good and feels even better.

  Another moan rushes out and she squirms against me. My cock begins straining against my jeans. She might be the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever tempted, tortured, or teased myself with. Goddamn it. I pop the button of her pants and my hand is dipping below the waistband before the zipper is down. “So good, baby. I’m going to make you come all over my hand and scream the lord’s name while doing it.”

  Her body moves in fluid waves against me, against my hand, begging me to take her. “Hardy,” comes out as a curse and a blessing.

  Flicking sweet afflictions, I ravage her neck with my mouth. “So fucking sexy. Say it again.”

  This time it’s even breathier. “Hardy.”

  I give her what her body craves and ride my fingers though her slickness, parting her. She’s wet, warm, so fucking free with me and that’s all it takes for my throbbing to amp up another level. I press against her to find some relief. My dick is a fucking torpedo impeded by denim. Fuck. I don’t know how I’m going to survive this encounter if I can’t sink deep into her tight heat.

  A virgin, I remind myself. She deserves more than hair used as an eraser and a wall fuck for her first time. A virgin. I didn’t see that one coming . . . coming, yes, but not coming. She ordered that Gimlet like a seasoned pro. Maybe I’m getting sick and my sex-dar is off.

  “Hardy, I want you.”

  My name pulls me back to the moment and I adjust my hand. “I should go slow,” I reply more for myself than her.

  She lifts higher on her toes and pushes her pants open for me. “No. Faster. You can touch me. I’m not delicate. I won’t break.”

  “I’m not worried about breaking you, sweetheart. I’m worried about the excruciatingly rock hard woody I’ll be sporting the rest of the night.”

  A devilish grin appears and she says, “Then let me help you.”

  I’m not one to say no to a generous offer and it damn well beats me beating off later to the memories of how her mouth forms this little “O” just below the bow of her upper lip.

  My jeans are unbuttoned, my fly unzipped, my cock freed. “Holy—” She gasps.

  Normally when a woman gasps, I’d worry, but I get this a lot when Big Richard comes out to play. With a twitch, he greets her, practically jumping into her hand. Do it. Grab me, he entices. Bad boy.

  Her hand wraps around me and she slides up to the tip and back down. “Your hand feels so good wrapped around my cock.” When her eyes lift to look into mine, I put my lips to her ear, and whisper, “I can’t wait to have more of you around me.” And there’s that little hitch I wanted to hear. “Not tonight, but soon. You’ll come back and see me.” What the fuck? Did I just talk about the future with a woman? Wonder if I have a fever?

  I get back to the business at hand, the business of making her come. Moving my hand deeper between her delicate folds, I tease her entrance. Her hand on me tightens—Bingo. One finger sinks deep inside, her warm walls engulfing. “Holy Jack fucking Daniels.”

  Her lips are against my jaw, her breath coming out in quick pants. Her grip around my neck brings her closer to me and I can’t wait. I have no fucking patience when it comes to her and the way she wiggles against me. I push another finger in slowly, and lean back to watch her. The back of her throat is revealed and my mind is spinning.

  I’m going to explode soon. This woman is driving me nuts with how good this feels and we’re only making out. Like two teenagers. My core starts to wind, tightening under her ministrations. With my thumb, I find her clit and she bucks forward. One touch and she’s that sensitive. God, I might be falling in love. What the fuck is wrong with me?

  Shit. Big Richard bucks on his own accord. “Damn, baby. I’m close.” Now I’m the one that sounds all breathy. The coil gets even tighter. I’m about to spring to life, but I’ve got to get her off first. Thrusting gently, I start to fuck her with my fingers, my hips are pressed against her, trapping our hands between us. I have no fucking self-control. This is insane. Insanely amazing.

  Our hands are in sync, our bodies begging for release, and then the back of her head hits the board behind her and my name comes tripping from her lips right after God and sandwiched between an orgasm that sets mine in motion.

  “Fuck. Oh baby. Yes, Constance. Fuck. Yes.” Ribbons spurt, covering my stomach and my shirt as I vanish into the bright lights of the dark blissful abyss.

  When I open my eyes, hers open just as languidly. The pink that I could become so easily accustomed to has spread to her neck and collarbone and the tips of her ears. I tuck myself back in and with my free hand, touch her cheek, and lean my forehead against hers. “You’re
stunning.”

  She smiles and a soft laugh tickles my mouth. I part my lips wanting more, wanting to inhale her deep inside. Slowly, I slide my hand free and she releases me. Looking down, she laughs again, a little louder this time. “We’re a mess.”

  “A beautiful mess.”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  My smile slips away. “I don’t.”

  She reads me well. “I didn’t mean you really say that to all the girls you’re with.”

  I settle the panic in her eyes, preferring the after-orgasm look instead. “It’s okay. Just don’t think I’m like this with everyone because I’m not.”

  The smile lines ease and her expression lightens. “Why are you so sweet to me? Even after I told you Katie O’Dowd sent me to see you?”

  “Because you’re nothing like Katie O’Dowd.”

  “How am I different?” she asks, just a whisper as we still hold each other.

  “She came here looking for a good time and that’s all she was. But you,” I say, tucking some hair behind her ear, “I’ll remember long after tonight.” I kiss her sweetly, which seems to be the only way to kiss someone as pretty as her when she’s looking at me like I just hung the moon for her.

  Zipping her pants and fastening her belt, her shyness returns slowly, the blush disappearing from her chest and centering on her cheeks. She looks down, and asks, “Why?”

  “Because you think you came here for sex when you were really just looking for a connection.”

  Her green eyes look like jade in the dim lights of the office, her beautiful innocence shining through. “I’ve done this sort of thing before.” She tries to sound bold, but I see through the act.

  “Have you now?”

  “I’m not such a Goody Two-shoes.” She raises her chin, trying to build some offense to the smile on my face that makes it clear I don’t believe her.

  “You’re not a Gimlet girl. Why’d you order it?”

  “Because I wanted to be one, someone who orders what they want and owns it, someone who owns who they are without apologies.”

  “You are that woman. You just don’t know it yet.” I bend and kiss her on the neck, just because I want to keep kissing her, touching her, keep her here longer than my break allows. On the other side of the office door the music and crowd have gotten louder. I glance toward the door. The bar should be in full swing by now and I’m probably needed, but Constance makes me want to stay.