by Tara Wyatt
He lifted his face from the singed skin of her neck and closed his eyes. Exhaling a long breath, he opened them. “I need to be inside you,” he groaned.
In response she slid her hand from around his waist and down, brushing her fingers against the hard bulge in his pants.
He dipped his head and kissed her again, hotly and urgently. She was melting into him, her body fusing to his under the skill of his mouth. God, she loved the way his arms felt around her, so big and strong. Coiling pressure burned low in her stomach and between her legs. She shifted and the silk of her thong slid against her, hot and damp. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this wet this fast.
“Just so we’re clear,” he said between kisses, his voice rough, “I’m about to fuck you in this conference room. Is that what you want?”
“Yes.” The word came out on a shaky sigh.
He rumbled out an approving noise. “Lift your skirt up. I need to touch you.”
She’d unleashed something dark and primal in him, and a surge of power charged through her, making her feel more alive than she had in a long time. Alive, and like the sexiest woman on the planet. He nipped at her lips and then kissed her hard and deep, his hands skimming down her body. Raw need hummed through her, her nerve endings flaring and sparking under his touch.
She fisted her hands in the tulle of her skirt, and she eased it up until it was bunched around her waist.
He smiled, slow and sexy. “Good girl.”
Two. Hottest. Words. Ever.
“Are you wet for me?” His fingers skated over her thong, a whisper of a touch that had her rolling her hips toward him. He cupped her, his palm hot against her.
She rocked her hips against his hand. “Mmm-hmm.”
“Very good girl.” Through half-closed eyes she saw him smile again, one side of his mouth tilting up in a cocky smirk as he drew his fingers in a slow circle over her aching pussy, the silk of her thong sliding against her. He kissed her again as he massaged gently, her legs trembling. Oh, God, his hands were even better than she’d imagined. She stood pinned to the wall, her skirt clutched in her hands, trying to stay upright. He slipped a finger under her thong, groaning as he slicked it through her folds and around her clit.
“Oh, God, your hands, Sean. I need—” She gasped out the last word as, teasing and slow, he pushed her thong to the side and slid two fingers into her. She moaned as his thumb grazed her already swollen clit, writhing against his hand as he traced his thumb in a slow circle. He pumped his fingers, slow and deep, and she almost crumbled to the floor when he curled them inside her, igniting a fire in her core.
“These need to come off because I’m very close to ripping them.” Slowly he pulled his fingers out, leaving her feeling empty and only intensifying the ache deep inside her. She nodded, unable to form words, and he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her thong and pushed it over her hips, his eyes not leaving hers as he stripped her. Once her thong was around her ankles, she stepped out of it, her skirt still clutched in her hands. He pulled a condom from his pocket, unbuttoning his pants and pulling the fly down.
He held the foil square between two fingers as he released his gorgeously thick, long, hard cock. She dropped one side of her skirt and reached for him, wanting to touch him, to wrap her hand—hell, hands—around him, but he caught her wrist lightly, stopping her and guiding her hand back to her skirt.
“No. I can’t take any teasing right now.”
There was something beautifully debauched about the fact that they were in a public space, both still half dressed, in black-tie evening wear. She’d constructed dozens of fantasies about him, and this topped them all. Her fantasies had always failed to capture the searing need she felt, not just for sex, but for him. For Sean.
He ripped open the packet with his teeth and rolled the condom over his cock. Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed her, and she opened her lips eagerly for him. Cupping her ass, he lifted her up and pressed her back firmly into the wall. Her legs came up around him, her knee bumping into the gun holstered against his shoulder before settling around his waist. The idea that she was about to fuck a man with a gun strapped to him turned her on even more. She ran her hands up his chest to his shoulders, her hands skimming over the broad, hard planes of muscle, and pushed his tuxedo jacket down over his arms. He kept her pinned to the wall with his body and flung the jacket to the ground. The head of his hot, thick cock pressed against her, and he rocked his hips, sliding his hard length over her clit. She bucked and stifled a moan.
“I can’t take any teasing either.” To her own ears, her voice sounded far away, breathy and disembodied.
“Then let’s stop teasing each other.” His eyes held hers as he pushed into her, stretching and filling her, inch by delicious inch until they were fully connected. A sensation she couldn’t quite name washed over her, a kind of exhilarating completeness. The tight fullness made every nerve ending sing and moan as he moved inside her with an impressively controlled thrust. Her body was on fire, dissolving and boiling and melting all at the same time, and she panted his name, over and over, like a chant. Like a prayer.
Nestled snugly—very snugly—inside her, he held still, his forehead pressed to hers. “Shit.”
“What?” A snag of fear caught at her as she worried he’d pull away and leave her empty and sobbing for him.
He took a ragged breath. “I don’t think I can last. You feel too good, and I’ve wanted you since the day I met you.”
She squeezed her muscles around his cock, a throbbing wave of pleasure pulsing through her. “You feel so good inside me, Sean. So right.”
“Christ.” He ground the word out before pressing his mouth to hers. His fingers squeezing the flesh of her ass, he slowly slid almost all the way out before thrusting into her, his thick cock making her feel exquisitely taut and full. Over and over he stroked in and out of her, her skirt fluttering around them. She lost herself in the rhythm he set, wringing pleasure from her body with his. A deep, pulsing burn ripped through her core, and she rode the sensations, undone by the intensity in Sean’s eyes as he filled her.
And in that moment, he possessed every part of her. Not because he’d taken it, but because she’d given it willingly. More than anything, she wanted to be his.
He kissed her hard and deep as her orgasm ripped through her, crashing with the force of a tidal wave.
“Yes. Come. Take it, sweetheart,” Sean rasped against her mouth, and she moaned, shuddering against him, every muscle in her body rigid and straining as she climaxed. “Fuck. God, Sierra.” He ground out her name as he came, buried deep inside her, holding her tight against him, his muscles tense.
His jagged breathing matched hers, their sharp exhalations the only sound in the dark conference room. Trailing light kisses across the hot, damp skin of his neck, she curled her fingers into his hair, brushing away the sweat dampening his hairline.
He didn’t say anything, didn’t pull out of her, didn’t let her go. Just stared at her with full, dark eyes.
“Tell me you feel it too,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers again. Something bright and airy shimmered around them, sparkling and intangible, yet very, very real. It was beautiful and terrifying, perfect and messy all at once. Giving in hadn’t sated her need for him. It had only made it stronger.
She nodded, swallowing thickly. “Yes.”
She’d barely let the word out before he kissed her, softly and slowly. She returned the kiss, pouring everything she was feeling into it. The happiness and the hope, two words that felt too mundane for the emotions spilling over her.
* * *
Sean broke the kiss, savoring the feel of his body twined with Sierra’s, of how tiny she felt in his arms. “We need to do this again, as soon as fucking possible.” A hundred times. A thousand times. And yet he knew that wouldn’t be enough.
She tipped her head to the side. “Mmm. I couldn’t agree more.”
He caught her earlobe in hi
s teeth and tugged gently, unable to help himself. “In an actual bed. Or on that island in your kitchen. In the shower. On the floor. I don’t care.”
“Can I pick all of the above?” She ran her hands through his hair, tingles racing across his scalp.
“To start. But…” He trailed off, hesitating. “We need…” Oh, God. How to say this without sounding like a colossal asshole? “Maybe, until you’re not a client anymore—”
She cut him off. “I get it. We need to be discreet.” She smiled at him, her nose scrunching. “Sneaking around with my secret hot bodyguard boyfriend sounds pretty awful.”
“Only until we get you out of this mess.” He buried his face in her neck again, kissing a path across her skin. “Because I want everyone to know you’re mine.”
She sighed, and he felt her muscles tighten around his cock. “Yes.” One syllable, full and heavy with meaning that went straight to all the important body parts: brain, heart, and dick.
“We should get back.” Reluctantly he pulled out of her and eased her back down to the ground. He took care of the condom and retrieved his tuxedo jacket from the floor, laying it over the back of one of the leather chairs. His chest tightened as he watched her slip her underwear back on and smooth her dress into place, the fabric of her skirt a little wrinkled from being clutched in her hands. Her hair was messy, her lips were swollen, and her cheeks and chest were flushed and glowing.
She looked like a woman who’d been very thoroughly fucked.
By him.
Possessive satisfaction shot through him as he marveled at how beautiful she was. Even rumpled and disheveled like this.
Especially like this.
He needed to kiss her. He couldn’t help himself, not anymore. He felt like a kid who’d never been allowed to eat candy must feel after his first chocolate bar. Happy and awake and buzzing with new awareness. Tucking his shirt in and zipping himself up, he stepped toward her and cupped her face in his hands. She sighed into him as his lips met hers, the kiss gentle and lingering.
“I don’t know how I’m going to keep myself from touching you.” She stroked a hand up his arm, her fingers tracing the contours of his bicep through his shirt. He slipped his hands around her waist and let out a long, slow breath.
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
“Have you ever…” She bounced her eyebrows. “With a client before?”
“Never. You’re the only one.” He’d thought he’d feel guilty about crossing that line, but he didn’t. With the euphoric happiness filling him, there was no room for guilt. Even though it had to stay a secret for now, it didn’t feel wrong. Especially with the way she was looking up at him, her eyes soft, a half smile on her lips. He managed to tear himself away from her and slipped back into his jacket. Cautiously he opened the conference room door, poking his head out into the corridor. It was deserted, and he signaled for her to join him. They quickly made their way back toward the ballroom, and Sean slipped his earpiece back in. He’d taken it out while practically dragging Sierra off the dance floor. As soon as they stepped back into the ballroom, Ian was there, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Where the hell have you been?”
Sierra laid a hand on her sternum. “I wasn’t feeling well. I think something I ate disagreed with me. I was in the bathroom.” She grimaced and looked down, feigning embarrassment.
Ian frowned, looking from Sierra to Sean before relaxing slightly. “You are awfully flushed. You should have some water.” He signaled to a waiter.
Sierra flashed him a grateful smile. “Thanks. I’m feeling a bit better now.” She looked up at Sean, still feigning embarrassment. “Sorry.”
He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Just glad you’re feeling better.” He wanted to leave his hand where it was, but he couldn’t, so he took it back and slipped his hands into his pockets. Thankfully, Ian appeared to buy Sierra’s excuse. Sean hated lying to his team, but it was for the best if he and Sierra kept what was going on between them secret. At least until she wasn’t a client anymore. Maybe it was selfish, but it was simpler this way.
A sound like a loud bass drum rumbled through the room, shaking the floor, followed by a loud, sharp bang. Instinctively Sean grabbed Sierra, sending her glass crashing to the floor. Light flared and he dove to the floor, sheltering her with his body as an explosion tore through the ballroom.
Chapter 19
Sierra tried to catch her breath, her brain scrambling to make sense of what had happened. Sean covered her body with his, his arms tucking her head against his chest. Every couple of seconds, another blast tore through the room, shaking the walls and the floor. The music had stopped, and screams erupted from every corner of the ballroom. Eerie shadows flickered across the swath of floor Sierra could see, the massive chandelier swinging back and forth precariously, crystals tinkling like wind chimes.
Debris fell around them, chunks of the wall smashing into the floor. Sean grunted as a piece hit him in the back, but he held his position, not moving away from her. Another bomb went off, this one closer, and the force of the shock wave slammed into her like a freight train. She felt it everywhere, in her jaw, in her ribs, in her joints. Her ears hurt, as though someone had jammed ice picks through them and into her skull. The ballroom shook again, and the chandelier came crashing down, shattering on the floor, shards of broken crystal flying across the room. Her bones felt brittle, as though they were made of hollow metal, and she felt every tremor, every crash, every movement as if it had the force of a sledgehammer.
Dust trembled in the air as silence descended over the room.
“Shallow breaths,” whispered Sean. He lifted his head, his eyes frantic with worry. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, dizziness rocking her. “I…don’t think so.” She could barely get the words out around her racing heart. If it didn’t slow down soon, it would explode, shattering just like the chandelier. Her stomach felt as though it were filled with cement. She reached up to touch Sean, her hands shaking uncontrollably.
“Are you OK? Something hit you.”
“I think it was a small piece of the wall. I’m OK. Let’s sit up.” He pulled the white pocket square from his tuxedo jacket and handed it to her. “There’s a lot of dust. Breathe through this.”
She pressed it to her mouth, still taking shallow breaths. Across the room people slowly stirred, rising from the floor and from underneath tables. She saw Jack sitting on the floor about a hundred feet away, looking dazed, with blood trickling from one ear. Her own ears still felt as though they were packed with cotton.
Sirens erupted in the distance and she jumped, the sound jarring in the stunned silence of the ballroom. She knew it was stating the obvious, but she needed to say it out loud to try to make it sink in.
“Those were bombs.”
Sean nodded. “I counted seven, all from different points around the room. Probably little pipe bombs.”
“They didn’t feel little.”
“No.”
The sirens wailed closer and Sean helped Sierra to her feet, his eyes raking over her. And then he pulled her into his arms, cradling her against him. “We need to get you checked out by a doctor.”
“I’m OK, Sean.”
“Most injuries from bombs aren’t from shrapnel or debris, but from the concussive wave of pressure the bomb creates. It can cause internal bleeding.”
“Fine. But only if you get checked out too.”
Several more pieces of the wall and ceiling fell around them, kicking up more dust. Around them, huddled women were crying, and a man lay on the floor moaning, clutching his head. Ian approached, covered in dust but otherwise OK.
“I’m going to stay and help,” he said. “You should get her out of here.” Sean nodded and tucked Sierra against him, joining the crush of people flowing out of the ballroom.
“He’s staying to help? Isn’t that dangerous?” she asked, slipping her hand into Sean’s as they descended the stairs with everyone else.
“He’s a former Special Air Service medic. He knows what he’s doing.”
She merely nodded and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.
“I just want to go home,” she said, her mind still reeling. Less than fifteen minutes ago, she’d been in that conference room with Sean. It felt as if it had happened hours ago, days ago even. It was as though the bombing had destroyed any concept of time.
“As soon as we get you checked out by a doctor, I promise I’ll take you home.”
After what felt like an eternity, they pushed out into the cool night air, red and blue lights bouncing off every surface, the road clogged with police cruisers, ambulances, and fire trucks. A huge black truck marked “LAPD Bomb Squad” was parked front and center, lights flashing. Paramedics were triaging people, sending the obviously injured directly to the hospital, and checking out others on the scene. A young Asian guy in dark-blue paramedic scrubs approached them.
“You guys OK?” he asked.
“I think so, but we were close to a couple of the blasts.”
Nodding, the paramedic tipped his head toward an ambulance with its doors open. He quickly checked them over, taking their blood pressure while he checked their eyes and ears. He held out his hand to Sierra.
“Squeeze my hand,” he said, and she did. He did the same with Sean.
“Any pain in your chest or abdomen?”
They both shook their heads no, and he had them take several deep breaths while he listened to their chests with his stethoscope.
“You guys seem OK. You experience any symptoms, like light-headedness, shortness of breath, vomiting blood, swelling of joints, or unusual pain or bruising, go to the emergency room. Are your ears ringing?”
They both nodded.
“It should pass. If it doesn’t, see your doctor. You’re free to go, but the police will likely contact you for a statement. They’ll probably be in touch with everyone on the guest list.”
