by Johnson, Cat
I was so busted. For a solid moment, I dithered about what to do next: pretend I wasn’t here and ignore him until he got tired of waiting and went away? Or brazen it out, finish up, flush and strut out like I owned the joint?
Not so many years ago, I might have opted for door number one. I’d always been feisty, but in this particular situation, I might have been embarrassed. But tonight . . . what the hell did I care?
I completed my mission, flushed and made sure the skirt of my flirty little dress was down where it belonged and not tucked into my scanty lace underwear. I took a deep breath, tossed back my hair and stepped out of the stall.
And then I nearly fell over.
The body that went with the feet I’d seen made my mouth water . . . and then go dry. The legs were long, with thick, muscled thighs that were hugged by worn denim. It was tough to get a good look at the package behind the zippered fly, but what I saw was promising. His black T-shirt clung to a flat abdomen, a broad chest and wide shoulders. His arms, which were now folded over that tempting chest, were large and tanned.
I let my eyes wander up a little further, taking in the dark blond hair that covered his ears and fell slightly over his forehead, just above a pair of intense blue eyes.
Oh, mama.
“You don’t look like a dude.” His lips, which were full and perfectly shaped, curved into a teasing half-smile. “Or if you are, that’s the best damn job I’ve ever seen.”
I cocked my head, quirking one eyebrow. “I guess there’s only way to find out for sure, huh?”
His eyes flared in surprise, and just like that, I was on fire for him.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise, this instant attraction I felt. Work and life had been so demanding over the past year that I hadn’t had time to do much more than struggle through. I’d been missing my occasional weekend nights out, when sometimes I’d meet someone and bring him home for a quick tumble. It was never anything serious—I wasn’t looking for that—but usually, these encounters left me satisfied . . . for a while.
But it had been a long time—maybe a lifetime?—since I’d come across someone with whom I felt this immediate click. Right now, though, I was clicking, all right. My body was ready, primed for action. I could feel the ache between my legs and the heavy neediness in my breasts.
I couldn’t stand still for one more second. I moved to the sink and washed my hands, feeling his hot stare on my back the entire time.
“Is that an invitation?” He finally spoke as I threw away the paper towel I’d used to dry my hands and turned around again. His gaze never left my face.
“It’s a proposition,” I corrected. “As in . . . I propose we go into the hallway, take a left, and walk out the back exit. There’s a place where we could be, ah, private.”
He hesitated for the space of a heartbeat, and then in a gesture that charmed my heart and stole my breath, he offered me his hand.
I took it, and he pulled me out of the bathroom. We almost sprinted down the hall, where I opened the exit and led him into the cool night air. There was a small fenced-in square, where Mason kept the empty containers he returned to his suppliers. On the other side of that square was a tiny niche that was completely dark and hidden from anyone who might be passing by. That was where I guided my new friend.
Nerves jumped in my belly. This was not the norm for me. When I hooked up with a man, we usually had a dance together first, and maybe a drink, too. We knew each other’s names, at the very least.
But there was something undeniably exciting about this spontaneous decision to screw a guy whose name didn’t matter right now. All I wanted were his arms around me, his mouth on mine, and his dick pounding inside me.
Apparently, we were on the same page, because the second we were in the dark, he pushed me against the wall of the building, framed my face with his hands and covered my lips with his. I melted into him, not a little jarred by the sudden sensation that this was where I belonged, that his mouth and mine were made to be joined together as they were now.
I tried to work up some healthy trepidation about having sex with a stranger outside a bar. I struggled to bring to mind all those police dramas where women like me ended as cold corpses on the ME’s table, all because they’d let lust blind them to common sense.
But then he raised his face to stare into my eyes, and I saw reflected there the same shocked need that I felt. If this guy was really a serial killer, he was a damned talented actor.
“God, you’re so gorgeous.” He mumbled the compliment as he exhaled, and then he was on me again. This time, his tongue pushed insistently into my mouth, the thrust setting my blood to boil as it foretold what he planned to do elsewhere.
His hands trailed down my neck and over my shoulders, where he nudged the straps of my dress down to my upper arms, making the neckline sag. His fingers traced the edge of the silky material there on my chest before delving beneath to circle my waiting nipple. He pinched it hard, and I moaned, my hips pressing restlessly against his. Nuzzling his neck, I licked his hot skin, sucking at it like candy.
He bent a little to take one of my nipples into his mouth while his hand worked the other. I leaned back, reveling in the unspeakable pleasure of the moment, feeling the zings of desire shoot straight to my core.
But I was too eager to just enjoy. Tugging his T-shirt from the waistband of his jeans, I glided my fingers over the bumps and ridges of his abs before I lowered my hands to unbutton and unzip his fly. His cock slid into my waiting hands, and I stroked him until I was rewarded with his loud groan.
“Hold on a second,” he whispered. For one terrified minute, I thought he was going to suggest stopping . . . but no, he was merely reaching into his back pocket to retrieve a condom. Oh, how I loved a man who was prepared!
He kept one hand on my breast while the other raised the packet to his own mouth. Tearing it open with his teeth, he held it up. “Roll it on me?”
“With pleasure.” I positioned it over the flared head of his erection and slowly, slowly, unfurled it over his pulsing length. He hissed in a breath when I finished up by cupping his balls.
“Now . . .” He grasped my wrists and raised them above my head. “Keep these up here. Don’t move . . . unless I tell you.”
I obeyed, watching as he lowered his hands to my hips and began to gather my dress out of the way. His fingers wandered between my legs, touching me lightly over the lace of my panties.
“God, you’re so fucking wet.” He used more pressure, got a little rougher, and the sensation of the material rubbing against my pussy only heightened the intensity. “Shit . . . are these panties special to you? Expensive?”
I shook my head.
“Good.” With one violent movement, he ripped away the scrap of fabric, and then before I could breathe, his fingers were inside me, two of them working me, thrusting in and out. His thumb pressed into my throbbing clit, and despite his order not to move, I began riding his hand, needed it closer, harder, faster.
“Come for me right now. I want to feel you around my fingers.”
As if I’d only been waiting for those words, my body began to spasm, and I gasped, my vision tunneling before everything in the world exploded into color. The only thing that existed in that moment was his hand on me, within me, and his mouth at my ear.
I hadn’t even begun to settle back down before he gripped my hips again and plunged into me, his long, thick cock stretching my center and hitting every throbbing nerve. He growled against my neck.
“Want more. Want you harder. Want to feel you squeezing me—fuck. Fuck.” He reached down to grab hold of my legs and lift. “Wrap your legs—yeah. Like that.” I hooked my feet together behind his back, feeling as though I was suspended in the air between the wall and his relentless thrusting.
Not that I was complaining.
The change in position brought us even closer, with him hitting parts of my sex I hadn’t realized existed. I began to pant as tension and need built withi
n me once again.
“I’m close. So fucking close. God, I’m going to come so fucking hard in you.”
I pressed my face into the crook of his shoulder and ground out one single syllable.
“Now.”
He slammed into me and went tense, the pulsing of his hot release triggering my own second climax. I forgot that I was supposed to be keeping my hands against the wall and instead brought them to his shoulders, holding on for dear life and digging my fingers into his muscles. The pleasure went on and on, cresting and waving over me again. My body shuddered, shaking as I drifted down from the high.
He held onto me even afterward, as we both caught our breath. I found myself burying my face into his chest, inhaling his intoxicating scent. It was beer, some kind of light soap and . . . I sniffed. Leather?
“Hey. You . . . okay?” He was tentative now, his fingers brushing my hair out of my face as he drew away from me.
“I’m okay, times two.” I smiled. “How about you?”
“I’m thinking Georgia isn’t so bad.” He withdrew from me, holding onto the condom. I watched in silence as he tied it off.
“There’s a dumpster right around this corner.” I pointed. “Oh . . . wait a second.” I wriggled what was left of my underwear down my legs, stepped out and held them up, dangling on one finger. “Can you toss these, too?”
“Sure.” He tucked in, zipped up and after snagging my ripped panties, vanished for a moment. I heard the sound of metal on metal when he lifted the lid of the trash container, and then he was back.
“So.” He hooked his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans. “That was, um, unexpected and intense.”
“It was.” I nodded, smoothing down my dress. “But the best things in life often are—unexpected, I mean.”
“I feel like this is probably a little belated, but what’s your name?” He lifted a strand of hair from my shoulder and twisted it around one finger.
I shook my head. “You don’t need to know. And I don’t need to know yours, either. We had fun, and that’s all I was looking for.”
He stared down into my eyes, frowning. “That’s it? I’d like to buy you a drink. Have a dance, at least. Are you from around here?”
I touched his lips with my forefinger. “Again, I’m not looking for that. What does it matter?”
“Uh, maybe because that was the hottest sex I’ve had in . . . well, ever. And it didn’t last as long as I wanted. So I’m thinking a repeat could only get better.”
Laughing, I began to move around him. “You might have a point, but it’s something we’ll never know. I need to get back inside. I have a friend waiting for me.”
“So that’s it? Just . . . wham, bam, and we’re done?” He scowled.
“That loses some of its effect without the ‘thank you, ma’am.’, but yes. Thanks for a good time. I can’t remember when a trip to the restroom has been so . . .” I cast my eyes up. “Satisfying.”
“Wait, just wait a—” His phone began to ring, and cursing, he pulled it out of his back pocket, glancing down at the screen. “Dammmit, I need to get back inside. They need me.” He pointed at me. “But don’t leave, okay? Please. I want to know your name. I want to talk to you.” He curled his fingers around the back of my neck. “Promise? Please?”
He was so earnest, so honest, and even though I knew this couldn’t end well, I finally nodded. “Okay. My friend and I are at a table alongside the dance floor, not far from the stage.”
“Perfect.” Leaning forward, he captured my mouth again, his lips open and his tongue possessive. “I’ll catch you there in just a little bit.” He began to jog away from me.
“We’re probably leaving after the band plays,” I called after him.
He turned back, grinning. “That works perfectly.”
Once I heard the door close, I took a moment to catch my breath, fix my dress, and make sure I didn’t look like I’d just been thoroughly fucked outside behind the bar. When I strolled back in, I felt calmer, sexier, and on top of the world. Damn, but he’d been amazing. I hadn’t had sex that hot in a while, and never with a man built like this one. I wondered if it might be worth the trouble to see if he’d be up for a friends-with-benefits arrangement . . .
I shook my head. No. I wasn’t looking for long-term. I’d long ago made peace with my single status. I wasn’t going to give up my independence for any man, no matter how well he’d fucked me.
“God almighty, Kiki.” Maureen stood by her chair, hands on her hips. “Where the hell were you? I was about to send out a search party.” Her eyes narrowed. “You just . . . you had sex with someone back there, didn’t you?”
I flushed and blinked, the picture of innocence. “Me? Now why would you think that?”
“Because your face is red, your neck has beard rash, and your eyes look . . . glowy. Who did you—”
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Mason was on the stage at the mic, calling for attention. “Tonight, the Road Block in Burton, Georgia, is pleased to welcome one of Nashville’s hottest new stars. Please stomp, whistle and yell for . . . Troy Beck!”
Mason stepped aside, replaced in the spot light by a guy whose face was all too familiar. His lips were still puffy from kissing me, and there was a red mark on his neck where I’d sucked it not fifteen minutes ago.
Those vivid blue eyes roamed over the crowd until they came to rest on me. His grin spread wider over his face, and there was an unmistakable twinkle in his eye when he winked at me.
“Hey, Burton, Georgia! I want to thank y’all for the warm and, uh, hands-on welcome you’ve given me.”
The whole place roared, but I hardly noticed. I could only hear my own thudding heart as I muttered to myself.
“Holy. Shit.”
2
I opened my eyes in the dark of the early morning, and for just a minute, I didn’t remember anything except what came next. I’d been waking up at this time for so many years that it happened naturally, no matter how late I’d gone to sleep. My mind began humming right away, thinking about the bread dough waiting for me down in the kitchen, the pastries I had on my list to make, the trays of cookies made, cut out and resting in the fridge, ready to slide into the oven . . .
And then I moved, and an unfamiliar yet delicious ache reverberated through my body. Suddenly, everything from last night came flooding back. Alone in my bed, my cheeks went hot, and my breath caught.
What had I done?
I’d run away. The moment I could think clearly, which happened to coincide with the moment Troy—Troy freakin’ Beck, the country star who’d just fucked me senseless—began to sing, breaking his eye contact with me, I’d turned to Maureen.
“I’m leaving. I have to go. Now.”
She’d frowned. “Why? The show just started, and he’s actually pretty good—oh.” The truth had dawned on her, maybe because of the look on my face or the urgent tone of my voice. “Oh, my God, Kiki, it was him? That’s who you screwed out there?”
“Let’s keep that between us, okay? And if you want to stay, great, but I’m out of here. And please, Maureen, don’t tell him who I am. I just want to forget this happened.”
She hadn’t argued—well, I hadn’t given her a chance—and I’d pushed through the crowd, head down, praying that he’d just let me go. I hadn’t stopped until I reached my car, and even after that, I’d driven home like a bat out of hell, all the while swearing that I was going to forget the night had ever happened.
“No one knows but me. And him. And Maureen,” I muttered to myself now as I got dressed, pulling on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved cotton shirt. “But she won’t tell anyone, and neither will I. And he—he’s probably a long way out of town by now, and I’ll soon be a distant memory.”
That thought was both a comfort and a nagging pain as I went about my morning baking, prepping to open the bakery at eight on the dot. Before I turned the lock, all of my cases were full and the glass was polished to gleaming perfection. One pot of coffee w
as already in the thermos, and another was brewing.
My regulars stopped by in their normal order, requesting Danish or cinnamon buns or croissants along with their coffee. I greeted each one with a bright smile and congratulated myself on my ability to put everything else out of my mind.
I was just refilling the apple-cinnamon muffin tray when the bell over the door jingled again. Without turning around, I called out, “Welcome to Kiki’s. What I can tempt you with . . .”
The words died on my lips as I turned around and saw Troy Beck standing just inside the doorway.
How the hell did he look even better this morning than he had last night? I clamped my mouth shut to keep from blurting out that thought and instead went with the next one.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
If I expected Troy to be offended or surprised by my reaction, I was disappointed. He braced one hand on the wall and began to laugh.
“What?” I demanded, hands on my hips. “What’s so funny?”
He regarded me with those steady eyes, his lips still curled in mirth. “It’s just . . .” He shook his head. “Nope. Actually, I don’t think I’m going to tell you that. Not now, anyway.”
I blinked and shook my head. “Oookay. Well . . . I go back to my original question, then. What are you doing here?” I considered for a moment and then added, “And how did you find me?”
He ignored the first part and addressed the second. “Mason pointed me in the right direction—after a lot of coercion and even more whiskey.”
“Mason?” I cringed, resting my elbows on the edge of the bakery case and covering my face with my hands. “Great. What did you tell him?”
Troy’s voice was dry. “I told him that I’d had an incredible fuck outside his back door and didn’t get the lady’s name.”
“You didn’t!” I lifted my head to stare at him.
“Of course, I didn’t.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not an idiot. I said that I’d met you before my first set, we chatted but I never caught your name, and then you left before I could talk to you more after we played. If it makes you feel any better, he didn’t want to tell me. I plied him with some booze, and then one of the servers overheard me describing you and helpfully supplied your name and said you owned the bakery.” He lifted one muscled shoulder. “From there, it wasn’t that hard to track you down.”
