“Normally this is a place most people would hopefully never want to be.” That deep voice snaps me back to the here and now. I must have said my question out loud . . . oops. We lock eyes again and he grabs my hand to pull me against him, front to front, not even a millimeter between us. “But for now, if you’re feeling even a miniscule piece of the way I’m feeling, it will become your favorite room in this entire building, mo mhuirnín.”
“What’s your name?” I ask as I tip my chin up to hold his gaze.
“Corrin Bradach,” he answers as he grabs a handful of my ponytail and tugs my head as far back as my neck will allow it will go. “but I think you somehow knew that already. Didn’t you, Saylor Santini?”
“Mmhmm” is all I can seem to formulate as a reply.
“The second I saw you behind the bar, I knew I’d get you alone sooner or later.” Corrin’s lips trace down the side of my neck from just behind my ear to where my collarbone curves into my shoulder. “But I never expected to see you slinging a knife around like that. Can’t say I saw that coming when that douchebag grabbed your ass.”
“A girl’s gotta have some tricks up her sleeve too, you know?” I flick his earlobe with the tip of my tongue as his lips continue to kiss my neck and send shivers across my entire body.
“Oh, that was one hell of a trick for sure.” Next his hands grip my hips, he turns us both to the side, then before I can blink, my ass is up on the table behind me, and my hands are resting on his shoulders. “I’ll have to take you to my gym and you can teach me your moves sometime.”
“I think I’d like that.” Tracing my hands down his chest, I feel nothing but hard muscle under his shirt . . . that is until I hit two very hard points about a quarter of the way down. My eyes bounce right back up to his and they are sparkling like he has a secret he’d like to share. “Are those what I think they are?”
The tip of his tongue peeks out to swipe across his lower lip. “I don’t know. Why don’t you look and see for yourself?”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
Growing up like I did, adjacent to the biker life, I didn’t have a lot of what I would imagine the typical teenage experiences were. My brother seemed to chase off almost every boy who was interested in me. As soon as they would find out about my dad being friends with the MC, or that my brother was in the club, most of my male classmates would stop flirting with me or asking me out for dates on Saturday nights. But that also doesn’t mean I’m a virgin either.
A few guys around were brave enough to stand up to the flack they got from my brother and his buddies. I somehow managed to have a couple boyfriends in high school, and then also in the years after graduation, but that also doesn’t mean I was a slut either.
Watching the women who hung around the club, whether that were just random chicks just passing through wanting to say that they spent a wild the night in bed with a King, or the few that stuck around to become club girls hoping to win the hearts and patches of a biker but were stupid enough to realize it would never happen, I quickly learned what I never wanted to be—easy.
I held onto my v-card until I was nineteen and had been dating the Jimmy Hasslemen for six months. We had known each other since he moved to town back when we were in elementary school. He was a friend before he became my boyfriend and wasn’t afraid of the stigma that seemed to hang around me because of my older brother.
That’s a long way to say—I know how sex works. I like sex. I’ve had a couple one-night stands, a few short relationships, and even fewer long term ones, but that’s not going to stop me from seeing what this sexy Irish Texan has to offer for a few hours. I’m single, and I’m guessing he is to if he’s coming on to me like this, so I see absolutely nothing wrong with finding out what he’s hiding behind the buttons of his impeccable dress shirt.
One button undone, revealing the lettering of a phrase tattooed across his chest, I stop and look up to lock his eyes on mine to make sure his answer to my next question is the truth.
“You’re not married or in a relationship, are you? “Cause I don’t fuck around with cheaters.”
“No ma’am,” he growls in response, along with a sharp shake of his head. “I’m no damn monk, but I’m also not a cheater.Last woman I dated was two years ago, and I also got tested six months back at my last physical. I’m clean as a whistle.”
“Good,” I reply with a sharp nod of my own. “I’m clean too, and on birth control. But it’s been almost a year for me, both on the boyfriend and last hook up.”
“Well, let me be the first to say,” then he leans forward and smashes his lips to mine. His kiss is harsh and fast, but not in a sloppy or aggressive way, just affective at ripping my breath from my chest and sending my heart rate through the roof. “Welcome back to the dark side, mo mhuirnín. I can’t wait to make you purr.”
“Fuck.” I don’t know if anyone I’ve been with has made me purr like I’m hoping Corrin can, but I can’t wait to find out. “Kiss me again.”
So he does.
Even with my eyes closed, and my lips occupied elsewhere, I still somehow manage to get his shirt untucked and unbuttoned all the way. As I push it off his shoulders, Corrin falls back half a step, our lips separating unfortunately, and he shrugs it off the rest of the way. I reach back to pull the tie on my apron, then toss the bundle off to the side where it thunks somewhere on the floor.
Looking up, I see that my guess was right . . . Corrin has barbells pierced through both of his nipples, as well as tattoos covering almost every inch of skin I can see. From his shoulders to hiswaistline, and down both arms to the tops of all ten fingers, he has colorful artwork inked into his skin. There are a few open spots along his abs, and a couple clean areas on the inside of his right forearm, but not much else for empty real estate. He looks like a real-life coloring book and I wouldn’t mind decorating a few of his pages myself.
“Fuck, you’re hot.”
I can’t keep my hands to myself and give those sexy as hell barbells a quick teasing flick, then slide my hands all the way down over his rock hard sixpack. Tracing along the top of his hips and down the start of the V-shaped grooves that create his Adonis muscles, the iliac furrows, I follow their lead toward the inward direction leading to his groin. It’s a shame his pants are still in the way, but I’m hoping they won’t be for long.
“And you’ve got one hell of a dirty mouth,” he sasses back with a dark smirk. “I can’t wait to see what kind of words I can get to come from those lips while I lick your pussy until you come all over my face, then rock both our worlds and fuck you on this table.”
“Yes, please.” I hear the need in my own voice. Damn, my inner hussy is on the prowl tonight—and I’m loving every minute of it.
“Let’s get these clothes off you now, shall we?” Corrin suggests as he tugs me forward until my feet touch the floor.
In a mix of his hands and mine, it isn’t long before we are both stripped down to bare skin. Well, mine is bare because I’m inkfree, but Corrin’s tattoos continue long past his waistline, all the way down to his ankles. And when he was bent over, tugging off his boots, I saw even more flashes of color all over his back.
