Yep, when. Why even lie? You know where this is going to go. And you know it’s where you want it to go.
When we pulled up to Reapers, Connor did something that practically sent me over the edge.
He reached out and took my hand.
It was a small gesture, and it wasn’t like it was accompanied by some sweet or seductive line. His hand was vibrating from having been on the bike, and it was pretty well calloused as well, so it wasn’t the smoothest surface that I had ever grabbed.
But it was indicative of how he felt. Not standoffish. Not judgmental. Not quietly fearful.
But into me. Interested. Curious.
And when we got into the bar and ordered our first round of drinks, I already knew I was sleeping with Connor again that night. The only real question was…
“So I got a proposition for you,” I said as I came up to him and whispered into his ear. “You know, I know your two favorite things are fighting and fucking, right?”
“Uh-huh, it’s Garrett’s line, but I agree with it.”
“Well, I know you’ve already fought in here,” I said. “Don’t you want to say you have done both?”
Connor looked at me with a light in his eye.
“I knew that you being as straightforward as you are would turn into a benefit at some point,” he said as he pulled me in for a kiss.
“There’s a private bathroom here,” I said. “I’ll go in, and you follow me.”
It was so dangerous.
But that was exactly why I liked it. It wasn’t what the good girls did. It wasn’t what the quiet ones did.
It was what the daring ones did. And Connor, with everything that he had done for me, deserved to have something fun and daring go his way.
I walked into the private bathroom and looked around. It was sparkling clean, the kind of place that the bar probably locked once the place got crowded. Seconds later, Connor walked in.
And when I turned around and saw that primal look in his eyes, the look that said I was his and there was nothing I could do about it, I got soaking wet. I wanted to jump on him, wrap my legs around him, and pull him as deep as I could into me.
“Lock it,” I said, growling with anticipation.
Connor did so without ever breaking eye contact with me. He grabbed my hands, pinned them against the wall, and pressed his entire body into mine.
“Oh, fuck,” I said as he moved his lips from mine to my neck, biting with the aggression of a man who could not contain himself. “Take me, Connor.”
His hands went inside of my jeans and pressed down, not even bothering to remove the belt buckle. There was nothing done slowly at this point; I had nothing on in seconds, and I felt so exposed and so craven for his cock. I reached down desperately, more trying to snatch than grab in control.
He reached his hands up under my shirt and under my bra, squeezing my breasts. I tried to bite my lip to avoid sounding too loud, but at this point, I couldn’t even bring myself to care. If the entire bar knew what we were doing, tough; I didn’t get to be someone who controlled a gas station by being afraid of what people thought of me.
Finally, I found his belt buckle and started to take it off, but his hands on my breasts were making it quite difficult. Then he slid a hand to my pussy and stuck two fingers in, and I had to stop as I closed my eyes and just let the feeling wash over me. The warmth, the tension, the desire…
Holy fuck.
No one had ever made me feel this much in heat. Not only was Connor unique as a bad boy who actually had depth, he also got me sexually fired up like no one else ever had. It was unfair, really—how was I supposed to return the favor if he was able to make me feel this good?
I started to feel myself clenching closer and closer to a climax. Connor assisted me in getting his pants off, and I started stroking his enormously thick cock, but it wasn’t like I was consciously thinking about stroking him to orgasm. I was so close myself, I…
So close…
I…
Oh, fuck!
