My cock hardened impossibly more, twitching in my grip, and the possessiveness surging through me shocked the hell out of me. I wanted her like I'd never wanted anyone—mine, in every way. But first things first.
I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her panties and tugged them down, slow enough to tease us both. She lifted her hips to help, and as the fabric slid away, I got my first full look at her—pink and glistening, swollen from her own touch.
Beautiful.
I dropped to my knees between her legs, the floor hard against my shins, but I didn't care. Leaning in, I dragged my tongue through her folds, tasting her sweetness, salty and warm.
She gasped, a muffled "Oh God" that she bit back, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle it. I worked her with my mouth—circling her clit, dipping inside, sucking gently—watching her face the whole time.
Her eyes squeezed shut again, brows furrowing in pleasure, and I saw her reach behind her back, unclasping her bra with trembling fingers. It fell away, revealing perfect, full breasts, nipples already peaked and hard. She cupped them, thumbs brushing over the tips, pinching lightly as she arched into my mouth.
Sighs escaped her—whimpered breaths, quiet moans she tried to swallow, aware of the empty diner just beyond the door but too lost to care.
"Conner… yes… like that," she whispered, her voice breaking on a gasp.
I didn't stop until she gasped, her thighs clamping around my ears, body shuddering as she came on my tongue. Her fingers twisted in my hair, pulling just enough to sting, and those muted cries—high and breathy—filled the room like music.
When her tremors eased, I stood, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, my cock straining toward her. I positioned the tip at her entrance, slick and ready, and met her gaze. "I'll go slow," I promised, voice rough with need. "Tell me if it hurts."
She nodded, but then her eyes softened. "Kiss me first."
The words hit me like a spark. We hadn't even kissed yet—she'd come twice, opened herself up to me in ways I could barely process—and here we were, on the edge.
I leaned in, capturing her mouth with mine. It was electric, instant fire—her lips soft and yielding, tasting like coffee and desire. Our tongues met, slow at first, then deeper, hungrier, as if we'd been waiting for this all night.
As the kiss built, she wrapped her legs around my waist, heels digging into my back, and pulled me forward. I slid into her—just the tip at first—and she gasped against my mouth, a sharp intake of breath laced with pain.
"Wait," I said, pulling back slightly, though every instinct screamed to thrust deeper. "Easy, baby. We've got time."
We went slow after that, inch by inch, her tightness gripping me like a vice, hot and perfect. She reached between us, fingers circling her clit again, and I watched it all—her hand moving in tight little strokes, breasts bouncing gently with each shallow thrust, nipples dark and begging. I ran my thumbs over them, rolling and pinching, drawing out those quiet, desperate sounds from her throat, her teeth sinking into her lower lip to muffle them.
"God, you're so tight," I growled low, keeping my voice hushed but filthy. "So wet for me. Look at you, taking my cock like you were made for it. You're fucking beautiful, Kameron—every inch of you."
Her eyes locked on mine, hazy with lust, skin flushed and glowing under the dim office light. She moved with me, hips rocking tentatively at first, then bolder, her free hand clutching my shoulder, nails biting in. The sounds between us were intimate, subdued—the wet slide of our bodies, her ragged breaths mixing with my groans, all of it whispering against the storm outside.
She came first, just like I wanted—her inner walls pulsing around me, a choked cry escaping as she arched, fingers frantic on her clit. "Conner… oh fuck… yes…"
That sent me over the edge. I thrust deep one last time, burying myself inside her as the orgasm hit—powerful, blinding, ripping through me like nothing I'd ever felt. A low groan tore from my throat, muffled against her neck, my body shuddering as wave after wave emptied me.
When it finally faded, I stayed there a moment, forehead pressed to hers, both of us panting. Regret hit soft but sure—weweren't in a bed, tangled under blankets where I could hold her close and drift off with her in my arms. That wouldn’t happen tonight, unfortunately.
"Get dressed," I said, pulling out with a reluctant groan. "Come out when you're ready." I stepped back, grabbing my clothes from the floor and tugging them on quickly—boxers, pants, shirt—before slipping out the door.
The dining room was still empty, the blizzard howling outside like it had no intention of stopping. I headed to one of the bigger booths in the corner—the kind with cushioned benches long enough to stretch out on.
I grabbed some spare tablecloths from the storage closet—clean, soft enough to makeshift a bed—and layered them over the seat, making the bench something she could curl up on.
The office door creaked open a few minutes later. Kameron stepped out, fully dressed again, her hair finger-combed back into some semblance of order. She looked softer now, the sharp edges of her manager persona smoothed away.
When she saw what I'd done with the booth, she stopped. "What's this?"
"Best I could do." I gestured toward the makeshift bed. "Not exactly the Ritz, but the cushions are decent. You should get some sleep."
She walked over slowly, trailing her fingers along the edge of the tablecloth. "What about you?"
"I'll keep watch." I nodded toward the booth across from hers. "Someone needs to stay up in case we get visitors. Might as well be me."
For a moment, I thought she'd argue. That stubborn streak I'd seen earlier—the one that insisted on handling everything herself—flickered in her eyes. But exhaustion won out. She sank onto the cushioned bench, tucking her legs up and settling her head on the folded tablecloth pillow.
