Greer shrugs against my chest as we step inside the elevator and the silver doors glide closed. “He sucked. I’m glad I didn’t let him fuck me in the ass. He could have that redheaded ho for that.”
“Whoa. What?”
She looks up at me, blinking. “That’s what I walked in on. Him fucking a redhead in the ass. She was actually quite polite about the whole thing. Told me I should’ve just let him have at it because you could hardly tell.” She lowers her voice to a stage whisper. “He suffered from pencil-dick-itis. I only got off if I got myself off. God, that’s pathetic.”
Well, at least I know I’ve got that fucker beat in more than one department. There’s nothing pencil-like about my dick, and I know how to make Greer come.
“And you stayed with him because . . .” I let my question trail off. I don’t want to talk about this prick, but my curiosity is strong.
Greer shifts in my hold as the elevator slows to a stop and the doors slide open. Her voice is quiet when she finally answers. “I don’t give up. I’m not a quitter. I thought it would get better if I kept working at it. Trying new things. But it didn’t get better. I guess I owe him a thank-you for cutting it off because I didn’t know how to pull the trigger. After I got over the rage and hurt, it was more a relief than anything.”
I hate that she went through that shit, but I’m also really fucking happy she’s not still attached to the guy and nursing a broken heart.
“Anyway, I don’t want to talk about him.” She turns her face up to mine, her lips curving mischievously. “I want to talk about all the dirty things you’re going to do to me, and how hard you’re going to make me come.”
I should be blushing at the things I’m saying to Cav, but something about him destroys my filters. This level of need surging through me is unique to him—totally raw and primal.
I know my words have an effect on Cav because his voice is rough when he says, “Keys, baby. We get inside this apartment, and I’m going to tell you exactly what I’m gonna do to you.”
I dig into the bag slung over my shoulder and fish out my keys. Cav makes short work of getting inside. He doesn’t stop once the door is closed behind us, but instead of heading into the bedroom like I thought he would, he goes toward the kitchen.
“What—”
“No more questions, Greer. I’m going to give you what you want, and you’re gonna love it.”
My feet touch the floor and before I realize what he’s doing, I’m spinning around and bending until my forehead touches the bar level of my countertop.
Cav wraps my hands around the edges. “Don’t let go.” He leans close, his big body covering mine as he speaks low into my ear. “You’re not going to let go until you’ve come at least twice, and even then, not until I say. Yesterday was just a warm-up, baby girl. It’s time for you to understand exactly what I like.”
Shivers ripple across my skin, and my nipples harden against the cool granite. Heat pools between my legs, and I’m on edge waiting for him. I was perfectly honest in the car earlier; I’m drunk enough to lose my inhibitions, but not too drunk not to know what I’m doing and appreciate it.
Tonight in the bar, his presence reinforced something I knew three years ago—Cav is more man than any I’ve ever met.
He steps back, separating the press of his body from mine, but his hands never leave me. Starting at my fingertips, which are wrapped around the edge of the counter, he drags his palms down my arms, pulling up the sleeves of my light sweater.
“Softest skin I’ve ever touched. Like silk.” His voice is husky and every word sounds like a revelation. “This is coming off.”
He grasps the sweater at the hem and peels it up my torso, and I lift just enough for him to slide it the rest of the way free. Underneath it I have nothing but a bra. Lacy and black, with an array of straps at the back forming a starburst pattern.
“Every damn thing about you screams expensive. It doesn’t matter what you wear, what you do, how you do it, you’re all class.” His lips press to my shoulder. “And you’re all mine. You’re gonna be my dirty girl.”
Another round of shivers skate down my spine as goose bumps rise along my skin. I’ve been waiting years for this moment, and I’m going to enjoy it completely.
Cav smooths his hands down my sides until he reaches my waist. My black skirt isn’t indecently short, but it’s not exactly long either. It’s a kilt style, and when Cav unhooks the fastenings, it drops away. The cheeky panties I have on beneath leave enough to the imagination not to be scandalous if a gust of wind happens to blow up my skirt. I think about these things because it has totally happened to me in the city more than once.
“Next time you wear this skirt with me, you’re not wearing panties, and I’m going to make you come while we’re in a room full of people.”
I arch into the palm of his hand as it cups my ass. The heat disappears and a sharp crack against my left cheek comes next.
I gasp in shock, but Cav silences me.
“Quiet. That’s me showing you what’s gonna happen if you wear this skirt and no panties without me. I’ll lay you out over this counter and spank this perfect little ass until you understand that it belongs to me and only me.”
I should rail against his caveman comment, but I can’t. My panties, the ones he’s trailing a finger along the edge of, are soaked.
I’ve read books about men like this. Dominant ones who take what they want and give mind-blowing orgasms to their women, but the overabundance of stuffed-shirt bankers and lawyers in my life made me believe they didn’t actually exist. But they do. And one is sliding my panties down over my ass and letting them drop to the floor.