Valentine's in the Club
Valentines in the Club
by
Megan Slayer
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Valentine’s in the Club © 2013 Megan Slayer
Editor: Katriena Knights
Cover Art: Marteeka Karland
Books are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving eBooks is a copyright infringement.
Contents
“Men are pigs and Valentine’s Day sucks.” Morgan yanked the door open to Club56. “Happy Valentine’s day to me.”
Of all the times to come to work on her off day. Lacey swore the best guys hung out at X. Free drinks and sexy men on the dance floor. Bullshit. Morgan knew who frequented the club. Assholes who didn’t always pay their tab, grabby-handed men who wanted a quick fuck, and guys already hooked up with dates.
“Morgan, you’re thinking way too hard.” Lacey grinned and flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Let’s have fun.”
Fun. Morgan groaned. “You have fun. I’m out of here.” She loved her best friend, but damn. They were polar opposites. Lacey embodied beach beauty. Not Morgan. Too much booty and too many curves. She shook her head. Fuck it.
“Morgan?”
She knew that voice. Trip. What a time to run into her boss. She didn’t bother to turn around. “Hey, Trip.”
“You’re here on your day off.” Trip touched her shoulder, then rested one hand on the bar beside her. His blue eyes sparkled and the scruff on his cheeks shone in the glittering lights. “You never come here when you’re not working. Might give me the idea you like being here.”
His gravelly voice, spoken right in her ear, sent shivers down her spine. Well, shit. Talk about walking sex. Muscles where a guy should be chiseled and with a smile to melt the iciest heart. He’d been the reason she stuck around. That and she loved looking at his ass.
“I don’t like being here. But Lacey wanted to dance. I trust the bouncers here more than I do over at the Graphite Club.” She kept her gaze on the dancers. If she looked at Trip, she’d lose her reputation for being an ice queen.
“Lacey? Carmona? She can hold her own. She’s probably already broken the hearts of half the men out there.” Trip pointed to Lacey, who was grinding her ass against a dark-haired man. “Want to dance?”
“No.” Who was she kidding? She wanted to dance, and with Trip, but fuck. The last time she’d let go and offered her heart, she’d ended up paying the damn price.
“You’ll do anything to push people away, won’t you?” Trip rose to his full height, then grabbed her hand. “Come on.”
“Where the hell do you think we’re going?” Morgan braced her feet. “I am not going anywhere with you.”
“You’re pissed and hurting.” His blue eyes blazed, and his warm breath feathered on her cheeks. She noticed the freckles sprinkled on his nose. Since when had he sprouted freckles? And why was she looking?
“Lacey said you were upset, but I never expected you to be this upset.” Trip wrapped an arm around her. He tugged her across the room, through the throng of sweaty bodies to his office. What did he want? To stretch her across his desk for a quickie? Hot sex against the wall while the dancers partied, oblivious, on the other side? Her pussy quivered, and she pressed her knees together.
Trip McDivott served as the principal player in all her naughty fantasies. Now he wanted her alone in his office. If she wasn’t mistaken, she could’ve sworn she heard Lacey giggle over the thundering dance music. The cooler air of his office slapped her back to reality. This was her boss. She shouldn’t imagine him wanting her for anything other than as an employee.
Fucking cruel Valentine’s Day strikes again.
“Trip, let go of me. I’m here for fun, not so we can have a staff meeting.” She nudged him away from her, only to have him hold her tighter. “Trip, don’t make me bust your balls.”
He shut the door with one hand, then turned on her. “We need to talk.”
Trip groaned and let go of her. He thrust his fingers into his hair and paced to work off the frustration. She’d drive him to drink. Morgan Price hardly understood her effect on men. Lush curves in all the right places, breasts to make a man’s mouth water, and that smile. Always a twinkle in her dark eyes. He imagined running his fingers over her ebony skin until she begged him to spread her open on his desk.
Speaking of his desk, what a mess. Trip spread his arm out over the clutter on his desk and shoved. Papers flew in the air, the telephone thunked on the carpet, and the lamp tipped, shining yellow light up at him.
Her eyes widened and she jumped back. “Trip. What the hell are you thinking?”
Her nipples pebbled under the flimsy fabric of her halter top, and her breaths accentuated her problem. She licked her lips again, giving them a slick sheen. God, he wanted to taste her.
“I said we need to talk.” He rested his hands on the now-empty desk top. “I need a partner.”
“This is sexual harassment or something.” She rolled her eyes and cocked her hip. Her gigantic, gold, hoop earrings glinted in the lamp light. “Seriously, what are you thinking?”
She wanted to know? Fine. Trip stalked around the table, then pinned her between his body and the wall. “I’m thinking I can’t stand seeing you sashay around my dance club in those tight little shorts and tank tops and not want to bend you over my knee.”
Morgan flattened her palms on his chest, but didn’t shove him away. Her lips opened and closed like she wanted to say something, but no sound came out.
“Sue me or whatever, but I want you.” He situated his knee between her thighs. Morgan slipped down onto his leg and rubbed. Tiny moans erupted from her throat. Just as he’d suspected—she wanted him as much as he needed her.
“We can’t, Trip,” she whispered. “I work for you. We’re friends, and this will go to hell if we screw around.”
“Don’t care.” Rational thought left his mind. No matter the cost, he needed her. Now. Trip buried his face against her neck and breathed in the soft, sandalwood scent of her perfume. “Fuck.”
Morgan shivered beneath him and tipped her head back.
Perfect invitation. “I want you,” he mumbled against her skin. Each taste, each touch made him realize he couldn’t turn back.
“Trip.” She threaded her arms around him. “We can’t do this.”
His ire rose. “Morgan, I mean it.” He caged her face in his hands and rested his forehead on hers. “I dream about you. Crave you. I’ve listened to you and know you better than you think. This feels crazy to you, doesn’t it? Giving up control and giving me a chance? I’m not just some guy.”
“Prove it.” She situated her hand between their bodies to caress his cock through his jeans. The button popped and she unzipped him, freeing him from the denim.
He groaned and fastened his lips to hers. She intoxicated him. The heat from her touch and the taste of her kiss fuzzed his thoughts.
Without breaking the connection, Trip hiked her skirt past her hips and tugged the thin strip of lace covering her pussy. The panties gave way, baring her lower body to him. Raw need and desire coursed through his veins.
“Trip,” she groaned. She wrapped her leg around his hip and whimpered. “More.”
“Yeah.” He hoisted her into his arms, then pinned her between his body and the wall. She pressed her breasts to his chest and rubbed her pussy on his cock. The lubrication between them spurred him on.
“So wet.” Trip nipped her skin, kissing her lips, cheeks, chin, then burying his face against her neck again. “I need to be inside you.”
“So do it.” Morgan rocked her hips. His cock slid over her cunt lips.
“Fuck.” Trip carried her to his desk. “I need to taste you.” He settled in his chair and opened her to his appraisal. The soft mocha of her nether lips glittered with her juices. “Damn.” He dragged his tongue over the soft silk of her pussy. “So good.” Her taste intoxicated him.
“Trip.” Morgan reached for him and threaded her fingers into his hair. “Oh.”
He grinned against her labia. God, he loved to hear her pleased. He rubbed his fingers over the waxed softness above her pussy—like silk. Sweat glistened on her lower belly, making her skin shine like rich mahogany. He inserted one finger into her sweet channel, thrilled when she groaned and rocked on his hand. He added another finger, smearing her juices over her labia and his lips. Her tiny moans filled the air. Yeah, he loved this. Loved her.
With his fingers in her cunt, he buried his face in her nether lips, licking and tasting her. Memorizing her. He nipped her inner thigh, then turned his attention to her clit, rolling the tiny bundle of nerves between his teeth. He grinned when she cried out and her grip on his hair tightened.
Her nails bit into his scalp. “Trip. More.” Her boots clicked on the drawer handles of his desk as she wriggled for purchase on his desktop.
“Yes, babe.” He sucked on her clit and pumped his fingers in her channel.
“Fuck.” She writhed under his touch. “Close.” Her chest heaved, and her hips bucked off the table.