"What are you doing? Where are you taking me?"
Dash grunted in frustration. "There's only one way to shut you up."
Her traitorous sex responded to his gruffness, plus the hitch in his breath when his lips slid against hers again. For the second time in one day, Dash's mouth claimed hers in a forceful kiss.
She knew she should not let this continue. But there was something about being back there, in the storeroom, in the dark, with this angry, inexplicably stressed-out man who turned her crank. Also, that day had been the longest fucking Friday in her entire life, and she was bone-deep tired; yet these stolen moments woke her right up. Those juicy lips gave her life.
The two of them wasted no time in sliding their tongues across each other. The warm, wet, urgent kiss spiked all of Harper's feelings. Her stomach fluttered. Her heart pounded. Her palms itched to grab him and yank him closer. Her legs wanted to climb him like a tree. But she didn't know if that's what he was trying to get to at the moment. She wondered how they had jumped from apologizing to arguing again to kissing in the storeroom. But after that day, she needed the physical outlet. Harper craved someone and something familiar. But he knew her and understood her. He accepted her exactly as she was, even if he didn't like her nosy behavior.
The kissing felt like a reminder of all of that. Dash smelled like stale beer, and his beard needed some serious moisturizing, but everything about it felt strangely right.
The kissing felt like coming home.
Her hands traveled over his shoulders, neck, and everywhere else as the kissing carried on. He groaned softly into her mouth when her hands grazed his chest.
Dash's hands had been cupping her head but then moved down to hold on to her hips. He pulled her in tight against him, and the warmth of his body radiated into hers.
The temperature in the room seemed to rise and kept rising the longer they kissed. Soon, Dash had Harper pressed so close she could once again feel his erection. Her mind told her hands to reach down and touch it. Her body ached for his hands to touch her everywhere.
The excitement went through the roof when she realized Dash was going to try to touch her breasts. His hands seemed to hesitate as they massaged her somewhere around her ribcage.
She didn't know why he should hesitate. From her understanding, the bouncers made out with people at work all the time.
Harper pulled away from the kiss. "Is this happening? At your work?"
Dash only answered with a "Yup. Unless you want me to stop."
She shook her head and said, "No. Keep going."
Dash wasted no time after that. He caressed her breast; the contact made her gasp, and he groaned in pleasure. She understood that reaction. Her tits weren't huge, but they were pleasant to touch. Even Harper herself enjoyed feeling them when she masturbated; she couldn't remember the last time someone else had manhandled them.
When Dash's thumb grazed her nipple, her body twitched, spiking his intensity into another level. He pressed her against a pallet of boxes, driving his pelvis against hers.
His tongue dove in deeply, then pulled out seductively, daring hers to follow.
He planted one hand on her ribs and the other in her hair, cupping the back of her head. It would almost seem sweet if it weren't clear he was using that as a support to drive his tongue farther down her throat. Not that she minded.
God, how long had it been? Who was she kidding? Nobody had ever touched her like that. She was no virgin, but heavy petting in the past was a means to an end. Dash kissed and touched her like he was sending a message. And that message was "Mine."
God, she wanted that hand on her ribs to go back up and do what came naturally.
As if he read her mind, he was back to cupping her breast, this time squeezing it in response to her sudden intake of breath. He coaxed out her nipple with the strumming of his fingers, provoking an audible moan from her.
She'd refused to let herself moan until now, even though every cell in her body needed that release. When she had no will left to hold back, she sighed, and her noises released a floodgate of passion in Dash. Suddenly her legs were wrapped around him, and together they jostled the pallet. Their tongues continued their mad, erotic dance, lashing each other in deep, wet kisses.
He drove his pelvis against hers; through their jeans, she felt his arousal. The hard rod in there was because of her. Her? Wow.
Then she had the thought, Are we going to do it, right here in the storeroom? Was that what he meant to her? Was that what she meant to him? Did she care? Harper rolled her hips into his, and he pulled away from the kiss.
Dash stared at her so intensely, his eyes could have lit up the room with their fire.
He wanted her to see his face when he smashed into her like that. He moved his hips slowly. Almost filthily. He wanted her to feel every inch of him.
Harper fisted the front of his tee-shirt. When he responded by emitting a guttural growl, she asked, "Sorry, did I pinch you?"
"Yeah. Do it again."
Heat crackled through her. She was relieved it was so dark in that room so he couldn't see her blushing. With her hands on his chest, she squeezed again, more demandingly, gathering more material into her fist. Dash growled again and rolled so firmly into her pelvis she felt the friction of his body against her clit.
"Lynwood Dashell Fitzgerald."
She knew she shouldn't use his full name like that; he hated it. But she was dead curious about the physiological reaction. The way he reacted to her aggression fascinated her.
His vocal response came through gritted teeth. Harper could almost see the way his
