Crave

1 Cameron Parker shaded her eyes against the bright lights that splashed against the wall of the smoke-filled punk club. She was in the very back, tucked against the wall near the door. The floor of the club slanted down to the stage, so Cam had a good view. Not that she was finding who she sought. She was looking for her friend Liz, who’d sworn to meet her. She’d come here a few times with friends, but never alone. Cam checked her phone, ignoring a deluge of texts and emails. They were work, and she’d promised herself a night of fun before her new assignment started. It was 10:10. Liz was late, as usual. Cam looked around at the crush of people in the room and wished she were somewhere else. It was loud as hell in here, although the band wasn’t playing. Raucous music seeped out of crappy speakers, making it impossible for Cam to call Liz. Cam turned her head and caught a glimpse of herself in the cracked mirror clinging to the club’s wall, segmented and broken-looking. She was tall, whip-thin, and redheaded, wearing lots of dark eyeshadow and a strapless leather dress. The only parts of her face that weren’t covered in glitter were her big blue eyes and soft pink lips. Instead, she wore a ton of smoky eye makeup and lots of lip gloss. The image bobbed in the mirror’s smashed surface, making her look insane. It seemed to fit perfectly with her surroundings. She looked away from the mirror and took a big sip of her drink. She was nervous, being here without a friend. Being a woman alone looked pathetic, but then again that was sort of the whole vibe of this place. Pathetic. She finished her drink and headed for the bar. People swirled around her, and the spot she’d held was immediately absorbed into the crowd. This bar was always busy, despite the lack of servers and seats. If she was going to stay long enough to say hi to Liz, she was going to get another drink. She squeezed in between two big guys, waiting patiently for the bartender to notice her. One of the guys moved. Cam had to do a double take when she saw the man that took his place. Damn. He was huge, at least six foot five, and built of pure muscle. Dressed in a black leather jacket and black jeans. Dark hair, dark blue eyes, tattoos up and down his arms. Hair cut in the popular Peaky Blinders undercut, long on the top and shaved on the sides. But it was really the expression on his face that got her. Something like amusement flitted across his features, but she could tell that there was something raw there. Anger, or self-hatred maybe. She realized she was staring a second before he looked at her, his eyes traveling from her face down to her long legs, then back up to her t**s. Then, he looked her right in the face and smiled. A chill ran through her body at his expression. It was like having a big cat grinning at her, tightly wound and ready to pounce. She blushed and looked down. That didn’t stop him from sliding over to take the spot next to her, though. “Can I buy you a drink?” he asked. He was British, which was something of a shock. His voice was a lovely, velvety purr that matched his looks perfectly. She looked up at him again, a little awestruck. Cam cleared her throat, suddenly nervous, but willed her voice to remain steady. “Sure,” she said. “Whiskey, on the rocks.” He turned to the bar, looking around for the bartender. He waved him down, though the words of his order were lost in the melee all around them. He paid for the drinks, then turned to Cam with the drink dangling from his fingers. “Thanks,” she said. Their fingers touched as she took it. He took a sip of his drink without breaking eye contact. She had to smile, because either the man was a born predator or he did this a lot. Not that she was dissuaded by it. She took a long swallow of her drink, thinking that maybe there was a cosmic reason why Liz hadn’t shown. She wasn’t really the type to take men home, but he was so good looking… “Are you gonna tell me your name?” he asked, arching a brow. His voice was cultured, polished, as if he’d just stepped out of Parliament. And yet, he was here, at a punk rock show. She looked at him with curiosity. “Cameron,” she said. “Cam.” “Smith,” he said. He offered her a hand, which she shook. A thousand tiny spikes of energy crawled over her skin, and it was hard not to look at him with doe eyes. She resisted, though, playing it casual. “So…” she said, reclaiming her hand. “Are you here to see the band?” He shifted, making her all the more aware of his muscles beneath the leather jacket and Death From Above 1979 t-shirt. “The Blinds? I am. The drummer’s a friend of mine,” he said. She didn’t know what to say, so instead she filled the silence with taking another big pull of her drink. At the rate she was going, she was going to be tipsy before she knew it. Cam looked at the ridiculously hot punk rocker, biting her lip. Would it be so bad to let her freak flag fly, just for one night? “You want another drink?” Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome asked. She looked down at the drink in her hands, surprised to find it empty. “Yeah, why not?” she said. “It’s early, right?” He grinned again and waved down the bartender. She took the opportunity to check him out some more. He had a dimple on the right side of his face that flashed when he grinned. And his leather jacket was rolled up at the elbows, revealing strong forearms, veiny and muscular in a way that made her knees weak. She looked away, running her hand down her hip, sheathed in the little leather dress. She had to get up early tomorrow for work. She was starting a new assignment, working undercover at Calloway Corp, posing as a secretary to try to find out if a few financial inconsistencies were just that… or more. But since her last assignment as an investigative reporter had involved discovering -- via telephone call -- what went on at slaughterhouses, she’d promised herself a few days off before starting something new. She worked hard, and deserved every bit of it. The band started assembling onstage as he handed her another drink. They weren’t especially memorable, but the lead singer had bright green hair, pulled into spikes all over his head. Smith started to bob his head in appreciation. She smiled. It was hard not to admire appreciation, especially when it was expressed by someone so damned good looking “Here,” he said, holding his cup up to give a toast. “To new experiences and living every moment to the fullest.” Her lips curled up as she tapped her cup to his, then took a sip. He really was playing with her, teasing her with his salute. One glance at him and she was certain that he’d perfected his moves long ago, the toast merely the beginning of it. Then again, he wasn’t saying much. Maybe his shtick was being good looking and mysterious, then. He was no doubt used to girls nervously standing next to him, looking at him with wide eyes just as she’d done. Maybe it was time that she took control, that she put the moves on him. She had a vague desire to wipe the smirk off his face. Who was to say she couldn’t do that with her mouth? The band started playing, the lights dimming. It was as if it was meant to be. Cam put her drink down and stepped up to him, looking him straight in the eye. He raised his brows, facing her as he set his cup down. Before she could hesitate or flinch, she reached out and grabbed the lapel of his jacket. Gripping him hard, she pulled him down and kissed him. The contact of his lips against her own was like lightning. The sensation crackled along her skin, sent a fission of pleasure down her spine. He seemed surprised by the kiss at first, but after a moment he kissed her back, threading his fingers into her hair. The kiss was like fire, beginning small but growing to a roaring blaze in moments. She slid her arm around his waist and closed the gap between them, her toes curling in her boots. He broke away to kiss her neck. She moaned, a combination of satisfaction and yearning. Her nails dug into the back of his neck. He growled low in his chest. “You are quite a surprise, aren’t you?” he ground out. She didn’t answer, just kissed him again, hard. Her tongue clashed with his, a war between them that they both enjoyed. When she pulled back and bit his lower lip, he growled again, his hands working down her body. When his hands hit her ass, she worked up the nerve to step back, c*****g her head. “Do you want to… go somewhere?” she asked, enjoying the fact that she was the instigator. “God, yes,” he said. She bit her lip, trying not to grin. She looked at him under her lashes. Something about him screamed TAKE ME HOME. He was a perfect stranger, but she felt somehow that she could trust him. “Good. My apartment is right down the street.” “Lead the way,” he said, inclining his head. Cam grabbed her clutch and wove through the crowd, out into the darkened street. The streetlights were out on the whole block, in fact in most of the neighborhood. It wasn’t exactly the greatest neighborhood, but she made do. Cam lived in a warehouse loft just down the street from here, so she was well aware of the neighborhood’s colorful reputation. “Do we need to grab a car?” he asked as she made her way through the parking lot. “Not really. I live two blocks from here,” she said, moving faster to keep from feeling awkward. “You live here?” he asked, looking askance at the block as she led him down the street. “Yes. Is that a problem?” she said. She eyed him in his punk rock garb. It seemed unlikely that such a big guy would have any problems walking alone at night. “No, just curious.” They turned the corner, and Cam’s apartment loomed. “My apartment’s just right here,” she said, her nerves beginning to show when she dug her keys out. She skipped up the half-dozen steps to her apartment, willing her hands not to shake as she unlocked the door. She felt his eyes all over her body as she got the door open. She threw a glance over her shoulder as she let him into the loft, standing aside and locking the door behind him. It was one huge room, all the floors and walls cement, but she’d done her best to glam it up. There were soft rugs everywhere, a lovely L-shaped couch, a femininely decorated kitchen, and delicate Japanese screens dividing off her bedroom. A small office setup sat in one corner, and the bathroom in another. “Nice,” he said, looking around. “It looks like you’ve done well for yourself.” His accent made her shiver all over again. Surely he must know that the accent was a killer. “It’s a work in progress,” she said, dropping her clutch and keys on a side table. “Do you want a drink?” “I can think of things I want more,” he said, smirking as he reached out to snag her waist. He leaned down, seeking her mouth. Cam gave in to him instantly, kissing him back. He pushed her back toward the bedroom, and she went willingly. She wanted him, if his being in her apartment weren’t clear enough. She turned to part the screens of her bedroom, revealing a huge white bed. He followed, kissing her neck. She gasped, feeling herself grow wet. Her p***y clenched with need. He unzipped the back of her dress with nimble fingers, taking his time. She took a breath, letting the dress drop to the floor. She was left bare except for a black lace thong. She closed her eyes, hearing his intake of breath when he saw her like that. “God, you’re f*****g beautiful,” he said, turning her back toward him. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, realizing just then that his eyes were the darkest shade of blue. He palmed both her breasts, weighing them in his hands. She sucked in a breath and shivered at his touch, her n*****s hardening. She reached out and started to undress him, peeling off his jacket. He tugged his shirt over his head, muscles rippling. He was a work of art, all chiseled abs and straining biceps. His tattoos entranced her, although she couldn’t make heads or tails of them in the gloom. It was everything she could do to control herself, not just stand there slack-jawed. The last things to go were his shoes and dark jeans. He shucked his pants and reached for her, but she managed to get a glimpse of his c**k. Apparently he wasn’t merely arrogant, he actually had a huge d**k to back up all his smooth moves. They kissed again, and she led him backward to the bed. When the backs of her knees hit the bed, she melted back onto it. He paused a second, going back and getting something from his wallet. She saw him grasp a shiny foil packet. She approved; if he hadn’t pulled out a condom, she would have. Then he was back on the bed, on top of her. He kissed her deeply, then attended to both breasts, rolling her n*****s around with his tongue. She moaned at the pulse of sensation between her breasts and her p***y, writhing. She wriggled to get her thong off, wanting nothing between her and his c**k. He pulled back for just long enough to get the condom on, then spread her legs. He pressed his c**k against her entrance. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, do it.” He smirked for a moment, then pushed himself into her p***y inch by inch, making her cry out. “You’re so tight,” he said, thrusting again. “Damn.” She wrapped her legs around him as he set a rhythm, moaning at the feel of his c**k going in and out, hitting every single spot that cried out for touch. He was setting her on fire as he worked himself in and out of her p***y. He pulled out, flipping her around so that she was on her knees and elbows. She cried out as he plunged deep inside her again. He wrapped her hair around his fist, pulling gently on it as he f****d her. She came alive with that small bit of pain, pushing back against every thrust, calling out as he worked his c**k in and out. He grunted as he thrust, slipping his hand around and between her legs. He touched her clit, made slippery with her own excitement. He worked in slow circles as his thrusts grew shorter. She could feel the tension in him, feel him winding up, but she was too lost in sensation to care. She was right on the edge, waiting to fall from the precipice. He pinched her clit, adding a little pain to her pleasure, and she exploded. Her body spasmed as she came, her mind blanking as she was overcome with pleasure, the slick slide of it. He stiffened and came with a groan, thrusting into her. He collapsed beside her, and she lay on her side, struggling to breathe. Her mind was totally blown, but she didn’t say anything to him. He apparently didn’t feel like talking either, because he was silent. He took the condom off, but where he put it she didn’t know. She felt her eyes growing heavy, but she didn’t feel comfortable falling asleep with him here. She was about to roll over and tell him to leave, but she felt him rise from the bed. She stayed still, waiting to see what he would do. He didn’t waste any time getting dressed. When he was ready, he stood for a second and stared over at her body. He hesitated, as if he weren’t used to this part. What, he wasn’t used to sneaking out on girls he’d hooked up with? She would’ve rolled her eyes if she wasn’t pretending to be asleep. After a moment, he turned and left her room. She listened intently for sounds of him going through her stuff. It wouldn’t be the first time that she’d exercised poor judgment in guys, although she didn’t usually hook up with random guys. Let alone bring them home... The sound of the front door closing made her sit up. Apparently she’d picked the only punk rocker who wasn’t hard up enough for cash that he’d at least rifle through her things when he thought she was asleep. She looked at her bedside table, at the clock. It was still only twelve. She closed her eyes, smiling to herself. Tonight was fun, if nothing else. A good way to blow off steam before her new assignment. She drifted off, content in her post-coital bliss.