Temptation In Texas: Mike and Megan (2 page)

She turned away and hadn't taken two steps
when a large, male hand fell on her wrist and held her
immobile.

"Just a minute." The words were a demand and
shock slithered down her spine as she looked down and saw that
rough, tanned hand wrapped all the way around her wrist. The bottom
fell from her stomach as she lifted her face and saw the dark,
velvet brown eyes watching her.

She glanced down at her wrist again and she
pulled slightly to test the strength of his hold. It didn't lessen.
This time, her eyes flew to his. She pulled again. "C-can I help
y-you with some--something, s-sir?"

"Yes, you can." His voice was deep. "Megan,
right?" His gaze lowered to her name tag and back again.

"Y-yes," she whispered.

Megan's heartbeat accelerated as she
valiantly tried to hold eye contact and not lower her lashes. She
stood in his grasp, riveted as the provocative effect of his
scrutiny slid down her spine and made her tingle all over.

"Megan, this is going to sound like a line
sweetheart, but I think you've got to be the prettiest woman I've
ever seen." His words held a hint of amusement, at her or himself
for saying it, she didn't know. Nonetheless, she gasped at the over
the top compliment.

She tugged slightly on her arm as she
replied, "Thank y-you."

He held tight. "You're not married, are you?"
When she shook her head minutely, he continued, "Boyfriend?"

Megan tried to think as his thumb began
caressing her wrist and the bottom of her palm. She remembered her
new resolve and for the first time in six years, answered,
"N-no."

His stance seemed to ease, and his deep voice
continued, "Good. I don't poach on another man's property."

"I'm no one's property." As their eyes
tangled, the arm that held her wrist snaked around her back and
caught her in a fierce hold, imprisoning her.

He lifted her chin with his hand and pulled
her torso up into him. "That's good to know, sweetheart. And just
for the record, I don't want to own you, I just want to sleep with
you."

Megan's mind shut down completely as his lips
closed over hers and his scent invaded her senses. His tongue
pushed inside, and he began moving his mouth on her in a way that
Megan had only ever read about in romance novels. His hand left her
chin, and landed on her upper arm, gripping her in a clasp so
strong she couldn't begin to contest it.

She hung in his arms and fought for oxygen as
his mouth devoured hers. She lost all sense of time, of her job,
and of the fact that anyone could walk in on them at any moment.
His hand left her arm and moved between them to encircle a
breast.

Her breathing intensified at the intimate
touch.

He pushed his hand into the low cut bodice of
her shirt, and pushed her bra down as he claimed her naked breast.
He found her nipple and rolled it between his thumb and finger.
Arrows of strong arousal hit her and had her pushing against him,
even while she began to try to get away from him.

She broke her mouth free from his and began
taking large gulps of much needed oxygen. "Stop. Stop.
Some--someone will come back here."

He raised his head and still holding her arm
behind her back, pulled her with him into the men's room and pushed
her against the closed door.

He let go of her wrist and caged her between
his arms, his head lowering and taking her mouth again. His tongue
moved in and pulled out, he held it rigid, and mimicked the act of
sex. Shock slid down her spine from the blatant carnality of the
kiss. Never in her life had she experienced anything like it.

His hand moved down and quickly claimed her
naked breast again. Megan felt everything happening as if it was an
out of body experience, or like it was happening to someone else.
The shock somewhat lessened the excitement, and she hung in his
arms, trying to savor the delicious danger of the provocative
tryst.

His hand left her breast, and moved to push
up her skirt. He slid her panties aside, and with a pang of shock
she felt herself raining liquid fire on his hand. He played with
her clit for a few seconds, and then purposely slid his long finger
up and all the way into her.

Megan squirmed as shock evaporated and lust
hit her as she felt her internal muscles clamp down on that finger.
He moved it in and out, and maneuvered the bottom of his palm to
press on her clit. He lowered his head and bit down on her
nipple.

All at once, Megan knew she was about to
come, and tried to fight it. Rational or irrational, fear slid down
her system as she realized she didn't even know his name. His hand
moved away from her briefly and he began to undo his fly.

It was like a cold douche of water in her
face, and all the impetus she needed to get away from him. My God,
she was at work!

His hold loosened just enough to work at his
zipper, Megan was able to move away from him enough to start
pushing her clothes back in order. "No. No. No, I--I don't even
know your name!"

Mike abandoned the task of getting his pants
undone, and wrapped his arms around her again to stop her retreat.
"My name's Michael, baby. Michael Sullivan. You can call me Mike or
Michael or whatever the fuck pleases you, but come back here."

He held her uncompromisingly as he pushed her
skirt up again, and that quickly moved his hand between her
thighs.

Megan stiffened. "No. No. I'm not having sex
with a stranger in the men's bathroom where I work and then never
seeing you again. No. No.No--"

"Shhh, babe. You're going to see me again.
Tonight. You're coming home with me, and we're going to do this all
fucking night long." His finger slid into her and she moaned at the
same time she tried to push away. Her arms had no strength in them,
and the attempt to get away was weak.

"N-no. You're lying. You're lying to me. You
just want to do it to me now and then never see me again."

Mike assimilated the way she
said
do it to me
instead of
fuck me
. All the woman he knew threw the
f
bomb
around like it was nothing. He
realized he needed to calm her down, and soothe her before she
bolted completely.

He lowered his head to her neck, and with
enough force to hold her in place, but not to hurt her, he gently
bit down. With one hand still between her legs, he took his wallet
out of his pocket with the other.

He lifted his head from her neck and kissed
her again, all the while manipulating her between the thighs.

Megan was silently losing her mind as she
felt the dark swirl of desire clamp down on her. She needed to
move. She needed to come. But she was so scared. And then he began
talking to her with soothing sounds.

Megan felt his hand come up between them as a
flat piece of plastic was pushed into her bra.

"That's my debit-card, babe. You hold onto it
tonight. I don't know what else I can do to prove to you that this
isn't a one-off." Megan's body was ready to take any excuse it
could find to let her have an outlet for the sexual urgency
screaming through her.

He began undoing his fly again as he
continued, "It's not a credit card, babe. It's my debit-card and
there's over a hundred grand in that account." She hung in shock as
he rolled a condom on. "Trust me, babe, as pretty as you are and as
angelic as you seem, I'm not letting you out of my sight with that
card."

He ruthlessly lifted her and draped her legs
over his thighs as he moved the head of his penis to her wet
opening. He lifted her chin and stared into her eyes as he began
pushing inside. His voice lowered, a growled confession coming from
his throat. "You've got me by the balls, babe."

She was as tight as he thought she would be,
and he had to stop and adjust his hold on her, then continued to
push into her.

Megan's lids began to drop over her eyes as
felt herself begin the slide into sweet oblivion.

He pulled back and nudged her chin up. "No.
Leave them open. If you get a promise from me, then I get to see
you come."

Megan opened her eyes to the dark brown
beauty of his. His next thrust stretched her completely and took
him deep. God, he felt wonderful in her. He was so big, and the
sexiness of the situation brought liquid heat from her and she
heard him groan in response. She felt herself sliding over the edge
as he began hammering at her. His groan mingled with her moan, and
as they held each other's eyes, she began to come. She let out a
low, keening sound, and felt him swell even bigger inside her. Her
muscles began to milk him, and she flew over the sun.

****

Later that night, Mike sat
at the bar in the restaurant and waited for Megan's shift to be
over. His sister and the boys had left a little while ago, and he
nursed his second beer of the night. His brain was still a little
fucked up from the memory of his orgasm.
Jesus Christ
, it had been good. He
wanted it again. He watched the object of his sudden obsession
moving around the restaurant, occasionally finding him with the
emerald intensity of her eyes.

Yeah, he was going to take her home with him
tonight.

From across the room, she bent and lowered
her tray to a table. The curve of her sweet little ass had his body
shifting on the barstool and the testosterone rising in his blood.
His jaw clenched in need as he prepared for the almost unendurable
wait to take her home and get her butt-ass naked in his bed.

****

Two long, painful hours later, Mike leaned
against the entrance door and waited while Megan got her purse. Few
words had been spoken between them, but burning, searing looks had
passed like a live current from his eyes to hers all evening. His
hands itched to get her in his grasp, and he just wanted to get her
the fuck away from the restaurant so he could have her undivided
attention. She'd been so hot in the men's room, almost naïve about
what they were doing, that his body had to physically fight his own
arousal now as he watched her walk out the front door and
hesitantly move toward him.

"Ready, Megan?" His voice was deep, gravelly
in response to her presence.

Megan ran her tired eyes over the masculine
form leaning against the building studying her. Did all men in
Texas wear boots? Sure, she saw boys in tennis shoes all the time,
but so many of the men wore boots. It didn't seem to matter if they
were in jeans, dress pants or even a suit, most of the men here
wore boots. And the trucks. She'd seen it on television, but hadn't
really believed there could possibly be so many pick-up trucks on
the road. It didn't matter if you were in a city as cosmopolitan as
Houston or even Dallas, the standard vehicle was the Ford F-250.
She watched him leaning there, in his boots, like he was God's gift
to women, and she was sure he fully expected her to climb into his
vehicle.

As she walked over to him, his impressive
height made her lick her suddenly dry lips. He was so tall, she
wondered how their bodies had managed to align earlier. She vaguely
remembered him picking her feet off the floor and holding her
suspended and a shiver of excitement coursed through her veins.
Excitement and trepidation.

Should she get in his vehicle? She'd already
had sex with him once that night, but she didn't know him. Could
she trust him not to harm her? She wouldn't have any protection
against him if he suddenly turned on her.

As she got closer, his body unfolded and he
stood to his full height. Megan sucked in a breath as he reached
over and took her hand. His fingers entwined with hers, and he
leaned down and took her lips in a quick, searing, closed-mouth
kiss.

He began pulling her along behind him, and
headed to the darkened parking lot. The restaurant was closed and
all the wait staff were leaving. Few vehicles were left scattered
in the large parking lot.

Sure enough, he led her over to a brand new,
sexy, black pick-up truck. He deactivated the locking system, and
opened the passenger door for her. He held her hand as she stepped
onto the running board and then into the truck.

The door shut behind her. She let out a shaky
breath. The decision was made. She was going with him. She briefly
closed her eyes and prayed she made the right choice.

Fifteen minutes later, they were driving
north on I-75, headed into Plano. He didn't speak much too her, but
kept sending smoldering glances her way. A current of sensation
steadily buzzed through her as anticipation held her.

Soon, they were pulling into a newer suburban
neighborhood and he was turning the truck into a driveway as the
automatic doors went up and he eased inside. The doors closed
behind them, and she was locked inside the garage with only a dim
light coming from the small fixture on the ceiling.

He cut the engine and turned his eyes to her.
His hand lifted toward her face, then paused in mid-air. He balled
his fingers into a fist, and dropped it back down. When he spoke,
his voice was guttural. "I can't touch you yet. If I do, your
panties are going to be off in five seconds, and I'll end up
screwing you in the truck."

Her eyes flared wide.

"Unless you want that?"

Megan shook her head in a small negative
movement.

"Okay. Let's go inside." His words were
abrupt, his manner more so as he opened his door with quick,
mechanical movements and walked around and had her out of the
vehicle in seconds. He led her to the door that connected directly
into his kitchen. The room was large, with an island in the middle
and a breakfast room adjacent.

Megan struggled for control of her emotions,
and found her manners. "You have a really nice house." It was the
truth, it was decorated beautifully, if a bit coldly. As they
walked through to the living room, the colors were dramatic, the
furniture was new, but there were no mementos, no pictures, or
anything to show what kind of person lived there.