Valentine's in the Club by Megan Slayer Page A

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