On Dublin Street (On Dublin Street 1)

I struggled to process it, the blood still whooshing in my ears.

Braden jerked Adam’s hands off him.

“You alright, bud?” Adam asked him.

Instead of answering, Braden’s eyes slid to me. His arm shot out and he grabbed my wrist, pulling me as he spun around and started making his way towards his office. I shot a wide-eyed look over my shoulder at a worried Ellie, but didn’t stop the momentum for fear I’d go over on my ankle.

I was hauled into the office with a sharp tug and I tottered up against Braden’s ‘nice and big’ office desk as the door crashed shut behind us. Very deliberately, Braden turned the lock.

I waited, unnerved by this fire-breathing, scary caveman-on-crack, version of Braden as he strode menacingly towards me. “First, you wear that dress so every man in this club wants to screw you. Then you start flirting with the man who f**king betrayed me,” he hissed into my face.

I pushed against his chest to no avail, my own anger rising. “Hey!” I retorted. “One: back off the dress. I like it, so suck it up. And two: I didn’t even know who he was!”

If it was even possible his face got a whole lot cloudier. I shivered, trying to step back, but the desk was in my way. “And yet you were still flirting with him!”

He’d never yelled at me before, and I flinched back, intimidated and pissed off in equal measure. I shoved harder at his chest, but he only pressed into my hands like a damn cement block. “Me?” I huffed incredulously. “You ask me to take the night off for this, and then I find out you’ve invited all your previous f**k buddies and girlfriends, and you spend the entire night flirting your ass off with more than one of them! What is this, Braden?” I felt the anger dissolve into hurt and with it my voice grew quieter, “Is this me getting laid off early?”

I watched some of the fury melt from his expression, his hands coming up to grip my hips tight to his. My breath stuttered at the feel of his erection rubbing against me, but I wasn’t surprised. There was something electric between us, and it was really confusing being this angry and this turned on all at the same time. “Babe, that wasn’t anything out there,” his voice was low, his head bending towards mine. “I wanted a big take tonight, and a lot of those girls like to party and have a lot of friends who like to party. That’s all it was.”

“And the flirting?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t even realize. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I scoffed, needing to hold onto a little bit of dignity. “You didn’t hurt me. I can’t be hurt by you.”

At my scathing tone, Braden’s mouth hardened—the anger was back. I found myself pushed roughly against the desk as Braden grasped the back of my thighs and lifted my legs, pressing in between them as he shoved the hem of my dress up to my waist. I clutched at him for balance, the desk cold against my backside. “Don’t f**king lie to me, Jocelyn.”

I tried to push at him, but he only pressed deeper, his right hand leaving my leg to unbutton his slacks. I was panting now. “I’m not lying.”

I felt his c**k nudge against my sex as he leaned in to whisper in my ear. “You’re lying.” He kissed my neck.

Then he surprised me by taking a shaky breath. “I’m sorry for hurting you.”

I could only nod unsurely, feeling out of control of the entire situation.

“Babe.” He pulled back, his eyes blazing now with something I didn’t understand. “I hit him,” he said hoarsely and I suddenly realized the look was disbelief. “I hit him. Seeing him with you… I hit him.”

Because of me. I cupped his face in my hands, suddenly not afraid of him. “Don’t,” I whispered across his lips. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

He crushed my lips beneath his at the exact same time he tore my panties off, his tongue thrusting into my mouth hungrily as his c**k thrust hungrily inside me. I gasped at the sudden invasion, arching my back as he gripped me high by the back of the thighs and pounded into me over and over, my cries of pleasure filling the office, his grunts muffled in my neck. “Jocelyn,” he growled, trying to bury deeper. “Lie back,” he demanded.

I did it instantly, falling back, the bare skin revealed by the dress pressed against the cool wood. At this angle, Braden lifted my legs higher, allowing him to slide in harder, deeper. I writhed on the desk, my lower body completely in Braden’s control. The torture was exquisite, and the orgasm tore through me in record time.

Braden wasn’t done. As I came down off my orgasm, I watched him watch me as he ground into me, chasing his own climax. I could feel another orgasm building. When Braden came, he threw his head back, his teeth gritted, the muscles in his neck straining as his hips jerked against me. The feel of him coming inside of me, the image of his face in release, was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen, and I cried out, my sex pulsing around his c**k as I came again.

“Jesus.” Braden watched me, hunger in his eyes.

Finally, my muscles relaxed and I closed my eyes, trying to catch my breath.

He was still inside me when he apologized softly, “I was a dick tonight.”

“Yeah,” I murmured.

He squeezed my hip. “Am I forgiven?”

I opened my eyes and smiled, amused. “I already accepted the two orgasms as an apology.”

Braden didn’t laugh like he normally would. Instead he nudged his semi-hard c**k a little further inside me until I could almost feel it kissing my womb, and he muttered, “Mine.”