LA Misbehaved - Complete (Married a Stripper Book 2)

  I mimed turning a key on my lips. Behind me, the coffee pot started to hiss and bubble, and I heaved out a sigh. “It’s about time. As slow as this thing is, you’d think it was growing the coffee beans.”

  “As long as it brews them.” He joined me at the counter, putting his empty coffee cup next to mine. “So where did you come from? One of the other clinics around here? Or outside the field?”

  “How about outside the state?” Grinning, I shifted so I could see him as we talked. “Philadelphia, Pennsylvania in fact. I worked at a shelter for runaway and troubled kids for a while there.”

  “You moved across the country for this job?” He let out a low whistle. “Wow. That’s some change. How do you like California so far?”

  “I like that it’s not cold.” Shuddering in memory of the frigid weather I’d left behind, I added, “I hate the cold.”

  “Snow. Ice. What’s not to hate?” He grinned. “Have you had a chance to look around much?”

  “Not yet.”

  We continued to make small talk as we waited for the coffee to brew, and I wasn’t surprised when he offered to take me out the following weekend and show me around. I considered it. He was good looking and nice. There weren’t really any bells ringing, but so what? It wasn’t a marriage proposal.

  “Miss Traore.”

  Ice practically danced down my spine at the chill in the too-familiar voice. Turning my head, I found Dash standing in the doorway, glaring at us like he’d discovered us stealing or necking on the countertop. I knew the policy manuals well enough to know that neither Turk nor I had done anything wrong. Dash had no right to look at us like that.

  “Hello, boss,” I said as easily as I could.

  “I’d like to see you for a moment.”

  Wow. Almost two weeks of nothing and now this? Maybe he really was as much of an asshat as I first assumed.

  “Sure, just let me get my coffee–”

  “Now.” He turned on his heel.

  Next to me, Turk watched with wide eyes. “Yikes. I don’t envy you that conversation. Good luck. Let me know about this weekend.”

  I gave him a faint smile and started out the door. Dash waited a few feet away, and I went to meet him, only to have him take my arm and escort me into the room just at his back. His grip wasn’t painful, but it was definitely too tight to be considered comfortable either.

  The office was empty as he shut the door at his back and turned that glare on me.

  “You’re in a management position, Miss Traore, and you’re expected to conduct yourself accordingly. Flirtation with co-workers is highly inappropriate.” His voice was stiff, cold.

  I stared at him, my mouth refusing to work properly. “Ah…what?”

  “You heard me.” Without another word, he opened the door and stormed out, leaving me there to sputter at his back.

  Only I didn’t sputter for long.

  I was a little too pissed.

  I managed to keep my composure as I followed a minute later, but I had a feeling that my flushed face was a clear indicator that something was wrong. Fortunately, I didn’t encounter anyone on my way to his office.

  He was standing at the window, looking outside, and just as I stepped inside, the phone started to ring. Dash turned at the sound of the door as I closed it behind me.

  “Please excuse me, Miss Traore.” His eyes cut to the phone. “I have a call.”

  “I can take care of that,” I said cheerfully as I kept walking right toward his desk. Not that I felt cheerful, but it threw him off guard, and that was what I wanted right now. Grabbing the phone before he could, I said, “Dashiell Lahti’s office. He’s unavailable at the moment. Please call back.”

  Then, without waiting for a response, I slammed down the receiver.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

  “Having a much needed conference with the boss.” Planting my hands on my hips, I glared up at him, all pretense of positive emotion gone. “You want to tell me what that was about back there?”

  Eyes narrowing, he took a step closer. “That? Yes. I’ll tell you what that was about. You were acting unprofessional and flirting with a subordinate. That has no place here, Astra. I don’t know how things were back–”

  “What…flirting…” Turk flashed through my mind, and I would have laughed if this entire scenario hadn’t been so ridiculous. “Flirting has no place here? That’s what this is about? Work?”

  He gave a short, terse nod, and that sparked the fuse leading to my temper. While I could be passionate, impulsive even, I didn’t generally think of myself as short-tempered. More like a slow burn to a big explosion. I was finding that when it came to Dash, however, things ran a lot faster.

  And hotter.

  “I see.” I caught my lower lip between my teeth, rolling it out slowly as I pondered my next response.

  So much hotter.

  His gaze shot to my mouth, and I was tempted to do something crazy, like start tracing the neckline of my blouse. I didn’t. Still, desire shot through me as he dragged his eyes away from my mouth, and I could see the echo of it in his gaze.

  Hypocrite.

  Sexy, overbearing hypocrite.

  “Do I need to remind you that less than a week after you hired me, you had your dick inside me?” I asked bluntly.

  The heat in his eyes shot to nuclear-blaze level, but he didn’t touch me. Didn’t even move.

  Who knew that reserved nature, combined with sexy and awkward, could be so damned erotic? And adorable? And how the hell did those two go together anyway? I wanted to grab him by that sedate, pin-striped tie, yank him closer, and devour his mouth, lick and bite every inch of that perfect skin.

  Except my temper was lurking just below the surface, and if he didn’t stop acting like a fucking robot, I would force him to do something.

  Anything.

  He still hadn’t answered, so I moved closer, edging around until the desk was no longer a barrier.

  “Hello? Do you have an answer to that, Dashiell? Flirting is off limits, but fucking is okay?” I put my hand on my hip. “If that’s the case, maybe I should explain the rules to Turk. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind skipping the flirting and going straight to the–”

  “Stay the hell away from him.”

  It sent a shiver down my spine, that growling, possessive tone.

  Dash had moved close enough that I could smell the subtle, spicy scent of his aftershave. When had he done that? Or had I done it?

  Forced to tip my head back now to meet his eyes, I started to say something, but my mouth had gone dry. Licking my lips, I tried to find words. Something. Anything. He was staring at my mouth again.

  Nipples tight and hard, heart racing, I started to realize, belatedly, that we were in the sort of seriously awkward situation that I’d hoped to avoid. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

  “I’m your boss. If I tell you to keep your distance from another employee,” hardly any distance separated us now, “you fucking well better do it.”

  Being given an order shouldn’t have turned me on so much. Reaching up, I closed my hands around the lapels of his suit. It was a deep, steel gray, sexy as hell. And I wanted it off.

  “This has nothing to do with him being an employee, now does it, Dash?” I whispered.

  “It’s not appropriate workplace behavior,” he said again. But it was almost like he was trying to convince himself. His hands rested on my hips.

  “And what about sleeping with an employee? Is that appropriate behavior?” I met his gaze with challenge in my own.

  “That was a mistake.”

  I almost jerked back as his words hit me hard. A mistake. That hurt more than I’d let myself admit. But I’d been hurt before, knew how to hide it. I was damn good at it, actually.

  “If it was a mistake, why do you care if I flirt with Turk? If I fuck him? Because you do care, or you wouldn’t be nitpicking a policy that doesn’t actually prohibit inter-office
liaisons.”

  He didn’t answer, but he didn’t remove his hands from my hips either. Instead, he slid them up to my waist, fingers teasing the skin just under the bottom of my shirt.

  “Come on, Mr. Lahti. Say something,” I taunted him. Even though I knew it wasn’t a good idea, I couldn’t let it go. I needed a response.

  I needed him to admit that it hadn’t been a mistake. That he’d wanted me as much as I wanted him. That he still wanted me that much.

  Time stretched taut between us until it finally snapped. A hungry groan escaped him, and he responded.

  But not with words.

  He shoved a hand into my hair, tilted my head back, and kissed me.

  The full, undiluted fury of his lust hit me like a surge of electricity. A complete and utter meltdown of my senses commenced as I wrapped my arms around his neck and clung tight. It was like what I imagined it must feel like to be hit by lightning and survive. Except I wasn’t entirely sure I could survive this.

  Dash pushed his free hand under my shirt, burning a path across the small of my back. His touch had me gasping, and his tongue swept into my mouth, delving into every crevice. I whimpered into his mouth, and he swallowed it down as he palmed my breast through my bra. Then he shoved it up so he could get his hand on me. It wasn’t entirely comfortable, but the sensation of his finger and thumb rolling my nipple, tugging on it, took precedence over everything.

  I wanted to be naked.

  I wanted him to be naked.

  Both of us naked, so he could be inside me.

  That was my main priority, and I needed it to be his. Hoping to get that message across, I slid my hand between us and rubbed his cock through his pants.

  He grunted at the contact, then – dammit – stopped touching me, reaching down to grab my wrist and wrap my hand tighter against him. When he began to pump and thrust against me, heat gathered between my thighs, threatened to turn me into a needy, boneless mass in the next twenty seconds.

  Abruptly, he pulled my hand away, twisting my arm and forcing my wrist behind my back. His grip was firm, but not painful.

  “Stop,” he panted, the words half muffled against my neck. “I’m going to come if we keep this up.”

  “Then get naked and get inside me.” The scent of his shampoo filled my nose. “I’m dying here, Dash.”

  He lifted his head and stared at me, eyes burning for a moment before he turned me around, pulling me back into the cradle of his hips. His cock pressed against my butt, and he tugged the hem of my skirt up. It was a swingy, playful design, absolutely no impediment.

  As he cupped me between the thighs, he whispered in my ear, “You’re not wearing hose. You never wear hose.”

  “I don’t like them,” I admitted, eyelids fluttering at the touch over the thin fabric of my panties. “I’ll wear stockings if I need to, or thigh socks if it’s cold. But I hate pantyhose.”

  “I’m glad you do. Because if you were wearing hose, it would make it easier for me to convince myself not to do this.” He slid his hand inside my panties.

  I gasped, then swallowed down a moan. As his fingers parted my folds, I clutched at the arm he’d braced around my waist. He couldn’t talk himself out of this, not now.

  My voice was shaky. “But I think I’d like for you to do this. Please do it.”

  He pushed two fingers into my pussy, and my head felt forward. He twisted his fingers quickly, then withdrew. “Like that?” His breath was hot against my ear.

  Moaning, I nodded. “More, Dash. Please. More.”

  He didn’t argue, didn’t try to say again that it was a bad idea for us to be doing this. Instead, he did exactly what I asked. Slow, teasing thrusts of his fingers that soon had me riding his hand, leaning forward so that my clit rubbed against his wrist. I didn’t care what type of picture I must have presented, how wanton I must have looked. I just needed a release.

  “Dash,” I moaned.

  “Quiet,” he said, letting go of my waist to cover my mouth with his hand. “Be quiet, little minx.”

  “Not a minx.” The words were muffled against his hand. “You said I was a menace.”

  He chuckled, rolling his hips so that I could feel how hard he was. “You are.” He pulled aside my hair and pressed a kiss to the side of my neck. “A misbehaving menace of a minx.”

  “That’s me,” I laughed. “Miss Behaving LA. Give me the crown.”

  He laughed again, his hand moving faster between my legs. “You are something else, Miss Traore.”

  I would’ve invented a snappy comeback if I hadn’t been too busy trying not to scream out his name as an orgasm ripped through me. I slammed my hands down on the table, ground against his hand, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until, panting, I sagged against him, my head spinning.

  “Pantyhose might have given me a little bit of self-control,” he muttered, withdrawing his hand from my panties.

  I turned slowly, feeling sluggish...until he slid his fingers into his mouth and licked them clean.

  Fuck, that was hot.

  “You’ve got more self control than any one man needs.”

  I reached for him again, but he grasped my waist, and in the next second, turned and lifted me, planting me on the desk.

  Clearly, we weren’t done yet.

  20

  Dash

  This was insane.

  This was stupid.

  This was probably another mistake.

  But as Astra wrapped her legs around my hips and pulled me in close against her, I knew it didn’t matter if it was the most insanely stupid mistake in history. I wanted it to keep on going. I needed it. Needed her.

  The taste of her was a drug, lingering on the back of my tongue as I kissed a path down her neck to the vee’d neckline of her blouse. Why in the hell didn’t it have buttons?

  I went to push it up so I could bare her torso and tits – I loved her tits – but the cut of it wasn’t particularly conducive to that, so I had to settle for the smooth, creamy skin of her belly. At least until I got low enough to get a better taste of her...from the source itself.

  I kissed across her stomach, then down. Circling my tongue around her navel, I eased lower, lower, lower. I could feel her muscles jumping under her skin, smell the faint scent of her soap.

  When I hit the waistband of her skirt, I shot her a look. Her head was thrown back, hard, ragged breaths coming from her, each one of them sending her breasts rising and falling in a ragged rhythm.

  I’d never wanted anybody like this. I couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else like this.

  “Astra,” I whispered.

  She shoved up onto her elbows as if she knew exactly what I wanted. Her eyes connected with mine as I went to my knees in front of her. Through the skirt, I kissed the mound of her sex, and she jolted up.

  “You’re going to kill me,” she whispered.

  “We wouldn’t want that, would we?” My fingertips brushed against her knees as I grasped the hem of her skirt.

  She sagged back onto the desk again.

  “Don’t,” I ordered. “I want to watch you.”

  Her entire body quivered, but she braced herself on her elbows once more. Her gaze locked on mine as I raised the material. I heard the harsh exhale of her breath as I bared her lower body. Her panties were the same iron gray as her eyes.

  I never would have thought that a color like gray could become my favorite, but I was fairly certain that it was now. I traced her through the silk, the material damp under my touch. My cock strained against my zipper, eager to be buried deep inside her.

  “Dash.”

  I leaned in and nuzzled her through the silk. She moaned and rolled her hips upward, tugged on my hair to pull me closer. But I refused to rush this. Ignoring the thin fabric barrier, I sought out the nub of her clitoris and toyed with it. She shuddered and curled her leg over my shoulders, urging me on.

  I scraped my teeth against her, then used my tongue, pressing through the silk until I could
go no further. The taste of her exploded on my tongue, and I wondered why in the hell I’d spent the past week trying to avoid this beauty. I worked my mouth against her, loving the sound and feel of her writhing.

  Fuck avoidance.

  Fuck everything that didn’t involve me getting her naked and in my bed.

  Or on my desk.

  I didn’t give a damn where I took her. I just wanted her.

  Shoving upright, I grabbed the flimsy strips that held her panties in place and wrenched, tearing the fabric. Her hips jerked with the movement, but she didn’t say anything, staring at me with wide eyes.

  Damn, I’d never seen anything like her.

  I shoved her thighs apart, staring down at the slick wet folds as I reached to open my trousers. Everything in my world narrowed down to this moment, this space, to bringing our two bodies together until neither one of us knew where one of us ended and the other began.

  A hard thudding sound intruded on the moment.

  I ignored it.

  It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but her.

  It came again.

  “Mr. Lahti. Sir, it’s…”

  The rest of the words faded away in incomprehensible babble as reality slammed into me – or maybe rained down over me, as effective as a bucket of ice water being dumped on my head.

  Shit.

  We were in my office.

  Shit!

  Astra was half naked, her skirt shoved up to her waist as she laid spread out on my desk. Her bra crooked, nipples hard. Her taste was in my mouth, and I wanted more.

  It was every wet dream I’d fantasized about since the moment she walked into the clinic that first day – and it was so inappropriate, I ought to fire myself. I ought to fine myself.

  She could fucking sue me if she wanted.

  I fell back a step as a third knock sounded.

  “Mr. Lahti?”

  “I’m in the middle of a meeting,” I called out, surprised I managed to sound even remotely calm as I stared at Astra.

  Blood had seeped up to stain her cheeks red, and she sat up slowly. I watched her hands shake as she tugged down her skirt, then moved under her shirt to fix her bra as well.