Have a little fun.

What do you want, Delilah? Brad's low, raspy voice echos in my head.

What do I want?

Him.

But at what cost? We work together, see each other every day. Wouldn't that complicate things?

The beauty of it is, you two already hate each other, my conscious reminds me. There's no feelings being put at risk. One night of hot, meaningless sex isn't going to jeopardize anything. And if all does go to hell, the worst thing that can happen is you end up hating each other—which you already have going for you.

My eyes travel from his lips, down the column of his throat, over his broad chest, vividly remembering all the dips and planes of the rock hard abs beneath his black T-shirt. What would happen if I ran my tongue along each and every one of those ridges?

Fuck it.

Unable to stop myself, my fingers reach out to touch the hem of his T-shirt, hesitantly rubbing the cotton fabric between my fingers. For a moment, I swear Brad holds his breath. And when I feel bold enough, I slip my hand beneath the fabric, my hand splaying across his toned, taught stomach, feeling his warm, naked skin.

Brad sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, eyes screwing shut. His forehead drops down to mine and he plants his forearm on the wall above my head to stabilize himself. "Delilah." My name is gruff, strained rolling off his lips.

"What if we did?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, eyes locked back on his tempting lips.

Brad's molten brown eyes open, boring into mine, jaw clinched. "Then we won't have to die wondering."

Hot. Why do I feel so hot? All over.

Brad dips his head, nuzzling my neck, breathing me in deeply. His hand possessively grips my hip, tugging my body closer to his. "I'll make it worth your while," he promises darkly, as if I need any more convincing.

I slip my hand out of his shirt, my fingers accidentally grazing a hardness below his belt through the rough fabric of his jeans, making me gasp. I place my hand on his chest, weakly pushing him away, feeling the strong beat of his heart under my palm.

Brad pulls back, searching my face, body tensing with the thought of rejection.

"Let's get out of here," I whisper, not recognizing my own voice.

Brad's eyes blaze with desire, pushing away from me and the wall. With his hand on the dip of my back, he leads me back to the table where four pairs of eyes watch us as we approach.

My eyes meet a guilty, remorseful looking Ashlee. "Hey, Delilah," she says cautiously. "Listen, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I was just teasing. I'm sorry."

That's right, you should feel sorry, biotch.

I wave my hand dismissively. "It's okay. I just left because I didn't feel well," I lie lamely. Totally not because I felt extremely overwhelmed by the subject of me and Brad having sex while his hand was gripping my thigh under the table.

The girl sitting next to Ashlee cringes. "Did you eat the shrimp tacos from the cafeteria today? They looked pretty questionable to me."

"Yeah," I blurt out, grateful to her for providing me with a valid lie. "Yeah. I don't think they agreed with me so I'm just going to go home and lie down."

Yeah. Go home and lie down. Lie down with Brad all on top of you.

Everyone at the table gives nods and words of understanding. We all bid each other goodbye and I grab my purse, Brad following me out of the bar.

As soon as we step outside, into the muggy summer air, a shiver runs down my spine in realization. We're actually doing this. I'm actually doing this. With Brad. My body suddenly thrums with nervousness and excitement, my heart beating wildly in my chest.

Brad's large hand finds home once again at the dip of my lower back. "This way," he murmurs, his deep voice eliciting another shiver down my spine as he leads me to the parking lot around back.

We walk in absolute silence, the heated tension crackling between us almost too much to bear. My heart pounds in my ears as his car comes into view and he opens the passenger side door for me, looking at me expectantly.

Nearly trembling, I slip into the expensive car and watch him briskly round the hood with long, purposeful strides through the tinted windshield, sliding into the driver's seat. The door slams shut behind him and his cool, clean, delicious scent wafts to my nose, making my mouth water.

We stare at each other for a moment, his dark, intense eyes boring into mine. We're both breathing heavily, anticipating who's going to pounce first.

Feeling like I'm about to burst, knowing I'm not going to be able to suffer the commute time back to one of our places without losing my sanity, I ask, "These windows are blacked out, right?"

He swallows thickly, nodding. "Yeah."

Faster than a crack of lightning, we both snap at the same time, losing all restraint. Hurling myself over the center council, eager hands gripping me, helping me over, I straddle Brad in the driver's seat. Our lips crash together in a bruising force, teeth clashing as we kiss hungrily, desperately.

His tongue slips past my lips and inside my mouth, brushing against my own, causing me to softly whimper into his mouth. Brad growls at the sound, his large hands cupping my ass, pulling me that much closer. The movement has me brushing against him, feeling the thick ridge of him through his jeans yet again.

I moan, wrenching my lips away from his, needing a breath. My head feels dizzy, my skin too tight, too warm. I let my head fall back, and Brad doesn't miss a beat, his soft, warm, wet mouth finding that spot on my neck just below my ear, driving me insane. I squirm and he ruts his hips up into mine, causing me to gasp.

I capture my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to hold back the moans that threaten to pour out.

I focus on Brad's lips, has hands roaming all over my body, exploring. One of his hands stops at the hem of my jean shorts, expertly popping open the button one handedly. The same hand finds its way under my shirt, touching my skin. His fingers skim up my side, brushing the side of my breast, going up and down my back, before landing flat on my stomach. He rotates his hand a hundred and eighty degrees, until his long fingers are pointed downward, sneaking under my shorts and under the hem of my underwear.

My body tenses as his lips suck harshly at my neck, his fingers sliding between my legs at the same time. Unable to help it, a choked cry passes my lips when he enters two fingers inside of me, pumping in and out.

"Fuck," he curses against my neck, pulling back to stare at his hand working magic between my legs.

Holy shit. If I thought his fingers felt good on my shoulders and neck when he gave me a massage on the rooftop, I should've figured they'd feel ten times better other places.

I nearly double over in pleasure when Brad's thumb finds my clit, rubbing circles. I thread one of my hands through his unbelievably silky hair, tugging, while the other grasps his wrist, trying to stabilize myself.

Needing more, I begin to move my hips in time with his fingers, riding his hand.

"Atta girl, Harper," he murmurs, watching in awe.

I open my mouth to correct him, remind him its Dr. Harper, but the hell I fully intend on giving him fades on my lips and turns to moans as he curls his fingers, finding and tapping at that spot inside of me that has me seeing stars. I rock my hips faster, harder against his hand.

His free hand firmly grips my hip, stilling my movements, causing me to groan in protest. "Easy." He chuckles, eyes sparkling, thoroughly amused. "The windows may be tinted but the car isn't prone to rocking."

I place both of my hands on his shoulders, gripping the muscles for dear life, trying to stay still as his fingers continue to pump.

I glance down between us, his hand shoved down my shorts, and an unbearable pressure builds at the base of my spine. I close my eyes, tossing my head back, fully anticipating and accepting what's about to happen next.

On the brink of release, seconds away from falling over the edge, Brad's fingers stop.

An embarrassingly loud whine passes my lips in protest. Instinctively, I start wildly grinding against his hand, desperate to find release.

Eyes still closed, head tossed back, a large hand gently wraps around my neck.

"Look at me, Delilah," Brad's rough voice commands.

I whine in protest.

Strong fingers grip my chin, forcing me to look down.

Reluctantly, I open my eyes and all the air in my lungs gets trapped in my throat. The look in Brad's eyes is wild, deliberate.

"Eyes on me." His voice is dark, promising danger in the best possible way. "I want to see your face when you come around my fingers."

Fuck.

Usually, the demanding, challenging tone in his voice would have me on edge in a completely different way. But here, in the intimacy, the secrecy, of his car, in the middle of a full parking lot with the possibility of getting caught—instead of prickling my anger, his tone has me completely feral.

When he's convinced my eyes will remain on his, unable to look away, he starts back up, fingers pumping, thumb pressing and circling until I'm right back on edge.

My body goes ridged as the coil inside me tightens, toes curling. My eyes threaten to flutter shut as the unbearable pressure between my legs grows, and Brad's hand finds its way back to my throat, applying the slightest pressure as a sign of warning to keep my eyes open.

My nails dig into his shoulders as I squirm above him, holding my breath, praying for release. A few more strokes and I'm thrown right over the edge, falling helplessly.

I cry out as pleasure consumes me, spreading throughout my body like wildfire. I choke back sobs as my body thrashes above him, my senses on overdrive. Unable to help it, my eyes screw shut as my orgasm consumes me, Brad's fingers not easing up, riding out every ounce of pleasure I have to give.

A rough hand brackets my jaw and my eyes fly back open, finding Brad staring at me with such intensity. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as he watches me unravel, thoroughly enjoying the show.

"That's it," he spurs me on. "Come all over my hand."

Okay, why does he have to be so fucking hot? Who gave him the right?

He guides me through my orgasm until my body goes limp, collapsing on top of him, unable to take anymore. I bury my face in his neck, panting wildly.

When I'm able to catch my breath, I find myself chuckling into his neck at the ludicrous of it all. If you would have told me I'd ever end up hook up with Brad in his car in the middle of a parking lot like a couple of extremely horny teenagers, I would have never believed you and laughed right in your face.

Pulling back, quickly running my fingers through my sweat damp curls, all laughter fades on my lips when I look at the expression on Brad's face.

Slowly, intense eyes deliberately locked on mine, he removes his hand from my shorts and sticks his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean. I nearly moan at the unbelievably erotic, carnal gesture.

Brad's pupils dilate, a wild, possessive look flashing across them. "I'm taking you home. Now."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Welp. Happy Monday.

Have a great week.

I'm going to go die in a hole now, come back from the dead whenever I'm brave enough to write the next chapter, and see you then with another nsfw post.

xo