Breach of Honor by Naomi Porter

3 Miranda

I DID IT. I met a man! Cue happy dance.

We were going to a hotel, but first, he needed to “take a leak.” Charming. Whatever, he was otherwise sweet with bronze skin, spiky hair, and a great smile. I guessed he was Hawaiian or maybe Japanese—definitely some kind of Asian.

Totally not my type, which made him perfect for an innocent hookup.

Lily gave me a thumbs-up, to my surprise. I thought for sure she’d hunt down the guy at the bar; he was my type.

An athletic build was my weakness. Lean and muscular melted me. Mr. Dreamboat had a broad chest, dark hair—I had a thing for dark hair—and the sexiest beard. He was so damn gorgeous; he could have been a celebrity or a model. When we were face-to-face, a deluge of warmth had ripped through me, but if he had propositioned me, I would have said no.

My heart wouldn’t have let me be intimate with a guy like him without wanting more. I would have had to say no. My professional goals were clear, and no distractions were permitted.

Not even ridiculously handsome ones.

A movement followed by a low growl startled me. Instinctively, I took a few steps forward, straining my eyes to see down the darkened hallway. As I blinked trying to focus, Mr. Dreamboat came into view, grimacing as a groan slid off his lips. I took two more steps forward. His eyes were tightly shut. A woman was on her knees with him in her mouth.

Holy shit!

Right here in public, before hundreds of people and with God above watching, she was giving him what seemed to be a rather arduous blow job.

What should I do? Leave?

Oh, hell no. I wanted to watch them. Study her. Study him. Oral sex fascinated me. But the way he thrust into her mouth? Jesus, I worried he’d choke her.

Dying of asphyxiation was my greatest fear. I’d even had nightmares about it.

I covered my mouth, mesmerized by the erotic and shameless display of sex. I sucked, no pun intended, at giving blow jobs. I had tried it once my freshman year of college as a dare at a frat party. Not long after the dude was hard, I gagged tasting precum. Moments later, I was squirted in the eye.

Not my finest hour. I hadn’t wanted to try it again.

This woman seemed to be a pro. Dang, I couldn’t see an inch of skin, pubic hair, nothing. How could she breathe? Or hum? Especially with his fingers tangled in her hair. Maybe he wasn’t pulling and only had his fingers buried in her thick dark curls.

Not gonna lie. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. The scene aroused me.

I wished it were me giving him the blow job of his life.

Just watching made me tingle, drenching my panties when it was his mouth I longed to taste. I could almost feel the warmth of his lips on mine, his satin tongue discovering me for the first time, his dark eyes absorbing me.

Why hadn’t I talked to him? I knew he was interested. Guess I missed out, too nervous and scared to get to know him because I’d felt something standing by him.

A zing to my core.

A lightning strike to my heart.

If only she hadn’t come along. Now there was no chance in hell he’d want me.

Will

I cringed, feeling teeth. Thankfully Jennifer didn’t bite my dick off. I tugged on her hair, holding her steady as I rolled my hips to the rhythm of her suction. “Oh, yeah,” I encouraged.

Her big fucking mouth took me all in, while my eyes remained closed, dreaming of her. My mind created a daydream. Instead of fucking Jennifer’s mouth, it was the red dress’s tight pussy surrounding me in mind-numbing warmth. She felt so damn good, smelled even better. My gut said one taste and I’d be a goner, addicted to every part of her. I drove into her, pumping harder, faster until I released St. James liquid gold into her.

Straining until the very end and still gripping Jennifer’s head, I opened my eyes to hers in awe. She didn’t flinch or leave but held my gaze while Jennifer was still down on her knees, my cock in her mouth.

“That looks amazing. Good for you!” Her scathing tone as she clapped didn’t match the jealous glint in her eye or her forced smile.

I stood there like a dumbass as she pushed her hip out, crossing her arms over her chest. Why wasn’t she leaving? I didn’t want her attention now, not like this. Was I still dreaming? No, this was real.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

The door to the men’s bathroom opened and out walked the reason for her presence. He was tall, dark, and I’d guess some might say handsome. I’d say he was a five out of ten, maybe a six if I were generous. Which I wasn’t. At best, he was a four on a sunny California day.

As the bastard wrapped an arm around her waist, Jennifer stood and tucked my dick back in my pants.

“What, you want the corner next?” Yeah, I was a fucking asshole.

She giggled, leaning her beautiful face into his chest, and a fiery inferno billowed inside me. Couldn’t she see he wasn’t her type? I was confident he wasn’t her type, but I’d bet my inheritance I was.

“Nah, man, you can have it. This beauty”—he kissed her temple—“deserves better than a dark, dirty corner. Let’s go, baby. Our room is waiting for us.”

Room? She’s leaving with him? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, the fuck she is!

“Wait! Let me buy you a round of drinks.” My tone came out begging. I’d say anything to stop them, to get her to see how she was making a colossal mistake.

“You’re kidding, right?” The dude chuckled. “We aren’t into foursomes, freaks. Right, baby? This guy has no class whatsoever.”

Those ocean-blue eyes consumed me as she shook her head.

“That’s right, no thank you.” The dude nodded. “I won’t be sharing this delicious woman with anyone. Let’s go.” He pulled her with him.

“You two have a stellar night.” She wiggled her fingers and took all the air from my lungs with her.

Dazed by the massive punch to my ego, I didn’t move.

“Who was that?” Jennifer’s question woke me from my trance.

I frantically zipped up my pants, running out of the hallway and desperate to stop her. I weaved through the crowded club, bumping into people as I pushed my way toward the exit, searching for her. Chin-length blonde hair, a sensual body, shapely legs, and that off-the-shoulder red dress, she should have been easy to spot. But she was nowhere to be found.

Behind me, I heard “Jenny From the Block” hollering in Spanish. I shoved my way through to the exit and caught my lady in red, speeding away in a black Mustang convertible, her blonde hair waving goodbye.

I didn’t even know her name. As if knowing it would somehow appease me. There were almost twenty-four million people in Southern California. Until today, I had never laid eyes on her. I’d have remembered her face if I had.

I could pretty much bet I’d never see her again.