The Marine (Black Hawke Security #3)

CHAPTER ONE

AIDAN

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A idan.

The sound of my name whispered on her lips haunts me every night.

Every fucking night.

In my dreams. As I lay awake with my hand sliding reluctantly over my cock—I say reluctantly because I don’t deserve to feel pleasure when it comes to Briar Sutton.

When I was working.

Even when a gun was pointed at my head, I saw those haunted green eyes staring back at me from across her boss’s, Savannah Sinclair’s, driveway.

Me.

Her monster.

Now, Savannah is getting married to one of my best friends and it’s as if the gods have cursed us and brought us back together for punishment.

More punishment.

Like the first time wasn’t enough.

“So, I said to him, no that’s not how the law works, and if you want me to get disbarred, then sure I’ll do that. But of course, I told him to get out of my office.” The brunette playfully smirks at me from across the table.

I’m not in the mood to play.

I haven’t been for months.

I want to hunt.

I want to catch.

I want to fuck...Briar.

Yet here I am, date number thirty-five hundred, or something close to it, since walking away from the woman I can’t seem to ever forget. I’ve been trying for over a decade.

Ten damn years.

“Good.” I reply, lifting my bourbon to my lips. I take a second sip immediately after because I have nothing more to add.

When Claire, the brunette, smiles, I meet her eyes. Her smile is cocky, but it has a layer of pity, as if she knows something I don’t.

“Nervous?” she asks.

Jesus.

I should never have chosen a lawyer. I thought the brains might help alleviate my boredom. Boobs and brains. Always a hot combination.

Instead, I wish she’d just shut up.

If you want to pity me, darlin’, just leave. Don’t start with the therapy talk.

Christ.

But in all honesty, her question has triggered me. I doubt she thinks I’m a fucking virgin, but I don’t want to chat anymore, and I am ready to get what I came for.

I place my glass down, nudge it an inch away, and stretch my arm out along the table. Then I lean heavily back into the chair.

I lift a brow slowly. “Do you want me to fuck you in the restroom or at your place?”

To her credit, Claire barely reacts, stopping her eyes from flying wide. I guess her courtroom experience is showing. She glances around and I almost laugh when I realize she’s assessing if the restrooms might be nice enough for her.

It makes me feel like an asshole.

Good.

I deserve it.

For the record, the bar we’re in is pretty nice. Typical Hollywood wine bar: low lighting, the music isn’t too loud, and the service is above average.

Trust me, it’s good enough for a quick fuck with a good-looking, wealthy guy like me. That’s all she’s weighing up.

That doesn’t make me an asshole.

That makes me good at reading people.

Claire finishes her chardonnay in one long swallow and stands.

I spin my tumbler around with my finger and thumb, not lifting my head to meet her gaze, and watch in my peripheral vision as she walks away from the table.

Then she heads toward the restroom.

I toss back the remainder of my bourbon and drop a generous tip on the table then take the same path. My cock is already hard when I push open the door and find her standing by the mirrors applying red lipstick.

That’s going to stain.

I turn and flick the lock.

“On your knees.” I rasp as I undo my fly.

“You’re an asshole. But a hot one,” Claire says, walking toward me, her stiletto heels clicking on the surface.

She’s still five inches shorter than me. When she stops in front of me, her eyes are glossy with arousal.

Roughly, I tug her top down and expose her breasts, making her gasp excitedly.

They’re actually fucking nice tits.

“God, I wish we had more time.” She moans.

I don’t.

I lift a brow, and she drops to her knees with a smile then takes what I offer her.

My thick, hard cock.

Closing my eyes as her mouth closes around it with impressive skill, I let out a growl and Briar’s beautiful face appears in my mind.

Goddamn it.

Gripping Claire’s head, I angrily fuck her mouth and throat, taking out my frustration on her. She doesn’t deserve it, but she wants it. Women like Claire—powerful women—like being dominated.

I might be spiraling after coming face-to-face with Briar, but I wouldn’t hurt anyone else because of it. If I thought this would break Claire, I would’ve walked out of the bar.

Trust me, Claire will be rubbing one out for a good two weeks, remembering tonight.

She gags as I speed up my thrusting—fuck, she has a tight throat—and I see the sparkle in her eyes.

Much as I’d like to, I can’t come in her mouth and leave. That would be a dick move—pun not intended. So I pull out, lift her up, press her into the wall, and tug up her skirt.

“Two seconds to say no before I fuck your pussy.” I warn as I tear open a foil packet with my teeth and slide my fingers through her pussy.

No panties.

Not unexpected.

“Are you joking? Yes, fuck me.” She groans.

I should be enjoying this, but I’m not. I just need to relieve this never-ending need for the woman I once loved.

Love.

Doesn’t matter.

It. Doesn’t. Matter.

I slip inside Claire’s hot channel and slam my hand against the wall beside her. Then plow into her like a damn savage.

After all, I’m no gentleman.

I’m a US Marine.