What Happens at Con

by Cathy Yardley

  But tonight, there was literally nothing that could drag his attention away from the beautiful woman who had just fuckin’ fallen apart in his arms. Who was clinging to him like he was her lifeline. He could be insulted, mocked, threatened, and he’d turn his back on it.

  Because damn, this woman!

  It was cliché, it was stupid, and he’d roundly make fun of anybody he’d ever known who would say this, but he had to admit — he had never, ever felt like this before.

  He wouldn’t call it love. He’d been in love before, or at least he’d thought himself in love. That was two years of torture, and he’d put up with a lot of shit (and given it in equal measure). If that was hell, this was heaven.

  Therefore, it couldn’t be real. Or if it was real, it couldn’t last.

  But right now, he felt like she could shoot him dead afterward, and he’d stand where she told him to while she aimed.

  Stupid, his mind counselled him. You’re being fucking stupid.

  But in this moment, he didn’t care.

  When the elevator doors closed on them, they were alone in the car. He body-pressed her against the flat wall, kissing her hungrily. He reached for her mask, but her hand flew up, covering his.

  “No!” She gripped his wrist. “No,” she repeated.

  He felt a little tug of… something. “Why not?”

  The light was strong, and he could make her out in it clearly. She had dark eyes, a deep, velvety brown. Her black hair gleamed with rich amber accents, subtle but there. Her body — perfection, making the deep scarlet of that body-rocking corset of hers practically glow. And those thigh-high boots… he couldn’t wait to take them off her.

  But most of all, he wanted to take the mask off.

  “The mask stays on,” she said. “Yours and mine.”

  “But why?”

  Again, with any other woman, he’d probably take it personally. He wanted to feel offended now. Was she judging him? Was she afraid he was ugly? Doubtful — he could tell that what she’d seen, she was into.

  Was she just slumming? Was that what she liked? After all, he looked the type — dumb as a stump, a slab of man-meat to hump and dump. That could be it.

  But it didn’t feel like that. It felt like something else. How the hell was he tuning in to how she was feeling, when he barely thought about how he felt most of the time?

  “What’s scaring you?” he said. He had thought about adding a throwaway endearment — babe, sweetheart, angel — but nothing fit. Nothing would probably fit but her name.

  Which she was determined not to surrender.

  Surrender.

  Was that it?

  “Are you afraid of me?”

  “No. And yes,” she admitted.

  He backed off. “I would never hurt you,” he said, the words rough as gravel. “Not ever. You have to know that, okay? Or we”—and this was torn from his throat even though his body screamed against it—”we don’t need to do anything.”

  She framed his face and then dragged him to her, kissing him as hard as he’d kissed her. “I know,” she said against his lips. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me. But if we don’t do anything, I think I’m gonna die.”

  His heart raced double time.

  The elevator dinged. They almost missed their floor. He stuck his hand out, letting it close on his forearm before the doors pulled back. They wandered, entwined around each other, kissing and stroking as they searched for the right door. When they finally found the room, her hand shook so hard she couldn’t get it to go green. When she finally dropped the card, he knew it wasn’t because she found him ugly or was slumming.

  There was something else. Something he’d find out.

  He’d convince her. He wouldn’t push her — he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. He’d said it, and he meant it. He wouldn’t fool her. But he’d show her that she could trust him. He’d take care of her. He’d see exactly who he was dealing with.

  And by God, he wouldn’t let her go.

  He picked up the card, opening the room and gently guiding her in. When the door shut, he turned his back on her so he could focus. He pulled it open again, hanging out the door tag — DO NOT DISTURB. Because if he had any say, they’d be doing this until late morning. Maybe even into the next night.

  With that, he locked and latched the door and looked at her.

  He wasn’t sure if she’d be afraid. But she wasn’t. She was reaching to her boots, unzipping them, kicking them off.

  “No,” he heard himself say. “Don’t. Don’t rush. I want to unwrap you myself.”

  He saw her throat bob as she swallowed. “I still want you,” she said. “I’ve never wanted anybody like this.”

  He smiled. Then he ushered her over to the bed. She sat on the edge, and he undid her boots, unzipping them, pulling them off… then placing a kiss on each inner thigh. He could smell the scent of her orgasm from the photobooth, and it made him crazed. He backed off, because he knew he wanted to take his time — he’d meant that.

  But damn, the closer he got to her, especially now that they were in private, in a locked room with a bed (and a shower and a comfortable, thick rug and several walls… Damn, body, slow down!), he didn’t want to screw things up. He wanted to show her that she’d made the right choice. He wanted to…

  Impress her?

  No. Not like that. Not that he’d ever felt that way before, either.

  This was very confusing for him.

  He pulled back, taking a deep, calming breath and looking around the room itself. The hotel was nice enough — conference upgrade, nothing sensational but not cheap or sleazy, either. King-sized bed, just the one, with one of those thick white quilts and a ridiculous amount of white pillows that he fully intended to use in creative ways. The lamps were square and stainless steel… both were turned off. He started to reach for the lamp, to turn it on.

  “No, wait,” she said, popping up on bare feet. Something about that was adorable. She moved with grace, a sort of sashay that triggered something in him — a memory.

  If you start thinking you knew this girl in a previous life or that she’s your destiny or something, you’re going to have to kick your own ass. Seriously, this was getting ridiculous.

  She moved around the room, turning on little electric candles in glass holders that threw multicolor patches of light around, much like the jewel-toned tents downstairs. It made it seem like they were in a stained-glass window, or in an oil painting. It also made the whole thing seem more dream-like.

  Also, it made it harder to make out details, he couldn’t help but notice. There were squares of color across her body, obscuring it.

  “I want to see you,” he said.

  “See with your hands, not with your eyes,” she replied, her tone a little sassy as she took off the top hat and veil.

  “I do like the sound of that,” he admitted… and then grinned as she turned, presenting her corset ties to him and peering over her shoulder, looking like a fuckin’ steampunk pinup wet dream.

  “Jesus, if I’m dead, I don’t even care,” he breathed, and she laughed. Her laughter abruptly stopped when he undid the ties, loosening the corset and removing it, leaving only the flawless bronze skin of her back. He curved his hands in front, cupping her breasts, which fit perfectly in his hands. He squeezed gently, tugging and circling the nipples that popped in his hands like hard pebbles. He groaned, kissing her back, pressing his cock against her pert ass.

  She shimmied, undoing the side zipper on her pants and letting them fall to the floor. She was just wearing a pair of high-cut panties, lacy, flirty, barely even there.

  He was hard to the point of pain. She was naked except for the mask and those damned panties. She reached up, pulling a few pins out of her hair and shaking, letting those unruly curls tumble free and wild. If she’d looked like a goddess of sex before, with her hair loose, she looked like an avenging goddess now, unrelenting and fierce.

  He wanted to…

  Well, he
just wanted.

  “You’re overdressed,” she said, still bathed in that colored light. She stepped forward, reaching for the fly of his pants and undoing it. Then she got to her knees, undoing the laces of his boots. He nudged her back, toeing them off. She pushed him to the bed, just as he’d done to her, and she stripped the socks and leather pants off him, then his boxers. He was prone naked in front of her. Except for his mask.

  She started to move over him, her smooth palms rubbing him from his calves to his thighs. He groaned, his cock bobbing. “You don’t have to…”

  “Shhhh.” For such a gentle syllable, she was surprisingly emphatic. He groaned again, lying back… feeling her mouth start to move over him. He jolted up.

  “Do I have to tie you?” she said with a gentle chuckle.

  “I’m gonna go too fast if you do that,” he said, wishing again that he could find some kind of endearment that fit, that worked. Or her goddamn name. “Come on up here.”

  “Hmmm?” She let him tug her up… and then her eyes widened behind the mask as he turned her around.

  She seemed to figure out what was going on quickly enough, bringing her leg over his torso and placing that amazing ass in front of him, lace and all. He tasted her through the fabric, and she shivered and lowered herself to his cock.

  She closed her thighs around his mask, and he felt her tongue laving his rod, rolling around the head. He moaned, feeling her tight bud harden against him. They didn’t go too long like that, but it was enough to get them on the same page — to show them what they were working with.

  He was the one to break first… to pull her away. “I want to be inside you,” he said. His voice was so raspy he didn’t even recognize himself. He sat up, and she came off his cock with a pop. He tugged her up, kissing her back, holding her hips, then spinning her to face him. Face-to-face.

  Mask to mask.

  “Let me see you,” he groaned.

  She shook her head. “Protection,” she moaned instead. “Condoms. There by the lamp.”

  He reached over and saw that this time, his hands were shaking. She seemed to notice, taking the foil packet from him and pulling out the latex disk. He leaned back on his elbows as she rolled it on all the way to his base and pulled the tip.

  “Your mask,” he said again.

  He just saw her smile… then impale herself on him.

  He let out a war cry of pleasure, echoed by her sharp gasp of need. She did a full-body roll on him, flexing her internal muscles. He pulled her against him, her breasts trapped against his chest. He kissed her hard, tugging her thighs flush against him, thrusting up hard with his hips. She wrapped her legs around his waist, riding each crest.

  They plunged together, moaning and writhing. He gritted his teeth against the waves of pleasure buffeting him. He waited until he heard her let out a rippling, sharp cry and felt her inner muscles squeeze him like a fist. With an incoherent shout, he came inside her, shuddering before finally resting his head against her shoulder.

  When he pulled back, he realized his mask might be poking her, so he lifted it. She wanted her anonymity, fine. But that didn’t mean he had to. She would need to learn to deal with him, he thought. Especially after what they’d just done.

  She was sighing, her eyes closed. Her mask was catawampus on her face, and he gently tugged it away.

  And then stared, aghast, as he slowly recognized her.

  “Ani?” he said, unable to believe it.

  Her eyes flew open. Then she screeched.

  Ani stared at Abraham in abject horror. “No, no, no, no, no,” she muttered, rubbing her hands over her face and scooting back on the bed. “Not you. How the hell could it be you?”

  He blinked at her. “Are you trying to hurt my feelings, darlin’?”

  She backed up until she wobbled, almost falling off. She cartwheeled her arms before righting herself and hopping off naked, crossing her arms in front of her breasts. “Did you set me up for this?”

  “Believe me, princess, I didn’t know it was you, either,” he drawled, his eyes alight with irritation. “So don’t think so highly of yourself.”

  Of course he didn’t know. Of course her one stress-release hookup would be with the sexist asshole who had kept her friend off the coding team for years.

  And of course he’d be one of the best lays she’d ever had in her life.

  This is so unfair!

  She knew she had a taste for bad boys and, let’s face it, jerks. She’d had a boyfriend who cheated on her when she was in high school. She’d graduated to a hard-partying guy in college who had taken a good deal of her money and had made her feel guilty for denying him. She’d had hookups before, too, but they had been quick, and while occasionally fun, they’d never been this earth-shattering, world-changing, mind-blowing experience that she had to admit she felt with Abraham.

  Why? WHY?

  “We will speak of this to no one,” she said quickly, scouting around for clothes. She’d tripped on the duffel bag she’d packed, almost sprawling out on the floor. Haste and nerves were making her clumsy. She dug into the bag, pulling out an oversized T-shirt and sweats, thankful that she wouldn’t have to ask for his help in lacing herself back into the corset. “You understand? Nobody!”

  “You ashamed of me?” he asked. “Of getting with me?”

  “Yes,” she shouted.

  She was still running around trying to get herself together and flee when she caught a glimpse of his face and saw the stab of hurt on his expression before he schooled his face back to its usual sardonic cast.

  “Sorry it was so disappointing,” he said, and his words were clipped. “Normally when I get a girl off a few times, I get thanks. But I guess that’s not your style.”

  “It’s not that. You’re fantastic in bed. I won’t deny it,” she said quickly, mostly because she knew she couldn’t sell that lie. The guy was a god in the sack, without question, and he had to know it. “Probably the best I’ve ever had.”

  “So, you’re ashamed of sex?”

  “No,” she said. “I got a hotel room, for God’s sake. I invited you up.” I just didn’t know it was you!

  “Then what’s the problem?” he asked. “Because as far as I can tell, the night’s young.”

  She felt her shoulders tense. “Because… “ She gulped. You’re usually a sexist asshat and you hurt my friend. “You say things like ‘manly’ when justifying your actions. Or you tell people to ‘man up.’ You are super, unbelievably…”

  “Masculine?” His face now had a wry smile.

  She huffed out a breath. “We don’t get along,” she replied tightly.

  He looked back at the bed. His naked body was gorgeous, she had to admit, all cut and taut. His cock was starting to wake up again, as well, which caused a corresponding longing in her own lady parts. “We seemed to get along just fine a few minutes ago,” he pointed out.

  She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. “That’s just sex.”

  His gaze was hot, and he took a step closer to her, tugging the clothes she was holding out of her hands and putting them on the nearby dresser. “I’m not going to lie, either — that was some fucking fantastic sex. And believe me, I’ve had plenty.”

  “And this is why you’re an asshole,” she muttered, reaching for her clothes again. He stood between her and the clothes.

  “I don’t understand it, but I’m not gonna question it,” he said. “You wanted to hook up. You’ve got it. And you could get a lot more of it,” he said. “Even if you don’t want anything past tonight, like I said… the night’s young. Hell, it’s not even eleven yet.”

  She bit her lip.

  Actually, the more that she thought about it, the more perfect their little arrangement was. She’d wanted anonymity because she didn’t want to get further involved. With a guy like Abraham, she knew there was no way in hell she was going to be involved for more than one night, no matter how great the sex was. She had wanted one night, just one hookup, before
she buried herself in prepping for her thesis proposal presentation, as well as whatever “rigorous” research assistant duties Dr. Peterson might have lined up for her. She wouldn’t have another chance for sex for a while, and then when she was actually working on her thesis, it was going to mean a lot of time in the lab, as well. And she was going to do whatever it took to get her degree and start making a difference.

  She would take the great night of sex, and then they’d go their separate ways. Which, let’s face it, was probably what Abraham wanted as well. He struck her as the hit-it-and-quit-it type. And even if he wasn’t, he was the manly chauvinist type, who saw her as the feminist nerdy type. He wouldn’t want anything long term with her.

  She took a deep breath and gritted her teeth. “All right. Couple of ground rules.”

  He smirked in triumph, making her want to strangle him. “Name ‘em.”

  “I was serious before. We don’t tell anyone about this. Especially Tessa.” She sighed. “Tessa’s going to be so disappointed in me.”

  He scowled. “Why? I thought Tessa was my friend!”

  “She is, but she knows how you are about women.” It had taken months for Tessa to forgive him for the way he’d treated her, during their “code off” when Tessa had proven herself as worthy a programmer as Abraham. Ani still hadn’t quite forgiven him for it, which was why she still felt badly now.

  “And how am I about…” Abraham shook his head, cutting himself off. “You know what? Never mind. We’ll just get into a fight, and that’s not what I’m here for. Any other conditions?”

  “Yeah. After tonight, we’re done.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because I’m not going to have the time,” she said. “I’ve got a shit-ton of work to do to get my doctorate, and I’m going to be buried under a mountain of stress. I’m barely going to have time to bathe, much less bounce on some guy.”