“Are you sleeping with him?”
“Are you pregnant?”
“Did you know he was cheating on you?”
The questions quickly degrade into whether I scream during sex or just moan. Thank God, a limo pulls up before I slap this guy silly. Then the backdoor opens and CJ pulls me onto his lap. With me safely tucked inside, he rolls down the window, and winks at the crowd.
Then, he turns and kisses me.
I knew there’d be sparks but I wasn’t prepared for complete nuclear meltdown. The limo fades away, as does the crowd, and all of my troubles. My body gets all tingly at his sweet male taste. Then I moan, sinking deeper into the pleasure, opening my mouth wide, my hands in his silky hair.
Some foreign part of my brain says stop but as my tits go hard and my body aches for more, I can’t be bothered being sensible. When a guttural groan comes from deep within his chest, I completely lose my mind. With heart thumping I twist, ready to straddle him.
“Whoa, baby.” He looks about as stunned as I feel, breathing heavy while cameras flash in our faces.
Still holding my gaze, he gives a short wave to the crowd and rolls up the window. Then he gives the driver an address and says, “Lose them, Jack, would you?”
The driver, a bald man in his sixties pulls out into traffic and steps on the gas, Soon the few cars that follow fall away. I stay glued to CJ’s lap, staring into his hazel eyes that seem to speak to something long dead inside me. His thumbs play at the sides of my chest as he holds me in place.
Finally I slide off his lap and onto the seat, remembering my place. He’s the famous CJ Quinn and I am a homeless woman from Brooklyn. The kiss was just public relations. Whatever I felt, I’m sure it was all me.
He holds my hand the rest of the way, saying nothing and I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. I hope he doesn’t believe I’m easy. Damn. It’s just I’ve never been kissed like that before.
We end up on Seventh Avenue South in front of an unassuming restaurant, the name etched in small letters on the glass door.
“Hello Mr. Quinn. Wine?” A waiter seats us at a table for two near the open kitchen area.
“What say you, love?” CJ’s heated gaze lowers to my lips and he moves in like he might kiss me again.
“Ah. Sure. Wine’s good.” I was with Des for four years and I never felt anything remotely like this. My whole body is shaking, my panties damp.
After the waiter leaves, CJ clears his throat, and his brows crease. “I’m sorry.”
“About the kiss?”
Suddenly the carriage turns back into a pumpkin and reality kicks in. It’s all a sham. He’s not my real boyfriend and although my panties are damp, he didn’t feel a thing.
“Hell no. I meant the paparazzi.” He tilts his head, mouth grim, voice cross.
“Oh.” That he liked our kiss should make me feel better, but the magic in the moment has disappeared.
Shrugging, I lift my guard, and put my mask back in place. “No biggie. You told me to expect the worse.”
“In the future, we’ll be more careful. This was the quickest way to let the public know I’m dating.” Eyes glued to my face, he wraps his hands around mine.
I use his undivided attention to share my list of conditions. “About that. You’re not to give me any clothes or expensive gifts.”
My fingers lift one at a time. “No jewelry, no perfume, no nothing. I get my own room in your apartment and I will tally everything up and pay you back after the wedding.”
“Is that it?” One eyebrow rises and he unsuccessfully holds back his smirk.
The least he could do is argue. “Yes.”
He hands me the menu with the ungodly prices. “Do you want to start with dinner? I can have him split the check.”
“Sure. Fine.” Holy shit. I can maybe afford four scallops and still eat the rest of the week.
He searches my face, no doubt seeing the sticker shock. “Listen. Whatever you want. I want you to be comfortable with this. It’s supposed to be good for both of us.”
He excuses himself and walks to the men’s room without his cane which makes me real proud. On the way, he stops to whisper to the waiter. I know what was said when the wine comes on the house.
Then CJ returns and the awkwardness slowly disappears. He tells me about his brother, growing up in the south, and about an awesome mom and dad. I can picture him fishing on the lake and swinging on a rope to jump in. It makes me wish I’d grown up next door.
When he asks about me, I dust off the story that I always use about my family where everything was perfect. It makes me like him even more that he doesn’t push for details.
After the best meal ever, completely relaxed by three glasses of wine, he calls Jack and we head back into Brooklyn. In the car, I light up the check with my phone and tally up my share. It’s not too bad, especially because CJ insisted on feeding me from his plate.
Neither one of us wants the night to end so we stop at Talon where if the patrons recognize him, they’re nice enough to leave him alone. We decide on one more beer before calling it a night.
“Do you mind if I ask what you saw in that asshole, Des?” CJ leans back on a chair, legs outstretched, hands behind his head.
I blush. “How can I explain? At first it was exciting. He was a little older, a lot more experienced, and had down that whole New Yorker disdain-thing. He could make someone feel like shit with a word. At first, it made me feel special. Later, it was just embarrassing. But by the time I figured him out, I’d wasted four years of my life. I’m not getting any younger. And, well, it’s stupid, but I felt like I was going to end up an old maid.”
Eyebrows raise as he takes another swallow of beer.
The only way I can explain my next sentence is that I’d had way too much to drink. “He was the only guy, you know, that I ever slept with.”
He coughs so hard he might need the Heimlich but then stops and picks up a coaster that drops to the floor. When he comes up, his face is red.
“Sorry. Went down the wrong hole. So that’s why you didn’t leave him? Because he was the only guy you ever slept with?”
I nod, mortified at my big mouth. Obviously, he thinks I’m a pathetic loser.
After my grand announcement, I laugh lightly and figure it’s his turn. “So there it is. I’ve shared my biggest embarrassment, it’s only fair that you do the same.”
He raises his bad leg. “It’s all over social media.”
“What really happened?” My hand reaches over of its own accord to cover his. Traitor.
His brows raise, he throws some bills on the table, and stands. “You want to walk and talk?”
“Yeah, sure.” I try to look at the tab but he refuses and pays.
“It doesn’t matter, I’ll just check with the owner later.”
He winks at the red head behind the bar. “Not going to happen. Tonight’s my treat. No strings. You can begin your accounting tomorrow. Deal?”
Slippery slope, I tell myself. “We’ll talk.”
His hand slips to my lower back possessively as he walks me out the door. “So boss, you think this knee will make it up the hill?”
“Why? Does it hurt?”
“Yeah. Some.” He points to his knee. “Right here.” Then he points to his cock. “And here.”
I smile. I know what he means. My clit’s been swollen since that first kiss in the limo. “You agreed, no sex.”
“Just checking, but why? I swear I’m clean.”
“Is that what you think I’m thinking?” I blush like mad. When you’ve only had sex with one guy, I mean, well, you don’t consider stuff like that. Oh my God. Who knows what diseases that skank Des has been sleeping with has?
I moan. “I need to get tested.”
He squeezes my hand. “There’s a clinic in the neighborhood.”
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Know what I’m thinking?”
His laugh is like whiskey. War
m and friendly. Then I’m sure I’ve had too much to drink when I reach around his waist, look up, and kiss him.
Like earlier, fireworks go off inside my head and my pussy goes slick. I don’t have enough undies to marry this man. With a groan, he pulls me into the first dark doorway and leans in to get full access to my mouth. His hands roam over my back then slip to my ass, squeezing.
Then tight against his lower half, he takes my mouth prisoner. His large frame hides me from the street as his tongue plays inside my mouth. In and out he plunges while he rocks into my body and my dress rides up.
For a moment, I wonder if he’s considering doing it right here and the excitement is so much, I almost have an orgasm.
“You sure you don’t want to fuck me?” Panting, he looks down where only cloth separates us.
My inner cavewoman urges me to lift my dress and unzip his fly but I back off, glad for the darkness that hides my heated face. My God, he must think I’m some kind of slut.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He kisses me again, this time softer, more like goodbye, and then takes my hand. “Let’s walk home.”
Home. I like the sound of that. And I like this man a lot more than I should. What the fuck was I thinking when I agreed to this? After just one date, I want to jump him. After a few months, when he says goodbye, I’ll be devastated.
Chapter 10
When was the last time I held hands with a woman? Shit. When was the last time I even liked a woman? Not since Mary. Good girls are trouble. I’ve always been a complete jerk when it comes to the opposite sex.
Now, yet again, I find one that makes me want to be a better man. Oh sure. She’s the one gazing at me with these big blue eyes that say, fuck me, CJ.
I’d walk home faster, but with the bum knee and painfully hard junk, it’s not happening. Sex isn’t happening either. She has her bedroom and I have mine. End of conversation. I may be an asshole, but I’m an honorable one.
I know Jaz must’ve pulled a lot strings to find us an apartment in such a short amount of time. Money. It can buy just about anything but not her. That probably explains why I want her so bad. I’m not used to a woman saying no. Ever since I was in middle school, girls have thrown themselves at me.
Long before I knew what it meant, my father told me I oozed sex appeal. That, along with some hard work is going to see that I’m set for life before I’m brain dead from multiple concussions. The thought of that sobers me. I can’t screw this thing up with Melanie. I need to show the public that I’m headed for marital bliss with a real sweet girl from Iowa.
She’s a woman who’s only had sex with one man and damn if that isn’t a fucking turn on. I keep trying to convince myself that she’s so inexperienced that she’d be no good in bed but who’m I kidding? Her kisses set me on fire and turn my brain to oatmeal.
With Google Maps directing us, we walk past multiple brownstones while talking about everything under the sun. Then when we reach our destination, I lead her up the stairs and switch on the light.
“What the fuck?” I hobble down the hall to be sure. Yup. There’s just one bedroom with a king-sized bed.
Her face scrunches, clearly displeased.
Before she can say anything, I hold up my arms palms down. “I’ll call Jaz and he’ll fix it tomorrow. I promise. Listen, I’ll take the couch.”
She laughs. “Riight, hotshot. Which half of you? I’m much smaller. It’s fine.”
She heads into the bedroom, takes one of the pillows, and searches for an extra blanket. “Who’s Jaz?”
“My publicist, personal assistant, man Friday, and college best-friend. I told him we needed two bedrooms. I guess this was all he could find on such short notice.”
“No big deal. Really. I’m homeless, remember? This is great.” She rummages through my suitcase and pulls out my favorite t-shirt, soft and full of holes. “Can I wear this? I got no pajamas.”
I nod, mouth suddenly dry. I imagine her waking up beside me, my hands sliding up and under…
“Mind if I use the bathroom?”
“Be my guest.” I know she isn’t wearing a bra and pretty sure there weren’t panty lines under that dress.
Suddenly this arrangement seems like a really bad idea. She won’t take charity from me but surely her family can help her out.
I call through the shut door, “Hey, Mel?”
“I told you. It’s not Mel. It’s Melanie.”
I settle back on the huge bed and stretch out. “Why didn’t you ask your dad for money?”
The water runs for a long while, and I wonder if she’s going to answer. “It’s complicated.”
“Why? What did you do?”
All of a sudden, a glass shatters followed by a shit-load of cursing.
I stand at the door, ready to break it down. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yup. Fine. My hands were soapy. Dish fell off. I got it.” She runs the water some more, then she coughs, and blows her nose.
I’m not a complete moron. I know she was crying when she comes out. Obviously, things are not good with her and her family. The redness around the eyes makes me real sorry I opened my stupid mouth. I swear to God to never bring up her family again.
So, there she is, all sad-like, standing right in front of me wearing my favorite Knicks t-shirt which comes halfway down her thighs. The thin cotton leaves nothing to the imagination. She’s got some serious muscle tone but not in a weight-lifter kind of way. There’s this sexy kind of sculpture to her arms and legs. That tells me I could let go and she wouldn’t break. Her ex must be a fucking idiot.
I get that the brain between my legs is doing all the thinking. She’s going to be my wife. There’s no damn good reason we shouldn’t have sex.
Except you made a deal with her, asshole.
The way she responds when I kiss her is better than in the doorway, even better than the limo. I’ve never known a woman so full of passion and it lights me up. This is not the kiss of a woman who does not want sex. I swear I’ll just take a little taste of her honey, then I’ll send her to the couch.
It’s with inhuman self-control that I keep my hands on the outside of her t-shirt. She’s the one who rips off mine. I let her fingers roam up and down my bare skin while I do my best with her cotton covered tits.
When it becomes too much, I lower my mouth and suck until my t-shirt she’s wearing is soaked and see-through. Then I nip at the peak until she squirms and moans out my name.
When her legs open, one of my hands travels down and lifts the make-shift nightie to her waist. With not even a thong to prevent me, I slip in a finger. She tightens around it. If that was my cock, I’d be banging her into heaven.
For tonight, it’s all about her pleasure. Slowly I lower my mouth to her core, and she gasps and closes her legs, pushing my head away. “What’re you doing?”
“Fucking you with my tongue.” I open up her knees watching how turned on she is by my dirty talk.
I chuckle, totally into this woman. When I go for her again, and lick her full opening, she sighs and arches, wanting more. Slowly I make her prick swell with my tiny nibbles and sucks. I find what she likes best and give it to her.
It’s so hot, knowing I’m the first to taste her like this. Suddenly she’s there, her pussy swelling and pulsing and she’s panting like mad. Making her come may be one of the most erotic sexual experiences of my life.
I unzip my pants but keep my cock inside. We’ve both had a little too much to drink and when I enter her for the first time, I want to be sure there’re no second thoughts.
When she falls asleep in my bed, I tuck her between the sheets and safely under the comforter. Then I kiss her one more time, the taste of her sweet liquid still on my lips.
I lie there for the longest time, wrapped in the spare blanket, trying to figure out what the hell is going on inside my head. As my brother clearly pointed out, I don’t do good girls. Not since Mary.
Chapter 11
It shoul
d be weird, right? But it’s not. First of all, I’m too hungover to worry about what happened last night. Secondly, I took money out of my savings. I’m paying for my half of the date so I definitely did not trade a meal for sex.
Actually, we didn’t fuck, unless you count his tongue and I was the only one who got off. Now he must think I’m a tease but I can’t be sure. It’s too hard to think before coffee. I need caffeine right now and I can’t find a damn thing in any of these cupboards. If I have to open another one, I may start screaming.
Finally, I find this coffee machine with a lever, put in a pod, and pace while I wait.
I woke up next to him, resolved not to have regrets. The new me, the homeless me, needs to embrace life. And yeah, I know, before you say it, CJ’s going to break my heart. But until then, what if I just stop and smell the roses? Enjoy what he has to offer?
Not his money, I mean, just the sex.
He looks worried as he comes out of the bedroom, so I hand him my mug and grab another for myself. I learned he likes it black and sweet. Me? Creamy and light.
“Rough night?” I give him my best smile and the grin he returns melts my heart.
Then he comes up behind me, cups my breasts and nibbles my ear. “Wanna get married?”
I laugh and slap him away. “Yes, but we got to do this right. We need like... at least three months. We need to make sure you invite the right people and I get enough stuff from my family so I can start over. You can return your gifts. Mine, I’m keeping.”
Wearing a pair of sweat pants low on his hips, he couldn’t look sexier. Then he pops two Advils and drinks orange juice from the carton. “I don’t get it. Why not just take a loan from me?”
“Because. It’ll mess everything up between us.” Everyone knows money lent is bad news.
“Explain your weird universe to me, because to be honest, babe, I’m not getting it.” He leans back in his chair, hands behind his head, flaunting his sculptured six pack, making it hard not to stare.
“It’s simple. I don’t exchange sex for money.” I sit down at the table and pour a bowl of raisin bran.
Busted Play: The Series (Players, Books 1-6) Page 4