Secrets of a Shy Socialite

by Wendy S. Marcus

  “My name is Justin Rangore,” he whispered.

  “Now here’s a toughie,” she said, “Who am I?”

  He rocked his hips. Something firm poked her butt cheek. “You are the lovely, and when I say lovely I mean alluring, sensual, and charming Jena Piermont.”

  His emphasis on “Jena” made her smile and delighted her beyond measure. She reset her alarm to go off in an hour. “Back to sleep,” she said a bit surprised when he didn’t balk and continue putting the moves on her and actually seemed to drift right back into slumber.

  The next three times Jena’s alarm startled her back to consciousness she could barely stay awake long enough to gently shake Justin, determine him to be oriented to person, place and time, and reset her alarm before falling back into an exhausted sleep.

  “Hey, beautiful.” A man’s soft voice interrupted a delicious dream. Lips, she assumed his, pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Rise and shine.”

  Lying on her side, Jena opened her eyes to sunshine and Justin’s face less than an inch away. She slapped her hand over her mouth.

  “Relax,” he said so at ease with their position. “Two morning breaths cancel each other out.”

  “Are you speaking from your vast experience waking up in bed with women,” she asked from behind her hand, “Or saying the first thing that came to mind to keep me from leaving the bed to gargle with mouthwash?”

  “Yes.” He smiled.

  “How do you feel?” she asked.

  He took the hand covering her mouth, slid it down his naked chest, to an impressive morning erection. “You tell me.”

  Oh my. Great. He felt great. Awesome. “Well, that’s a pretty big indication you no longer need me around to take care of you.” She started to roll away but came to an abrupt stop on her back, when Justin pounced on top of her, pinning her hips beneath his.

  “But I do.” He rested his upper body on his elbows and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Don’t go.”

  Somehow her knees parted and he settled in between them, his groin flush with hers, the pressure of his arousal...right there. She wanted to lift her hips. Needed...

  He pushed some hair off of her forehead and stared deeply into her eyes. “Stay with me, Jena.”

  Jena. Stay with me, Jena. Not Jaci.

  She shouldn’t. Sex would only make her eventual choice of husband, and doing what was best for her and her daughters, more difficult. She glanced at the clock anyway. The girls would be up soon. Jena had never been separated from them for as long as they’d been apart over the last twenty-four hours. She ached to see their smiling faces and kiss their baby-scented skin. And it was too much to expect Jaci—

  “Please,” he said, the need in his voice, the rich, sensual timbre made her woman parts tingle. “I want to show you something.” And Lord help her, Jena wanted to see it, feel it and experience it.

  He rocked his hips. Slowly. Forward. Then back. The length of his erection providing an intimate massage that drove words like “stop” and “no” from cognition, leaving only synonyms of “yes”, “more”, and “faster” accessible for use.

  “What?” On impulse she skimmed her hands down the soft skin covering his lateral ribs to his waist. “What do you want to show me?”

  “How good I make love when I’m sober.” He kept his voice quiet, seductive, as he lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, “When I take my time, and my sole focus is your pleasure.”

  Jena couldn’t contain a sensual shiver.

  The little demonstration of “sole focus on her pleasure” that followed proved him a proficient and talented sexual multi-tasker.

  Aroused Jena, the one listening to her stimulated, needy body crying out for one last sexual hurrah battled Rational Jena, the cautious, responsible one wedged in her head, over the pros and cons of crossing her ankles behind his butt, opening for him and exerting some control over the speed, depth and direction of his frustratingly languid pelvic activity.

  Rational Jena won out. This time. But with each caress of her breast, each glide of his palm over her nipple, each slide of his erection along her swollen, moistening sex Aroused Jena was gaining strength.

  “That’s very altruistic of you,” she teased. And very tempting. If she married Thomas goodbye sex life hello abstinence. Even if she held out in search of an understanding heterosexual male who could accept her treatment decisions—as if one would be easy to find within the next two months—from the research she’d done, after surgery she expected changes in the sensation, look and feel of her breasts that would impact both her and her partner in any future intimate relationship. This could be her last opportunity to enjoy the delicious tingle of aroused nipples, of a man’s hands caressing her breasts and his mouth... “But don’t you mean how good you are at sex?” Because making love would require, well...love. Or at least some degree of mutual affection.

  He kissed the sensitive cove at the base of her ear. Oh so gentle. His hips maintained their unhurried rhythm. Forward. Then back. Over and over. His fingers teased. “How about I spend the next couple of hours demonstrating the difference?” He kissed along the line of her jaw to her chin. He touched his lips to hers. So tender, nothing like the mashing, passionate kisses she now associated with sex.

  Sex. Not making love.

  When he lifted his head she said, “We already had sex.”

  “Honey, I’m not proud to admit it, but what we had was a sloppy, drunken version of sex I want to eradicate from your memory.” He started to slide down her body.

  “Hey,” she said. “I haven’t agreed to anything.” Yet.

  He pushed up her cotton tee. “But you will.” He set his mouth to her breast, swirled his tongue around her nipple, sucked and Oh. My. Goodness. Without conscious thought, “Yes,” shot from her mouth like a cork from an agitated bottle of bubbly.

  He moved to her other breast. The feel of his triumphant grin against her skin gave her pause. This is what Justin did. Seduce. Convince. Use whatever means necessary to get what he wanted. Being treated like just another conquest didn’t sit right, regardless of how much she wanted him, so she forced out a, “Stop,” and pushed him away.

  He lifted his head and looked at her, confused. Surprised.

  “Annie and Abbie will be up soon,” she said. “I have to go.”

  She expected him to bargain or cajole.

  He didn’t.

  He did, however, move up her body, slowly, setting his moist tongue to her neck for the last part of his journey up to whisper in her ear, “Tonight, then. After work.” He blew out a hot, shaky breath. “Baby, tonight. What I’m going to do to you.”

  Jena swallowed, gulped actually, as an excited, adventurous, illicit anticipatory longing started to bubble deep within her.

  * * *

  “You look tired,” Jena said, walking over to where Justin stood in the lobby of the urgent care center with his back resting up against the wall.

  It was kind of sweet that she kept checking on him. “Because someone kept waking me up last night.”

  “Which is why tonight you need a good night’s sleep,” she tried, not for the first time, to get out of going back to his place.

  She took him by the hand. “Justin is taking a quick break, Gayle,” she said then led him down the hall. “Come.”

  That was the plan. For both of them. Multiple times.

  “I cannot believe you don’t trust me enough to work without you watching over me like an overprotective
parent,” Jena complained. “You should be home in bed.”

  “Which is where I’d be right now if you’d agreed to stay there with me when I’d asked,” he pointed out.

  As she walked she chirped about headaches and blurred vision. Warning signs. Forgetfulness. Potential for delayed subdural hematoma. Permanent brain damage and dysfunction. Death.

  While he chose to focus on his urge to release the thick curls restrained in her tight bun and muss them up for a wild, untamed look. But then they’d cover the smooth kissable, lickable skin at the back of her neck. His mouth actually watered at the thought. He moved his gaze lower, to the enticing sway of her hips and glimpses of the rounded perfectness of her butt each time her long top shifted.

  Beyond her enticing physical attributes Justin found he actually enjoyed spending time with her which was a good thing since they’d spent so many hours in each other’s presence over the past two days. Like the better part of his morning and early afternoon in Jena’s bedroom, playing with the twins and learning to care for them. And while they slept, reviewing her financial statements, and teaching her to read them and pay her bills.

  To date it’d been the longest period of time he’d ever spent in a room occupied by a bed and a woman without getting naked. And yet he’d still enjoyed himself, finding Jena a captivating mix of contrasts. Innocent yet sexy. Caring yet guarded. Insecure yet confident.

  “Honestly,” she said, jolting him back to the conversation. “I promised I wouldn’t leave the building until Ian came to get me.”

  Like to protect her was the only reason he’d shown up at work. No, his motives way more self-serving, Justin had loaded up on acetaminophen so he could stay close to take advantage of every opportunity to entice her and remind her where they were headed at the end of her shift. To his bed where he would prove his attraction to her and not Jaci. Where he would make Jena crave him as much as he craved her. Where he would drive thoughts of Thomas and Dr. Charmer and a relationship with any other man right out of her head.

  But she needed to get married. To someone. The mere thought of Jena tending to another man’s wounds while dressed in her clingy pajamas, or cuddling up to another man in bed, caused his chest to tighten. As did thinking of binding himself to a woman, of disappointing her, and upsetting her over and over for five long years.

  “I feel fine.” Except for a residual nagging headache.

  She pulled him into an empty exam room. “Sit.” She pointed to a chair.

  “Yes, ma’am.” But only because he hoped maybe she’d come in close to check his stiches so he could—Yes! She walked toward the chair. He spread his knees in welcome and she moved between them.

  Oh yeah.

  He inhaled. “You smell so good.” He set his hands at the backs of her knees, lightly. Testing. When she didn’t react he moved up to the lusciously firm mounds of her butt. “Feel so good.”

  She ignored him. “Your incision line looks fine. Any headache?”

  “No,” he lied. Nothing would interfere with his plans for tonight.

  “Blurred vision?”

  He slid his hands up, under her scrub top to bare warm skin. “Nope.”

  She tried to step back.

  He held her in place. “You didn’t ask about my lips. They hurt.” He looked up at her with what he hoped was a convincing sad expression. “I think a quick kiss would make them feel better.”

  She pushed on his shoulders, a half-hearted display if ever there was one. “Stop it.” Her smile belied her tone of annoyance.

  “After you kiss me.” Obviously she needed more of an enticement so, holding her with one hand at her back, he moved his other hand around front, to her right breast, her nipple hard beneath his palm. “Breasts are my favorite part of the female anatomy. And yours are perfection.” The nicest he’d seen, touched and tasted. No lie. Considering the number of women he’d been with over the years that was saying something. “I love that you don’t wear a padded bra.” So he could feel her arousal and revel in her response to his touch.

  She let out a breath. “We can’t.”

  He noticed she didn’t make any attempt to flee.

  Gotcha.

  He moved his other hand around so he could caress both of her lovely breasts at the same time, lavishing attention on the rounded fullness of her perfect Cs, watching the movement of her scrub top as he maneuvered underneath it, wishing he could see his hands on her fair skin.

  “My goodness you’re making this hard.”

  “Well you’re making this hard.” He reached for her hand and lowered it to his growing erection.

  Major miscalculation.

  She jerked her hand away like she’d received an electric shock. “This is so wrong.” She glanced at the door then at his crotch. “So unprofessional.” She stepped back. He let her go. “What if Mary came in with a patient?”

  “She wouldn’t open a closed door without knocking first.” But Jena was right. He’d gone too far. “Later.” He stared up at her. “Promise me.”

  She thought about it. “Okay,” she agreed, backing away from him. “Tonight.” She turned to leave, mumbling something that sounded like, “One last time.”

  After the door closed Justin leaned back and shut his eyes. Last time? Silly girl. They were just getting started.

  For the rest of their shift Jena didn’t look him in the eye. But she looked at other parts of him. And the pink blush that erupted on her cheeks when he caught her staring got him hotter than the most overt sexual advances. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She hurried off.

  Why yes he would like to know, as a matter of fact. What made one of the richest girls in town focus her telescope on him? Choose him as her first lover? Trust him to help her with her finances? Look at him with lust in her eyes and treat him with caring when she could have her pick of men? Better men, wealthy, cultured men more suited to circulating in her upper class circles.

  A car screeched to a stop outside. Justin went on alert. A man jumped out of the driver seat, yanked on the rear passenger door, and pulled out a young child wearing blue pajamas. Justin held open the heavy glass door for him.

  “My son,” the man said, panting, his eyes wild. “He’s having trouble breathing.”

  Justin looked down at the sleeping child cradled in the man’s arms. Maybe two or three years old, his nose red, his eyes puffy, his lashes clumped with tears.

  “Okay. Not right now,” he said “But a few minutes ago he was crying and coughing, a strange barky cough that scared the hell out of me. He couldn’t catch his breath. My wife is away on a business trip. I called the pediatrician who said it sounded like croup. What the hell is croup? And what kind of kook doctor diagnoses a child over the telephone?” The man shifted the boy so his head rested on his shoulder. “Drive to urgent care with the windows open, he told me.”

  “Seems to have worked,” Justin commented, after filling in at the urgent care center dozens of times, very familiar with croup and this exact scenario.

  Beyond listening, the man continued on as if Justin hadn’t spoken. “If the coughing stops and Joshua calms down turn around and go back home, he told me. So the crying and coughing and gasping for breath can start up again in an hour? I don’t think so. My son needs treatment. Right now. I want him examined by a doctor,” the man demanded.

  “That’s why we’re here,” Justin replied. “Please sign in
with Gayle.” Justin directed the man to the registration desk. “I’ll get a nurse to come out.” Because he wasn’t a medical professional and would rather Mary or Jena decide if the little boy needed to be taken right in.

  He found Jena in the supply room carrying a pack of disposable diapers and a case of formula. “Where’re these going?” He took them from her. “There’s a little boy out front I’d like you to take a look at. Possible croup. The man with him is pretty upset.”

  “Exam room four,” she said without argument. “Then they’re ready to go.”

  An hour later, ten minutes to close, after a visit with a doctor and lots of instruction and reassurance from Jena, Justin accompanied Joshua and his dad out to the parking lot.

  “Sorry about before,” the man said.

  “No need to apologize,” Justin replied.

  The man unlocked the car, opened the rear passenger door, and tucked Joshua into his car seat. When he emerged he asked, “You have kids?”

  As of two days ago, “Yeah. Two little girls. Twins.” He noticed he stood a bit taller, feeling rather proud about it.

  “This parenthood gig is one crazy ride.” The man shook his head.

  Justin had no doubt it would be once he secured his spot on the parental rollercoaster beside Jena.

  Who sure took her time cleaning up and restocking for the next day.

  By half past twelve even Mary had had enough. “Come on, Jena,” she called down the hallway. “I’ve got to get home. Max is waiting up for me.” She turned to Justin. “With candles burning and lotion warming.”

  “Thanks for the visual but that’s more information than I need to know.”

  “Tough. Do you think I want to go home and have sex? My son wakes up at sunrise. I won’t get home until close to one in the morning. I need to sleep,” Mary complained. “But I fear I inadvertently strayed into the path of those horny vibes pulsing back and forth between you and Jena. Heck, even Dr. Morloni set up a late night rendezvous. Did you see how fast he bolted out of here?”