by BETH KERY
Crack.
She jumped slightly at the sharp sound and the sting on her bottom. He’d spanked her. He drew her slip up deliberately to her waist, fully exposing her ass. He squeezed both her buttocks at once. He spanked her twice more.
“Ooh,” she whimpered, her brain clearing, her hands finding his coat draped over the edge of the table. She bent for him then, presenting herself for his hand. His cock. Anything he wanted to give her. She heard his grunt of satisfaction.
He peeled back one of her ass cheeks and entered her again. Her mouth fell and a harsh moan tore at her throat. He felt huge at this angle. He began thrusting again with deep, firm strokes, their skin slapping together, the sound ringing in her ears in a regular, taut rhythm. She became vaguely aware that she was groaning and whimpering nonstop. As always, he barraged her with sensation.
He paused with his cock embedded in her and his balls pressing hard against her outer sex. He spanked her ass cheek tautly before he reached around her, finding her clit unerringly. She clamped her eyelids shut, her entire body tensing at his touch, her throat vibrating with a groan.
“This is what you get for being so beautiful, Eleanor, so damn sexy . . .” he bit out before he fucked her with short, hard jabs. She had the bizarre, disoriented impression he was trying to push his words into her being . . . to make her believe them.
She exploded like a rocket. Pleasure seized her entire being.
Trey’s harsh voice penetrated her brain.
“Hold steady. Eleanor? Brace yourself,” he demanded, squeezing her elbow with his hand to indicate what he wanted. Orgasm still rippling through her, she managed to stiffen her arms.
He began to move, his thrusts into her even faster and more forceful than before, if that were possible. She gritted her jaw and tightened her muscles, striving to move her hips in a counter-rhythm to his. With only the head of his cock submerged, he paused, her ass molded into his tightly cupped hand.
“Stay still, honey. I’m about to come,” he rasped.
His cock plunged into her, making her gasp. A taut, knocking sound entered her buzzing brain. It was the cabinet striking the wall faster now. She blinked open her eyes, her body rocking to and fro rapidly while his grunts of pleasure rained down on her. He was jerking her hips and ass, serving her pussy to his driving cock. Her mouth opened in a silent scream. His pelvis smacked against her ass. He held her against him, and she felt him swell in her.
A giant shudder went through him and a roar rattled his throat. Her hair stood on end at the thrilling sound.
Then he was thrusting into her again, her body jerked to and fro, and the cabinet rapidly bumped against the wall. Sensation struck her consciousness like bullet fire. And then something really was falling on her, hitting the back of her head, her shoulders and back—
“Shit, oh Jesus— Eleanor?”
Something large had broken loose that was stacked at the back of the table. But the only thing she experienced for a confused second was dread at the sensation of Trey’s cock sliding out of her body.
“No, Trey,” she groaned miserably, blinking open her eyelids. “Just leave it.”
But it was no good. He was next to her now, lifting the wooden frame that had fallen on her while they rocked the cabinet so forcefully. She pushed herself up and stood, feeling her satin slip falling past her hips.
“Are you okay?” he demanded.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she assured, touching her back dazedly. The plywood frame hadn’t been all that heavy.
“Let me look.”
She turned slightly. She felt his fingers move along her shoulders and back as he inspected her. “It didn’t break the skin,” he finally said. “I thought it was attached to the wall. It didn’t even rattle like the other stuff piled in front of it did . . . until the end, anyway. It’s a mounted photo or something. Damn,” Trey muttered thickly. “It’s torn. I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” she agreed, still irritated by his abrupt departure from her body and her sudden emptiness. “I hate that stupid thing.”
He glanced at her tensely. “You’re not worried about it? It’s not a rare photo or something?” He heaved the three-foot by three-foot mounted, wood-framed photograph back into its original position against the wall.
She stood and leaned across the cabinet. “Hardly. Don’t worry about it. I told you this wasn’t a collection preservation room. There’s no art or artifacts in here. It was a photo I had done for a display item for the 1960s Sexual Revolution exhibit we had a couple years ago.” She lifted the torn portion of the black-and-white vinyl, making the subject of the photo clear to him. She gave him a wry glance of amusement.
His slow smile made something curl tight in her belly.
God, I’m crazy about him.
He snorted with laughter as they both stared at the image of playboy Hugh Hefner surrounded by a bevy of buxom bunnies.
“Some irony, that ol’ Hugh would be the one to interrupt a moment like that. Traitor,” she said with amused irritability.
“At least he had the decency to wait until the finale.”
“Barely.”
“I know. Trust me, I know.”
“I always hated the stupid thing. Now I have even more reason to dislike it,” she muttered, beleaguered.
His low, rough laughter made her sensitive skin prickle with awareness. He turned, taking her into his arms, his blue eyes lambent with amusement and the heat of his previous blazing arousal. She hugged his waist. He bent his knees and dropped a kiss on her mouth. Their lips clung together, hunger still lingering even after their explosive lovemaking. “You know, I think I hate Hugh too,” he mused, his warm, fragrant breath brushing against her upturned mouth. “I’m learning that I don’t like anything that keeps me from you, Eleanor.”
A ripple of emotion went through her. She wished she could believe what she saw in his eyes at that moment, but it seemed too incredible, like signing on for a fantasy when she knew better.
She felt him lift his arm and realized he was checking his watch. “It’s going on seven fifteen. Do you still want to make the reading event?” he asked her quietly.
“No way. I still need to shower and change. There’s isn’t time.”
“Okay. Then how about if I make you dinner? We should talk.”
She froze. What the hell does he mean by that?
“We should?” she asked hollowly, her heartbeat starting to drum in her ears.
He nodded. He leaned down and rubbed his lips against her flushed cheek.
“Okay,” she whispered.
And then he was kissing her again, deep and wet and wholesale, and her curiosity and anxiety faded. It’d never been clearer to her that she was in way over her head.
But before Trey, she’d had no idea that drowning could be so sweet.
TWENTY
They agreed in the cab that Eleanor would go to her condo to shower and change and then go over to Trey’s penthouse.
“Can you really cook?” she asked him as the cab flew down the inner Lake Shore Drive.
“Are you surprised?”
She shook her head, smiling. Their scorching, unexpected interlude in the basement had left her feeling euphoric again . . . almost intoxicated. She still couldn’t get over the fact that he’d not only not been angry at her misleading him about her job, he’d also—impossibly—found her work persona attractive.
“Not really,” she replied. “I’m starting to think you’re capable of anything.”
He arched his brows in a questioning gesture.
“I thought you’d be angry, when you saw me down there in the basement of the library today,” she told him impulsively. “That’s what surprised me most of all.”
His smile faded. She saw the city lights gleam in his eyes. “Because you were dishonest with me about what your job was like,
you mean?”
Her throat tightened. She glanced ahead, assuring herself that the cab’s partition was shut so that the driver couldn’t overhear. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t think I was exciting as I was making myself out to be, at the reading event,” she admitted quietly, glad for the cover of night to hide her blush. “That’s why I misled you about my job.”
“I know I’ve told you how much I value honesty,” he said after a pause wherein her stomach had started to grow fluttery with anxiety about what he’d say next. “And that hasn’t changed. The thing of it is . . .”
“What?” she asked breathlessly when he faded off, as if he was trying to find the right words.
“Telling me that you’re some kind of sales executive instead of a preservation librarian at the museum . . . well, that’s not really the kind of lie that I’m concerned about.” His face looked serious, but she thought she saw a sparkle of amusement in his eyes. He glanced up at the cabdriver, but the partition was muffling the radio he had playing. There was little chance he could hear their conversation. “We agreed from the beginning this was only going to be a physical relationship, so I can’t really blame you for trying to put on a sexy show for me, can I?” Her heart palpitated in her chest at the word show. Did he realize she was playacting at being sexy? “You didn’t know me well enough at first to guess that I think your real job is a hell of a lot more interesting—and sexy, for that matter—than your made-up job description.”
Her breath stuck in her lungs when he started to lean toward her, a lean, hungry look on his shadowed face. She jumped when her cell phone buzzed loudly in her coat pocket at the same time the cab pulled into her building’s turnabout. She gave Trey an amused, apologetic glance and dug in her coat pocket for her cell phone, while he paid the driver.
He’d gotten out and was holding open the door for her while she read the text she’d just received. It was from her mom.
Come to the Evanston Hospital ER as soon as you can. Your father has had a heart attack.
Shivers poured through her body.
“Eleanor?” she heard Trey say, but it was like he spoke through insulation. She blinked in disorientation, looking up at him. The stark vision of him made reality jerk into place with the seeming force of a snapped whip.
“It’s my dad. He’s had a heart attack,” she said numbly.
He pulled her out of the cab and slammed the door. He took her phone from her. She stared at his rigid features while he read the text. He handed her back the phone and took her free hand in his. “Come on. You call your mom and find out what’s going on.”
She started to dial, but as she did so, a call from her mother came through.
“Mom? What’s happening?” Eleanor asked as Trey pulled her along the sidewalk.
She listened as her mom shakily described her dad falling in the hallway on the way to the bathroom. An ambulance had come, and her dad had been conscious, but very groggy when they took him. Her mom had followed the ambulance in her car.
“The EMT said it was a heart attack. Now I’m just waiting to hear about the lab results,” her mother said anxiously. “Why is this happening? It’s too much—”
“It’s not the same thing, Mom. Dad’s going to be okay,” Eleanor soothed, knowing her mom was flashing back to Caddy’s sudden illness and hospitalizations. Eleanor wouldn’t allow her brain to go there. “I’ll get in my car right now and be at the hospital within the hour. Just text me where to go once I get there. And Mom, call Dr. Chevitz to let him know what happened,” she said, referring to their longtime family doctor. “He might even be on call and can meet us at the ER. Okay? I’ll call—” She caught herself, startled. She’d been about to say she’d call Caddy. That hole opened up alarmingly wide, gaping in her chest when she realized the utter impossibility of reaching her sister at that moment.
“I’ll call Aunt Joan and let her know what’s happened,” she covered her near mistake, referring to her dad’s sister who lived near Milwaukee. “I’ll see you soon. Everything’s going to be okay,” she repeated firmly.
She hung up the phone. She blinked in disorientation when she looked around, not recognizing where Trey had led her. They were in a parking garage, but it wasn’t hers. Everything looked hazy and weird, until Trey turned and looked over his shoulder. His sharp blue eyes pierced her fog.
“Where are we?” she asked. “I’ve got to get to the—”
“We’re going to my car. I’ll take you to the hospital,” he said.
“I can drive. You don’t have to go,” she called out to him, but he kept walking rapidly ahead of her, his hand still grasping hers. Eleanor was too worried to try and stop him. “My mom is freaking out,” she said as he led her to a dark blue, sleek sedan. He opened the door for her.
“Has your dad had problems with his heart before?”
She sat. He extended the seatbelt and waited until she took it from him. She stared at the metal clasp as if she were seeing the device for the first time in her life. “No, he’s always been pretty healthy. I thought he didn’t look well over Thanksgiving, though. I should have pushed him to see his doctor then.” Fear rippled through her, cutting through her dazed shock. The thought of her father lying crumpled and helpless in the hallway overwhelmed her. What was going to happen?
“Oh God,” she gasped, panic rising up in her like a wave that was about to smother her last breath.
She blinked when Trey’s hand grasped her shoulder. She stared up at him, her mouth hanging open.
“One step at a time,” he said firmly. “Put your seatbelt on, Eleanor.”
Her head cleared. She inhaled shakily and nodded, thankful for his touch. His presence. It anchored her.
The trip to the hospital passed in an anxious haze. Her brain seemed sluggish. Numb. It was as if some kind of automatic shutoff had occurred inside her. She didn’t want to think of what it would be like if they lost her dad. So her mind just went blank.
—
A half hour later, Trey pulled his car directly up to the ER entrance. “You go on in while I look for parking,” he directed.
“You don’t have to come in. I can take the L home.”
“Do you not want me there? Will I be in the way?” he asked her matter-of-factly.
“No, it’s not that, I just don’t want to bother you any more than I already have—”
“It’s not a bother.” He reached around her and opened the passenger-side door. “Go on. Your mom will be anxious to see you. I’ll be there in a minute. But if I don’t see you in the waiting area, I’ll just wait. Don’t worry about me.”
She caught his eye. “Thank you so much,” she told him before she got out of the car.
She immediately saw her mother standing near the check-in station. Her usually immaculate hair looked disheveled and her face appeared wan from worry. She immediately launched herself toward Eleanor when she saw her, her arms outstretched.
“I know you’ll think it’s all my fault. All that rich food I give him,” her mother fretted as they hugged tightly.
“It doesn’t matter what I think, Mom. It’s what the tests and the doctors say that counts. If diet is the culprit, then you guys will just have to change it and exercise more. People have to do it every day; it’s not the end of the world,” Eleanor assured through a tight throat. She pushed her mother back and peered at her face closely. “What are the doctors saying? What’s happening?”
“He’s stable.”
“Thank God.”
“I saw him just a minute ago after they finished the EKG. He was groggy, so he might be asleep by now. They’re giving him oxygen therapy and nitroglycerin now. He’ll have to start taking some of that clot-busting medicine.”
“So it was definitely a heart attack?”
Her mom nodded. Eleanor’s own heart swelled uncomfortably at the affirmation. Her mom grasped he
r arms. “But a minor one, honey. The doctor called it a warning sign.”
“Some warning sign. Can I see him?”
“I think so. They were going to move him to a regular room soon. Come with me,” she said, taking Eleanor’s hand and leading her through a pair of swinging doors.
—
Forty-five minutes later, she and her mother walked back out into the ER waiting room. It’d been sobering, but also a huge relief to see her father, and even speak with him a little. Yes, he’d looked unusually small in the hospital bed for a man she’d always considered to be as big and strong as a giant, and his complexion had been distressingly gray. But he’d also smiled upon seeing her and said, “Don’t worry, bug. It’s not that bad. It felt like a really bad case of indigestion.”
“Yeah, your heart is telling you loud and clear it doesn’t like your diet,” Eleanor had teased him back before she’d kissed his temple. His laugh had been weak and gruff, but Eleanor had never been so glad to hear it.
A man had arrived with a gurney to take her father to his hospital room. Eleanor had a chance to speak briefly to the attending physician, and then more extensively with their family doctor, Dr. Chevitz, who had been kind enough to come down to the ER after her mother’s phone call. Chevitz helped them by decoding some of the lab results and explaining her dad’s condition and prognosis in concrete terms. His presence went a long way to soothing her mother. By the time the two of them walked out of the ER, her mother had gone to the bathroom, combed her hair, put on some lipstick and seemingly located most of her typical imperious composure.
Eleanor saw Trey immediately when they entered the waiting room. He sat on a couch, long legs bent in front of him, a magazine in his lap. He looked a little surreal sitting there in his expensive suit, her longtime unobtainable fantasy smack dab in the middle of the harsh reality of a family emergency. Without saying anything to her mother, Eleanor walked over to him. She felt awkward about him being there, but she also was profoundly grateful and touched by his presence.
He glanced up, saw her and stood.