Kestrel

by A. M. Hargrove

  “If I’m smart?”

  “You heard me. Now go!”

  His head pings between the two of us and then he must think the better of it and slinks away.

  “If that fucker does anything to insult you, I’ll take him down. And I don’t care who sees it.”

  “Calm down. It’s all right. He’s gone and we’re going to have a great time tonight. Have you noticed all the Christmas decorations?”

  “No. Even though the place is dripping in them, I haven’t because I can’t take my eyes off of you. You’re by far much more beautiful than any decoration in here. And the best part of all is you’re mine tonight.”

  “Would you care to dance with me, kind sir?”

  “Can you stand me?”

  “Yes, I can. I would love to feel you close to me.”

  “Can you dance?” His eyes have a bit of a twinkle in them as he teases me.

  I do an exaggerated hand wave. “Pfft. I was a debutante, remember?”

  He escorts me to the dance floor where a slow song starts up, and we begin to sway. His hand is warm on the skin at my waist and it takes all my strength not to slide my own hand beneath his jacket, which for whatever reason has now become offensive to me.

  “Would you believe me if I told you everyone in this room is staring at you?” he asks.

  “Not a chance. It’s you they’re looking at. You didn’t even notice it when we walked in.”

  “Oh, how wrong you are. But I noticed them looking at you, not me.”

  “Flatterer.”

  “Sexy dancing angel.”

  “Not to change the subject, but do you know what they’re serving for dinner tonight?”

  He laughs. “I hope whatever it is, it’s better than that shit-pagne they tried to pawn off on us.”

  “You are much too picky.”

  “No, I only think if you’re going to serve champagne, it should be decent. There are reasonably priced ones out there that won’t kill you if you drink them.”

  “Kestrel, were you raised on the best of the best of everything?”

  “Yeah, pretty much. My father was a super-snob. My mother did everything he told her. Pathetic, really. I’m not proud of it. The bad thing is my tastes run that way now. It certainly can be a curse.”

  “Good thing you can afford it, huh?”

  He laughs. “That’s the one thing I had an issue with when I backpacked the trail. The food. Dehydrated stuff that was horrific. I lost a bunch of weight. When I came home, I think I ate everything that wasn’t nailed down.”

  The song ends and he escorts me back to the bar to pick up another drink. Then we move to a cocktail table.

  “I should be mingling, but all I want to do is hang out with you,” he says.

  “Tell you what. We’ll talk for another fifteen minutes, then we’ll mingle.”

  “Ah, I see. You’re going to keep me on track here.”

  “Yep. So tell me, did you travel a lot growing up?”

  His lips thin and he says, “No. I was in boarding schools, getting kicked out of a lot of them. Then I’d come home and get my ass kicked by the Dragon. Oh, we traveled some, but not as much as you’d think. I didn’t do any significant traveling until I graduated from college. I went abroad for a few months before I went to work for my father.”

  “You never did tell me where you graduated from,” I say.

  “Hmm. I didn’t, did I? I finally finished at Columbia and by the skin of my teeth. It wasn’t because of the curriculum. It was because of my attitude and anger issues. They threatened to expel me but Langston gave them a lot of money to keep me in.” He spreads his arms wide and says, “So here I am, a Columbia grad. Aren’t you impressed?”

  “I would’ve been impressed no matter where you graduated from. So, after that, where did you travel?”

  “The usual. Europe. What about you?”

  “We did family trips. I had planned on doing a semester abroad during college, but then Ells happened and I never got a chance. My dad was a sailor so we did some sailing in the Caribbean too.”

  “Name your favorite place,” he says.

  “Can’t say. I found something special about each one. But I wish I could’ve gone as an adult. I might have felt differently. You?”

  “I did the off the beaten path sort of thing so I liked northern Italy, Paris—because there was something really cool on every corner, and I loved Scotland.”

  “I bet you had droves of Parisian women following you around with that accent of yours.”

  “Not exactly. They thought I was a stupid Yank. I was a rough looking dude who thought he knew everything and did not integrate well with his peers. Not impressive at all.”

  “You were alone?”

  “Yeah. I did almost everything alone back then. I wasn’t very fit company.”

  I reach my hand out and cup his cheek. “You are fine company now, Mr. Hart.”

  He covers my hand with his and says, “So are you.”

  I release a sigh. “Okay, time to mingle.”

  For a young man who didn’t interact well with his peers, he has made a giant leap since then. Soon he has everyone eating out of his hand, including me. He exudes a natural charm, a keen wit, and he’s very clever. It’s easy to see why his business is blossoming so quickly. When it’s time to be seated for dinner, I’m happy to see that Simon and his father are not at our table. That would’ve been most awkward.

  Instead, several city council members are here, along with the President of the University Medical Center of Charleston, Dr. Tom Garner. I’m ecstatic because I’m seated right next to him and even better, he recognizes my name.

  “It’s so good of you to join us tonight, Dr. Drayton.”

  “Dr. Mitchell, I’m so happy to be here, seated next to you.”

  He gives me a quirky look and smiles.

  “We at the university are thrilled with your research. We hear big things have been happening in your lab. I’m going to have to drop in for a visit soon.”

  “Oh, you must. I’ll have to show you what I’m working on.”

  I lean over to Kestrel and say, “Oh my God. I can’t believe he knows me!”

  “He better damn well know you. You’re going to make this place famous.”

  “Oh, hardly. I think they’ll be better known for their successful heart transplants and such.”

  Dinner is served and we all chat amongst ourselves, as much as those large round tables of ten will allow. Then when everything is cleared, the speeches begin. I hope they don’t drag on too long as they sometimes can.

  Dr. Mitchell heads to the podium and begins by thanking everyone for attending. Then he goes into a brief explanation of what the University Cancer Center is doing. But to my utter shock—and horror—he introduces me to the crowd and asks me to stand as he moves on to my research. He delves into what I’m working on and even asks me to remain standing as he speaks. When he finishes, the room breaks out into a booming round of applause.

  Though it doesn’t last more than a few minutes, I want to crawl under the table.

  When I sit, I’m shaking like a tree in a hurricane.

  “It’s good, angel. It’s all good. It’s what you deserve.”

  “D-did you know?”

  He chuckles. “Sort of. It was mentioned that he was going to talk about the research, but I didn’t realize he would call you out by name.”

  “Jesus.” I grab my drink and guzzle it straight down.

  “Why do I find that so utterly sexy—you tossing back a drink like that?”

  “Because you’re a nut.”

  I take a good look around the room and realize on the posters hung everywhere that Hart Transportation Services is a huge benefactor to the fundraiser.

  “If I ask, will you tell me?”

  “Depends,” he answers.

  “How much did you donate?”

  “One million.”

  One million dollars. Holy cow.

  “Did
you do it because of me?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t have known about any of this if it weren’t for you. It’s a great cause, angel.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me. Thank you.”

  “You’re the one that needs thanking. For your tireless work.”

  “You work hard, too.”

  “Yes, I do. But your work is going to save millions of lives one day. And it’ll be in the not too distant future. I know. I feel it here.” He puts his fist over his heart. “You’re going to think I’m nuts. Well, hell, you already do. But I think the reason it’s all going to happen is Ells.”

  Grabbing his arm, I ask, “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t explain it. It’s just what I feel in my soul.”

  There’s no time for further conversation because people swarm our table asking me questions and wanting to talk to Kestrel about HTS. We don’t get away from it all until after midnight.

  We walk in the front door and go straight up the stairs. Words aren’t necessary. We both know what we want. Outside of Ells’ door, he stops and turns to face me. His eyes penetrate mine and everything comes to a halt. When I feel his hands unbutton the halter behind my neck, his fingers scorch my already heated skin. The heat races through my veins, setting the rest of me up for a slow burn. The top of my dress falls to my hips, pooling around it, and leaving my breasts exposed.

  “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do that all night long. The wait has been unbearable.” Then he brushes the back of one hand over my gem-hard nipple. My sexual appetite has been inflamed to the point that I’m not sure I can stand here and tolerate the preliminaries. Drawing air in is a feat in and of itself. Standing here may prove to be an impossibility.

  My hand reaches for his. “I … I need you. Us. Now.”

  In one abrupt motion, I am in his arms and he carries me through the door. My gown disappears in a whoosh and I stand before him in my skimpy thong. Then he undresses. I would have preferred to do that, but I’m frozen … hypnotized by his sublime exquisiteness. It’s the way he moves, the way his muscles contract, how his skin is defined over those muscles, and it’s perfection. When he’s naked, his erection strains toward me. I reach for it, but he brushes my hand away and turns me around. One by one, he removes the flowers from my hair, and it’s an inexplicably touching gesture as he tosses each one on the bed.

  When his lips meet my neck, I want to melt against him. His hands fill themselves with my breasts and I am not sure I can stand anymore, as my muscles feel like they lost the ability to hold me up. I am jelly. Or so I think. One of his hands moves to the juncture of my thighs, and I lean back on him, sighing.

  “Angel, I’m not sure how much longer I can wait for you. And you’re drenched for me.”

  “I don’t want to wait. Don’t make me wait, Kestrel.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kestrel

  How can I resist her demand? I can’t and the truth of it is I couldn’t wait if I tried. Not with her standing in front of me, looking the way she does.

  I step away and rifle through my pants pocket in search of a condom. Then I tear into the packet, thankful that I remembered. Carter has a way of making me forget these things. It’s more than difficult not to just stand and stare at her. Her back gleams in the moonlight and her skin looks like sculptured marble, sleekly defined, yet artfully smooth and unblemished. I move behind her, and for a brief moment, press her against my body, letting my erection lodge in her softness. Then I walk her toward the bed.

  “Bend over and spread your lovely legs for me.”

  She’s compliant, eager to please. Soon I slide into her. But I’m too slow. She nudges me with her ass. I have to chuckle. I like it that she’s not afraid to show me what she wants.

  “Patience.” My hands grab her hips and I rock into her. Again, I’m too slow. She wants it much harder. This time, she reaches back and grabs one of my thighs, digging her nails into me.

  “Angel, do you want to prolong the ecstasy?”

  “No. I want to come!” she urges.

  In a move so quick that it surprises her, I flip her flat on her back, spread her legs wide, and my mouth dips in between them. My tongue does a beeline straight for her clit, as I slip two fingers inside her. Damn, she tastes good. Sweet, salty, and slick. It’s a heady combination. I tease her with my tongue a little as I lick all the way up one side and then back down the other before returning to her hot spot. Then I circle over that spot again and again with my tongue.

  “Don’t stop. Right there.”

  Her sex is ready, so ready, and she wants to come, so I’ll make her come hard and fast. Watching and feeling her around my mouth is so fucking hot, I could almost climax myself. Her legs tense, one hand clenches the sheets, and the other moves to my hair, pulling it hard, like she usually does. This is how I can tell she’s close. That and the sounds she makes. I lift my eyes to get a glimpse of her and what a sight. Head back, neck exposed, all I want to do is suck it. When she orgasms, her thighs clamp down so hard, I have to grasp them with my hands. God, she’s epic when she comes. But the best is when she cries out my name repeatedly. It’s almost more than I can stand. It increases my need to be inside of her. I don’t give her the opportunity to come down. I flip her over and now I do what she wanted earlier—rough and fast.

  Kneeling behind her, I pull her close to me and seat her on my straining erection. We pound against each other, finding our rhythm. Her hot wet silkiness sheathes me, gripping my cock perfectly, and I lose myself in the ecstasy of it all. But I need to hold back some before I experience my own body-clenching climax.

  “You open up a whole new world for me every time I fuck you. Come for me again, angel. Can you? One more time?”

  “Ah, yes. Keep doing that. Hard.”

  My hand drops down between her thighs and I press my finger on her clit. Seconds later, she’s living through another scorching orgasm. A sheen of perspiration covers me, and finally, I explode into my own climax, calling out her name. She sags against my arm, so I let her fall to the bed and follow, careful to keep my weight off her.

  “You were an eager little tigress tonight,” I murmur against her neck right before I move in to kiss it.

  “Mmm. And you were the tiger.” She reaches for me and pulls me in for a kiss. “You make me feel so special.”

  “You should feel special, because you are.”

  “As are you. And I’m glad you remembered the condom. It never crossed my mind. I think I need to go on the pill. Much easier. But I’ll only do it if we’re exclusive.”

  I raise myself to my elbow and grab her chin. “I thought we already were.”

  Her fingers trace the line of my lips. “I have been. I just wanted it spoken out loud.”

  “Angel, we are officially dating, and exclusive. I have no desire to be with another.”

  “Then, when I get a chance, I’ll make that doctor’s appointment. We won’t have to worry about the condom thing then.”

  “I’ll leave that choice up to you. It’s not a problem for me. I’ve never had sex without one, except that time with you. I’m fine with it. But I do want you to make an appointment. For your own health.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “It’s sleepy time. We can talk more in the morning.”

  “Uh, Kestrel?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Don’t you think we should get under the covers?”

  “Christ. Look what you do to me. You make me forget everything. Stay put.”

  I get up and laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I, uh, forgot to take off the condom now. I am a fucknut.” I go into the bathroom to take care of business and emerge a minute later. Then I tug the comforter and sheets down and lift her up as I pull them over us. “You have turned my brain into mush.”

  “As long as I don’t do that to your dick, it’s all good. Oh, and I hope you haven’t turned my brain to mush or my research will be all screwed up.” She nestles in
to my chest and I draw her closer to me.

  “Good night, angel.”

  “Night.”

  She is one amazing woman. And I find she not only captivates me, I’m also proud and honored to be with her. And I feel very protective of her. As I lay here, with her in my arms listening to her make those snoring sounds, I know what I’m feeling is deep. Much deeper than anything else I’ve ever felt.

  ***

  A couple of weeks after the fundraiser, the phones are ringing off the hook at HTS. Missy, the receptionist, can’t keep up. Shayla comes into my office and says, “Mr. Hart, that child is about to have a meltdown.”

  “Hire a temp until we can get someone in here permanently.”

  “I have a better idea.”

  “Tell me.”

  “My daughter is home on break. She can use the money.”

  “What are you waiting for? Send a car to pick her up.”

  “Mr. Hart, she’s a college student. Her wardrobe is …”

  “Shayla, she can wear her pajamas. As long as she can speak reasonably good English, you can coach her on what to say and we’ll put her in one of the empty rooms. No one will have to see her. Send a car for her. But make sure she brushes her teeth,” I say with a wink.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Less than an hour later, Shayla’s daughter, Tara, joins HTS for her Christmas break. Shayla introduces us and I do my best to put her at ease. It’s easy to see she’s shy.

  “Thank you for helping us out, Tara, on such short notice. Your mother will explain everything you need to know, but if you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask for it.”

  “Yes, sir,” she says. She’s a slim, light brown-haired, hazel-eyed girl. Her personality is diminished around her mother, but it’s probably because of me.

  Shayla says, “Tara, no need to be shy around Mr. Hart. He can hold his own around us Drummonds.”

  Her face whitens and she says, “Mama!” Then she turns a bright shade of pink.

  “Tara, don’t let your mother embarrass you. I had to teach her a thing or two when we started working together.”

  “Really?” Tara asks.