by Zante, Lily
“Rescued you? Oh, right. The asshole.”
“Like I said, he's an idiot.”
“Perils of the job?”
“Huh?”
“You secretaries must get hit on all the time.”
She laughed, more to hide the niggling feeling that he was onto her. She wanted to come clean, for there was no point in keeping up pretenses. He wasn’t just a bartender, he was the goddamn king of the club. He wasn’t going to be intimidated by her or what she did.
Not wanting to lie anymore, especially now that she had discovered his secret, she confessed. “I’m not a secretary.”
“I had a feeling you weren’t. Your turn to confess. What are you then?”
“An investment banker.”
He nodded. “Why am I not surprised?”
“You’re not?”
“You let a few things slip.”
“Oh, really?” This surprised her because she thought she’d covered them up well. Obviously she hadn’t.
“Why the lie?” he asked.
That was easy. She fanned her face and took her jacket off because it was suddenly getting hot in the car. And it didn’t seem as if he was willing to go to her apartment. She was happy to sit here and talk to him. “You told me you were a bartender. I was afraid that if I told you what I did, it might scare you off.”
He chortled in surprise. “Scare me off? Seriously?”
“Some men can’t handle it when a woman earns more than he does. Ask me how I know.” As soon as she’d told him, she wished she could take the words back, for she had unwittingly let him know that she had been interested in him from the start.
“So you lied and dumbed yourself down?”
“It’s not the first time,” she told him.
“That’s shocking.”
“But true.”
“Still shocking.”
“And still true.”
“You always have to have the last word?” he asked.
“I try to make it a point, because most times, men like to, and I can’t have that.”
“I bet you can’t.” He smiled, a proper smile, as if he’d suddenly given himself permission to relax. “Are you feeling hot?”
“It’s getting hot in here.”
“Then maybe I’ll come in for a cold drink.”
Her heart missed a beat. “You’re feeling hot?”
“Looking at you, yes.”
That was a move. For sure.
She smiled. “Let me cool you down.”
Chapter 11
Cool him down?
She was going to do anything but that.
He had gone to her place out of curiosity, and because he had an idea of how the night would end.
He hadn’t gone because he was dying from thirst.
He cast his eyes around the room. It was small but cozy, more lived in and homely than his sparse apartment with its minimalist décor and black and silver color scheme. “Cute place,” he commented, watching her heading into what looked like the kitchen. His eyes lingered on her bare back as he followed her.
“Thanks,” she said. “Would you like water, or something fizzy?”
“A glass of water, please.”
“Drinking and dancing always makes me so thirsty.” She poured a glass each and handed him one. She was smoke and mirrors, with that little white lie. Dumbing herself down and making out that she was a secretary, of all things. Yet he understood that, the need to pull back, and not reveal too much. Everyone wore masks and maybe she was more like him than he had at first thought. Maybe it went a way towards explaining why he seemed drawn to her, why he had offered to drive her home rather than get her a cab, even if her place was on the way home. He never went out of his way like that.
But she was obviously interested in him; maybe finding out who he was and how rich he was might have played a part in that.
He’d been with enough women by now to know that things like that mattered to some. Maybe it did to Kay.
“So thirsty,” she exclaimed, emptying her glass and setting it down, her lips wet as she pressed them together. “Did you want something hot?” she asked, noticing that he hadn’t taken a sip.
He set his glass down. “We both know I didn’t come here for water.” He tried to read her face, tried to guess what she might be thinking, and whether this was wise. It was one thing, sitting inside the confines of a car with darkness encroaching from the outside. It was an altogether different thing being here, in her kitchen, with the light on, staring at one another, wondering which one of them was going to make the first move.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, eyeing his lips.
“No?” he asked, stepping towards her and closing the gap between them. He was pretty sure she did, but given the situation, he liked to be 100% sure, even if she was looking at him with eyes shiny with lust. He wondered what those plump lips of hers might feel like against his. He traced his finger down her bare arm. “My apartment is only ten minutes away. I didn’t need to come here to get a glass of water, and you didn’t have to insist.”
“That’s true. I didn’t. But I’m glad you came up, anyway,” she said, stroking her fingers along the lapel of his jacket. “We could talk.”
“About what? The global economy?”
She blushed. “Let’s ditch the conversation, then.”
“And get straight to it?”
She angled her head. “You don’t beat about the bush much, do you?”
“Time is of the essence.” He traced his finger along her bare arm, looking into her eyes for signs that this was what she wanted.
“That feels good,” she murmured.
“Cold?” he asked, as goosebumps sprang up everywhere he touched.
“Not cold.”
He snaked his other arm around her waist and pulled her against him. She looked up, lifting her hands to his shoulders and he dropped a line of kisses along her neck. She moaned and slid her arms around his neck, pressing against him and sighing. She was so responsive, and so appreciative. With her there was no hint of playing-hard-to-get, no wasting time or chasing.
“Just excited?” he asked, letting his hand drop lower, before cupping her breast over her beaded top.
She shuddered in response, her eyes suddenly dark. Bedroom-eyes. She parted her lips, looking up at him, and he couldn’t help himself. Dipping his head, he sealed her lips with his, his tongue sweeping into her sweet mouth, tasting, feeling, claiming. She clung to him, kissing him back, her fervor unleashing. Their dueling tongues playing out the frustration that had been kept in check for so long.
His hand lowered, tried to find an opening at the waist so that he could slid his hand under her top, but it was too tight for him to gain access. He needed to touch her; needed to feel her bare skin against his hands.
“You move fast,” she gasped between breaths, while he fumbled with the halter neck tie at the base of her neck.
“I can go slow if you want,” he replied, his fingers stilling as pressed his hardness against her.
“I wasn’t complaining.”
He kissed her again, loving the feel of her full lips against his, loving the feel of her full curves against him. But he still couldn’t untie the damned bow. “Did you double knot this?” he asked, his hunger for her making his body pulsate.
“I didn’t want it to come undone in the club.” She lifted her hands, but he spun her around, eager to do it himself.
His eyes dropped to her bare back, and he pushed her hair to one side before dropping a smattering of kisses all over her bare skin. “You are unbelievably sexy,” he bit out, desperate to untie the bow and have her naked.
His fingers clutched at the double-knot and unraveled it. He tugged her top down, his hands skittering over her stomach, then moving up to cup her bare breasts.
Fuck.
She was luscious, and soft, and beautiful. His hands held her firm, pebbled breasts, and his boner turned to steel. He kissed her neck as if h
e would never get another chance to again, and rolled her nipples between his fingers and thumbs; knowing that they’d moved on from mere acquaintances to something more, into the realm of dark and dirty.
He couldn’t breathe, not now, with his hands and lips all over her, zapping the oxygen from his body. She was sheer, overwhelming sexiness, and he toyed with her, taking pleasure and giving pleasure back. The silence between them was broken only by the fast rise and fall of her chest and her throaty moans; the kinds of moans that would soon lead to better things. He pressed against her again, desperation driving him. “I need to fuck you, Kay. Do you want me to fuck you?”
“Yes,” she begged.
He wanted her no matter the connection to the Stone brothers. For once, business and pleasure would mix because, goddamnit, this woman knew exactly what she wanted, and he had every intention of giving it to her.
But, even in the thick haze of arousal, his brain still functioned. “I don’t do romance, Kay, or should I call you Good-time-Kay?”
He felt her flinch, and knew he’d messed up.
“You jerk,” she answered back, her voice quaking with indignation.
His hands stilled on her breasts. He hadn’t been thinking properly. How could he, at a time like this? “Sorry. I’m sorry.” He dropped a kiss on her shoulder. “I didn’t mean that.”
She straightened her back, and for a moment he thought she was going to tell him to go to hell. He dropped another kiss on her shoulder, and another, and another, and slowly, his fingers pinched her nipples gently.
“Don’t ever call me that again.”
“If you promise never to call me a mixologist again.”
She snorted. “Deal.”
But he was determined she understood exactly what this was. “I’m not looking for romance, Kay,” he murmured, sliding his hands down to her waist, as his lips pressed against her shoulder.
“And I’ve already told you,” she murmured, shakily. “I don’t have time for romance, so we don’t have a problem, do we?”
“What do you want?”
“Whatever you’re willing to give.”
She could say this to him now, in this moment, when she was topless and his hands were all over her? She seemed to have temperament of a man when it came to love and sex, and it was perfectly fine with him because the last thing he needed was a whingy, whiny woman looking for love.
He turned her around, his eyes falling to her breasts, sending a signal straight to his manhood. He swallowed, resting his hand against the small of her back, pulling her towards him. A flicker of surprise flashed in her eyes.
“I want no baggage, no headache, no commitment,” he told her.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” he asked, surprised. She hadn’t batted an eyelid.
“I get it. I understand. I don’t have time for romance either, so you don’t have to wor—”
He kissed her again, not letting her finish. Kissed her more passionately, this time, his mouth hard against hers, his body pressed just as hard against her. She moaned against his mouth, the lusty sound a signal to his animal instincts.
He needed to fuck her.
She wasn’t so different from him, and she didn’t seem to be looking for any ties. Nothing permanent. This could work. It could be a one off encounter, maybe more, depending on how tonight played out.
When he pulled away, her lips were wet and swollen, her mouth slightly open.
“Freakin’ hell,” she gasped. “I haven’t been kissed like that in a while. You can kiss me all night long, if you’re going to kiss me like that.”
“I want to do more than just kiss you,” he rasped, turning her around, so that her bottom sunk into him again, and her back was against his chest.
She giggled. He slid his hand under her skirt and shoved it into her panties, surprising her with his speed. She gasped when his fingers sank into her silky wetness.
Fuck. She was soaking wet.
“You’re ready for me,” he husked, sliding a finger in, and then another. She jerked against him. “Oh, yes,” she cried out, as he rubbed her clit. She bit out another dirty groan. “Please,” she begged.
“Please what?”
“Please…” she huffed out, almost falling back against him.
“Please what?” His fingers stilled.
“Please fuck me.”
“If you insist.” He moved his hand away and bent her over the table, intoxicated by her arousal.
“This is a new one, even for me,” she giggled, when he lifted her skirt up and bunched it around her waist. His raging boner stripped his mind of all rational thought, and he stopped to admire the sight before him. And to catch his breath.
A strip of a black thong separated her butt cheeks.
“Shit,” he groaned, his hard-on intensifying as his hands skated over her satin-soft bare cheeks. Blood roared in his ears.
“You’ve seen all of me,” she murmured, resting on her forearms as she turned her face to the side, not fully able to look at him.
“And it’s a beautiful sight,” he growled, appreciatively.
“It’s not fair.”
“Are you complaining?” he asked, leaning over her and bending down so that his mouth was inches from her lips.
“I’m not complaining at all,” she said. He planted another kiss on her lips because it was impossible to get that close and not kiss her. “You know what I want,” she said, when he pulled away. “It’s the same thing you want.”
“What’s that?” he asked, unzipping his pants, and freeing himself from his boxers.
“To have you inside me.”
She was going to be the death of him. He was already on the verge of getting blue balls if he didn’t fuck her soon. He pulled down her thong, and admired the view.
“Are you sure you don’t want to take this into the bedroom?” she asked.
No way. The bedroom implied intimacy and comfort, and he much preferred this. Fast and dirty. “You said this was a first for you. Are you uncomfortable? I can get you a cushion.” He’d seen a few on her couches.
“I can get used to it. It is a first for me. Is it a first for you?”
“No.” But he didn’t care to give her a further explanation. Avoiding the bed as much as he did when having sex, meant he’d christened most of the furniture in an average home.
“Don’t forget the condom.”
He never did. He’d already split open the foil packet.
“I won’t. I'm careful.” He slid it on, then positioned himself at her entrance. She gasped out aloud, sounding out a low, appreciative moan as he started to tunnel in. Grabbing her hips, he thrust in slowly, inch by inch, letting her body take in the size of him. She was so wet as he slid in, his body jolted because she felt so good. She had her forearms down, with her forehead resting on her hands. Undecipherable sounds came from her lips, groans more like, syncing with his thrusting.
He moved faster and faster, her arms now stretching forward so that her fingers gripped the edge of the table.
Her moans encouraged him. Not that he needed any encouraging, but he had almost forgotten how good this was. It had been a while since he’d fucked anyone, and months since he’d been with the sports masseuse.
Kay was a beautiful, welcome relief. She was soft, and slick as he slapped into her, pounding her again and again, each thrust making the kitchen table wobble.
“Harder!” she gasped, making the kinds of animal sounds he loved to hear. He complied, grabbing her hips as if they were a life buoy in a raging sea. Heat and adrenaline coursed through him as he buried deep inside her, then pulled out, and did it over and over and over again.
As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t drag it out, because the sight of her naked bottom, and the sound of her moans took him over the edge. His stamina was low, and just like that, after a few hard thrusts, he was done. He grunted as he came, taking the weight of his body onto his arms as he collapsed over her back.
She mo
aned with disappointment as he pulled away, her face resting on her hands, and her ass still high in the air. “Didn’t you…?” he asked, knowing the answer even as he asked the question.
“No.”
Hell. He prided himself on pleasing women. “Sorry.” He zipped up his pants, guilt washing over him. “I don’t know what happened.” Except that he did. Weeks of pent-up frustration, and months since he’d last had sex. And this woman was beyond sexy. Somehow she had managed to touch him in a way nobody had. Not since he’d had his heart broken. “Can I use your bathroom?”
“Yes.” She sounded pissed off as she lifted her head. He was tempted to run his hands over her tight, pert bottom again, but it didn’t seem the thing to do. Not now that he hadn’t satisfied her. Beside, all that touchy-feely stuff would imply a level of intimacy that he wasn’t comfortable with.
“It’s down the hallway.” She straightened up, pulling her thong up and turning her back to him as she did up her halter neck.
She hadn’t even looked at him once.
Chapter 12
She felt used. He’d gotten his payoff, and left her feeling empty. Cheated of hers.
She’d told him she was fine with this. But this wasn’t what she’d envisioned when she’d said she wasn’t interested in having a relationship.
But this had happened too fast.
She wasn’t used to it.
Not that she was crying wolf.
It wasn’t as if he’d made her.
No.
She had wanted this.
But sexual satisfaction at the end would have made her feel he cared about her.
Not this.
There had been nothing in it for her apart from the initial excitement of him stroking her bare buttocks, and the few brief seconds of foreplay while his fingers had given her cheap thrills.
But that had been it.
He didn’t care about her. He hadn’t taken his time or been gentle and loving. Could she blame him when she had told him that this was all she’d wanted? She was saying one thing, and feeling another. But it didn’t take away from the fact that she felt like that tissue he’d used to clean up a few moments ago; good for one thing, then crumpled up and discarded.