The Hookup

by Zante, Lily

  “What’s the rush?” she asked. Why can’t you stay? She had almost been tempted to ask him to stay the night when he’d asked her yesterday if she had any complaints.

  “I have some proposals to go through.”

  “It’s the weekend,” she exclaimed, holding the bed sheet loosely to her chest. “Don’t you ever rest?”

  “I just did.” He turned around, as he pulled his t-shirt down his finely sculpted body. A body she’d had the pleasure of stroking earlier, and now her fingers itched to do the same again.

  She climbed out of bed, covering her body with the sheet. “You work too hard,” wanting to touch his face. The intimacy, she noticed, only lasted as long as the act. It was as if he couldn’t bear to let his guard down once their lovemaking was over. Even now as she stood in front of him, it felt odd that she couldn’t stroke his cheek, or take his hand. He used those things only as a prelude to sex, never after.

  “You work hard, too,” he countered, rolling down his t-shirt and giving her one last peek of those beautiful abs, before his cotton shirt covered them completely.

  “Then surely we both deserve to stay in bed, and hang out. Eat pizza in bed, and do whatever comes naturally.”

  “What are you doing in February?” he asked, ignoring her suggestion completely.

  “February?” Her mind snapped to attention, and the words Valentine’s Day seeped slowly into her brain. “Nothing much, business as usual. Why?” She tried not to raise her hopes.

  “Are you free around the second?”

  Her heart began to thud. Maybe he had planned a getaway. “The second?”

  “My sister’s getting married, and she said I can bring someone.”

  The disappointment that it was nothing to do with Valentine’s Day was replaced at sonic speed by the offer of a wedding invitation.

  He was inviting her to his sister’s wedding? She didn’t even know he had a sister, let alone that she was getting married.

  “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

  “I do.”

  “Tell me about her,” she said, trying not to let it bother her too much, that he was ready to leave right after sex.

  “You can meet her at the wedding, and find out for yourself,” he said, sliding his shoes on.

  “Why can’t you tell me about her now?” she asked, prying deeper. She sensed that he didn’t like it but she couldn’t help it, and she didn’t care.

  “She’s my sister, what more is there to know?” he asked, expelling irritation. “Can you come?” he paused, then, “Do you want to?”

  Of course she wanted to. This man was hard to gauge. He’d just used her for sex, and now he was inviting her to his sister’s wedding. What was she supposed to make of that? He was being dismissive of her, yet his action said otherwise. Inviting her to his sister’s wedding wasn’t something she could take lightly. It was a big deal in her books. “I’m pretty sure I’m free then, so yes.”

  “Great.”

  The lack of enthusiasm in his voice, prompted her to question him. “You don’t sound too excited about it. Are you sure you want me to come along?”

  “I asked you, didn’t I?”

  She had no idea why he was getting so worked up, but given that he’d made such a commotion out of dinner, should she be surprised?

  “You don’t sound too excited about going, and you don’t have to ask me to come if it bothers you. I’m not even sure why you asked me in the first place.”

  “Because I’d assumed it might be fucking nice for you to come along.”

  “OK. I’ll come. At least I get to meet your family, huh?” The idea secretly thrilled her. Perhaps it would help shed some light on this man who was still a closed box to her, but he didn’t reply.

  Whatever happened, Luke obviously felt something for her—enough to ask her to a family wedding.

  These things couldn’t be dismissed as easily. She sensed he had a difficult time with his family, and that this would be an eye-opening event, but at least he felt close enough to her to ask her to accompany him.

  Nothing could take that away from her.

  Chapter 21

  The Oasis and The Vault were bursting at the seams. With only a few days to go until Christmas, people were getting together for a final drink before going home for Christmas. There were also the usual last-minute get-togethers with friends. Luke liked seeing his bars packed to overflowing.

  It made for good business. This time next year the new Canal Street site would be up and running. He’d put in a successful bid for the place, and it was now his. Workmen were ready to go in and start working on it towards the end of January. His life was going to get pretty busy soon, and thrown into the mix was Amanda’s wedding. Still, with Kay on his arm, things would be bearable.

  She’d come to the bar with her work colleagues earlier. Theirs was a large group and they took up two tables. She hadn’t yet come over to him, and looked busy in conversation. Adrenaline gushed through his veins at the sight of her, because seeing her always made him want to claim her.

  It was going to be a good night. Again. Things between them were good, and he preferred that they stayed that way.

  He disappeared into his office, in order to tend to some business and when he returned, almost half an hour later, he saw her standing near the bar with someone.

  And the guy had his hand on Kay’s arm.

  The breath stopped in his throat. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. Kay’s back was to him as he walked up to her, just in time to hear the man next to her ask, “Why don’t you come over and say ‘hi?’ You know everyone.”

  He wasn’t the type of man to indulge in public displays of affection, but he slid his arm around Kay’s waist so that she was forced to turn and look at him. When she did, he hugged her closer, their lips barely touching. “Hi,” he said, in what was probably his first daring public show of affection.

  She looked flustered, and surprised, as she should, for they both knew this wasn’t him. This wasn’t how their relationship rolled. “Hey.”

  “Did I interrupt something?” he asked, moving his head back, and even though he could see the man’s face over Kay’s shoulder, he kept his eyes trained on her shocked face.

  “Are you feeling okay?” she asked, as his other hand held firm against her hip.

  “Now that I’ve seen you, yes.”

  She angled her head, not understanding. He had to admit, this show of affection was confusing. “Am I interrupting something?” he asked again.

  “I think you did,” the other guy said, in a snarky tone. “We were talking.” Luke momentarily afforded him a nano second of his attention.

  He turned to Kay. “He says I did,” he echoed, looking directly into her eyes, needing to read her reaction. Had she been flirting with this loser? Or had she just been talking to him?

  “You didn’t interrupt anything,” she said, resting her hand over his hand that lay around her waist.

  “Good.”

  That guy, whoever the fuck he was, vanished. “I need to talk to you about something,” he said, talking directly into her ear, and catching a dash of her perfume. Bottled musk and flowers. A rush of blood surged through his veins, speeding up his heart beat, his pulse, and turning him steel hard. “In my office.”

  “In your office?” she cooed, her lips moist and seductive. She could be a real tease without even trying. Seizing her hand, he tugged her away from the bar, through the doors and down the hallway to his office.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, as he pulled her up a small flight of steps.

  “You’ll see,” he said, throwing open the door. “My office,” he announced, letting her enter.

  He closed the door after her, and watched as she walked around the room, her gaze taking in the dark tan leather sofa and his bookcase. She walked up to it, then looked through the shelves.

  “Greek philosophy?” she asked, giving him a surprised look.

  “It passes
the time.”

  “So does Hustler magazine, apparently.”

  “Maybe for pubescent teenage boys.”

  She shook her head, grinning, and slipped the book back in its place. “What did you want to see me about?” she asked, walking over to his cherry wood desk, and running her finger over the Bankers Lamp. “Not a speck of dust.”

  “I keep my desk tidy. I hate clutter,” he told her, still standing with his back against the closed door, and watching her.

  “You do seem organized.”

  “I am. I only have on it what I need.”

  “Hmmm,” she said, then turned to look out of the window. “You can see the rooftop terrace from here.”

  He walked towards her. “Nice view, don’t you think?” he asked, standing directly behind her.

  “You can see everyone.”

  “Yes.” The busy tables on the rooftop terrace were easily visible from here. It wasn’t an entire floor down, barely half a floor, for the building was constructed in a haphazard fashion, but from this vantage point he could see into the rooftop terrace without leaving his office.

  “Can they see us?”

  “Only our head and shoulders, if they look straight up. Many people don’t even notice.” He inched forward, pressing the evidence of his arousal against her back.

  “Oh,” she said, reaching behind her, touching him there, making him jolt. “You’re excited to see me.”

  “I’m always excited to see you,” he replied, unzipping her skirt and letting it fall to the floor.

  “Do you spy on people?” she asked, leaning back into him, deliberately, pressing her rounded bottom into his hardness deliberately. “No.” His teeth grazed her earlobe, while his other hand skated around her lower belly then slipped into her panties. Touching her like this made him want to fuck her to heaven and back. He could barely contain himself.

  “No?” she asked, but this time her voice was soft, and dreamy.

  “If I want to know what’s going on, I go into the bar and sit at my table.”

  “But all the same,” she continued, arching her back against him, shaking as he rubbed her clit. “You have a pretty good view of people.”

  “I do,” he agreed, sucking her earlobe. She rested her head against his shoulder, sighing.

  “Who was the guy?” he asked quietly.

  “Which guy?” She arched off of him slightly, and moved her hand between their bodies, stroking him over the fabric of his pants, catching him off guard.

  “The guy you were talking to,” he said, plunging his fingers inside her.

  “De—an,” she gasped, jerking involuntarily.

  He palmed one of her breasts, loving the feel of it over the fabric of the silk work blouse. She turned her head to the side, exposing her neck and he dropped a kiss along it.

  “You always know how to make me come so fast,” she whispered, shakily.

  “You’re so responsive.”

  “Only with you.”

  He dropped another kiss on her neck, loving her answer. She was like an instrument he could play with his masterful fingers and mouth.

  “That was Dean?” he asked, irritation putting a dent in his plans when he found her hips and legs encased in goddamn pantyhose.

  “Yes. Are we going to do it here?” she asked in a husky voice.

  “Why not?” He slipped his hand under her blouse then forced it under her bra until he found her nipple. When he tweaked it, harder than usual, she squealed, arching her back even more. He couldn’t take her top off, couldn’t strip her from the waist up, in case anyone looked up. “So that was Dean?”

  “Huh?” she asked, sounding dazed. Faraway.

  “That was your ex—the one before me?”

  She nodded, might even have whispered a ‘Yes,’ he couldn’t tell. She quaked as he continued to rub her between her legs, the law of cause and effect enacting in front of him.

  “He seemed happy to see you.”

  “We were only talking.”

  “I think he still likes you.”

  “Nothing going on between us…” she sighed, pressing her pussy against his hand.

  “I know. I just don’t like seeing him with you.” He rubbed her harder, making her moan as he slipped two fingers inside her.

  “He doesn’t mean anything,” she whimpered, then turned her face to the side, trying to look up at him. He kissed her hard, taking pleasure in fondling her body, and relishing that she was here and in his arms now, not in Dean’s. The need to possess, and claim overriding everything.

  “Stand up a minute,” he ordered, when she had gone limp against him. He tugged at her pantyhose, the second-skin like garment stuck to her hips and legs like glue.

  “What if someone walked—” She placed her hands on the window, her forehead pressed against the glass.

  “They won’t. I locked the door.” He peeled her pantyhose and panties down her legs, getting them only as far as her knees. “I don’t understand how you women can wear this shit,” he complained, before standing back up and freeing himself from his boxer briefs. It would be better if he bent her over his desk so that he could bury deep inside her, or turn her around so that she was facing him, but he couldn’t wait. Not seeing her had been hard enough, but seeing her with the asshole earlier had lit the fire.

  “I wouldn’t have worn panties, if you’d told me we were going to—”

  But she didn’t get a chance to finish. He rammed into her in one push, and she gasped, her head falling forward so that her forehead rested on the window.

  “That feels sooooo good,” she stuttered, between pants, her hands splayed out against the window. He slammed into her again and again, his orgasm building, thrust by thrust.

  “I love you inside me,” she said, between short breaths.

  “Just you and me, Kay. Remember.”

  “Just you and me,” she ground out, and he could feel her muscles clenching around him.

  Together, they were the whole, and perfect and complete. Her soft exhales the perfect symphony for releasing his bottled-up emotions. Like this, they were so intimately connected, that he never wanted to let go. His pent-up anger and jealousy had melted, and now he was fueled by nothing but lust, and the need to make her his.

  The air turned to steam and painted the window with a veil of condensation. It was only when he burst inside her, that he recognized the heightened feeling, and the cause of the intensity.

  Crap.

  He’d gone in bare, and hadn’t used a condom.

  “Damn,” he said, pulling out and reaching for the box of tissues on the desk. He heard her disappointed moan. “Damn it,” he hissed again.

  “What?” she asked, turning around slowly, her face flushed.

  He zipped up his pants. “I forgot to use a condom.”

  She wiped her hand over her cheek. “No,” she gasped.

  “Yes. I’m sorry. I got carried away.” It was his fault, but with her, he lost his mind, couldn’t think straight.

  “I’m on the pill. Don’t worry.” She pulled up her panties then smoothed down her skirt. “I’m not going to present you with a secret love-child nine months down the line.” She looked up at him with a worried frown. “But … the others. I mean, your other hookups…the ones before me.”

  She was worried about him giving her something? Maybe he should be the one to worry? After all, how many men had she been with? And who knew what she had been up to in Hong Kong?

  “If you’re worried about me being clean,” he said, clenching his jaw at the absurdity of what he was going to say next. “I’ll get checked, and show you that I’m clear.”

  “Okay.” She looked uneasy herself. Despite the lurid nature of their relationship, talking about sex and the consequences of it, still felt stilted. He wanted similar reassurance from her, that she was clean. But just as he was thinking of the polite way of asking her to do the same, she said, “I’ll get tested, too. I’m not the slut everyone thinks I am. I don’t s
crew entire baseball teams.”

  His lips turned up at the corners. “That’s a relief.”

  She threw him a stony look.

  “I’m kidding. I’m allowed to joke with you, aren’t I?”

  “Having just screwed me up against the window, you’re allowed.”

  “You liked it.”

  She smiled in reply.

  “Who was the last guy?” he asked, curious for confirmation about Dean. He didn’t usually care with others, and hadn’t had a clue what the sports masseuse had been up to because he had always been careful, but this recent slip up now gave him cause for concern.

  “Why does it matter? This is personal stuff,” she stated.

  “And what we did just now wasn’t?” But he caught her drift. They fucked. That’s all they did. They didn’t talk about their emotions and feelings, or any of that other stuff. It had suited him fine, until now.

  If he wasn’t careful, they were going to end up having another disagreement. With Christmas and New Year around the corner, this might be the last time he saw her for a while, and there wasn’t long to go until Amanda’s wedding. He didn’t want to risk upsetting things too much.

  Besides, sex with her was always great and something about her always made him want to keep going back for more. She wasn’t the usual stick insect he’d been used to, and her curves, and ample boobs made a change from hugging a skeleton.

  “You said you were over him.”

  “I am.”

  “Your turn,” she said. “Who, and when?”

  He blew out his cheeks, buying time, wondering how to answer this without coming across all uptight. He wasn’t used to being questioned like this. “A sports masseuse.”

  “When?”

  “A couple of months ago.”

  “And after her?” she asked.

  “There was nobody else.”

  “And then you found me?” she challenged.

  “You found me,” he clarified. “

  “Are you glad I did?” she asked, and lifted her hand. She was about to touch his face but she stopped.

  “What do you think?”

  This time she actually touched his cheek, grazing it with the back of her fingers. He was powerless to stop her. She stroked his lower lip with her thumb. “I’ve got something for you,” she said, looking at him with shining eyes.