by Sybil Bartel
“I’m only pointing out that you asked me to dinner then you said it would be food on a table and conversation.” She said conversation like she was talking to a four-year-old.
I threw it back on her. “You wanna tell me why you’re single?” I was assuming. I didn’t know who the fuck had answered her phone when I’d first called. I’d thought I’d dialed the wrong number, so I’d sent a text.
“You want to tell me why you’re an escort?” she countered.
“Being single pay your bills?” Not that I needed the money I made escorting, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.
She sat back in her seat with an indignant huff. “That is the most offensive thing I’ve heard all week, and trust me, at my job, that’s hard to do.”
I’d bite. “Where do you work?” Curiosity was a bitch.
“Downtown. You didn’t answer my question.”
If I had half a brain, I wouldn’t have found her intriguing. “You didn’t answer mine.”
“I choose to be single.”
“Were you a regular?” My teeth practically ground at the thought of her with Vega.
“Excuse me?”
“Of Vega’s?” Why the fuck did I care?
“Oh. No.” She didn’t elaborate.
“Expensive hobby.” I shouldn’t have cared what the hell she did with her free time.
“Who? You?”
I tipped my chin because every time I opened my mouth, I sank myself further. I had no business going down this road with her.
“I can afford it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I wasn’t worried. I’d fuck her for free at this point just to see those gorgeous eyes when she came. But the second I thought it, I thought about that motherfucking asshole Vega taking her, and my nostrils flared.
“Did I say something wrong?”
I locked down my expression. “No.”
She glanced out the window as I pulled up to the restaurant. “We’re going to Pietra’s?” Alarm sounded in her voice.
“That a problem?” Pietra’s was the best restaurant in Miami Beach. A five-hundred-dollar dinner wasn’t good enough for her?
“I’m not dressed appropriately.” Her hands brushed down her thighs. “I’m in a sundress.”
Bare shoulders, ivory skin, easy fucking access, I’d noticed the damn dress. “You’re fine.”
“Fine isn’t appropriate.”
I held a finger up to the valet before he opened her door, then I looked at her. Really fucking looked at her. “You hired a stranger to fuck you. I think we’re past appropriate.” Not that I ever gave a shit about doing what was right.
She inhaled, and for a second, she looked like she was going to slap me. “Pietra’s is a black dress restaurant, not yellow, and for the record, I didn’t hire you.”
I scanned the dress that was a thousand times more provocative than any black dress and ignored the hire comment. “You color code your life?”
Her cheeks flamed. “No, but someone could—” She caught herself.
I finished her thought. “See you with me?” I didn’t know if I should be pissed the hell off or laugh. Fuck it. Fuck her. I reached for my door. “Don’t worry, Red. I’ll be discreet.” I was out of the car before she could respond.
The valet opened her door, and I waited for her because I wasn’t a complete asshole, but when we turned to walk in, she took my arm.
Thrown, I moved away from the hostess stand and backed her into a corner. My chest crowding hers, I grasped her chin and lowered my voice. “You touch me when I say you touch me.” Money didn’t buy any woman the right to call the shots.
Her hand immediately dropped. “I’m sorry.”
“You apologize one more time, I’m going to spank that habit right out of you.”
She straightened. “You will not lay a hand on me.”
“You pay me, I’ll lay a lot more than a hand on you.” She had no idea what she’d gotten herself into. “If you want dinner, walk to the hostess.” I dropped my hand. “Otherwise, go back to the valet and I’ll drive you home.”
She held my gaze for two seconds then she turned. Pride in her step, she walked to the hostess stand.
I stepped right up behind her and gave my name. “Brandt.”
The blonde hostess smiled. “Good evening, Mr. Brandt. Your table isn’t quite ready, would like to have a seat in the bar?”
I nodded and put a hand on the small of Red’s back. She sucked in a breath and my perverse self smiled. I leaned down to her ear. “You wanna walk on the wild side, this is how it’s gonna work. I touch you when I want, where I want.” I moved my hand to her full hip and squeezed. “You want to reciprocate, you ask permission.” I settled her on a stool, but instead of taking the one next to her, I stood in her personal space and took her chin again. “Understood?”
Her knees pressed together, and I could practically smell her desire, but she drew her lips tight and her manners voice came out. “You are not the only one with some control here, Mr. Brandt. I will decide what, if anything, happens.” She gave me her best throw down.
I laughed.
She didn’t look amused. “I’m paying you.”
“You’re not paying shit. I’m taking you to dinner.” I signaled for the bartender. “Knob Creek and a chardonnay.” I leaned an arm on the bar, fixed my gaze and settled in to make her uncomfortable until the drinks arrived. She was so damn distracting, I’d almost forgotten the reason I’d brought her here.
Her eyes narrowed as she clasped her hands in her lap. “You ordered for me.”
“I’m going to order your dinner too.” I was so fucking engrossed in Red, I didn’t even glance around the place for Vega.
“No you’re not,” she challenged.
“Yes, I am.” Her bottom lip fuller than her top one, I imagined sucking on it.
The bartender set our drinks in front of us.
Red waited until he’d walked away. “I didn’t want wine.”
My eyes never leaving hers, I lifted the tumbler to my mouth, took a swig, then set the glass down. I grasped the back of her neck and brought her mouth to mine. Touching the tip of my tongue to her lips, she didn’t hesitate. She opened for me, and I let the whiskey flow into her mouth.
She swallowed and my dick throbbed. Any thought of retreat went up in flames. I drove my tongue into her whiskey heat and fucking devoured her. Dominant, aggressive, I kissed her.
And she fucking melted.
Her body bent toward mine, her throat vibrated with a moan and she followed every sweep of my tongue. One hand was in her hair and the other was shoving her knees apart when I remembered my promise in the car.
I drew back.
Panting, her big green eyes on me, she stared. But she no longer looked wary or suspicious or even pissed off. She looked hungry. Spread her out on the bar and bury my face between her legs, hungry.
And that’s exactly what I wanted to do.
“Mr. Brandt?” The hostess appeared. “Your table is ready.”
Fuck me.
No.
No, no, no.
No one kissed like that.
My fingers went to my lips. They were on fire. They had to be.
My hands shaking, a pulsing pain throbbing between my legs, I wanted to cry for every kiss I’d ever endured before him. Then I wanted to beg him to touch me again.
No one kissed like that.
“Come on.” His voice, husky and rough, crawled across my nerves like the sweetest lie life ever dealt. Then he took my hand and helped me off the stool like the gentleman he was not. “Let’s get you fed.”
The pressure from his hand as he’d pushed my knees apart to step between them imprinted in my memory. My legs barely holding me up, I pulled out of his grasp, but his hand only slipped under my hair and wrapped around the back of my neck. I didn’t know if it was a gesture of his dominance or something more, and my heart didn’t care. His possessive hold had my body bending toward h
im like a moving current.
I wasn’t in trouble, I was drowning.
One kiss and I was ready to forget why I’d hired an escort in the first place. I couldn’t sleep with him. I shouldn’t even be at dinner with him. This wasn’t an emotionless hour of fun. This wasn’t even a public shaming in the making. Jared Brandt was complete emotional, sexual destruction. But I couldn’t get myself to walk away, instead my traitorous body settled into the chair at our table.
All power and muscle, Jared lowered himself into a seat across from me.
Desperate words fell out of my mouth. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
He paused only a fraction of a second as he took the menu from the hostess and tipped his chin at her. “Thank you.” His eyes back on me, he set the menu down. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”
Air whooshed out of my lungs in relief, but my stomach knotted in disappointment. “Good.” I had to force the response past my tingling lips.
His gaze intent, he leaned forward. “I’m going to fuck you, Red. Then I’m going to fuck you again. When I’m through with you, your only coherent thought will be my name.” He straightened and leaned back. “What do you eat?”
His phone rang and I was saved from muttering sloppy words of denial.
Reaching into his pocket, he silenced the ring. “Seafood?”
Inspiration fueled by desperation struck. “You should get that. It might be a client.”
He eyed me, but he didn’t reach for his phone.
I pushed ahead. “Maybe it’s an appointment. You should take it because I have to go after dinner.” I aimed for casual, but my voice shook. “I wouldn’t want your entire evening to be a waste.”
A waiter appeared with our abandoned drinks from the bar. “Good evening, Mr. Brandt, ma’am. Do you have any questions about the menu tonight?”
Without taking his eyes off me, Jared snapped a response at the waiter. “No.”
“Excellent, then I’ll give you some time to decide.” The waiter slipped away.
Jared lowered his voice. “You running, Red?”
Coming from anyone else, I hated that nickname, but he made it sound sexy, like he wanted me. Except I wasn’t a naïve preacher’s daughter anymore, and I wasn’t foolish enough to think this had anything to do with me. This was his job, and that kiss meant nothing. It had to.
“Busy day tomorrow, you know how it is. Make your call. And yes, seafood is fine.” I folded my hands in my lap to hide the tremor that hadn’t stopped since he’d gotten close enough for me to drown in his scent at his apartment. He didn’t smell like expensive cologne and polished sophistication. Soap and musk and all man, he smelled like heartbreak.
Heartbreak that wouldn’t take his eyes off me.
With a locked-down expression, he studied me. “Maybe I should have her join us.”
A knife to my heart wouldn’t have hurt as much. “Sure.” I grabbed my wine and drank half.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and placed it on the table.
The memory of his whiskey tongue mocked me with the sour aftertaste of fermented grapes while his phone sat there like a giant test. I told myself he needed to call that client. “The table’s big enough. We have plenty of room.” I needed a reality check of who he was and who he wasn’t, because Jared Brandt was not a man a woman fell for, not if she wanted to hold on to her sanity.
He picked up his tumbler and took a sip. “You want to know what I think?”
That I was a coward and a liar and I couldn’t handle his kiss? “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.”
“You lied.”
I wanted to taste the smoky whiskey on his lips. “About?”
He sat back in his chair, sipped his whiskey and took his sweet time. “A husband.”
“No.” I gripped my wine glass with both hands. “I definitely do not want a husband.” Men cheated. “A woman doesn’t need to be married to be happy.”
“You do.”
I wasn’t sure what was more absurd—that I was out to dinner with a male escort or that I was having a conversation with him about marriage.
I tried to turn the tables. “You’re not married. You look perfectly fine.” But not happy. Happy and Jared Brandt didn’t seem like two words that would ever be in the same sentence together. He’d laughed earlier, but there’d been no humor to it.
“I’m not you.” He lifted his glass.
I stared at his lips as they touched the tumbler and sucked in a breath as his throat moved with a swallow. “On that, we can agree.” I wanted to crawl across the table just to smell him again.
His large hand, a hand that’d gripped my knee, set the glass down and his eyes focused intently on mine. “Your back is straight, your legs are crossed and your manners are impeccable. You didn’t have a hair out of place until I threaded my fingers through it.”
I self-consciously ran a hand over my hair. “Is that supposed to be an insult?”
He leaned forward. “You don’t want a husband, you’re dying for one.”
I pushed my chair back and stood.
“Sit down.”
His barked command was so abrupt and controlling, it took me off guard. Before I knew what I was doing, I was already sitting. “I am not a dog,” I snapped.
One of his muscled arms shot out. He grabbed the arm of my chair and yanked. With one swift pull, he’d dragged me and my chair next to him.
His huge hand gripped the back of my neck and his voice turned one hundred percent alpha. “You want a man so bad, you’re trembling for it. You want his hands on you, his commands in your ear, his scent on your skin and you want to be fucked, royally.”
Gooseflesh rose across my neck as I sucked in a breath. “You’re wrong.”
“I’m so fucking right, I can smell your sweet cunt from here. You were wet the second you turned around for me in the elevator.” His hand landed on my bare knee.
I jumped. “What are you doing?”
“You don’t want my cock pounding into you.” His fingers ran up the inside of my thigh. “You want to be fucking claimed.” He slipped under my panties and stroked through my heat.
My eyes fluttered shut but I didn’t deny it.
His lips touched my temple. “You’re so fucking wet.”
I forced words out. “What are you doing?” Oh my God. Nothing, nothing had ever felt this good.
“Making you come in front of all these people.”
My eyes popped open in alarm and I looked across the restaurant. “I am not—”
Rough, hard, he shoved two fingers inside me, and all the air left my lungs.
Thick fingers stretched my core as his hand tightened on my neck, forcing me to face him. “You look at me, only me, when you come.”
His growled command made desire drip out of me. My hands searching for purchase, my legs locking, I bit my lip because I had no other anchor. My core pulsing, I wanted to climax more than I’d ever wanted to in my entire life.
“My name,” he quietly barked.
“Jared.” Reverent, pleading, I wasn’t saying his name, I was begging for release.
“Come,” he demanded.
His thumb pressed down on my clit, and before he’d circled once, I was coming. My legs shook, my hands grabbed his forearm and my nails sunk into his skin. I wasn’t in control of anything. My head locked in his hold, my core clenching and pulsing around his thrusting fingers, I fell apart. My body broke into a million pieces and my mind shut down.
I didn’t think about where I was. I didn’t think about my heart being broken. I didn’t think about my job or my mortgage or my utter loneliness. I didn’t think about a single thing, except intense brown eyes on a face so stoic and so hard yet utterly, devastatingly beautiful.
I whispered the one word that was my new reality. “Jared.”
She didn’t submit. She handed me her orgasm on a silver fucking platter. Holding on to me with small hands and her gorgeous green-eyed stare, s
he let every muscle in her body go. She fell so damn hard, there wasn’t a thing in her world except me.
I’d never seen a woman come like that. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Red.” Fuck my life up, gorgeous. My dick strained against my pants for a turn in that tight cunt. I wanted to lay her out on the table and fuck her till I broke something.
Her lips wet, her tight cunt still spasming around my fingers, she blushed at the compliment. “Thank you.”
One last stroke, then I reluctantly slid my hand out. “Lose the manners around me.” She opened her mouth to say something, but I put my fingers against her lips. “Suck.”
The haze of lust left her expression and her lips clamped shut. The flush on her cheeks went from pink to bright red.
A smile tipped half my mouth. If she spoke, her lips would part and I would shove my fingers in. She knew it. I knew it. “What are you going to do, sweetheart?”
She tried to shove my arm away, but I was stronger. I rubbed my thumb the length of her neck. “One way or another, you’re gonna get dirty with me.” Indignation, shock, and a flurry of other emotions flashed across her face and my dick got harder. She opened her mouth a fraction and I shoved my fingers in. “Good girl.”
She made one swipe with her tongue then pulled back.
I let her go. “Next time, use your teeth.”
She grabbed her napkin and dabbed at her mouth. “There won’t be a next time.”
I almost laughed. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I will not—” She abruptly stopped talking as the waiter walked up.
“May I tell you about our specials tonight?”
We listened then I rattled off an order for food and more alcohol. The waiter left and Red looked at me like she wanted to string me up.
I swallowed the last of my whiskey. “Problem?” I wanted to fuck her. Hard.
“I didn’t say you could do that.”
“You didn’t say I couldn’t.” Not once had she said no. The elevator, the garage, the ride over, when I’d dragged her chair toward mine.
“I didn’t think I had to tell you not to… in a restaurant.” She glanced around and her cheeks flushed again.