Kinky Claus

by Jodi Redford

  His frustration increased a thousand fold when he spied the line-up at the door to the restaurant. Marissa sent him an apologetic glance. “I should have realized they’d be packed.”

  “I have an alternative to sushi. How about we hit a drive-thru and then I fuck your brains out in the backseat of my car?”

  She didn’t even hesitate. Grabbing his hand, she hauled him back to the elevator.

  Less than fifteen minutes later, the sack containing their fast food burgers sat neglected on the console while Marissa crawled onto his lap. She peeked out the rear windshield and giggled. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

  He reached underneath her dress and deftly unhooked her bra. “At least I refrained from fucking you in the drive-thru lane. Although that would have been the height of irony when she asked you if you wanted yours supersized.”

  She nibbled his ear. “Mm, someone sounds extra cocky.”

  “Yeah, and every inch of my cocky is gonna be all yours in two seconds.”

  “That long? Slacker.”

  Releasing one of her breasts, he smacked her butt cheek and then massaged the sting away. He was impatient to taste her, but the limited privacy of the Tower’s rear parking lot meant someone could always see them. He was enough of a freak to enjoy that possibility. Still, he would never put Marissa at an unnecessary risk, hence his care in choosing a spot without many cars around.

  He squeezed her ass, deliberately grinding her against his erection. “What were you saying about long?”

  “Mm, yes indeed. Not to mention hard and thick.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

  He slid his fingers past the elastic of her panties and stroked her drenched flesh. “I wish I could ride you bareback. Feel you all hot and wet around me, and then I could pump you full of my come and know it’d be dripping down your legs the rest of the afternoon.” He kissed her neck when she shuddered. “Too nasty?”

  “No, I wish you could do that too. But I’m not on any protection.”

  “I know, baby. I’m not trying to talk you into it. Just sharing what’s in my perverted mind.” It was infinitely easier than sharing what was in his heart.

  She caressed his cheek. “I happen to adore your perverted mind.”

  He chuckled and eased her panties past her hips. The cramped quarters of his backseat meant they had to do some creative contortionist maneuverings to get her naked from the waist down. He was easier to get situated. She unzipped his jeans and freed his cock from the snug confines of his briefs before exploring his rigid length. Intent on not coming until he was inside her, he halted her brain-frying motions and slipped on the condom. She swung her leg back over him, and straddling his lap, slowly sank onto him. She took him in shallow increments, bit by bit stretching to accommodate his girth. Even through the thin latex he could detect her sizzling heat.

  Hungry to see as well as feel the sinful heaven of her pussy, he scrunched her skirt up to her waist. She lifted slightly, granting him a bird’s-eye view of her luscious pink folds wrapped tight around his shaft. Her wetness glazed every inch of him and trickled toward his balls.

  Groaning at the sight and the decadent friction of her pussy enveloping him, he leaned forward and grazed his teeth over her cashmere-covered nipple. She shivered and raked her fingers through his hair, her hips picking up pace as she bounced on his aching shaft.

  “Rissa...God, so fucking good. Don’t stop, baby. I wanna feel you lose it on me.”

  She bore down on him, her pussy muscles fluttering before clinching him tight. He gripped her hips, pinning her in place while she shattered with a keening gasp. The sucking pull of her orgasm defeated any prayer of lasting another second. Hugging her close, he succumbed to his own release with a racking shudder.

  Once they were both recovered enough to move, he reluctantly slipped from her and snatched a handful of napkins from the carryout bag and cleaned her up before munching on a French fry. He caught her amused look and shrugged. “You wear me out, you insatiable woman. I require sustenance.”

  “Uh huh.” Her lips still twitching, she grabbed one of the wrapped burgers from the sack and peeled its wrapper down. “Me too.”

  They polished off the fast food in record time and climbed into the front seats. He shifted into drive and steered his vehicle to the front visitor’s section. She blinked at him in confusion when he parked in one of the available spots. “You could have just dropped me at the entrance.”

  “I’m going to walk you to the elevator.”

  She offered him a droll look. “Aren’t you taking this chivalry thing a bit far?”

  “No. Plus it gives me more time to check out your ass.”

  “What am I going to do with you?” Sighing, she cracked her door open and hopped outside.

  He caught up with her and draped his jacket over her shoulders. She snuggled into its warmth and shot him a grateful look. “Not too brilliant of me to leave my office without my coat.”

  “You weren’t expecting hot car nookie.” He waggled his brows. “Or maybe you were.”

  “So help me, if you say something about setting my pussy on fire with your blazing lovin’...”

  “You must be reading my mind.” Chuckling, he cuddled her closer to his side. They approached the front entrance and he grabbed the door handle. An odd sensation tickled his left shoulder. Frowning, he glanced behind him to see who or what was causing it. A woman stood behind him.

  Correction. Not just any woman. Farrah Remington—one of his clients. She swept her gaze over Marissa before smiling at him. “Hello, handsome. This is a pleasant surprise.”

  He wished he could say the same. Farrah was one of his repeat customers, and normally she gave him no trouble, but he definitely didn’t like the hard glint in her eyes every time her attention flickered to Marissa. He was sorely tempted to bid Farrah a quick farewell and see Marissa to the elevators before the awkward tension became any thicker.

  Unfortunately Farrah took that option out of his hands by following them through the doorway and rubbing up against his other side while she stroked his arm. Marissa stiffened. He hugged her, mutely communicating that she was and always would be his top priority. He sent Farrah as calm of a stare as he could muster. “Nice to see you, but we’re in a bit of a hurry.”

  Irritation flashed across Farrah’s features, only to be replaced a second later with a smile that’d make a crocodile squirm. “That’s okay. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up on Christmas Eve.” Her touch far too familiar for comfort, she brushed her fingers along his jaw and stepped ahead of them, quickly disappearing in the sea of workers returning from lunch.

  An awful silence fell over Marissa. He stooped to peer into her eyes. She refused to meet his gaze. Queasiness roiled in his gut. “Baby, she’s a client. Nothing more.”

  “She’s the one you’re seeing on Christmas Eve.”

  “Well, yeah,” he replied dumbly. “She’s hosting a big party at her house for family and friends. She does it every year.”

  “And she needs a male escort for that?” Marissa shook her head. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. It’s none of my business what she hires you for.”

  “It absolutely is your business.” He cupped her nape, praying she’d believe him. “I know it looks bad with the way Farrah was acting, but I swear you have nothing to worry about.”

  She gnawed on her lip before meeting his gaze again. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything to me. We’re by no means exclusive, and I know this is what you do for a living. I’m not going to make things weird and awkward by getting all clingy and emotional.” Her voice hitched slightly on the last word and she dropped her focus to the floor.

  He tucked his knuckle beneath her chin. “Hey. Please don’t be upset. Rissa, talk to me.”

  She swallowed roughly. “I need to get back to work.”

  “Okay. Then we’ll talk after I get done with my Sinners gig tonight.”

  “I’m kind of tire
d. Maybe it’s better if we do it another time.”

  He squeezed her shoulders. “Don’t do this. Don’t close me out.”

  “I’ve got to go, Trig. I-I’m sorry.” She ducked her head and pulled away from him. Without giving him a backward glance, she rushed for the elevators.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  This is what she got for falling in love with a gigolo. Sucking in her sobbing laugh, Marissa plucked several tissues from the dispenser in the women’s restroom and blotted her eyes. She’d lost sight of the possible ramifications this past week, and fell heart first into the delusion that she had an actual relationship with Trig. She was the only one to blame here. He hadn’t given her false promises and dreams. Nor did he whisper words of love that he didn’t mean. They were supposed to have kept things light and fun and she ruined it all by fruitlessly wishing for more.

  Crumpling the sodden tissues, she tossed them into the trash bin and inspected her reflection in the mirror. Well, at least her waterproof mascara was living up to its claims. After correcting the tiny smudge underneath her lower lashes, she snatched her purse from the counter and made her way to the Halcyon suite.

  The remainder of the day chugged by at an excruciating pace. Trig texted her half a dozen times, asking if she was okay. She finally gave in and replied to his most recent message. Yes. But I’ve changed my mind. I do think it’s best if we talk tonight.

  He immediately winged a text back. I’ll be at your place ASAP.

  Her heart heavy, she tucked her phone in her purse and logged off her computer.

  The ride home offered no reprieve from the torment of her thoughts. She couldn’t get that Farrah woman out of her mind. Yes, it was ridiculous to make comparisons, but Trig’s client was tall, svelte, and reeked of money. Basically all of the things that Marissa wasn’t. No doubt she was a complete oddity when it came to his clients. And yes, she’d do well to remember that’s what she was. They might be friends, and perhaps even a little more than that. Lovers, certainly. But she couldn’t fool herself into thinking that fact somehow made her special.

  Ugh. Stop it. This self-flagellation didn’t help any. All it did was add to the mire of misery in her belly and make her wish she’d stopped and picked up three dozen Krispy Kremes on the way home. Yeah, because stuffing herself with enough sugar to put her in a coma was always the best answer. Grimacing, she unlocked the front door and plunked her purse on the end table.

  She might not have fattening glazed donuts, but she did have wine. And she’d need a glass or two to get her through this. She traipsed to her bedroom and changed into the most comfortable pair of sweats she owned. No reason to pretend that seduction was anywhere on the menu tonight. After securing her hair into a high ponytail, she journeyed to the kitchen and topped off her largest wine glass with the last of the chardonnay chilling in the fridge. She’d chugged through a third of it before she even slumped onto the couch.

  She’d wanted so much to convince herself that she could be wild and impulsive, and in the process she’d learned one undeniable truth. She couldn’t do sex without love. Maybe that was the biggest reason she’d shied away from Trig in the beginning. Somewhere in the deepest recesses of her heart she’d known that once she let him in, it’d be impossible to give him up.

  Only she had to. There was no other alternative.

  He didn’t love her, and she refused to be one of those women who settled for anything less than a man who’d give himself to her fully. She’d had no choice but to accept her absent father and his meager crumbs of phony affection before he’d left for good. But when it came to a relationship of her own, she wanted the real deal. A partner to share the good and bad times with. Someone who’d laugh with her at the goofy parts of a slapstick comedy. Someone who’d hold her hand for no other reason than because he needed that simple connection with her. Someone who’d spoon her in bed every night and hug her so tight, she’d never feel lonely again.

  Someone who’d love her.

  Sniffling, she swiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks. Oh man, she really needed to lay off the wine. Nothing worse than a sad drunk. She scooted her glass far enough away on the coffee table for safe keeping and clicked on the TV. Sometime around ten she fell into a fitful snooze and kept having disturbing dreams where she was on a deserted beach and she could see Trig walking ahead of her in the distance. She’d call his name and run to catch up with him, but it seemed like the closer she got, the farther away he moved from her.

  Her stomach queasy, she straightened on the couch cushion and massaged her throbbing temples. Stupid sulphites were kicking in. A knock sounded, and it took a moment to realize the noise wasn’t coming from inside her head.

  Wincing, she shoved up from the couch and staggered to the door. She opened it and peered blearily at Trig.

  His expression pinched with worry, he stepped inside and stroked her cheek. “Sweetheart, are you sick?”

  Oh God. She must really look like shit. “No. Just had too much wine. Isn’t sitting on me that well.”

  He took her hand and guided her back to the couch. She couldn’t tear her focus from their twined fingers. Her earlier pipe dream about finding a soulmate who loved to hold hands flitted through her achy head, a mocking fantasy.

  Enough. She wouldn’t continue to paint her situation with Trig in a Technicolor fantasy.

  She crawled onto the couch again and he strode toward the kitchen. The cupboard squeaked, followed by the plink-plink-plink of ice cubes falling into a glass. He returned a moment later with the water and sat it in front of her before taking a seat and drawing her into his lap. She wished she could say she went unwillingly, but that’d be a damn lie. He brushed his fingers through her hair and she leaned against him weakly.

  He rocked her gently. She longed for the moment to last forever, but knew she was only avoiding the inevitable. She wiggled off of his lap and planted her butt on the cushion next to him. Placing some distance between them would be the only way to get through this. “I’ve loved the past week with you. I really have. But I think we should stop doing this.”

  Trig frowned. “Stop what, exactly?”

  “Seeing each other. We’ll always be friends though.” No matter how much it would devastate her to have him in that capacity while her heart craved so much more.

  He looked like he’d been poleaxed by her words. She dug her nails into her palms, fighting against everything inside her that instinctually reached out to him. He rubbed his jaw, his gaze locked on her face. “This is because of what happened this afternoon.”

  “Partly.”

  “Rissa, I told you there’s nothing to worry about with Farrah. Or any of my clients, for that matter. They’re strictly business.”

  “But you’ve admitted there have been occasions in the past when they became more than that. Then there’s me.”

  “You’re not just a client, damn it. You know that.”

  She sat on her hands to keep from touching him. “Yes, I do. But don’t you see that we’re living proof that sometimes things just happen? There’s always the possibility that another woman might come along that you’ll be equally attracted to.”

  He shook his head fiercely. “Not gonna fucking happen. Baby, you’re the one that I want.”

  She battled to resist the beckoning temptation of his declaration. Wanting and loving were two separate entities. One was fueled by lust and infatuation. The other was something that they could build a future on. She couldn’t pin her hopes on a fleeting fancy. “I’m sorry. But that’s not enough for me.”

  The devastation that etched his features was heartbreaking to witness. Inside, she felt like she was slowly dying. The pain she was causing him was no less than the dark misery brewing within her own chest. But it was either this, or hang in there for who knows how long, waiting for the committed relationship that would never be forthcoming.

  “I’ll cancel my date with Farrah.”

  “I don’t want you to do that.”

/>   He dragged his hands through his hair and stared at the ceiling. “I’m trying to find a way to make this work, Rissa. If Farrah’s the problem—”

  “If it’s not her, there will always be someone else.”

  “You want me to quit escorting.”

  She gaped at him. “No, I would never ask you to do that.”

  “But do you want me to?” He lowered his gaze to her when she remained quiet. “Well, guess that answers that question.”

  “Trig...” She sighed, frustration and weariness making her feel a million years old. “The worst thing I could do is come between you and your job. Eventually you’d resent me for making you choose. So I’m not. Instead I’m doing the right thing. The best thing. For both of us. I’m letting you go.”

  A tremor worked its way through Trig and he tore his gaze from her and stared at his hands like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. He balled his fists and wedged them between his knees, his shoulders slumping. “Rissa, don’t do this...”

  The sharp ache expanded in her heart until the pain encompassed her entire being. With more willpower than she’d ever thought she’d possess, she pushed up from the couch and took a deep breath. “I need you to go.”

  He looked up at her for an endless moment. Just when she thought he wouldn’t honor her request, he lifted to his feet. “This is wrong, baby.”

  “Please don’t make this any more difficult than it already is.”

  A fraction of the anguish eased from his features and was replaced with a tenacity that made her inwardly groan. “Trig, I’m begging you to—”

  The persuasive crush of his mouth over hers instantaneously halted the remainder of her plea. He slid his fingers in her hair, his kiss possessive and even slightly angry as he re-angled her head for better access. Her weak body betrayed her by melting into him, shuddering when his tongue swept along hers. As fast as it started, he broke the kiss and stared at her, his eyes gleaming with fierce purposefulness. “This isn’t over, Rissa. Not by a long shot.”