Nothing but the Best

by Kristin Hardy

  It wasn't a game anymore. The arousal was deep and strong. She ached to have Rand inside her. She stirred again.

  "What's the matter, got ants in your pants?" Rand gave her a devilish look.

  "Something like that."

  The vibration vanished and she felt a flare of disappointment. Of need. Her awareness was complete. The stimulation might have awoken her nerve endings, but it wasn't enough. She had to be touched, now. Warm flesh and muscle. Hands on her breasts. A hot mouth on hers, a hard cock driving into her, she needed it. She craved it. The last thing she wanted was to be sitting in this room of Hol ywood and musical talent, decorously watching the auction.

  Rand's fingers began stroking up the tender skin of her inner thigh.

  "Can I get you coffee, cappuccino, an after-dinner drink?" It was the waiter, standing over her.

  "Yes, please. I'd like…" Cil a's voice wavered as Rand buzzed her. "Ice water, please," she said more firmly, resisting the urge to move against the vibration, against Rand's hand.

  "And you, sir?"

  "I don't think so," Rand answered. "I'l be leaving soon."

  Cil a's entire being was focused now on the throbbing between her thighs, and a shudder of true arousal passed through her.

  Rand just looked at her, his eyes hot and dark. In that moment, she didn't care about work, about Danforth, about the Annex, about anything but him.

  And she rose.

  * * *

  NEED BOUNCED THROUGH Cil a in time with the pulsing of the vibrator, as she and Rand waited for the car. He had the vibrator throbbing on low. It made her knees weak and she clutched his arm.

  "I want you now," she murmured to him.

  His response was to turn up the vibrator until she nearly whimpered. "Patience. In the meantime, you can enjoy it."

  "You're driving me crazy."

  The valet pul ed up in the car and Rand handed her into it. Sitting in the car seat focused the throb on her clit and she made a smal sound.

  "Ready to go?" Rand asked as he put the car in gear.

  Her response was a moan.

  Rand's right hand traced its way up her thigh as he drove, sliding up the aquamarine silk to reach trembling flesh. "Where are we going?" he asked.

  "Wherever's closer." Brentwood and the Wilshire Corridor seemed miles away. She wasn't sure she could wait that long. "They're both too far," she said raggedly.

  "You're so wet," he murmured, sliding his fingers up between her slick folds and then he froze. "I have an idea." He whipped the car into a quick turn, then swung around into a back al ey.

  And Cil a knew where they were.

  Getting inside the Annex took only a moment. With shaking fingers, Cil a punched the necessary code into the security keypad to disable the alarm.

  Then Rand pressed her against the wal and put his mouth to hers, whirling her away into a hot urgency. Sensation swamped her until it was difficult to think. After existing in a state of suspended desire, she was final y free to feel what she craved. His hands roved over her body. He fumbled with the clasp of his belt, but she stil ed his hands.

  "Not here. Wait."

  She knew where she wanted to go. Forget about vertical quickies. She wanted him in her hard and deep, wanted to feel his weight as he drove himself into her.

  The emergency lights cast a dim glow as Cil a moved to the front of the store, catching Rand's hand to draw him with her.

  To the display windows.

  Light from the street lamps shone through the layers of brown paper that covered the windows, giving the space an almost luminous glow, highlighting the chaise that sat there. Cil a kicked off her shoes. Stepping up into the window, she stripped the plastic impatiently.

  And sank back onto the soft, red leather.

  Could a person explode from wanting, she wondered, staring back at Rand, watching him watch her as he tossed aside his jacket, his tie, his shoes. Then in the blink of an eye, he was beside her.

  The first touch of his hand had her exhaling sharply as his fingers curved over her breast. He kept the thin barrier of silk in the way, letting her feel him and yet not feel him. His taste was temptation, and as his mouth trailed down from her mouth, over her jaw, and down into her neckline, she shivered.

  She felt a surge of impatience and reached for his shirt, wanting his bare skin against hers. But he stil ed her hands. "You wanted to wait, we wait."

  He unfastened her belt and spread open the robe to reveal only her thigh-high hose and the skimpy bit of lace she'd chosen to torment him with.

  And he made a helpless sound.

  With the fingers of his free hand, Rand traced the line of her breasts, stroking over them, brushing the nipples as they hardened. She heard him catch his breath. Then her own shuddered out as he squeezed her nipples, sending a rush of sensation through her—whether pleasure or pain, she couldn't say, didn't care. For an instant, it was enough to be lying back in the darkened store, nearly naked, feeling his touch.

  Cil a arched back as he leaned over and rubbed the beginnings of his beard against her nipples in little slicing bolts that alternated with the wet warmth of his tongue. The scrape of teeth, the quick suction, the softness of his lips, it al blended in a kaleidoscope of feeling.

  Then he straightened and stripped off his shirt impatiently, his chest and arms the color of burnished bronze in the dim glow. When he dropped his trousers, she could see his hard-on curving up from his body.

  Desire arrowed into her.

  Eyes locked to his, Cil a reached down to touch herself where she was slick, pul ing out the vibrating egg.

  "I don't think we need this anymore."

  "On the contrary." Rand took it from her. "We're just getting started." His eyes gleamed. "You should never sel a product unless you've ful y tested it."

  With the vibrator gone, Cil a craved his touch. Instead, he made her wait longer.

  He bent again to her breasts, licking her nipples. Then the shudder of the vibrator replaced the heat of his mouth. Cil a gave a choking laugh as the throb raced through the sensitive flesh. When he slipped his free hand down between her thighs, al laughter disappeared in a moan.

  Rand groaned in tandem with her as his finger slid into the wetness between her legs. "You have no idea what it does to me when you're like this."

  "I think I do," Cil a murmured, reaching out to wrap her fingers around his hard cock. "It's the same way I feel when I feel you hard." The power of her tangible attraction for him intoxicated her. "I want you inside me."

  "Not yet."

  He moved the egg down her body, letting the vibrations spread through her as it came nearer and nearer to her thighs. When he slid it close, though, he didn't touch her where she ached for it. Instead, he stroked it along the sensitive folds of her labia, making her writhe. He dipped it into her, finding the spot where the pulsations seemed to spread out through her entire body. And then, only then did he slide it up to the rigid bud of her clitoris.

  The shadows of pedestrians strobed over the brown paper as they walked by.

  Cil a stifled a cry.

  Eyes intent, Rand watched her, one of his hands doing mind-bending things to her breast, the other rubbing the vibrator over her clit, rhythmical y, steadily, until she was ready to scream with it. It wasn't like finding arousal with the touch of a hand or a mouth or a cock. There was no meandering journey, no progress up through level after level. The intensity flung her up and over into orgasm almost before she realized it, racking her body with shudders, dragging a helpless gasp from her.

  Rand moved to slide on top of her but Cil a put a hand against his chest even as she felt the aftershocks. "Not yet. I don't think we're done testing."

  "Real y?"

  She swore she could hear him grind his teeth. She pressed him down on the chaise. "Oh, yes. Now it's your turn to wait."

  Dipping into the wetness between her legs, she spread it over Rand's hard cock, feeling him jolt against her fingers. She stroked him, rubbing the
spot where she knew he was most sensitive.

  And then she switched on the egg.

  Slowly, slowly, Cil a stroked the vibrator up the length of his shaft where it lay hard against his bel y. Rand's breath hissed in. Precome seeped out of the tip of his cock. She ran the rounded end of the egg through the slippery fluid, then stroked it along his cock, watching the shaft and glans harden and redden, watching the veins rise. Because she couldn't resist the temptation, she leaned in to lick him, then stroked him with the vibrator.

  Watching his reaction, she alternated between the two, licking then rubbing, licking then rubbing. He groaned and his fingers tightened on her shoulders.

  Cil a moved to lie next to him on the chaise, turned on her side so that she could watch herself running the vibrator up and down until his erection pulsed against it. "Now," he commanded, shifting to press her flat on her back. The egg clattered to the floor as he slid between her legs. She felt a thril of anticipation. And then he was inside her.

  Fast and deep, the first thrust took her breath away. Rand stroked into her, rhythmic and hard, staring into her eyes. She saw his jaw clench with the effort at control even as she wrapped her arms and legs around him to pul him closer, deeper as he plunged in over and over again.

  When her orgasm hit, it was more powerful than anything a mechanical toy might have brought, the heat and texture of the human touch sending her arching and shuddering against him. And the feel of his cock pulsing within her as he spil ed himself, was one more wave of ecstasy.

  13

  IT WAS A BIG JOB, opening a store, Cil a thought wearily as she knelt down and used a box cutter to slice through the plastic binding tape around a carton of clothing. The merchandise had arrived, the ads and press releases had gone out—tomorrow was the day.

  And al they had to do was get the fixtures in place and a store's worth of stock displayed or folded and put on the shelves, and the floors vacuumed and the mirrors cleaned. That wouldn't have been such a daunting task if it hadn't been for the fact that the mirrors were stil being hung and portions of the tile floor were stil drying.

  Theoretical y, they had staffers, including management, in place to do it al , but Cil a hadn't been able to stay away that morning. She needed to be there to see the progress, she needed to pitch in and be a part of it.

  Which was just as wel , given that Murphy and his law, as usual, had reigned supreme. Paige had never missed a deadline, but she hadn't reckoned with the vagaries of import-export. The Italian flooring had gotten held up in customs and not released until the night before. It was the next best thing to robbery, but Cil a paid the tilers enough to lay it overnight. Until the tile was put down, it couldn't dry, until it dried fixtures couldn't go into place, and until the fixtures were in place, nothing could be hung. They hadn't even gotten started until the end of the day.

  No sooner had they started than one of the clerks kicked a two bar fixture, and meanwhile, a crucial shipment of clothes had failed to show up and, given that it was currently after seven at night, it was unlikely to do so.

  Her and her big ideas about wanting to get the store open two weeks after their first meeting. What would one more week have hurt? But no, she wanted to get every bit of revenue during the trial period they could, and that was why they were completely under the gun.

  Stay calm, Cil a told herself. She was simultaneously exhausted and amped out of her mind with stress. In a perfect world, she'd be savoring every moment of watching the store come together. Instead, she felt as if she were watching a slow-motion train wreck.

  Maybe she could steal a few moments to do a little yoga in the back room, she thought. Then she remembered the condition of the back room and snorted. Not a chance. She'd be better off imagining herself doing the triangle pose and the downward dog while she hung up stock, instead.

  "Having a good time?" Rand walked by carrying an armload of Prada dresses to the front.

  "Deliriously." Rand was the only bright spot in the proceedings, but her mood elevation didn't last much after he passed. The thing to do was to focus on getting tasks done one after another. Eventual y, it would al be finished.

  Rand was back. "You okay?"

  "What did you do with those three-thousand-dol ar dresses?"

  "Set them down on one of the chaises," he said briefly. "They're fine. You're the one I'm concerned about." He crouched down beside her and touched a hand to her cheek. "You look beat."

  "I'm okay." What she wanted to do more than anything just then was hold on to him, just for a moment, to hear him say it would al be okay. But public displays of affection at work were frowned upon. That didn't stop her from wanting them. Instead, she settled for brushing the hair off his forehead. She knew that, strictly speaking, that wasn't al owed, either, but there was only so much a woman could stand, after al . "I'm just a little stressed over getting everything done."

  "Relax."

  "Relax? We open tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. How is al of this going to get done?"

  "We've got five of us laying out stock, the contractors are almost finished putting the wal fixtures in place, and the last mirror just went up. We'l have this in shape in about two hours. Anything that doesn't get done tonight, Charla can do tomorrow."

  "Two hours won't be enough," Cil a muttered.

  Rand took a quick glance around and leaned in for a quick kiss, hidden by the clothing hanging around them. "It'l have to be, because at 10:00

  p.m., I'm taking you home to dinner and to bed." He stood. "Now get to work."

  * * *

  HOURS LATER, RAND WAS flopped in bed, propped up against pil ows. Cil a lay against him, relaxed and breathing deeply. He couldn't quite tel whether she was asleep or not, so he tried not to move. The shades of the darkened room were pul ed to show the ful band of windows, which looked out toward the serrated bulk of the Hol ywood Hil s.

  He couldn't say he liked the apartment any better than he had when he'd moved in, but he was definitely hooked on the view.

  He'd been right about the fact that it would al get done. Done, though, had been closer to 1:00 a.m. than ten. The usual brutal calculus of exhaustion had held, and the more fatigued they'd gotten, the slower it al had gone. Cil a, though, had been driven by nervous energy. She'd pushed them al the extra bit, humored, heckled, cajoled, whatever it took to get things done. She'd worked as hard as any of them, harder, even. And as though bewitched, the staff knocked themselves out for her.

  And now she was out like a light, he thought, kissing the top of her head. In al too short a time she'd become necessary to him. He couldn't let himself think about it right now, not while everything was in flux. Take a risk, she'd invited him, and he had, but he'd thought it was a professional risk.

  He'd never expected it to be personal.

  Cil a sighed against him, then jolted and came awake. Rand stayed quiet but final y she stirred and lifted her head. "Hey." He tightened his arms around her. "Bad dream?"

  "Not real y." She moved to kiss him. "Dumb. You know the kind—you're walking along a curb and you step off and hit the ground too hard and presto, you're jerking awake." She leaned back against him and sighed.

  "Nervous about the opening?"

  She rol ed her eyes. "You even have to ask?"

  "I did my best to help you work off your tension," he pointed out, sliding his hand over her flat bel y.

  "And it worked, for about five minutes, anyway," she said rueful y. In the dark, she was just a soft voice that matched her soft skin.

  "I'd be happy to take another stab at it," he offered.

  "So to speak."

  He chuckled. "I'm wil ing to sacrifice for the cause."

  "If anyone could have done it, you did," she said, nestling against him.

  "Then stop worrying, already."

  "How?" Her voice was leaden with exhaustion. "I keep starting to fal asleep and then I think of one more thing that we've forgotten."

  "If we have, it's not the end of the earth. Nothing's perfe
ct. Shoot, the day Disneyland opened, they hardly had a single drinking fountain that worked.

  We're opening a boutique, not an amusement park. It doesn't have to be flawless tomorrow."

  "What if my father or some of the board members show?"

  "What if they do? They've been in business a long time. They know things take time." He understood her stress because he felt it, too, but he would only let it dog him so far.

  Cil a sighed. "You have no idea how much I want this to be a success."

  He stroked his fingertips over her cheek. "With two such bril iant minds on board, how could it not?"

  She was silent for a long moment. "I just can't stop worrying," she said, final y, in a smal voice. "I'm afraid if it doesn't work it'l reflect badly on you. I don't want that to happen. And I don't want my dad to regret that he gave me the chance."

  Rand felt her shake just a little and realized she was crying. "Hey," he said softly.

  "I'm sorry. I know guys hate it when women cry."

  "Don't worry about that," he soothed. "Where's this coming from? It's going to be fine, you know that."

  "I want him to be proud of me."

  And this, final y, was the root of it. He'd known it was there, he'd heard her speak of it.

  He'd had no idea how deep it real y went.

  Rand stroked her arms. "Why wouldn't he be proud of you? Look at al you've accomplished. Of course he's proud of you. You can hear it in his voice."

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "There's proud of being and there's proud of doing."

  "You don't think he's proud of both?"

  "I don't think he thinks there's anything to be proud of, at least not in the doing part. I know he loves me, he just doesn't think much past that."

  "I think you're underestimating him."

  "I don't." She sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees. "I've watched him and my mom over the years. I know he doesn't respect her. I don't know if he even loves her."