Hard Work

by Micah Persell

  Her mouth went dry. She was staring, and she could tell he knew it, because, unbelievably, his erection grew even more beneath her gaze.

  “Do you have a sweet tooth, Victoria?”

  The gentle clacking of the spoon against the dish was starting to make her shiver. She shook her head, and her hair rustled against the pillow.

  His lips hitched up on one end. “Of course you don’t.” He kneeled on the edge of the bed with his left knee and leaned over her. “I guess dessert is all for me, then.”

  The lamplight caught the rich, liquid chocolate as it spilled from the tip of the spoon back into the dish.

  Her eyes widened. She’d never done something like this before. Even when they’d had a sex life, Jeremy had not been any more adventurous than making love with the lights on. “Won’t that be . . . sticky?”

  He breathed in a way that suggested he was suppressing a chuckle. “Honey, if you’re thinking about how sticky it is while I’m doing this, I have bigger problems. Like the need to find a new job.”

  She swallowed. If you say so.

  His eyes lit up, and now she knew for sure he was trying not to laugh at her. She tried to straighten her face—keep whatever expression he was seeing from staying around. She didn’t want him laughing at her, for Christ’s sake.

  With his free hand, he brushed her hair from her forehead. “We’ll take a shower afterward, okay?”

  She nodded, and then became completely redundant when she also said, “Okay.”

  “Good girl.”

  And then, he was holding the spoon high over her bare breasts, and time slowed in a perfectly clichéd way as she watched chocolate dribble from the spoon, through the air, to land at last directly on her left nipple.

  Impeccable aim. He had to do this often—a thought that did not help the anxiety climbing her throat.

  “I can see you thinking again.”

  She wound her fingers in the sheets. “Damn it, Kip. It’s what I do.”

  “And this”—he leaned down farther—“is what I do.” His hot lips closed over the cool chocolate, enveloping her nipple in a clash of temperatures as he sucked it into his mouth. He groaned long and low, and then his tongue lapped at her. In the dim light of the lamp, she could see his throat work as he swallowed the chocolate.

  And that was precisely the moment she stopped thinking so hard.

  Her fingers were suddenly weaving through his hair, and she was clutching him to her breast, arching into his decadent kiss. He murmured something, but she couldn’t hear him with his face pressed against her skin.

  “What?” she breathed, loosening her hold slightly.

  He looked up at her, his gorgeous eyes twinkling. “More chocolate.”

  She glanced quickly at her hands and saw they were holding him down so tightly they were blanched white. She dropped them immediately.

  Kip sat up. “Liked it more than you thought you would?”

  She glared. “Gloating?”

  “A man’s got to take his victories where he can.” He reached for the dish again, and Victoria promptly forgot her pique.

  This time, when he drizzled the chocolate, she arched into it, catching it with her right nipple and undulating as her nipple puckered and the gooseflesh rushed from that point and over the rest of her body.

  He swore softly, and just as she was biting back her own reaction, he dove down and licked at her chocolate-covered breast as though he hadn’t eaten a full meal mere minutes before. This time, she couldn’t keep from swearing as well. He echoed her sentiment with a harsh groan and wrapped his arms beneath her, making her arch against his mouth even more.

  Pleasure shot from her nipple straight to her sex as he sucked—first gently, but then much harder. Harder than she would have even guessed she’d like.

  But like she did.

  She held out as long as she could, the memory of how tightly she’d held him before stinging, but it became impossible to keep her arms at her side. She felt weightless from the pleasure of his mouth and needed to hold on to something—an anchor to keep her grounded.

  She wove her fingers through his hair again, and as she tugged him closer, he moaned against her skin.

  Without lifting his lips from her breast, Kip dipped his fingers in the dish—completely foregoing the spoon this time. He smeared the chocolate over her other breast, then kissed his way across her sternum, covering her wet nipple with his palm and plumping the flesh.

  Why had she never done this before? As he slowly drove her mad with the pressure of his mouth, she leaned up and licked, then nibbled his shoulder. Delicious—just like she’d come to expect. But . . .

  She spotted the dish, still cradled in Kip’s hand, which rested on the bed. Reaching down, she dipped her fingertips in.

  The chocolate was unexpectedly smooth, not sticky at all, as she smeared it over his shoulder. As she licked up the trail of syrup, his gaze found hers, his lips curving around her nipple.

  Gloating again. She straightened, and Kip, forced to move or take a collarbone to the nose, straightened as well.

  He licked chocolate from his lips, and Victoria’s gut clenched. She wanted nothing more than to lie down again and let him continue driving her crazy while he ate dessert.

  But that wasn’t quite true. There was one thing she wanted more, and that was to remove the smug expression he wore. Get more of those uncontrolled curses. More of whatever had made him lose control before the room service delivery.

  “On your back,” she commanded. She took the dish of chocolate from him. “It’s my turn.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said you didn’t have a sweet tooth.”

  She shrugged. “I’m coming around.”

  His gaze flicked down to the dish of chocolate and then back to her breasts. With an obvious look of regret, he lowered himself to the bed.

  That was a reward in and of itself.

  Feeling confident, she swung one leg over him and straddled his hips. Immediately, she fell in love with this position. His erection lay heavily before her on his belly, and she scooted up until her sex cradled its root.

  He hissed in a breath, and his hands gripped her thighs, his fingertips digging in. She stirred the chocolate slowly and just as slowly looked over his beautiful body again, enjoying all the planes and valleys from this angle of power as though it were the first time she’d seen them.

  Where to start. There was a buffet’s worth of options before her. And to think she usually skipped dessert.

  Well, she didn’t necessarily want to move from his hips, so that narrowed the options down to what she could reach currently.

  What’s good for the goose . . .

  Biting her lip to keep from smiling wickedly, she dribbled chocolate over his left nipple. Her aim was not as good as his, but she was a quick learner.

  His breathing rasped through the quiet room, but it hitched into silence as she began to lean over. When she licked the chocolate away with a flat tongue, her hair rustled with the rush of air he exhaled.

  His hands, still gripping her thighs, picked up the slightest tremor, but then they were moving. Tugging her thong aside.

  As his fingertips brushed through her folds, she reflexively bit down on his nipple. In a panic, she loosened her bite, but his heavy groan gave her pause.

  “Do it again.” His voice was raspy. Rushed.

  She did it again, and as she did, he thrust two fingers inside her. She cried out against his skin.

  “Don’t stop,” he said.

  She had been about to beg the same thing. Forcing all of her functioning brain cells to unite, she dribbled another spoonful of chocolate across his chest and began kissing and licking it up. At the same time, he continued to thrust his fingers and then circle his thumb over her clitoris.

  She ground into his fingers as she forewent the spoon entirely and scooped chocolate up in her hand and smeared a great, long handprint down the center of his torso.

  The next
flick of his thumb over her clit was so good, she forgot entirely about eating the chocolate. Instead, she bonelessly flopped down on him. The fingers that were not currently driving her wild gripped her bottom. Her breasts slid through the chocolate, and the friction of his chest against hers made her pant his name.

  They were definitely going to need a shower. She could not care less.

  She managed to clumsily pass off the dish of chocolate to her other hand and blindly grope around until she found the side table. It was a miracle it stayed where she sat it down and did not crash to the floor.

  He thrust his fingers again. “Chocolate’s safe?”

  She nodded.

  In the next second, he flipped them. She blinked up at him as he knelt between her sprawled thighs and began rolling down his considerable length a condom that magically appeared. Her smeared handprint flexed and rolled in the lamplight, and she stared, transfixed until he blocked her view by spreading atop her.

  Jerking her thong to the side, he pushed inside of her with one, long, teeth-clattering thrust.

  Immediately, he stilled. “Shit.” He framed her face with his hands, his gaze frantically searching hers. “That was hard.” He cursed beneath his breath again. “Are you okay?”

  She raised her knees and canted her hips. The chocolate heated between them, and their skin slicked together. “Do it again.” She reached up and bit his shoulder as hard as she could. “And don’t stop.”

  An inhuman noise ripped from him. He rose up on his knees, clenched one of her knees to his ribs. With his free hand, he shoved her thong aside even more and found her clit with his thumb.

  And then he thrust. And thrust. And—fucking, yes—thrust. The headboard clattered against the wall, and the dish of chocolate surrendered to gravity at last and crashed to the floor.

  She barely noticed as something coiled tightly inside her. When it released, she would fly apart.

  Her silk-clad thighs slid across his backside as she crossed her ankles and held on to him as best she could as he took her on an unimaginable ride.

  “Victoria, honey.” He gritted his teeth, and his thrusts stuttered for a second. “Come, please. Please.”

  As though her body knew its master, an orgasm obediently ripped through her. She arched her back and screamed as her hands found her own breasts, smearing chocolate all over them.

  “Fuck.” He stilled, and her eyes flew open to watch as he threw his head back and called out her name to the ceiling. The next moment, his hips were jerking against her thighs. His chest billowed, and he gripped her thighs so hard her stockings ripped.

  The way he jerked against her, the image of him in his pleasure—she tripped right over into another orgasm. As her sex clenched and fluttered along his dick, his eyes opened and he stared down at her in what could only be described as awe.

  His own orgasm over, he leaned down over her and pressed the sweetest kiss to her lips as he rocked gently between her thighs, drawing her pleasure out longer than she had thought possible.

  As it finally subsided, their gazes connected.

  She had never felt more raw, more open in her life. His gaze searched hers for a moment, and then, cupping her jaw, he kissed her again. Slowly and leisurely, he licked into her mouth. He lowered himself until their bellies brushed, their chests met.

  Tentatively, she wrapped her arms around him, her fingertips skating across his shoulders and down his back. He shuddered in her arms; laid one final, chaste kiss on her lips; and pressed his forehead to hers.

  He exhaled a shaky breath. “Wow.”

  She brushed the tip of her nose against his. “No kidding.”

  He lifted his head and looked around them. Victoria did the same, and her eyes widened. The white linens were covered in chocolate. Beside the bed, the lake of syrup sank slowly into the carpet.

  “We made a mess,” he said, his voice filled with pride.

  She felt a smile nudging her lips. “Worth it.”

  He looked back at her, and worry flitted behind his eyes. “I’m really glad you think so.” Grasping the condom, he withdrew from her and sighed. “I’ve never . . . I don’t want to be that rough with you.” He wasn’t meeting her gaze. “I’m so—”

  She placed her fingertips over his lips, and after several moments, he finally looked at her. She smiled. “Shower with me?”

  He blinked, but then his lips tipped up at one corner. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She could get used to him calling her that.

  As he pushed off from her and held his hand out with an expression that bordered on bashful, the anticipation she felt for the coming eighteen days nearly overwhelmed her.

  She placed her fingers in his, and he pulled her from the bed. Naked and holding hands, they padded barefoot into the bathroom where, by the time the mirror had fogged over with steam, Kip was already rolling on another condom and showing her the many uses of removable showerheads.

  She’d never be able to look at one the same way again. And that was just fine by her.

  Chapter Nine

  For at least the twentieth time that morning, Kip found himself reliving the previous night with Victoria in vivid, filthy detail.

  Impossibly, each and every time they were together was better than the last. And, last night had been so good.

  Victoria was the best lover he’d ever had. Him. A gigolo who made a living via sex.

  Beside him, his phone chirped. He flicked a glance its way and caught sight of a calendar notification.

  New client: Natalie. Tomorrow night at 9:00. Requests: tuxedo, sweet lovemaking, no cuddling after.

  The grin he’d been sporting faded slowly.

  Shit.

  Unlocking his phone, he double-checked the dates, and, yep, sure enough, tonight was the last night of his and Victoria’s contract together.

  The breakfast he’d finished an hour or so ago began to rise and lodged in an apple-sized lump somewhere between his heart and his throat. Pushing up from the couch, he headed toward the bathroom cabinet. Maybe he had a bottle of antacids in there somewhere.

  Seconds later, he slammed the medicine cabinet closed, the mirrored front rattling for long moments after.

  No antacids. He wandered into the kitchen, rubbing a closed fist over that insistent lump, and peered into the fridge. Fuck, he didn’t even have milk. He’d just have to muscle through.

  So, tonight was his last night with Victoria. Big deal. This arrangement had always had an expiration date.

  I’m going to miss her.

  He slammed the fridge door closed even harder than he had the medicine cabinet and scrubbed a hand over his face.

  He peeked through his fingers over at the clock on his microwave and saw that it was approaching lunchtime. Right this second, Victoria was at work. Was she thinking about the mere hours they had left together?

  Nah. Not Victoria. She would be working hard. Last night, she’d told him about a new idea she’d had for a line of commercials, her eyes lighting from within as they’d tossed ideas back and forth.

  She’ll forget to eat again. She was always doing that, which meant he was always prepared with some sort of meal when they met up each night. Often, it was the only meal she ate during the day.

  He drummed his fingers on the countertop, and immediately, he recognized it as an affectation of Victoria’s. An adorable one. Whenever she was deep in thought, those fingers were tapping against something.

  Seeing her only once more is not going to be enough.

  He grabbed his car keys and was out the door before his smarter side could convince him otherwise. He was probably making a gigantic mistake.

  But maybe I’m not.

  He drove off the beaten path to pick up something from Sally’s. Just enough for one person. He wouldn’t be eating with her in the middle of the day. That would just be crazy, and also a complete violation of their soon-to-be-over agreement to keep things impersonal.

  As he parked in the Precision Media Service
s’s lot, he felt a renewed trickle of unease. This could definitely be a mistake.

  He glanced at the take-out bag resting in the passenger seat. The greasy meal he’d gotten for Victoria had already tainted his Mercedes in a way it was never going to recover from, no matter how many air fresheners he loaded on his rearview mirror. Even that thought made the corners of his lips tug up.

  What the actual fuck is wrong with me?

  Okay. Maybe he could just drop the meal off at a front desk and get out here without seeing her. Maybe he should just throw it the hell away in the nearest trashcan.

  She’s hungry. You know this.

  With a groan, he got out of the car. The damn bag was in his hand as he walked past two trashcans and through the front door.

  Like a lighthouse in a storm, a gleaming front desk sat immediately inside the door with a rather competent looking man sitting behind it. Kip’s footsteps were a little less heavy as he made a beeline that direction.

  In and out.

  He cleared his throat, and the man’s head snapped up, a welcoming smile on his lips. Kip dove right in, not waiting for any sort of greeting. “I have lunch for Victoria H-Hastings.” He stuttered over her last name as his mind had to scramble through his memory to even remember it.

  They’d done unmentionable things together while naked; he had trouble remembering her last name.

  What am I doing here again?

  Kip lifted the grease-saturated bag onto the front desk and rocked back on his heels, ready to flee as soon as he got the slightest indication he could.

  “Certainly, sir.” The man behind the desk pointed to the left. “Take the elevators up to the top floor and turn right.”

  Kip rubbed the back of his neck. “You don’t just . . . ah . . . deliver it to her?”

  The man’s smile faltered for a moment but was quickly back in place. He spread his hands wide. “Not a delivery man.”