Thirty Nights with a Dirty Boy: Part 2: A Heroes and Heartbreakers Serial

by Shiloh Walker

  That was Sean’s way of greeting me when I finally called him—almost a week later.

  “I’m back in town.”

  I’d actually been back for three days, but I hadn’t let him know.

  I’d missed several of our appointments and had sent him a text Sunday evening letting him know we needn’t reschedule, that he’d fulfilled his end of the agreement and the money was his.

  His response had been short and pithy. Fuck the money. Are you home?

  I hadn’t responded.

  A dozen times before, I’d almost convinced myself to end things, but each time, I’d failed.

  There was a soft sigh, one that almost sounded like relief, from Sean’s end of the phone. I squeezed my cell tighter as I stared outside. I had a meeting with Edward Hall and his board of directors in less than thirty minutes. Stacia was already at the restaurant, making sure the room was ready, going over the menu. I was taking care of the meal. I typically did when I had a meeting. I preferred not to give anybody the opportunity to feel like they’d done me any favors or kindnesses, and it was better in business to have others aware that you had done them the favors, the kindnesses.

  Edward was already on thin ice with me, and he knew it.

  “Well, since that question was answered so beautifully…” Sean’s voice deepened to that low, rough growl, and I had to fight a shiver. “Ella, tell me what you’re wearing.”

  “I’m wearing clothing.”

  “Take it off then. It’s a shame to cover that body of yours.”

  He surprised a laugh out of me, and I flicked a look at the back of Paul’s head. The privacy screen was up so he couldn’t hear me, but I still felt blood rush to my cheeks as I said, “Yes, Sean, I can imagine my driver’s reaction if I stripped naked in the back of my car.”

  “Imagine my reaction. I could lay in my bed with my fist around my cock as you told me in detail what bit of clothing you were going to take off next.”

  The picture he painted formed in my mind despite my best attempts to keep it from happening. Now my nipples were tight, throbbing, scraping against my bra, and when I shifted on the seat, I realized I was wet, too. He could arouse me with a few words, and after a lifetime of fearing even the thought of sexuality, this was sometimes too much to cope with.

  Clenching a hand into a fist, I said softly, “I’ve got a business meeting coming up and an appointment this afternoon. I need my head in a good place, and you’re making that impossible.”

  “My head hasn’t been in a good place for a week.” Sean’s voice was rough. “But … I’ll behave, if you’ll tell me when you’ll have time for me.”

  Time for me. The words made an ache rise inside me, one that was becoming far too familiar. I’d known I couldn’t come out of this unscathed, but I hadn’t expected to find myself so wrapped up in him already. So lost. “I’m probably going to be busy until five or so. Then I need time to get to Old Town.”

  “Six, maybe?”

  “That will work. If I’m not there by then, it will be soon after.”

  “Right then.”

  “So…” Clearing my throat, I said, “I’ll see you then.”

  “Ella.”

  “Yes?”

  “I missed you.”

  He disconnected the phone while I was still processing those words, but I told myself I couldn’t put much faith in them. Not really. I think he might like me well enough, and I knew he thought I was pretty, although I don’t know why. I wasn’t ugly, but there was nothing spectacular about me, either. If it wasn’t for the money I was paying him, he’d never waste his time on me. I just wasn’t his type.

  “Unless he enjoys neurotic brunettes,” I muttered to myself as I tossed the phone down.

  To keep from brooding, I lowered the window that separated me from Paul. “I need to have the kitchen at the house in Old Town stocked. Would you mind taking care of it for me while I’m dealing with this? I can take a cab to the hospital afterward.”

  “Of course.” He smiled at me.

  “I’ll leave you my key and the code and get them back from you this afternoon.” I hesitated and then added nervously, “I changed them. I’ve decided I’ll be using the brownstone more for personal use than business. I’ve notified the staff at the office, but I hadn’t let anybody at the house know.”

  “It suits you,” he said as he came to a stop in front of the restaurant. “It offers more privacy, and it’s quiet.”

  I looked into the mirror, saw that he was studying me.

  He knew.

  Just what he knew, I couldn’t tell, but he knew something.

  Red rushed up to stain my cheeks, and I looked away.

  “Ella…”

  The gentleness in his tone had me looking back at him. He turned to face me over the seat, and I forced myself to hold his gaze. “You’re a beautiful young woman. If you want to be in a relationship, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t. As a matter of fact, there’s every reason why you should. You deserve to be happy, sweetheart.”

  “It’s not…” I swallowed, and this time, I did look away. I didn’t want him to see anything more in my eyes. “It’s not really a relationship, Paul.”

  “You’re involved with a man, you’re spending time with him, and he’s making you happy. How can that not be a relationship?”

  Because I paid him to do it?

  But I couldn’t tell Paul that. I don’t know if he’d be disappointed or concerned. The few men and women who worked with me—well, for me—like Paul did were practically my family. My only real family. I loved and trusted them, and the idea of disappointing them hurt.

  “It’s complicated,” I said lamely.

  “Humans can make everything complicated.” Paul smiled and then turned away to climb out of the car.

  I sat there and waited for him to open the door, and then I slid out, staring up at the restaurant. The dull monotony that lay ahead was actually going to be something of a respite. I’d be able to ignore my feelings and pretend I wasn’t going to get my heart broken.

  * * *

  “Why did you come back?” Darla stared at me with distrust in her pale eyes. They looked even more translucent against the shadows that lay under them. She was a pretty girl, even as ill as she was, as thin as she was. If she could get healthy, she’d be truly beautiful.

  “I liked talking to you,” I told her.

  She ignored the bag full of books, journals, and pens I’d brought with me.

  “I don’t like talking to you.” She lifted her chin in defiance as she said it.

  “That’s all right.” I smiled, discovered that I was amused. She was stubborn, and I could see that she’d cut off her nose to spite her face. Perhaps that was why I’d come back—I recognized that trait in myself. “I can talk and you can listen.”

  “And if I don’t want to listen?”

  “Surely by now you’ve realized you don’t always get what you want in life,” I said cheerfully. “And sometimes you end up with things you don’t want.”

  “Ha.” She gave me a derisive look. “And when has a woman like you ever wanted anything you couldn’t get?”

  I looked away. “You’d be surprised, Darla.”

  Rising, I moved over to the window and stared outside. “You mentioned you didn’t have family. I know your parents are … gone, but what about anybody else? Does anyone ever come to see you?”

  She was quiet for so long that I didn’t think she’d answer, and when I turned to look at her, she was toying with the blanket, face screwed up. “I don’t know who my dad was. My mom’s dead—no loss there.” She shot me a sour look. “Booze and drugs. She was a lousy mother, lady, trust me. I was on my own for a long time, but then I realized … never mind.”

  “Realized what?” I prodded gently.

  But she shook her head. “That nothing really matters.” She gave me a bitter smile and added, “Looks like I was right. I ended up with cancer. Thirteen years old and I got cancer. Yay, fuc
king yay.”

  “And there’s nobody else?” Leaning a hip against her bed, I reached out and hesitantly touched my hand to hers. “No family? Aunts, uncles … sisters? Anything?”

  “What’s it matter?” She jutted her chin up. “I’m stuck here. The state decides where I go. That’s what matters, lady. And it sucks.”

  * * *

  The lights were glowing when Paul came to a stop in front of the brownstone.

  I wanted to tell him to just take me home—then I could close my eyes and sleep the rest of the way there. Forget about Sean and forget about sad little Darla and forget about everything. If telling myself to forget didn’t work, I’d get some extra help along the way.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see Sean. I did. I wanted to see him more than anything, and that was the problem.

  That was what scared me, what unnerved me.

  I wanted to go in there and tell him about the sad, scared teenager I’d left, and I wanted to tell him about how much she reminded me of … me. But I’d tried to do that a few days ago, and he’d had other things going on. Things in his life—real things that had kept him from talking to me.

  This wasn’t his life.

  He was working.

  He didn’t give me a forty-hour workweek. I had three to four nights a week, depending on his schedule and mine. Some of his … appointments were scheduled weeks in advance, and sometimes I had functions to attend that I just couldn’t get out of.

  But when I wanted to talk to him outside of those hours…?

  Face it, I told myself. You’re shit out of luck. That was the truth of it, plain and simple.

  I was already coming to rely on him too easily, and I couldn’t do that. Regardless of what he said, I’d already decided we were going to carry on as if those missed days last week had taken place and we were now halfway through our arrangement.

  It was halfway over.

  I felt like I was mourning for him already.

  Paul caught my hand and squeezed, then bent down to kiss my cheek. “You call if there’s a problem, Miss Ella,” he told me, like he’d told me a hundred times in the past. A thousand times.

  I gave him a tight smile and moved up the walk toward the house.

  The door swung open when I was two feet away.

  Chapter 6

  Sean must have been watching.

  I stepped inside, an awkward greeting on my lips. That greeting was caught, then muffled by his, and in the span of heartbeats, I was lifted off my feet and spun around. There was a thud as the door swung shut, and then I was pressed up against the door while Sean pressed up against me.

  That hard, heavy length of him made me shudder, and I wanted to curl my legs around him and rock, wiggle, and just move until I found relief for the ache between my thighs.

  “Right then,” he whispered against my lips. “I’ve been dying to do that for … well, a bloody week now.”

  He lifted his head and studied me, his lashes low, hooding his eyes. One hand drifted up and down my side while the other gripped my hip possessively.

  “A week, huh?” That wasn’t much of a greeting, but for me to be able to say anything after Sean Lachlan had so thoroughly kissed me was pretty impressive.

  “A week.” He lowered his head and rubbed his mouth back and forth against mine. “One long, miserable week. I’ve spent most of that week thinking about getting you naked and getting inside you again. D’ya know that, Your Highness?”

  As he said those words, he reached a hand between us and began to rub between my thighs.

  “I’ve thought about being here, buried inside your wet cunt.”

  A breath stuttered out of me, and I stared at him in stark shock.

  A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Does that bother you? Hearing me talk like that?”

  My face was burning, my breathing coming harder and faster. It should bother me. I hated the word cunt. But for some reason, as Sean murmured to me in his low, rough voice, I just wanted him to keep talking and keep touching.

  In wordless demand, I lifted my hips to his hand again.

  He rewarded me with another slow rub against my sex, and this time, he pressed harder. I gasped as one finger pushed the material of my skirt against me. Through the skirt and my panties, I could feel him.

  “You’re already wet, Your Highness. I feel it.” He pressed his mouth to my ear and said, “Is your hot little cunt wet for me?”

  And as he said those words, he slid his hand higher and started to massage my clitoris.

  I whimpered, my knees threatening to give out.

  “Tell me,” he cajoled.

  I didn’t know what he wanted. I was only aware of his hand moving back and forth against me, the silk of my panties dragging over me, the heavier material of my skirt yet another barrier. Too many barriers. I tugged at his shirt, mindless, desperate for the feel of human skin. His skin, naked and pressed to mine.

  Sean caught my wrist and held it loosely.

  As he did so, he lifted his head and studied me. Breathing in ragged little stops and starts, I met his gaze. He didn’t look away, even once, when he pressed my hand to the wall beside my head. His face was somber, but his voice was teasing as he said, “No grabby hands, Ella. You haven’t answered my question.”

  Question. What damn question?

  I wanted to snarl, scream. Then I was screaming, because between one breath and the next, Sean had somehow managed to tug my skirt up over my ass and slip his fingers inside my panties. Inside me. “See?” he said against my ear. “You are wet for me.”

  He brought me to a quick, furious orgasm, and when I would have slid down to the floor to sleep for a month, he swept me up in his arms. I protested weakly, and he responded to that by biting my lower lip.

  “I’m going to take you upstairs,” he told me, and he did just that. As he climbed the steps, he began to speak. “I’m going to lay you out on your bed, the big one under the skylights. I’m going to leave every single light on—I might even bring in a few more lights—and then I’m going to strip you naked and learn every curve of your body, every inch.”

  He glanced down at me. “Problem?”

  “No.” My voice didn’t even sound like a ghost of itself. It was more like the breath of a ghost of itself.

  That didn’t deter Sean Lachlan. He took the last stair and turned toward the right, and the eastern side of the house, where the big bedroom faced out over the patio garden and beyond that, the huge, unending sprawl of the lake. There were days when I could have stared at it for hours. Today, I barely noticed.

  Sean lowered me to stand by the foot of the bed, leaning in once to catch my lower lip between his teeth and bite down, slowly, gently, before sucking, oh, so lightly. His hands moved between us, and I shivered as he began to do exactly what he’d promised. His fingers brushed me softly as he freed one button after the other, baring my skin.

  When the shirt was completely unbuttoned, he brushed it off my shoulders and let it puddle around my feet.

  My bra came next, followed by my skirt.

  But he stopped there.

  A wicked grin tugged up the corners of his lips, and he leaned forward, bracing his hands on the high bed, piled with comforters and pillows. The bed was higher than my hips, and I practically needed a stepladder to get on it. It almost made me feel like one of those silly princesses, with its posters carved to look like tree limbs and the vining, twining metal that curled over it like a canopy of leaves.

  “Ella. You’ve been walking around Chicago all day with boots that go almost up to your ass and a pair of stockings?” His grin went wolfish.

  “They’re thigh-high boot socks,” I snapped defensively. “And they are warm.” A lot warmer than pantyhose or stockings. Maybe when the wind snaked up the hem of my skirt I felt a chill on the few scant inches left bare between the tip of the wool socks and the bottom of my cheeky boyshorts, but my legs were far warmer in these socks than they’d be in anything else.<
br />
  “Boot socks. Stockings. They cover your legs and leave your ass bare. It was just you and your sexy little knickers and these fantastic boot socks. I think socks are now my new favorite garment in the whole bloody world.” He crowded up against me until I was off-balance and leaning against the bed. Then he reached down and started to toy with the pattern top of the left sock. “You know, I think I’m going to fuck you right like this, with your boots and socks on.”

  His hand moved to splay out over the left cheek of my butt. “Might have to take off the knickers, though. Not quite ready for that, although I really think I need to get inside you now.”

  The words caused a riptide of want, but when he went to tug at the panties, I caught his wrist.

  His pale, beautiful eyes met mine, and I shoved lightly at his chest.

  He moved back, but I caught him by slipping my fingers into the loops of his belt and guiding him around. At my urging, he sank back against the bed, his hips resting on the mattress. “I want to touch you,” I said haltingly, blood rushing up my neck to burn my cheeks. I felt like I was on fire, but I was also stupidly proud of myself. It was something I’d been thinking from the first time I’d seen him, and I’d finally found the courage to say it.

  Sean’s hands fell to his sides. His lashes lay low, hooding his eyes, while that familiar half smile twisted his lips. “Touch me then. I’m yours to do with as you will.”

  If only … A knot settled in my throat. So he wouldn’t see any of the gut-deep longing that had been growing inside me, I looked down, watching as I dragged my hands down his chest.

  His heart gave a demanding thump against my palm. My nipples tightened, and my sex began to ache and pulse. I imagined it was pulsing in rhythm with the beat still pounding under my hand. The thought pleased me, and I realized I was smiling only when Sean brushed his thumb across my lower lip.

  “Hands off,” I said, tugging his wrist down. If he touched me, I was going to get distracted.

  And I wanted to do this.

  Slowly, I freed his belt buckle, dealt with the button on his jeans, then dragged the zipper down over the swollen girth of his penis. His cock—that was the word he usually used. His cock. His dick. My pussy. My cunt. He loved using dirty words with me, telling me how he wanted to fill me with his prick and fuck me until I was sobbing and desperate.