by L. B. Dunbar
“Billy,” I mutter against his mouth as my knees hit the hardwood. We kneel while kissing.
“No talking,” he states against my mouth and continues to devour me. I’m leaning back at his insistence, and the next thing I know, I’m on my back with Billy’s knee between my thighs. Oh God, this is crazy. I’m not thinking about how unsanitary it might be on the hardwood flooring, or the fact we are on the floor in my place of business. All I can concentrate on is Billy Harrington over me and his mouth against mine.
“Billy, slow down,” I whimper. He’s going to eat me alive if he keeps going at this pace, and I’m not complaining, but something isn’t right. He’s too adamant for this kiss. Too determined. He pulls back but only enough. I can still feel his breath brushing my lips. His forehead rests against mine. “What’s wrong?”
His eyes close, and he rolls his forehead gently over mine as my hands reach for the scruff of his jaw.
“So many things,” he says. I swallow the sting. Am I one of the things wrong in his life? Is it Sadie? Is it all too much? Before I can ask my questions, his mouth returns to mine. “Just keep kissing me.”
I’m lost to his lips for another few seconds, allowing him to take what he needs from me as I feel equally desperate to receive what he’s giving. His mouth on mine. Hands on me. His knee between my thighs. Without thought, I rock against the broad curve against my core, the friction like a spark to forgotten flint. My sex clenches. It won’t be enough. I want to rub my entire body against his. The sound of a high-pitched ping filters to my ears.
“I hear bells,” I mutter against his mouth.
He chuckles against my lips. “That’s a new one,” he teases. We continue to kiss a second before his words register. It’s another reminder he’s been with so many, and I push at his shoulders.
“Dammit, Billy, why do you have to ruin everything?” The question stops him short, and he pulls back slowly as a scratchy feminine voice calls out my name.
“Miss McAllister, are you here?” Her voice is a little grating, and I recognize it immediately. A sharp tapping on the hardwood floor tells me she’s walking down the main aisle at a rhythmic pace. Before Billy and I can untangle ourselves, she speaks again. “Oh goodness, what’s going on here?”
Billy draws back, keeping his eyes on mine. He opens his mouth to speak when our interrupter continues. “Billy Harrington, is that you? What are you doing to that poor girl?”
“Mrs. Pritchard,” Billy mutters, the name soft as his brows pinch while he speaks to me. “She has to be like a hundred years old.” He shakes his head and then speaks louder in explanation. “She fell, and I’m helping her up.”
With catlike reflexes, he springs to his feet, while simultaneously tugging down my skirt which has ridden up as I undulated against his knee. He bends at the waist, offering me both his hands. I’d prefer the floor open me up and swallow me as I’ve just been caught by one of my best customers rutting against Billy Harrington.
“Goodness, honey, are you okay?” the older woman asks of me.
“I’m fine, Mrs. Pritchard. Just slipped.” In judgment, I don’t add as I speak to the ceiling, blinking up at the bright lights. “It was nothing.”
There’s a hitch of breath, and I lift my head to see Billy’s eyes widen. Does he think I mean this is nothing? That kissing him was nothing, like I told him the other night? In my current predicament, it’s obvious it was very much something. I was working myself to an orgasm against his knee, not to mention his mouth is a sin I want to repeat.
I raise my hands for Billy’s, and he tugs me upward. Once standing, I break free of one hand, swiping at my backside, while Billy grips the other hand as if he’s afraid to release me.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Billy asks, an eyebrow rising. “Maybe you should go upstairs and lie down for a little bit.” His voice lilts, teasing me.
I shake my head. “No, no. I’m good. What can I help you with today, Mrs. Pritchard?”
“I’m here for the final book in that series you recommended to me.” Her Victorian aura prevents her from stating aloud the title she means, and her eyes shift to Billy. “You know which one.”
“Of course. I’ll grab it for you.” Then I pause, my hand still in Billy’s. “Could you give me just a second, though?”
“Sure, honey. You take a moment to recover yourself.” Mrs. Pritchard steps out of the aisle and heads for the back where the comfy seats are tucked in the corner.
Billy and I remain hidden between the shelves, listening to the tap of Mrs. Pritchard’s cane as it grows less predominant, the farther she moves away from us.
“I’ll give you something to grab…”
“I didn’t mean…”
We speak at the same time, and I blush. I lick my lips and Billy moans, stepping up to me. “You do that thing where only your tongue peeks out, and it drives me crazy.”
“You drive me crazy,” I mumble, but I’m giggling like a schoolgirl as heat rushes my face.
“This isn’t finished,” Billy states, his voice raspy and rugged. “I’m not done with you.”
A thrill should not be coursing through my body at the sound of those words, but I’m like a live wire, humming with energy and itching for a power surge.
“And this”—he points back and forth between us—“is not nothing.” With a quick kiss to my temple, he leaves the aisle, and I collapse to my side, allowing the shelves to hold me up.
What the hell just happened?
My fingers trace my swollen lips, which smile of their own volition. Remembering Mrs. Pritchard is waiting, I press off the shelves and turn the corner.
“Mrs. Pritchard?!” I hadn’t heard her return down the main aisle. She shakes her head with a knowing smirk.
“Who knew bookstores were so dangerous? You should have your floors examined.”
Or my head. What was I doing on the floor with Billy anyway? Adding myself to his list of women is what I’m doing, and I hate that my body doesn’t care. My head, it’s starting to catch up with what happened.
“It’s okay, dear. A good tousle never hurt anyone.” She winks at me, and I nervously laugh. This is the schoolteacher who allowed Billy to cheat in class. “Now could you help me with my book, please?”
I nod as I consider the romance section. I keep a generous stock although many independent booksellers don’t. Romance makes up eighty percent of all fiction sales, and the locals love a little romantic scandal. I pull the book from the shelf for Mrs. Pritchard although I’m certain she could have found the title herself.
“Here you go,” I say, handing over the distinctly covered book with a gray mask. For a former schoolteacher, I’d have assumed she’d read more intellectual works, but there’s nothing wrong with a little sexual fantasy. Sex against the bookshelves has been one of mine. My mind drifts to Billy and where things could have led had we not been interrupted. I suppose an almost-orgasm-inducing kiss on the floor between the shelves is close enough. I blush with the thought.
“How did you know that was Billy Harrington?” I ask, curious as Mrs. Pritchard hadn’t seen his face at first.
“I’d recognize that backside anywhere.”
“Mrs. Pritchard!” I shriek, believing she means the firm globes I haven’t had my hands on yet.
“I spanked that hide more than once for his misbehavior in my classroom.” She chuckles. “But if I had known of spankings like this.” She shakes the book at me. “I might have reconsidered.”
I don’t know whether to be appalled at her admission or titter with giggles at her raunchy sense of teacher-student infatuation. I take a second to glance at the book she holds in her hand. If she had only recommended books like that to Billy Harrington, he might have loved to read. Then again, he seems like a practical man—meaning he’d prefer to practice the activities in that novel rather than read about them.
Me, too, I internally sigh. Only, the one person I want to practice with is Billy, and he’s already prac
ticed with half the women in this town.
+ + +
True to his word, Billy returns just before closing time, like a minute before I’m ready to approach the door and turn the lock deciding it’s been a day of torture. Will he return? Will he not? Metaphorical daisy petals litter my floor.
He enters, pulls the toggle for the open sign to click off, and leans his back against the glass. “I’m back,” he warns in a quiet teasing voice, and I giggle with nerves. “Lights?” He tips his chin, and I turn for the panel of switches behind me. I flick most of them off, minus one column of low-lit bulbs leading to my office. There’s a switch in the back hallway for the final overhead lights. As I lead the way to my office, my heart racing with nerves, two hands cover my shoulders and shift me between bookshelves once again. It’s almost déjà vu except we are in the final row.
“Why here?” I ask instead of the question I should be asking, which is what are you doing?
“I want to finish what we started, where we started.”
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. We should think of Sadie.” I place a hand on his chest and feel his heart racing through his shirt.
“What about Sadie?” His brows pinch as he leans forward and kisses the corner of my lips. My eyes close at the tenderness.
“This…” I point back and forth between us. “This could get messy.”
“It won’t. Player, remember?” He pats his chest, and my heart clenches a bit, but he’s right. We don’t need to define emotions or label ourselves. “We keep it casual. Nothing complicated.”
“We have to assure we remain a united front.” I add to his conditions. “For Sadie.”
“Oh, I want our fronts to unite.”
With those words, his hand cups the back of my neck, and his mouth presses over mine with a little less force and a little more care than earlier. I’m instantly lost to his lips, spiraling downward once again as he slowly lowers us to the floor.
“I’m going to kiss you until you realize there’s something between us.” That sounds like a definition when he just declared us casual, but I’m too wrapped up with his mouth and his hands coasting over my body. I moan into his mouth as his knee spreads my thighs, returning us to the position from earlier. My skirt rides up to the top of my legs as Billy nudges forward, pressing into the heat of my center. He breaks the kiss a moment and glances at our position.
“Red, again?” he questions, and my brows pinch. “The first night I had dinner with you, you told me you were wearing red underwear. Is it a matching set?” His eyes draw up to my breasts which are covered in a red T-shirt to go with the fall motif skirt I’m wearing. His hand comes to the hem of my tee and lifts, holding the material so he can gape inside. A smile crosses his lips. “Yep.” The bra and undies match. What can I say? I like coordinating undergarments. Apparently, he approves as well, but he doesn’t reach for a heavy breast, aching with the desire to be caressed. He returns to kissing me until I’m moving my hips and rubbing myself against his knee again, the thickness causing a friction that sets butterflies to flight in my lower belly.
I’m so close, but I just can’t get over the edge, and Billy’s hand moves down my hip, tugging upward the last bits of material from my skirt. His fingers slip under the elastic at my hip and slide torturously down the inside of my underwear, skimming the backs of his fingers over my skin. I’m conscious of the puffy bulge at my hip bone. I’m not the heavier woman I was. I’m a healthier woman, but I’m still not all smooth and tight. I break the kiss, but Billy doesn’t complain. His eyes watch his hidden fingers until he slips between my legs and meets slickness.
“Darlin’.” His eyes leap up to my face, surprised by the heat, and I blush. “Can’t be nothing if you’re this wet.” His pretty eyes sparkle. He’s damn pleased with how I’m responding to him, and there’s no denying it. I can’t deny it. I won’t deny…oh. A thick finger enters me, and my back bows off the floor.
“That’s it, love,” he says, and my insides flutter at the endearment. My hips rock as his finger draws a too-quick orgasm. That’s it? That was too fast, I want to yell. My body has betrayed me with a few strokes of his finger, and I’d scream if I wasn’t worried Sadie would hear me upstairs. The thought is an instant buzzkill, and then a soft ping tingles from the front of the store.
“Bells,” I whisper, my voice lost as I’m still suppressing the shout.
“Again, darlin’?” He chuckles, but I grip his wrist and tug his fingers from me. I rush to sit upward as I hear the sound a second time. My head tilts toward the front of the store, and I glance in that direction although I can’t see anything from the floor.
“No, the front door,” I whisper, returning my eyes to him. “Did you lock it?” Did I hear the click of metal when he entered, or was I too enthralled by his return?
“Of course, I locked it.” He pauses. “I think.”
“The bells are my front door,” I hush-whisper, suddenly concerned someone is inside the store with us. Billy rocks back on his ankles and then stands. He disappears from the aisle while I straighten my clothing and help myself up. This is mortifying. I’ve just had a too-fast orgasm on my bookstore floor, and we’ve been interrupted again.
“Oh fuck,” Billy grumbles as I hastily approach the entrance to find the cash register drawer open and empty. Billy turns to me, wide-eyed and concerned. “You’ve been robbed, Roxie.”
19
Book ’em
[Billy]
The expression of horror on Roxanne’s face is not the look I was hoping for moments after giving her an orgasm. She came so quickly, but that only meant there was more to come, every pun intended. Only now, her bookstore being robbed is a bigger buzzkill than Mrs. Pritchard’s interruption earlier.
“We need to call the sheriff,” I say to Roxie who hasn’t moved. Her eyes remain wide, staring at the open drawer, empty of cash. She has one of those old-fashioned registers with keys like a typewriter.
“Roxie?” She hasn’t responded, and I approach her. When my hand touches her upper arm, she flinches. Dull eyes glance at my face, but I don’t think she’s registering me.
“I’ve been robbed,” she whispers. I reach for her again, not allowing her to pull away from me. She’s shaking, and I tug her to me. Wrapping my arms around her, I hold her to my chest while her arms dangle at her sides.
“Hold onto me, darlin’.” She needs something to grasp, to pull herself together.
“Who would do this?” She pulls back, but I don’t release her.
“I don’t know, baby, but let’s call the sheriff. We don’t want to waste time as it just happened.” I should have run outside to see if I noticed anyone sprinting down the block or driving off, but I didn’t think that quickly, and I didn’t want to leave Roxie alone.
I dial 911 and get Vikki Stunner on the line. Yes, that’s her real name, but it’s not a label for her appearance although she’s a decent looking woman.
“9-1-1. How can I help you?”
I proceed to explain how BookEnds has been robbed, and the sheriff is dispatched.
“Billy Harrington, is that you?” Oh boy. I hadn’t identified myself when I called. I don’t need to be wasting time with conversations. We need a sheriff here stat.
“Yes, ma’am,” I answer.
“Don’t you ma’am me. I’m younger than you, remember?” Vikki starts. “I haven’t seen you lately. Been spending a lot of time at that bookstore?”
I recognize a fishing expedition when I hear one, and I’m not about to take the bait.
“Jerry told me you’ve been over there quite a bit.”
I want to tell Vikki her husband should spend more time at home, minding his own business than minding mine, but I don’t, mainly because I like Jerry. He’s a regular, and regulars are good for business. Second, I don’t mention it because I’m relieved Jerry married Vikki after she hit on me one too many times years ago.
“You should come to dinner some night.” I’m s
till holding Roxie in my arms while this conversation continues, and I feel the weight of Roxie’s eyes on me. She doesn’t miss the seductive attempt through the phone, and I cringe. I have no interest in Vikki, married or not, but especially married. Married women are definitely not of interest to me.
“Thanks for the invitation, Vikki, but I’ll need to pass presently. Can you tell me when June will be here?”
June Barne is the first female sheriff of our community, and even though her last name reminds me of a purple dinosaur, she’s one tough cookie. In her uniform, she’s a badass, but I remember her from my high school days. She was almost as much of a troublemaker as I was. June lives by rules now, but she walks a fine line along those rules, knowing where the straight and narrow grows hazy. Fortunately for me, June and I haven’t crossed any lines over the years.
Vikki gives me an ETA of June’s arrival, and I thank her, ending the call.
“Where’s Sadie?” I ask, suddenly worried this wasn’t random or only done downstairs. Roxie’s eyes widen, and I race for the back of the store. Taking the steps two at a time, I rush through the door at the top marked private. I quickly cross the living room for Sadie’s room but find her bed full, covers pulled up to the pillow. My fingers twitch to brush back her midnight hair which Roxie told me isn’t her natural color. I want to stroke her peaceful cheek, but then again, she isn’t here for me to wake her.
What the fuck?
After double-checking the locks on the back door, I return downstairs to find June asking Roxanne a few questions.