Just Like That

by Nicola Rendell

  However, we have now officially entered my wheelhouse. I take a seductive sip of my wine and say, “It comes down to the Darlings, darling.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  He lifts his chin at me. “Let me hear it, because I’m in the weeds on this one.”

  I tear open my dinner roll and slice off half a sphere of butter with my knife. This time, I don’t need to think about what to say or how to say it. “Because my mom stood him up…at the altar.”

  “Oh shit.” Russ puts one hand behind his neck, flexing those gorgeous biceps and making his vest slide up a little, hinting at the flat, solid, dreamy expanse underneath. “You’re kidding.”

  “My dad left when I was really little, just a baby. When I was about three, Dick Dickerson entered the picture. Mom said he was good to us at first,” I explain. “When I was five, they decided to get married. I remember I was supposed to be the flower girl, and she was about to put me in my dress.” I think back to that day. To her in her robe, her with her hair in huge pastel Velcro rollers, pinned to her head with oversized bobby pins. “But then suddenly, she said, ‘Penny, you’re not going to be a flower girl today. We’re going to take a trip up north instead.’ And we did. She packed my bag and hers. She stuck my bouquet in a plastic cup, put it in the cup holder in her Bug, and we hit the road. It was pretty much the best thing ever. Except I was too little to know that she had a minister, a church full of people, and Dick Dickerson waiting for her.”

  He stares out at the ocean. “Jesus. She just…decided? Like that?” He adds a strong snap.

  I nod. “Straight out of the movies. Needless to say, I didn’t see him much after that. Rumor has it he went kind of bananas. And ever since, he’s been trying to ruin Port Flamingo and every Darling in it. Especially my mom.”

  I take a big bite of my roll and watch Russ go from outraged to broody and protective, putting pressure on my leg with his. “Fucker.”

  With my mouth half-full, I explain, “I don’t hate many things, except for cilantro and too-ripe bananas. But I hate that man.”

  Russ exhales slowly, rotating his glass on the tablecloth. “The golf course, the restaurant, the spa. It sounds like it could be a good thing, objectively.”

  “Objectively, maybe. But practically, it would be a disaster.” Cupping my hand over my full mouth, I shake my head hard. “It’d be the end of us. What restaurant in town could compete with a place like that? None. What happens to the YMCA when he opens his pool? Closes. What happens to the Sunkissed Diner? We aren’t big enough to have all of it. It’d ruin us.”

  Russ gets it, I can see that. It’s simple logic. He doesn’t need a pie chart to show that the big fish always eats the little one.

  “We’ve tried to stop him—city council meetings, that kind of thing—but there’s only so much we can do. He’s got the money, and we don’t. Maisie’s tried her own approach…and now she can’t get within a hundred feet of him.”

  He points at me with a warning finger and smiles. “We’ve got to keep that one on a tight leash. We can’t have her going apeshit and blowing our cover. I like her, but…” He trails off.

  There really is no need to finish that sentence. “It’s okay. She’s going out of town for a few days, so we’re in the clear.”

  “Good. I did some digging this morning. There’s a holding company, called National Kindergarten Folios, Inc.”

  “That’s like word salad. What does that even…” But then all the letters dance around in my head, lining up into A.R. Dickerson Golf International. “Oh that bastard.”

  “All this...” He looks me up and down. “…And you can do anagrams without writing them down?”

  I give him a little ain’t no thing shrug.

  “Damn,” he says, pursing his gorgeous lips. “Anyway, his involvement in that company is hard to prove. He’s done it carefully, and it’s damned difficult to say to a guy like that, ‘Listen you son of a bitch, we have a quasi-convincing paper trail that may or may not lead to the Cayman Islands, so you better hit the road.’”

  “No, I can see that one doesn’t have quite the splash one would hope.”

  “But if we can get him on something concrete, I think we can stop him. If you’re willing to go to the edge of legal with me.”

  Oh, goodie. “You want to nail Dickerson, and you want me to help you?” I say around my roll. The truth is that I’d go pretty much anywhere with him. Legal, illegal. Public, private. Do anything, go anywhere, in one hot minute. My whole body is thrumming with it. With him, for him.

  He nods and then leans in. With his thumb he wipes a little butter off my lip, but he keeps his palm cupped against my jaw. It’s the first time he’s really touched me since I walked in, and the seismograph inside me goes insane.

  Russ says, “We nail that plaid-wearing, ear-cleaning, slick son of a bitch. Together. You and me. You in?”

  I nod against his hand, and then plant a long, happy kiss to his heart line. “I’m in, handsome. 150 percent.”

  * * *

  Over dinner—two steaks, with baked potatoes, and salad, followed by dessert—we talk about all the possible ways to snare Dickerson. Russ says anything is fair game: “Soliciting, possession with intent to sell, anything embarrassing that would make a good headline. Anything at all.”

  “You don’t mess around,” I say, finishing off the last of the flourless chocolate cake and scooping up the final smudge of raspberry sauce.

  His leg presses into mine a little harder. “I definitely do not.”

  Mush. Utter mush.

  He reaches back into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. Automatically, I reach for my purse to get my card. “What the hell are you doing?” he asks.

  I freeze with my hand in my purse. “Paying? Going Dutch?”

  “Don’t even think about that shit. Ever again,” he says, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head at me. “I’m going to hit the men’s room, and give her my card. Then we’re gonna get the hell out of here so I can have my way with you. Got it?”

  I press my heels together, clenching my thighs against the instant wave of wetness. “Yes. Got it. Definitely.”

  “Good. So put your damned wallet away, cutie.” He stands up, but before he goes, he leans down and kisses me. Nothing big, nothing outrageous, but enough to say, You’re mine. And that’s how it is.

  I watch him walk away, his tush so delish in those dress pants, his shoulders so broad, accentuated by the slippery satin back of his vest. I watch a woman at another table give him some elevator eyes, and I resist the very real urge to throw the salt shaker at her.

  Which is when it catches my attention. The envelope.

  I already know all I need to know. In the honesty race, I’m lagging—so many complex triangles to explain, so many failed attempts at finding my own love story—and yet, he says there is still one more thing he needs me to know.

  I trace the corner, letting it poke into my fingertip.

  It could be anything. Could be mundane. Could be ordinary.

  Or it could be… exciting.

  And something tells me that it’s probably not an expired membership to Blockbuster. So I peek into the envelope and part the piece of paper far enough to read what’s inside:

  There aren’t many words, but they’re thrilling:

  Tumblr. Account dormant. Username: DominantR76

  Gaaaaaah.

  The one last thing nobody else knows.

  A dirty little secret. Just for me.

  I pull my phone from my purse and angle it toward the windows. In addition to the Shorefront Grill having to-die-for chocolate cake, their location also ensures that they have the best thing of all: Reliable cell service.

  My Tumblr account is mostly old reblogs from Maisie and mason jar salad photos, but I’ve got a feeling from that screen name he’s been on Tumblr for a different reason entirely.

  So I type it in. The little wheel spins and spins, and I tilt my phone toward the
window. And then…

  Beautiful, dirty, naughty porn. It’s carefully curated, all black and white. It’s artful, sexy, and sizzling hot.

  I scroll down past a GIF of a man on his knees in front of a woman, and she’s gripping his hair as her head falls back against the wall behind her. DominantR76’s caption is, That moment. I fucking love that moment.

  My body responds to his words instantly and viscerally. There is something so irresistibly sexy knowing that—I look at the dates—three years ago, he did this for fun. That women probably private messaged him and that he drove them wild. And that now, all these years later, all that desire is mine.

  And so is the man down the hallway. With his pants unzipped already.

  39

  Russ

  I step out of the bathroom, and there she is, looking wild in the eyes. We’re alone in a modern hallway, out of sight from the rest of the restaurant. She grabs me and pulls me in for a kiss, inhaling hard and hooking her fingers over my belt. As she touches me, my cock takes over—I need her. I want her. I have to have her. One day without her and I’m dope sick. I kiss her back, hard, as I put my hands on her ass. She’s taller in her heels, and I like her this way. Having her on her toes gives me a better grip on her hips, and makes her a little less steady. Her kiss is like she’s been unleashed in a way that she wasn’t before. I walk her backward, and the women’s restroom door swings open behind her. And I keep on fucking walking until I bang her up against the side of the stall.

  When her body hits the metal wall, the impact ripples through her ass. One of her legs slides up around me, making her skirt ride up her thigh. She goes for my belt, and I dig my fingers into the soft flesh at the backs of her legs. I touch the edge of some kind of lacy panty, and in the mirror to my right I see a strip of red. Fuck.

  I drive my knee up under her pussy and grind into her to show her who’s boss. She relents and lets her weight drop down so her panties press against my pants. Right through the wool I can feel her. Hot, wet, and so fucking good. “Looked in the envelope?”

  She pulls me to her by the shirt collar. “You don’t know what that does to me. Seeing what you like, seeing how your mind works. What you want, what you fantasize about.”

  I pin her with a hand to her throat. My belt is only halfway undone, and she’s pawing for my cock. “You know what I fantasized about? What I’ve always been fantasizing about? You.”

  She groans, pulling me in closer. Her breasts compress against my chest, and the pearls dig into my pecs. I press my forehead to hers but don’t kiss her again, not yet. “I need to see you like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Greedy. Wild.” One of her fingers brushes along my perineum, and I whack the stall with my fist. She smiles when I do, smug and satisfied that she’s undoing me, too.

  I force her back on defense with a teeth-clashing, aggressive kiss that knocks the breath right out of her. “I want to bend you over the sink, Penny. I want to fuck you from behind and look you in the eye when I’m doing it.”

  She pants and bites her tongue. “Do it.”

  But just then the door creaks and the noise of the restaurant spills in. I glance at the mirror and see the hostess. Her mouth drops open, and one hand comes to her lips. “Oh my God,” she gasps, her heels coming to a clacking halt. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…” And then she backs out the way she came. All the restaurant noise disappears again, and the only noise in the room is Penny breathing hard into my ear.

  “You want me to fuck you here, or you want me to take you home and fuck you right?”

  Through gritted teeth she snarls, this primal, wild snarl. The small-town sweetheart is gone. In her place is a wildcat who only I can tame. “I don’t care. Everything. Now, then, later.” Her cheeks are flushed, and her pupils are dilated.

  “The way we fuck isn’t for public bathrooms, Penny,” I tell her. But because I can’t fucking resist, I hike up her skirt and touch her inside. Soaked.

  I watch her as I finger her. I grip her G-spot, and her legs start to tremble. I slide my fingers out of her, and she whimpers, “Russsssss.”

  The smell of her is everywhere, and it flips that basic switch inside me, that alpha drive. But I’m stronger than all that shit. It’s going to be right, and it’s going to last way beyond last call and closing time. “I’m not going to take you in the ass in a goddamned restaurant, Penny.”

  Before she can say anything, I put my soaked fingers into her mouth, letting her taste the thing I need so fucking bad it aches. “That is the key to everything right there. That taste. I’d do anything for that taste.”

  She sucks it off, her tongue winding circles around my fingers, every single movement echoed right back into my cock. She bites down on my fingertips, and then whispers, “Please, please, please.”

  “Listen to you beg.”

  “Russ. Now. Please.”

  No fucking way. She might have me by the balls, but I’m still running this fucking show. I push her hands off of me, and then cup her pussy in my palm. “I’m taking you home, and I’m going to fuck you so hard that the only word you have left is my name.”

  * * *

  I drive, but she isn’t making it easy, not with her hand down my pants. “If you’re not careful, I'll drive right off this road.”

  She scoots closer, getting some leverage by tucking one leg behind her so she can reach over a little farther. With her right hand, she finds her way underneath my balls. “I don’t want to be careful ever again.”

  I am rock hard, fucking throbbing for her with every ounce of my cock. Every inch pulsing. I glance away from the road for one fucking second. First I look into her eyes, then down at my cock, then at her mouth. “So do it. Right now.”

  She gives me a sassy shake of her head, and her curls sweep along her shoulders. “I’m a small-town girl, Mr. Macklin. I can’t be giving road head when it’s still light outside. I've got a reputation,” she says, fisting my shaft hard, and bringing her cheek up against mine. “I’m a good girl.” She smiles, and I feel it more than see it, her cheeks sliding against my jaw. Her tongue traces the edge of my ear, and she bites down hard enough to make me hiss. She laughs. “You said I’m a good girl yourself.”

  “So good. So perfect.”

  “That’s right.”

  I keep one hand on the wheel and put the other around her, one ass cheek snugly in my palm. She wets her hand with a sexy lick to lube me up. She grips the base and then slides up my shaft, rubbing the tip with her thumb. “Christ, Penny.” I slam the wheel. “That palm reader was so fucking on point.”

  “I know.” She slides her nose along my cheek, laughing softly. “I know.”

  Her grip tightens. She isn’t gentle, and she doesn’t need to be. It takes all my focus to come to a full stop at the stop sign in front of me. I move my foot back to the gas and keep my knee wide to give her more room. As I get back up to speed, she wets her hand again, working every inch of me exactly like I need. “What are you going to do to me tonight?” she asks.

  “Every fucking thing I want.”

  She pulls her face back from mine, an inch and then two. “But until we get back to my house, you’re powerless.”

  “The fuck I am.” I give her ass a hard squeeze.

  She laughs a little. “Bullshit. I think for the next ten minutes, I’m in control. What do you think about that, DominantR76?”

  “How the fuck did you get so sexy?”

  She winks. Then looks from the rearview to side mirrors, checking to see if the coast is clear.

  Her expression turns from sweet to rebellious in an instant: Fuck the reputation. Fuck the small-town girl routine. She’s going to go down on me, in a rented Suburban, at dusk.

  Fuck. Yes.

  Her pearls spill from her cleavage onto my leg. She slips them off her head and drops them onto the floor mats and then lowers that face down, down, down into my lap. She doesn’t kiss my cock or lick it. She takes me all the way into her thr
oat, making me groan and grip the wheel for dear fucking life. She takes her long hair back from her face in a ponytail, and I can see from the lines by her eyes, she’s smiling.

  I’m so fucking gone for this woman.

  I don’t put my hand on her head but instead rest it on the small of her back. The fabric of her dress ripples and stretches as she goes up and then down. But as we approach town, I’m already thinking ahead. Because I like this, a whole fucking lot, but I need to be inside her for real. “Penny,” I say softly, and she pauses with my cock halfway in her mouth. She looks up at me, asking What? without saying a word.

  That’s it. Right there. Done. The hottest thing ever, full fucking stop.

  She blinks. Somehow I find my words again and manage to say, “Is there anywhere we can get some decent lube?”

  She blinks again. And then shakes her head, with my cock still in her mouth.

  “Drugstore?”

  Now she nods. As she does, her tongue slides up and down the shaft, and then she gets back to work.

  She gets farther up on her knees and takes me deeper, and I work my free hand up her skirt. With one finger, I slide into her pussy. When she feels me inside her, she freezes with her lips tight around my cock. Letting her regroup, I give her a second. But as she takes another deep dive, I part my fingers. Right in that moment she growls with my cock deep in her throat. The vibrations of the growl electrify my dick, forcing me to hit the brakes. “I gotta pull over, Penny,” I tell her, hitting the turn signal. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

  She doesn’t. I pull over onto the shoulder of the highway and put the Suburban in park. She takes me harder, deeper, faster, until I’m so fucking close to exploding into her that my cum is pulsing up through my balls.