So Wrong It Must Be Right

by Nicole Helm

  I’m going to come. Fucking my fingers. Thinking of you.

  “You should go.” His voice was rusty, unsteady, and anything but sure.

  “Yes, yes I should.” She nodded, turned away, but her steps were slow. He wanted to stop her.

  No.

  “What if . . .” She trailed off, her what-if hanging in the air and his dick hanging on every word. No. No what-ifs. There could be no what-ifs. Maybe she was the fantasy he’d spent way too much online time with, but that didn’t mean anything said on a computer was real, honest.

  “What if I said I wanted you to fuck me. Like, for real.” She stuttered a little over the word fuck. And she kept her back to him.

  But she didn’t leave or laugh or take it back. She just stood there. Waiting.

  And he stood there not knowing how to answer, because the truth was if he stripped away her name and her job, he very much wanted to fuck her, and it was hard to think about her name and her job when she was in his living room saying fuck.

  “What if . . .” She turned, slowly, her shoulders straightening, her gaze zeroing in on his. “We . . . pretended the real us didn’t exist. Just this once. And lived out the fantasy us. Just this once.”

  No, no, no. Bad idea. Terrible idea. She could even be playing him. She wanted his land, he knew that.

  But the no in his mind didn’t form on his lips.

  Chapter 3

  It was a weird moment, both of them standing in the middle of his cozy, cluttered little house staring at each other. Her proposition hung in the air.

  It was a crazy proposition. Wrong and crazy and so out of character and . . . yes, that was why she’d made it. There was power in stepping outside yourself. Power in fantasy.

  She wanted some damn power.

  “Just . . . just this once?”

  “C and D.” Her voice was all sultry and smooth, and though her insides jittered, she was doing a pretty good job of seeming like the kind of woman who propositioned men with one-night stands any old time.

  “And tomorrow when we’re back to being on opposites sides of the coin?”

  “That’s Carter and Dinah. Trask and Gallagher. This is . . .” She was going to say just us, because this felt more real than the person she was at Gallagher’s, but that was probably her own weird baggage.

  “You really think that’s possible?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I’m having a hard time caring right now.”

  “It seemed pretty important to you this morning.”

  “That was before I knew I was being set up for failure.” She probably shouldn’t have said that, but it was true. This morning she’d had a strength of purpose. Now . . . “So, what’s your answer?”

  He paused, a silence that seemed to stretch out endlessly. But it wasn’t a no, so she waited. And maybe she was silently willing him to please agree. She wanted sex. Real sex. With him. To feel like something . . . something could go her way. Just because she wanted it to. Because she’d asked for it.

  “My bedroom is the second door on the right.”

  Oh God. They were going to do this. She was going to walk to his bedroom and he was going to fuck her. This man she only knew from emails and a brief interaction this morning. She had all the earmarks of being too stupid to live, but she walked down the hallway anyway.

  He watched her, just as he’d said he would. Even with her heart pounding in her ears, she put a little swing to her step. Because this was supposed to be fun. Fantasy. She was damn well going to enjoy herself.

  Ignoring nerves, refusing to accept them, she sauntered her way over to his unmade bed. She sat on the rumpled black comforter, just like the email had instructed her to. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to remove any clothing.

  Yet. She would. She so would.

  He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. She didn’t fidget. She wouldn’t. Instead, she looked up at him and smiled. “I hope you have condoms.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” That was good. She might be crazy, but she wasn’t stupid. She hoped.

  But he stood there, feet away from her, arms crossed over his chest, frowning. It was an oddly good look for him. Broody and intense over mean or standoffish.

  “Problem?” she asked, a lightness in her voice she wanted desperately to feel. Fake it till you make it.

  “We’ve never even kissed.”

  She blinked. That hadn’t been what she’d expected. But, what had she expected? She had no idea. But she kept the smile in place. “So kiss me, C.”

  He stepped toward her, brow furrowed, wavy hair a little unruly and his beard somewhat neatly cropped. Her breath hitched a little in her chest because she was sitting on his bed and he was hovering above her, all tense and serious and yum.

  Then he touched the tip of his index finger to her cheek, drew it across what she assumed was the pattern of freckles there. He’d said in his email he had a thing for freckles.

  Well, lucky him.

  When his head bent, mouth bridging the distance to hers, she had to fight the need to fidget. Or move. Or grab him by the neck and kiss him hard. Maybe later. Right now, she kind of liked the wild anticipation in her racing heart and unsteady breath.

  His lips barely brushed hers, and that excitement doubled, tripled. The finger on her cheek became his whole hand, cupping her face, pulling her closer, his mouth pressing to hers. Sinking deeper and deeper until his tongue traced her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth to return the favor.

  It wasn’t the kind of kiss she’d expected. This wasn’t quick or heated or even weird, it was lazy exploration. It was amazing. The rasp of his beard against her chin, his rough hands traveling down her neck.

  Every word that had been amazing and beautiful still managed to pale in comparison to the reality of his mouth on hers.

  He pulled back, his expression unreadable. Of course, the erection making itself a very obvious bump under his jeans was readable. Very readable. He might be uncertain, but he wasn’t unaffected.

  “Take off your coat.”

  She swallowed, but got that thing off as fast as she possibly could. If the kiss was that good. Just one kiss. Oh man, the rest might melt her from the inside out.

  “You really did have a shit day, huh?” he asked, forehead still not smoothing out.

  “The shittiest.”

  “And this is your answer?”

  “An orgasm I don’t have to give myself is a hell of an answer.”

  He leaned closer, his mouth brushing against her ear. “Then I’ll make sure you get two, D.”

  It helped to use the poorly coded nicknames. She didn’t think about the man who’d threatened to call the cops on her. She thought about the man who might make her beg for things she’d never had the courage to beg for before.

  “The rest,” he instructed.

  She unbuttoned her blouse, determined to be sexy and sure. She was a smart, mature twenty-something who was going to enjoy some casual, consensual sex. If it was a little out of character, good. She’d gotten a whole lot of nothing for staying in character.

  So, she shimmied out of her skirt and gave him her best come-hither look. “Your turn.”

  Slowly, he pulled the T-shirt up and over his head, then undid his belt, the button to his jeans, the zipper.

  Dinah swallowed. Funny, she thought she’d want to bolt, but what she really wanted to do was help him out of his clothes. Touch every expanse of tanned skin over rangy muscles he exposed.

  He took a step closer so their knees touched. He rested his hands on her thighs, hot and rough. “You’re . . . The picture I had in my head falls short of you in reality.”

  Oh God. Hot. Sweet. Amazing kisser. This was a fantasy. It couldn’t possibly be real. “You hold up pretty well yourself.”

  He leaned in for a kiss, and this one wasn’t languid or exploratory. It was tongue and teeth and need. His hands moved up her thighs, to her hips, her back. He unsnapped her bra and pulled it off. And
then his mouth was on her neck, her chest, openmouthed kisses across her breasts.

  She ran her hands over his abdomen, the slight dip of muscles, beyond the hem of his boxers to hot, hard male.

  Normally she’d be all for a lot more foreplay, but the situation, the words of the email bouncing around her head—she was dying for this to be more. Dying to be fucked.

  She was going to beg, because for some reason that made the need sharper, deeper, more everything.

  Heart in her throat, nerves battling courage, frustration battling fear, she gave him a nudge so she had room. She slid her panties off and turned on the bed so she could bend over it like they’d laid out in their exchange from earlier. “Now, please, fuck me.”

  He cleared his throat, a noise akin to uncertainty, so she grinned over her shoulder at him. She liked this feeling of power, like maybe she surprised him. Dependable, hardworking Dinah never surprised anyone.

  But he merely stepped closer so she could feel his presence, his body heat, and then he caressed a hand over the curve of her ass. Oh God, was he going to spank her? This was some demented version of role play, wasn’t it? Acting out all they’d written to each other.

  She didn’t plan to speak, to draw attention to it, but as his hand caressed, a please escaped her mouth, said in a moan.

  His hand drew away, then she felt the slight tap of his palm against her skin. So light it didn’t even jolt let alone hurt, but somehow sent shock waves of lust through her.

  “I need you inside me. Now. Get a condom, please. Please.”

  Out of her peripheral vision she saw him rummage around in a drawer, pulling out a square packet and ripping it open. He returned to his position behind her.

  She watched over her shoulder as he rolled the condom on. Thick and hard, he was going to do exactly as she asked. No fingers, no vague sense of missing out on something by doing it herself. He was going to pound her into orgasm, and she was going to return the favor.

  He settled behind her, one big hand gripping her hip. She felt him nudge, slowly, but it didn’t take much. She was so wet and ready for this. After all this time, all those words, finally real.

  She moaned as he filled her completely, buried deep inside, his hips flush with her ass. Oh, this was so much better than do-it-yourself.

  “You feel so good,” he murmured. “So damn good. Are you going to keep begging, just like we did before?”

  “Whatever you want, remember?”

  “Then beg. I love it when you beg.”

  So she did. She begged and pleaded with each thrust, egging him on with every please, every request for harder or more. She gripped the comforter, pressed her forehead into the mattress.

  It didn’t take long for the orgasm to build, swell. Not when his hands gripped her hips hard enough to leave marks and his cock hit every right spot as it pushed deep.

  “Yeah, that’s it, baby. Come on my cock. I need it. I need you to come. Please. Please.”

  It was his please that sent her over the edge to pulsing, exhausting, amazing orgasm.

  Still fully sheathed inside her, he rubbed a hand up and down her spine and she slowly let go of the covers, flexing her fingers.

  “That was one,” he said on a not-so-steady breath, withdrawing from her. “Now, I think for two you should do some of the work.” He sat on the bed now, scooted himself back to the headboard, then motioned for her to get on top.

  She straddled his lap, already desperate to have him inside her again. So she guided him inside, pressed her breasts to his chest. “Remember the time we were like this and I tied you up?” Probably weird to call it remembering when it had just been words, but oh well.

  “Vividly.”

  She took his hands in hers, lifted them until they rested straight out on either side against the headboard. “So let’s pretend.”

  His eyes were dark, intense, and it didn’t feel like having sex with a stranger, and that was probably the worst thing she could feel. But she’d be damned if she was going to care about that right now.

  * * *

  Dinah—D—whoever—was everything he’d ever imagined she would be. Possibly more. It was intimidating, really. Probably the only thing that kept his head together, because holy hell this was amazing.

  She held his arms back against the headboard. Her breasts brushed against his chest and her mouth closed over his shoulder as she bit lightly.

  He groaned, his head falling back and hitting the wall. He didn’t care.

  “Mm. You like that?”

  “I think I’ve been very clear on the subject.”

  She lifted herself slowly, then sank back down so he was buried completely. She was so tight, so warm.

  “I did promise you two orgasms, though, so tread lightly.”

  She grinned. Wicked and playful. Her lipstick was mostly smudged off, her hair tousled, her cheeks pink. Yeah, he’d promised her two, she was damn well going to get two.

  He took his hands from hers and she pouted. “I thought you were tied up.”

  “I need my hands for this, just once.” He smoothed his hands over her thighs, because he couldn’t stop himself from soaking up the smoothness of her skin. She was so soft, and it was like comfort.

  He didn’t want thoughts like that right now, so his hands tightened at her hips, holding her steady so he could push deeper into her. Her head rolled back on a sigh, pushing her breasts into his face, so he took the opportunity to draw a nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, until she was the one setting the pace, riding him. Fast, hard.

  She clutched his shoulders, nails digging into the skin. The prick of pressure sending him closer and closer to an edge he was just barely fighting off.

  “Yes, oh, right there.”

  He couldn’t get enough of the reverent way she said oh, the delicate sighs, the deep throaty moans. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said she was even better than his imagination. She was. Every freckle, every smile, every inch of pale, soft skin.

  “Yes. Yes. Again.” She rode him faster, at breakneck speed he could barely keep up with. But the way she chanted yes and this, he had a feeling she was close again, so he just held on for the ride.

  She pushed deep against him, her nails digging even harder into his shoulders, a sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh.

  “Oh, wow, that’s good,” she whispered in his ear. Then she bit his earlobe and he was a goner.

  Release rumbled through him, heavy and powerful. Buried deep inside her, her breath quick and heavy against his neck, he already regretted that she’d have to leave. That this was just once.

  Because it was the pretend world brought to life, and it was going to be a bitch to go back to only pretend.

  After a few minutes she rolled off him. She gave him a smile, shy almost. He wanted to smile back, kiss her, say things could be different.

  But he didn’t lie to people. Or tiptoe around the truth. He’d learned that was a shit end of the stick to be on.

  She slid off the bed, already retrieving her underwear. So he got up too and went to the bathroom and cleaned himself up.

  The silence was weird, but he didn’t know how to fix that or even if he should. When he returned to the room she was stepping into her skirt.

  “That was . . .” She trailed off as she pulled the skirt back up over her hips, zipped it up. “Just right,” she finished, her voice a little soft. He couldn’t see her face to try to read her expression.

  “Yeah.” Lame, but what was he supposed to do? Talk to her? About the reality of the situation? Talk to her and pretend? It didn’t seem right.

  But he did want her to stay, to talk, just like their emails. Because he was an idiot, apparently, and forgetting all about her last name.

  “Thanks, C.” Now fully dressed, she brushed a kiss across his mouth and then she was walking out his bedroom door. As it should be. As it only could be.

  Chapter 4

  Dinah woke up the next morning sore in places she
never would have dreamed. She should feel mortified. Horrified. Everything about her behavior last night should be an absolute embarrassment.

  She was really struggling to find that horror or self-disgust. But she was just a little too pleased with herself. She had done something she had only ever dreamed of doing. Maybe it was wrong, and maybe she would suffer some consequences in the future, but for now, having to face the reality of her situation with Uncle Craig, she might as well enjoy the memories of last night.

  She drove to Gallagher’s feeling more philosophical than she had in a while. It was a quick drive from her apartment to the restaurant.

  Much had changed in the two decades she could remember. Some good, some bad. The city certainly wasn’t the same place it had been when her great-great-grandparents had started Gallagher’s, but regardless of the way the city had changed around it, she loved the place. It was her legacy, and even if that legacy didn’t match the city as well as it used to, that didn’t mean she could give up on something she believed in so passionately.

  She parked in the employee lot around the back of the brick building. Brick columns ran up the three stories, covered in a green ivy she’d always assumed was the inspiration for the street name that connected with Gallagher Street. The windows on each level were trimmed in black in the back, pretty white cornices in the front. It was sandwiched by other old brick buildings, all with a variety of styles of windows and embellishments.

  She loved the history of it all, that her ancestors had walked all over this ground, put their stamp on that building, and now she got to honor their work and add her own flare.

  It was a good reminder after last night. She still couldn’t bring herself to regret, but in the face of her life’s work, she had to remember why Carter Trask couldn’t be anything more than a one-night liability.

  Uncle Craig’s sleek BMW was nowhere to be seen in the lot. She was slightly relieved, since she hadn’t figured out exactly what her plan of attack was going to be. She would need Kayla’s help. With any luck, Kayla had thought of something last night. Assuming she had been alone and not diving into any fantasies brought to life, as Dinah had been.