Rush

by Gina Gordon

  I had been imagining that for the last twenty-four hours—all hard pecs and rippled stomach. Was it smooth? Did he wax?

  Grace made a cooing sound. “I think our little Everly is blushing.”

  “Are you prepared?” Sadie asked, her face now serious.

  I shrugged. “What do I have to prepare?” It’s not like I was going to be tested after our date.

  “He sees naked women, huge tits, and tight asses all day long.” Sadie looked at me like I was crazy. “He probably has a permanent hard-on.”

  “That’s got to be uncomfortable,” I said. Making jokes during uncomfortable situations was my thing.

  Grace laughed. “I’m sure he has his pick of women he can bring into his office and fuck until the blue balls are gone.”

  I groaned. They were right. I wasn’t a prude. I mean, I was watching porn with my roommates, for goodness sake, but I also wasn’t adventurous. Or big-titted. Or tight-assed.

  Sadie eyed me with more interest. Her red hair glittered in the low light from the lamp that sat in the corner of the room. “You do realize that there are going to be certain…expectations.”

  I tensed. My list said go out with someone, not sleep with someone.

  “Do you think a guy like Max Levin prefers missionary sex?” Sadie stared me down. “Hell, no. He wants to fuck you up the ass and then cum on your face.”

  I let out a hard gasp. “God, that’s graphic.”

  “Everly…” Grace set her hand on my shoulder and gently rubbed. “A guy like Max Levin works with porn stars all day long. Watches porn all day long. Do you really believe he’s sweet?”

  I tried my best to hide my nervousness. I knew full well what I was getting myself into, but it was only one date.

  “He’s seen every trick. Probably done every move.” Sadie turned back to the computer and scrolled through the sample videos on the White Lace website. “How are you at giving head?”

  I shrugged. “I know the basics.”

  Wait! What? I didn’t need to know how to give a blow job. That wouldn’t be happening.

  “Oh, honey, we have so much to teach you.”

  “I appreciate the effort, ladies, but this date is a one-time thing. Blow jobs not included.”

  Sadie stood and reached into the purse that she’d hung on the door handle to the dining room. “At least take this.” She pulled out a book and shoved it into my hands.

  The Art of Fellatio.

  I laughed and clapped her on the back. Gram did want me to read a book for fun. This one definitely fit the bill. “This is perfect, Sadie.”

  “What time is he picking you up?” Grace asked.

  “Ten.”

  “What are you wearing?” Sadie clapped her hands in excitement. “Let us find you something to wear. We can—”

  I held up my hand. “Max agreed to go on a date with Everly Parker. Just as I am. I’m not marrying the man, nor am I trying to woo him into a relationship. I am who I am. And I’m not going to slut myself up just to feel better about being seen in public with him.” I sighed.

  “At least borrow my water bra.” Sadie wiggled her eyebrows. “It makes the girls look spectacular.”

  “I appreciate the effort, but I’m not going to change my style just to stroke his massive ego, pretend I condone his outlook on women.”

  Going out with Max was making me think too much. I did enough of that every other minute of the day.

  “This one’s too smart for her own good.” Sadie jerked her thumb at me.

  “So there’s not going to be a She’s All That moment?” Grace frowned. “I love makeovers.”

  “Sorry, Grace.”

  This date was all business. A way to get my feet wet in tackling that damn list.

  I didn’t take me long to get ready.

  But I did borrow Sadie’s bra.

  Chapter 5

  Max

  I took Everly to my favorite bar—the Concord Lounge.

  Keeping us in public was the only way I knew to guarantee keeping my libido in check. Which, ever since I’d laid eyes on her, had been jacked up.

  I guided her toward the door with my hand at the small of her back. I pulled the bouncer—Fridge—into a handshake turned one-armed back slap. He’d gotten his nickname because he was as wide as a commercial refrigerator, but he was also Ryan Maddox, one of my best friends.

  “Maxy.” He smiled at me and stole a glance at Everly. “Looking for a nightcap before you head upstairs?”

  “What’s upstairs?” she asked.

  I leaned in. “I live upstairs.” I placed my hand on her shoulder and changed the subject as quickly as possible. “This is Everly Parker.” Ryan held out his hand and she gripped it with ease. “This is Fridge.”

  He winked. “My friends call me Ryan.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Ryan.”

  He motioned inside with his chin. “I’ll let Bryce know you’re here.” The red carpet was rolled out every time I arrived.

  “Thanks, bud.” I slapped him on the back. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Nice meeting you, Everly.” He shot her the sweetest, ass-kissing smile then winked at me. A sly curve to his lips told me we had some talking to do. Or rather, I had some explaining to do.

  Admittedly, Everly wasn’t the usual type of girl I brought to this establishment. She looked nothing like the women who waited on the opposite side of the velvet rope. The lineup looked like a casting call—all pushed-up cleavage, tight dresses, red lips, and high heels. A glaring contrast to the woman I led into the bar.

  Tonight, she wore dark jeans and a black sweater that she’d buttoned up all the way to the hollow of her neck. Her hair was down, loose, shiny curls cascaded down her back—one of her best assets, in my opinion. I was weirdly drawn to the glossy strands. Wanted desperately to run my fingers through them, bury my nose in them. But even more, I wanted to know what that hair would feel like skittering across my abdomen as her lips wrapped around my cock.

  I shook off the thoughts with a full-body shiver. There was no way Everly was going to let me run my hands through her hair, and certainly not suck my dick. Which was part of the draw. I knew she thought she was too good for me. That spreading her legs for me was the lowest item on her to-do list, but that was the reason I was here. I wasn’t just Max Levin, porn guy. However, I had no idea what other guy I was.

  One date. One time. No sex required. Even though I couldn’t stop fantasizing about it. Especially every time she took a sip of her drink and her tongue slipped out to press against the cool glass.

  We’d been given priority seating at the end of the bar, facing the dance floor, but as I watched the hundred or so people crammed together, she sat deep in thought. Occasionally, the bodies were illuminated by the strobe lights above. There was a lot of grinding going on down there. I wondered if she noticed, or if she was too lost in her own head. I knew she was thinking about something. I could practically see the gears turning. Plus, she had that distant look. The one that clouded her presence. Despite being with me, she wasn’t with me; her thoughts were somewhere else.

  Maybe she was reciting the Constitution of Canada or some shit like that.

  Every once in a while she’d smile at me, but only half-smile. I needed to step up my game if I was going to show this woman a good time.

  “What are you thinking about?” I asked.

  “Huh?” She stared at me blankly. Almost as if she had forgotten where she was.

  It wasn’t an expression I was used to. This girl couldn’t care less about being here with me. Damn if that didn’t make me want her even more.

  “You seem preoccupied,” I yelled over the music, a well-known hip-hop song that had the crowd on the dance floor writhing and thrusting into one another. “Tell me what’s on your mind.” I grabbed her hand and leaned closer. She tensed, and ripped it away from under my loose grip, settling back against the plush velvet chair.

  “I’m sorry…I…” While she contemplate
d whatever it was she wanted to say, she chewed on her bottom lip. It took everything I had not to reach out and rub my thumb across it.

  “It’s just…I have a paper due tomorrow. I really shouldn’t be here.” Guilt washed over her face.

  I knew exactly how it felt to dedicate yourself wholeheartedly to something. White Lace had been my life for the last four years and would be for the next thirty.

  My chest tightened, a weird feeling—one I didn’t recognize—washed over me. Was White Lace really the life I wanted?

  “You could have sent me away.”

  I had shown up on her doorstep and was surprised when I walked into the foyer to find furniture that was at least three decades old. The house looked like it was the home of an eighty-year-old woman, not Everly and her two escort roommates.

  She shook her head. “I need to conquer that list.”

  The gears starting working again. Her mind had taken over.

  “Why?”

  She leveled me with an annoyed glare. “Do you always ask so many questions?”

  “Said the soon-to-be lawyer.”

  She scrutinized the club. I knew it was her attempt at changing the subject.

  “Look, I’m not expecting anything from you.” I held up my hands and sat back, raising my voice so she could hear me. “I will be a perfect gentleman.”

  A flash of disappointment crossed her face. I knew without a doubt Everly Parker wasn’t very experienced with men. Definitely not a virgin, but not well versed in dating or relationships. Her disappointment was definitely a stroke to my ego, but I wasn’t going to push. She might think she wanted it, but when the time came to deliver, I had a feeling she’d run with her tail between her legs.

  “That’s good because I didn’t plan on giving you anything tonight.”

  I smiled. She always had a snarky retort. I liked that. She didn’t care about impressing me, seducing me, or making me think she was sex incarnate.

  “I’m only here because I need to go out with someone…like you.”

  I knew she believed every stereotype there was. Dirty. Heathen. Immoral. Misogynist. Slut. All right, well, that one was sort of true.

  “Exactly what do you think I do on a date?”

  There was zero hesitation in her delivery. “You take out a woman, woo her with your money and good looks, and then take her back to your place, which is pretty convenient…” She pointed upstairs, referencing my penthouse. “And then you’ll make sweet lovin’ they’ll never forget.”

  She was…mocking me. She thought it was funny. To Everly, Max Levin was a fucking joke.

  “What if I don’t want to sleep with you?” I shrugged and shook my head. She definitely wasn’t my type, but that didn’t stop me from wanting her. “You’re really not my type.”

  Despite the darkness of the club, I saw the shadow fall over her eyes.

  I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings. Fuck if I didn’t want to throw her over my shoulder and take her to my bed. But I couldn’t. Everly Parker was good. Genuine. Smart and classy. She didn’t deserve to be fucked and forgotten. She deserved…someone better than me.

  She recovered quickly and did her best to show me she didn’t care. But I saw it. I’d deflated whatever ego she might have had. I had done that with my thoughtlessness and arrogance.

  “Then maybe I should have asked you to set me up with one of your actors. At least then I’d be guaranteed they know what to do with a woman’s…parts.”

  “Who do you think taught them?” I winked. Even in the dark club, I saw the flush of crimson color her cheeks.

  If I had any chance of getting this girl to loosen up, I needed to get her out of her own head. And if I couldn’t fuck her cares away, there was only one other option.

  “How about a dance?”

  “Um…” She pulled her bottom lip with her teeth and looked over to the dance floor. “I’m more of a sit-in-the-corner-and-watch type of girl.”

  “Not tonight.” I picked up my drink and downed it. Urging her to do the same.

  She shook her head, but I held up her glass and waved it in front of her. “It’s only one. Take the edge off.”

  After a few moments of hesitation, she did as I’d asked.

  I grabbed her hand, loving the feel of her soft skin against me. Weaving us through the sweaty bodies, I stopped in the middle, hoping we’d get lost in the crowd.

  We started off face-to-face. I moved from side to side. I wasn’t the greatest dancer, but I held my own. I could at least keep the beat. And let’s be honest, dancing in this club was really just grinding and gyrating to the rhythm. No skill required for that.

  I placed my hands on her hips. She looked from side to side, gauging the crowd. Scoping out who was paying attention.

  “Relax,” I whispered in her ear. Her hair smelled fresh, like citrus. “No one’s watching.”

  I stepped closer, letting my pelvis touch her stomach.

  She looked up. I saw her throat contract with a hard swallow.

  I swiped her hair back, exposing her face—her beautiful, unassuming face. So different from the faces I looked at every day. There was an innocence there. Sweetness. It was the face of a life unlived.

  If I was honest, I wanted nothing more than to press my lips against hers and take that sweetness away. Bury it, along with her focus, and bring her to a place where only pleasure existed. Because that’s what I did. Indulged in pleasure. It’s what I had been conditioned to do. But I tamped down the overwhelming need to claim her. Tonight was going to be different.

  My hand rested against her neck. She looked up, our mouths in perfect alignment. All I’d have to do is dip my head and we’d kiss. My grip on her neck was light, giving her enough room to move away if she wanted. Even though every molecule in my body wanted to pull her closer. Tighter.

  My breath hitched when our eyes locked. She looked at me like she saw me. For the first time, her concentration wasn’t focused on anything or anyone else. She was right here with me. In this moment.

  Before I had the chance to lean in, she turned in my embrace, pressing her back to my front.

  Both my hands fell to her hips and I began to move. She moved with me, our bodies swaying from side to side with the music. The tempo had changed. Instead of bass thumping, the music was now a slow, steady grind. Perfect for what I wanted to do with her outside of this dance floor.

  In a surprising move, her arms came up and wrapped around my neck. Mine moved from her hips, laying out my palms against her stomach. My thumb caught on the hem of her shirt and my fingers brushed bare skin.

  I moved her hair away with one hand then curled it around my fingers. I pulled, exposing her neck, running my mouth along her skin. It was soft and warm, and I felt her pulse throb under the light press of my lips.

  I held her tight, making no mistake to anyone in this club that she was mine. At least for right now. We held each other close for what felt like hours, and I was shocked at how easily we blended together. But just like all good things, our embrace ended, when someone bumped me from behind.

  As if being shocked back into reality, she pulled away, and when she turned to face me, our eyes locked. For one more fleeting moment, we were still connected. Then the moment was gone.

  Back at the bar, our conversation was stilted, so I continued to buy us drinks, doing my best to lighten the mood.

  Women I knew—some of them I had fucked—came up to us. One even gave Everly her back and ran a finger along my arm with sexual invitation in her eyes. A woman whose name I couldn’t even remember.

  I yelled over the music, “I’m with someone tonight.”

  She jerked her head back and turned, eyeing Everly with that look women give each other. That “Bitch, he’s mine” look. Normally I would revel in the fact that women would cut one another’s eyes out to be with me. But right now, all I wanted was for this chick to get the fuck out of the way so I could cozy up to the woman I’d brought here.

&
nbsp; Everly held out her hand with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

  The chick turned up her nose and gave me one last look before she stalked away, her ass swaying from side to side in an overtly sexual way.

  When I turned back to Everly, she still held that smile. That “I knew you were a douche” smile that drove me insane with indignation.

  She sipped her drink and I leaned in. “Are you not having a good time?”

  “I’m having exactly the type of time I expected.”

  What the fuck did that mean? And what the fuck had just happened. I’d been a mere moment away from devouring her mouth on that dance floor and rocking her world. Now she had pulled back, her eyes had returned to the same semi-present state.

  “So you expected to have a shitty time?”

  She yelled over the music. “I expected you to show off and I expected women to fawn all over you.”

  And so far I was two for two. Fuck me.

  “It seems you’re the only woman who doesn’t want to fawn all over me. Why is that?”

  She pushed her glass across the bar and pulled her sweater straight on her body. “Thanks for the mediocre time. I should be going.”

  She bolted from the bar and I lost her in the crowd. I couldn’t move, let alone walk. I was too disturbed. She had walked out on me. In my own club. In my church.

  I slammed my glass on the table and stalked to the door.

  Fridge greeted me with an annoying smirk and thrust his thumb to the right. With two long strides I was on the sidewalk and saw her, ten yards down the street, about to get into a cab. I raced to the car and caught the door just before she closed it.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Home. It’s late and I have—”

  “A paper due. I know.”

  She sighed quietly and hung her head. “We should just call it a night. I got what I needed. Everything can go back to normal now.”

  I reached into the cab and grabbed her arm. I pulled. It was too easy to wrench her tiny body from the car.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Her voice had gone up about three octaves.