by Sharon Kleve
“Get real.” Her happiness evaporated. “I’ve already thought about that. I’ll ask for donations like Wikipedia does so it keeps going.”
He didn’t have the heart to tell her they didn’t need charity according to articles he’d read. They’d already hauled in enough cash to hire a lobbyist. “Think that’ll work?”
“I can see you don’t.”
“Whoa. Have I said that?”
“You didn’t have to. I can read your face.” She wilted. “It’s donations, advertising, or a subscription service like Angie’s List. Not going to happen. I’m not hawking stuff on my site or going public like Angie did. I want to help people survive, not enrich myself. Someone has to care about those who’ve lost their jobs and homes and can’t get work. Politicians don’t.”
Eric liked her even more. He smiled. “Good for you. Have you ever considered running for office?”
Her face turned as red as her hair. “Maybe. When Bernie Sanders threw in the towel, I cried. Then I got pissed when he endorsed Hillary. I wrote him a nasty email.”
“Did you send it?”
She shook her head. “I figured he had to do it or risk insurmountable crap. IRS audits. Hit teams. Stuff like you see on The Black List, Blind Spot, and Designated Survivor. Who knew?” She waved her hands. “Enough about that and me. What do you do? Where do you work? Are you married? Engaged? Involved?”
He backed away from her questions.
Rusty stayed put and crossed her arms. That didn’t plump her sweet little breasts.
Nor did it matter. She was perfect as she was. Honest and direct. So different from the people he usually hung around. “I’m not involved with anyone.” The truth. “How about you?”
She tapped her foot. “Would I be drinking your beer if I were?”
Definitely not. She was too forthright. “Good to hear.” He held out the bottle. “Want more?”
“Maybe.” She joined him and finished the brew.
He leaned close enough to catch her fragrance again, the musk intense this time. Heat barreled through him and settled in his groin. “Would you like another?”
“Later. Tell me about you first. Do you work for a bank?”
She’d probably guessed that because of his tailored slacks and grey dress shirt. The other guys wore chinos or jeans and tees. Luckily, he’d left his jacket and tie in his office. His plan had been to grab a quick bite and drink then slog back to his desk.
Work had never seemed as unimportant or dangerous if he told her what he did for a living. Too bad he hadn’t been involved in criminal law. He might have impressed her by working for the underprivileged and those screwed by the man. Saving the despised corporate class wouldn’t generate that response. It’d be bye-bye Rusty before she got to know him and understood some businesses did serve the public rather than destroy lives. “Nope. I don’t even go into banks. I do everything by smartphone.”
“Not me. I want up-close-and-personal service. It’s the only way those poor tellers will keep their jobs until robots replace them.”
He hadn’t considered that. Convenience had been his only goal. “Good point.” Before she asked again, he had to offer what he could without turning her off. Better to ease into what he did gradually and appeal to her good nature. “I work in an office and push papers for a living. You know, read stuff, comment on it, fix problems, attend meetings, make sure everyone’s happy. Boring as hell at times, but it pays the bills and my boss is reasonable, for the most part.”
“Man or woman?”
“Woman.” Precisely like Harvey Specter in the TV series Suits.
The sound system shrieked. Patrons shouted and cursed at the ear-splitting noise. It settled down, somewhat. Shut Up and Dance With Me blared from the speakers. The crowd erupted in wild applause. Sweeping lights pulsed like strobes.
Rusty bounced and yelled, “You heard the song. Come on.” She handed his empty bottle to a passing server and bobbed around him, arms waving, hips grinding.
Dancing wasn’t his thing unless it was something slow and intimate. Doing his best, Eric jerked and writhed like the other men, certain he looked like a gorilla on speed.
“Awesome.” Rusty pointed at him. “You’re good.”
He laughed at her compliment. “I’ll never compare to you.”
She spun in place, skirt flying. Her combat boots stomped the floor. She wiggled, whirled, and pulled him into the fun. He bumped her hips with his. Their asses snuggled. He slipped his arm around her waist and swung her off her feet. Easy-peasy. She weighed practically nothing.
Her pleased squeals were hearty as all get-out and mingled with the din.
They boogied hard, forcing those nearby to back up or get run over.
She did a jig similar to what the Gangnam Style guy performed on YouTube.
Arms flung out, Eric worked his torso and legs as he never had. Several muscles pulled. He danced through the agonizing aches.
An undeclared contest sparked between him and Rusty. Never one to shy away from a challenge, he matched her step for step, his lumbering, hers delightful.
She stopped.
He did too, grateful to rest, but concerned too. “What’s wrong?” He gulped air. Perspiration dripped into his eyes, stinging them. “Did I accidentally kick you?”
“Uh-uh.” She stared.
He did too. “What?”
“This.” She cupped his head, her thumbs on his cheeks and lowered his mouth to hers.
His breath caught. Her tongue filled him, her kiss wonderfully wet and ungodly hot, her taste stunningly fresh.
He just about died.
****
Eric tasted even better than Rusty had expected and smelled nicer than she could have hoped. A clean, aquatic scent that wasn’t too strong. Rather than masking his musk, the fragrance enhanced it.
Lost in excitement and need, she deepened their kiss.
He growled. His deep voice rumbled in his chest, his bristly cheeks scoured hers. Pure man. Needing an anchor, she gripped his shirt.
He held her tightly and snuggled close, his thick, hard cock nestled against her mound.
She couldn’t believe her good luck. Not only did he seem like a nice guy, listening patiently to her rant and rave about her passions, he was a definite hottie. Early thirties, she guessed, with the perfect amount of muscle on his tall, lean bod. He wore his longish black hair combed back, which totally fit his rough, masculine features. If he hadn’t pushed papers for a living, he could have been a male model for a fashion designer.
She practically devoured him.
He didn’t complain. Grunts and pleasured moans rippled his torso and pecs.
Clasping each other, they staggered to the right and tottered to the left, wanting to get closer.
He eased her tongue from his mouth and filled hers so completely she could scarcely breathe.
Who needed air? As long as he kissed her senseless and flashed his killer smile afterwards, she was content. Good god, he even had dimples.
She drove her fingers into his thick, silky locks needing them to look as they would after he’d slept or enjoyed a woman in his bed. His rigid rod told Rusty she’d have no complaints in that department. She ground her hips against his.
He cupped her ass.
They were definitely past the get-acquainted stage. In this city, getting down and dirty usually didn’t take too long. She jumped into his arms, wrapped her legs about his lean hips, and wreathed her arms around his shoulders.
He staggered from her weight or his surprise at how forward she was. After regaining his balance, he held her effortlessly even though she was five-ten. Too tall. Too flat too. The way he’d stared at her boobs and grinned, he hadn’t seemed to mind.
Their kiss grew sloppy and noisy. Restraint ended. Pleasure reigned.
Rusty suckled him as though her life depended upon it. Her enjoyment surely did. She couldn’t taste him enough. His lips amazed her. The contradiction between their heated softn
ess and his hair-roughened cheeks had her begging for more.
He complied, deepening their kiss, taking everything she gave.
They clutched each other and explored, hands roaming, fingers touching. Nothing indecent. Closer to chaste and sweet. He stroked her cheek and jawline leaving bursts of heat in his wake. She traced his prominent Adam’s apple. It bobbed repeatedly from his hard swallows.
Someone bumped into them.
Eric pulled his mouth free and gulped air.
She rested her forehead against his and filled her lungs as best she could. Wasn’t easy. Her pulse sprinted too hard for her to get a full breath. She’d rarely been dizzier.
“You okay?” He squeezed her gently.
Encouraged, she dove back in and took charge, sweeping her tongue over his teeth and wherever she could reach.
He hunkered down for the next round but gentled his response. Their desire grew slow and lazy, which heightened her need. Hard lust was one thing. With him, she also experienced security and comfort.
She’d rarely gotten that from a man. Most took without giving back. Many disappointed and didn’t even realize they had. Nor did they care when they found out. They took off as quickly as possible.
Eric seemed different, special. A guy she wanted to know better. Warts and all. Any man who’d treated her dreams as seriously as he had couldn’t have anything truly wrong with him.
She cupped his face lovingly, enjoyed this moment, and hoped for more.
At last they parted. Their upper lips stuck briefly then broke free.
He smiled. She did too. His eyes were hazel, his lashes long and dark, even nicer than hers. “Wow.”
He shouted above the music as she had. “You liked?”
Whether he was referring to his looks or his kiss didn’t matter. Both were fan-fucking-tastic. “Do you even have to ask?”
A sheepish look crossed his handsome face. “Guess not. Thanks.”
“I should be saying that to you.” She pulled back her legs and dropped to her feet. He was inches taller, at least six-three. Next to him, she felt downright dainty. A first. “Sometimes, I get ahead of myself. I didn’t break anything did I? Is your back all right?”
He pumped his shoulders and flexed his hips more smoothly than the couples cavorting around them. “I’m good.”
He was way better than that. Clear past awesome to epic. “You should dance for a living. You’re amazing at it.”
He laughed so hard his face flushed crimson. Bent at the waist, he wheezed in air. “You have to be kidding. I looked like an ape with its fur on fire.”
Not in her world.
A couple rocked like crazy and ran into him. Eric stumbled forward.
“Careful.” She grabbed his arm.
The tune blasted away. Everyone bobbed, swayed, and stomped their feet.
Rusty slid her hand over Eric’s shoulder and played with his hair.
His dimpled smile proved his satisfaction. “Ready to dance again before the music stops?”
“Nope.”
He pressed his thighs and hips against hers, his shaft stiffer than stone. “Want a beer?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Something stronger?” He ran his finger over her bottom lip.
It tingled clear to her tonsils. “No.”
“What then? Wine? Juice? Milk? Do they serve that here? If not, bottled water? Or—”
“Shut up and pleasure me.” Okay, so that was a corny play on the song. She was an activist not a poet. A woman too. She huddled close, her nipples crushed against his firm pecs.
He planted one hand on her back, the other on her ass. “What?”
“You heard me. Don’t say you didn’t. You’re blushing.”
His cheeks and forehead turned even redder. “Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“I’ll… You want to play in the club?” He glanced past her. “There are wall-to-wall people.”
“I know.” She tugged his shirt button. “Somewhere else. Somewhere private.”
His face brightened. “Do you live near here?”
“Uh-uh. You?”
A reaction flashed in his eyes that Rusty couldn’t quite read. Or maybe she didn’t want to. Looked a little like guilt. Bummed, she pulled away. “Oh hey, are you living with someone? That is being involved, even if you haven’t formalized the situation.”
“Yeah, I learned that early on.” He hauled her back into him, close and tight. “I’m not living with, dating, or even interested in anyone.”
Rusty ran her foot up his leg. “Sure about that?”
His grin made life worthwhile.
He tapped her nose. “I’ll make an exception in your case. Ready to go?”
Minutes ago, when they’d kissed. To enjoy nothing except his mouth would be like eating the cherry on a sundae then ignoring the nuts, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce. Tonight, she wanted the whole enchilada. Reckless, she knew. However, the world could blow up tomorrow and then where would she be? Dead and unsated. If life had taught her nothing else, it was to go for the gold while she could. “Way past due. Are we going to your place?”
“Too far and messy. That’s why I hesitated before. Sorry, but I didn’t think to clean up this morning before I left for work. If you must know, I’m a slob.”
“I’ve been known to leave dishes in the sink for days.”
“Wow, you’re a clean freak, I wouldn’t have guessed.”
She laughed.
He tugged her through the crowd toward the exit. “I know somewhere close and clean. You’ll love it.”
The only possible place was where he worked. At this hour, the other employees would probably be gone, the office deserted. She held back.
He stopped and looked over. “What’s wrong?”
“Are we going to where you work? Should we?” She cupped his ear so he could hear without her having to yell over the music and crowd. “What if we get caught by the cleaning staff?”
“That would be bad. How much money do you have on you? Enough to post bail? Do those guys take credit cards?”
She slapped his arm for teasing her, but also smiled loving it. “Answer me.”
“We’re not going to any office. No beds.”
“There are always desks, chairs, or the floor.”
“Bad girl.” Eric wagged his finger. “There will definitely be one of each where we’re headed.”
He ushered her from the club to the outside. Hot, humid air slammed into them, stealing her breath. Vehicle exhaust mingled with meat and spicy scents from restaurants, women’s perfume, men’s cologne. No moon or stars shone in the inky black sky. Given the crowded sidewalks, it might as well have been noon rather than midnight.
She faced the street and lifted her free hand.
Eric leaned in. “What are you doing?”
“Hailing a cab.”
“Our destination’s two blocks up. A short walk. Race you.”
Giggling, she grabbed his arm and yanked him back. “The only thing two blocks up is The Tremore.”
“Bingo.”
She couldn’t stop her surprise. The Tremore was the most exclusive hotel in Manhattan. Heads of state and the President stayed there, not working stiffs like her and him. “It costs a freaking fortune.”
“Got it covered.”
“We’re going to play in the lobby where it’s free?”
Eric wiggled his eyebrows. “There’s a thought.” He nestled closer. “You into stuff like that? Having an audience?”
Maybe. But not if she’d get caught. “Be serious.”
“I am. You’re not giving me a chance to explain.” He cupped her face.
She sagged against him, loving his strength and warmth. “Sorry. Go on.”
“I have friends who work there. There’s always a room available that I can get.”
“For hundreds per night?”
“By bartering. No money will exchange hands. Promise.”
He was her kind of
guy. “What are you waiting for?” She bolted ahead and shouted over her shoulder, “Race you.”
CHAPTER TWO
Eric should have easily outrun Rusty, but damn, she was determined.
He liked that.
Dodging others, he caught up with her at a street corner, the signal yellow, the ‘do not walk’ symbol flashing. They kissed clear through the red light and bolted across on green. Hand in hand, they arrived at the Tremore and sped inside.
Rusty stopped and glanced up. Her mouth sagged open.
The lobby ceiling rose majestically through the hotel center, fifteen stories high. Several sparkling chandeliers lit the gold-and-ivory décor. Spacious wasn’t an adequate description for the square footage. Several high schools could have held their proms in here at the same time.
He squeezed her hand. “You like?”
“Where are your friends?” She craned her neck and bounced on her heels. “Please tell me they’re here tonight.”
Her enthusiasm thrilled as few things had. Even litigating and winning a major court case hadn’t puffed up Eric like tonight. He inclined his head to the left. “Wait for me in the bar.” He dug out his wallet. “Get whatever you want. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
She didn’t accept the two twenties he offered. “Why can’t I go with you?” Disappointment crossed her sweet features. “You’re not planning to pay for a room, are you? Did you say it’d be free because that’s what you thought I wanted to hear? I’d rather you be straight with me.”
He would too…eventually. At least about his career choice. If he’d sinned in any way, it was through omission. “I swear I won’t have to pay for it. Everything’s cool. All right?”
“If your friends say no, for whatever reason, I’ll pay half.” She patted her skirt, presumably a pocket. “I have funds. Cash and credit.”