What They Call Sin

by Philippa Grey-Gerou

  Like him.

  "Here we are, buddy.” The cabby broke him out of his reverie.

  "Thanks, mate.” He paid the fare and added a twenty dollar tip.

  "Thank you, man! You two have a fine afternoon!"

  Rogue grinned wickedly. “Too right we will..."

  He stopped at the front desk on his way through the lobby. “I left my key at the office. Can I get the spare?"

  "Of course, Mr. Fitzwilliam.” The uniformed brunette behind the counter turned and pulled his key and several slips of paper out of his box and handed them to him. “Your messages as well, sir. Anything else I can do for you this afternoon?"

  "Yeah, can you hold my calls and visitors for the afternoon? I'm gonna be working and don't want to be disturbed."

  "Of course, Mr. Fitzwilliam. Have a productive afternoon."

  "I will, thanks."

  The elevator ride seemed to take forever. He bounced on the balls of his feet, eager, anticipating. Come on, come on.

  He turned the key in the lock and opened his door quietly, kicking off his shoes as he closed it behind him. “Lindy?"

  "I thought you might not be so hard on your own clothes."

  He turned toward the bedroom door and stopped, the wind knocked out of him.

  She stood in the doorway, a vision. She had brushed out her hair and it now hung in a loose cloud around her face. Her legs and feet were bare, and her torso was covered in one of his shirts, red cotton buttoned all but the top two buttons, the sleeves hanging down to cover her hands.

  His eyes narrowed, his breath shallow. He was overwhelmed with a sense of possession. His clothes, his woman. He ran his tongue seductively over his teeth and stepped towards her, dragging his fingers lightly down the buttons.

  "That's where you would be wrong."

  He laid hands on the open throat of the shirt and yanked, sending the tiny pearl buttons scattering in all directions. She gasped but didn't flinch, her eyes wide and dark as he opened the shirt to run his hand down her throat, between her breasts and over her belly. “There's nothing that turns a man on more than seeing the woman he's about to fuck into oblivion wearing one of his shirts.” He stepped closer, running his tongue along her neck as he cupped her breast, thumbing over the nipple. “Except maybe seeing the woman he's already shagged to pieces wearing nothing but a smile..."

  He wrapped his arms around her waist under the shirt, holding her naked form against his body as he walked her backward into the bedroom, tossing her into the middle of the bed. She crawled backwards, propped up on her arms, the shirt pooling on the bed to leave all but her shoulders and arms bare, her face flushed and hungry.

  He was no gentler with his own shirt than he had been with hers. The buttons that didn't fly tore, and he would have done the same to his trousers if the button there hadn't been riveted on. Everything fell to the floor and he was crawling up the bed, stalking her. He growled, and she whimpered, baring her neck to him. Mine, he thought as he moved between her legs, nuzzling at her neck as his cock rubbed along her damp slit. “Can't wait, Lindy,” he grumbled into her ear. “Need you too much."

  "Don't.” She tangled her legs around his hips, lowering her back onto the bed. “Don't wait. Do it. Please."

  He moved, prodding gently until he was situated, her soft mewls guiding him on, making him harder. He lifted his head to look into her eyes as he pushed himself home.

  She cried out and clutched at his shoulders, arching her hips into his stroke. He drew two deep breaths and began moving, slow strokes escalating quickly to bone rattling thrusts. She was so tight, so wet, so god! “I'm not going to last long here, love."

  "Just do it.” Her voice was guttural, lost in the pleasures of his demand.

  He didn't slow his movement, slamming harder and harder into her as he brought his mouth to suckle her breast, his hand down to finger her clit hard. Her head snapped back, eyes open but unseeing as she screamed a hoarse, orgasmic keen that drove him over the edge.

  "Christ!” He sunk into her, hips jerking as he spent in violent, spastic bursts that seemed to last a lifetime. When his muscles released him, he collapsed on top of her. She laughed breathlessly and wrapped her arms around him.

  He held her and rolled over, her head pillowed on his chest, their legs entwined. “Not quite the way I'd planned that,” he confessed.

  She just looked up at him and smiled. “The afternoon's not over yet.” She nestled her head back into his chest with a sigh. He kissed the top of her head.

  Mine.

  * * * *

  She slipped out of bed to grab the picnic basket, fishing out the brownies and the remains of the wine. She had spread a napkin across his stomach and was using it as a table for the brownies. She still wore the red shirt, the sleeves now rolled up to her elbows, but the front open to reveal all her womanly charms to his gaze. She broke pieces off of one of the brownies and fed him, stealing some for herself. “See? Chocolate and orgasms.” Her eyes twinkled.

  He smiled and shook his head, folding his hands behind his neck. “You always get your own way?"

  "No, but I'm learning.” She slipped another piece into his mouth. He caught at her fingers and sucked lightly.

  God, she was adorable when she was playful!

  He broke a piece off himself and lifted it to her lips. She took it delicately in her teeth, then closed her lips around his fingers, sliding her tongue over the pads. He groaned.

  She broke off another piece and crumbled it over his chest, then leaned down to begin licking and sucking the crumbs off his taut muscles. He rolled his head back with a soft groan, resting his hand in her hair. Her mouth was gentle and wet and warm, and he could feel himself getting aroused again. She looked up, pushing the hair out of her face, smiling proudly. “You like that?"

  He pulled her down to kiss her, tasting the lingering chocolate on her mouth, as he pushed her onto her back. “Let me show you how much.” He slid the napkin off to the side, taking another piece of brownie to crumble over her breasts and stomach. He saw her stomach muscles clench in anticipation. He lipped his way across her collarbone, gathering up every crumb. She sighed as he moved down onto her breasts, gasping as his tongue flicked out to collect one larger piece balanced against her tight nipple. He slid around to straddle her knees, dropping down to lick spirals over her belly, leaving smears of chocolate on her tanned skin. Her hips arced slightly as his head descended along the crease of her thighs, her breath coming in eager gasps.

  She gripped his head to pull him back up to her mouth, kissing him hungrily as she rolled him onto his back. She slung one leg across his hips to slip back and forth along his length.

  "This how you want it, pet?” he asked huskily.

  She slid her hands down her thighs. “You like it."

  God. “But do you?” His hands followed hers down her legs.

  Her hands moved over his stomach. “Yes. Oh yes."

  He lifted her hips to center her on him, then let her drop down on her own, taking him deep into her. They both moaned at the penetration, and she began rocking against him. His hands cupped her breasts, caressing their curves, thumbing her nipples, watching the changes in her face as she rode him.

  He reached up to push her hair from her face, curling his fingers along her jaw. “You see?” he murmured as she moved against him. “You see how it can feel when you know what you want? You are indescribable like this, all the passion, all the pleasure written all over you.” He slid his hands along the curves of her waist. “You make me feel like I was created for your pleasure alone. God, you fit me so naturally."

  She met his eyes, her mouth open and swollen, her tongue moving in promising touches in time to the circling of her hips. “Is this how it's supposed to feel?” she breathed.

  "Oh yes, pet. How do you feel?"

  "Powerful. Glowing. Incredible."

  "You are. All those things and more."

  "Michael..."

  But he felt it, too, the shallo
w tightening that presaged her orgasm. He gripped her hips and changed his angle, thrusting harder, faster, slamming up against her down stroke, making her cry out. “That's it, love, ride it hard. You've worked so hard, you've earned this. Come on, come for me. You can feel it..."

  She began shuddering, the rhythm of her strokes lost as her body was overwhelmed with her release. She cried aloud and fell against him, trying to keep her hips moving, wanting to still feel him.

  He understood and, gripping her tight, rolled them both over to take control. She was still so wet, her muscles trembling against his cock as he pounded into her with slick, suctioning strokes. “Lindy, god pet, feel so good, so right. Never want this to stop..."

  But it did. He came with a roar, and she followed him over the edge again. They came down in each other's arms, holding and gently caressing each other as they calmed.

  * * * *

  The remnants of the chocolate stayed sticky on their skin, so when they were able and inclined to move again, they migrated into the bathroom. He ran the water for the shower as she brushed the knots out of her hair. When she was done, he handed her into the spray without a word, stepping in after her. He carefully washed her hair, massaging her scalp, drawing his fingers through the soapy tresses before rinsing it clean. Then he got to his knees so she could do the same for him, his cheek resting against the roundness of her belly. When she finished, he got back to his feet and they washed each other, slow, slippery caresses over curves and plains and hollows. And in the warm cascade, he made love to her again, an undemanding coming together of bodies that was the most natural, gentle, beautiful thing in the world.

  They dried off, and he wrapped a towel around his waist, dressing her in a hotel bathrobe and sitting her on the toilet to dry her hair. He ran the brush through gently, following each stroke with the dryer until her mane was a cascade of shining auburn waves again.

  They dressed in silence. He pulled a clean t-shirt out of the drawer to replace the dress shirt he had destroyed earlier undressing her. When he turned back, she was pulling her hair out of the collar of her shirt and sitting down on the bed to pull her boots on. He intercepted her, taking the shoe from her to slip her foot into it and slide the zipper up, stroking her calf and thigh comfortably. He repeated the process on her other leg, then looked into her eyes. She smiled, a gentle, compassionate smile that reached all the way into her eyes.

  His throat tightened and he reached out to cup her cheek. “I don't want you to go.” And god help him, he meant it.

  She covered his hand with hers. “It's only for a couple of days."

  His face hardened. “Because he'll be home."

  She nodded. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the room key he had given her and offered it back.

  He closed his fingers over it. “Keep it. Use it when you can."

  She kissed him softly. “I will. As soon as I can."

  He started to follow her out, but she stopped him. “It's probably better if I go alone. Besides, you don't have any shoes on.” She kissed him again quickly and disappeared out the door.

  He felt bereft, as though the only light in the room had been extinguished.

  Was this his plan?

  Chapter 10

  She felt ready to crawl out of her skin.

  Gabriel had been home all day, but shut away in his study. Surely she could slip away for a few hours...

  No. She could survive two days without seeing him. Two days out of thirty. Which meant she'd only have twenty-eight days with him. Less the two days for next weekend. And the weekend after that. And was there one more after that before he left? So her thirty days were down to twenty-two. And two of those had already passed...

  She had almost convinced herself that Gabriel wouldn't miss her for a few hours when the phone rang.

  "Hello?"

  "Hi, sweetie!” Kathleen Fallon's voice came through the line.

  "Kathleen! How are you?"

  "Bored out of my mind, dearest. You feel up to that lunch we talked about?"

  "You know, that sounds like just the thing I need. Where should I meet you?"

  "How about Café des Artistes? I haven't been in ages, and I'm dying to be seen by the theatrical elite again."

  Lindy laughed. “Still looking for the easy way to Broadway?"

  Kath chuffed. “They worry too much about silly things like talent. So what if I can't carry a tune in a paper sack? So I'll see you there at one?"

  "I'll be there."

  Lindy smiled as she hung up the phone. Lunch with Kathleen was just the thing to distract her.

  But if they weren't meeting until one, she still had a couple of hours...

  "Stop it!"

  "What's going on?” Gabriel asked from the living room door. He had a file in one hand and a beer in the other, the glazed look on his face that he would get when working out complicated permutations of the law in his head.

  "Nothing.” She blushed that he had caught her talking to herself. To cover, she asked, “Do you mind if I go to lunch with Kathleen today?"

  He looked up from his file with a scowl. “Why would you want to?"

  She sighed. “Because she's my friend, Gabriel. We have a good time together and I enjoy her company."

  "Fine, whatever. Where are you going?"

  "Café des Artistes."

  "Do you know when you'll be back?"

  "No. Probably around three or so."

  "Okay. I thought we'd order out tonight. I've got a bunch more of this to get through, or I'd take you out."

  "No, that's fine. I'll just rent a movie or something."

  "Have fun at lunch,” he said as he drifted back off to his study.

  So he'd be waiting for her to get home. Which meant no sneaking off to the Plaza after lunch.

  Damn it.

  * * * *

  Just five blocks from Lincoln Center, the Hotel des Artistes had been residential living for artists and actors for almost eighty-five years. And the Café housed therein reflected that, drawing an upscale blend of theater, performance and publishing people to its tables. And the food was amazing.

  Lindy and Kath had a small table off to the side where they could see and be seen by anyone who came through. They were all strangers to Lindy, but Kathleen would occasionally interrupt her train of thought to wave to someone she knew. Or wanted to. She collected the phone numbers of no less than three gentlemen while they waited for their orders to be delivered.

  "How do you do that?” Lindy asked as she poked at her lobster salad.

  "Weren't you watching?” Kath popped a forkful of chicken Waldorf salad in her mouth innocently.

  "Well, yes, but I still didn't see it."

  She gestured with her fork. “It's the smile. You put the soft smile with the come hither eyes and they're all over you."

  "But you don't even know if they're married or not!"

  "Which would matter to me if I was looking for a husband."

  "But what about the wives? Don't you care what it does to them?"

  She shrugged. “Not my problem. That's between them. I'm just in it for the sex."

  Lindy pushed her plate away. “I don't know. That just seems really shallow, even for you."

  "Judgmental Lindy. Now this is a side of you I haven't seen before.” She pushed back her plate as well. “Something hitting close to home?"

  "No! No, why would it be?"

  Kathleen shrugged. “I just thought maybe Gabriel was..."

  "It's not Gabriel. I wish you wouldn't always think so badly of him."

  "Okay, so if it's not Gabriel, who is it?"

  Lindy took up her fork and began poking at the remains of her salad. Finally, she said, “I have this friend..."

  Kath took the fork away from her and put it on her own plate. “A friend,” she said in disgust. “Lindy, I'm glad to give you the benefit of my vast experience, but don't treat me like I'm stupid. Are you having an affair?"

  Before she could answer, the wai
tress interrupted them. “All done, ladies? Can I get you dessert? Coffee?"

  Kathleen answered for them. “Yes to all three. I'm going to have the hazelnut torte. How about you, Lindy?"

  Lindy smiled faintly at the woman. “I'll have the crème brules, please."

  "And coffee for both of us,” Kath reminded the girl, handing her Lindy's plate as the waitress took her own. “Thank you.” When the girl was gone, Kathleen turned back on Lindy. “Okay, talk."

  "I just...” She couldn't say the words, so she redirected. “Do you think there's ever a situation where it's okay to cheat on your spouse?"

  Kath picked up her wine glass and took a thoughtful sip. “That's a big question, honey. You know my perceptions on marital fidelity are a little avant garde, but yes, I do think there are some situations where it is okay."

  "Like what?"

  "Well. If one of the partners can't perform. Or doesn't want to perform. Or if the couple doesn't love each other anymore but for some reason they can't end the marriage. I'd even leave a loop hole for one of the partners just being bad in bed, but that's me.” She leaned back as the waitress brought their coffee. When she had gone again, Kath asked sympathetically, “Do you want to talk about it?"

  "I don't know what to say."

  "Well, is he good looking?"

  "Oh god, yes!” Lindy answered in a moment of brutal honesty.

  Kathleen grinned. “Well, that's something, anyway! Dish!"

  So Lindy described Michael, in almost too much detail. As she went on Kath's playful smile became more serious. Finally she asked, “Lindy, do you have feelings for this guy?"

  "What? No! And it wouldn't matter if I did. He's only going to be here for another month and then he's going back to England and who knows what kind of life."

  "Hon, you know how I feel about Gabriel, and I've always said you could do better. But why are you doing this? It's so not like you."

  "I know. I can't explain it, either. And the worst part is I don't feel bad about it. I actually feel guilty about not feeling guilty."

  "That's a different perspective."