Hard Cover

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  “Coming,” I groaned, throwing my head back, riding the sensation. Fuck, that felt so good. It took the edge off, but I wanted more. I probably shouldn't go for more. This had disaster written all over it. But then again, I was good in train wreck situations.

  “Wow,” he said as I drooped a bit.

  “Thanks.” I reached over and handed him his champagne.

  I could see his cock was stretched against his shorts and felt the heat rising from him. Taking my own glass, I hopped off him, but remained close.

  “That was fucking amazing,” he said, running his hand up my thigh.

  “I usually scare the fuck out of guys,” I admitted.

  “Pussies.”

  I laughed, surprised. I was also surprised he wasn’t all over me or demanding that it was his turn to get off. Rory seemed content to stroke my leg, look deep into my eyes, and drink champagne. I could get used to this.

  “Think anyone saw us?” he asked.

  “At this hour?” I drained my glass and wiggled it.

  “Why are you open so late on a weekday then?” He poured me a refill.

  “You’d be surprised at the after-dinner crowd I get. There’s not much to do here after five. I was considering having a poetry slam or an open mike night on Thursdays, staying open to eleven.”

  Rory frowned. “That wouldn’t have flown.”

  I tapped my forehead. “I’m not dumb. I checked my lease and the blue laws. As long as I don’t serve alcohol, I’m fine.”

  “The crowd after dark is dangerous.” He topped off his glass.

  I laughed at him. “No it’s not. We’re not a busy city. This isn’t Hartford or Bridgeport. The crime rate is almost nonexistent.”

  “Because all the stores close at five.”

  “You’re living in the past.” I rolled my eyes at him and took a deep drink. Champagne was so good. Why didn't I drink it more often? Probably because I couldn't afford it. Pleasure still hummed through my body. Rory traced circles on my arm with his fingertips and I was content to wait and see when his demands would start. I would enjoy his attentions until then.

  “Well, the store that I have planned to replace yours will be locked up tight by sunset. And this window”—he stretched up to tap on the front window—“will be gated.”

  “In Haven? What do you plan to put in here, a bank vault?”

  He put down his champagne glass and pulled out his phone. He scrolled for a bit and handed it to me.

  “Toujours,” he said.

  “Sláinte.” I raised my glass and took another sip. “What am I looking at, aside from really ugly clothes?”

  “Ugly? That’s a three-time Coty-award-winning designer.”

  “Let me guess.” I tossed him back his phone. “That plain beige blouse that I can see through is three hundred dollars.”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “Seven.”

  I shook my head. “You’re a whore.”

  His head reared back like I slapped him. Yeah, three glasses of champagne on an empty stomach and a mind-clearing orgasm loosened all of my filters.

  “You’re buying me out for a quarter of a million. I’ll bet my last cabala amulet you’re leasing the store to Toujours for at least double that. And then you’re going to make people pay seven hundred dollars for a blouse that will show their nipples?”

  His eyes dropped down to my chest and then quickly flashed back up to my eyes. “That’s business, baby.”

  “So’s pimpin’.” I drained my glass and stood up. It was going to be easier than I thought to tell him to cram his quarter million dollars up his ass.

  “Who are you to call me a whore?”

  Oh he did not just go there. Did he?

  I whirled to face him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Go on.”

  “What?”

  “Tell me it’s my purple hair or my tongue ring that make me a whore?”

  “I didn’t call you a whore.” He shook his head like he was trying to expel cobwebs.

  “Or maybe it’s because I like sex. I like it a lot. I like it dirty and rough. I like to use toys and gadgets. I like to fuck often. And I don’t care who knows it. Does that make me a whore?” I spread my arms wide.

  He swallowed hard. “No, I think it makes you the most perfect goddamn woman around here.”

  “Because I’m sure you know that a man who admits the same thing is just one of the guys. Or maybe it’s because I sell stuff to women to make them feel good about themselves. Empower them in the bedroom. Why is that so awful? Why is that so fucking threatening?”

  “It’s not. It’s actually a turn-on.”

  I wasn’t ready to hear him yet. I wasn’t even remotely done. I paced around in front of him. “Who am I to call you a whore? Who the fuck are you? Do you even know? Or is it easier to be what everyone has always expected you to be. A rich boy who can’t see that a whole store of shirts that cost as much as a month’s rent is the height of privilege and elitism.”

  Rory snorted. “Where do you live that seven hundred dollars would be a month’s rent?”

  I ignored him. “Every damn day since I was in high school I had to hear that if I only stopped dying my hair and took that shit out of my face I could have a normal life. Fuck normal. I don’t want normal. I am me. And that means you and this shitty town have to accept me as I am. Because I’m not changing.”

  “Are you talking to me or your father right now?”

  Oh, he didn’t know when to shut up, did he?

  While I was trying to keep my head from exploding, he finished off his champagne.“Dawn, there’s nothing wrong with making money. If people won’t spend seven hundred dollars on a shirt, I’ll replace the store with something they will spend their money on. But if you think that selling twenty-dollar stroke books and incense is going to ever make you a decent profit, you’re deluded.” He leaned forward. “Look, I admire you. I like your fire and your enthusiasm. This doesn’t have to end in a fight.”

  “It kinda feels like it does,” I said. Taking a deep breath to tell him I wasn’t going anywhere, my eyes lit on the green light on the store’s camera. Great. This should be fantastic to watch later.

  "You will sell to me because it's the right thing to do for your business. Once you see past all the baggage you've been carrying around since high school, you'll make a sound financial decision. Don't let your pride fuck you over. You don't have to prove shit to anyone. You can laugh at them all the way to the bank and set up shop in a town that puts you in the black every day instead of every summer."

  Suddenly my throat closed up. Rory wouldn’t give up. Not if this deal was going to make him a shit ton of cash. I’d have to up my game. He wouldn’t be sending wharf rats to pretend to buy drugs. He’d set an investigator on me. And it wouldn’t be long before they realized that I was living here and they’d have a reason to evict me. I had to get out and get my own apartment. But it was the beginning of the summer season and things were a little tight. I needed to buy myself some time.

  “I’m not your enemy, Dawn. I’m certainly not my father or yours. I’m just a businessman. Why don’t I go get another bottle of champagne?”

  With a final glance at the camera, I sank to my knees in front of him. Rory snapped back against the couch. A warm coil of desire curled up in my stomach. This was going to be fun. I rested my elbow on his thigh and eased my cheek on my palm and looked up at him. “I don’t think we need another bottle of champagne, do we?” I teased a circle on his inner thigh.

  "I'm going to get whiplash from your mood swings," he said.

  "You can always leave." I buttoned his shorts and pulled down the zipper.

  “What are you doing?” he asked. His voice was rough and growly. It sent tingles down my spine, and I shivered. If he thought I was a whore, I was going to act like one. The joke was on him, though. I liked sex. I liked putting him in this position. And as a bonus—it was going to be filmed.

  “I don't want to talk business anymore. How
does a blow job sound?”

  All the air left his lungs in a rush and I almost laughed at his expression.

  “You want to. You know it.”

  “Of course I do. Last time I checked, I had a pulse. What the hell brought this on? I thought we were arguing.”

  “Emailing, arguing, it’s all foreplay and I’m tired of talking. Aren’t you?” I eased his shorts down past his hips. He let me. His cock was still hard. I tapped the tip of it with my tongue ring.

  “Aren’t you worried someone will walk by?” he said through his teeth.

  “They can’t see us because of the front window display.”

  “Done this before?” he gritted out when I licked around the head.

  “It’s not my first rodeo. What about you? First time with a girl on her knees?”

  I sucked him deep into my throat and then dragged the bar of my tongue ring up to the top.

  “First time it was so easy,” he panted.

  “Now I’m easy?” I was amused.

  “No. Jesus.” He closed his eyes. “You make me crazy. I’m saying everything all wrong.”

  “Yeah, talking isn’t your strong suit. Shut up and let me suck your cock.”

  I deep throated him again. Rory groaned and reached for me. I swatted his hands away.

  “One other thing,” I said, tapping my tongue ring all over the sides of his cock.

  “Anything. Anything,” he muttered.

  “You don’t get to hold my head and fuck my face. Not until you get to know me better. And we both know that’s not going to happen. So you can keep your hands on the couch or on my tits, if you prefer.”

  I tossed off the T-shirt I was wearing and unclipped my bra.

  “I’m dreaming. That’s the only reason for this. Shit, that’s good champagne,” he panted.

  Leaning in, I let him play with my nipples until my clit started to throb. “That’s just right,” I said, my breath catching on a moan. It was almost too good.

  “Why aren’t they pierced too?” Rory was breathing through his teeth, rolling my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

  I bit my lip to hold back the whimper. “They’re very sensitive. So’s my clit. Sometimes I’ll wear a chain that connects all three. I like to be on top so when you pull on the chain, I go crazy on your cock until I come.”

  “Fuck,” he spat out.

  Pushing him back to the couch, I resumed sucking him, bobbing my head fast. He tasted good and was so thick I was having a hard time getting a good seal on him. Just when I thought he was close, I pulled away and took him in my hand. I stroked him slow until the glazed look left his eyes. The promise in them almost screwed up my rhythm. My body responded by swaying closer. Just a blow job. Just one for the camera as insurance in case things got ugly. This was nothing more than that. Except I didn't want it to end.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Rory panted.

  I had to hand it to him. He was making this fun. I was almost as ready to come as he was. It didn’t take much longer. A few more strokes, some more tapping with the bar in my tongue and me humming in pleasure as I licked my way up and down him. His whole body tensed and he tried to contain his roar of pleasure, but it came out in savage grunts that I felt in my clit.

  Leaning back on my heels, I gave him a satisfied smirk. I was expecting shock or a sleepy satiated smile. The sheer determination in his eyes shook me as he lifted me up and carried me across the shop.

  At first I thought he was going to sit me on the counter. But he switched directions and plunked me down on the armchair. I didn’t even get a word out before he tugged open my thighs and ripped off my panties.

  Ripped them off.

  Holy shit!

  My eyes locked on the camera. This was not part of the plan. Then he dove headfirst into my pussy. His tongue lapped at me and I was already so close.

  “Fuck,” I shouted, writhing. I wasn't sure if I was trying to get away from his eager mouth or get closer.

  He moaned back and the vibrations curled my toes. Closer. Definitely closer. I arched my entire body for more of his talented mouth.

  Smiling for the camera, I lifted my hips. Artfully, this time. The thought that we were making a movie was very arousing. I acted out, grabbing his head with both hands and grinding my pussy against his face. Taking the very thing I had denied him, I fucked his face, all the while my eyes locked on the camera.

  “You like this? You like this?” I didn’t recognize my voice, high with excitement.

  I was trembling all over. His mouth sucked on my clit and that was it. My whole body went limp. My hips bucked and my hands pulled at my nipples. I was coming so hard it felt like each suck of his mouth was draining me dry.

  “Fuck me,” I whispered, looking at the camera. “I need you. Fuck me.” My voice grew louder as he continued his assault on my pussy.

  He went back to licking me, which wasn’t enough until he thrust two fingers inside of me.

  “More,” I begged, tugging on my breasts. I couldn’t get enough of the roaring pleasure soaking through my skin.

  He obliged with another finger and I closed my eyes in bliss. Clamping down on his fingers, I let him fuck me with them until I was spent and whimpering, another orgasm claiming me for the camera.

  “Tell me you have condoms in this fucking place,” he growled.

  “What color?”

  He hauled me up and I guided him behind the counter. Handing him a glow-in-the-dark one, I looked over my shoulder at him. “Hard and fast,” I said.

  Bending me over the counter, he kicked my legs wide apart. “You’re under the impression that you’re calling the shots.”

  I winked at the camera, even though it was hard to do at this angle.

  I cried out when he plunged inside me.

  “Yes,” he gritted out between his teeth.

  He took me hard and fast, and it was amazing. “Fuck me,” I screamed for the camera, for me, and for him. Rory was relentless, holding my hips to him as he pumped his cock in and out of my willing body. I was losing control over the English language. My hands gripped the counter and my hips tried to match his rhythm. In the end, he had me pinned and I was helpless against the orgasm that came over me.

  I almost fainted when even that didn’t slow him down.

  “Rory, Rory,” I called out until I was hoarse.

  “Yes,” he roared, slamming his body into mine in five hard smacks before holding me close while he came.

  “Fuck,” I said in shock, looking at the camera. I was going to make a copy of this one for myself too.

  Rory kissed down my back and bit my ass. He slapped it when I squawked about it and I almost jumped him. Tossing the condom into the trash, he straightened my clothes.

  “Now, how about dinner?”

  Chapter 4

  Rory

  The morning sun half blinded me and I rolled over with a groan. I had forgotten to close the curtain again. I groped on the other side of the bed, but it was cold and empty. Damn, I should have been more insistent last night. I would have loved to have slow morning sex with Dawn Nolan.

  I let my mind wander to last night and escaped in the memory of the fantastic orgasms in Tantric Books. That situation had sure escalated fast and then ended just as quickly. Dawn had passed on dinner, and after a few more satisfying kisses, she walked me to my car and said good night. I tried to get her to drive out here with me, but she said she had a ton of stuff to do.

  Shit.

  I had been in such a happy fuck fog I never got her to sign the contract. Squinting over at my jacket, I saw the envelope peeking out. And I didn't give her the check. I smiled at the excuse to see her again. I was looking forward to the exchange later. This time we’d have dinner and a more romantic evening before fucking our brains out. And she was coming back to my yacht and staying the night. Because if little Miss Tongue Ring thought we were one and done, she had another thing coming.

  My phone buzzed, and for a moment I hoped
that she had texted me or sent me another one of her ridiculous emails. Nope, it was my mother. Well, if that wasn’t a willy shrinker, her text reminding me to see my sister this morning did the trick.

  Throwing off the covers, I took a quick shower and got dressed. I did not want to do this, but it had been five years since Cammy OD’d, and my mother said she was starting to talk. I owed it to my sister to go, even if she didn’t know who I was or why I was there.

  The drive wasn’t very relaxing either, with the morning traffic and the slight drizzle making everything damp and chilly. I was so ready for summer I was about to go back to Miami. But if I did, I’d be leaving the project behind. The landlords didn’t have the gumption to get stuff done. That’s why they hired me. I handled the tenants, hired the contractors, brought in the new stores, and pocketed a hefty percentage for my trouble.

  And if it made my family’s reputation shine in the political arena, even better. Well, better for my father. I’d rather be drinking mojitos on South Beach looking at bikinis. Or fucking a wild bad girl in one of the stores I was scheduled to renovate. I wondered how Dawn's moving was coming along.

  I dialed the bookstore because I was checking up on things—not because I wanted to hear her voice.

  “Tantric Books.”

  I shifted in my seat. Her sexy purr made my dick hard. “How’s it going?”

  “Good. Who is this?”

  Rolling my eyes, I smirked. She was good for my ego. Kept it in check. “It’s Rory.”

  “Hey.”

  “Hey. I wanted to know what you’re doing for lunch.”

  “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

  “Good, I’m taking you out to my yacht.”

  “It’s a shitty day for a boat ride.”

  “So we’ll spend it belowdecks.”

  “I see.”

  There was a long pause and I pictured her biting her lip and considering it.

  “You don’t sound excited to see me.”

  “Should I be?” Dawn said, her voice challenging.

  “I’m very excited to see you. I can hardly wait.”

  “I bet.” She gave a breathless laugh.

  “I really had a good time last night.”