by Susan Arden
“No need. Mario’s here.”
“Twisted arm and all,” I said at the thought of him watching over us one last time.
“Naw. He’s meeting a new friend who doesn’t touch alcohol. Some beefcake who’s into his body, the gym, and sex. Mario’s agreed to act as the escort, dancer, and alternate driver tonight since you have a rental. You have full coverage on it, right?”
“Um, I couldn’t afford the expense,” I waffled, already uncomfortable with this impromptu escape mission for the evening, and unwilling to go hog-wild as if the car were an actual rental that we could disregard.
“Yeah, the last time I rented a car, the insurance cost more than the rental fee. Well that sucks.” Carmen nodded, her forehead scrunched. “Then only one for you. But, if you do get hammered, we can always say he had to drive. Medical emergency. I can talk us out of anything, and, since Val is here, she can flash her badge. I think it’s safe to say you’re covered.” Carmen thrust out her chest and assets.
“Guapa,” Mario called out, a smile splitting his handsome face. Besides maintaining a perfect grade point average in law school, he kept his bodybuilder physique drool worthy. The man didn’t touch refined sugar, coffee, or women. Men like Mario were in short supply: the perfect fourth wheel whenever we went out. So far, he remained in the closet while in Miami for the sake of his parents; but once over the beach causeway, he stopped the pretense of being a serious, straight law student. I’d seen him with his tongue down enough men’s throats to know he batted for the other team. The chance of him settling down and following in his parents’ footsteps at a law firm and buying into a strict Catholic marriage with a “good” girl were infinitesimal no matter how tightly locked he kept his closet door. Eventually, that mother would blow.
“Hey, Mario,” I called over the techno cramped airwaves.
“I hear you’re headed up north. Big Apple. I envy you for sure.” He pulled me into a hug. His body was a compact brute force, and his arms squeezed me tight.
“Damn, Mario! You’re even more cut. What’s your regimen?” I patted his bicep that was roughly the size of one of the bedposts on Graham’s bed. I inhaled unsteadily, remembering how I’d been laid across Graham’s bed and the erotic things he’d done that had blown my mind.
“It takes work, and I’ve got the motivation,” Mario asserted, showing me his cell and a photo of guy equally hot and built as himself.
“More like bragging rights.” I snorted, returning his fist bump.
“Here’s some liquid motivation. C’mon, Eliza, bottoms up,” Val said, coming over with a shot glass. “Give it a go.”
“Will I like it?” I asked. “It’s crystal clear. Where’re the Rainbow Brite colors?”
“It’s vodka. The best. I have a new after-hours client. There’s a popular bar in South Dade in need of security, and I don’t complain when my paycheck comes with a bottle. This is from the owner’s special stash.”
“And how did you acquire a top-shelf bottle?”
Val giggled, already tipsy. “I don’t kiss and tell or get my handcuffs out voluntarily, at least not until I’ve had well past four or five shots.” She held up her glass. “Anyway, down the hatch. Ladies. Mario.”
Carmen joined us and then gave me her once over look. “Since this is a going away party, I brought you something. Here, hun. You have to promise to wear it tonight.” She tossed her shot across her perfectly painted red lips and set the glass down. I watched her pick up a lilac-colored shopping bag from her clothing store, Carmen’s Hawt Couture.
“I don’t know if I can accept this,” I said, aware that anything from her shop was priced out of my financial zone.
“You will and don’t fret. It’s a sample, so no need to worry that I’m going into the red.”
Lifting the swanky material, I had to question whether it was a pullover or a dress. “It’s clingy. Should I ask if it’s a shirt?” I met her gaze.
She wagged her finger at me. “You’ll look amazing in this little number. Chic. I wish I could pull it off. It’s the perfect dress for your figure. Hold it up to you and let me see.”
I held up what had to be the shortest black beaded lace dress on record. The weight of the material was heavy considering it was a slip of a thing. “Where’s the back?” I asked, laughing nervously. “After tonight, I’d better leave Miami or else.”
“Oh don’t even go there. This is what’s trending, and considering that you’re going to Manhattan, you’ll need a party dress to get things rolling. Promise you won’t forget your friends stuck down here in the Sunshine State.”
“Never ever. You’ll come up. That is, if I go.”
“What?” she asked. “You’re not seriously reconsidering.”
“Maybe.” The alcohol went straight to my head and I shuddered. “I’m worried it’s the wrong time to leave. Laura’s due next month. She’s put so much aside for me, and then I leave when she needs me most.”
Carmen marched over to me and shook my shoulders. “Stop right now. Don’t you dare try to put aside this opportunity. It’s your life that got fucked up. Laura’s got the perfect husband, an amazing job, and a covey of friends who love her. This is your chance to do something. I can’t believe you’d give it up to stay home and play aunt. No. In six months, your niece or nephew isn’t going off to college. The baby will still be…guess what? A baby. Don’t do this to yourself.”
Confused, I shook my head. On one side of my mental fence sat my sister with Graham on the other side. Both were important. Both shared a special spot. One for a lifetime, one for months.
“How about another drink?” I asked, unable to find the answer. For the moment, I didn’t really want to start soul searching again.
* * *
Solarium was the hottest dance club at the moment on the beach. Tonight it was packed and the music was beyond riveting. Bodies were jammed onto the dance floor with a line outside running down the block. Carmen’s influence had us ushered to a tiny table and seated in a blink. Inside the DJ box, a tattooed guy, wearing wraparound sunglasses spun without stopping, hiking up the atmosphere with pulse pounding mixes.
“Let’s go,” Carmen yelled above the music. As we rose, I met the blue eyes of Dillon and stumbled. He reached out, capturing me by my elbow. I grasped onto his bicep, sinewy but not the steel gauge of Graham, and rapidly let go.
“Eliza,” he said, leaning closer. “Are you all right?”
My dress slipped up my legs and I swore, embarrassed to be showing him some thigh. He must have had a few beers or something, since his eyes roved all over my body like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. We’d kissed once and he taught at the yoga studio which compounded the problem. He wanted more and I didn’t have it to give. Not to him and not now, after spending the day with Graham.
“Hey, Dillon,” I said cautiously. “I’m here with friends. You?”
“Same. I’m here with a friend.” He cocked his head. That’s when I noticed a girl standing off to the side. An attractive, athletic blond chick—just the type I envisioned him with—and she looked me up and down. There was no problem as far as I was concerned, and I kinda smiled back.
“Cool,” I replied. “We’re going to dance.”
He stared at me, his eyes burning and unblinking in the colored lights. “Just wanted to say ‘Hi.’ Look, Jess is a friend. Just a friend. Eliza…”
There was a second he looked like he wanted to say something way too important, but just shook his head. I had to cut the cord, especially if I was going to New York. Dammit. Why didn’t I do it already? I couldn’t. Not here in the middle of a club. I chickened out.
“Take it easy,” I said as Carmen bumped into me, and Dillon’s eyes shifted to her.
“Hi,” she said, already well acquainted with him from the studio and aware of our mini-history together. “You here too?” Carmen asked.
I prayed Carmen wouldn’t mention that this was a going away get-together. I didn’t need to get i
nto it with Dillon right now.
“Naw. Heading out. We’re going over to the pointe. Why don’t you come?” Dillon asked, still not introducing his friend directly to us.
Carmen and I exchanged looks and then I said, “We’re not really dressed for it. But you and Jess have fun.”
His eyes widened and he nodded, backing away. “Catch you back at the studio.”
Carmen and I waved and watched for a second as he walked away. “Man, he’s got it bad for you,” Carmen said and pulled me toward the dance floor. “You ever gonna tell him before you cut out for New York?”
I nodded, refusing to enter into a screaming match with the cranked music coming from the speakers that boomed all around us. Once on the dance floor, I gave into the beat, the flashing lights, and the pulse of grooving bodies surrounding me and refused to feel anything except swept away. We danced song after song until my feet ached and my toes blistered.
“I need a break,” I mouthed to Carmen.
She was in the arms of some blond Viking and winked, giving me a thumbs up. Solo, I bailed for our table. After weaving around the dancers, I arrived back at the table with sweat dripping down my neck and between my breasts. Another round had been placed on the table, but I was seeing double from dancing and drinking already. My ears popped, and I longed for a breath of air that didn’t reek of cologne, alcohol, and pick-up lines. Val and Carmen waved to me, still out on the dance floor with Mario, birds of feather within the South Beach glitter crowd.
I felt like I belonged inside a quiet studio or a wine-colored bedroom. If this was practice for New York, I’d need more than a tiny black dress to feel comfortable in a jam-packed scenario.
“Miss Hillwood, care to explain what the hell you’re doing here?” The sound of Graham’s seductively deep voice swept over me from behind and exploded in my head.
I turned so fast I got whiplash. Our gazes connected, and the grimace he wore melted me, sending a jolt of something like apprehension or anticipation deep in my belly. I gaped up at him with my damp hair partially obstructing my view as he stood over me, appearing powerful and all too much a predator. And like prey, I sat there hypnotized by his closeness and captivated by the thought of what he’d do next.
He brushed back some of my bangs. “From your flushed cheeks, I can see you’ve been here awhile.” He glanced around the club as he lightly traced my bottom lip. The feel of fingers on my skin made me hungry for more. “I take it your friends are still out on the dance floor.”
“How do you know who I came with?” I asked, unwilling to get up and throw myself at him.
Dressed in dark jeans and a black button-down shirt that stretched over his muscular chest and broad shoulders, he was sin, sex, and a click away from losing it. And I drank in the sight of him. Graham’s clothing left nothing to the imagination for someone who’d been pinned under him. That person being me.
“I thought I made myself clear when I expressly told you to go home and call me.” He ran his knuckles along my jaw. “Didn’t I?” The slight kicked-up curl to his smile gave me the distinct impression the soreness between my legs would be nothing compared to what he had in store.
I wet my lips, his focus trained on my tongue, and I swallowed. Seeing the heat in his eyes build, I struggled to breathe. The pounding music on the dance floor echoed in my heartbeat, thudding way too loud in my chest. I knew he wasn’t here to share a drink. He fully intended on delivering something we’d both remember. His eyes glinted brighter, and he gave me a look that promised he’d consume me without mercy.
“I forgot. Things got a little weird,” I offered, plastering innocence over my face.
“Eliza,” he growled my name in a low rasp filled with hunger and frustration.
I twisted my fingers in my lap. “Look, this is my last night out with friends. Besides, I don’t see you sitting at home knitting a scarf. Why should I when that’s what I’ll be doing for the next six months, if you have your over-the-top way?” That had to be the alcohol talking—this played into what we both wanted, and I never made things this easy. For anyone.
“Do you remember the last time we had to take a short walk?” His arched brow sent a dart of excitement racing up my spine.
“Oh, me and a few places in my body remember more than well.”
He leaned in and whispered up against my cheek, “That tone, Ms. Hillwood. You’re not safe away from me or around me. At least I can give us both relief. Considering we’re in public, for fuck’s sake, you’d better come with me. Now.”
Graham gave me the definite impression the unsaid portion was “or I’ll lift you out of that chair and drag you outside.” Standing up, I wobbled, and he swore under his breath as he reached out and caught me. I quivered as his fingers grazed over my body, bracketing snugly around my waist.
“I’m so hot,” I panted at how unbearably warm I felt all of a sudden.
“Can you walk? Jesus, how much have you had to drink?” He pulled me tighter to him, so close our lips were inches apart.
“No more than usual,” I shot back. His dark eyes locked with mine, and I sizzled from the inside out, following up with, “Not that much.”
“Let’s go upstairs. I know the owner, so we can use his office.” He kept his hands firmly planted on my body, guiding me up and against him.
I pulled back. “What do you intend to do?”
“Beautiful, I think you know exactly what I’m going to do. I made my intentions as clear as day the last time you disobeyed me.”
Between my legs pulsed in erotic need from his hand gripping possessively around my hip. He pressed into me, his erection rubbing across my backside. I don’t know why it was so hard for me to remember Graham got off by dominating me. And now, so did I.
We mounted the stairs, moving past the velvet rope as the two dudes working security nodded at Graham. A man seated near the entrance rose and clapped Graham on the back after we were admitted into the VIP lounge area. Another man wearing a dark suit complete with an austere expression approached us, holding out his hand.
Graham smiled and clasped the man’s palm. “Petrov, may I borrow your office? I have immediate business that requires my attention.”
“But of course. What I have is yours,” Petrov replied with a wide smile.
“Thanks. It’ll just a take a few minutes,” Graham returned. I tried to inch forward, off of his body, but his fingers snapped over my hip and seared my awareness.
Petrov nodded. “I’ll send a bottle of champagne to the office. Take all the time you need.”
The man’s glance veered to me. I stared back, unwilling to be the first to blink or shift my gaze. He bowed his head slightly, then returned his gaze to Graham before moving off.
I went to walk, but Graham’s fingers dug into the flesh of my hip, causing a slight drill of pain not altogether disturbing. “Going somewhere?” he whispered near my ear.
“That depends on you. Doesn’t it?” I replied, my voice equally low.
He appeared to contemplate his reply. His thumb began to caress me, stroking up my waist and then down to a point above my rear end. Slow swipes. Firm sweeps. “This is mutual, baby. If you’re game for what I propose, follow me. But you will submit to me behind closed doors. Understand?”
Hearing the dark tone strain his voice while his hands kept me locked to him—no way was I going to back down. “I think so,” I said.
He inclined his head toward the back of the VIP area. I walked alongside him, crossing near to tables where several well-known celebrities were seated, and glided further, down a dim passage. We stopped in front of a door near the end of the corridor that he opened without knocking and then stood aside, waiting for me to enter. Inside was an office with a desk and sitting area done in chrome and black leather. Not much to see, but still the hair along my neck shot up, with greater force when the door closed.
“Stay there,” he commanded me as he unzipped his pants, freeing his cock. “Kneel in front of me. Not
a word.”
The sight of his impressive hard-on in his palm stopped all my arguments in their tracks. Sex in an office. I wanted to feel him against the back of my throat but wondered about Petrov’s promise to deliver champagne. Silently, I knelt before Graham, my knees on the cold hardwood and my eyes darted to the doorknob.
“Err,” I stuttered, wanting to point out the unlocked door.
“Eliza.” Graham cupped my chin and tipped my face up to him. “Eyes. On. Me. Or this will get a lot harder real fast. Do you understand?”
Unblinking, I met his blistering stare, and I nodded slowly with his hand still holding onto to my face. “Need to hear you say the words,” he directed.
“Yes. Eyes on you.”
His fingers flicked across my cheeks as his thumb traced my lips. He pushed his finger into my mouth. “Suck my finger, baby.” He stroked his finger slowly back and forth across my tongue, pushing it to the back of my throat. “Good girl. You’re going to suck my dick just like that.”
Removing his finger from my mouth, Graham gripped his hard-on in his hand, and tapped his crown on my lips. I inhaled the musk and coriander fragrance of his skin. His plum-colored crown glistened with clear droplets spilling from of the cleft. I licked my lips, hungry to taste him.
“Open your mouth and take me all the way. Just like my finger.” He pushed into my mouth without hesitation, no preamble except to fist my hair.
This act had nothing to do with me enjoying him. His cock hit the back of my throat once and then again. He pistoned his hips, forcing his length farther and farther into my mouth as his hold on my hair tightened. “Relax, Eliza. For a few minutes, I’m going to own that beautiful mouth of yours. You worried me. Disobeyed me. Mouthed off at me. This is for my pleasure only.”
Graham fucked my mouth, pivoting his hips faster and pushing his crown deeper. He held me by palming the side of my face while his other hand in my hair controlled my movements. Tears streamed down my cheeks, and he was unrelenting. He paused, grinding himself fully into my mouth and plunging down my throat. My lips were pressed around the base of his cock, my throat raw from him ramming himself into my mouth. He groaned, holding the back of my head secure, and he delivered just as he promised. I could feel the muscles along his legs tense. His thumbs stroked over my jaw while my nipples hardened and I reached out, running my hands along his quads. I was melting between my legs, down on my knees in front of him.