by Jana Aston
“Have you seen Gabe yet?” I ask.
“Mr. Laurent? No, he’s not here yet. Did Sawyer need him for something?” she asks, but she brightens when she does and it tells me everything I need to know.
The elevator doors open in the lobby and we walk straight into Chloe, who, thank fuck, has worn what I put out for her before I left the dorm.
“Am I going the wrong way?” She’s adorable when she’s puzzled, her nose scrunched up, her forehead wrinkled. A wisp of hair falls from the arrangement on her head, falling across her eye, and she blows it away with an annoyed puff.
I drag them both back to the apartment and make a show of digging through my makeup bag looking for the lipstick that’s in my pocket while Sandra hovers very awkwardly in the bathroom doorway and Chloe checks out the view.
“I don’t think it’s appropriate that I’m in Mr. Camden’s bedroom,” Sandra remarks, trying to keep her eyes on the floor.
“Relax, we just have normal sex in there,” I tell her, gesturing to the bedroom. “It’s not like we’re making sex tapes or anything.” I stop dead. Oh, holy shit, that’s a good idea though. “Anyway,” I say, drawing out the word, “found my lipstick. I guess we should head back to the party.”
Sandra makes a beeline for the bedroom door while I take two steps then stop in front of the walk-in closet and gasp. “Wait!” She stops and looks up questioningly. Chloe doesn’t even blink, used to my dramatics. I dash into the closet and return, holding up a black sequined miniskirt. “You should try this on.”
Sandra starts to respond with an, “Um,” but I’ve already crammed the skirt into her hands and shoved her towards the bathroom.
“Go on,” I tell her, smile wide and reassuring.
“Uh, okay,” she agrees. Her voice is reluctant but she’s eyeing the material curiously.
She slips back out of the bathroom a minute later, still in her suit jacket but wearing the skirt. I’m surprised to see she was hiding some fuck-me heels under those pants. I can work with this.
“Sandra, your legs! I’d kill to have long legs like yours. You have to wear that skirt. I insist.”
“You think?” she questions, walking back into the bathroom to look at her reflection. “I’m taller than you. This is really short on me.”
“Yeah, I know. You’re welcome.” Gabe’s not gonna be able to take his eyes off her. “Now take off your shirt.”
“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows shoot up in question.
“Just the shirt under your jacket. Then put the jacket back on.”
“Um, you want me to go to the party without a shirt?”
“Just do it,” Chloe says, walking over from the window. “Or we’re never leaving this room. Trust me.”
Sandra twists her lips and does as she’s told, reappearing in her suit jacket and the short sequined skirt. Perfect. The suit jacket is black and tailored, the cut creating a v-neck and exposing some skin, but covering plenty. Her legs look a mile long, bare under the short skirt and ending in those fuck-me heels.
“We should curl your hair,” I announce, walking into the bathroom and plugging in an iron. She doesn’t even fight me on this. Progress.
I sit her at the vanity in Sawyer’s bathroom and go to work putting big loose curls into Sandra’s hair.
“Who is Everly trying to set you up with?” Chloe asks her, while digging through my makeup bag, so she misses the startled expression on Sandra’s face.
“What?” Sandra’s eyes dart over to Chloe.
“She’s setting you up, you know that, right?” Chloe, finding my hand lotion, looks up.
“I’m not setting anyone up.” I shake my head. I’m not. I’m merely creating opportunities.
“She put me on a dating site without telling me.” Chloe squeezes some lotion out of the tube and rubs her hands together. I don’t think she needs the lotion. I think she was just looking for an excuse to rub her hands together in glee over having someone new to share my wrongdoings with. “Sent me on a date I didn’t even know I was on,” she adds.
“One time. That happened one time.” I unplug the curling iron, wrapping the cord around the handle.
“Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“It won’t!” I promise, shaking my head.
She holds my gaze for a second, then nods.
“The thing is,” I say slowly, testing the waters, “he’s not here tonight, but I do think I found the perfect guy for you.”
I’m met with a blank stare. Chloe doesn’t even blink.
“You know how you have a thing for FBI agents?” I ask, getting a little excited. I wasn’t joking about the Criminal Minds marathon. She’s seen every episode at least twice. I take her silence as encouragement. “He’s based here in Philly and he’s hot.”
Silence.
“And he’s, um, tall. He’s tall.” I nod. Oh, God. I’m babbling. Chloe is scary when she’s quiet. “And he’s Irish!” I remember. “You would have the cutest babies.” That was probably too far.
“So what’s his name?” Chloe turns to Sandra, ignoring me completely. “Or do you even know? Sometimes she makes up things in her head that aren’t actually happening. Is there a guy you like?”
“His name is Gabe,” I answer for Sandra as we exit the apartment, choosing to focus on tonight’s goal instead. There’s plenty of time to work on Chloe’s love life. “He’s not her boss, because I’m dating her boss and that would be super awkward, but he’s a vice-president at Clemens Corporation, which makes it a little bit naughty, don’t you think?” I don’t wait for anyone to answer me. “Sandra wants to do dirty, dirty things with him on his desk.”
Sandra blushes and shakes her head before stopping herself. “How could you possibly know that? You’ve seen us together one time.”
“I’m observant.” I shrug.
“Well, it’s irrelevant,” she says, straightening, spine straight as we walk. “It’s not appropriate. And I’m not his type,” she adds in a soft voice.
“We’ll see about that,” I respond. We’ve made it back to the hotel lobby and I spy the man himself waiting for an elevator to the party space on the second floor.
We’ll just see.
Thirty-Six
“Gabe!” I call out cheerfully, waving when we’ve gotten a dozen feet away. He’s about to step onto an elevator, but he stops, turning toward the sound of my voice. He smiles politely as the elevator closes and leaves without him. I’m sure he’s trying to place me because Sandra’s correct. I’ve only seen him once.
His eyes move from me to Chloe and Sandra, and as I’d planned, he does a double-take when he sees Sandra. Tonight might be easier than I’d thought.
Chloe pushes the elevator call button while Sandra covers the formal introductions. If Gabe thinks it’s weird that I was calling his name across the lobby when I’ve not technically been introduced to him, he doesn’t show it, likely because he’s a little distracted with Sandra.
“So you came alone?” I ask as the four of us step onto the next elevator. Sandra and Chloe shoot me simultaneous looks of ire, clearly unimpressed with my segue from introductions to fact-finding.
Gabe glances in my direction, then back at Sandra. “I did.”
I nod to Chloe with a discreet tilt of my head and widen my eyes, as if to say, See, I was right. Chloe tilts her head back and shrugs. She knows I’m right, but it’ll kill her to admit it. I hope Gabe and Sandra have a big wedding so I can bring Chloe as my plus one.
“See you later!” I call out as we all step off the elevator on the second floor, grabbing Chloe’s arm in the process. “I’m going to find Sawyer so I can introduce him to Chloe,” I explain, and then I make a run for it. I imagine it’s much the same way a mother feels when she drops her child at kindergarten for the first time. I stop the moment I find a hiding place so I can peek back and make sure Sandra’s stayed put where I left her, with Gabe.
“He’s totally into her. You see it, right?”
&
nbsp; “Yeah, fine. He’s into her,” Chloe admits, begrudgingly.
“They’re so cute they’re going to need a couple nickname. Sabra! Sabra’s perfect. Coined it!” I do a little raise-the-roof motion with my hands to celebrate my brilliance.
“Sabra is a brand of hummus.”
Oh. Maybe not so brilliant then. I drop my hands and frown.
“He’s hot,” I observe from our vantage point. “The nerd glasses really work on him, don’t you think?” He’s dressed up tonight. The last time I saw him he was in jeans with his shirt sleeves rolled up. “He’s wearing the hell outta that suit.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Chloe agrees, peering around the corner with me.
“What is she doing?” I grumble. “Her flirting skills are atrocious.”
“What did you expect her to do? Drag him into the coat closet?”
“I would love it if she did, but right now I’ll settle for more eye contact. She’s staring into her drink.”
“Yeah, she is. Oh, no, incoming.”
We watch as a tall blonde joins Gabe and Sandra, and we both groan when the intruder puts a hand on Gabe’s arm and Sandra takes a visible half step back.
“You stupid bitch, take your hands off Sandra’s man,” I whisper, even though Chloe is the only one paying attention to me.
“He’s not interested in the new blonde, look at him,” Chloe observes.
“Of course he’s not, but Sandra’s gonna bolt in less than a minute. Just watch.”
A throat clears behind us and we both straighten and turn, finding Sawyer directly behind us. He looks pretty comfortable, hands in pockets, standing inches away. I’m guessing he’s been here a minute. He cocks an eyebrow at me before moving his gaze to Chloe.
“Everly’s roommate, Chloe, I presume?” he asks, reaching out and shaking her hand.
“Sawyer, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” Chloe is positively beaming. “I’m a fan of anyone who can give this one”—she nudges me in the ribs—“a run for her money.”
Sawyer rubs his chin in a play of delight. “Oh, I bet you have stories. We should have lunch sometime.”
“Ha, ha, you two. Ha, ha. You can exchange numbers later. We need to focus right now.”
“Yeah, what have you done to my assistant?” Sawyer frowns, the corners of his eyes creasing as he takes in Sandra’s appearance. “What happened to her pants?”
“She looks hot, right? You can admit it, I won’t be jealous. Damn, her legs in that skirt. I wish my legs were that long.” I say wistfully.
“Are we calling that a skirt? It looks like a headband.”
“Don’t be old, it’s a skirt,” I assure him. “Gabe liked it,” I add.
“He definitely liked it,” Chloe agrees while I nod smugly.
“But now that meddling tramp is horning in on all my hard work,” I say, waving at the unknown blonde who joined Gabe and Sandra. And then Chloe and I groan in unison. Because Sandra has just given up and left Gabe and the new blonde. She’s wandered over by the balcony, looking miserable.
“Go keep her company while I strategize,” I tell Chloe, and now Sawyer is the one groaning.
We circulate, everyone wanting to stop Sawyer for a quick hello. Chloe and Sandra disappear into one of the game rooms set up on the other side of the rotunda separating the party space, and Gabe watches her go. He detaches himself from the unknown blonde, but he doesn’t follow Sandra.
“Getting other people laid is hard,” I complain to Sawyer the second we’re alone. He grabs a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and presses it into my hands.
“Maybe you shouldn’t interfere,” he suggests.
“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s going to work.” I take a sip and tap my fingers against the glass. “Do you have any ideas?” I look up hopefully.
“Hmm.” He tugs at his ear, appearing deep in thought, then he looks at me and deadpans, “No.”
“Well, you should.”
“I should?”
“Yeah, you were plenty creative in bulldozing me.”
“I like to think of it as wooing.”
“Well, it was effective. So where are your ideas now? When I need them?”
“I’m not sure if I’m comfortable being involved in your plans to get my assistant laid.”
“People getting laid are fifteen percent more productive than those who are not.”
He stares at me for a second. “You just made that up.”
I nod. “It sounded pretty good though, didn’t it? I thought it sounded pretty good.”
“Well, you’re getting laid plenty, Boots, so I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
Damn. He really outmaneuvered me on that one.
“Walk with me,” I tell him, sliding an arm behind his back. “Have I told you how handsome you look tonight?”
“You didn’t spell it out, but I might have gotten the hint earlier.”
“Super hot,” I assure him, patting his back with my hand as we walk. Then I toss in a little, “Rawr,” which might have been overdoing it because Sawyer belts out a huge laugh.
“Everly, you’re shameless. And really, really transparent.”
“Is it so wrong to want to help?” I ask. “Sometimes people just need a little push. Or, you know, a really hard shove. Or possibly to be accidentally locked in a closet together.” I glance around the room, wondering if I could pull that off tonight, but quickly decide I don’t know the layout well enough.
It turns out Sawyer knows the layout just fine, because I’m in a supply closet with his hand under my skirt a second later.
“I knew it!” I cry. “Knew it, knew it, knew it.”
He kisses me, likely to shut me up about being right about the party sex, but I got my boast in so I’m not going to complain. Then he backs me up to the wall beside the door and uses both hands to pull the briefs that I’m wearing under my dress to mid-thigh, and then I’m not really thinking about being right anymore.
“If you finger me and don’t follow through with a hard fuck I’m going to kill you,” I warn, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling his lips back to mine.
He palms half my ass with one hand, holding me firm while a finger from his other hand circles my clit twice before sliding quickly inside of me.
I bang the back of my head against the wall and sigh in pleasure.
“You don’t want me to make love to you in this closet, Everly?” He thrusts his finger in hard, in contrast to his words. “You want a hard fuck?” His finger retreats and then he slams two in. I gasp and my knees buckle slightly, but between the wall and his grasp on my ass, I’m not going anywhere.
“Yeah. Fuck me hard, Sawyer,” I manage to cry out. “Please.”
It’s dark, a crack under the door providing the smallest sliver of light, but not enough to make him out by. I feel his mouth on my neck without seeing him move, the darkness and the party just outside the door adding an erotic element I’m not used to.
“I love how wet you get.” His mouth is at my ear now, his lips barely touching me, his breath caressing with each word. “You’re ready to fuck in under two minutes,” he murmurs, and I get even wetter than I was a moment before. I run my hands down his arms, gripping his biceps through his shirt, as I clench below around his fingers.
He groans and pumps me again, his movements rough. I like it, and I move my hips to push back against his hand. I’m warm everywhere, standing in this closet in a sleeveless dress. My body is flushed with heat, my nipples are tight. I’m hyperaware of every inch of my body and every inch that he’s touching. I rotate my hips again, grinding myself against his hand, my chest heaving and my pussy aching for more.
“I’m going to fuck you in this closet, Boots. With six hundred people just outside the door. You like that?”
I nod, before realizing he can’t see me. “Yes. I think I do,” I whisper in return. “Is that okay? That I want you to fuck me like this?”
“It’s more than okay,” he grunts.
“It’s not too dirty?”
He laughs. “No.”
“Then I want it.” I trail my hands down his forearms then move them to his waist, tracing my fingers along the belt until I make out the buckle and slip it open, the ends hanging as I quickly undo the button underneath and then slide his zipper down. “I want your cock inside of me. Right here, right now.”
I reach into his pants and pull him out, wrapping my palm around the length of him in the process. I jerk my arm, masturbating his erection with my hand. He slides his fingers out of me and wraps his hand over mine, tightening my hold and increasing the pace. I can feel myself on his hand, wet against my skin. It feels filthy to be jacking him off like we’re teenagers in a closet after a round of spin-the-bottle with friends in the other room, rather than a corporate party that he’s hosting just beyond the door. But it feels powerful too, knowing he’s in here with me, my hand wrapped around his dick, my arousal coating his fingers.
I slide my wrist out from under his and cup his balls with my hand. He continues jerking himself off, his breathing rapid and a groan emitting from his mouth when I drag my fingers over his sac in a clawing motion.
“Turn around,” he orders me. “Hands on the wall.”
I pivot around, my legs still trapped mid-thigh by the underwear, and rest my palms against the wall. My heart races in the darkness, my thighs damp, my ears straining to make up for the lack of sight. I hear the crinkle of a wrapper and the brush of fabric as he wraps himself. Then the skirt portion of my dress is flipped over my back and his hands are firm on my hips, his fingers squeezing solidly into my skin. He drags me backward a foot until I’m bent over, hands on the wall and ass up.
His feet are bracketing mine, the fabric of his slacks smooth against my bare legs. He has to bend to line up. I can feel the friction of the fabric against my legs before I feel him at my entrance. He nudges inside of me, and I moan softly. I love the feeling of him being inside of me, even an inch. He slides both hands forward, his palms warm against my stomach, fingers interwoven, and then he lifts me to the tips of my toes and thrusts deep at the same time.