Happy Hour

by Piper Rayne

  “You’re sweeter tasting than this fruit.”

  Heat warms my core with his words. He lets me nibble on the piece of cold watermelon and brings my wine glass to my lips.

  “That’s what I’m going to do to you when I get you home. I’m going to put you on my counter, slide your panties down your legs and bury my head under your skirt until my scalp is sore from you tugging on my hair.” The wine disappears and the cold watermelon is back at my lips. “Still want to go to your house?”

  I open my mouth, snatching the watermelon with my teeth, sliding it off his fingers. The juicy sweetness explodes inside my mouth and I swallow it down, staring at Roarke the entire time.

  “That sounds okay, but what else do you have planned?”

  It takes a moment for him to realize I’m joking, but when he does, his fingers attack my ribs and I fall back on the blanket in a fit of laughter. I’m in the moment and it isn’t until his hard erection thrusts between my open legs that I realize we’re in public.

  “Roarke!” I smack his shoulders, but he moans, his lips falling down from my collarbone to in between my breasts.

  My eyes blink open and no one is staring above me with disapproving grins, but when I turn to find Lucy, all five kids’ eyes are poised directly at me.

  “Roarke!” I hit him again and he looks up.

  “I’m just getting started.”

  Then he sees what I’m talking about and he sits up, positioning my skirt over my now wet panties.

  “Maybe we’re not ready to go out in public yet?” I ask, cringing.

  Thank goodness the parents are too consumed in their own conversation, and I really hope we didn’t ruin the innocence of childhood.

  Roarke starts re-packing the basket and Lucy saunters over, plopping down on the blanket. Three of the five kids follow her.

  “Can I be next?” one little boy with spiky blond hair and bright green eyes asks, sitting on his knees, his hand still on Lucy.

  “Pardon?” I ask.

  “He won so it’s my turn.” He jumps on me, his small hands trying to push me down.

  “Hey!” For some reason, I freeze as this kid starts slapping and using any force he can to get me down to the blanket.

  Finally, I get what he’s trying to do and I lay flat on my back. He holds my hands on the ground and his friend starts slapping the grass.

  “1…2…3… You’re done.” The kid playing referee hops to his feet and points to me.

  The blond kid jumps up, stepping on my leg. He and his friend slap high fives and start celebrating.

  “Boys!” Roarke grabs my arm and swiftly helps me up to my feet when he finally clues in to what’s happening. “What are you doing? You need to apologize.”

  They stop all movement. The little girl who ventured over with them is still petting Lucy and staring up at the scene unfolding in front of her. She doesn’t seem at all alarmed at the fact that the boys are in trouble. Must be a regular occurrence.

  “We’re playing WWE,” one boy says.

  I rub my arm where the kid pinned me, seriously what is he like five?

  Roarke bends over at the waist, laughing. I’m still confused.

  He gets a hold of himself enough to fill me in. “They thought you and I were wrestling. That I pinned you.”

  My face heats and not from the sun beating down on us.

  Roarke grabs the blanket and I help him fold it so it will fit back in the backpack he brought.

  “You boys are so stupid, they were about to have sex,” the little girl says.

  The blanket drops from my hands. “No, we weren’t.”

  “Yeah you were,” she continues to pet Lucy while she speaks, like it’s really no big deal.

  “No, we weren’t,” I insist, stronger now.

  “Okay.” Roarke, ever the diplomat puts his hands between me and the little girl. “We’re leaving. Go back to your parents now, kids.” He points to the circle of adults in folding chairs laughing and tipping back their Solo cups filled with beer they’ve been sneaking from a cooler.

  The boys walk away, one of them complaining that it’s not fair because he wasn’t able to wrestle me. The girl slowly raises from her seated form, her eyes on me the entire time. “Cute dog.”

  Roarke unwinds Lucy’s leash from the tree. “Time to see Nickel, girl.” He pats her head and swings the backpack over his shoulder.

  Leaning into my ear, he whispers, “I’m glad for the interruption because I can’t wait much longer to have you.”

  I don’t feel any different and if there hadn’t been so many people around, who knows what might have happened on that blanket in the park.

  When I’m with Roarke, I forget who I am, where I am—everything revolves around him and I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lucy runs after Nickel the minute Roarke unleashes her inside his condo.

  “You’re going to regret having us here,” I say, placing my purse on the entry table.

  He sets my overnight bag that he insisted we pick up on the way over down by the door along with Lucy’s leash.

  “I regret nothing when it comes to you.” His chest hits my back, his hands sliding up my ribcage. “Remember what I said at the park?”

  I nod.

  “You know I never say anything without following through.”

  I nod again, the warmth between my legs intensifying the farther his hands venture.

  “I’ll let you choose. Breakfast bar, dining room table or bed?”

  “Tough choice,” I say, tapping my chin in jest. “I’ll go with bedroom.”

  He spins me around, bends down, and lifts me over his shoulder. “Roarke!” As I hang there, he splays his hand possessively on my ass and his fingertips slide under the elastic seam of my panties, finding the wetness between my legs.

  I’m familiar with the journey to his bedroom. He’s carried me to bed a few times when I fell asleep on the couch. And we’ve been in this exact position on more than one occasion.

  I’ll admit—I don’t hate the whole caveman thing all of the time.

  He flops me down on the bed and my body bounces up in the air. “Thanks for being gentle.”

  He strips off his t-shirt and moves for his belt. “I’m not feeling very gentle today.”

  I eye him, rising to my knees and crawling toward him.

  His shorts fall to the ground and he kicks them out of the way leaving him in a pair of black boxer briefs.

  My nail scrapes along the prominent bulge in the front and my lips cast small kisses on his chest. “I think we should get you some red boxer briefs or blue ones at the very least.”

  He stares down at me with a smirk. “You don’t like my underwear selection?”

  God, he’s so gorgeous. How am I here with him right now?

  “I just think black is kind of boring.”

  His hand molds to my cheek turning my face up to his. I cup his package, my thumb running over the tip.

  “Do you think I’m boring?”

  I lick up his torso, crawling off the bed one leg at a time until I prop up on my tiptoes, grabbing each side of his face. “You? Boring? Not in the slightest.”

  This time I control the kiss. It’s my tongue sliding in his mouth. It’s my lips devouring his. He stands there, his hands venturing up under my shirt and unhooking my bra. The strapless satin falls to the floor and my pebbled nipples brush along the fabric of my tank top, only growing harder.

  “Hmm…” he moans.

  His fingertips inch up my chest and goose bumps are left in their wake. My breasts ache to feel his strong palms massaging them.

  I break the kiss before I let him take control. “I’m not feeling very gentle either.”

  I fall to my knees, taking each side of his boxers down with me until they pool at his ankles. He steps out of them and I push them to the side coming face-to-face with his engorged length.

  Roarke has a lot of things to brag about an
d wonder cock is one of them. It points up to his navel and his balls are drawn in tight. He’s already halfway there and I imagine once I take him in my mouth, he’ll become unglued in a matter of minutes.

  “I want you to fuck my mouth,” I say as my hand wraps around his length and my mouth covers the tip. My tongue slides along the ridges of his shaft and back around to the tip.

  “Damn, Firecracker. You’re something else.” His head falls back and his hands slide into my hair.

  I let him stretch my mouth when he pushes in before releasing him slowly, over and over again and he groans a little longer each time. I tease him to the brink, igniting shivers up my back as he thrusts in and out of my mouth.

  I’ve never hated giving blow jobs, but I didn’t exactly pull out my pom-poms when it was my turn to siege the beeje. With Roarke though, seeing him hanging on to his control by a thread, waiting to see what I’m going to do next...his moans that turn into growls that turn into grunts that turn into expletives. And then when his hands tighten in my strands telling me he’s trying to hold out as long as he can, but I’m making it impossible. The whole experience is a turn on for me and something I want to repeat again and again.

  Tipping my head, I suck one of his balls into my mouth as my hand runs up and down his shaft, my thumb spreading the pre-cum along the slit of his tip. Covering his dick with my mouth, I deep throat him again and let him slide out of my mouth—over and over as I take control with one hand wrapped around his girth and my other teasing his balls.

  “I’m gonna come.” His hips rock harder and I take him as deep as possible until the warmth of his release coats my throat. After a final few jerks, I let him slide slowly out past my lips and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

  “Just when I think I have you all figured out, you blow me like a pro.” He holds his hand out for me and I rise to my feet.

  “What are you suggesting?” I ask wide eyed.

  He chuckles. “Just that I have some repaying to do.”

  Roarke gently nudges me back and I fall to the mattress. This time he’s the one to fall to his knees, and just like he described earlier he slides his hands up my legs, slips off my panties, and he buries his face under my skirt and repays me in full—with interest.

  Later that day, Roarke and I snuggle on the couch with Lucy pawing at Nickel’s cat toys while Nickel stares on with a grumpy look on his face.

  “Why do you have a cat?” I ask.

  His gaze darts to where Nickel is laying on the top of the ottoman. “I shouldn’t tell you. You already think I’m soft.”

  I poke him in the side. His hand covers the spot and he captures my hand when I try to do it again.

  “He was a stray. The last kitten in a free box outside a liquor store I sometimes stop at on my home from work. I felt bad for the little furball so I took him in on a temporary basis, but…” His voice trails off, his attention once again shifting to Nickel who looks like he might pounce on top of Lucy.

  I smile and he shakes his head, grabbing the remote from my free hand.

  “I feel the need to put on Die Hard or The Terminator. Something manly.” The screen flickers as he flips through the channels.

  “Nothing wrong with Dirty Dancing.” I try to snatch the remote back.

  He drops the remote when it gets on some show about surviving in the desert. I pick it up and click it back to Dirty Dancing.

  “For the record, I think it’s sweet.” I lay my head on his bare chest.

  “I remember when you didn’t think I was sweet.”

  I lift up and straddle him and right on cue Lucy barks. She does this sometimes when we’re touchy-feely with each other, the little twat swatter.

  His hands fall to my ass and as usual, his fingers delve under my panties. It’s a habit of his I’ve come to love. As though he doesn’t even want even the thinnest silk barrier between us.

  “I’m woman enough to admit when I was wrong.”

  “So you were wrong?” His eyes dip to my chest. Though it’s covered in his DePaul law t-shirt, you’d think I was as bare-chested as him with the way his nostrils flare. Using his strength, he pulls me flush against him, greeting me with his hardness.

  “I was wrong. This one time.” I hold up one finger to make my point.

  He chuckles and rocks his hips.

  Letting out an involuntary sigh, my hands fall to his shoulders as I continue to grind against him to get off. My thirst will never be quenched with this man.

  His phone vibrates on the coffee table, but his lips continue to sprinkle kisses along my neck.

  Lucy barks at the phone now. I can’t see her but I can hear her up on all fours.

  “Should you get that?” I ask, my eyes falling shut from the inducing pleasure he’s creating.

  “No.” His word comes out as a throaty whisper.

  Will we ever get enough of one another? Will there be a time when he’ll want to sleep in another bedroom or his hand won’t slide along my ass as I pass him by. Will he stop cornering me to sneak a kiss or ask me to sit with him to keep him entertained while he’s making a meal? Will all the little intimate moments fade away like they did in my marriage? My heart tells me no, but there’s that annoying part of my brain that says I’m living in dreamland.

  The phone starts vibrating right after it stops.

  Roarke’s lips pause on my skin until it stops ringing again. He positions my lips over his giving me the deepest and hungriest kiss I’ve ever gotten, besides our first night together. I sink into him, my body hyper-aware that it’s been granted another ride on the Roarke roller coaster.

  One short beep signaling a text sounds from his phone and then the phone begins vibrating again.

  I dislodge myself from his lap, but he locks his arms over my legs so they stay strewn across his lap. Reaching forward, he picks up the phone to see who’s calling. The smoothness of his palm running up and down my legs stops and his thumb scrolls down the screen.

  “I’ll be right back.” He gently lifts my legs, stands and places them back on the couch.

  Lucy jumps into his spot right away followed seconds later by Nickel who takes a seat on the top of the couch cushions.

  This is the second time this week he’s sheltered himself away for a call. I don’t hear anything, not even a mumble until he comes out ten minutes later, after Baby’s dad finds out she’s been sleeping with the dance instructor. Just as Baby’s world crashes down around her, mine does too.

  Roarke emerges from the hall in a pair of jeans, a polo shirt, and shoes. He’s even run some gel through his hair. Without missing a beat, he walks directly toward me, leaning down. “I have to run out really quick. I shouldn’t be long.” He places a chaste kiss on my lips.

  At first, I’m stunned. What does he mean he has to leave right now?

  “Where are you going?” I slide out from under Lucy’s body to follow him to the door.

  “I have something I need to deal with for a client.” He waits, wrapping his arms around my body, pulling me into him. The roughness of his jeans pressed against my t-shirt clad body is not nearly as nice as his cotton pajama pants. “It kills me to leave you, especially when you’re dressed in almost nothing.” He presses his lips to my forehead.

  “Then don’t.” I grip harder around his middle and his lips fall to the tip of my nose.

  “If I had a choice…” His words trail off and I lean my cheek on his shirt, smelling the newly sprayed cologne he put on. “Order in some sushi and I’ll be back to eat it off you.” His lips linger above mine for a too-brief moment.

  I release my hold on him reminding myself that if he’s leaving for something other than work I have no control of that. My relationship with Todd taught me that one thing. If Roarke wants to cheat on me, I can’t do anything about it.

  He presses lips to mine, my cheek cradled in his palm. His tongue slides into my mouth and all the doubts of his rushed leaving tonight vanish as I rise to my tiptoes to keep the kiss goin
g. One of his hands slides around my back, pushing me into his hold and we stay lip-locked for another few minutes. By the time he closes the kiss, I’m heaving for breath with swollen lips.

  “That way you won’t forget me.” He smiles suggesting that’s a figure of speech. Just a tease, but his words sear right into my biggest wound.

  Without saying more, he grabs his wallet from the front table, shoving it into his pocket and shutting the door behind him.

  I don’t have long to stay in my own head because my cell phone starts ringing immediately. Running over to grab it, the name flashing only brings another layer of anxiety to my already sinking stomach.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  My phone continues to ring in my hand while Lucy jumps on all fours on the couch tilting her head back and forth at the noise. Silencing the sound, it vibrates on his glass coffee table, Scarlett’s name flashing on the screen in glaring letters.

  Once the phone stops, I sit on the edge of the plush couch and stare at it, wondering if she’ll leave a message. Is that where Roarke ran out to? To meet David to conjure up a plan to take everything from Scarlett?

  A beep rings out in the now quiet apartment. Baby and Johnny’s mouths move on the screen with no sound.

  Picking up my phone, I cross my fingers that Scarlett is going to go on and on about how busy she is with David and the kids.

  From the minute I hear her voice I know that’s not the case. It’s shallow and has lost the light, airy tone it usually holds.

  “Hey, Han, it’s been forever. I miss you. Definitely need to do lunch. I’ll be in the city next week for a meeting with a lawyer. David filed for divorce, but you probably already know that. I’ll be damned if he gets Brody and Nell. Call me back. I could use some advice from someone who’s been there.”

  The line dies and my hand grips the phone tighter.

  Is Roarke representing David? God, I hope not, but I clearly heard his assistant saying Mr. Quinton. It would be way too much of a coincidence, especially when you add the ties between David and Todd. Please tell me I’m wrong.