Closing Time

by Adrianna Dane

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  Amber Quill Press

  www.amberquill.com

  Copyright ©2007 by Adrianna Dane

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

  * * *

  CLOSING TIME

  By

  ADRIANNA DANE

  * * * *

  ISBN 978-1-60272-060-2

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  www.amberquill.com

  Also By Adrianna Dane

  The Argadian Heart Trilogy

  The Boy Next Door

  Carnal Carnivale

  Come Into My Parlor

  The Diary Of Lillian Manchester, Book I: The Stranger

  Esmerelda's Secret

  The Exile: A Seductive Tale

  Fertility Rite

  Graphic Liaisons

  If You Dare...

  I Want

  Images Of Desire

  Immortal Treasure

  Jebediah's Promise

  Jewel Of Niveka

  Legend Of The Beesinger

  Mariposa Soul

  Nights In White Satin

  No Choice

  Primal Magic: Scent

  Primal Magic: Swan's Lake

  Realm Of The Ice God

  Ruthless Acts

  Sequestered Passion

  Smooth Finish

  Sylvie's Gift

  Therapy

  Train Me

  A View To Possession

  Whisper

  CHAPTER 1

  Evelyn scanned the last book in the pile, closed the cover, and slid it across the counter toward the young girl who waited patiently. As she grabbed her pile of library books and turned to leave, Evelyn glanced at the clock on the wall. Almost closing time.

  It was quiet, but then it was the library—it was supposed to be quiet. She kept hearing the echoes of the music in her head from this past Saturday night. On Saturday nights she drove up to Boston for her one big night out, away from the cloying atmosphere of the town where she lived.

  Esmerelda was a sleepy sort of New England town and if anyone ever found out about her Saturday nights in the big city, there would be hell to pay. She very possibly might lose her job as well. Boston seemed so exciting compared to her quiet, small-town existence. She did finally get the chance to spend four years there when she attended Boston University on a scholarship, but that was as far as it went. She was shy, didn't make a lot of friends, and in the end had returned to Esmerelda when an opening came up in the small library located in the center square. Besides, she felt guilty about leaving her father alone after all he had been through.

  It was tiny, hushed, and rather boring. Not a lot of chances to meet anyone interesting. She'd lost her virginity while attending Boston University. It hadn't been a particularly memorable experience, nor had any of the transient relationships since that first one. Bottom line, her life was boring, boring, boring and she was suffocating in the atmosphere in Esmerelda. She loved the books, loved working with them, loved reading them, and really, she did enjoy her job. And here, she certainly had a lot more latitude than she would if she'd chosen a position at one of the libraries in a larger city. But it was also a lot less money than she could have made somewhere else. And then there had been her father who, up until recently, had needed her care and companionship—she hadn't felt right abandoning him. Yet, since her father had died, the need to break out of her quiet life had almost been beyond her ability to contain.

  She liked Esmerelda well enough. After all, she'd grown up here and it was comfortable. As long as she kept herself under the radar line of gossip, everything was ... fine. At least it had been.

  Until her twenty-ninth birthday. By then, she'd already gained the moniker of spinster. She didn't date much—all the good ones already having been snapped up, and she'd rather be alone than settle for what remained of the eligible bachelors in her circle. Like everyone else, her heart had beat a little faster for J.W. Dalton, the local sheriff, when she was in high school. But, like the rest, she knew he had eyes only for Willow MacKenzie.

  Now their story was exciting. When Willow came back to town and the gossip started to fly, it had made her realize how boring her own life really was. Willow's mom had somehow been involved in drugs and Willow had run away to Boston and gone to college on her own, and had even worked as a stripper for a time if any of the gossip was true. But all that was behind her now because she and J.W. had finally married, Willow owned a small dress shop, and they had a beautiful baby girl with one more on the way. They looked so happy.

  It seemed being that happy wasn't in the cards for Evelyn. Neither was excitement. Contentment was about as far as it went. Not until the last couple of months. That's when she'd started going to Boston on Saturday nights. It was a last ditch move of desperation. And it was when she'd first met Reuben, the musician, who played in the small bistro she discovered and liked to frequent, that she risked allowing the wild woman inside to break free. He made her want to risk it all. And what he made her feel was very dangerous. She made a point of spending the night in Boston and usually drove back Sunday morning, no one the wiser for her little adventures. And feeling a bit refreshed and able to tackle the mundane.

  It was a risk that some day someone would discover her little escapades, but what was life worth without a little risk or two to keep it interesting? As long as no one in Esmerelda ever found out, she could go on about her life, openly maintain the respect of the community in her position as head librarian in the small town, and still inject just a bit of passion on the side.

  Again, she glanced at the clock. One hour to closing. And three days until Saturday spun around again when she would see Reuben. Even at the thought of seeing him again her blood simmered.

  Lately, he'd been pushing for more of a commitment from her. She'd managed to skirt his questions so far, but how much longer could she hold him off? She could not envision any sort of long-term future with a musician. She was just a small-town librarian and certainly no match for the beautiful women she was certain approached him when he was out on tour somewhere else. She'd even seen it at the bistro. She had no idea how much longer he would remain in Boston. He kept telling her he would have to be on the road in another couple of months and wanted her to go with him.

  She shied away from thinking about it. There were no spoken commitments between them. Nothing uttered aloud. He had responsibilities and so did she, and they were from two far different worlds.

  Since that first night when she'd watched him perform on stage she'd been enthralled by him. There was an aura about him. And his eyes seemed to see right into her soul. She had been shocked when he came to her table after the first set. And even more shocked with herself when she had gone backstage with him and allowed him to make love to her right there behind the backdrop where anyone might have seen them.

  She still couldn't believe she'd done it. She had thought when it was over, that would be it. But it hadn't been. He obviously hadn't considered it a one-night stand and expected to see her again. She'd managed to remain at a distance, keeping their relationship strictly to weekend encounters. On some occasions she would stay over until Monday and drive back to Esmerelda very early in order to open the library right on time Monday morning.

  If she were to admit it, the lifestyle was taking a toll on her. And she knew the time would come when it would all come crashing down around her feet. And where would that leave her? She felt so torn be
tween her status here in Esmerelda, and the wanton woman who spent her time with Reuben. She refused to utter the word l-o-v-e in regard to her relationship with him. He was way out of her league. Just listening to him talk about his fast-paced life made her dizzy.

  She assured herself that when he left on tour it would be over and done with. And she would stop her weekend trips to Boston. She should have done so before now. But Reuben was like a drug to her and she couldn't stay away. She drank of him gluttonously when they were together, engorging herself on him in hopes she would finally have enough.

  It was never enough, and she had a feeling it never would be. And that's what scared her the most. When he left for good, she knew she was going to feel the loneliness more profoundly than she ever had before, because she now knew what it felt like to be with someone—to feel connected, even if it were only briefly.

  His lips were like fire that heated her entire body, making her melt beneath his knowledgeable hands. His body touching her, possessing her was like a match striking flint and they would both go up in flames. There was nothing like the heart of his fire when it encompassed her. His fingers expertly played her just like he did with his guitar, pulling all the erotic music from inside her soul.

  She became a wanton woman in his arms, a harem dancer, a Venetian courtesan, with her position as head librarian far removed from the woman in Reuben's arms ... in his bed. She wanted it to be real, to be lasting, but she knew it could only ever be fantasy. He was her fantasy lover, the one who drew her across the tightrope of passion into his world for a short, deliriously blissful time.

  Yes, she remembered their first connection, their first passion. It had driven her all these weeks to return again and again and again, tempting the flames of discovery. It was her fourth trip to the bistro, but when she had walked in that night, she knew something was different. She hadn't realized what it was until she made eye contact with the guitarist on the stage.

  CHAPTER 2

  When she sat at the table and saw him on stage the first time, the air in the bistro had been different, electrically charged with energy. She'd ordered her usual drink, a vodka and tonic, and settled back in her chair to survey the room.

  Something in the music had drawn her eyes back to the stage, to the sensual, singing chords of the guitar. But it was the guitarist's eyes that held her mesmerized throughout the number. His voice was deep, soothing, melting her bones into simmering liquid, causing wet heat to pool between her thighs. The range of his voice was intoxicating. As it deepened she felt the vibrations in her bones, between her pussy lips, the pulsing of the cadence driving deep inside her.

  Who was he? She'd never seen him here before. She had a feeling she should recognize him—the music was not that of an amateur. One thing she did plan to do was find out who he was, because she wanted to hear more, time and time again.

  Her drink arrived and she sipped at it. A stranger wanted to buy her another, but she refused with a shake of her head, her total attention riveted to the stage.

  She had come here seeking something she'd never been able to name. She always left alone. But the music of this guitarist spoke to her, his voice stroked her senses. The others in the group faded into the background and it was as though the guitarist and she were the only ones in the room.

  She finished her drink and another took its place. Until the set ended and the world again came into focus. This must be what enchantment feels like.

  And then he was there at her table, standing above her, looking down at her, a seductive smile on his lips. He pulled out a chair, sat across from her, and her heard started pounding in her chest. The waiter brought him a bottle of water. She watched him drink it down quickly.

  "What's your name?"

  She licked her lips, afraid to answer. Afraid to break the spell. Afraid not to answer. His gaze reached inside her soul. She'd never experienced anything quite like this. She tried to analyze her attraction to the man sitting across from her. She'd never thought of herself as someone who would become star struck—never thought of herself as the groupie type. But for this man, she might just need to re-evaluate those thoughts.

  She stared at him for long moments and something told her it wasn't just the musician on the stage that drew her, there was something else beyond that. It was probably the alcohol that glazed her brain. But right now she didn't care. She wanted to touch him, to be touched by him. Even if it was for only a second, one moment.

  "It's Evie,” she managed to respond.

  "Evie.” He smiled and reached out to clasp her hand. “It's a nice name. Mine is Reuben. I've never seen you here before.” His fingers stroked the back of her hand and it felt like pure heaven to her, sending shards of fire up her arm.

  "I haven't seen you either. I've been here a few times over the last few weeks. It's a nice place. But you've never performed when I've been here."

  "Must have been on tour. We've been gone for several months. But this place is like home. When we're in town we like to jam here. The owner is almost family.” He turned her hand palm up and stroked the center. She shivered in reaction.

  "You live here? In Boston, I mean?"

  She shook her head, having lost her voice.

  "Too bad."

  "I-I've been coming here for the last several weekends. To get away from the usual grind."

  "Live far away?"

  "Not too far."

  He leaned closer and it was again as though there were only the two of them in the room. “I really want to get to know you better, Evie."

  "I think I'd like that."

  "I take it you're not here with anyone?"

  She shook her head. “No. No one at all."

  He rose to his feet and pulled her to hers. Taking her hand in a firm grip, he strode across the floor and behind the stage. He drew her behind the backdrop and pressed her against the wall. His mouth descended over hers, branding her with his taste. Hot and male seared through her.

  Like a lit match, she flared to life, twining her arms around his neck, a trail of gunpowder that had been lit and was about to explode. She heard the murmur of voices from the other side of the backdrop, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but feeling this man pressed up against her, demanding her complete attention.

  His hands drifted beneath her T-shirt, scorching her skin as he cupped her breasts. It didn't feel wrong; it felt so very right. His hands belonged on her skin and in this moment she belonged to him. She drew him closer, rubbed against him, the friction sending sparks bouncing along her nerves, heat pooling between her thighs.

  She needed him to fuck her now and it didn't matter what else happened beyond this moment, she needed to feel him inside her.

  He pulled his hands free and rested them above her head. It sounded like he was trying to catch his breath after a long run. He nipped at her engorged lips and she responded in kind. Her hips undulated against him and she felt his thick cock, pressing insistently at the front of his jeans.

  "I want to fuck you,” he growled.

  "Yesss.” There was no other response but that one word of acknowledgment.

  He shoved one of his hands deep into his pocket and pulled out a packet. She heard the zip of his fly being undone and the crackle of the packet as he ripped it open. “You might not believe it, but I'm not in the habit of doing this. I just need to be inside you. Right now. I can't wait or I'm going to explode."

  "I need you there,” she said as she gripped his hard length. She felt her juices drip in anticipation of feeling him filling her. “Please."

  He lifted her skirt and ripped aside her panties, then plunged his fingers between her wet labia lips. “Oh, God, yes.” He pushed her deeper into the corner, pulled her legs wider, lifted her, and sank inside her with one thrust.

  She wrapped her arms more tightly around his neck as he thrust in and out. His hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back while he consumed her lips, thrusting his tongue deep inside.

  He drove her highe
r and higher toward the stars, his hard cock pressing deep, retreating, driving inward again and again, fast, short thrusts, until finally he pushed them both over the edge into a mind-blowing climax. He held her like that for long moments.

  She stiffened as someone knocked on the other side of the wall. “Hey, Reub,” someone said softly. “We're on again in five minutes.” Then she heard footsteps moving away.

  "Oh, my God,” she breathed, feeling the hot color flood her cheeks.

  Slowly Reuben withdrew from inside her and helped her to readjust her clothing. She'd never experienced anything so earth shattering ... or embarrassing in her life.

  "It's all right. He didn't see us."

  "But he'll know who I am. What will they think of me?"

  He cupped her face and kissed her. “It will be okay."

  She eased past him, trying to make her escape. “I-I—"

  "Don't freeze up on me, Evie. I want to see you again. Don't disappear."

  But she couldn't do it. She couldn't believe what she had just done. She raced out of the bistro and back to her hotel room, her body still trembling from the pleasure mixed with the embarrassment, although it had been fast and furious, steamy and hot. And exhilarating.

  She sat in the darkened hotel room and stared across the street at the bistro. How would she ever get the nerve to go back in there knowing everyone probably would know what had occurred behind that stage.

  Her pussy still spasmed from the memory of the climax, from being filled with so much hot, hard cock. What did she do now? She could never go back there.

  A week later she had done just that. Her heart pumped fast and furiously as she took her courage in hand and walked across the street and into the bistro. She chose a table way in the back, in a dim corner. Again, he was on stage, and she sipped at her vodka and tonic, watching from a distance. When he thrust his hips in a punctuation of the music, she felt her pussy pulse, remembering how he had filled her. She squeezed her thighs together trying to halt the sensations, but that only made it worse.