Hush, Hush

by Franco, Lucia

  I've seen him in a suit before, but this one is all black, including the shirt and tie. My gaze openly rakes the length of his strong body, instant thirst consuming me. I want to climb him like a tree and dig my claws into him. The way this man is looking makes me want to get lost in him for hours. His salt and pepper hair is brushed back, giving him a polished look, but it’s his gaze that reduces me to a stationary object. All I can focus on are his searing blue eyes and the way he's stroking his beard while he stares at me, like he wants to devour me in front of everyone.

  James Riviera is the definition of sex.

  He subtly crooks two fingers at me to come hither and I all but drop to my knees and crawl to him.

  Someone's obnoxious laugh knocks some sense into me, and I start walking toward him on steady legs, telling myself I'm Valentina right now and that's what he's going to call me.

  "Sweetheart," he whispers in my ear, his arm going around my back. His breath is hot and it tickles my neck. "You're fucking killing me in that dress right now. Exactly what I'd imagined you'd look like." Tipping my chin up with two fingers, he drops a soft kiss to my lips and my eyes flutter shut. "Your legs and those shoes are going to look sensational wrapped around my hips. Tonight, I'm fucking you against the window—from behind—and maybe against the wall, or in front of a mirror, with those shoes."

  "I love when you talk dirty to me," I say, my voice husky.

  A smirk starts to form on his face but it stops when he sees that I'm shooting daggers at him.

  "But, James, let's get one thing straight—never, ever have anything delivered to my place again. You know, where I live with your daughter? You're a fucking dickhead for that one."

  I reach for his glass—probably another favorite obnoxiously priced cognac—and drink the entire thing. He just raises his hand and waves two fingers at the bartender, then looks back at me. He's too suave for his own good.

  "Do you know that she stood right next to me as I opened the gift? Yeah, she did. And she insisted she wanted to help me get ready, which she did, thank you very much. All I could think about is what a shit friend I am that she's helping me get ready to see her fucking father. What else I could I tell her? That it's from a client? Then I would have to explain what that—"

  James slams his mouth to mine in a hard kiss, grabbing the back of my head and clutching my hip. He doesn't ask, just takes, and slips his tongue into my mouth, stroking me the right way, enough to make me forget just for a second that I'm aggravated with him.

  I can taste the alcohol on his tongue and I kiss him back with the same drive.

  "Does she know?" he asks, pulling back.

  I blink rapidly and stare up through my voluminous lash extensions. "No, obviously. She'd murder me if she found out."

  James slides a drink my way, then picks his up and sips, watching me. "Then that’s all that matters. Let it go." My nostrils flare and he sees it. "I won't do it again," he adds.

  I frown. "Really?"

  "Yeah. I'm too old for games, and I don't do miscommunication. You want to talk it out? Let's do it. Just makes the makeup fucking that much sweeter."

  I grimace and shake my head, trying not to grin. I wish he didn't make my heart race for him.

  "I should've expected that."

  "I wasn't thinking. I should've been, but I just had this vision of you and it's all I could see." He eyes my body, and God, I love the way he looks at me. "You really do look incredible."

  "You look pretty dashing yourself. My first thought was I wanted to climb you like a tree," I say casually like I'm talking about the weather. I sip my drink.

  James laughs, and I can tell he likes when I say things like that to him. "I clean up well," he jokes. Licking his lips, he says, "I figured we'd meet here before the event and go over a few things."

  "Good idea. I have a request too." He puts his hand out, encouraging me to go first. "Only call me Valentina. Please, don't call me Aubrey."

  He frowns. "In general or just tonight?"

  "Well, I would prefer in general, but definitely if we're out somewhere."

  His brows lower. James seems offended but I try not to make anything of it. There's no need to make it personal.

  "What else?" he asks tightly.

  I purse my lips together. "I can't think of anything right now. It was just the package at my apartment, and the name thing."

  "Did you break up with the boyfriend?" he asks.

  "Yes," I lie.

  He nods and reaches for my hand. My heart kicks up a notch when he laces our fingers together and gently tugs me closer.

  "No one is going to question you. It's just like the first time we met."

  I nod quietly. I know he's right.

  "You'd be surprised how many people don't bring their spouses to events, including women. They're just as bad."

  I reel back, a little bothered. It's sad how easy people cheat.

  "Is anyone faithful these days? God."

  "Being in a committed relationship is more than rainbows and butterflies. It takes more work than people expect. Communication and compromise is where it's at, but no one realizes that until it's too late."

  Damn. He has a point.

  "How depressing. Thank God I never plan to marry."

  His brows bunch together. "Really?"

  "Ah, yeah. Just based on my line of work and what I've seen, I'd rather be single forever."

  "Until you find that one person who just gets you in every aspect of your relationship. That's when it'll be worth it."

  "What else?" I ask, needing to move on. I highly doubt I'll be able to find a two-in-one man after all the men I've been with, and one who is okay with what I do. It sounds like a pipe dream and not something I want to focus on because it'll just make me depressed. Not that I ever planned to get married, as I’d said, but I would never lie to my spouse about my past either. With my luck, one of my clients would be end up being a brother—or father—to my imaginary husband.

  The bartender asks if we'd like another drink and James declines. We leave the bar and make our way to the elevator.

  "I would never censor you, but please try to refrain from talking about the size of my cock this time, if you can."

  I blush, and briefly roll my lips between my teeth. "He had it coming."

  "Val," he warns.

  "He did!"

  James just stares. I can see the laughter in his eyes, but he holds steady and I concede.

  "I make no promises, but I'll try not to say anything." As we step into the elevator and the doors close, I can't help myself. "I wasn't wrong, though. You are hung like a stallion and fuck like a beast." I laugh, and so does he.

  * * *

  Three hours of making small talk with his coworkers, and James has hardly left my side. We've been upstairs in a small, intimate private room that overlooks the city. Floor-to-ceiling windows, this one-of-a-kind skyscraper view is something I've always wanted to experience. I find myself gazing out the window while James talks. Every so often he gives me a little tug and I smile at him. There's an open bar and the display of towering hors d'oeuvres is picture perfect. James keeps offering to get me food, but I'm rarely hungry on jobs, something I keep reminding myself I’m on. I think it's the nerves that just get to me, and even though I'm a little more relaxed now, my stomach is a mess.

  James gives me a little squeeze. His arm has been wrapped around my back with his hand resting on my hip the entire time, like he doesn't want anyone to steal me away. His possessiveness is appealing and even more so when he drops kisses to my temple. He's even included me in conversations, something my other clients rarely do. I'm to be seen, not heard, a few have told me. The conversations are a drag. Talk about politics and who's positioning for partner, who closed which case and how much money a firm made, who was arrested for embezzlement and fraud. So much schmoozing and ass kissing that I have to wonder if they recognize it for what it is… Ladder climbing. It's boring as hell, but I remind myself that for
five million dollars, I'll make it look like I'm eating out of the palm of their hands.

  After all, money talks.

  No one has talked down to me at least, which is a plus. It's something I always worry about and it makes me slightly uncomfortable when it happens, but I guess that's what the booze and pills are for. Funny enough, though, it's not usually the men who say anything. They just look at my client with envy. It's the women who are the worst.

  Like this one woman who hasn't been able to take her eyes off James. I'm not jealous. I'm secure and confident in my skin, but she's grating on my nerves because she's clearly eye fucking him. He's looked at her a few times.

  "Thank you for coming with me tonight," he says, looking down at me. He turns me to face him so we're chest to chest and his hands dance down my waist and swoop over my lower back. "You've made it bearable. I hate these things, but it's a must for work, you know? Keeping face is why I am where I am. No one is going to take what I have or try to one-up me."

  I smile pleasantly at him, my hands flat on his chest. "It wasn't as bad, but, James? If you look at that woman in the hideous yellow frock one more time, I'm going to bite your dick when it's in my mouth tonight," I say, my voice sugary sweet. I pat his chest and flutter my lashes through the knives I'm throwing at him. "Understand?"

  Amusement dances in his eyes and I can see the grin behind the beard. He's smiling, but I'm not playing. I don't know where this is coming from because it's not usually me, but with the way he looks tonight, I want to plaster myself all over him and tell everyone he's mine.

  But that's the thing. He's not mine, so I don't know why I even said anything. I'm annoyed with myself and wish I hadn't spoken up, but I just hate the way she’s looking at him.

  Cupping my jaw, he pulls my mouth to his. I gasp right before his lips slant over mine and lean into him. He kisses me slow, deep, showing me that I'm all he wants, and he does it in a public setting.

  "Valentina?" he says against my lips.

  "Hmm?"

  "Shut the hell up."

  I nod and chuckle. "I'm just saying, if you want her instead tonight, I saw a hot waiter I wouldn't mind screwing in the kitchen."

  James leans down and grabs my bottom lip between his teeth, tugging it hard before he kisses me again. I draw in a breath as his tongue erotically circles mine and I get lost in his strokes. A throb resonates between my legs and my heart rate kicks up a notch. I love and hate the way he kisses me. He knows exactly how to silence my moronic thoughts and get to me.

  "You want that little fuck?" he asks, shrugging nonchalantly.

  He's just as confident as I am, and fuck, it's a turn-on. He's the strong, silent type, and I realize that I just love that.

  "Bring him to our room and I'll show him how a man handles a woman like you. I guarantee you won't be saying his name by the end of the night. You both will be calling me Daddy."

  Forty-Four

  I laugh so hard my stomach hurts. His grin sends a current of happiness though my veins. I love this back-and-forth banter we have. It's hot and exciting and fun. It's too easy for us—natural—and kind of addicting.

  "I'll get us another drink. Let's circle the room and then we'll head out," he says. "I'm dying to get you out of that dress."

  "Whatever you want, Daddy," I say in my Valentina voice.

  His eyes widen. "I see that look in your eyes. Don't even think about calling me Daddy in front of anyone."

  I grin so big my cheeks hurt. "You take the fun out of everything. First no big dick talk, now this? What shall I ever do?"

  "Sorry to interrupt, James,” and man says next to us. “Mind if I have a word? There's a matter I'd like to discuss with you. James looks at me and I tell him I'll get us our drinks and see him in a few.

  While I wait on the bartender, I take a seat on an open stool and pull out my cell phone and quickly check my messages. They’re all from Daniel. He wanted to see me tonight, but I told him I was doing an overnight nanny job and wouldn't be back for two days. He wasn't thrilled, going as far as making a nasty comment about the parents, but I ignored it. I feel bad, but this is a job, and that's what I tell myself. I won't be gone for two days, but I know I’ll need a day to recover.

  "What did you have to do to get a man like that?" The woman in the yellow frock woman askes, staring openly at James from across the room. She wants him so bad I can taste it.

  I place my cell phone back in my purse, not retuning any message to Daniel, and give this woman a honeyed smile.

  "He's a hunk of meat on two legs, isn't he?" I say, playing her. "What's hanging between those hips, though?" I blow out an exaggerated breath and make a face like I've never seen anything so big in my life. "Too bad he bats for the other team."

  Her face falls and I revel in it.

  "You're lying."

  I shake my head. "He's got a mouth like a Hoover and a trunk like an elephant. I've seen it in action and experienced it a time or two myself when he's let me. It's something to marvel at. I bet he gives better head than you."

  Her face twists up like she sucked on something sour. She scoffs and gets up, stalking away just as James walks over to me.

  He looks at her as she passes him and frowns. James unbuttons his jacket before sitting in her empty seat. He places a hand on my knee and swivels my chair to face him so that my crossed legs are between his.

  "What did you tell her? She looks like her dog just died.”

  I nod, giving him a grave look. “She’s heartbroken. I told her you bat for the other team and that you like it when I wear a strap-on."

  James barks out a laugh and I smile in return. I know he's not mad because he's secure in his skin and knows the truth. One plus about this particular agreement with James is that I can be myself. I get the notion that not many other men would be okay with my crude thoughts the way he is. It’s just another reason why I adore him.

  Lifting his glass to salute me, his eyes gleam as he says, "Your ass is mine tonight."

  * * *

  Our clothes are on the floor in a trail of passion the second we step into his grand suite.

  Within two minutes, James is surging inside me. His strokes are hitting all the right spots most men can't reach inside me. It’s a struggle not to allow myself to sink into the decadence of this man. It feels too good and I’m fighting off the orgasm, as usual. Every time I feel the pleasure drawing closer to the surface, I close my eyes and breathe steadily through my nose.

  "I swear you have more testosterone than a teenage boy," I say, breathless.

  "Is that a complaint?" he asks, wrapping my hair around his fist and yanking my head back.

  His mouth is on my neck and if he sucks any harder, he's going to leave a hickey. Right now, he has me pressed against the window as he takes me from behind. My hands are flat to the cold glass, and every time I exhale a frosted little circle forms in front of my mouth. The cool air causes my nipples to harden and a soft moan escapes my throat as he drives in and holds stills. Fuck my life, I love this pressure between my legs so much. It's a painful kind of pleasure—need—that I fall into.

  "I'm just shocked you haven't come yet," I say.

  James groans near my ear like he's in ecstasy. "I only come once you do, sweetheart. Never before."

  Valentina, you're up.

  "Why didn't you say so before? I've been waiting for you," I say and start putting the act on like I'm getting closer. I don't make it obviously fake the way porn stars do, just enough to sound genuine, which isn't hard with James. I'm so close, but I hold off. Moans and purrs leave my parted lips, and I call his name, telling him I'm coming all over his cock that I can't get enough of. I tell him to take me harder and he does, and that nearly sets me over the edge for real. The hold on my hair tightens and his thrusts deepen, but I don't feel him come. He just slows to a stop, let's go of my hair, then pulls out.

  "You didn't come," he says.

  I freeze from his stiff voice but quickly recover. There'
s no way I was a bad fake. Impossible.

  "I did."

  He turns me around to face him. I can't help but take in his beautifully toned, naked body before my eyes meet his. He's not angry, but he's not happy either. Strength and sexuality ripple from him and it makes me want to reach out and touch every inch of him.

  "You want to try that again?"

  I frown. "I don't understand," I say, my heavy breathing matching his.

  "I know what your pussy feels like when you come, and it didn't do shit."

  My lips part. The sound of his voice sends chills over my body. I'm instantly annoyed that he can tell, but more so at myself for not giving a better performance.

  "James, that's ridiculous."

  He counters me and it makes my heart pound. "Are we going to start lying to each other already? Because a year contract is a long time to harbor resentment. It turns the sex sour, and as you know, intimacy is a huge factor in my life and why I'm willing to pay whatever it is you want to have that intimacy with you."

  I swallow, a little insulted, a little hurt. Flattening my lips, I tell him again. "James, I did come."

  His eyes harden. "I can't get off if you don't, sweetheart, and you definitely didn't. Your satisfaction is what makes me hard as a fucking rock. What do you need from me? Tell me so I can do it."

  My chest constricts at his words. He wants to make me feel good and here I am trying to not allow it. His gaze pierces my heart and I prop my hands on my hips, looking away. I can't tell him I don't want to finish because that sounds just plain fucking strange, but I know that if I do come, it'll only pull me closer to him and I don't want that. I can't afford for that to happen because then I'll fall even further for him. It's clear that my needs are his needs, and that’s just not something I'm used to. It's new territory for me, and something in my gut tells me to put a wall up to prevent the inevitable hurt.

  From what I’ve come to understand, there are two things that are an absolute must in a relationship for everyone: intimacy and trust. Intimacy is the bottom lock on a door. It can be toyed with and sometimes popped open for others to enter if there isn't a strong trail of communication. Trust is what seals the relationship and keeps it solid, the bolt that keeps both people locked in and makes that intimacy build. I can't afford to be trapped when he has the key, and a year from now when he unlocks that door and says goodbye, I'm walking out with the clothes on my back and nothing more. I'm not asking him to throw away the key, but I'm not trying to start anything more either, and I feel like that's what will happen if I let go and really give myself to him. I don't see why I can't just give him the sex he wants and nothing more.