The Jezebel

by Dylan Allen

  “Yes, but I can’t seem to help myself when it comes to you.”

  “That’s not a huge endorsement for your self-control then. You should try harder.”

  “I’d like to try doing obscene things to your mouth and pussy with my hard dick instead,” he whispers. A bolt of white hot, unmitigated pleasure hits me squarely between my thighs and I can’t bite back my groan.

  “And… that’s my cue to leave,” Matty slides off her seat and looks back and forth between us before she smiles. “Reggie, The dick I was talking about yesterday? - the kind that makes good women into fools? Be sure you wear a condom on your heart, cause this one is gonna fuck your feelings.” she pronounces with a grin before she melts into the crowd forming on the nearby dance floor.

  “You were talking about my dick yesterday?” he drawls in my ear.

  I turn to face him; My chest, thighs, and nipples all tighten at once.

  His eyes are full of his wicked intent. But his strong, sharply defined jaw is relaxed. His lips are spread in a delicious smile that makes me want to lean forward and bite them. I scowl at him and turn to face the bar again. “You drove my friend away.”

  He lifts one of his large, surprisingly elegant hands and signals for the bartender and then flashes a brilliant grin that makes me ache. “Good. Three’s a crowd when it comes to sex.”

  I give him glare. “Stone.”

  “Regan.” He says in a mimic of my warning tone.

  To my surprise, I giggle.

  He grins and presses his advantage. “You promised me seconds.”

  I watch him from the corner of my eye, while he orders a neat glass of scotch. He’s in jeans and a white dress shirt that looks custom made to my well-trained eye. He’s wearing a thin gold cuff on his right wrist.

  Otherwise, he’s completely unadorned. And he doesn’t need anything more. Stone is man candy. The kind that should come with a warning label that reads, "One bite won’t be enough”

  Several women at the bar have given him the once over. One of them is actively trying to catch his attention in the mirror. I give her a venomous smile when our gazes meet, and her eyes widen slightly before she turns to talk to the women on her left.

  That was small of me.

  Ugh, if I had any sense, I would point him in that woman’s direction and go back to my room and call my kids.

  The waitress sets his drink down and refills my shot glass without even asking. I give her a grateful smile and throw the shot back.

  “Rough day?” Stone asks conversationally.

  I huff out a laugh. “Something like that.”

  “I’ve got something for that, Regan. Let me make you feel good.” He’s laying it on thick. There’s no ambiguity in his approach; he’s not being presumptuous or coy.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve been pursued by a man and it feels… good. But…

  “I shouldn’t do this.”

  “Why not? Doesn’t this feel good, like no time has passed at all?”

  I scoff, but my drink turns bitter in the back of my throat. I pivot so my whole body is facing him and meet his eyes. The amusement in them annoys me even further.

  “Listen, you’re holding on to nostalgia. You had a crush on me then, right? I’m not that girl anymore,” I warn him.

  “Well, that’s good. I don’t date little girls. I date women. Because I’m a man. Not that I need to remind you, since I spent a good bit of effort making your whole body aware of that fact yesterday.”

  I throw the rest of my drink back and let out a tremulous sigh. “Stone, no one on this planet would ever mistake you for anything other than a man. And I’m not worried about your age.”

  “Then let’s leave the past in the past. Let’s talk about right now.” A hand comes to rest on my thigh.

  “Did you like what we did last night?” he whispers in my ear.

  I should push his hand away, but it feels so good.

  “Do you want me to do it again?”

  I shiver and close my eyes.

  His fingers slip under the lace of my panties. I gasp, casting an anxious glance around the bar.

  “No one is watching, Goddess,” his voice is a silk lure and my thighs part.

  I finally look at him and the hunger in his gaze quickens my pulse.

  “All you have to do is tell me to stop, and I will,” he says.

  I couldn’t tell him to stop if someone was holding a gun to my head.

  I never want him to stop.

  His fingers skim up, and up, and up. I can’t tell where the heat is coming from - him or me, but from the very center of my body to the tips of my extremities, I’m ablaze.

  “Let’s go back to your room and spend the entire night together. I have years and years of fantasies to live out with you. I want to suck your toes, and fuck your ass, and watch your lips stretch around my dick.” he whispers.

  Oh my God, I have never wanted any of those things, but now I feel like I need them all.

  “Will you let me?” he coos, his fingers trail up and he rubs my clit through my panties. My head lolls forward and he cups my neck and presses his lips to my cheek, kissing his way to my ear while he continues his sensual strokes.

  “Fuck the rules,” I breathe.

  He pulls his hand away and lifts it to his nose and inhales. “Your pussy is so delicious, Regan.”

  My name on his lips is even more erotic than the words that preceded it.

  “I knew you couldn’t say no, it was too good between us.”

  He’s not wrong, but I can’t help but feel like I’ve made this too easy for him. He walked over assured of his conquest. This man is all alpha and I know that he’ll be at his best if he’s got to work for it. Last night was amazing, but tonight I want him in a lather. I want him to leave me sore and bruised so I can hold on to these feelings for as long as possible.

  “I haven’t said yes. You want me? You’ll have to catch me first,” I hop off the stool and wave for the bartender. “Settle the tab first will ya’?” I chuckle at the bemused expression on his face as I turn and hurry away.

  When I exit the restaurant, I glance over my shoulder to see where he is. He’s further away than I thought, but he’s following me. His eyes alight with a determined glint that thrills me.

  I hurry across the lobby and head down a hallway that ends with a bank of elevators.

  I don’t know where I’m going or what I’ll find on the floors above the lobby and its bar, but I don’t care as long as I can get him alone.

  I wait until I hear his footfalls behind me before I press the button to call the lift.

  The doors open immediately, and I step inside.

  “Hold that door,” he calls and starts to jog.

  “You’ll have to be faster than that,” I say teasingly when the doors start to close.

  He breaks into a sprint, and just when I’m sure he’s not going to make it. His fingers slip in between the two doors just before they slam shut. They bounce open instantly and he steps inside.

  “Regan,” he says my name like it’s a promise he’s making as he reaches up and presses a button that stops the elevator from its ascent.

  “Hi, Stone.”

  He slips a hand around my waist and turns me so I’m facing him, too.

  My hands have a mind of their own, because despite every last shred of good sense I have screaming for me to stop, they slide up his muscular shoulders and drape themselves around his neck.

  Everything about this man, this attraction, and the reckless behavior it’s spawned - is a bad idea.

  But my fingers dance up his collar and twirl in his hair. It’s so soft. I wonder what it smells like.

  He walks us backward until I’m pressed against the mirrored glass of the elevator and he lifts me by the waist and sets my ass on the narrow handrail.

  His hands rest on either side of my head and he spears me in place with his eyes. “I wasn’t chasing you…this was a lure. You’re an excellent hunter.�
�

  I nod in agreement.

  He drops his head and presses his nose to my throat. “Can I kiss you right here?” he asks. I don’t understand the tears that prick sting the back of my eyes at his question. But it makes me want to give him whatever he asks for.

  At my nod, he presses a feather light kiss to my throat.

  I arch my neck, pressing closer, my head spinning already.

  The sharp edge of his teeth scrapes along my jawline. He nips my chin before he kisses and sucks his way back down my neck.

  I’m balanced precariously on my perch with Stone pressed between my thighs, devouring me like I’m his to consume.

  His touch is driving me wild.

  The loud buzzing is like a needle scratching a record. We jump apart, both wide eyed and panting.

  “Hello, this is security. We’re getting you out,” a loud voice comes over the loudspeaker. It sounds vaguely familiar and it sends my panic into overdrive.

  “Oh my God, this is a disaster,” I cry and start wiping my mouth and fixing my hair and straightening my clothes.

  “It’s just security.” I snap a glance at him in the mirror and see the irritation in his voice furrowing his brow.

  “I think I know that voice, “I whisper urgently, cursing my stupidity and swearing to be good if I get out of this.

  “So? We’re in an elevator both fully clothed, it’s hardly suspicious,” he says, and his calm voice annoys me. The elevator whines and my heart hammers against my breastbone.

  “Let’s just get off like we’re strangers, you go first, and I’ll call you when I get to my room, okay?” I mutter and then put my game face on.

  The man on the other side isn’t anyone I've ever seen before and the rush of relief I feel almost makes me nauseous.

  Stone thanks the man for his help, bids me a civil good evening and strolls away. I walk with the maintenance man back to the lobby and make small talk until we part ways at the huge fountain that sits at the center of it.

  I walk on trembling legs to the nearest bench and sit. The fear I’d felt in that elevator, when I thought I knew that voice had been unreal. What would I have done if it had been someone I know?

  I’ve held on to my marriage by Faustian bargain. Marcel has broken faith with me more times than I can count, and I don’t owe him my fidelity or discretion.

  But there are more than just our reputations at stake.

  Buried somewhere in our prenup there are all sorts of morality clauses tied to alimony and more importantly, custody.

  Charlie was right, what we have isn’t a marriage. We’ll never be intimate again. But, Marcel has made it clear that leaving him would be nothing short of a battle. If I’m going to do it, I don’t need to give him any ammunition.

  Cursing my choices and my husband, I start for my room. I was lucky just now, but this is a popular and public place. I was crazy to think I could have an affair with him here. I’m not going to call Stone when I get back to my room. And since I have no idea when he’s leaving, I’ll be spending the rest of my time there. It sucks, but I always eat my vegetables. Even when they’re covered in shit.

  Last night will have to be enough.

  My stomach tightens and disappointment lodges in my throat.

  Discipline, Regan.

  I am the most disciplined person I know. I don’t say that as a point of pride but as a matter of fact. It’s what has pulled me back up every time life has forced me to my knees.

  It’s my superpower.

  And that makes Stone Rivers… what? My kryptonite? Because the minute I breathe the same air as him, I find myself confronting bullies, breaking decades of family code, fornicating in public, and shattering rules that I have never even been tempted to bend.

  He knows where my room is, but certainly he can’t come in unless I open that door.

  And tomorrow, I’ll request a room change.

  And I won’t leave my room until it’s time for me to go home early next week. I have my books, my laptop, my phone and a killer view. I could go home early, but...I don’t know when I’ll get a chance to be alone like this again.

  The steady stream of room service will be a boon for the staff - they’ll get tips each time they bring me something – so that’s a silver lining.

  God only knows what kinds of germs I’m avoiding by not using any of the six pools on site. I have a hot tub on my balcony, and that’s going to be amazing.

  By the time I’m stepping off the elevator, my resolve is firm and I’m feeling like maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

  Until I see Matty sitting on the floor outside my room.

  Breaking

  Regan

  “Hey,” I call as I approach.

  Matty looks up and gives me an awkward smile. “You’re alone?” She lifts up to standing in front of my door and crosses her arms tightly over her chest as if she’s warding off the cold. She smiles, but the tense set of her jaw puts me on edge.

  I mimic her stance and don’t return her smile. “Yeah, we had to go our separate ways”

  “So…are you going to see him again?” she asks, and I get the distinct impression she’s stalling.

  “Probably not. It was reckless. What’s up?” I add to preempt any more beating around the bush.

  She purses her lips and clears her throat. “I just wanted to say bye. It was nice to see you.”

  I nod my head slowly, my expression one of exaggerated expectancy, as I wait for her to say whatever she’s clearly holding back.

  When she just looks up and down the corridor, and doesn’t say anything else, my discomfort grows.

  “Well, my number hasn’t changed. If you’re ever in Houston, let me know.” I pull my keycard out of my pocket.

  “Wait, uh- do you still have the bakery?”

  I quirk my eyebrow in bemusement at her out-of-left-field question, “It’s still there, but we sold it to a new owner.”

  “We? Are you back at Wilde?” Her expression is neutral, but her cryptic question feels far from benign and I’m beyond ready for her to get to the point.

  “No. Nope. My grandfather’s banishment stuck.”

  She relaxes her shoulders a little and her jaw loosens, as if she’s relieved to hear that. “So, what do you do, now?”

  “I raise my children and raise money for causes I believe in.”

  “You don’t work at all??”

  I tense. Years of Mommy wars and my own dissatisfaction with the state of my life put me on the defensive.

  “Marcel thinks it’s a negative reflection on him as a provider if his wife works to earn wages.” I mimic my husband’s French treatment of the word wages, imbuing it with all of the disdain that he does.

  Matty raises an eyebrow in surprise, “And you don’t mind that? The Regan I knew-

  “Is gone,” I make light of my heavy predicament and force a resigned smile.

  “That’s too bad. I…” Matty’s gaze falls away, almost shyly. “I miss her.”

  A spark of hope kindles in my chest. “But, maybe we could…I don’t know... get to know each other again?”

  Her dark, inscrutable gaze snaps to my face. She scans it with a grim frown thinning her lips. “Do you believe Rebecca?”

  I blink, her sharply delivered question like water flung in my eyes.

  Her dark eyes flicker with disappointment before they shutter again and my hackles rise. I straighten my posture and cross my shoulders. “You couldn’t leave with us in a good place. You had to pick a fight.”

  She throws her head back in a humorless cackle. “I wish one weekend and a few conversations was all it took for us to be in a good place.” She fills the words with scorn and her lip curls. “I’m not surprised you think so, though. You’ve been keeping up appearances so long, you’ve forgot what real relationships look like.”

  My patience, already brittle, starts to splinter and crack. I cross my arms over my chest and uncross them quickly. I’m not the one who should be on the
defensive. “And you do? Who are your friends? Who’s waiting for you when you get home?” I spit.

  The flash of sadness that crosses her face makes me wish I could take my words back. But Matty recovers her sadness and gives as good as she gets.

  “At least I didn’t sell myself for the sake of a man who hung you out to dry.”

  I gasp in affront., “My grandfather did not—”

  She leans in. her chin jutting upward. Her eyes blaze with anger has me taking a step back. “He Hung. You. Out. To. Dry. Just like you did us. For something that wasn’t our fault.”

  “It was entirely. Your. Fault. You’re lucky you didn’t go to jail. My grandfather did his best for you.” I stab a finger in her face.

  She shoves it away and leans in, so we’re almost nose to nose. “He did his best for his granddaughter and himself. And you can’t see that he was involved because you were so enamored with him.” she says in a voice deepened by anger.

  I’m shocked by the way this escalated. I just want to get into bed. I dig deep to find enough restraint to be the bigger person.

  “Listen, we’re obviously never going to agree on this.”

  She steps away from me, her lips turning down in disgust. “Oh, one day, you’ll find the courage to look at your family and yourself honestly. Then will agree. But until you prove yourself better than the men who hurt us, I don’t think we have anything left to say.”

  This is it. After that awful fight we had last time we saw each other, I’ve still thought of Matty as my friend. But it’s clear that was a hopeful delusion. It hurts to see that so clearly. There’s nothing of the heartbreak I’m feeling in Matty’s expression now. In fact, her eyes are completely unreadable.

  I can’t hide mine and I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much she’s hurt me.

  “Good luck, Matty. It was nice to see you. I hope you have a safe trip home.” Then, for the second time, I turn away from the sister my heart chose. This time, I don’t look back.

  I walk into my suite and shut the door behind me. I press my back to it, draw in huge a lungful of air. I press my hands to my heated cheeks and pull them away in surprise.