by James, Clare
“Gabe,” I yell, unaware of my surroundings—unaware of anything but his voice and my hands.
“Yes, I’m here. My tongue is pushing inside you. Move with me.”
My body begins bucking against my hand, all the while I pretend it’s him.
“I’m going to fuck you, Stevie. Open wider for me.”
I spread my legs farther apart, feeling his weight on me, pushing inside.
“You feel so fucking amazing. So tight and hot for me. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t stop.”
“Harder,” I tell him, not recognizing my own voice.
“Okay, baby. You asked for it. I’m rocking into you so hard it hurts. You’re clenching that tight pussy around me, so close. But don’t come. Not yet. Not until I say when.”
I’m crazed now, feeling him push inside. Rough, hard. My ragged breaths join Gabe’s.
“Now, baby. Right now. Come for me.”
And that’s all it takes. I push down on my clit and curl my fingers inside, before exploding in a mass of white light.
***
“Stevie,” Gabe whispers in the phone sometime later. “Are you alive?”
“Don’t know, don’t care,” I mumble, still basking in the afterglow.
His low chuckle makes me equal parts happy and hot. I have a feeling this man could be very addictive.
“Get some rest, sweetheart. I have a big day planned for you tomorrow.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, your list. Remember?”
“Oh yeah?”
“Are you still game?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I was hoping so, I have a place I want to take you.”
“What kind of place?” I ask, enjoying my descent back to Earth.
“A place that’s perfect for a sexual adventure.”
“Oh no,” I giggle. “Not a frat house.”
“Good one, but no.”
“A BDSM compound?” I ask, somewhat jokingly.
“Try again.”
Whew.
“Strip club?” I guess again.
“Well, it is a club of sorts.”
“And that’s all you’ll tell me?”
“Yes, for now. We’ll talk more in the morning. Good night, Stevie.”
“Aren’t you going to come in here and kiss me goodnight?” I so want to get my hands on him.
“And ruin the mystery of the night? No way. But can I tell you one more thing before you doze?”
“Sure,” I say, disappointed he’s not coming in.
“Max is a fucking idiot.”
GABE
It is a long and excruciating ride home. I’m hard, and sweaty, and unbelievably uncomfortable. That may have been one of my hottest sexual experiences, and I didn’t even touch the girl.
Make that woman. Stevie’s not even remotely girly, she is all woman. She knows what she wants, doesn’t make apologies for it, and takes action. That alone is a huge turn-on. Add her curvy little body and angelic face to the mix and I didn’t stand a chance.
Walking out the door of her hotel room—without getting a good look at the goods under the lace—was an act of sheer willpower. I wanted to take her then and there. In any way she’d let me. She would’ve too, but she was on the other side of buzzed, heading toward drunk. And though I may have, let’s say unique sexual pursuits, I would never take advantage of a woman that way.
No matter how much it kills me.
Inside my place, it’s too quiet. I’m not used to being alone here. I turn on the TV to kill the silence, before hitting the shower. The water is cranked to cold, but the frigid water does nothing to take my mind off Stevie. The image of her spread out on the bed—so ready and full of want—has my dick hard and my breath ragged. Her lust-filled eyes and pouting mouth had me thinking filthy thoughts. Her pale, smooth skin had my hands aching to touch. The way her breasts, high and full with those tight rosy nipples threatening to break out of all that lace, invited me to taste. And I can only imagine what was beneath those tiny panties.
That does it.
It takes only three strokes to come. I have to admit it hurts my pride, but that’s how whipped up she has me.
After I take care of business, I can finally breathe again. Of course, I could’ve just as easily gone to The Club. A partner would’ve been much better—and much less pathetic—than a solo act. Yet, being with someone else just didn’t feel right.
Maybe I want more.
It’s been so long time since I’ve felt this …too long. Plus, I think I really could help her. And maybe myself. Christ, I know what it’s like. I’ve been where she is.
When I get out of the shower, I begin to formulate a plan. One that will help both of us and be a hell of a good time.
“Hey, it’s Gabe,” I say into the phone. “I’m bringing in someone new tomorrow night and I’m going to need help with a few preparations.”
I know exactly what my next move is.
Chapter 7
“Ms. Sinclair?”
I wake to a woman’s voice and a light tapping on the door. Rolling around in my luxuriously comfortable bed, I’m unwilling to get up.
“Mmm,” I grunt, hoping the noise will go away.
“Ms. Sinclair?”
No luck. I open my eyes, and the room slowly comes into focus. The hotel room. I feel a small pang of despair when I remember why I’m here—my current homeless and boyfriendless status.
“Ms. Sinclair, Ms. Sinclair,” Free Bird chirps.
At least I’m not petless.
The sheet I put over Free’s cage slipped a little in the night, and he’s wide-awake, pacing back and forth. Poor guy is just as confused as I am.
“Shhh,” I tell him as I get up and fix the sheet.
I hope I did the right thing bringing him with me when I left Max. My ex. Nope, I don’t like the sound of that one bit. I still can’t believe I didn’t see it coming. I can’t believe one day we’re buying groceries together—the man bought my tampons for crying out loud—and the next, I’m finding condoms for his secret sexcapades. And they were the fancy kind with extra lube, no less. Of course I looked.
But even though I don’t have a home, and I’m currently using the last of my hotel points for this roof over our heads, Free Bird has to better off with me. Plus, I wouldn’t want him to pick up the manwhore lifestyle: bringing random lady birds to his cage at all hours, slicking his feathers back with cheap gel, talking in cheesy one-liners. No, not my sweet boy.
“Coming,” I call out to the woman behind the door, searching for my robe. I’m still naked from last night’s festivities—and my time with Gabe. Now, that particular memory has exactly the opposite effect as the Max situation.
When I finally make it to the door, I open to a beautiful assault on the senses.
“I have your breakfast, Ms. Sinclair,” a young woman with deep red hair and bright green eyes tells me with a smile—like she’s in on some secret.
Strange, how does she know my name?
My stomach growls in approval, but I didn’t order this, nor can I afford it.
“Sorry,” I say, wiping the drool from my mouth. “I didn’t order breakfast.”
“I know.” She winks. “But someone did for you.”
Gabe.
And just like that, my hunger turns into a different sort as my mind once again goes back to last night—by far the most erotic night of my life. Almost the best night of my life, if I’m being honest. What I wouldn’t do to hear the low purr of his sexy voice right now.
“Enjoy,” the woman says before quietly closing the door. I hardly notice.
On the cart, covered in white linen, is a feast. And not your typical hotel food either. A fragrant bouquet of brightly colored flowers sits in the middle of the table full of baskets, bowls, and covered plates. The croissants look like they came from a French bakery, the assortment of fruit from a farmer’s market, and the frittata from a European café. And then, thank the heavens, there�
��s a cappuccino, topped off with a frothy, floating heart. I can’t help it when mine flips inside my chest.
How long did it take him to put this together?
I shove half of the croissant in my mouth, take a long sip of the creamy cappuccino, and search for my phone. It’s buried under the covers because I didn’t have the strength to put it away after my little experiment with Gabe—to be more specific, phone sex for the win.
Round two, anyone?
I slide my robe off and slink into the covers—oh yeah, I slink now. Searching my contacts, I pull up the number he called me on last night and start round two without him. His sexy hello is all I need.
With my eyes closed, I reach in between my legs and repeat the movements from last night.
One ring.
I imagine his icy eyes burning into me after I take my clothes off.
Two rings.
I can hear the low growl of his voice, ordering me what to do.
Three rings—damn, voicemail. Click.
That’s okay. I can do this without him; I have an incredibly active imagination after all. I take a deep breath and concentrate working my hands like Gabe had me do. Okay, yes, this is nice. I picture him here with me, his hands on me. Right there, Gabe. Right—
“Beep, beep, beep,” Free calls from under his cage, mimicking the sound of our alarm clock at home. “Beep, beep, beep.”
Fuck!
This is so not the way to get my sexy back. Still, I can’t be mad at Free. I climb out of bed and take the sheet off the cage.
“Morning, Free,” I greet him.
“Morning, morning, morning,” he answers back.
I open his cage and let the boy fly around the room for a bit while I attack the smorgasbord. The food’s not as good as what I had in mind with Gabe, but it is a close second.
Then a new thought runs through my mind—maybe this breakfast is just Gabe’s classy parting gift. It was probably just a one-time thing—both of us caught up in the moment. Ugh, the pit in my stomach is back … that is until New Me takes over.
New Me doesn’t worry about what others are thinking; New Me only worries about taking care of herself and talking in the third person, apparently. And right now, the only thing New Me needs to do is eat every last thing on this amazing spread.
My phone vibrates and bounces on top of the bedside table. I dive to retrieve it, hoping to hear Gabe’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Hello,” I say and then hold my breath.
“Why didn’t you call last night?” a high-pitch voice demands.
Shit, it’s just Tia.
“I was indisposed,” I answer, taking a page from her playbook—all coy and evasive.
“Meaning?” she asks, clearly not impressed.
“I met somebody,” I say quietly.
“What?” she yells. Then I hear a crash, a curse, and the phone dropping to the floor.
“Tia?”
“I’m here, I’m here. Shit, Stevie. You met someone already, you little slut? I need details. All of them.”
“I can’t right now.” Oooh, this is so fun.
“Tonight then. Happy Hour at Jake’s?”
I’ve never been one to put off my girlfriends for a man, but I might just have to for Gabe. I’m not sure if we really have plans for tonight, or not, but I want my options open. I’m not going to miss out on one second with that man. Yeah, Tia will have to wait.
“Sorry, I can’t tonight.”
Tia whines.
“Okay, but you need to know that Max called me.”
I groan.
“I told him I didn’t want to get in the middle of this. But after he informed me that you won’t call him back, I agreed to convey the message. I had no choice. He sounded pretty down.”
“Consider it conveyed,” I tell her. “Well catch up soon, I promise. Sorry, hon. I have to go. I’ll call you.”
I hang up feeling a little guilty, but damn did that feel good. It’s nice to be the one on top for a change.
***
“How are you feeling, Stevie?” my boss, Daniel, asks when I get to the shop.
“Better,” I tell him, the guilt settling in my gut as I work my way around all the story boards on the easels scattered throughout the room. Right, we have that big presentation on Friday—one of the biggest accounts our design firm has ever gone after. It’s an account we should have. Our team kicks ass. But as a small shop, we could be seen as a risk.
“Thank Christ,” Daniel says, looking quite disheveled as he pulls me into the conference room. Normally impeccably dressed, my boss now strides ahead of me wearing wrinkled pants, a t-shirt with a coffee stain on the front, and at least four days of scruff. It’s worse than I thought.
“We need you to work your magic on a few of these concepts,” Daniel says as he chews his thumbnail while staring at one of the boards. “We need you bad, girl.”
“Calm down,” I tell him. “I’m here, and I won’t stop until these are perfect. I promise you.”
Though I may not have my sexy, I do have my mojo fully in place at work. It took me several jobs before I found this firm, but I was made for this place. I love the variety of work, the creative people, and our funky loft space. It’s perfect for me.
I settle in at one of the long tables in the conference room and power up my Macs. Then I get to work on the social media design concept we have for the fitness company’s blog, Facebook, and Twitter accounts. The mock-up is almost there; it just needs a few tweaks to really make it special.
Lost in a sea of colors and fonts, the morning flies by, and I almost miss the call coming in on my cell.
“Sinclair,” I answer, not moving my eyes from the two Mac screens I’m working on.
“Damn, you’re sexy in work mode, Sinclair.”
Oh shit, it’s Gabe.
I instantly blush, and my focus blurs, going back to my hotel room last night. My body hums in utter delight.
“Good morning,” I say with the biggest smile in my voice. “I tried to call you earlier to thank you for that amazing breakfast.”
“I know,” he says in that rich tone of his. “I wasn’t happy I missed your call, but I was stuck in a meeting with vendors early this morning. Did you enjoy your meal?”
“Understatement,” I say.
“Well, I had to do something to thank you for last night,” he says, pushing my body past the humming stage toward downright throbbing.
“I think it should be the other way around, mister,” I say, squeezing my legs together. If only I had him on the phone this morning. Grrr.
“I disagree. In fact, free room service isn’t sufficient for what you gave me last night.”
Oh boy, I need to shut this down before I reach the point of no return. How does he do this to me with just his voice?
I clear my throat. “What did you have in mind?”
“Lunch. Millennium Park. One o’clock.”
It’s not a question. Damn, I love when he’s all bossy.
“Okay,” I say.
“So, the adventure continues,” he adds before hanging up.
I drop the phone.
Chapter 8
I get so much done this morning that Boss Man doesn’t even blink when I tell him I’m going out for lunch. But once I get to the park, I have the desperate urge to take the rest of the day off. It is the perfect summer scene: little kids running through the fountain, squealing in delight, the sun shining in a cloudless sky, and flowers in full bloom, smelling absolutely heavenly.
Only one thing puts it all to shame.
Gabe.
I have no trouble spotting him—he looks like a picture. Business casual in grey pants and a pale blue button-down, sprawled across a plaid blanket with a picnic basket at his feet. His eyes are closed and his arms are folded behind his head.
I want to make a meal out of him.
Slowly, I move toward him, not wanting to disturb this image. I just want to savor him for a few more m
inutes.
A warm smile stretches across his face. Busted.
“You like what you see?” he asks, eyes still closed.
I play it cool and take a seat next to him on the blanket, fighting the incredible urge to mount him.
“The picnic?” I ask, refusing to feed his ego. “Yes, it looks fab.”
He opens his eyes and they look even brighter against his shirt. “So, that’s how you’re going to play it, huh?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I smirk. How am I supposed to be sexy around this guy? He catches my every move. “I’m just very excited for our picnic.”
“Well, I’m very excited to see you,” he says, before yanking me down on top of him.
I giggle and try to squirm out of his hold like I’m in junior high and Gabe’s my first crush. But after we lie there for a moment, there is nothing remotely funny. Gabe’s eyes fix on mine and I’m sure the people in the park can see the sparks flying off us.
My body sinks into his, like it’s made to be there. I can feel his heartbeat, his pulse, each breath. And holy buckets, it feels like my panties are going to combust at any minute.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Gabe whispers in my ear. “But since all you’ve been thinking about is the picnic, I best get on with it.”
In a blink, he flips me over and plants a chaste kiss on my nose before getting to work on our lunch. That’s what I get for trying to play it cool.
Gabe pulls out a bottle of white wine, cheese, fruit, asparagus spears wrapped in prosciutto, and a baguette.
“Man, I could get used to you feeding me,” I tell him, stealing a grape.
“So could I.” He hands me a glass of wine. “So, tell me about your day?”
“Really?” I ask, feeling strange he wants to get to know me.
“Really. Why wouldn’t I want to know about your day?”
“I don’t know. I guess I thought we’d keep this thing strictly business—you know, of the sexual adventure variety.”
“We can, if that’s what you want. But I like you Stevie. And no matter what happens when we’re done here, I hope we can be friends.”
