“Whoa, are you okay? Here, let me help you up,” he says, sounding surprisingly sincere. “You know, babe, there are less painful ways to throw yourself at me.”
And he’s back, ladies and gentlemen. Utter humiliation prevents me from responding—or maybe my brain is scrambled from going Mach 10; I’m not entirely sure—but I let Kyle help me up as Addie rushes over. “Holy shit, Janey, what are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?”
“Yeah, that was my goal,” I answer wryly as I finally get on my feet. “I noticed your heart rate wasn’t high enough so I thought I’d give you a little extra jolt. You’re welcome.”
Kyle, apparently satisfied that I’m going to live, looks between Addie and me with a creeper grin, if I’ve ever seen one. “What’s this I hear about orgasms in bathrooms?”
I throw my hands up in the air, but Addison is quick to reply. “Oh, that? We were just listing all the things you’ll never have, like normal-sized testicles and the ability to put your arms down at your sides. But you keep juicin’, big guy. I’m sure someday you’ll find a girl with a thing for guys with huge boobs and unusually small balls. Come on, Janey, let’s go.”
Gathering me into her side, she leads me away from Kyle, and I can’t help but giggle at his confused expression, like he’s not quite sure if he’s been insulted. I might feel bad for him if he didn’t leer at every girl in the gym and spout off sexist remarks between reps and taking selfies of himself flexing in the mirror.
Once in the locker room, Addie and I grab our toiletry bags and head for the showers. Since she hasn’t said anything since my Treadmill Torpedo stunt, I’m thinking I might get away without an inquisition, but I should have known better. This is Addison Paige we’re talking about, the human bloodhound who sniffs out secrets for business and pleasure.
“So are you going to see him again?” she calls to me as she lathers up her hair. “Please, God, tell me you’re going to see him again, Janey.”
I bite my lip as images from last night flood my memory. After our little tryst in the bathroom on Monday morning, I jumped every time my phone dinged, but I didn’t hear from him until late that night when he texted to let me know that he had planned on coming over but something had changed on him last minute. I told him it was fine and left it at that. It’s not like we’d made plans or anything. But then my phone rang, and when I answered it, his gruff command had me wet in seconds.
“Lay down and put the phone on speaker. I want one hand pinching your nipples and the other fucking your hot cunt.”
I’ve never had phone sex before. A previous boyfriend had talked about doing it, but the way he described it made it sound like I’d be playing the role of a phone sex operator to get him off, which held all the appeal of a root canal. I told him I was too shy for that kind of thing, and that was the last we discussed it.
That’s not at all what phone sex with Chance had been like. I don’t even think he was doing anything on his end of the line—if he was, he kept it to himself. The entire conversation couldn’t have lasted more than five minutes. There was no flirting, no slow seduction. Just husky instructions on the lascivious things he wanted me to do, and explicit descriptions of what he’d be doing if he were there with me. He talked me through fucking myself to a stratospheric climax that was ten times better than any masturbation session with a Magic Wand had given me. After I came back to myself, and my breaths evened out, he said, “Sleep well, Jane,” and hung up.
But as good as that was, it wasn’t as hot as what he did the following night. Or rather, this morning, if we’re being technical.
“Well?” Addison prods.
“We kind of struck an agreement.”
You would have thought she was a dog and I’d just waved a tennis ball in front of her face. “What kind of agreement?”
Pouring strawberry-scented conditioner into my palm, I feel an impish grin curl the corners of my mouth. “The sex-with-no-strings kind.”
“Shut. Up! I’m torn between being so happy for you that I’d risk serious injury doing a happy dance in these slick conditions, and wishing I’d called him for myself.”
I laugh as I tilt my head back to rinse my hair.
“Have you seen him since the restaurant? Wait, don’t tell me, I’m getting super jealous. I don’t need to know. Okay, I lied. I totally need to know. Tell me.”
Oh, I saw him all right. I didn’t think I was going to, since he told me he had a meeting with the P4H guys, but I’d held out hope for a repeat of Monday night’s phone call. I finally forced myself to go to bed at ten p.m. because I had to work the early shift at the restaurant this morning and needed to get at least a few hours of sleep. Though I knew it was ridiculous, I was disappointed I hadn’t heard from him. But it’s not like we’re dating, for fuck’s sake, so he doesn’t have to contact me for any reason, nor should I expect him to.
That’s why I was surprised as hell when my phone rang at two a.m., fifteen minutes before my alarm was due to go off.
“Chance?” I’d said, my voice raspy with sleep and concern as I sat halfway up in bed.
“Open your door, Jane.”
I’d squinted in the dark at my bedroom door, confused, my brain struggling to wake up and make sense of anything. “It is open.”
I hadn’t been sure, but it sounded like he might be trying to hide a smile when he spoke next. “Not your bedroom door. Your apartment door.”
“Apartment door?”
“Now, Jane.”
When I at last opened the door, I found Chance standing on my threshold. He pocketed his phone, stepped inside, and kicked the door shut before pinning me facing the wall. “You should sleep naked from now on. It’ll make things easier.”
Feeling his hard body pressed against me, and his warm breath fanning over my neck, took me from sleepy to soaked in two-point-six seconds. Much like the phone sex, he didn’t waste any time. He shoved our clothes out of the way, buried his cock balls-deep, then started fucking me like a man possessed. It was savage and hurried, with grunts and moans as we chased our releases all the way to the finish line.
We both had our foreheads on the wall, panting like animals, as we tried to find the motivation to move. Moments later, my alarm went off in my bedroom. That did the trick. He put himself back together and said, “Better get in the shower or you’ll be late for work.” Then he gave me a playful smack on my ass on his way out the door.
It’d been one hell of an awesome start to my day, and I’ve been smiling almost non-stop ever since.
I turn off the shower and give Addison an evil little smirk as I wring the excess water from my hair. “Since the restaurant, I’ve enjoyed plenty with him,” I say. When she gives me a death stare, I laugh and relent. Sort of. “They rhyme with ‘cone hex’ and ‘sidnight wicky’ and if you can’t figure them out from that, then tough titty. Serves you right for sending that guy over to my apartment.”
“How can you still pretend to be mad about that? I think we’ve established this is the best thing that’s ever happened to us. I mean, you. But, you know, me, indirectly.”
“Not Chance,” I say, picking up my bag of shower supplies. “The real handyman—the one that looked like a walrus—who you sent over Saturday morning. He convinced me to let him check over what Chance did to my sink, and after that he tried sticking around to chat me up. Not cool. For that, you shall be punished.”
“Oh, come on, that’s not fair. How was I supposed to know the stripper would fix your shit? Janeyyyyyy.”
She whines my name as I wrap a towel around myself and stride out of the shower area, leaving her to scramble to turn off the water and get her things together. I do my best to keep my laughter on the inside, but it’s not easy because for once I have the upper hand in our friendship. And I’m enjoying the hell out of it. I won’t make her suffer for long. Maybe.
When I get to the locker, I check my phone and see a text from Chance. My stomach does a few crazy flips before I can tell it to pip
e down.
Chance: When do u get home from ur day job?
Me: 6. But I won’t be home long. I’m covering the end of someone else’s shift tonight at 7.
Chance: I’ll b there @ 6:15. Be naked.
“Why are you grinning at your phone like an idiot?” Addie asks as she reaches me. “Oh damn, it’s him, isn’t it? What’d he say?”
“Nothing too exciting,” I quip as I start to dress. “But if I had to guess, I think I’m in for another ‘wicky’ tonight.”
Chapter Eleven
Jane
It’s Friday evening and I’m staring at the blinking cursor on my laptop, waiting for the right words to come to me so I can move that fucker across the page and make some progress. But my muse has been on an extended sabbatical and refuses to make an appearance. Again.
This thesis is going to be the death of me. I’m so close to being done, but it’s missing an element, and I can’t figure out what it is. My dual degree is in social work and women’s and gender studies, so I chose to do my thesis on the objectification of women in America—how we’re taught we should embrace submission to the desires of men, because the more we do, the more valuable we become.
Believe me, the irony of what I’m writing versus what I’m practicing with my no-strings thing with Chance is not lost on me. I’m a feminist by day, and a woman who enjoys being manhandled and objectified at night. But I’m choosing to be treated this way. I wouldn’t find it the least bit tolerable if some random guy leered at me like a piece of meat he’d like to stick his dick in.
That’s the story I’m telling myself, but as I sit at my dining room table wearing the nicest piece of lingerie I own because a man I’ve only known for a week told me to, I can’t help but feel a little hypocritical.
I pick up my phone and pull up my text messages. There are several from Addie wanting the latest gossip on my newly acquired sex life, but I’m enjoying making her wait for tidbits, so I’ll answer those tomorrow. The suspense is still punishment for her little trick a week ago.
Obviously in hindsight, I’m thankful she sent over Chance the Handyman—if she hadn’t, I wouldn’t be having the best sex of my life with a modern day Viking. But that doesn’t mean I’m letting her off easy, and it’s driving her crazy. She had her fun last week, now I’m having mine. She gets it; she just doesn’t like it.
But it’s not one of Addison’s texts that I’ve read over a dozen times since receiving it. It’s the one I got from Chance an hour ago.
Just got off. Taking shower & grabbing food. Be there in 1 hr. Wear the sexiest lingerie you own. Nothing else.
Reading his message now elicits the same butterflies-in-the-stomach reaction as it did the first time and every time in between. In fact, everything about him causes that reaction. A text, a look, a command, a touch… The long and short of it is, Chance affects me at the cellular level. The man reads me like a book, and there hasn’t been a single thing he’s said or done that I haven’t enjoyed immensely.
Three solid knocks startle me then kick my pulse into high gear. He’s here. I rush over to the door and pause for a deep breath. Glancing in the mirror that hangs on the wall over my console table, I try fluffing my hair, which I’ve left down for the first time since we’ve met, and then I cinch the belt on the short robe that’s covering my black lace teddy.
Somehow Chance knows I’m just on the other side of the door, because when he speaks, his voice is commanding, and low enough so that I’m only able to hear him this close. “For every second you make me wait out here, Jane, I’m spanking your sweet ass.”
A shiver chases down my spine. That isn’t necessarily the threat he intends it to be since I’ve enjoyed his spankings several times in the last four days. We haven’t had much time to see each other, what with both of us working two jobs—him with his construction company and the occasional stripping session, and me with my internship during the day and waitressing after (and sometimes before)—but we managed to sneak in quickies between shifts. Every day he’d come over, screw my brains out, then leave me to get ready as I attempt to scrub away my freshly-fucked look with a two-minute shower before heading to the restaurant.
But Chance wanted to make plans for a night where we aren’t rushed, and thankfully I never have to waitress on Fridays. It’s the one concession to my schedule since I work a lot of the crappy three to seven a.m. half shifts that no one wants, and by the end of the week, I need Friday off to do absolutely nothing.
“You’re already at ten, Jane.”
Shit. I throw the lock and open the door. Every time I see him, I’m still in awe that someone as sexy as him wants to be with someone like me. But I’m no dummy; I’m not about to ask him why or question his actions. If he’s going to be judgment-impaired, that’s on him, and I plan on riding out this little miracle for as long as possible.
“Hi,” I say, hating the tiny tremor in my voice. I’m more nervous than usual.
Goddamn, he’s gorgeous. His hair is hanging loose and still wet from his shower. Wait, no, he’s wet everywhere. Water drips down his face, from the tips of his spiked eyelashes and the end of his nose. His white T-shirt clings to his shoulders and chest, showing every ridge of his muscles, the dusting of hair, his dusky nipples.
“You’re wet.”
He raises an eyebrow. “It’s raining, and I had to park a block away.”
As though he’s summoned it to underscore his claim, lightning flashes through my kitchen window, followed by a distant rumble of thunder. I’d been so lost in thought about his arrival I hadn’t even heard the storm.
“Well, come in. We can take your clothes to the laundry room down the hall and stick them in the dryer if you want.” I ogle his firm ass in the damp jeans as he passes me. I smirk. “You’ll have to lounge around in your underwear for a while, but I’m surprisingly okay with that.”
“You are, huh?” He sets a plastic bag I hadn’t noticed until now on the kitchen counter. “Nice to know you don’t hold issue with me in a state of undress around your delicate sensibilities.”
“I try not to be too prudish,” I quip. “What’s in the bag?”
“Chinese.” The answer makes me frown in confusion. “Told you I was grabbing food.”
“I know, but I thought you meant you were grabbing something to eat before coming over. I didn’t expect you to bring me—us—dinner.” Because correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s kind of a date-ish thing to do. And nothing about this arrangement is date-ish. The whole point of it is to not be date-ish.
Chance grabs the hem of his shirt and peels the wet material up and over his head, depositing it into the sink. “You already eat?”
“No, actually, I—”
“Why are you wearing a robe?”
I glance down at my soft, pink robe as if to confirm it’s still there, then look back up when I hear the sound of his belt coming undone.
“Please tell me that’s not the sexiest lingerie you own.”
I swallow thickly. “It’s underneath.”
“I specifically remember telling you to wear nothing else. Where are your glasses?”
“I felt a little silly sitting around in lingerie while working, and they’re over by my laptop. I don’t need them to see close up.”
“Show me.” I go to where I’d been set up in the dining room and grab my glasses. When I turn around, he’s right there, crowding me against the table. “Put ’em on. There,” he says after I follow his instructions, “I like you with them on. The ‘sexy librarian’ looks good on you, Jane.”
“Social worker.”
“What?”
“I’m not a librarian, I’m a social worker. Or at least I will be if I ever finish this damn thesis. That’s what I was working on before you came over.”
“Interesting.” He seems to think about that. I wish I had access to those thoughts. Does he really think it’s interesting, or is he simply patronizing me? I don’t know him well enough. After several long mome
nts, he peers over at my laptop and then grins back at me. “Sure you weren’t watching porn, dirty girl? I know how much you enjoy your kinky videos.”
I chuckle. “Are you kidding? I haven’t watched porn since—”
Oops. Admitting something like this could be too much. Nothing about our lives is supposed to change due to this arrangement. It’s one of the unwritten rules of no-strings sex.
He narrows those clear, blue eyes at me. “Since when?” I bite the corner of my lower lip. Chance plunges a hand into the back of my hair, grabs a fistful, and yanks it back. “Since when, Jane?”
A shot of adrenaline turns my bloodstream into the Indy 500, and the sharp sting at my scalp triggers warmth to flood my sex.
“Since we started our thing,” I say in a breathy tone.
He dips his head and runs his nose up the length of my throat. “You mean since I started fucking you.”
“Yes.”
“Because I satisfy your needs. Because getting fucked by me is better than watching porn.”
They aren’t questions, they’re statements. True ones. And the arrogant bastard knows it. Still, I appease him and respond, because it’s part of the game. “God, yes.”
“Good girl. Now take off this fucking robe, and the next time I say ‘nothing else’ there damn well better be nothing else. Understand?”
I nod and quickly shed the robe, dropping it somewhere off to the side. He releases his hold on my hair and takes a step back to let his gaze roam over me, slow as he pleases. My hands grip the edge of the table behind me as I force myself not to fidget with insecurity. A vixen in the bedroom (or anywhere else), I am not. I might be open and modern-thinking when it comes to my sex life, but I don’t know how to harness my sexuality and use it to seduce. That’s Addison’s department. If you want to psychoanalyze something, I’m definitely your girl. But embracing the sex kitten within? Not so much.
Chance palms my breasts over the demi-cups. He squeezes each mound and pinches my nipples through the lace. My breath catches, and my clit throbs in anticipation in time with my heartbeat. I moan softly and drop my head back as my eyes drift closed, letting my other senses take over as he maps out my body with his strong hands.
Shameless (Playboys in Love #1) Page 7
