by Cara Summers
She kicked off her shoes and poured herself half a glass of wine, when she’d really like to down half the bottle. She stared at the jagged nail on her index finger and gritted her teeth. None of her fingernails were long but she kept them at a decent enough length for an occasional French manicure. Today she’d spent four hours sanding walls. Ever so carefully, with gloves on. Then five minutes before she’d knocked off, there went the nail.
Normally she wouldn’t care, but tomorrow evening was the reception with Eric. She looked at the phone. Maybe she should call to confirm. If plans had changed, he couldn’t call her. She still hadn’t given him her number.
She took a sip of wine, telling herself that was an excuse. She could wait until tomorrow to talk to him. Anyway, he was probably working. Drumming her fingers on the counter, she glanced from the phone to the clock and then back to the phone. Two minutes. That’s it. Just to confirm tomorrow evening, she told herself and grabbed the receiver.
With her purse slung over her shoulder and carrying the glass of wine in one hand, the phone in the other, she headed for her room. She gave herself a few more minutes to change her mind about calling while she kicked off her shoes and turned down her lemon-yellow comforter.
Her room was too tiny to hold anything more than a twin bed, a nightstand and a small dresser, so she plumped her pillow and positioned it against the wall and then made herself comfortable, sitting cross-legged with her back against the pillow.
After another sip of wine, she took a deep breath and dialed his number. She knew it by heart after a glance. It was an easy one to remember.
She let the phone ring three times and was about to hang up when he answered. His voice sounded hoarse, husky, as if he’d been sleeping, but it was only eight-thirty.
“Hey, Eric.”
“Dallas?”
“Yeah, did I wake you?”
“No, of course not. I’m glad you called.”
“Yeah?” She smiled, her misgivings dissolving.
“I wish you hadn’t disappeared last night.”
“I didn’t exactly disappear. I just didn’t want to wake you. Besides, I left a note.”
“You should’ve woken me.”
She smiled at the drop in his voice. “Why?”
“I had something for you.”
An image of him standing naked in front of her last night instantly flashed in her mind. “I can’t imagine what that could have been.”
“Come over now and I’ll show you.”
Laughing, she put her glass on the nightstand and then slid into a horizontal position. “I bet.”
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“What are you wearing?”
“A big, bulky white chenille robe and pink curlers in my hair.”
“Ah, my older-woman fantasy come to life.”
Dallas smiled and rolled over to her side. “I just got home from my meeting.”
“How did it go?”
“Pretty horrible.”
“Sorry to hear that. Want to tell me about it?”
She bit her lip, annoyed that she’d allowed the conversation to go in that direction. “No, I want to talk about something more pleasant.”
“Okay,” he said slowly, “let’s get back to what you’re really wearing.”
“You mean besides the G-string?”
After a long moment of silence he said, “You’re kid ding, right?”
“It’s black. Not that you can see much of it.”
After another pause he asked, “What did you say your address was?”
She laughed. “Nice try.”
“Yeah,” he said, sounding a little put off. “Or you could come here.”
“It’s late.”
“It’s only eight-forty.”
“I have to get up early.”
“So do I.”
“We wouldn’t get any sleep.”
He laughed. “Like I’m going to get any now.”
“Good point.”
“Tell you what, where are you?”
“At home, really.”
“No, I mean right now.”
“In my room, lying on my bed.”
“Perfect.”
She sucked in a breath, suddenly aware of where this was going. “Why?”
“Take off your clothes.”
Heat spiraled through her. “And?”
“Take them off and then I’ll give you further instructions.”
She hesitated, momentarily self-conscious, but excitement at the prospect of what could come moved her to do as he asked, and she unbuttoned her jeans.
“Dallas?”
“Yes?”
“Tell me what you’re doing.”
“Taking my clothes off as you asked.”
“Be specific.”
She laughed, a little self-conscious again.
“Tell me,” he urged, his voice growing hoarse.
“My jeans,” she whispered, her hands starting to tremble. “I’m pulling down the zipper.”
“Go on.”
“I’m pushing the jeans down past my hips.” She cradled the phone between her chin and shoulder as she struggled to free herself of the stubborn denim.
“Are they off yet?”
“Almost.” The phone slipped as she shoved the jeans to her ankles. She kicked them off and repositioned the receiver. “Okay.”
“Are you wearing panties?”
“Of course.” She laughed. It came out shaky.
“Describe them.”
“They’re black.”
“Silk?”
“Yes,” she lied. Plain cotton wasn’t sexy and she was really getting into the game.
“A thong?”
“Yes.”
He moaned, the sound low and raspy and shooting straight down her spine. “Take them off.”
“They’re already off.”
He breathed deeply into the phone. “Now your blouse.”
“I’ll have to put the phone down.”
“Leave it where I can hear you.”
She sat up and took a quick sip of wine. “You, too. Take off your clothes.”
His laugh was more a low, sexy growl. “Baby, I’m way ahead of you.”
“You’re naked?”
“Almost. Down to boxers.”
She smiled as she unbuttoned her blouse. “What color?”
“Don’t ruin the mood.”
“Come on. Play fair.”
He hesitated. “Black with red chili peppers.”
She laughed. “Really?”
“They were a gag gift from a friend.”
“Wear them often?”
“Only when I haven’t done laundry for two weeks.” He sighed. “Can we get back to something more interesting?”
“Such as?”
“Your bra. Take it off.”
“You’ve assumed I’m wearing one.”
Silence, and then he said, “You’re not?”
She smiled, picturing the way his eyes darkened and his nostrils flared slightly when he was aroused but trying to hold back. Funny how he seemed so clear in her mind, as if they’d shared more than one night together. “It’s black, silk and lace, and I’m about to unclasp it.”
“Do it.”
“Done.” She slipped one strap off her shoulder and then the other, and the bra fell away.
“You’re naked?”
“Oh, yeah.” She lay back down and stretched out, resting her palm on her tummy. “You?”
“Uh-huh,” Eric murmured. “God, I close my eyes and I can see you. Your nipples. They’re pink. Not rose or flesh-colored but really pink.”
Suddenly so were her cheeks. She was glad he couldn’t see them. Curious, she glanced down at her self. Her nipples were rather pink.
“See what I mean?” he asked as if he could see through the phone. “They’re so soft, too. Like satin. Touch them.”
Dallas sucked in a breath.
“Come on. Touch
them and tell me what you feel.”
She moistened her lips. Slowly drew the tips of two fingers around the areola and then pinched the hardened nipple between her thumb and forefinger, closing her eyes, imagining Eric’s hand on her body. She bit her lower lip.
“Dallas?” Throaty and hoarse, his voice came across the phone line in a whisper. “Tell me.”
She couldn’t speak at first. The intimacy of what they were doing amazed her. How could she feel so safe with Eric? The idea was absurd, but there it was. “What I’m feeling has nothing to do with my fingertips.”
He started to laugh, too, and then gasped and moaned in her ear. A sensual moan that told her he was also pleasing himself.
The idea excited her further and she slipped her other hand between her thighs. “Tell me what you’re doing.” She closed her eyes, picturing him in her mind’s eye.
“Stroking my cock,” he said without hesitation. “Pretending it’s you lying here touching me.”
She shuddered. If he was trying to tempt her into going over to his place, he was doing a damn good job. “Are you hard yet?”
“Oh, baby.” His laugh came out shaky, almost a pant. “Where are your hands?”
“I’m touching my nipples.”
“That’s not your hands. That’s my mouth on you. Suckling you, licking you.” He moaned softly. “I can taste you.”
Her eyes still closed, she bit her lip, squeezed her thighs together.
“Your other hand,” he whispered, his voice growing more ragged. “Slide your palm down your belly and spread your legs.”
She swallowed, took an uneven breath. Did as he ordered. Her fingers grazed the slick wet folds and a moan escaped her.
“That’s it. Push a finger inside. Deep.”
She tensed around herself and whimpered.
“Now two fingers.”
With a trembling hand she inserted another finger.
“Baby, I’m with you. My cock is in your warm mouth.” He groaned. “Damn it, I can’t hold out much longer.”
Dallas heard the front door open. It was Wendy. “I have to go.”
“No. Don’t.” He groaned louder this time. “Touch your clit. Do you feel my tongue?” And louder still. “Ah, Dallas, I can’t wait any longer. Baby, come with me.”
She closed her eyes, shut out the kitchen noises Wendy was making and imagined Eric bent over her, his face between her legs. The spasms came instantly. She tried to muffle her moans. Heard Eric’s anguished re lease. Heard him whisper her name. She curled onto her side and buried her face into the pillow.
CHAPTER TEN
ERIC WAITED AT THE DESIGNATED RENDEZVOUS point, a feeling of dread knotting the muscles in his neck and shoulders. It wasn’t as if he didn’t expect her to show up. She’d promised to go to the reception with him and she’d be here. Dallas wasn’t the type to stand him up. He didn’t know how he knew that exactly. He just did.
Hell, he didn’t know her at all. Only what he’d fantasized about her late at night when he tried like hell to get some sleep or while he sat in his office staring out the window when he should have been working on a new ad campaign for Whompie’s Burgers.
He’d made it in time in spite of the fact that traffic had been a bitch. A light drizzle had people lined up along both Columbus Avenue and Seventy-second, trying to hail cabs that were all full and passing them by without slowing down. He hoped Dallas wasn’t caught up in the mess or that she’d decided it wasn’t worth coming out. Nah, he reminded himself, she wouldn’t chump him.
He checked his cell phone in case he’d missed a call but there was no message. Then he checked his watch. Not that he gave a damn about the reception. He just wanted to see her. Touch her hair, her soft skin. For real. Last night had been torture. He’d wanted her so badly, he could taste her. Smell her sweet feminine scent. He closed his eyes. He could taste her now.
That and the thought of their phone play last night made him shift from foot to foot, willing his arousal to subside. He didn’t dare look down. No sense calling attention to the bulge growing behind his fly. He adjusted his suit jacket to hide his juvenile reaction and then squinted to see who was getting out of a yellow cab stopped at the corner.
Dallas jumped out and darted for cover under the eaves of a diner. He cringed at the black stiletto heels she wore and prayed she didn’t break anything in her haste. She made it in one piece, her long, slender legs eating up the wet pavement in four long strides.
Amazing that she could look so graceful dashing through the rain like that, her hair all twisted up with flyaway tendrils that brushed her pink cheeks. In fact, she looked stunning. The whole scene was so perfect, it looked staged. As if it had been set up to shoot a commercial.
It wasn’t his imagination. He wasn’t the only one staring. Three businessmen who’d just left the diner stood gawking at her. Even a young woman with green spiked hair waiting at the bus stop gave her a second look. The slinky black dress alone was enough to turn heads.
He raised a hand to get her attention. She waved back and then darted across the street between cars. Astonishingly no one honked.
“Hey,” she said, smiling, a little breathless—a little shy, if he wasn’t mistaken. Probably because of their phone sex last night. Hell, thinking about it still shook him up. He’d never done anything like that before. But with her it had felt natural, comfortable, incredibly erotic.
God, he couldn’t go there right now and risk another hard-on. He took her hand, drew her under cover and briefly kissed her. Difficult as it was to pull away, he reared back and smiled. “Sorry about the rain.”
Her eyebrows went up. “You can control the weather? Who knew?”
Pleased that she hadn’t shied away, he drew her close again and whispered, “You’d be surprised at what I can do given the right incentive.”
She lifted her chin, excitement sparkling in her eyes. “Maybe we ought to skip the reception.”
“I have no problem with that.” Actually his boss would kill him. This client was too important.
She lightly punched his arm. “I didn’t get all dressed up for nothing.”
He snorted. “Hey, I think I’m offended.”
“I’m sure you’ll get over it.” She smiled. “Tell me again what this reception is for.”
“A client just bought a small strip mall and this is his way of announcing the deal.”
She reared her head back. “In Manhattan?”
“No.” He had to laugh. “Suburban New Jersey. Some small town. I can’t even remember the name of it.” At her look of surprise he added, “I’m not working up any ads for the project. Not yet, anyway. The guy likes to party. Any excuse will do.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “His name?”
“Lawrence Horn.”
She repeated it and nodded again. “Any other names I should know?”
“Uh, no.” The serious look on her face fascinated him—as if she were about to enter a boardroom instead of attend a meaningless party. Of course, this wasn’t exactly meaningless for him, and that she obviously was preparing herself on his behalf sent a strange tingle down his spine.
The drizzle turned to a sudden downpour, startling them. He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
“No, keep it. You’ll get soaked.”
He stopped her from returning the jacket. “Better me than you.”
“This dress will dry in a flash. See?” She pinched the fabric at her neckline between her thumb and finger. “It’s that kind of material.”
He stared at the creamy skin briefly exposed by her tugging. The dress was clingy enough. Wet, it would be like a second skin. Shouldn’t think about that. Couldn’t. Not now. “We don’t have far to go. Just two doors down. Come on.”
She moved her arm away when he tried to take it, her lips curving in a seductive smile. “We could wait a few moments. See if the rain lets up.”
“Yeah, okay, sure,” he said as she crowded him, forc
ing him back so that he ended up with his back against the brick retaining wall that hid the alley.
She grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled his head down so that their lips met. But only briefly, and then she looked up at him and smiled. “Think they’ll miss you if we’re a little late?”
His cock had already started to respond enthusiastically, and he didn’t give a damn if they showed up at all. The client would survive. Eric might not. He took a deep breath. “What did you have in mind?”
“A little of this…” She brushed her lips across his. “A little of that,” she whispered breathily near his ear as she moved her hips against his.
Between the heavy rain and small alcove they’d found, someone would have to try hard to see them. If anyone were that nosy, the hell with them. Maybe they’d get an education.
“Oh, my.” She brushed her hand down his fly. “What have we here?”
“You’re sadistic.” He barely got the words out through clenched teeth, afraid he was going to lose it right here in public.
She sighed. “Masochistic, actually.”
Buoyed with satisfaction from her admission, he lowered his head and gently bit her lower lip. She whimpered, and he sucked the slick flesh into his mouth. She had something that tasted like strawberries on her lip, but it might as well have been a debilitating drug. His head got light and then heavy, and common sense seemed to evaporate like the wintry morning mist hovering over Long Island Sound under the hot sun.
She moaned and pressed closer. He ran his palms down her back and then cupped her round bottom. She plunged her tongue into his mouth, and his fingers dug into her buttocks as he pulled her hard against his erection.
“Eric.” With a shaky laugh she straightened and took a step back. “This is crazy. This is—” Her gaze slid past him. “Look, it stopped raining.”
He looked over his shoulder. Mostly it had. Doubtful it would get much better than the persistent light drizzle that continued to mess up traffic.
“Guess we should make a run for it,” he said, annoyed that he once again had to cool off a horrendous hard-on.
“I guess so.”
“Ready?”
