“A week.”
“How many times have you hung out with her motley crew of trouble makers at the spa?”
“Twice. Got a problem with that?”
“Nope.”
“Is this an interview?” she asked, meeting my eyes for the first time tonight.
“Maybe.”
“Well, then, fair is fair. I get to interview you too.”
“Later. I should probably make some phone calls. Alert family—”
“Did you alert your go-to person about Marte?” she asked.
“Yes.” I’d sent Daniel a text updating him on Marte’s condition.
“Then you need to stay. Keep me company.” She turned and walked into the hospital room.
My eyebrows slammed toward my forehead. “All right boss.” I followed behind her, curious.
She paced back and forth across the tiny room, her coat folded over her arm. “Is your last name Delacroix?”
“Yes. Put your coat down.”
She tossed it on a chair in the corner. “I take it you’re not a waiter?”
“No.”
“Are you an actor?”
“Nope.”
“Two for two. When I bumped into you at the wedding, you let me think you were a waiter,” she said, dragging her hand through her hair.
“No, I didn’t.”
“You held a tray filled with a crystal decanter and glasses. You wore a waiter’s penguin suit.”
“Yes, on the tray. The ‘penguin suit’ was Hugo Boss.”
“You spilled scotch on my dress. You insisted on cleaning it up. I think you copped a feel in the process.” She glowered at me. “Admit it.”
“I did not—okay, fine. I copped a feel… but only in my heart.”
“You copped a feel in your heart?” She shoved her hands on her waist making her breasts stand out like Wonder Woman’s. “What kind of weirdo are you?”
She was killing me. I looked around the private hospital room that my grandmother would occupy when they eventually carted her in here. Which would be loudly. And I’d no doubt hear them coming from a mile away down the long hallway. “Yes,” I said. “That means I didn’t literally cop a feel but I was thinking about it.”
“I know exactly what you meant. At what point were you thinking about it?”
“At what point wasn’t I thinking about it?”
“I’m out of here.” She stood up, grabbed her coat, and strode to the door.
“I like you, Charlotte.” My heart dropped. I didn’t want to see her leave again. “Besides, I never told you I was a waiter.”
“Hello?” She whip-turned and jabbed her finger in my face. Her nostrils flared in anger.
Such a fucking turn-on.
“I asked you a week ago in the kitchen when you cooked for me. You distinctly told me you were a waiter as well as an actor. Don’t mess with my head. And if you like me so much, what were you doing with the brunette in the bathroom at the burger place? Wait—don’t tell me. I can figure that out.”
“How did you know…you mean Barbara?” I finally remembered her name—only to realize this was the worst possible time to remember her name.
“Ugh,” she said. “Go enjoy the holidays with Barbara. Tell your grandmother I’ll call on her when she’s feeling better.” She turned to leave.
I grabbed her elbow and spun her toward me. “Nothing happened with Barbara tonight. Nothing’s happened with any Sally, or Meghan, or Jean, or any girl since I met you. Because, Charlotte, my cold, cold heart might finally be cracking open. But, I fear my heart cracks open only for you.”
She blinked. “That’s not true. I saw her follow you in there. I saw you—”
I pulled her toward me and crashed my lips against hers. They were as soft and full as I’d imagined. I loved kissing Charlotte. I swept my tongue across her lower lip, then bit it. She inhaled sharply.
Breathe me in, Charlotte.
Crack my frozen heart open and make me feel again.
Hold my hand when all the shattered pieces hurtle, sharp and brittle, through the air.
I placed one hand behind her head, then both, and tangled my fingers in her hair. Her beautiful breasts smashed against my chest and her pelvis rocked against my erection, which grew in record time. I explored and tasted her mouth with my tongue.
Her coat and purse dropped to the floor with a soft thud.
We separated, just inches apart. Enough for me to see her eyes: wondering, hopeful, and dark with lust.
“I didn’t kiss Barbara in the bathroom at the burger place.”
“Good,” she said, her voice raspy.
“And I didn’t do this, either.” I slid my hand up under her shirt, unhooked her bra with a flick of my fingers, and cupped one magnificent breast. I roamed my hands over her gorgeous tits, rubbing my thumb over one nipple, feeling it harden, growing taut. She gasped. I dropped to my knees, pushed her top up. I watched her reactions as I played with her breasts, kneading them, pinching them. She was so fucking hot.
I needed.
I desired.
I would have Charlotte.
She moaned, arching her spine, thrusting her beautiful breasts further into my greedy hands. Like she couldn’t help herself. Like this was all my fault. “We shouldn’t be doing this. What if someone comes in? A nurse. Your grandmother—”
“No one’s coming in.” I rubbed the stubble on my chin across her breasts, licking, tasting. She groaned, husky, and my cock grew harder. I grabbed her ass and squeezed it. So firm and tight. I lifted my hand and spanked her. Once. Twice.
“Oh, Joe,” she said. “We’re going to have to get a room.”
“Charlotte.” I stood back up to kiss her and devoured her mouth with mine. I trailed kisses down her neck as I pulled off her shirt. I unzipped her jeans and tugged them down her thighs. “We’ve already got one. Take these off now.”
“Can’t. Shoes.”
“Foot,” I commanded.
She lifted one foot as I yanked off her shoe and tossed it across the room. “Next.”
She lifted her other foot, holding onto my shoulder with one hand to steady herself.
I pulled off the second shoe. “Sit.” I pointed to the bed.
She did.
“Pants off.” I picked up a chair and placed it against the entrance to the door.
“Bossy,” she said, but did what I asked.
“You like it when I’m bossy, don’t you Charlotte?” I pulled a condom out of my back pocket and pulled off my pants. My dick was erect and pulsing.
“Yes.”
She sat on the hospital bed, flushed, and bit her lower lip. A white lacy thong covering her sex was the last barrier between me and all of her. My erection grew harder by the second. My cock throbbed. “What else do you like?”
“You,” she said.
“Prove it. Take off your panties.”
She slid them down over her hips. I snagged them with two fingers, pulled them the rest of the way off, and tossed them on the floor.
“Kiss me,” she said, tilting her head back. She stared into my eyes, her breath coming quicker.
Good God, she was even more beautiful than I had fantasized. Thin collarbones accentuated gorgeous breasts with taut rosy nipples. Her stomach had a faint line running all the way down to her pussy that was groomed just the right amount.
I was dying to fuck her, but my heart swelled as much as my dick did. It felt like a part of me was cracking open that hadn’t been exposed in a long time. I needed to know that she wanted me as badly as I wanted her.
I climbed onto the bed and straddled her. I leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. Softly at first. Then harder, more driven, my tongue exploring. I tucked her soft hair behind her ear. I kissed that perfect ear and moved down her neck. She moaned and arched up against me.
“You. Inside me. Now,” she said, kissing, then sucking on my neck.
“Make me.”
“You’re fucking killing me, Joe.”
I grinned. “That’s the point, Charlotte.”
She opened her legs wider, dropped a hand between them, and slid her fingers back and forth across her clit. “Game on, Hot Waiter.”
Chapter Seventeen
Charlotte
I touched myself just like I did when I’d fantasized about him in the bathtub less than a week ago. I ran my finger around my clit, feeling the slick wetness between my legs, driving myself further toward an orgasm. I stared up into Joe’s hungry, dark eyes.
He ripped open a condom package with his teeth and sheathed his big, beautiful dick. “You’re so pretty, Charlotte.”
My gaze swept down him—the sexy stubble on his face, the cleft in his chin, the planes of the cuts on his shoulder muscles. My attention traveled down to his erection, which he now held in the palm of his hand. He stroked his thick, hard cock. He was the beautiful one.
And holy crap, he was well endowed. I hadn’t been sexually active the last year, let alone the majority of my adult life, and I wasn’t sure this man would fit inside of me. But hey, I’d give it the old college try. My pussy clenched and I grew jealous of his hand. I needed to feel him deep within me. Now. Before I exploded into another Joe Delacroix-self-induced orgasm. “Touch me.”
He smiled. “Where?”
“Here.” I strummed my fingers over my clit. “And here.” I dipped them inside my pussy, my pelvic muscles clenching. I moaned.
He straddled me, lifting my legs up, positioning my pelvis, lining his erection up with my sex. I wrapped my legs around his back as he eased inside me. I shuddered.
“You okay?” he asked. “You’re so tight.”
I nodded. “Fuck me. Now.”
He closed his eyes for a few seconds, as if he was getting used to being inside me. He pushed into me, deeper, deeper again, and ran his thumb over my lips. I held onto his arms, squeezing them as he thrust inside me. Pounding me. Claiming me.
My body craved him.
He leaned down and kissed my lips. He lifted my hand from his arm, moved it to his mouth, and kissed the back of it. He drew two fingers inside his mouth, swirled his tongue around them, and then kissed them. “So hot, Charlotte. Exactly what I need. Exactly what I want.” He arched his pelvis and thrust into me slower, with more control. He glanced down, and a low groan escaped his lips as he watched himself fuck me. “Touch yourself again. You know where.”
I did, running my fingers across my clit, brushing up against the base of his cock, circling it with two wet fingers. I shivered, my breath growing ragged.
He shuddered. “More Charlotte.” He pushed into me harder.
“I can’t. I’m going to come.”
“I want you to come. I’ve been imagining what your face would look like when you come, ever since I first laid eyes on you. Come for me, Charlotte.”
“Oh, Joe. Oh my God.” Spasms ripped through me. My hand fell away and he pushed into me harder, angling just right, reaching up and palming one hand across my breasts. Squeezing. Claiming. I closed my eyes as the world exploded around me.
“Fuck, Charlotte. Fuck.” He groaned, gasped, and gritted his teeth. Seconds went by until he finally came, collapsing on top of me. Sweaty. Hot. Spent.
Moments passed. Heavenly, delicious moments. Sex with Joe Delacroix was even hotter than in my fantasy. “Wow.” I pushed a lock of his hair from his forehead, which was beaded with perspiration. “Did you go to school to learn how to do that?”
He pushed up to his elbows, a smile tugging his lips up, and stared down into my eyes. Then he kissed me. “Yes.”
“Did you get a Masters?”
He pulled out of me slowly, unsheathing the condom and tying it. “Actually, yes, but not in—”
Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by the sound of a hospital bed rattling down the hallway. “Fuck!” He held out his hand and helped me off the bed.
“Crap!”
“Grab your clothes.”
“I’ve got to straighten the bed.” I smoothed the sheets.
“Hurry!”
I grabbed my clothes, my coat, and purse. “Panties! Where are my panties?”
“Get into the bathroom. Now!”
I raced the few feet toward the bathroom. Joe looked under the bed and snagged my panties. “Hurry!” I hissed.
I wriggled my pants over my hips and zipped them up. I fastened my bra, threw my top on, and smoothed it down over my breasts. I checked the mirror, hoping my nipples weren’t jutting out like triumphant Olympic athletes on the winner’s podium. I ran a hand through my hair and splashed cold water on my face. I couldn’t help eavesdropping on Joe’s conversation with Marte on the other side of the bathroom door.
“Tell me what happened, Grandma.”
“I don’t know. One second I was walking to the bathroom, the next I was on the ground with my ankle twisted under me. And I was scared.” Her voice was crackly. She sounded tired and doped up from whatever painkillers she’d been given.
“You’re not scared of much.”
“I know. And then I got scared about being scared.”
“Everything will be okay. Promise.”
Joe was so sweet with her. I cracked the bathroom door and peeked out, waiting for his signal. Once interrupted, we’d quickly agreed on a plan. He’d exit the bathroom, pretending like he was doing something people commonly did in bathrooms. As soon as the nurses left I’d sneak out. This strategy was sensible and if properly executed, would totally work. I waited for him to give the signal, which, per our agreement, was a thumbs up.
Joe stroked Marte’s hand, snuck a glance at me, and gave the signal.
I eased out of the lavatory hunched over like a kid who feared she’d be caught with her hand in the cookie jar. I snuck toward the door and lifted one hand to my face in the universal symbol for ‘Call me’.
He winked. “Grandma, were you saying something?”
I was so good at this secretive shit, just seconds away from a full escape.
“Yes. Tell Charlotte to stay.”
His brows shot into his forehead. “Charlotte who?”
“My friend, the cute young lady who’s trying to sneak out of the room.”
“Oh, that Charlotte. Grandma wants you to stay, Charlotte.”
“Yes, well, all right then.” I stood up and ran my hands through my hair. I made my way back into the room. I hoped Marte didn’t know what had just transpired. “How are you feeling?”
“Like crap.”
“I’m sorry.” I took a seat on the opposite side of the bed from Joe.
“Don’t sit there,” she said. “I can’t look at you if you sit over there. It hurts my ankle.”
“It hurts your ankle if I sit on this chair?”
“Yes,” she said, pointing to her grandson. “Sit over there. Next to Joseph.”
“But there isn’t a chair next to Joseph.” I moved around the bed toward the side he was on.
“Be a gentleman and give my friend Charlotte a hand,” she said.
He stood up and gestured to his chair.
No, kind sir. I don’t want to kick you out of your seat.”
“Perhaps we could share.”
“Hah hah. You are so funny, Mr. Delacroix, whom I have just met for the first time.”
“I could swear we’d met once before.” He gazed pointedly at my breasts and ran his tongue over his lips.
“I’m sure you have,” Mrs. D. said. “Charlotte. I have a proposition for you. Joseph is my favorite grandson.”
“Thanks Grandma.”
“That’s sweet,” I said.
“He’s also my most stubborn grandson.”
“Troublemakers can be endearing.” I glanced at the hickey blossoming on his neck.
“In the short time I’ve known you, Charlotte, I’ve gotten the sense you are an ethical person.”
An ethical person who just had hot sex with her grandson in her hospital room.
“Thank you, Mrs. D.”
/> “And, you’re an up and coming matchmaker.”
Oh, yes, there was the coming part…
“I am.”
“You are?” Joe raised one eyebrow.
“Yes.”
“Hold on—you’re the person that matched Biltenhouse to what’s-her-name?”
“Lesley,” I said. “But enough about jobs and such.” I took Mrs. D.’s hand in mine and caressed it. “How are you feeling?” My fingers grazed over her prominent veins, liver spots, tendons, and knobby arthritic joints filled with care and eighty-three years of nurturing others. A beautiful hand.
“When I slipped and hit the floor tonight I didn’t know if this was the big one, a little one, or something in-between,” she said.
“Been there,” I said.
“It is my most sincere wish that Joseph find the right woman. That he get married and find his perfect wife.”
“I’m sure that will happen,” I said. Everything between my legs felt swollen and tingling from the recent mind-boggling orgasm that her grandson had graciously given me. I couldn’t help but think with a twinge of regret that the ‘right’ woman would also be a lucky woman—at least in the smoking hot sex department.
“I want to attend Joseph’s wedding to the right woman, instead of someone I’d be happy just sending a celebratory gift certificate. Would you do me the honor of being his matchmaker?”
Joe looked at me and shook his head.
The smart words vacated my brain. “Uh…”
“I’ll pay you a king’s ransom,” she said.
Joe mimed slicing his throat with one finger.
“I’m relatively new to this profession. I’m sure you want someone more experienced.”
“No, I want you. I get a good feeling about you, Charlotte. Find my grandson the right girl to settle down with.” She batted her big, round baby blue eyes at me. “And make me a happy woman before I die.”
I sighed. “Yes, Mrs. D. I promise you that I will find the right girl for Joseph.”
Chapter Eighteen
Joe
“Well, what in the hell would you have said?” Charlotte asked.
The Client: A Playing Dirty Novel Page 9
