He snarled something anatomically impossible about the cleaners and dropped his entire body on to hers, controlling her by his weight. She still squirmed and argued but he smelled a new muskiness in her scent.
“Give it up, darling! Time for a good ride.”
He nipped her neck, in the age-old greeting of a male to his mate, then explored the resulting marks with long, slow swipes of his tongue. She gasped and bucked again. But this time, her hips lingered against his, then wriggled.
“You’re my bitch and don’t you forget it,” he growled. He nipped her again, drawing a drop of blood for the first time. She moaned and her hips circled under his.
He nipped and licked her again and again, unerringly returning to her most sensitive points. He kept her hands trapped while he rubbed himself over every inch of her back, setting his mark on her with the passage of cloth and metal over her soft skin.
“Please, you…you always know what I want,” she sighed, her voice fading away.
“You’re so sexy…feel my cock fucking your back.” He settled his bulging fly against the crack in her ass and rocked against her, letting the steady movements separate her and nestle him between her cheeks.
“Damn, my hand needs some of your action, too.” He slipped a finger between them and rubbed her clit, rumbling in triumph at the countering surge of cream from her core. She quivered, driven beyond words, as her body answered him with its own rhythm.
“Yeah, wiggle for me,” he murmured as his free hand quickly opened his uniform so his cock could find her.
“Feel how damn big you’ve made me.” He slipped into her hot center slowly, luxuriating in her little whimpers and moans when he insisted on keeping to his pace, not her urgency. “So damn tight when your hot sheath grabs me. And those big beautiful tits of yours…”
He fed his hand under her and pulled her even closer to his chest, lifting her just a little so he could squeeze and roll her nipples. She sobbed in frustration, her inner muscles trying to pull him deeper.
“That’s right, honey, that’s right. Now, honey, now!” He settled fully into her at last and she climaxed, keening her release, when the zipper’s base first rubbed her clit.
He continued moving, keeping her hot and eager so she couldn’t ease too far down, relishing the waves rolling through her.
“Oh yeah, honey, you’re so fine,” he praised her, relishing the pulses gripping his cock and destroying any brains he had left. “Hot damn, honey! Gotta...gotta pump you.” He adjusted his angle slightly, needing more from her. She gasped and shifted in response, tilting her hips, and he groaned.
“Hell, yes!” His cock settled into that perfect fit, where her hot depths enveloped every inch of him and he drilled her pleasure point at every stroke.
“Oh, goddamn fucking yes!” He grunted as he rode her hard, his mare to be enjoyed as he chose. Need built deep in him and he fought it, straining to make this last climb last as long as possible. She orgasmed again and again, her shockwaves ripping through him as if they truly were one body.
His head snapped back and he shouted as he pumped her full of his cream, then collapsed onto her back. After a long, sweaty moment, her head turned and Beth’s chocolate-brown eyes smiled up at him.
“Missed you, darling,” she sighed.
He’d sacrifice a uniform to this, any day.
Sean opened his eyes slowly and stared at the wall. It was the first time he’d seen the fantasy woman’s eyes or heard her voice. Maybe pleasing Beth was reason enough to pull a stunt like this.
He faced Crissy warily at day’s end, acutely conscious of how different his body felt under his usual work clothes. His skin was so soft now that he felt his jeans’ crotch seam rubbing his ass. He felt good too, energized somehow, probably just from all the attention that folks had given him. Still, there were cheaper ways to get the same buzz.
“You look good, Sean. But are you pleased?” she asked shrewdly.
He shrugged. “I’m okay.”
Crissy’s mouth twitched. “Doing it for a lady? Don’t worry; she’ll like the effect. And you may change your mind about how much you enjoy it.”
Sean didn’t quite shrug, not wanting to disagree with Crissy.
“Besides, what’s the harm in doing something just to feel good? If you’ve got the money, then go for it. A lot of my male clients come for themselves, not because their girlfriends tell them to.”
Sean raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Whatever floats their boat. But I don’t think you’ll ever catch me in a place like this again, just to suit myself. Thanks for everything though. I’m sure Beth will be pleased.”
“Good luck, Sean.” Crissy hugged him suddenly. Surprised, he put his arms around her and returned the embrace. “Just be sure to have a good time with Beth.”
“Thanks.”
Later that afternoon, Sean and Mike worked quietly to load the furniture into Sean’s old pickup while Dudley ran alongside, barking when they left him inside.
To his embarrassment, Sean found himself using gloves to protect his hands. It seemed a pity to ruin all the effort that Crissy’s staff had put into making them look good.
They finished the job by tying down a heavy tarp over the top, to keep the furniture and mattress dry until it could be delivered on Friday. Sean tossed a rope over the top to Mike, who caught it easily.
“Good catch!”
“No problem, dad. Just the two Lindstrom men working together, right?”
“Of course, right,” Sean laughed at the twist on their old saying. He’d first charged Mike with being a Lindstrom man at the age of five, asking him to look after his mother. They’d promised to always stand together when Mike ran afoul of the law, and sworn it would be despite all odds at the beginning of the custody fight. They’d kept their word, sticking together through thick and thin ever since.
“Bill Owens said his uncle’s selling his old Range Rover. It’s pretty worn out so he’s not asking much,” Mike said, as he helped put the last rope on.
“I thought Bill was going to buy it.”
“No, it’s in such bad shape that he can’t afford the parts. But you might be interested.”
“Yeah, I’ll think about it. Maybe give him a call next week.” He’d wanted a Range Rover ever since he’d seen the SAS driving them during the Gulf War. Their cost had always put them into the category of look but don’t touch. Maybe Bill’s uncle knew somebody who could rebuild it for him.
“Do you want leftover spaghetti for dinner, Dad?”
“How about Chinese instead? That might be fun and easier than cooking.” They usually ate out on Sean’s nights for dinner duty. But Thursday wasn’t his night to provide a meal.
“Sure, I can go for that.” Thankfully, Mike didn’t ask why the unusual restaurant meal. Or why Sean was wearing gloves for this chore. He just whistled as he tossed a stuffed dinosaur for Dudley to fetch.
Sean wore gloves again when he helped Dave Hemmings rearrange Tracy’s bedroom. First, they cleaned out the existing furniture, an odd mixture of bunk beds inherited from her brother and thrift store bargains that Deirdre had found.
“Sometimes the woman is a genius,” Dave grunted, as they carried a remarkably ugly chest of drawers into the garage. “And sometimes, she just hasn’t got a clue. Maybe I’ll be lucky and somebody will buy this at her next garage sale.”
Sean laughed, understanding the sentiment. His house was also furnished with bargains that he’d picked up over the years. He’d bought, fixed up what he could and sold what he couldn’t, until all his furniture was at least comfortable. What would Beth think of the result? He turned from the thought that she’d probably never see his home.
“Do you want to put the bed in the same place as the old one?” he asked, returning to Dave’s concerns.
“Yeah, that’s the only place it’ll fit.”
Finally, the men stood back and considered the results. The white and gold furniture glowed in the sunlight. New curtains hung at the windows
, perfectly matching bed’s lace and pink ruffles. It looked like an enchanted cavern for a fairy princess, a very young fairy princess.
“I hope Tracy likes this,” Sean said, thinking of the effervescent little girl.
“She’ll love it,” Dave said positively. “She drew a picture of what she wanted and this is it.”
“Great.”
“You want some coffee or maybe a beer?”
“Coffee would be good.”
Dave smoothed the last wrinkled from top so it was perfectly smooth, sweeping his hand down the length of the bed, before standing up.
They were both cradling mugs, watching yet another storm blow in from Puget Sound, when Dave spoke again.
“Beth Nakamura is quite a lady. I’ve enjoyed working with her but it’s been a challenge. Not much, if anything, gets by her.”
Sean took a careful sip of coffee. “Yes, I’ve been very impressed by her.”
“Yeah.” Dave drank some more from his mug. “She’s apparently a rising star at Treasury. Very few opportunities for somebody like her in Seattle.”
“I can imagine. I’m sure she’ll go a long way.”
Sean’s eyes met Dave’s. Better set this straight now, if only to pour reality over his dreams.
“We’re both adults, just having a little fun together. I know it’ll end when she goes back to Washington. I’m okay with that.”
“Fine. Just thought I’d mention what I’ve observed.” Dave didn’t sound entirely convinced but he didn’t press.
The silence turned companionable in the kitchen’s warmth, while the sky darkened outside.
At least Sean could look forward to forty-eight hours with her this weekend, in the freedom to try anything he wanted. No worries any more about losing Mike if the court heard how he liked to be enjoyed by women.
Chapter Seven
Friday, 9:50 PM
Beth sat in the limousine and watched the clock. She had seen Sean walk in five minutes ago but she would wait until exactly ten PM. A Mozart violin concerto played softly in the background, chosen by the surprising chauffeur. Jason Birch was a slender, young African-American male who moved with the unconscious grace of a dancer or martial arts veteran and made easy small talk about the current opera season. Jenn would once have found his black eyes and café au lait skin irresistible.
She considered the implications of this weekend as she sipped her champagne. Jenn had made her opinion very clear, that this man meant more than a brief fling. Terror touched her again at the chance Jenn might be right. Surely she couldn’t fall for a chance-met stranger from a bookstore.
What other judgment did she care about?
What would her father would think of her spending a weekend with Sean, a man she knew little about except for their sexual chemistry? He’d probably understand. He always beamed quietly when his wife told the story of their first meeting, how she had asked the tall Japanese student for a dance at the Chemistry department mixer in London. He still blushed when his wife concluded the story by saying that she’d spent that night with him and every night since.
Well, perhaps love at first sight had worked for her parents but she’d never sought it. Formal introductions followed by a gradual building of trust and intimacy were more reliable. But a weekend flurry would be a delightful way to unwind and renew herself, before seeking a more permanent arrangement.
She took a deep drink of the champagne, enjoying the bubbles fizzing against her palate. It would be fun to watch Sean’s face, while she played oral games with that stunning cock of his. An ice cube perhaps, or menthol to slow his response, maybe a fizzy drink. Oh, the delight of slowly removing honey from him!
Time had passed too slowly since Wednesday’s time with Sean. Even the intense financial negotiations, as the conference ended, hadn’t distracted her from thinking about him. She’d thrown herself into shopping, as she sought the toys needed for the coming weekend. Jenn was a great help with clothing but Beth preferred to select her own playthings.
Sean’s checklist had contained some surprises. He’d wanted some heavy sensation, which changed her choice of toys.
She enjoyed planning the games for such a responsive partner. It was amazing how well she meshed with Sean, how easily they moved with each other to create sensual magic, how intense the satisfaction was. After all, they were still almost strangers even if they did dance together well.
She ran her finger lightly around the rim of her glass, thinking about the clothes chosen for Sean. He had looked like a Viking just now, wearing a thick cable-knit sweater over jeans and boots. Silk would frame his delicious attributes marvelously.
Would he be uncomfortable in the unaccustomed confinement of underclothes, especially a silk thong? If he fidgeted, she’d just have to stroke that beautiful ass of his. Perhaps she’d calm him down but then again, perhaps not.
Finally she walked into the jazz club, raincoat over her arm, and saw him immediately. His face brightened and he came over to her. Beth leaned up for his kiss, deliberately deepening it when he would have kept the contact light enough for a public setting. He groaned and gathered her close against his big hard body. Finally she pulled her head back.
Beth wiped lipstick off his mouth carefully, delicately emphasizing her possession of him. His hand ran down over her back, lightly exploring the red silk shirt and black wool trousers under the black cashmere jacket, before dropping away.
“Let’s go sit down, darling,” Beth purred and Sean nodded. A few words to the hostess later, Sean and Beth followed the woman past the dance floor to a small, secluded booth. Beth slid in first and Sean sat down next to her.
She let the silence hold for a moment, relishing his tension, then turned to him. Why on earth had he worn something that hid his beautiful forearms? She’d have happily settled for a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
“Ready for inspection?” she asked. He nodded, looking slightly bewildered. She ran her fingertips along his jaw, testing for the facial. Lovely smooth skin greeted her, above the strong bones.
Sean watched her, frozen in place like a new recruit. Had he worn a similar look of disbelief during his first inspection at West Point?
“Hands?”
Sean promptly gave her his hands. Beth lifted one and studied the fingernails. She dropped a quick kiss on a scarred knuckle before releasing him. She gave his other hand the same scrutiny but lightly sucked a fingertip before releasing him. His quick intake of breath was clearly audible in the confined space.
“The scarf?”
Beth held out her palm for it and Sean held out the small bag he carried. Beth found the scarf, carefully bundled in protective tissue. She closed up the bag and set it aside.
“Very good, Sean. Have you been celibate for the past twenty-four hours?”
She ran her hand up his thigh and rested her fingers lightly over his fly. His hips jerked under the almost imperceptible touch.
“Yes, ma’am,” he got out.
Beth tapped the hard ridge once and then rested her hand on his thigh, a few inches below that bulging crotch. “I can see that you’re telling the truth.”
Sean draped his arm around her shoulders and relaxed slowly.
The waiter appeared quickly and Beth ordered a club soda and lime, plus the same for Sean. Sean’s eyes widened a bit when she ordered for him but he didn’t object.
“How is your son?” Beth asked quietly, enjoying making him wait.
“Uh, Mike’s doing well. His team won the game tonight. Did I tell you that he’s the varsity quarterback for his high school?”
“Congratulations! You must be very proud of him.”
Sean pulled his wallet out to show his prized cache. A few moments later, Beth was studying pictures of a young man who looked remarkably like his father.
“Mike’s everything a fellow could hope for in his son,” Sean said quietly. He looked down at her and then went on, encouraged by her evident interest. “I’m very lucky to have
him. He plans to go to West Point and I think he’ll make it.”
“West Point?” Beth was genuinely surprised. “Why? Because you went there?”
“I was released at the end of my first year when my girlfriend got pregnant.”
“Did you regret being released? Sorry, I’m prying,” she tried to shrug off the question. Why had she asked it? She didn’t need to know that before spending a weekend with him. A voice in her head reminded her that her father liked to know career plans, past and present, of potential spouses for his children.
“I can talk about it if you want,” he said easily. “I wasn’t a good enough wrestler in high school to get a full scholarship anywhere, while the service academies would pay me to attend. My grandfather had been a Ranger during World War II so I chose West Point. As for being released, I got a son and a career out of it. I felt at home as a Ranger sergeant, so everything worked out.”
“You were very lucky,” she murmured and changed the subject to something less emotional. “That was a very nice bookstore where we met. Do you rent to other businesses like that or a variety of businesses?”
He raised an eyebrow at her but he followed her conversational lead.
“I own over a dozen commercial properties, all of which are currently rented. There’s only the one bookstore that you saw. The rest are a variety of businesses, including some small offices and a couple of restaurants.”
The waiter put their drinks down and disappeared silently. Beth slid a twenty-dollar bill onto the table and studied Sean again.
“How did you move to real estate from the Army?” Beth delicately trailed her fingernails over his thigh, enjoying the hard muscle under the denim. Social niceties were all well and good but it was time for a reminder of the weekend’s agenda.
His answering quiver was delicious. Sean gulped a bit but answered.
“A buddy of mine, Adam…” He lifted his wrist and its burden of the black bracelet, so she could see the lettering. “I wear his bracelet in memory of him, ever since he died in the Mog. In Somalia, I mean.”
“I’ve heard about the Rangers in Somalia, Sean. He must have been a magnificent soldier to be remembered so honorably,” Beth offered. Sean’s eyes flared in surprise.
The Switch Page 12
