The Stand-In

by Leo, Rosanna

  Not stopping until he’d devoured her last shudder, he stood and helped her up. As he turned her around to face him, he almost sighed. Her hairstyle had fallen apart and strands framed her face. Beauty gone awry. Her chest had gone pink with her orgasm, his stamp on her skin.

  Margie Kent hadn’t wanted to call Winn gorgeous. Clearly, old Margie didn’t know her right hand from her left.

  He kissed her hard, all too aware he still had his clothes on and she shivered in her stockings and heels. “Let’s get you to the bed.”

  She nodded, as if too overcome to speak.

  He grabbed her hand and led her into the bedroom. He liked that it was a bit messy in there, with her day clothes strewn across the comforter. She huffed in annoyance and moved to clear away her jeans and tops, but he stopped her and did it for her. Once he’d removed all the clothes and pulled back the comforter and sheets, Patrick turned to her. “Lay down, Winn.”

  She did, wiggling in impatience.

  At the end of the bed, he began to strip out of his tux. As he worked on his cuff links, he nodded. “Touch yourself, sweetheart.”

  She paused only a second and then her fingers slipped between pretty, swollen lips. So sexy he almost forgot to move. However, he forced himself to continue, needing to join her in that bed like a meat lover needs a red, dripping steak. His gaze locked on her sex, he set his cuff links aside and removed his shirt. He toed off his patent shoes, tore off his socks, and disposed of his trousers. His boxer briefs, already feeling so tight, now felt like a bloody instrument of torture, so he ripped them off.

  He knelt at the edge of the bed and dragged her closer, needing so badly to drink more of her essence, wanting it all over his goddamned mug. He insinuated his face between her legs.

  “Ohmigod,” she cried, clawing at the sheets, forcing it into tight bunches of fabric.

  He tormented her with his tongue until she came again, this time screaming his name.

  Yes! Perfection. This was how he wanted her to come for the rest of her life. With a nerve-shattering bang, his name on her lips. Flying toward delicious oblivion.

  And now he needed to join her. He retrieved his pants with quick, efficient movements and found a condom in his wallet. He tore into the package and rolled it on.

  Fumbling onto the bed, he climbed atop her shaking body. His own limbs more jittery than he cared them to be, he braced himself on his arms and slid between her slack legs. Beautiful. She’d closed her eyes and her mouth still twisted with lust. “Winn, look at me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Oh, you will.” He tweaked her nipple. “Look at me, love.”

  She opened her eyes at his words, and they shone in blue wonder. He kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth with a caress of ownership and hunger. Before his lips left hers, he positioned himself at her entrance and speared into her slick pussy.

  “Oh, heavens,” she murmured as she dug her nails into his back.

  “That’s it, baby.” Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. “Leave marks on my skin.”

  The sting of fingernail on his back only spurred him on. Patrick had never been so roused, so animalistic in his attentions. He fucked her with everything he had, feeling power in every sharp movement. Like a warrior storming a castle, he laid siege to her, seeking all her hidden treasures and claiming them for his own. With every volley, he felt her surrender a little more.

  His balls slapped against her and grew impossibly tight. All his energy seemed focused at his crotch and he began to see bits of black in his periphery vision. Horrible, wonderful agony sliced into him, just as she cried out in shock and delight. As she came, as he came right behind her, he cradled her and rolled his hips as if his existence depended on it. “Winn. My Winn.”

  Her whispered reply made his heart soar. “My Patrick.”

  They lay, still and connected, for many minutes. He rested his head on her shoulder and she tangled her fingers in his hair, tracing lazy circles.

  He’d never been so happy. Peace flowed through his veins.

  When he finally had strength enough to lift his head and smack his dry lips, he looked at her. “Just for the record, this was not a booty call. You know that, right?”

  She smiled. “I know it.”

  “And, just for the record, the next dozen times I take you won’t be booty calls either.”

  Her grin of lazy contentment as he lowered his head to her breast assured him they were finally on the same blasted page.

  Chapter 10

  Nancy showed Patrick into Jake’s office once again, walking ahead of him. Even though her wiggle seemed programmed to distract, it didn’t claim Patrick’s attention, not for one moment.

  The only wiggle on his mind was one wrapped in a black dress from the Burlington Coat Factory with a sweet little thong underneath.

  He and Winn had had an incredible night. They’d teased orgasm after orgasm out of each other, and she’d slept in his arms until they went numb. Fucking amazing. And in the morning, as he’d climbed back into his tux, he’d known he had to kill the bridesmaid article for Player. He’d talk to Jake, make him understand. He’d even drummed up a few other story ideas on the drive over, on the off chance Jake would actually want to continue working with him.

  In all honesty, he didn’t anticipate a positive reaction from his old buddy. He knew Jake was keen on the piece, but he’d have to get over it. Biting back the sulfuric taste of anxiety, he focused on the matter at hand. He just had to get through this meeting. Jake would have to understand.

  And if he didn’t, well, he’d quit. He’d never really been the right fit for Player anyway.

  The receptionist opened the door and motioned him in.

  “Thanks, Nancy.” He looked around the empty office. “Where’s Jake?”

  “He said to tell you he’s on his way. Shouldn’t be more than a few minutes. Would you care for a coffee in the meantime?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Please make yourself at home.” She exited the office and closed the door behind her.

  Patrick stood for a moment, wishing he could just get this over with. He didn’t like the idea of giving up on a story, but had known from day one this job was wrong for him. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized he’d have to hand in his resignation. His experiences with Winn only served to confirm his previous suspicions.

  Feeling restless, he wandered toward the picture window and looked out upon the action in the Distillery District. A farmer’s market was in full swing down in the grounds and some of the enticing smells even reached into Jake’s office. Patrick spied a sausage stall and another selling cinnamon buns. Just a few feet away sat a florist’s stall, the blooms out front a riot of color. Tourists meandered from vendor to vendor, picking up trinkets and pottery and fancy soaps.

  He had a feeling Winn would love it here. He could easily envision her leaning over to smell the lavender-scented cosmetics and drooling over the gourmet chocolates.

  Jesus. He’d never wanted to tour any other woman through a goddamn farmer’s market. He was definitely a goner and after only a few dates, if he could even call them such.

  He was man enough to admit something special passed between them. Hell, he’d known it from the night of Sunshine and Josh’s wedding. And then, seeing how she defended him to his father at Sierra’s reception only solidified those emotions. Far be it for him to play the romantic, but he couldn’t help feeling he’d changed. Seeing her come for him, touching her, tasting her orgasms, had elevated him in some way. He knew it sounded ridiculous, but there it was.

  Wanting to giggle like a schoolgirl, he decided to give her a quick call to see how her morning was going. He walked over to the couch where he’d dropped his briefcase. He opened it up and fished around inside, unsure where he left his cell phone. Unable to find it, he removed his notebook, the one containing all his research materials on Margie’s agency and his notes on Winn. Setting it on the couch, he rummaged inside the c
ase again and found his phone at the bottom. He pulled it out and flipped to the screen where her number was stored.

  At that moment, Jake opened the door and strode in, heading straight to his desk to check the messages Nancy had left for him. He acknowledged Patrick with a bob of his head. “Hey, Paddy. So, tell me all the good news.”

  Patrick shoved his cell phone into his pants pocket. “I’m done. Jake, I can’t do this story.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m sorry. I quit.”

  “Is this a joke?”

  “No. I’ve…let myself get too close to the subject of the story. I can’t be objective anymore, and I don’t want to write it.”

  His eyes widened with incredulity. “Please don’t tell me you fucked the stand-in bridesmaid too. Paddy, come on. Can’t you keep it in your pants this one time?”

  His blood pressure ratcheted up a notch. “How many times do I have to tell you I did not touch Gloria…?”

  “I don’t fucking care what you did or didn’t do to Gloria. Frankly, I don’t even care if you made sweet love to all the bridesmaids in the Western Hemisphere. I just want the story behind the agency.”

  “There’s no story, and even if there were, I wouldn’t be the journalist to give it to you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I appreciate you giving me a chance when no one else did, Jake. I really do. But this job isn’t the right fit. I knew it from the start but wanted to give it a chance.”

  “Oh. Wonderful. You knew it from the start but wasted my time anyway.”

  “Come on, buddy. You have dozens of journalists at your disposal who would gladly cut off their right arms to do a piece for you.”

  “I want the byline to carry your name, Patrick. I’ve already talked this up. You’re putting me in an awkward position.”

  “Like I said, I’m sorry. But I can’t betray Winn’s confidence in me.” He stuck out his hand. “I appreciate you helping me, but I’ll have to find my creative outlet somewhere else. No hard feelings?”

  Jake clenched his jaw and his gaze darted about the office. After a moment, he finally shook his hand. “Sure. No hard feelings. Best of luck, Patrick.”

  “Thanks for understanding.”

  “Looks like I have no choice.”

  Wanting to put a period on this weird chapter of his life, Patrick collected his briefcase and left the office, feeling lighter. Now that Gloria had, for all intents and purposes, exonerated him, he might be able to pick up his old job. Or hell, maybe call up Joe at the World. Might as well think big. Smiling, he headed to the Player office elevators and pushed the button, eager to see Winn.

  Whatever happened, he knew they’d write the next chapter together.

  * * * *

  “Ah, fuck, Winn. That’s so good. Gimme more.”

  She laughed as Patrick’s eyes rolled back in his head from rapture, and removed her spoon from the vicinity of his mouth. “No, greedy guts. I’m glad you like my tomato sauce but save some for the pasta.”

  As she put the spoon on the counter and picked up her bigger, wooden spoon to stir, he crept behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You’re a hard woman. Cruel, even.”

  His lips tickled her ear and his warm, sauce-redolent breath made her smile. “And you’re impossible.” His hand traveled down her spine to cup her ass. “And handsy. How am I supposed to cook dinner if you keep touching me?”

  He extricated the wooden spoon from her grip and balanced it on the lip of the pot. He then turned her around in his arms to face him. “Would you like me to stop touching you?”

  As soon as his dark gaze swept over her face and settled on her mouth, her insides turned as mushy as the tomatoes in her sauce. She buried her face in his chest. “No,” she squeaked. “Not really.”

  He chuckled into her hair. “That’s my girl.”

  As the tips of her ears grow hot, she fought the giddy giggle rumbling in her chest. Since Patrick had returned from the Player offices, he’d been all over her, and in the best of ways. They hadn’t actually been intimate, but his every touch, every word, had spoken of intimacy, of a connection neither of them could deny any longer.

  “Hey,” he said, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “There’s something you should know.”

  “You’ve decided to start dressing like a pirate full-time?”

  “I did like the boots.” He paused, considering. His playful grin grew more serious when he bit the inside of his lip and narrowed his gaze. “Actually, I want you to know I killed the bridesmaid story today. I no longer work for Player.”

  “But…your career.”

  “My career would not have been helped by working for Jake, as much as I appreciate his willingness to help me. Now that the truth about Gloria is out, I want to start working my old contacts. In fact, I made a couple of calls today. Seems I’m not completely dead in the water.”

  “That’s amazing. So no story about Margie’s stand-ins? I think she might be disappointed.”

  “Margie will have to get over it.” He passed a hand over her hair and kissed her forehead. “I know you were never keen on the piece. And call me jealous. I don’t really feel like sharing your story with the world anyway.” His gaze softened, molten chocolate. “I’d rather keep you all to myself.”

  Her heart hammered in her chest. “Thank you.”

  He trailed a path of soft kisses over her temple, her cheek and toward her mouth. By the time he claimed her lips, his embrace grew tighter, full of heat. As he held her close, she felt his erection swell against her stomach and her insides melted.

  As his tongue danced with hers, Winn closed her eyes and surrendered to giddiness. She hadn’t allowed herself to experience sweet delirium in so long, not since her early days with Mike. Even then, she hadn’t been this happy. Maybe because she’d always suspected Mike wasn’t completely committed to her. Oh, he’d talked the talk, and often. But his compliments and gestures had always rung somewhat untrue, perhaps because he’d followed up on so few of them.

  In fact, now that she allowed herself moments of true clarity, she recalled many instances in which he’d left her high and dry. He’d never fully supported her theatrical ambitions. Indeed, had he even attended any of her community theater productions? No.

  Hell, had he attended any of her family gatherings? Well, just enough to schmooze with her dad a few times and long enough for Enid to confirm she hated him. She couldn’t say any of her family members really knew him.

  And neither did she.

  However, in the past while, she felt as if she’d gotten to know Patrick and liked what she knew. She certainly appreciated how he made her feel. Even now, as his large hands tickled her ribs and slid up her torso to cup her breasts, she bloody loved the way he made her feel. Tingly and sexy and desired. As if they were the only two people in the world.

  The phone buzzed, indicating someone waited in the lobby, wanting to see her. Damn. Clearly they weren’t the only two people in the world.

  Patrick passed his thumb over her hard nipple and let out a soft grunt. “I suppose you’d better get it.”

  “I suppose.” With a matching sigh of frustration, she peeled herself away from him and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  “Winn? It’s me, Amber.” Her former friend sobbed into the mouthpiece. “Don’t hang up. Can I please come in?”

  Frowning in surprise, she buzzed her in and looked at Patrick. “It’s Amber. She sounds upset.”

  He offered her an encouraging smile. “I’ll turn off the sauce so it doesn’t burn.”

  She nodded and stared at her apartment door. Within seconds, she began to pace, not knowing what Amber could possibly want with her. They hadn’t had a proper conversation since she’d taken up with Winn’s father.

  After making sure her tomato sauce didn’t bubble over, Patrick joined her in the foyer and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure whatever it is, there’s no reason to wear through your
hallway carpet.” He grinned. “Do you want me to give you some privacy? I can leave…or go wait in the bedroom, stark naked, tied to your bedposts.”

  “I’d like you to stay. And I don’t have bedposts.”

  “Yes, I noticed. We need to buy you a new bed.”

  Amber knocked on the door. Patrick moved into the kitchen. With a deep breath, Winn opened the door.

  Amber stood in the hallway, her cheeks covered in black tracks where her mascara had mixed with her tears. “Your father dumped me for another woman.”

  “What? Who in God’s name has he taken up with now?”

  “Your mother!” She stumbled into the unit and threw herself down on the couch, sobbing on the cushioned arm.

  Winn shut the door and gawked at Patrick, who shrugged and nodded at Amber. Winn turned to face her old friend, wanting to hate her. It had become so easy to hate her the past few years, so part of her routine. Wake up. Get dressed. Hate Amber. Go on an audition. Come home. Hate Amber some more.

  Only seeing her like this, distraught and drenching the fabric of her couch, it was difficult to dredge up the old resentment. Surely what she said wasn’t true. Her dad reunited with her mom? Had the sun just collided with the moon?

  She approached Amber as if approaching a wounded serpent, one who might still be capable of spreading its venom. “Are you sure?”

  She looked up, giving Winn a clear view of the mascara stains on her white couch. “I should think so. I found them in bed together.”

  “You can’t be serious. Maybe you got it wrong.”

  “Winn,” she cried. “I know you think I’m a slut and an idiot, but it was pretty clear what they were doing. And frankly, I saw it coming. I just didn’t want to believe it.” She turned and sat with her hands in her lap, staring at her knees, looking like a lost child. “Pierce has always loved antagonizing your mom, and at first I told myself it was out of anger. But I began to realize he got off on it. That a part of him was using me to drive her nuts. And after a while, I think he realized he missed her. I was such a fool.”

  Winn wasn’t sure what to do. Was she supposed to comfort the woman who’d destroyed her parents’ marriage? Was she supposed to gloat? Tell her karma was a bitch and she’d gotten what she deserved?