Dirty Damsels (DotComGirls Series Book 1)

by Peggy Jaeger

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Texting.” He slipped his phone back into his pants pocket. “My driver’s going to go pick us up some food.”

  “You don’t have to do that. Really. I’m not hungry anyway.”

  He came around the counter, slid into the stool next to mine, and cocooned one of my hands between his. “You still need to eat something.”

  I sighed.

  “Talk to me,” he said softly. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”

  “It doesn’t matter, not really.”

  “It does to me. Talk to me, Cynderella.”

  His eyes were warm and filled with compassion, so I gave in.

  “There’s not much to tell. You saw how they feel about me. How they treated me. That’s the way it’s always been since my father first married Vivienne. I’m shunned, then when they think I can give them something, they call. If they didn’t need money, they’d never have even notified me of Dolly’s accident.”

  Buddy started that knuckle smoothing thing again.

  “I can’t believe this happened almost two months ago, and I was never told. Who does that? Who treats people like that?”

  “You’re not obligated to help them. You know that, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Nor should you feel guilty about it.”

  “Too late,” I admitted before I could stop myself. “I know it makes me a bit of a sap, but I feel sorry for them. Dolly most of all, since she’s the one who got injured.”

  He pulled my hand up to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “Not a sap at all. A kind and caring woman with empathy and a big heart.”

  Tears threatened from his words.

  He squeezed my hand and then stood. “Water’s ready.”

  After he’d poured two mugs of tea, he handed one to me. When I took a sip, the warmth and pungent aroma did something to my insides. For the first time since I’d heard the news about Dolly, they stopped quaking and settled.

  I must have sighed because Buddy smiled at me, his own cup in his hand. “See? You never go wrong with a cup of tea.”

  “Who is this wise woman who taught you the healing power of tea?”

  His smile broadened. “My grandmother. She was English and drank at least a pot a day. More if she was troubled.”

  “Was?”

  His lips softened, and a hint of sadness trailed across his eyes. “She passed away five years ago.”

  It was my turn to comfort. I slipped my free hand into his. “I’m sorry. You sound like you loved her a lot.”

  “Did. Do. And always will.”

  His phone pinged. “Food’s here.”

  My intercom buzzed immediately after.

  “Let him up, Jake,” I told the doorman.

  While Buddy went to my front door to deal with his driver, I gathered plates and utensils.

  “Smells good,” I said when he returned to the kitchen with a shopping bag with the logo from Gus’s.

  Over a simple meal of fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, and salad—all favorites from my local diner—Buddy kept me entertained and distracted with stories about his grandmother, his youth, even a few juicy family tidbits about his Aunt Cal that I hadn’t known.

  “She really was engaged to a Kennedy? Like, gonna get married engaged?” I asked, my eyes popping wide.

  He nodded and grinned. “The wedding date was set and had been announced in the society pages of the Sunday Times. From what I understand, the gown had been ordered from Paris, the country club and church were booked. Everything was a go.”

  “What happened?”

  “Uncle Harry happened. The story goes Aunt Cal visited one of her sorority sisters in Baltimore one weekend before she got married and the two of them went out to a bar for a few drinks and a catch-up session. Cal locked eyes across the length of the bar with Harry, who was out with a bunch of his buddies. He excused himself from the group, approached her, said, ‘Of all the gin joints in the world, you had to walk into mine,’ and poof.” He snapped his fingers. “She called home, broke the engagement, and two weeks later married Uncle Harry at City Hall.”

  “Oh my God. I never knew that. What a romantic story.”

  Buddy chuckled and took a sip of the wine he’d found in the back of my fridge. “The family didn’t consider it romantic at all. My father told me my grandfather didn’t speak to her for years. He lost a ton of non-refundable money on the wedding, not to mention the ramifications of a broken engagement with a political powerhouse family.”

  “Still. They were married for over forty years. That says it was a perfect match.”

  “Yeah. Aunt Cal’s a big proponent of love at first sight because it happened to her.”

  I propped my elbow on the table and dropped my chin to my hand. “Wow. I never knew any of that, and I’ve known Cal for years.”

  “I’m surprised. She usually tells everyone the story. How did the two of you meet?”

  I told him about my father and mother and their relationship to Cal and Harry.

  “When my father died, your aunt was so kind. She was the first person I contacted when I drew up my business plan. Not because I wanted money or a loan from her,” I said, quick to avow any thought that I’d used her, “but because she’s got such a great business head. I bounced my idea off her, and she gave me five referrals that started me on my way. I owe her a great deal.”

  “She couldn’t stop singing your praises. I think she feels you’re like the daughter or granddaughter she’s never had.”

  I shook my head. “I look at her like a fairy godmother.”

  “Makes sense when your name’s Cynderella.”

  I laughed with him. For the first time in more years than I could stand to remember, I was actually comfortable and relaxed around a guy. Which, when I thought about it, was ridiculous, because this man had the capacity to help take everything I’d worked hard for away from me.

  Why, then, wasn’t I feeling threatened or worried about the prospect?

  “Feel better now?” he asked as we brought the dishes to the sink.

  “Yeah, I do. I guess I didn’t realize how hungry I was. Thanks for making me eat and for taking care of me.”

  In a smooth move, he pulled me into his arms, the length of our bodies touching.

  “You don’t have to thank me, Ella. I’m just happy I could put that beautiful smile back on your face.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “And it sounds like it’s about time someone took care of you for a change.”

  I almost melted into a puddle at those words.

  Without thinking I shouldn’t, for so many reasons, I lifted up on my toes and pressed my lips against his, just as I had in the hotel room. Kissing him for the first time at midnight when I knew what was about to happen between us had been a new and titillating experience. But now I knew how he tasted, how amazing his lips and tongue felt mating with mine, and anticipation pushed aside all the thoughts of why I shouldn’t be doing this with this man again.

  I hadn’t known who he was before or what the consequences of being with him could be. Now I did.

  And I didn’t care.

  His hands tightened around my waist, pulling me even closer. The beat of his heart quickening drummed through his chest and pounded against mine. He kept the kiss sweet, giving me the choice to deepen it.

  I did.

  Some inner wicked spark made me swipe at his lower lip with the tip of my tongue then drag along the seam separating his two lips. When they parted for me on a breath, I dove in.

  The kiss went from sweet and thoughtful to frenzied and heart pounding in a nanosecond. One of his hands ran up my spine to cup the back of my neck; the other dipped lower to mold over my hip. I let my head fall backward into his able grip while Buddy changed the angle of the kiss, allowing him even greater access to my mouth. All my mouth.

  With his tongue twined around mine, he tugged at it with tiny pulses, the motion striking a flame deep in my core. My legs grew restless, and th
e bubble of need churning in me sought relief as my hips pushed in even closer to his body. At the same time, Buddy pressed me against the counter and slid his knee between my quaking knees. The weight of him against the apex of my thighs, coupled with the erotic motions of his tongue dancing with mine, pushed all coherent thought from my mind. All I could do was feel and respond to his touch.

  “You taste and feel as good as I remember.” His hot breath whispered along my skin as he dragged his mouth across my jaw, down the column of my throat, licking and nipping along his way.

  “So do you.”

  My hands slipped up over his chest to fist in his hair. I captured his ear between my teeth, sucked on the fleshy lobe, and was rewarded twofold when I heard the air hiss from within him and the feel of his rapidly lengthening erection throb against me. I slid a hand down his torso and framed my fingers around the significant bulge straining against the zipper of his pants.

  Buddy’s hot breath floated across my ear. “I want you, Ella. So fucking much.”

  I pulled back and saw the truth in his magnificent eyes. Hot, scorching hot, they burned right through to my soul and claimed me.

  When I laid my hand over his cheek, he burrowed into it and dropped a soft kiss against my palm.

  “I want to be inside you again, hear you come, and know I’m the one who made you.” His hips pushed against me, his desire more than obvious. “I want to make you scream my name when you come apart.”

  My entire body shook with need.

  “I want all that too,” I whispered.

  “Are you sure?” A tiny crease crossed between his eyes. “You’ve had a terrible day, been through an awful lot of unexpected emotion. I don’t want you to feel you have to do anything you don’t want to. You can tell me to get the hell out right now, and I’ll go. I’ll be in some serious pain,” he grinned, “but I’ll go.”

  In truth, the decision had been made for me the moment he walked me through the door. He didn’t have to stay after dropping me home; he could have left me at the curb and let me see to myself. But he hadn’t. He’d stayed, taken care of me, and distracted me from the horrible scene at the hospital. He’d been kind and sweet and wonderful.

  “I know you’re probably feeling vulnerable right now,” he said, trailing a finger along my temple and down to my cheek, “with what happened at the hospital and this meeting with Tony looming. I don’t want you to feel I’m taking advantage of that in any way, capitalizing on your emotions. I’ve wanted you since the moment you turned around in the penthouse, and I haven’t stopped for one second.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think that of you at all. You’ve been nothing but kind through all of this. Any other guy would have ghosted the minute the drama began. You didn’t. You stayed.”

  I wet my lips with my tongue, the taste of him still potent. Something shifted in his eyes. Deepened. Heated.

  “You helped me forget about it all.” His heart was pounding like a tribal drum under my hand. “I want to keep forgetting.” I rose up on my toes, sliding my body up against his. When my mouth was a breath from his, I added, “And I want you to help me.”

  His lips lifted into that devastating, utterly male grin again. Before I could kiss him, he asked, “So, you want to have sex with me to help you…forget? Is that it?”

  “Well…”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’re just using me for my body. God. I feel so cheap.”

  I couldn’t help it; I laughed aloud. The man was adorable. Sexy to the max and a verified hunk of sex on a stick, but under it all, charming.

  His lips twitched back into a smile. “Well, I guess there are worse ways to be of use to someone.”

  I hugged him tight, and before I could say another word, he scooped me up just like he had in the hotel.

  “A girl could really get used to being carried like this,” I said, nuzzling his neck while he stalked toward my bedroom.

  The room was dark, shadows flitting around it through the opened drapes. He was able to see where he was taking me, so I didn’t feel the need to switch on the lights.

  At the foot of my bed, he stopped. Gently, so gently I wanted to weep, he lowered me, all the while impaling me with his smoldering gaze.

  When I was flat on my back, he covered me with his body. Elbows propped next to my head, he took my face in his hands and rubbed his thumbs across my cheekbones.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he said.

  I wonder what he would have said if I’d echoed those words back to him.

  I shifted my head, captured one of his thumbs between my lips, and sucked on the tip.

  “Christ. I want to be inside you,” he growled.

  “I don’t seem to be protesting, do I?” I lifted my hips, and when they ground against his erection, I watched his eyes roll back in his head.

  “You’re killing me, woman. You realize that, don’t you?”

  Yes, I did. And I was thrilled I had that kind of power over him.

  His entire face smiled down at me. In that instant, I realized I could seriously fall in love with him if I let myself. I’d never been in love before, not live-forever-happily-ever-after love. Lust, for sure, several times. But I’d never found that one man I could share everything with, give everything to, like my parents had to each other.

  And I wanted it.

  I reached behind his head and yanked it down so I could kiss him again. Before I did, I ran a hand over his cheek and said, “Help me forget everything, Buddy. Please. Let me lose myself in you, in us, just for one night. I don’t want to think about anything but how alive I feel when you’re inside me. Please. Give me this one night. Share it with me.”

  He answered by laying claim to my lips.

  Soft, sweet, patient, his mouth moved over mine, slid side to side, pressing then releasing, like when he kneaded my knuckles. Each motion sent a shock through me. His kisses were lethal to my sanity. Every time his tongue tugged at mine, nipped and sipped at it, then slid along the seam of my mouth, probing, learning, driving me wild, my insides coiled tighter. Fast and furious, desire built within me, and I fidgeted, needing release, silently begging for it. My grip on him tightened, and my hips pushed into his, pleading for relief.

  Buddy, God bless him, wasn’t having any of it.

  Slow and steady, he kept his pace in check. If his motive was to drive me to the brink of sexual insanity, he was doing a fairly good job of it. My whimpers only served to slow him down more.

  “Relax, Cynderella.” He kissed the tip of my nose with his eyes closed then laid his forehead against mine. After taking a deep breath, he opened them again and stared straight down to my soul. “I know what you want, but I want this night to last as long as it can. We’re gonna take our time with one another.” He kissed my mouth then licked his lips. “That first night we had sex was all about satisfying our hunger. Tonight, it’s about more, so much more, than just a quick fix. I want to know everything about you. Everything that gives you even the tiniest bit of pleasure. And I’m gonna take my time learning it all. Understand?”

  I gave his words back to him.

  “You know you’re killing me, don’t you?”

  His crooked grin bordered the cross streets of cheeky and naughty.

  “But what a way to go.” His laugh was low and deep, and I swore I almost came from the sound of it.

  His mouth took a slow stroll down the column of my neck to the collar of my blouse. With his gaze zeroed in on mine, he took the first button between his lips and opened it with his tongue. Quick, wet heat slid along my skin as he moved to the second, then the third, and the rest until my shirt was undone. With his nose, he pushed it open to expose my torso.

  “You’ve got the sexiest underwear I’ve ever seen.” His gaze trailed down to my all-lace, see-through bra. He licked his lips again and pressed a wet kiss over one lace-covered nipple, then the other. My breasts grew tight, and I could feel the tips of my nipples harden and scrape against the thin material. Buddy
nuzzled the space between my breasts then slid his tongue under the fringe. When he pulled one of my nipples between his lips and sucked, I bucked under him, unable to stop the tsunami of pleasure swirling within me.

  He proved how resourceful and skillful he really was when he was able to unfasten the front clasp of the bra with just a flick of his tongue. Pulling back to settle on his knees, he pushed the material away, his big, warm hands each cupping a breast. With his thumbs caressing the area he’d just suckled, every nerve ending in my body shot to a firing point. I truly didn’t know how I didn’t pass out.

  His fingers slid down to the waistband of my skirt then tugged it off me. My tiny thong was quickly dispersed as well until I lay there, butt naked and completely exposed to this man.

  “I called you beautiful,” he whispered while his fingers moved and massaged along my skin, “but that word doesn’t do you any kind of justice.”

  He kissed my ribcage then trailed down over my quivering belly. Without another word, he slid his hands between my thighs, separated, then lifted them over his shoulders, all the while his gaze never leaving mine. He’d mesmerized me. I couldn’t not look away from him. Even when he skimmed his mouth down the length of me and back again, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

  I went blind, though, when he slipped his tongue inside me.

  If his goal had been to know everything about me, everything that gave me pleasure, just as he’d said, then he was close to fulfilling his objective. I was completely naked before him—emotionally and physically. And forget about just going blind. Every other sense—hearing, smell, taste—went dormant, save for my sense of touch. That stayed intact, because all I could do was feel what he was doing to me.

  He pulled me to the brink a half dozen times, never letting me glide over the edge. Sweat slicked across my skin as I fisted the bedsheets for purchase, knowing, hoping, I was about to fall. Each time I was there, he pulled me back until finally, finally, he let me go.

  Before I could come back down, he was inside me. Without me realizing it, he’d stripped, sheathed himself, and dove for home.