by Tina Donahue
Remembering it, Tim also glanced at their reflection.
Damn they looked fine…disheveled, panting, hungry with desire.
Catherine stopped biting her lip. On Tim’s next thrust, she came, gasping, fighting for air.
He stole it, pumping without restraint while he continued to rub her clit. She grabbed his hand to pull it from her nub. No fucking way. He was going to bring her to another climax if it killed both of them.
Within seconds, she tumbled over the edge once more and he couldn’t hold off any longer. He clenched his jaw at the sensations raging through his body. Intense heat. Pleasure beyond words. Blood pounded in his ears. His legs were unsteady. Still, he didn’t quit.
For minutes after his climax, he kept thrusting. Through a haze of enjoyment, he regarded her. An errant tress clung to her damp temple. She’d bruised her lower lip from biting it so hard. Her cheeks were rosy from his bristly cheeks scraping them during their dizzying kisses. Her expression was a gift, intoxicated with desire.
At last, Tim had to stop or pass out, cursing his body for not being able to continue. Leaning down, he brushed his lips over hers, wanting Catherine to smell her scent on him. She sighed. So did he, at the way she continued to work her sheath around his weary cock.
“You all right?” he panted, his voice low.
“God yeah.”
Her delight made him smile, returning a bit of his strength, urging him to be bold, reckless. “Where do you live?” He kissed her cheek. “Do you have a roommate?” He pressed his lips to her temple and brow. “You’re not still staying with your parents, are you?” He pecked her chin. “Do they live in the District?”
She blinked rapidly, her contentment turning to unmistakable caution with his questions.
Fuck. He hadn’t meant to come on so strong, but he needed to know everything about her. All she’d told him thus far was her name, where she went to school and that she didn’t like the jerk who’d brought her here.
“Look, I’m not being nosy,” he said. “I just want you to know you don’t have to rely on Mr. Geek bringing you home tonight. I’d be happy to take you.” Hell, he’d be dancing through the streets like the actor in that ancient movie Singing in the Rain, one of his great-grandmother’s favorite films.
Catherine relaxed a bit at his lie. She also seemed bummed. “I can’t just ditch him.”
“Like he did with you in the billiard room?”
She sighed. “He didn’t hook up with another woman.”
“Maybe he likes guys. If he ignored you—which shouldn’t be possible for any sane man—he probably adores guys.”
She smiled at his compliment. “He adores himself.” Her expression grew serious. “But that doesn’t mean I can just take off and leave him here. My friend wouldn’t appreciate it.”
Ah yes, the friend. During these last moments of lust, Tim had forgotten about her. He glanced down, noticing something else. Catherine was no longer squeezing his cock. Shit. He mumbled, “Want me to get up?”
“No.”
That sounded promising, especially the speed with which she’d responded. He lowered his face to hers, touching the tip of her nose with his. “Thanks. Tell me about you.”
She stiffened beneath him. “Why?”
Why not? He was interested. Wasn’t that obvious by now? “Because I’d like to get to know you, all right? I’d like us to get to know each other.” He settled his cheek on her shoulder and whispered, “Tell you what, I’ll go first. I went to Harvard for my undergraduate and law degree. After that, I was supposed to work at the family company. I won’t go into all of its holdings. Let’s just say they own most of the land in New England, along with the commercial real estate. No way did I want to stay there, adding to the bottom line. I came to the District instead. Frankly, I prefer its excitement to where I grew up. It’s so fucking boring there, even Norman Rockwell refused to paint it.”
Catherine chuckled.
Smiling, Tim cupped her breast, cradling the soft globe in his palm, and got back to the matter at hand. “You already know I’m a lobbyist and what I like to drink, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
She sounded uncertain.
“Then there’s not much more to tell,” he added quickly. “Except that I’m moderate on most issues, willing to hear both sides before I make a decision. Oh and just so we’re clear, I’ve never been married. There is no steady girlfriend. Now that we have that out of the way, are you involved with anyone?”
She huffed out a breath.
His stomach rolled. “You are?”
“Would I be on this table with you inside me if I were…would I be on a fix-up if I were?”
Given her offended tone, probably not. “Great. When you’re not at school, what do you do? Do you work?”
This time her sigh sounded sad.
What had he said? Propping himself on one elbow, Tim regarded her. “Hey, what is it?” She looked really glum. “Tell me.”
Catherine chewed her bottom lip.
“It can’t be that bad,” he assured.
“Sure it can.”
What in the hell was she talking about? He should have asked, but was afraid to. Tim tried to think of something else to say. The words wouldn’t come. Suddenly, he felt like a fool for being inside her during this very uncomfortable conversation. Wait, they weren’t conversing, were they? They weren’t even looking at each other any longer. She had focused on something past him. Maybe one of the hundreds of pairs of high heels she’d admired earlier.
“Sorry I asked,” he said. “I’m just interested.”
Her attention snapped back to him, a look of panic on her face. “It’s not your fault. I don’t like to talk about it.”
He didn’t dare ask what.
She covered her eyes with her hand.
“You don’t have to say a thing,” he assured. As long as she didn’t want him to leave, he was happy.
Unfortunately, she looked sad and worried. At last, she mumbled, “I’ve done some part-time work at the university and internships, but for the most part I concentrate on my studies. I lost my parents in an automobile accident shortly after I started Georgetown. They weren’t rich, but they did own a string of cleaners. With the proceeds from its sale and their insurance, I was able to pay for school. Not that I did. I dropped out for a while. It was just too damn hard. I was too weak. My parents would have been ashamed if they’d known.”
No wonder she didn’t want to talk about it. Although she’d recited the information mechanically, as though reading from some script in her head, the pain of her loss was evident in her shaky voice and trembling chin. “I shouldn’t have asked. Really, I’m sorry I did.”
She lowered her hand and frowned. “How many times do I have to tell you, it’s not your fault. How could it be? You didn’t know. How could you?”
“Hey.” Tim cupped her face in his hand. “It’s all right. Can I at least offer my condolences on your loss?”
“You shouldn’t—I didn’t—I’m not…” She didn’t finish.
“Is that a yes?” he asked lightly.
She smiled as though she couldn’t help herself.
Tim murmured, “Do you have any other family? Siblings? Who took care of you during that time?”
“My aunt. We’re very close. Opal’s the only family I have.”
He made a conciliatory sound, fearful of saying the wrong thing and making this even worse. Family wasn’t a topic he liked to discuss. He had too many relatives, wanting only to be away from them, especially his father. “You and Opal live together?”
Catherine’s look of sorrow deepened. “She’s in a nursing home. She had a stroke last year.”
Jesus. “I’m so sorry.”
She sucked her bottom lip and nodded.
“She doing all right?”
“So far.”
“Good.”
Another small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You’re very nice.”
Not really. But he didn’t like seeing her hurt in the least. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to hear about her and your family.” Before she could ask why, he continued quickly, “I want to see you again. When will you be free for a date?”
“A date?”
She’d said it as though she’d never heard the word before…or she didn’t know how to let him down because she didn’t want to see him again. How was that possible? She’d enjoyed their lovemaking. A minute earlier, she’d asked him not to get up. Right now, she had her palm on his chest, her fingers stroking it.
Disinterested women did not behave like that.
“Yeah, a date,” he said, not about to give up. “You—me—together, doing something fun, maybe even this again.”
“This?” she whispered.
Incomparable sensations shot through him as she tightened her cunt around his cock. He swallowed, then blurted, “Definitely this again. When you’re free. You should be finished with school for the semester.”
Her squeezing slowed, then stopped. “Not until next week.”
“All right. Do you have classes, tests, internships or other duties on weekend nights?”
She appeared uncertain how to answer, then shook her head.
Tim brushed the wayward tress from her temple and leaned down to kiss it.
Her breath caught. An amazing sound. One that told him how much he continued to arouse and pleasure her.
“It’s a date then,” he murmured. “Next Saturday I’ll pick you up at eight. What kind of food do you like? What do you want to do? Where do you live?”
Chapter Four
“You did not,” Alexa Marsh said into the receiver of her office phone. A vintage French provincial style, gold and ivory to complement the Louis XV furniture in the agency’s suite. Ronnie’s favorite over-the-top look.
On the other end of the call, somewhere in the Bahamas, Ronnie laughed. The sound was as throaty as her voice. “I thought Wallace would have a stroke.”
Alexa smiled. That sounded like Wallace, an older man who’d been Ronnie’s trusted chauffeur for years and had coveted the madam for as long. Months ago, when Alexa had been following Hunt, she’d used Ronnie’s Town Car with Wallace riding shotgun.
The man had behaved worse than a father, bitching about Alexa’s driving, moaning about her using him as a cover to tail Hunt. At the time, Alexa had been so afraid of her feelings, she needed to be near Hunt without him knowing it. When he’d finally spotted her and Wallace at a restaurant he’d frequented and came to their table, Alexa had introduced Wallace as an old professor of hers. She’d left it up in the air as to whether that had been at one of her European boarding schools or at Oxford where she’d attained an economics and management degree.
Hunt hadn’t bothered to ask, not buying Alexa’s lie for a moment. Wallace had looked as if he might pass out from the stress.
Alexa could only imagine his worry when Ronnie had persuaded the ship’s captain to let her steer his vessel. “Did you run the damn thing aground?”
“Nipped a couple of sailboats. Nothing serious.”
Laughing, Alexa sagged into her chair. It resembled a freaking throne, its mahogany inlaid with gold and padded with red velvet cushions. Gilded mirrors hung on the walls. White roses in porcelain-and-gold vases scented the room. “Surely you offered your victims an agency discount to make the hurt go away.”
“I told them I’d see about their appointment with pleasure as soon as I returned.”
“And that will be?”
Ronnie’s contented sigh crossed the ocean, giving Alexa her answer. The woman wouldn’t be coming back for a while. She was having too much fun.
Good for you. Born into grinding poverty, Ronnie had overcome incredible odds to escape that life, only to face one serious health problem after the other. Her second bout with breast cancer had landed her in the hospital earlier this year. The only good that had come from it was Wallace had finally made his move. They’d been together ever since, vacationing across Europe and now the Caribbean, while Alexa took care of the business.
For Ronnie, she’d do anything. The woman was more a mother to her than a madam, the same as she was for the others who worked here, allowing them to decide if they wanted to accept an appointment or not. She never coerced.
On her own, Alexa had come to Ronnie as all of the other escorts had. The agency didn’t recruit. Through word of mouth, young women and men learned of the breathtaking fees they could earn, the elite clientele, the extensive dossiers on each so they never faced a patron who could possibly do them harm.
“Maybe in a few months we’ll be back,” Ronnie said. “Things going well?”
Alexa had never been happier, unable to believe that she’d once resisted Hunt, terrified to give him her heart and risk being hurt. That all changed with the magical night he’d created for her on an equestrian estate in Virginia. Just thinking about Hunt’s powerful body and gorgeous blue eyes made Alexa wet.
She smiled. “Oh yeah, real good.”
“I meant with the agency,” Ronnie scolded, “not your guy.”
Alexa chuckled. “Everything’s fine. I have my nose to the grindstone and all that. Even eating in today so I can pore over the spreadsheets.”
“I hope you’re using my office. You know it’s perfectly all right.”
No, it wasn’t. That space would always belong to Ronnie, kept lovingly dusted, scented with flowers. She’d given her unconditional support and love when Alexa had needed it most, and by god, no one was going to trespass on what was hers. “I like my desk better. Now please, don’t worry.” She turned in her chair at the sound of the front door opening. “My date’s here.”
“Tell Hunt I said hi.”
“Can’t. He’s on the Hill strong-arming some jerk lawmaker to see things his way—the right way.”
“Uh-huh. What a saint. Maybe we can get him canonized.”
“Now you’re just being mean.”
“I’m looking out for your best interests, just as I always do. Does he know you’re having lunch with someone else today?”
“It’s only Catherine.”
The young woman stood in the doorway, a large bag of Chinese take-out in her arms. This afternoon’s frigid temps had reddened her cheeks. Snowflakes clung to her long brown mane. Despite her black pea coat, scarf, jeans, boots and gloves, she looked downright miserable, as though she’d trudged through thirty-foot snowdrifts to get here, rather than taking a cab. With her next shiver, she tightened her arms around the bag. It crinkled from the pressure.
Alexa waved her inside. Catherine didn’t budge. She chewed her bottom lip, hesitation—or perhaps worry—playing across her features.
“Ah, I gotta go,” Alexa murmured to Ronnie.
“Tell Catherine I said hi.”
“You bet.” She lowered the receiver to its cradle and stood. “You okay?”
The girl nodded…a little too quickly.
Alexa debated whether to push the matter and decided against it for now. “Here, let me take that,” she offered, reaching for the bag. “We can eat in the conference room.”
She led the way inside. Decorated in the same fussy French provincial style as the rest of the suite, the room sported a wall of windows revealing the somber sky, the snow raining down on the District. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors graced the other walls. Alexa caught her own reflection, pleased at what she saw.
Before allowing herself to fall in love with Hunt, she’d worn a cool mask of indifference, telling herself and the world that she didn’t care, she didn’t want emotional intimacy, had no use for it. Hunt’s devotion had softened her features, a mixture of European and Vietnamese, bringing warmth to her dark eyes. She still wore her black hair long, the ends trailing over her ass, just as he liked. Although she was the financial brains behind this enterprise, her clothing wasn’t corporate dull. Nor would it ever be with Hunt in her life. Today, she’d chosen a white cashmere sweater he liked to rub his fac
e against and snug leather pants, the color of cocoa, that he loved peeling off her.
Smiling at the memory, Alexa chose an area that faced the Christmassy scene outside. “Here good?”
“Sure.” Catherine smiled weakly, taking a chair. “Wherever you want.”
“You’re not going to take off your coat?”
Catherine looked down as though she just realized she was still wearing the thing. She put her gloves on the table, unwound her scarf and shrugged out of her coat. Seated once more, she kept running her hands up and down her thighs.
“You’re still cold?” Alexa gestured to the thermostat that was already at seventy-nine degrees. In the past, Catherine had always complained about how hot Alexa kept it in here. “Want me to turn up the heat?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look it. Are you coming down with something?”
She stared at the view. “No.”
Alexa took the chair next to hers. “Good to know. By the way, I’m over here.”
It took Catherine a moment before she turned in Alexa’s direction. Her dusky complexion had paled quite a bit more. Obvious anxiety played across her exquisite features.
Alexa’s belly rolled. Good god, what had happened? When Catherine had phoned earlier to suggest they have lunch, Alexa had thought the catch in the woman’s voice was because she’d just awakened.
Clearly, she’d been wrong. Had the nursing home staff called her about Opal? Wait a sec. If they had, Catherine wouldn’t be sitting here. She’d be with the older woman, doing whatever she could to make her better. So what could be bothering—
Oh my god. The only other possibility slammed into Alexa, stealing her breath. “Have the cops contacted you? Have the feds?”
Ronnie had contacts in the upper echelons of both agencies. Those in charge were frequent clients, keeping the service a secret from the law-and-order types who thought paying for consensual sex was beyond wrong while they championed dropping bombs on distant lands and allowed Wall Street to rape investors for a profit. Why in the world had those contacts finally talked? Were they going to arrest everyone here and splash their pictures on the front page of the Washington Post? Would Hunt lose his job?
