Dirty Player (The Dirty Suburbs Book 2)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  He reaches behind him and presses a button. The elevator jerks to a halt. “There. Now nobody will see us.”

  “Michael,” I protest, pushing my hands into his strong chest.

  His lips come close to mine. “Ruth, I just want to make you feel things. I want to make you feel those things you did that night I fucked you. I need to see you feel those things again. I need to see your beautiful face while you take pleasure from me.”

  I moan loud and shameless. I toss all good sense aside, drop my bags to the floor and grab him by the shirt collar. My greedy lips seal over his and the softness of his plush, supple lips causes me to moan again. He wants me. Bad. I can taste it in the way that he kisses me, in the way that his tongue strokes eagerly against mine. And I want him with just as much desperation.

  He presses his whole body into mine, grabbing me by the wrists and bringing my hands to the wall above my head. He holds me there with one hand while the other wanders down the curve of my ass and squeezes hard. My pussy stutters. I’m aching to touch him and not being able to only makes me more desperate. I grind feverishly against him, as my tongue lashes against his.

  With his free hand, he pulls my peach blouse free of my beige skirt and his warm palm runs up my back. “Your skin is so soft,” he groans against my lips.

  “Oh, Michael,” is all I can say in response.

  He releases my hands from their captivity so that he can undo the clasp of my bra. I sigh with relief as my aching breasts bounce free out of their satin and lace prison. I slide my hand over his soft hair as he lifts my blouse up and greedily takes one of my pebbled nipples into his mouth.

  “Ooohhhh!” I shut my eyes and lean my head back against the elevator panel. His lips kiss the length of my stomach and I tingle all over. “Michael!”

  “You’re so soft. So beautiful.” Now, he’s down on his knees. He pushes my skirt up until it’s bunched around my waist. His lips glide along my thighs causing liquid desire to gush out of me. I glance down at him and see nothing but his dark, wavy hair. When he runs his tongue along the lace edge of my panties, I almost spontaneously combust. And then, his hot mouth nibs at my throbbing clit through the fabric of my underwear and that’s enough to make me explode in a forceful orgasm. I squint and scream his name in a shrill voice as my head falls back into the elevator wall.

  “That’s it, Ruth. Come for me.” The rumble of his voice against my sensitive mound makes me come again, harder than before. I grab his head and thrust my aching core against his mouth until I’ve rubbed out the crux of my orgasm against him.

  He runs the tip of his nose against my damp panties as I recover from the mind-warping climax. When I finally calm down, my eyes ease open slowly and I find myself looking up into the blinking red light of the elevator’s security camera.

  Chapter 12

  “Get off me!” I shriek pushing Michael brusquely by the shoulder.

  Given his precarious perch on the floor in front of me, he falls flat on his ass. “Whoa. Relax there, Ruth.” He reaches for the handrail and quickly rises to his feet. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “There’s a camera! A fucking camera!” I yelp pointing in the direction of the blinking light.

  “Shit,” he mumbles glancing up at the camera. He’s obviously seeing it for the first time.

  “Yes, shit!” I say sarcastically as I hook the clasp of my lace bra and shove the tail of my shirt back into my skirt. “Of course there’s a camera in this elevator. How could I be so stupid?” I mumble to myself as I straighten my disheveled hair and scurry to gather my belongings.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it,” he says trying to reassure me.

  But I’m too mad at myself to care about his promises. How could I let myself get carried away like this? How could I loose control in the elevator at my goddamn job? You are ridiculous, Ruth! Merda! I chide myself.

  He grasps me by the shoulders and tries to force my eyes to his. “Ruth – I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of the security footage.”

  I try to wrestle my way out of his grip. I can’t stand to look into his beautiful blue eyes, full of compassion. Not when I’ve got warm tears rolling down my cheeks. “Let me out of here,” I demand as I try to edge around him.

  He stands his ground, grabbing me firmly by the wrist. “Not when you’re crying, Ruth.” He runs the large pad of his thumb along my tear-stricken cheek.

  I don’t want him to see me like this. I don’t want him to think that I’m weak. “I’m not that kind of girl, Michael. I’m not the kind of girl that gets hot and heavy with her boss in the elevator. I’m not the type of girl who loses control like this. You need to leave me alone. You need to stop pursuing me.” My voice cracks as I speak.

  He looks me in the face. His eyes are hard. I throw up a mask, showing him all the resolve he needs to see in order to believe me. His lips draw into a thin line and he takes a step away from me. “Okay.” He shrugs in defeat, then leans forward and presses a button on the elevator panel and the lift recommences its climb.

  It feels like an eternity before we arrive at the 7th floor. When the doors open, I take brisk steps through it. Gripping the strap of the bag on my shoulder, I walk out and don’t look back.

  Chapter 13

  I rush past the empty offices and cubicles, making a beeline for the fire escape. My mind is in a fog. Every nerve in my body is still on edge. I probably reek of sex. But I just need to distract myself. Have lunch with my friends and put the whole elevator incident behind me.

  I’m still struggling to stick my peach blouse back into my beige skirt when I push through the fire escape door. I screech to a halt when I see Madison Moretti sitting on the stairs with Hailey.

  Michael’s prissy little sister is one of the last people I want to see right now. Not when her brother just tongue-fucked me into a hot mess on the elevator.

  Madison glances up at me with tears staining her cheeks.

  “I just got back from filing documents at the courthouse.” I don’t know why I just blurted out that lie. I couldn’t look more suspicious if I tried.

  Hailey arches an eyebrow at me. “Okay…”

  Madison wipes her glistening eyes with a napkin before crumpling up her sandwich wrapper and rising to her feet. “Maybe I should go…”

  I think that would be a great idea. But I can’t say that to her – she’s my boss’s daughter. Her family name is on the door. “You don’t have to go.” I hope I managed to slide a note of sincerity into my tone.

  She glances at Hailey, then back at me. “No. No. I haven’t seen Michael in a few days. He’s been holed up in his office like the workaholic that he is. I’ll go check up on him.”

  I feel myself panic when she mentions his name. No. She can’t go see him right now. “I just saw him get on the elevator. He probably went out for lunch.” I pounce on the nearest lie I can find.

  Disappointment covers her face. “Oh. Okay. I should go take a walk – Yeah, I’ll go take a walk.” She glances at Hailey. “We’ll catch up later.”

  Hailey nods. “See you, Madison.”

  I toss her a stiff smile as she walks out the door.

  “What the hell was that?” Hailey asks with a suspicious expression as soon as the door closes. She takes a gulp of the algae and spinach detox smoothie she whipped together this morning before we dashed out of the house.

  I turn up my nose at her blue-green drink. “Your disgusting detox obsession is gonna kill you.” I sink down onto the stairs next to her. “Why was Madison crying anyway?”

  She scowls. “None of your business. And don’t try to change the subject. What the heck is your problem today? You look like you were chased across the city by a pack of hyenas.” She brushes my wild hair off of my face.

  “Thanks. You look nice, too,” I say sarcastically.

  She tilts her head to the side and observes me. “This has something to do with Michael, doesn’t it?”

  I hate that
my roommate knows me so well. “We sorta…got carried away…on the elevator.”

  She gasps. “Ruthie!” I can see the disappointment and judgment on her face.

  “I know! I know! It’s bad. I’m bad.”

  Hailey sighs and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Honey, I know that he’s smokin’ hot, but you could lose your job in a snap if something goes wrong with Michael. We’re interns. We’re dispensable. Remember that.”

  “I know. I know.”

  “Don’t ruin your reputation just for a few hot nights with a hot guy. Remember what happened to Amber. She almost lost everything when word got out that she was sleeping with the firm’s sexy, billionaire client. You’ve gotta be smart.”

  “I KNOW!” I know that she’s right. But her lecture is doing me no good right now. Because, in reality, all I want to do is get back on that elevator with Michael and finish what we started.

  Chapter 14

  “I’m telling you, Amber – shopping for a wedding dress right now is a bad idea.” I try to reason with my friend as she holds the sleek, form-fitting gown in front of her, admiring her reflection in the mirror.

  “Why?” she asks defiantly pouting at me over her shoulder.

  I need to tread lightly. Commenting on a woman’s weight is always a touchy subject but when she’s a pregnant, hormonal wreck as well, I’m basically stomping through a minefield. “Honey, why can’t you just wait until after the baby’s born to get married.”

  “I don’t wanna wait. I love him now. I want Spencer to be my husband now.” She’s whining.

  I cross my legs and lean back into the overstuffed couch in the small bridal atelier. “It’s just that – the baby’s growing – so fast. The dress may not fit you in three months.”

  “Well, that’s why I’m getting it two sizes bigger. So, it’ll fit at the wedding.” She runs her left hand gently along the fragile beading, her gigantic engagement ring gleaming in the light. She tilts her head to the right and then to the left, her dark bangs swaying with each movement of her head as she continues to analyze the dress.

  I sigh in frustration. There’s no reasoning with Amber today. Where the hell is Hailey? She’s built for dealing with over-emotional, irrational pregnant ladies. I’m not.

  Finally, Amber tosses the dress on top of the pile of a dozen or so discarded options. She waddles over to me and plops down on the couch. “I need a nap,” she announces as she props her head on my shoulder and cuddles up next to me.

  “Are you serious?” I ask, annoyed. “I love you, Amber. But you totally use your pregnancy as an excuse to be lazy.”

  She giggles at my irritation. “Shh! Don’t tell anybody…Why are you being so grumpy anyway? Michael’s not putting out anymore?”

  I scratch the back of my neck. “I’ve been staying away from Michael.”

  “Now, why would you do that?” Amber’s frowning at me. “It sounds like he’s crazy about you.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “He’s not crazy about me. He doesn’t know me. He wants to fuck me again. That’s all.”

  “So, why don’t you let him? What? Is he whack in bed?”

  Memories of the night I spent with Michael flood my mind and my entire body warms up. “He was awesome in bed,” I whisper longingly as I bring my hand to my chest.

  “So, go for it, Ruthie,” Amber prods squeezing my shoulder.

  I push a breath past my lips. “Let’s drop it, Amber. I’ve already made my decision. So, let’s drop it.”

  “Okay,” she says with a long sigh as she stands to her feet. “I’ll drop it.” She walks over to a rack of lily white satin dresses, running her fingertips along the fabric. “Time to try on the next dress.”

  Chapter 15

  I spend the rest of September with my head down, working hard at school and at the law firm. I do my best to keep distracted and not let my desire for Michael overpower my good sense.

  And my strategy is working for the most part. I rarely bump into him and when I do, I keep our interactions short and professional. I still see the raw desire in his eyes and it stirs my own yearning, but I have a plan and I’m sticking to it. I’m going to graduate at the top of my class at Cornell in the spring and that is my priority.

  That’s the thought that’s fueling me as I read through my fourteenth court case for the night at the law firm’s tiny library on the 10th floor. It’s nearly 9:30 on a Friday night and I’m absolutely starving but this case is important to our client and Jimmy Trahn is depending on me to pull through and find some favorable jurisprudence that we can use in our intellectual property litigation next week.

  I take a small sip of warm milk from the mug that I smuggled in to the library just as my phone begins to ring. I don’t recognize the number on the screen but it could be the client so I answer anyway.

  “Ruth Salvador?” I say quietly into the receiver.

  I hear ragged breathing on the other end of the line. “Mmm. Ruth Salvador. I was beginning to worry that I’d never hear that cock-hardening Brazilian accent again.”

  A cold shiver runs down the length of my spine.

  Ohgod.

  “H-how did you get-get this number?” My hands are shaking. I can hear the heels of my pumps clattering against the hardwood floor as my leg shakes uncontrollably.

  His laugh is sinister. “Oh, Ruthie! That’s no way to greet an old friend!”

  “You’re no friend, Sergei. You’re a monster.” I press my palm into my thigh to keep it from shaking.

  He sighs. “All I ever did was look out for you, Angel.”

  I cringe all the way to my bones. I’ve spent the last three years running away from Sergei and the world that surrounds him like a dark cloak. He was at the epicenter of the worst moment of my life. But I’ve changed now. Everything about me is different. I can’t let him anywhere near me again.

  My voice is trembling when I say, “Don’t call me again. Ever.” He starts to say something but I end the call.

  I try to pull a few deep breaths to calm myself. But then, my phone rings again and my heart starts thumping all over. I yank the battery out and toss all the pieces of the phone into my purse.

  Once more, I try to center myself. But suddenly, the library is way too quiet. I feel creeped out and I’m shivering with fear. I gather my belongings and practically run to the elevator as I slip into my jacket. I rush out of the lobby and onto the sidewalk. It’s not until I’m in the thick of New York City’s Friday night foot traffic that I can finally calm down. Lost in the sea of anonymity, the crisp air seizes me. I free myself from the memory of the man who stole every shard of innocence I once had.

  Chapter 16

  Sergei’s phone call rattled me to the core last night. I’ve been feeling emotionally disheveled ever since. I even slept with my bedroom lights on and a butcher’s knife on my nightstand.

  I’ll be damned if I ever let that monster anywhere near me again.

  And I’ll be damned if I let him distract me from my work here at the firm.

  I resumed my position here in the library at 10:00 a.m. sharp. Since I ran out of here so abruptly last night, I have a lot of catching up to do on my research. Trial is next week. My time is limited.

  But I’m still shaken up. It’s hard to concentrate. Milk isn’t doing the trick.

  I need coffee.

  And chocolate.

  I head off to the break room on the 7th floor.

  I push through the door and see Michael making himself a cup of coffee. God, he looks good. Dressed in a blue and white pin-stripped shirt and a solid blue tie, dark stubble adorns his chin and his hair is sexy and mussed. I try to remain cool when he glances up briefly and notices me. “Good morning, Michael,” I say as I approach the coffee machine where he’s standing.

  He doesn’t bother to look at me as he says, “Good morning.”

  He moves out of the way as I reach for a coffee cup on the shelf above the coffee machine and he turns his attention to the financial section of the n
ewspaper sitting on the counter in front of him as I slip a coffee pod into the machine.

  I pout on the inside. I’d really like some attention from him right now. My telephone encounter with Sergei has me feeling off-balance and I’d really like to drown in the strength and confidence that emanates from Michael every time I’m near him. I’d like to feel safe right now.

  I need him.

  I peer at his newspaper. “Are the markets good today?” Where did that silly question come from?

  He looks at me briefly, his expression impassive. “The markets are closed on Saturdays.”