by Sarina Bowen
Maxie’s hands were restless. She set her wrists on the table, then started to play with her silverware and rearrange her glasses. He felt the energy humming between them, beneath the never-ending river of his mother’s conversational assault, as his gaze played up and down every inch of her body. He pleased himself by remembering of all her hidden curves, the ones that made her twitch and giggle uncontrollably. The ones that made her gasp, and then tense, then melt.
“Darling, I told Smith that if he isn’t happy with this cast, clever as you’ve assured me some of them are, he shouldn’t compromise. If we have to scrap everything and start over from scratch in order to realize his vision, then we must…”
Holy shit.
Before he could jump in to forbid it, Maxie shot him a quelling look and handled his mother like a pro.
“That is definitely unnecessary, Alfie. Heitman is a pro at casting and Smith is going to be thrilled when he sees his words come to life in the actors’ mouths.” Before she could continue squashing his mother’s need to meddle, Alfie was on to another topic.
“Just a moment, dear. I really must scold Rickie for his failure to support our arts community.” His mother stood and waved her hand vigorously at someone who was far enough away that she should have used air traffic control signal flags. “Rickie! Come here now!”
It was vaguely reminiscent of how one might call an errant pup back into the house after a potty run.
The corpulent gentleman in the gorgeous brocade tuxedo whom she was summoning—a fellow venture capitalist actually, who’d snaked a phenomenal start-up away from Nick in their last competition—put up a brave show of pretending not to see her while most of the surrounding guests eagerly took in her antics. Finally, when she didn’t let up, Rickie heaved a deep sigh, pulled himself up from his chair, and headed their way.
When the man arrived, Alfie demanded to know loudly and with complete disregard for the emcee, who was now attempting to quiet the crowd, why he wasn’t investing in the “biggest cultural revolution in Chicago history.”
Before Nick could decide if losing out on that start-up meant he didn’t have to perform his normal conversational rescue duties, his rival made it clear that he didn’t need any protection.
“I’m a capitalist, Alfie. I don’t do revolutions.”
Maxie barked a laugh that made Nick snort. Then she coughed dramatically when heads turned in her direction.
“I swallowed a bug.” She grabbed the nearest water glass and swigged a mouthful, clearly trying not to laugh.
Nick lifted an eyebrow at her and kept staring, watching her grow ever more flustered as he declined to look away, ignoring his mother, his competitor…ignoring everyone in the room other than the woman who made him laugh as much as she made him want to bend her over a table.
But Maxie didn’t quite have a read on him apparently, because she slammed the water glass back onto the table with more force than necessary and glared back at him.
Confident that she’d figure it out, he let the want shine in his eyes and grinned.
He spotted it, the moment when she realized she’d been reading him all wrong.
She’d assumed he was thinking about business perhaps, or his mother. But no; he’d been stripping her naked with his eyes. Now that she’d caught on, she leaned back in her seat, kicking her feet out and crossing them at the ankle, nearly touching him with her spiked heels, a sly grin on her face as she realized what he’d been doing.
A flush spread from her face to her chest, easily visible on her overly exposed skin. She bit her lip and tried to keep her grin under control, her cheeks rounding like apples even as she pressed her lips together.
Moving slowly, Nick pushed his chair back from the table. Lifted his napkin from his lap and dropped it in a neatly folded lavender pile next to his plate, stopping to smooth the fall of his dinner jacket.
He stared directly at her, then turned his head to look at the open archway leading out of the ballroom. Locked gazes with her again and left the room.
There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she would follow.
Chapter Ten
Five seconds after Nick’s departure from the ballroom, Maxie excused herself from the table. And what she really meant was, Get out of my way or get flattened. I have a rendezvous on the balcony, baby.
Nick was going to hear from his mother later, if the look she shot Maxie over the rim of her wine glass was anything to go by. Whether he’d be castigated for Maxie’s rudeness at sprinting away from the conversation about Smith or congratulated on taking the footsie-playing to the next level was up for debate.
She’d already learned enough about Alfie to know that the sparkle in her eye could go either way.
Hitting the deserted marble-floored lobby, Maxie stopped to get her bearings. A few attendants hustled through the room, but everyone else was back in the ballroom, where the emcee, having regained control of the floor, had opened the live-auction bidding on prizes that were all far out of Maxie’s range. His voice echoed so loudly from the speakers that she could even hear him out here.
Opening bids on the first item started at five thousand dollars.
A private jet flying you to Napa for a weekend of vineyard tours led by the winemaker himself?
Not cheap.
She ran a hand up the back of her neck, tucking stray hairs into the bobby pins. The clasp of the chunky bronze necklace that collared her neck poked the side of her throat, so she twisted it back into place.
No sign of Nick. Hmm.
A sweeping staircase with wide, low marble steps curved up to the first balcony level from either side of the lobby.
North or south staircase. Fifty-fifty and pick ‘em. She opted for the closest staircase and flew up the dozens of tiny steps. When she reached the top, she headed toward the wing of the balcony. A window overlooked Wacker Drive at the end of the hall and curtained archways broke up the wall every twenty feet on her left, one for every private terrace box on this level. A few steps in, it occurred to her that looking for someone in a massive theater building wasn’t as charming as it sounded. She’d give it one minute before she broke out her cell phone.
Two seconds before she reached the end of the hall—and the end of her patience—the last gold velvet curtain twitched aside.
She’d thought it would be dark in the private box, but the Lyric had left all the house lights on high for tonight’s event so that the ornate gold scrollwork and intricate murals of the opera house could dazzle. Even with the lights off in the box, it was barely dim when Nick grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside, shutting the curtain behind them.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her to him, pressing their bodies together from chest to thigh. Leaning close, he murmured into her ear, his voice shivering through her as if it was broadcast from the top of her spine directly to every nerve in her body. “What are you, psychic? I was just calling myself an idiot for coming up here without you. Figured you’d be pissed and wondering where the hell I’d gone.”
“I’d say it’s luck, but really, I’m just that good,” she teased and lifted her mouth to his.
He clasped the back of her neck and tilted her head back, his mouth fierce and sudden on hers. There’d be no slow build-up of tension tonight, she could tell.
This was going to be hard and fast, with no waiting around for slackers to catch up.
She was so, so okay with that.
Her hands tightened on his jacket sleeves and she pressed up into his kiss, stretching on tiptoes to get her mouth under his, open and hot, capturing his tongue with her own and sucking on it for just a moment until he took control of the kiss again and pulled back, biting at her lower lip and scraping his teeth against hers.
His hand at her neck moved the twisted strap of fabric over her shoulder and shoved it halfway down her arm. She stumbled a little and her butt pressed against the hard back of the last row of seats in the box. Then her left breast was exposed to the air, the
tape stuck to the fabric of the dress, and his wide hand cupped it—it was such a turn-on to see his hands on her—pushing her breast up to his mouth. His tongue circled her nipple and then he sucked it deep into his mouth. Her head dropped back and she swallowed the moan that swelled in her throat as the pressure sparked a trail of heat that raced up her spine. He braced her with an arm wrapped around her waist, dropping his hand to palm her ass, squeezing so hard she’d probably have bruises in the morning.
She pictured that, the marks of his fingers on her ass, and a sudden rush of heat made her almost dizzy.
“Touch me,” she said, knowing she wasn’t making sense. He was touching her, hands hard on her breast and her butt, mouth skimming up her clavicle to the side of her neck, teeth grazing the tendons cording her neck as she strained to get closer to him. But it wasn’t enough, wasn’t where her body wanted his hands, his mouth, to be. She slid a hand down his back until she pressed his hips into her own and rocked against him. “Just, please…”
He spun her around by the shoulders and pushed her hands onto the backs of the nearest balcony seats. She looked down over the orchestra floor, the pit where the musicians would play, the curtained width of the stage. Nick leaned over her back, surrounding her with his body until she felt blocked in and secured by him. He slid one foot between hers, pushing her feet wider apart.
“Don’t move your hands.”
The growled words sent another surge of heat through her body. In two seconds, he had the back of her dress flipped up onto her back, baring her to him. He slid a hand over the curve of her butt down to her thighs. She felt every callus on his fingertips, the faint roughness of his palm. He slid a finger beneath the narrow strip of her thong and brushed against her core.
She gasped and rose up on her tiptoes in reflex until he laid a hand on her lower back, pushing her back down and onto the spear of his two fingers.
“Ahhh, so good, yesss…” She dropped her head and wriggled, working to get more of his fingers inside her. Now all she need was a finger on her clit, just the tiniest bit of pressure, and she’d melt all over his hand. She pulled at her dress, desperate to touch herself.
The crack of his hand against her ass hit her ears before she had a chance to feel the flash of stinging pain and then the bloom of heat.
“Hands on the seats.”
Her hand was back in place before she knew she was moving it. She shoved her hips back at him in silent demand.
Yeah, screw silence.
“Then touch me, goddamn it.”
“Just stay still.”
She laughed all of a sudden, at the thought of how she must look, naked from the waist down, writhing between his two hands. “Just get inside me, will you?”
“Easy there. No condom.” He rubbed her butt, almost friendly.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Nice mouth.”
“You’ll never feel how nice my mouth is again if you leave me like this.”
“Don’t. Move.”
She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she sank into a slow-motion world where all she knew was the slide of his hand on her ass, his fingers moving in and out of her, each separate touch overwhelming. Her chest rose and fell with pants and she heard her own voice moaning, low and long.
“Please, please, please…” she chanted under her breath. He stroked a hand all the way down her spine, her back arching under his touch like a cat’s. She didn’t care who strolled by, as long as he let her come, please god, before she started shouting.
“Relax.” She must have tensed up a little under his hands. He nudged her feet even farther apart until more of her weight was on her hands on the seatbacks, the hard edge cutting into her palms a little, just one more sensation piled onto her skin, overwhelming her. “I’m just playing.”
She nodded her head, breathing loudly now, eyes closed. She didn’t need distractions, just all of her focus on this man looming so hard and big and totally in control behind her. An explosion of adrenaline hit her system as he slid a finger free to circle and then press against her clit. She bit her lip and moaned again, all the heat and pressure in her body centering on that one spot while his fingers inside her pushed every sensation higher.
She hung at the top of a cliff’s edge, a split second from throwing herself over. But like a virgin diver, she couldn’t make herself go over.
Nick gave her the push she craved.
“Come for me, Maxie. Come now.” He knocked her off the cliff and into free fall.
Heat bloomed between her legs, a sharp cramp of orgasm that shot up her spine and made her drop her head, trying to hold herself up with shaking arms. Nick’s hand kept moving against her, slowing as her hips grew still, until she pulled away from him with a hiss.
“Too sensitive.” Harsh breaths rattled in and out of her lungs as she recovered. Nick’s hand on her ass rubbed gentle circles that soothed as she reassembled her consciousness piece by piece and tried to anchor it to her body. She pushed back against his hands in friendly fashion and he let her bump up against him.
Aha.
She huffed a laugh and looked back over her shoulder. Like an unaffected bystander, Nick watched her innocently. She pressed back again, feeling the hard length of him against her.
“Is that a hint?”
“Take your time.” He patted her with a hand still damp from being inside her.
“Hah. You mean, ‘hurry up before my dick falls off.’”
“Or that.” But he continued to make slow, soothing circles on her skin.
She stood up and twisted to face him in one smooth motion. Sliding a finger under the placket of his blindingly white dress shirt between two of the obsidian studs, she tugged him closer. The hem of her dress fell back to the floor, drifting against her legs as it covered her again. Wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling his head down, she pressed her mouth against his, still breathing hard, and licked the seam of his lips until his mouth opened to her. She danced her tongue against his for a moment, giving him tiny nips and scrapes with her teeth.
After a minute, Nick groaned and grabbed her hips, digging his fingers into her skin for a second before gentling his hands.
“God, you were so hot, all open and exposed.” He buried his face against the side of her neck and his tongue scraped under her ear. “I almost came in my pants just watching you.”
“That doesn’t sound comfortable at all.” She drew back and trailed kisses along his jaw, enjoying the scratch of stubble against her mouth. Then she pressed a last kiss to the tip of his chin before sinking to her knees in front of him.
She had his pants open and his hard length in her hands before he could blink, wrapping her hand around him and rubbing her thumb across the tip, smearing the slick drop that leaked out. She kept her eyes on his as she leaned forward and sucked just the tip of his penis into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the head before popping off for a moment.
“If I get anything on this dress, my sister will kill me.” He didn’t look as though he was going to argue—his dick was straining forward as if it was reaching for her mouth.
“Whatever you want. Just don’t stop now.” He lifted a hand and traced her hairline, skimming against her skin as he watched her. “Put your mouth on me, Maxie. Please.”
She was already sliding down, keeping her hand at the base so she could control the depth of his penetration. She learned the feel of him in her mouth, almost too big, faintly gagging her when he hit the back of her throat, as she alternated deep sucks and swirling licks back up his length.
Nick kept up a steady stream of murmured praise above her, encouraging her to do anything she wanted. He tasted like salt and copper and she sucked hard with just the head in her mouth, pulling out a surge of his taste.
“Ahh!”
She pumped her fist, slick with spit and pre-come, up and down, jerking him hard as she sucked with nonstop pressure, feeling him harden like an iron bar in her fist. His fi
ngers tangled in her hair and squeezed suddenly, bringing tears to her eyes. He pulled her off him, tugging her back, and she tried to remember why she couldn’t feel him spill in her mouth.
“Stop.”
She sat back on her heels, still pumping him in her slick fist, as he yanked the handkerchief out of his chest pocket and covered himself as he came, heat spilling over her hand.
Nick slid his own hand beneath hers, gently moving her off as he wiped himself down before balling up the fabric in one hand. He tucked himself away and rezipped before looking at her again.
“God, you make me want to do absolutely filthy things to you.” He tugged her up. Kissed her mouth languorously, licking his way in and sucking her upper lip for a moment. His hand slid up her arm, returning her dress to its proper place.
Sort of.
He glanced down at her chest and winced. The dress tape had definitely lost some of its effectiveness after being stripped off her skin. Fabric covered everything essential, but gapped and slithered to the side every time she breathed.
“Whoops.”
“Hmmm.” She pressed a hand to each breast and tried to smooth down the edges of the dress again. No dice. “Yeah, there’s no way I’m getting out of here without flashing someone.”
He snorted and ran a finger down the inner V of her plunging neckline. She smacked his hand away.
“Not helping.”
“It’s a lost cause, Maxie.” She gave him what she hoped was a withering stare.
“Thank you, Mr. Obvious. What am I going to do now?” She looked around her for her tiny clutch and saw it on the floor, kicked into the back corner of the box, and grabbed it.
Yeah, bending over was definitely a no-go in the current state of her dress. She might as well be naked.
Her clutch vibrated like a ball of angry honeybees in her hand. She ignored the flashing light on her phone, checking to see if she’d tucked the tail end of the tape in her bag. Nope. Nada.
