Dirty Little Quickies

by Shanora Williams

I broke out in laughter. “Is Brad meeting us there?”

  “Yeah, he’s about to leave his place now so, come on! Let’s get going. Because of your pity party, we’re running late.”

  “Okay, but you’re driving,” I told her. “I won’t even attempt to drive in these six-inch beauties.”

  SEVEN

  JENNA

  Tyler was even hotter in person than he was in the pictures. His auburn hair was styled almost surfer-like, not to mention he was built like one too, lean and muscled. Even beneath his T-shirt and khaki’s, I could tell he was fit. He was twenty-five, a year younger than me, though he could have passed for being a little older.

  I wrapped my lips around my straw and sipped my margarita, listening to him talk about his job as a mechanic. He was blue collar, the complete opposite of Judas Clement, but there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with that.

  Tyler’s eyes shifted down to my lips and he stopped mid-sentence, studying my mouth. “You have beautiful lips. You know that?” He smiled.

  I blushed, not even realizing that my lips going around the straw was a flirtatious, sexy thing that most men found seductive. To be honest, this drink was sparing me from saying anything stupid. I didn’t want to ruin this, so I laughed, tucking my hair behind my ears.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Would you like another drink?” he asked and I looked down at my half-empty glass.

  “Sure. But how about we do a shot of tequila this time,” I suggested.

  Tyler winked. “I like the way you think.”

  We were seated at the counter and he called for the bartender. As he tried getting the bartender’s attention, I heard the front door squeak on its hinges and looked over.

  Oh fuck! No, he didn’t–

  He stepped into the bar, scanning his surroundings like he owned the place—or could own it with a scribble in his checkbook. He wiped the sleeve of his dress shirt off, as if imaginary dirt had landed on it, and then he turned his body my way. His eyes found mine before I could pull away and my breath dwindled.

  Jude.

  What the hell was he doing here?

  My eyes shifted over to Carrie and Brad, but they were on the small dance floor, dancing to a song by Pitbull. I knew once Carrie saw him, she would save me, pull me away and take me home.

  But this was her first night out in weeks. She had Brad. She was smiling and laughing and having a great time, plus she had been drinking, and a drunk Carrie was an oblivious Carrie.

  Was I going to be so selfish as to ruin things for her and cut the night short? No. I couldn’t. But I so desperately wanted to.

  Jude smirked at me, a smug expression I wanted to slap right off of his beautiful face. I dropped my gaze, turning around again and looking at Tyler.

  Suddenly, I was on edge, and as if Tyler noticed, he asked, “Hey, you okay?” He rubbed my arm and I somewhat froze. “Is it because of what I said earlier? About your lips? Shit—I’m sorry. I hope it didn’t come off as weird or too forward or anything.”

  “No—no! Oh, my gosh, no. Not at all. I’m fine,” I assured him.

  His hand fell to my lap and he squeezed my bare thigh with sincere eyes. He pulled away when the bartender showed up with our shots of tequila. “Here. Take this tequila as my sincerest apology,” he said, handing me one of the shot glasses.

  I accepted it, and couldn’t help glancing back at Jude, who was now walking over to a table in the corner. He sat down, but kept those cold blue eyes on me.

  How the hell did he even find out where I was?

  “So, let’s make this drink out to the possibility of many more dates together? Maybe?” Tyler smiled boyishly, catching my eyes again, and I grinned.

  “To the future,” I beamed, but it was so forced. Fortunately, he didn’t notice that. He smiled, we touched glasses, and then we both chugged the tequila shot down. I winced as Tyler let out a hoarse gasp.

  “Man, that was strong,” he laughed. And I smiled, sipping what was left of my margarita to chase it down. “Your friends seem to be having fun.” He watched them for several seconds. “Wanna join them?” He pointed a thumb back with a charismatic grin.

  Normally, I would be all up for dancing, but with Jude around, I was tempted to be on my best behavior, which meant no dancing. But then I thought about what Carrie said earlier. Jude Clement didn’t own me. Outside of the office, I was Jenna fucking Taylor and I ran the show.

  I didn’t answer Tyler. Instead, I grabbed his hand and tugged him off his stool, leading the way to the dance floor and letting my actions speak for me.

  The lights were only slightly dim, but I didn’t mind one bit. Jude would see everything and I wanted him to watch me having a good time. I wanted him to know that my life didn’t revolve around the office, Sunday mornings, and Judas Clement.

  Tyler smiled when I turned around to look up at him. I started dancing and so did he, and then he grabbed my hips, spinning me around so my ass was buried in his groin. I shimmied to a song by Rihanna while facing my boss.

  Jude was now sipping from a tumbler filled halfway with ice and amber liquid. His eyes were anything but gentle and warm. They were icier than I’d ever seen them before. He watched us dance, and I had an overwhelming sense of dread tugging in my belly. Maybe it was that shot of tequila, or maybe it was because I knew, with that cold, icy look alone, that I was fucked. Maybe he would fire me. Maybe he would cancel Sundays. Maybe he’d curse me out or bury me in paperwork.

  I didn’t know.

  “You smell so good, Jenna,” Tyler breathed in my ear. I could feel him getting hard, digging into my ass. “I’m so lucky to have scored this night with you.”

  He was so sweet. Maybe too sweet. I wasn’t used to sweet. I was used to harshness, sarcasm, and demands.

  I found Jude’s eyes again, running my tongue over my lips. He stared intently, watching as I ran my hands over my breasts and then down to my thighs. At first, he seemed irritated, but now he seemed a little turned on.

  He still had that agitated look, though. His jaw ticked as he watched Tyler’s hands roam my body. When our eyes met, his eyes flashed from the lanterns hanging above the tables.

  I figured it was enough torture by the end of the song, so I turned around and told Tyler I needed to use the ladies room. He nodded and turned, going back to the bar and holding up a hand for the bartender.

  Before I could get too far away, I glanced back and looked at Jude. He was staring at Tyler with a hard frown. Oh, God. I hoped he wasn’t going to pick a fight. Jude had a temper on him. I’d witnessed it once, during a meeting that didn’t go over so well.

  Despite knowing it, I rushed to the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror. I was a little sweatier, so I yanked some paper towels out of the holder and swiped under my armpits.

  I was wearing a black sequined belly shirt and a maroon skirt. My black heels were way too high for my own good, and I knew by the time I got home my feet would be killing me.

  I fluffed my hair and then let out a breath. I had no idea why Jude was here. Why did he just show up? I wasn’t anything more than sex to him. I knew that and I knew it well, so what possessed him to find me?

  I finished up with a light coat of lip-gloss and a touch-up of my mascara, and then I headed for the door. But as soon as I stepped out, I spotted Jude standing across the hall, waiting for me. I gasped and stopped abruptly.

  The sole of one of his shoes was pressed on the wall, his hands buried in the front pockets of his suit pants.

  The hallway that led to the bathrooms had very dim lighting, so not many could see us, but I could see the counter from here—could see Tyler waiting for me to return as he scrolled through his cellphone.

  “Having fun?” Jude asked, his voice coarse.

  “How did you find out where I was?” I asked, frowning at him.

  “I Googled local places that would be having taco and tequila nights on a Friday night. There were only two restaurants doing it this month. This one a
nd another one closer to the beach. I tried the one at the beach first. You weren’t there, so I tried this one.”

  “Jude, I don’t understand why you even showed up. Why does it matter to you where I am or what I’m doing?”

  Jude pushed off the wall, his eyes boring into mine. He came closer and I was losing my breath all over again. I glanced to the left and saw Tyler sitting there, sipping a fresh beer. I could also see Carrie and Brad murmuring into each other’s ears.

  “I don’t like this date you’re on, Jenna,” he said. “I’m not okay with it.”

  “Well, that’s unfortunate, Jude. Tonight isn’t about you. I already told you, it’s not Sunday.”

  “I know it’s not Sunday.” His tone was clipped. “But that doesn’t mean that you aren’t mine.”

  I swallowed thickly, still tasting the tequila on my tongue.

  “Come here, Jenna,” he murmured.

  And I blinked. I was tempted to go to him, but as tempted as I was, I was even more willing to leave him standing alone in that hallway.

  “I won’t ask again, babe.”

  Babe…

  My heart fluttered. God, why was I so weak for this man?

  Before I could process it, my feet were moving toward him. Jude looked down at me when I was less than an inch away from him. He grabbed my hand and squeezed it tight in his, barging right into the women’s bathroom.

  He locked the door behind us and then twisted me around, pressing my back against one of the walls, grabbing me by the waist, and picking me up. I had no choice but to wrap my legs around his waist as he clutched my wrists and pinned them to the wall above my head.

  His breathing was ragged, the tip of his nose skimming my jawline, and I panted, nipples straining in my bra.

  “Were you trying to make me jealous out there?” he murmured in my ear.

  “No,” I lied.

  “Don’t lie to me,” he grumbled, his voice a deep rumble in my ear.

  “Yes,” I confessed, and he sucked on the bend of my neck, making me clench.

  “Well, it worked,” he rasped, then kissed his way down to my collarbone. “It worked, Jenna. Now I’m about to fuck you right here. Right now. While your little date sits out there nursing a beer, not even knowing you’re getting fucked by the man you really want.”

  Jude’s chest pressed on mine to keep me steady. His hands were at the button of his dress pants and then he pulled his cock out. I should have been resisting, but how the hell was I supposed to resist this?

  A jealous Jude?

  A dominant Jude?

  I sighed when his mouth came back up and he sucked on my bottom lip. It was so close to a kiss that my toes curled in my heels.

  Jude shifted forward, and I felt his hot, anxious cock on the inside of my thigh. The hands that were at my waist were pushing my skirt up now, and he groaned as he angled my hips first, gripped his cock with one hand next, and slid himself right into me.

  “Oh, shit,” he rasped. “Fuck, I love it when you aren’t wearing any panties. The only time you don’t wear any is when you want to be fucked. Tell me, Jenna,” he sighed. “Did you want him to fuck you tonight?”

  I shook my head, gripping his shoulders as he drove into me ever so slowly. This was his form of torture. Not giving it his all. Making me ache and crave. Making me beg with my body.

  “No, I didn’t want him to fuck me,” I whispered in his ear.

  “Really? Did you want me to fuck you?” he asked, and I nodded almost immediately.

  And when I nodded, he took a step back, pulling my back off the wall and gripping my ass. He bounced me up and down on his stiff, delicious cock, looking up at me with fierce eyes.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and he lowered his arms, wrapping them beneath my thighs to get a better grip, still bouncing me up and down.

  “Fuck, you’re milking the hell out of my cock, Jenna.” Jude looked down, watching my pussy slide up and down on him. “Promise me something,” he requested with his mouth on my chin. His voice was coarse and thick, like he was close.

  “What?”

  “Promise that you won’t let him fuck you. He can touch you all he wants, but this pussy belongs to me.”

  “Why should I?” I breathed.

  “Because I said so.” As if my question annoyed him, his eyebrows dipped and he clutched my thighs. It could have been my imagination, but I swear I felt him get harder inside me.

  Jude watched my eyes. “If you want to keep getting this good cock, you won’t fuck him, Jenna.”

  He always knew how to make me feel dirty. He knew exactly what I wanted—what I needed. It was always him. Having him so deep inside me, I couldn’t think straight.

  “Fine,” I sighed. “I won’t fuck him.”

  As if he were satisfied with that answer, he put my back on the wall again and drove into me, faster this time. I squealed, and was so glad the music playing in the overhead speakers drowned me out.

  I couldn’t believe this was happening—fucking Jude while on a date with another man—but it was. And it was a shame that I wasn’t putting a stop to it.

  “Close,” Jude grunted, and in only a few seconds he stilled and fell forward, letting most of his weight fall onto me. He throbbed with each spurt of release, moaning as if coming inside me was the best feeling in the world to him.

  I sighed, threading my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. I was so dumb. So dumb around him, but I couldn’t help it. Judas Clement had a spell on me—one I wasn’t even trying to break.

  Before I could let myself be pleased by the fact that Jude came to find me—that he may have cared more than he admitted—there was a bang on the door.

  “Jenna? Jenna, are you in here?” Carrie’s voice came from the other side and I gasped, pushing Jude back by the shoulders.

  He pulled out of me and adjusted his pants, but kept his eyes on me.

  “Jenna, are you okay?” she called.

  “Yeah,” I yelled. “Fine, just—cleaning myself up.”

  “Cleaning my come away, you mean?” Jude said, his voice light and playful.

  I bit a smile. “Shut up.”

  “Well, open the door. I really have to pee!” Carrie whined.

  Carrie was wasted. When she whined, it meant she’d had too much to drink and probably needed to be taken home before she vomited.

  “I don’t want her to see you leaving out of here. Can you hide in one of the stalls until we leave?”

  “Me? Hide in the stall of a women’s bathroom?” Jude chuckled. “You are out of you fucking mind, Jenna Taylor.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Jude, please? I just—”

  “What? You just what?” he asked, stepping closer as I tugged on the hem of my shirt.

  “Jenna,” Carrie whined faintly.

  “I just don’t want her to see you, that’s all. Just do it for me, please,” I begged.

  “Hmm.” He looked me over. “That’s all,” he repeated. And then he sighed, stepping back. “Fine. But only because you said please.”

  Jude smirked and turned for the last stall, shutting and locking it behind him. I fixed myself up as quickly as possible and then went to the door, unlocking it and letting Carrie in.

  “Jenna, what the hell? Don’t lock doors in public places. That shit is weird!”

  “Sorry—I’m just out of it,” I lied. “Too much tequila, I think.”

  Carrie sighed. “Yeah, I see that.” She pushed past me, stumbling to the last stall. I held back on a gasp and caught the hook of her arm before she could get to it.

  “Come to this one,” I insisted. “That one is dirty.” She went willingly and I was glad she thought nothing of it. She shut the door and I let out a breath. Jude pushed his stall door open and walked past me.

  “Don’t fuck him,” Jude mouthed as he grabbed the door handle. He looked at me with the same hungry and heated glare he wore while sipping that drink while I danced with Tyler, and in a matter of seconds, he was
gone.

  Carrie came out of her stall moments later and turned on the faucet to the sink. “Oh, my gosh, Jenna, Tyler is such a nice guy and so hot! Aren’t you glad you didn’t stay at home?”

  Carrie looked at me and I put on a fake smile for her. “Yeah, Car, I am. He is really nice.”

  “I can see him sticking around for a while, you know? He seems like he’s really into you. He can’t keep his eyes off you.”

  “Yeah…I guess so.”

  Only she had no idea that I didn’t exactly feel the same way. Tyler was nice and very handsome, but I wasn’t the type of woman to string another man along, just to ruin his heart later.

  It was wrong, and as badly as I didn’t want to only revolve myself around Jude, I knew that, eventually, I was going to have to do the right thing.

  I just wasn’t ready yet.

  EIGHT

  JUDAS

  I don’t know what the hell I was thinking showing up on Jenna like that.

  I felt like some psycho-stalker motherfucker, but for some reason, knowing about Jenna’s date had rubbed me the wrong way. She was so certain, so in-my-face about it, that it had really hit a fucking nerve.

  That shit had never happened to me before with any woman. I never cared enough to let them touch a nerve. I shrugged mostly everything off and went about my way. But Jenna was different.

  I didn’t know what it was about her. She was my secretary and I saw her every day. Seeing her this past week and keeping my hands to myself was the hardest thing I ever had to do. The clothes she wore to the office and the way she licked her lips when she looked at me—fuck, I had to keep biting my fist just to stay away.

  I kept begging Sunday to hurry the hell up already so I could get her out of my system. Well, until the next time I craved her, that is.

  Saturday went by in mostly a blur and I was thankful for it. I had brunch with my mother (who nagged me to death about taking Michaela to the Christmas gala because it would make me look better), so I came into work late, but found Jenna sitting at her desk on the work phone when I strode in. Her head was down and she didn’t even acknowledge my presence.