The Client: Short And Steamy

by Parker, M. S.

  His mouth twisted as he said it, and for a few seconds, he stared past my shoulder. I had a feeling this was the first time he’d ever said those words out loud.

  “It’s over,” he said again, shaking his head. “I’ve known that for a while even if I’m just now letting myself admit it. Brinke and I haven’t shared a bed in a long time. I would have been able to tell you for certain that everything's fine, but...” He swore and looked away. “We had a fight right before I came to see you. And…hell...it was habit as much as anything. I used a condom, but nothing is foolproof.”

  I didn't want to see him getting down on himself. Covering his hands with mine, I leaned in and pressed a kiss to his chin. “Mistakes happen.”

  “Yeah.” His gaze slid away and he said, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I'll get checked again, just to be on the safe side.”

  “Thank you,” I said sincerely.

  He sighed as his eyes slid back to mine. “See, this is why I insinuated you might melt. I really think you might be a witch. You do bad things to my brain.”

  “You do bad things to mine too,” I replied. I rested my head against his chest, wiggled closer. His arms went around me and it was all I could do not to moan. Part of it was the way the golden hair on his chest rubbed against my nipples, but a lot of it had to do with the strength and safety I felt in his embrace.

  The contact was doing things for Paxton too. His cock twitched against the folds of my pussy and we both shivered.

  “I don’t have any right to ask,” Paxton murmured as he slid a hand up my back, fisted it in my hair. “I’m doing it anyway. Please stay.”

  I sighed and looked up at him. “We both know that’s a bad idea. I really shouldn’t.”

  “Agreed. It’s a bad idea, and you really shouldn’t.” He brushed his lips across mine. “Do it anyway.”

  * * *

  An hour later, we were soaking in a tub that was almost the size of a small swimming pool, and I’d never felt so decadent in my life.

  “I want a bathtub like this. I want a bathroom like this. I could live in here.” Water lapped against my breasts as I cuddled back against his chest, the heat soothing away aches and pains from spending a day wandering the city, and half the night under Paxton. I was in good shape, but all of that combined had been too much for me to get away completely unscathed.

  Not that I was complaining at all.

  He kissed my temple, and I felt his smile.

  “You might eventually want a kitchen, maybe a bedroom.”

  I shook my head. “No.” Closing my eyes, I sank a little deeper into a daydream that was going to end far too soon. “I’ll order takeout and I can fit a bed in here.”

  He laughed, the sound low and rough and sexy enough to make my toes curl. Arms coming around me, he tugged me more fully against him. His erection pressed against the small of my back.

  “And when you have to get work done?”

  “I’ll dictate. I’ve got a headset, and I'll figure out a way to deal with court.” Wiggling loose, I turned around and braced a knee on either side of his hips. “You’re a smart ass, you know. And you’re raining on my parade.”

  Blue eyes met mine. The only warning I had was his body tensing, and then we were moving. He grasped my hips, yanked me down into his lap. I gasped as he filled me completely. We rocked together, the motion rubbing my clit against the base of his cock until I cried out his name.

  “Damn, that sound...” He pressed his face into the curve of my neck, his lips and teeth working at the skin even as he thrust up into me. “Say my name again.”

  He did something with his hips that made his cock hit my g-spot and I had no problem calling out his name again as I came. This time, he waited until I was coming down before he eased out of me and grabbed a nearby washcloth. He finished himself off quickly, and I couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed that I didn't get to feel him come inside me. I was on the pill and he said he was pretty sure he was clean, but he clearly didn't want to take any chances.

  After a few minutes of silence, he spoke, “Raining on your parade, am I? I guess I should make it up to you.”

  He lifted me onto the edge of the tub and, still watching me, he lowered his mouth to the curls between my thighs.

  My breath caught and my body throbbed in anticipation. My skin was so sensitive that this was going to be almost too intense, but I wasn't about to stop him.

  One slow lick and he had me open.

  Another one had me arching.

  The next one circled my clit and made me moan.

  When he began to pump his fingers inside me, I closed my eyes and gave in, enjoying the ride.

  * * *

  After a shower to clean up from our bath, I made lunch.

  He argued and I insisted. I liked to cook, and I didn’t get to do it for others often.

  He finally relented and sat down at the table, nursing a ginger ale while I poked around to see what I could find. To my delight, the answer seemed to be…everything.

  Somebody here liked to cook as well, it seemed.

  I went for simple, because why waste time on something fancy when we only had today? There was some leftover chicken he told me I was free to use, so I went with a rustic sort of chicken salad, adding some walnuts and grapes, then pulled out some of the brioche rolls I found on the counter.

  The best part was the potato chips – made in the microwave – and the look on Paxton’s face when I said what I was doing. He seemed to be awaiting disaster. That was fair. I hadn’t expected the recipe I found online to work the first time I'd seen it either, but it did.

  When we sat down, he plucked up one of the crispy pieces and studied it for a moment before taking a bite.

  The surprise made me laugh. “Never doubt my cooking skills, Paxton. Never.”

  “I think it’s safe to say I won’t.” He grabbed a handful of the chips and dug in while I cut the sandwiches in two and served them.

  We ate in easy silence, although every now and then, I caught him looking at me. It wasn’t hard to catch him, either. I kept looking at him too. He wore nothing but jeans.

  I was wearing nothing but his shirt.

  I was also wondering if it would be easy to sneak it out when I left. It smelled of him, and I wanted to wear it until the smell was gone. Then keep on wearing it, trying to remember the scent long after it faded.

  You’re getting sappy, lady, I told myself. This isn't some romance novel.

  * * *

  Although I didn’t say anything, and neither did he, urgency seemed to fill us both.

  I’d have to leave soon.

  We were in the living room, in front of the TV, although it wasn’t on. Nothing was more interesting than what I was looking at.

  He sat on the couch while I sprawled between his thighs. His head was thrown back, and his eyes were closed while I slid my hands and lips across his firm torso. I could spend hours just exploring him.

  When I finally reached his cock, I closed my hand around it and stroked up, learning the feel of him, the weight. He was thick, and the silken smooth skin stretched over the length of him. Hungry for him, I licked my lips and looked up.

  He was staring at me through slitted eyes. I smiled at him, and leaned forward, pressing my lips to the crown of his cock.

  “Do it like you mean it,” he said, tangling a hand in my hair and tugging me closer.

  “Do what…this?” I took his cock in my mouth and begin to suck, moving up, then down in a slow, lazy rhythm that belied the hunger driving both of us. If I only had today, I wanted to make the most of every moment, and that meant getting to taste him.

  “Yeah. That.”

  I shifted, adjusting my pace until I found a rhythm that had his breath catching and a groan rolling out of him. One big hand cupped my jaw while the other tangled in my hair.

  “Leslie,” he rasped. Breath coming out in rough pants, he arched up, the muscles in his thighs straining.


  I pulled up, letting his cock leave my mouth with a faint pop.

  He was up a moment later, and I was bent over the couch. There was a ripping sound, and then he thrust into me hard and fast. Two strokes and then he pulled me up against him, his hand arrowing down to manipulate my clitoris as he slowed his rhythm until he was barely moving within me.

  He held me pinned to his chest, hips swiveling even as his fingers mimicked the motion on my clit.

  Whimpering, I clenched down around him.

  He turned his face into my hair. “Do that again.”

  I did, clenching my inner muscles tight around him.

  His cock pulsed inside me, and I gasped at the exquisiteness of it. I felt each ripple straight to the tips of my toes. My head sagged against his shoulder as he shifted his cock, rubbing against that spot inside me.

  He bit my ear and demanded, “Again.”

  We continued like that until we were both so ready to come that one more minute, one more second was too much to ask. Paxton grabbed my hips and lifted me up, pulled me down. Again, again, again –

  I arched my spine and cried out as my orgasm ripped through me.

  * * *

  It was over.

  I didn't know how the day had gone by so quickly, but it the same time I knew it was time to go.

  Brinke would be home with Carter in an hour or so, and I needed to be gone before then. Once I was dressed, we moved toward the front door, almost by unspoken agreement.

  Paxton had gathered trash while I got dressed, dumping it down a shoot hidden behind a door I hadn’t even noticed. Handy. I really wouldn’t mind it at all, being able to afford a place like this.

  I knew what he’d dumped too. All the wrappers from the condoms, the now empty box. Disposing of the evidence, as it were.

  “I’ll walk you down.”

  “No.” I hovered in the doorway, blocking him. “It’s better that you don't.” He started to argue, and I reached up, touching his lips. “It's over, Paxton. She'll be back soon, and if she says something to any of the valets…” I let my voice trail off, shaking my head.

  Paxton snorted. “She treats them like crap. To her, they're invisible.”

  “For some people, everybody's invisible until you want something from them. Let's not take the chance.” I gave him one last kiss before opening the door. As I walked away, I told myself not to look back.

  This time, I actually listened to my own advice.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Paxton

  The penthouse was too quiet.

  That was the first thing I noticed after I closed the door behind Leslie.

  I had the insane urge to open the door and call her back – fuck Brinke. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been running around on me for years. I wasn't an idiot.

  But Leslie was right.

  Besides, everything was about to change.

  The divorce was going to be hell on Carter. Even though Brinke was hardly ever there for her anyway, it was going to change things in a big way and before long, I’d be…

  “Shit.” I shoved the heels of my hands against my eyes. “I’m going to be a single dad.”

  More than that, I’d be a single dad with sole custody if things went right.

  I didn’t want to keep Carter from Brinke, and if she ever got herself together, we could change things. Leslie was right. Shared custody would eventually be fine, but not while she was messed up like this.

  Worry started to gnaw at me, and I tugged my phone out, sent a quick text to Brinke. She didn’t respond so I tagged Alex.

  The nanny responded immediately.

  Everything is fine, although we’re probably going to be late. She decided she was starving and we ended up at one of the busiest places in Manhattan…and she was recognized.

  Well, that was just great.

  But not entirely shocking.

  Brinke ended up responding a few minutes later, and the text was more than a little bitchy.

  For fuck’s sake, stop checking up on me. Everything is cool. She ate a nice healthy breakfast and lunch – no sweets, just like we agreed. You worry too much.

  Sighing, I shoved the phone away and then pushed away from the door, moving into the tomb-like silence of the penthouse. Why hadn’t I ever noticed how quiet it was here? Probably because I was hardly ever here alone. But once the divorce was final, there would be times when I'd be here by myself. I’d probably arrange for Alex to go with Carter whenever she was with Brinke. Brinke got along with her well enough, and I knew I could trust Alex.

  A hell of a lot more than I could trust my wife.

  Ex-wife. Soon to be ex-wife.

  Guilt rubbed me raw inside because part of my brain was still occupied with thoughts of Leslie, and now with Brinke and the upcoming divorce weighing down on me, I had to think about what I’d done. It pissed me off all over again, and I stormed into the living room, randomly grabbing up a few toys that hadn’t gotten picked up from yesterday. The cleaning people were in twice a week, but they couldn't be here around the clock, and still have plenty of work.

  Carter and Brinke made sure of that. At least my daughter was only six. She was still learning.

  I burned through nervous energy setting things to right, trying hard not to think about why I was anxious.

  “Everything’s fine,” I told myself.

  This wasn’t like the last time Carter had been with her mom all day. That had been in California, and Alex hadn’t been with them then. In the end, that was why we’d left California and moved to New York. The rest of the guys had already called the city their home base, but we’d always been fine traveling back and forth when it came time to record. After that mess with Brinke, I realize we needed a clean slate.

  What happened still tore me up inside when I thought about it. They’d gone to an aquarium, then shopping. Everything had been fine up until Brinke got 'thirsty.' I could still hear her explanation.

  I don’t know what the fucking problem was – she was in the car maybe twenty minutes and the windows were down. Not like she was going to die of a heat stroke. Everybody is all up in my ass because I’m famous and that fucking judge had a hard-on for me. That’s the whole problem, baby.

  But a guy had come into the little open air restaurant where she’d been belting back her third martini and said somebody left a kid alone in a car – anybody know who she belonged to? He’d already called the cops.

  Then, to make matters worse, Brinke had tottered on off and gotten into the fucking car – drunk.

  Sometimes I got sick thinking about what might have happened if somebody hadn’t put two and two together and followed her, managing to get the keys while she'd still been trying to get them into the ignition.

  She’d done a six-week, court-ordered stint in rehab, and had come out more level. I’d hoped she'd stay that way. Now I was kicking myself for thinking things might work out.

  I grabbed my phone after dumping an armful of toys in the giant crate Alex had found for just that purpose.

  Pacing over to the window, I pulled out my phone and almost sent another message.

  But what was the point?

  Alex was there. Carter was safe with Alex there.

  * * *

  I stood in front of the windows and stared outside.

  I wasn’t seeing the city’s brightly light skyline, though.

  In my mind’s eye, I was seeing Leslie.

  Her and Carter. For a while, it had been easy to just kind of…wish.

  Stupid, maybe, but easy.

  I’d had a million things go through my head once I'd found out I was going to be a dad, but none of them had been like the reality. The reality of picking Carter up when I realized Brinke was getting sick in the bathroom because she’d drank half the night.

  The reality of not just baby proofing the house, but daily – and nightly – checks to make sure my wife hadn’t left pills laying out.

  I was an idiot.

  I should have ended this
a long time ago. The reason I hadn’t was because Brinke had gotten me. Before. She’d been the first one to ever understand who I was. But now, we were so far apart, we might as well be strangers and worse, she was a stranger who wasn’t good for my kid.

  I’d started to think that maybe the only way my daughter would ever have somebody good around her would be through people I paid – like Alex – or through the friends I was lucky enough to have, like Decker and LaToya.

  Then Leslie had sort of just dropped into Carter’s life and made my baby girl laugh. She’d talked to her like she mattered.

  With Brinke, sometimes Carter was like a doll, something fun to play with when she had time – and was sober enough. But beyond that? Brinke was what mattered to Brinke. I knew she loved our daughter, but never enough to put Carter's well being above her own.

  Maybe if Leslie had been a little less amazing, I wouldn’t still be thinking about her. Maybe I wouldn’t have coaxed her into staying the day. Laughed with her, talked with her.

  I’d had fun with her, and not just when I was balls-deep inside her either.

  And I’d cheated on my wife with her.

  I could rationalize the hell out of it. Brinke hadn’t been faithful since the first year of our marriage. I’d seen it with my own eyes. I’d walked in while she was fucking a guy from some other band.

  He’d seen me.

  She hadn’t.

  I'd walked back out and told myself to find a woman, but I hadn’t. All these years, I hadn’t. And now when it was almost over, I’d cheated.

  I didn't know why it bothered me so much. It'd clearly never bothered Brinke to break the promises she made.

  I’ll have her back by eight, sugar. Promise.

  Promises.

  Setting my jaw, I looked over at the clock and saw that it was just after seven.

  I wasn’t going to think about it.

  Heading to the practice studio I’d set up, I grabbed my guitar and moved back into the living room. I was no master with the instrument. I could strum my way through a song, and that was it, but having a tune helped when I was trying to put new lyrics to paper.