by Milly Taiden
I arrive at the rec center with minutes to spare. I’m sweaty and wish I had time to cool down before changing. The metal door clangs shut behind me and my bike shoes clack on the tile.
“Hey, Tina.”
An older woman sitting behind the front desk smiles up at me. “Gretchen, you look hot.”
I smile, thinking she probably means temperature. “I am. I’m running late today. Think I can get changed in two minutes?”
“Of course you can.” She has a gleam in her eye and sticks a pencil in her silver bun. Glancing down at her watch she says, “Ready, set, go.” I race across the hall to the bathroom, pulling off my shirt before the door slams shut.
I emerge disheveled, but dressed, in simple cotton shorts and a cute tee. “Ta-da!”
Tina hands me my time card as I jog by her. The clock clicks as it prints the time stamp at four on the nose. I fist pump. “Yes!”
I leave the chuckling woman and head to the weight room. Summer is slow, and I usually can get a workout in if I want. But after a late night with the girls yesterday and what tonight might hold in store for me, I’m not sure I have the energy.
The weight room is empty except for Nate sitting behind the desk. The odor of his sweat makes its way to my nose, and I resist the urge to grimace. Yeah, he’s so not making my pheromones take notice. I bet he worked out hard with not much to do during his shift.
Nate says, “Deadsville today.” He slings a backpack over his shoulder and offers me a fist bump. “Keep it real.”
I just nod. Stark white machines and black plates of metal sit noiselessly. The beep of my phone signals it’s charging when I plug it into the outlet behind the desk and pull up a game. I’m going to spend the next few hours working up my appetite for dinner, and for Derrick.
***
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I’m a mess. I’ve washed all the stinky parts with baby wipes I took from Casey, brushed my hair out and shimmied into the tight dress. Now I’m trying to put on mascara without poking my eye out because my hands are shaking. I brace myself with my hand on the cold porcelain sink.
No wonder I don’t need foreplay, I can get myself worked up to a lather just imagining what might happen tonight. Holding the bathroom stall door open, I hop up on the closed toilet to view the full effect of the dress. Yeah, this ought to rev him up.
My heels click on the tile when I step back down. A text from Derrick rattles on the countertop. “I’m here. Should I come in?”
I tap out a reply as I walk down the hall to punch out. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
A whistle catches my attention and I smile at Tina. “Not too much?” I twirl for her. My light body spray reaches my nose, and I hope the exotic spiced scent covers the odor of any sweaty residue.
“Oh, it’s too much, but you pull it off beautifully. You’re a pretty girl, Gretchen.”
“That is so sweet of you to say, Tina. Thank you.” I slide by her and click my time card.
“You’re welcome. Now get out of here and off to the hottie you dressed up for.” She winks at me, and I grin at the way the word hottie sounds coming out of her mouth.
“No can do. I won’t let you walk to your car alone. Are you almost ready?”
Her face crinkles up in a smile. “You’re a sweetie too. Just let me grab my purse.”
Tina’s leather-soled shoes tap lightly on the tile as we make our way to the front door. I push the panic bar and the metal door sighs open. Seeing Derrick, I wave and hold my hand up in a stop sign to let him know I’ll be a minute.
When we reach Tina’s Honda I say, “See you tomorrow, and give Snuggles a hug for me.” I wave as I leave her and walk to my bike.
The combination cable lock clicks open, and Derrick’s Land Rover door slams at the same time. Clad in loose jeans, he struts over to me, and damn if he isn’t wearing a tight tee. Not the same one as the other night, but just as sexy. I’m not sure if I’m drooling, but I know my face shows my appreciation.
Strong hands take the bike from me and Derrick’s deep voice sends a tingle down my spine. “You wear that dress to work?”
“Yeah, you should see me spot in it.” I guess he’s envisioning me leaning over him as he lies on a weight bench, by the twinkle in his eye.
My nose detects his musky scent, and he says, “I may need to join this gym.”
I bump up against Derrick, and he grasps my hand. The skin-to-skin contact zings through me and makes me wonder if he’d be up for sex in the Land Rover because my knees are weak.
Muscles ripple along his back and arms when he hoists my bike into the back of the truck with ease. I glance around the parking lot and decide there are still too many cars for me to jump him here.
Derrick opens my door, and when I slide onto the cold leather seat he gazes at my legs. I think I hear him catch his breath. Of course, it could be wishful thinking because lust is clouding my logic.
It’s only a few miles to his house, but I really want car sex, and decide to make it happen. As he pulls out on the main road, I slither out of my panties. He glances at me, and a grin forms on his face.
“I think you’re up to something.” He squirms a bit in his seat.
“These are wet. What should I do?” I dangle my thong from a finger in his line of vision.
He snatches them out of my hand and holds them to his nose. Fudgesicles. My core is twitching uncontrollably.
Derrick says, “Yes, we do have a problem. I’m pretty good in this kind of emergency.” He glances at me and then takes the turn a little too quickly, throwing me off balance.
“I’ll just bet you are.” I slide down the seat and extend my right stiletto-clad foot onto the dash. This makes my dress hike up, and I reach down and touch myself.
In a breathy voice I say, “Hurry.”
We’re speeding, and he blows by the road to his house. Moments later we’re on the dirt road to the pond, and Derrick is forced to slow down.
I unbuckle my restraining belt and turn in the bucket seat to face him. The metal end thuds against the door, making it clear what I did. I have my legs spread wide with my feet firmly planted on the floor. I place a hand over his jean-covered dick. “Oh, dear, you need help too.”
He thrusts up against my hand. “Unzip me.”
I take it one step further and release his thick length through his underwear. The skin is silky smooth in my hand, and I get down on my knees to take him in my mouth.
“Fuck, that feels good.”
His heady scent spurs me on, and somehow Derrick manages to park. The seat motor hums as he moves it back. I sit back and ask, “Do you have a condom?”
Without a word he reaches in his back pocket and produces his wallet. When he pulls out the foil packet, I grab it. He yanks down his pants and boxer briefs while I tear it open. Rolling it on quickly, I straddle him.
He guides his cock into me, and I slam down on it hard. His heat radiates through me, and I hold him deep inside me, and I say, “I think you got to me in time.” I slowly move up and down, knowing it tortures him, and me.
“Ride me, Gretchen. Fuck me hard and fast.”
I increase the speed and begin to pant. Instead of holding my hips, Derrick reaches under my dress and shoves the cups of my bra down to squeeze my breasts. He repeatedly pinches and flicks my nipples, but the sensation barely registers as my orgasm builds.
I dig my fingers into his shoulders and let it take me. When I get there I cry out, “Derrick!”
“Don’t stop, darling.” He moans and moves his hands to my hips to drive me faster. His muscles grow taught, and he trembles with his release. “Yes, oh God, yes.”
I slow and settle deep in his lap, taking in all of him. “Much better.” I sigh and lay my head against his shoulder.
“Oh, I don’t think so.” He reaches between us and strokes my tender folds. I shudder and gyrate my hips.
With his cock still in me he slides a finger in to rub my g-spot. An electric shot shoots through me, a
nd I move against him. Mewling sounds escape as he works me toward another climax. Within minutes, I cry out again as I fall.
A satiated, quivering mess, I don’t want to move. Moisture is slick between us, and I should probably let him remove the condom.
Derrick takes my face in his hands and kisses me. I taste a hint of coffee as he nibbles and tastes me too. He breaks away and says, “No more sex without kissing. I need this part with you.”
I’m confused by his words, but he kisses me again, and this time it’s so hungry I can’t think. So I don’t, and let myself get lost in his everything.
CHAPTER 20
The cork comes out with a loud pop and white mist rises from the bottle. The odor of butter and garlic simmering on the stove has curled its way into my psyche, and I’m accepting the fact I’m going to indulge in calorie overload.
Derrick pours the pale amber liquid into two flutes with practiced ease. It’s Ruinart, and I’m impressed he knows good champagne. I may not be rich, but working as a bartender has given me a taste for fine wines.
He hands me a glass and says, “To finally having our dinner date.”
I stop petting Ollie’s silky head and smirk, thinking about how much of the fuck date part we’ve already covered. The velvet bubbles dance their way along my tongue, and the champagne’s full, smooth flavor ends with a crisp finish.
The thin crystal clinks on the granite when I set down the glass. “I think this has to be my favorite champagne ever. I can’t believe you’d know that, so why did you pick it?”
“Because it’s my favorite too.” Derrick takes another sip and holds it in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. “You and I have excellent taste.”
He gives the butter sauce a quick swish and says, “Nika will be glad you like it. She’s the one that started us drinking this every New Year’s Eve.”
“You spend New Year’s together?”
“It’s a family tradition. Every year we take a ski vacation in Vail Christmas week.” Derrick’s phone dings with a text. He says, “Excuse me, I haven’t talked to Nika today, and want to check that.”
“Of course. Tell her I’m here, I think that’ll make her happy.”
He snorts, “It will. She…” He frowns reading the text and then says, “Shit.”
“What?”
Derrick shakes his head and moves the sauté pan off the burner. “You’re about to meet Paul. He’s a college buddy, and Nika hates him.”
My stomach sinks as I hear him tap out a reply. So much for a romantic dinner. “Why does she hate him?”
“He’s a chauvinist ass.” He purses his lips and stares at me, his gaze slowly moving down my body.
“Spit it out.” And then it dawns on me. “It’s the dress, right?”
“Yeah, I don’t want to tell you what to do because I know how much you hate it, but would you mind changing?”
“Not at all, but I only have work clothes.”
“Go find something in Nika’s closet. She won’t care, and there’s a lot to choose from.”
I slide off my chair and the two black dogs jump up as if we’re going somewhere fun. We all click up the stairs the stairs as Cleo lazily watches from her curled-up position on a couch.
I’m not a huge clothes person, but the idea of finding something to wear in a sea of designer labels appeals to me. A floral odor lingers in Nika’s room, and it’s pleasant. I head toward her dresser first, thinking jeans are probably a good choice. I guess they’ll be too long but should fit everywhere else.
With a small whisper of rolling wheels the drawers open and close until I find one full of denim. Finding the least adorned pair is tough. She’s a bling girl, and I’m not.
Nika’s also too damn skinny if my five-foot-seven-inch frame is fitting snugly into her pants. Shingles, how am I going to gorge myself in these? At least my ass will look good. In just my bra and the jeans, I move toward the walk-in closet.
The dogs jump up, and I turn to a deep, booming voice. “Well, hello there.”
Coving my breasts with my arm I say, “What the hell? Out!”
A broad-shouldered blond holds up a hand. “Sorry, I thought this was the room Derrick told me to use.” He backs up slowly while clearly inspecting my body, and Jake growls.
I walk over, lock the door, and swear I hear the douche canoe laughing. The hangers screech as I shove them aside, searching for a button-down shirt to wear that will cover my butt.
I find an aqua and green, tribal-print tunic that will compliment my gray-blue eyes. Maybe that’ll keep Paul’s gaze from traveling south, although I seriously doubt it.
The idea of wearing the heels to compensate for the length of the pants goes out the window. I don’t want one ounce of sex appeal emanating from me. I find flip-flops that are too big, and roll up the hem.
Hell, I’m even going to dowdy down my hair. The slap of sandals echoes off the pale blue tile bathroom, which is almost identical to Derrick’s. The extra sink is replaced with a vanity covered in makeup. So much is lined up neatly I’m awestruck. I suppose if modeling is your job, it comes with the territory.
I left my backpack downstairs, so I look for a brush and hair elastic thinking a ponytail would be good. But when I notice the hairpins, I get a better idea. My hair pulls my scalp as I finger comb it into a messy bun. Glancing into the mirror, I’m tempted to scrub my face raw so it’ll be blotchy for a long time, but decide against it. I’m a bit too vain for that, considering Derrick will see me too.
I put on my take-no-shit-from-anyone face and walk down as if I’m about to work a strip-club bar. Derrick is behind the counter, and because the dogs tumble down first, he gazes over at me descending. A smile twitches at his mouth.
“Paul, this is my girlfriend, Gretchen.”
I like the sound of that and smile. Paul gets up from his stool and walks toward me. He grabs my hand and kisses the back. “A pleasure to meet you.”
Tempted to wipe it on my jeans, I pull my hand back and try not to think of his saliva on my skin. “Hi.” No way am I telling you the pleasure’s mine, needle dick.
A highball glass is on the granite island, half full of dark liquid, and the odor of Paul’s breath tells me it’s bourbon. Southern men and assholes drink bourbon, and I already know he’s both.
I walk to Derrick’s side. “Need my help with anything?” I’m hoping for something because I don’t want to sit next to Paul. Fortunately Derrick catches on, and tells me to wash and cut the kale in thick strips.
Paul says, “How did you find such a charming woman?”
I feel the dig about my reaction to him walking in on me, but don’t take the bait. I shake water from the kale and place it on the cutting board.
Derrick replies. “She was sitting next to Nika on the plane ride out here.”
With my back to Paul I let a huge grin form on my face and my knife makes a resounding chop. I love his spin and I decide to play along. Turning forward I say, “We ended up chasing a dog together and the rest is history.” I look up at Derrick with adoring eyes, and his dance with silent laughter as he pulls me against his side.
He kisses the top of my horrid hairdo and hands me my champagne. “What can I say? She’s stolen my heart.”
Whoa, what? I cuddle against him as if I’m embarrassed, and not hiding my shock. I quickly determine he’s trying to protect me from Paul and say, “I believe you have mine too.” When I gaze into Derrick’s eyes, I can’t figure out what he’s thinking. They’re dark, and he’s giving me a look I’ve never seen before.
Paul mumbles. “Lovely.” And takes a big swig of his drink.
Great. Now he’s going to be a drunken douche. Still not anxious to be anywhere near Paul, I take the cover off the quinoa and stir the pot. Derrick hands me a wooden spoon. “Stir the sauce while I do the fish, please.”
I take a sip of my champagne and move the spoon lazily through the buttery-wine mixture. The lemon scent wafts toward me, and my stomach grumbles.
Paul asks, “Where’s that foxy sister of yours?”
I almost turn to glare and tell him she has a name, but I control myself.
Derrick’s voice is clipped. “She’s on a shoot. I’ll be sure to tell her you said hello.”
Before Paul can make a snide comment about Nika, I change the subject. “Are you passing through on business?” Like Breckenridge is on the way to anywhere.
“Actually, I came here for business. I have client in the neighborhood and thought I would kill two birds with one stone. It’s been a while since I’ve visited the Hamilton twins.”
Paul is an attractive man, as long as he doesn’t open his mouth. His blue eyes twinkle in a strong, tan face, and I can imagine he does well with women. I ask, “So Derrick says you went to college together?”
“Yes, we were frat brothers.” He chuckles and takes another hefty swallow of his drink. The crack of glass on the granite when he sets it down is loud, and he says, “Gretchen, would you pour me a little more please?”
His tone is polite, and I decide maybe I’m being a little hard on him. I pour him half a glass. Derrick is setting another place at the table, and I notice he takes the candles away.
“Thank you, darling.” While Paul says it with a southern accent my mind goes to hearing it from Derrick earlier today. It makes me warm up to Paul a tiny bit.
Derrick says, “Dinner’s just about ready. Go, sit, and I’ll bring it over.”
I grab the bottle of champagne and carry our glasses in one hand to the table. Paul glances at the stemware and then at my face without pausing on the way. A chair scrapes against tile as he pulls it out for me. “So where are you from, Gretchen? I think I hear a New England accent.”
I sit and begin to pour liquid in a tilted glass to answer. “Woodstock, Vermont.” My hometown is full of rich people, and I wait for him to ask me if I know someone because I suspect Paul comes from money.
