Heels

by Megan Erickson

  That was then, and this was now. At the sound of his voice, I turned around to find him leaning back against the bar, both elbows on the edge, booted foot propped on the bottom rung.

  I stared at him.

  He grinned. “Like how you move, Peaches.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Dancing. Good to see you not only have a fantastic body, but you know how to use it.”

  “You’re really forward,” I said.

  “I’m just being honest with you.”

  At that, I decided to share. “Well I’d tell you that you’re handsome but no one has a grin like you with those dimples and doesn’t know they’re handsome.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. He did it in a way that made me think he did it a lot—laughed. I wondered what it would be like to be around this man all the time. Would I laugh like that? Would I be so comfortable with myself that I threw my head back in laughter?

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  He raised his eyebrows. “No nickname for me? Come on, give it your best shot.”

  My first thought was Knight—because he had slayed me with that weapon of a grin, but no way in hell was I going to tell him that. No way.

  I shrugged, and then went to what Reva had said. “Marlboro Man.”

  He seemed surprised by that, and I liked that I surprised him, even if it wasn’t my nickname. “Marlboro Man?”

  “Yeah,” I flicked a hand at his body. “The T-shirt, jeans, belt buckle and boots.”

  “Guess I need a cowboy hat, take up smoking.”

  “Yes, please, get right on that.”

  Behind me, Reva was rounding up the girls. “Let’s go, Sam!”

  I turned to see, Ali and Trish on either side of Reva, the other girls flanking them. "Okay!”

  I turned back to…well, Marlboro Man because he still hadn’t told me his name. “Looks like I gotta go.”

  His casual posture changed, quickly. His hand shot out, and he linked fingers with mine, then tugged me so I fell against his body. Yes, that happened. I was right against his front, my breasts plastered to his chest, his hard thigh between mine. “Where you heading?” he asked.

  “Um. Home,” I mumbled. I heard the girls talking, but I couldn’t take my eyes away from his light hazel ones, not the way they snared me with deep hooks.

  “How’re you getting there?”

  “Uber.”

  “Where’s home?” he whispered.

  In the back corner of my mind, I was a smart girl. The one who carried pepper spray. The one who kept one of those car window-breaker thingies on my keychain. The one who would definitely never trust strange men.

  But I’d never, ever met a man like him.

  “I have a house on Canterbury,” I whispered.

  “Let me take you home.” His other hand wrapped around my waist, pressing me closer against him.

  “Take me home?”

  “Yeah, Peaches.”

  “I-I don’t even know your name.”

  Something washed over his face, a flash of something, like a wince before he said. “Luke Trainor. I work at Gentry Auto, which your girl over there knows because I was there when she dropped off lunch for her son, who is my coworker. I’m new to town, but if it’ll make you feel better, you tell your sister if you don’t call her in an hour, she can call the police. And then I gotta say, Peaches, that I really, really want to take you home.”

  “Why?” I whispered, still unable to believe he was real.

  “Why?”

  “Yeah why?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, I’m serious! There were a zillion women in here tonight, so I’d like to know what made you zero in on me. Do I look like a sure thing? Is it because my dress is short? Is—”

  His face descended fast, so fast that I stopped talking, prepared for his lips to touch mine, but they didn’t. He stopped a whisper away, so all I saw were those hazel eyes. “I did not come here to pick up a woman. I came here to have a few beers and play some pool. I did that, and I also saw a woman with a tight dress, great body, legs to die for in heels out of a fantasy, and fantastic hair. When that happened, the other women in this bar ceased to exist. I am not afraid to ask for what I want, never have, so that’s something to know about me. And right now, I want you.”

  He was either a ridiculously smooth talker or he was being truthful. With his hard body pressed against mine, those full lips just a hair-breadth away, I decided that alter-ego Samantha was going to believe Marlboro Man. Luke. Whatever.

  “All right,” I said, and watched as his face changed, his grin grew until it stretched across his whole face.

  His hand pulsed in mine. “Good call, Peaches.”

  I sure hoped so. I was scared, and I was excited. I was turned on, and I was anxious. But he made me feel good, down-to-my-bones good in a way that I hadn’t felt in so long. He was a drug.

  I turned toward the girls, and was saved from having to make an awkward declaration when my sister tottered forward, pulling me into a hug. Luke let go of my hand, but he didn’t move away.

  “Reva, I—”

  “I know.”

  “Is this okay? Tell me I’m not being stupid and I’m not about to be killed.”

  Reva laughed. “Vera said she’s seen him around the shop, he has drinks with her brother and some of the guys. He’s not exactly a stranger.”

  “He said to tell you that I’ll call you in an hour and if I don’t, you can call the police.”

  “Oh?” Reva’s eyes shifted from mine to over my shoulder, then back to me. “Well then, y’all text, okay? I’ll make sure Mark waits up for it. Because I’m not sure how much longer I’m hanging in there.”

  I bit my lip. “Maybe I should just make sure you get home—”

  “Nope.” She held a hand up. “I won’t hear of my sister missing out on all of that,” she made big eyes behind me, “In order to get my drunk ass home. I got plenty of help with that.”

  “I love you,” I said.

  “Love you too. Now text, wrap it up, and have a good time.”

  “Reva!” I whisper-shouted.

  She laughed and gave me another hug, then waved to Luke. “I’m Reva, her sister.”

  “Luke. Nice to meet you.” He nodded to her sash. “Congrats. Lucky man.”

  “He sure is!” She jerked her chin into the air.

  I rolled my eyes. “Get her home, ladies.”

  “Sure will, Sam! Have fun!” Trish said, and before I could get another word out, they were scurrying away, chattering excitedly and shooting Luke glances.

  I didn’t have time to second guess my decision. “Address, Peaches,” Luke said.

  “What?”

  “Address. Ordering an Uber. Need to tell them where we’re going.”

  “Oh,” I rattled off the address and Luke tapped it in rapidly with his thumbs. After some more tapping, he announced. “Couple of minutes. Want another drink? Or want to head out and wait?”

  “Waiting’s fine,” I said.

  He smiled. “Sure thing.”

  We walked outside, and my girls were already gone. Another minute and a black sedan pulled up. Luke opened the door for me, guiding me inside the backseat with a hand on the small of my back.

  The driver confirmed my address, to which I nodded, and then we were off. As the city streets flew by us, my nerves began to ramp up. What if Luke sucked in bed? What if I sucked in bed? What if this was a giant mistake and tomorrow I’d die of embarrassment?

  My mind whirled with so many what ifs that I began to feel dizzy. Then a hand rested on my thigh. I jerked to see Luke grinning at me, the streetlights catching on his white teeth. He squeezed with his fingers. “You all right?”

  I was having trouble forming words. My nerves were out of control and now the heavy heat of his hand was on my thigh, my upper thigh, on bare skin. Was I all right? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that I didn’t want to be anywhere else. �
��Yes.”

  “Good,” he said back, and there was something to that word, something that made my breath hitch. He caught it, and his lips parted.

  “Weather has been hot this summer, yeah?” The driver asked, drawing Luke’s attention.

  “I read the other day we had three days of record temps,” Luke answered. I zoned out, looking out the passenger window, content for a bit to be out from under the heat of Luke’s gaze.

  He talked about the weather, and it was when the conversation moved toward the crowd at Blue Eagle that Luke moved his hand. It was slight, just a slide up my thigh, but enough that my body went tight. His fourth finger was most certainly reaching the part of my thighs where I would have had a thigh gap if I was that type of girl. I most certainly was not, but that was still reaching territory that a skirt didn’t show.

  Luke didn’t even look at me. He was still talking, grinning at the driver and resting his other hand casually on his knee. Something about it all was so forbidden that I found myself slowly parting my thighs. Luke sensed it, and his fingers pressed in, then his hand continued to slide up, even as he was regaling the driver about a group of men at Blue Eagle who’d serenaded us all with a rousing karaoke rendition of You’ve Lost that Loving Feeling.

  I curled my hands into fists at my sides as the heat of his hand drew closer and closer to my panty line. Then he was there, his fourth finger creeping along the edge. When he felt the fabric, his finger stopped. I glanced over to see him lick at the corner of his mouth, but that was the only tell that he had felt lace before he continued to talk to the driver as if he wasn’t feeling me up right at that moment.

  The girls hadn’t just given me a dress. I’d been outfitted in new undergarments too. These panties were a pale blush pink that stretched across the top of my ass and showed plenty of cheek below. The bra matched.

  So there I was, in the back of an Uber with a man I’d just met, and he had his hand up my skirt while he distracted the driver. If Tim could only see me now. Which made this even more arousing. If Luke moved his finger even a bit, he’d know just how turned on I was. I was wet, and I’d probably soaked through my panties.

  With a dexterity that had to be practiced, he pushed the gusset of my underwear to the side and slipped his fingers along my pussy.

  I couldn’t help it, I inhaled sharply at the touch. I hadn’t been expecting it, but God I wanted it, and it took every ounce of my strength not to rub against his hand in the backseat like a slut.

  That’s what I felt like. A slut. In the most delicious way. I wanted to be this. This was the game that Luke had promised in that grin of his, and I wanted to be a player more than anything.

  The only indication he was affected by the feel of me was a rough exhale as he shifted in his seat. I didn’t miss the bulge though—hard to hide it as his jeans weren’t exactly loose.

  He was still talking though, that easy grin and conversation effortless even as his fingers began to toy with me. Right there, in the back of a Honda Civic. If only I could grind into his hand…

  The car stopped, and I blinked out of my window. We were here, at my house. How the hell? Luke’s hand was suddenly gone, and he was out of the car before I could even catch my breath. My door opened, and he reached in to help me out. I smiled at the driver, not making eye contact because I was sure the fact that I’d just gotten fingered was written all over my face.

  I might have said thank you, and I certainly heard Luke say it, then we were walking briskly up the front walk of my house. I didn’t think about what Luke thought of my place—it was a small bungalow painted a cheery yellow with white shutters. Honestly, it was sickeningly cute and I loved it oh so much. I’d scrimped and saved and bought it for a steal from an elderly couple who were eager to sell.

  But nope, I wasn’t thinking about that now, not while Luke was rushing me to my front door. “Keys,” he snapped when we were on the porch.

  I jerked in his hold, unsure of his tone.

  He closed his eyes and a muscle in his jaw ticked. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap but I’m holding on by a fucking thread now that I know you’re goddamn hot, wet, and softer than I even imagined. I can smell you on my fingers with every breath. So if we don’t get into that house right now so I get a mouthful of you, I might fucking break.”

  He was not beating around the bush. He was here to fuck me, and he planned to do it. Or, get a mouthful, whatever that meant. I shivered. Then I pulled out my keys and managed to somehow get them in the lock, turn it, and get the door open.

  Luke was inches behind me. The door was slammed shut, my purse was snatched out my hands and went flying onto the table by my door. “Hey, I have hooks—” I began, but didn’t finish my sentence. Because this time, Luke’s face descended and he didn’t stop until his lips crashed onto mine.

  My back hit the wall, my hands clutched at his luscious head of brown hair, and I opened my mouth. His tongued surged inside, but I was ready. I wasn’t Samantha who lay in bed on her back like a fish. Who accepted whatever the man wanted with a simper. No, I was Samantha’s alter ego, which meant…well I wasn’t sure what it meant. I was only going by how I felt and that was fucking fire.

  His hands were everywhere, hitching up my dress and grabbing handfuls of my ass. He grabbed hard, he jiggled, and maybe in another lifetime, with another man, I would have been embarrassed. But Luke growled down my throat at the feel of me. “Fuck,” he said against my lips. “Your ass is perfection, baby. More than a handful, just how I like it.”

  He was unapologetic in his adoration of my body, and I wasn’t sure how to handle that. He didn’t think twice about mentioning my curves, like they were something to be worshipped and loved.

  Then his mouth was at my neck, his teeth scraping along the tendon. His hand pulled down the front of my dress along with my bra cup and my breast spilled out. Just right there in my foyer, with my back to the door, Luke had one hand on my ass and the other kneading my breast.

  “Christ, your tits,” he breathed, watching his thumb brush my hardened nipple. “Fucking phenomenal.”

  I’d always thought they were too big, but Luke didn’t hesitate to lower his head and tug the stiff peak into his mouth. I cried out as the feel of his hot mouth on my nipple sent a bolt of lightning right down to my core.

  Then I went a little crazy. I cried out and I might have tried to climb him I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that my legs got wrapped around his waist and then he was thrusting against me, the rough denim of his jeans brushing the wetness of my underwear. “Fuck me, you come alive, don’t you?” He smirked at me, but it wasn’t smug, it was sexy as all hell.

  “I-I need… I need—”

  He turned us around and began to walk. “Bedroom,” he barked.

  I pointed behind me, down the hall, and we stumbled down it, attached at the mouth, me clinging to him like I wanted to fuse to his body. He entered a room and then my back hit my bed. Luke was over me, a hand on the bed, the other hiking up my skirt to my waist with hurried hands.

  When he had me bared to him, he sucked in a breath and stilled. His fingers lightly traced the lace waistband of my underwear. “Fuck me,” he whispered.

  “Luke.”

  “Quiet. I’m trying to figure out how to eat you, then fuck you with these still on.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “Fuck it,” he growled, then yanked them down my legs. “Another time.”

  I was still thinking about what another time meant when he dropped to his knees on the side of the bed and pulled me toward the edge, so I had nowhere to put my legs but over his shoulders.

  “You go wildcat just from me sucking your tit.” His fingers slipped through my wetness. “Gotta find out what you do when I get my mouth on this pussy.”

  His words were so filthy and every single one made my inner walls clench. He gripped my ass with both hands and lowered his head to me. Then he proceeded to blow my mind.

  My ex had gone down on me maybe once or twi
ce, and with little to no enthusiasm, but Luke went at me with his tongue like I was an ice cream cone. He was tracing the words to an entire novel down there, that was how hard his tongue worked me. He swirled my clit, licked at my entrance, dipping the tip of his tongue inside until I was keening. My back arched, my heels digging into his back. I clutched that thick hair and moaned.

  I was close, really close, when I lost his mouth. “Nooo,” I groaned as he rose above me, face slick with me and it was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen in my life.

  “Position change, baby.” He was breathing hard, chest heaving. He hauled me up with ease, positioning me over his chest as he lay on his back on the bed. Then he slapped the side of my thigh. I jerked with a yelp, and he grinned. “Come up here.”

  “Where?” I was confused, my head spinning, my body aching to come.

  “Up. Straddle my face. You were grinding into me so hard, wanna see what you do when you have the control.”

  I blinked at him. “You want me to—”

  Something swirled in his eyes, a split second hardening of his eyes. “You never did this? Never sat on a man’s face while he ate you out?”

  I shook my head, hair catching on whatever gloss was left on my lips.

  His lips tightened a moment before his expression cleared and turned hungry again. “Then up you go, Peaches. Because I was fucking right, you taste just as sweet.”

  I shuffled forward on my knees, guided by his hands on my ass. I gripped the headboard like he instructed, then I lowered myself. Lowered. Myself. Right. On. His. Mouth.

  He was ready for me. Mouth open, tongue ready to go, and just like that, one touch of his lips on me, and I was almost there. I lost all ability to reason, didn’t give a shit that I was shamelessly humping a stranger’s face with my breasts spilled out of my dress. That I was moaning, one hand gripping the headboard, the other speared in his hair. My hips worked, thrusting down into his mouth and when his hand came down on my ass with a sharp crack, I flung myself over the edge.

  I came on a free fall, flying, screaming. The orgasm took me apart and put me back together before I reached the bottom. When my hips stopped churning and my eyes focused, I realized two things—my throat was hoarse (how loud did I scream?) and I was likely suffocating the man below me.