“Yes, and I’m all . . .”
It hits me what she’s trying to say. That was the only time she’s had sex. I was intimidating her without even knowing it. But the fact that she doesn’t have experience doesn’t bother me, it makes me want her more. I’ve seen those playrooms in her hotel, the way she moves, talks, kisses—she’s got a dirty side. She’s just picky about who she shares it with, and that’s perfectly fine with me.
“A good girl?” I say, and she nods. “A good girl who builds playrooms in her hotel and masturbates in the bed of a man she barely knows?” A smile creeps over her lips. “I know you have a naughty side.”
“I do,” she whispers.
“And I’m not worried about how much or how little experience you have,” I say.
“Why?”
“Because you’re not worried about mine. You accepted me, everything I told you.”
“Really?”
“Turn around,” I tell her. “Turn around and put your hands on the wall.”
She does. For some reason, this girl trusts me. I step up behind her, and her back arches, her ass pushes against me—presenting herself. I run my fingers down her spine. “You see that?”
She looks back at me. “Your body knows just what to do. Just what I want you to do.”
She presses against me and asks, “You’d like to have me like this?”
“I’d like to have you any and every way. The question is, would you like it like this?”
She nods.
“Tell me why?”
“Because you could touch me while you were inside me.”
I step away, and she turns around. Reaching for her cheek, I say, “I’m not worried at all. There is no way you could disappoint me.” She kisses me tenderly on the lips, and I catch her chin and lock eyes with her. “My dick is going to give you your first sex orgasm.”
“Twenty-seven days,” she whispers.
CHAPTER TWENTY
I collapse into bed, but know I won’t be able to sleep. I drove Sutton home, made out with her in the car like two teenagers, and I’ve already beat off tonight. Knowing Sutton did dirty things right where I’m laying certainly isn’t helping things in that department. I lift the sheets to my nose, like she did with my things, but I can’t smell anything. I close my eyes and try again, catching the faintest scent.
My cell vibrates against the nightstand, and I reach for it and smile. I just left her. “I was just thinking about you,” I say.
Sutton giggles sweetly. “Really? About what?”
“I just got in bed and was imagining you . . .”
“We said we wouldn’t discuss it.”
“Just a little,” I beg like a little boy. I swear I can hear her smiling through the phone.
“A little.”
My dick leaps. Sorry, Dr. Lorraine, you never said anything about phone sex. “Tell me, did you get naked?”
“Yes.”
“I always sleep naked,” I say.
“I’d like to see you without clothes on,” she whispers.
“Anytime.” I’m not about to let her off that easily. I need a visual of her naked in my bed. “Did you stay under the covers?”
“Yes.”
“Get naked and under your covers right now.”
“Pierce, my dad is in the next room. And this isn’t why I called.”
Ignoring her excuses, I ask, “Are you a screamer?”
“No, I’ve never screamed.”
“I’ll have to change that,” I say. “Now get naked.”
There’s a pause, and I hear some rustling around. “Okay.”
“Fuck,” I groan. “My dick just got that much harder.”
“Are you touching it?”
“Just a little,” I say. “Waiting for you.”
“I can’t believe I’m going to do this,” she says.
“You want to stop?”
“No,” she whispers. “But I’ve never done it twice in one day.”
Oh, she has so much to learn from me. “So you’re naked in my bed. What did you do?”
“I spread my legs wide, and the feel of the cool sheets between my legs tickled me.”
“Did you touch yourself?”
“Not yet,” she says. “I caressed my breasts first.”
Shit, she took her time. She likes doing this, I can tell. “Are you touching them now?”
“Hmm,” she moans. “My nipples.”
My grip on my dick gets harder. “I’d love to run my tongue around them.”
“And bite them gently,” she says.
“I’m your man,” I groan. “Stick your finger in your mouth and suck. That’s it, baby, get it nice and wet.” I hear her start to pant. “Now touch yourself gently. Outline the folds of your beautiful pussy.”
“Oh, God, Pierce.”
“I want my tongue there so badly. I want to taste you, lick you, suck on that pretty little clit.”
“I want you to do that to me,” she moans. “It’s all I can think about.”
“Lick your finger again.” I hear her moaning and panting, imagining her squirming around on the bed. “How do you taste?”
“Pierce.”
“Tell me.”
“Good.”
“God, I knew you would. Are you wet and open?”
“Dripping,” she says. “I need you, Pierce.”
“I need you too, Sutton.” My eyes flash open wide, unsure why I said that. I don’t need her. I don’t need any woman.
“Please, oh, please.”
She’s needy. I can help. In fact, it’s my specialty. “Shh, baby. You’re going to come for me.”
“Make me come.”
I grin. My three favorite words out of a woman’s mouth. “I can’t wait to eat your sweet pussy. To bury my face between your legs and fuck you with my tongue.”
“Oh, God. I want that.”
“I’m yours,” I say. “Over and over again. I’m going to eat you until your legs shake, your nails dig into my shoulders, until you’re screaming. I’m starving for you, the taste of you on my lips, the feel your pussy on my tongue, feeling you tremble underneath my mouth.”
I hear a muffled, high-pitch scream, like she just rammed a pillow over mouth. I can imagine what she must look like—back arched, nipples peaked, hand between her legs, a soft smile on her perfect lips. What I wouldn’t give to kiss her, hold her, feel her skin next to mine. “Did you come for me, baby?”
“Yes, God, yes,” she breathes out.
“Thought you said you weren’t a screamer?”
“I’m not usually.” She pants a few more times. “I’m sorry. Did you?”
I look down. I’m not even touching myself anymore. My dick is throbbing, but I hadn’t noticed, too wrapped up in the sounds she was making, too wrapped up in making her come, but I don’t want her to feel bad. I certainly don’t. “Like five minutes ago,” I lie.
So what.
She giggles. “Told you, you were a sex god.”
“I’m just a man, Sutton.”
“Well, my man is a sex god.”
My man? She’s being playful, but does she really think of me as hers? Is she mine? Is it me, or is this too fast? We just had phone sex, but that doesn’t constitute a relationship. Or does it? “So why were you calling? You said it wasn’t for phone sex.”
“You said something earlier, and I was just wondering about it. You said ‘thank God for condoms and vasectomies’.” She takes a deep breath. “That was a strange thing to say.”
“Not really. I always use condoms, but I had a vasectomy years ago.” There is complete silence for what seems like several minutes. I can’t hear a sound, not even her breathing. “Sutton, you there?” Still nothing. “Sutton?”
“I’m here.”
“Is that a problem?” I ask.
“Yes, it’s a deal breaker for me,” she says, sniffling into the phone. “I want kids, Pierce. I want a family one day. I’m certain about that.”
“So?”
“So I don’t see the point in being with a man who doesn’t want those same things. I don’t want to waste my time,” she says.
“Waste your time? Why can’t we just have fun with each other? Why does it have to be about marriage and kids?”
“I’m not someone who can be intimate with someone that I don’t see a future with.” I hear her voice crack and know she’s crying. I hate the thought of tears on her beautiful face, especially after the fun we just had. “And if we don’t want the same things, then I need to stop this before I get really hurt.”
“Please don’t cry over me.”
“I need to go,” she sobs.
“Don’t go,” I whisper. “Let’s talk about it.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. People date to find the person they want to spend the rest of their life with.”
“People date for other reasons, too.”
“Well, I don’t. I don’t want to fall for someone who I know is going to crush me,” she says.
“You’re falling for me?”
“Hard,” she says.
I could make a sex joke here, but it really isn’t the time. “Then don’t give up.”
“Would you consider having it reversed? I know they can do that.”
I know I shouldn’t, but I lie. I’m burning in hell for this. “Maybe, for the right woman.”
“Why didn’t you say that?” she asks. “That changes things—to know you are at least open to the idea.”
If this goes where I think it’s going, I’ve just set the stage to crush her. “So we’re good?”
“Yes,” she says. “I wish I was there with you.”
“I can pick you up in ten minutes.”
“I live at least twenty minutes away,” she says, and I know she’s smiling. “And it’s late, anyway.”
“Tomorrow?” I ask.
“I’d like to, but I’m supposed to meet Dylan and Annie for mimosas and girl talk.”
Sutton certainly doesn’t fit my usual mode. My girls always dropped their plans for me. It was the way I wanted it, the way I demanded it. But Sutton and I aren’t doing things the way I usually do. Still, I want her when I want her. I’m a child, I know. “How long does girl talk take?”
“Hours,” she says.
My heart softens with her sweet voice. “How about you meet them at my hotel bar while I catch up on some work, and then when you’re done, we can do something?”
“I really should get some work done, too.”
“Come on! Work can wait.”
“Comp all our drinks?” she asks.
I laugh. “Was going to do that, anyway.”
“Come by and say hello?”
“I can do that.” What’s a quick hello? No big deal. “We need to work on your negotiation skills. You could have gotten a lot more out of me.”
“I don’t need more,” she whispers.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
So here’s what I can gather about “girl talk.” It’s a basic need of the female population. There is no time limit. It involves food or alcohol or both, and contrary to popular opinion, it isn’t always just about guys.
Three hours in and they show no signs of stopping. I head toward the bar, the sound of Sutton’s laughter leading the way. Annie leans over, whispering something to her. Sutton looks over her shoulder, flashing me a smile. My dick and heart both leap. Damn, she gets me every time.
“Everything good? You need anything?” I ask Sutton, Annie, and Dylan, eyeing their empty cups and plates.
“I need to sleep through the night. My baby daughter is killing me,” Dylan says. “Sutton needs a loan from the bank for the hotel, and Annie needs to get laid.”
I could maybe help with one of those things—and for once, it’s not getting laid. They all start laughing, Annie the loudest of them all. She’s also got the most empty glasses in front of her.
Annie says, “Dylan and Sutton are giving me advice on where to meet men that doesn’t involve an app.”
“Oh yeah?” I say, raising my eyebrow at Sutton. “Let’s hear it.”
“Sutton scouts men in the organic grocery store,” Dylan laughs out.
“Apparently,” Annie starts, “the men there really are into health and fitness. It’s a complete meat market.” Everyone laughs at Annie’s lame joke, including me. I can’t help myself.
“You better do the shopping for you and Sutton,” Dylan says, looking at me, “or she’s liable to bring home the produce guy.”
Sutton playfully throws a crumpled-up napkin in her direction. Annie piles on, “Dylan, you’ve been married so long, you’ve forgotten how hard dating is.”
“Plus, she married her high school boyfriend,” Sutton adds. “Her last first date was also her first date, literally.”
“I know how hard it is,” Dylan says. “Sutton’s told me enough horror stories.”
“Like what?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at her.
Dylan starts jiggling in her seat. “Oh, tell him about the . . .”
“No,” Sutton laughs out.
“Ah, come on,” Annie says.
Sutton glances up at me then to her girlfriends. “Just one.”
“Papaya guy,” Dylan says, laughing hard.
Sutton rolls her eyes. “I met this guy . . .”
“In the organic grocery store,” Dylan says.
“Of course,” I tease Sutton.
“Anyway, we talked on the phone a few times, texted. We finally go out on our first date. I think it’s going well, then he makes a suggestion.”
“What?” I ask.
Dylan starts lightly banging on the table in amusement. Sutton shakes her head and says, “You have to remember it’s our first date. He suggests since we met by the fruit section that papaya be our safe word.”
“He’s got balls,” Annie says then asks, “What did you say?”
“I told him I didn’t need a new safe word. That I had two. Stop and no!”
Then Sutton tilts her head up, throwing me a sassy little smile, and I know “girl talk” is going into overtime.
*
Sutton didn’t spend the night like I wanted. She didn’t even spend much time with me on Sunday. Between hanging with her girlfriends, checking on her hotel, and preparing for a meeting she has at the bank tomorrow, the day flew by. This is going to take some getting used to—not having a woman at my beck and call.
So that left me with a lot of time to think, mostly about work, and I came up with something, but I’m not sure if Sutton will go for it. Walking down the street toward my hotel, I see Albert dressed in his uniform placing a bowl of water down on the sidewalk. The mangiest excuse for a dog I’ve ever seen is wagging its tail in anticipation.
“Morning, Albert,” I say.
He pops straight up. Well, as fast of a pop one can have at his age. I’ve never minded him helping people out. In fact, I encouraged it. Better for him to give them bus fare than have homeless people hanging out in front of my hotel. That may sound cold, but I have to think of my guests and employees. They have to be my priority. But stray dogs?
“Please don’t be upset, Mr. Kingston,” he says. “It’s just so hot out.”
“If you feed her, then she’ll stay.”
“It’s a boy,” he says. “I’m calling him King.”
Busting out in a huge laugh, I shake my head. Now this stray dog and my dick have the same name. “I’ve managed not to have any kids named after me all these years. I don’t want a dog.”
“Just hear me out,” he says. “I heard about hotels that have dogs as mascots. I was thinking . . .”
“No way,” I say.
“The guests will love him,” he insists. “He’s a real smart dog. I’ll take him home with me at night, but during the day, he could be in the lobby to welcome the guests.”
“Some guests are scared of dogs.”
“Don’t know of a hotel in all of New Orleans that does this. You’d be the first.�
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Damn him for playing to my ego. “He’s a mess.”
“I’ll clean him up and take him to the vet.”
It’s a good thing I don’t have kids. I’d be too soft. “Bath and vet. Then let’s talk.” He opens his mouth, but I beat him to it. “Go ahead and take the rest of the day to tend to the dog.”
“King,” he says, smiling, and the dog wags his tail.
Shaking my head, I head inside to my office, finding Annie pacing back and forth in front of her desk. She’s dressed in clothes that are huge and all gray. I really need to talk to her about work-appropriate attire, but I just don’t have the heart.
She stops when she spots me. “If you’re about to try to convince me to take the dog, you’re too late,” I say.
She smiles, but it’s not her normal Annie smile. I’m having a hard time remembering the last time I saw a real smile out of her. “I brought you something,” she says and points toward the wall, something propped up against it covered in a sheet. “I painted something for you.”
Before I can even thank her, she’s moving to pull back the cover. Annie takes my hand, then slowly slides down the sheet to reveal her work. It’s mostly blacks and grays like her other pieces, but thankfully no blood this time. Instead, there’s only a tiny speck of light centered in the silhouette of a body resting in the middle of the painting. The rest of the canvas is covered in chaotic swirls and dark figures. The tiny little speck of light centers the whole mess. It reminds me of the way Sutton looked in that white dress the first night I saw her.
“Pierce,” Annie says. “My hand.”
I look down, realizing I have a death grip on her. “Sorry.”
“You don’t like it?”
“I do. I love it. Does it have a title?”
“To the Fall,” she says.
“Perfect title,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. “I’ll have it hung in the lobby.”
“No,” she says firmly. “It’s for you. Not the hotel.”
“My office then,” I say, wrapping my arm around her. “Thank you.”
She clears her throat, and I look down, seeing a few tears rolling down her cheeks. “Consider it my goodbye gift.”
“Goodbye?” I ask, turning her toward me. “You going somewhere?”
To the Fall Page 12
