Girls' Night Out (Bad Boys)

by Susan Arden

  “Thank you, Mr. Bennett.”

  He was about to turn away, but stopped. “Call me, and it’s Ryder. Ciao.” He smiled broadly. Her first professional contact in the private sector. She didn’t know if she would be able to get her head out the doorway. She didn’t care. It felt marvelous to see the possibilities of her life unfold before her.

  Dr. Peterson walked toward her. “I’m staying here and probably going to have to do dinner with Dr. C. She’s so full of herself; I don’t trust her at happy hour.”

  “I’ve got class. Congrats. It sure looked like you’ve impressed everyone important.”

  “Looks who’s talking. Genius phone. You caught the eye of Ryder Bennett. We might be in the running for an ongoing research endowment. He’s getting ready to name the winner.”

  Cory didn’t mention that he’d asked to speak to her. Dr. Peterson turned away and she had to get to class.

  ~~~

  Back in her apartment, she shrugged out of her jacket and kicked off her shoes. Her fingers absolutely itched to call Brett and now she flounced across her bed and dialed his number.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he said. The sound of his voice sent an electrical current racing through her body. “I’ve been waiting on your call.”

  “It’s been a long day, but hearing your voice makes it all feel better.”

  “Problem?” he asked, the tone of his voice deepening.

  “No. The opposite. Just busy.” Her pulse had not settled yet from the meeting, or the turn of events. “I made my first business contact today.”

  “Way to go. Proud of you.” He chuckled.

  His deep laughter sent a ripple of pleasure through her. She closed her eyes, imagining Brett was with her. “What are you doing?” she asked, running her hands down her hips.

  “Sitting here with a bag of ice on my shoulder and another one on my ankle. Going over plays when I can stop thinking about you.”

  “Still icing? How are the plays going?”

  “I’ll be on ice until the cows come home. But I believe I’ve finally got all the plays fully memorized. But you…damn, I wish you were here with me.” He groaned and she heard him shift the bag of ice that must have been near the phone.

  She thought of all the things she wanted, and Brett naked…right next to her, was at the top of her list. A surge of aching pleasure blossomed between her legs. “So, seeing that you’ve got things under control, any plans tonight?” She pressed her knees together, the longing to have Brett climbing between her thighs grew unbearable.

  “Baby, your voice is wavering. What are you doing?” he cajoled.

  Damn, the man could tell the moment she was turned on. “Wishing you were here. Fucking me.”

  He exhaled. “You want to feel good with me?” Her skin tightened at the seductive notes he hit as his voice lowered. “Baby, touch yourself for me.”

  “Brett,” she sighed, already opening her legs wide. “Are you hard?”

  “You have no idea.” She could hear the strain in his voice. He finally ground out, “Tell me what you’re wearing.”

  “My blouse, panties and a bra.”

  “Take the blouse and bra off.” The slow drawl of his voice sent shivers across her body. “Tell me when you’re done.”

  Her skin heated at his commanding her. She sat up on her bed and did as he instructed. It felt erotic unbuttoning her blouse, and by the time she unhooked her bra she was on edge.

  Picking up her phone, she felt ready to combust. “I’m sitting here with my panties on,” she whispered.

  “Cory, I’m so hard thinking about you. The feel of your tits. Are your nipples erect? Take hold of them and pinch them. Tell me what color they turn.”

  She set the phone down, pressed the speaker button, and ran her hands over her breasts, kneading them, and closed her eyes. She imagined Brett cupping her breasts. She pulled her nipples, making them grow painfully taut. “Pink. They are so ready for your mouth.”

  “Baby, you don’t know what you’re doing to me. I’m stroking myself with your tits in mind. Take off your panties, but don’t touch yourself. Understand?”

  “Yes,” she hissed. God, she needed relief. Not even here was she immune to him. Brett had her out of control. “They’re off,” she groaned, lying back with the phone on her belly, anticipation rippling under her skin.

  “Are you hot and wet? Touch that sweet pussy of yours. Tell me what it’s like.”

  A rash of chill bumps covered her skin as pleasure slithered erotically over her body. She ran one of her painted fingernails lightly through her curls, teasing herself the way Brett had done. When she felt swollen and wet, she ran her finger over her sex and jerked. “Yes. Very, very wet. This feels so good.”

  “Imagine my cock grazing over your wet pussy. I’m not going to thrust into you fast today. I want to tease you until you ask me to fuck you. Finger yourself, babe.” His rasping voice set ablaze the smolder that existed ever since they’d made love. Her nipples sprang outward, fully aroused by his instructions. She couldn’t control her reaction when he groaned her name; the sound of his need tore through her. His breathing became ragged.

  “Slide your finger inside yourself. Then two, and I want you to finger fuck yourself. Don’t hold back.”

  She obeyed his directions, riding her own fingers and thinking about his thick cock glistening, and the way his muscles along this body contracted, becoming rigid as he became more and more aroused.

  “Do it harder,” he growled. “Pretend it’s me thrusting into you. I’m swallowed up by your hot pussy. So tight. You’re unbelievably wet. Aren’t you?”

  “God, Brett,” she said, her voice hiking up as she pushed her fingers deep inside herself. “I can’t stop.”

  Her clit was a pert nub under her swirling thumb, and she’d gone from wet to soaking her fingertips. She lengthened the draw, pulling her fingers out, but never fully, then plunging them back in just like Brett did to her with his cock, over and over. “Good, a second more and then I’m there. Right with you, baby.”

  Cory closed her eyes, pumping her fingers furiously as she met her release head-on. The pressure that had condensed suddenly exploded. She came hard and let out a cry. Brett’s name rushed over her lips.

  He groaned in unison. “Fuck. Cory.”

  Her body shuddered, the intensity of her release overwhelming and surprising. She moaned Brett’s name over and over, bringing the phone up to her cheek, listening to him doing the same with her name. She reached for the quilt folded at the foot of her bed, pulling it over her body. The cool air sent a shiver across her skin from the aftermath of her splintering release and the sheen of perspiration coating her body.

  “I don’t think I’ve come that hard from handling myself before,” he said. She was thinking the same thing.

  “Me neither. It was so forceful.” Powerful and raw, the type of experience that deepened everything she felt about Brett. The longing for him nearly overwhelmed her. “I miss you.”

  “Only a couple more days.”

  ~~~

  The alarm clock woke her. Something wasn’t right. It was dark outside, then she realized it wasn’t her alarm that was ringing. Her cell screen was lit up, trilling with the new ringtone she’d programmed into her iPhone and she picked it up. After today, she opted for a simple ring rather than a honkytonk blues song blaring each time her phone rang.

  It was a little after nine. She’d talked with Brett for about thirty minutes and they’d both sounded dazed. When they’d hung up, she’d fallen fast slept without stirring.

  “Hello,” she said, her brain still partially enclosed in a delicious glow thanks her commanding tight end who had swept her over the edge into a mind-blowing orgasm. She stretched, lazily like a cat, still reveling in the aftermath and closed her eyes, biting back a sigh.

  “Miss McLemore, I hope I’m not calling too late.” A sure sounding voice rolled outward from her phone. No lo
nger lost in a fog, her eyes flashed open. The hairs all over her body stood up in alarm.

  “Yes. May I help you?” she asked unable to place the man’s voice.

  “I’m sure you can,” he said, then he laughed. “This is Ryder. We meet earlier today. UCLA.”

  Cory bolted upright. “Hello, Mr.…Ryder.” Her scrambled brain didn’t know what to call him or make of this phone conversation. She pushed her hair out of her eyes, looking for a pen or something to write with in case he wanted to give her some important information to relay to Dr. Peterson.

  “I’m at my hotel and I was thinking about you. Decided, why wait? I’ll be leaving tomorrow and didn’t want to take off before we had a chance to speak. Are you available tonight?”

  “Tonight?” Christ, what must he think of her? All she could do was parrot him. Maybe for once, her being older than the other freshmen would work to her advantage. She took the bull by the horns and inhaled, leveling her shoulders. “Of course.”

  He chuckled. “I get all turned around with jet lag. I just arrived after being in Hong Kong for a week. Excuse me for being so brash, but I won’t be back to the West Coast for another couple of months, unless something grabs my attention.”

  Something in his voice caught her unaware and she frowned. “I understand, with your schedule. Where would you care to meet?”

  “If you’d like, I can send a car to pick you up.” His generous offer landed like deadweight in the pit of her stomach. Stop it! This was so not the professional way of handling an offer to meet and discuss UCLA’s potential marketing program. A real once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and what, did she want to go get one of her brothers to come with her?

  “That won’t be necessary. Just tell me when and where.”

  “I like that about you. A real go-getter attitude. The Cordova Hotel. I’ll be in the bar.”

  Sitting upright with the quilt wrapped around her, the chilly apartment air made her aware that she was naked. And talking to the man who funded a boatload of market research, including a market strategy think tank at the Kellogg School of Business in Chicago. A man like Mr. Bennett wasn’t interested in her. Jeez, Cory. Head inflated much?

  “Thank you, Ryder. I’ll see you an hour.”

  ~~~

  Cory wore a black pinstripe wool suit and wine-colored silk blouse. Nothing that spoke small town. She was going for international chic. She’d pulled her hair back into a chignon and had draped a single strand of pearls around her neck. Black leather clutch in hand, large enough to hold her iPad, she glided forward over the dark wood floors. The bar was up ahead and she barely noticed the throngs of people in the busy hotel.

  It was Friday evening and L.A. didn’t really get going until after eleven. She’d sampled a few of the trendy places with some other students, not often but enough times to understand women took fashion seriously here. It was December and the outside seventy-two degrees didn’t prevent short black dresses and strappy sandals as the evening attire of choice for the single, happy-go-lucky crowd.

  She passed by several well-known actors coming out of the lounge and she was on an adrenaline nightcap where she kept her focus on Mr. Bennett—Ryder—as he sat at the bar with his back to her. If she could assist her department in garnering the endowment, she’d be hands down, a shoe-in for a serious summer internship. She’d done the calculations and already knew that Brett’s training ran from June to August, and during that camp he’d be on the road to Ohio and Illinois as well as down in Oakland. By the time the summer internship was over, they’d both be in a position to travel and see each other, if that’s what he wanted.

  Brett had a career and had no plans on sitting around and waiting on her. Probably why their relationship made sense. A clingy woman would slow him down and why he seemed totally fine with her desire to pursue a real education. Neither of them interfered with the other’s plans or goals. Then why did her stomach twist and knot each time she thought about a future apart from him? Because, she reminded herself, she still needed her family and friends from Annona. Soon, she’d have other people like Dr. Peterson and big wigs like Ryder Bennett to act as sounding boards and maybe, just maybe, her world would finally be larger than her hometown.

  “Well, hello,” Ryder said, turning to meet her gaze. He had an empty glass and set it down as he stood and extended his hand.

  She reached for his palm and the when his hand enclosed hers, she swallowed at the awkward way he held onto her fingers without releasing his grip. He was renowned for traveling in international circles and more than likely the sophisticated people he encountered were hardly unnerved by casual contact. She lifted her chin and glanced around. “Shall we sit here?”

  “No. I’ve a table reserved. A place where we can talk privately.”

  She let go the breath she held when he finally let go of her hand. “Great. I’ll follow you.”

  “I love a woman who lets me take the lead. I think we’ll get along fabulously this evening, and who knows? Maybe L.A. might become a destination, say, on a weekly basis.” He winked and she didn’t know what he was driving at.

  “Mr. Bennett,” a woman called out his name behind them. They both turned and Cory felt his hands on her hips. The woman snapped off a number of photographs, then turned on her heel and strode away.

  “My apologies. If I wasn’t educated in the underlying principles of marketing, I’d never in million years understand the draw of taking my photograph.” Cory sputtered as his hand slipped lower and patted her bottom. “I hope that type of thing doesn’t bother you. If we decide this might work, we can always find a private villa or condo.”

  Seething, Cory instructed herself to calm down. They were both surprised by the woman’s sudden call of his name. She’d been following Mr. Bennett and just as she’d stepped on his foot, he’d probably been close to careening into her and reached out. Isn’t that what happened enough times in her life? For Pete’s sake, that’s how she’d met Brett.

  They passed by several rooms with closed doors. A waiter walked out of one, and for a second, Cory was able to see inside. Oh gosh. She’d gotten an eyeful of two women and a man. Definitely doing more than eating.

  By the time Ryder stopped and stood by an open doorway within the narrow corridor where he’d led her, his heated gaze told her she wasn’t wrong. Her instinct was right and she wasn’t suffering from an overactive imagination. How to extract herself from this situation was the question. She looked up into his face, then into the room. A sofa and cocktail table took up most of the space. A bucket of ice waited with a bottle of champagne chilling. No way in hell was she going to get caught in a room with a man—this man—and have to deal with the consequences.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Bennett,” she said. “This is awkward, but I’ve never been into playing games. I’m here to discuss market strategy. Nothing more.” She stopped short of asking him what he hoped achieve.

  “Pity.” His gaze dropped from her face, hungrily sliding down the front of her body. “I spend each and every day engaged in shoptalk. During my nights, I like to relax and unwind.”

  “There’s some mistake, then. I’m not here to do more than discuss research funding. I hope you understand.”

  He laughed. “Really?”

  “Yes. Really.”

  Ryder crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you realize how many women would like to be in your shoes?”

  “Too many to count, I imagine. Thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I’m seeing someone.”

  “He must be worth it. This is a stepping stone into an arena few people even get near, and you’re willing to walk away.”

  Leaning against the doorframe, Ryder Bennett was a handsome, distinguished gentleman. Cory could easily see that he didn’t delve into false modesty—it was more than true that many a woman—or man—would give a right arm to be standing on this threshold. But not her.

  “I am,” she said, unblinking.

  “My m
istake. I’m usually pretty good at reading people. Pygmalion effect probably accounts for this kerfuffle. You’re a lovely young woman. Let me walk you back to the bar.”

  This time she led the way. At the entrance to the bar, she turned and extended her hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

  “Likewise. You’ve got some quality that is…unnerving. The way your eyes light up is enticing. I don’t know what it is about you. Cory, keep my card, and if you ever reconsider call me.”

  CHAPTER 23

  “Man, weren’t you dating this girl?” Kenny put down the paper. It was Saturday, the day before the big game, and Brett was relaxed and ready. His shoulder felt damned near perfect, and his ankle was mending better than any of the other times he’d injured it. He regarded his teammate and only half attended to the newspaper Kenny held. “Take a look. Yeah. This is that girl.”

  He imagined it was someone from his past and he nodded, only barely glancing at the newspaper, and then he did a double take, staring down at the photograph. It was Cory in some fancy bar, her eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights.

  Brett read and reread the byline: Billionaire Marketing Guru, Ryder Bennett, with Latest Acquisition. A scorching blast of heat shot up from between his shoulder blades. He shook his head. Fuck! He needed to call her and find out what the fuck she was doing with some rich dude with his hands around her.

  God damn! He’d sweated bullets for a week, doing everything in his power to get a pack of fake freaking photographs taken down and destroyed. Threatened to file a lawsuit. Hired a private investigator and had not only his lawyer call Ashley, but had contacted the preacher in the community to garner his help in thwarting any attempt on Cory’s cousin’s part to propagate some lie that would hurt their relationship. He’d done nothing but practice, train, sit at home with bag after bag of ice, take the meds, and become so serious that Raquel and her wife threatened to return to Oxnard because he didn’t need their help.