“Give it up,” advised Grace with a chuckle. “I am.”
“Fine. Filet it is.” She felt uncomfortable spending all his money, and as the person who paid him, she had a good idea of what he had in his pocket. It mattered to him though, and if she pressed, she would make him feel bad. Their date would suck and then what would have been the point?
Sitting back, she lifted her glass and contented herself with looking at him. So handsome and desirable, he took her breath away. God, he looked young despite his very grown-up clothes, or perhaps because of them. He lowered his menu and looked back at her. Sexual tension rose up between them. It tugged her body toward him. His knee bumped hers and jangled her nerves. Mary, mother of God, this was harder than she had imagined. Being around him all day when they were busy at work had kept desire at bay. Nothing held it back now.
The server returned with the guys’ drinks. They ordered their meal and began the ritual of small talk. Grace and Mark were so relaxed with each other and had so many interesting stories to tell about their days that it was easy to sit back and enjoy the evening. Halfway through the main course, reality crashed the party in the form of Harry Niarchos.
“Zoë?” She turned to see the old family friend approach the table. Harry had gone to school with Zoë and her ex and had ended up in the “his” pile when they divvied up their friends during the divorce.
“Hi, Harry. How are you?”
“Can’t complain. It’s been what, ten years?”
Zoë nodded. “Just about.” Resigned to this encounter turning into a more protracted event, she introduced Grace and Mark, but when she gestured at Sean, Harry interrupted.
“Wait, don’t tell me this is little Nicky all grown up? I don’t remember him having red hair, and I thought he took a summer job in Chicago.”
Zoë froze, shocked into silence by the terrible and yet not ridiculous mistake. Sean, however, didn’t seem to have that problem.
He half rose from his seat and stuck out his hand. “Sean Conroy.” After a perfunctory shake, he sat back down and winked at Zoë.
For a few seconds, no one said anything. Harry cleared his throat, the implication of what he saw sinking in. “Oh, ah, nice to meet you,” he sputtered out. “Nice to meet all of you. Good to see you, Zoë. My best to your family.”
“Thank you, Harry. Good to see you too. Bye,” she added to his retreating back.
Zoë didn’t know where to look or what to say. The guys broke the silence by bursting out in laughter. Sean stopped immediately when she shot him an exasperated look. Mark did the same with a poke from Grace. Her date sipped at his iced tea before clearing his throat.
“Sorry. No offense to your friend, but that guy needs to have his eyes examined. No way I’m young enough to be your son. He was way off base.”
Zoë gave him a weak smile in return. It was sweet of him to say it, and yet if they stood any kind of chance together, he needed to be clear on how old she was. “My son is twenty-one.”
“See,” he replied.
She leaned over the table. “My daughter is twenty-four.”
He didn’t so much as blink at her. “My point still stands.”
It was there in his eyes, the earnestness of his answer. She knew he was only a few years older than her children, and yes, she had been barely out of childhood herself when she had married and started her family. Still, she was much older than he even if not quite old enough to be his mother. What in the world was she doing out with him? Where did she think this would lead?
“Zoë?”
“What?”
“You think too much,” he admonished mildly.
“I do?” Did she? Maybe so. Although the way he looked at her, as if she were part of the dessert menu, it was hard to think of anything at all.
He reached over to take her hand in his. He ran his thumb across her knuckles and it may as well have been stroking her clit, given how her body flushed with heated pleasure. “You do and you are,” he confirmed. “We’re both old enough to know what we’re doing, so let’s forget about your nearsighted friend and finish our meal.”
She sighed. “Okay.” Tugging her hand free, she picked up her fork and the conversational ball. “So, Grace, how’s life in the ER these days?”
Chapter Three
The sun hadn’t quite set by the time they left the restaurant. It was a nice summer night, warm with a light breeze. Dinner had gone well, Sean thought, if one ignored the awkward encounter with Zoë’s old friend. Jesus, how the hell did the old fart mistake him for Zoë’s kid?
No, not old. Absofuckinglutely not old because the guy was Zoë’s age and she was not old. She was mature, but luscious with it. He wished he could hold on to her and cuddle and kiss her the way Mark was doing with Grace right at that moment. He didn’t dare though. It was too soon. So far he had managed to place his hand on the small of her back to guide her out of the restaurant. Not that she had needed help finding the door. He did it to be gentlemanly and frankly to cop a feel of sorts. While grabbing her ass would have been more satisfying, his cock couldn’t be any harder from only this small contact.
“Thanks for dinner.”
He glanced at Zoë and realized she was trying not to stare at the public display of affection going on next to them. “You’re welcome,” he replied. He let a few seconds lapse before making a bid to keep the evening going. “You want to take a walk or something?” He shrugged as if his question and her answer weren’t as important to him as they were. “It’s early still, although I think those two are probably heading off to bed soon.” He winced inside. Oh yeah, very smooth bringing sex into the conversation.
Zoë smiled. “I agree on both counts. I thought, however, we could go to a taverna I know a couple of blocks from here. They have a great band that plays on Friday nights and there’s dancing.” Her voice dropped off and her eyes went wide. “Except taverna’s just a fancy word for bar and you don’t drink. Wow, sorry, what a really stupid idea. A walk sounds wonderful.”
A lock of her thick, dark hair had escaped the elaborate updo she wore. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching over and tucking it behind her ear. “Bars have water, soda and fruit juice. I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”
“No, really.”
“Zoë, yes. Please. I’d like to see the dancing.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
She rewarded him with a bright smile. He would have navigated a minefield for that smile, which was kind of what going to a bar meant to a recovering alcoholic. The world was full of alcohol. He wasn’t going to stay sober by hiding at home. Being with Zoë mattered to him, mattered more than being high. Besides, her presence helped keep the demons at bay better than anything he’d ever tried before.
They made their goodbyes to the other couple and headed off. As crowded as the sidewalk was, they had to walk close to each other. Within seconds, Zoë had her hand slipped around his arm. Their hips bumped and rubbed as they walked. The simple contact shot pleasure throughout his overheated body. He was both disappointed and relieved when she tugged him into a dark building.
Simple and homey, the taverna looked like any other bar except for the Greek band and the dancing. They sat at a table in a corner. Several people, both workers and patrons, hailed her when they came in. He realized this must be a favorite haunt of hers and she had brought him, apparently unconcerned with what her friends would think. Understanding that made him feel more relaxed.
He ordered a Coke and she ordered a glass of retsina wine, an acquired taste she said, kind of like sucking on tree bark. She sipped it slowly and watched people get up to dance. Delight shone on her face and her body moved with the rhythm of the song. He watched too, and it impressed him how well the people moving in a line kept together. The man leading the snake of dancers was joined to the woman next to him by a white handkerchief they both held. Zoë whooped and hollered with the other patrons when the man started twisting, jumping, smacking the sole of hi
s shoe, all while keeping the others moving around and around the dance floor in a circle.
Some of the audience got up and showered the lead dancer with dollar bills. Sean turned to Zoë. “What are they doing?”
“They’re showing their appreciation for his dancing. In a taverna like this, the band gets to keep the money as a form of tip for their skills too. Now, if this were a wedding, the bride and groom would keep it.” She looked at him with a wide grin. “It can add up to a few thousand dollars for the happy couple.”
“No kidding?” He watched as the lead man and woman switched places. Now she tugged the line around and around. Her moves were less athletic, more sensuous, as if she led him on a merry chase. “It looks as if those two have danced together before,” he remarked.
“Oh yes. Some couples take this very seriously. It can be a kind of mating dance.”
Sean shifted in his seat and tugged at his pants. His cock and balls ached in earnest. He could picture Zoë up there, swinging her hips, beckoning him. He leaned over and nudged her with his shoulder. “Can you dance like that?”
She laughed. “Of course. Why, do you want me to go up?” When he nodded, she said, “Okay, but don’t you dare shower me with dollar bills. It would be embarrassing. I have no fancy moves to warrant it.”
She popped up and headed to the dance floor. The song seemed to go on forever, or maybe it was a new one, but the dance stayed the same. She found her way to the end of the line and took the right hand of the last person, then folded her left arm behind her back. Without missing a beat, she was kicking and hopping along with the rest of them. Watching her move, he knew she had lied, she did have moves, great ones. Her body embraced the rhythm of the song with perfection. She made many of the people with her look clumsy in comparison. Her face lit up with obvious joy, her beautiful and bountiful breasts bounced teasingly. He could have sat there and watched her all night. But the song ended and with a cry of “oopa!” the dancers stopped and left the floor.
She pranced back to their table and plopped herself down. Her face was flushed, yet she grinned as she grabbed his Coke and took a big swig. “So, what did you think? Not bad for an old lady.”
Half of her hair tumbled down. Reaching over, he liberated the rest by pulling out whatever pins he could feel. Thick waves framed her face. “I like it down,” he confessed. “You should wear it like that more often.”
“It’s not practical at work.”
“We’re not at work now, and you’re not an old lady.” No longer able to resist temptation, he leaned in to take her lips. He fell into her warmth and passion as her mouth greeted his with equal fervor. She opened up and sighed, welcoming him in. Her arms twined around his neck and her soft breasts pressed against his chest when he tugged her closer. If he had ever intended to take things slow, the plan vanished with the explosion of heat their bodies shared.
The sounds around them dimmed as his senses were filled with Zoë. Her scent, her touch, her very heartbeat invaded his body and consumed him. He didn’t know where he was anymore and didn’t care. Blood roared through him and pumped into his cock. The hard rod begged for release. It wanted to plunge into her pussy the way his tongue did her mouth. Pressure on his chest forced him back, parted his lips from hers. He groaned in protest and popped open his eyes.
Zoë didn’t look at him. She stood up abruptly and reached into her purse. A twenty dollar bill landed on the table before she slung the bag over her shoulder. Sean stood too, cursing himself for coming on too strong. He had spooked her, maybe embarrassed her to death here where people knew her. It was one thing to bring a younger guy in, another to have him grope her in public. Before he could stammer out an apology, however, she grabbed his hand and gave him a fierce look.
“My car’s parked close by. Any objections to my driving us to my house so we can continue this there, in my bed?” She emphasized the last bit as if he would have any trouble understanding her meaning.
“No ma’am, no objections.” A lame reply? Maybe, but his brain had been deprived of its blood supply. Before he could muster a more memorable response, she pulled him out of the bar.
* * * * *
Zoë pulled into the driveway of a two-family home located in Watertown, a town west of Boston known for its Greek community. The drive had been a silent one, although the sexual tension was thick. Even not touching her, Sean felt the tug deep within him. He had been afraid to touch any part of her for fear he’d lose control and make her lose control. A car accident would not be a good way to end the evening. The waiting ratcheted up his desire. He practically leapt out of the car when it came to a stop and Zoë did the same. Unable to resist, he corralled her around the waist and swung her into his embrace. His mouth once more devoured hers.
She held on tight and returned the passion. Her curves molded to his body, pressed into his cock. Her hips shimmied against his aching package as she walked them both sideways to her door. His hands fisted in her hair and held her lips to his even while she fit the key into the lock. With one hand she let them inside her home. Her other hand grabbed his ass and squeezed.
They stumbled into the entryway, panting, moaning, clawing. Sean was vaguely aware of Zoë tossing her purse and keys on a table. The front door closed with a resounding thud. He opened his eyes only enough to see the stairs she tugged him toward. Not wanting to let her go even to navigate up the steep steps, he released her hair and swept her body up into his arms. She rewarded his efforts with a feminine mewl of delight. Before he had taken more than two steps, however, the thin voice of a woman called out from the first floor. The words were unintelligible.
Zoë broke the kiss. Her head came up and she responded with equally unfamiliar words. He realized it must be Greek. “Who are you talking to?” he asked in a hushed tone.
“My yiayia, grandmother,” she explained. “This is a duplex. She lives in the downstairs apartment.”
Grandmother? His mind reeled at the notion. They had been groping each other only moments before, and even now they were both panting with need. What was the chance her grandmother had heard them or would come out to see them? The woman must be at least in her eighties. He didn’t want to give her a heart attack. As if reading his mind, Zoë giggled and nipped his lower lip with her teeth.
“Don’t worry. Yiayia has been nagging me for years to go out and have fun. She’s not shocked about your being here, either. Believe me, she’s quite liberal minded.”
“Does she know I’m here?”
“Of course. I just told her. Sorry about the Greek; it’s what she’s most comfortable with.” Cupping the back of his head, she drew their faces closer. “Now are you going to carry me upstairs, Rhett, or what?”
With a growl, he fastened his lips on hers and invaded her mouth with his hungry tongue. He raced them up the steps, desire driving his power. He let Zoë turn the doorknob to her apartment, but he kicked it shut again with his own foot. Lowering her gently to the floor, he intended to follow her to her bedroom. She had other ideas. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she clasped his waist and shoved him against the door. His back hit the wood with enough force to push his breath out. Stunned, he stood still while she wrenched open his shirt.
“I want you right now,” she ground out and ran her tongue up one of his nipples. “I can’t wait.” Her teeth sank into the tender flesh. He felt the shock of it right through his already throbbing cock.
What little control he had left snapped. He grabbed the straps of her dress and bra in both fists and yanked them far enough down her arms to free her beautiful breasts. He twined his fingers in her hair and tugged her head back so that he could lick and nip the side of her neck. The other hand cupped a breast, his thumb massaging the taut nipple.
She moaned in protest and invitation. With her arms pinned by her straps, she could no longer torment his chest. Instead, she slithered her fingers between their bodies and unfastened his pants. She swore in frustration when the zipper proved difficu
lt, and cried out as his lips replaced his thumb. He laved her nipple with tight circles then sucked it into his mouth and feasted with hard tugs of his lips.
Her fingers clasped his groin in a punishing grip. She squeezed his trapped cock and balls, making him crazed. He needed to be inside her. Spinning her around, he switched their places. He wedged his leg between hers both to hold her in place and to knead her clit. With her eyes closed tight, she tossed her head back and forth. Her body writhed and she blindly reached for his pants once more. He was way ahead of her. He yanked them down, freeing his cock, grabbing the condom he had put in his pocket earlier just in case. Her fingers brushed the hard flesh. The brief touch sent a pulse through his dick. He pulled away, afraid he’d come if he let her take a good hold of him.
She snarled at the loss of contact but she didn’t have long to wait. He slid his hands up her silky thighs and tore the panties off her body. Lust blurred his thoughts and his vision, but he managed to slide on the condom before he hoisted her legs around his waist and thrust into her. She cried out as his body slammed against hers. Her fingers clawed his back while her cunt tightened around his cock. Her thighs squeezed like a vise and her heels banged his ass as she came.
He thrust again and again as hard as he could, as hard as she let him. The door shook with the force of their coupling. Tension built within him, his body burning with the need for release. He held back only because he sensed the body that gripped him wanted more. Finding her mouth, he invaded it with his tongue and thrust with the rhythm of his cock. He angled his hips to coax another climax out of her clit. A staccato of moans echoed inside his mouth. Her heels beat faster against his ass, spurring him on.
When her pussy clamped fiercely down on his rod, he let go. His entire being became that one thing, his cock finding its release inside Zoë’s body. He poured everything he was into her and absorbed the energy of her release. When he was empty and her body ceased to move, he eased them both down to the floor. They lay in a tangled heap of limbs, panting as if they were dogs in the noonday sun.
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