by Lexi Ryan
Her thumbs hovered over the phone’s keyboard. Sex, she finally typed.
On your mind too, huh?
She licked her lips. If there was even the slightest ember still burning between them, didn’t she owe it to Chaz to see if she could get it blazing again? And what if she couldn’t?
Much to her shame, her ING’s instant answer to that question was a mental image of Charlie. The disintegration of her relationship with Chaz would mean a chance for that affair with Charlie. But was that really the kind of woman she was? Someone who preferred a hot affair to a lifetime of stability?
Why couldn’t she get as excited about Chaz as she did about the bad boy who was no good for her?
Chaz’s next message came before she had replied to his last: Are you wearing it?
She glanced down. The oversized nightshirt was no black leather bustier.
No. Nothing that…interesting. Did you have a nice evening?
She put the phone back on her nightstand, closed her eyes, and pictured the way Charlie’s eyes had turned hot as he’d fed her. In addition to a bottle of wine, she’d eaten most of his steak and very little of her own meal, and she couldn’t deny that she’d been more turned on while Charlie slid a fork from her lips than she’d ever been lying under Chaz.
She needed to do something about that. Stat.
Her phone buzzed again.
Put it on.
She stared at the screen. This was Chaz. And this was what she wanted. Did he really want her to text him about putting on sexy lingerie?
Are you coming over? Maybe he didn’t intend to text at all.
If you put on that leather get-up and tell me you want me there—me and not anyone else—I’ll be over in a heartbeat.
Riley smiled and chewed on her bottom lip. She wished she could tell him that, but while her lips were still warm from Charlie’s kiss, she knew it would be a lie. Besides, this was a side of Chaz she’d never seen before, and she liked it. She didn’t want him to come to her apartment and freeze up. Instead, they could flirt like this and make her ING forget about Charlie Singleton.
And if she couldn’t forget… She wasn’t ready to go there yet.
Lacey was out for the night, and Riley had the apartment all to herself. Her ING purred as she stood and walked to her closet. Running a finger along the smooth leather, she imagined Charlie’s smile as he’d bought it for her. Part of her wanted nothing more than to parade around in this for him. Her breathing accelerated, and she imagined him sitting in a chair as she strode in front of him. She’d saunter across the room, sway to some jazzy tune, and pass him long glances over her shoulder until he begged her to come to him.
She squeezed her eyes shut against the foolish fantasy—told herself it was probably a very bad idea to wear something for one man that made her think about another—but she pulled off the nightshirt in exchange for leather. She was lacing up the corset when her phone buzzed again.
Is it on?
She slipped into the red leather thong and nearly moaned. The leather was firm and unyielding, creating subtle, delicious friction as she moved.
I just need to add the matching red stilettos, she typed.
She pulled the shoes from the shelf and slid them on then stood to study herself in the mirror. Her skin was still flushed from the residual effects of the wine, and the pulse at her neck fluttered. The leather cups lifted her breasts, making them appear fuller than they were. Her phone buzzed.
By all means...
What now? she typed. Dear God. Was she really doing this? But she wanted to. She wanted to get her mind off Charlie Singleton as the cure to her sexual woes and explore a sexually fulfilling relationship with Chaz. She wanted something wild in her life, something fun and wicked. She wanted Charlie—no, Chaz!—to send her dirty text messages. She wanted him to tell her he was hard for her.
The phone buzzed in her hand, reminiscent of the vibrator in her drawer. A small smile curved her lips. What would Chaz think about that little toy?
She read the message.
Take a picture.
She swallowed hard. Of...?
You’re not that naïve, Riley. I want a picture.
The next message came immediately after. Use the mirror.
She fumbled with the phone for a minute before figuring out how to use the camera.
She studied her reflection. As a final touch, she pulled the tie from her hair and let it tumble around her shoulders. Holding her breath, she held out her phone, and took a picture of herself in the mirror.
Her finger hovered over the Send key, and her heart pounded. Would he like the way she looked? And why was she thinking about whether or not Charlie would approve of the way his gift hugged her body more than she was about Chaz’s inclination toward leather?
“Just send it,” she muttered, punching the button before she could talk herself out of it.
She stared at her phone. Nothing happened. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could hit the Universe’s “undo” key. What the hell did she think she was doing?
Her phone buzzed and adrenaline pumped through her.
You just have no idea.
Then tell me.
It’s a damn waste for you to be all alone wearing something that fucking sexy.
Her heart pounded. So come over and keep me company.
She gripped her phone. She hadn’t just told him to come over, had she? Oh, Jesus. What if he did? Then this would end. He’d never talked to her like this in person, and she silently prayed he’d turn down her offer.
You have no idea how tempting that is. Do you really want me to?
She relaxed. This is fun too.
Afraid you’d do something you’d regret?
Regret? What did he think they would do? I’d regret ending this conversation.
I hate not being able to see you. I love watching you enjoy yourself.
She smiled. This was why she didn’t want to end this. Chaz liked her, she knew that—otherwise, why would he waste his time with her?—but he wasn’t one to talk about it. Having him talk about it made her feel good. Not much to see. I’m just alone in my bedroom. Not like I’m touching myself or something.
Well, why not?
Her mouth went dry. She settled onto her bed. Because my hands are busy texting you.
I wouldn’t want you to stop doing that.
That’s what I thought.
How’s the leather feel?
Snug. Naughty. She chewed on her bottom lip and wriggled a little so the leather rubbed against her swollen clit. Had Chaz had some lingerie fetish this whole time and never told her?
Tell me what it makes you think about.
Charlie Singleton was probably not the response Chaz was looking for. Instead, she typed, Hot, sweaty sex. Fast and desperate.
Why do you hide this side of yourself?
She could ask him the same, but she didn’t. In fact, she wasn’t sure what to say, so she said nothing.
Do you have a small vibrator?
She giggled. That’s none of your business.
Ahh, so that’s a yes. Get it out and lie on your bed.
She opened her nightstand drawer and stared at the little bullet vibrator. She’d used the handy little toy, but never in the presence—phone, text, or otherwise—of Chaz or any other man.
Prop yourself up on some pillows and spread your legs.
Her mouth felt dry, but she wanted to follow his directions more than she wanted to quench her sudden thirst. She licked her lips as she sat on the bed and did as he directed.
I can’t believe I’m doing this, she typed.
Slide the vibrator into your panties so it’s nestled against your clit.
She closed her eyes, and her traitorous mind instantly conjured Charlie’s face, those intense eyes. She forced herself to picture Chaz, but couldn’t help but give the smart retort she’d supply in a conversation with Charlie. I know where it goes.
Didn’t know if you’d denied yours
elf that, too.
No. She didn’t. Somehow, basic sexual pleasure had slipped through. Don’t be too excited. This won’t be my first time. But she’d never before used her vibrator under instruction from someone else.
Virgins are overrated.
She smiled at that.
Is it in your panties?
Riley instinctively squirmed at the delicious buzzing against her clit. She wasn’t even touching it, wasn’t moving it against herself, just letting it sit there, its rolling vibrations sitting against her sensitive skin.
It is. What about you?
I don’t need a vibrator, baby.
Riley bit down on her lip, frowning. Baby? Chaz hadn’t ever—to her recollection—called her that. But she liked it. Is it—How to ask this?—in your hand?
I need my hands to keep you on task.
She wanted him to call her, to make her brain accept that this was Chaz by hearing his voice. She wanted and she didn’t want. If he called, it might get too real. Too…intimate? No, that couldn’t be it. She might panic and never get to see what was at the end of this path.
I like to imagine you’re enjoying this as much as I am, she typed, because knowing he was hot, knowing he was hard and ready—she couldn’t imagine anything that could heighten these sensations more.
I swear that’s the last thing you need to worry about.
She smiled and arched her back a little at the pleasure rolling through her. She imagined Chaz lying in bed, aroused. What would he do if he were here? Would he get her off? Would he want to watch her get herself off?
She couldn’t imagine Chaz ever doing such a thing, but somehow she sensed Charlie would like seeing her bring herself to orgasm. She closed her eyes. What did she have to do to get that man out of her mind?
Her phone beeped with a new message. How does it feel?
Good. Like a humming against my clit.
Slip your hand into your bustier and roll your nipple between your fingers.
She did it, squeezing her nipples between her fingers to the point of almost-pain. She rocked against the vibration between her legs, too swamped with pleasure to stop herself when it was Charlie, not Chaz, she imagined watching her. Charlie standing at the foot of the bed. Charlie with hot eyes on her. Charlie stroking himself as she writhed under the bullet’s vibrations.
She forced her eyes open when the phone beeped again. She withdrew her hand from her the cup of the bustier to take the text.
Make yourself come for me.
The words shot a bolt of pleasure through her and she pressed the palm of her hand against her panties, pressing the vibrator against her clit and rocking against it and her hand through the waves of her orgasm. The whole time, an image of Charlie in her head.
She blinked. Charlie. This incredible experience with Chaz, and she’d been thinking about Charlie in every moment that counted.
***
Riley sipped her coffee and flipped through the stack of paperwork on her desk. She was trying not to dwell too much on having been imagining Charlie throughout the only orgasm she’d ever shared with her boyfriend of two years, but it seemed too significant to ignore.
Her desk phone beeped and the light on the display let her know her father was paging her.
“Yes?”
“Riley, call HR and have them start on paperwork for the new general manager position.”
She swallowed. “You’ve made your choice, then?” Though her father had general managers for his other hotels, he’d chosen to run his largest—Grand Escape—himself. But his retirement meant it was time to hire someone to take over that duty.
“Of course, and I think you’ll approve.”
Her heart lifted. He was announcing his retirement at breakfast tomorrow and she’d hoped she’d also announce he’d be giving the position to her. “Anyone I know?”
“I’m bringing in a gentleman from New York. Years of experience.”
Riley slouched into her chair. “Oh. Okay.” Her stomach pitched. Had she really thought he might give her the chance?
“I’m sure you’ll still work by his side to make sure he settles in.”
“Of course,” she said, numbly.
The intercom clicked off and Riley sat, staring blindly at her dark computer screen.
“Riley?”
She looked up at her father who had emerged from his office. “Yes?”
“You’re not upset that I didn’t give the position to you, are you? You know I can’t have a woman running my company.” He frowned. “It wouldn’t be fair to you. Politically correct or not, this is a man’s world, and it’d be harder for you.”
She stared at him. He really felt that way.
“Listen.” He lowered himself into the chair in front of her desk. “You’re upset because you’ve been putting so much of your energy here, but once you start your family you’ll be glad you don’t have a hotel to manage.”
“And who, exactly, will I be starting a family with?”
He chuckled. “I’ve let Chaz know that I approve of his decision to make your relationship more serious. You marry him and start a family.” He rubbed his beard, ducking his head in a gesture that would have been best described as bashful on anyone else. “I’d like some grandkids, and I happen to know their mom doesn’t need to worry about working a demanding job to make ends meet.”
Riley softened. “You know how I feel about making it on my own, Daddy.”
He nodded. “I do. I know, but think how your life would have been different if your mother had accepted the money I offered her. You might feel differently when you have babies.”
Something hard swelled in her throat, making it difficult to swallow. Her father leaned down and kissed the top of her head.
Riley watched her father retreat into his office, and her stomach sank. She’d given everything to this job. To him. She’d planned her life around it. And now he wanted her to be happy to sit back and marry a pre-approved suitor—a man whose face didn’t even come to mind in her most erotic moments. He wanted her to have babies, and she wanted that too…just not yet.
With a single exception, she’d been the model child since Quinton Carter had taken her in. She’d always put on the perfect face for the media. What would her father think if he got wind of her dinner with a certain disreputable poker player?
Of course, he wouldn’t need to know.
The receptionist, Lettie, came into the office smiling and put a note on Riley’s desk. “Chaz called,” she said, grinning. “He wants you to meet him at The Orteja for lunch.”
Riley raised a brow. “The Orteja? Are you sure?”
The receptionist’s eyes lit up, and she pressed her hands against her chubby cheeks. “I listened to the message three times,” she whispered.
Riley’s mouth went dry as she gaped at the note. “I—” She licked her lips. When a girl found out that her boyfriend of two years had just made the biggest romantic gesture of their relationship, it didn’t bode well if said girl’s first thought was to hope that he wasn’t proposing. “Thanks for the message.”
“Riley!” Her father boomed from his office. She darted to his office, imagining heart attacks and her father helpless on the floor.
Instead she found him standing at his desk, the newspaper in front of him unfolded to the society section. “Do I need to have my lawyer sue for this POS excuse for journalism?” His finger jabbed the page and Riley blinked at the spread of pictures. “Or did this really happen?”
Chapter Eight
“Bravo, my friend. Bravo.”
Charlie rubbed his eyes and rolled over to look at the clock. Not even nine a.m. He hadn’t slept for shit last night. Every time he’d closed his eyes, the image of Riley in skintight leather haunted him. But not as much as the image of her getting herself off while talking to him. So fucking hot.
He adjusted his cell phone against his ear and yawned for the benefit of his agent, who should have known better than to call before noon. “Bra
vo for what?”
“The photo op! The press just ate it up! Grab your Las Vegas Times and see for yourself.”
“What photo—” He shot up in bed, remembering his directions to Rick. “Shit. You sent a photographer.” He threw back the blankets and padded to the door of his suite. He snatched up the paper that waited just outside.
He dropped his phone in favor of tearing the paper open and winced when he saw the front of the society page. The headline read: NATIONAL POKER PROFESSIONAL HAS LAS VEGAS’S GOOD DAUGHTER BETTING HER HEART. Under the headline were pictures capturing their night.
One shot showed Charlie dancing with Riley, his hand splayed possessively on her back while she looked up at him. Another showed him feeding her, and the photographer had caught the pleasure that shaped her features with each bite. But it was the final shot that made his gut burn. It showed Charlie at Riley’s door, hands tangled in her hair as he kissed her.
“Fuck.” He tucked the paper under his arm and snatched his phone from the floor. “They followed us after dinner?”
“And it paid off, didn’t it? You did great. Now for the easy part. We’ll just sit back and wait for the calls.”
“I didn’t tell you to have them follow us to her fucking apartment, Rick. Jesus.”
“What? You think I told them to do that? You know how these guys are. You give them an inch.”
Charlie dragged a hand through his hair. This could work. He could get the sponsorship he needed, and Riley could get out of a bad relationship, but that didn’t end the sick gnawing from growing in his gut. “Keep me posted, Rick.”
He ended the call and stared at his phone for a long moment. He’d rather talk to Riley in person—or at the very least over the phone—but he didn’t want to bother her at work again. He settled for a text.
Have you seen the paper?
He paced to his bedroom while he waited, throwing the newspaper on the desk and pulling some clothes from a suitcase. If all went well today, he’d have a sponsorship for the next tournament. And maybe the one after that.
If it didn’t…well, Charlie should probably make himself a little more marketable by learning the Spanish translation for Do you want fries with that?
