The Hookup Handbook

by Kendall Ryan

  “You’re looking a little inspired right now, Miss Johnson.”

  There’s that familiar warmth in my cheeks. Is it that obvious that my mind is wandering?

  “What can I say?” I tuck my hair behind my ear and let my fingers linger near my neck. “I’ve got a pretty wild imagination.”

  Case raises one eyebrow, challenging me. “Yeah? Me too. I’d love for you to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

  “I’d much rather you show me what’s going on in yours.”

  Our flirting is cut off abruptly by the creak of the wooden floors just outside the office. A second later, in struts the world’s least welcome interruption. Ryder.

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  “What’s up, you guys?” Ryder saunters across the office and plops down in the big leather chair in the corner. “I just had the weirdest client of all time. Sienna, I’ll spare the details in front of you, but let me just say this—pizza rolls and oral sex do not mix.”

  He exaggerates a shudder as he lounges back in his seat, propping his feet up on the ottoman. If I didn’t know better, I would think this was his office, not his boss’s.

  “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to knock?” Case glares as he rips a page out of a notebook, balls it up, and whips it at Ryder’s skull.

  Ryder laughs, ducking out of the line of fire. “Do you have a pair of scissors I can borrow? I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing that beats paper,” Ryder teases. “And unlike some guys around here, I’m not having any trouble with rock, if you know what I mean.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively and gestures to his crotch.

  Shit. Bad move, Ryd.

  “If you want to keep your job, I’d lay off the jokes about that,” Case barks, balling his right hand into a fist while his left grips the edge of his desk. It’s the only thing standing between the two of them, and if Ryder keeps this up, it won’t be for long.

  “Sheesh, sorry. Didn’t know we were suddenly going to start acting professional around here.” Ryder puts up his hands in surrender, then turns his head toward me, searching for a better reaction to his jokes. “Sienna, I think you’ve got the boss working too hard.”

  “We’re just trying to work on his book,” I say through clenched teeth.

  Ryder scoffs, like he’s offended by the fact that we’re actually doing our jobs. “Shit, what crawled up both your asses? I’m just trying to chat, and you’re acting way weird.”

  “It’s just this deadline,” I say, not allowing Case the chance to snap at Ryder again. “We’re working on a tight schedule.”

  Ryder nods. “Ah, right. Sorry. I totally get it. Are things coming along okay?”

  Every muscle in my body goes limp with relief. Thank God he bought that excuse, because I don’t have another one.

  “Yeah, just fine,” Case says, releasing his grip on the desk. “Much better with your sister’s help. I wouldn’t have been able to get this done without her.”

  Ryder gives me a proud-brother smile. “Hell yeah, that’s what I like to hear. You guys make a great team.”

  “You have no idea,” Case mutters, and I choke back a cough. Ryder doesn’t seem to notice.

  “Well, I’ll get out of your hair,” Ryder says, leaping up from the chair. He confirms with me that I have my car here and don’t need a ride, then heads for the door. Thankfully, he closes it behind him.

  Case and I each let out an enormous exhale in perfect unison, followed by the chiming of the clock. I turn to check, and it’s only eleven o’clock. There’s a lot of day and a lot of work ahead of us. My imagination is going to need to take a back seat.

  Time manages to speed up from nearly stagnant to a moderate crawl once I finally force myself to focus. I’ll take what I can get.

  Case churns out a few pages of his chapter, which he passes off to me for editing, not a word spoken between us. There’s a silent agreement hanging in the air—if we don’t acknowledge the heat, maybe we won’t get burned.

  When the clock finally chimes five, I feel as though I’m an entire year older. Hopping up from my desk, I grab the black dance bag I was storing at my feet all day and sling it over my shoulder.

  “I have to go. I like to be early for class.”

  It’s not a total lie. Better early than late, and better in the studio than here. At least time goes quickly when I’m teaching, and when I’m there, I don’t have to stare down my number-one distraction all day.

  “You’ll be back at seven thirty,” Case says, less of a question and more of a statement of fact.

  Confused, I crinkle my forehead. “I thought we said eight.”

  Case’s lips twitch into a mischievous smile. “You said you like to be early.”

  I smile back. “You’re the boss.”

  On my drive to the studio, I picture what Case might do to fill the time while I’m gone. He’ll probably lift weights, then take a shower. I imagine him, his hair wet, a towel barely clinging to his hips. Today was borderline torture, but now, I’m just one ballet class away from my imagination becoming reality.

  As I pull the car into the parking lot, I bundle all of my thoughts about Case, about tonight, and then I leave them all outside the studio door. They’ll still be here for me when I’m done teaching, but for now, I need all my focus to be on my little ballerinas.

  I fumble with the key ring Helen gave me until I find the big brass key that unlocks the front door. The smell of rosin and glass cleaner is familiar, like coming home. I flip on the lights, the low buzz of the fluorescents keeping me company as I head for the bathroom to change into my black strappy leotard and tights. The alone time is nice, almost necessary after the stress of today.

  Once I’ve changed clothes, I unlock the studio door, then the office door, flipping the lights on as I go. The building comes to life, readying itself for my dancers. The first minivan of the evening pulls up outside the window, followed by two SUVs. Class number two, here we go.

  The girls scamper across the hardwood floor one by one, some of them coming up to me for a hug. Good, they still like me, even though it’s been a couple of days.

  I grab the clipboard off the top of the stereo and begin taking attendance, putting checkmarks next to names as the girls arrive. I’m surprised that I have a lot of their names memorized already. Maybe I won’t have to make flash cards like I thought.

  Once everyone has arrived, the girls all find a spot at the barre, and we launch into our warmup. The combinations are a little bit more challenging than the ones I taught last class, but the girls pick them up without breaking a sweat.

  We do a little across-the-floor work, and I get lost in the details of the girls’ form, showing them how to hold their hands just right when landing their pirouettes. Once again, we end class with our pop-music/ballet combination, adding another eight beats onto what we learned in the last class. The hour slips away from us, just how I expected it would. Class number two is in the books.

  Shit. I had planned to go home and freshen up before heading back to Case’s tonight, but that was back when we said eight o’clock. If he’s really expecting me at seven thirty, I don’t have the time for a pit stop.

  Let’s hope Case digs the leotard and ballerina bun.

  I slip my skirt on over my leotard and swap out my ballet slippers for heels. Not exactly a supermodel look, but it’ll do for now. If things go as planned, I won’t have them on for long anyway. I close down the studio and shoot Helen a text to let her know that everything went smoothly.

  • • •

  When I arrive at Case’s, I’m suddenly nervous that Ryder will catch me here. My brain scrambles with an excuse. I could just say I needed to work overtime on the book. He would buy that, right? He has no reason to suspect anything.

  I swallow a wave of nerves and climb the steps to the front door. It feels a bit too corporate to use the code, so I opt for the doorbell instead. My heart rate climbs in time to the sound of Case’s footsteps across the hardwoo
d as he approaches the door.

  I’m not sure if I was right about him hitting the gym while I was gone, but the clean soap scent tells me I was right about the shower. He’s traded out one button-up for another, and suddenly I feel miserably underdressed in my leotard and tights. My gaze flits over the zipper of his dark-wash jeans as I step through the door, looking to see if he’s as excited to see me again as I am to see him.

  “You could’ve just let yourself in, you know,” he says as I slip out of my heels, leaving them by the front door.

  “I know. But that’s what I do when I come here for work. And I didn’t come here for work.”

  “Yeah, you’re not exactly dressed for a day in the office.” His voice is low and gravelly, and his eyes make a torturously slow perusal down my body.

  I blush, averting my gaze to look down at my tights. “Yeah, I didn’t have time to change after ballet.”

  With a half smile, he pulls me toward him by the small of my back and brings his fingertips to my chin, lifting my mouth to his. But he doesn’t kiss me, not yet. “Does it feel like I’m upset about it?”

  His firm body meets mine, and I can feel he’s rock-hard and still growing beneath my touch. Electricity dances down my spine. I need every inch of what’s waiting for me under these jeans.

  “Sh-should we go upstairs?” I sputter, fully knowing I’m really begging more than asking.

  Case rocks his hips, pushing his erection against my belly as a hum passes through his lips. “If that’s what you want.”

  “Is it what you want?” I whisper.

  “I want you so damn much, Sienna.”

  His deep voice spirals through me, leaving heat in its wake.

  We take the stairs two at a time, racing each other to Case’s bedroom. This is nothing like the last time I was up here. No soup or acetaminophen this time, and no trying to determine if being on my boss’s bed is crossing a line or not. There’s not a doubt in my mind that we’re crossing a line.

  Once the door clicks shut behind us, our mouths come crashing into each other the way I’ve been imagining they would all day long. Case’s hands find a firm grip on my ass as he kisses me again and again—not softly like he did the other night, but hungrily, like he can’t possibly taste all of me in one evening, but he’s damn well going to try.

  My hand finds its rightful place on Case’s zipper, palming the shape of his stiffness through the denim as he grows to his full length. Fuck. He’s huge.

  I shouldn’t be as surprised as I am. There’s a good reason this dick goes for top dollar. Before I can unbutton his pants and release him from behind his zipper, his hand finds mine and squeezes tight, hitting the PAUSE button on the evening.

  “If you change your mind about this, just let me know, okay? We can stop at any time.”

  I roll my eyes. “Don’t chicken out on me now.”

  Case’s serious look morphs into a cocky grin. “Not a chance in hell, sweetheart. I just want to be sure you know this is a one-time deal. We’re not having repeat offenses this summer, understood?”

  “If that’s what you want, okay.”

  “It’s not about what I want.” His tone is suddenly defensive as he corrects me. “It’s about being smart. I don’t want any broken hearts or hurt feelings here.”

  I have to hold back a laugh. He really thinks highly of himself, doesn’t he? “I wouldn’t worry about that.”

  “All right, then. So you’re totally sure?” He’s gotten a yellow light from me, but he wants a green one. And I’ll happily give it to him.

  “As certain as a deadline, Mr. Smith.”

  And all at once, Case steps on the gas. He lifts me by my waist like I’m as light as air, propping me up on the edge of his bed. My skirt slides off easily, and as he peels the straps of my leotard down my shoulders, I tilt my hips, letting him pull the fabric down over my ass, guiding it to my ankles as he drops to his knees.

  With my leotard off, Case’s eyes widen at what he finds. No bra, no panties, just tights. He runs his fingers lazily along the pink nylon, up the inside of my right thigh, eagerly eyeing what awaits him beneath this thin layer of fabric.

  “Goddamn.” He wets his lower lip, taking in the view, then sinks deeper into his kneeling position, prying my legs farther apart until his nose is buried in the junction where my thighs meet.

  I stifle a sound that’s half giggle, half groan. He’s so aggressive—pulling me closer to the edge of the bed like I weigh nothing, planting his face right between my legs like that, palming my ass to pull me even closer to his mouth.

  Holy shit. It’s unexpected, but I like it. A lot.

  He’s so confident, so sure—there’s no awkward fumbling or need to learn my body. This man is an expert, and I’m both grateful and excited by that.

  He breathes me in, his breath hot and steady as he pushes his lips against the nylon. A warm pulse races through me. I can feel myself getting wet through the tights as his tongue finds my clit, expertly flicking over it, not letting the tights get in the way of him tasting me. I twitch with pleasure, which he greets with a smile pressed against my wetness.

  “Feel good?”

  He runs his lips along my inner thigh and I shudder, the pleasure pulsing through me like an electric shock. I could come like this, even with my tights still on, but my moan pleads with him to take them off.

  “What do you want, Sienna?”

  He rises from his knees, bringing his hot mouth to my neck as his fingers rub against the place where his lips just were, not denying my clit a moment of attention.

  God, what don’t I want? I want him. I want all of him. I want to come for him over and over until I’m drained and shaking and sore.

  But my mouth is too busy moaning to say any of that. Moaning is all I can manage. A loud, desperate moan, my head thrown back as I shake loose my bun into a mess of waves.

  “Tell me, Sienna,” he urges me, pressing the heel of his hand against my clit. “Tell me what you want.”

  “You,” I finally manage to say through panting breaths.

  “Yeah? Where do you want me?”

  I moan again. He pushes two fingers against my opening, rubbing more firmly.

  “Do you want me here, Sienna?”

  “Yes.” I sigh blissfully. “Yes, Case. Yes.”

  In one quick, domineering movement, he wraps his fingers around the waistband of my tights and tugs them down, discarding them next to my leotard. I know he’s ripped them, and I don’t give a shit. I need them off. I need him inside me.

  His thumb skates across my sensitive pink core, and he makes a noise low in his throat. “Damn, that’s a pretty sight, sweetheart.”

  I feel the blush rise up my chest and into my cheeks. He just called my lady parts pretty.

  As he pops the buttons of his shirt open one by one, he steps back from the bed, angling himself to get a good look at me. Every instinct in me is screaming to cover myself, to hide the curve of my lower stomach and the thickness of my thighs, but his eyes are hungry and he licks his lips, so I stay as is, letting him drink me all in.

  “I don’t know what a ‘dancer’s body’ is supposed to look like,” Case says, discarding his shirt next to my tights and leotard. “But I can tell you this. I’ve seen a lot of naked women, but this is the best damn view I’ve ever had.”

  As if to punctuate his sentence, he unzips his jeans and lets them fall to the floor, his erection finally free.

  Good Lord, that is a beautiful cock. This man is definitely in the right profession. Thick and long, and . . . oh my God, it’s perfect.

  I can’t help the devious grin on my lips. “Come here, big guy,” I whisper. “Let’s put that thing back to work.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Case

  If you’d told me two months ago that I’d be watching my best friend’s sister writhe beneath me, I’d have called you a sick pervert and sent you on your way. But now? I can’t imagine a sweeter sight than Sienna, naked, in m
y bed with her knees parted, her delicious silky flesh glistening in anticipation.

  Her blond hair is draped across my pillow as she looks up at me with those lust-filled blue eyes. Every heave of her chest makes my cock ache with need for her, but I’m determined to make the most of this one night we have together because there won’t be another. And there’s no way I’m throwing all this pent-up desire away in a few quick pumps. Besides, I have a reputation to uphold.

  I reach for the drawer of my bedside table and extract a gold foil packet. Holding my breath, I make quick work of tearing open the package and putting the condom on. Sienna licks her lips as she watches the latex unroll over my eight inches, propping herself on her elbows to get a better view.

  Her cheeks are flushed the prettiest shade of pink, and her wide blue eyes are filled with lust. It’s a fucking beautiful sight.

  Once the condom is on, I toss the wrapper to the side and lean down to press a kiss to her lips. “You okay?”

  She nods and lifts her pelvis to rub against me.

  Damn, she’s sexy.

  I push her thighs apart and kneel between her legs. Then I guide myself slowly over her sensitive core. She squirms at the sensation, but I use my other hand to hold her hips firmly in place. The slow building of anticipation is torture for both of us, but in my experience, that’s kind of the point.

  Just as my rubbing brings her close to the brink, I back off, pleased with how wet she’s gotten.

  “You really know how to make a girl wait for it,” Sienna says, her voice half sarcasm and half moan.

  All I can do is smile. She has no idea what’s coming.

  All at once, I thrust inside her. She cries out—not from pain, but from a mix of surprise and pleasure. Her back arches as I thrust again, the motion bringing her closer until her chest bumps against mine.

  “Oh fuck, Case,” she whispers, her voice dripping with desire.

  Hearing my name on her lips takes me to another place, and I pump harder into her, finally able to scratch the itch that’s been killing me for the past few weeks.