“In college one time, I remember you and Tess got into a huge argument about who did the best version of this song. I thought it might come to blows.”
Richard nodded and looked chagrined. “Yeah, I remember that night. I still disagree with her, of course. Rufus Wainwright’s too pretty to sing something this angsty.”
Sitting down near him, but not right next to him, Lindy pointed out, “But back then you were all for Leonard Cohen. Because everything had to be the original.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I was pretty sure about that at the time.”
“At the time, I would have argued for this one. You were both wrong.”
He cocked his head and considered this, studying her intently as the steady, dreamy chords thrummed between them. “Why didn’t you?”
“There was enough arguing going on. Nobody was changing anybody’s mind that night. And it doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve moved on. I like k.d. lang’s version the best now.”
“I haven’t heard it.”
“You really have to see her sing it to get why it’s the best one. I’m really sorry about this morning,” she said before she could lose her nerve. “I was the jerk, not you.”
Richard blinked, taken aback at the abrupt shift. “No. I’m sorry. And I should have been more sensitive. You were freaked out. I have trouble getting my mind around how you have literally no experience with that scenario.”
Uncomfortable being reminded of that, Lindy sighed and drew her feet up to sit cross-legged. “And I guess you have a lot of experience with that scenario.”
“No, not really.” When she seemed about to argue, he cut her off. “Seriously, Lind. It’s not like it was a one-night stand. I knew what it meant to you. And I admit I was a little thrown by that. I didn’t know what you’d be feeling. Hell, the main thing I felt after my first time was— Okay, so the thing is, I did it for the first time when I was sixteen, in the woods on a camping trip. My neighbor’s slutty cousin visiting from Philly. The morning after, she was back in her family’s tent, I was in my family’s tent, we all got up and had scrambled eggs and she and I sort of did that thing where you nod at each other and don’t really make eye contact. But any greater emotions I may have been feeling were pretty much trumped by the fact that I had poison oak starting to spread out all over my ass and legs. Jesus, that was one fucked-up ride home.”
He was clearly able to laugh about it, and Lindy couldn’t help but join in. “And yet you got up the courage to try again, even after such a disaster on your first attempt. So brave.”
“I have never told anybody that story, and if you tell your sister I will hunt you down no matter where you run, Melinda.” He leaned over and scowled, though not very effectively since he kept snickering.
She made a twisting-key motion over her lips. “It’s in the vault.”
“Oh it’s in the vault? I think I need to check the seal.”
Lindy’s breath caught in her throat when Richard bent forward and kissed her firmly.
If it had been a first kiss, she probably would have been able to push him away. First kisses are awkward by their very nature, the nerves and the sheer oddness of figuring out which way to tilt your head to get everybody’s mouths and tongues angled the right way. But this kiss had all the smooth assurance of the previous night’s extensive practice and Lindy felt it all the way down to her toes, from the first moment Richard’s lips pressed against hers to the last playful flick of his tongue as he pulled away.
When Lindy finally opened her eyes, Richard was staring down at her, looking hungry and determined.
“I didn’t mean to do that,” he admitted. He looked far from sorry about it. “I was planning to keep my hands off you.”
Lindy couldn’t help but notice that his hands were very much on her just then. One of them on her upper thigh, and one curled loosely around her upper arm, thumb just brushing the side of her breast in a way that might seem accidental if she didn’t know full well it was intentional.
“Well, I didn’t exactly scream and push you away,” she pointed out. She wasn’t entirely sure why she hadn’t; it probably would have been the wiser thing to do. But the kiss had obviously shut down the part of her brain where wisdom lived. All she could think about was wanting Richard. She’d always thought “throbbing loins” sounded like a potential medical problem, and the heroines in romance novels probably needed to get that condition looked at. Yet here she was, loins clearly throbbing in a way she couldn’t ignore. Neither could she ignore Richard’s questing lips along her throat as he leaned in to explore the sensitive skin.
“Lind, I want you. Just one more night, okay? Before we go back to…just being friends.”
“It’s probably a really bad idea.” But she still didn’t scream or push him away.
“Advanced lessons,” he reminded her. “I still owe you the advanced lessons, remember?” He dragged his hand from her arm to her breast, grazing roughly against her already-tender nipple.
“This was the night I’d planned to do it anyway,” she reasoned aloud.
“Hmm. To help relax you before your big meeting?” He was working as he spoke, tugging her tank top off over her head, unfastening her bra.
“To help me feel more confident,” Lindy confessed. No reason to tell him she’d been planning the seduction for weeks, before she ever heard from Red House.
“Oh I think I can boost your confidence. No problem.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at Richard’s easy self-assurance, then almost swoon at the smirk she had once hated but currently found too sexy for words. “If it’s anything like last night, I won’t be worried about confidence tomorrow, I’ll be too busy all day trying to ignore how hot and bothered I am.”
“Seriously?” He grinned. “I was hot and bothered too. In fact, I almost didn’t leave my door open tonight because I wasn’t sure I could control myself if I saw you again so soon. I sort of wanted to do you on the floor the second you walked in, actually.”
“I never would have guessed.”
“I know. I’m a good poker player too.”
She believed that.
Then he licked one of her nipples and she decided she would believe anything he told her. By the time Richard had coaxed her jeans and panties off, Lindy thought he could probably have sold her the Brooklyn Bridge if he’d been so inclined. Though the negotiations would have been a far cry from traditional business practices.
“Just this one more night, right?” Lindy whispered when Richard eased her back and pressed her hands over her head, holding them tight against the smooth leather couch cushion. “And then we go back to being friends and it won’t be weird?”
“Just tonight,” he said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself too. “We’ll get it out of our systems.”
She wasn’t sure that was how it worked, but she was hardly in a mood to argue. Nor did Richard give her the opportunity. Keeping her hands pinned, he kissed her until she felt lightheaded, until she wrapped her legs around his hips and writhed impatiently against him.
When he finally shifted his grip, relinquishing her hands so he could work his way down, Lindy yanked at his t-shirt and tried to get him undressed as well. She sat up, trying to work around him, but Richard leaned in and pressed her back down to the couch with his superior weight.
“You’re getting frisky,” he mock-scolded.
“Take your clothes off!”
“And pushy.”
“Please take your clothes off?” She attempted to bat her eyelashes, and was happy that Richard kept from bursting into outright laughter. She knew it was probably not her best look.
“Stay right here. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” He pushed off the couch but turned swiftly after a step or two, as if to catch her in the act. She was still lying down, already feeling too wobbly to trust her legs. “Right back.”
But as soon as he was out of sight around the corner, Lindy noticed that his front door was still open. Horrified, she sn
atched a throw pillow to her bare chest and pattered over to check that the hallway was clear. In a flash, she had her own door and then Richard’s secured, and had made it just as far as the back of his couch when Richard caught her by the waist.
“I said to stay right there,” he reminded her, arms holding her securely as he pressed his now-naked hips forward to rub his cock against her ass. The motion pressed her hips into the cold metal bar that supported the back cushion on his ultramodern couch. Lindy felt the slickness of lubricant, the heat of Richard’s erection through the condom he’d donned, and felt herself grow even hotter and wetter in anticipation of his entrance. The pillow she’d been hugging fell to the floor unheeded.
“I was locking the doors,” she explained, her breath catching as his hands explored lower and found the moisture gathering between her legs.
“Maybe I wanted them open,” he whispered, pushing her shoulders forward until she was bent over the back of the couch, forced to brace her hands against the seat for support. A quick nudge of his foot spread her legs wider, exposing her completely. “Maybe I liked the idea of somebody walking down the hall and seeing this. Seeing you bent over while I fuck you. God, you’ve got such a perfect ass, have I mentioned that?”
Lindy’s only answer was a whimper as Richard entered her in one smooth thrust, the lubrication and her own greedy slickness conspiring to make it easy for him. He groaned and pulled almost all the way out before plunging in again so deep he bottomed out against her cervix. The flash of pain was wiped out by a deeper, keener pleasure that spread like a blush across Lindy’s body as Richard established a brutal pace.
Everything felt good, almost too good, as if she were about to see stars. As if she were literally in danger of passing out with each swift stroke of Richard’s cock inside her. She was almost relieved when he slowed his tempo, allowing her to catch her breath, reassemble her scattered consciousness for a moment.
He wove his fingers into the hair near the nape of Lindy’s neck, grabbing firmly and tugging to tip her head to the side and expose her neck for him to molest. Lindy was shocked at how much this aroused her, the feel of Richard’s rough kisses that were very nearly bites, the insistent pull of one big hand in her hair, the bruising grip of the other hand never relinquishing her hip as he fucked her in hard, measured strokes. She had never had a rape fantasy, but she’d had many a daydream that involved being taken forcefully. She’d just never expected those daydreams to materialize, or for the reality to be so much hotter than the fantasy.
Richard was actually fucking her like an animal, she thought, and she started laughing just as her orgasm began to crest into inevitability. Obviously puzzled at the unexpected response, Richard lost his rhythm and paused until Lindy’s high-pitched protest and desperate squirming encouraged him to move again. He resumed his original furious pace, and Lindy climaxed almost instantly as he ground deeper, gripped tighter.
Then, as Richard rode hard to his own brilliant conclusion inside her sated body, she came again—still laughing a little, because now she really was seeing stars.
* * * * *
Lindy was awake when the sun came up. She watched the pink light shift its way up the building next door, and listened to Richard’s quiet breathing. He was curled behind her, sound asleep, one hand resting heavily on her hip.
It had been past midnight when they finally fell asleep, after raiding Lindy’s refrigerator for a hasty snack of cheese, crackers and apples. And after Richard had taken Lindy against the sandblasted brick of her kitchen wall, holding her legs around his waist with surprising strength as he thrust into her with more restraint than he’d shown earlier. The rough surface had scraped against her skin and the muscles of Richard’s back and shoulders had been taut, jumping and straining under her grasping fingers. She could tell he was holding back again. Being gentle for her sake, because it was still new to her. She knew she should be grateful for that consideration. She was grateful. But she also longed to see him lose control and drag her with him again into the wild abandon she could tell he preferred.
At just past four by the bedside clock, Lindy had awakened to the feel of Richard’s cock pressing hard and hot against the small of her back, and his fingers stroking her pussy. She was already sopping wet, already moving her hips in time with his explorations.
He kissed her shoulder and then worked his way slowly up to her neck before he whispered in her ear.
“I really have to ask. Is this okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because I’m being selfish. I should let you sleep but I can’t keep my hands off you. You feel so damn good.”
“You do too.”
“Are you sore?” He cupped her mound with his hand, a sweetly possessive gesture. Lindy bit her lip, struck with a sudden despair as she reminded herself not to take his affection too seriously.
“Not really.” It was only a little lie. She was sore, and she might regret it later, but it was only this one more night and she wanted him too badly to resist. She was already desperate to feel him moving inside her.
“Don’t move.” He got up quickly, leaving Lindy’s back cold, but returned in less than a minute. The telltale crinkle of the condom wrapper in the dark explained his errand and Lindy wished she’d planned ahead better and gone on the Pill before propositioning him. Then he was there again, warm against her back, sliding one leg between hers.
A dollop of cold fluid hit Lindy’s pelvis and she gasped. Richard chuckled, scooping the thick stuff up and reapplying it lower, slicking it inside her with two fingers. “Don’t panic, it’s just lube. I know you’re sore, and another round is probably a bad idea right now. If I were a nicer guy I wouldn’t do it at all, but I’m not that nice. The lube will help, though.”
It helped, although Lindy still hissed when Richard entered her. The sting only lasted a few seconds but a deeper ache persisted, a pain almost like a bruise. Lindy was surprised to find herself responding despite that. The new angle brought Richard’s cock up sharply against the front wall of her vagina, and his fingers never rested from teasing at her clit. She nearly cried as he started moving more purposefully inside her and she felt an orgasm begin to build. His touch was like a drug, sweetly luring her to her doom with pleasures she could never achieve on her own. Had she become an addict just then, she wondered, or had her downfall come the first time, and she was only just seeing it for what it was?
“So tight,” Richard murmured into her neck just as she started to reach the point of no return. “Feels so good. Come for me, Lind. I need to feel you come.”
She couldn’t have done anything else. She had already started coming, shuddering into a sweet cry of relief when her orgasm finally peaked. She squeezed Richard’s cock tighter inside her and moaned when she felt him pushing through that impossible pressure to reach his own climax with a hoarse shout.
He was already asleep when he slipped out of her a few minutes later, and she wondered if she should wake him so he could take the condom off. Instead, she stayed in his arms until the sun began to rise. And after she had watched the lights and colors of the morning long enough, she rolled carefully out from under Richard’s heavy embrace, gathered her clothes and walked back across the hall to her own home to get ready for her big meeting. She had never noticed before what a very long walk it was.
Chapter Six
Coming from an apartment with no air conditioning, Lindy found herself growing chillier by the minute in the sleek and crisply cooled office of Paul Maddox. Everything in the space was smooth and polished, from the glass desk to the glossy black leather and chrome on the Barcelona couch where they sat discussing her designs.
“We would probably need to simplify some things for production,” Stephen Markham explained, “but you would have final approval of changes. Getting a source for the knitted stuff might be a challenge, especially now that we’ve stopped using those overseas suppliers. Sweatshops are evil, of course, I give you that. It was the r
ight thing to do. But some of them did fabulous work.”
Red House’s creative director was examining a handbag as he spoke, turning it inside out to look at the seams. Lindy was glad she’d lined the purse so the back of the embroidery didn’t show. She had a feeling Stephen’s sharp eyes would catch any mistakes.
“Stephen,” Paul Maddox reminded him with a wry smile, “you promised not to reminisce about the sweatshops anymore, remember? I explained all that.”
“I remember you asking me to stop,” Stephen said with a shrug and a defiant toss of his bald head. “I don’t remember making any promises.” He pouted at Paul, who just shook his head. Lindy could tell they were teasing, but she still felt compelled to try to broker a peace.
“Well, I have a lot of pieces right now with no knitted sections at all. Scarves, in particular. I’ve been working with brocade quite a bit lately. Lots of monochrome, for some reason.”
She pulled a gray-on-gray scarf from the bag of samples she’d brought, and spread the fine fabric across the glass coffee table in front of them. As she’d suspected, the strong lighting in the office and the neutral background of almost-white carpet under the glass made the colors in the scarf pop. Not just gray, it was a thousand subtle shades of gray, a mosaic of hues and varying luminosity like a rainbow spun from spider silk.
“Oh! Exquisite!” Stephen immediately cooed and grabbed the pretty stuff for a closer look, prompting another smile from Paul.
“Well, that’ll distract him for a while,” he said, as if discussing a toddler who’d found a new toy. “I think we can add that one to the list. It’s looking like four handbags and about half a dozen scarves for this round, and I think we can pretty much work from these samples as prototypes. Well done, Melinda.”
“Lindy,” she corrected him. “My friends call me Lindy.”
“Lindy,” he repeated. “I like it. I may forget and call you Melinda from time to time, though. I sort of think of you as Melinda already, and I like that name too.”
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