by Sonia Hartl
“I need more.” The throbbing between my legs had turned to an ache.
He put his hand between us, rubbing his thumb over my jeans, against my clit, in a slow circle. “Is this what you need?”
“Yes.” I shuddered, gripping his hand as he pulled it away.
He smirked and set me on my feet. He undressed me the rest of the way and flipped me around. I pressed my hands against the wall as he spread my legs. I should’ve felt insecure being wholly naked while he was still fully dressed, but the moment his finger swept over the dampness at my center, I forgot how to think. He grabbed my hips and brought me against his length. I turned around to reach for the button on his pants, but he stopped me.
“Not so fast.” He anchored my hands above my head as he leaned down and gave me another searing kiss. His lips trailed the curve of my neck. “We’re not going to rush this.” The vibration of his voice against my skin nearly undid me. “Not when I’ve had weeks to fantasize about all the ways I’m going to make you scream my name.”
I couldn’t do much more than whimper.
“No cheeky reply?” His fingers skimmed my waist, my hips, between my legs, and I broke out in goose bumps. “That’s a first.”
Cocky bastard. But if he wanted to play, I could play. “What’s the point? I don’t need to talk a big game because I’m going to ride you so good, you’ll be the one screaming my name.”
“There’s my smartass girl.” He thrust against me as he kissed me deeply.
I ran my hands down his chest and up under his sweater. “Get rid of this.”
“So bossy.” He grinned and tugged the sweater over his head, tossing it to the ground.
My mouth watered as I took in the hard planes of muscle, the ridges in his abs. I ran a finger down the trail of hair under his belly button and hooked it into his pants. He placed his hands on either side of my hips. His arms flexed, and I pictured him stripped down while I traced the lines of his muscles on a blank canvas. All that time he spent in the gym really, really paid off. I kissed his bicep, his shoulder, his collarbone, and licked my way across his chest. He was warm and solid and mine.
He brushed back my hair and kissed my collarbone. Cupping my breasts, he took one of my nipples in his mouth and scraped his teeth over it. I let out a noise that sounded a lot like that time I’d shut Winnie’s tail in the bathroom door.
“That’s a new one.” He chuckled against my chest, then kissed his way down my stomach. “I’ve been dying to taste you again since that first night, but this time you’re going to let me finish the job.”
“Who’s the bossy one now?” I gave him a playful smile, and he nudged my legs open, dragging his thumb down and back up, using light pressure and my own wetness to bring me closer to the edge. When he gave me a long, slow lick, I flattened my palms against the Sheetrock. He did it again, and the moan I’d been trying to hold back escaped. I gripped his head as he licked and sucked me. My hips began to move against his mouth, and his tongue matched my rhythm.
He pushed my legs farther apart and swirled his tongue over the tight bud at my center. “I could lick you every day for the rest of my life.”
My body quivered as I let out another moan.
He kissed the inside of my thigh.
My legs shook, until everything clenched and loosened in that bright fire. It spread through every one of my nerves. I screamed out his name as I dug my nails into his head. His tongue stroked me harder, working me through the last of my tremors.
His fingers replaced his tongue as he built me toward another peak. “It’s incredible to watch you give up control and let go.”
“We’re not done yet.” I thought I’d been wrung out, but the way he touched me had me wanting more. I needed to feel him inside me.
He hoisted me around his waist. As soon as my back hit the wall, his gaze drank me in as if he wanted to memorize every one of my dips and curves. I trailed a finger down his chest, down between us where our bodies met, and his pupils flared. A thrill raced up my spine.
I pressed a light kiss to his jaw. “Are you going to stand there watching me? Or are you going to put on a condom and show me what you can really do?”
I touched my toes to the ground, and this time he didn’t stop me when I unbuttoned his pants. As I pushed them down with his briefs, his erection sprang free. He was so hard and sleek. I took his tip in my mouth, rolling my tongue around his head.
“Holy fuck.” His eyes clouded as his fingers plunged into my hair.
I gave his shaft a long stroke with my mouth, then released him.
Without taking his eyes off me, he took a condom out of his wallet, unwrapped it, and rolled it on. He gripped my ass as he held me up. The delicious weight of his body against mine pressed my back against the wall. The head of his cock nudged my entrance, but he didn’t go any farther. He held himself, circling the tip.
I tilted my hips. “What are you waiting for?”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” He kissed me. “Because if you say no, I’ll back off right now. No questions asked.”
I tilted my head and nipped his bottom lip. “Shut up and fuck me.”
His moan vibrated against my mouth and traveled down my spine as he slid into me. My body stretched to accommodate his size, and heat poured through me. He paused for a few seconds, allowing me to get used to the feel of him, then he thrust.
“Oh, God.” He felt so good I was ready to burst out of my skin.
He continued to move inside me, each long stroke bringing me higher and higher. He kissed me as he rolled his hips.
My breath came out in short gasps. I clenched around him, and he groaned, thrusting harder.
The way he moved hit the exact spot that threatened to ruin me. Sweat slicked our skin as he pumped faster, sending us both climbing toward the edge. “I’m close.”
“Not yet.” I slapped a hand on his chest. My body wanted more, harder, faster. I worked my hips until my vision clouded and my legs trembled, but my orgasm hovered just out of reach. He palmed my breasts, pinching and stroking my nipples.
His neck strained as he fought his own orgasm. “Come for me. I can’t hold out when you ride me like that.”
Each stroke brought me higher. “You. Feel. So. Fucking. Good.”
He put his hand between us, and with one slick motion of his fingers, I cried out as I pulsed around him. My orgasm rolled over me in waves, threatening to knock me out or drag me under. He yelled out my name as he pulled me against him and pumped into me with his own release. This one took my breath, leaving me loose and warm, my fingertips tingling.
He held me against him, both of us slicked with sweat and worn out. I didn’t want to move or think or do anything other than hold on to him.
“That was…” The best sex of my life.
He took my hand and kissed it. “Same.”
Gingerly, I unwrapped my legs from his waist and got dressed. I was always awkward after sex, and this was no exception. Especially because I now needed to make my graceful exit. “This was great. And fun. And great. But I should probably go now.”
“Not a fucking chance.” He pulled me against his bare chest. “You don’t get to blow my mind and then run.”
He gave me a long, lingering kiss that threatened to turn me into a puddle. My legs were still weak, and my body was completely sated. I traced patterns over his broad shoulders with my fingertip as I breathed in his scent.
I was such a goner.
CHAPTER 26
The next morning, I went over my notes for the night’s assignment. Mark’s last as a trainee. After tonight, he’d be taking on clients of his own. I still didn’t know how to feel about that. I’d done a decent job of shutting down all my human feelings to do what I needed to for H4H, so maybe I’d be able to do the same regarding Mark’s position. Or maybe it would gnaw at me until it destroyed me completely. It really could go either way.
The sex had been incredible. I shivered just thinking about the wa
y his body had moved against mine—but what if it was only a one-time thing? After tonight’s assignment, we could theoretically go our separate ways. The thought settled like a boulder in my gut. I didn’t want us to be one and done. But I couldn’t ignore that he’d be a Heartbreaker, and I didn’t know how to reconcile wanting him and hating that part of him at the same time.
I let out a frustrated sigh. Nothing between Mark and me could ever be easy. I rummaged through my purse for my phone. Even though I’d signed paperwork promising the mini-warehouse in West Loop to me, I was still going to be jumpy until I had keys in hand.
I only had one text, from Emma: Was I right about his surprise? Does that mean I get 50 bucks?
I tossed my phone back in my purse.
I pulled out my folder on the accountant and threw myself into work. My client, Greta Timmer, had a CPA and five years’ seniority at Bells and Stern. She’d been working toward a partnership, but her boss made her dress up like the Statue of Liberty and dance in the street to attract end-of-year filers.
Bells and Stern was a large midwestern accounting firm that franchised its name out to individual offices, and the company held its yearly convention at the Chicago JW Marriott. It had started last night and was set to run through Sunday. Mark would pose as an accountant, and I’d already gotten him a lanyard and ID badge with all the appropriate information. I’d be playing a mermaid. Sadly, not the oddest role I’d taken on.
The client had promised to throw in a bonus if the target lost his cool in front of the CEO, so we needed to make it splashy. Since I wouldn’t be asking for permission to record, I’d be tiptoeing on some fine legal lines, but my client had no interest in a lawsuit. She just wanted complete and total annihilation of his career.
George Ritsema, my target, had also turned his other female accountant into little more than a secretary. And as a bonus, he left “helpful” dieting articles on their desks before they went to lunch. He was a real peach.
I had the perfect plan for him, though. By the end of the night, he’d be taking himself down. Turned out, he had a mermaid fetish. His Facebook was practically dedicated to them. Aside from his annual MILF (Mermaids I’d Like to Fuck) List, he took vacation days every year to attend the Coney Island Mermaid Parade, he’d briefly dated an instructor at AquaMermaid, and he had a tattoo of a mermaid on his incredibly hairy upper thigh. He also had a GoFundMe set up to back his summer expedition, where he claimed he’d find photographic proof of real mermaids. So far, his fund had managed to collect two dollars.
All the big names at Bells and Stern Accounting would be at the JW. I had no idea what they did at these things. Probably listened to boring lectures, sipped tepid water, and compared allergies. At least they had an open bar. But when the program boasted a live mermaid tank, I didn’t have to guess who’d booked the entertainment.
Margo had worked whatever magic she possessed on the owner of Tealights and Mermaids, and I had spent Thursday evening getting outfitted for my tail. To my relief, I didn’t have to do any swimming. I’d sit on one of the foam rocks under the guise of being in training.
A literal siren singing his destruction.
* * *
As the accountants filed into the domed conference room at the JW, Annette—the only mermaid actually hired for this event—began to splash around. I sat on a foam rock just outside the tank, flipping my tail, while she did a series of complicated spins and turns in the water. If I hadn’t been working, I might’ve enjoyed the show.
Mark entered the room, wearing a suit. A warm flicker of lust sent tingles straight up my center. As much as I enjoyed his Hot Professor attire, nothing compared to the sight of that man in a suit. Broad shoulders, tapered waist, strong forearms just begging to be flashed beneath rolled-up sleeves. I pressed a hand to my stomach to steady myself.
He gave me a wink, but I couldn’t react. For our setup, I could only have eyes for George. The plan was for Mark to chat George up, buy him a drink, and pretend to share some of his interests that didn’t include mermaids. It wasn’t easy. George practically had a one-track mind. He wasted no time making a beeline for the tank, with Mark behind him.
“Now, how did I get lucky enough to get two for the price of one?” George asked.
At first I thought he was wearing a dark shirt under his short-sleeved polo, but no. He had an obscene amount of body hair. Sweater arms, scarf neck—even his pale hands were covered in that fuzzy outer layer. He probably shed worse than Winnie.
I gave George a flirty smile as I flipped my tail. “I’m only here to observe for training. Think of me as part of the set design.”
“I don’t think anyone could mistake you for part of the set.” His leering gaze dropped to my purple seashells. “What are you doing after the show?”
Damn. That hadn’t taken long. I’d seriously underestimated this guy’s hard-on for mermaids. Though I supposed I could credit my red wig and green tail, since Ariel had made the top of George’s MILF List for the last two years. “We’re finished in an hour, but I might be persuaded to stay, if a handsome man bought me a drink.”
“For you, dollface? I’ll buy you all the drinks you want.” He ran a finger down my bare arm, as if he had the right to touch me just because I wore this costume. It took everything in me not to physically recoil. From the clenching of Mark’s fists, I gathered he wasn’t thrilled either.
I gave George my best pout. Even though he grossed me out, I had a job to do. “Aren’t you part of this convention?”
“The workshops are done for the day. It’s party time now.” The look he gave me suggested it would be a party in his pants if he had his way. I didn’t always enjoy the work I did for H4H—not all the targets were this awful—but I couldn’t dredge up any sympathy for George. He’d already managed to show me exactly why I shouldn’t.
“Meet me at the bar?” I batted my lashes. “They let me keep the seashells.”
His eyes glazed over, and I thought he’d pass out right there, but no such luck.
Mark wore a bored expression as he tapped George on the shoulder. “I was hoping to meet some of your employees. I hear the ladies are pretty hot.”
“Not my type, but have at it.” George pointed toward the other side of the room.
“If you introduce me, maybe I can keep them distracted while you do other things.” Mark tilted his head toward me. “Since the dinner and video presentation are set to run for at least two hours. That’s time you can skip out on.”
“Good point, my man.” George finally tore his gaze away from my boobs, and I felt like I could breathe again. “You don’t have a Statue of Liberty fetish by any chance, do you?”
As they finally walked away, giving me a much-needed break from George’s slimy stare, Annette rested her elbows on the edge of the tank. “That guy is such a creep.”
“You know him?” I asked.
“Oh yeah. He tried to hire me for a ‘bachelor party.’ ” She air-quoted those last two words. “But when my guys started to set up the tank, they realized there was no party. They got me out of there before I even got my tail on. If I’d known he was going to be here, I never would’ve agreed to do this venue.”
“I’m so sorry.” Now I was going to really enjoy George’s impending downfall. “Don’t worry about me though. I assume Margo filled you in on why I’m here?”
“Why do you think I’m not packing up my tank until the dinner is over?” She smirked and flipped back into the water.
The next hour dragged. I kept my eye on Mark, and he played his part well: laughing at George’s jokes, plying him with tequila shots to loosen his tongue, making small talk with the other accountants, keeping his eyes off me as if I didn’t interest him at all. Finally I got his signal—a yank on his earlobe—and immediately hopped over to the curtained area to change into a tight skirt with a flare at the knee and one of Mark’s collared shirts, left unbuttoned and tied above my belly button, revealing the seashells I’d kept on as a distrac
tion.
The convention had its own bar set up with drink tokens, and George was cheap enough to “buy” me a drink from there. But it was Mark’s job to steer him toward where I waited in the hotel’s lounge.
As soon as George appeared, I ducked my head, hoping to appear coy. In reality, I was putting on my game face for a guy whose very presence made the air feel oilier. Everything about him disgusted me, and not just because he looked like an unwatered Chia Pet. I decided I’d be sticking it to him not just for Greta, the woman who was paying me, but also for Annette.
He took a seat, blocking me into the booth. I had hoped he’d sit across from me like a normal person, but I should’ve known better. I was dealing with a classic creep. As he called the waitress over, I reached up to the shelf above our booth and adjusted a small frog statue containing a hidden camera. He ordered us both a Sex on the Beach. Of course that was his drink of choice. I tried not to shudder when the waitress set it in front of me. I didn’t even get a tiny umbrella out of the deal.
“I can’t believe you skipped that big presentation.” I giggled and touched his arm.
George waved it off. “My buddy Jim is covering for me. If the bosses ask what I thought of it, he’ll be able to fill me in.”
His buddy Jim, aka Mark, wouldn’t be able to tell him a thing about the video presentation, since he’d removed the disk and hooked up the screen to live-stream this little corner of the JW lounge instead. By the time they figured out how to shut it off, the damage would be done.
“Wow.” I twirled a lock from the wig around my finger. “That’s a good friend.”
“I just met him tonight.”
“No way.” I gave myself a mental high-five on nailing the beachy Valley girl vibes. “I thought you all worked together.”
