Текст книги "Sexy"

Автор книги: J. A. Huss

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Two

 

Tiffy Preston is a tease. And she doesn’t have to bite her lip or bare her leg or any of that other bullshit for me to know this. She looks at me like she’s hungry. She did it last week when I took her up on the roof and she’s doing it right now because her eyes are tracing all up and down my body in a way that makes it necessary to adjust myself under my shorts.

“What plan?” she asks, barely able to drag her stare back up to my face.

I wave her into my room, acutely aware of the stacks of papers on my table, the open laptop on my table, the TV blaring this week’s predictions from repeats of the Friday stock reports, and my lack of clothing. Not that she hasn’t seen everything. But I’m pushing my own self-control here.

There’s another knock at the door and I breathe out a sigh of relief as I go answer it.

“Hey, Fletch,” John the waiter says. “Sorry it took so long. We’re swamped down—” He stops when he sees Tiffy. “Oh, um, hi, Miss Preston.”

“Tiffy and I have business,” I say, motioning to my out-of-control paperwork. “So we’re eating in tonight.”

“Oh, sure,” John says, pushing the cart into the room. He starts setting up the food and then notices he only brought one plate and serving set.

I stop him before he opens his mouth. “I’m not hungry, John. So Miss Preston will be the only one dining.”

“OK,” John says with a smile.

A minute later he’s walking back to the door and I slip him a twenty. “Do not say she was here. You got it?”

“I got it, dude,” he says with a fake salute. “Later.”

I close the door and turn back to Tiffy. She’s leaning over the room service cart, inhaling the aroma. “Hungry?”

“Sorry.” She laughs. “I never got dinner.” She gives herself a little mental shake to get back on point. “I asked him out, Fletch, and he said no. So I asked about tomorrow, and all he was interested in was that trampy assistant. I’m not a good player. There is no way he’s interested in me.”

I’m not listening to any of that. Maybe two words get through my brain. Because her hair is all crazy disheveled, like she’s been in bed. Or out by the beach. I inhale as her lips move and I think I smell the lake on her. That sweet scent I grew up with. It reminds me of home. And that thought derails everything.

Fucking home.

“You listening to me?”

“Yeah.” She’s got another summer dress on. It’s yellow and stands out against her perfect skin. Her eyes dart up and down my body as she talks and when she notices me noticing that, she closes her eyes and blushes a bright pink.

I think I get hard from that.

“Fletcher!”

“What?”

“You’re not listening.”

“You think he’s not interested. But he is.” How the fuck could he not be? Something is off. “I mean, you’re friends. And he’s nice to you. So that’s a tell that he’s interested. He’s just not motivated to make a move right now. The signals are getting all crossed and shit. So all we gotta do is line those signals up so they connect.”

“How? I asked him to dinner—”

“Fuck dinner. Well, not literally.” I take the silver lid off the platter and stuff some fries in my mouth. “I’m starving. Wanna share my hamburger?”

She lets out a long sigh, but it comes with a smile. So she’s starting to relax. “OK.”

“Come on, sit down and we’ll eat.” I grab all my papers off the table and stack them up.

“What’s all that?”

“Taxes. Fucking taxes. They’re the bane of my whole existence.”

“It’s August. Why are you worrying about taxes now?”

“Uh…” Shit. “Quarterlies are due next month.” Good recovery, Fletcher. “I like to keep on top of it. Gotta report those tips, right?”

“You report tips?”

“It’s the law, babe.”

“Pffft. OK.” She grabs a French fry and stuffs it into her mouth and continues to talk. I cannot even stop watching her lips. And her tongue. Holy fuck. I’m horny. I’m goddamned horny for Tiffy Preston. I’ve been in denial all week, but when a guy thinks chewing is sexy, he’s got a problem.

“Right?” she asks.

“Right,” I reply.

“You did not even hear what I said.”

She’s right. I didn’t. “You just need more moves, Tiffy.”

“Exactly! That’s what I just said.”

“But I’m starving. So let’s eat first.” I grab a knife and slice the burger down the middle, then take one half and give her the plate. I stuff most of that thing in my mouth with one bite.

She picks hers up and starts to nibble on it. Two minutes later I’m finished and I’m eyeing her and her burger like I’m about to eat them both.

“What?” she asks, looking at me with her mouth open, mid-chew.

“What?”

“Did you just say you want to eat me and the burger both?”

I laugh. “I sorta do.” I realize that’s a bad move if I want to keep this job going a little longer. “I’m starving.”

Tiffy raises an eyebrow at me.

“And I was thinking about that girl tonight. She showed me her tits as soon as we got backstage and I put her off.”

“Hmmmm. Why’d you do that? I thought you had a new girl for every show?”

“She’s a skank.” And you’ve ruined me, I don’t add. I get one little taste of a lady and I’m ruined. “Those women at those shows are just not my type this week.” I sigh and go for the truth, just to see if she believes me. “Not for many weeks, if I’m honest.”

Tiffy pauses, rolling that admission around in her head. But what she thinks about it, I have no clue. Because she changes the subject. “So how should we make Cole jealous?”

I should take the hint. Getting more involved with her than I already am is a monumentally bad move. But I realize I don’t care. So I smile that smile she seems to like, and play a card in a game I decide I’d really like to win. “Let’s practice that lap dance, Tiffy.”

“What?” she gasps. “No, Fletcher. Cole isn’t—”

“Cole is,” I stress. “Every guy is, Tiffy. Maybe Cole doesn’t do strippers, but even guys who like the nice girl want the stripper in the bedroom. So I think you should go out there tomorrow, drop some very subtle hints, and then when you get him somewhere private, you pull out the bad girl you’re keeping in your pocket.”

She’s shaking her head the whole time I’m talking and I almost laugh, it’s so cute. “There’s no way I can seduce him like that. I mean, I can do some lip-licking and some leg-swinging, but—” She looks down at her body. “I’m not that girl. I’m not. I have sex in the dark, Fletcher. I like candles and under the covers.”

“I almost fucked you against a wall on the roof, Tiffy.”

She draws in a long breath and closes her eyes. My dick swells again. So much that I walk up next to the room service cart to hide it. When she opens her eyes again she finds my face. “That was not me. I don’t do that stuff. It’s just, you were a little overpowering in your… sex appeal, I guess. I don’t know why I went up there with you. But I do know I can’t do that with Cole.”

I think about this for a minute. Considering what she’s saying. Wondering if she’s right or not. And decide she isn’t.

“You went up there with me, Tiff, because you got caught up in my spell. That’s it. That’s all. So you just need to get Cole caught up in your spell.”

“I’m not a sex witch, Fletch.”

I move away from the cart and walk up next to her. God, she smells good. I take her hand. That move makes her swallow and I can tell she’s nervous. But when I place her hand over my hard-on she sucks down air like she might stop breathing.

“You make me hard, Tiffy Preston. And all you did was walk into this room. So I’m pretty fucking sure you can do the same for Cole.”

“Fletcher,” she whispers as I place my hand on her hip and draw her closer.

“Just relax,” I say in a low voice. “I’m not gonna make a move. I’m just saying you’re sexy as fuck, Tiffy. All you need to do is capture his attention and let his desire take over.”

“And how the hell do I get him up to a room to do a lap dance?”

“Fuck the room. We’ve got a dance floor downstairs.”

“Oh my—”

“You dance with the guy, Tiff. And do a little imaginary striptease. Like this.” I grab both her hips and pull her close to me, my body moving to the music in the background. My fingertips flare over her ass cheeks, rubbing the muscles beneath her thin dress. My dick is fully erect under my shorts now, so I start pressing against her to stimulate myself. “Relax,” I whisper into her neck. And then I grab her hands and lift her arms up above her head. “Keep them up here and move your body like this.”

I grind against her as I look her in the eyes. I’m feeling heavy with lust for this girl. She bites her lip and it’s not a fucking move. It’s real. I almost lose it. I want to bend her over my bed and fuck her so bad.

“Like this?” she asks sweetly. She’s moving a little. Trying to do as I ask.

Calm the fuck down, Fletcher. She’s here to learn how to seduce Cole. But holy shit, I want her. “You gotta try harder than that if you want the guy, Tiffy.”

She takes a deep breath and bends her knees, swaying her body as she dips down. “I can dance, you know. I’m not a complete social moron.”

A smile creeps up my face as she does her little wiggle move. Her mouth is so close to my dick, I might explode. “It’s not bad,” I say playfully. “But you need to practice.”

“Hmmm,” she says, standing back up. Her hands are in her hair now, and she rips out the little ponytail holder, letting her long brown locks spill over her shoulders. “See,” she says with a smile that reaches all the way up to her eyes. “I can seduce you.”

“You sure the fuck can,” I mumble.

“But you’re horny and shit, Fletcher. You live for sex. Cole is…”

“Boring? Blind? Gay? Maybe he’s more interested in Claudio?”

“Oh, God.” Tiffy bursts out laughing. “Claudio wouldn’t sleep with Cole if he was the last man on earth. He thinks Cole’s pudgy. Besides, he’s sort of in lust with Steve.”

“My Steve?” I laugh. My cock starts to calm down with the fun conversation. “They’d make a good couple, actually. Maybe I should set the two of them up instead. Keep you for myself?”

She laughs a little more, but her arms are still swaying above her head and she does another little dip before standing back up and turning her back to me. She peeks over her shoulder like a flirting professional, batting her eyelashes, a move that never works on anyone—except me, right here, right now—and says, “I’m not your type, Fletcher. I’m serious and conservative. And you’re not.”

She turns her head, and I have to look in the hotel window to see the reflection of her face. Her eyes are closed now. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe I should let you teach me how to seduce him with a lap dance.”

And then she stops and walks over to the dining table and pulls out a chair, facing it towards me. “Here. Sit. Let me at least try.”

I’m suddenly without words. But my feet know when to accept an invitation that my brain has a hard time coming to terms with. So two seconds later I’m walking to that chair. “Your move, Miss Preston.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

 

Fletcher is easy. He’s always looking for a fuck. Cole is not.

Fletcher is a professional seducer. Cole is a professional… well, professional.

So maybe Fletch is right? I need to make Cole want me. I need to make him desire me. I need to seduce him. And I think I can do the dancing. I’m not inept at that. I’ve been clubbing with Claudio enough to have those moves down.

I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl. But I had that with Fletcher. I was witness to one of the best flirts in the business as he tried to seduce me. So all I really have to do is be the Tiffy Preston version of Fletcher Novak, right?

But if I think about who I’m practicing on too hard, then I’ll lose my nerve. So when Fletch gets to the chair, I push him into a sitting position.

“What?” Fletcher laughs.

“Shhh,” I say, laying a single fingertip across his lips. “Don’t talk or you’ll scare me off.”

His mouth drops open but he stays silent.

I think back to the rock earlier today. How he was moving his body in front of my face. Demanding my attention. I take a step forward and straddle his legs. The sensitive skin on the inside of my thighs brushes up against his soft sweat shorts, and a shiver runs up my legs—straight through my core.

Just the thought of my panties rubbing against his hard cock is enough to start the throbbing. So I bend my knees a little and lower myself down. Just enough to brush my pussy over the open air between his legs.

I reach for his hair and when I brush the tips of my fingers against his scalp, he lets out a small, “Fuck.”

“Like this, Fletch?”

He nods. His eyes are trained on mine. I have his complete attention. “Yeah,” he whispers, and swallows hard. “That’s pretty good, Tiffy.”

I ease forward, my hips swaying back and forth just above the waistband of his shorts, my legs pressing hard against his. And then I ease down into his lap.

I like this, I realize. I like him. It’s dangerous, I know that. But I can’t stop now. Not even if I wanted to, and I don’t.

The moment my clit feels his cock, I let out a breath of desire. Will he fuck me again if I go too far? Or will he stop himself and obey his own rules? Should I try for it? Should I try to make Fletcher Novak want me?

But his hands on my ass again blow away my thoughts. He’s playing along. He rubs the muscles under my dress, and then a moment later they’re underneath. Caressing that tender spot between my upper thighs.

I want him to take it further. I want him to want me. But I don’t know what to do next. So I hear myself ask, “Now what?”

“Now,” he growls, “you close the deal.”

“How?” I whisper, leaning into his neck like he did earlier.

He grabs the hem of my dress and lifts it up, exposing my thighs and rubbing them all at the same time. “Take this off.”

Jesus. If I do that I have a feeling we might not stop. I know he’s a one-night guy and we had that already. But what if I succeed at this seduction thing?

“Do it, Tiffy. Stand up and take the fucking dress off. You make him crazy, just like I make those girls crazy on stage.”

A striptease, I realize. He wants me to do a striptease. “I don’t know—”

But he stands up and pushes me back. “Take the dress off.” He sits back down on the chair and leans back, spreading his legs slightly and getting comfortable. Like he’s ready to enjoy a show he typically gives instead of gets.

I’m suddenly flushed with embarrassment. I just know my face is turning red. But I want to do this. I want to learn how to make a man crazy with lust. I want to make Fletcher feel that insane, overpowering want he made me feel last week on the roof. The kind of want that drives men mad. The kind of lust that makes a man throw away all caution, and inhibitions, and rational thought. The kind of desire that has him screaming in his head, Fuck the consequences. I want him to crave me so bad, he can’t say no. I want that power, and I want it bad. “Where do I start?”

“Tease me,” Fletcher says. “With your dress. Lift it up, give me a peek, and then drop it again.”

I blink a few times. But the power is within my reach. I can feel it. I might not be a sex witch, but Fletcher Novak is about to be under my spell. So I grab the thin fabric and start rubbing it up and down my thighs. He lets out a breath, watching my fingertips as they do a dance with the dress.

He scoots forward in his chair and wraps the warm palms of his hands behind my knees.

I am immediately wet. I can feel it pooling in my lacy underwear.

He rubs small circles against the sensitive skin on the back of my legs and it feels so good, I lift the dress up and show him my panties.

“Fuck,” he mutters again.

I let the dress fall, and then lift it again. My body starts moving now, the way he does when he’s performing. I close my eyes and enjoy the beat of the music in the background.

“Take it off, Tiffy. And make it sexy.”

“How?” I say, opening my eyes so I can stare at the desire in his face.

“Slow,” he says, gripping me harder and pulling me towards him.

I bite my lip and think about all the ways I can make this more seductive. I turn, making his hands drag across my thighs until my back is to him. He starts rubbing my upper thighs, inching higher and higher as I continue to sway.

I reach behind me and grab the zipper of my dress and drag it down a few inches. “Pull it down for me, Fletcher.”

His hands take advantage of every opportunity on their way up my back. He caresses my hips, presses the pads of his thumbs into the muscles on each side of my spine, and then reaches around as they travel upward, brushing against my nipples, turning them into tiny peaks.

I moan when he withdraws them, grabbing the back of my dress and the zipper with each hand. I lift up my hair with both hands to give him access and find myself throbbing with anticipation.

The zipper lowers with a small ripping sound, and then his hot mouth is on the bare skin in the middle of my back. One hand finds its way under my dress again, and he presses his fingers against my clit.

“You’re wet,” he says.

“I can’t help it,” I whisper.

“Don’t try.”

I slip one strap of my dress over my shoulder and look back at him. His hands are eager now, one tugging my panties aside and his fingers finding their way into my wet folds.

“Watch me,” I say, looking down at him. “I want you to watch me.”

“Fuck.”

I take that as a good sign, and slip the other strap down my shoulder. He gives the dress a little tug, and it falls away from my breasts, landing at my hips.

I turn back around to get a better look at his face. His eyes immediately find my cream-colored lace bra. He cups both breasts in his hands, squeezing hard.

I moan from that. God, I want him. I probably want him more than he wants me right now. I want all that hard stuff he did up on the roof.

Patience, that little voice in my head says. Give him a show. This is all about anticipation. So my fingertips find the bunched-up fabric stuck on the curve of my hips, and I shimmy a little. Until it works its way over the hourglass shape and then falls to the floor with a soft whoosh.

I swallow then. Hard. I’m not naked yet. But I am standing here in his room, exposed and vulnerable. His gaze takes me in. Every inch of me. And then his hands are exploring. He cups my breasts again, and that hard squeeze comes with it. He pulls one bra cup down and exposes my nipple so he can take it in his mouth.

He sucks and bites. Not softly, but not enough to make it too painful to endure. Just enough. Just. Enough. To make me crave his cock inside me.

I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra and let it hang there, the way he did this afternoon on the rock.

But this time he waits for me to take it off. His hands slide down and rest on my hips, caressing the bones that protrude slightly underneath my panties.

“Don’t stop now,” he growls.

I have no intention of stopping. But I can’t say that out loud. So I lean forward enough to allow gravity to let the bra slip down my arms and fall to the floor.

He stares at me.

I shift my feet in my heels, making them click on the tile floor, and let him look.

His mouth presses into my belly, his hands pressing into my thighs, and then he is kissing me in a tender way that takes me by surprise. Almost everything about Fletcher is hard. His muscles. His cock. His attitude. His gaze.

But his mouth is soft in all the ways I’ve ever dreamed of.

“Should I…” I swallow. “Should I take my panties off?”

He looks up at me, still kissing my stomach, still rubbing his hands up and down my legs. “Only if you want me to fuck you.”

I stand there silently for a moment. We watch each other. I’m filling up with questions, but the only things I see in him are answers.

Fletcher Novak is my answer to every mystery there is.

So I thread my fingertips under the slim elastic lace and work the panties down the curve of my body the same way I did the dress. He watches my face as I do this. And my heart skips a beat.

Never have I felt so naked.

But then he moves his gaze down to the action and leans back once more. So he can take in the view. So he doesn’t miss the show. So he can enjoy himself.

My final piece of clothing falls to the floor and once again I step away from them. And in the process, I move closer to him.

I’m begging inside. Begging.

“Fuck me,” I say. “I want you to fuck me right now like I’ve never wanted anything else in my life.”