Текст книги "Night After Night"
Автор книги: Lauren Blakely
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 10 страниц)
Chapter Six
Her phone woke her up in the morning.
She’d turned the damn thing off last night, seeing as she was spent and exhausted from her time with Clay, but now it was buzzing. McKenna probably wanted more details on last night since they always shared these kind of tidbits with each other – not the nitty gritty sex details, but the so you really like him part. It had been a long time since Julia had actually liked someone. Even with Dillon, even as it ended, the really like him feelings had faded well before. Sure, she’d fallen for him in the start, for his self-deprecating humor, for his piercing blue eyes, for the sweet nothings he whispered to her that made her feel special.
She met him when he was one of her students at a weekend class she’d been teaching at a boutique bar in Noe Valley on the art of making cocktails. She’d taken on the class before she bought a stake in Cubic Z; the class helped supplement her bartending income. And Dillon had been her finest student, his keen eye for detail giving him a leg up as he mixed and matched the perfect amounts.
“You, sir, concocted a most excellent margarita,” she told him.
He’d tapped the side of the glass, and said, “Someday I’ll be sipping this in Bora Bora or the Bahamas.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice. Sitting on a hammock in the sun with a nice cool drink.”
“Blue skies and mixed drinks,” he added. “A perfect getaway.”
One time, after everyone else had left, he hung back, raised his hand as if in a classroom, and asked. “I have a question. I know student-teacher relationships are generally forbidden. Does that apply to bartending school too?”
“Terribly forbidden. Violates all sorts of mixed drink laws,” she teased.
“Call me guilty then,” he said, then asked her out.
They’d gone to a Turkish restaurant in Russian Hill for the first date, then for a walk through that neighborhood. A photographer, he’d made a decent wage shooting interiors of homes in the city for realtors, so he showed her the outside of some of the homes he shot, including a rather tiny one that he’d made look palatial in a picture. He used to say that with the right angled shot, he could make any room look “spacious, open and well-lit.”
Later, after they became a couple, he was the one who had encouraged her to expand her role at Cubic Z, and to invest in the bar. She didn’t regret that decision, not one bit, though she sure as hell regretted him, and wished she’d gotten out sooner.
All his sweetness had leaked away by the end, and they were merely holding on. Until he left. The unraveling of that relationship wasn’t what hurt; it was the way it fell to pieces that stung like snake poison. The way she had to bear the brunt of the breakup and all he heaped on her, and she couldn’t even tell McKenna the specifics. Julia ached to pour out all the sordid details at times especially because her sister understood heartache. But McKenna understood happiness too. Newly engaged to a man who made her wildly happy, McKenna was in that haze of believing that every new relationship would turn out to be the one, so Julia fully expected a text asking her when she was going to get engaged.
Ha. As if Julia were ever going to do that.
She fumbled for her phone, unlocking the screen. McKenna’s name popped up and the first word she saw was size. She shook her head in amusement. She wasn’t sure if her sister was talking about ring fingers or other measurements, but before she could open the note another text flashed.
Where is the pretty bartender? She wasn’t at the bar last night. She should hope she’s not skipping town. I wouldn’t want to have to inquire with that other woman behind the bar. She seems like she might be preoccupied, and more so in a few more months…
Her blood ran cold. He’d noticed Kim and her pregnant belly.
She wanted to punch the screen. That slimeball had gone to Cubic Z for one of his pop-ins. Those were the worst, when she had to serve him, and act like she didn’t detest him as she poured his martinis. She hoped he hadn’t bothered Kim last night or her hubby Craig who was helping her out, or anyone else they worked with. She didn’t want him near her co-workers. She could only imagine how that would go down, especially when Charlie took out his knife and nonchalantly scratched his chin. Those gestures were meant for her – reminders of what he was capable of.
And he was capable of a lot more than just itching a scratch.
She’d gotten glimpses of Charlie’s cold-blooded nature through Dillon. He’d hinted of things he’d seen while shooting pictures of the limos. Punches thrown, knees whacked, noses broken, eyes blackened. Charlie was a man who got what he wanted by any means possible.
Her skin crawled as she imagined him shaking down sweet Kim, the true definition of an innocent bystander.
That was the real rub though. Everyone in her life was an innocent bystander, and she’d have to keep them innocent. The less anyone knew, the less they could get hurt. If they knew about her troubles they’d try to help her, and then they’d be in his debt somehow and his crosshairs.
She swallowed back all her anger, and replied quickly. Of course not. I have the weekend off. Don’t worry – I’ll be at the game Tuesday and I plan on winning big again.
Seconds later, he replied. That confidence is so alluring.
She sneered, then her heart beat faster at the next message. From Kim. You’ll be pleased to know there were no unsavory types here last night. Only the usual assortment of hipsters and VCs. So San Fran. Xoxo
If only Kim knew that there was an unsavory type there last night, scoping them all out. But she planned to be back at the poker table on Tuesday night, working on winning more to line Charlie’s pockets. Playing hard and taking down the marks to get out from under his yoke as soon as she possibly good.
She wrote back: Glad to hear Cubic Z is representing the city so well. Love you madly. See you soon.
She took a deep breath, reminding herself to push her troubles out of her mind for the weekend. She was far away from all her obligations, and she planned to enjoy her temporary break. She shut off the phone as Clay stirred. Good – he hadn’t seen her texting. He’d seemed perturbed last night when she was writing to McKenna, and she didn’t want any weirdness between them. She wanted only good times with Clay, only dessert. This weekend together was the frosting on a scrumptious cupcake. It wasn’t real, and that was A-OK. She sure as hell loved a cupcake, and right now she wanted another bite.
Now was as good a time as any to show this man what kind of wake-up call she could deliver, so she slinked down under the sheets and stroked him a few times, enjoying the low rumbles from his chest as he started to wake up.
She wrapped her lips around him, and instantly his hands were tangled in her hair and he held on tight as she licked and caressed him in her mouth. He groaned loudly, and she thrilled at the sound, at knowing she could do this to him, elicit this sort of reaction.
“Good morning to me,” he murmured in a sleepy voice. His voice was rough, husky from the early hour, and the sound turned her on even more.
She let him fall from her lips momentarily. “It’s going to be a very good morning in a few minutes.”
“That’s all it’s gonna take?”
She arched an eyebrow. “You think I can’t make you come quickly?”
“The verdict is out,” he said with a lazy grin.
She narrowed her eyes. “For that attitude, Clay, you just bought yourself a wicked tease,” she said and returned to his delicious cock, flicking the tip of her tongue up and down his length. He groaned lightly as she licked him, but she stopped short of taking him into her mouth.
“I’m going to take my sweet time now,” she said with a purr.
“I can handle it,” he said.
“I don’t know if you can.” She swirled her tongue around the head, then rubbed him against her lips, watching him as she administered her best torture. His chest rose up and down, and his eyes darkened as he stared at her. “It’s getting harder, isn’t it?”
“It sure is.”
“You still want this? I’m not entirely convinced,” she said, then blew a stream of air across his cock. He twitched against her lips and she quickly kissed the tip, then released him.
He cursed under his breath.
“I didn’t hear you. Are you sure you want me to do this?”
“I want you,” he muttered, and she grinned, knowing how hard it was for him to have the tables turned.
Still, she wasn’t ready to give in. She needed him to want her desperately, to need her terribly. “I think I might require you to ask real nice,” she said, as she cupped his balls, lightly rolling them in her hand, then darting down to give a quick lick and kiss of that most sensitive set of parts. She gripped his shaft hard in her hand as she tasted him, and those twin actions set off a long, long moan from Clay.
“Please,” he whispered, so low it was barely audible.
“I’m not sure I can hear you,” she said, but started giving him his reward, taking him all the way in her mouth, surrounding his hot, hard length with her lips.
He panted hard, and nearly growled at the relief. But she stopped once again, peeking up at him, enjoying the view of his big, strong body stretched out on the sheets. “Do you want it? Ask nicely and I’ll give it to you.”
He shut his eyes briefly, then opened them, holding her gaze. The look was both desperate and hungry. “Please suck me, Julia,” he said, in a hoarse voice.
“Gladly,” she said, and then gave him the full treatment. First hard, then slow, alternating between teasing him and taking him in.
“Maybe not too long now after all,” he said as he gripped her head, sliding his fingers through her hair, tugging as she feasted on him. They kept at it like for a bit, him rocking into her mouth, her savoring him all over. He was quieter than usual though; he wasn’t reeling off directions and telling her what to do. Maybe it was because she’d taken the reins. But then his dirty mouth woke up, as he whispered harshly, “Use your teeth.”
She slowed for a moment, dragging her teeth lightly against his shaft. “Like that?” she asked, glancing up at him.
The look on his face said it all, as his features contorted with pleasure. “Yes. Like that,” he rasped out.
“Damn, you like it rough, don’t you?” she said, and returned to his cock, touching him exactly how he wanted, scraping gently with her teeth as she moved her lips up and down.
“I like it rough, but I also like pretty much anything you to do my cock,” he said, and she took him in further. “Like that,” he hissed out. Then deeper, drawing out a louder groan. “And that’s fucking good too.”
She swirled her tongue around the head, as she gripped the base hard in a fist. He hitched in a breath. “That’s perfect. Take me all the way in and use those gorgeous teeth, Julia.”
Ah, there he was in full force. Her dirty-talking, direction-giving man. She smiled privately, loving the way he used all his talents in the bedroom, his body, his tongue, his cock, and most of all his words. She drew him in, nibbling and sucking and rolling his balls in her hands as he started to fuck her mouth harder, to drive deeper into her.
“You tell me now if I’m fucking you too hard, okay?” he said firmly, but they both knew she wasn’t backing down. They both knew she liked it the same way he did. They were perfectly paired in the bedroom; he gave as good as he got, and she did too. They were two tigers, tussling and tangling, and taking each other, talking dirty, playing rough.
“I’m good,” she said, even with her mouth full. She dragged her nails along the inside of his strong, muscular thighs, making him shiver, then grazed him right between his legs where his thighs met his cheeks, sending his hips shooting off the bed and deeper into her mouth.
“I love it when you use your hands like that. All over me. I want you all over me, your hands, your tongue. And your lips are so fucking beautiful wrapped around my dick,” he said, his narration punctuated by grunts of pleasure. “Fuck, Julia, you’re going to make me come so hard in your mouth right now,” he said, and she gripped the base with her palm, feeling him twitch hard against her as she sucked him off, his salty, musky taste sliding down her throat as his words started to falter, and sentences broke into bits and pieces of truncated words. Feels so fucking good, so good in your mouth, and then her name, over and over, like a chant. Yes, that was her favorite dirty word that fell from his mouth as he groaned out Julia with unbidden pleasure, and she couldn’t help but be satisfied too to have gotten him off so thoroughly, so completely. Because he looked like a most contented man, a happy grin across his gorgeous face.
“Don’t ever doubt me,” she said playfully.
“Never.” He pulled her up, drawing her next to him, and moved in to plant a kiss on her lips.
She shook her head.
“What? I can’t kiss you after I come in your mouth? It doesn’t bother me.”
“No, that’s not it. I just have to confess I hate morning breath, but I really want to kiss you, so how about we brush our teeth and then make out?”
He chuckled deeply, and smacked her ass with a strong hand. “Did I tell you yet how perfect you are? I don’t like morning breath either, but then I’m not such an ass that I wouldn’t kiss you if you had it.” He tapped her nose with his finger. “But you don’t.”
“Thanks, but there’s a toothbrush calling my name anyway.”
After they returned to bed with minty fresh breath, he ran a hand along her hip. “So what else besides morning breath? What are your other pet peeves?”
“You really want to know?”
“I really want to know. So I can avoid them,” he said, holding her gaze with his own, his dark brown eyes so earnest and true. As if it were deeply important for him to know what irked her, so as not to do it.
“Washcloths,” she said, and held out her hands as if it say what gives. “I don’t get it. I don’t understand washcloths. Why use a washcloth to wash your face when you have hands? Put the soap on your hands and wash. Or worse, leave a wet washcloth hanging up in the shower because then it just becomes a damp, used, smelly washcloth.”
He nodded several times as if taking detailed notes in his head. “You might have noticed I don’t own washcloths. I don’t need an intermediary between soap and my body.”
She laughed. “Exactly. You’re already ahead of the game. Here’s another pet peeve. I don’t like seeing a man walking around only in his socks.”
He mimed making a check mark. “Note to self: Remove socks first before taking off pants to fuck Julia.”
“I don’t like dirty sinks either. I see no reason for bathroom sinks to be anything but pristine.”
“Did you noticed how immaculate my bathroom is?”
“I did,” she said with a wink. “Don’t you just know the way to a woman’s heart?”
“Evidently.”
“I assume you were down on your hands and knees scrubbing every surface before I arrived?”
“Something like that. Or maybe I had it cleaned knowing I was having company I wanted to impress.”
She ran her hand along his strong arm over his tattoo. “You’re getting the hang of it. You know what to do to stay on my good side.”
“Am I on your good side?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow.
She traced a line down his chest. “You are all good side, Mister. Nothing more.”
“Good. I find this side so much more enjoyable. How did you sleep?”
“Very well, thank you. You wore me out last night.”
“I like wearing you out, Julia,” he said, then brushed his lips against her forehead. “And I like having you in my bed.”
“Your bed is pretty damn nice.”
“You make it look good. It felt good having you fall asleep in my arms,” he said, then ran his fingers through her hair. He lowered his voice again, speaking softly, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in my bed more often.”
There was something different about him in moments like this. A tenderness shined through his hard exterior, a sweetness even. And it scared the hell out of her. Because it was easy to view him as a weekend fling. So incredibly easy. But when he was like this, she could feel the weight of one word pressing hard on her. More.
Like a temptress with a come hither wave, inviting her in for more. More him, more moments, more getting to know each other. She wanted terribly to snuggle in close with him, lift her eyes to meet his, and say I want to be in your bed more often, and I want to be in your life too.
But she didn’t have the luxury of more. So she made light of his comment, bringing it down to the sex level. “Oh, you just want to set some sort of record this weekend, don’t you?”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, and this time his voice was clear, and firm. He pulled her on top of him, thread his hands slowly through her hair, keeping his eyes locked on her the whole time. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” she whispered, the words catching in her throat. She pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t say too much, wouldn’t admit how much she was starting to want from him.
“Kiss me,” he said, giving her a command. She obeyed, exploring his lips with her tongue, then crushing her mouth to his, trying to get closer, as close as she could be.
He let go of her hair, his hands drifting down to her backside. He reached for a condom and rolled it on. Then he cupped her cheeks, lifted her up, giving her full access to his erection, and she sank onto him. She inhaled sharply as he filled her, stopping momentarily to savor the sensations. He moved inside her, and it wasn’t rough as she rode him. It was luxurious, and deliciously slow, and it felt disturbingly like making love, especially given the way he kissed her tenderly the whole time.
Chapter Seven
The thieves rode away in a convertible, the sunset streaking behind them, the jewels turned into money and the money tucked safely away in a bank account. The closing credits rolled, and Julia leaned closer to whisper in his ear, her soft hair brushing his neck. “We need to stay for the credits.”
His heart thumped a beat harder, and he couldn’t deny that he was happy she’d insisted on proper movie etiquette herself. He didn’t have to tell her he wanted to stay. She got it on her own.
“I always watch the credits even when I don’t have a client involved,” he said, staying put in the red upholstered chair because he didn’t want to miss seeing the name of the executive producer scroll up the big screen. He’d wait all the way through to the final shot because that’s what you did when you were in the biz. What happens before the credits brings butts to the seats, but what rolls on by after “The End” is why there’s a movie in the first place. “But I do have a client in this film.”
“Which one is yours?” she whispered as other patrons stood, and picked up emptied popcorn tubs and cartons of Junior Mints.
He pointed to the first credit. “That’s my guy.”
“And you took good care of him, I trust?”
He nodded. “Got him some very nice points on the back end.”
She ran a finger down his arm, giving him an approving nod. “Impressive.”
“I do what I can.”
The names of the cast and crew, the key grip and the costumer streaked across the screen, and they watched them all. Soon, the movie reached its final frame, and silence filled the theater.
“What did you think of the movie? And don’t tell me you liked it because I had a client work on it.”
She rolled her eyes. “I have no need to suck up to you, Clay. You’re already putting out for me. But I loved it. Especially because you’re totally convinced at one point that they’re there’s no way they can walk out of the vault with all those jewels, but then it turns out there was a hidden wall,” she said, her expression animated as she recounted the film.
He nodded enthusiastically. “That’s exactly what I love about a good heist flick. The way the story makes you think one thing, and then all of a sudden,” he said, twisting his hand to the side to demonstrate a U-turn, “You’ve gone the other direction.”
“That’s what a good story does, right? Surprises you. Challenges you.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the sweeping of a broom. Clay glanced behind him. An usher was sweeping the floor of the theater. The usher dumped the contents of the dustpan into a trashcan and then left.
“I guess that’s our cue to go.” He stood up, holding Julia’s hand and they exited their row. “All alone in the movie theater,” he mused as they made their way up the aisle. “The things we could do.”
“You never stop, do you?”
“Thinking of ways to seduce you?”
She nodded, tucking a strand of her sexy red hair behind her ear.
“Never.”
“Your efforts are very much appreciated, but you do know you have this one in the bag?”
He reached his hand around her waist, tugging her in close as they left the theater, the bright lights of the lobby making him blink. “You are not the type of woman I would ever take for granted,” he said, whispering low in her ear, because the words were just for her. She shivered lightly against him, and he wrapped his arm tighter around her.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why am I the type of woman you wouldn’t take for granted?”
He held open the door to the cinema, letting her walk onto the New York Street first, admiring the view of her legs. It was a Saturday afternoon, but she was wearing black stockings and her trenchcoat. Heels too. A young man in a slouchy sweatshirt stared at Julia as he walked by, nearly tripping over his Converse sneakers as he craned his neck to gawk. Clay wasn’t bothered. In fact, he was a proud mother fucker to know the woman other men stared at was with him. “Because you wear stockings on a Saturday to the movies. Because you do it not just to turn me on but because you are intrinsically sexy. Because you have this gorgeous internal confidence that has nothing to do with what men think of you. Because you stayed in the theater to watch the credits. Because you get why crime flicks are a damn good way to pass two hours. Because as much as I want to spend the entire weekend in bed, I also want to get to know you. Because I like talking to you as much as I like touching you. Is that enough?”
She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, wrapped her arms around his neck, nodded her answer and planted a hard kiss on his lips. She tasted like kettle corn from the movies. “Mmm,” he growled, as a gray-haired couple sidestepped them. They were in New York City, kissing on the street, doing exactly what new lovers should do in a weekend together.
“Yes, that’s enough.” She grabbed his hand and laced her slender fingers through his. “And I think you are a fabulous way to pass the time,” she said, and he suspected that was as much as she’d admit when it came to that most dangerous territory of feelings. But he’d take it, he’d happily take it.
They resumed walking, a crisp April breeze blowing past them that smelled remarkably like rain as they neared Christopher Street. The breeze billowed her coat momentarily, providing him with a full-on view of her long legs, and just the slightest peak of her panties as her skirt danced upwards too. “Because of that too,” he added.
“I arranged for that gust of wind. I ordered it to arrive at this instant.”
He laughed, then gestured to a sushi restaurant at the corner. “You hungry?”
She looked at her watch. “It’s four in the afternoon.”
“I know. But we skipped lunch when I needed to eat you instead, and I figured once we return to my place you’re definitely going to be tied up.”
“See, here’s the thing,” she said, holding up her hands, as if offering them for shackling. “You’ve been promising me these ropes, Clay, and my wrists are still achingly empty.”
He swatted her ass. “Get some food in you, woman, before I tie you up and tie you down.”
* * *
Clay had been to this restaurant a few times, including once with his ex, Sabrina. She’d asked the sushi chef if she could lick the yellowtail. She wasn’t drunk. Sabrina had never been a drinker. She’d been too in love with other substances instead, with little pills prescribed by doctors. “Little darlings for my headaches,” she’d say when a migraine swooped down on her. But then the migraines, if she truly had them, became so crushing that she needed more and more and more.
She needed them all the time. Up her nose. Every few hours.
But the worst part? The way she lied. The times she denied. How she hid what she was up to.
That was the problem. That’s also why Clay didn’t want any drama with Julia. He knew there were no guarantees in relationships, and certainly people had a way of making promises and breaking promises. Still, he was keen on this woman, he wanted to spend more time with her, and he wanted to be upfront about the past so they could have more of the present.
After they finished eating and left the restaurant, he cleared his throat. “So what’s your story, Julia? Got any any deep dark secrets I should know about?”
She started coughing, sputtering at the abruptness of his question.
“You okay?”
She nodded, but kept hacking as they passed an art gallery. “Just a tickle in my throat,” she choked out.
“Let me go back and get you some water.”
She held up her hand to say no, coughed once more. “I’m fine. But what kind of question is that?”
“An honest question. I’m just trying to get to know you,” he said, his tone straightforward.
Then the sky broke. Out of nowhere it seemed, the clouds heaved up heavy droplets of water, pelting them from above.
“Holy shit, that’s some rain,” Julia said, and grabbed at the collar of her coat, as if that would protect her from the water. A few feet away, a man hailed a cab, racing to get inside the vehicle. A family down the block ducked into a coffee shop, and a car squealed to a stop at the light.
“I’m not that far from here. Only three blocks. But do you want to go to the coffee shop?”
“No. I want to go to your place.”
They picked up the pace, Julia’s heels clicking loudly against the wet sidewalk. “You okay in those shoes?”
“Totally fine,” she said.
“There’s a little souvenir shop on the corner. Let me get an umbrella for you.”
She grabbed his arm, wrapped her hand around it and pushed him against the brick wall of a shoe store. “Don’t even think for a second that I can’t handle a few drops of rain, Mister. I’m not some fragile flower.”
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Never said you were.”
“I like the rain. And I’ve always wanted to kiss in the rain,” she said, gripping his shirt collar, and running her fingers along it. “Now give me one of those fabulous New York kisses in the rain that make all the girls swoon.”
“Gladly,” he said and cupped her cheeks in his hands, held her gaze, then moved in for a kiss, sweeping his lips softly against her, slowly kissing her in the rain, drawing out decadent little sighs and murmurs from her mouth. The sky unleashed a firehose of water, and the rain become a goddamn downpour. Julia quickly broke the kiss, and pointed to her hair, now plastered against her head. “Okay, time to run because that was romantic for about ten seconds and now I’m just a drowned rat.”
He laughed. “Somehow, you’re still unbelievably sexy though,” he said as he grabbed her hand.
They walked quickly, doing their best to dart and dodge passersby and sprayed-up puddles from cars. He kept his arm around her the whole way, and after another block, they were both soaked, but she couldn’t deny that she liked being wet with him, even this kind of wet.
“My coat is useless,” Julia shouted against the pounding rain. The afternoon sky was slate gray and slamming buckets down upon them. His jeans stuck to his legs, and her stockings were waterlogged. Soon enough they reached his building and ran inside. He took a deep breath once the world turned dry again thanks to four walls and a roof.
“That’s a hell of an angry sky,” he said as they stepped inside the elevator.
“And there’s nothing romantic about getting caught in the rain.”
He laughed. “Turns out that’s all just a lie of the movies.” He looked her up and down, her hair clinging messily to her her neck, and her cheeks. Her mascara had started to run and a drop of water slipped down her face. “I know what we need.”
