Authors: Debbi Rawlins
After another sip of wine, she took a deep breath and dialed his number. She knew it by heart after a glance. It was an easy one to remember.
She let the phone ring three times and was about to hang up when he answered. His voice sounded hoarse, husky, as if he’d been sleeping, but it was only eight-thirty.
“Hey, Eric.”
“Dallas?”
“Yeah, did I wake you?”
“No, of course not. I’m glad you called.”
“Yeah?” She smiled, her misgivings dissolving.
“I wish you hadn’t disappeared last night.”
“I didn’t exactly disappear. I just didn’t want to wake you. Besides, I left a note.”
“You should’ve woken me.”
She smiled at the drop in his voice. “Why?”
“I had something for you.”
An image of him standing naked in front of her last night instantly flashed in her mind. “I can’t imagine what that could have been.”
“Come over now and I’ll show you.”
Laughing, she put her glass on the nightstand and then slid into a horizontal position. “I bet.”
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“What are you wearing?”
“A big, bulky white chenille robe and pink curlers in my hair.”
“Ah, my older-woman fantasy come to life.”
Dallas smiled and rolled over to her side. “I just got home from my meeting.”
“How did it go?”
“Pretty horrible.”
“Sorry to hear that. Want to tell me about it?”
She bit her lip, annoyed that she’d allowed the conversation to go in that direction. “No, I want to talk about something more pleasant.”
“Okay,” he said slowly, “let’s get back to what you’re really wearing.”
“You mean besides the G-string?”
After a long moment of silence he said, “You’re kidding, right?”
“It’s black. Not that you can see much of it.”
After another pause he asked, “What did you say your address was?”
She laughed. “Nice try.”
“Yeah,” he said, sounding a little put off. “Or you could come here.”
“It’s late.”
“It’s only eight-forty.”
“I have to get up early.”
“So do I.”
“We wouldn’t get any sleep.”
He laughed. “Like I’m going to get any now.”
“Good point.”
“Tell you what, where are you?”
“At home, really.”
“No, I mean right now.”
“In my room, lying on my bed.”
“Perfect.”
She sucked in a breath, suddenly aware of where this was going. “Why?”
“Take off your clothes.”
Heat spiraled through her. “And?”
“Take them off and then I’ll give you further instructions.”
She hesitated, momentarily self-conscious, but excitement at the prospect of what could come moved her to do as he asked, and she unbuttoned her jeans.
“Dallas?”
“Yes?”
“Tell me what you’re doing.”
“Taking my clothes off as you asked.”
“Be specific.”
She laughed, a little self-conscious again.
“Tell me,” he urged, his voice growing hoarse.
“My jeans,” she whispered, her hands starting to tremble. “I’m pulling down the zipper.”
“Go on.”
“I’m pushing the jeans down past my hips.” She cra
dled the phone between her chin and shoulder as she struggled to free herself of the stubborn denim.
“Are they off yet?”
“Almost.” The phone slipped as she shoved the jeans to her ankles. She kicked them off and repositioned the receiver. “Okay.”
“Are you wearing panties?”
“Of course.” She laughed. It came out shaky.
“Describe them.”
“They’re black.”
“Silk?”
“Yes,” she lied. Plain cotton wasn’t sexy and she was really getting into the game.
“A thong?”
“Yes.”
He moaned, the sound low and raspy and shooting straight down her spine. “Take them off.”
“They’re already off.”
He breathed deeply into the phone. “Now your blouse.”
“I’ll have to put the phone down.”
“Leave it where I can hear you.”
She sat up and took a quick sip of wine. “You, too. Take off your clothes.”
His laugh was more a low, sexy growl. “Baby, I’m way ahead of you.”
“You’re naked?”
“Almost. Down to boxers.”
She smiled as she unbuttoned her blouse. “What color?”
“Don’t ruin the mood.”
“Come on. Play fair.”
He hesitated. “Black with red chili peppers.”
She laughed. “Really?”
“They were a gag gift from a friend.”
“Wear them often?”
“Only when I haven’t done laundry for two weeks.” He sighed. “Can we get back to something more interesting?”
“Such as?”
“Your bra. Take it off.”
“You’ve assumed I’m wearing one.”
Silence, and then he said, “You’re not?”
She smiled, picturing the way his eyes darkened and his nostrils flared slightly when he was aroused but trying to hold back. Funny how he seemed so clear in her mind, as if they’d shared more than one night together. “It’s black, silk and lace, and I’m about to unclasp it.”
“Do it.”
“Done.” She slipped one strap off her shoulder and then the other, and the bra fell away.
“You’re naked?”
“Oh, yeah.” She lay back down and stretched out, resting her palm on her tummy. “You?”
“Uh-huh,” Eric murmured. “God, I close my eyes and I can see you. Your nipples. They’re pink. Not rose or flesh-colored but really pink.”
Suddenly so were her cheeks. She was glad he couldn’t see them. Curious, she glanced down at herself. Her nipples were rather pink.
“See what I mean?” he asked as if he could see
through the phone. “They’re so soft, too. Like satin. Touch them.”
Dallas sucked in a breath.
“Come on. Touch them and tell me what you feel.”
She moistened her lips. Slowly drew the tips of two fingers around the areola and then pinched the hardened nipple between her thumb and forefinger, closing her eyes, imagining Eric’s hand on her body. She bit her lower lip.
“Dallas?” Throaty and hoarse, his voice came across the phone line in a whisper. “Tell me.”
She couldn’t speak at first. The intimacy of what they were doing amazed her. How could she feel so safe with Eric? The idea was absurd, but there it was. “What I’m feeling has nothing to do with my fingertips.”
He started to laugh, too, and then gasped and moaned in her ear. A sensual moan that told her he was also pleasing himself.
The idea excited her further and she slipped her other hand between her thighs. “Tell me what you’re doing.” She closed her eyes, picturing him in her mind’s eye.
“Stroking my cock,” he said without hesitation. “Pretending it’s you lying here touching me.”
She shuddered. If he was trying to tempt her into going over to his place, he was doing a damn good job. “Are you hard yet?”
“Oh, baby.” His laugh came out shaky, almost a pant. “Where are your hands?”
“I’m touching my nipples.”
“That’s not your hands. That’s my mouth on you.
Suckling you, licking you.” He moaned softly. “I can taste you.”
Her eyes still closed, she bit her lip, squeezed her thighs together.
“Your other hand,” he whispered, his voice growing more ragged. “Slide your palm down your belly and spread your legs.”
She swallowed, took an uneven breath. Did as he ordered. Her fingers grazed the slick wet folds and a moan escaped her.
“That’s it. Push a finger inside. Deep.”
She tensed around herself and whimpered.
“Now two fingers.”
With a trembling hand she inserted another finger.
“Baby, I’m with you. My cock is in your warm mouth.” He groaned. “Damn it, I can’t hold out much longer.”
Dallas heard the front door open. It was Wendy. “I have to go.”
“No. Don’t.” He groaned louder this time. “Touch your clit. Do you feel my tongue?” And louder still. “Ah, Dallas, I can’t wait any longer. Baby, come with me.”
She closed her eyes, shut out the kitchen noises Wendy was making and imagined Eric bent over her, his face between her legs. The spasms came instantly. She tried to muffle her moans. Heard Eric’s anguished release. Heard him whisper her name. She curled onto her side and buried her face into the pillow.
E
RIC WAITED AT THE DESIGNATED
rendezvous point, a feeling of dread knotting the muscles in his neck and shoulders. It wasn’t as if he didn’t expect her to show up. She’d promised to go to the reception with him and she’d be here. Dallas wasn’t the type to stand him up. He didn’t know how he knew that exactly. He just did.
Hell, he didn’t know her at all. Only what he’d fantasized about her late at night when he tried like hell to get some sleep or while he sat in his office staring out the window when he should have been working on a new ad campaign for Whompie’s Burgers.
He’d made it in time in spite of the fact that traffic had been a bitch. A light drizzle had people lined up along both Columbus Avenue and Seventy-second, trying to hail cabs that were all full and passing them by without slowing down. He hoped Dallas wasn’t caught up in the mess or that she’d decided it wasn’t worth coming out. Nah, he reminded himself, she wouldn’t chump him.
He checked his cell phone in case he’d missed a call but there was no message. Then he checked his watch. Not that he gave a damn about the reception. He just
wanted to see her. Touch her hair, her soft skin. For real. Last night had been torture. He’d wanted her so badly, he could taste her. Smell her sweet feminine scent. He closed his eyes. He could taste her now.
That and the thought of their phone play last night made him shift from foot to foot, willing his arousal to subside. He didn’t dare look down. No sense calling attention to the bulge growing behind his fly. He adjusted his suit jacket to hide his juvenile reaction and then squinted to see who was getting out of a yellow cab stopped at the corner.
Dallas jumped out and darted for cover under the eaves of a diner. He cringed at the black stiletto heels she wore and prayed she didn’t break anything in her haste. She made it in one piece, her long, slender legs eating up the wet pavement in four long strides.
Amazing that she could look so graceful dashing through the rain like that, her hair all twisted up with fly-away tendrils that brushed her pink cheeks. In fact, she looked stunning. The whole scene was so perfect, it looked staged. As if it had been set up to shoot a commercial.
It wasn’t his imagination. He wasn’t the only one staring. Three businessmen who’d just left the diner stood gawking at her. Even a young woman with green spiked hair waiting at the bus stop gave her a second look. The slinky black dress alone was enough to turn heads.
He raised a hand to get her attention. She waved back and then darted across the street between cars. Astonishingly no one honked.
“Hey,” she said, smiling, a little breathless—a little
shy, if he wasn’t mistaken. Probably because of their phone sex last night. Hell, thinking about it still shook him up. He’d never done anything like that before. But with her it had felt natural, comfortable, incredibly erotic.
God, he couldn’t go there right now and risk another hard-on. He took her hand, drew her under cover and briefly kissed her. Difficult as it was to pull away, he reared back and smiled. “Sorry about the rain.”
Her eyebrows went up. “You can control the weather? Who knew?”
Pleased that she hadn’t shied away, he drew her close again and whispered, “You’d be surprised at what I can do given the right incentive.”
She lifted her chin, excitement sparkling in her eyes. “Maybe we ought to skip the reception.”
“I have no problem with that.” Actually his boss would kill him. This client was too important.
She lightly punched his arm. “I didn’t get all dressed up for nothing.”
He snorted. “Hey, I think I’m offended.”
“I’m sure you’ll get over it.” She smiled. “Tell me again what this reception is for.”
“A client just bought a small strip mall and this is his way of announcing the deal.”
She reared her head back. “In Manhattan?”
“No.” He had to laugh. “Suburban New Jersey. Some small town. I can’t even remember the name of it.” At her look of surprise he added, “I’m not working up any
ads for the project. Not yet, anyway. The guy likes to party. Any excuse will do.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “His name?”
“Lawrence Horn.”
She repeated it and nodded again. “Any other names I should know?”
“Uh, no.” The serious look on her face fascinated him—as if she were about to enter a boardroom instead of attend a meaningless party. Of course, this wasn’t exactly meaningless for him, and that she obviously was preparing herself on his behalf sent a strange tingle down his spine.
The drizzle turned to a sudden downpour, startling them. He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
“No, keep it. You’ll get soaked.”
He stopped her from returning the jacket. “Better me than you.”
“This dress will dry in a flash. See?” She pinched the fabric at her neckline between her thumb and finger. “It’s that kind of material.”
He stared at the creamy skin briefly exposed by her tugging. The dress was clingy enough. Wet, it would be like a second skin. Shouldn’t think about that. Couldn’t. Not now. “We don’t have far to go. Just two doors down. Come on.”
She moved her arm away when he tried to take it, her lips curving in a seductive smile. “We could wait a few moments. See if the rain lets up.”
“Yeah, okay, sure,” he said as she crowded him, forc
ing him back so that he ended up with his back against the brick retaining wall that hid the alley.
She grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled his head down so that their lips met. But only briefly, and then she looked up at him and smiled. “Think they’ll miss you if we’re a little late?”
His cock had already started to respond enthusiastically, and he didn’t give a damn if they showed up at all. The client would survive. Eric might not. He took a deep breath. “What did you have in mind?”
“A little of this…” She brushed her lips across his. “A little of that,” she whispered breathily near his ear as she moved her hips against his.
Between the heavy rain and small alcove they’d found, someone would have to try hard to see them. If anyone were that nosy, the hell with them. Maybe they’d get an education.
“Oh, my.” She brushed her hand down his fly. “What have we here?”
“You’re sadistic.” He barely got the words out through clenched teeth, afraid he was going to lose it right here in public.
She sighed. “Masochistic, actually.”
Buoyed with satisfaction from her admission, he lowered his head and gently bit her lower lip. She whimpered, and he sucked the slick flesh into his mouth. She had something that tasted like strawberries on her lip, but it might as well have been a debilitating drug. His head got light and then heavy, and common sense seemed to evaporate like the wintry
morning mist hovering over Long Island Sound under the hot sun.
She moaned and pressed closer. He ran his palms down her back and then cupped her round bottom. She plunged her tongue into his mouth, and his fingers dug into her buttocks as he pulled her hard against his erection.
“Eric.” With a shaky laugh she straightened and took a step back. “This is crazy. This is—” Her gaze slid past him. “Look, it stopped raining.”
He looked over his shoulder. Mostly it had. Doubtful it would get much better than the persistent light drizzle that continued to mess up traffic.
“Guess we should make a run for it,” he said, annoyed that he once again had to cool off a horrendous hard-on.
“I guess so.”
“Ready?”
She touched the corner of her mouth. “Do I have lipstick all over my face?”
He licked the spot. “Not anymore.”
“Oh, God, don’t start.”
He breathed deeply. “Yeah, I know.”
“We’re headed that way, right?” she said, pointing toward Amsterdam Avenue.
“Yep. The red door.”
“Here’s your jacket.”
“Keep it until we get inside.”
“Okay, and then I’m going straight to the ladies’ room.” She smoothed her dress over her hips, and he had to look away. “I’ll find you after that.”
“I’ll be waiting right outside. Ready?”
“Let’s go.”
He took her arm and steered her around a crack in the sidewalk. Selfishly he liked that she wore the sexy shoes, but he didn’t want to see her break any limbs. Even a small nick marring those incredible legs would be a crime.
They got to the door, which was promptly opened by a doorman standing discreetly off to the side. With a sweep of his hand he directed them toward the right, and they followed the strip of red carpet that obviously had been laid for the occasion.
Good thing. Or Eric wouldn’t have known which way to go. The brownstone had once been a mansion belonging to one of New York’s rich and prominent families, but the building had been gutted and divided into several exclusive shops and a pricey art gallery.
“I haven’t seen a restroom, have you?” Dallas whispered.
“Nope, but we’ll find it.”
“This place is huge. You’d never know it from the outside.”
“There it is.” He heard classical music coming from the end of the hall and figured that’s where they were ultimately headed. “I’ll wait right outside.”
“I won’t be long. Unless damage assessment proves otherwise.”
He frowned, not getting it at first, and then he grinned and snatched her hand before she got away. “Come here.”
“Why?”
He pulled her close enough that she had to tilt her
head back to look at him. “You still have some lipstick on that I haven’t licked off.”
She laughed and started to pull away, but he captured her mouth with his and, taking advantage of her soft gasp, slid his tongue between her lips. Without hesitation she looped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him.
Ridiculous how quickly and how hard he got. A smart man would back off. He pushed his tongue deeper into her mouth, exploring the soft, wet flesh, her perfect teeth. He drew his palms down each side of her body, outlining her seductive curves.
Voices coming from the hall behind them brought him to his senses. He broke the kiss, his breathing already out of control. “Go,” he said. “I’ll be here.”
She nodded, her lower lip quivering slightly, and then she disappeared inside. The voices got closer and he realized he needed a quick adjustment himself so he ducked into the men’s room.
What the hell had happened to his focus? What the hell had happened to him? This was absurd. Acting like a kid at a client’s function. He knew better. He should never have brought her here.
After finishing his business, he left the restroom to find her already waiting outside. Her frown immediately turned into a smile when she saw him, and all his misgivings vanished just like that.
“I thought maybe you’d decided to go on inside,” she said, her lips tinted peach again, some of the stray tendrils of hair tucked back into place.
He liked the wild look better. Reminded him of the way her hair had fanned out against his sheets. There he went again…shit! “Let’s go mingle.”
She unnecessarily clutched the tiny black bag that hung from her shoulder, as if unsure what to do with her hands. Wisely he kept his to himself. Obviously he couldn’t be trusted to touch her. Once they joined the party it would be easier to get through the evening. Especially since he had no intention of staying long.
They entered the large reception area bordering the art gallery and a well-known jewelry store that sold unique baubles that Eric’s annual salary couldn’t cover. The room was attractive but staid, furnished with over-stuffed chairs and sofas, antique rugs on the floor and rich dark wood paneling on the walls.
In the corner was a humidor with a collection of expensive cigars and floor-to-ceiling racks of wine, probably French and cost prohibitive. At least for Eric. The place looked more like an old gentleman’s club from the seventies, when they could still exclude women without ending up in court.
Apparently the rain had either scared some of the guests off or else they were delayed. Less than twenty people stood talking and sipping from martini glasses or champagne flutes. Lawrence’s “little” bashes were known to include a hundred or more guests.
“Amazing, isn’t it? From the street you’d never know this place existed,” Dallas whispered.
“Not really my thing,” he whispered back. “But I had to make a showing. I promise we won’t stay long.”
“I’m not complaining. Really.” She looked at him in surprise. “I understand you have to be here. I’m glad you included me.”
Eric blinked. It just occurred to him that he’d done exactly what he never did. Never wanted to do. He’d brought a date to a business function. Of course, this was somewhat different from a company party, and Dallas…well, Dallas was certainly different from his other dates.
The thought stopped him. Where had it come from? Why was she different? How? He barely knew her. Yet he felt it deep down in his gut. She was different.
“Eric? What’s wrong?”
He stared into her concerned eyes. “Nothing. I was just— Who are you?”
Her face turned guarded. “What do you mean?”
“I know Tom set up Saturday night.” He looked closely for her reaction, but she kept her expression neutral. “We saw you in the window.”
“What window?”
He smiled. “Come on, Dallas, the joke is over.”
“Eric.”
At the sound of Lawrence Horn’s voice Eric reluctantly broke eye contact with Dallas, and turned to his client—his long-standing, major-revenue-producing client, to whom Eric would do well to be paying attention.
The guy had over a dozen thriving businesses in the New York and New Jersey area and had used Webber and Thornton for two decades, long before Eric had joined the company. It had been an honor for Eric to be entrusted with the account. He wasn’t about to blow it.
“Lawrence, good to see you.” Eric extended his hand. “Thanks for the invitation.”
Short, balding and with a penchant for bright colors, the man had to be older than Eric’s father, yet he sported a diamond stud in his left earlobe. “Thanks for the invitation,” he mimicked, laughing. “Can you believe this guy?” Lawrence looked over at Dallas. “Modesty doesn’t get you anywhere in this city. This man is a publicity genius. A little more arrogance is in order, don’t you think?”