01 Summoned-Summoned (2 page)

The exterior door behind me creaks open with a rush of warm air and the click of heels. I turn to see who has entered.

Why, hello there.

Straight, chin-length, bleach-blonde hair, dark eyes, and a body that is better acquainted with the gym than mine. I might be dining after all. Would be stupid of me to turn down the chance.

The problem with my job—besides making me an unwilling criminal—is the sporadic schedule. I have a lot of me-time, but when he calls, I have minutes to respond. That poses a problem when it comes to other aspects of my life, like women. 

The only reprieve is that tasks are never back-to-back. Since I just finished one, I should have a day or so before I have to be on guard again, and probably months before anything comes of it. I only need an hour with blonde and beautiful, who is currently glancing around the room like she is lost.

She obviously needs directions to my house. It's just right down the street.

I slam back my next round of drinks, confidence warming my insides, and slide off the stool.

As I approach, her eyes catch mine, and a hesitant smile twitches on her lips. 

She ducks her head a little. “My friend said to meet her here, but . . . well, you know how that goes.”

“Your friend has terrible taste.” I step back and gesture at an empty table. “Wanna have a drink while you wait?”

She glances up at me, her hand fingering the industrial piercing in her right ear. “Yeah, I can do that.” 

I pull out the chair because I'm a damn gentleman, and she places her purse to the ground and slides her cellphone onto the table as she sits. She's wearing tight blue jeans, a white top, and this little dark half-jacket thing. Her eyes are heavy with black makeup. She's pimped out like a rockstar. Haven't had the bad girl special in a while. The night is promising.

I force my attention back to the conversation. “What you like to drink?”

“Just a coke,” she says.

I halt. “What is this, an A.A. meeting?”

“Ha.” She quirks her lips. “I don't know if I'm the D.D. Not sure what my friend is up to.”

“There's this cool thing called cabs,” I say. “Someone picks you up and drives you home. You should check it out.”

She gives a tight smile, but her eyes are laughing. I'm golden. 

“You sure you just want a coke?”

“Yeah, positive.” She cracks a grin and shoos me away with one hand.

I stroll up to the bar and lean over it. “Hey, Maude?”

The gallivanting grandma turns around, face flashing with anger. “You better not been calling me that, boy.”

I shrug.

Her gaze darts to my lovely lady, then back at me. The frown lines pull down her mouth. I try to think of a joke about preferring eggs with breakfast, but I'm a bit tipsy. Didn't realize it until now that my brain won't jumpstart.

Whatever. 

“Regular coke and one with rum, please,” I say.

After she fills the glasses, she sets them in front of me and smirks. “At least you won't be the only virgin at that table now.”

She saunters away.

Hater.

I grin and carry the drinks back to my pending main course. Somehow, I manage not to slosh them. A killer's hand is a steady hand.

I laugh, even though it's really not funny, and place the glasses on the table.

Miss Rockstar looks up from her cellphone and then sets it down. “What you got?”

I slide into the seat opposite of her. “Rum and coke.”

“Where's the straws?” She peers down into her cup. “You sure you didn't accidentally switch the cups?”

“Is your sponsor here or something?”

She rolls her eyes and takes a careful sip. After a moment, she nods and drinks longer. Alright, so maybe she isn't a party-animal, but she looks like a bad ass and I bet she's awesome in bed.

“So, what's your name?” I sit straight in my chair, hoping I don't look too intoxicated.

Which I am, of course. Probably a good idea to lay off the alcohol for a bit.

“Syd.” Her phone buzzes, and she picks it back up.

Her nails are painted different colors and designs. A small black star is tattooed on the knuckle of her ring finger. Wonder if she would let me play scavenger hunt for the rest of the ink on her body. I promise to be thorough.

She frowns at her phone. 

“Stood up?” 

“Yeah. Hey, look, I'm gonna go pay for my drink and head out.” She reaches down for her purse as she stands.

I sit forward. “Why? Where you gonna go?”

She shrugs one shoulder, her gaze scanning the bar and her frown deepening. “A club, probably.”

“People still go to those?” I shake my head.

She lowers her gaze to me. “Well, people who can't stand all the excitement here, I guess.”

I laugh. “Okay, fair enough. Finish your coke first?”

She glances at her drink, then settles into her chair again.

“I'm Dimitri.” I lean back and continue to ignore my drink. “And, for the record, I rarely come here. Just glad someone else who doesn't have great-grandchildren found their way to this crap hole.”

Her expression and shoulders relax. She takes a drink. “Dimitri. That's Russian, right?”

“Nah, Greek. I think.”

“You're Greek?”

“Not that I'm aware of.” I give in and chug my rum and coke.

“Ah, well, my family is Irish and some Arabic,” she says.

Comparing ancestry reports is not what I have in mind.

She continues. “So, what do you do for a living?”

“Private armed security,” I say. My usual answer. It's not entirely dishonest, and it also helps explain my arsenal if a woman happens to see it between the front door and bedroom. I try to guide the conversation back in the right direction. “You live in Phoenix or just passing through?”

“Live here,” she says. 

Damn. Tourists are easier to convince into a wild night.

She glances at her phone and frowns again. She isn't impressed with me whatsoever. I probably should just let her go, but I only have twenty-four hours to catch and release.

And now parts of me are riled up. I really would like to find the rest of her tattoos.

Might as well go all-in. 

“Yeah, I live here too,” I say, “and I think it's very important to know thy neighbor.”

She sizes me up. “Don't you mean, 'love thy neighbor'?”

I smile at her. “I'm willing if you are.”

Her eyes glint as she leans forward. “Oh, thank god. I thought we were going to talk about our family history all night or some shit.”

And just like that, it is time to go tattoo hunting.

***

I'm far too drunk to be behind the wheel, so we take Syd's white Chevy Impala. I give directions and admire what's going to be wrapped around me in a few minutes. The more I look, the more I like. I'm sure she's smart and has a great personality and all that, but I don't intend to ever know.

When we pull into my carport, I get out and come around to open the driver side. Syd chuckles as she pulls her purse out of the back seat and follows me to the front door. Come to find out, I can still manage the lock. I push the door open and stand aside. The lights are already on.

Syd steps inside, scoping out the place but pretending she isn't. The house looks far more inconspicuous on the outside.

“Not bad, right?” I shut the door behind us and head toward the kitchen, though I'm sure I'm staggering a little. “Want a drink?”

“No, thanks.” She drops her purse by the couch. “But that answer might change soon.”

I lean back. Her face is dancing with mischief. It's a good look for her. I grab a couple of water bottles from the fridge and nod for her to follow me down the hall.

When I halt in the doorway, she is right behind and nearly bumps into me. I place the bottles on the nightstand and unload my pockets before sitting on the edge of the bed.

I rub a hand over my face. “You sure you good with this?”

She tips back her head a little and runs a finger up and down her slender neck. I would like to pin her against the wall and start from her jaw and work down. But I'm opposed to mauling a woman until she has settled herself on my bed. Seems less pushy that way.

She straightens. “So, let's get the responsible out of the way. You clean?”

“What?” I tear my focus from her neck and meet her gaze. “Me? Yeah.”

“Me, too,” she says, though I could have guessed that since she started the conversation.

“What about the getting knocked up bit?”

“Got that covered,” she says.

I inhale a deep breath and survey her again. She's so tight and made up and fresh. I, on the other hand, just came in from a kidnapping. 

“Since we're taking the less passionate route, I'm going to go wash up. Been on the road all day.” I pat the mattress and stand. “Come relax.”

She smiles and crosses my path as I head into the bathroom. A quick splash-bath, some body spray, good to go. I leave my jacket and shirt on the vanity and step back into the bedroom. 

Syd is sitting on the mattress, feet planted on the floor, hands on her lap. She smiles up at me, and I'm pretty sure this isn't a typical night for her. I'll do my best to make it memorable. 

I lift her chin as I sit next to her and bring her mouth to mine. She tenses, and I keep the urge to strip her down in check. This needs to be on her terms, even if parts of me disagree. After a moment, she relaxes into the kiss. Her arm drapes over my shoulder, and she urges me forward as she lies back on the bed. 

My hand slides under her shirt and works its way up to massage her breast. She gives a soft moan, sparking all sorts of ill-mannered thoughts. 

I break from the kiss, my lips lingering near hers, and whisper, “I really want to fuck you.”

“You make my girly bits tingle.” She smiles up at me. “But you're pretty drunk. Sure I'm not taking advantage of you?”

“I wish you would,” I say. “That would require you to be on top, though.”

She grins and wedges her hand under my chest to nudge me back. I lift up, and her eyes and hands trail down my chest. She makes a small approving noise.

I reach for the bottom of her shirt and tug it up as she peels out of the jacket. The shirt comes off next. I unhook her bra, and she scrambles out of it then latches her lips back to mine. Her tongue slides into my mouth, warm and delicious. I catch the back of her head with one hand, pulling her closer until her breasts are tight against me. 

My other arm wraps around her waist as I guide her onto my lap facing me.  I work down her collarbone then go for the lovely, soft mounds. They perk right to attention. Parts of me are perked too, straining to find a nice warm place.

I trail my lips down her chest bone as she arches back. Her abdomen flutters a little, and her breath hitches. Something tells me there won't be a long wait for an invitation inside.

My arms tighten around her to brace her as I maul down her stomach. I give a small bite under her navel, right before the waist of her pants. Her hips rock toward me. I lower my mouth to her crotch and tease her with firm nibbling. Her body clenches, her pelvis tilting.

With a grin, I bring her back in for another long, deep kiss. As much as I would like to yank off her pants and see if she can remember my name, I kind of enjoy prolonging it. She's definitely a finer entree, and not just physically. She's somehow coy and bold at the same time. I never realized before how great of a combination that could be.

It's such a shame I'm going to have to throw her out later in a way that guarantees she will never bother to contact me again.

I lie back on the bed so she is straddling my waist. The position isn't by accident. She rubs her hips against me, and my mind fixates on one thought: how fast her jeans need to come off.

I'm already undoing the button and zipper. So much for prolonging. She raises to her feet, towering above me. As she works her pants down, a glimpse of a tattoo peeks from the top of her panties. The further she undresses, the more the ink is revealed until she steps out of her jeans and tosses them to the floor.

Two enormous roses spread across her toned right thigh. Leaves poke just over her hip bone. The entire image is a stunning display. She begins to lower back down to me, but I motion for her to stay in place for a moment longer.

She smiles, but looks away. I might be too drunk and tired to keep her up the rest of the night, but I'll give it a go.

I reach up and grab her hand, tugging her back down. Her hair falls forward as she plants her hands on either side of me. In one motion, I hook my arm around her waist and flip her to her back, reversing roles.

She squeaks in surprise, but I cut off any words with my tongue in her mouth. I deepen the kiss as I wedge between her legs and push against her. I'm so damn hard. She rocks her hips, and it's on. I pull back, yank off her panties and toss them aside, then spread her thighs and French kiss between them. She sounds surprised, then her fists clutch the blankets. I move in deeper.

“Oh, God,” she gasps. “Oh, my god, Dimitri.”

Look at that. She does remember my name.

My tongue prods so many delicious places, some with better responses than others, my hands pinning her thighs wide apart against the bed. Intoxication swirls my brain, but I can't tell if it's the alcohol or the fact this gorgeous woman is nearing the point of breaking already.

When I pull away, her thighs come together, and she squirms as I strip the rest of the way down. She lifts her head with a gasp, then her eyes focus somewhere that is not my face.

She lays her head back against the mattress with a soft moan. I crawl over her, hook one of her legs on my hip, and slide in. Her breathing quickens. All sorts of wonderful contractions spread through her and transfer to me.

My fingers go to the areas my tongue mapped out and caresses the soft folds. She moans and squirms a little. I thrust into her harder even though I can't take much more of it. The intoxication in all its forms is getting the best of me. I spread her apart and make circular motions, growing faster as her gasps become more desperate. 

I consider pulling away, just to watch her reaction, but the game is about over. Instead, I give her what she's wanting, and she gives me a spectacular show of arched back and beautiful spasms in return.