Authors: Liz Crowe
Closing Costs (23 page)
“Jesus!” He grunted and felt his whole body tingle as the orgasm gripped him.
“Yes!” The girl cried out as Rob pounded into her up against the wall, his body pinning hers, forcing both of her legs higher around his waist. She gripped his shoulders, crying his name, and gripped him tight as he the blessed release of orgasm blinded him for a few seconds.
“Make it quick partner.” Jack yelled over the girl’s loud orgasmic squeals of ecstasy. Rob kissed her again, lifted her up and off him, then wandered into the bathroom to gather up the rest of his shit for their trip north. After a few minutes of wet kissing noises he caught a distinctly feminine sound of displeasure as he wandered out with his duffle bag slung over one shoulder.
“Later, babe,” He patted her ass as she re adjusted her skirt. “We’ll call ya.”
The girl stuck her tongue out at him, making him smile. She knew the code.
“We’ll call ya”
from the Rob-and-Jack tag team meant
“have a great life and thanks for your time.”
Jack chuckled and pulled on a pair of jeans draped over a nearby chair, gave the girl a whole-hearted kiss of good bye. “Dude,” He grabbed water bottles and fruit as they watched the girl wander out onto the street to her car. “You are gonna kill me.”
Rob smirked. “But you’ll die happy, won’t you, asshole?”
Jack roared with laughter and tossed the keys to his truck to Rob who caught them mid air. “Yeah. You speak the truth my friend.”
“Now, can we please go now that you’ve gotten off?”
“Me?” Jack feigned a shocked look. But Rob flipped him off as they pounded down the narrow, smelly stairway to the garage beneath the building. By the time they pulled out onto the street and parked behind a beat up van, the sun was high in the sky. “God dammit,” Rob grumbled as he shoved his sunglasses up his nose. “I’m gonna miss a whole day of powder you dick.”
Jack downed an entire bottle of water before answering. “Hey,” he pointed towards the group gathered by the van. “Who the hell is that?” Rob glared at him a minute before peering out into the blinding sun-shot snow.
“Whatever," Jack leaned back in the passenger seat as Rob took in the familiar forms of their usual crew - four fraternity brothers, the female cousin of one of them, a friend of hers who’d been hanging out with them all lately, and… “Whoa.” Rob slipped his Ray bans down and took in the tall form of the strange woman seated in the back of the van. She had one foot propped on the bumper, a beer in one hand, the long black fall of her hair covering one sunglass covered eye. There was no disguising her perfect hourglass shape. Rob felt his scalp tingle at the sight of her. A new sensation and one he didn’t care for much.
“Holy Penthouse pet, man.” Jack slapped his shoulder. “This trip just looked up as far as I’m concerned.”
“Shut up,” Rob threw the truck into park and climbed out. Something felt strange to him. The usual restless antsiness buzzed between his ears--he'd lived with that sensation post-PET scan long enough to recognize it for what it was. But the sight of that strange girl had set him off even further. His cock stirred back to life. Annoyed, he stayed behind the truck a minute.
“About time, dickheads.” A slight, redheaded girl, leapt up into Jack’s arms. He caught her and planted a kiss on her lips.
“It’s his fault Suzanne,” Rob nodded to the group. “I have beer. What’s your contribution?”
“Same. A couple of bottles Smirnoff, OJ, chips and salsa.”
“Asshole!” Jack shifted Suzanne to his back. “What food did we bring?”
“I got it handled Gordon. As usual. All you have to do is bring your swinging dick, preferably washed.” Rob rolled his eyes at the new girl who hadn’t moved from her perch. He felt her eyes on him, even behind her Oaklies. Unnerving. He forced himself to drag his eyes from the way her pale blue jeans hugged her hips, her casual stance as she put the brown bottle to her like it was a…”Can we fucking go now people? I arranged this god damned junket, let’s get on with it.” He watched Jack drop Suzanne back to the sidewalk.
“Who’s your friend?” Jack sauntered over to the hot new girl. Rob gritted his teeth, a sudden surge of jealousy making him dizzy. She looked up at him slowly.
“Oh that’s Christine.” Suzanne clamored in next to her. “Christine, that’s Rob and Jack.” She rummaged around in one of the three coolers and emerged with three beers, tossed one to Jack and one to Rob. Rob opened his, downed half then tipped the bottle to the vision still sitting motionless at the back end of the van. His heart pounded a little too hard for his taste when she slid her sunglasses down and appraised him up and down.
About
Liz Crowe
Microbrewery owner, multi-published author, beer blogger and journalist, mom of three teenagers, and soccer fan, Liz brings years of real-world experience to her life as author. Working in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as an ex-pat trailing spouse PLUS making her way in a world of men (i.e. the beer industry) has given her all the "what if?" moments she needs for many books.
When she isn't sweating inventory and sales figures for the brewery, she can be found writing, editing or sweating promotional efforts for her latest publications. When free time presents itself you are likely to find her walking her standard poodles or doing Bikram yoga.
Her beer blog is nationally recognized for its insider yet outsider views on the craft beer industry. Her books are set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch and in high-powered real estate offices. Don't ask her for anything "like" a Budweiser, or risk painful injury. If you want an education on all things beer related, follow her beer blog:
www.a2beerwench.com
Liz Crowe's official website can be found at
www.lizcrowe.com
.
Writing-related topics (including backlist titles, latest release updates, interviews, tour dates, and more) are in her blog -
www.brewingpassion.com
.
Follow Liz:
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/lizcroweauthor
Twitter:
@beerwencha2
Current publishers include:
Tri Destiny Publishing
Ellora's Cave
Decadent Publishing
Breathless Press
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