His Dream Role (9 page)

She undid the pants and nudged him to lift his hips so she could pull them down. His skin was hot to the touch and his dick was already hard. With her fist, she stroked him a couple of times before leaning forward and wrapping her lips around the head. She swirled her tongue over the tip and Free groaned.

He was going to make this easy if he was groaning already. Instead of dropping her whole mouth over him, she licked his shaft on the underside to the base and then back up. His left hand gripped the edge of the couch as he watched her. He took a swig of wine, then reached for the table to put the glass down. She took it from him and set it on the table behind her.

She stroked him with her hand again as she lowered her mouth to lick his balls. His hips jumped at the contact. She trailed her tongue up his length and then took him into her mouth. On her way up, she hollowed her cheeks for maximum contact. When the head slipped from her lips with a
pop
, he shifted again, raising his hips, silently asking for more.

Sam obliged. This time, she went down on him and began to bob. Her lips met her fist at the base, pumping a rhythm. Free's head fell back against the couch and he closed his eyes. His hands stilled at his sides, palms down, fingers spread wide, pressing into the cushion.

He held pretty tight to his control. More than most guys she'd been with. “Touch me, Free.”

His eyes opened and he picked up his hands, but he didn't move to touch her. She grabbed his hand and placed his palm on her head, giving him the permission he must've needed. She went back to sucking him and loved the way his fingers tightened the grip on her hair. His other hand came to her shoulder, massaging and squeezing.

His hips rose to meet her mouth and Sam knew he was close. She moved faster, sucking and licking.

“Sam.” Free tried to push up to stop her.

She slapped her palm on his chest and continued. Her nails rasped over his skin as he spurted into her mouth. She swallowed until he stopped moving. His hand slid off her head.

Sam rocked back on her haunches. “Hope that makes up for the blue balls.”

“Christ, that was good.”

She smirked and drained his wineglass. “More?”

“Not wine. Give me a few minutes and I'll take care of you.”

“This wasn't a quid-pro-quo situation. I gave you a blow job because I wanted to.” She stood with the empty glass. “And you can't spend the night. I have to finish this paper.”

“I can wait for you to finish.”

As tempting as that was, she shook her head. “If you're here, I won't get my work done.”

He tucked himself back into his pants. “Are we still on for tomorrow night?”

“You still want to wrap presents with me?”

“Of course.” He wrapped a hand on her hip. “I get to spend the night tomorrow, though, right?”

“As long as I finish this case study tonight.”

He smacked her ass. “Then get to work. I'll see you tomorrow.”

After pulling his coat on, he came back for another kiss. “Don't cry. Just do the job.”

She kissed him back and wished she knew how to do that, to separate parts of herself. One more thing to work on before graduation.

B
y the time Christmas came, Sam was floating. She and Free had spent most of the week together prior to the holiday. Not only had he shown up to help wrap presents for the shelter, but he then volunteered to dress as Santa to distribute the gifts. Both the mothers and the kids loved meeting Santa. Seeing Free in that role was probably her favorite. It was the epitome of who he was: a caring guy who wanted to make people smile.

They'd spent the night together on Christmas Eve eve and exchanged gifts. She bought Free a TARDIS cookie jar and filled it with homemade cookies. He had dressed as the Riddler and sent her on a treasure hunt through her apartment for her gift—a Batgirl costume. Then he proceeded to kidnap Batgirl and have his way with her. They lay in bed and shared the cookies she baked.

It was the best holiday ever.

She'd decided that although she and Free wouldn't be together for Christmas Day, she was going to tell her parents about him. She wanted them to know how serious their relationship was. In fact, she wanted them to meet him as soon as possible.

Christmas morning, Free had texted her to tell her to have fun with her family. At her house, Christmas was an all-day affair. They had breakfast with just the immediate family and they opened gifts. Then in the late afternoon, extended family arrived for a huge meal and more gifts and catching up. She was glad that she and Free had decided not to try to push togetherness over the holiday. She had a feeling he'd be overwhelmed. This way, he had a whole year to get used to her family in smaller doses.

She had no doubt they'd still be together in a year. They fell in sync so quickly, she couldn't imagine it being any other way.

As she finished her breakfast, she looked at her parents. “Mom, Dad, I have something to tell you.”

“You want the car back,” her dad announced.

“No, sorry to disappoint you.” She took a deep breath. “I'm involved with someone and it's pretty serious.”

Her dad placed his fork against his plate with a slight
clink
. “Not the actor.”

Sam barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “Yes, Dad, the actor. He's not like any other guy I've ever dated.”

“That's a good thing.”

Man, Dad was on a roll today.

“I'm falling for him, and I want you to meet him after the holidays.”

Vanessa stood and kissed Sam's cheek. “I'm happy for you, baby.”

“How long have you been seeing this boy?”

She hated the way her father insisted on calling Free a “boy.” “About a month.”

“Then it's not all that serious.”

“It is.”

“Michael, don't ruin the holiday.”

“I'm not ruining anything, Vanessa. Samantha explained that she wants to be independent. I simply can't be on board with that when she routinely shows poor judgment.”

Sam pushed away from the table. “I do not show poor judgment. I'm sorry you still don't approve of who I date.”

She carried her empty plate to the kitchen. She wasn't sure what she'd expected from her dad. In a way, she'd done this to herself by dating every guy she could who would make him crazy. After drinking a glass of water, she decided that she'd have to make her dad see that Free was different.

She returned to her seat in the dining room. “I'm sorry for walking out.” She rubbed her hands down her smooth skirt. “I realize that I've dated quite a few men that you didn't approve of.”

“With good reason.”

Sam smiled. “Probably. But Free is different. He's sweet and kind.”

“But he's an actor. How is he going to support himself?”

The question sank into Sam. Her dad was afraid Free was another guy who wanted to use her for her money. “The same way the rest of us do.”

Her dad continued to look at her as if waiting for further explanation.

“Before you ask, he hasn't ever asked me for a dime. He's paid when we go out, so that's already an improvement over like seventy-five percent of my past boyfriends.” She laughed and felt a bit relieved when her dad cracked a smile.

Vanessa stood. “I think it's time for presents.” She rushed out of the room toward the living room and the Christmas tree.

Sam stood. “Are we okay?”

Michael put his arm around her shoulder. “I'd like you to attend a holiday party with me for business.”

Sam groaned. She'd gone to a few business parties with her dad over the years and they all had one thing in common: They were boring.

“I want you to meet a different class of men.”

“I just told you that I'm in a serious relationship.”

“That's only a month old.”

“You should still respect it.” Sam sat on the couch as her dad took his favorite armchair. It had been in that chair that he'd read
The Little Engine That Could
to her when she was a child.

“I have a hard time respecting a man who won't be able to support his family, one who doesn't have a real job.”

Sam leaned forward and accepted the gift her mom handed her. “Just because he doesn't work from nine to five doesn't mean it's not a real job. And he doesn't have a family to support.”

“But if it's as serious as you'd have me believe, he would be thinking in those terms.” He pointed to the present in her lap, urging her to open it.

As she peeled the paper away from the box, her dad continued, “I'm not asking you to break up with him. I've learned my lesson with that. I'm only asking you to attend a party with me and keep an open mind.”

With paper tossed to the side, Sam held the box on her lap. “If I go to this party and no one piques my interest, you'll leave me alone and be nice to Free when you meet him?”

“I can try if you can.”

Sam slid a finger along the edge of the box to break the tape she knew her mother would have placed there. “Deal.” She had no worries. Sam couldn't imagine any guy at her dad's business gathering would draw her eye. Even if they were good-looking, they always ended up sounding too much like her dad, where money was the be-all and end-all to life.

She wanted more.

It had been days since Free had seen Sam. He'd wanted to invite her to his dad's company party, but she'd already said that she was busy with her parents that night. By the time the party rolled around, Free had managed to work himself into a frenzy of freakishness. He sat on his bed staring into his closet of costumes. He knew he couldn't don one tonight, but he needed the inspiration to get through the evening.

He glanced at the new suit his dad insisted on buying him. Cary leaned against the door frame. “It won't bite. I promise.”

“I know.”

“Don't be nervous. It's just a party. These people are already clients. You don't need to convince them of anything.”

“That makes it worse. I could sell my skills. I excel at talking numbers. I'm not good at selling myself.”

Cary crossed his arms. “You managed to sell yourself to a beautiful girl.”

“I'm still trying to figure that one out.” He flopped back on the bed. “I was in character when I won her over. I didn't have to be me.”

The mattress dipped as Cary sat on the corner. “Even in costume, you're still you. And if you didn't show her yourself, she wouldn't still be going out with you.”

“Adam told me to treat tonight like I'm playing a role. I can't figure out who to be.”

Cary smacked his thigh. “That's easy. If you're not going to be yourself, be Bond.”

“I thought it was be Batman.”

Cary laughed. “You'll never have the muscles for Batman, but you can pull off Bond.”

This time, Free laughed. James Bond was a suave womanizer. Even on his best day, Free failed at simple flirting. He had, however, seen all of the James Bond films.

Free rolled off the bed and stood in front of the new suit. It was a badass suit.

“Get dressed and we'll go together. I'll show you the ropes.” Cary stood and left the room. Too bad Cary didn't have that confidence at the gym. Cary had been a shy kid but he'd learned early that people liked to laugh. So he had an anecdote for every situation.

If Free could learn that one skill, he'd survive socializing, but Free knew he tended to just sound like a nerd, so he kept his mouth shut.

He dressed in the suit and felt oddly comfortable in it. Although he'd worn suits when interning with his dad over the summers, he rarely ever wore them during the school year. Slipping into one now made him feel like he was headed into the office. Being in the office relaxed him. There he only had to worry about numbers. Numbers made sense. People didn't.

Sam was proof of that. Not only did he have a hard time wrapping his head around her actually liking him, but the things she saw while volunteering cemented how little people made sense. Yet she forged ahead day after day in an attempt to make a difference. He respected her for it, but he couldn't fully understand. He knew he couldn't do that.

When he left his room, Free stopped in the hall at the sight of Cary. He saw his brother dressed in a suit most days, but he, too, had a new suit courtesy of their father. He looked amazing. The weight loss was noticeable. Without a doubt, Cary would steal the show tonight.

They drove to the banquet hall together, Cary filling the silence with information about clients. Cary knew names of family members and hobbies and general happenings in the lives of their clients. It was one of the reasons people gravitated toward him. Free listened intently, making mental notes. If Cary pointed these people out at the party, he might actually be able to make conversation.

Maybe he should just stick to Cary's side and let him lead. Free could jump in with an occasional question so people knew he was paying attention, but he wouldn't have to initiate anything. Another plan hatched. It would be the gym scenario in reverse.

By the time they parked, Free was feeling more confident about the party. Inside, they were directed to one of the small banquet rooms. Their parents were there already, as were a few others. Free recognized some of the employees, so he figured no clients had arrived yet.

“Boys, glad you came early.” Anthony Mitchell spoke with his arms wide in welcome for his sons. With some men, the gesture might seem fake, but with Anthony, it was genuine. Their dad was happy to have them as part of his firm.

“Hi, Dad.”

Cary didn't speak, but turned and reached for a couple of glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. He handed one to Free. “Sip slowly, but keep it in your hand as a prop. You'll fidget less.”

“Cary, that suit looks good. It shows off that sexy body.” Amelia kissed Cary's cheek. Cary was much like her in that they both excelled at working a crowd. Here, they were in their element.

Free took a sip of champagne and wished it was a beer. He closed his eyes and imagined Bond—always calm, ready for a fight or sex, impeccable. Visualization worked when preparing for a role, and he depended on it working now. When he reopened his eyes, his mother stood in front of him.

“Let's walk.” She looped her arm through his and led him away from Cary and Anthony. “You have nothing to be nervous about. You're already guaranteed a job after graduation. Thank God for nepotism.”

“I'd like to think Dad's hiring me because I'm capable.”

“Of course he is. So, who are you tonight?”

“Bond, James Bond.”

“Perfect selection. Come with me to speak to the caterer about the hors d'oeuvres. I'm afraid they'll rush them out before too many people arrive. I want them staggered.”

Free led her to the kitchen, grateful for the reprieve. As she spoke to the manager, Free saw clients arriving and checking their coats. The curtain was up and there was no turning back.

After going to the open bar to exchange his champagne for a beer, Free sought out Cary. He found him quickly, already entertaining a client. Free sidled up to the group and waited to be introduced.

When there was a break in the conversation, Cary said, “I'd like you to meet my brother, Humphrey. He interned this past summer, and he'll be joining us full-time after graduation.”

Free extended his hand.

The man took it. “James Wheeler.” He pointed to Cary. “We were just discussing baseball. Tell me, Humphrey, are you a Sox fan or a Cubs fan?”

“Uh, neither. I don't really follow sports.”

“What do you follow?”

“The stock market.”

For whatever reason, the man found Free's honesty funny and barked out a laugh. Although he wasn't trying to be entertaining, Free would take laughter over the usual blank stare he got from some people. He sipped his beer and waited for the laughter to subside. “So what business are you in, Mr. Wheeler?”