Kinky Claus (11 page)

She craned her neck to stare up at him. “How...?”

“I guessed from your initial reaction when they walked up to us.”

Wow. He’d been that tuned in to her? Hugging him, she rested her cheek on the lapel of his jacket. “You’d beat him in a landslide.”

“Good, because I wouldn’t have been averse to playing dirty.”

She fiddled with the undone top button on his shirt. “Well, you are the reigning king of dirty play.” 

A fierce vibration buzzed in her pussy and she jerked. Chuckling, he wrapped his arm around her. “You were saying?”

“I stepped right into that.” Gritting her teeth, she rode out the intense burst of sensation. Once she was reasonably assured the quakes had ceased, she wobbled to the nearest table and slumped into a seat.

One of the ladies already occupying the table plunked down her glass of wine and eyed Marissa with concern. “Sweetie, are you all right?”

Using the toe of his dress shoe, Trig hooked the chair leg next to Marissa and scooted the seat out to join her. “Yeah, honey, you look a little flushed.”

Turning toward him, she whispered from the corner of her mouth so only he would hear her. “I’m going to kill you.”

“Believe me, you already are.”

That admission shaved a tiny edge off of her peevishness. It only lasted for a brief spell. The next forty minutes were the longest of her life as Trig tested exactly how much torture she could withstand.

He started off with a deceptively mild-mannered faint hum that offered just enough vibration to make her shift restlessly while her bosses gave their excruciatingly boring state of the company address. By the time their server set a salad plate in front of Marissa, Trig had upped the speed a few notches, and she was forced to white-knuckle the edge of her seat in order not to whimper.

“Ma’am, would you care for an orgasm?”

Marissa jerked her attention upward and gaped at the waitress. “
What
?”

“Would you like some dressing?”

“Oh.” She squirmed, her décolleté growing damp as the vibe throttled at what felt like 7 million RPMs before dropping gears to a mere 500. “W-what kind do you have?”

The woman droned through a mile long list of choices and Marissa struggled to focus on anything beyond the tantalizing buzzing between her legs. She desperately jumped at the last option that rolled from the server’s mouth. “Yes, the poppy seed vinaigrette. I’ll take that. Absolutely perfect.”

The female gave her an odd look and went to fetch the dressing.

Trig ceased his evilness and allowed her to eat her salad and the first several bites of her petite filet without the accompaniment of the devious bullet. She speared one of the roasted asparagus and lifted it to her mouth precisely the same instant the device kicked on again. It throbbed and pulsed in a random pattern, slowly building a decadent spiral of sensation that radiated outward from her G spot. The rhythm was both chaotic and controlled, leaving her alternatively craving and fearing the next purring rev that would push her past the precipice.

She would
not
come in a crowded room, surrounded by her coworkers, for crying out loud. Even as she clung to that fervent prayer, she licked her lips in anticipation. Her clit tingled, greedy for the thrumming pulsations of the vibe. Or possibly the firm, teasing swirl of a fingertip. Whimpering, she slid her lips over the thick, blatantly phallic-shaped end of the asparagus stalk and bit down with a soft moan. Trig was staring at her, his meal apparently forgotten. Holding his rapt gaze, she finished chewing her bite of the vegetable and reached under the table. She snuck her hand beneath the napkin draped over his lap and stroked the huge bulge tenting his pants.

The vibe suddenly shut off and he scooted back his chair, gingerly removing her hand in the process. “Of course I’ll escort you to the ladies room, sweetheart.” He slipped his fingers to her elbow, and ignoring her blank look, pulled her to her feet as he stood. After explaining to the whole table that she wasn’t feeling well—news flash to her—he practically dragged her to the exit. Truthfully, it was a good thing that he did because she was having a devil of a time walking straight.

They stepped out into the hall and he steered her toward the stairwell. She was too dizzy and horny to question where they were going. He shoved open the door and hauled her up the stairs. Thankfully he only subjected her to one flight. They stumbled into the corridor on the nineteenth floor and he herded her into the ladies room.

Okay, so he hadn’t been lying about taking her there. “Um, I really don’t have to—” She broke off on a gasping moan when he pushed her up against the wall of the closest stall and slammed his mouth over hers.

Sliding his hand to the back of her head, he re-angled his approach, kissing her like he intended to eat her alive. Trembling and ravenous with need, she raked her fingers through his hair. His motions impatient, he unbuttoned his jacket and shrugged it off before hanging it on top of the stall’s wall. She fumbled with his belt but before she could unhook it he spun her around and bent her over the sink. Nipping her bare shoulder, he shimmied her skirt up and cupped her between her legs. A hiss snaked from him. “Bad girl. Your panties are fucking soaked through.”

She pressed back against him, shamelessly riding his hand. He yanked the crotch of her G string aside and stuffed two fingers in her. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out. The vibe had worked her over to the point that the tiniest pressure was poised to set her off.

Trig reached around her and ripped several paper towels from the dispenser and stacked them on the basin. He removed the bullet and placed it on the towels before sheathing his cock with the condom he fetched from his pocket. The sound of that latex snapping in place swept goose bumps over her skin.

He eased her panties down just enough to allow his cock to furrow along her labia. Gripping her waist with one hand and her neck with the other, he flexed his hips and slid inside her with a smooth thrust. The overwhelming fullness of him impaling her pussy sent shockwaves of pleasure scalding through her cells. She arched her back and bore down on his steel-hard shaft, sobbing at the delicious friction. Her poor clit throbbed, aching for attention. As if he’d gotten a direct memo from the agonized bud, Trig released her nape and tapped the pad of his finger on the bundle of nerves, igniting a shimmering flare of intense bliss.

She broke apart around him, shuddering and wailing. Muffling the sound with his palm, he surged deeper, his unrelenting strokes driving her higher and higher on the peak, until she thought she’d die from the sheer nirvana of it. He bit her neck and pumped one last time, his drawn-out groan a rapture all its own as he pulsed within her.

Heart racing, she leaned weakly against the sink and fruitlessly chased her breath. “Oh. My. God.”

Trig chuckled. “You took the words right from my mouth.” He eased out of her and disposed of the condom in one of the paper towels. After zipping his pants, he washed the vibe and tucked it in his pocket for safe keeping. He used the rest of the towels to gently clean her up and resituated her underwear before turning her in his arms and indulging in a sweet kiss. Brushing his fingers across her cheek, he squeezed her hip. “Ready to head back?”

“Yeah, they’re probably considering sending a search posse after us.”

He pulled his jacket on and she tugged open the bathroom door. She stepped out into the hall just as two familiar figures darted into one of the recessed doorways. Blinking, she let the handle slip out of her grasp.
What the...

She headed in the direction of the rustling movement and hauled to a disbelieving halt in front of the entrance to the WorldCom suite.

Jane blew a lock of hair out of her eye. “Oh hi! Imagine seeing you here.”

Planting her fists on her hips, she panned a glare between Jane and Sid. “Have you guys been spying on me?”

“No. Why would you suggest such a crazy thing?” Jane adopted the fakest angelic expression in history. Seriously, the woman was incapable of anything involving the slightest hint of a halo.

“Yeah, we were.” Sid sighed. “We were dying of curiosity about your boy toy, so we staked things out on eighteen, hoping for a sighting. It was kinda dumb luck, spotting you duck in the stairwell with him.”

Oh shit. Her boy toy.

Even as that thought and the ramifications of the situation whirled in her mind, the unmistakable whoosh of the door sounded behind her. She gulped.

In slow motion, she watched Jane’s and Sidney’s gazes veer in the direction of the bathroom.

“Rissa, what’s—” Trig’s voice trailed off.

Witnessing her best friends’ jaws simultaneously hit the ground at lightning speed would have been comical under different circumstances. Wincing, she steeled herself for the incoming shitstorm.  

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Trig unglued his feet from the floor and hesitantly approached the trio of women standing in front of him. Judging from Jane’s befuddled stare she was having a difficult time processing the moment. Finally she broke from her trance and whipped her gaze between him and Marissa. “What in the hell is going on?”

Before either of them could respond, Jane screwed her face into an expression of pure horrified disgust. “
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.
I can’t believe I just listened to my brother banging my best friend.”

He tossed up his arms. “That’s what you get for snooping at doors, you fucking weirdo.” He glanced at Sidney and grimaced. “Sorry.”

“No, you pretty much nailed that one. No pun intended,” Sidney replied dryly.

“Could we please not talk about my brother nailing everything?” Jane hugged her torso. “As it is, I’m already looking at several months of therapy.”

He rolled his eyes. “Quit being so melodramatic. For fuck’s sake, I didn’t throw a tizzy when you were dating Jack.”

“That’s completely different.”

“Mind explaining your warped logic on that one?”

“For starters, he and I didn’t bump nasties in a public restroom.” Jane shifted her attention to Marissa. “As for
you
. I can’t believe you lied to me about all of this. And after I was nice enough to loan you that dress.” She stacked her arms over her chest, her gaze wounded and petulant. “Might as well keep it now. No way I’m touching it with a ten foot pole since it’s tainted with just-banged-your-brother-in-the-bathroom cooties.”

He felt the need to jump to Marissa’s defense. After all, she’d kept her mouth shut because of him. He wouldn’t let her go down as the bad guy. “Don’t hassle her. She didn’t even want to hire me at first.”

Jane froze. “Hire you?”

A heavy silence descended on them. After a moment Marissa cleared her throat. “Yes. We already went over this.”

“Wait a minute.” Jane rubbed her temples and took a shuffling step backward. “You were telling the truth about hiring an escort?”

“Well...yeah.” Obvious confusion laced Marissa’s tone. “Isn’t that what you’re upset about? Me hiring Trig and not telling you?”

“No, I was hurt because I thought you came up with that lame story to cover you hooking up with my brother.” Jane dropped her hands and shook her head furiously before glaring at Trig. “You’re a fucking
gigolo
?”

Well aware of the massive crap fest this conversation was destined for, he wrapped his arm around Marissa and offered Jane the calmest look he could muster. “This isn’t the time to discuss this. I’m sure Marissa would like to get back to her party.”

“Oh sure.” His sister slashed her hand through the air. “After all, she’s paying you by the fucking hour.”

“Jane,” he growled warningly.

“Don’t go Cujo on me, you lying dipshit!”

“What have I lied to you about? I chose not to tell you about the escorting gig because I knew you’d be judgmental about it. Thanks for proving me right, by the way.” He chafed Marissa’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Marissa chewed her lip and stared apprehensively at Jane. “Maybe we should—”

“No, my sister and I will hash this out later. Trust me.” A muscle twitching in his jaw, he prodded Marissa down the corridor.

Once they were alone in the stairwell, she glanced up at him, obvious worry etched into her features. “The party could have waited. I don’t like you two ending things on bad terms.”

Her concern for him melted a fraction of the tension balled tight within him. Pulling her closer, he smooched her forehead. “Have I told you lately that you’re the sweetest woman I’ve ever known?”

She blushed. “Thank you. I think.”

“It’s definitely a good thing.” He rubbed noses with her. “I’m lucky to have you for a friend.”

She dropped her gaze to the concrete landing, her shoulders slumping slightly. He frowned at the top of her head. “Did I say something wrong?” It wouldn’t be unheard of. Shit, he tended to have a PHD in sticking his foot in his mouth. Then again, look at who he was related to, for cripe’s sake.

Aw fuck. That’s probably why she was upset. “Jane’s damn well lucky to have you for a friend too. Not many people would put up with her like you and Sidney do. She’ll eventually get the stick out of her ass regarding all of this. If not, it’ll sure as hell be her loss. Not yours.”

Marissa peered up at him again, something in her soft blue eyes stirring an odd sensation in his gut. She opened her mouth but then quickly shut it and stared at some focal point beyond the stair rail. Slipping his knuckle beneath her chin, he tipped her face toward him. “Hey, I mean it. Don’t let this BS with Jane ruin the rest of your night, capiche?”

She smiled weakly. “I won’t.”

He guided Marissa downstairs, his desire to make up for the last several minutes outweighing all else—even the temptation to throttle his sister.

The remainder of the evening flew by in a blessedly uneventful blur. Although Marissa wore a blindingly cheerful expression the entire time, he knew that she was still troubled by the scene with Jane. The last thing he wanted was for her to dwell on the tensions between him and his sister. And he sure as hell didn’t want it to impact what he and Marissa had going on.

Though truthfully, what exactly
did
they have going on? The sex was hotter than anything conjured from his wildest fantasies. But he’d be lying if he didn’t admit that it was starting to feel like more than just sex to him. And he had a bad feeling that Marissa felt the same way. Which presented a big ass complication.

They were supposed to keep this light and fun. No strings attached. It was the way it had to be. He didn’t want to hurt her. She deserved someone who could commit to her and do the whole relationship dance and one day marry her and give her a bunch of babies. How the hell could he do that if he made a living by dating other women?

Whoa. Not that he was even suitable for settling down with in the first place. His mile long booty call list was living proof that he didn’t know the first thing about devoting himself to one person.

And does an endless supply of different pussy every night sound remotely like something that’d make you happy?
He frowned at the intuitive voice in his head. Once upon a time that’d been the case. Unfortunately, he couldn’t say it was that long ago, either. But before Marissa, he hadn’t questioned his player tendencies. He’d never been with a woman who made him want to change his ways.

The fact that he could visualize himself coming home every night to Marissa? Well, it kind of felt good, and right. That was the upside. The downside was that the image didn’t gel with reality. Not his anyway. Initially they might fool themselves into thinking they could somehow work a relationship around his escorting. But sooner or later the doubts and mistrust would creep in. And he would never put Marissa through that. It wouldn’t be fair to her.

Marissa collected her coat and he absently helped her into it. They made their way out to the parking lot and she squeezed his hand. “Everything okay? You’ve been awfully quiet for the last few minutes.”

He cuddled her to his side. “Yeah. Just mentally preparing for my inevitable battle with Jane,” he lied.

“Oh.”

He could have kicked his own ass for bringing up that touchy subject. “It’ll be fine. So was there anywhere else you wanted to go tonight?” He clicked the auto locks and opened the passenger door. She climbed in, buckled her seat belt and smothered a yawn. He chuckled. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Am I a party pooper for saying I’d really like to go home and snuggle on the couch?”

The wise thing would be to nip this in the bud before they got in any deeper. But right then what he wanted more than anything was to hold her in his arms and pretend for a while longer that she was his. Tomorrow he could deal with the real world. Tonight he’d enjoy every second with her. “That sounds like a fantastic plan.”

She gave him one of her sweet smiles and he leaned down to kiss her before shutting the door and crossing to the driver’s side.

Once they arrived at her place, Marissa slipped off her high heels and sighed in bliss. He grinned at her. “Better?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“How about you change into something more comfortable and I’ll give you a foot rub?”

“Deal.” She hustled down the hall, leaving him to chuckle at her exuberant enthusiasm.

He lowered his overnight bag onto the tiled entry floor and removed his suit jacket. A quick scan inside the closet produced a hanger. After kicking off his own shoes, he rolled up his shirt sleeves and rearranged the pillows on the couch so she’d have a comfortable headrest. He took the liberty of lighting the vanilla-scented pillar candle sitting on the coffee table just as Marissa reappeared. Pinching the flimsy end of the smoldering match between his fingertips, he raked her with his gaze, appreciating the delectable picture she made in her two-piece teddy.

Hugging her arms to her chest, she stepped toward him. “I was going to wear this last night, but I seem to have a tough time keeping clothes on when we’re alone together.”

“I’m sure not complaining.” He traced the lace trim edging the top of the camisole. “Though I hate to break it to ya—you probably won’t be wearing this for much longer either. Not if I have my way.”

“Oh, and what way would that be? Your wicked one?”

He dipped his head to kiss her collarbone. “Like I have any other.” Crooking his arm under her butt, he tipped her into his arms and carried her to the couch.

She pillowed her cheek against his chest. “I could get used to this.”

So could he, if he wasn’t careful. He got her situated and then claimed his own spot on the couch and tucked her feet in his lap. He massaged the delicate rise of her arch and worked his way upward. Another wispy exhale floated from her when he began rubbing her toes.

She propped her head up higher on the couch cushion and watched his progress. “You must be the most popular escort at Hunks for Hire if you do this for all of your clients.”

“You’re the first.”

She blinked at him. “Really?”

“Yep. Guess that makes you special.” He’d said it as a tease, but there was a world of truth to it too. No matter that he might try to convince himself otherwise, she was so much more than a client to him. 

The pensiveness that’d clouded her expression earlier returned. Shifting her head on the cushion, she fixed her stare on the flickering candle. The tension that settled over her was a tangible presence. He could almost hear the wheels grinding in her brain and the unspoken desire to pick apart the meaning behind his statement. He prayed to God she wouldn’t push the issue, even while he battled with the reckless compulsion to give voice to all of the tangled feelings and impossible yearnings caged within his heart.

Yeah, that’d be a bastard move. He wouldn’t give her false hope when he didn’t have a fucking clue where any of this was going. Instead he banded his fingers around her ankles and towed her onto his lap without warning. As he’d hoped it would, the unexpected maneuver snapped her from her quiet reflectiveness. She gaped at him. “What—” The remainder of the word broke off with a fluttery moan when he slid his hand inside the teddy’s silk bikini bottom.

“I thought maybe you might be in need of some TLC elsewhere.” He cupped her mound and with sinful deliberation, rubbed the heel of his palm across her clit. “Oh yeah. I’m definitely detecting too much tension here, baby. We better do something about that.”

She licked her lips. “What do you suggest?”

“Only one thing is gonna relieve this pressure.” He coasted along the slippery folds of her slit. Spreading her labia, he gently prodded the entrance to her pussy with his middle finger, teasing and playing to his heart’s content until she was whimpering and undulating her hips in wanton invitation. He eased inside her the tiniest increment and her slick channel clenched around him. “Mm, I do believe I’ve located where your tension is residing.”

Her chest rose and fell with her strained breaths. “W-what brought you to that conclusion?”

“Well see, you’re incredibly tight.” His own dirty game snaring him by the short hairs, he thickened behind his fly at the snug clasp of her sheath. “Only hope for properly relaxing you is with a nice...deep...tissue massage.” He glided in another inch and tormented her—and ultimately himself—by slowly circling her G spot. She trembled, her inner muscles clamping him like they refused to ever let go. “Baby, you’re tensing up on me again. Think we’ll have to try a different approach.”

Tuning out her murmurs of protest when he retreated from her pussy, he trailed his hand higher and used her silky liquid essence to lubricate her clit. Not that it was necessary, judging from its already sopping wet condition. She wiggled frantically, alternatively rubbing against him and trying to escape his teasing at the same time.

He pinned her with a mock look of stern warning. “If you don’t stop that you’re gonna suffer the consequences.”

“Why? W-what are you going to do?”

“Try me and find out.”

Excitement flushing her cheeks, she held his gaze and shifted her weight slightly. He mentally licked his chops in anticipation of her next move. This was going to be fun.