Priceless (3 page)

“My turn
,” I told her.

Her eyes
flared at me in the dim light for an instant, as if she were considering my request, but the afterglow of pleasure boiling in her eyes told me she was
very
into what we were doing.  We were just getting started on where I planned for this to go.

She sighed in contentment and
dropped down to her knees gracefully before me, her fine hands reaching forward to work on opening my trousers.  She pulled out my shirt and found my cock, which was more than ready to meet her pretty mouth.  I couldn’t hold back the groan that came out of me and closed my eyes in anticipation.

It had been a
while and I was definitely going to enjoy this.

When
she touched me I thrust into her hand.  She gripped the shaft and stroked, pulling me closer.  I felt the softness of her tongue slide over the tip of me and welcomed the hot burn of pleasure.

My fantasy lover was just getting
into the groove, and doing a superb job I might add, when our timing went to complete shit.

The emer
gency light above the door began to twirl a flashing red, and was paired with an ear-deafening decibels siren wail.  Over all of that, the loudspeaker announcement demanded the building be exited immediately for safety precautions.

Well, damn, this certainly sucked.

Or not.

Mari
a was off me and out the door before I could get myself tucked back into my trousers.

By the
time I managed to stumble out of our little love nest, she was nowhere to be seen, but Ethan was sprinting down the hallway. 

I ran for it, coming up behind him.  He turned
back and saw me.

“Bomb t
hreat.  That’s what this is.”  He gestured to the flashing lights.  “Everyone’s being evacuated.”

I exploded
in anger, unbelieving that someone would hate me so much they would blow up a museum to get to me.  Disgruntled fan or not, an act of terrorism was way out of bounds.  “Are you fucking kidding me?  All this because of me?”

“I don’t know details.  I was out having a smoke when the alarm went off.  Neil said in-house security
received a bomb threat and they’re closing everything down.  We’ll sort it later.  Just get the fuck out!”

So
that’s what I did.

I looked for Maria but
I never found her in the crush of people swarming the front steps of the National Gallery.  I thought I saw her at one point because there was a woman wearing a similar colour green dress, but she was blonde and definitely not the fiery goddess I’d been with in that room earlier.

Pity.  I would have asked her home with me and paid double for her services without a second thought.  Maria was
definitely worth it.

A bottle of Bombay
and a session with her would’ve topped off my evening just perfectly.  I texted Ethan to let him know I was leaving and to ring me when he had a chance.  As I drove home to my solitary existence, I wasn’t content and certainly wasn’t satisfied.

I felt like shit and there were
plenty of other reasons for that, unfortunately.  The only nice thing to happen tonight had been the encounter with a beautiful creature whose sexy scent was still clinging to my hand.

I brought the back of the fingers I’d used on her up to just under my nose where I could breathe in the
unmistakable lingering of female.  Lovely…and fucking sexy.

The smell of pussy
and my unsatisfied cock was not a good combination though, and it put me into an even darker mood.  Damn.  Wanking off was not something I envisioned as part of my scheduled evening, but I’d end up doing it tonight.  Something had to take my edge off and a certain someone’s essence would be a damn fine stimulus to helping matters along.

I
was determined to find Maria again, and had no doubts I would, too.  We had unfinished business to conduct, and the service owed me a date.  I would make sure they knew to send her as soon as it could be arranged.

I wouldn’t be able to forget her until I sampled all she had to offer. 
Until I have her right where I want and at my mercy, taking my cock.

I grinned as I turned onto my street i
n St. James and drove through the gates.

I know myself pretty well.  When I want something, I
won’t stop until I’ve conquered the challenge.  Right now my challenge was a green-eyed beauty that had, for whatever reason, bewitched me this evening.

Remarkable…

THE
floor plan of the National Gallery was something I knew like the back of my hand.  A small blessing for which I felt supremely grateful, running as fast as my heels would carry me.  I didn’t allow my mind to dwell on what I’d just done with a complete stranger.  I fled.  Get away first, figure out my horrifying lapse in judgment later.

Pray he doesn’t
see you.  Pray, Gabrielle.  Pray very hard. 

Security directed everyone out of the National Gallery with the
command,
“Evacuate the building without delay!”
on constant repeat over the loudspeaker.  I overheard the words “bomb threat”
more than once¸ too
. 
But none of that deterred me from my goal.  I had to get out of here.

I didn’t even look through the crowds of people milling about on the steps
to see if I could spot Brynne and Ethan.  I knew Ethan would get my roommate out safely, and whatever was going on with the security of the paintings and the gallery itself was far beyond my control.

Just get away for now
…

I
saw Neil McManus, Ethan’s executive partner at Blackstone Security, and waved to let him know I was on my way out of the building so he could relay it to anyone who might wonder about me.  I was getting the hell out of here and waiting around for a roll call wasn’t happening.  I might see
him
again.  Mr. Ivanhoe.  I’d die if I had to face that man again right now.  Just collapse and die right here on the steps of the National Gallery.

So I did something I’ve done before in
similar situations. 

I ran for safety.

Fleeing down the steps, I made for the street, hailing the first taxi I could.  When a London black cab pulled up to the pavement, I pushed out a big breath of air in sheer relief, realizing I’d been holding it.  I slid into the back seat and gave the driver my address, feeling suddenly exhausted. I kept my head down and wished I could disappear as he pulled quickly out into traffic.

“What’s all that then?” he asked.

“The fire alarm just went off and they told everyone to get out.  I don’t know, but I heard the words ‘bomb threat’ as I passed by a security guard talking into his earpiece.”

My driver snorted in disgust
, and mumbled something about the country going to “bloody hell,” and went back to navigating the streets.

I allowed myself to silently fall apa
rt in the back of his cab, still in shock at what I’d done with a man I didn’t even know.  What was wrong with me?  How could I have permitted him to—touch me like that?  To kiss me like that?

If the situation I found mysel
f in wasn’t so horrifying I’d be far more concerned about the reason for the evacuation and the safety of the art in the first place.  The sad truth was I didn’t give the alarm much thought at all beyond the fact it had interrupted something I shouldn’t have
ever
been doing.  My head was so screwed up right now with thoughts of what’d just happened in a side room with Mr. Ivanhoe I couldn’t spare any more of my emotions on worry about the paintings, or otherwise. 
An orgasm happened, you freak.

What in the bloody hell was he about anyway?  Who does that? 
Goes up to a random woman and seduces her in a closet?

The better question
was what woman allows such a thing to happen with zero protest?  That would be me. 
Slut.  You’re such a slutty whore, and you have zero self-control, that’s why!

I tried to sort out the sequence of events but none of it made any sense.  He’d walked up behind me and said, “
I found you,” as if he knew I’d be there waiting for him.  Mr. Ivanhoe hadn’t seemed confused at all, but acted as if our meeting had been planned in advance.  He’d even mentioned my green dress.  I wondered if Paul Langley had arranged for the VIP tour and forgotten to tell me.  But that didn’t make any sense either because Mr. Ivanhoe was not about getting a tour of the museum.  He’d been all about getting a blow job from me. 
And you had his cock in your mouth, and were giving him one when the alarm went off!

I slashed at the tears leaking
from my eyes and stared out at the busy city traffic, wishing for the millionth time my life was different.  That
I
was somehow different.  But we are creatures of habit, and are who we’re born to be.  This
was
me—the real Gabrielle Hargreave.  And as disgraceful and abhorrent it felt to accept the idea, it didn’t make the situation any less true.

You reap what you so
w, Gabrielle.

Yeah, I’d learned my
lesson the hard way.

BEN
called to check on me as soon as he saw the news on TV about the National Gallery being evacuated.  I wasn’t surprised about the call, or the fact he knew something was up with me the minute he heard my voice.  When he asked me if I was okay, I lied to my dear and caring friend.  I lied and told him I was just upset about the possibility of a trove of priceless art being destroyed in a bomb blast, and further justified my “mood” about how fucked up the world was today with lunatics terrorizing in so many parts of the globe.

I
was pretty sure he bought my story because he let it drop, but I couldn’t be certain.  Benny was very perceptive, and he knows me well. He forced an agreement out of me to have dinner with him the following week.  Ben was, quite simply, digging for information and figured if he couldn’t get anything out of me over the phone, he’d have more success in person.  I loved him for it, though.  Benny Clarkson was a rare gem of a person.  We’d met at university photography class, gotten to know each other when we’d partnered together.  As soon as I’d figured he wasn’t trying to put the moves on me, my walls went down and I made a dear, dear friend.  I don’t know if he was more in tune with women because he was a gay man, or if it was just a connection we’d formed, but he sure understood me.  Ben was very close to Brynne, too.  He was like our older, protective brother who loved us unconditionally, always keeping an eye out.

As soon as we hung up
, I shot a text to Brynne to let her know I was home.  She hit me right back saying they were on the road to Somerset.  Ethan was taking them to the countryside for a weekend away at his sister’s historic mansion, which she runs as an exclusive bed and breakfast.  The bomb threat had convinced him to leave tonight instead of tomorrow.

Made sense.  Ethan Blackstone was as serious about protecting Brynne as he was in lo
ve with her.  Pity the fool who ever tried to get close enough to hurt her.

My dad was nex
t to check in, which was as predictable as Ben’s call.  The men in my life loved me, making their behavior easy to forecast.  Can’t say I minded that though.

“You’re home
already then?”

“Oh y
eah, they kicked us out and I saw no point in sticking around.  I caught a cab and decided to call it an early night,” I said smoothly.

My father is MetPol.  Or in English,
London Metropolitan Police.  Chief Superintendent, in fact, and in charge of the Southwark division at New Scotland Yard.  I am painfully aware he’s heard every lie and bullshit story ever put out for public consumption.  He knows very well what I study in school.  He knows the focus of my master’s program is the paintings of Tristan Mallerton. If art museums were being targeted for bombs, and I was working anywhere near then he would be all over it like white on rice.  I know how his thought processes work.  Having a cop for a father, I’d learned a few things through the years. Protecting me from harm was his number one priority.

“
I sent Thorne over there to find you, and when he checked in to let me know you weren’t there, I worried, darling.  You should’ve made contact,” he scolded me gently.

“I did, sort of.  I waved to one of
the security at Blackstone who knows me and let him see I was out of the building.”

Silence
.

“
And, you don’t have to send Desmond chasing after me every time, Dad.”

That last
jab got me a heavy sigh, and I knew why.  Desmond Thorne was my father’s unfailing answer to his paternal worries about me.  A superintendent on the rise at Scotland Yard, and just perfect for me, according to my dad.  Yep, Dad made no secret about how much he approved of Detective Superintendent Thorne as boyfriend-slash-husband-slash significant other, for me, either.  Whatever name you put to it, Desmond was the man for the job in the eyes of my father.

It was har
d too, because I did like Des.  A bit on the serious side but he was easy on the eyes, and he wasn’t an ass.  I’d give him props for making an effort with me.  He’d made his interest known, and I wasn’t an idiot.  I’m sure if I’d given him even the slightest bit of encouragement, I could have him any way I wanted, as often as I liked.  Visions of sweaty sex appeared in my head and I closed my eyes in an attempt to push them back.

Now it was my turn to sigh, for this
was the heart of my problem.

I couldn’t give in to those normal kinds of wants and desires that
most girls have.  Having a husband and two-point-four kids wasn’t in
my
future, no matter how much my dad wanted it for me, or how much Desmond Thorne would be willing to fulfill the role of making it happen for me, either. 
Let’s not be greedy, Gabrielle
. 
You’ve used up your allotted credits.

Tonight’s fresh hell had
showed me, yet again, how much that was true.

“
I don’t want you going back there until the whole place has been given the all clear,” my dad said firmly, probably in an effort to change the topic.

Not a problem.  Hell, I doubted if I’d ever be able to go into the National Gallery again and not think abo
ut what I’d done with a complete stranger.

“I won’t, Dad
dy.”

“That’s my good girl.  I
can’t have you putting yourself at risk.  Think what your mum would’ve had to say to me about it.”

“Yeah…
,” I managed to whisper.