Something's Come Up (5 page)

“Fuck,” she murmured.

“That’s the plan, Sugar. Spread your legs.”

I barely recognized my own voice. I never used that voice with anyone but Stephanie—I didn’t dare—I’d be slapped or arrested. She immediately did as she was told, but I slapped her ass with my open palm anyway. No one calls me Cary—not even my mother.

I put my lips to her ear as she arched back against me. When I whispered, it erupted as a growl. “Wider, Little Red. I want you to take it all.”

I
whistled as I walked into the apartment. The interior was spacious, massive even.

“Nice place you’ve got here, Red.”

She hooked a finger through my belt loop, leading me down the hallway. “Don’t get too comfortable, you’re just going to see the bedroom.”

Thankful that she was in front of me, I grinned like a fool. She had no idea what she was about to get herself into, but, as I watched her perfectly round ass bounce with each step, I knew exactly what I was getting into. I couldn’t wait.

“Cat got your tongue, Cary?” She spun around, shutting the door to her bedroom.

“Interesting choice of words, given what I’m about to do to you.”

She started to speak, but lost her breath when I lifted her up and brought her over to the bed.

“Good luck,” she mused as she slid off her skirt, pawing at the cotton as if it was on fire.

I bit my lip as I watched her skin writhe with sexual tension. She’d left her shirt on and spread her legs in an impressive split so I knew exactly where she intended my mouth to go. I wasted no time and started kissing her inner thigh, a move that seemed to take the fire-mouthed goddess by surprise.

“Nothing like cutting to the chase, huh?” Her breath was coming shorter and shallower as I continued.

I paused, looking up at her from between her legs. “Rest your mouth, you’re going to need it in a few minutes.”

Her eyes pierced through me, searching out if I was serious, it seemed. I was. She shut up and leaned her head back, her hips acting as a lighthouse for my mouth. Beckoning me.

Once I reached the top of her inner thigh, I let my lips graze across her freshly waxed skin briefly before anchoring my lips on her other thigh, kissing down the length of it. She lost her patience quickly.

“Enough teasing.” She was barely audible as she gasped for breath.

“Oh,” I grinned, “I wasn’t teasing. I was warming you up. For this.”

Without another pause, I brought my lips back to center and sucked her clit into my mouth, her back arching several inches in shock. That didn’t deter me; I just followed the bobbing of her hips with my mouth and worked her into submission. I didn’t move my mouth from her. Not once. I volleyed between sucking on her and stroking her with my tongue. Her cries of pleasure only got louder, and I moved my hands to her hips, pressing her into the bed so she couldn’t counter what she was feeling.

“Oh…oh God!” The muscles in her ass and outer thighs started to tighten and shake, and her hands, sweaty from clenching the sheets, moved to my shoulders.

She was about to come, I could feel it as her clit swelled beneath my tongue. Just when her cries disappeared as she held her breath, I plunged my tongue inside her hard and fast. Both her hands gripped the back of my head and pressed me into her just in time to feel her insides clench around me six, seven, eight times. Her grip on me faltered, and I pulled out and slowly ran the top of my tongue over her one more time.

Her hips stilled and I watched the rise and fall of her stomach with satisfaction as I licked my lips. With her eyes closed, I could study her face without risking her telling me to fuck off. The pale skin around her cheeks was rosy courtesy of yours truly, but the rest of her face was silk. Gorgeous. Pure. The go-to-hell attitude that sprang from her tongue wasn’t evident in the orgasmic bliss blanketing her face in that moment.

Then, she opened her right eye.

“Well played, Pace. Maybe in the morning, I’ll let you try again.”

I couldn’t help it. My mouth dropped open incredulously, which she took as an opening. Like a hunter waiting for the buck to drop his head and eat the grass, she flipped me over, demandingly unbuttoning my shirt. I heard the familiar pluck of string from cotton as she reached the bottom of my shirt, and I chuckled at her impatience. I moved my hands to my belt, but she slapped them away.

“This isn’t my first rodeo,” she assured me.

“Seems that analogy would be better spent if you were riding me.”

Her eyes flickered dangerously in my direction as she pulled my belt all the way out of my pants, rather than undoing it enough for me to pull them down. She held it in her hand as I tried to hide the eagerness from my eyes. There was no way we were thinking the same things about that belt.

O
ur first morning after was unlike any morning after I’d ever experienced.

For one, I woke up at
her
place. That shit only happened while I was at Princeton, and by the time I left, I was an honorary sister of Zeta Delta. Drama doesn’t even describe it. It was a funny thing. In the span of one second they’d go from turning on each other over sleeping with the same guy—yours truly—to turning on me for breaking one of their sisters’ hearts. After that, I resolved two things: always at my place, and never get involved with sorority sisters.

Secondly, and most astonishingly, I woke up in the same building John Lennon had lived in until the day he died. Judging by the industry decor of the New York-style palace, I was guessing that piece of history mattered to Red, especially as I stared at a black and white photograph of John, Yoko, and two other people I’d assumed were her parents. The woman in the picture was blonde, but was a 1970s platinum version of Little Red herself.

I rubbed my wrists, not the only sore part of my body, as I grinned at the black leather belt that sat in unassuming uselessness on the floor. She still hadn’t told me her name, but we fucked well past first-name basis last night. Not knowing if I’d ever see her again, and out of my element, I decided it would be a nice gesture to make coffee. She stirred a little as I slid out of bed.

“You don’t have to sneak out,” she said as she yawned. “You can just say thanks for the lay and be on your way.”

Last night was far from my standard tame one night stands, and her apparent apathy toward me stirred my insides. I crawled over her on the bed, straddling her on my hands and knees. My eyes flickered to her nightstand, and a grin overtook me as I spoke.

“You’ve got an attitude,
Stephanie.
”

Her eyes flew open as she rolled over, no shred of shock. Pure anger. Rage. “How the fuck do you know my name?” She regulated her breathing through flaring nostrils.

Taking the risk of her biting my face off, I leaned forward and kissed her nose. “The envelope on your nightstand.”

Her face softened as all muscles went to rolling her eyes. “Crafty. Watch Law & Order much?”

I took another risk as her eyes burned. “You keep using that tone with me and I’ll have to punish you.”

My heart raced as she sat up on her elbows, touching her nose to mine. “I dare you,” she whispered, her hot, somehow minty breath on my lips.

“Turn over.”

An hour and the second-best sex I’d ever had later, I was finally ready to leave. Red had slid under her sheets again, her flaming hair across the crisp white flashing like a stoplight. Even half asleep, I felt her pulling at something in me. Calling to me.

Don’t go. Climb back on in here and teach me a lesson.

But she said nothing and I had places to be. I pulled my shirt over my head, cursing under my breath at the button that had gone missing in the name of impatience the night before, smiling in the next breath at the prospect of sending her the bill for it from the tailor.

After lacing my shoes, I rose and was to her bedroom door before she said anything.

“Pace?” Her voice was soft, the kind of vulnerable undertones that let me know I’d done my job.

“Yeah?” I turned slowly, grinning in victory.

She sat up, her expression hard, like a war-addled vet. When she spoke, her voice dropped to a smoky octave. “Lock the door when you leave.”

At that, she got out of bed and walked into the bathroom attached to her bedroom and turned on the shower.

Feeling like I was losing my footing, and not liking that at all, I took a blank piece of paper off her desk, traced my hand, and laid it over a pair of panties in the top drawer of her dresser. Scrawled in the center of my palm was the message:
A little something to remember me by.

As I walked back through the grand entryway and into the warm air, I almost regretted not leaving my phone number.

Pull it together, Pace, she was just a one night girl.

She wasn’t, though. It wasn’t a front she’d used when excusing me from her apartment. That girl had barbed wire through her veins, and, if I was lucky, around her heart.

“Hey!” A fierce voice stopped me just as I’d started my long walk around Central Park.

I turned, too cocky for my own good. “Miss me already?”

“You left this behind.” She held out her hand and dropped a small white button into my cupped palm. String attached.

As I watched her bound back up the grandiose stairs to her apartment building, I tucked the button into my pocket, bit my lip, and walked away. I knew this was something; I made up my mind. Stephanie was far from a one-nighter. Come hell or high water, I vowed last night wouldn't be my last time between those ivory thighs.

W
e’d been lying amongst our discarded clothes on the kitchen floor long enough for me to start shivering. Pace must have felt me tremble, because even though his eyes were closed, he pulled me onto his chest. He was always surprisingly warm post-coitus, and I relaxed into him like he was an electric blanket on a cool autumn day. I traced my index finger along the religious tattoo on the right side of his chest. He had several new tats since I’d last seen him naked, but this one in particular caught my eye.

“What’s the deal, Pace? Did you find Jesus?” I couldn’t help myself from blurting Jesus out like a tent revivalist.

His chest vibrated against my cheek as he erupted with that deep, panty-dropping laugh of his. “Look closer, Red.”

I pushed myself up to sitting and tilted my head to inspect the large black image of the cross more thoroughly. Mother Mary and Mary Magdalene crouched beside an abused-looking Son of God at the foot of the cross.

“A decidedly morbid biblical image,” I critiqued, but I didn’t miss the pensive look behind his eyes.

“I got it right after we came home from Rome.” His eyes were like liquid topaz as he studied my reaction.

I realized I was holding my breath and exhaled in a ragged gasp. I fumbled for my clothes, waging an epic battle to hide my bewilderment.

Rome.

Holy shit—pun intended.

Pace and I met in the fall of my junior year and were done before summer break. We’d stupidly made an attempt to playact as a legit couple for a brief period during the month of March, traveling to Rome together over spring break. It was an impulsive move. Thrilling and magical and…

And we stopped seeing each other after we got back. By the time term ended, we’d stopped speaking altogether.

“I’m sure the Pope would be thrilled that you mutilated yourself in effigy.” Fixing him with a wry smile, I picked up my shirt and tossed it on without my bra.

“I didn’t do it
for him
.” His deep bass voice chastised me.

I glanced over my shoulder. He looked like an African version of The David and I wished he’d put some clothes on.

“Aw, Honey! You got a post-crucifixion tat for little old me?” I did my best Scarlett O’Hara to lighten the mood. “I notice it isn’t over your heart.” I nodded to the left side of his chest, which bore a large oriental dragon.

He scoffed, then his serious expression morphed into a sly grin. “That would have been...inappropriate.”

“Yeah, maybe on your crotch, but never over your heart.” I relaxed at his apparent return to the game and climbed to my feet.