WickedTakeover (9 page)

Lauren looked over as he yawned.

His fatigue vanished with his sudden frown. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?”

“This.” He worked his finger beneath her panty’s elastic,
pulled then let it snap back to her leg. “What did I tell you about wearing
underwear?”

That she shouldn’t at work, and Lauren hadn’t at first.
She’d been naked beneath her skirt when she’d talked to Jasmina in the
backroom. Even though Jasmina had said Dante would be here, that he’d had a
good excuse for not showing up early, Lauren had still felt silly. She’d
brought her panties along, just in case, and had put them back on. Until this
moment, she hadn’t even remembered them.

“You’ve been bad,” he said. “You know what that means.”

Lauren stared at him then the door. She’d locked it, sure,
but there were people just outside.

Dante seemed unconcerned as he pulled up his clothes, sank
into one of the chairs and hauled her over his lap.

Lauren squeaked then breathed hard as he threw up her skirt
and pulled down her panties. God, he was really going to do this.
Thank you,
god
. She gripped Dante’s leg and gritted her teeth as his palm cracked
against her naked ass.

Whoever had been walking past the door must have heard
because that person’s footfalls slowed then stopped.

The thought of anyone knowing about this made it even
hotter. Lauren’s pussy grew heavy, needy for Dante’s stiffened rod. He paddled
her for a moment more then stopped. Warmth quickly replaced the sting.

She kissed his knee, thanking him. “I like being bad.”

Dante chuckled and helped her up. On his feet, he zipped his
fly, buttoned his waistband then held out his hand. Lauren kissed his palm. He
fought a smile. “Give me your panties.”

“I don’t think they’ll fit you.”

He crowded her. If it was to intimidate, he was out of luck.
Lauren liked him being close. Pressing her face into his tee, she inhaled
deeply, savoring the cotton’s freshly laundered scent and his beneath it.

Dante laughed softly then smacked her ass once more. “Take
them off,” he ordered. “Give them to me now. No lip.”

Lauren might have argued, testing to see what he’d do next,
but the intercom buzzed. Probably Jasmina wanting to have a word with her, ask
if she’d gotten the nerve to ask Dante out yet, or to offer a few tips on how
she should do it. Before the young woman knocked on the door, Lauren removed
her panties and dropped them in Dante’s hand. He shoved the scrap of black
nylon and lace into his back pocket.

She smoothed down her skirt and looked at the back of
herself. “Am I decent?”

“I hope not.” He took her in his arms, kissed her fiercely
until they were both starved for air then finished by pecking her beauty mark.
“Starting tomorrow, you don’t wear a bra any longer.”

With her figure? Lauren giggled, muffling the sound against
his chest. “Sorry, I can’t ditch the bra. No way. Never. I’ll tattoo my own
eyeballs before I do that.”

Dante pressed his mouth to her ear and breathed, “Before
long, you’ll enjoy being exposed in ways you’ve never imagined.”

His promise registered on Lauren’s face throughout the day.
Dante caught her watching him as she had before they’d become intimate. As
though she wanted to say something badly but didn’t quite know how to begin.

He could have helped her, of course, telling her part of
what he had in mind for their carnal play. Keeping her in suspense was more
fun. It built her arousal and his. Each time they happened to be alone in the
same room, he went from relaxed to horny in two seconds flat. Lauren wasn’t
immune. Her breath always caught and color tinted her cheeks.

The first time it happened was in the backroom where he’d
gone to catch a snack between customers. Lauren was already there, her mouth
paused around the top of a Dove bar. She looked guilty as hell, like she’d
fallen off a diet or had taken the treat without asking Jasmina.

The young woman’s voice drifted from Van Gogh’s station
where he worked on a client. Both he and Jasmina were busy, not likely to
interrupt whatever happened back here. At least for a moment or two.

Dante joined Lauren at the fridge, saying nothing, waiting
to see what she’d do.

Lauren blinked slowly as though it was a great effort or she
was trying to clear her thoughts. From what Dante could see, it wasn’t doing
her much good. A dribble of vanilla and chocolate rolled down the bar, skimming
her thumb. He licked it away. She made a small, yearning sound then lost the
rest of her breath at him fondling her boob.

The threat of discovery seemed to excite her as much as it
did him. He felt it in her body’s tension, the way even the slightest touch
produced a response.

The conversation in Van Gogh’s station stopped. Lauren’s
attention crept to the doorway. Dante kept fondling her, flicking her nipple
through the lacy barrier of her bra, running his other hand over the sweet
swell of her belly to the delicate curls between her legs and her slit.

He felt her damp heat through the flimsy fabric of her
skirt.

Her hand dropped. The Dove bar pointed at the floor rather
than her mouth. Her pleading look seemed torn between asking him to fuck her on
the spot or to wait until after hours so they could really enjoy themselves.

Dante lifted her hand, took a bite of the ice cream and went
back to work.

Later in the day, he caught up with her at the front
counter. The last Dante had seen of Jasmina, she was in the back, smartphone to
her ear as she talked dirty to her boyfriend. Van Gogh was in his station,
surfing the net for designs to please a particularly difficult client. At the
moment, all of the customers were gone, none expected for a half-hour unless
there was a walk-in.

Anyone could stroll inside. The front door wasn’t locked.
Lauren didn’t seem to notice or care. She focused solely on him.

Good girl.

Using his body, Dante directed her to the counter, her back
against it, the front of the parlor behind her.

Her throat quivered with her swallow. Dante dropped to one
knee and bunched her skirt in front, shoving it beneath the waistband to expose
her tummy, triangle of hair and luscious cleft. Lauren’s face went redder than
Dante thought possible. She shifted her weight but didn’t protest. For that, he
gave her a wink then pressed his face into her cunt.

The world seemed to stop. Every part of his being registered
her arousing fragrance…sweet, sultry, warm, inviting. He tongued the edge of
her delicate curls. Her tummy quivered. His cock stiffened as though she’d run
her mouth down it. Holding back a growl of delight, Dante cupped her ass,
pulled her close and licked the seam of her pussy. God, she was wet, her nub as
hard as his shaft.

She jerked as he lapped her clit, her elbows hitting the
counter. The small noise seemed huge in the relative quiet. An instrumental
with an easy, romantic beat played, an occasional car passed, tourists and
locals walked down the street, their muted laughter and conversations hardly intrusive
but serving as a reminder that he and Lauren wouldn’t be alone for long.

Dante held her more tightly, not about to allow escape. This
moment was too tempting. He held her clit between his teeth and suckled it.
Faint feline moans poured from Lauren. Her buttocks tensed in his hands.
Increasing his grip, he used her shamelessly, slipping his fingers between her
cheeks, stroking her anus as she’d done with him.

Given his hold on her, Lauren wasn’t able to push to her
toes as he had. He’d confined her completely.

He slowed his licks then quickened them again, running his
tongue in circles around her nub, not quite touching it. The noises she now
made were frustrated and pissed. That didn’t compel him to give her what she
wanted. The sound of a chair hitting a table did. Jasmina had no doubt finished
her conversation and would soon be on the move.

Lauren seemed oblivious. She’d worked her hands through his
hair, using it as an anchor to keep his mouth on her. More moisture seeped from
her pussy, nearly killing him with its wonderful flavor.

Jasmina’s footfalls echoed in the hall.

Shit. Dante licked Lauren as quickly as he could in the spot
that mattered. She peaked immediately. He stood and slapped down her skirt.

As Jasmina reached the front of the parlor, Lauren was still
breathing hard. Dante pointed to the belt buckles in the display case as if
they’d been discussing them. “I’ll pull up the stats on which of these are
selling well and which aren’t so we can return those to the vendors.”

Jasmina took one look at Lauren’s flushed face and hurried
over. “Don’t cry,” she pleaded. “Everything will be all right.”

“She’ll be fine,” Dante assured and spoke to Lauren.
“Right?”

Her hand was on her chest as she tried to calm her
breathing. “Yeah. I’ll be okay.”

Jasmina hugged her. “Things will get better, you’ll see.”
She looked past Lauren’s shoulder to Dante. “You should take her out to eat
tonight. You can talk business over dinner. Make it fun.”

Her suggestion sounded like a command. “There’s a thought,”
he said.

Jasmina hugged Lauren once more, gave her a loaded look
Dante didn’t understand and took her place at the counter.

Lauren returned to her office, Dante to his workstation.

That evening, with the front blinds closed, he took her
repeatedly on the sofas, pausing only to snooze and recharge then chomp on the
pizza he’d ordered before going at her again.

They didn’t talk business.

The following days, Dante watched her as she once watched
him. Sometimes, he left his workstation on a pretense and hauled Lauren into
his arms within earshot of the others. After kissing her longingly and touching
her in places he shouldn’t—at least not in a public business—he released her
and went back to his customers.

Concentrating on work was fucking brutal. While Dante inked
his clients, his mind kept drifting to the pleasures he had in store for
Lauren. His X-rated thoughts kept building, forming a plan. One night, after
hours, his ideas were nearly complete. He joined Lauren in the backroom. She
unwrapped the stack of peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches she’d made for them
so he wouldn’t spend any more money on her.

If she’d fed him mud pies, Dante wouldn’t have cared. Having
her close and so primed for his touch was what he wanted.

He sat. “Take off your skirt.” The fabric was nearly as blue
as her eyes with little glittery snowflakes on it. Very pretty. He liked her
skin better.

She looked confused. “Are you going to take off your jeans?”

“Nope. I’m good.”

Lauren twisted her mouth but pulled off her skirt. During
their meal, she rubbed his toes with hers as she had at his uncle’s restaurant.

Finished with his first sandwich, he swallowed several bites
of another and said, “I think you’re ready.”

Lauren’s chews slowed then stopped. “For what?”

Dante ran his fingers past her springy curls to her cleft.

She laughed huskily. “I’m always ready for that.”

“You’d better be. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Her smile hung on for a second then died.

“Time for the next level,” he said.

Lauren glanced past him. He sensed her mind was ticking off
what he could possibly mean. Suddenly, her eyes rounded. “You want us to do a
threesome? Foursome? Five—”

“Hell no.”

She sagged in her chair, plainly relieved. “Then what’s
left?”

“More than you can imagine.”

Her expression grew excited then worried again. “You’re
going to videotape us doing it?”

“There’s a thought, but no. It wouldn’t be practical for
what I have in mind.” He bit into his sandwich, chewed slowly and swallowed.

Lauren fidgeted. She frowned when he took a long swig of
water. Finally, she slapped his arm. “Tell me.”

“What?”

“What you’re talking about.”

“I didn’t say anything.” He pretended to be confused. “I was
swallowing.”

“You know what I mean.”

Dante did and loved teasing her. “We’ve toyed with getting
caught here. Now it’s time to up the ante.”

Lauren pushed back in her chair even as interest glittered
in her eyes. “Surely you don’t expect us to do it outside in my car.”

Dante laughed. “Hell no.” He sobered. “It’s too small.”

“Jasmina’s car? Van Gogh’s?”

“They walk here like I do.”

“I’m not doing it on a bus. No freaking way.”

“Who said we’d be in a vehicle? That’s so confining.”

Her curiosity ratcheted up several more notches. “Where will
we be?”

“You’ll see,” he said and left it at that.

Not once during the following days did Dante answer her
questions nor did he bring the subject up again. He wanted Lauren’s
anticipation and desire to be out of control.

Finally, he knew when it was.

Even though the bulk of Lauren’s work involved cost cutting
and placing ads to sell the parlor, she arrived early every day, wanting to see
Dante.

Today her routine also included a walk around the area. Not
for exercise. She kept searching for places where he might take her—in a carnal
sense. Exposed areas that would prove exciting but wouldn’t get them arrested.

Dante wasn’t a fool.

Rarely had Lauren met anyone as intelligent, which caused
her to wonder again what he’d done before coming to Wicked Brand. His great
looks made him prime model material. Deep inside, she knew that kind of life
wouldn’t have satisfied him. It was too phony, and he certainly wasn’t swayed
by money.

The mystery continued.

Shrugging it off, she scanned buildings that were now a part
of her world and were beginning to seem too much like home. There was the one
where the artist painted outside, cafes with outrageously expensive menus,
trendy shops selling stuff she couldn’t afford. Weeks ago, that would have made
her feel like a loser because of her dwindling finances. This morning, she
regarded the stores’ display windows, picturing herself and Dante on one of the
restaurant tables or among the merchandise and mannequins, going at it like
there was no tomorrow.

Sure.

On her way back to the parlor, she scanned the tops of the
buildings, thinking they could frolic naked up there and still be safe. With
the stars above them, it would also be very romantic tonight. She had no doubt
about the timing. Yesterday evening, Dante had told her not to bring peanut
butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner.

“Ever?” she’d asked. “Or just for tomorrow?”

“Starting tomorrow,” he’d hedged.

She’d pretended to be wounded. “You don’t like my cooking?”

“Do you?”

She’d laughed. “No. But wherever we eat tomorrow night, we
go Dutch.”

“Depends on what we eat,” he’d said and refused to discuss
it further.

Thinking of it now, she pictured them going at each other’s
hot spots, her on top, him on the bottom. Licking, lapping, suckling.

She wiped perspiration from the back of her neck, which
wasn’t entirely from her racy thoughts. It was barely eleven o’clock and
already too steamy to stay outdoors for long. The tourists hurried from one
air-conditioned shop to another.

Lauren left those buildings behind and stopped short of
Wicked Brand, seeing a black pickup parked in a nearby space. Couldn’t belong
to a customer. The parlor didn’t open for another hour. As far as Van Gogh and
Jasmina were concerned, Lauren had thought that neither of them had wheels.
Even if they did, she couldn’t imagine them owning a vehicle that looked like
this one. Sleek and muscled.

Exactly like Dante.

Lauren rounded the pickup. Her mouth went dry at the back
bed that was long enough for some serious action between them. Him on top of
her, pounding away. Or her straddling—

Wait. He’d clearly said they wouldn’t be in a vehicle when
they went to the next level. Was the back bed of a pickup considered in or out?
Hurrying into the parlor, Lauren stopped just inside his workstation, surprised
he wasn’t in the room and that there was a large picnic basket parked on one of
the chairs.

There were going on a picnic? That opened up endless
possibilities in an area with countless parks and miles of beach. She imagined
them running naked through the surf. Dante mounting her behind a stand of palm
trees, taking her on the deserted lifeguard stand, screwing her like crazy
within sight of one of the hotels.

Before her imagination got too lusty, she leaned past the
doorway to see if he was in the backroom. The lights were still off. Turning,
she flinched at him in the hall near her office door. Clearly, he’d gone inside
and found it empty.

“You made food for tonight?” she asked.

Not answering, he grinned at her chambray skirt that she’d
bought on eBay for ten bucks. Vintage style, it gathered at the waist, flared
at the lacy white hem and landed just above her knees. Long enough to be decent
if she didn’t wear panties, which she hadn’t.

Dante studied her white tee as though it were the holy
grail. That alone told Lauren her nipples were surely poking against the
stretchy fabric.

“Huh?” he said.

“What did you make for tonight?”

“Make?”

Lauren suppressed a snicker, liking how her boobs reduced
him to monosyllables. “As in food. For tonight.” She gestured to the basket.

He laughed. “Nothing. I’m saving my strength for other
stuff. Now scoot.” He swatted her ass playfully and went into his workstation.

Lauren rubbed her smacked butt, wanting more of that.
“Scoot?”

“No more questions.” He tossed his wallet in the drawer
followed by a ring of keys.

She knew one of those suckers opened the parlor. Another
surely was to his place. The next for his truck? “Is that your pickup outside?
You drove it today to bring us to the next level? Wherever that may be,” she
mumbled then continued. “If you didn’t make anything for us to eat, what’s in
the basket?”

Condoms? Sex toys? Ropes or cuffs? A blindfold? Curious and
thrilled, Lauren slipped her thumb beneath one of the flaps to open it.

Dante pushed her hand away and put the basket in a top
cabinet. Too high for her to reach unless she stood on one of the chairs. “Go,”
he ordered. “Not another question or there won’t be any fun tonight.”

Lauren opened her mouth to argue then promptly shut it
without saying a word.

The day dragged endlessly. Dante avoided her, pretending not
to notice the way she kept strolling by his workstation. When he didn’t have
any customers, he closed his door, something he never did.

Jasmina noticed. She cornered Lauren in the hall and pulled
her to the empty front end of the parlor. “What’s wrong with Dante?” she
whispered. “Did he finally take you to dinner like I suggested? Didn’t you guys
have a good time? Didn’t you let him kiss you good night? Is that why his
door’s closed? You rejected him?”

With Jasmina’s rapid-fire questions, Lauren finally
understood how Dante felt about hers. “We had a nice time,” she said and left
it at that.

The young woman’s face brightened. “Then you did go out. I
knew it. Did he kiss you?”

All fucking over. “Ah no,” she lied. Despite the fun she and
Dante continued to have, Lauren reminded herself that it was only temporary.
She didn’t want Jasmina’s hope for a grand romance to cloud her own good sense.
She didn’t want to long for something that could never be. “We’re just
coworkers.”

Jasmina’s happiness collapsed. “You could be lovers. I see
it every time you look at each other.”

Lauren wanted to hear more then told herself that was nuts.
Jasmina was young and impressionable. Life hadn’t steamrolled her yet. Hell,
she was the type of woman who’d fight back, pulverizing anything in her way
while smiling sweetly. “He’ll never want for women. Just look at him.”

Jasmina crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “You’re too
caught up in looks. Dante’s more than that.”

No kidding. He was attentive, fun, generous, fair and kind.
What planet had he come from? Guys were supposed to be feckless like Frank,
abandoning their loved ones at will.

You’re not a loved one,
Lauren reminded herself.

She and Dante had grown to be friends. That meant they had a
good time without all the other junk screwing things up. Once real passion
entered the equation, all bets were off for a happily ever after.

“He’s wonderful,” Lauren admitted then reluctantly added,
“as a friend. Only a friend.”

Jasmina looked almost as bummed by that as Lauren felt and
went back to work.

Lauren buried herself in her endless job search and her
quest to sell this place. More loons had answered her ads about the parlor. She
deleted their emails, rewrote the notices with the caveat that only serious
offers would be considered and put them on the sites. To her surprise, one of
the places where she’d applied for an HR job had sent a personality test and
requested detailed information on her responsibilities at her last employer.

Lauren hyperventilated for a few minutes then got to work,
studying her files on how to ace personality tests. After that, she scoured the
ones she’d administered to applicants during her career. Then she practiced for
hours, wanting to come off as extremely competent but not a threat to a
higher-up. Easy to work with but firm in administering company policy.
Knowledgeable yet eager to learn. Able to hit the ground running no matter what
anyone asked of her, especially if it was impossible. In other words, perfect.

She sweated over every detail before taking the test so she
could breeze through it. To her surprise and relief, neither Jasmina nor Dante
interrupted her for lunch or anything else. Lauren figured Jasmina had moved on
from the Lauren and Dante love affair to her own. Dante most likely had made
himself scarce because he didn’t want to dodge any more of her questions.

Lauren debated whether to tell him about the personality
test and request for more info. Since it wasn’t a job offer, she decided
against it. Already her excitement had tempered to cautious optimism. In a few
more hours, she’d probably be convinced this would lead nowhere just as her few
interviews had.

Besides, there was other stuff to consider—the contents of
the picnic basket, where he was driving them and what sinful activities were at
the next level. A fantasy she and Dante were building before reality pressed
in, which it would. Though not tonight.

At the sharp rap on her door, Lauren glanced at the time. A
few minutes past closing. She shut down her computer and smiled.

There’d been times today when Dante hadn’t believed this
moment would come.

Van Gogh had taken forever to clean up his workstation and
split. Before Jasmina had left, she kept studying Dante as though she expected
him to do or say something. About what, he hadn’t a clue.

Finally, he’d asked, “What?”

Jasmina had given him a sympathetic look. “I was so sure
about…” She paused, obviously reluctant to say more then finally sighed,
“Things will get better. Just give it time.”

He’d been totally lost as to what she meant but nodded
readily, wanting to get rid of her. He couldn’t wait for this evening with
Lauren.

She opened the door, her smile luminous until she looked to
either side of him. A frown replaced her delight. “Where is it?”

Taking her hand, Dante placed her palm on his fly. His cock
twitched appreciatively. “Where it’s always been.”

“Seriously?” She slipped her hand down his jeans and cupped
his balls.

Lord, that felt nice. He blew out a sigh.

She murmured, “You’re right. Everything’s where it should be
except for the picnic basket. Did you forget it?”

It took Dante a moment to understand her question. She kept
stroking his balls, not letting him think of anything other than the sensations
coiling in his groin, growing to a dangerous level.

Before his lust got the better of him, he pulled her hand
away. “It’s in the pickup.”

“What’s inside?”

“Seats. A steering wheel. The dashboard. Floor mats.”

Lauren laughed. “Not the truck.” She got serious again. “The
basket.”

“You’ll see.”

She made a face. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere if you don’t stop asking questions. Don’t you trust
me?”

Her expression changed from frustrated to surprised then
apologetic. “Of course I do. You’d never let us get arrested.”

Whoa. What? He wondered what she thought he had in the
basket. “Damn right. At least not until we’ve had some fun first. Come on.”
Ignoring her sudden disquiet, he pulled her out of the building and settled her
in the passenger seat of his pickup. “The seatbelt goes on,” he ordered. “I
want you safe.”

She buckled up.

“Lift your skirt.”

Lauren stared at him then the garment. Dante helped her,
pushing the fabric to the tops of her legs. After piling in on his side, he
lifted the armrests and started the engine. “Turn toward me and spread your
thighs.”

Suddenly, her attention was everywhere as though a crowd had
gathered with their faces pressed against his windows. Several couples who were
probably tourists wandered down the walk looking limp from the heat. A few cars
passed. Dante rested his hand on the inside of Lauren’s thigh. She moaned
softly. He just about groaned at the silky smoothness of her skin and the fact
that he couldn’t take her right now as he wanted.

“Lauren.” He paused to control himself. “Do you want this?”
He slid his hand to her pussy and buried his fingertips in her springy hair.

“Oh yeah,” she breathed.

Dante pulled back his hand. “Then turn toward me and spread
your thighs.”

This time, she obeyed immediately.

He ran his fingers down her moist cleft, smiling at her
prolonged sigh. “See what you get when you cooperate?”

She mumbled something and wriggled closer. Pleased, Dante
pulled out of the parking space. While he drove, he rested his hand on her
thigh. At each stoplight, he played with her cunt, tugging her curls, running
his fingers over her clit. She puffed out a sigh, sucked in more air then lost
it again. By the time they’d traveled several miles, Lauren seemed to have
forgotten the nearby vehicles. Either that or she no longer cared if those
pickups and SUVs were high enough for their passengers to peer inside here.

She was his. Willing. Wanting.

Life was looking good. He coaxed her closer to orgasm at the
next light. When it turned green, Dante pulled away, went a short distance then
parked.

The second he took his hand from her, Lauren whined, “No.
Don’t stop. I’m almost there. Let me finish.”