Something's Come Up Read online

  I felt a smile curling my lips. How darling.

  “Let me explain something to you,” I began, but he hooked his foot in my chair leg and dragged me frighteningly close to him in one swift movement.

  “Watch your mouth, naughty girl,” he murmured in my ear, his breath teasing my neck as I fumbled to finish my sentence. His hand stroked the length of my hair as if I were a favored pet. “Did you like what we did together last time?”

  “Y-yes.” My voice sounded horse, but I rallied my moxie. “But I’m not a doormat who’ll drop on all fours and act as an end table for your glass of Courvoisier. I am not that girl. I’m also not the girl who’s going to curl up after sex and ask what you’re thinking about. If you’re looking for that girl, take that sweet ass on out the door. If you’re looking for the girl who’d fuck you in that restroom right over there, maybe we have something to discuss.”

  His mahogany cheeks reddened a bit as his eyes widened with surprise. A deep sense of satisfaction washed over me. Before he could respond, Bubba came into the otherwise empty dining room with a tray of freshly filled salt and pepper shakers. He moseyed to the jukebox, glanced at us and made a selection. The volume was cranked for a large crowd, and the familiar chords of ‘Let’s Get It On” blared out of the speakers. Pace and I exchanged looks and gaped, open-mouthed, at Bubba. We all laughed in unison.

  “Need a to-go box?” Bubba asked.

  “Yes. She does,” Pace replied without missing a beat.

  Pace, July 2012

  “Come here.” I teasingly crooked my index finger in her direction as I moved toward the large window. “I challenge you to a dare war. Like the good old days.. You remember that I can wrap you around my waist like a towel, right? Keep the heels on, though.”

  “What, I don’t get a tour of your place first? Where are those Ivy League manners, Pace?” She put her hands on her naked hips and swayed them as she walked toward me, the purposeful knocking of her heels the only noise between us.

  “You’ve seen the kitchen,” I grinned, “now I want to show you the view.”

  I caught her swallowing hard as she lifted the corners of her mouth. I knew she was in a fucking mess in her personal life, though we hadn’t addressed it, and I intended to make her forget about it. Over and over again.

  When we were finally standing toe-to-patent-leather-toe, she wrapped her arms around my neck, lips grazing my ear. “How can I see the view, Pace, if my back is up against the window?”

  “That’s how I’ll come, with your legs around my waist and your back trusting the glass. But first I’ll let you watch the city below as you scream my name.”

  Her wicked eyes widened. She turned around, speaking over her shoulder. “Promises, promises,” she said, her voice soft and seductive. “But I like the way you think.”

  For a split second I wanted to carry her to my bed, but I knew if I brought her in there, I’d never let her leave. Her Hollywood pretty boys had nothing on me, or us. She knew that, that’s why she was here. No need to rub her nose in it.

  She bent over without instruction, planting her palms on the glass overlooking Boston Harbor. Everything about her body was perfection, a study in luxury. Porcelain skin poured over those mouthwatering curves like a vase up on a shelf you shouldn’t touch. But you know you’re going to anyway.

  “Are you still with me?” She didn’t turn around.

  I licked my lips. “Mmm hmm.”

  “You’re staring,” she mused.

  “Damn straight. Two million dollars of prime Boston real estate surrounding us, and this is the best view I’ve ever seen in my life.” I took two slow steps toward her, my hands sliding from her outer thigh up to the severe curve of her waist.

  “Suave. Can we move this along, please? I have places to be.”

  I felt a cocky grin emerge. "If you had other places to be, Red, you'd have gone there first. I'm always your last stop."

  She turned enough for me to see one narrowed eye and a slightly sneered smile. “While I’m young, Carrington.”

  Before she could take a breath at the end of her sentence, I drilled into her, my ears soaking in the shrill cry of gratitude that spilled from her throat. Granting her request, I didn’t tease her by pulling out and gliding in a few times slowly, as is customary for me. Instead, I dug the pads of my fingers into her decidedly thinner hips and pushed harder each time.

  “I’m going to fall!” she screamed her concern as I felt her insides begin to respond.

  Wanting to bring her all the way, and fast, I released one of my hands from her hips and bent forward slightly so I could support her upper body by cupping her breast. The muscles in her shoulders released as she put the weight of her upper body in the palm of my hand.

  “Yes! Don’t stop!”

  I bit the amusement away from my lips even though she couldn’t see me. It sounded like she was imitating Meg Ryan’s fake orgasm, only this was no act, and the only dessert was going to be me turning her around and making her come again. In time with me.

  I pulled out as quickly as I went in, turning her around as sweat beaded across my forehead and made its way down the sides of my face. Her cheeks were flushed nearly the color of her hair as her eyes met mine. I took one step forward and her legs lazily led her backward, clearly weak.

  As her back reached the window, it arched a bit, reacting to the cool glass. Our eyes never left each other, and it was nearly enough tension to make me come right there on my twenty thousand dollar floor. Lacing the fingers of my left hand through her right, I brought her hand to my shoulder, trailing my fingers back down her arm once it was secured around my neck. I slowly repeated the process with her other arm.

  “Just hold on tight, k?” I never recognized my own voice when it shared airspace with Stephanie Brier. It was darker, but softer, somehow. She brought out every shadowed desire that ever existed inside me.

  What was it about her?

  She nodded as I squatted enough to lift her legs—at the same time—and wrapped them around my waist, crossing her ankles at the small of my back.

  “Jesus, Pace,” she whispered, “it’s been too long.” Her mouth was on mine, hot and needy, her tongue stroking over mine as we both moaned and I slid easily back inside her.

  Just as I found my rhythm, my phone rang from my pants pocket somewhere on the kitchen floor. Naturally I ignored it. After four rings and a fifteen-second pause, it rang again, cutting off after two rings and ringing again five seconds later. That sequence repeated two times.

  “Fuck!” I growled into her shoulder. I pulled out and gently set her down.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Her eyes were wide with erotic rage.

  I was out of breath as I walked through the vibrating air of my apartment. “It’s gotta be some kind of an emergency. Hold on.”

  I picked up the phone and saw seven missed calls. All from Adrian. Just as I was going to call him back, it rang with his number again.

  I answered mid-way through the first ring. “I swear to God, Bro, you better be bleeding out on the side of the road.”

  Adrian garbled something into the phone.

  Son-of-a-fuck-with-no-orgasm-bitch.

  “What?” I spit out impatiently.

  “Ember…you know…and then Bo got all drunk, guitar, Better Man…you know, the Pearl Jam song?”

  I could have been an only child. Then none of this would be happening.

  “Adrian, where the hell are you?” At the sound of his name, Steph’s face turned from annoyed to serious.

  Of all the things Stephanie avoided taking about seriously, family wasn’t one of them. Especially siblings. She’d brass knuckle a bitch over her brother.

  “You-know-where-I-am,” he strung together like a fermented grain garland.

  I covered my mouth, growling into my palm. “Don’t get in your car. Stay there, I’ll come get you. You are still at that pub you said the party was at, right?”

  “Mmm hmm.”


  “Stay there. Got it?”

  “Pssssh, like I could go anywhere.”

  Adrian ended the call and I set my phone on the counter, bringing my hands to my face and rubbing the over my skin.

  “Is he okay?” Steph was real-world serious now.

  “Drunk as hell. Something about his girlfriend and then something maybe separate about her ex-boyfriend.”

  “Yeah...doesn’t sound so separate if he’s that drunk. Let’s go get him.” Steph was halfway dressed by the end of her sentence.

  “How long are you in town for?”

  She zipped the side of her skirt and shrugged. “A few more hours, I guess.”

  “Fuck,” I whispered. There was never enough time. Not with her.

  “What?”

  “Adrian’s in Barnstable. Cape Cod. It’ll take us an hour and a half to get there, who knows how long to wrangle him…” It was already after eight, according to my watch, and there’s no way Steph would want to leave after midnight…to wherever she was going.

  Steph handed me my belt. “Calm your Rolex. Looks like I’m staying the night. First, we go get Adrian.” Her hand was on the door before I could even grab my keys.

  Once in the private level of the parking garage, I led Steph over to my car, opening the passenger door for her.

  “Wait a second.” She stopped and took a step back, eyeing the vehicle from front to back. “An MDX?”

  I rolled my eyes. “What?”

  “The way you’re flashing the Rolex and the Forbes-ready apartment, I expected a Bentley or something.” As she slid into the car, she grazed her hand along the front of my pants and a conspiratory grin split her face. I was still hard.

  I shut her door and got in my side. “I love my Rolex, and that will last a lot longer than this car. Also, I’m like ten feet tall—most luxury brands aren’t meant for me unless I’m willing to spend over a hundred thousand dollars, which I’m not. I like my money to go where it lasts. Rolex and real estate.”

  “And women?” She arched her eyebrow, not making eye contact.

  “I’ve found,” I said as I started the engine, “that women aren’t always the most sound financial investment.”

  “Touché.” Steph pivoted in her seat until she was facing me. “Make sure that seatbelt’s buckled.”

  She didn’t make another move after her instruction. She just sat quietly in her seat as I pulled out of the parking garage and made my way to I-93 South.

  To Cape fucking Cod. A long ass drive and a waste of precious playtime.

  Once we were on the highway, she finally spoke. “How much time do we have on this road?”

  “Ten minutes?” I shrugged. “Then we get on Route 3 for most of the rest of the way. Why?”

  “Just curious.”

  She sat back in her seat, seeming anxious. Even though we’d just spent a couple of hours wrapped around each other, the mundaneness of a car ride seemed suffocatingly intimate. Aside from our trip to Rome in 2009, I couldn’t think of another time that we spent more than a few hours together in confined silence.

  The traffic on the highway was light, most people already secured at their Fourth of July parties, awaiting various firework celebrations. The emotions of that trip to Rome were never discussed, just acted upon. I didn’t want to think about that now. I looked at Red, whose skin looked even softer in the passing light of the cars. She gazed out the window, more silent than I was comfortable with. Before I knew it, I was reaching over the console of my car and grabbing her hand. Still looking out her window, she interlaced her fingers with mine and gave my hand a light squeeze.

  Not bothering to use my turn signal, because that would have required letting go of her, I merged off 93 and onto 3.

  “Do you always drive with the radio off?” She finally looked my way. It bothered me that she didn’t know, because any time we’d driven together it was in a cab or a hired car.

  “No.” I hadn’t realized it was off.

  “May I?” She loosened her hand from mine and gestured to the stereo.

  I cleared my throat. “Sure.”

  She pressed play and immediately whipped her head around to look at me. “Still into ol’ Louis, huh?”

  “Louis Armstrong is amazing, Red.”

  A challenging growl curled from her throat. “I’ll show you amazing.”

  She unclicked her seatbelt and leaned over the center console.

  “What are you doing?” My hands gripped the wheel tighter as my heart rate picked up.

  “I feel awfully bad about you being left hanging when Adrian called.” She undid my belt and slid my zipper down.

  I grinned, then swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “Just one thing.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?” She slid her warm hand into my zipper, her fingertips teasing my still-hard cock.

  “Change the song.”

  “Excuse me?” She looked annoyed, and I laughed.

  “I just can’t listen to Louis Armstrong while you do…that.”

  “I’m not sure who should be insulted, me or Louis.”

  She kept her eyes on mine as she blindly reached for the buttons, clicking them once and pausing to hear the beat. “Jay-Z and Kanye West? You really swung to the other side of the Civil Rights movement there, huh Malcolm X?”

  “No Church in the Wild. Listen to it, you might learn something.” Instigating her was a sure way to get her to take it out on me. Which I wanted her to do. So badly.

  “Sit still,” she retorted, “and let me show you what I’ve learned.”

  Her hot, wet mouth was around me in my next breath. I swerved the car a little.

  “Easy, Pace,” her mouth stayed on me, the vibrations of her words making me groan, “keep it between the lines.”

  I puffed out my cheeks as I straightened my shoulders, forcing myself to get a grip and enjoy the ride. “Damn, girl…”

  “Say that again,” she said in a breath.

  “Damn, girl.” I let it slide from my mouth in the voice and, as hoped, it made her suck harder and faster. “God…” I wanted to roll my eyes deep into the back of my head, but being forced to keep my eyes on the road only served to intensify the feeling.

  She had me in the palm of her hand…and mouth…and took every slow minute to suck me into submission. After fifteen or twenty minutes, and realizing I was driving almost 90 mph, my hips jerked around the seat.

  “Red, I’m gonna come.”

  She shook her head and slowed the ascent of her tongue. “Oh no, you’re not. Not yet.” She pulled her head up and kissed me once on the mouth, hard.

  Steph brought her lips back to the tip of my cock and let them wrap around it slowly, her tongue dancing in small movements around it. As soon as my hips relaxed and the feeling of imminent release had passed, she drove her head down and took all of me in her mouth at once. All of me. I’d been inside her mouth plenty before and that was something she had never been able to do. It didn’t matter back then because she aced any sexual test presented to her, but it mattered now.

  And I was going to lose it, but the highway was hardly the place for that. Far sooner than it should have appeared, the exit for Cape Cod was in front of me. I jerked the wheel to the right, my sweaty palms slipping slightly on the wheel.

  “Don’t stop.” Once on the ramp, I took one hand and dragged my fingers through her hair, tugging on the ends. The moan that came through her lips made me cry out breathlessly.

  I was going to come. Any second. Not here. Not here. Dear God, not here. Another minute later, I pulled onto a suburban-looking side street and put the car into park.

  “Come on, baby,” my voice was raspy and unrecognizable, “you know what I like.” Truth was, I was already there, but I had to retain some sort of control. Even if it was imagined.

  With one hand, Steph reached up my leg and grabbed my balls as she pushed her head down and slowly dragged her teeth back up me. That did it. I threw my head back, my eyes squeezing shut as I placed
both hands on her head, pushing her back down and holding her in place as I came with body-rocking force. I yelled, not caring about the sex-starved housewives tucking their spoiled children into bed mere yards away from where my car sat.

  “Jesus, Steph,” I was as out of breath as I ever was at the gym as she slyly sat up with a self-satisfied grin on her face, “your mouth could cause a ten-car pileup.”

  Steph pressed the button for the window, moving it all the way down as I zipped and buttoned my pants. She twisted in her seat, sticking her feet out of the window, crossing her ankles as she leaned back and put her head on my lap.

  My hands froze for a moment, unsure where to go. It was hard to tell with Steph what she would interpret as too intimate, but I brought a hand to her face and glided my thumb across her bottom lip. When it hit the center of her mouth, she parted her lips and sucked on the tip of my thumb, repeating some of the same movements she’d performed on me only minutes before. It felt just as intense, and I closed my eyes, taking a slow, deep breath.

  A moment later I felt Steph’s hand move to the stereo, and the lyrics of Jay-Z’s Empire State of Mind filled the car.

  “Feeling nostalgic?” I looked down at her and smiled, running the edge of my hand along her cheek.

  She shrugged, her expression conflicted. “I don’t have nostalgia.”

  “Bullshit,” I challenged. “That’s exactly what led you to my door and damn it if I’m not glad it did.”

  For the remainder of the song, Steph and I sang along softly and I coasted through memories of some of the best months of my time in the city. Silently, of course, since Steph would kick me in the balls and walk back to Boston if I regaled her with tangible memories.

  As the song ended, Steph smiled, and in a rare moment of vulnerability, the smile reached her soulful eyes.

  “You’ve got an excellent mouth, Red.”

  “I’d ask you how I did,” she licked her lips, all romance gone from her voice, “but it seems like a rhetorical question.”

  I playfully tweaked her chin as she sat back up, drawing her feet back into the car but leaving the window down.

  “Let’s get to Barnstable.” I put the car in drive and directed us back onto the highway.