30. Chapter 30
Chapter 30
“Ms. Kincaid, we have a delivery for you,” the concierge for my apartment building said. “Would you like me to have someone bring it up to you?”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll come down and get it.”
A few minutes later, I walked back into my apartment with a huge white box adorned with a bright red bow. “What the hell?” I asked the box, but it didn’t answer.
Placing it on my couch, I opened it, my eyes bulging when I pulled back the tissue paper to find a glittery emerald-green dress and a shoebox with strappy black stilettos. A small velvet bag held pretty silver jewelry dotted with dark-green stones.
A grin crept over my lips when I saw the cream envelope with my name on the front in Cruz’s handwriting. I impatiently opened it and read the card.
I was positively giddy. We must be doing the final role playing scene on my list… a one-night stand with a dark and dangerous stranger.
I’d never had a one-night stand in my life, but it made me hot as hell when I read about them in books. And tonight, I knew Cruz would fulfill my fantasy.
Entering the upscale space, I walked straight for the bar, keeping my eyes forward. Everything was done in dark woods and greens, and the lighting was dim. I’d wanted to be someone totally different tonight, the kind of woman who would go home with a complete stranger, so I straightened my hair and fashioned it into a high, sleek ponytail with a thick strand wrapped around the base. My makeup was more dramatic than I usually wore, my eyes smoky and my lips a sparkling copper.
As instructed, I took a seat at the bar and hung my small black purse on the hook underneath. A bartender approached immediately, his gaze dropping to the ample amount of cleavage on display in this green dress.
“What can I get you?”
“Top shelf margarita on the rocks, please,” I ordered.
The man was back in a few minutes, placing the icy drink in front of me and waving me off when I pulled out my wallet.
“Your drink has been taken care of by the gentleman in the back corner,” he informed me, inclining his head to a spot behind and to the right of me.
Hmmm, he’s already here?
Picking up my drink, I took a leisurely sip before swiveling my chair to find the “stranger.” And sweet baby Jesus, I almost choked on my drink. Cruz Estrada was seated in a round booth, looking like a sin I’d like to commit.
He was dressed in solid black, from his pants to his suit jacket to his button-down shirt, which had three buttons open. I noted a gold cross on a thin chain around his neck, and it hung directly against his muscular chest. His hair was slicked back tonight, giving him a dark and dangerous vibe.
Going for aloof, I lifted my glass in thanks before turning back to face the bar. From that angle, I could only see a sliver of him in the mirrored back wall, but each time I turned slightly to cast a glance at him, his full attention was focused on me.
My heart galloped with anticipation. This was as exciting as I’d hoped.
As soon as I finished my drink, the bartender set another one in front of me. “Oh, I didn’t order this,” I told him.
He smirked. “Your admirer sent this one as well.”
“Hmmm, that was sweet.” Rotating my stool a few degrees, I met Cruz’s fiery blue eyes and gave him a coquettish smile over my shoulder before mouthing, Thank you.
He gave a sharp jerk of his chin, as if to tell me to come over there, but I simply lifted an unimpressed eyebrow at him.
Gotta work for it, buddy. We’re strangers, remember?
A slow, sexy smile pulled one corner of his lips up, giving me a glimpse of that dimple and telling me he accepted my challenge. He rose from the booth, straightening his jacket before prowling across the room toward me.
When he stood, I got a good look at his entire body, and my mouth went dry, all the moisture heading south. Cruz’s pants hugged all the right things. Thick thighs. Tapered waist. And… gulp… that prominent bulge. The man was sex in a suit, moving with the raw grace of a cheetah, despite his size.
God, how is he so damn smooth?
I turned all the way around to face him and slowly crossed one leg over the other. His hungry eyes followed the movement, and heat scorched my bare legs as he openly stared. Then those heavy-lidded azure eyes lifted to my face. The look he gave me told me he had one thing on his mind. Well, maybe several things, but they were all related to a whole lot of nakedness.
“Thank you for the drinks,” I said, holding out one hand for a shake. “My name is Lena.”
He took my hand but didn’t shake it, and my breath snagged in my trachea when he brought it to his lips and tasted me with the very tip of his tongue. It was a small, quick circle, and then he was simply kissing the back of my hand like a gentleman. Though the smug expression on his face told a different story.
“You’re very welcome,” he said in a low, smooth voice. Holy hell, he’s going to wreck me tonight. “I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you are.”
Leaning closer, I caught a whiff of his masculine scent, and a wave of dizziness threatened my ability to stay upright on the stool. But I did my best to play it cool. “Does that line work on all the women?” I whispered.
His fingers drew a mesmerizing path up my forearm, raising a line of goosebumps in their wake. “All that matters is whether or not it’s working on you .”
“Maybe,” I replied airily.
He turned my hand over and pressed his pillowy lips against the sensitive pulse point of my wrist, his eyes holding mine prisoner. “I would be honored if you’d join me at my table.”
“Okay,” I breathed, unable to resist his obvious seduction.
His hand was gentle as he helped me stand, wrapping possessively around my smaller one before landing on the small of my back as I grabbed my purse. My skin was exposed there, thanks to the low dip of the fabric, and the simple touch was intoxicating.
I paused beside his table and looked up at him. “I don’t even know your name.”
A glint of mischief sparkled in his blue eyes. “Rider.”
“Nice name,” I replied, sliding into the booth.
He followed, leaving about six inches between us, and then set my drink in front of me. I’d been so entranced, I hadn’t even realized he’d picked it up.
“Would you like anything to eat, Lena?”
You. I’d like to gobble you up.
“Maybe just something small,” I suggested and then had to clench my fingers around the smooth edge of the booth seat to keep from visibly shivering when Rider dragged his knuckles down my upper arm. I’d never been with a man whose touch affected me so completely.
“Would you like to share something with me, pretty girl?”
Good grief! It wasn’t a complicated question, but the way he purred the words made them rife with innuendo.
So I innuendo-ed right back. “I’d love to share with you, Rider. Anything you choose.”
His tongue slipped out and toyed with the little scar on his lower lip. “I’m going to assume you mean food. For now.” Then he leaned forward until his mouth brushed my ear. “But later, I’m going to happily misinterpret that statement.”
I wasn’t sure how I was still able to form actual thoughts with his delicious scent, deep voice, and warm breath surrounding me, but I managed to sound semi-cool when I said, “We’ll see.”
He chuckled darkly and traced a single finger up and down my throat several times, his eyes following the movement. “You have a beautiful neck, Lena. I’d like to see how it looks with my hand wrapped around it.”
Oh holy hand necklace! This man…
After a final brush of his finger against my suddenly damp skin, Rider turned and nodded to a server, like he hadn’t just obliterated my vagina with his seemingly offhand comment.
A short, thin man approached a moment later, his eyes flicking between us before landing on my cleavage. “Hi, guys. I’m Charles. What can I get for you?”
Is he asking my boobs? Maybe I should order them a margarita.
Rider casually draped his arm over the back of the booth, not quite touching me, though I was exceedingly aware of the possessive nature of the motion.
“We’ll have an order of patatas bravas,” Rider said, dropping the tips of his fingers to my bare shoulder.
Charles smiled over at me. “And for the lady?”
“ My lady will be sharing with me,” Rider replied coolly, though his eyes were anything but. The side of his large body was suddenly pressed directly against mine, and his fingers wrapped around my shoulder.
As soon as a chastised Charles scurried off to the kitchen, I lifted an eyebrow at the man beside me. “Your lady?”
“While you’re with me, you are mine, and I don’t tolerate other men leering at what’s mine.”
“Awfully presumptuous of you,” I suggested. “What if I don’t want to be yours?”
“Then you wouldn’t be sitting in this booth with me right now,” he replied with another of those cute but smug half-smiles.
Keeping my tone noncommittal, I hummed and changed the subject. “What do you do for a living, Rider?”
He took a sip of whatever clear liquid he was drinking, his blue gaze holding mine over the rim of the short glass. “I’m in the family business.”
“And what business is that?”
“We provide… goods and services. How about you?”
“I actually have two jobs. During the day, I write fortunes for fortune cookies.”
He grinned. “Oh really? Let me guess. You write sappy ones about secret admirers or dreams coming true.”
“Nope. I try to make people think with my fortunes. I did one last week that read, That wasn’t chicken. ”
Rider barked out a laugh. “Definitely thought provoking. Tell me another one.”
Tapping my chin, I thought about it for a second. “This is one of my favorites. Help! I am being held prisoner in a fortune cookie factory. ”
Shaking his head in amusement, he remarked, “I’m a little afraid to ask what your night job is.”
“I’m a professional cuddler,” I informed him, barely able to keep a straight face.
“That’s not a real job,” he scoffed.
“It is. Look it up.”
Rider’s lips curled upward before he took another drink. “And what, pray tell, does a professional cuddler do?”
“People hire me if they’ve had some past trauma or suffer from depression. Proper cuddling can solve a myriad of problems. It’s a type of therapy,” I said breezily.
“And you think you’re a good cuddler?” He allowed a bit of skepticism to color his words.
Taking a drink of my margarita, I flashed him a cheeky grin. “Oh, I know I am. Care for a demonstration?”
He smirked. “Depends. How much is it going to cost me?”
“I think I can give you a freebie since you’ve bought my drinks.” I took one of his hands between both of mine. “First of all, tell me what kind of trauma you’re dealing with.”
His lips twisted to the side. “Let’s see… when I was five, my goldfish escaped.”
I burst into giggles. “Escaped?”
He shrugged. “That’s what my parents told me when I came home and he was gone. They said he went to the ocean to be with all the other fish.”
“Ah. I can see where an escaped goldfish would be traumatic. How have you even functioned in adulthood?”
Rider smiled sadly. “It’s not been easy. So do you think you can help me?”
“Oh, I have just the cuddle for you.” Shifting my body to face him, I wrapped one arm around his shoulder and the other around his waist. “Now do the same to me,” I instructed.
I was in his arms before my next breath, his head buried in my neck. “I think you might be right. I’m feeling soothed already.”
“Yes, well, the direction your right hand is moving is against the professional cuddler’s code of ethics,” I said, referring to the hand that was about a half inch from a full-on ass grab.
“But it’s helping my trauma,” he argued. “I have to admit, you’re very good at this.”
“Told you,” I said smartly, lightly brushing the back of his neck with my fingertips.
Rider dragged his nose up and down my neck. “I’ve almost totally forgotten about Fido already.”
“Fido?”
“My goldfish,” he explained. “Maybe I’ll just hire you full-time as my own personal cuddler.”
“You couldn’t afford me.”
He chuckled. “Sweetheart, I assure you I could.” Then he softly bit my earlobe, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. “Can I tell you something?”
“Yes.” The single word sounded husky.
“I’ve never wanted to kiss a stranger as much as I want to kiss you,” he said, the low timbre of his voice vibrating against my neck.
“Then why don’t you?”
He didn’t waste any time, dragging his nose along my cheek until it brushed mine. Our eyes met and then closed simultaneously as his lips took mine.
I was being seared, burned alive by the complete possession of his mouth and the boldness of his tongue. This was no let’s work up to the good stuff kiss. No, Rider started with the good stuff. Deep and slow, tasting every inch of my mouth with his greedy tongue.
That hand that had been almost grabbing my ass earlier was now fully committed to the task, kneading the globe like he owned the damn thing. His other hand was cupping the back of my neck, one lazy thumb trailing up and down my jugular vein.
His mouth held the smooth taste of expensive vodka as we kissed until my toes were practically curling in my heels. He pulled back with soft sucks, and my eyelids seemed to weigh a ton when I finally dragged them open. Rider looked me dead in the eye while giving my butt a final squeeze.
“All I can think about is holding this firm ass while you’re on all fours in front of me.”
The images that brought to mind were beautifully vulgar, and a moan escaped before I could stop it. Rider’s warm laugh gusted against my face as his lips dusted soft kisses over my mouth.
“I have a room upstairs,” he whispered, and I restrained myself from dragging him immediately out of the booth and upstairs.
“Really?” I sang. “Does it have a bed?”
“No, I requested they remove it so I could fuck you on the floor,” he shot back.
“Who said you’ll be fucking me?” I asked, going for indignant. And probably failing.
“I did,” he replied with all the confidence in the world.
I rolled my eyes, “I don’t sleep with men I just met.”
“Okay.” His tone was easy and a little too light. “We won’t sleep then. I’ll just fuck you till dawn. Unless you’re a prude,” he goaded.
“I’m not a prude.”
He kissed my temple and let his mouth linger there. “Are you a good girl, Lena?” The curve of his smile against my skin told me he didn’t miss the tremble that ran down my back. “Ahhh, someone likes being called a good girl.”
“I do not,” I protested weakly, and then air made a sharp entrance into my lungs when he yanked my leg over his, binding it between his thick thighs.
“I know a way to find out.” His short fingernails scratched deliberate lines up the inside of my thigh until he reached my pantiless sex. He taunted me with raised eyebrows. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”
“If you don’t know, maybe you should have paid better attention in anatomy class,” I told him cheekily, barely holding onto my sanity because Rider was stroking one thick finger up and down my slit.
His laugh was like a midnight sky with no stars, dark and foreboding. “Trust me, Lena. I specialize in the female anatomy. Clit.” He flicked my bundle of nerves, and I almost flew off the seat. “Cunt.” Two fingers pushed deeply into me. “G-spot.” Those fingers curled forward, sure and precise, and my damn eyes crossed until I saw double.
“Oh my god,” I whimpered, grasping the edge of the table with both hands as he stroked that sensitive spot inside me.
“Hmmmm,” Rider hummed in my ear. “Maybe you’re a bad girl after all, Lena. I don’t think good girls allow themselves to get finger-fucked beneath a table in a public place. And by a stranger, no less.”
Holy hell! This is even hotter than anything I could have imagined.
He picked up my margarita with his free hand and held it to my lips, allowing me to lick salt from the rim before tipping a small drink into my mouth. All the while, he continued the sweet assault between my spread legs. Thank god this place has long tablecloths.
“I’m… I’m close,” I panted, closing my eyes as I felt the familiar tightening inside me.
Then his fingers were gone, and I snapped my lids open to see Rider’s fingers a couple inches from my face. They were embarrassingly wet with my arousal. With a wicked grin, he dipped them into his glass, turning the clear contents slightly cloudy as the ice tinkled against the sides.
Holding my eyes, he sucked them clean before downing his drink in one go with a long groan. Did he just… Before I could say anything, the server approached with our food. Rider’s thighs tightened around my slimmer one, holding it hostage when I attempted to close my legs.
“Here we go. One order of patatas bravas,” Charles informed us, setting the plate down, and I wondered if I looked as flustered as I felt. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Another vodka on the rocks,” Rider said coolly. “That was the best-tasting one I’ve ever had.”
Lord have mercy! No he did not just say that. I was sure my cheeks were the color of ripe cherries as the server scurried away.
For the next hour, I was a ball of electricity contained in skin, bones, and lust. Rider fed me crispy potatoes dipped in the creamy sauce. He purposely smeared the sauce on my lips, my cheek, my shoulder, and then proceeded to lick it off.
All the while, he edged me with tortuous fingers between my legs, pumping in and out, stroking all the places I needed to be touched, but never letting me come. By the time he licked his fingers clean of… me… and paid the bill, I wasn’t even pretending to be demure anymore.
Hell, I was so eager to get upstairs with him, I almost forgot my purse. Rider pulled it from the seat and tucked it beneath his arm, a smug-as-fuck look on his face as he placed his hand on my lower back and led me from the bar.
Why is it so hot when a man is secure enough in his masculinity to carry your purse?
I somehow managed to walk calmly toward the elevator bank rather than sprinting like my poor vagina was urging me to do. Rider dipped his head toward me at the same time his finger hit the call button. “Are you ready to come?”
The words had barely left his lips before I barked out, “Yes!”
He chuckled and led me into the elevator, crowding me until my face was inches from the glass back wall. His voice was an octave lower as he dipped his head and spoke his demand in my ear.
“Put your hands on the rail and spread your legs.”