Excerpt from the Salty Pickle Universe
This is going well.
It’s been a while since I flirted with a guy. Frankly, my pet goat Matilda is the love of my life, and between her and living in a yurt, I don’t get to bars very often. And without a phone, there are no dating apps.
I’m having fun.
“I don’t think we’ve shared names yet.” I extend a hand. “I’m Lucy.”
He accepts it and the warmth of his fingers is electric. “Court.”
“Court! I like it.”
That makes one of us, but I don’t bother to say it. She might come up with a nickname, too.
The bartender slides glasses to us from his side of the counter.
We both lift ours and clink them together.
“To the New Year,” Court says.
“To New Year’s Eve,” I amend, then realize my emphasis on the evening might be construed as a come-on.
But Court just sips his drink, blue eyes watching me. “So what do you do, Lucy?”
“I’m a yoga instructor. I’m very flexible.”
Shit. That was another come-on.
His eyebrows lift. “Are you, now?”
“I mean, sure. Yes. I teach it. I have to be. I have to show proper form.”
His lips flirt with a smile. “I bet.”
I finger the shimmery strands of my dress. “Do you do sports?”
“Basketball, just pick-up games with the guys.”
We both look up as another wave of people pushes into the bar. We get jostled on our stools when they all start shouting orders at the bartender.
“We’re about to get trapped,” Court says. “You want to walk around?”
“Definitely.”
He gets the bartender’s attention. “Close the tab for my room.”
The man gives a thumbs-up and picks a person from the crowd to serve.
We grab our drinks and squeeze through the throng. Court places a hand on the middle of my back so that we don’t lose each other. I hold my champagne glass aloft so it isn’t knocked hard enough to slosh.
We finally escape to the hallway, which is strewn with people leaning against the walls.
“Should we check out the main party?” I ask Court.
“It’s probably a madhouse, but we can look.”
I shake my head. “I’m sure you’re right. We have our drinks. It’s still ninety minutes to midnight.”
We head to the lobby, but it’s not much better there. I’m wondering if we should go to the barn for quiet.
“I’d suggest my suite,” Court says, “But I’m pretty sure it’s a rager by now. The whole Pickle clan is in town.”
I don’t tell him I already know he’s from the Pickle family, not that I know who they are. Summer grilled the bartender when he seemed to know the three brothers. This whole castle is in their family, and there is a Pickle deli somewhere inside.
I’m definitely not down for meeting his family after knowing him for fifteen minutes. “What about my room? It should be empty. I’m sure April and Summer are downing free champagne in the ballroom.”
Come on number three.
I think maybe I really am headed for a tryst.
“You sure?” he asks.
“I promise not to take advantage of you,” I say.
I expect a smile or laugh from him, but his face is as serious as it was when I first approached him. “All right, then.”
I reach into my cleavage to pluck out the key card April passed me in the ballroom when we met up. “Do you know how to find room 167?”
He takes the card. “That sounds like one of the original wings. Keep going past the ballroom.”
We walk by the doors, which are flung open so that the powerful thump, thump of the music carries into the lobby. One quick peek tells me that it’s wild in there. I definitely want to spend more time with Court where we can hear each other.
The sound retreats as we pass the closed-up bistro and enter a long carpeted hall. “This is it,” Court says. “Just a few more doors.”
We pause before 167.
“I haven’t even seen it yet,” I tell Court. “I put Matilda in the barn while the others checked in.”
“It’ll be nice.” He angles the key in front of the scanner.
The lock pops open. Court opens the door and holds it for me to pass inside.
It’s a lot bigger than I expect. The decor is pale blue and natural wood, giving it a classic, home-like feel. The bedspreads are a glossy gold.
There’s a small sofa on the side wall. I set my champagne glass on a narrow table in front of it and sit. “Much quieter,” I say.
He settles beside me, close, but not touching.
I’ve lured him here. Am I about to have a one-nighter?
I’ve never done that.
But I could.
A thrill zips through me. New Year. New me. Daring Lucy. Wild Lucy.
I haven’t been able to be as free as this in a long time. Not since I got Matilda and had to move to the yurt to give her space.
I feel like a mother who has finally gotten a night off from her brood. I’m free to do whatever I want.
“When are you going back to Manhattan?” I ask.
“Tomorrow,” Court says.
“Same.”
So we’re establishing our boundaries.
One night. We both return to regular life tomorrow.
He’s broody but gorgeous. Well dressed. Fit.
Our gazes clash.
I’m a modern woman. I can make the first move.
But then I don’t need to. He’s leaning in.
Our mouths meet.
Then our tongues.
His arms snake around me, and it’s a full-body experience.
His hard chest presses against mine. I fall back on the sofa, and he’s over me, hands everywhere, and I can feel him hard between my legs. One of my loose shoes falls to the carpet.
I’m doing this! I’m really doing this!
His kiss takes over my mouth. I gasp for air, then he’s back in, tasting me, making my whole body arch toward his.
I push on his suit jacket until it slides off his shoulders to the floor. The other shoe clatters somewhere. I think it landed on the table.
My skirt rides up enough that I can wrap my legs around him. I lift my hips, grinding against him. This is reckless, completely wild. I shut down any warnings in my head and just go with it.
He teases the straps of my dress until they fall down my arms. His breath is hot as he moves to my neck and up the swell of my breasts.
There was no bra in my possession that worked with this dress, so when he tugs on the neckline, I’m out and exposed and, hello, he’s got me in his mouth.
I suck in a breath. He’s way more attentive than my last boyfriend, who was fine, but really seemed to want to race to the main attraction.
Court acts like every part of me is a new package to unwrap and delight over, as if he has a checklist and he’s not going to miss a single item.
My blood rushes to my breasts, then down below. My hips strain upward, grinding against something very impressive pressing between us.
He reaches behind me and finds the zipper.
I let out a long breath as the tight dress is released. I don’t have a stitch on beneath it other than my best pair of black panties. Thank God I wore those, because Court is peeling the dress down, and taking in every inch of me with his lips.
I’m on fire. I unbutton his shirt so I can get to his skin. He shrugs it off and whoa, the muscles. My fingers bump along the bulges and valleys.
But then Court has made it to my belly button, and the dress is past my hips. He shifts aside to tug it down my legs.
When he reveals the black lace, he lets out a little growl that I feel in every swollen part of my body. He spreads my knees and presses his mouth against the fabric. Heat from his breath makes fire lick through me.
The only thing that is going to make this better is — yes, exactly what he’s doing, inching the panties down and filling me with his tongue.
I dig my fingers in his hair, clutching his head.
I’m high, everything buzzing, tightening, gathering. It’s almost an out-of-body experience, seeing myself, naked, sprawled on the sofa, legs splayed, this hot muscled New York man tasting every inch of me.
He spreads me wider, diving in more deeply, and I’m losing it way before I want to. I can’t help it, the buzz becoming a tremor, turning into a wave.
Then it expands out, and I’m loud, crying his name, and absolute gibberish, and this wild guttural keening sound. He doesn’t slow down, drawing it out, squeezing my thighs, his tongue delving for any additional sensation he can wring from my body.
I come down like a parachute in the sky, silken, gliding, and slow. I almost joke that I hope the neighbors are at the party, but then I don’t. He’s kissing along my thighs, and nips the inside of my knee.
I laugh. “Jesus, Court. You know how to ring in a New Year.”
He lifts his gaze to mine, the naked plane of my body between us. Normally I’m on the shy side, but I feel brazen with him, like I want to dance naked in the ballroom, have sex on the stage.
Damn. Wow. Those were some thoughts.
He slides away and kicks off his polished shoes. I sit back to watch him strip, glad the lights are on.
He doesn’t take his eyes off me, occasionally leaning down for a quick lick right back where he was, or a squeeze of a breast.
I’m so wet, I’m dripping, then I think — the sofa! And I leap up, relieved to see I haven’t left a massive spot.
I turn around right as Court drops his pants. His gray trousers hit the floor, leaving dark blue boxers.
Nothing’s peeking out yet, but by the looks of that tenting action, I’m about to be in for a ride.
Court
Lucy is flushed and warm, naked in front of me. She’s rosy from her cheeks to her breasts to her inner thighs.
I drop my boxers to the floor and grasp her waist. In seconds, I’ve turned her away from me and bent her over the arm of the sofa.
“This all right?” I ask her, snatching her body hard against my dick.
“Yes.”
“Condom work for you?”
“Yes.” Her voice is breathless.
I reach down for my pants and extra the package from my wallet. It’s been in there a few months. Work bullshit has slowed me down.
But not tonight.
It glides on easily and I reach around Lucy to take one luscious breast in each hand. She’s a perfect handful. Deliciously right.
Her round ass presses against my belly, my dick slipping in her wetness. I reach around to finger her again.
Her head falls forward, her honey-brown hair spilling onto the gold sofa.
I clutch a handful of it just above her neck and hold on tight.
I’m about to ask her if it’s okay when she lets out a long, guttural moan that ends in my name.
I’ll take that as a yes.
I shift behind her and slide inside. She’s tight and hot, and every nerve ending in my dick lights up at the same time. Fuck, this is good.
My fingers hang on to her hair as I work her faster. She whimpers, her legs shaking. She’s going to come again.
I keep my strokes inside her slow and easy. I want to feel her tighten down on me right as I let loose. It’s now my New Year’s Resolution.
Her cries grow louder and more strident as I work her, and I pick up the pace as I slide in and out.
“Court, Court, Court, make it hard.”
I hear her, but I don’t obey, not just yet. I keep working her with my fingers, slowly ratcheting up the speed of my thrusts.
Then a fluttering of muscles tells me she’s nearly there. As she starts to jerk against me, I yank on her hair and pummel into her. Our bodies collide, again and again.
She cries out, shaking from head to toe. And she clamps down on me in that excruciatingly perfect way only a woman can.
With one more hard push, I unleash inside her, my whole body suffused with pleasure. I huff out several hard breaths, her hair fisted in my hand.
We stay this way, breathing hard, letting the stars settle, until I feel her relax.
I let go of her hair and wrap my arms around her body.
“You all right?” I ask.
She laughs. “All right? I’m a shade better than all right.”
A tissue box sits conveniently on the side table and I yank out a square to discard the condom. She’s still wildly wet. I’m ready to chill out for fifteen and do it again.
But my phone lights up with a message. Then another, then another.
What the hell?
Lucy bends over for her panties, and I’m tempted to bury my face between her legs again. Damn. I’m ready for more.
But the messages keep coming. Finally, I pick up my phone.
Mom: Don’t miss the toast, Court!
Rhett: Ignore Mom if you’re banging that hottie.
Dad: Mom will be upset if you’re not here to ring in the New Year.
Axel: Are you with her?
I check the time. Ten till midnight.
I glance up. Lucy is scurrying into her dress.
“I have to go,” she says. “I came here with my girlfriends. I can’t miss midnight with them.”
She’s right. We should let this stand as it is.
I pull on my boxers and pants. “I’d say I’d see you tomorrow, but we’re both leaving.”
She holds up a hand. “No niceties necessary. It was a legendary New Year’s Eve hookup. Nothing more.”
I slide on my shirt. “I agree. Legendary.”
She grins as she steps into her heels. She had less to put on than I did.
I shove my feet into my shoes. I never took off my socks. I hadn’t even noticed. When I’ve snatched up my jacket, I follow her to the door.
“A kiss for the road?”
She pauses and turns. “Of course.”
We stand together for a moment, then noises outside the room start to penetrate.
“Five minutes!” someone shouts.
A bunch of people begin whooping.
We break apart.
“I have to run!” Lucy says. “I have to find them!”
She presses one more quick kiss to my mouth and dashes out the door, her key card in her hand.
I glance back at the room as the door shuts. That gold sofa. That hot encounter.
It clicks closed, cutting me off from the view.
Lucy. Lucy what?
It doesn’t matter. She’s already turned a corner and out of sight.
I head for the tower where my family has a suite.
I make it before midnight. Mom hugs me. Dad slaps my back.
Rhett hands me a glass and clinks it. “Did you do her?”
I shrug. No point in bragging.
Nadia comes up behind me, dropping her chin to my shoulder. “Good boys don’t kiss and tell.”
My brothers laugh.
Someone starts singing Auld Lang Syne and the attention moves on.
I sip my champagne, feeling fine. I do a little toast to Lucy, probably drinking with her friends in the ballroom.
Here’s to you, girl with a goat. You were one fine way to end the year.
Too bad I’ll never see her again.
Oh, Court, you are totally going to see her again.