One More Night(15)
“And what would that condition be?” she asked, her voice quickly turning breathy.
“That you let me touch you through the bars.”
“I would agree to that. I would definitely let you do that.”
“Yeah? You’d hike up your skirt for me in jail, Julia?”
“Yes, and I’d make it worth your while. You’d have your hands on the bars, watching me, and I’d drive you wild, giving you a little peek of my ass, then turning back around and lifting my skirt just a little bit.”
A hot wave of desire rumbled through him as he pictured the scene. “Come closer to the bars, let me touch that sweet little body of yours when you’re all locked up.”
“And you’re the key to get me out and get me off,” she purred.
“You better have your hand in your panties right now, Julia,” he growled, not caring if the cab driver was listening, not giving a shit at all because his woman was turned on. Far be it from him to leave her unsatisfied whether he was there to service her or not.
“I’m ahead of you, Mister. I stripped off my jeans when you said have your way with me. I’m lying on the hotel bed, with my legs wide open and my fingers slip sliding away,” she said, and he closed his eyes as if the image was almost too much to take.
“I hate the thought of your beautiful naked body ready to be fucked, and that I’m not there to do it. So I need you to lift up that skirt to your hips and bring your sweet pussy closer to me. Let me finger you behind bars.”
She moaned loudly, the sound of her desire washing over him. “I’m taking off my panties, handing them to you through the bars. You’re sniffing them, like you like to do.”
“Like I love to do,” he corrected, and he was tempted, so tempted to stroke his raging hard-on. He resisted, focusing instead on pleasing her three hundred miles away. “And then I’d slide my fingers up your legs, rub them across your wet pussy and make you rock into my hand.”
“Yes,” she cried out. “I want to fuck your hand through the bars.”
“I’ll be holding onto one of the bars, and the other will be up your skirt. I’d rub your sweet clit with my thumb and then fuck you with my fingers, filling you that way,” he said, picturing her riding his hand shamelessly. “Rock into my hand, ride it, straddle it. Come all over my hand, Julia.”
“Oh God,” she said, her voice hitting that perfect pitch that signaled her orgasm. “Oh God, Clay. I’m coming in your hand right now. All fucking over you.”
“That’s right. Because that’s your bail, and that’s the only way I’m letting you out of your cell; when you give me your orgasm,” he said, in a low and dirty voice, as her moans filled his ears, the most beautiful music there ever was.
“I’m giving it to you,” she panted, and then moaned happily. “Over and over, and many, many times,” she said, and he could hear the purr in her voice, and he imagined her stretching out sexily on the bed, all glowing and sated.
He wished he could say the same for himself. What he wouldn’t give to bury his cock in her right now and fuck her relentlessly. “When I get back to the hotel in an hour and a half, I’m going to need you on your hands and knees, Julia. So consider this your warning,” he said, as the cab slowed to a stop.
“That’ll be twenty-eight dollars,” the driver said with a completely straight face. Clay caught his reflection in the rearview mirror. Good man. He hadn’t been bothered by the dirty talk. Handing him a fifty, he said, “Keep the change.”
When the cab pulled away, he returned his focus to Julia. “I’m at the airport now. I’ll see you soon. Expect to get fucked good.”
“Nothing less, Clay. Nothing less.”
* * *
The purposeful stride across the small terminal, the serious look on Greg Barton’s face, and the eyes that spelled bad news told him everything he needed to know before the man opened his mouth.
Well, maybe not everything. Not the specifics. But as soon as the pilot started speaking, Clay already knew the flight wasn’t taking off on time.
“There’s a problem with the landing gear. It looked like we were all set to go, but maintenance did a final check and found some trouble. The part should be here in about an hour and a half, then we’ll need a bit of time to fix it.”
His jaw clenched, reflexively. He was tired of bad news. But he wasn’t going to dwell on it. He stroked his chin, contemplating options. “What are the chances of arranging for another jet? Is that a possibility?”
Greg shook his head, and sighed heavily. “I already checked into that. I called Frederick Pinkerton’s assistant, and she said she could arrange for a charter on another jet but that would likely take the same amount of time.”