The Player and the Pixie(62)
And here’s where I ran into a predicament. I saw a necklace and it reminded me of Lucy. A yin and yang pendant on a long platinum chain, set with black diamonds for the yin and white diamonds for the yang. I walked away from it, perplexed by the impulse to buy it for her.
The clothes made sense. She obviously needed clothes, so I could remove them from her body.
The stunning necklace did not make sense. Frivolous, an item for her with no benefit whatsoever for me.
And yet . . .
I imagined her opening it. I imagined how pleased she’d be, how she’d want to wear it straight away, how it might remind her of me in the future.
“Sir? Will there be anything else?”
The clerk’s soft voice came from just behind me. Meanwhile, my phone continued to vibrate in my hand. Scanning the screen, I read Lucy’s most recent messages.
Lucy: If you didn’t buy me clothes then how do you have a change of clothes for me?
Lucy: What are you doing?
Lucy: EARTH TO SEAN!
Lucy: You’re buying the clothes right now, aren’t you?
Lucy: If you buy me clothes to wear tomorrow then you have to let me buy you clothes, and I’ll bring over an orange Speedo and Birkenstocks.
My sudden burst of laughter surprised me. I loved her humor.
“Sir?” the saleswoman prompted again.
“The black and white diamond pendant,” I said, smiling as I reread Lucy’s messages; I glanced over my shoulder at the woman. “I’ll take it as well.”
***
Once upstairs, I ordered champagne from room service and had a shower to wash off the day. I also beat off, needing some release from the perpetual case of Lucy Fitzpatrick-inspired blue balls. It didn’t help much.
But she would be here soon.
My attention caught on the small box I’d placed on the nightstand next to the bed. Originally, I’d left it on the bar. Then I’d moved it to the table in the sitting area. After trying out the desk in the bedroom, the counter in the bathroom, and the center of the bed, I’d settled on the nightstand.
I was just about to relocate it back to the table in the sitting area when I heard her knock sound from the hallway. Smirking at her refusal to use the key, I jogged to the door and opened it.
“You didn’t answer my text messages,” she accused, leaning against the doorframe, still dressed in the clothes she’d worn at dinner. These were the same clothes I’d almost successfully breached in the loo at Tom’s little restaurant. I might not have liked Tom, but I would always have fond memories of a certain bathroom stall on the premises.
“I was busy,” I said, sounding oddly out of breath to my own ears.
Her attention lowered to my chest, eyebrows lifting. “And you’re in a towel.”
“Yes. Let’s fix that.” I reached for her without further preamble. She came to me willingly, didn’t protest when I brought my mouth to hers, pressed the length of her against me, and kicked the door shut.
Lucy was pliant and tasted sweet, so unbelievably delicious. I groaned when her tongue slid along mine, an acute hunger I’d been endeavoring to discount raged unchecked. The flimsy top she wore frustrated my need for her skin. I reached under the hem and smoothed my hands up her sides to her ribs. Satisfaction came in the form of her whimpers when I lifted her bra, bent my head to her nipple, and sucked on her through the fabric of her shirt.
“Sean . . .” she panted, her nails digging into the back of my head, holding me to her chest. “Ah, wait. Wait a minute.”
She was here, beneath my fingers, mine for the night. All my earlier plans were eclipsed by the reality of her and my ferocious need to make her feel good.
“Would you like me to go down on you first?” I blew on the wet patch of her shirt, an instinctive growl reverberating through my chest as I watched the nipple strain and pebble.
I wanted to devour her.
“Oh, well, if you insist . . .” she squeaked, her pelvis tilting against my leg even as we stumbled backward toward the living room.
I popped open her jeans button, savoring the succulent sweetness of her mouth, pushing my hand into her knickers, greedy to feel the wet slickness between her thighs, and growling once more when I found her ready.
She sighed, rolling her hips as I stroked her with my middle finger. So luscious. So soft. So hot.
“Or do you want my cock first?” I whispered. “Should I make love to you from behind? Shall I bend you over? Do you want to kneel as I enter you? Would that make you feel good?”
“Christ, Sean,” she gasped against my mouth, holding my wrist in place as I slid my finger around her clit, keeping my touch teasing and gentle. “Have you been taking lessons from someone else?”