Five Ways 'Til Sunday (4 page)

A chair scraped behind her, and one corner of her mouth curved. She jerked her chin at Jenna the waitress, their signal that she wasn’t to be disturbed, dropped the tray on the counter and headed back to her office with a little more speed.

Before she could shut the door behind her, Jackson’s body blocked it.

She didn’t say a word. Simply walked backward, opening buttons down the front of her dark blue blouse and letting it slid off her arms, then reaching behind her to unsnap her bra. When she was nude from the waist up, she hopped up on the edge of her desk and opened her thighs.

No way could he miss the fact she wasn’t wearing any panties.

“Did you forget somethin’?” he ground out.

Not responding, she leaned back on her elbows.

Jackson cursed under his breath but strode toward her. His hands clamped on her knees and shoved them wider apart, which caused her skirt to rise. His glance dropped to her bare pussy.

When he went to his knees, she let out the breath she’d been holding, only to gasp when his mouth closed around her hooded clit and drew hard.

He suckled, drawing blood to engorge it. The rounded knot hardened, the hood receded.

She lay back on the desk and draped her legs over his shoulders as he continued to torture that one vibrant little spot.

When fingers entered her vagina, she mewled. Moisture greeted them, slicking them as he slipped in and out. A finger, maybe his thumb, teased beneath her pussy, gliding toward her asshole. She stiffened, but he growled, letting her know she didn’t have any say, that he’d take what he wanted.

She didn’t mind it when he took charge. He’d never been harsh, never selfish. And even though they’d been wary around each other these past two days, she still trusted that about him.

A roughened pad teased the delicate opening then pushed against it.

Her breath caught. Her heels dug into his back. The tight ring resisted, burning as he continued to force his way inside.

“Breathe,” he rasped.

She’d forgotten how, but pursed her lips and blew, trying to relax enough to let him inside. Something wet and warm dripped onto her perineum, then slid toward her asshole. It was just enough lubricant.

His tongue slicked once over her hardened clit. Cool air brushed it. Then the tip of his tongue flicked the rigid knot, feathering it with soft lashes as he drove his thumb and fingers into her body. The door wasn’t locked. Anyone might twist the knob and look inside, but she didn’t care.

They needed this. They’d made love every time they were alone, but it had been perfunctory, lasting only long enough for them both to reach their peaks, but ending far too quickly. The intensity had been lacking, and she’d missed it.

Something was different tonight. She felt it in the air. Something electric. Dangerous.

Not wanting to miss a single sensation to lingering doubts, she closed her eyes and gave herself over to his caresses.

Jackson filled her cunt with his fingers, giving her the girth she needed. Her muscles tightened around him. Her ass burned, but she found she liked it—loved the base, crude thought of his fingering her ass. Lord, someday she’d want to take his cock there. Why hadn’t she put that on her list? She hadn’t known there was pleasure in the act.

Again and again, he eased in and out, lashing her clit with his tongue until she made those sounds again, and her body began to convulse with pleasure. His mouth latched on to her distended clit and pulled, and that was all it took. She clutched her own breasts, squeezing the tips, and came—so hard she banged her head against the desk and beat his back with her heels as she writhed.

The moment stretched. The tense coil of pleasure in her belly unwound…slowly.

When he stood, she opened her eyes, meeting his bleak glance. Tears filled her eyes, blurring his frame. He turned away.

That was when she saw someone else standing behind him. She gasped and blinked.

It was Mondo, and he held up a white wash cloth. Over his shoulder he said, “Jackson, go wash your hands. I have things handled here.”

She remained mute, flabbergasted that Jackson would allow it, but Jackson opened the door and left her with Mondo.

Marti began to close her legs, but he stepped between them and tapped her clit. “Keep ’em open.” He washed her like a baby, rubbing the wet cloth over her swollen sex, then trailing downward.

Her cheeks burned, but he held her gaze the whole time, challenge in his dark eyes.

“You saw the list,” she whispered.

“Jackson needs players.”

His slight Hispanic accent was more pronounced, something she’d noticed happened when he was tense. “You must think I’m—“

“Scared. That’s what I think. I’m not judging you. None of us are. Trust us to have both of your best interests at heart.”

When he finished washing her, he stepped back and bent to retrieve her clothing.

She pushed off the desk, stood on wobbly legs and pushed down her skirt, although it was a little late for modesty.

“Jackson loves you,” he said, gliding the bra up her arms and turning her to close the clasps. He didn’t stop there. He reached over her shoulders and slid his hands into the cups to arrange her breasts, one at a time. “This will be our privilege,” he whispered, then kissed her cheek.

His footsteps faded, and she was left alone, a hand pressed against her belly to still the excited flutters.

Flustered and sweating, she exited her office, needing to wash up in the restroom before returning to help Jenna the barmaid. They were short-staffed, and she owed Jenna big-time for covering for her. Managing a bar didn’t mean she could sit back and let everyone else do the work. More often than not, she pitched in when things got busy.

She locked her office door, then turned, slamming into a wiry, lean figure. The guy, wearing a dark T-shirt and New Orleans Saints ball cap, didn’t say a word, muscling past her and heading to the emergency exit at the end of the hallway. She got a glimpse of his profile, a large hooked nose and small receding chin. And pimples.

“Hey!” she called after him. “Are you even old enough to be in here?”

The man didn’t turn around, just lifted a hand and shot her the finger, before pushing through the back door.

“Jerk,” she muttered. But she couldn’t remain annoyed. Not when her body felt so relaxed, so wonderfully loved. Jackson had taken her list to heart and enlisted the help of his best friends.

Good Lord, it was really going to happen.

Chapter Four

So far, her first fantasy wasn’t living up to her expectations.

Marti was tempted to take off the large, dark sunglasses which hid her features. Other than the lamplight illuminating the street corner, the shadowed alleys were pitch dark. Ominous. Every scrape and skitter made her jump in her four-inch heels.

Worse, the corset she’d donned bit into her ribs, making it hard to take a deep breath, so she panted. Jackson ought to like that. If he ever got there.

And where were the other guys?

Every one of them, even those on duty, had their marching orders, or so she’d been told. Jackson hadn’t filled her in. Craig had—while she’d given him a fashion show of her sluttiest outfits before he’d headed to work.

He’d sat on the edge of her mattress while she retreated to the bathroom to change until she’d finally found clothing he approved. The “fuck-me” red heels—his words—had passed muster first. Then she’d strutted in short tight skirts, fishnet hose, bustiers, layering T-shirts that were nearly transparent because they were meant to be worn with a cami, but he’d been insistent. Told her no underwear. When she’d stood in front of him with tonight’s outfit—the black bustier and ass-hugging leather miniskirt—he’d tugged down the upper edge of her top to see how accessible her boobs were, or so he said.

Because she faced a mirror, she could see her cheeks turn an unflattering tomato-red as he stared at and then fondled her breasts. “Does Jackson know you’re doing this?” she’d gasped as he fingered a tight nipple.

His mouth curved into a sly grin. “He said we could do what we wanted short of penetration.”

She’d sputtered. “What?”

“Marti-mine-for-the-moment, you may as well get comfortable with it. There’s not much we won’t see or touch.” The hard glint in his eyes, a look she’d never seen in those mossy green orbs before, had made her shiver.

He gave one nipple a quick, gentle twist then pulled up the garment to cover her again. “We better head downstairs. Your carriage awaits.”

Mondo’s squad car had deposited her on this street corner after he’d given her strict instructions not to speak to anyone who might pass by, until she saw Jackson’s car. However, her disgruntled promise not to deviate from the plan might be hard to keep. The two women who stood next to the curb ten feet away were eyeing her with malice.

One of them, a tall back girl with a zebra halter top and shiny black boots, fisted a hand on one hip. Her lips, glittering with a sparkly gloss, pushed into a belligerent pout. “Whatchoo doin’ on our corner?”

Marti glanced away, trying to ignore the taller woman although a response was right on the tip of her tongue. Somehow, she knew that saying, “I’m waiting for my cop boyfriend to show up,” wouldn’t win her any brownie points. So she ignored her, turning her head to watch cars prowl down the dimly lit street.

A car, an older model red Plymouth with a loud muffler, pulled to the side of the curb beside the other two girls.

Marti watched, fascinated, as their expressions turned sultry, and they bent low to give the driver a peek at their deep cleavage.

“Lookin’ for a good time?” the girl with the glittery lips said, her smile widening.

Marti eyed the woman’s ass as she leaned lower. She didn’t seem to care that her skirt rode up in the back to show a glimpse of the half-moons of her ass.

As close as they were, Marti couldn’t hear the driver’s muffled response, but Glitter Lips’ mouth pouted. She straightened and banged her fist on the roof of the car as it rolled toward Marti.

Marti tried to take a step back, but one heel caught in the seam between the curb and the sidewalk. Now, she could leave her shoe behind or topple over into the street. She straightened and cleared her face of panic as the window slid down. She gave a quick glance up and down the street. No sight of her bodyguards. Had they abandoned her to teach her a lesson?

With her heart beating loudly in her ears, she bent to look into the car, peering over the top of her sunglasses, trying to figure out how to discourage this particular John. “I’m not available at the moment,” she said breathlessly—bending in the corset cinched her diaphragm.

The driver’s side was too dark to make out the man’s features. “What? My money not good enough for you?”

The voice was husky but familiar, and she leaned further inside to squint at the driver, but the ball cap he wore kept his face obscured. All she saw was a huge frame and large shovel-like hands curved around the steering wheel.

Marti shivered. She wouldn’t stand a chance if he decided he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Where the hell was Jackson? She couldn’t believe he’d left her swinging in the wind like this? Had his car broken down? Had he been in accident?

If he wasn’t dead, she was gonna kill him. “Um, I’m sure your money’s fine,” she said, trying to keep her tone even, “but I have an appointment.”

He snorted. “An appointment? What kinda ho are you?”

Marti’s eyes bugged. “What the fuck kind of man are you? Does your wife know where you are?”

“You know ‘er?” he asked, his voice getting smaller.

“No, but if I get your license plate, I can find her.”

“You’re a crazy bitch.” His head canted. “Sure you don’t wanna take a ride around the block?”

She straightened, pushing up her sunglasses, and turned her hips to angle her body away. The heel came free, and she stepped hastily away from the car.

The John’s burly shadow leaned toward her. “You change your mind…”

Marti jutted her chin. “In your dreams.”

As the Plymouth pulled away, another car drove up—a sleek black Camry with tinted windows.

“What the hell?” Glitter Lips flipped Marti the finger.

Marti straightened and crossed her arms over her chest, not lowering her gaze when the window glided silently down.

“How much?”

Her head swiveled. “What? Not even gonna try to be polite? No wonder you have to buy a girlfriend.”

A choked chuckle sounded from inside, and she leaned toward the window, squinting over the tops of her shades. Jackson’s profile in the darkness was distinctive.

She relaxed, tempted to beg him to get her out of there, but then he’d know her list had been a ploy to get him to retract the proposal. No, she’d see this to the bitter end. Then he’d know how completely unsuited they were for each other.

Marti mimicked the other women’s posture and jutted out a hip, placing a hand on the exaggerated swell before giving him a sultry smile. “Wanna date?”

“I don’t need no girlfriend.”

“Betcha I could make you change your mind.”

His head tilted. “I have some cash, but can I afford you?”

“Guess it depends on what you wanna do.”

“Why don’t you get into the car, sugar, and we’ll negotiate.”

Marti scoffed. “Negotiate? I think I better see what you’re offering first.”

He reached for his wallet in the cubby of the dashboard and flipped it open, slipping out two one hundred dollar bills.

She glanced up and down the street then pulled open the door and slid into the seat beside him.

“You okay?” he whispered.

“It’s not as much fun as I thought it would be,” she said, pushing her mouth into a pout.

His lips twitched. “Wait. It’ll get better.”

Marti turned to stare at him as he pulled away from the curb. Maybe he’d been teaching her a little lesson, but he wasn’t doing it to say “I told you so.” No, he was going to make sure she enjoyed the adventure.

“How’d I get so lucky?” she asked softly.

“Baby, I’m the one about to get lucky.” He pulled into an alley, rolled down the windows to let a breeze inside then cut the engine. “Get into the back seat, pull up your skirt and kneel on all fours.”