Fool's Gold: A Kisses and Crimes Novel (30 page)

She grins. “Who said anything about liquor? I was there for the extra cake.” She motions towards the small sweet that’s in the seat.

“And as the bride’s sister,” she continues, “I get first dibs.”

Her smile is genuine this time—
real.
It’s the first time she’s shown teeth since I’ve met her—teeth that weren’t involved in any snarling or growling at me.

Her eyes sparkle with uninhibited humor and when they do, my previous anger melts like butter. I am no longer pissed off; I am
turned on
.

It’s like all the boiling blood that ran heatedly through my veins because of her has conveniently made its way to my cock, and in its absence, all I am left with is
want
.

Her eyes are strikingly blue, and the gentle curve of them makes me think of guilelessness, of innocence.

But there is nothing
guileless
or
innocent
about the filthy words we used just days ago, and the dichotomy of her sweet and sultry face mixed with the naughtiness beneath is more than I can bear.

I have to have this girl.

The words are out before I can think.

“I’ve got something better than that cupcake. Have a drink with me.”

Elena giggles. “We’ve got drinks here.”

“Not what
I’ve
got. It’s white liquor… and it’s good. Have a drink with me.”

“But the party…”

“Will be
fine
without us for half an hour… Have a drink with me.”

She huffs. “You sound like a broken record.”

“And I will
continue
to do so… until you…”

“Have a drink with me,” we say in unison.

She shakes her head slightly, staring down at the floor for a few seconds. Whatever excuse she comes up with, I am
more
than prepared to spoil.

I wait…

Suddenly, she raises her head. “One drink… and this place better be
damn
close.”

“When you defend, try not to worry or become upset. Keep your cool and trust your position - it's all you've got.”  -  Pal Benko

ELENA

The place to which Lukas brings me for a drink is close.
Damn
close—just like I asked.

In fact…
it’s in the same hotel… exactly one floor below…
in his hotel room
.

Lukas leads me down the elevator, guiding me through a short walk down the hallway of the Hyatt’s thirteenth floor.

Lucky number thirteen
. Or unlucky…

That remains to be seen.

I stand by, nervous and giddy, as Lukas removes a dark key card from his pants pocket and inserts it into the hotel door’s slit.

The door lock blinks from red to green, and we enter the room with a simple flick of a handle, the clicks of my heels marking the passage of each agonizingly slow second.

Each second,
every single millisecond,
alone with Lukas is an individual test of my will, and I have to fight the urge not to press my nose into his now-unbuttoned collar.

It’s the drinks… my hormones… his aura. They’re all combining into this heady mix—this elixir of naked lust and sudden wanting.

He drips sex with every footfall, leaving a trail of wantonness in his wake.

It’s impossible to ignore.

He doesn’t
know
it, but I am lapping up every single drip, licking and swallowing to my heart’s delight right up until the very last drop.

I follow him like a lost puppy, past his gigantic King bed, past a ginormous flat-screen TV. His room is long and
large
and lined with soft beige furniture.

Looking at him now, I know that I was a fool to ever come here, to accompany him to his hotel room, knowing that the temptation was so great.

I never claimed to be a fan of Lukas Griffin. In fact, I’m not sure that I even like him.

But I do know this…

I don’t
just
want to fuck him. I
need
to fuck him.

I need him to pound out all of the latent frustration that’s been building since I got off of the flight from that God-forsaken city—to stroke away all of the sudden sorrow that I feel at losing the life in Tampa that I never had.

I need to lay all of my lust on the table tonight… and
forget him by morning
.

But can I do that? Can I be that woman? The type of woman to lay her inhibitions on the line? To bed a man that she
damn
near despises?

What’s that even called? A Wham-Bam-Thank-You-
Asshole
?

The abrupt stop in his trek jerks me back to reality.

He stops by the fridge, opening the door and reaching inside to remove a singular bottle of vodka, the bottle frosted over with a chill that makes the iciness look like smoke.

He sits two glasses out, pouring a shot’s worth of vodka into both before adding individual cranberries from a nearby bowl.

He swallows one, offering me a taste of one from his fingers. I’m tempted, but decline.

We drink the vodka in silence, and I prepare to grimace at the inevitable burn that will hit the back of my throat. But there is none.

The vodka is smooth, so smooth in fact that it’s almost like tasting water—a sort of cranberry-flavored seltzer spritz.

I swallow the shot with one gulp.

Lukas reaches over, extracting the glass from my hands. There’s an inexplicable scowl on his face.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to taste that.”

I scoff. “Well,
excuse me
. I thought we were taking a shot.”

He looks down at my glass. “Not of
this
. This deserves to be savored, sampled. Not
rushed
.”

He puts my glass down, raising his own. He brings it to his lips.

“With this, you’re supposed to relish the liquor-induced tingle on your lips, let it slide down your tongue.

“You extract each flavor, each silky smooth nuance. You’re not even supposed to realize that you’ve swallowed until you feel the small fire that starts to burn in your belly.”

He tilts the glass, draining it slowly. I watch his slightly scruffed Adam’s Apple bob with the motion and find myself somehow unable to even breathe until he’s finished.

He licks the last drop from his lower lip, and my knees literally go weak.
I thought shit like that only happened in the movies.
Feeling like this seems almost unreal.

The fire in his belly seems to have lit him from the inside out, and he regards me closely with a molten look that causes a searing sensation on my skin.

He steps closer, and I expect him to stop—but then he doesn’t.

My chest rises and falls rapidly, mimicking the pace of his stride.

He moves nearer and nearer and nearer
. He doesn’t stop until he is toe-to-toe with me.

He twists the glass within his hands. “That’s what you do with the finer things in life. You
savor
them.”

He laughs softly, placing a hand below my jaw. “And I can’t lie to you, Elena—you are one of the
finest
things that I’ve ever seen in this life.”

He brings his lips to mine.

“And you
deserve to be savored.
”

He pushes his lips down onto mine, and I moan from the (
finally
!) released tension that leaves my body at his kiss.

His taste is strong and sweet, an intoxicating mixture of the liquor and the fruit that’s on his tongue.

I can feel the small pricks from the stubble on his face, and each sweep across my skin is like an electric charge that turns me further and further on.

His lips are as soft as I’d imagined and they angle insistently over mine—pushing and pulling, giving me everything that I need and then taking it away with each breath.

I suck hungrily at his lower lip, as he bites erotically down on mine, and in the midst of the licking, sucking and biting, we are performing a
tango with our mouths
—dancing the two together only to break away briefly and come back even stronger.

It is the best fucking kiss of my life.

And then something happens. A shattering crash that pulls me from the depths of desire.

The glass that Lukas had held has slipped from his hand and smashed directly on the floor beside us.

It is exactly what I need.  We break from the kiss, staring down at the obliterated glass and then each other.

“I have to go,” I blurt abruptly. “It’s been over half an hour, and I have to get back.”

The party.
I had almost forgotten it in my Lukas-laced dream world.

I pull my back straight, regaining some semblance of composure.

“Thank you for the drink.”

Lukas squints at me curiously, and I think he’s going to protest—but then he doesn’t. He concedes, nodding once at me.

“It was my pleasure, Miss Lexington.”

I turn at the sound of my name, taking quick steps to reach the door before I can reconsider.

I can’t do this. I can’t be this woman.

I can’t lie with what may be the
sexiest
, and most frustrating, man that I have ever met… even though it nearly pains me not to.

But at least, I did it. I looked temptation right in the face and resisted.

I deserve a cookie for it, at least, right?
Maybe cake.
That’s right. The cupcakes…

I’ll take a thousand of them.

I reach the elevators, pressing the button and waiting not even a single second before the doors open.

I hop inside, leaning haggardly against the wall, literally drained from the intensity of my internal battle.

The doors start to close, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Suddenly, a hand shoots out between the doors, and they start to jolt apart. When they open, I discover Lukas on the other side, his eyes harried, his jacket open.

He looks directly into my face.

“One more thing, Elena…” he breathes.

I perk up.

“Yes?”

And then he grabs me.

In chess, as in life, opportunity strikes but once.  -  David Bronstein

LUKAS

I don’t know that I can be friends with her.

I don’t even know that I can stand another twenty-four hours without wanting to stick a fucking pen in my eye at the sound of her name.

But I do know this…

I want to fuck the shit out of her.
Now. At this very moment.

And right now, that is all that fucking matters to me.

I reach out toward Elena, grabbing her waist and dragging her right into me. The cry that she gives is soft, and I can’t tell if it’s out of surprise or protest, but it comes out muffled as I crush my mouth to hers.

She stills for a split second and then responds almost immediately. Her kiss is eager and anxious and
irresistible
.

I reach down, hiking her dress to her upper thighs so that I can scoop her into my arms and carry her outside of the elevator and into the hallway.

Her high heels drop one-by-one as I make my way out, and I press her lithe body against the wall, using my hands to cup her delectable ass while she tightens her legs around my waist.

The slender straps of her dress slide down her delicate shoulders and I kiss the skin where they just were, taking voracious bites as my mouth moves down towards her cleavage.

I press my tongue between her breasts and listen to her moan as I pull one perky tit from underneath the dress and slip one reddened, taut nipple into my impatient mouth.

Her legs are out, her breasts are exposed and I am
two seconds
away from ripping off her panties, as we go at it in the hallway of the hotel—a mere multiple doors down from my own room.

At any given moment,
anyone
could catch us here in this hallway…

And I do not give one single
damn.

The strained groans of the word “Inside” are all that stop me, and at this simple request from Elena’s lips, I sweep her into my arms, reconnecting my lips with hers as I carry her to my doorway and quickly inside.

I don’t even remember getting the door open, but as soon as we’re in, I am placing her down on my bedroom sheets, trapping her between my legs and lavishing attention on each beautiful breast, as I take my turns with one and then the other.

She writhes on the bed with need, and I use her motion to slip her completely out of her dress, marveling at the perfection that is her soft, creamy body.

She is warm and fragrant. Not just with that vanilla scent from earlier, but the smell of her ache, her
pleading
.

I can smell the sex on her skin.

Her pussy is completely bare, and I love the view that I get when I open her legs. I can practically see the pulse in it. I dip a finger in its confines so that I can feel it as well.

Her grinding never stops, and she sways her hips back and forth on the bed so that her entrance tightens and closes around my digit.

I keep prodding, keep swirling, and her sighs turn into groans. I decide that one finger is not enough; she needs my tongue—my mouth.

I lick her slit slowly from end to end, taking my time to savor her taste. Contrary to all the bullshit about flowers and pineapples, she tastes like neither, the flavor more appetizing than either of those palates could ever be.

The taste is more brackish than those, the flavor hinting of a muted tang.
The taste of pussy.
It tastes like nothing else in this world.

And though it isn’t often on my menu, when I place it there, I devour it
very
well, giving it all the proper courtesy and sampling of
any
delicious meal.

And I just so happen to
love
the way that Elena tastes.

“Please,” she pleads. “Lukas,
please
.”

I replace my mouth with two fingers, speaking the words over her clit. “Please
what
, Elena? What?”

Another finger slips inside her.

“Tell me what you want, Elena.”

“
You
,” she exhales.

But I’m relentless. I pump her with my hands.

“What do you want me to do, Elena?”

“F-fuuu…”

I lean in to lick her folds, and she whimpers.

“
Tell me or I will punish you, love.
Just like I said I would.”

“But… but…” she squeaks out.

I back up from the bed, standing up. I remove my jacket.

“All right, love.
You asked for it
.” I unbutton my shirt, shrugging out of it. I kick my shoes off, unbuckling my belt in front of Elena’s wide eyes.

“Look at me, Elena,” I say. I drop my belt. “
Don’t
take your eyes off me.”

I lose the pants—drop the boxer briefs.

“I’m going to punish you now… and you’re going to
like
it.
Don’t
say I didn’t warn you;
don’t
say you weren’t prepared.”

I grab her ankles, sliding Elena further down the bed.

“Don’t cry out for help.
Just cry out.
”

I palm the condom from my pants pocket, slipping into it as I stand. I reach for Elena, but instead of her hands, I grip her hips, flipping her onto her stomach as she gasps.

I place my knees on the bed, pushing slowly onto hers, driving them closer to her elbows so that she sits magnificently on all fours.

I enter her from behind, slamming myself inside her wetness to the very hilt.

She cries out, and it is music to my ears.

Over and over, I crash into Elena, sliding her smoothly on my cock. She is tighter than a vice, as slippery as a slide. It doesn’t take long before I am certified steel and on the brink of impending ecstasy.

I growl as she groans.

“Look at you, Elena.
Hear yourself
. Remember what you said, baby.”

She moans in response.

“Look at you—loving it.
You love it, Elena.
You love it when I punish you.”

I slam into her. She cries out, and her pussy soaks me to my base.

“Tell me you love it.”

Another pound.

“Tell me, or the punishment will
never
stop.”

She moans into the sheet, gripping her fingers into the covers. “I—I
love
it!”

I squeeze her waist even tighter. “
Good girl…”

I place a kiss on her bare back. “Now, I can finish your misery, baby.”

I slide in and out, stroking to my heart’s content while Elena’s pussy clenches and unclenches the hard length of me. She cries even louder.

“Wait, n—no, Lukas, I ca-can’t…
Lukas!
”

“
Elena…”

She comes fiercely, screaming softly into the nearest pillow… and I thrust into her
the entire way through
.

She falls forward into my hands and I catch her, using my fingers to pull gently at the pinkish, taut peaks atop her incredible tits.

With my hands on her breasts and my lips on her lower back, I come inside of Elena, feeling completely depleted from the height of this immeasurable pleasure.

We collapse together on top of the cool satin sheets and I lay with her body fitting closely next to mine, relishing in the feel of her slightly damp skin.

I run my fingers up the side of her shimmering body, brushing aside her hair to place my lips at her nape. And when I do, she turns slowly towards me, revealing a tear-streaked face, full of wonder.

Her lips are swollen. Her eyes are glistening.

And she has never looked more gorgeous.

I wipe the tears from her cheeks with my thumbs, tasting the salty remnants on her lips with my kiss. I withdraw slowly.

“See? I told you that you were a crier.”

***

When dawn breaks, I am out of the hotel room and heading into the parking lot.

A wave of guilt hits me as I walk, but it is buried by all of the other things that I feel…

The adrenaline, the fatigue—the
satisfaction…

Elena and I never made it back to the party.

We fucked each other until the sun came up, taking turns riding the other until we were too exhausted to move—our limbs splayed out against the sprawling expanse of the King-sized bed.

The
only
reason I’m even heading to my car is to retrieve my last condom, so that we can send each other off with a proper farewell… and
then forget this ever happened
.

I retrieve the keys and car remote from my pants pocket, smiling. Elena is still gloriously naked in my hotel room, and
I’m going to enjoy every bit of this good-bye.

But when I hit the automatic car key from far-off, something sounds wrong. Something
is
wrong.

Under the cover of the barely-breaking dawn, I can just make out the flicker of lights from a nearby car. I look toward the lights, but what I see is not my black Porsche.

In fact
, I’m not sure that it’s even a car…

I hit the car remote again, and a beep sounds from the pile of trash at the end of the lot. I stiffen… before breaking out into a full sprint toward it.

The spring air is chilled this time of day, slapping briskly against my bare chest where my shirt lays unbuttoned. My barely-fastened pants are sliding at my waist. My untied shoes are slipping off my feet.

I hardly notice.

That pile of trash
is
my car.

I run up to the black heap, discovering that my black Porshe has almost been demolished, the windshield and all of its side windows shattered, rendering the vehicle unrecognizable.

It looks like it’s been in a horrible accident. But it hasn’t… because it’s been here in the parking deck
all
night.

This is
no
accident.

Someone’s destroyed my car. And they did it right under my nose.

I grasp my hair with both hands, sliding them down to scrub exasperated hands at my cheeks.
I can’t believe this shit.

And there’s another thing that’s right under my nose—a piece of paper sticking precariously from underneath a broken windshield wiper.

I reach carefully for the piece of paper, reading the text written on its surface. I start to grip the note so tightly that it rips in my hands.

Looks like you got fucked twice in one night. Enjoy it while you can.

Pawn to B3. Your move.

I flip the note over, searching for text on its back. I find nothing else. I squint at the message on the front again.

A chess reference
… like it’s some sort of game.
Fucking up my car
—a game.

And how they know that I’ve been with Elena last night is even
more
alarming.

Beautiful, feisty,
sexy
Elena—all alone, sleeping in my bed, while somebody pulls a “Monster Truck rally” on one of my most prized possessions.

It was a calculated move, one designed to send a clear message:
Someone is watching me
, and somehow I’ve been playing blindly.

A match has just begun and already,
they’ve got the upper hand
.

I glance at what used to be my car, crumpling the note and throwing it to the ground. I grow resolved.