Wednesday, February 10, 2010
The carpet meshed into swirls of colors and the fairy lights that twinkled all around the room, started to blend into one as he swayed her gently. She clasped her hands at the base of his spine tightly. Why on all nights did this have to happen? Her body tingled and her skin buzzed as she tried blinking the heavy fog from her head. A new adrenaline started to pump through her veins as her arms and legs began to twitch. A smile spread across her face as she felt her shoulders ease. Suddenly the cares and the worry of the night started to slip away, and she felt good. Real Good.
She burrowed her nose into his chest drawing his scent in and then lifted her head to meet his gaze. “I feel like a million bucks,” the laugh bubbled from her throat as she threw her head back not caring the on-lookers that glanced their way.
"Okay, babe." He tried hard not to laugh, but seeing his straight arrow bodyguard high as a kite was pretty freakin' funny. "I can beg off. I'll have the driver come get us."
She hooked her arm through his, “Ok lead the way. Ohh maybe we could stop for burgers on the way home.” Jon tried not to react to her body pressed against his.
He looked around the room, but he wasn't sure what he was looking for. He tried to see it the same way she would. To look at the exits and the people that noticed them. Were they being watched? Was he going to get her killed? Was it because she was with him?
His gut clenched.
And a bead of sweat dripped down his spine. The room closed in on
him as he looked at each person that smiled at him.
She felt dizzy, but she felt alive. The thought that she was meant to be doing something, or –god it just kept slipping from her mind. She was meant to be doing something? But she couldn't remember what.
He cupped her elbow and tried to right her into a standing position. She was flopping against him, her head lolling as she looked at him with an unusually adoring look. It wasn't the Mac he was used to. And right now--it wasn't the Mac he needed. He wasn't used to needing anyone and that rankled more than anything. He waved at Mrs. C. She frowned at him, but was quickly pulled away so he could move on. "C'mon Kenzie, you gotta help me out here a little.”
She leaned in and pressed her lips close to his ear, “I love when you call me that.”
The sharp giggle that followed had him shaking his head. “You know what else I loved?”
He raised his brow, “do I want to know?”
She turned to him again and her lips curved. Her fingers popped the top buttons of his shirt as she reached into the warmth of his skin, the tips of her fingers brushing against the very top of his chest hair.
But she found nothing.
"You're not wearing it?" she pouted.
He looked around the room. Trying to gage the level of gang banger incognito versus regular wait staff and the woman in his arms was practically vibrating with some horny drug that he should be able to take full advantage of god dammit. He hissed as her nails raked through his chest hair. "Wearing what?"
"You know...." she whispered huskily as her teeth scraped over his Adam's apple. She was allowed to do that right? Well at least she thought she was. All this delicious man right at her disposal. "The Skull...it makes me want to do bad things to you..." Her eyebrow lifted.
The skull? He frowned down at her, then his brow cleared at the strange little quirk to her smile. God, how he wished that quirk was really for him. It was the drugs talking. "I promise if we get home, I'll wear it every day."
She ran her tongue across the bottom of her upper lip. "Naked?" She curled her fingers around the lapels of his shirt and tugged him closer to her.
He stared at her lips, the hint of pink making his dick so hard he'd have to close his suit jacket for fuck's sake. But that niggling feeling between his shoulder blades just wouldn't stop. "Oh God, Kenzie--you're killing me here." He was supposed to be professional here. She wanted to keep things on the up and up, but he wanted nothing more than to take her home and sink into her.
He was warm and familiar, and there was something safe about the way he held her, except she couldn’t seem to finish the thought. The driver ushered her to their car and she climbed in, sweeping her dress to the side as she sat back against the leather seats. Once he joined her, she found his scent and snuggled in under his arms. She sighed and closed her eyes. “You’ve worked so hard to get here Brian, I’m so proud of you baby...” Her hand slid up his shirt, finding the gap between buttons as she grazed her fingertips against his chest.
He sat back, his hand smoothing through her hair as she leaned on him. He nuzzled her cheek until the name and her words sunk in. "What did you say?"
Her other hand reached up slid across his cheek as she patted it. "Brian, silly. I know you love to hear it over and over. But you're gonna be famous one day. And I'm going to be there with you---forever." She whispered as her nose dove into his chest again.
He cupped the back of her head, trying not to moan when she nuzzled deeper into the hair on his chest. Who the holy fuck was this Brian? He hushed her, until she settled down. Not sure what to do, he played with her hair until he felt her get heavy against him. She wasn’t married. Was she still hung up on an ex and that's why she wouldn't let him in?
The drive home was quick and painless, the streets narrowed until Mercer came into view and they pulled up to the doorway. He nodded at the driver when he opened the door and gave him a half cocked grin. "Too much champagne at the party."
"Certainly sir," the driver said with a knowing grin.
That was just great. He passed George with another rueful smile, thanking every god he knew for an empty elevator. On his floor he propped her up by her elbow. The elusive name Brian on her lips again with a shit eating grin.
He didn't know Brian, but he was fairly sure he was gonna kill him.
She kicked off her shoes as he walked her in. "Thank god for that, you know those shoes are FEET killers. They should sooo be arrested." She had a sudden desire to get out of her clothes, she felt contained and smothered. She reached behind her and tugged the zipper down feeling the red silky material slide away from her.
"I don't know about you but I need a drink." She whipped open the large oak door of his liquor cabinet.
She stood there in a pair of red panties, bare feet with crimson toenails and what could pass for a bra if material was the only option. He could see every curve of her breast and the high, tight tips of her nipples. Have mercy, God--do you hate me?
He hurried after her, once his brain started functioning again. "Oh yeah--I think we're good for the night." He took the decanter of his best single malt away from her. "Why don't we get you into bed, huh?"
"Party Pooper," she muttered. She rubbed her head with the back of her hand. Why were they home all of a sudden? She couldn’t remember getting here. She blinked and looked down holding out her arm as her balanced wavered. Connecting with him, she found herself in seconds lifted into his arms.
She yawned and her body was becoming heavy as she sank into his arms. He carried her up to the guest bedroom, the lonely double sized bed was waiting for her. And suddenly she was scared. Her arms gripped around neck tighter, her nails finding skin.
"What if they find me here?"
"Who's gonna find you, baby?" At her sleepy stare, he didn't much care right then. Just keeping her safe and with him seemed to be far more important than her stupid rules. "Okay, okay," he hushed when she became distressed, swinging around to his room. Dear God, how was he supposed to stay sane with her in his bed too?
"Thank you." She hit his sheets, and rolled onto her side closing her eyes. His pillows smelled like him, and the sheets felt like him. Something about this moment was so right, but something else niggled in the back of her mind.
She opened them again when she felt the bed move a few moments later, he was climbing in on the right side. She chuckled. "I'm totally on your side aren't I?"
"That's okay," he laughed. She was indeed on his side of the bed. The only thing he worried about, was that if she slept with him all night--besides her calling him Brian--he was afraid he'd end up snuggling in on her. He did not need her right hook in the morning after she figured out what she'd done.
He pulled the cover up over them, and she moved in. She couldn't help it. He drew her in like a moth to a flame and the dizziness and buzz in her head was starting to wear off. She pressed her cheek against his chest and felt his hardness through his sweats pressing into her belly. Her hands slid down, under the waistband, until she found what she was looking for.
She let her fingers stroke the underside of him, and her thumb circle the tip. Her jerked under her but she continued to touch. With her other hand she cupped his sac, digging the tips of her fingers into the fleshy skin. "I want you Jon."
"Jesus, now you get the name right," he muttered. He tried to still her hands, but she kept moving them, until he was hot and hard in her hands. "Fuck, Kenzie."
Her chin brushed his as she pressed her lips against his flooding his mouth with the heat from hers. "Yes—fuck me. NOW.”
He sucked in a deep breath and tried to control the raging hard on that wanted
nothing more than to sink into her sweet heat. Whatever this street drug was--it was dangerous beyond compare, even if it was about a second away from shooting him off into the stratosphere. He grabbed her hands, crossing her wrists to hold them tight as he pinned her writhing form down with one knee. "Kenzie, listen to me."
She wiggled and nipped at his chin. He raised her arms over her head cuffing them with the fingers of one hand. Her breasts lifted, high and firm against his chest and he groaned. He growled. "Look at me!" He used his other hand to hold her face still. "Baby, look at me."
She giggled as her eyes met his, blue and dark against the glow of his bedside lamp. "I always knew you were the dominant type." Her lips quirked in a grin, god she wanted to roll right on top of that and devour every little piece her mouth could touch. But she was sinking. Further into the mattress, her resistance to his grip melting away.
Well, fuck. "Baby, you couldn't even begin to figure out my type with a crystal ball." He held her down tighter as she wiggled. "We're going to sleep and pick this up when both of us are on equal footing."
"Is that a promise?" she drawled as she finally let the weight on her eyes win. The darkness consumed her, but she was safe. From whatever she had been running from. She let her body go, finding his and sinking into a familiar heat. "So tired..."
Her fingers stopped clutching his as she finally bottomed out. He had a feeling she was going to have a hangover of epic proportions in the morning, but he rolled her to her side. When she scootched back against him, he groaned. Man alive. "You do hate me, God. I knew it." Her little tight, lace covered butt scratched across the front of his sweats and he resigned himself to a very long, very uncomfortable night.