Jon quietly closed the door and turned to find Cassidy
waiting in the suite’s living room. Her arms crossed over her waist and a
faintly crooked smile underscored cheeks that were more vibrantly rosy than
usual. Copper hair was windblown from the walk back to the hotel
and the cocktails she’d been drinking softly glazed her baby blues.
“Well, hello there Mr. NFL Owner,” she ever-so-slightly
slurred the seductive greeting.
“Well, hello there, Ms. Jackie Daniels,” Jon returned the
greeting as she sashayed close to rub against him like a cat and loop both arms
around his neck. Catching a whiff of the whiskey-laden drinks she’d
enjoyed before, during and after dinner, he questioned, “Or is that Jimmi
Beam?”
“Pickled Georgia Dickel.”
His own fermented grape buzz was enough to make that
remark outstandingly witty and his head fell back with a short bark of
laughter.
Damn she’s cute when she’s drunk.
In reality, she probably didn’t deserve a label as harsh
as “drunk”. She’d had four of those sweet-and-sour-mash drinks of hers,
not fourteen, so maybe tipsy was fairer. She had nearly
tipsy-ed off her high heels when emerging from that revolving door onto the
street, but he’d caught her just before she hit the pavement.
Her smile of gratitude had been one of the sweetest he
ever received, and the desire in her eyes was so blatant that there was a
moment when he worried she might kiss him right there in front of God and
Nashville. Fortunately, she’d done nothing more than brush a haphazard pat
against his cheek and plant high-heeled feet firmly on the concrete. A
quick hike of her purse up onto her shoulder and she was walking a
semi-straight line back toward the Omni, with him trailing a few steps behind
until he’d stopped in the liquor store and let her finish the trek on her own.
Where else would he be other than a few steps
behind? It offered the best view of her ass and he’d had enough wine to
appreciate the view more than he should in public.
Still chuckling, he reached out to carefully set the
newly purchased bottle of wine on the nearest table, and then settled his
forearms on her hips to knot lazy fingers in the dip of her spine.
“You’re pretty fuckin’ cute as a lush.”
“You’re pretty damn cute all the time,” she returned
before burying her nose in his neck and sneaking hands between them to work at
the buttons of his white shirt. “And you smell like sex on a stick.”
Unfiltered compliments from Cassidy were worth a thousand
of the contrived ones he heard on a regular basis. She didn’t overdo it
and, when she chose to deliver one, it carried an impact.
“Booze makes my Dixie horny,” he noted, grasping her jaw
to sample the sweet whiskey that still coated her tongue. “Good to know.”
“Honey.” Her tongue slipped back out to swipe over
his bottom lip and an electric shock shot straight to his dick. “You make
me horny. Sex gets rid of that awful friggin’ cloud that hangs over you,
and it excites me to be able to do that. You look so much prettier when
you’re happy.”
Voracious kisses skittered down his sternum when the last
button came undone and he sifted thoughtful hands through her hair. Both
felt good enough that Jon let his eyes drift shut for a moment.
“Fucking me is a good Samaritan act. Fabulous.”
“Wouldn’t exactly call it mission work.” Hot breath
rustled the hair around his belly button. “But it’s Heavenly. Have
I mentioned how much I admire this belt?”
Cracking his eyes open, he glanced down to find that she
was on her knees and sensually stroking the belt leather between her thumb and
forefinger. He almost believed she could bring herself to orgasm just by
fondling the damn thing.
“You may have mentioned,” he drawled. “If you’d
been a good girl tonight I would tie you up with it, but you weren’t a good
girl.”
Copper locks flowed down the back of her sapphire blouse
when she tipped up an adorably belligerent face. “I was too.”
“No, baby.” Jon slid the belt out of her grasp,
pulling it free from his jeans and tossing it toward the sofa. “You
practically jumped me at the fucking dinner table. That’s not how
business associates behave.”
She blew a soft raspberry and applied nimble fingers to
the button-fly denim that was becoming uncomfortably tight.
“Hogwash. My enthusiasm was perfectly acceptable
considerin’ the conversation. You’re the one bein’ a weirdo by not
showin’ any excitement about your dream comin’ true.”
The prospect of being an NFL owner had been in the back
of his mind for years, giving him plenty of opportunity to play this very
scenario through a million times. He’d reviewed it from every possible
angle, evaluating the most efficient response to an offer such as this.
As a result, Jon had a detailed awareness of what the next steps were; it was
simply a matter of taking them.
He was focused on what needed to be done and, until
everything was accomplished, there would be no excitement for his new
acquisition.
What did excite him, though, was
Cassidy’s reaction to the whole deal.
She had instantly filled with a buoyant enthusiasm at Clay’s
offer and was excited for Jon in a way that was
unfamiliar to him. He was so indoctrinated to Dorothea’s distantly polite
interest that Cassidy’s genuine delight was overwhelming – in a good way.
It had created a little bit of a warm, fuzzy feeling when she slid into the
seat next to him and snaked her arm around for a hug.
Warm and fuzzy was nice, but it was not in
keeping with the game plan.
“Any excitement I have is directly related to the
beautiful woman on her knees in front of me.” One condemning eyebrow
kicked upward. “But I might have to set it aside, seeing as you violated
the business-only rule.”
A noticeable shadow swept through her eyes, but she
parted placket of his jeans and extracted his dick with nothing more than a
mumbled, “Sorry.”
“Oh Chrisssst.” Jon sucked air when plump lips
parted to draw him in, inviting him to ignore the shadow he’d just seen.
The way her tongue swirled around the tip of his dick practically demanded that
he disregard his intuition that something wasn’t quite right, yet he couldn’t
seem to. “I saw that look on your face. Something’s up. Tell
me.”
Rosy lips were glossy when she allowed his hardness to
slip free and continued to pleasure/distract with a firm, pumping fist.
“Pretty obvious what’s up from where I am.”
Her smile went full-tilt, alerting Jon that she was
trying to sidetrack him with sexuality and charm. It was a noble effort
and, if those vivid blue irises of hers had shone with the same intensity as
the even white teeth, then he may have bought into it. Instead, her eyes
were shaded with unease and it bugged him.
Jon didn’t stop her from molesting his package, but he
fought like hell not to enjoy it.
“Babe. You’ve shown me your ID and the family
fortune. I’ve bared most of my ugly soul. Haven’t we moved past
bullshit secrets?”
“It’s not a secret, just a damper I don’t wanna put on
this celebration.”
He locked his fingers around her wrist, stilling its
motion even when it was the last thing he wanted to do. “Take two seconds
to tell me and the celebration moves on.”
“You got somethin’ against oral sex?” she petulantly
huffed. “Seems like you’re always interruptin’ me.”
He had nothing – nothing –
against a blowjob, but Cassidy was acting odd in a non-drunk way.
“You’re making this a bigger deal than it needs to be.”
“Fine,” she grumped, backing away and tottering on
her high heels when she rose. She toppled precariously enough that Jon
felt obliged to steady her by the waist.
“Take the shoes off before you break an ankle.” His
command was obeyed with only a slight roll of the eyes and, once she was
flat-footed on the carpet, he instructed, “Now tell me.”
Cassidy’s nose crinkled with distaste. “My cousin
was at the restaurant tonight. I was trying to be inconspicuous about
putting my back to the room so he wouldn’t see me, so I hugged you.
That’s all.”
“Is this the cousin that’s pissed over your inheritance?”
“One and the same.”
Jon’s hackles rose.
“Did he see you? What the hell is he doing in
Nashville?” he demanded, his grip on her waist tightening as he went
into protector mode.
She groaned with frustration and smoothed open palms over
his chest. “I’ll drop the f-bomb a coupla times if you’ll drop this
topic.”
Why was she being so blasé about this? It didn’t
make sense to him.
“As tempting as that is…” Jon locked up her wrists
to quell a vigilant exploration that was headed below the waistline.
“…I’d rather know why you’re not upset. I mean, you were worried enough
about him and his father to run off and assume a new identity.”
Bare feet left her a good eight inches shorter than he
stood, and she tipped her head back to slowly blink into his face. “I’m
not upset because he probably didn’t see me and might not recognize me if he
had. Because I believe good things happen to good people and I am a good
person. Because I pray about it often and because workin’ myself into a
lather doesn’t accomplish anything other than workin’ myself into a
lather.”
I just got schooled for being a fucking
worrywart.
Jon shook his head and allowed one side of his mouth to
curl with amusement. “You’re unlike anybody I’ve ever met.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that.” This time the
drawl wasn’t a tipsy slur but a show of disdainful sarcasm. “Most folks
don’t mean it as a compliment.”
He did. Jon envied her flawlessly simple logic, the
way she lived her life without reservation or apology and the control she had
over her emotions. Stereotypical irrational female behavior wasn’t in
Cassidy’s repertoire and, even if there came a time when he didn’t agree with
her views, he would doubtlessly still acknowledge she had a solid reason for
them.
It brought him to another new chapter in the story of his
relationship with Cassidy.
Chapter One was entitled “Want” or “Lust”. He
wouldn’t turn his hand for the difference between the two. They were
basically synonymous and either one described the feeling that had haunted him
until he bedded her.
Chapter Two was “Need”, and it was where the storyline
began gaining complexity. His mental stability entered into the plot when
he decided she was the key to his writing ability and his happiness. It
leaned toward a sci-fi fantasy genre rather than non-fiction, but so be
it.
Chapter Three was a bigger chapter but straightforward,
and it bore the label “Like”. He liked who she was, her devotion to her
family, the way she interacted with those around her and how she didn’t let
life define her. Cassidy wasn’t a victim, she was the creator of her own
destiny, much like he was. Usually.
Chapter Four had yet to be titled due to the complexity
of its nature and their agreement to not name feelings, but it was deeper than
the “Like” chapter. It also ran concurrently with the new chapter –
“Respect”.
Of all those things, respect was the one that carried the
most weight. Without it, everything else became nothing more than
fleeting moments in time that he would fondly recall once they’d gone their
separate ways. Respect combined with those things
made him think that, even if they did go their separate ways, they’d sustain
some kind of relationship. As with all of his friends, he would always be
interested in what she was up to and how life was treating her.
“It was a compliment.” He shifted the grip from her
wrists to her hands and brought one up for a kiss in the center of the
palm. “It’s also a compliment when I say you’re the best bullshit detour
I never wanted to take. Without you and your outstanding voice, I would
never have been forced into Tully’s and been introduced to Clay, so thank you.”
“Dammit.” The epithet came from her lips full of
nothing but humor. “And here I thought the compliment was gonna be
finally tellin’ me why my hoo-ha is so special.”
He grinned at her, but shook his head. “Someday I
might do that. Right now, I’d rather do you.”
“Well, hallelujah, thank you Jesus and praise be to
Allah! I’ve only been tryin’ to get to that since you walked in the
door,” she snorted. “I was just about to call David.”
Her hand twisted to adjust the grip she had on him and
Cassidy hauled him toward the bedroom, his shirttails flapping out behind
him.
“Hey.” He dug his heels into the carpet until she
was forced to stop. “Are you gonna be sleeping with other guys?”
Her eyebrows knit with bewilderment. “Not if you’ll
stop bein’ Chatty Cathy and come to bed.”
Jon tucked himself into his jeans and fastened the top
button so he didn’t feel ridiculous with his dick hanging out, wondering why
this hadn’t crossed his mind before now. The fact that he wouldn’t be
with her and she could do… anything she damn well wanted. Did he even
have the right to ask the question?
Right or not, he was asking it.
“I’m serious. When I’m not around, are you planning
to screw other men?”
She cocked her head to one side and asked simply, “Are
you planning to screw your wife?”
“I…” He couldn’t honestly say he wouldn’t, because
the possibility existed. It wasn’t likely, but it could happen.
“That’s what I thought.” She stepped close and
curled gentle arms around his waist, going up on her toes to press a kiss
against the base of his throat. “Right now there’s nobody else that could
even tempt me. If that happens to change while we’re keepin’ company,
I’ll let you know.”
The thought of him sleeping with somebody else obviously
didn’t concern her – not the way he was bothered thinking of another man in her
bed. Then again, she had known about his wife before agreeing to get
involved with him.
He hadn’t even considered Cassidy having someone else
and, now that he did, Jon didn’t much like it.
“Stop thinkin’,” she whispered against his lips and
kissed him. “All that matters is that, tonight, I’m your woman and you’re
my man. Don’t make it any harder than that.”
This is what it will be like having a mistress.
No promises, no alibis, no excuses – for either of you. Is this what you
really want?
Wow I love it keep up the great work
ReplyDeleteGetting interesting
ReplyDeleteMore soon please
ReplyDeletePossessive Jon? ... I think you're going to have to name your feelings ....
ReplyDeleteGreat chapter Carol !!!