Dirty Trick - Page 12/23

“True that,” Alec murmured and then grinned. “But I’m going to go anyway.”

Trick chuckled, heading for the shower as Silva called after him. “I don’t know about you two but they got this new Brazilian dancer, and I could settle down with her like a motherfucker.”

For all his bravado, Trick had never even seen Silva talk to a woman, so a lot of this had to be a front. He almost wanted to tell the guy it was okay. That not wanting to be alone and wishing you could find one person you could spend your life with didn’t make you less of a man. In fact, it became clearer to Trick every day he spent with Grace that it made him more of a man.

He tugged off his sweat-soaked workout clothes and cranked the shower up high and hot before stepping under the spray. Too bad Grace hadn’t noticed how much he’d changed. That he was a different person because of her. But she was paying attention now.

To Catman, not to you.

He clenched his jaw, annoyed at the irrational anger he felt toward the alter-ego of his own creation. Just one more date. One more chance to get her to see what it could be like between them, and then he’d tell her the truth.

Twenty-five hours and eleven long minutes later, Grace stood at the ticket booth. She loved her job, but this particular Monday had been interminable. She couldn’t wait for this exact moment, but now that it was here, she found herself wishing she had another hour. Or five.

She stared at the marquis and then dug out her wallet to pay the eight dollars to see La Bon Petit. Foreign. Old. Discount. Score. Hopefully no one else would be there so they could…what?

Her hand shook as she took her stub from the attendant.

“Theater number seven,” the pimply kid said with a flash of braces.

She smiled weakly, feeling every bit the dirty, old woman, and hurried across the lobby to the theater. Briefly, she glanced at the concessions stand and wondered if she should get a soda or some Raisinets and then realized how ridiculous that would be. They weren’t going to actually watch the movie.

She looked around and pushed the door open, legs nearly buckling with relief when she saw that she was literally the only person in the theater. Okay, she could do this. She looked around at the empty seats and selected the one in the farthest back corner. It was tucked away so that, even if someone else did come in, they wouldn’t be able to see her from behind them, especially in the dim light.

The trailers began to roll, and she took off her coat. She laid it in the seat beside her before settling in her own chair, the nubby fabric scraping the backs of her bare thighs.

Wear a skirt.

Remembering the silky promise in his voice made her ni**les go hard beneath her sweater. Bold. She was so damned bold because she’d gone a step further and left the bra and underwear home too. Fear lanced the burgeoning need, and she wondered if that had been a mistake. Would he think she was being too forward? Would he be annoyed that she’d taken the initiative? Short of leaving and scrapping the whole evening, there wasn’t anything she could do about it now.

And she wasn’t going to do either of those things.

She’d spent the past two hours wondering what they would do in those tiny seats. How he would touch her. If they would tease and stroke until the lights came on and then run out to his car or if they would somehow manage to complete the act right there in the theater. She moaned under her breath as a gush of heat warmed her thighs. The last of the trailers ended, and the room went pitch black before the opening credits lit the screen.

She pulled out her cell phone to check the time. Quarter after nine. He should be here by now, no? But there were no missed calls, and surely he wouldn’t have made the effort to call her, set up a date, and then not show.

The door creaked loudly, and she tensed, staring at the sliver of light anxiously. Would she be able to see his face? Or would she have to wait until the movie was over? She found herself torn. She wanted to see him, but the mystery of it all, the naughtiness of it made her feel so hot inside. Like she’d swallowed the sun.

A tall figure stepped into the room, and her hands went slick with sweat. She opened her mouth to whisper to him, but stopped when a second, smaller figure followed behind. A woman. The pair made their way down aisle hand in hand and Grace could barely stomach her disappointment. It wasn’t him. And worse, if he did show, they were no longer alone. She watched, an empty ache filling her, as the couple chose their seats toward the middle row. She was so intent on seeing where they ended up, she jumped when a low voice murmured in her ear.

“You came.”

She jerked in surprise and looked up to see him standing over her. His face was obscured by the black hooded sweatshirt he wore, but she’d know that voice anywhere. Unless, of course, Christian Bale happened to enjoy French films as well. A familiar tingle washed over her, and her thoughts immediately went to Trick.

Only Trick wasn’t here. And besides, he’d been happy for her just like he was when he found out that she’d hooked up at Chaz’s party. Exactly the way a friend should be. Which was exactly how she’d wanted it from the very beginning, so second-guessing herself over it now was nothing but selfish and silly. She shoved aside the disappointment and focused on the man in front of her.

“I did,” she whispered softly. The relief was overwhelming, and for the moment, she didn’t care that they wouldn’t be able to do whatever it was he’d had planned. The fact that he’d shown up and had wanted to was enough for her.

“I’m going to sit behind you for a while, all right?”

She hesitated, not sure what he was getting at. “I guess so.”

He settled into the chair behind her, and she attempted to stay calm. It was no easy task. The movie played on, and she tried to pay attention, but with every squeak of the chair behind her, she grew more agitated. What was he doing back there?

About ten minutes in, when she was close to screaming in frustration, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and nearly jumped out of her chair.

“Relax. I just want to touch you.”

His mouth was close to her ear, and the heat of his breath sent a bolt of need through her.

His hands were gentle, but they held that restrained power, a power she was all too familiar with from their activities last night. Her breath caught as he traced the line of her collar bone.

“Come on, sink back.”

She did, pressing her shoulders against the cushioned seat. His hands stayed safely above her neckline, which was at once calming and frustrating. It took a full five minutes before she realized that with each swipe of his fingertips, he was moving closer and closer to the curve of her breast. Her breath hitched as his thumb ran over the very beginning of one slope, a whisper of a touch that made her stomach ache.

“Grace?” His breath tickled her ear, and she quivered.

“Yes?”

“You’re not at all relaxed.”

“Sure I am,” she lied.

“I can make you relax, you know. You just have to let me.”

Her whisper was a little louder this time. “There are people here.”

“Right. And there a lot of things I can do to you without them ever suspecting.”

“L-like what?”

“Well, for one, I know I can make you come.”

Her throat stuck together, and she regretted passing on the concession stand soft drink. “I’d like to see you try it,” she heard herself say.

His chuckle warmed her from the inside out. “Oh, I’m going to try it, all right. I tried it the other night and you know what?”

She shook her head but then realized he probably couldn’t see that. “No, what?”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it. The way your pu**y tastes. So f**king sweet on my tongue. Tell me. Did you like my mouth on you?”

The memory of it sent the blood rushing downward, pooling low and tight, the tension building.

“Yes. So much. But…”

“But?”

“But I want to do that to you too. I—”

In for a penny, in for a pound. She swallowed hard, stifling the voice telling her that she was a freak and let it rip. “I want to put my mouth on you that way. If you think you might like it.”

“Aw, fuck.” His low growl sounded so tortured, she nearly wept with relief. “I have no doubt about that. But that’s not for today. Today is about you. Only you.”

She squeezed her eyes closed and bit her lip. He couldn’t possibly even know what that meant to her. Victor writhing around on top of her, and her own orgasms a crap shoot at best, had been such a huge part of her sexual experience for so long, she didn’t even realize how empowering it was to have someone want to please her and put her first. It was a revelation.

His clever fingers derailed her thoughts as he grazed one of her straining nipples. She gasped and tensed.

“Shhh. If you want me to touch you, babe, you’ve got to listen. Trust me. Trust me to take care of you tonight. Trust me to make it good for you.”

He went in for the kill then, pinching the one taut bud between his thumb and forefinger, tugging until she felt it all the way to her core. She arched into his hand with a whimper.

“Do you like it soft, love?” he played with her gently, rolling the tip of her breast teasing with his fingertip.

“Yes,” she panted, straining deeper into her seat, wishing for some relief for the ache between her thighs.

“Or,” he murmured, “do you like it hard?” He cupped the fullness of her breast in a rough hand and squeezed. She drew back, the initial discomfort catching her off guard, but it was short-lived. He worked her nipple hard, pinching almost to the point of pain, but not pain. Ecstasy. She tossed her head back and moaned softly, the burn traveling from the taut point to the growing ache in her clit.

“Nice,” he hissed. His voice was thick now. The way it had gotten last night when she had touched him. She wished she could reach back now. Feel that heat. That hardness throbbing in her hands. It felt like power and need and damn, did she like it.

“I wondered the other night. If you’d like it rough. I didn’t want to push you then. But I think I know now. What would you say if I told you that I want to drag you over to that wall, turn you around, and slide my c**k into that tight little pussy? No kiss, no touch. Just one long, deep slide.” His other hand looped around and latched onto her other breast as his words landed on her ears like death blows, taking her higher and higher toward the precipice. “And then pounding away until you screamed. Begging me to finish you. What would you say, Grace?”

“Yes. I would say yes.”

“There are people here,” he reminded her sharply. “What would they think?”

Her head was muzzy, and she tried to focus on his words. People here? She didn’t care. Anything to make the ache go away. “It doesn’t matter.”

He released her abruptly, and she cried out. The people in the front of the theater turned and shushed her before looking back at the movie. And still, she didn’t care. “Please. Don’t go yet.”

“Go? Oh, hell no. I’m just getting started.”

No f**king bra.

His c**k had a pulse of its own, and if he was on an airplane they would have made him purchase a separate seat for it. But it was about Grace tonight. He pushed by her legs and sat down next to her, tugging the hood tighter around his face. “Keep your head straight, eyes forward, no matter what I do. Got it?”

She nodded, but he could hear the breath heaving in and out of her lungs.

He closed his hand over her thigh and growled. Bare skin. She’d worn the skirt as he’d asked. He let his fingers caress the soft skin of her leg for long enough that she began to squirm, and then he stroked higher. Each pass moved closer to her core. Higher still. His forefinger sampled the tender skin on her inner thigh. Then…