Show and Tell Page 10

  Close enough to touch, she ran her finger across his crown. Sucking in his breath, his penis surged, and he pumped faster.

  Trinity licked her finger, Scott groaned, and her taste buds went into overload. Closing her eyes, she held his flavor on her tongue, savored him. Salty and sweet combined for a slight zest.

  Then she raised her eyes to meet his gaze. “You taste good,” she whispered.

  His lids half closed, a muscle rippled in his jaw. “That,” he murmured, “made me crazy.” His look ate her up like an expensive chocolate truffle. Then he went down on his knees in front of her. “Do it again.”

  Gathering another luscious bead, she locked gazes with him and brought her finger to her mouth, rubbing his come all over, then flicking her tongue out to lick her lips clean. Finally, she drew her finger all the way in, sucked it, and moaned, nothing more than a little hum in her throat. His pupils widened, his nostrils flared. It was better than anything she’d ever experienced before in her life.

  “Suck me.” His strain rippled through his voice.

  “No.” As much as she wanted to, she liked keeping the power to say no.

  He swore.

  “I can’t watch if I’m sucking”—she waited a beat—“your cock.” It wasn’t one of her usual words, but she adored the sound of it on her tongue as much as she’d loved his taste. “And I do need to see you come. Every moment of it.”

  She wanted to feel things she’d never felt, sexual, naughty, undignified things. Like watching a man bring himself to orgasm. Scott had awakened her sexuality, and she wanted to taste it all. How could she ever thank him or repay him for that?

  “Come for me, Scott,” she whispered.

  He growled, cursed again, and threw his head back. His thighs tensed, his hand twisted, pumped, his stomach went taut, and he came. Hard. His warmth splashed her neck, bathed her throat, trickled down between her breasts. Her nipples peaked with the luxurious sensation. And when he finally looked at her again, Trinity did something she could never have dreamed of. She smoothed all that sweet come over her breasts, around her nipples, rubbed it in. It was so damn hot, so good, so decadent. Raising her hand to her mouth, she licked her palm, and relished the sweet, unique taste of him.

  “You’re killing me, you know that?” Harsh, low, gut-deep, his voice didn’t even sound like him. His pupils almost obscured his brown eyes, and his breath came in a harsh rasp.

  “Did you like that?” Trinity allowed herself a sexy smile.

  “Fuck yes.”

  She liked the word. No, she loved it. It wasn’t polite, it was elemental. It was need, desire, heat, and passion all rolled into one and all for her. The high was so good she didn’t even need her own orgasm. God, what she’d missed all these years. It was a crime against nature, a crime against herself.

  “You know what I want?” she whispered.

  “No. But whatever it is, it’s yours.”

  “Chocolate ice cream.”

  He sat back on his haunches, still large, still semihard, his hands on his thighs. “Plain chocolate? What about nuts or marshmallows. ”

  “Just chocolate.” She glanced down pointedly at his lovely cock— oh yes, she did like that word, too. “There are some things that don’t need any special adornment.” Even as she made the double entendre, she couldn’t quite believe herself.

  She’d invited a man to a hotel room, made him strip, told him to masturbate, let him come on her. Then she’d rubbed it in. And licked it off.

  She loved it all. The naughtiness, the freedom, the power. In those few moments, Scott would have done anything for her. The knowledge was heady. A drug. It erased the day’s tension, work, coming home. It erased the last week and a half, right from the second she’d heard the shower in the master bathroom.

  She would have that drug again. And again.

  7

  THE woman had him head over heels. Scott was mad for her. His cock got hard merely watching her lick an ice-cream cone. She savored it as she’d savored his come, closing her eyes, letting it melt in her mouth. He wanted to suck the chocolate off her tongue, kiss it from her lips. He wanted to smear it all over her, melt it with her body heat, then lick her clean like an animal. She was excitement, mystery, and kink all rolled into a delicious blonde package.

  Damn, he had it bad.

  Jezebel lounged on a white wrought iron chair on the walk outside the ice-cream parlor. Though the rains would start soon, January had moved into February, carrying with it the cool, but sunny days. Twilight had settled into a cold evening, and she wore a tight sweater to ward off the chill.

  “You ever done that before?” She licked her single scoop.

  Scott glanced at the nearby table of giggling teenage girls. They were too busy reading each other’s text messages to pay attention to the “old folks.” He leaned closer anyway, an excuse to inhale her scent. “Masturbate?” he murmured for her ears alone. “Yeah, I’ve done that before.”

  “You know what I mean.” She bit off a tiny chunk of cone.

  He knew exactly what she meant. She wore the sweater over a black skirt, circumspect enough for work, but he knew what lay beneath. Stockings and lace panties and a hot, hot body. Despite having revealed herself to him that first night, tonight she’d grabbed a pillow and covered her breasts on her way to the bathroom to dress. She’d allowed him to put his clothes on once she was fully dressed, and she’d watched the reverse strip show.

  She was a tease, and she’d enjoyed telling him what to do. Because he told her what to do on the phone? Why didn’t matter. He loved it. Her zest for life, for sex, for him was fast becoming irresistible.

  “You’re not answering me,” she singsonged at him, bouncing her crossed leg until the back of her shoe dropped off her heel. Like his train fantasy.

  “No, I haven’t done anything like that.” Never like that.

  Leaning down, she popped her high heel back on her foot, trailing her hand up her calf as she sat back. His pulse picked up. Then she smiled. She remembered the train fantasy, too.

  He captured her pinkie. “But you didn’t get anything.”

  She lowered her lids to give him a sexy, bedroom perusal. “Oh, I got exactly what I wanted.”

  The gaggle of girls, laughing, talking, rose from the table to wander off in huddle formation down the sidewalk.

  With no further potential eavesdroppers, Scott pinned her down. “You didn’t have an orgasm.”

  “I didn’t need one.”

  “But you deserved one.”

  She nibbled her cone. “You’re right, I did. But I can wait until next time.” Finally, she licked a dab of ice cream from her upper lip. “I wonder what I should make you do.” She smiled, and his cock filled out his pants.

  He anticipated with pleasure what she’d want next time. The thought would keep him jacked up and hard tonight. “So, I take it you want me to be your plaything.”

  She laughed, leaned forward so that he could see down her sweater to the soft swell of her breasts. “That would be awesome. I’ve never had a boy toy before.”

  Aside from being gorgeous, she was pretty damn amusing. “I’m a little old to be a boy toy, especially when you’re a lot younger than me.”

  “But that’s why it’s perfect.”

  “That doesn’t compute for me.”

  “Said by Mr. Big CFO,” she scoffed. “It’s perfect because it’s the opposite of what people expect, an older woman with a younger boy toy.” She leaned close enough to run a hand through his hair. “That little bit of gray is attractive, and I like being able to tell some company bigwig what to do.”

  He’d wondered earlier what her game was. She loved it when he told her how to touch herself for him over the phone, yet turned it all around tonight and made him do what she wanted. In the final analysis, though, her last statement said it all. She liked the power play.

  Yet he wanted more than what she offered. He wanted entire nights with her. Even as her anonymity excited the
hell out of him, it made him nuts that she could walk away and he’d never find her. She had something special—she was special. He feared that if she left him now, he’d be forever comparing every other woman and relationship to her and find them wanting.

  “Tell me your name, and I’ll consider being your boy toy.”

  Without dropping her gaze, she shook her head.

  “Then we’re at a stalemate, aren’t we?” It was a calculated risk that rumbled in his gut. If he lost . . .

  Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her car keys. He’d followed her little red Mustang over from the hotel. “Guess we are,” she said, “but I’m not giving you my name.”

  “Not fair. You know everything about me.”

  She laughed as she rose. “That was your mistake, not mine.” Backing up two steps, she stopped before making it to the curb. “So is this good-bye?”

  He’d seen her license plate number. Was that a way to track her? He could also let her get to her car, then follow wherever she went. Both those things were tantamount to stalking her. He wasn’t a stalker. Her anonymity had to remain her choice. Then again, she’d escalated tonight, asked to meet him. She had to see him again. He couldn’t allow himself to think any other way.

  “You still have my number.” He rose, too, and pulled his keys from his pocket. “If you call it, I’ll answer.” Yet he felt a hitch in his gut that he’d overplayed his hand.

  “So true.” She waved her fingers at him. “Nightie-night, Scott. And thanks for”—she shot him one of her sexy half smiles—“that very delicious show.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  Her Mustang was on the other side of the street. She waited as a car passed, then ran across. The remote beeped, and she glanced back at him for a long moment.

  Scott stood beneath a streetlamp in a pool of light. Behind him, a couple, laughing, swung through the ice-cream parlor door.

  Trinity knew she’d see him again. There was no question about that. He thrilled her, gave her power. Yet he’d remain her secret. She wouldn’t even tell Faith. How could she explain that after finding Harper in the shower with another woman, less than two weeks later she was playing sex games with a new man? There was no reasonable explanation, and she couldn’t bear it if anyone passed negative judgment on her. All right, she knew Faith would never do that, yet she couldn’t tell her anyway.

  Nor would she tell Scott her name. If she did, she risked becoming that Trinity, the one who worried about her hair, her makeup, her figure, her clothes. She’d be afraid to do those sweet, naughty things, afraid of what he’d think of her if she was less than perfect. All the freshness, the excitement would be lost. She couldn’t lose what he gave her now she’d found it.

  Across the street, Scott backed away and headed to his car two parking spots up. A couple of suit-clad thirtyish career women passed him, one of them turning to admire his butt before poking her friend to make sure she got a look, too.

  A tall, imposing, handsome, well-dressed figure, Scott Sinclair was hot. He wore his authority like a second skin. One look and a woman knew he had power.

  Trinity was hooked on playing with that power.

  TWO very long days later, Trinity sat in her father’s office, tapping her fingernails on the arm of her chair. “Daddy, I need an office. ”

  With his reading glasses perched on his nose, her father continued perusing a competitor’s annual report on his blotter in front of him. “Sweetheart, we don’t have any extra offices right now.” He glanced over the rims. “Besides, managers and above get offices. No one else.”

  Yes, yes, she already knew that. Inga had informed her. So had Anthony Ackerman. “Then make me a manager.”

  Her father smiled benevolently. “That would be showing favoritism. ”

  Hadn’t he already shown favoritism by giving her the job in the first place? Whatever. “Here’s the problem, Daddy. I have to make phone calls to customers and vendors, and it isn’t appropriate to have everyone overhear what I’m saying to them. This is confidential stuff.”

  Besides, she couldn’t call Scott for a quickie. Not that she’d actually have real phone sex with him while she was at work, but she did want to get a bit sexy and tease him a little. If she didn’t get an office, she’d have to relent and start calling him at night on his cell phone. She’d figured out how to do onetime blocks on her number, but somehow, contacting him outside of his office felt dangerous. It sent the message that she needed him. While she was honest enough to admit she needed the way he made her feel, letting him know shifted the power.

  As it was, she hadn’t gotten hold of him since their Tuesday rendezvous. And she didn’t want her next call to be a hurried few minutes between the time she got home and when he left work.

  Trinity sagged in her chair as her father transcribed a few numbers from the annual report onto a pad.

  Okay, there was another reason. Without an office, she was virtually on the same rung of the ladder as Inga. She needed to show the woman she was one rung higher. But how to explain that? “I think my job will garner more respect if I’m a manager.”

  Her father removed his glasses and set them aside. “Honey, I don’t want this to be harsh, but you’re supervising clerks, not fully degreed accountants. And you aren’t a degreed accountant.”

  Yet she did have a college degree, even if it wasn’t in accounting. “I have to work deals with deadbeat customers.”

  He shook his head, smiling indulgently. “It’s not as if we have a huge customer base as this point, dear. It can’t take too much time.”

  Since the merger with Castle Heavy Mining, Daddy had been seriously expanding his customer list. With her brother Lance’s actions, they could have been out of business altogether if Castle’s management had decided to cut off Green Industries and do the work in-house. Connor and Faith’s father, Jarvis, however, had worked the merger deal and saved Green, though they had both insisted that Lance was out. Since then, her father had courted new customers, swearing he’d never allow the company to get into the same state of dependency on one customer.

  Still, he was right, calling customers took up less than 10 percent of her day. What she needed was some credibility. But how to get it? Somehow Inga came out smelling like Christian Dior after every battle, while Trinity was merely cheap cologne from a drugstore shelf.

  If she could get rid of Inga. There had to be a way. She tipped her head. “Daddy, do you think—” She stopped the horrific words before they came out of her mouth.

  “Do I think what, honey?” Thank goodness his attention was still on the numbers.

  “Nothing. I’ll be fine with a cubicle.” She rose and sidled toward his outside door, avoiding his main door so she wouldn’t have to face Verna in the outer office. Verna always knew when something was wrong. Turning the handle, she backed out into the hallway, then blew her father a kiss.

  With the door closed, Trinity sagged against the wall. Good Lord. She’d actually been about to ask her father to fire Inga. When had she become such a weakling? Worse, she sounded like a spoiled brat whining because things weren’t going her way. What was wrong with her? To even think about firing someone simply because she didn’t know how to handle her was . . . unthinkable.

  Her mother would be ashamed of her. Her mother would have figured out the secret to making Inga like her. Hah, her mother never would have had the problem in the first place.