Falling Into You
Authors: Maureen Smith
Falling Into You
An Erotic Novella by Maureen Smith
FALLING INTO YOU
Copyright © 2013 by Maureen
Smith
Originally published in 2007
All rights reserved. Except
for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or
in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or
hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any
information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written
permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
For questions and comments
about this book, please contact Maureen Smith
at [email protected].
Visit her official website at www.maureen-smith.com.
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1
“Looks like tonight is your lucky night.”
Rebecca Edmonds glanced up from setting down
a tray filled with empty glasses to look at her coworker through the slits of a
black lace mask. “Lucky?” she echoed as if the word was foreign to her. “How’s
that?”
Stacey
Brenner leaned in the doorway of the kitchen with one hand propped on a shapely
hip as she gazed out into the smoke-filled nightclub. Onstage, a trio of
topless dancers slid up and down long silver poles as they performed to Donna
Summers’s “Love to Love You Baby.”
“The sexiest man in Baltimore—hell, the
state of Maryland—just walked through the door,” Stacey explained. “And
guess whose table he was seated at?”
“Lucky me,” Rebecca muttered, unimpressed. As
far as she was concerned, there was nothing remotely sexy about a man who got
off on watching women strip in public. Although The Sultan’s was known to be
one of the city’s classiest gentlemen’s clubs—with hefty cover charges to
show for it—the place still drew enough of the kind of patrons that made Rebecca’s
skin crawl.
“You’d better get out there,” Stacey told
her. “You know how Bruno feels about keeping customers waiting.”
Bruno Rossi, the owner of The Sultan’s
Gentlemen’s Club, had built his reputation on taking excellent care of his
customers, starting from the moment they stepped through the doors until they
departed several hours later—at least five hundred dollars poorer. He
prided himself on having the best exotic dancers and waitresses in Maryland. If
any of his employees failed to deliver on this promise, he had no qualms about
firing her on the spot. He’d been known to dock the paychecks of waitresses who
kept customers waiting too long to be served, or cooks who prepared less than
satisfactory meals, or dancers who stumbled once or twice onstage. When it came
to his establishment, Bruno Rossi had little patience for imperfection.
These thoughts ran through Rebecca’s mind as
she left the kitchen and made her way across the crowded nightclub. The plush
décor evoked the decadence of ancient Rome, complete with faux marble columns
and expensively reproduced Pompeian wall paintings. A thick cloud of cigar
smoke hovered above the tables, all of which were occupied with men—and
more than a few women—sipping drinks and watching the naked acrobatics
onstage. Because it was Halloween, many customers wore costumes. While some of
the getups were creative enough to warrant a second glance, none were elaborate
enough to compete with the main attraction—the exotic dancers.
Rebecca passed a waitress balancing a tray
laden with food and drinks. She smiled encouragingly at the young brunette,
Nina, who’d been a victim of Bruno’s displeasure last week when she showed up
fifteen minutes late to work. Nina knew, as did everyone else, that she was
just one misstep away from being fired.
Mentally praying that the girl wouldn’t drop
her tray, Rebecca kept walking until she reached a table in a private corner of
the club where a lone man sat, idly perusing the menu.
“Welcome to The Sultan’s,” Rebecca began
cheerfully. “My name is Rebecca and I’ll be your—”
The rest of her spiel died on her lips as the
stranger’s dark head slowly lifted, and she found herself staring into the most
arresting pair of eyes she’d ever seen. Black as coal, with the power to zero
in on a woman’s face and leave her utterly breathless. Those piercing eyes were
accentuated by chiseled cheekbones, a slightly crooked nose and a square jaw. A
neatly trimmed goatee framed full, sensual lips that made Rebecca
wonder—shockingly—what they’d feel like against her own, and on
other parts of her body.
She fought to regain her composure. “My name
is Rebecca, and I’ll be your servant— I mean,
server
, tonight,” she quickly corrected herself, blushing as that
sinful mouth curved into a knowing smile.
She cleared her throat, grateful for the mask
that partially concealed her face. “Is this your first time at The Sultan’s?”
“Yes, it is,” the man answered in a deep,
husky voice.
Never before had Rebecca felt more exposed as
his dark, penetrating gaze raked over her body, taking in her black leather
bustier, matching micro-mini shorts and stiletto heels. But rather than
repelling her, his slow, deliberate perusal left her feeling hot and tingly in
unspeakable places.
She tapped her pen against her notepad. “What
can I get for you this evening?”
His gaze returned slowly to her face, a hint
of that sly smile lingering on his lips. “What do you recommend?”
“Depends on what you’re in the mood for,” Rebecca
said.
In the background, Donna Summers sighed and
moaned her way through a simulated orgasm. Rebecca’s face heated as the
stranger’s smile turned downright wicked. Before he could respond, she quickly
recited the house specials, mortified by the breathlessness she heard in her
own voice.
“Tell you what, Rebecca,” he drawled when
she’d finished speaking. “Why don’t you just start me off with a glass of
whiskey? We can work our way slowly to the main course.”
Rebecca nodded jerkily. “Coming right up.”
As she turned and headed toward the bar, she
felt the man’s searing gaze on her back, burning away what scraps of clothing
she wore. She shivered convulsively and walked faster.
“I need a whiskey,” she told one of the
bartenders working busily behind the counter.
“Sure thing, beautiful.”
While Rebecca waited on the order, Stacey
sidled up alongside her, a knowing grin on her face. “What’d I tell you? Isn’t
he a hottie?”
Rebecca feigned ignorance. “Who?”
Stacey laughed, tucking a strand of auburn
hair behind one ear. “Nice try, Edmonds. You know very well I’m talking about
that gorgeous specimen at your table, the one who couldn’t keep his eyes off
your ass as you walked away.”
Rebecca flushed. “Him? Sure, he’s
attractive.”
“
Attractive
?”
Stacey snorted in disbelief. “Sweetheart, you need to get your eyes checked.”
“Whatever you say,” Rebecca quipped as the
bartender produced her drink. She scooped her tray off the counter and started
away from the bar.
She prayed for steady hands as she served the
glass of whiskey to her sexy customer. “Is there anything else I can get for
you?”
“Your phone number would be nice,” he said
lazily.
Rebecca laughed, surprising herself. “Sorry.
I never mix business with pleasure.”
His eyes glinted with mischief. “Never say
never,” he told her, his voice a silky promise she would remember long after
she left his table.
A constant flow of customers over the next
two hours kept Rebecca too busy to dwell on thoughts of the seductive stranger.
But as she bustled from table to table refilling drinks and taking orders, she
was keenly aware of a pair of smoldering dark eyes that followed her, wreaking
havoc on her nerve endings.
The man seemed more interested in watching Rebecca
than the topless dancers onstage. Once when she braved a look in his direction,
she saw him being treated to a lap dance by Giselle, a stunning, voluptuous
blonde who could have starred as a
Playboy
centerfold. The dancer seemed to be enjoying herself immensely as she
gyrated against the man’s groin and fondled her large breasts to the tune of
Sheena Easton’s “Sugar Walls.”
As Rebecca watched the performance, her mind
wandered, creating a fantasy in which
she
,
not Giselle, was giving the lap dance….
As
her hips slowly and provocatively undulated in his lap, she could hear his
breath quicken, becoming a shallow rasp in her ear. She could feel the bulge of
his erection through his trousers. Long, thick and magnificently hard. It
excited her, sent a rush of liquid heat pouring through her veins.
As
his hand lifted to touch her, she sent him a warning look over her shoulder.
“Ah, ah, ah,” she scolded. “You know the rules. No touching.”
His dark
eyes simmered with desire and frustration. “Let me touch you,” he whispered
raggedly. “Just once. Please.”
She
shook her head, her lips curving into a naughty smile as she continued gyrating
on him. It thrilled her to know she could have this power over him, a man who
was undoubtedly used to having any woman he wanted, whenever he wanted.
A
crisp fifty-dollar bill materialized between his long, lean fingers. “Can I
give this to you?”
She
hesitated, pretending to deliberate as she eyed the money. After another
moment, she nodded.
As
he slid the bill into the strap of her G-string, warm, callused fingers grazed
the skin at her hip. Rebecca shivered at the brief contact, her nipples
hardening as if he’d tongued them.
Her
reaction didn’t go unnoticed.
“Did
you like that, Rebecca?” he murmured, his breath a hot, silky caress against
her ear. “Do you want me to touch you again?”
God, yes!
Aloud
she mumbled, “Of course not.”
“Are
you sure?” he whispered wickedly. “Because when I touched you just now, I
could’ve sworn your body said something different. Here, let me show you.” This
time his hand brushed against her thigh, and sure enough, Rebecca shivered
again as heat pooled between her legs.
“Mmmm.
See what I mean?” he purred. “I bet if I touch you here—”
Rebecca’s
breath caught as she watched his hand curve around her thigh, trailing a hot
path toward her pussy. He moved slowly, deliberately, drawing out the torture
of anticipation. And then, just when she thought she would lose her mind, he
slipped his finger beneath the lace crotch of her thong and touched her. She
gasped sharply, then moaned as he began to stroke the slick nub of her
clitoris. She arched her back as waves of pleasure tore through her, setting
her body on fire.
As his
finger teased and caressed the soft folds of her pussy, she braced her palms on
his muscular thighs and spread her legs wide, desperate for more. She wanted
him, wanted him like no other man she’d ever wanted before. She didn’t care
where they were, or that other people were watching them.