Liberating Lacey (6 page)

“Glad you liked it,” he said, stretching one arm along the back of the booth. “Is there much of a market for that?”

43

Anne Calhoun

“Absolutely,” she said. “Suburban expansion means strip malls and office complexes. I handled most of the financing for the buildings along Hanover Street over the last five years. Investors buy and sell those properties after the structures are built, too.”

The bell over the door dinged, as it had all evening when customers came and went, and as it had all evening, Hunter’s gaze flickered over her shoulder to check out the new arrivals. Rather than assessing and dismissing, however, this time he gave a short nod and lifted a hand. A moment later three men in street clothes with guns and badges on their belts came to stand by the edge of the booth.

Hunter handled the introductions after casual greetings. “Lacey Meyers, meet Officers Tom High, Nat Johnson and Dave Masters. I used to work with them at the Southern.”

A little self-conscious, she uncrossed her legs and put her feet on the floor. Tom and Dave turned their attention to the soccer game, but Nat, short and compact with thinning blond hair, focused on her with the same direct stare Hunter used.

“You look familiar.”

He didn’t. She frowned and sorted through her memory. “I’m sorry…” she began but he cut her off.

“I worked security at the Memorial Hospital fundraiser. You were there, working the registration table.”

“You have a very good memory for faces. There were five hundred people at that event,” she said with a smile. Her mother had chaired the annual fundraiser, raising almost half a million dollars for the pediatric oncology department.

“I never forget a redhead. It took me a second to place you without the ball gown and the fancy hairdo.”

She felt her eyes narrow, her more formal smile replace the genuine one she’d offered earlier. Her mother, who believed the best defense was a good offense when it came to stifling gossip, had loaned her the gorgeous black Valentino dress and given her a position where she’d hand a nametag to everyone attending the party, her bare ring finger prominently visible. Like Cinderella at the ball, Lacey had been swamped with offers for drinks, dances, a little something from the buffet. She’d gone home with a dozen business cards and called none of them.

“People do like an excuse to dress up,” she said, and if her voice was a little frostier than before, well, perhaps Nat would get the hint.

“What’s a society babe like you doing with this loser?” Hunter went very, very still.

“Having dinner.” She looked over her shoulder at the counter where three taco platters waited in the window. “Your food’s ready,” she said, meeting his nasty grin with her own stone cold look, and turned back to Hunter.

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Liberating Lacey

“Come on,” Dave said, looking back for the first time from the soccer game. “I gotta hurry. I’ve been late three nights this week and my wife’s getting pissed. Don’t be a stranger, Anderson.”

“Nice,” Hunter said as the officers collected their food and found stools at the counter. “You held your own with one of the department’s biggest pricks.”

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve when it comes to handling people,” she said lightly.

“Scary.”

“I use my powers only for good.”

She didn’t get the grin she’d been trying for. Hunter leaned forward, his mouth set in a firm line. “What exactly are you doing with me, Lacey?”

“Having dinner,” she said, her tone softer, more intimate. “Trying to get to know you. I’m not doing so well. You’re very good at deflecting questions.” He didn’t deny it. “This doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“I like you. Surely I’m not the first woman in this city to enjoy your company.”

“You must know bankers or lawyers who don’t golf with your ex.” She almost laughed. “Don’t underestimate Davis’s drive to network. What about you? Wouldn’t you rather be at Buff, choosing dessert from a tasty selection of young, beautiful women?”

Slow and sure, he shook his head, the heat back in his green eyes. Funny…she knew exactly what he was thinking without him saying a word.

She tucked her hair behind her ears to settle her nerves, then met his gaze head on.

“I’m not looking for Mr. Right, Hunter, but I’m also not the kind of woman who will go through a series of Mr. Right-For-Nows, either. Until you, there hasn’t been much spontaneity in my life. I’ve liked trying new things, my ‘firsts’ with you. As long as we’re both where we want to be…is that enough?”

She wasn’t asking for a commitment, although she’d prefer an exclusive relationship for the duration of their time together. But for Hunter, clearly very capable of being footloose and fancy free, that might even be too much.

He reached across the table and captured her wrist, his fingers easily encircling the slender bones. When her palm was face-up in his, he traced her life line then her love line, over and over again.

“This is where you want to be, beautiful?”

She drew in breath, her fingers flexing as hot tingles lingered in the wake of his motion. “Does Juana serve dessert?”

“No.”

“Then I’d like to go home and have dessert in the sun porch, because the carpet’s really soft in there.” She let the words, almost inaudible over the roar of the soccer game, drift into the heated, trembling air between them.

45

Anne Calhoun

“What does soft carpet have to do with dessert?” As if he didn’t know. The desire in his eyes turned them the shade of a stormy green sea she could drown in.

“Fifteen years of ballet lessons made my knees a bit stiff,” she said, keeping her eyes focused demurely on her slim, pale hand in trustingly his.

The fingers of the hand holding hers tightened very briefly, the finger tracing figures in her palm stopped its hypnotic movements for just a moment. “Your knees.” She didn’t look up. “Yes. I’m more comfortable with a little cushioning underneath them. I do so hate to impose on you to suffer through all these firsts with me—“ His index finger left off tantalizing her palm to tip up her chin. Hot male prerogative mixed with incredulity on his face. “Was missionary the
only
way you had sex?”

“No,” she said. “No, but I don’t think I’m very good…at that, and I didn’t…well….he never asked and I never offered.”

“But you are now.”

She nodded, anticipation and nerves warring inside her. This series of firsts would be easier if he ran the show, did what he liked and pulled her along in his wake. But asking for what she wanted, feeling fairly confident she’d get it but maybe not, just maybe, made her insides hum with an unfamiliar need.

“Your ex was very polite,” he said in an amused tone of voice that translated loud and clear into
what a moron.

“Very.” Politically correct, in fact. When it became clear their relationship was on rocky ground, Lacey made some tentative efforts to spice up their sex life. All were tactfully rebuffed.

A little more different, please…

Hunter still had her wrist in an unbreakable grip, like she might bolt if given the chance to rethink her offer. “Let me get this straight. I take you to a dive of a Mexican diner for dinner and question you like you’re a witness. In return you want to give me a blow job.”

“Well, if you put it that way,” she said, mock displeasure in her voice. One side of his mouth curled up in response to her teasing. “Please,” she said.

He blew out his breath. “Hell, yes.”

“Still where you want to be?” she asked teasingly as she watched him toss a couple of bills on the table. She expected him to say he would be when they got back to her house, or if she’d start early, in the car. Once again, he surprised her.

“Beautiful, I’ve been right where I wanted to be all night.” Then he kissed her, the kind of purposeful, intense kiss a man uses to claim a woman, in full view of Juana, her customers and the three cops from his former precinct. “But you’re not off the hook.”

* * * * *

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Liberating Lacey

Time really does stand still
, Hunter thought, when the molten residue of pleasure slackened his body and ebbed from his brain.

Lacey sat on her heels between his spread legs, her head resting against his thigh.

His hand wasn’t quite steady when he reached down to caress her hair, his sweaty fingers clinging to the fine strands. She made a soft noise of protest, the first of the evening.

“Shhhh,” he said, not even sure what the noise meant. He didn’t trust his arms to pull her into his lap, so he slid off the chair, landing beside her on the carpet. He wrapped both arms around her and pulled her head down to his shoulder. “Shhhhh.

Okay. It’s okay.”

Was he reassuring her, or himself?

Streetlights filtering through the leaves of the big oaks that towered over Lacey’s property provided erratic illumination in the sunroom. She’d led him there, stopping before an overstuffed chair next to the fireplace. Then she waited, a half-smile on her face, as he thought about how he wanted to handle this. She knew the mechanics of a blowjob, obviously, had licked and sucked him with an eager enthusiasm their first night together, so this wasn’t about how. This was about making it good. For him.

So he said nothing that wasn’t a command.

Undress me.

The buttons of his shirt, his belt and zipper, with no help from him. He savored the light caress of her palms as she slid his shirt from his shoulders, slipped her hands into his boxer briefs to urge his pants to the floor, then knelt at his feet to take off his socks and shoes. When he was naked, he settled back into the chair and looked at her, doing his damnedest to keep his face neutral, keep the admiration and desire hidden.

She was fully dressed. He was naked, achingly erect, but there was no doubt who was running this show. He pointed at the floor between his spread knees.

Lick. Use the flat of your tongue first.

She claimed to be a novice but there was nothing tentative in the first stroke of her tongue from base to tip. He closed his eyes and let sensation slither along his nerves, pool in his groin like the silky fire of her hair, illuminated in his lap by a ragged patch of streetlight. The soft waves had driven him crazy all night, hiding a cheekbone, an eye, With every touch of her pale hand in the dark fire of her hair he wanted to replace her hand with his own.

Her hair a tantalizing shroud around her face, she did exactly what he told her. No more, the witch. If she kept playing like this, by the end his “orders” would thinly disguised begging.

Take off your blouse
.

Fancy lace half-cups the exact creamy shade of her skin offered up the lush fullness of her breasts and barely hid her hard nipples. Lacey might be inexperienced, but her taste in lingerie made him reach for her head, guide her down.

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Anne Calhoun

Suck. Gently, just the tip.

Fuck, fuck. Breathe. Gotta make this last, even as the wet heat of her mouth threatened to incinerate his control. They were just getting started.

He took her bra off, because she was on her knees for him and he wanted to, then leaned forward to kiss her, play with her nipples, until she was panting, straining into his hands. The hotter the girl, the better the blowjob. Her turn would come.

Relax…relax your throat, yeah, just like that.

Just. Like. That. Slowly. Get used to it. There’s no rush. Ah, fuck yeah. So deep. So fucking good.

Stand up. Take off your skirt. Turn. Again.

Leave the scrap of cream lace panties on because they’ll look so fine, so delicate and elegant on your sweet little ass while you’re blowing me.

Kneel again and practice. Wrap your fist around the base…up and down, with your mouth.

Nice and wet, like that. Let it build.

A very diligent student, so attentive to her work.

He let his head list, gripped the chair’s back behind his head with one hand, cupped her head with the other and thrust. All thought ended when the orgasm exploded at the base of his spine and seared its way up his shaft. Last month he’d been on scene when the Fire Department struggled to contain a fast-burning blaze. The licking flames greedily consumed everything inside the building, then, almost as an afterthought, brought the walls and roof down, effectively demolishing the building from the inside out. That was how thoroughly Lacey pleasured him. Destroyed him.

He was so far gone he didn’t remember asking if she was okay, or warning her before he came in her mouth. He’d never lost his mind, used a woman like that before.

But he never forgot it was Lacey on her knees, Lacey capitulating to his every demand.

Lacey now trembling against him.

“Are you…?” The sentence got lost in the thickness in his throat. He coughed, ready to try again but she cut him off.

“Hunter,” she whispered. The pleading in her voice nearly buried him. “Hunter, please, I need—“

So polite. He slid his hand into her lace panties and found her swollen, drenched folds, ending any worries she might have been merely going along with what just happened. Her longing moan echoed in his ears as he pushed three fingers into her slippery cleft and pressed the base of his thumb against her clit. With surprising strength she clasped the nape of his neck and turned his mouth to hers for a hot, desperate, hard kiss. He pressed against her clit, her thighs clenching and releasing around his wrist, until she tossed her head back and whimpered in time to the convulsions squeezing his fingers.

Okay then.

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Liberating Lacey

Time once again stretched out as they sat in a tangled mess on the floor, her head against his shoulder, his legs stretched out parallel to the fireplace, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other cupping the damp curls covering her mound. Eventually he stood, waited a moment to see if his knees would hold him, then shouldered through the French doors into the kitchen. He washed his hands and got a glass of orange juice for Lacey.

He hunkered down again and offered it to her. A smile curved her lips as she accepted, making a face as she initially sipped the juice, then drinking it all. He held his hand out for the empty glass.