Polished (2 page)

Rory shrugged. “You complaining?” She tossed her words while tweaking the end of a long braid with her delicate fingers. She tilted her head to the other side and looked up at him with her wide chestnut eyes.

“Nah, baby, I’m definitely not complaining.” Spencer dropped his hands to the rock on either side of her and landed a hungry kiss to her mouth. She was butter under his lips, smooth and soft, responding to every twist and flick of his tongue against hers. They moved with the kind of harmony that only a long-term relationship could bring. He already knew he wanted to feel this way forever. He just needed to put a few more things in order before he popped the question. For one, he needed to be making more consistent money. And he needed to tell her everything.

Rory moaned when he bit softly on her lip. “I got you all to myself up here,” he whispered.

She nodded. “And you? No more phone calls?”

He rose up on his knees, released his phone from the holster, powered it off, and tossed it into the knapsack. “No more calls.”

He could see the doubt in her eyes. He’d been plenty distracted with work lately. The know-it-all consultants were on his ass night and day. Jack Rothman was the worst of them, an obnoxious asshole trying to make a name for himself in daddy’s company.

One deep breath and he really began to relax. Rory’s honeysuckle shampoo, mixed with the smell of fresh pine needles, wafted into his nostrils. They had to be two of his favorite scents; his favorite place combined with his favorite person. What could be better? He licked his lips. “Mmm. I want to taste you.”

Rory squealed beneath him. He loved having that effect on her, and he hadn’t even done anything yet. Just the promise of the pleasure he intended to give her was all she needed to get all creamy. That thought shot a bolt through him from his heart to his groin. The sounds coming from Rory were all eager coos and short puffs of air. A pleased grin smoldered on his lips as he snaked down her torso. She squirmed underneath him, her breathing aflutter. Spencer would take his time with her that afternoon. God knew he’d be dog-tired for the next few weeks, but he’d make the most of every moment he had with Rory until then.

Catching the hem of her fitted T-shirt and sliding it upward, he found her belly button quivering under his breath. He dipped his head and circled the precipice of the tiny cavern with the tip of his tongue. The August humidity and their vigorous scramble up the boulders had dewed her skin with sweat. He patrolled the perimeter of her navel again and again, savoring her, taking his time.

She arched toward him. He gave her a little more, flicking his tongue into the shallow hole of her belly button, making her writhe further, pressing all the way into her navel and then drawing back away from her entirely. He looked up and met her eyes as he fucked a small part of her. She cooed and pursed her lips. He felt a tightness growing in his cock. Her effect on him was always epic.

Her hand sought the top of his head, weaving her fingers into his wavy locks and pushing him lower with gentle insistence. He grinned against her belly. By now, Rory trusted him enough to make her desires known.

He responded to her unspoken request and dragged his lips downward. Her overheated body tasted salty and sweet as he blazed a trail to the downy border of her sex. He gave her a lazy lick, east to west across her neatly trimmed bikini line, and then veered up north to her hip bone. Rory pursed her lips just a little bit more and stilled under his tongue, holding her breath, waiting for his next move.

“Open up, baby,” Spencer whispered. She spread her luscious thighs a little wider and he gently coaxed them still farther apart. Rory reddened and closed her eyes, a breathless giggle passing her lips. She could be shy at times like this, almost as though she’d prefer to be peeping in on herself from behind a curtain. It was a contradiction that he didn’t wholly understand; she was sassy and confident one minute and then shy the next. She was always honest, though, and Spencer envied her for that. There’s freedom in honesty and Rory’s emotions played like a movie on her face.

He tucked his head to her sex and parted her labia with his mouth, his hot breath bouncing back to him in the confines. He inhaled and breathed her; in through the nose and out through the mouth. Fuck, she smelled fantastic, heavy in his nostrils, thick with the scent of her desire.

He began with a single lick, a taste of what was to come. He’d have plenty of opportunities to feel her juices against his tongue before they were done. But that first lick—that was the one he wanted her to remember.

He stole between her folds, sliding his tongue against her slickness. Rory’s swelling pussy lips engulfed him as he licked the shallows of her entry. With a little more pressure he dipped inside her and felt her clench at her core. Then he pulled out and flattened his tongue against her clit, watching with upturned eyes as she bit her lip. Loving her reaction, he curled his tongue against her, flicking the tip of her bud.

“Damn, baby…ooh…” Her words dripped like liquid. Spencer’s cock throbbed in his pants. He’d need to be inside her soon, but first he wanted to hear her suck the thick August air through her teeth and tell him how good it felt, to watch her throw her head back with her mouth open, licking her lips and calling his name. Eating Rory was as pleasurable for him as he knew it was for her. Fucking perfection.

Her legs began to quiver around his head. That meant it was time to increase his pace. He knew her cues. He had been educating himself on her responses since their very first time. By now, he considered himself an expert. He knew she liked her clit sucked right before she was about to come, so he revved it up and down against his tongue, sucking it almost like a miniature cock. Fuck it—he
did
think of it like that, like wrapping his lips around a tiny little cock.

Rory burst into his mouth, sweet and tart all at once. Her pleasure was never restrained, her orgasms wet and messy and delicious. The force of it amazed him; that he could do that to her delighted him.

There was so little breeze. Sweat had started to bead on Rory’s forehead. Rivulets were running from Spencer’s brow to his chin and into his shirt. He yanked the shirt off and tossed it aside, then he began to unbuckle his belt. Rory’s hands met his at his crotch and unzipped him. She looked so damn happy, grinning up at him from below. Even with her eyes squinting in the late summer sun, she was gorgeous.

“Love you,” he said. She didn’t need to respond; he wasn’t even expecting her to. The way she looked at him told him all he needed to know. It was good, knowing that kind of security. Spencer said it again, just because he could.

She opened wide and swallowed him to the back of her throat without hesitation. Spencer shuddered with the sudden jolt of electricity flowing through him. Her lips curled around his shaft, and her cheeks hollowed as she pulled back from him. She didn’t release him, though. She kept him captive in her mouth, twirling her tongue around his cockhead and driving him crazy. He threw his hips forward in appreciation. Rory wrapped her fingers around his calves and squeezed. She was his, and she made him feel better than any man had a right to feel. He smiled and let her do her thing, raising his arms above his head and tucking them behind his neck as he stood there, letting her take whatever she wanted.

Just standing there was a challenge, requiring him to brace against the pleasure she delivered with her busy mouth. He could have easily toppled over from how good her tight little mouth felt hugging his dick. Her head bobbed back and forth in front of him, and he dared to let his hips sway to her rhythm. But a new surge was brewing, and he felt a need to have his cock buried in her depths. Coming in Rory’s mouth was nothing compared to the feeling of her pussy drinking him dry.

He held out his hand and guided her—all ladylike—to the smooth surface of the ancient boulders behind them. His other hand wrapped tightly around his cock as it jutted though his open fly. Rory turned toward the sun-baked stone and draped herself against it, cradling the curving contours created by a prehistoric river’s caress. Spencer grabbed her under one knee and hauled her leg up against the granite. She let out a surprised giggle.

“Now who’s the one who can’t wait?” she purred over her shoulder.

Spencer bit her jaw, leaving a playful mark there, which faded in a matter of seconds. Then he plunged into her silken cunt with everything he’d been holding back. She was so ready for him, so open. So hot.

“Mmmmmm…yeah…”

God, how he loved to hear her moan. He rocked into her, hunting her pleasure, gaining leverage by entering her low. She let out a stream of ragged, feminine cries, mixing like music with the distant rush of water and the dozens of songbirds all clamoring to be heard. The sound of her alone was enough to pull Spencer to the edge of euphoria. He closed his eyes and felt her cunt pulsing around his cock. This was as good as it got. There wasn’t anything better in the world.

Chapter Two

Jack Rothman rolled his sleeves down and retied his necktie. Sunday afternoon or not, his father would expect him to look the part of the consummate professional. A stack of oversize papers dominated his retro, midcentury desk. Jack never really got the opportunity to admire the prized antique, which he had scored a few years ago at a flea market downtown; the entire surface was always covered with work.

He checked the plans again, knowing it was pointless. Nothing had changed. Nothing was going to change. Staring at the blueprints wasn’t going to bring the project any closer to budget, nor would it make his father any less disappointed in him when they lost the contract. Disappointing his father he was used to. Disappointing himself was really getting old.

A glance at his watch told him Jackson Rothman, Sr. would be winding up on the golf course by now. Eighteen holes with the mayor. Once they finished, Jack was sure to be invited to join them upstairs for scotch in his father’s office. Nothing could be more grating than another evening tossing back his father’s favorite aged single malt and forcing a smile past the ripe burn in his chest.

When his cell phone rang he meant to send it right to voice mail without checking the ID. Whoever it was could try their luck later. His father had his own ring tone, so he knew it wasn’t him. But just to prove Murphy’s Law was in full effect, he tapped the wrong button. A few seconds later a distant voice inquired from his pants pocket.

“Jack…you there?”

Fuck
.
A look at the caller ID revealed a name. “Uh…yeah, Spencer. I’m here.” A straight shot to voice mail would have meant he was busy, but hanging up on the guy now would just be plain rude.

“Good. So, listen. About tomorrow. I gotta say, I think you’re making the wrong call on how much manpower we need. I mean, I don’t want to tell you your job or anything, but only two teams working ten-hour shifts…you’re asking for a miracle if you want to keep on schedule getting that tunnel connected.”

Jack sighed. “It’s not just the schedule I have to worry about. Election is around the corner. The mayor is pressing to keep this project under budget.” He paused, looking for the words that wouldn’t make him look like such a jerk. “We’re counting on you to know your job. Why don’t you leave my job to me?” Fuck. Those were not the words.

He heard Spencer inhale, clear and long. The breath he released was slow and steady, sounding like static on the line.

“You’re the boss,” Spencer said finally.

Jack shook his head. Outside of the bedroom he was nobody’s boss, not even his own. “I’m sorry. This is how it’s going to be. Besides, according to anyone in the tri-state area, you’re the best demolitions foreman around. I have full confidence that you’ll get the job done.”

Another short pause and Spencer spoke with a hint of sarcasm set into his voice. “So glad you’re full of…confidence.”

Jack almost laughed out loud. As much as he hated to admit it, he liked this guy. “We get started at seven tomorrow. You can shock and awe me with your expertise then.” Was he flirting now? Jesus Christ.

“I’ll be there,” Spencer replied.

Jack allowed himself to linger over the memory of Spencer Hartley in his Carhartts and hard hat. The first time they’d met in person, Jack had been struck by his brooding blue eyes and sexy mouth. If they weren’t working together, he’d have investigated the possibilities. But Jack had had his fill of mixing business with pleasure for the moment. Things were complicated enough.

Sixty agonizingly long minutes later his phone rang again. This time it wasn’t a mystery who was on the other end.

“Yes, Dad.”

“Mayor Daniels and I are here in my office. He’s asking about you. Why don’t you come up and have a drink?”

Jack silently mouthed the words, even as his father said them. Of course he would be summoned upstairs to help butter up the mayor. They’d get the old bastard drunk, entertain his jokes—but what else would he have to do to ease the news about the tunnel project being $1.5 million over budget? The dirty job of breaking that news was sure to land in Jack’s lap. He chuckled sardonically, the acid raking the back of his throat from all the stress. One way or another, he’d have to figure out a way to make up the difference in the budget before the whole damn city council caught on, while keeping the mayor happily in bed with Rothman Development at the same time. Good old Dad; he always set the bar high on cleaning up his messes.

“Sure, I’ll be right up.” Jack took the long way, up the stairs. Just the simple act of conquering the staircase, two steps at a time, made him feel a bit more empowered. God knew he’d need whatever edge he could get.

The moment he stepped into the wood-paneled office, Mayor Daniels took a step in his direction and held out his hand.

“Jack! Been a while since the ground breaking. How have you been?”

Jackson piped in before he could answer. “He’s been working hard on tightening up those plans. Haven’t you, son?”

Cue the shit-eating grin. “Absolutely. We’ll be on track by the end.”