Strike (15 page)

“Damn it, April. I won’t even make it under the water if you talk to me like this.”

That whole winey, needy thing in his voice is sexier than anything. “What are you gonna think about?” I ask in a sugary tone.

“My dick in that pretty mouth of yours, to stop you from talkin’.”

“Mmm, nice. I’m hanging up now. I’ve got work to do.”

I disconnect the call, and sit the phone on the vanity. Stepping into a cloud of steam, the hot water embraces me and I think of all things Spencer.

****

* SPENCER *

“The only way that shower would’ve been better is if you were in it,” I say, still catching my breath. Knowing that she was rubbing herself while I was working my cock was like some kind of wet dream come true.

I glance down at my watch on the sink. I’ve got exactly ten minutes to get dressed before they pick me up. I pray for an earthquake or some other kind of natural disaster that prevents me from being able to go. As long as I can still make my way to April’s place.

“Didn’t take long, huh?” she says and laughs sweetly.

“You’re a wicked girl, but dammit if that wasn’t something else.”

You’re something else.

“Have a good night, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

****

“I can see why Quay Restaurant has three hats. That was a fine meal,” Hutchison says, firmly shaking my hand.

“It’s our pleasure, Mr Hutchison. Glad to show you one of Sydney’s finest.”

“I keep telling you, call me Frank. Mr Hutchison is my father.”

“Okay, will do.”

“Come on, young Jones. I’ve got some money burning a hole in my pocket.” He winks at me, and slaps me hard on the back.

“The limo’s waiting out front. I’ve arranged for us to move onto the Sovereign room at the Star Casino. They’re expecting us shortly.”

“And not a minute too soon.”

****

Frank is on a roll which means I’m playing babysitter, doing nothing more than making sure the drinks are flowing. I’ve drunk far too many vodkas, but Dad specifically told me not to go home until Frank did. Frank’s a big boy. He’s gotta be at least forty. I’m sure he’d have a better time without me hovering over him.

I lean closer to the table. “Just gonna take a piss, Frank. You want another scotch?” I say quietly in his ear.

“Does a fish need water? Yeah, I’ll get another.” His wide smile splits his face, and he turns his attention back to the cards laid out on the table.

This guy is a drinking machine. I might have to start ordering him double shots so they kick him out. Surely I couldn’t get blamed for that? I get the attention of a roaming waitress, and ask her to put another scotch on my tab, and to take it straight to him.

As I exit the bathroom, I scroll through the messages on my phone. None from April. I should send her one, just to let her know I’m thinking about her.

“I thought that was you,” a sugary female voice says as I turn the corner.

CHAPTER NINE

* SPENCER *

Focusing on her strappy silver heels first, my eyes move up her sapphire-blue slinky ballgown which hugs her curvy frame. Flaming red locks fall in soft curls around her small tits. Her deep-red painted lips are pursed together, her eyes glaring at me like death rays.

The hairs prickle at the nape of my neck, and I swallow down the rising bile in my throat.

The crazy redhead
.

Fuck.

Golden rule: You never stick your dick into crazy. I never should have broken that rule. I don’t have the head space for this shit. Not tonight, not ever.

“Hi …” I mutter.
Fuck
. I have no idea what her name is. Did she even tell me before I filled her mouth while Ryan took her from behind? I remember that much—she wasn’t bad—but I’ll be fucked if I can remember her name. “How are you?” I say, in an attempt to be polite.

I subtly try to scan the tables, looking for Frank. Where the fuck is he? He’s not sitting where he was a second ago. I need to get away from her before she makes a scene like she did last time.

“It’s Julianna. I can’t believe you don’t remember my name.”

If you were memorable, perhaps I would have
. “Sorry, I’m bad with names.”

She steps towards me, and with the wall at my back I’ve got nowhere to go. She runs her long blue fingernails across my shoulders and grips the top of my arms as she leans close to my ear. “Perhaps later you can practise screaming it out loud when you fill my mouth. You won’t so easily forget it next time.”

I take her hands from my shoulders and place them at her sides. “I’m with someone,” I say coolly.

“Really?” she says, and purses her lips again. Her eyes look like they’re about ready to burn me into a pile of ash. She scoffs. “I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care if you don’t.”

“Yeah, but for how long?”

As far as I’m concerned, indefinitely.

“Well, she must really know how to work that body of yours then, because I seem to remember you telling me
casual
is your thing.”

I look away. April hasn’t come close to working me. It’s killing me, but I see that blinding light at the end of the tunnel. We’re nearly there.

“She mustn’t be that good, if you’re scowling like that when you think about her,” she says and laughs like an evil witch.

Now I’m pissed. It’s none of her goddamn business.

“Casual
was
my thing,” I say through gritted teeth. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to be somewhere.”

“A leopard never changes his spots. Just remember that, Jones,” she says, running her nails down my slim black tie.

Is she right? Am I just a piece of shit serial one-nighter? April knows about my past, but she still wants me. At least I think she does. Perhaps April deserves better.

Julianna runs her hand down my stomach and between my legs, palming my dick. “If she’s not sucking this big boy,” she squeezes, “there’s something wrong with her. I’ll happily volunteer, as long as I get a good, hard fuck in return.”

I’m disgusted with myself. She made my dick semi-hard. I slap her hand away. “Don’t,” I warn.

“Ah, there you are young Jones,” Frank says, and then takes his time eye-fucking Julianna. She laps it up, and looks at him as if she’s ready to drop to her knees. Frank’s certainly not bad looking for his age, and I’ve seen the way women have checked him out tonight. Well, I guess the way they’ve gazed at both of us in our dinner suits. I just haven’t engaged in ‘eye’ conversation with any of them.

“Julianna,” the redhead says, holding out her hand to Frank. He takes it and twists it at the wrist, kissing her knuckles.

“Pleasure to meet you, Julianna. I’m Frank.”

“Ooh, I love your accent. Canadian?” she coos.

“Yes, my lovely. Canadian,” he replies.

“I’m off to play blackjack, Frank,” I interrupt, seeing my opportunity to flee.

“Sure,” he says, waving me off, his attention not leaving Julianna. “It would be my pleasure to buy you a drink, Julianna.” I stride towards the tables.

I win a few hands, I lose a few. I don’t even wanna play. I slam down another vodka, willing this night to be over. Maybe I should get completed shitfaced so they kick
me
out.

Julianna shamelessly flirts with Frank at the table next to me, every now and then looking at me with a fucking smarmy expression on her face. I know she’s trying to make me jealous, but she’s only pissing me off more. If that’s even possible. I never should have hooked up with her. I knew in my gut the way she’d targeted me that she was going to be trouble.

A dozen or so hands later, Frank strolls over to me, looking ten-feet tall with his arm hooked around Julianna’s waist. “This beauty has offered to walk me to my room upstairs. She thought you might like to join us.”

The sick thing is not that long ago I would have accepted the invitation. Fuck, I did her with Ryan, for Christ’s sake.

Julianna tilts her head to the side and raises an eyebrow. Like she’s daring me. My opinion of her has now stooped to an all-time low.

“She’s all yours, Frank. Enjoy the rest of your time in Sydney.”

He shakes my hand. “I have a feeling I will.”

Finally, I get to go home.

****

* APRIL *

Thursday

Even without Spencer in my bed, I’d managed to sleep reasonably well. It might have had something to do with all the wine Soph and I polished off last night. I’d enjoyed sitting up late, talking about anything and everything. I hadn’t said a whole lot about Spencer, but when I did, Soph had rolled her eyes that far into her head I was worried she’d do permanent damage. She warned me not to fall too hard. But I knew it was already too late. I’m his.

I’d desperately wanted to text Spencer last night to see how his evening was going, but thought I’d better not get clingy. I’d worn
his
t-shirt to bed, his smell surrounding me as I’d drifted off to sleep. It was the closest I could get to having him in the flesh.

Hooking up my camera to my laptop, I download all the photos from the memory card. I sort them into named folders, emailing off a couple to Aidan and Dad as promised. Photos of Spencer are the last ones I sort. Even with that stupid expression on his face, looking more duck than human, he’s
pretty
. Gorgeous even. I smile as I save it as the wallpaper on my laptop. Pretty boy is gonna hate it.

Mid-morning, my phone buzzes.

S
PENCER
:
D
ON’T COOK TONIGHT.
I
’LL PICK YOU UP AT SEVEN.

Ooh. I’m loving the sound of that.

M
E
:
W
HERE ARE WE GOING??

S
PENCER
:
T
O DINNER

No joke, dipshit. I got that much. I wonder if he’s taking me somewhere laid-back like Wild and Free-Range, or something more high-end? Knowing how much he loves his food, I’m thinking the latter. The problem is if it’s too high-end, my wardrobe might not be flash enough. I rarely get the opportunity to dress up. Besides, the fact is it’s not really my scene. I like casual.

M
E
:
W
HAT DO
I
WEAR?

S
PENCER
:
I
’D PREFER NOTHING, BUT PERHAPS SOMETHING THAT SHOWS THOSE LEGS OFF

A dress.

I rush into my bedroom and flip through my clothes on the hangers. The only thing I have that’s semi-formal is an emerald-green pencil dress with a square neck. I’d worn it to a presentation night years ago. It’ll have to do, because I hate shopping and I don’t have the time to do it now. The green dress it is. Maybe I should tease him a little, to see how dressy we’re talking.

M
E
:
S
URE THING.
B
OOTS OR HEELS?

S
PENCER
:
B
OTH GET MY DICK HARD, BUT HEELS ARE PREFERABLE

As I’m sure he intended, my thoughts go straight there.

M
E
:
W
ILL YOU BE WEARING A SUIT?

If it’s anything like what he had on yesterday, it’s going to be hard to get through dinner without attacking him. That suit, his riding gear, jeans and a T-shirt … let’s face it: he looks hot in anything. Even my shirt. No wait,
especially
my shirt.

S
PENCER
:
D
O YOU WANT ME TO?

M
E
:
Y
ES PLEASE *INSERT DIRTY GRIN HERE*.
I
F
I
HAVE TO WEAR A DRESS, YOU’RE WEARING A SUIT.

S
PENCER
:
S
OLD.

M
E
:
I
’LL BE READY X

S
PENCER
:
N
OW STOP THINKING DIRTY THOUGHTS ABOUT ME, OR YOU’LL BE WORN OUT BY THE TIME
I
PICK YOU UP XXX

M
E
:
I
’M NOT PROMISING ANYTHING.

****

* SPENCER *

Opening the door, April stands there wearing a snug green dress and a sly smile. The weight of my heart crushes the air out of my lungs. She’s done something different with her hair so it falls in waves that have my fingers desperate to play with. She has a little makeup on—the freckles on her nose are not as noticeable—and her lips? Damn, those sweet luscious lips. I wanna taste.