vaguely familiar, so I smile.
“Well hello, sweetheart. I remember you from last week.” He returns my interest with
a crooked grin and looks around. He notes Andrew sitting a few stools away. “You look
more stable tonight.”
Ah, yes. He’s the guy I fell into when trying to leave last week. “Hi.” I tilt my
head, allowing my hair to frame my face. “And you look just as nice as you did when
we first met. Do you work in the area?”
“Yeah. I’m in finance—stocks and bonds mostly. You?”
“Advertising sales exec at Smith and White.”
A feral look sparks in his eye and I wonder if he could be what I’m looking for.
“Want to go catch some dinner at a quieter place?” Tall and handsome asks.
“I’d love to.”
We leave the bar together and I can almost feel Andrew’s annoyance radiating toward
us. That’ll show him once and for all I’m not interested.
Chapter Six
Andrew
I cannot believe that little tease left with that meathead! My hands clench into fists
and I have to physically press them under the edge of the bar to stop myself from
chasing after her. Why does she go for the hulking, empty-headed guys? Why won’t she
look at me with interest?
I take a deep breath and will the logical part of my brain into working. Maybe because
she can control them easier than she can me? After our night together I haven’t exactly
reverted to the calm and easy-going guy she used to work with. Her response when I
pleasured her is still etched in my mind. She reacted to my advances with an uninhibited
sweetness; almost like her body was surprised she enjoyed it.
The bossy, confident woman she presents to the world is not all that meets the eye
with Carla. If she were secure in herself, why would she pick up strangers at a bar?
I’ve seen it enough in my time as a musician—a lonely person looking for companionship,
often making unwise choices for human contact.
Could that be true with her, too? And if yes, how do I convince her I’m worth more
than a one night stand?
More importantly, why do you care? Why are you willing to take a risk on a woman who
just figuratively thumbed her nose at you in public?
Because there’s something about her… something that calls to me. Is it the vulnerability
I saw in her eyes when we kissed in the copier room? Is it the freedom she only allows
herself when she’s sleepy and her guard is down? She acts like she’s in charge, but
I bet what she really needs is for the man to take control for a change.
I throw my money on the bar and make the journey to my apartment. I knock twice on
Rocko’s door to see if he’s in. A muffled “Yo!” comes from within. In a moment the
door flies open and my neighbor stands bare-chested before me, wearing sweatpants.
“Dude.” Rocko says, drawing out the word in a long greeting. “I’m going to the gym.
Want to come?”
The tension growing inside me from watching Carla walk out with another guy needs
an outlet. “Sounds good. I’ll meet you downstairs in five.”
Rocko nods and shuts his door.
I quickly change and meet him in the building’s small basement gym. It’s nothing pretty,
and the cramped space filled with old free weights is near the laundry room, but it
gets the job done for a free work out.
About forty-five minutes into our chest and back rotation Rocko says, “You going to
tell me what’s eating you or do you plan on giving yourself an aneurism with the extra
weight?”
Sweat drips from my forehead as I push the bar to the top notch of the frame. I slide
the hand towel I brought and mop the moisture from my eyes.
“Little minx picked up a guy at the bar after work. Right in front of me.”
“Damn.” Rocko whistles. “That’s harsh. Didn’t try coming on strong, like I suggested?”
“I did. But maybe I wasn’t clear enough.”
I rise, wipe the bench free of my sweat, and then stand behind the bar to spot Rocko
on his set.
“She’s sent you a clear message she’s not interested, man.” He wraps his hands around the bar and
hesitates. “Take off twenty from both ends.” He smirks. “I don’t have any issues to
sweat out like you.”
“Fine,” I grumble before removing the weights.
Rocko watches while I return the weights to the stationary rack behind us. “So, what
do you plan to do?”
I shake my head and return to my spotter position. Rocko lifts the bar and starts
his set. “I’m thinking I need to get right in her face and show her what I can do to her body, make her respond to me before she talks herself out
of it.”
Rocko remains silent, concentrating on his form and breathing. At the end he pushes
the bar into its starting position. “As long as whatever you’re planning won’t get
a restraining order against you, I say go for it. You only live once, right?” His
face grimaces. “Sorry man, that slipped out. How is your mom doing?”
I wave him off. I know he didn’t mean anything by his comment, and I don’t want anyone
on eggshells around me. “No change. Still in a coma. They think she could go any day
now.” A sigh rushes out, and the last of my tension leaves with it. “It’s a crappy
situation all around, but we knew it was leading to this.”
We select dumbbells and start a round of flys on the incline benches. “How’s Andrea
holding up?” Rocko wiggles his eyebrows, possibly hoping to interject some lightness
into the conversation. “Does she need a comforting shoulder or manly hug?”
His distraction works and a sharp bark of laughter erupts from me. “Man, don’t go
near my sister. I’ll have to hurt you.”
“Come on, Ace…she’s so pretty.” Sweat runs down his face as he winks at me. “You sure
she’s related to you?”
We finish our workout and part ways. I still feel keyed up and debate on a run, deciding
against it at the last minute and shower instead. The entire time I’m walking through
the motions of bathing and then fixing a meal, I contemplate Carla and what to do.
She wants something spicy in her life, does she?
I’ve got just what she needs. I change into jeans and a polo then head back out to
the bar. Here’s to hoping she falls for my plan.
Chapter Seven
Carla
Two hours after leaving the bar, I can barely nod my head politely while Tall- Handsome-and-Dumb
speaks. He might be pretty, but I have no desire to take him home. I politely exit
after our meal, pleading an early morning meeting and files I need to review. Brian
and I exchange numbers, but I doubt very highly either of us will call. The chemistry
isn’t there.
Didn’t have that problem with Andy, did you?
Could I be wrong and there really is something between us that could spark the sheets
on fire? I push the thought aside and refuse to linger on the idea. Counting on any
man is a mistake, and one I intend to avoid.
Pretty soon I’m home alone, snuggled up with comfy clothes, a cup of hot tea, and
ready to start a book Heather recommended called Suddenly Beautiful. Last week, she raved about the p
aranormal story and the hysterical antics of the
heroine. I gamely agreed to give it a shot.
A few chapters in, I’m so fully engrossed I don’t glance at the screen when I pick
up my ringing phone.
“Hello?”
“Carla, it’s me.” Andy’s voice comes over the line, slightly distorted by background
noise.
A sigh escapes me. I really can’t handle drama tonight. I hear the bitchiness coming
out in my voice before I rein it in. “What is it, Andy?”
“I need you to meet me at the bar. I want to talk to you about the Stringer account.”
“Seriously? Can’t we just talk on the phone?”
“No,” he says, and hangs up.
Bastard! He better not be playing a game or I am so going to report his ass at the
office. With the recent increase in the campaign budget, I could request to work with
another accountant. The idea fizzles the moment it comes. They’d never switch him
off the account without a very good reason. And I don’t have one, yet. I’d never report his flirting, especially after I slept with him. Being a bitch
to chase him away is one thing, messing with his career is another.
I debate on changing out of my yoga clothes and decide against it. Not like I’m going
to impress anyone. I run my fingers through my short hair and head out.
Sure, and you’re fluffing your hair to make sure you look good for who…?
Ignoring my inner voice of obviousness I continue to the bar.
Sexually frustrated from my aborted evening with Brian, I scan the packed establishment
for my co-worker. “Question on the account, my ass. Where is he?” Grabbing my cell,
I dial his number.
“Carla?” His voice sounds softer than the noise of the bar around me.
“Yeah. Where are you?”
“I’m in the back, down the hall. It’s quieter here.”
“Fine. I’ll come to you.” Pressing my way through the throng, I make it to the dark
hall leading to the bathrooms. “Andy?” A hot hand latches onto my arm and pulls me
into a side storage room. “What the hell are you doing?”
“You want something spicy, and I’m giving it to you.” A strip of dark cloth covers
my eyes and I’m pressed against a shelving rack. Rough movements tie the material
at the back of my head and a hard body presses into mine from behind. “You’ve been
a bad girl, Carla.”
Excitement cascades up my spine, but I’ll be damned if I tell him.
“What the fuck are you talking about? Let me go or I’m going to scream.”
“Oh, you’ll scream, all right,” he plants a soft kiss on my neck, “but not in fear
or anger.” Hands reach around and grab my breasts over my snug cotton top. Despite
what I keep telling myself about this frustrating man, my body responds and my nipples
tighten.
“Not funny, you bastard.” I’m uncomfortable with the power this exciting moment holds
over me. “Look, I know you’re not a rapist. You should stop before you do something
illegal.”
Clever fingers twist my hardened peaks through the lace covering them, drawing a gasp
from me.
“I know what you need, Carla.”
“Really? If you did you’d be letting me go, right now. I don’t like this kind of shit.”
My shirt slides up and cool air tickles my exposed flesh. “Hah!” his voice barks out,
rough with desire. “You don’t know what you like. You fumble with the wrong men and
think commanding them will get you what you need.”
His comment strikes too close to reality, especially after I shouted orders at him
during our brief encounter. Grasping fingers have worked the cups of my bra down,
and stretch my elongated aroused nipples.
The inability to see him touching me feels freeing. Like the experience is not quite
happening to me. Moisture gathers in my panties, and despite my complaints, I can’t
deny this is turning me on.
“Andy—”
“Shh… Don’t say a word. Just feel for a few minutes.” He removes his hands from my breasts and guides me to hold onto
one of the shelves I’m pressed against. “If you are afraid and don’t want me to continue,
say so and I’ll stop.”
My yoga pants are pushed down around my knees, and strong hands guide my bottom to
tilt out, on display. He rubs the exposed skin, while waiting for me to answer. Not
knowing what will come next and being open to other senses feels…arousing—and not
just physically.
Big hands massage my backside, sparking gooseflesh in the air-conditioned space. The
heavy storage room door muffles the noise of the bar and the dust tickles my nose.
Cold steel under my hand and the trapped feeling of my pants around my knees invigorate
me.
“Well, Carla? Are you ready to live a little? Silence is your acceptance.”
Anticipation tightens every muscle in my body. For once I’m speechless. Do I protest
or give it a try? The blindfold makes me feel safe, unexposed. I bow my head slightly,
unaware if he sees my actions, but I know what I’m doing…. I’m accepting. The rubbing
on my bottom ceases and the cool air rises goose bumps.
Whack! Andy’s hand slaps my right ass cheek.
“Ow!”
Smack! Another blow lands on the left cheek. “Shhh… you speak and I’ll spank you.”
“That’s—”
Smack!
The sting from his firm hand sends a thrill up my spine. He’s not hitting to cause
damage. Just hard enough to get my attention and show he means it. Heat races to the
enflamed skin and a blossom of sensation spreads.
The tingle creeps to my wet center, alerting me to the throbbing in my clit. Each
pulse of blood pumping to my punished flesh sends a jolt of arousal to the little
bud as well.
“You’ve been naughty, Carla. Picking up men in bars.” His warm palm caresses my stinging
butt, fingers curving around the firm globes, reaching in toward my thong-covered
crotch.
“Oh yes, that’s right—”
Three hard slaps follow, rapid fire, leaving me gasping.
“Quiet. Control yourself and then you’ll get pleasure.”
Wiggling my ass, I silently beg for one of the soothing caresses to smooth the pain
away. I never thought I’d be one to like spanking, but the stinging slaps make me
feel alive. More alive than I have in years.
“Very good.” His voice oozes like honey in the darkness. “You like that, don’t you?”
Afraid to speak and feel his hand again, I nod my head, hoping he’s looking. The cocooning
blackness of the blindfold releases me from worrying about my body—how I’ll look,
how he looks…and makes me feel everything. When he reaches beneath my panties and probes my slick folds, a whimper
of want escapes.
Tension fills me—could the sound count as speaking? Will he spank me again? I can’t
decide if I want another smack or not.
Apparently the whimper doesn’t count; he continues to push a thick finger into me.
Steadily, he pumps in and out as I struggle to remain still. The elastic straining
around my spread knees allows a few inches of space between my thighs. I rise onto
my tiptoes, trying to tilt my bottom back for better penetration.