The Player and the Pixie
Page 53

Sean: No specification was made as to the quality of the compliment, only that one was required.
Lucy: You’re a filthy cheat. Dinner is over. I’ll be there in an hour.
Sean: Why an hour? Come over now.
Lucy: I need to pick up a change of clothes if I’ll be out all night.
I frowned at my screen, then at the surrounding opulence of the lobby. I hadn’t been at liberty to touch her as I’d wanted in over two days. I had plans that couldn’t wait an hour. They involved her bending over the lounge chair in my suite and me grabbing handfuls of her arse as I slid into her hot, wet pussy.
She would cry out in ecstasy, of course. And come several times. And beg for the repeated pleasure. And spend the night. And we would talk. And I would hold her while we slept. And she’d stay for breakfast.
A shop front in the lobby caught my eye, just closing for the evening. Rather, a nightgown in the window caught my eye. I crossed to the shop as I tapped out my next message.
Sean: I have a change of clothes for you. Don’t go home first.
Lucy: Please do not tell me you bought me clothes.
Sean: I didn’t buy you clothes.
Technically, this was true. I hadn’t yet purchased her clothes.
Issuing instructions to the first salesperson I encountered, I picked out three sets of lingerie, a ridiculous nightgown—more a suggestion of a nightgown than anything else as it was see-through and silk—and I allowed the clerk to select proper clothes. I had no interest in those. While she did so, I eyed the jewelry case.
And here’s where I ran into a predicament. I saw a necklace and it reminded me of Lucy. A yin and yang pendant on a long platinum chain, set with black diamonds for the yin and white diamonds for the yang. I walked away from it, perplexed by the impulse to buy it for her.
The clothes made sense. She obviously needed clothes, so I could remove them from her body.
The stunning necklace did not make sense. Frivolous, an item for her with no benefit whatsoever for me.
And yet . . .
I imagined her opening it. I imagined how pleased she’d be, how she’d want to wear it straight away, how it might remind her of me in the future.
“Sir? Will there be anything else?”
The clerk’s soft voice came from just behind me. Meanwhile, my phone continued to vibrate in my hand. Scanning the screen, I read Lucy’s most recent messages.
Lucy: If you didn’t buy me clothes then how do you have a change of clothes for me?
Lucy: What are you doing?
Lucy: EARTH TO SEAN!
Lucy: You’re buying the clothes right now, aren’t you?
Lucy: If you buy me clothes to wear tomorrow then you have to let me buy you clothes, and I’ll bring over an orange Speedo and Birkenstocks.
My sudden burst of laughter surprised me. I loved her humor.
“Sir?” the saleswoman prompted again.
“The black and white diamond pendant,” I said, smiling as I reread Lucy’s messages; I glanced over my shoulder at the woman. “I’ll take it as well.”
***
Once upstairs, I ordered champagne from room service and had a shower to wash off the day. I also beat off, needing some release from the perpetual case of Lucy Fitzpatrick-inspired blue balls. It didn’t help much.
But she would be here soon.
My attention caught on the small box I’d placed on the nightstand next to the bed. Originally, I’d left it on the bar. Then I’d moved it to the table in the sitting area. After trying out the desk in the bedroom, the counter in the bathroom, and the center of the bed, I’d settled on the nightstand.
I was just about to relocate it back to the table in the sitting area when I heard her knock sound from the hallway. Smirking at her refusal to use the key, I jogged to the door and opened it.
“You didn’t answer my text messages,” she accused, leaning against the doorframe, still dressed in the clothes she’d worn at dinner. These were the same clothes I’d almost successfully breached in the loo at Tom’s little restaurant. I might not have liked Tom, but I would always have fond memories of a certain bathroom stall on the premises.
“I was busy,” I said, sounding oddly out of breath to my own ears.
Her attention lowered to my chest, eyebrows lifting. “And you’re in a towel.”
“Yes. Let’s fix that.” I reached for her without further preamble. She came to me willingly, didn’t protest when I brought my mouth to hers, pressed the length of her against me, and kicked the door shut.
Lucy was pliant and tasted sweet, so unbelievably delicious. I groaned when her tongue slid along mine, an acute hunger I’d been endeavoring to discount raged unchecked. The flimsy top she wore frustrated my need for her skin. I reached under the hem and smoothed my hands up her sides to her ribs. Satisfaction came in the form of her whimpers when I lifted her bra, bent my head to her nipple, and sucked on her through the fabric of her shirt.
“Sean . . .” she panted, her nails digging into the back of my head, holding me to her chest. “Ah, wait. Wait a minute.”
She was here, beneath my fingers, mine for the night. All my earlier plans were eclipsed by the reality of her and my ferocious need to make her feel good.
“Would you like me to go down on you first?” I blew on the wet patch of her shirt, an instinctive growl reverberating through my chest as I watched the nipple strain and pebble.
I wanted to devour her.
“Oh, well, if you insist . . .” she squeaked, her pelvis tilting against my leg even as we stumbled backward toward the living room.