Chapter Seventeen
Leland
I was sprawled out on my stomach, cheek resting on Richard’s bicep, when the phone rang and woke me.
I opened my eyes. It was morning, but early. Peeling away from Richard, I reached to grab my cell as he turned onto his side, back to me.
No caller ID, and fuck, it was only 7:00 a.m. I didn’t know anyone who’d call me that early. Unless it was my father from the west coast—fuck, fuck, fuck—but he didn’t have a blocked number.
Frowning, I stared at it and wasn’t exactly sure why. It was no doubt a robo-call or other type of nuisance. Those deserved nothing more than being button hit direct to voice mail to be deleted later.
“Can you fucking answer it or turn it off?” Richard grumbled from his pillow.
“Sorry.” I grimaced, then planted a kiss on his back and climbed from the bed. I waited until I was outside our room to hit answer. “Lee.”
Silence came through the phone as I closed the bedroom door behind me. “Is anyone there?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure why I went to such bother. Moments of silence always preceded recorded sales calls.
“Leland Edward Jensen the third?” came a bland, authoritative male voice with the sound of rustling papers in the background.
Yep, it was a sales call. “Dad, is that you?” I jeered, figuring I had a right to mess with anyone who chose that profession. “Didn’t recognize you this morning. Still a little groggy from fucking Richard all night. First, he topped. Then he sucked. Then he topped again. That man was a vat of testosterone needing to blow. Blow.” I finished with a laugh.
“What?”
I smirked, heading toward the kitchen to pop a K-cup in the Keurig. “Oh, sorry. I thought you were someone else. No one calls me Leland Edward Jensen the third other than my dad. And I always say the wrong things when I’m sleepy. What I meant to say is fuck off. Whatever you’re selling I’m not buying. Take me off your list. Have a nice—”
“This is Carl Wilcox. Jena Garret gave me your contact information and suggested we meet.”
My hand nearly dropped the mug en route to the machine. I’d forgotten that part of the discussion with Jena last night, and even if I hadn’t I would never have expected a call this soon.
Oh, fuck me.
Grimacing, I stared at the phone. “The recruiter, right?”
“Yes.”
Great.
Never lacking for aplomb, I said, “What can I do for you, Carl? Tell me what you need and I’ll tell you if I can give it to you.”
“Need?”
“Everyone wants something, and I like to cut to the chase.” There was really no way to recover from my bad impression so I didn’t try to. “You want to meet. My calendar’s got a few openings, but I book up fast. Give me a time and place. Time’s money. No need to delay. My poker game starts online in an hour and I need to shower first.”
I hit the brew button and leaned a hip against the counter while I waited for my coffee and Wilcox to hang up.
“When does the game end?”
My brows shot up, surprised. “When the Gargoyle loses all his money to me.”
I heard more paper rustling and then something sounded like a pen tapping a desk. “Do you think he’ll be bust by three thirty? I have an opening then.”
Laughing, I reached into a cabinet for some creamer. He was quick and rolled with things. I liked that, even if I couldn’t make sense of why he was still talking to me. “If I escalate the bets each hand, three thirty should work. Where?”
“Escalate. I think this meeting might result mutually beneficial for us both. The Blue House Restaurant near the capital. Do you know it?”
“Yep, I do. One of my favorites. Can’t get enough stuffy government types in my life these days. The food isn’t half bad either.”
Even though I couldn’t see him, I knew he’d cracked a smile that time. Some things the senses picked up out of thin air all on their own.
“Looking forward to it, Leland.”
“I prefer to be called Lee. Ciao.”
Click.
Smiling, I blew into my steaming coffee and headed back to the bedroom. Wilcox, interesting man. Maybe even enough to really show up and not piss off Jena.
Richard was awake when I entered the bedroom, lying on his back, legs spread, and yanking on that big slab of beef of his.
Hmm…more makeup sex.
I set down my coffee and stretched out on the bed close to him. “You couldn’t wait until I got back?” I complained before leaning in for a kiss.
He tapped his erection against his belly.
“Just getting him ready for you.”
I sank my teeth into my lower lip and sucked. “You’re going to have to finish without me. No time today.”
“Bullshit. You’re hard.”
“I’m always fucking hard in the morning.”
“Suck me. It’ll be quick. Then you can decide if your poker game is more important than a round of topping.”
Oh, fuck the Gargoyle.
I straddled his body with my face toward his feet and sank down to take him in my mouth. Richard began to massage my ass, spreading my cheeks and tonguing my hole.
There was one way we fit perfectly together: this way. Our height and length of torso, my runner’s body agility riding his heavily muscled frame.
In rapid time, we were a tangle of body parts, cocks in mouths when we weren’t licking and sucking at balls, and I fought not to come when he erupted down my throat. Then I sheathed up, slicked us up, and got in him quickly. He wasn’t a guy who frequently bottomed, and the excitement of plunging into him made me come faster than I wanted to.
After my body stopped shaking, he moved me up onto his chest and held me. His fingers stroked my back for a handful of minutes, then he kissed me and tapped my hip to know it was time to move off him.
I settled on my side against the headboard and reached for my coffee.
“Who was on the phone?” he asked.
“Oh. A recruiter Jena hooked me up with. I have an interview this afternoon.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “What kind of job?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
He laughed in deep throaty Richard amusement. “You’re going to an interview for a job and you don’t know what it’s for?”
“Didn’t ask.”
He held out his hand for my coffee. “You don’t sound interested. It’s not like you need a job. Why are you going?”
That was a conundrum. Gaining employment wasn’t on my priority list, but the way the call went piqued my curiosity and I knew then I wasn’t blowing off meeting Carl Wilcox at The Blue House Restaurant.
Shaking my head, I smiled. “I’m going to keep Jena off my back. If I don’t show it’ll piss her off.”
He made his Jena face. “It’s probably only some low-level State Department clerical position or something.”
“Nah, it wouldn’t be that. Why would he meet with me at an expensive downtown restaurant near the capital if it was only entry-level slots he’s filling?”
“Recruiters have expense accounts. They like to expense and live well. Don’t get your hopes up.”
“They’re not up.”
He handed me back my half-empty mug. “I’ve got to rinse off and get out of here.”
“I thought you weren’t working today.”
“The schedule changed.”
The way he said that and lost eye contact with me made me know that was untrue. Richard wasn’t going to work.
Sipping my java, I watched him climb from the bed and grab briefs from a drawer. He was such a sexy beast. Tall, athletic, muscular build, broad shoulders and narrow hips, and jet black hair to match his dark brown eyes.
He looked like he’d been made to be a fed and even looked sexy in those awful stark suits he wore to work. “Do you think my gray Armani is too much for a first meet with a recruiter?”
Richard answered first with a mocking laugh, then an aggravated shake of his head before he said, “Lee, your suits are too much for everywhere but the White House. You don’t wear Armani to interview for an entry-level government gig. The recruiter won’t take you seriously that you want a job.”
That was motivation to wear it.
“I’m going to be unreachable most of the day. So don’t call. I’ll call you when I’m on my way home.”
Unreachable, huh?
I nodded and he dropped a fast kiss on my mouth.
The bathroom door closed behind him and the water turned on. We were in our version of all’s good again. Fucking a lot and exchanging banal conversation—and lies from Richard.
Jena was right.
Richard wasn’t worth it—but I did so love strong, dark, handsome…and dickish men.