Chapter Six
“Hey, cute.” Jasmina stopped in the back room doorway and smiled approvingly at Lauren’s gladiator sandals, black lace top, and gypsy skirt printed with striking designs in dark gold and bronze.
Lauren had bought the outfit at a street fair a few years back. Although both pieces were undeniably pretty, the super cheap price had spoken to her practical nature. She drifted more toward that than fashion sense. Too, she figured neither item would go out of style in South Florida and would be comfortable to wear when she had to shop for groceries or run errands.
She’d never considered wearing them for Dante or how nude she’d feel even with the gauzy fabric falling to her ankles.
Jasmina joined her at the fridge.
Lauren pressed her thighs together.
“You look gorgeous.” Jasmina shoved Dove Bars and Fudgesicles into the freezer. “You planning to make your move on Dante?”
Jasmina should have asked her that last night. Then, Lauren had been up for anything.
In the harsh light of day and considering what had just happened, or rather hadn’t, coming onto him seemed like an incredibly dumb idea. Since their lovemaking and dinner had been so enchanting, she’d arrived at the parlor earlier than usual, figuring he’d already be here to take control, using her as they both wanted.
He hadn’t been.
There were no voicemails or emails saying where he was or when he’d show up. He’d never been this late before. For the first hour, Lauren had worried. After that, a cold dread settled on her. Probably no different from what her mother had felt when Frank had failed to return decades ago.
She had almost read her father’s note when she’d returned to her condo last night but got sidetracked by the treats Dante had bought her. Turrōnes, a confection filled with honey and toasted almonds. Brazo gitano, sponge cake stuffed with mango marmalade. And churros, a deep-fried pastry rolled in granulated sugar.
She hadn’t had so much to eat since she’d lost her job. Never had food tasted as good. Stuffed, relaxed, and happy, she’d gone to bed, recalling her toes stroking Dante’s beneath the table. His impassioned kiss at her car. His thighs smacking against hers as he plunged his cock into her wet and willing channel. His directive that she not wear panties to work any longer. Remembering that, she’d giggled like a teenager and slept better than she had in months.
Now it was time to wake up.
“About the bookings today…” Lauren strove for a casual air despite her growing conviction that Dante wouldn’t show up.
He wouldn’t disappear as Frank had, but he’d probably call in sick, stay away for a few days, then waltz back in here and pretend nothing had happened between them. Not even mind-blowing sex.
That was all it had been, a physical connection. They’d been caught up in the moment. Her more than him, and he was regretting it.
Jasmina closed the freezer. “What about today’s bookings?”
“Will Van Gogh be able to handle them by himself?”
“Why would he have to?” Jasmina sucked in a breath. “Oh my God, did you fire Dante?”
“No. Of course not. Why would I?”
Jasmina looked reluctant to say.
God, this was worse than high school. “He’s not here. He’s never been this late. He’s probably going to call in and take a couple of days off.”
Jasmina made a face. “He told you that?”
“He didn’t tell me anything.” Lauren flapped her hands. “He’s not here.”
“He will be. No doubt about it.”
“How would you know?”
“Because he always comes into work after business with vendors. He’s at a meeting today with a new guy who’ll help us cut costs. He told Van Gogh and me about it yesterday. He didn’t mention it to you?”
Lauren couldn’t recall if he had. Yesterday was a blur until they’d gone at each other in the hall. Every moment after that had etched itself indelibly in her mind. “I guess I forgot.”
“Want me to tell you when he gets here so you can finally ask him out?”
Lauren wasn’t certain whether to laugh or groan. “No. Please don’t.” She backed away. Her gauzy skirt fluttered.
Jasmina eyed her from head to toe.
Before she saw more than she should, Lauren fled to her office, closed the door, and ordered herself to get a grip. This was so unlike her. The last time she’d behaved as foolishly was when she’d spent Christmas Day in bed rather than online, looking for work. She’d wasted time that she wouldn’t get back.
Dante may have had countless relatives eager to help him, but Lauren didn’t have anyone.
Nor did she need them. She was strong. Independent. She’d survive.
Like she had another choice.
She sat in front of the computer and posted sale ads for the parlor on free online sites. The last batch she’d placed at other locations turned up zip except for young tattoo artists even more strapped for cash than she was. The callers expected her to carry them as they made minimum payments on the debt.
One guy had explained the concept. “It’ll be like what you do with a credit card balance. You can trust me. I’m good for it.”
She’d told him good luck with his career plans and hung up.
After she finished posting the parlor sale, she scoured job boards for HR positions. Several great openings dovetailed perfectly with her skills. As she fine-tuned her resume yet again, Wicked Brand started hopping. Voices drifted down the hall, both male and female. Jasmina offered everyone a cheery greeting. Van Gogh barely got out his subdued hellos.
Only Dante’s deep voice was absent.
Maybe it took hours to strong-arm a vendor for a cheaper price. Could be Dante had stopped at Castillo’s for boliche, asking for it in Spanish.
Lauren drooped in her chair, recalling his smooth, deep voice wrapped around words she hadn’t understood. No wonder they called Spanish a romance language. His lilting conversation with Ricardo made her toes curl and her heart sink. Dante had given her the best night she’d ever known, and all she could think about was how he’d ruined her for anyone else.
She was a hard-core realist, not a romantic. A woman alone had no other choice. And reality was that a man like Dante would not want a woman like her. Not for the long-term anyway. The sooner her brain convinced her heart of that, the better. So why wouldn’t her heart listen? Especially after everything it had been through?
Returning to her various resume drafts, she proofread each a dozen times, spell-and-grammar checked them, then suffered through the lengthy online forms. She was about to hit send on the last one when a firm knock sounded on her door.
Her heart shot to her throat. Everything else in her went weak with desire. “Yeah?”
She cringed at how weird and uncertain she sounded.
Jasmina opened the door, mouthed something, and smiled.
Lauren frowned. “What?”
Two bikers lumbered down the hall. They stopped to ogle Jasmina’s short cutoffs and long legs.
“Hey,” Van Gogh shouted. “That’s the office. Your appointments are back here with me.”
“Go on.” Firm now, Jasmina gestured the guys to where they should be, then hurried to Lauren’s desk. “Dante’s back.” She spoke quietly. “He doesn’t have a booking for an hour. Go for it.” Without waiting for an answer, she sped away and closed the door behind her.
Lauren held her breath. Selena’s “Dreaming of You” and loud male laughter competed with the blood rushing in her ears.
Jasmina had said to go for it.
Lauren already had and wanted to do it again, but for what? A few minutes of fun? Dante’s weight pressing into her, his heat and scent offering comfort?
Wasn’t enough. Already she wanted more from him. A real relationship. Dating. Getting to know each other. Falling in love. If she continued on this trek, she’d yearn hopelessly for those things and would lose her focus, opening herself to hurt. That wasn’t the woman she was.
She hit send and shot her application through cyberspace.
“Hey.” Dante had stopped outside her door and addressed someone in the hall.
Lauren froze.
Dante spoke again. “How’s it going?”
A man answered. His response was too quiet to understand.
She expected her door to open. Her stomach fluttered.
Footfalls sounded in the hall. Jasmina’s voice floated down it. Selena finished her sweet song, and an earthy, vibrant instrumental replaced the piece.
Lauren bounced her legs. She tried to keep still but couldn’t. She wanted to know what Dante was doing out there or even if he was still in the hall. Why hadn’t he come inside her office?
Uh-uh, she didn’t want to know. Wouldn’t think about it. She had stuff to work on.
Her job application had gone through. There was the standard “congratulations, your resume is being processed” notification on her computer screen.
Someone walked by her door. Not Dante. The footfalls were too light. Probably a woman’s. Possibly his first client today.
Or not. Jasmina had said he wasn’t booked for another hour.
She turned back to her screen.
More footfalls, voices, and music intruded on her peace.
She hurried from her office and rushed into Dante’s workstation. He was standing, his back to her, his attention on his computer screen, possibly his client bookings. His thick, dark hair looked freshly shampooed. His clean, masculine scent filled the room.
Light-headed, Lauren closed the door and locked it.
He looked over at the sound and smiled. No, he grinned.
Her legs went rubbery. Everything she’d warned herself about seconds before evaporated like a bad dream. He was honestly glad to see her. Tomorrow or next week might be different. He could flee then, but not now. She wasn’t going to let him.
She crossed the space, sank to her knees, and undid the metal button on his jeans.
He covered her hand with his. “What are you doing?”
He’d spoken quietly.
She would, too, when she had the power to speak. She pushed his hand away, lowered his fly, and tugged his jeans and boxers to his knees.
Someone sprinted down the hall, the steps light, possibly Jasmina. Van Gogh’s voice wafted from his workstation, his words too quiet to understand.
Lauren rubbed her nose in the fragrant hair above Dante’s cock, wishing she could bottle his scent and smell it whenever she felt alone.
He babbled something that sounded turned on.
She lifted her face. “You better be quiet or they’ll hear you.”
He sagged against the counter, his chin lifted. The ridge in his throat jerked with his hard swallow. “What?”
“Shhh.” She swirled her tongue over his smooth, meaty crown. No food could match its taste and musky smell.
He grunted loudly.
“Quiet or I’ll stop.”
He lowered his face, his eyes narrowed. “You’ll what?”
“You heard me.” She cradled his shaft and worked it as her channel would.
Dante’s frown fell away, and he dropped his head back.
Playfully, she lapped his cock and tugged his pubic hair with her teeth.
Soft laughter rumbled in his chest.
Encouraged, she ran her tongue down his awesome length and flicked the area behind his crown.
He gasped quietly, heeding her warning, possibly afraid she’d stop.
Pleased at her power over him, Lauren tongued his right ball into her mouth. The short, wiry hairs rasped her tongue.
Dante’s breath puffed from him. “Holy damn fuck!”
Drums beat; trumpets blared. Someone laughed loudly in the hall. The phone jangled. A plane rumbled overhead. Thankfully, those other noises drowned out his passionate response.
His knees buckled. Huffing, he fought to keep upright.
Finished with loving his right ball, Lauren eased his left into her mouth. She tongued the wrinkly skin, adoring its faint salty taste.
He gripped the counter and squirmed, his grunts and groans subdued. Good thing. A knock from Jasmina would interrupt his pleasure.
Determined to give him as much enjoyment as she could, Lauren drew her thumb over the small opening in his crown, wet with pre-cum. She ran the silky liquid to the bumpy skin in back.
Dante growled and pushed to his toes.
Lauren straightened so his testicle wouldn’t pull from her mouth. She gave him one last lick and released him.
He sank back down and sucked in air.
She eased his shaft between her lips, opened her throat, and worked him until she’d contained his full length. Her nose touched his hairy groin.
He spoke a mixture of Spanish and English. None of it made sense. His body language was another matter entirely.
Lauren knew she was killing him, in a good way. Delighted, she slid his hard rod in and out of her mouth and lapped him with her tongue, an added treat her sheath couldn’t provide.
He made a strangled noise and cradled her head, keeping her at the task.
There wasn’t another place she’d rather be.
Dante stiffened. His breathing grew rough.
She suspected he didn’t want to come yet.
What a shame they didn’t have the full day. Obsessed with driving him wild, she sucked slow and then fast. When she reached his crown, she added a twist, cupped his balls, and explored the furrow between his cheeks. Upon reaching his anus, she stroked it.
He went stiff as stone. His cock thickened between her lips. His nuts plumped even more. He stopped breathing and shuddered.
His creamy cum spurted into her mouth. Thick. Salty. Delicious. Lovingly, she drank it down and fondled his sac.
A muffled groan tore from him. “Too much. I can’t stand it.” He eased her hand from his boys. “Sorry.”
“About this being too much?”
He panted and gestured aimlessly. “Coming.”
“You were supposed to.”
“Not in your mouth.”
“I’m glad you did.”
He looked surprised. Grateful and humbled, too.
Lauren released his cock. “You gonna live?”
His chin rested on his chest. His complexion was darkened with lust, hair dangling over his beard-shadowed cheeks. “I’m not sure.”
That’s what she thought. She’d nearly done him in with desire. “You’re sure you don’t like this?” She cradled his balls again.
He groaned and shoved her hand aside. “I love it, but not now. Please.” He swallowed and hauled in another breath. “Later, when I can stand the stimulation.”
“Okay.” She stood, pivoted, and marched to the door.
“Hey.” Dante grabbed her skirt hem and used it to reel her in. With one arm around her waist, he snaked his hand beneath the thin fabric and cupped her ass. “What’s this?”
“What’s what?”
“This.” He eased his finger beneath her panty elastic and let it snap back. “What did I tell you about wearing underwear?”
That she shouldn’t. And she hadn’t at first. When she’d talked to Jasmina in the back room, Lauren had been naked beneath her skirt. Even though Jasmina had said Dante would be here and had a good excuse for not showing up early, Lauren had still felt silly. She’d brought her panties along, just in case, and had put them back on. Until this moment, she’d forgotten about them.
“You’ve been bad.” He squeezed her ass. “You know what that means?”
She did. But even though she’d locked his workstation door, there were other people in the building. Some strolled down the hall. “There are customers out there.”
“Good. I know you worry about us having enough revenue.” He pulled up his boxers and jeans, sank into a chair, and hauled her over his lap.
Lauren squeaked.
He threw up her skirt and pulled down her panties.
She breathed hard. He was really going to do this. Her face hurt from her crazed smile. She gripped Dante’s leg.
His palm cracked against her naked ass.
A sharp sting registered. She gritted her teeth to hold back a startled cry.
Footfalls halted outside the door.
A potential audience made this mega-hot. Lauren’s mound grew heavy and needy, desperate for Dante’s stiffened rod.
He paddled her longer than he had last night and then stopped, his breaths harsh.
Warmth quickly replaced the initial discomfort. Heat traveled from her ass to between her legs. She kissed his knee, then suckled it to thank him. “I like being bad.”
He chuckled and helped her up. After zipping his fly and buttoning his waistband, he held out his hand.
Lauren kissed his palm and licked his fingertips.
He fought a smile. “Give me your panties.”
“I don’t think they’ll fit you.”
He laughed, then crowded her. If it was to intimidate, he was out of luck. She liked him being close. She pressed her face to his tee and inhaled deeply, savoring the cotton’s freshly laundered scent and his muskiness beneath it.
His flat belly quivered from more laughter. He smacked her ass. “Take them off and give them to me. Now. No lip.”
Lauren might have argued, testing to see what he’d do next, but the intercom buzzed.
Dante’s customer had probably arrived. If he didn’t answer Jasmina eventually, she might tear in here to see why he wasn’t responding. Wanting to avoid that, Lauren pulled off her panties and dropped them in Dante’s hand. “You better answer the intercom.”
He regarded the scrap of black nylon and lace, smiled approvingly, and sniffed her scent on the fabric. “Holy mother fuck. I can’t stand this. Screw the intercom. Get naked.”
Lauren wouldn’t have liked anything better. His need for her dazzled and gave her confidence she’d never had. “What do we tell the others? We have to work, remember? What if someone wants in here? Like your first customer? What if Jasmina or Van Gogh looks at the monitors in my office?”
“If they did that, you should fire them.”
He didn’t mean it.
She cradled his cheek. “We’ll play later, okay?”
He muttered something, shoved her panties in his pocket, and spoke into the intercom. “I’ll be with you in a sec, all right?”
“Sure thing.”
After Lauren smoothed down her skirt, front and back, she turned a slow circle. “Am I decent?”
“I hope not.” He gathered her in his arms, kissed her fiercely, starving them both for air, and pecked her beauty mark. “Starting tomorrow, you don’t wear a bra any longer.”
She giggled and muffled the sound against his chest. “Sorry, I can’t ditch the bra. No way. Never. I’ll tattoo my own eyeballs before I do that.”
He cupped her ass. “Before long, you’ll enjoy being exposed in ways you’ve never imagined.”
…
Throughout the day, he could see his promise registered on Lauren’s face. She watched him as she had before they’d become intimate. Like she wanted to say something but didn’t know how to begin.
He could have helped her, of course, and shared what he had in mind for their carnal play. But keeping her in suspense was more fun. It built her arousal…and his. Whenever they were alone in the same room, he went from relaxed to horny in two seconds flat.
Lauren wasn’t immune. Her breath always caught. Color tinted her cheeks.
The first time it happened was in the back room when he’d gone to grab a snack between customers. Lauren was already there, her lips hugging a Dove Bar. She looked guilty as hell.
He guessed she’d fallen off her diet that he knew she didn’t need or she’d taken the treat without asking Jasmina.
Jasmina’s voice sounded from Van Gogh’s station where he inked a client. Both she and he were busy, not likely to interrupt whatever happened back here. At least for a moment or two.
Dante joined Lauren at the fridge but said nothing. He waited to see what she’d do.
She blinked slowly.
Either that small motion took great effort or she was trying to clear her thoughts. Didn’t do her much good. Vanilla and chocolate rolled down the bar and skimmed her thumb.
He licked it away.
She made a small, yearning sound.
He fondled her boob.
She lost her remaining breath.
The threat of discovery hung between them. Excitement did, too. She was more than ready. His slightest touch produced a response—her lids fluttering, chest heaving, gaze longing.
The conversation in Van Gogh’s station died down.
Lauren’s attention crept to the doorway.
Dante squeezed her breast and flicked her nipple through her lacy bra. He ran his other hand over her sweet tummy to the delightful curls between her legs and to her slit.
Her damp heat registered through the flimsy fabric.
She dropped her hand. The Dove Bar pointed at the floor rather than her mouth. Her pleading look told him she was torn between asking him to fuck her on the spot or to wait until after hours so they could really enjoy themselves.
He lifted her hand, took a bite of the ice cream, and returned to his work.
Later in the day, he caught up with her at the front counter. Jasmina was in the back, smartphone to her ear, talking dirty to her boyfriend. Van Gogh was in his station, surfing the net for designs to please a particularly difficult client. The customers were gone, none expected for a half hour unless there was a walk-in.
Anyone could cruise inside. The front door wasn’t locked. If Lauren noticed or cared, she didn’t show it. She focused solely on him.
He couldn’t have been more pleased.
Using his body, he directed her to the counter, her back against it, the front door behind her. He dropped to one knee, bunched her skirt in front, and shoved it beneath the waistband to expose her tummy, furry mound, and luscious cleft.
Lauren’s face went redder than he thought possible. She shifted her weight but didn’t protest. For that, he gave her a wink and pressed his face to her curls.
The world stopped. His entire being registered her arousing fragrance: sweet, sultry, warm, and inviting. He tongued her curls. Her tummy quivered. His cock stiffened as it had when she’d run her mouth down it. He cupped her ass, pulled her close, and licked her cleft. She couldn’t have been wetter, her nub as hard as his rod.
He lapped her clit.
She jerked. Her elbows hit the counter. The small noise seemed huge in the relative quiet. An instrumental with an easy, romantic beat played; an occasional car passed; tourists and locals tramped down the street. Their muted laughter and conversations hardly proved intrusive but did serve as a reminder that he and Lauren wouldn’t be alone for long.
He grasped her tightly, unwilling to allow her escape. This moment was too tempting. He held her clit carefully between his teeth and suckled.
Faint feline sounds poured from Lauren. Her buttocks tensed.
He increased his grip and used her shamelessly, slipping his fingers between her cheeks, stroking her anus as she’d done with him.
Lauren squirmed but couldn’t do much else. He’d confined her too well.
He slowed his licks and then quickened them. His tongue circled her nub rather than touching it.
She made a frustrated noise.
That didn’t compel him to give her what she wanted.
Down the hall, a chair hit a table. Possibly in the back room. He guessed Jasmina had finished her conversation and would soon be on the move.
Lauren was oblivious. She’d worked her hands through his hair and used it to anchor his mouth on her. More moisture seeped from her, nearly driving him crazy with its wonderful flavor.
Jasmina’s footfalls echoed in the hall.
Dante bit back an oath and licked Lauren as quickly as he could in the spot that mattered most.
She peaked immediately.
He stood and slapped down her skirt.
Jasmina reached the front.
Lauren breathed hard.
Dante pointed to the belt buckles in the display case. “I’ll pull up the stats on which of these are selling well and which aren’t so we can return those to the vendors.”
Jasmina took one look at Lauren’s flushed face and hurried over. “Don’t cry.” She hugged her. “Everything will be all right.”
“She’ll be fine.” Dante turned to Lauren. “Right?”
She struggled to calm her breathing. “Yeah. I’ll be okay.”
Jasmina rocked her. “Things will get better, you’ll see.” She looked past Lauren’s shoulder to Dante. “You should take her out to eat tonight. You can talk business over dinner. Make. It. Fun.”
Her suggestion sounded like a command. “There’s a thought.”
Jasmina released Lauren, gave her a loaded look he didn’t understand, and took her place at the counter. “You should go see if there are any responses to your ads. I’ll handle things up here.”
Lauren plodded to her office, Dante to his workstation.
That evening, after the others had gone home, he closed the front blinds and took her repeatedly on the sofas. They only paused to snooze and refuel on pizza he’d ordered before going at each other again.
They didn’t talk business.
In the following days, Dante haunted her every move as she’d once done with him. He often left his workstation on a pretense and hauled Lauren into his arms within earshot of others. After kissing her longingly and touching her in places he shouldn’t, at least not in a public business, he released her and returned to his customers.
Concentrating on work was fucking brutal. While he inked his clients, his mind drifted to pleasures he had in store for Lauren. His X-rated thoughts kept building, forming a plan. One night, after hours, his ideas were nearly complete. He joined Lauren in the back room.
She unwrapped the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches she’d made for them so he wouldn’t spend any more money on her.
He wouldn’t have cared if she’d fed him mud pies. Having her close and eager for his touch was all he required.
He sat. “Take off your skirt.” The fabric was nearly as blue as her eyes with glittery designs on it. Pretty, but he liked her skin better.
She looked confused. “Are you going to take off your jeans?”
“Nope. I’m good.”
She twisted her mouth but pulled off her skirt and sat. During their meal, she rubbed his toes with hers as she had at his uncle’s restaurant.
He finished his third sandwich. “I think you’re ready.”
Lauren’s chews slowed, then stopped. “For what?”
He ran his fingers past her springy curls to her cleft.
She laughed huskily. “I’m always ready for that.”
“You’d better be. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”
Her smile hung on for a second, then died.
He spoke in his most conspiratorial tone. “Time for the next level.”
She glanced past him.
He sensed she was ticking off what he could possibly mean.
Her eyes rounded. “You want us to do a threesome? Foursome? Five—”
“Hell no.”
She relaxed in her chair, her color returned, breathing easier. “Then what’s left?”
“More than you can imagine.”
Her face flushed with excitement, then worry again. “You’re going to videotape us?”
“There’s a thought, but no. It wouldn’t be practical for what I have in mind.” He bit into her sandwich, chewed slowly, and swallowed.
Lauren fidgeted.
He guzzled his water.
She frowned and slapped his arm. “Tell me.”
“What?”
“What you’re talking about.”
“I didn’t say anything.” He feigned confusion. “I was swallowing.”
“You know what I mean.”
He did, and he loved teasing her. “We’ve toyed with getting caught here. Now it’s time to up the ante.”
She leaned away from him, yet interest glittered in her eyes. “Surely you don’t expect us to do it outside in my car.”
He laughed. “Hell no.” Then sobered. “It’s too small.”
“Jasmina’s car? Van Gogh’s?”
“They walk here like I do.”
“I’m not doing it on a bus. No freaking way.”
“Who said we’d be in a vehicle? That’s so confining.”
Her curiosity ratcheted up several more notches. “Where will we be?”
“You’ll see.” He left it at that.
She bugged him for details, but he refused to provide any and didn’t bring up the subject again. He wanted her anticipation and desire to be out of control.
He’d know when that was.