Page 58 of The Fallen Man
“Because I am?” He pulled her down on top of him and began to kiss her.
“Why do you carry lock-picks?” she asked, pushing up and away from him.
“Same reason I carry a gun, a knife and a pocket handkerchief. You never know when they’ll come in handy.”
“I feel like I should be freaked out by that list.”
“I work in security,” he said, unbuttoning her blouse and kissing along everything he exposed.
“How often do you use the handkerchief,” she asked.
He picked up his head. “A surprising amount. More than the gun or the lock-picks.” Then he went back to his exploration of her cleavage. He’d made it through the buttons on her blouse and now he was looking for the zipper on her skirt.
“But not more than the knife?”
“I use that thing every day. Mail, loose threads, back-alley muggings.” She tried not to encourage that by laughing, but she couldn’t help herself. “If you sat up, I could take off these clothes and you would be naked.” She laughed again. He was so direct. She loved that he didn’t hedge around about what he wanted. It made things so much simpler.
She sat up and he pushed the shirt off her shoulders and then pulled the skirt up over her head. It was the wrong direction, but she saw his point. Going the other way would have meant a lot less body contact. He popped her bra off with one hand and tipped her back onto the bed to get rid of the underwear. They went flying somewhere into the dark of the bedroom.
Unlike the bathroom, this time he fucked her slowly as if he was enjoying every inch of her body and had all the time in the world to appreciate it. The result was the same though. Soon she was moaning his name and grabbing for his ass. She came, but he continued to fuck her, taking her down and then back up again. A second orgasm, in her experience was harder to achieve, but deeper and richer. He thrust into her harder and she felt the pressure, the need.
“More. Don’t stop Jackson, don’t stop,” she whispered.
He didn’t. Jackson was giving her everything she wanted, andCaitlin realized she was holding her breath between each peak. She was so close. She felt her legs widen, inviting him to go deeper and he groaned, pushing harder. She reached up and pushed off the headboard, giving him more resistance.
“Oh fuck, yes,” he said. Jackson slid one hand underneath her, wrapping the hand over her shoulder from the back so that he could pull her into his thrust. Caitlin was so close, trembling on the brink in the precarious ecstasy that was the sweetest torture. Then she came with a shout that might have been nothing, but might have been his name. He came almost simultaneously and collapsed onto her.
She groaned as he rolled off of her. She didn’t want him to stop touching her. He reached out putting his hand back onto her thigh caressing it possessively. She decided that wasn’t good enough and rolled over, flopping onto his chest. He promptly put a hand on her ass and wrapped the other around her in a hug.
“Mm,” he murmured into her hair. “You were killing me tonight, Katie. It’s a good thing you fucked me in the bathroom, or I was going to have to explain why I had a hard-on during a support the children auction.”
Caitlin laughed. “Me? Killing you? No, I don’t think so. I think it was the other way around. You were the one that had your hands all over me before dinner. How was I supposed to concentrate after that?”
“Had I known the bathroom was an option I would have done a lot more than that. Jesus, your ass in that skirt looked like...”
“Like what?”
“I’m not literate enough to have a good simile. Mostly it just looked like I needed my hands on it.”
Caitlin laughed, then kissed his chest. She thought about telling him that the idea of unbuttoning his shirt, of unzipping his pants, of reaching inside and touching him, of making him rise, hard and quivering to her touch had caused her to spill twodrinks. But he hadn’t called her. He had her number. If he hadn’t called for three days and then showed up for a second drive-by that meant that she was his booty call, not someone he was interested in. A booty call did not need to know what kind of power he had over her. Although, at the moment, being his booty call felt pretty damn spectacular.
“I probably shouldn’t have done that,” she said.
“Done what?” He sounded lethargic—not quite sleepy, but like she’d made him lazy and happy.
“Oh, the bathroom. Vince would be pissed. It’s hard enough convincing people that cocktail waitresses aren’t whores without getting caught in the bathroom with a customer.”
“Considering how many actual whores are at those things, it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal.”
“Yeah, those aren’t whores. Those are escorts. As with everything else, money matters.” She heard the bitter note in her voice. “Anyway,” she said changing the subject and putting on a smile to change her voice, “don’t get the idea that bathrooms are on the regular menu.”
“Got it,” he said. “What is on the regular menu?”
She didn’t know how to respond to that. What was she supposed to say? She couldn’t have someone around regularly. The idea of having someone investigate the nooks and corners of her life terrified her. She would have to explain Caitlin to him.
“Um… Well, this is great, but, um, I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”
He almost laughed. “I’m not really boyfriend material.”
