Hustler (23 page)

“Page!” Penelope yells in protest. “Jesus! I’m never telling you anything ever again!”

Page’s door slams shut as the last words fall off Penelope’s lips. “Damn it,” she mutters to herself, playing with the cuffs of my dress shirt.

Sliding onto the couch and scooting closer, I turn my body so I’m facing her, trapping her so she can’t escape me this time.

“Best you’ve ever had?” I raise an eyebrow at her.

“For a man with a small dick, she forgot that part,” Penelope shoots back.

Leaning forward, I run my thumb across her bottom lip, a tsk to my voice. “Silly girl, you know damn well that’s not the truth, and do you know how I know that? By the way your little mouth dropped open when you saw my cock for the first time, the way your eyes lit up, and the way you screamed the moment I entered you. Not to mention how my long, thick, hard cock was able to bury itself so deep inside you that I hit that one spot I’m sure no other man has been able to touch.”

Her breathing is heavy, her eyes glazed over, while my fingers graze the base of her neck.

“Are you remembering it?” I ask her. “Are you reminiscing about how good it felt to have me inside you, filling you, stroking your sensitive nerves? Slowly at first and then fast, to the point that your pussy wouldn’t stop throbbing? Are you remembering that?”

“No,” she answers, the whispered words barely escaping her.

“Liar.” I lean forward some more, my hand on her thigh, gliding up to her hip, her
naked
hip. “You’re thinking about how it felt to have my tongue lapping at your nipple, how it felt to have the weight of my naked body on top of yours, the sound of my name rolling off the tip of your tongue the minute you came. You can’t stop thinking about it, that’s why your face is flushed and the reason why you’re wet right now.”

“I’m not wet,” she lies. I know she’s lying, it’s written all over her face.

“Prove it.”

“I don’t need to.” She crosses her arms over her chest in defiance.

I’m always right, and there is no way in hell she’s calling me on my cards just yet, it’s time to up the ante.

Dropping to my knees, I place myself between her legs, spreading them further than she was expecting, a gasp popping past her lips. I push her knees up so they’re on either side of my chest. Because she’s panty-less, her entire pussy is exposed to me, and by the way her slit is glistening, I know I’ve been proven right.

“Fucking liar,” I say before my mouth descends on her.

I expect her to fight me, to protest against my onslaught but instead of her telling me to leave her alone, her head falls back on the sofa and her entire body relaxes, well, except for the tiny bundle of nerves at her very core.

Getting comfortable, I hold her legs back and allow my mouth to do all the work, not caring that Page is only a stone’s throw away, in an apartment with walls made of paper.

Delicately, I run the very tip of my tongue along her clit, barely touching her, driving her mad to the point that she starts to wiggle her hips against my face. That’s when I plunge a little deeper, still using the tip of my tongue but applying more pressure. A soft, long moan escapes Penelope’s lips, encouraging me to continue.

I pull away, my voice raspy as I say, “Hold your legs where they are.” On command, her hands grip her knees, holding them in place, freeing up my hands to get to work.

I use two fingers of my left hand to spread her lips apart, exposing her even more so I can flatten my tongue and really lap her pussy, running the length of her slit, loving the heady taste of her on my tongue.

With my other hand, I push two fingers inside her, curling up just enough to apply pressure in the right spot.

“Oh God, oh God,” Penelope cries, her eyes closed, her head shaking back and forth as sweat forms along her skin.

Moving my fingers in and out, I flick my tongue rapidly along her slit. One, two, three flicks and then one long lick. I repeat the process over and over again, bringing her to the edge, and just when she’s about to fall over the precipice of pleasure, I pull away, leaving her breathless and moaning. I continue this delectable torture, not three, not four, not five times, but six fucking times. To the point that I’m about to come in my pants simply from the sound of Penelope’s moans and cries.

“Please,” she practically screams, tears dropping from the corner of her eyes. “I need to come. Please, Gavin, please stop teasing.”

I don’t listen to her. I tease her three more times.

Flick, flick, flick, one long lick
.

Over and over again, pulling away when she’s about to scream at the top of her lungs.

I can feel the pulse of her clit on my tongue, her skin soaked in sweat, her body tense, just looking for that one perfect caress, the final push that will send her spiraling over the edge. I’m sitting on my haunches, looking up into her desperate, needy eyes.

“What do you want?” I ask, a whisper over her pussy.

“I want you to make me come. Please, Gavin.”

Without answering her, I suck her clit into my mouth right before plunging my fingers in deep, over and over again, bringing her to the brink of orgasm. Her bottom half thrusts up into my mouth and she cries out my name, loud enough for the entire building to hear. Her hands dive into my hair, pulling me farther into her pussy so that all I can do is hold my breath and bite, suck and lick her to completion.

It’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever experienced. And my cock isn’t even out of my pants.

After a few more thrusts, she relaxes beneath me, twitching ever so slightly with every swipe I take. Once she’s settled down, her body melting into the couch, I pull away and wipe at my mouth, loving the way I can taste her on my tongue. Standing up and adjusting the crotch of my pants, I button my suit jacket and lean over her. Propping myself on the back of the sofa, I press my tongue inside her mouth so she can taste herself.

Her eyes go wide, but then she melts into me. Before she can get too comfortable, I pull away and give her a wink.

“Have a good day, baby.”

With that, I walk out of her apartment, leaving her wondering what the fuck just happened. I just raised the pot, let’s see if she can match it.

**NELL**

“Oh, my God,” I sigh, still reeling from Gavin’s unexpected pleasurable torment. The door to Page’s room opens and I rush to pull the shirt back down and cover myself just before she walks back into the living room.

“You dirty, dirty little whore,” she teases with a huge smile plastered across her face.

“Shut up!” With an embarrassed laugh that she—and probably most of our neighbors—had just heard me come undone as Gavin tongue fucked me on the couch, I slapped my hands over my reddening face.

Of course she doesn’t shut up, I’m not that lucky. “You know, I imagine the noises I was just forced to hear are similar to what orcas sound like when they’re giving birth. Should we search it to compare?”

All embarrassment fades as I continue to laugh genuinely. “You’re an asshole.”

“Yep, I am. Now just apologize for saying I smelled in front of a really cute guy and we can go back to being besties again.”

“I’m sorry,” I smile up at her.

Her head cocks to the side, her lips mashed in thought as she taps her chin. Finally, she says flippantly, “You’re forgiven. Now get your post-orgasmic blissed ass off that couch and scrub the hell out of it, slut-face. And be sure to use Scotch Guard.” She turns her back to me and heads for the box of muffins, no doubt planning on hoarding as many as possible in her chipmunk cheeks. I watch as she shoves a bite of blueberry muffin in her mouth. It’s an amazing sight to behold, really. For someone so fit, the girl seriously puts food away when she can. She’s like an anaconda, unhinging her jaw and stuffing her pray down her gullet. I’ve considered filming her at times and sending it in to Animal Planet.

“So what are your plans today?” she asks once she’s managed to swallow the muffin whole—poor thing didn’t stand a chance. “You know,” she smirks, “since you already got all your sinning out of the way before lunch time.”

“Bitch,” I grumble.

“Sinner,” she giggles.

I flop against the back of the couch and curl my legs beneath Gavin’s shirt. Grabbing it had been an uncontrollable impulse this morning. I had seen it lying there on the floor and didn’t think, I just grabbed it and slid it on over the clothes I’d worn the night before. Well, not
all
the clothes, considering I couldn’t find my panties anywhere. When I got home, I ripped everything off, planning on shoving it all in the washer as I scrubbed the ever-loving hell out of my skin. Only… the shirt still smelled like him. So I stupidly slid it back on my naked body.

“What the hell am I doing?” I whine to Page.

“You mean besides the dirty on the couch?”

I shoot her a withering look. “Obviously.”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs as she sits on the chair across from me, clearly not wanting to get anywhere near the couch. “I mean, you say you hate him—”

“I do!” I insist a little too adamantly, causing her to roll her eyes.

“As I was saying,” she glares, “you say you hate him, but you did the dirty with him last night. You haven’t done the dirty in all the years I’ve known you…”

“For the love of God,” I groan. “Please just say sex. What are you, ten?”

She continues like I didn’t say a word. “And by your own admission,
you
were the one to instigate it.”

“Are you getting to your point anytime soon, or are you going to spend the rest of the morning telling me shit I already know?” I snip sarcastically, earning myself a shot to the head with a piece of muffin. “Ouch!”

“For Christ’s sake, Nell, pull your head out of your ass, will you? You’re sitting there, right now, sniffing the shirt you stole from him before doing the walk of shame. You might
want
to hate him, but nothing about your actions are proving that’s the case.”

Shit, that’s what I was afraid of, and exactly what I didn’t want to hear. “So what do you think I should do?” I asked in a small voice, terrified of what may happen since my body and my mind refused to get along and play well with each other where Gavin Saint was concerned.

“Maybe just… let your guard down and enjoy the moment. From the wildebeest noises earlier, you have no problem
enjoying
it.”

I toss a throw pillow at her head and give her a small laugh before growing somber once again. “You know guys like him only break girls in the end, right?”

“I know,” she nods seriously. “But you aren’t just any girl. I know you don’t see it in yourself, but I do.”

“See what?”

“That you’re the only person I know so damned close to unbreakable.”

***

I tug at the microscopic skirt that’s part of the cocktail waitress uniform in the high roller suite. I’ve been working that room for a couple weeks now and I
still
haven’t gotten used to how uncomfortable I am showing so much skin. Which is weird since I spent most of my childhood and teen years in spandex leotards and little else. But at least then I wasn’t wearing a three-inch thick bra that jacked my boobs up to my chin.

Trying to gain as much coverage as I can, I continue to tug as I push through the door of the employee lounge only to crash into another massive brick wall that seems to have popped up out of nowhere.

“Son of a—” I shout, rubbing at my head where I’d just careened into what felt like a foot of solid concrete.

“Sorry,” the wall spoke and I look up into a pair of familiar eyes. Familiar eyes that are attached to a body that could give concussions with a single bump.

“Oh, uh…” I stumble over my words as I continue to rub my aching forehead. “It’s okay. My fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Nell, right? I met you by the pool the other day. And at Gavin’s dinner party?” I could have sworn I saw a mischievous glint in his eye when he said
party
.

“Yeah,” I answer. “And you’re Scott. Sorry for plowing into you.”

He takes my outstretched hand and brings it to his lips instead of giving it a shake as I suspected he’d do. “It’s no problem at all. I’ve been hit by people much less beautiful than you. Believe me, you can run into me any day of the week.”

My smile is friendly enough as I pull my hand away. “What the hell do you have in your pocket, anyway? A flask or something?” I touch the tender spot again and feel it forming into a lump.

“Um,” Scott looks down at the front of his shirt and begins patting the pockets along his chest. “I don’t think so.”

“You mean I nearly concussed myself on
just
your muscle?” Without thinking, I batted his hands away and started doing an inspection of my own. “My God, man!” I knock on his chest like he’s the tin man. “Are you bionic or something? Part robot?” I knock again and his deep laughter echoes off the white walls of the hallway.

“Cyborg, but don’t tell anyone,” he winks.

I grin in return. “As long as you don’t go all
Terminator
on my ass, I’m pretty sure we’re cool. Are you playing in the game tonight?” I ask, pointing in the direction I was headed, toward the elevators that would take me up to the suite.

“Oh, no,” Scott laughs. “Believe me, I’m not much of a gambler, I’d be out of money in a matter of minutes.” Suddenly his face changes, his smile grows somewhat calculating. “But I know someone else who’s playing tonight.”

I let out a frustrated huff and prop my hands on my hips. “Gavin told you, did he?!”

To Scott’s credit, he looks a little stunned that I caught on so fast. “How did you—”

“Please,” I wave him off. “You might as well just scrape your finger at me and say
‘shame, shame. I know your name
!’ You couldn’t have been more obvious.”

“Did you just…” Scott’s mouth opens and closes for a second, as if he’s searching for words. “Did you just quote Winnie the Bish from
New Girl
?”

“Well… yeah,” I answer. “It’s the be—”

“Best show on TV!” he shouts at the same time I do. “I
love
that show! And I’ve got no one to talk about it with because Gavin and Graham would rather volunteer to have their appendix removed than watch it with me.”