Only Trick (20 page)

Tamsen laughs. “Yes, married men who live two lives. The socially acceptable one with the wife, three kids, and a dog, and the one that involves Grady booking fancy hotel rooms for the weekend so they can be who they really are.”

“But Trick—”

She holds up one finger. “I’m getting there. Trick … well look at him; who cheats on a guy that looks like that?” Tamsen winks at me. “So nobody ever suspects that Grady is a home wrecker and Trick gladly vouches for him whenever he gets into a sticky situation. He’s the perfect decoy and always willing to offer Grady an alibi because Trick’s fine with people thinking he’s gay, especially women.” She giggles. “However, it’s quite fun to see guys hit on him.”

“I-I don’t know what to say …”

“Well, you’ve swooped in and turned Trick completely inside-out so Grady knows their mutual agreement is about to expire. He’s just buying time, that’s all.”

“So I’m supposed to pretend that I’m not with Trick?”

Tamsen shrugs. “No.” Lifting up on her tiptoes, she looks around the room and grins as her eyes fix on something or someone. “As you can see, the women are all over Trick. They always are, like they think they can convert him, but he ignores them like any gay guy would.” She purses her lips to contain her smirk. “However, if it were me, I would play it up to my advantage.” Looking me over, her grin widens. “You look hot tonight and there’s not a straight guy in this room who hasn’t noticed you, so I’d find my own group of attention. At least if it were my man, I’d make him sweat it out for a while.”

“You think I should flirt with other guys?”

“Flirt, no. Trick’s not flirting. In fact, if you asked him he’d say he’s just not
making waves.
So you should wade through the pond, and if you catch a few fish along the way, so be it. Just don’t
make waves
.”

I love Tamsen. She’s the girlfriend I never had but have always wanted. “You’re evil … but brilliant.” I grin.

She hands me a glass of wine and nudges me toward the crowd. “Nope, just experienced. Now go get ’em.”

Squeezing through the crowd, I look for a friendly face.

“Hey there.”

I turn.
Bingo!
I’m not proud of the fact that I’m quite familiar with knowing when a guy’s interested. After I grew out of my nerd girl phase in high school, I rebelled … really rebelled. I lost my virginity in the restroom of a pub on campus to a guy I met two hours earlier—not my proudest moment. I never saw him again after that night. With rebellion comes the stubborn attitude that all your bad decisions are someone else’s fault. Those first two years, everything was my father’s fault.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure yet. I’m Drake”

I grin inside. Drake has a few too many piercings for my taste, but the tats on his brawny arms and up his thick neck rival Trick’s. His head is shaved, but his blue eyes mirror mine and so does his friendly smile.

“I’m Darby.”

Drake plays into Tamsen’s plan as if he’s been hired to do so. Placing his hand on my
bare
lower back he pulls me closer to his side. “Phil, Bradley, Todd, meet Darby.” The skinheads circle me with greedy eyes.

“Darby, your dress is the shit!” Todd licks his lips while his eyes take liberty with my body.

“Thanks, I just came from another
event
so I feel a little overdressed.”

Bradley shakes his head, eyes glassy. “Nope you’re fucking perfect.”

“She is isn’t she?” Drake’s hand slips an inch lower.

Don’t make waves. Don’t make waves.

“How do you know Grady and Trick?” Drake lightly teases circles on my skin.

I look around and spot Trick among a crowd of women, but his eyes are fixed on me. The petite brunette on his right teases the tips of her fingers along Trick’s waistband just under his shirt.

Yeah, this is bullshit!

“I’m a client of Trick’s,” I mumble, keeping my eyes on Trick.

“I see. Well, have you seen the upstairs? If not I could give you a private tour.”

Drake’s words are a distant echo over my mind’s attention on Trick. “Um … will you excuse me for a moment?”

I step away from the pack and head straight to Trick, who is leaning on the back of the couch acting like a llama at a petting zoo. There are so many women around him he’s untouchable to me. It’s like he’s some rock star and I can’t see over his groupies.

“Pardon me. Excuse me. Step aside please.” I elbow my way through the women, earning a slew of nasty looks and catty hisses. As I steal the position directly in front of Trick, he crosses his arms over his chest. I cross my arms mirroring him, like we’re seconds away from a showdown.

I don’t know if it’s the little bit of wine I’ve had, my worn nerves from the gala, or my need to be alone with Trick, but something snaps and my mind forgets all reason and my words escape all censorship. “I think Drake wants to take me upstairs for a quick fuck. What do you think about that?”

Our small circle of spectators falls silent with the exception of a few gasps and whispers. Trick has dominant control over his emotions, but I can see in the slight tensing of his jaw that it’s wavering.

I purse my lips, tilting my head to the side. “So you don’t have any thoughts on the matter?” I raise my shoulders. “Okay then, he seems like a nice enough guy and I’m horny as hell right now so have a pleasant evening, Mr. Roth.” Turning on my heels, the crowd of women part like the Red Sea and I strut my stuff straight toward Drake.

“Come!” A strong hand with a painful grip clasps my arm, jerking me in the opposite direction.

Practically dragging me onto the elevator, Trick slams the gate shut and flips the switch down. I try to free myself from his hold, but he tightens it, yanking me into his chest. Releasing my hand, he grabs my head and kisses this life and maybe my next out of me. His tongue demands all of my mouth and his lips possess mine in a frenzy of emotion that’s filled with such passion my whole world spins on
his
axis.

The elevator stops. His mouth and unforgiving stubble make a punishing trip down my neck as his hands clench my ass so tight I can already feel my skin bruising. “Don’t ever fuck with me like that again,” he warns, each word feels like lightening cracking through the air sending chills along my spine.

I take two fists full of his hair and jerk his head away from my neck. “Don’t ever let another fucking woman touch you like that again.” I grit each word through clenched teeth, chest heaving, eyes wild.

He leers at me with such intensity I swear he’s seeing more than I see in myself. Then his expression surrenders: lips soften, jaw relaxes, eyes come to life. His hands cover mine until I release his hair, and he guides them to his face, closing his eyes like he’s feeling my touch in his soul. He nods. “These hands … only these hands …”

D
arby Carmichael does
what I swore no woman would ever do—she owns me. Period. I offered nothing, yet she took everything, and I don’t fucking ever want it back.

“Let me,” she whispers as I start to remove my shirt.

I raise my arms, surrendering to her as the dark material is pulled from my body. Her eyes explore my marked flesh, and when her pink tongue slides out to wet those perfect cherry lips … dear God, I want to fall to my knees right here in her bedroom and beg for redemption. I’ll worship her until the day I die because only her touch can take away the sins that plague my jaded soul.

I clench my fists as she pulls down my pants. She wants this … me. She wants to see all of me. My control wavers on the edge of insanity because all I want is to touch her, taste her … inhale her like the addict I never knew I was.
The addict I … Never. Knew. I. Was.

For a brief moment I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting to remember, dying to forget.

She’s clueless to the depths of her own beauty. I’ve hidden myself behind ink and makeup just like I’ve done for so many other people. But Darby has the purest, unmarked skin I’ve ever seen. Her auburn hair pulls the most incredible hues of blue from her eyes. She’s … stunning.

When she reaches behind and unzips her dress, letting it pool at her feet, I die a little. Subtle curves with definition and purpose exemplify the essence of female beauty exactly how it was meant to be. Stepping out of her dress, she moves behind me. I suck in a breath as her lips press to my back, fingertips tracing the ink all the way to my shoulder.

“This …” she whispers “…the colors are exquisite…” she moves her lips along my tattoo, “…but why a vulture?”

Pump, pump, pump
.

I continue to clench my fists, feeling all my muscles go rigid in response. My God, the need to touch her is excruciating. “Unconventionality … destruction … death, but also patience…” I swallow “…renewal … protection.”

Her fingers ghost down my arm as she moves in front of me again. The softest gaze follows her touch over my diverse palate of feathers, flowers, and a river of flowing black letters and symbols all the way to my hand.

How will I ever tell her that I don’t know what half of them mean? How will I show her what I can’t see?

“I love you, Trick.” Soft eyes find mine, then fall to her finger tracing over the wide black sanskrit from my lower abs around to my back. “What does this mean?”

“Don’t look back in anger,” I whisper.

Her delicate brows tense as she moves her head in a slow single nod. “You and I …” she presses her lips to my chest “…we’re not a game. No more pretending.” She looks up at me.

“No more pretending,” I confirm.

Turning her back to me, she removes her panties then draws her long hair over her shoulder. I kiss her neck and die a little more as her body shudders from my touch. Unhooking her bra, I whisper in her ear, “Do you wonder what you’re doing with me?”

Her breath catches in her chest as she turns to me. “Sometimes …” Her eyes flit between my eyes and my mouth.

I devour the lips I crave while laying her on her bed. Her fingers make a deep claim into my back while her legs clasp around my ass, drawing me inside. Heavy eyelids surrender; she moans my name. Resisting the urge to move, my jaw relaxes to release my labored breath as I wait for her to look at me again.

Opening her eyes she moves her hands to my face. “But most of the time…” she kisses me and I rock my hips into her beautiful body “…I wonder what I’d ever do without you.”

T
rick plays every
part of my body with the expert precision of a concert pianist playing ten sheets of Bach—soft, hard, fast, slow, and an infinity of beautiful in between.

“Trick … please …. oh please … I-I’m so close … oh … God … there, right … there …” I arch my back, sitting astride him as our bodies sync in rhythm, seeking the pinnacle of sexual pleasure.

He sits up with nothing between us but sweat and flesh. Our mouths absorb every guttural moan and cry, and when he releases with a vibrating groan, I climax into another world. Never … and I mean
never,
ever
have I experienced anything like it. In every look, every touch, every breath there’s friendship, love, and a feeling bigger than words—an unexplainable synergy.

We collapse onto the sweat-soaked sheets looking like we just finished a marathon. I don’t sweat this much when I bike.

“What was that?” I say through labored breaths, staring at the ceiling.

Trick chuckles with his hand resting over the wet smattering of fine dark hair on his chest. “Fucking mind-blowing.”

“Yeah…” I laugh “…that sums it up pretty good. I mean, that wasn’t normal.”

He rolls on his side with his head propped up on his elbow. “Superhuman sex?”

I giggle. “Yes. Like in the movies when two immortals have sex you know it’s just … transcendental.”

“You’re the sexy superhero, I’m merely the immortal.” Leaning forward he sucks my nipple into his mouth and drags his teeth along it with a wicked grin.

I shove him on his back and roll onto him, biting his salty, wet neck. “It was all you. I was playing catch up the whole time, like I always do with you.”