Page 14 of Between the Lines

Desperate, she tried the handle of the closest door. It opened, and she wasn’t going to question it. She hurriedly ducked inside.

The heavy door swung shut behind her, enclosing her in a dim, quiet space. She ran a hand over the wall, searching for the light switch, then decided to leave the room in the dark. The lack of stimulus after the sensory assault of the party was soothing.

She’d recharge here then go downstairs and force herself to mingle for twenty more minutes—long enough to say that she’d given it a go.

Then she’d go home, put on her jeans and tank top and return to the cocoon of blissful aloneness.

The doorknob turned. A feminine giggle shattered the womblike tranquility, followed by a deeper voice that was undeniably male.

She had no idea why she ducked into the closet—maybe just the urge to not have to interact with even one more person. She stood in the small space, behind the half-opened door, fisting sweaty palms as the people entered the room, letting the heavy door fall closed behind them with what sounded like an ominous click.

“How much have you had to drink?” The man’s voice made her straighten, like she was in school and her knuckles had been slapped with a ruler.

“Not so much that I don’t know what I’m doing.” The woman giggled, a bubbly, breathless sound. Jo squinted across the room. It was dark in the room, more shadows than light, but she could see shapes, outlines.

She could certainly hear, and knew that the metallic rasp couldn’t be anything but the lowering of a zipper.

“This wasn’t what I had in mind when I invited you to this party as my date,” the man said, his voice wry. The woman shushed him. Jo’s eyes were gradually adjusting to the dark, and she watched the woman drop to her knees in front of the door the man was leaning against.

The woman inhaled sharply, and the man exhaled slowly, a circular dance. Jo fought to hold her own breath, lest she give herself away.

Why, oh why, had she ducked into the closet? It was past the point where she could announce her presence. Oh, pardon me, I’ll just look the other way if you don’t mind letting me through.

“Chill out,” the woman said, voice exasperated. “This doesn’t mean anything, okay? I’m your assistant, and I’m supposed to make your life easier. I don’t know why you’re all keyed up tonight, but let me take the edge off. It’s nothing we haven’t done before.”

The man said nothing, did nothing for a long moment. Then a low rumble of pleasure escaped his throat, followed by the wet sound of mouth on skin, sounds that screamed sex.

Close your eyes, Jo. Close them now.

A rustle of movement, then a groan as the man tangled his hands in the woman’s hair. That groan should have been a sound of surrender, the man acquiescing to the woman’s desire to please him, but somehow he still sounded like he was the one in control.

Jo shifted in her hiding place as something dark and wild tangled in her belly. She found herself rubbing her thighs together against the sudden ache. It took her brain a few moments to catch up.

Was she actually aroused by this? By hiding in the closet, watching a woman she didn’t know suck on a strange man’s cock? How could that be, when nothing had turned her crank in the years since Theo had left—absolutely nothing?

She swallowed, hard, pressing her forehead to the cool plaster of the wall. Watching this when they didn’t know she was here was so, so wrong. But this was the first hint of arousal she’d felt in so long—she knew she wasn’t going anywhere.

Taking another quiet breath, she focused in. The woman’s mouth made obscene sucking noises as she worked on the man, but she wasn’t what held Jo’s attention, though she supposed that the woman’s inherent enjoyment in the action of pleasuring the stranger was erotic. No, it was him, something about the man. About the way he looked downward, attention focused on the point of contact. And something else about him—the outline of an imposing body, the unapologetic way he held himself, as if he deserved to be serviced.

Like he was doing the woman a favor by letting her place her mouth on his cock. He almost seemed impatient.

How strange.

Jo watched, now entranced, as the woman seemed to redouble her efforts. The sounds she was making said that servicing the man was pleasurable for her as well. How could that be?

Her attention was caught on him as he sucked in a breath that sounded pained, his focus sharpening. Sliding his hands through her hair, he caught the woman’s face in his palms. The thin, inky darkness seemed to thicken, to throb along with the pulse between Jo’s legs.

“Pull off,” he growled, and the woman did with a sound so wet it was obscene. She hummed, low and satisfied, like she’d just indulged in some delicious treat, and a jolt of hunger struck Jo.

She sighed, just the quietest of sounds, but it was enough to be heard. The man’s head snapped up, his head orienting right in Jo’s direction, even as he exhaled harshly, thrusting into the woman’s cupped hands.

Oh shit. Had he heard her? Could he see her? Did he know she was there? Spell broken, Jo pulled back farther into the closet. A single bead of icy sweat rolled down her spine.

“See? I told you you’d feel better,” the woman purred, satisfaction thick in her voice. This puzzled Jo as well.

The man had come. The woman had not. Why, then, did the woman seem so pleased?

The man simply grunted. The unfamiliar slickness between Jo’s thighs and the buzzing in her head, the flush of her skin begged her to step from the closet, to get one more look at the shadowy figure who’d brought her senses to life. That, though, would be pure insanity, so she forced herself to stay crouched in her hiding place, her pulse thrumming through her veins.

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