Page 8 of Books and Hookups

His lips turned up on one side, then he chuckled. “Hell, Lucie. You don’t hold anything back, do you?”

I shrugged. “What’s the point of tiptoeing around things? If I tell you what I want, I’m much more likely to get it. Besides, you look like you could use a pick-me-up too.”

Barb rolled her chair toward us. “Danny, you opened today, so it’s only fair that Leo and I close. Things have gotten pretty slow, so you can go whenever you’d like.” She winked at me.

I smiled back. I’d liked Barb since I’d moved into her building two years ago. She was a straight shooter like me. When I looked back at Danny, his gaze was glued to my boobs. Score.

“You coming?” I asked, slowly rising from the chair.

He licked his lips. “Yeah.”

I sauntered out of the bar into the vestibule and took the sharp turn into the residents’ entrance. After unlocking it, I climbed the first flight of stairs as Danny’s heavier footsteps echoed behind me. We passed his floor and continued up the second flight.

I unlocked my door, flicked on the light, and held the door for him. Pausing, he scanned my place as if he were looking for changes since the last time he’d been up here. It was a while ago, around Barb’s birthday in December. It had been a wild night in the bar after she shared her plans to retire by her next birthday and announced that Danny and Leo had offered to buy her out.

Danny’s face had glowed that night. And even though he never drank anything but water behind the bar, his eyes had been bright and a little unfocused, drunk on joy. He’d come out from behind the bar to catch me up in a dance to “Walking on Sunshine,” and when the song ended, our hands stayed on each other’s bodies.

Tonight, his eyes were flinty, like he was looking for a reason to walk out. I wasn’t about to let him escape. He needed an orgasm as much as I did. Dropping my bag onto the floor, I grasped his hand to pull him inside. I shut the door, locked it, and tossed my coat over the back of a dining chair. Then I stepped in front of him and rested my hands on his broad chest.

“This shirt is ridiculous. It’s got to go.”

“Shirt? Oh. Yeah. Barb wanted us to look festive.”

“You look like Bartender Ken.”

It was the wrong thing to say. His eyes narrowed. “I think?—”

“Don’t think.” I ran my hands down his chest to the button of his jeans. “Just relax.”

I unbuttoned his jeans and lowered the zipper, dragging my fingertip along the front of his boxers. They weren’t the sporty kind but the regular kind with the extra fabric at the butt, cotton in a no-nonsense plaid pattern. He hardened under my touch, tenting the thin fabric. I lowered onto my knees on the rug and dragged his shorts down his legs, then ran my palms up his strong, hairy thighs.

“Oh, uh, you don’t have to?—”

I licked him from root to tip. Instead of finishing that sentence, he groaned. Yes, he needed this as much as I did. Briefly, I wondered why before I refocused on my task.

His dick was gorgeous. Veiny like his forearms with a slight upward curve that felt amazing inside me. He was uncut, and the foreskin had already pulled back to reveal the glossy pink head. He was longer than I could comfortably fit in my mouth, so I licked my hand and squeezed the base of his dick while I teased the head with my tongue. I felt, more than saw, the tension leave his shoulders.

I sucked on the head and scratched my short nails down the back of his thigh, feeling the taut skin over his hamstring muscle. Maybe his manual-labor muscles were the secret to the amazing sex. I’d have to remember that the next time I was tempted to hook up with one of the white-collar guys I usually went for.

His muscles tightened, and I sucked harder.

“Lucie, I?—”

I dipped my tongue into the divot under the head, and his dick jerked. He let out a shuddering breath as his release filled my mouth. I held on until he finished, then swallowed.

Gently, he touched my hair, then my cheek. “Sorry. I tried to warn you.”

“It’s fine. As long as you’ll be ready to go again in a bit?”

“I can go again right now.” He bent and, putting his callused hands under my elbows, lifted me to standing. He dropped to his knees, not bothering to kick off his jeans, and ducked his head under my skirt. “You should wear more skirts. It makes it easier to…oh.”

“Oh? Oh my god.” I’d forgotten about my shapewear. I’d let Carly, who was a stylist, talk me into it. She’d promised it’d create a better line when I wore dresses. But fuck me if it didn’t make me look like a sausage. “Just a sec. I’ll roll it down.”

“Nuh-uh.” His finger traced a line between my legs, and I shivered even before I felt cool air on my wet skin. “This thing has a fly, like boxers. So you can whip it out?”

His teasing words matched his teasing fingers. I sucked in a breath. “In theory. I tried it once. It was a total failure. Had to go commando the rest of the day. Now I roll them down and wrestle back into them when I’m done. If you’ll give me a minute?—”

“No need.” A gust of hot breath was all the warning I had before his tongue hit my labia.

---