Page 5 of Bang Buddies With Benefits
Dios Ayúdame.I glanced to the ceiling, asking for from strength from the heavens. Given the limited Spanish he’d used whenever my assistant and I launched into a conversation in español, he was also a spoiled, naughty boy.
There was no way I was losing to that boy, grown or not. I’d add matured or not, but that was already a lost cause.
Without answering his question, I strode on past so he could stew over it, the loud clacking of my heels emphasizing my irritation.
After years of forward progress, my goal of smashing the patriarchy had hit a snag. Not that I’d let that stop me. I planned on it being an inside job, one where I made partner and gained more control regarding the overall decisions. About two years ago, I’d had to fight tooth and nail in order to hire my own assistant. The partners strongly suggested I hire one of the sons from their group of country club friends without bothering to conduct interviews.
Their bitterness occasionally came out in meetings, as if hiring Miko, a Japanese woman who spoke three languages was the inferior decision. Like me, she came in a petite package, but she’d also leap over her desk and tackle anyone who dared to interrupt me during a phone call or session with a client.
Whenever we wanted to be sure our conversations wouldn’t be overheard—or more accurately, understood—we switched to speaking Spanish. Miko was also helping me learn Japanese so we could throw that into the mix.
For the record, we had valiant motives as well. Speaking to as many clients in their native tongue as possible was a cause dear to my heart, as my grandmother and grandfather had struggled with legal documents when they first moved to America. It hadn’t been enough for me to pursue a legal profession originally, but once I took a sharp turn down that path, it weighed heavily in the pro column.
Not to mention that I believed if I wasn’t learning I was stagnating. Which was why I researched two unknown-to-me subjects a month, even if it was something as inane as the libidinousness of dolphins or the mating ritual of the Argonaut octopus. In order for the males to avoid being eaten by the hungry females, they had a long detachable penis that they just threw her way before swimming on.
Man, sea creatures are so kinky.I couldn’t judge, as I sometimes wished homo sapiens came with detachable penises as well.
Then again, we did have dildos that vibrated long enough to get there, so I supposed I shouldn’t go wishing for the life of octopi. The extra arms would sure come in handy when it came to sorting files, though.
“A drink. I definitely need a drink,” I muttered, my eyes homing in on the makeshift bar that’d been set up in the corner of the ballroom. Work functions were a special type of hell filled with more of the good old boys’ club, and I’d prefer to be at my desk, doing actual work any day. Or night. Schmoozing had never been my strong point, as my colleagues so nicely pointed out with that shark and dolphin remark.
“If I were male, they’d never accuse me of being too harsh. In fact, they’d praise me for it.”
One of the people I passed glanced around, as if unsure whether or not I’d been addressing them. I shot them a smile that caused them to backpedal faster, and seriously? When had my smile lost its touch?
My burgeoning frustrations left my skin too tight, so thank God I’d finally reached the bar. The person behind it was bent over, their top half obscured by the pop-up stand and their lower half showcased in black pants that fit snuggly without being too tight. Still, I only let myself ogle their ass for a second.
Then the guy straightened, and it proved just how long it’d been that I hadn’t recognized that ass sooner. “Zac, hey.” He’d grown out the dark strands on top and styled it in a quiff that harkened back to Elvis and James Dean, only Zac kept the sides trimmed shorter. It faded nicely into his beard and drew attention to the masterful mouth he used to consume and conquer.
“Catalina.” He tossed a lime in the air, followed by another, and another. He juggled all three before placing them on the counter and slicing them into perfect wedges. Then he snagged a glass, spinning it and then catching the wedges in the air, one swipe, two swipes, and three. He tossed a mint leaf, added it to the glass, and poured in vanilla syrup, which as he’d taught me one night, was the trick to why his mojitos were better than most.
The two women nearby gasped in awe at his tricks, amused at the rolling and flipping of the muddler. I was fairly certain one of them was Roger’s wife, and the snarky side of me wondered if she needed to drink often to deal with him.
Ice went next, then the spiced rum, after he’d tossed it in the air, naturally. A little club soda and stir, stir, stir, and the women applauded as he presented the glass with equal flair.
I lifted my hands, joining in on the clapping. He bowed, thanking them for the bills they stuffed in his tip jar, and then he bowed in my direction.
It was so damn good to see him that my smile stretched the bounds of my cheeks. “What are you doing here?” These days, he rarely did side gigs, except I guess I couldn’t claim knowledge of that anymore, as I hadn’t seen him in almost a year.
He snagged the neck of the rum, along with a large bottle of vodka. “Stealing some booze for my bar. It’s a great way to cut overhead.”
“In a room full of lawyers?” I propped my elbow on the top of the countertop divider and rested my chin on my raised fist. “That’s bold of you.”
“Nah. I know this really sexy lawyer who’s always getting me off.” He glanced around and leaned closer, his gaze dipping to my cleavage—so not that much had changed—and then moving his mouth next to my ear, so close his lips brushed the shell and sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. “And nobody gets me off as well as she does.”
Desire rushed up in a dizzying wave, reaching for him like the ocean sought the gravitational pull of the moon. “It’s been a while since you, uh, requested my services.”
The last few of my peach emoji texts had received a sock emoji reply. In other words, my booty calls had been answered by a sock rather than an eggplant, our signal that we were otherwise engaged. Work, with other people, or even full-blown relationships in his case. We never asked questions, as that’d break the rules that’d allowed us to imbibe in our no-strings fun off and on over the past four years.
Sadly, I hadn’t been busy with any other guy in quite some time, and with Zac within reaching distance, the spot between my thighs throbbed to life to remind me of that sad fact.
“You look incredible,” Zac said, whistling as I completed a little twirl to show off the low-cut back. One reason I’d chosen this dress was because it sparkled, even in dim light. “You’ve always been a sucker for glitter.”
“As I recall, you were the one who noticed the glitter in my hair and went searching for more.”
“I’m not just talking about the dick confetti,” Zac said, his voice turning into a husky whisper. “There was that shimmery silver dress on New Year’s Eve, and beneath it, you wore that strappy sequin lingerie contraption. I enjoyed seeing both puddled on the floor of my bedroom, too.”
Heat corkscrewed through my body, spreading far and wide, and hot enough to incinerate the lacy thong beneath my dress. Expelling a long exhale, I reached up and fiddled with my earring. “Are you currently seeing anyone?”
