Sugar & Salt (7 page)

“Where will you be taking me?”

“Wherever you’d like to go.”

“I believe you owe me a tour of your apartment.”

He blanches at her forwardness, but recovers in an instant, a lewd smile forming on his lips. “I don’t recall offering you one.”

“Something about wanting me in one of your shirts?” Janice stands up, wobbling slightly on her heels. The world tilts and rights itself before she begins the trek to the front door of the restaurant. She has no doubt he’ll follow.

Alcohol knocks down the walls she works so hard to maintain. She shoves tomorrow’s guaranteed tidal wave of guilt to the back of her mind. For now, alcohol is the excuse, life the reason, and Salt the benefit.

A steady arm wraps around her waist, and she leans into his warmth. Beneath the tailored suit, a hard body waits to be uncovered.

He leads her out into the cool spring air, and the breeze against her skin offers a titillating juxtaposition to the heat growing beneath it.

He pushes her up against the wall and descends upon her lips. It’s not the lingering temptation of his earlier kiss—this time he assaults her mouth, pulling on her lips with his teeth, demanding entrance. He grips her hip bones and pushes her into the unyielding wall, her moan caressing his ears.

She laces her hands through his hair and pulls as he nips at her lips—hard, but not enough to hurt. She yearns for more and clings to him as he pulls her tighter against his body.

A kiss reveals more about a man than a quick fuck. Does he take his time? Does he know what he wants? Does he give as well as he takes? A quality kiss has flow—it shifts from aggression, to passion, to tenderness with ease. Salt does not let her down. The intoxication from the wine loosens her limbs, but his hands melt away any lingering resistance.

She opens her eyes to find Henry standing at the curb with the car door open, eyes downcast.

Salt doesn’t remove his hands from her body as he breaks the kiss and leads her to the vehicle.

She resumes the kiss before the door shuts behind them, reaching inside his jacket to explore the lines of his taut, muscular chest. His chest tightens as she drags her nails across it, deepening the kiss. She drapes a leg over his and teases his neck with her lips—gentle suction, a soft caress.

He digs his fingers into her upper arms as she rubs her leg along his hardening erection. The leather seats heat up beneath them. He slides his hand up her leg, massaging her thigh with a powerful grip.

The car slows, and a knock on the rear window interrupts them. Henry learns fast.

She wipes her mouth with a giggle and slides away from Salt.

“Dad caught us.” He chuckles with a wink, and she can’t contain another giggle.

He readjusts himself before opening the door. After he gets out, he nods to Henry and holds his hand out to Janice.

She slips her fingers into his and allows him to help her to her feet.

The glass facade of his building reveals an elegant, vacant lobby. Leather couches sit stiff and proper in the middle of the room.

She breezes by Henry and the doorman, her attention fully focused on the man leading her through the cavernous space. Heat radiates off him, pulling her in.

At the elevator she releases her hold, leans against the wall and crosses her legs. “Let me guess, the penthouse?”

“Nope, too big. I just have a place on the 9th floor.”

“Too big? That’s not a complaint one often hears.”

“Really? I hear it all the time.” He keeps his face slack.

Janice barks out a laugh, teetering on her heels. She smacks him on the chest with her purse before falling into his arms, laughing. “You are a ridiculous man.”

“And you came home with me. What does that make you?”

He leans down to kiss her as the elevator doors open. They tumble inside and he presses the button for his floor.

She runs her hands up his back, and traces the lines of his shoulders with a sigh. She closes her eyes and lays her cheek on his shoulder blade, stealing a moment of innocent pleasure. How long had it been since she felt happy? She snakes her arms around his middle and breathes him in.

The elevator announces they have reached their destination, and the doors slide open without the usual shake and rattle of most New York buildings. The hall is dimly lit, and a line of doors spans out before them. Oriental carpeting softens their footfalls as they make their way down the corridor, rounding a small corner to a single door separated from the others. 9-7A is posted above it.

He fumbles for his keys and drops them.

“Excited?” she teases.

“Aren’t you?” He leans down to pick them up, and traces the line of her inner leg with the tip of the key as he stands. He slides the key into the lock and turns it with a soft click.

Inside, he turns on the lights and reveals a room with a glass wall looking out over Central Park. He begins to kiss her, reaching his hands out to read her curves before kicking the door shut behind them. With reverence, he traces the hemline of her dress, pulling it up until his hands scoop her ass and lift her to him.

In the entranceway of his apartment, his touch sears her skin, burning the imprint of his fingers onto her flesh. A fiery need lying dormant within her flares to life, and she gives over control, relishing the release.

He holds her with confidence, supporting her body as her bones melt and liquefy under his command. Without separating his lips from hers, he pushes her against the wall and allows his hardness to stroke against her hip.

She pushes him away and smiles at the pout threatening to form on his lips. His green eyes spark with intensity and passion as he watches her pull her dress up over her head. She stands before him in a black, lace bra with a matching thong and garter, shivering from the blatant lust in his gaze.

She turns her back on him, walking further into the dark apartment. Outlines of furniture shape the space, but it’s the wall of glass that calls to her. The freedom it represents is nothing like her loft. She may have luxury, but she still barricades herself against the world, protecting her heart and soul behind layers of concrete and steel.

To her left, an open door catches her attention. She turns to find Salt still cloaked in darkness by the entrance, watching her with the ferocity of a predator. She moves through the doorway into his bedroom, which is sparsely furnished, the walls bare but for a few framed pieces. Japanese-style prints hang on one wall behind a large chair.

Still exploring the space, she feels him enter the room. He doesn’t announce himself, but the electricity in the air sparks, his presence sharpening her senses so that she can feel the current from the central air and the sound of her pounding heart.

She turns back to face him and unclips her stockings, smoothing them down her legs, one at a time. She reaches one hand behind her back to undo her bra, but Salt shakes his head and steps forward.

“Let me do that.” He walks around behind her, heating her flesh with the caress of his eyes. He tickles her shoulders with the tips of his fingernails and glides his steady hands down her back, across the spread of her hips, and back up her sides.

She shivers as he trails his hands down her arms before leaning in to place a warm kiss on her neck.

He inhales deeply.

She leans back, but he steps away, leaving her without the warmth of his embrace.

Instead, he unclasps her bra. Still behind her, he pushes the straps off her shoulders and down her arms, until it falls to the floor.

Topless and exposed, she quivers in desperation. She longs to be touched, taken, abused, but he takes his time.

He moves his hands back up her arms until they sit on her shoulders firmly.

Her nipples harden as she hears him rustle his clothing behind her, presumably taking off his jacket.

“You are so beautiful.” He pauses, taking her in. “So pure and lovely.”

“I’m hardly pure.”

He grasps her hair, pulling her head back so she can see him. “Perhaps, but you are ripe.” A slow, sensual smile spreads across his face and he releases her hair. He rests his hand on her shoulder and walks around into her line of sight. He traces along her collar bone and she leans into the touch, desperate for his teasing fingers to reach her breasts.

He stands before her, dress shirt unbuttoned, revealing his tight abs. His pants rest loosely on his hips.

She takes in the man standing before her and her cunt heats up, screaming out to be used. She drags her eyes over his chest, up to the bright eyes boring into her, and licks her lips. As he leans in, her restraint pulls taut and breaks—the rope of her submission weak against the strength of her desire. She wraps both arms around his neck and pulls her body to his. Breasts press into hard muscle, and their lips finally join.

He moves forward, half-guiding, half-carrying her forward until the wall presses against her back. He grasps at her middle, kneading the flesh from her hips up until he reaches her firm breasts.

She moans and closes her eyes as he dips down to take a nipple into his mouth. He teases her hardened bud until she grabs his head and demands he take more of her into his mouth. He complies and sucks deeply, pulling her nipple along his tongue.

She moves her hands down to his shoulders and pushes the dress shirt down.

He shrugs it off, removing his starving mouth from her nipple. After ripping the shirt from his wrists, he returns to her other breast with vigor.

“Fuck.” The wall holds her up as she wraps a leg around him.

He sinks to his knees, grabs her leg, and sets it on his shoulder.

“Oh fuck!” She cries as his lips press against the silky fabric covering her cunt. “Yes.”

He draws his tongue along the lengths of her, leaving heat and need in its wake.

When he reaches her clit, she can’t help but thrust her hips forward.

He chuckles against her, hot flames of desire spreading with his breath. He nips at her lips, biting softly above the throbbing nub of her clit.

“Damn you.” She pushes him forward, forcing him back onto the hardwood of his bedroom floor. She stands above him, naked but for her thong and red-soled shoes, and places her foot on his chest. “I don’t like to be teased.”

“Yes you do.” He reaches his hands behind his head and stretches out, comfortable on the floor.

“And how do you know that.”

“I can smell you from here.”

“You’re a cocky ass.” Janice laughs and sits down on top of him.

He chuckles until she lowers her weight onto his hardened length. He closes his eyes with a moan and places his hands on her upper thighs, holding her in place as he rocks up into her.

She glides over him, rubbing herself against his dress pant-covered erection. After a moment of tortuous pleasure, she brings her hands to his belt and unbuckles his pants. She unzips them and lifts herself up so she can reach inside his underwear and grab his cock. It’s warm and soft, perfectly smooth. She longs to taste him.

He groans at the contact, his hips jerking involuntarily.

With her hand still wrapped around his erection, she leans down against his chest. She takes his mouth in hers and pumps him softly, pulling him to an agonizing size.

He flips them both over, wrenching her hand away and using his feet to kick off his pants. He grinds firm circles against her core and assaults her neck.

She runs her red nails down his spine and loses herself in his assault.

He licks along the tight muscle of her neck before grazing her shoulder with his teeth.

She raises her hips and wraps her legs around his middle, pulling him tight.

He moans and grabs her ass, digging his fingers into flesh as he pulls her harder against him.

She cries out in pleasure and pushes him away, ignoring the question in his eyes as she stands to remove her underwear. She slips them down to reveal a perfectly manicured cunt—soft, downy hair hides her most intimate place. She steps out of one of her heels, but stops when Salt reaches out for her ankle.

“Leave them on,” he commands with a seductive smile.

She slips her foot back into the shoe.

Streetlights from far below illuminate the dark room, creating an ethereal glow. The bed is flanked by two marble-topped bedside tables. She also spots a large television mounted on the wall and a small dresser in the corner. A wall of glass opens onto the night, but there are no buildings nearby, only an expansive view of Central Park.

The darkness calls to her. She approaches the window, exposed and lightheaded from desire. She doesn’t usually let herself go like this, and needs a moment to regain control. It’s this man, his lips, his confidence—he sends her mind into a tailspin until all that remains is her body and heart. He represents something dangerous, something she’s learned to avoid.

When she turns around, Salt is close behind her. His proximity dispels her clouds of doubt until all she can feel is him.

“The view is beautiful.” She returns to the visage.

“It’s the best thing about this place. That and how private it can be.”

“You have good taste.”

He wraps his arms around her, and she settles against the warmth of his chest. “I do.”

She turns in his arms and they kiss—a gentle, soft caress.

He takes her hand and leads her away from the window toward the bed.

Intimacy replaces the playful tone of their embrace as she lies down before her new lover. His bed is large, the headboard covered in books and half-consumed bottles of water.

He crawls over her naked form, hovering for a moment so he can take in all of her before descending to her lips. He places his hand on her jaw and they kiss.

She wraps her arms around him and runs her hands down his defined back.

He pulls away and looks her in the eyes. A smile, a flash of something wicked, and finally, hooded desire. He reaches into the drawer of his bedside table. With ease, he pulls off his underwear, revealing his throbbing erection.

Before he has a chance to open the condom he’s retrieved, she moves lower, taking him into her mouth. His size stretches her lips and a warm flood rushes through her, readying her to receive him. She swirls her tongue around the ridge of his tip, tasting the sweet drop of his desire. The skin is so smooth it slides across her lips like silk. She takes him in, pulling his cock deep into her throat in a slow movement, making him suck in a breath.