Sugar & Salt (8 page)

Salt laces his fingers through her hair.

She slides her tongue along his length and envelops him in her warm mouth again and again until his hips begin to move with her, thrusting into her mouth in a search for release. His warm, velvet heat slides against her lips. The smell of lust, the taste of desire, and the heat of ecstasy swim in her mind.

He whines when she stops—a small, animalistic sound that breaks free from the back of his throat.

She comes to straddle his hips and retrieves the condom he’d dropped on the pillow, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

He watches her open it and slide the protection over his head, rolling the condom slowly down his quivering cock. It fits tight, struggling to contain him.

With one hand on his chest and the other guiding his erection, she lowers herself onto him. She takes him all in—no lead up, nor time for tentative first motions or uncertain lovers. She longs to feel all of this amazing man, who surprises her, intrigues her, infuriates her, and makes her laugh. The first man who’s made her laugh in such a long time.

He holds her up, devouring the sight before him: her breasts, full and natural, her waist, thin and strong, and her hips, broad across his lap.

She squeezes her inner muscles and lifts up, luxuriating in the stroke of his broad head within.

Slowly, they make love. Their bodies dance in perfect rhythm with hands on each other’s hips, and teeth pulling on soft flesh.

He rolls her to the side, using his strength to leverage himself deeper inside her. His hipbones dig against her inner thighs, pushing her to spread wider, allowing him complete access. With long, firm thrusts, he rocks against her again and again, throwing her body against the headboard.

She calls out as she rises higher, levitating out of her body as the sensation of his hands and cock driving into her pushes her into oblivion. In the dim light, she holds Salt’s eyes with hers. The rise and swell of their lust brings them into perfect communion.

He grabs her wrist, pins it over her head, and twists their bodies again so she lies directly under him. Without releasing her, he dips down to nip at her lips.

She plants her feet on the bed, and lifts up to meet him.

Her cunt cries out, screaming through her nerves and vibrating passion through her body until it comes together deep within her. The rising orgasm clenches and Janice screams, tightening around Salt with pulsing strength demanding he come with her.

Together they release, eyes still locked.

UN Negotiations

Janice wakes as early morning light filters in through the windows. Salt lays wrapped around her naked body, his leg draped over hers as if they’d been sharing a bed for years. His features relax in sleep, making him appear younger and more innocent. She doesn’t even know his age, or what he does for a living.

Why should it matter? She rarely knows anything about the men she sleeps with. What difference does it make if he’s a dog trainer or an accountant?

But it does matter. He makes her laugh and gives her a feeling of freedom she’s been missing in her personal life for so long. Work has been the driving force of every decision she’s made for so long that this moment of vulnerability leaves her more naked than last night, when Salt had.... She blushes, remembering all the things they’d done after their first time.

Watching him sleep, an emotion she’d forgotten washes over her: the desire to be with someone. She wants to wake him, tell him her secrets, have him hold her and love her anyway.

Love.

The word stands out against the backdrop of her life like a neon sign. It screams out, reminding her of the men who came before—the ones who judged her, or used her. She started The Sugar House to make sure she could never again be held to someone else, either by money or manipulative emotions. No one owns her. No one shames her. Her body and her decisions are her own. That’s what she offers the men and women who work for her: freedom.

Anyone who wants to claim her has another thing coming.

Salt shifts in his sleep. He rolls away from her, leaving her cold. A familiar loneliness wraps around her heart, reminding her how everyone wants something.

She slides out of bed, careful not to disturb him. She uses the bathroom, retrieves her bra from the floor and pulls it on. Her underwear hides somewhere out of sight, and she decides to just leave them wherever they ended up. She picks up her dress as Salt wakes up.

“You weren’t going to say goodbye?” he teases with a cocky smile.

She swallows her lingering sadness. After almost a decade building a business in the sex industry, she’s seen enough to know what men are really like. Who is he to demand anything of her?

“No, but since you’re up, goodbye.”

“Icy. What’s wrong? Are you upset?” He sits up in bed, crossing his legs under the sheet and staring into Janice’s eyes.

If he’d looked at her body or made some crude joke, it would be so easy for her to leave.
What does he want from me?
“No, I’m just awake. What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. I guess....” He runs a hand through his disheveled hair and turns away.

“This, whatever this is, was fun. It was.”

“Shit. What’s this about, Jan?”

She balks, unable to speak for a moment.
Jan?
When did he start using a nickname for her? “Just the truth. I have no room for you in my life.” She straightens her skirt.

“I don’t understand. I thought we had a good time.”

She detects a sad undertone in his voice. His eyes are still drooped in sleepy contentedness, but she can almost see him trying to understand. Nonetheless, the fact is she’ll be the one upset if she lets this continue.

“You like me, right?” His expression is full of unexpected vulnerability.

She slips on her shoes and gazes out the window as the sunrise bursts over Central Park. “I do. It’s nothing like that.” She turns and gives him her most practiced work smile.

He flinches, seeing right through her act. “Is this because I teased you last night?”

“No.”

“Look, I’m sorry I kept putting you off, but... well, this sounds so awful, but most of the women I date don’t mean much to me. It’s hard to get close to people. Everyone wants something, and when people find out too much about me, it seems like they always change. I’m sick of it, and just wanted to get to know you without all the bullshit.”

“What bullshit?”

“You know how it is out there—you meet someone attractive and think, maybe this is someone I can actually spend time with, and then they find out you have something they want. My parents always had money, and I grew up traveling all over the world and really not wanting for anything. My mother was an actress in Australia when she was young, and my dad was high up in politics in South Africa. I don’t tell people because they always end up more interested in taking from me than getting to know me.”

“It must be so hard to be a spoiled, rich boy.”

“Don’t start judging me. You don’t exactly carry yourself like someone who doesn’t know their way around the finer things.”

“I worked for everything I have. My father may have had money, but I never took a cent from him. Everything I have, I earned.”

“I’m afraid I can’t sit quite so proud on my high horse, but I don’t just sit around and set my parents’ money on fire. I have a job I love, and do something I believe in. But no one ever wants to hear about that. Women in New York are all about how much you have to give.”

“I’m not.”

“I know, so don’t leave.” He stares at her with open trust, seeming to truly believe that.

She pauses for a moment, tempted... but then she remembers who she is. “I have to.”

“What else do you want to know? I’m 37 and I work at the UN.”

“Are you serious?” She rips her eyes away from the view and turns on him. This is completely unbelievable. If he got caught with a Madame, she’d be out of business in a flash, or worse, end up on the news.

Danger trumps any sadness she feels about having to leave.

He shrugs, as if her entire world hadn’t been put in jeopardy just by knowing him. Not to mention what would happen to
him
if anyone found out. No more fancy job, that’s for sure.

“I was appointed to the United Nations Population Fund about eight months ago.”

“Population Fund? Like women’s health and sex workers?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Oh my God. You.... I can’t even.... This is impossible. You and I? Impossible!” She charges out of the room and retrieves her purse from the hallway table. She turns around to find Salt standing before her, stark naked with a pained expression on his face.

“I have no idea what’s going on here.” He holds his hands palm up.

His vulnerability and openness knocks her for a loop. He stands here naked, waiting for her to kick him in the balls. She shakes her head, confusion and disappointment jostling for dominance in her mind. “Just forget it. Forget me.”

“I can’t. Janice, you’re all I think about.”

“You don’t know me.”

“That doesn’t matter. I know enough to know I want more. Don’t go, all right? Whatever this is, let’s talk it out.” He steps closer, almost within reach.

“There’s nothing to talk out. Trust me, I’m doing you a favor.”

“How exactly is that?”

“Just knowing me could ruin your career.”

“That’s ridiculous.” He huffs, lowering his hands.

“It’s not. You’re better off forgetting you ever met me. Forget about tonight and just go back to speed-dating. You’ll meet some nice girl who will feel like a princess on your arm and you’ll live happily ever after. I don’t fit into that picture. I’m not that puzzle piece.”

He grimaces and takes on a strong, domineering pose, pulling himself up to his full height. Even naked in the middle of his living room on the morning after, he’s an impressive presence. “I think you’re scared.”

“What?” The words sting as they smack her in the face, but they don’t make any sense. She’s being the smart one, looking out for both of them. If he only knew....

“Either that, or you’re incredibly stupid.”

“Excuse me? What gives you the right? You think you know me?”

“No, but I’m not as stupid as you think. I know you’re terrified and finding excuses to leave. You’re saying it’s my job, but you were gearing to bolt before you knew what I do. And how can my job possibly have anything to do with you?” He looms over her, tall and proud. Anger tightens his features and his eyes darken to black in the dim light.

“I’ll see you around, Salt.”

He grabs her arm as she tries to walk away, gripping it hard. “Tell me you don’t want to see me again, and I’ll leave you alone.”

“I don’t want to see you again. I
won’t
see you again.”

“It’s not true.” He moves toward her, lifting her up with a strong, forceful grip so their faces are inches apart. “I felt you last night. I felt something beyond a quick fuck, and I know you did, too. There was something there, something between us.”

“I don’t know what you’re going on about, but I was looking to get laid. I did, and now I’m leaving. Don’t read more into it than that.”

“You’re lying. I don’t know why, but you are, and you’re going to regret it.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No, I’m stating the inevitable outcome.” He releases her and steps away. “But suit yourself. Go ahead and leave. I’ll be at the bar at Blind Tiger next Thursday. Show up.”

He glares at her before retreating to his bedroom and shutting the door without turning around.

A band of regret tightens around her heart, clenching her chest in a knot of pain as she grabs her bag and walks out of the apartment.

Should Have Been a Rock Star

Salt slams his fists to his temples.
What the fuck just happened?

He takes three steps to the left and two back to center with his hands balled up against his face, vibrating with barely contained rage. He storms back out into the main room, but she’s already gone. The room gapes empty before him.

What the fuck is wrong with that woman?

“Damn it!” He slams his hand against the wall of his living room. The plaster of the strong, old building cracks, but most of the damage is to his hand.

“Fuck!” Pain radiates up through his arm and he shakes out his wrist, jumping back as if the wall were actually capable of fighting back. He hasn’t been this knotted up since he was a teenager, fighting with his dad and punching doors. So mature—he’s graduated from doors to walls.

He bends each finger, confirming nothing is broken, but the pain in his hand remains intense. A Ziploc full of ice and a dishtowel suffice for an icepack. He retreats to the bathroom and grabs five Advil out of the medicine cabinet, swallowing them dry. One scrapes against his throat on the way down, leaving the phantom sensation of something caught in his gullet.

He makes eye contact with the man in the mirror before him and grimaces.
Pussy. Limp shit fucker.
He shakes his head, unable to even pretend to be tough when he’s alone. No wonder Janice saw right through him.

Years of the dating scene hardened him against letting his emotions get ahead of his intellect. New York was full of opportunities and wonder when he first arrived, but it didn’t take long for him to figure out that everyone here is out for themselves.

After college he thought he found love—that the woman in his arms was something special. He showered her with gifts, trips, and the best life he could offer. But she always wanted more—always needed something. It wasn’t until his sister called to check on him after seeing he’d pulled over twenty thousand dollars out of his trust in one month that he realized he was in a downward spiral. When he put a stop to it, Elizabeth left him.

Now he keeps people at arm’s length, allowing them close enough to enjoy their company and skin, but never enough to risk losing himself. It just isn’t worth it. Better to be alone than go through that again.

But Janice confuses him, and did so from the first moment he met her. Confident and strong, she doesn’t throw herself at his feet or bat her eyelashes like the whores he usually picks up at speed-dating. She holds her own, battling him with words and intellect. It confuses him and excites him. He knows his fascination with her makes him weak, and susceptible to the kind of taking Elizabeth trained him to be wary of.