SUGAR GROVE
“Of course, I want your company.” He trails a finger across my face, my lips. “I’d be a fool not to want your company. But I can’t pay Ma Maison any more than I already have.”
“Happy to say I don’t care. Besides, it’s not like Ma Maison owns me.”
“You sure you want to do this?” His eyes sweep over me.
My heart bangs on my chest with a resounding thump-thump and the V between my legs throbs. “I’m very sure.”
“What if I told you I wasn’t staying at this gorgeous hotel?”
I glance up at Schillinger Batavia Estate’s main lodge. Posh. Beautiful. The epitome of country club casual. Yet I get a feeling what Dylan’s offering might be even more refreshing. “I’m not interested in the gorgeous hotel. I’m interested in the gorgeous man standing next to me.”
He’s booked a room at an impossibly kitschy lodge twenty minutes away on the outskirts of a small town. “It’s not a roach motel but it’s not my usual 5 star gig,” Dylan says, pushing open the door to the tiny wood-paneled lobby that looks like we time traveled to the seventies. Travel posters of Greece beaches, Italian food, and Roman ruins line the walls.
“It’s adorable,” I say and walk inside as he follows.
“Visiting on business or pleasure?” the middle-aged female motel manager asks, running his credit card, curiosity hanging thick and heavy on her plump cheeks just like her rouge.
“Business,” Dylan says staring at the credit card machine, blinking when it flashes ‘Approved.’
“Pleasure,” I say, taking his hand, squeezing it. “Right honey? You always have business but you promised me some fun this trip. It can’t always be about work, you know.”
“Yes… honey.” He plays along, leans in, plants a soft kiss on my lips, and I startle. “What is this foreign word ‘fun’?”
“Um…” A rainbow of tourist brochures in a metal stand against the wall spark an idea. I focus my attention on the manager. “My first time to Sugar Grove. I hear there’s a lot of fun things to do around here. Outdoor things. What do you recommend, Ma'am?”
Her eyes light up. “Oh, there’s so much. Kane County Flea Market. Check out the Fox River bike path. We’ve got gambling at the casino. That’s not outside but it’s legal.”
“Gambling!” I tug on Dylan’s arm. “You’ve always wanted to try gambling.”
“Nope. I’m a church goer. Whatever gave you that idea?” He kisses me again, teeth grazing my lower lip for a longer second.
I blush and smooth a hand over my hair. “I could swear you mentioned it recently. What else do people do around here for fun?”
“The game. You don’t want to miss the game. The Kane County Cougars are playing the Wisconsin Timber Raccoons tomorrow night at Northwestern Medicine Field. It’s the best of minor league baseball.”
“Thanks.” I squeeze Dylan’s muscular shoulder and his eyes light up. “Do you want to go to the casino? We could play the slots. Try our hand at blackjack. Poker --”
“There are sharks at those places. Besides, who can trust a gambler?” He brushes strands of hair off my face, his breath warm on my face. “Shady characters. Total players.”
“I met a gambler recently.” I shake my head. “He was sexy. Seemed nice, too.”
“Really?” He asks quirking a chestnut eyebrow.
“Yup. Something intriguing about his intensity. His focus. All his smarts. You know -- I’d never go behind your back or anything – but he was hot.”
“Newlyweds?” the manager asks seated behind the counter, her chin resting in her hands, snapping her gum, watching us like we’re a tennis match.
“Not yet,” Dylan says.
I blush.
“First date?” the manager asks.
“Nope,” I say.
“I totally agree with your girlfriend,” the manager says, “You know Kenny Roger’s song, “The Gambler?” Who doesn’t hear that song and not long to be a gambler? Or at the very least -- be with one?”
“Me,” Dylan says.
“Not all gamblers are creeps,” I say. “Come on, honey. Let’s hit the casino.”
“Not up for that,” he says finishing the registration, signing his name with a flourish. “Besides, I’m more a minor league ball kind of guy.”
“If I had to pick one,” the manager says, “I’d vote ball game.”
“Ball game it is. ’Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack?’” I ask waggling my eyebrows.
He bites back a smile, opens the lobby door, and gestures. “Yeah, yeah, I have a feeling you’ll talk me into it.”
Dylan closes the door to our small motel room. The window AC unit makes grindy noises, chugging along more enthusiastically than the half-assed one at my place. I take this as a good sign. “Have you thought about what you’re doing?” He asks. “Staying overnight isn’t in your contract.”
“I know.”
He approaches me, releasing the decorative clips and my hair falls down my shoulders, my back, hitting my waist. He loops a thick lock around his hand, pulling me closer to him with each turn. We stand just inches away from each other, heat sparking between us. I’d have to be blind not to notice the sizeable bulge in his pants. I wet my lips.
“Full disclosure?” he asks.
“Yes.” My pulse races.
“I don’t get involved with women I hire to accompany me to games. Say the word and we’ll keep it PG-13.”
“Got it,” I say, staring at his full lips. Dying for them to be on my body. “Full disclosure?”
“Yes.” He twirls my hair around his hand, reeling me toward him until my breasts flatten against his chest, his thick erection presses into my pelvis. He places one hand behind my head, leans in, and his mouth is on mine. The stubble from his unshaven beard scrapes my face. His tongue explores my mouth, and I moan softly, twisting my fingers in his thick chestnut hair pulling him closer to me if that’s even possible.
His kiss isn’t playful like in the motel lobby, not light like the first time he brushed them against mine at the fancy five star Chicago hotel. He’s claiming me. Kissing him for real is exactly what I suspected: magical – lips tingling, cheeks flushing, my body bathed in stardust after a meteor shower blows through.
This man. This sexy man. “Full disclosure,” I say, my breath ragged. “I’ve never slept with any of my clients.”
“Really?” He stops and regards me quizzically. “But you’re so smart. Pretty. I don’t get it.” He slides the strap of my dress off my shoulder with one finger, his touch raising goosebumps on the backs of my arms.
“Sleeping with someone isn’t a given.” My fingers fumble as I unbutton his shirt, each button popping open gives me pleasure, my breath coming faster. “FYI, not once in the history of the world has any guy said, ‘Good God, I must fuck that woman. She’s got tits to die for, but the best part is she’s so smart.’”
“Hah!” He feathers kisses and bites down my neck onto my bare shoulder. My breath quickens. His hand finds the back of my dress and unzips it. My country club casual dress slides awkwardly down my body and he tugs on it with one impatient hand until it lands pooled on my calves. “Lose the dress, Lucky Charm.”
I place one hand on his shoulder, balance on a summer sandal, and step out of it. I stand next to him wearing only my shoes, lace bra, and matching panties. Feeling nearly naked. Vulnerable.
Dylan inhales. “Wow.” He takes me in from head to toe, one hand grazing my cheek, my neck, skimming my breast, my nipple already pebbling before he even touches it. “Good God, Evie, you’re beautiful.”
“Thanks.” I shiver.
“Bed.” He tugs me toward the queen-sized bed at the far end of the small room.
“Lose the shirt,” I say. I’ve been dreaming about running my hands across his bare chest for over a week now.
He unfastens the remaining buttons, shrugs it off and thank you Jesus, this man’s just as gorgeous as I imagined two nights ago when I strummed my fingers across my sex and rocked out an orgasm. I run an appreciative hand over his chest, his muscles sculpted and hard just like I imagined. The V between my legs grows wetter, warmth flooding my pelvis, my clit tingling.
He seizes my hand, walking backward, leading me.
“Are we’re putting all our cards on the table?” I ask, following him willingly.
“Sure.”
“I haven’t slept with anyone in a while.”
“What’s a while?”
“Two years,” I say. “Not because of anything horrible. Simply my choice.”
“Oh, darling,” he says, sitting on the bed, pulling me onto his lap on top of him. “You’re so sexy, Evie. What’s wrong with these Chicago guys?”
“Not their fault,” I say, “It’s just, well, before I started at Ma Maison, I was finishing up school. Dating was pretty random. But that doesn’t matter because I can take care of my own needs, if you know what I mean.”
“Tell me.”
“I can come on my own. Girl’s got different ways to get that done, thank you very much.”
“Wait up, hold on.” He and eyes me. “You’ve never come with a guy?”
“No. I mean -- I don’t think so. It’s probably my fault. I’m doing something wrong or --”
“A girl’s first orgasm with a partner isn’t the girl’s responsibility, Evie. Making a girl come is her partner’s responsibility. Oh, baby. I’d push all my chips into the middle of the table to be the first man to give you this.”
He brushes kisses down my abdomen, one hand grazing my inner thigh, traveling to the V between my legs, close to my clit, but not touching it. My breath ratchets up a notch as he continues stroking the inside of my thigh, licking and nibbling at the soft skin just inches from my pussy. My hips lift almost of their own accord because Dylan McAlister is a fucking tease.
“Touch me,” I say.
“I am touching you.” He looks up at me.
“You know what I mean.”
“Where should I touch you, Evie?”
“My clit.”
He sucks on his fingertips, then brushes a thumb over my bundle of nerves and I clench my thighs against him.
“You’ve got some place to get to?” he asks. “Someplace you’d rather be?”
“No.” My heart thump-thumps in my chest.
“Then slow down and enjoy the ride, Lucky Charm.” He flicks his thumb back and forth over my center, and I sigh. He reaches his other hand up and plays with my tits, grasping them, pinching my nipples, and they harden under his touch.
Desire moves through me and I bite my lip. I’m growing wetter and I want him inside me. “Dylan,” I say. “Fuck me.”
“Let’s do this first,” he says, pressing his hand against the wetness of my seam, sliding two fingers inside my pussy.
I moan.
“Good God, Evie, you’re tight.”
I clench my center around his fingers as he pushes deeper, before slowly drawing his fingers out and sliding them back in. “Good?” he asks.
“Good,” I say, and lick my lips. “More.”
“How do you want more? Tell me.”
“Harder, Dylan. Deeper.”
He thrusts fingers into me harder, moving in and out. Faster. Deeper. He finger fucks me, rocking out a rhythm, and I close my eyes and ride his hand. I’m on fire for this man. The sensation between my legs builds, my breath ratcheting up, and I pant. Pleasure ripples through me. It moves from my pussy, and travels down my thighs. It moves from my nipples down my arms. Bliss builds. “Oh, Dylan. Oh.”
“Come for me, baby,” he says, flicking his thumb over my clit, sucking the soft skin of my upper thigh as I ride his hand. “Come for me, Lucky Charm.”
And I do, my orgasm exploding in spasms. “I’m coming, Dylan. I’m coming!” I squeeze my legs against his hand. Fireworks shoot off in my body and my brain. The sensation lasts a minute, an hour, I don’t know, but when I finally catch my breath, I feel content. I feel different somehow.
I open my eyes and see him smiling like the proverbial cat who ate the canary. “So?” he asks.
“Let’s do the recap later,” I say, admiring his thick erection that he’s already sheathed. “Inside me.”
“So bossy, Lucky Charm.” He leans down and kisses me, lining his dick up with my pussy, and pushes slowly inside me. I close my eyes, feeling him fill me. I am tight around this man and he takes his time with me. He thrusts slowly at first, easing in, easing out. “Oh,” I say.
“Okay?”
I nod because with each move we get used to each other. It’s almost too much at first, but then it becomes just enough and I arch into him. He kisses me, claiming my mouth, taking my hand in his, interlacing his fingers around mine and holding it down on the bed. “Hot, Evie.” His breath comes faster, sweat shining on his brow, his chest. He pumps harder, and releases my hand. “Legs up,” he says.
I do as he asks.
He places a hand under each knee and angles my legs up, allowing him to penetrate me more fully. I glance up at him as he pounds me. Those muscles in his shoulders and arms flex and cord as he fucks me. He stares down at himself inside my pussy and rocks into me harder, and I hear my ass slapping against his stomach. “Oh, Evie.” He sinks into me, releases my legs, and my feet hit the mattress. “Side.”
We angle onto our sides with him behind me. He pulls my hair back through his fingers, and nuzzles my neck. Biting. Sucking. He circles one hand around my breasts and fondles them, playing with my nipples while he continues to fuck me brilliantly, fuck me beautifully. “Evie. Evie. I’m coming, baby.” He’s so deep within me and I feel him shake and shudder, thrusting a few more times as he empties himself.
He cradles me in his arms afterward, our breath returning to normal.
“I had no idea sex could be like this,” I say.
“This is the only way sex should be,” he says.