One Hot Night: A New Orleans Nights Story Page 5

  “You want a kiss?” She let go of her lower lip. “Okay…”

  “I also rarely fuck girls I’ve just met.”

  “Well, do you do other things with girls you’ve just met?” she asked, lifting her chin.

  “I do.” He rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip. “Did you really intend to let things go this far?” he asked softly.

  She blinked. “I don’t know…”

  “Really?”

  “I…wasn’t thinking. I just…went with it.”

  “Are you always this impulsive?”

  “Only when there’s something I want really bad.”

  “And you want me…bad?”

  She drew a long trembling breath. “I think so.”

  He hummed a breath then moved back, taking his seat again, there between her legs.

  A long moment passed, and she came up on her elbows. “That’s it?”

  “Let’s have a conversation first.” He pointed at his lap. “You sit here.”

  She frowned, but he could tell by the way her gaze studied him that she was curious. He waited as she pushed up then slid her bottom across the table. He held up his hands and gripped her waist to help her down.

  When her legs were spread over him, he guided her arms around his shoulders then placed his behind her back. “Isn’t this better?”

  She wiggled a little on his lap. “I feel like the princess and the pea.”

  “It’s bigger than a pea.”

  Her mouth stretched. “Yeah, it is. I’d say it’s bigger than—”

  He gripped the hair at the back of her head and brought her toward him. He didn’t want to hear whatever smartass thing she was about to say. When his lips touched hers, he felt her sigh into his mouth. He gave her a short, innocent kiss. Like one he might have given his prom date in front of her mother. Then he leaned back.

  Her eyes were still closed; her lips remained pursed. Then she slid open one eye. “Remy…”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “I’ve gotten kisses from my eighty-year-old aunt that were more passionate than that one.”

  “This is a conversation. I just said hello.”

  She opened both eyes and stared into his. “Hello,” she whispered then bent toward him and kissed him.

  Stacia was all kinds of confused and horny. His “hello” hadn’t done a thing to quench her thirst for him. What kind of game was he playing? Was he trying to make her crazy? Did he want her to climb all over him, because she was that close to reaching down and unzipping his pants herself. What she felt beneath her was long and thick and everything she needed. But how could she get him to quit teasing her?

  So, he wanted a conversation…? She leaned back and placed her elbows on the table behind her, which arched her back a little and thrust out her chest. She’d seen how eager his gaze had been when he’d first seen her “girls.” “I’d like to introduce you to Velma and Blanche. They’re twins.”

  With his mouth twitching, he bent his head and looked at the girls. “Nice to meet you, ladies,” he said, then pinched each one in turn. “They’re not shy,” he murmured then leaned toward her chest and sucked one into his mouth.

  “I’m not either,” she said, combing a hand through his thick hair. When he sucked, she arched and curled her toes. “I felt that here,” she said, touching her belly.

  “Must not have being doing it right,” he mumbled and moved across to Blanche. This time, he nibbled, his teeth chewing gently while his tongue flicked the peak.

  “Oh,” she said then moaned. “Blanche liked that. A lot.”

  Remy continued to lick and suck her nipples while her thoughts scattered like confetti. Naked atop his lap, she lifted her knees and rubbed herself against his crotch growing desperate for relief. “Want to meet Mable?”

  “Dying to,” he said, raising his head. His features were tight, two bright red splotches of color riding his cheekbones.

  She ground against him then placed her feet on the floor to raise herself, unbuckled his belt, and unzipped his pants.

  When she had them open, he lifted slightly, letting her drag down his briefs, just far enough to free his cock. “Well, hello, Wilbur,” she said then wrapped her fingers around his shaft and shifted to place the head at her entrance.

  “Condom,” he bit out.

  “Fuck,” she whispered.

  “We will. Let me,” he said then dove a hand into his front pocket to pull out his wallet. He flipped it open and dug into a slot, a card and cash falling to the floor, but that wasn’t what he was going for. When he held up the square plastic packet, she grabbed it from his hands, ripped it open, then palmed the rubber. With no finesse whatsoever, she managed to roll and rub it down his cock. Then she raised herself again, liking that he was raining kisses on her breasts, her ribs, and then her mouth, as she began to lower herself onto him.

  She drew a hissing breath between her teeth. “Feels so good,” she said with a moan.

  He rubbed his cheek against hers. “What’s takin’ you so long?”

  She gave a single laugh and wiggled down his cock until her pussy met his groin. Then she rocked, forward and back, liking how deep he was, how well he stretched her. “God, Remy,” she gasped.

  “Have to move.”

  “Okay,” she said, still rubbing against him, her head lolling because it felt so damn good.

  “You—you have to move.”

  “Oh.” She opened her eyes and saw his lazy smile. “I get it,” she said, “I have to do all the work. Took me all night to get you here, and now I still have to—”

  She drew a sharp breath when he lifted her from his lap. Suddenly, she was standing, spinning. A hand pressed between her shoulder blades, forcing her breasts and belly onto the table.

  Then he was coming inside her again, a long glide that tunneled through tissue beginning to swell. Pleasure stole her breath as he began to move, each rolling wave rubbing her nipples on the wood as he thrust against her.

  She got her elbows beneath her and let just the tips of her breasts scrape. She widened her stance to invite him closer, deeper. When she tilted up her ass, he grunted and hammered faster.

  It was going to be over quick, but she was okay with that. She reached between her legs and rubbed her clit, wanting to be with him when he blew. It wouldn’t be long, she knew, because he was sharpening and shortening his thrusts, and his hands were gripping her hips so tightly, she knew she’d have long, grooved bruises there, but she didn’t care. “Yes, yes, yes,” she said, encouraging him to go faster.

  The table beneath her jumped on its legs, shoving across the carpet. She stayed on her tiptoes, following it, but he never paused, never relented his hard hammering, the sounds they made as they slammed together getting wetter and wetter because her pleasure had released more moisture.

  With one last rub, she felt the tightening in her core release. She shouted and arched her back.

  Remy quickly followed with a hard, inward stroke, which he held for a second before resuming gentler, slower thrusts as he emptied himself inside her.

  Her entire body quivered in the aftermath.

  Behind her, Remy backed away. The scratch of his zipper sounded, then hands turned her; arms lifted her. He carried her to the sofa and held her until she could breathe again.

  He kissed her cheek and stroked her hair. “We should probably get dressed.”

  “Mm-hmm,” she agreed, nodding against his chest.

  “In a minute,” he said, and wrapped both arms around her.

  Dragging in his lovely, manly musky scent, she snuggled deeper against him and closed her eyes.

  Chapter 6

  When the door handle rattled, Remy came fully awake. He glanced at his watch. Fuck.

  He planted a kiss on Stacia’s forehead. “Wake up, babe. Party’s over, and someone’s at the door.”

  Stacia’s eyes slammed open. “How long—” She glanced at her watch. “Damn, damn, damn!”

  Remy pushed her off h
is lap and quickly disposed of the used condom. They both scrambled for their clothes. Remy grinned as she dove for the panties, her bra, and slid the falsies inside before raising her head.

  “Well, I can’t walk around without them. I’ll trip all over the damn dress.”

  He laughed and quickly closed his shirt. While she was busy donning her dress, he picked up the spilled contents of his wallet, zipped and buttoned everything, and smoothed his hair, before giving her a last glance. “Ready?”

  She was dancing on one foot, while trying to slide her heel on the other. “Go ahead. It’s not like they won’t be able to guess what we were doing.” Her eyes widened, and she dove for her purse, pulled out a small bottle, and began spritzing the room with perfume.

  Forcing his face into a neutral mask, he opened the door.

  His brother stood in the opening, both eyebrows high. “Why am I not surprised?” He glanced past his brother and waved at Stacia. “Last bigwigs just left. Ballard called a meeting five minutes ago.”

  Which meant Ballard was aware he’d turned off his earpiece—and likely knew exactly why. Remy grimaced. “I’ll just see her out.”

  “Do that.” Again, he glanced behind Remy. “Nice to meet you, Miss Rice.”

  Stacia groaned and hid her face in her hands. When Thibaut left, she gave Remy a rueful glance. “Emil’s been waiting on me since midnight.”

  A spark of jealousy stiffened his back. “Emil….?”

  “My cameraman.”

  He drew a deep breath. “Do you have everything?”

  She held up her wig and mask. “I’m ready. Are we walking some gauntlet of shame?”

  “No, the guys are all in the ballroom.”

  “Thank God for small favors. Let’s go.”

  Remy accompanied her into the well-lit parking lot, walking to the far end where a nondescript van was parked. The door opened and a heavyset man with black hair to his shoulders stepped down. He stayed silent as they drew near, his gaze going from Remy to Stacia and back. “I can see why you took so long.”

  Stacia held up her hand. “Not a word. I got made, and Remy, here, had to babysit me until the party ended.

  “That why all your makeup is gone?”

  Her eyes narrowed on her friend for a second before she forced a smile and turned to Remy. “Well…”

  “I’ll need your number,” Remy said quickly. “So, you can ask me those questions you wanted answered…” he lied. They both knew why he really wanted her number.

  “Sure,” she said, and opened her purse.

  Emil waved a hand. “Lord, is that you? You smell like my aunt, and she can’t tell when she uses too much perfume. You’re ridin’ in the back.”

  “Jerk.”

  Emil laughed. “I’m not the one who kept her bestest friend waiting while she got it on—”

  “Emil!”

  His chuckles grew more muffled as he climbed back into the van. “Say your goodbyes, kids.”

  Stacia handed Remy a business card. “It has my cellphone number,” she said quietly.

  “I’m not gonna let you interview me.” He grabbed the card, but she didn’t let it go.

  “Didn’t think you would,” she said, locking her gaze with his, “but you still need my number.”

  “I’ll call,” he said, deepening his voice.

  “Better,” she said, giving him a warning glance.

  “See you tomorrow night,” he said with a crooked smile.

  “You can count on it.” She let go of the card and began to turn away.

  And then, because the moment was stretching, and he knew they both had to go, he reached out and snagged her waist, bringing her close. His kiss was hard. Her mouth surrendered, opening. When they both drew back, they were breathless, and he was aroused again.

  “Gotta go,” he said, turning and walking away.

  The last thing Remy wanted to do was leave her there. He wanted to follow her home, climb into her bed, and fuck her until morning crept through the blinds.

  Thibaut was at the door, holding it open. “Get the lead out, bro. Ballard’s waiting, along with some FBI agent. They both looked damn serious.”

  He jogged the last few feet, and they both headed down the corridor to the ballroom.

  The team was gathered. Remy was only too aware he was the last to arrive. Ballard raised an eyebrow, but quickly turned to a man with a very serious expression. “Agent Conrad has an update regarding the threat. We were right about the protest being a diversion tonight. While the PD and many of our security force were dealing with those yahoos, someone broke in. One of the wait staff was found dead, stabbed and stuffed into a security closet near the kitchen door.”

  “As soon as everyone here leaves,” Agent Conrad said, “we’ll be bringing in bomb dogs for another sweep, and we’ll be combing over the convention center, trying to figure out whether our murderer is still here, or what he might have left behind.” His gaze scanned the team. “It goes without saying that, while news of a murder will get out, the fact we’re worried that it’s more than just a random act can’t leave this room. The State Department has been informed, but they don’t want the event cancelled. We have to practice due diligence. Security will be beefed up. Anything or anyone that doesn’t belong in here, or seems out of place, gets checked. There will be no more incursions.”

  With that, he shook Justin’s hand and left.

  Justin blew out a breath then faced the team. “You heard it. I know you all understand what operational ‘need to know’ is all about. We keep this zipped tight.” He gave Remy a hard stare. “You’re all dismissed. See you tomorrow.”

  Remy stayed, following his silent order. When the room cleared, Remy said, “Any idea when the waiter was killed?”

  “Sometime after dinner.”

  Remy let out a breath. “Then it can’t be her. I was onto her before the dancing started. She was clean. No blood. No sign of an altercation.”

  “Didn’t think she was a part of it, but if you’re close to her now—”

  Remy opened his mouth to say something, but he’d be lying if he denied it.

  Justin held up his hand. “She needs to know to stay away.”

  “I don’t think she’ll do that. If she gets a whiff that something’s happened, she’ll be even more determined to get inside.”

  “The man who was killed was a waiter by the name of Billy Porter. Find out how she got inside—whether it was the same guy. If not, we still have to plug all leaks.”

  Remy nodded.

  “Maybe think of a way to make sure she doesn’t get anywhere near here tomorrow night.” And then he smiled. “Seeing as how you two are getting along so well, shouldn’t be too hard.”

  Remy grimaced. Hell, did everyone know what had happened inside the room? “Yes, boss.”

  Justin chuckled as he walked away.

  He dug into his pants pocket for Stacia’s card then gazed down at her cellphone number. He really didn’t want to call her, not for the reason Justin had just given him, but he also knew it would be a little creepy to show up on her doorstep. Still, he did have a legitimate reason to seek her out.

  What good was being a detective if he didn’t use the resources at his fingertips to follow an important lead?

  He rang a friend of his who was on duty at the station house. “Hey, man, I need you to find me an address…”

  Stacia had just finished showering when she heard a soft knock on her apartment door.

  Wary of any late-night visitor, she checked the peephole. Damn, she’d just been thinking of him while she’d slid her loofah over her skin, wishing it was his large hands smoothing away the soap bubbles.

  She unlocked the deadbolt and opened her door. “Remy,” she said breathlessly, and then couldn’t figure out anything witty or funny to follow that with so kept her mouth shut. What was he doing there? He hadn’t given her a hint he wouldn’t wait to see her again.

  “Can I come in?” he asked, his voice gruff.


  She was wearing a silky robe and nothing else. Of course, he could—but only if he planned on seeing what was beneath it. She leaned against the doorframe. “Depends…”

  His eyelids dipped, and his gaze trailed over her body. “I’m here on official business.”

  “Oh?” she said, liking this game. “Officer, do you have a warrant?”

  “No warrant, but I never finished that cavity search.”

  She wrinkled her nose and laughed. “That was the most un-sexy line I’ve ever heard.”

  He braced his hands on either side of the doorframe and leaned toward her. “Gonna let me in, Stacey?”

  She glanced past him into the hallway, but it was empty. Then she pulled the tie at her waist, opened the sides of her robe, and stepped backward. He lunged inside and kicked the door with his heel to close it. Then he stalked her as she continued moving backward toward the hallway. When he reached out, she squealed and turned, running for her bedroom.

  His fist tore away her robe, leaving her naked. Which she didn’t mind one bit. Laughing, and knowing her neighbors would be pounding with broomsticks on their ceilings, she ran through her bedroom door and scrambled onto the mattress, only turning when she stood in the center of her bed.

  He tossed aside her robe and began to strip, ripping away his bowtie, his jacket. Stepping out of his shoes, he then lost his pants and socks. When he was nude, he jumped onto the bed and met her in the center.

  They stood staring at each other, chests billowing.

  She drew a shaky breath. “I couldn’t stop thinking about—”

  He cupped her face between his warm palms and kissed her. When he drew back, he said, “I told myself I was only coming here to talk…”

  “Talk later?”

  They knelt in the middle of the bed. He still held her head but his fingers were digging into her hair, anchoring her. She held his wrists for a second then placed her hands flat on his chest and moved them downward.

  His eyes closed the second she wrapped them around his cock. He kissed her again as she glided fingertips along his shaft and traced the circumference of his crown. When she broke the kiss and pressed against his belly, he obliged and fell back against the bed. Grabbing a pillow, he bunched it under his head to elevate it, and he watched as she moved between his legs and bent over him.