Worthless Page 5

  “So are you like an agent?” she asked.

  “No.” He described his job for her, which mystified her since she didn’t follow sports at all, but he didn’t seem offended by her confusion. Instead he deftly changed the subject to movies, a topic at which she was an expert.

  When their food arrived and forced them to stop talking for a minute, she realized she really liked him.

  Unfortunately it was as a friend. She didn’t want to lean across the table and lick the grain of rice off his lip, and she carefully kept her legs curled under her chair to avoid touching his feet, lest he think she was trying to play footsy. Still, he was exactly the kind of guy who screamed marriage, babies, and mortgages. Exactly what she was looking for.

  Perhaps passion came later. Still, it was a good date. Maybe even a great date, which was why Amy accepted Mitch’s offer of a ride home.

  “I know you said you live within walking distance,” he said, “but it’s dark out, and I want to make sure you get home safely.”

  Sweet. “Your mom trained you well,” she said, gathering up her purse and letting him lead her to his car in the lot across the street. He drove a nice Audi sedan. Not flashy, but elegant, classy. “Nice car,” she commented as he opened the door for her and she slid into the passenger seat.

  “You should see what the players drive,” he said when he got behind the wheel.

  “Fancy?” she asked.

  He gave a small chuckle. “It’s Miami and they’ve got money. Let’s say there are a lot of prancing horses in the lot.”

  Prancing horses? “Oh. I get it. Ferraris.”

  “Yup. Which way?”

  She pointed him in the direction of her house, which took approximately two minutes to get to. He pulled into the driveway, and she hopped out hoping to avoid any awkward end of date moments, but when she got to the door and fumbled through her purse for the key, he was right behind her.

  “I’d like to see you again,” he said, totally upfront and honest about his intentions. God, why had she finally found a great guy when everything was complicated with the other man in her life? “I’m leaving town tomorrow for a week, but can we get something on the calendar for when I return?”

  “Okay,” she heard her mouth say, because what else was there to say? She’d had a nice night and, on paper, Mitch Blumberg was the man for her.

  “Great,” he said with a smile. “Next Saturday?”

  Whoa. Saturday? That was an actual date night. It was one thing to meet for dinner in her local neighborhood on a weeknight, but a Saturday date meant effort. It meant going out out, possibly to South Beach.

  “I’ve heard about a fun lounge on Calle Ocho,” he said.

  “Are you talking about OCXA? I’m friends with the owner,” she said. “Well, the owner’s fiancé is my best friend,” she clarified.

  “You’re a cool girl, Amy Stern. Here I am trying to impress you with knowledge of Miami’s hottest nightlife and you’re friends with the owner.”

  She laughed. “It’s not really like that.” She started to say something else, but his mouth lowered to hers for a brief kiss. No tongue, but it was clear he meant it as a message of future kisses to come.

  He pulled away. “Good night.”

  She touched a finger to her lips. “Good night. Thank you for a fun time.” She watched him walk to his car and gave him a wave. She turned back as she heard the front door open. Danny stood in the doorway looking down at her, an unreadable expression on his face.

  “Hi,” she said. “You startled me.”

  He didn’t say a word, so she pushed past him into the house and started for her bedroom.

  “That’s it?” he asked from behind her. She whirled.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Cat came by to say hi. When I asked where you were, she said you were on a date.” He spat the last word at her like a weapon.

  She felt her eyes widen and her heart rate increased. “Yes. I was on a date,” she managed to say somewhat calmly. He didn’t respond for a second, and in the silent space, she knew they were both thinking about last night in the bathtub.

  “Did you fuck him?”

  “No,” she practically shouted. “Not something I generally do on a first date.”

  “Yeah, you have to live with a guy for a year, giving him mixed signals before you let him into your magic pussy.”

  “What is your problem?” she whispered.

  “You.” He folded his arms across his chest and glared at her. “I thought we had something, and then I find out from my sister that you’re on a date. What the fuck, Amy?”

  Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back. God, she cried too easily. “I don’t know what we have, Danny. Are we dating?”

  “We’re certainly fucking.”

  “But that’s it,” she pointed out. “It’s not like you’ve asked me out or indicated in any way that you wanted me for anything other than sex.”

  He looked as if she’d punched him and her instinct was to go to him and soothe him, but his harsh words stopped her. “Really? ’Cause I could say the same about you,” he retorted. “You want me for my dick?” He grabbed at his crotch, and she couldn’t help but glance down and notice he was semi-hard. Her body—backstabbing bitch—gave a little flutter at the sight.

  “Maybe,” she said. “It’s not like you’re the kind of guy I’d marry.”

  “And Mr. Audi is?” He pointed out the window.

  “Mitch? Yes. He’s a lawyer.”

  Danny took a step closer. “Good for him. Bet he flosses and calls his grandma weekly and has a 401K.”

  “Probably.” She held her ground, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to her.

  “But does he get you hot? Were your panties wet at dinner?” Another step closer, and she could feel the breath of his words on her face. “Did you stare at him across the table and lick your lips and play with your hair like you do to me?”

  A final step.

  “Did your nipples get hard for him?” he whispered. He reached a finger to dab at her nipple, which was hard as his cock pressing against her belly.

  She swallowed. “No,” she whispered.

  His forehead touched hers. “And your pussy? Was it wet?”

  “N-no.”

  His hand slipped under the hem of her skirt and up between the elastic of her panties. His finger slipped between her legs where she knew she was wet. For Danny, and not for Mitch.

  “So this is for me?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  His fingers toyed with her another minute as her vision came in and out of focus at the intense dark pleasure he drew. “Go stand over there,” he ordered, pulling his fingers out of her.

  On shaking legs, she went to the back of the couch as directed. He followed closely and turned her away from him, pressing her belly into the couch. He bent her over and pushed her skirt up.

  A second of air-conditioned air on her backside and then he was on her, his cock filling her from behind. She gasped.

  “If you want me for my cock, Amy, all you have to do is ask. It’s yours.” He drew back, eliciting another gasp, and she gripped the fabric of the couch with desperate fingers. This was madness. Yet she couldn’t find the words to end it. His body pushing into hers felt too good, too right.

  As he thrust their bodies forward, the couch pressing against her belly, she realized she’d spent the day biding her time until she could be with Danny again. Work, the date with Mitch, all of it had been leading up to this moment.

  He pulled out of her, long enough to grab a condom from his wallet and get it on. Then he was back inside. “Make yourself come,” he ordered, giving her a short hard thrust. “Get used to your fingers doing all the work, because that’s your future with your lawyer.”

  “Not fair,” she said, with her eyes wide open, watching the reflection they made in the glass sliding doors, and finding her clit with her fingers.

  “Truth,�
�� he countered. “He can’t handle you the way I do.” He did something with his hips that proved his point and made her moan his name with pleasure.

  “That’s right. You know who you’re fucking. Say my name, baby.”

  When she didn’t immediately shout his name, he wrapped her hair around his fist and tugged her head around until their eyes were inches apart. She swallowed at his expression. “Danny,” she whispered.

  He rewarded her with a soul-searing kiss. All the while, he’d been buried deep in her, giving it to her harder and deeper as if he alone had the key to her pleasure.

  “I’m close to coming,” he said. “Not sure I care if I finish before you. You want your orgasm, take it from me.” And then he stopped talking and started fucking her in earnest. He’d been playing around before. Now he meant business and held fast to her hips, pulling all the way out, then pushing hard on his way back in. He did this a few times, then stayed deep, giving it to her hard. Her fingers worked herself furiously. Each of them in a race to come before the other.

  In the end it was a tie, because her orgasm set him off. She heard him grunt and felt him give a final thrust before stilling his motions. With a shimmy of her hips, she separated their bodies and rose from her bent position over the couch.

  In the dark of the living room, they stared at each other, neither of them giving any emotions away. “Good night,” she whispered and managed to walk—not run—to her room where she crawled fully dressed under her covers and remained there for the next twelve hours, alternating between agonizing and sleeping fitfully.

  Amy’s gaze flew to the door of her store at the knock. Her heart flew into her throat thinking it might be Mitch.

  “Relax,” Cat said, “It’s only the UPS man. Why are you jumpy?”

  She didn’t respond and went to get the package. “It’s for Kym,” she said, examining it. She hurried to the door to catch Antoine, the UPS man, so he could redeliver the package to the correct store, but he was already hoisting himself into his truck. “Dammit.”

  “Go next door and give it to her,” Cat said.

  “Ugh. You go.”

  Cat rolled her eyes. “Hell no. I had to interact with her last time. It’s your turn. Did you know she used to be a Miami Heat dancer?” she asked in a faux peppy voice.

  “Why, yes, I did, Cat,” Amy said in the same talk show host voice. “Maybe because she finds a way to drop that into conversations every other minute or so.”

  Cat laughed. “Go. That package could be a bomb from one of her many enemies.”

  “Mitch’s going to be here any second to pick me up,” she said, trying for any excuse not to have to face their new mortal enemy.

  “Then hurry.” Cat gave her a tiny push toward the door.

  She rolled her eyes and girded her innards to go next door and face the dance bitch as Cat had dubbed Kym. She went out through the front door and took the five steps to the right to the store which had a big “grand opening soon” sign in the window. From a professional standpoint, Amy had to admire the place. It was glossy, yet intimate, and the clothes were beautifully displayed, even if you had to be a size zero to wear them. The women of Miami were going to freaking adore the place. Amy hoped some of them found their way next door.

  “Amy,” Kym said, popping up from where she’d been in a contorted yoga pose on the floor toward the back of the store. The floor of the store was pale blue and lilac carpeting other than a square in the back, which was the glossy wood found in gym class studios.

  Last time Amy had been in, the floor had been installed, but the huge mirror and wooden ballet barre were new. “Looks good,” she commented, running her free hand along the barre.

  “Isn’t it great?” Kym enthused. “When customers try things on, they can come out here and see exactly how they’ll look at the gym.”

  Gag. She felt her eyebrows rise. “Wow. Cool idea.”

  “Isn’t it?” Kym hadn’t met a compliment she wouldn’t accept. “Bet this wouldn’t work in your store. Your customers hide in the dressing room, don’t they?” She chuckled.

  Amy shoved the cardboard box at Kym’s stomach. “Here. Antoine delivered this to us by mistake.”

  Kym managed to grasp the box before it made contact with her abs. “Thanks. He’s such a moron, isn’t he? I’m thinking of calling the company to complain.”

  Since Antoine was the opposite of a moron, she felt her hackles rise. Then again, two seconds in this woman’s presence had her wanting to punch things—usually Kym’s obviously surgically enhanced boobs. “He’s always been on the ball for us. Maybe he couldn’t find you back here on the floor.”

  Kym rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Listen, let Catherine know that our grand opening private event for friends and family is Friday evening. Tell her I’d love her to come. It’s at 8:00, and she should bring her fiancé.” She paused, then looked at Amy. “You can come, too. Marcus Bryan will be here.”

  At Amy’s blank look, she clarified. “He’s a player for the Miami Heat. I used to be one of their dancers, you know.”

  “Nah uh.” Amy feigned shock.

  “Really. It’s true,” Kym said, and then saw that Amy was being sarcastic. “Don’t be bitchy, Amy. It’s not pretty, and you could be pretty if you lost weight.”

  Amy mouthed the last part of the sentence with Kym. Like she hadn’t heard that phrase one time or a million throughout her life. “I think I’m plenty pretty now, and I’ll let Cat know about the opening party,” she said. “I won’t be able to make it. I have a date that night.”

  She truthfully had no idea whether she and Mitch had plans that night, but she’d make sure she was busy the night of Kym’s party. Then she got her ass out of the store and back to the sanctuary of her own, because she had to get ready.

  Mitch was supposed to pick her up any minute for what would be their fourth date. It had been three weeks since she and Danny had angry sex on the couch, and in that time, she and Danny hadn’t spoken more than required.

  The morning after, there’d been a cut flower from the yard waiting by an already made pot of coffee, but no note from him. No apology, no declarations of true love. Nothing.

  She didn’t know how to interpret his brooding silence so she kept quiet. She acted as if the night never happened, and moved forward with getting to know Mitch better.

  He was as good as his word and called her practically from the tarmac of MIA when his plane landed. And throughout the week, he had texted frequently with little sweet messages telling her he missed her. A little much for her taste, but it was nice to be with a man who was honest about his feelings.

  She was nervous tonight because he’d hinted that he’d like to do more than kiss her at the end of the date. She’d arranged each night for him to pick her up and drop her off at her store under the guise of doing lots of work, but it was really to avoid throwing Mitch in Danny’s face.

  “How was Queen of the Dance?” Cat asked when she was back.

  “Horrible, as usual. Oh, but she invited you to her grand opening party. Requested you bring your gorgeous fiancé.”

  “She said that? For real? My ‘gorgeous’ fiancé?” Cat’s eyes grew big.

  “Maybe. No, I don’t remember. It was squeezed between her calling Antoine a moron and telling me I’d be pretty if I lost weight.”

  “Urgh. Can I go punch her?” Cat knew how sensitive Amy was about caveats on her prettiness being tied to her weight.

  “I’d issue battle orders if I didn’t think she’d kick your ass, Cabbage Patch.” Cat was a shade over five feet, and only on days she teased her hair.

  “I’m gonna kill my brother for teaching you that nickname,” she groaned. “I think I could take her.”

  “Cat, the woman does kick boxing four hours a day. I think she could kick John Cena’s ass.”

  “Then we’re going to have to get stealthy. You think your lawyer boyfriend could get us out of jail if we poison her or pay professional hitmen? I still have Ben
estein’s number,” she said, referring to the scary-ass drug dealer Danny had angered the year before.

  Amy held up a finger. “First of all, delete that number. Second, I have to get ready for my date. My lawyer boyfriend should be here by now. We’ll resume discussions of poison and the torture of Kym tomorrow.”

  Cat laughed. “Things are getting serious with Mitch, huh?” she asked.

  Amy pretended to examine a label on silky blouse. “Not really. Maybe.”

  “Fourth date,” Cat said. “Do you have a toothbrush packed?”

  “Cat!” Amy protested. She was about to say something more, but Mitch’s face appeared through the glass door, and he gave a short knock.

  Amy watched as her petite employee sprinted through the racks of clothes to be the one to open it for Mitch. This was the first time the two were meeting and she was slightly anxious given that Cat was gorgeous and the exact opposite in body type of her. What man could resist a blonde-cheerleader type?

  Apparently Mitch did not prefer petite perky blondes. He only had eyes for Amy as he pushed through the store, clothes brushing his sides as he strode toward her for a greeting kiss. “Mmm,” she murmured when he pulled away.

  “Missed you,” he whispered, looking down at her. She had to admit she looked cute tonight in an emerald green swing dress that had abstract splotches of color on it. Her tattoos were pretty clearly visible, peeking out from under the cap sleeves. She wore black tights tucked into hot pink high-heeled suede booties.

  Really? Were they already at that point in their relationship where they missed each other? She certainly hadn’t missed him. Did that speak volumes? She smiled brightly at him. “Missed you too.”

  “Oh, you guys are cute,” Cat said, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet and grinning at them.

  “Ready to go?”

  “Yep,” Amy said. She found she truly was looking forward to spending time with Mitch. Though he didn’t make her toes curl, he made her laugh and the conversation was always interesting. There was something to be said for stable. A relationship with Mitch would never cause four a.m. fights in her driveway, but it would also likely never include an hour of steamy shower sex or over-the-back-of-the-couch fucking. Could she live the rest of her life knowing what that was like, but never tasting it again? She didn’t know.