2. Games
2008 Words
2
Games
Clay stepped into the dimly lit bar. It was one of those upscale artsy places that Andrea frequented and he loathed. The actual artists wouldn’t be caught dead in here, but art enthusiasts congregated in the space. And if Andrea liked anything, she liked throwing her fortune away at art shows.
He spotted her sitting at the horseshoe-style bar in the middle of the room, talking to her prey. She was in a demure black dress that hugged her lithe curves and two-thousand-dollar shoes that she had a closetful of at home. She was facing the entrance, which was likely strategic on her part. Her head had tipped up when he entered the bar, but aside from a passing glance, she didn’t even acknowledge him. But she certainly knew he was here.
That was enough for now.
Bypassing her, he took a seat on a barstool with her in his line of vision. He didn’t often drink by himself out in the city, so sitting alone was a change of pace. He believed it was better to have a wingman or two at his side when picking up women since they tended to travel in packs. It was lucky for him when his friends Cash and Ethan had ended up in D.C. after graduating from Yale Law. He’d had tons of friends growing up and in college, but these were the only two, other than Andrea, whom he could actually still stand.
They would probably laugh at him if they knew what he was up to. While they’d claimed to understand the thing he had with Andrea, they’d encourage his crazy lifestyle. Not that he needed encouragement.
Clay ordered a double Crown and Coke from a passing waitress and leaned back in his seat to observe his competition. The guy looked uppity in a black suit and tie. It fit but wasn’t tailored to his build. He could use a haircut and a shave.
How had this i***t even caught Andrea’s eye?
At least Andrea had made it easy on him.
He would bide his time for the perfect opportunity to make his move.
He went through three drinks in the hour. The bar was clearly an after-hours place because, in the short time it’d moved toward one in the morning, people flooded in. He could barely see Andrea now and knew it was about time. She had flirted her way through much of her conversation with this guy, and Clay decided the poor sap was just a front. Andrea hardly seemed interested even though the guy was mooning over her. Andrea was not the kind of girl for that.
“Anyone sitting here?” a girl asked, coming up beside him.
Clay turned to face the girl. She was hot. Like smoking hot. He’d say she wasn’t his type, but hot was his type. Tall, brunette with freckled olive-toned skin that drew attention to her perfect pink lips. Unfortunately, he preferred blondes and dresses. This girl wore a pantsuit. He hated pantsuits. He understood them as a necessity for women who worked in the business sector, but the misogynistic pig in him loved to get a good look at legs in a pencil skirt.
She slid her charcoal jacket off her shoulders to reveal the silky burgundy sleeveless top underneath. Better but not great.
Clay finally shrugged. “Nope. Go ahead.”
“Thanks. It’s f*****g packed in here.”
“Yeah. Didn’t realize the place would fill with hipsters. It’s like we splashed water on them.”
“Gremlins,” the woman said with a laugh. “Nice.”
“Yeah. If only they hadn’t multiplied in the last couple of years, then these bars wouldn’t be so in.”
“Right. So true. I wouldn’t be caught dead in here if my boyfriend didn’t like the scene.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s hard enough, getting over here from the Hill, with goddamn traffic.”
Boyfriend. Why did that suddenly make her more attractive?
“And where is this boyfriend of yours?” he inquired, momentarily forgetting his game.
She shrugged. “It’d be just like the ass not to show up after making me drive all the way over here. As if I don’t have more important s**t to do.”
Clay smirked. It sounded like something he’d probably do.
“Sounds like a stand-up guy.”
“The worst.”
Clay almost laughed. She was serious. He was about to ask why she’d stay with the guy if he was like that, but then he glanced over at Andrea. She was still flirting shamelessly with Bad Suit, and Clay was over here, talking to his second stranger for the night.
He and Andrea both put up with each other’s s**t. It worked for them. Had been for almost ten years.
The bartender finally responded to the woman waving cash over the bar, trying to get her attention.
“I’ll take a double vodka on the rocks. Grey Goose. Just keep them coming.”
He eyed her with appreciation, and she just smiled wryly. “It’s been a long day.”
Clay held his hands up. “Who am I to judge?”
The bartender pushed the vodka over to the woman and passed another Crown and Coke to Clay, who hadn’t even asked for it. It was his fourth. He didn’t even know how many other drinks he’d had tonight.
As he took an appreciative sip of the whiskey, his phone pinged.
Where are you? I thought you’d make this harder.
“Girlfriend?” the brunette asked.
“Something like that.”
“She stand you up, too?”
Clay saw Andrea arch an eyebrow over Bad Suit’s shoulder. He raised his eyebrows. She tilted her head toward the restroom, and he smiled, letting her know he’d gotten the message. Loud and clear.
“Not exactly,” he responded. “Excuse me for a minute.”
“Should I save your seat?”
He wasn’t sure if she sounded hopeful. Most girls would be falling all over themselves by now, but she didn’t seem to be that kind of girl, which was interesting. She just continued to sip her vodka, straight up, unperturbed.
“Yeah. Unless that boyfriend of yours shows up.” Clay winked.
“All right. I’m Gigi, by the way.”
She dropped her suit jacket over his seat and put her hand out for him to shake. He startled slightly at the introduction, as if this were a business meeting and not two people meeting up at a bar. He didn’t even remember the last girl’s name. This was a lot less than flirting.
Wait, is she even flirting with me?
Huh. Maybe not.
He reached out and took her hand. She had a firm grip, which meant she worked in a profession where people looked down on her. She needed this for authority. He liked a firm grip…handshake and otherwise.
“Clay.”
“Nice to meet you, Clay. I’ve got your seat until my lecherous boyfriend shows up.”
He grinned. He couldn’t help it.
He wedged his way through the crowd, receiving disgruntled shouts from the people he’d unceremoniously shoved out of his way. When he finally made it back to the restrooms, he found Andrea standing outside the door, as if waiting for the next chance to go inside, which he knew she never did. Queuing was not one of Andrea’s specialties.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he said, approaching her.
“You, sir, are in big trouble.”
“Tell me all about it.”
A girl left the restroom, and Clay pushed Andrea inside. The girl gave them a strange look, but there were other restrooms for people who needed it. He locked it from the inside and turned to face his girl. He grabbed her around the middle and hauled her against him. She was so small, always had been. She’d been obsessed with her weight in college and ended up in a lot of counseling to try to fix the issue, but she’d always be small.
He pressed her body back against the door, and she met his gaze with a determined one of her own.
“Clandestine,” she murmured in a tone that made it seem as if she were unimpressed.
“You said I was in trouble,” he prompted.
With her words, blood was already pumping to all the right places. f**k, she turned him on. The chase, the rendezvous, the game.
His hands slipped down her black dress, slinky and sophisticated, and he knew it cost a fortune. Everything that Andrea liked did. Instead of going for her lips, he nuzzled her neck, making her arch against him, and then he trailed rough kisses over the territory he was claiming.
“Yes,” she said, trying to seem unaffected, “you came to ruin my fun, and then you didn’t even make a move. Clay Maxwell, whatever has gotten into you?”
“You’re too hasty.” He nipped at her neck, and she squeaked. Oh, how he loved that sound. “I was assessing the situation and determining when to go in for the kill.”
He forcefully grabbed her leg and pulled it up around his waist. Her dress slid past her upper thigh, nearly revealing what was underneath. He slipped his hand under the material and realized with satisfaction that there was nothing underneath.
“Oh, dirty,” he growled playfully. “You were ready for me.”
“I was, but you’re too slow. I’m planning to leave with him.”
“Like hell you are!” Clay barked out.
“What? You can have your fun for the night, but I can’t?” Her eyes issued a challenge.
“I haven’t had any yet,” he growled, “but I will now.”
Clay’s hand slipped back under her dress until he found her p***y, hot and aching for him. She enjoyed this as much as he did, and he’d remind her exactly how much. He wanted to just take her against the door, but he’d rather she beg him for it later.
Without a second thought, he slipped his finger between her lips and trailed it through her wetness before massaging her clit. He had perfect access from this angle, and the only way it would be better was if he could bury his face in between her legs and feel her come all over him. She’d definitely beg then.
“Mmm,” she purred, grinding against his hand.
Abruptly, he removed his finger from her clit and pushed two fingers up inside her. She was dripping wet, and he coated his thumb before circling her clit and finger-f*****g her hard. It’d be so much better when he got his c**k up inside her, but for now, this would do. His d**k was as hard as a rock, and it was practically painful as he watched her eyes roll back into her head while her pleasure mounted.
“You’re not playing fair,” she groaned.
“Only way I know how.”
“Oh, please, make me come.” She looked at him, her eyes hooded. “If you can.”
Motherfucking challenge accepted.
She knew what he was capable of, but he reveled in showing her just how much pleasure she could get from just his fingers. He knew how to ply her body to his command. She writhed underneath him, barely holding on. He’d seen that look for ten years now. He shoved against her, reminding her exactly what she would get, if only she begged. Her fingers brushed against his erection through his suit pants, and all he wanted was for her to take it out.
Then, she let out one final moan and came all over his fingers, leaving him slippery wet and dying to get his c**k into her p***y.
She huffed as she tried to regain her composure. He let her leg drop and used a nearby paper towel to mop up his hand.
She was still leaning back against the door, staring at him. “I like the bow tie.”
“I know.” He grinned, revealing his dimples.
“You always know just what I like.”
“How about we go home, and I’ll show you exactly what you like?” He leaned in close and growled low in her ear, “f**k you at my leisure, make you come at my command. Or do you want to be s*****d tonight, baby? Or more?”
Her breathing was heavy when he pulled back and looked into her dilated baby blues. “Oh, Clay…” She patted him twice on the cheek. “Maybe another time.”
“What?” he demanded.
“You lost tonight. Game over.”
She turned to go, and he slammed his hand back on the door. Someone banged on it from the outside and yelled at them to hurry the f**k up.
“What the f**k?”
Andrea softened but only slightly. “I don’t want to be seconds tonight, baby.”
Then, she strode out of the restroom, leaving him alone, wondering how the hell that had just happened.
- Writer
