Read Hunks, Hammers, and Happily Ever Afters Online

Authors: Cari Quinn,Cathy Clamp,Anna J. Stewart,Jodi Redford,Amie Stuart,Leah Braemel,Chudney Thomas

Hunks, Hammers, and Happily Ever Afters (49 page)

BOOK: Hunks, Hammers, and Happily Ever Afters
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Compact, tanned, and muscular, Wade topped my own 5’6 inches by only a few more, but the man knew how to fill out a pair of Levi’s, and he had these thick, tanned forearms that rippled and flexed from all the manual exertion. You could tell he spent a lot of time outdoors—no "Farmer’s Tan" for him. I heard he played sand volleyball with a group of friends on the weekends. With his easy-going personality and bright green eyes, he had charmer written all over him. I’d miss watching him work once his drywall crew finished up, but then again, he was a distraction I couldn’t afford.

I closed my eyes to block out the sight of the tiled walls surrounding me and let my hands have free reign, imagining they were his. They drifted through the silky water until they reached my breasts, cupping them as I imagined Wade’s hard length behind me surrounding me, instead of the fiberglass tub. The throbbing between my thighs quickly intensified as my excitement grew. Lifting one leg, I draped it over the side of the tub, moaning as the water caressed my sensitive pussy lips. My hands continued to squeeze my breasts until my nipples were hard achy little points. I groaned at the thought of my vibrator tucked away in my nightstand drawer. My muscles were so jellified from the heat and beer, I didn’t feel like climbing out of the tub for it. With no other relief in sight, I closed my eyes again and stroked the insides of my thighs, kneading and stroking my way higher and drawing every ounce of anticipation out of it. This race was about endurance, not speed.

An image of Wade pounding into me filled my head, so vivid I could almost believe he was really there in the tub with me. Finally, need overcame all other thoughts and I stroked my clit, biting my lower lip as it swelled under my fingertips. The ache intensified and my labored breathing filled my ears as I neared my goal. Feverishly, my emboldened fingers continued until, my body took on a will of its own. Toes curled and hips involuntarily thrust upward, out of the water as the waves of my orgasm traveled through me, released by the stroke of my fingers and thoughts of Wade.

Afterward I lay there, listening to my harsh breathing and the soft plunk of water dripping from the faucet.

With a smile of satisfaction, I reached for my beer and sipped the lukewarm brew, contemplating dinner. Only to dismiss such a mundane thought, dismayed at the reminder of my solitary existence.

The sound of the doorbell echoing through the house reminded me that the clock was ticking. Knowing my luck it was Laney or Carlotta come to rob my closets.

On shaky legs, I climbed out of the tub, wrapped my wet, flushed body in my old robe, and then dashed down the hall to the front door.

It wasn’t my friends, who would have just used their key, and it wasn’t a salesman.

It was Wade with my lunchbox.

"Wade."
How nice to see you, since I just masturbated in my bathtub while thinking about you.

As his full lips curved into a grin, I tightened my robe around my waist, conscious of legs that still trembled from the aftermath of my orgasm. Despite the aviator sunglasses he wore, I had the strange feeling he knew I’d been...well...
thinking
about him. Then again maybe it was the wet robe and the hard nipples.

"Evening, Alex. You forgot this."

So it wasn’t really a lunchbox but a small cooler. I’d left it sitting on the steps of the construction trailer when I’d gone tearing across the site after the forklift crash earlier this afternoon.

I had no choice but to take the damn thing from his outstretched hand and couldn’t work out anything beyond a mumbled thank you. How could it be legal to work all day in the blistering Houston sun and still look as good as he did? "Thank you."

"Didn’t mean to interrupt anything."

I pulled my robe tighter still and forced myself to breathe. "It was time for me to get out anyway."

"Hot date?" he asked with a tiny, curious smile.

"Girl’s Night," I replied with a smile.

He slowly nodded, his grin deepening as he took a few steps backward. "Then I won't keep you. Have fun."

If he had any idea!
"I will."

"And stay out of trouble!"

Ducking back inside, I shut the door before he saw me standing there, wishing I’d invited him in.

~*~

T
wo hours later I stepped through Jimmy Z’s shiny black double doors, smiling to the burly bouncer who greeted me by name. Located just down the road from the Houston Galleria, Jimmy Z’s catered to an eclectic, but mostly upscale, clientele which was reflected in the tasteful chrome and black decor. I took the long way downstairs to where the girls were waiting, barely giving the booths full of snuggling couples a glance as I checked out some of the evening’s offerings. Men weren’t the only ones hunting tonight. My earlier tub adventures and Wade’s visit had left me hungry for more. And if I couldn’t have
him
, then I’d just have to make do.

At our table (positioned strategically beside a set of stairs that led to the dance floor), the girls were already digging into appetizers and admiring the evening’s early, yet so far slim, offerings. They both stopped eating long enough to hug me while we admired each others outfits. Carlotta looked great, as usual, dressed in a multi-colored watered silk skirt and red halter-top that showed off her natural tan and curly blonde hair to perfection.

"Lanie, is that new?" Smiling, I motioned to leopard print dress with turquoise trim that hugged her lush curves and swirled around her knees. Only Lanie would or could pull of leopard print. And with her chocolate brown hair, framing deep blue-green eyes, she pulled it off well. No one would ever guess that up until a few hours ago she’d probably been elbow deep in grease and engines.

"Just a little something I dug out of my closet." Her deep coral colored lips curved into a Cheshire cat grin as she crossed her legs.

"She went shopping," Carlotta and I chimed in unison.

I waved at a Brian, our regular waiter as he went breezing by and hollered out my order for a Woo Woo—peach Schnapps, vodka and cranberry juice—then settled on the vacant stool.

"Looks like she’s not the only one who went shopping," Carlotta observed with a grin.

"I bought this two weeks ago, thank you very much!" I’d spotted the funky yellow, orange and royal blue paisley outfit on a Sunday afternoon shopping expedition and hadn’t been able to leave it behind. They went perfect with my strappy orange sandals.

I snitched a chicken eggroll off the platter in the middle of the small table, dipped it some of Jimmy’s homemade salsa duck sauce, and bit in with a sigh of appreciation as the spicy, tangy flavor filled my mouth. Jimmy Z’s made the best eggrolls in all of Houston.

"So how was your day?" Carlotta asked while she scoped out the bar.

"I’ll be so glad when this job is over!" I accepted my drink with a pained smile for Brian and handed him my credit card to run a tab. He was...hot, but then most of the waitstaff at Jimmy’s were. A crisp white t-shirt hugged his well-defined pecs and sharply creased black pants accented the rest of his assets.

"You ladies ready for something more substantial?" He pointed to our platter of appetizers, then suggestively wiggled an eyebrow at Carlotta who giggled.

"I’m fine." With a soft sigh, I turned and scoped on the half full dance floor and tables surrounding it. I didn’t mind being single; sometimes it did have a downside but the good far outweighed the bad.

I didn’t have to share my bed for more than a night if I didn’t want to (and usually I didn’t).

I could come and go as I pleased.

I didn’t have to answer to anyone about how I spent my money.

I didn’t have to cook if I didn’t feel like it.

I could ogle men to my heart’s desire without someone getting jealous.

And if I got tired of a man, I just dumped him (no nasty divorces and splitting of assets to deal with).

I polished off the last of my eggroll and turned to Carlotta. "Did you finish up that wiring job today?"

She pursed her lips and nodded, a
"it was a shitty day"
expression on her face.

"That bad, huh?"

"Have I told you how much I hate my new boss?" she continued with a curl of her lip.

"Noooo," I drawled, grinning.

"That asshole wants me to wire his nephew’s office Monday for phones and internet. God forbid I fuck
that
up." Carlotta’s new boss was
all
we’d heard about for the last two months. He was, in her words, a control freak, who constantly felt the need to double check her work and censure her for the slightest infractions, imagined or real. Never mind that she was the best field technician the company had, and had been there twice as long as him. Other than the fact she’d applied for his job (and been passed over for him—an outsider), none of us had been able to figure out what his beef was with her, so we’d decided he was just A Chauvinistic Pig.

"I swear to God, he wants me to quit!"

"Well, maybe you should," Lanie threw in. "You’re too damned good to put up with that shit."

"Hell no! Why should I quit because he’s got issues? He can just get the fuck over it." With a scowl, Carlotta slipped off her barstool.

I gave her an understanding smile, then watched as she turned and headed downstairs toward the dance floor. Carlotta could wire damn near anything—from a small office phone system to a computer network for a multi-story office building.

"I don’t blame her a bit, you know," I sighed, scooping up a quesadilla filled with cheese, cilantro and bits of pork. "She shouldn’t have to quit because some asshole’s determined to make her life miserable."

"Yeah, but you know how hard-headed she is. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did stuff just to piss him off." Lanie thoughtfully sipped her dirty martini, focused on something—or someone—over my shoulder, while I polished off what amounted to my dinner.

"What?"

She grinned and nodded to a spot behind me, pure female lust making her blue eyes sparkle. "Check
him
out."

With a grin of my own, I checked. Lanie might like ‘em young, but she had really good taste in men. Not six feet away stood a tall slender young
thang
with dark, curly hair and even darker eyes. He quirked an eyebrow at us and we waved and laughed.

"Back soon!" Lanie cheerfully announced as she circled around me and headed straight for him.

By the time I’d nursed my way through half of my second drink and let the girls drag my tired body onto the dance floor, the bar was packed. And the three of us were dancing to some house techno with any man brave enough to get close. After fifteen minutes Lanie had ditched Freddie, the sexy brunette with the baby face, and rejoined me, announcing he was only twenty-one. Even for a hottie like him she wouldn’t break her ten year rule.

House techno segued into something sexy for showing off and I did, despite the fact Lanie and Carlotta had now deserted me, claiming they were ready for a break.

Shyness had never been a problem for me and I was a good dancer. While Gwen Stefani sang, I danced, letting the sensuous rhythm of the sexy song rolled through me. Before I knew it, I found myself pulled up on one of the podiums positioned at the end of the dance floor, grooving with a hot blonde in a psychedelic pink mini-dress.

We danced with each other as much for the crowd as ourselves. With a grin, she grabbed my hips and we ground against each other. We both laughed at the hoots and appreciative whistles from the group of men below us. I returned her smile and spun around, wiggling my hips and inviting her closer. My bones turned fluid as the vodka, heat and admiring cheers of the crowd worked their magic.

I shimmied down the length of her body, tilting my head back as I came in contact with her heavy breasts then paused in a crouch at her feet, gathered up my skirt and pulled it up to the tops of my thighs as I slowly wiggled my way back up. We danced belly to back, me with my skirt pulled up as high as I dared and her with her incredibly soft hands stroking my bare thighs. Hands that raised goosebumps on my skin and ventured dangerously close to my panties more than once, causing the silky material to rub my crotch, exciting me even more.

Then I saw
him
. The bottom fell out of my stomach and ice cold shock, horror, dread even, washed through me, replacing the heat brought on by our little show.

What the hell was Wade doing in a place like this?

Lucky for me, the song ended and the DJ spun a faster groove. But before I could stop her, my erstwhile dance partner spun me around and kissed me full on the lips, giving my ass a squeeze in the process. I had no choice but to hang on to her to keep from falling off the mini-stage.

"Thanks for the dance," she mouthed. "Maybe later...we can do it again." She spun on her heels and accepted a hand down from our group of admirers.

I turned for a quick peek over my shoulder. Wade still stood at the top of the stairs, a level above the dance floor. On shaky legs, I headed his way.

With clammy hands I climbed the stairs, forcing a bright smile on my face, but nerves, adrenaline and the heat of too many bodies was too much. As I neared the top, Wade grabbed my wrist, a frown of concern on his face.

"Air," I gasped, my head swimming.

He led me through the thick crowd and up to the main level, cruising through the two muscled-up goons who guarded the entrance to the VIP Lounge.

Interesting, but my head was swimming too much to even contemplate how he’d managed what Lanie, with her arsenal of wiles, hadn’t been able to. I gratefully sank down on a gaudy crushed red velvet couch that Wade led me to in some VIP hidey-hole. Then watched as he closed the opaque screen that made up the door, muting the music in the process.

God my whole crew is gonna know I’d kissed a woman in a bar.
My stomach rolled over and the two Woo-Woo’s I’d drunk threatened to come back up.

Sure, I’d heard all the rumors about how I was a ball-busting dyke. Being insulted—and worse—was the price I paid for working in a man’s world; I could take the heat, and I was more than willing to pay it. At least blue-collar men were honest in their bias, instead of shielding it behind glass ceilings and polite smiles. But that didn’t mean I wanted them finding out I’d been dirty dancing with a woman in the hottest bar in Houston—and enjoyed it.

BOOK: Hunks, Hammers, and Happily Ever Afters
10.92Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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