Nights with Him (Seductive Nights #4)(36)
Author: Lauren Blakely

Michelle looked once more for Jack, checking her watch. He said to meet her at 7:50 at the fountain, and it was 7:51. Jack was an on-time kind of guy. Most military, active or not, were pretty damn punctual, so she was surprised.

Then her breath hitched, and she clasped her hands over her belly, as if that would somehow hide her reaction. She did her best to stay still even as the silent vibrations sped up ever so briefly between her legs. Holy hell, this wearable butterfly was stronger than she’d expected.

As quickly as it started, the sensation stopped, fading away in an instant.

Michelle surveyed the plaza again, making a quick lap around the fountain, but Jack was still not in sight. She wanted to see him and wanted him to know that one quick burst of pleasure from the remote control was already working, ratcheting up her longing for him. But she could only wait until he appeared or did it again. She walked through the crowds to the middle of the plaza, weaving through the throngs of people when the rattling began anew. She nearly stopped in her tracks because the pleasure was so intense, the quick hit of buzzing on her most sensitive spot from the butterfly inside her panties.

A flurry of tingles ignited in her belly, spreading rapidly through her chest.

The buzzing grew stronger, and the intensity of the vibration was centered completely on her clitoris. She drew another sharp, silent breath, swallowed and turned around, coming face to face with a wickedly grinning Jack Sullivan. The man was beautiful—so stunning in a tailored suit that fit him like a dream, a crisp white shirt, and a thin black tie that she wanted to grab, and use to tug him close to her. But she didn’t dare move. He was a man who cherished control, and since he did so many amazing things to her with it, she’d let him keep having it. That was the bargain, and it was a fair trade, because she trusted him with her pleasure. He loved to give it, but he also loved to control it. She could handle her half of that deal.

He held up his right hand, pressed on something with his thumb and flashed a satisfied smile. As soon as he hit the device in his hand, the buzzing stopped. She missed it; she wanted to grab hold of the remote, and bring that feeling back before it escaped her.

“I’m so sorry to have made you wait,” he murmured, dusting her cheek with his lips. He barely left an imprint; it was the softest, faintest kiss he’d ever given her and it made her crave so much more. It was a teaser kiss, a hint of what was to come.

“I didn’t mind waiting,” she said, raising an eyebrow, letting him know she could play along.

“Good. The philharmonic is going to start soon, but they have this great string quartet that plays rock songs in the plaza before the symphony begins. Dance with me.”

“Of course,” she said, placing her hands on his shoulders as he brought her in close. His right hand was curled in a fist over her shoulder. The string quartet began playing “We Are Young” by Fun, and the upbeat anthem was in stark contrast to how she felt inside—like a torch-song was being sung by her body. A song of longing.

“You look stunning. Are you wearing the peach panties?”

“Yes.

“Anything else?”

“What do you think?” she countered, her blood still racing with the anticipation of when he’d hit the remote again and send a fresh rush of hot, fast vibration between her legs. He gave new meaning to the term “having the keys to her body.”

“What do you think about this September weather we’re having?” he asked, and it began again. The humming was faint this time. A low pulse, a flickering against her, like a teasing promise.

The pop song grew louder, nearing the chorus. She was grateful for the background noise. Perhaps it masked all she felt in her body. “It is quite hot for late September,” she said, and they weren’t talking about the weather.

“Fall is one of my favorite times of year in Manhattan,” he said, in a casual, offhand voice, as if he were musing on the vagaries of the sun and moon and stars.

“Me too,” she said, keeping her voice as steady as she possibly could, even as the pressure increased. She hadn’t realized he’d turned it up, so subtle was his touch against the tiny remote in his hand.

“And fall colors? The red, and gold and oranges,” he said, as he spun her in a circle, holding only her right hand. She felt terribly vulnerable, as if the world around her, the fancy crowds, the rich patrons, and the glitterati of Manhattan knew what he was doing to her. But they couldn’t, could they? She kept her face stony even as she wanted to unleash a guttural moan of primal pleasure. “They’ll be coming soon,” he added, returning her to his arms.

“Will they?” she asked in a ragged voice. Her bones felt liquid. Her body was electric as the vibrator thrummed against her wet, hot center. She wasn’t far off now. She was dying to throw her arms around him, to rub up against him, to yank him into a dark corner and let him have his way completely.

“Or maybe they won’t. Maybe they’ll come later,” he said, a devilish glint in his eyes, as he pressed down in his hand.

The vibrations stopped, and she nearly stumbled into him. Michelle wanted to curse him. She’d been so close. She was hovering now, but she wasn’t going over the edge.

She grabbed his jacket. “You cruel bastard,” she said, through narrowed eyes. She didn’t mean it as an insult.

He reached for her hand, threaded his fingers through hers, and guided her inside Avery Fisher Hall, the bells inside sounding that it was time for audience to find their seats.

“Did you enjoy ‘We are Young’?” Jack asked, as he led her to the balcony seats on the right side of the expansive auditorium. The hall was a rich, warm brown with soft lights that cast an inviting feel across the seats, almost creating an afternoon glow. What sounded like Mozart piped overhead as patrons took their places.

“I did. Very clever to play pop songs like that.”

As she sat down, Jack planted a kiss on her cheek. “I’m terribly cruel, I know,” he whispered, addressing her earlier comment.

“You are the worst.”

“You’re not going to leave me, are you?” he said, flashing his winning smile.

Eventually, she wanted to say. Isn’t that the plan after thirty nights? To leave each other? Instead, she kept up the game. “Not yet.”

His expression turned serious as he ran his finger down her cheek, as if he was unable to resist touching her. “By the way, I wanted to let you know you were mentioned on Page Six with me,” he said, and she shot him a curious look. He dug his phone from his pocket and showed her an item from the tabloid, citing her by name. She read it, taking her time as she let the commentary about their “intimate pleasures” sink in. It was oddly surreal, and a bit disconnected. But then, that made perfect sense—she was being written about without being truly known.