Hold Me Close(35)

Effie tilted her head and crossed her arms. “Oh, that’s how it’s going to be?”

“Like you don’t like it that way?” Bill didn’t even crack a smile.


She did like it that way, of course. A lot, as a matter of fact. It wasn’t as if she could be offended. With a shrug, she tugged her shirt and sweater off over her head and folded them neatly to put on the chair, then unbuttoned her jeans and did the same. In her bra, panties and a pair of knee socks, she cocked a hip and watched his crotch for any signs of life.

Bill crossed his arms behind his head, watching her. Slowly, Effie went to the bed and knelt on it next to him. She ran a hand up his thigh, scratching lightly with her fingernails. She dipped her head to stroke her tongue along the path of her fingers. At the sound of Bill’s soft sigh, she smiled.

She took him in her mouth, his cock still mostly soft, but not for long. All the way in, until her lips brushed his belly. Then out. By the time she’d done that a couple times, he was thick and pulsing on her tongue. She cupped his balls, stroking downward with her thumb along the seam between sac and ass.

After that, she lost herself in the delight of sucking his cock. There was no complication in it. He didn’t need any special tricks to get him off. She sucked. Bill came. He flooded her mouth with salty heat and she swallowed, then sat back to wipe the corners of her mouth.

Bill had closed his eyes. His chest rose and fell in the aftermath of the pleasure. He hadn’t touched her at all.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Effie said quietly when he didn’t move. “You’re good at your job, Bill. You did what you had to do.”

He put a hand over his eyes and swiped over his face, then looked at her. “Thanks.”

“Welcome.” Effie shrugged.

“Come here. Let me do you.”

She glanced at the clock. The whiskey had warmed her but was now wearing off. She wasn’t usually one to turn down a ride on Bill’s tongue, but the painting picked and poked at her brain, more intriguing than an orgasm. “I have to get home. I have work to do.”

Bill sat up. “Right, I forgot. You only stop by for this.”

“Don’t start,” Effie warned. “Next time, I won’t come at all.”

“You didn’t come this time,” Bill pointed out. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

Effie didn’t roll her eyes, but she didn’t move to kiss him or anything, either. They stared at each other until Bill sighed. He gestured toward the door.

“Go on, then. If you want to. Or you could stay and eat with me. I’m starving.”

Wrapped up in her latest project that she’d promised to ship off a week ago, Effie had skipped lunch. She put a hand on her stomach, empty and complaining. Polly wasn’t home, so there’d be no reason for her to cook a dinner only she would eat. And, while she could take or leave the orgasm, food wasn’t quite as negotiable.

“Sure,” she said. “I can stay for a bit.”

Bill gave her a slow, grudging smile. “Wow. Should I be honored?”

“Always,” she told him with a grin and got off the bed to put her clothes back on.

In his kitchen, she watched him putter with pasta and olive oil. He put together a simple salad. Toasted some bread. It was totally a bachelor’s meal, but it smelled delicious. Tasted good, too, she discovered when she took a tentative bite.

She’d watched him slice the garlic cloves in front of her, seen him choose the spices from his cupboard. She had no reason to believe Bill was trying to poison her or make her sick, especially since he was eating out of the same pot from which he’d served her. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from using her fork to separate the strands of pasta and poke away some stray bits of oregano.

“What?” she said when she looked up to see him staring at her.

Bill gave her a neutral look. “Is it okay? Everything good?”

“Yeah. Great. Delish.” She forked a bite of pasta and tucked it into her mouth to chew elaborately. Making a show.

Bill shook his head. “Maybe I should get you one of those plates with the dividers, so you can make sure nothing touches anything else.”

“Huh?” Effie paused at this, fork halfway to her mouth. Once she’d started eating, it was hard to keep herself from gobbling.

Bill gestured at her plate. “Like a kid’s plate. My sister’s kid, he screams if anything touches the other things. So she got him these plates with dividers so he can have his meat loaf not touching the peas and not touching the mashed potatoes. I think it’s stupid to cater to a kid like that, but what do I know. I don’t have any kids.”

“Yeah,” Effie said after a second in which she forced herself to swallow the pasta suddenly threatening to stick in her throat. “What do you know about it?”


Her eating habits were f*ckery. Pathological. She knew it. The annoying thing was, Bill should’ve known she couldn’t help it. Now instead of hungry, she felt self-conscious. Embarrassed.

“Hey,” he said when she put her fork down and wiped her mouth with the napkin. “Eat up. I was just yanking your chain.”

“I’m full.”

“Bullshit. You ate, like, two bites.” Bill leaned to pick up the fork and hand it to her. “C’mon. You have to eat.”