Hooked 2 (Hooked #2)(14)
“I see. And you’re focusing on the PR stuff now?” Drew took another bite from his lasagna.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I mean. Dance is my real passion; it’s what I went to school for. Butler University.”
“A renowned dance program,” Drew murmured, nodding. It didn’t seem like he cared even a little bit that I was a dancer; it didn’t seem like he thought it was strange or dirty. After all, I supposed he had grown up with Mel—who had made dance her life in the years before she had met this raucous Hank sitting next to me.
“Right. Yeah. But. I didn’t make it. Not quite.”
Drew leaned his hand across the table and touched my hand. “Darling, don’t think that way. You are doing so well, teaching other children the art of dance. I think that’s wonderful work.”
I looked up at him, then, realizing the complete undercurrent of his heart, the complete good-natured way he looked at me. Had I completely misjudged him? Did I not really understand who this man was?
We ate our lasagna and drank our wine in general good humor after that, telling jokes and discussing anything and everything. I even laughed at a few of Hank’s jokes. I noted how happy Mel was in her life, with her husband and her baby, and I started to resent this life of hers more and more. She had never truly told me she was unhappy; maybe this was what she wanted, after all?
After several hours, Drew and I decided to take our departure. I kissed Mel on both cheeks, and we exchanged knowing looks. She knew how much I cared about this person—this person I had more or less called a sex god before I knew that Mel had actually grown up with him (and probably didn’t want to know about his sexual prowess).
Drew wrapped his arms around both Mel and Hank, thanking them joyously for having us to their home. “Molly and I appreciate it so much,” he said. He spoke of us like we were a couple, like we were together. My heart burned with the joy of it.
“And tell little Jackson good night for us,” Drew whispered before we left, as the door opened and sent us into the exterior foyer. “He’s more beautiful than I can say.”
CHAPTER SIX
Drew and I scurried down to the Porsche, laughing about everything that had just occurred. I was giggling so zealously in the elevator that I lost my breath. “What the hell kind of coincidence is that?” I asked him, shaking my head. “I met you in a coffee shop. And now—turns out you grew up with my best friend?”
“She’s my aunt,” Drew said, laughing along with me. He shook his head. “I mean. I didn’t know anything about your dancing background. Maybe I would have sensed something—some connection when you spoke about her. But I have to say. That was one of the bigger shocks of my life. And I’ve been shocked before.” He winked at me, then, and took my hand in the elevator, planting a great, extravagant kiss atop my lips. I felt the earnest pull in my *. I wanted him.
Drew pushed me up against the elevator wall and pushed the small bit of dark green lace down over my breasts, bringing them out bouncing into the world. I sighed, as he wrapped his thumb and forefinger over my nipple. He looked at me with intense eyes. “I’m going to make you come so hard later,” he murmured.
I nearly churned with passion, with drive to make love to him.
We grabbed hands and started rushing toward the Porsche in the garage. He pulled the car door open for me, and I flung myself in the driver’s side, just waiting for him. “Come. Come,” I whispered as he rushed around to the driver’s seat.
Finally, we were rushing south on Lake Shore Drive, past the spewing lake and the whizzing cars. I wanted him so bad. He was such a gentleman, using his money for the good of the world, supporting Mel and I in our dance career. My head was spinning. He was a good person; a good guy.
I reached across the seats and began unbuckling his belt.
“Oh, baby,” he whispered to me.
I unbuckled and then unzipped his pants, revealing his enormous, pulsing dick. I wondered how long he had had a hard on—if we had been sitting there, horny for each other in the dining room of Mel’s house for hours. I knew I had been.
“I want you so bad,” I whispered. I felt my eyes grow hot. I wanted him inside me; I wanted to feel his dick in me. I started rubbing his dick with my hand. He moaned, trying to keep his eyes on the road.
“Yeah, baby,” I called to him. “Yeah.” He reached over his seat and grabbed at my wet, dripping * with his full hand. I gasped, nearly coming all at once in that moment.
We were nearing our apartments. His dick was so hard in my hand. He parked the car swiftly, just outside of the apartment building, and hurriedly put himself back in his pants. He rushed around to my side of the car to pull me out onto the sidewalk and kiss me passionately, grabbing my ass with his strong fingers in the September darkness. “God. You make me want to f*ck you,” he said, his eyes wet, looking only at me.
Finally, we turned toward our apartment building and rushed up the steps on a mission. We pounded down the hallway toward his apartment. “Marty’s not home,” he whispered and shoved the door open, allowing me to enter.
His apartment was dark, smelling vaguely of beer and whiskey. After he closed the door, he grabbed me and picked me up, taking me directly to the table in the kitchen. He placed me there and reached beneath my dress, tugging my panties down my long, slim legs. I felt my * come free; it was wet and hot between my legs.