Breaking Through Page 9

  Miranda craned her neck to look into the mirror. ‘Is that it?’

  ‘I’m going for old Hollywood for you tonight: bold around the eyes and full dark lips, and then I’ll do your nails the same colour.’ She plucked a lip pencil from the kit and sharpened it, her smirk still on Miranda. ‘Does he still have the tongue ring?’

  ‘He doesn’t need the tongue ring,’ Miranda countered, and shrugged at her sister’s dubious look. ‘Sorry to ruin the “hot mess” fantasy, but he cleans up nicely. Kind of sexy in the suit and tie.’

  Juliet brandished the lip pencil like a dagger. ‘Do I get to meet him?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Has the little shit-machine met him?’

  ‘Yes, but that was kind of an accident.’

  ‘So the little shit-machine gets to meet him, but I don’t?’

  ‘The little shit-machine doesn’t know how to say more than a handful of words, so there was no chance of him embarrassing me.’ She laughed as Juliet narrowed her eyes. ‘Like you’d go more than two minutes without asking him if he’d ever had a cock ring to match the tongue.’

  ‘You do have a point. I would do that. Give me those lips.’

  By the time Juliet had finished filling Miranda’s lips in with a burgundy matte and moved onto her nails, Miranda had given her the whole story about Simon, including their first ‘meeting’. This tidbit only seemed to further elevate him in Juliet’s esteem, and she took more care to dress Miranda for her date than she would have done for herself.

  It was a lovely experience for Miranda, and she suspected that Juliet enjoyed herself as well. It had been ages since they’d been able to share a bit of girl time. Their schedules rarely meshed, and in the early mornings when Juliet would walk through the door reeking of Captain Morgan they barely said a word to one another. Sober, Juliet was just too damn moody, and when she popped up in a good mood it was usually on the ass-end of an argument with Miranda, who could and did hold a grudge.

  Looking like a pin-up in a slinky vintage-style dress – black, after all, with blooming flowers to match her burgundy lips and nails – Miranda stepped onto the porch just as Simon pulled up. As she opened the door she gave a finger-waggle to where Juliet unabashedly watched in the window. A sizzle of excitement ran through her as she dropped into the passenger seat and Simon gave a whistle.

  ‘I really know how to pick ’em,’ he teased, and turned on the overhead light to get one long, sinful look at her.

  Miranda’s spirits deflated as she regarded his faded blue jeans and brown polo beneath a leather jacket. ‘Fuck, I’m overdressed. I thought we were going to dinner.’

  ‘By the looks of you, you expected me to drop a small fortune before you put out.’

  ‘I’ll go back in and change.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he said, and shifted out of park. ‘Now that I’ve seen what’s on the outside I’m dying to see what’s underneath.’

  ‘I’m wearing a –’

  ‘No spoilers, and we are having dinner at my place, later. I’m having some Thai delivered to the door at around ten o’clock. I can put on a suit and tie, if it makes you feel better.’

  She took a second look at his ensemble and shook her head. ‘No, I like this. You look normal. What were you doing, anyway? Grocery shopping for frozen Thai dinners made for sad single men?’

  ‘Thank you very much, I appreciate your esteem,’ he said. ‘I was … on a personal errand.’

  ‘Do you know that sounds creepier than you intended?’

  He glanced at her as he slowed at a red light. ‘I was in rehab last year, and I go to a meeting twice a week – one on Sunday and one on Tuesday, sometimes in between.’

  ‘You really didn’t have to tell me that,’ she said. That information had not been unearthed in her earlier search. She felt a little like an asshole now for probing.

  ‘It’s fine. It’s not a secret.’

  Miranda wondered if she should reveal that she had checked up on him. Normally she had no qualms about poking someone about their past, but this seemed like it might be pushing it.

  Still, it would be stupid for him to try to keep a secret that was featured in a tabloid-style documentary.

  He glanced at her across the console. ‘What?’

  Sucking in a deep breath, she decided to come clean. ‘I checked you out online.’

  ‘That must have been interesting.’

  ‘It was, actually,’ she said, relieved by his cocky smile. ‘Pretty hardcore stuff. By the way, my sister got the thigh sweats over some picture she’d seen of you with blue hair.’

  A low, smoky laugh eased that sting of regret she experienced as soon as her remark was out there. ‘Should I go back and get her? I’ve never done sisters before.’

  ‘You couldn’t handle my sister,’ she joked, and reached up to give his hair a tug. ‘So, I’m sleeping with someone who’s kind of famous.’

  ‘For all the wrong reasons.’

  ‘Still, I feel kind of bad-ass by association. I almost pissed my pants when I read that you started the bar fight that broke Abel Drake’s front teeth. That’s music history, what with him putting his bloody face on the cover of his Minotaur album.’

  ‘I’m not the one who hit him, but he deserved it.’ He tilted his head in her direction for another sly look. ‘That old look do anything for you or is it just your sister I’m turning on?’

  ‘Truthfully, if that guy with the blue hair tried to get with me a week ago, I probably would have been all over him. Now, my eyes have been opened to the benefits of fucking a man who drives a Benz.’ She leaned forward and ran her hand across his thigh, then flattened her palm against his groin. ‘Like getting off in his Benz on their first date.’

  ‘Easy. I’ve got you all night.’

  Miranda settled back with a giggle to enjoy the rest of the ride.

  She was surprised to discover that Simon didn’t live downtown, a fact she remarked upon as he turned onto the highway.

  ‘I need to make the separation between work and home,’ he told her. ‘Except for a few months out of my life when I lived in the backwoods of New Brunswick, I’ve only ever lived in the thick of the city. When I moved here I decided to try living away from it, and I’m actually sleeping better as a result.’

  ‘Why not buy a house?’

  ‘I’ve moved around so much in the last decade I’ve got commitment issues.’

  His building was a new one. Miranda remembered peering at the development as she, Juliet and a few friends began a road trip to a concert in New Brunswick when she was still in high school. Back then it had been one long construction site, but now there were rows upon rows of townhouses and about a dozen condominium buildings on one stretch of road. What had once been forest and gravel roads had become a village in a matter of years.

  At least he had a view of the basin that formed where the harbour ended, she saw once they were inside. Not much of a view, though. In the darkness she only spied an oily black sliver glittering with city lights, but something told her that Simon wasn’t interested in basin views. The living-room furniture faced away from the windows, towards the kitchen.

  ‘Nice,’ she said, turning to him as he hung his jacket over the arm of a chair. ‘Very nice. Very big-box and white, but still peaceful.’

  He gestured to a blank canvas of a wall. ‘That’s where I want the painting I asked you for.’

  ‘Right. I need to give you my email address for that so you can send me a scan.’ She tossed her purse onto the leather sofa and did a curtsy. ‘Now that you’re seeing the whole thing, what do you think?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet. Turn around.’

  Miranda started to turn on her heel, then stopped as he twirled his finger in the air. She cackled as he dropped onto the sofa. ‘That’s a little sexist. Do you do that to the secretaries who work in your boss’s office?’

  ‘I don’t have much to do with the secretaries in the office, all of whom are battle-hardened ma
trons from the executive world, by the way. I’m like a ghost. I slip in and out, but occasionally I find some drenched cupcake in the parking garage who catches my eye.’

  Hands on hips, Miranda twirled around, then did her best sashay towards him. She held out her hand to pull him up and he took it, but his strength was greater than hers and he responded to her tug by jerking her down onto his lap.

  He tucked his arm tight around her waist and ran his hand across the satin plane of her thigh. ‘I feel like I should have hired a piano player to play “Misty” in the corner. Is this what you usually wear when you’re not working?’

  ‘I’m more of an off-the-rack girl. This is my sister’s doing.’

  ‘I like it, but you’re poured into it. It doesn’t give me any room to play.’

  Miranda wound her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. ‘Think of the fun you’ll have trying to get it off me.’

  The rumble in his chest went right through her as he angled his mouth over hers. ‘That’s the most G-rated thing I plan to do with you tonight.’

  As the warm hand on her ribs tracked upwards and the one on her thigh made a similar journey over her belly, liquid warmth swirled in Miranda’s abdomen. By the time he plastered his hand around the restrained weight of her breast, her nipples had hardened and pressed against the satin interior of the dress.

  She locked her hands behind him and nibbled his bottom lip. Yet when he tried to reciprocate, Miranda drew back.

  ‘Not yet. I had to go through quite an interrogation to get these lips.’

  Simon raised his brows. ‘You’re telling me I can’t kiss you tonight?’

  ‘At least not after until we eat.’

  The corners of his mouth twitched, giving her fair warning that he wasn’t going to accept her excuse quite so easily. He shuffled his legs under hers, and Miranda wobbled to her feet. He held her hand, and once he too was on his feet he pulled her close.

  ‘I’ll get my kiss, but you can keep your make-up a little longer.’

  Miranda leaned into him, a saucy retort on her tongue, but once again he surprised her by scooping her off her feet.

  ‘Oh, sweet Jesus.’ She held tight as he jostled through the apartment.

  ‘Isn’t this what they do in the old movies, just scoop a dame up and disappear into the shadows with her?’

  ‘I’m not that kind of dame,’ she said, laughing as he moved down the hall so quickly she only got glimpses of other rooms. ‘This is the worst tour ever.’

  ‘I’m skipping to the best part.’

  When he reached his destination he turned to one side so they could both fit through the door, and before she could so much as glance at her surroundings he opened his arms and gravity took over. She found herself bouncing on a plush mattress.

  Simon covered her, stopping her giggles by burying his face between her breasts with a growl. Another followed when his attempt to draw aside the bodice met with resistance, and he pushed up onto his arms.

  ‘What’s the matter, Rhett?’ she teased him. ‘Did you forget that Scarlett’s zipper is in the back?’

  ‘I’m going to pat myself on the back for not going through with my crazy plan to rip this off you in the living room. That could be embarrassing.’

  He crawled away from her and stood at the bottom of the bed, and she twisted her head from one side to another to capture snapshots of the bedroom around her. She thought it was funny that it was no different from hers: the same cheap catalogue furniture that came in flat boxes, though his was free of the organised clutter of her sanctuary and the refurbished yard-sale kitsch she decorated with. The bed he had dropped her on was a low platform, far more sturdy than hers and enormous.

  ‘This bed is big enough for four or five,’ she remarked and sat up and worked the zipper that started at the small of her back

  Simon pulled his shirt over his head and went to work on his fly. ‘Would you believe you’re the first woman I’ve had in it?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘It is, but that’s going to change in a damn hurry once I get to roll you around every inch.’

  The hunger in his eyes deepened as she wriggled the upper part of the dress to her waist, revealing that she wore no bra beneath. He kicked a heap of jeans and boxers aside, pushed her hands away and grasped the edges of the dress.

  ‘Careful, don’t split a seam,’ she warned.

  She wriggled as he tugged and stripped her of the dress and thong all at once. Her clothes joined his on the floor, and Simon pushed her legs apart.

  ‘You can put it back on for dinner if you want,’ he said, his attention moving quickly from her face to the pink, flushed part of her he had exposed.

  Miranda shook her head. ‘It had its moment.’

  ‘Good,’ he muttered, and leaving one hand resting on her knee he reached between them. Miranda tucked her hands behind her head with a sigh while he penetrated her, and as a second finger joined the first she drew her legs closer.

  That sly grin appeared as he stretched the hot mouth. He withdrew and smeared her juices along his cock, and his gaze moved slowly back to her face as he tugged the skin until it glistened.

  Miranda pushed up onto one elbow and crooked her finger over her pussy. ‘How about that kiss?’

  ‘Lucky for you I don’t have any make-up to smear. Not that I minded when I did wear make-up.’

  ‘Some gender-bending in our youth, Mr Reeve?’

  He looked devilish as he bowed between her legs and made a cradle beneath her ass. ‘If you want to call it that. I was more pseudo-punk-meets-pseudo-goth for a time.’

  ‘Poser,’ she murmured, then hummed as he gave her the point of his tongue.

  A kiss, indeed. This was a passionate cinch of lips against lips, tongue probing and gathering moisture from the haven within, then sliding between her folds as he fucked his fingers in and out of her pussy.

  ‘You are so good,’ she whispered with a breathy laugh.

  He didn’t stop. As he fluttered his tongue against the electric underside of her clit, his eyes beckoned her to keep talking, to keep stroking his ego like he stroked her.

  Settling back on her elbows, Miranda pressed her feet on the edge of the platform and worked her hips in time with his tongue.

  ‘Oh, you’ve got me right there. Right there … Oooh!’ She broke free from that wicked gaze long enough to close her eyes and enjoy the perfection of his hot mouth sucking her.

  As though he couldn’t bear to be without her focus upon him, he drew back and cradled the swollen bud on the tip of his tongue and stretched his fingers deep inside. Miranda shuddered all over, inside and out, and gave him back her attention.

  His brow crooked, and Miranda couldn’t hold back a smile.

  ‘What are you up to?’ she asked, reading the mischief on his face.

  Simon used his tongue to stroke the sensitive folds and hood around her clit as he withdrew his fingers. He watched her carefully as he licked around and around her glistening pussy, and the glint in his eyes became positively devilish as he ran his finger lower.

  Miranda bit her lip. She was particular when it came to playing with her back passage. She’d had good experiences and bad experiences, but as Simon circled her tightest opening with his slick fingertip, she couldn’t imagine having a bad experience with this man.

  She drew her legs closer and opened up. ‘Don’t stop. Keep on giving me that tongue while you do it.’

  His lids fluttering closed, Simon swirled his tongue around slick, swollen flesh, creating a cyclone of glorious pulses as he penetrated her to the first joint of his fingers.

  Miranda lay flat on her back. To lose the sight of him as he devoured her was the price she had to pay as she grasped her thighs just above the knee to open up completely to him.

  Simon’s ravenous growl rushed through her. He shifted on the mattress, crossing his forearm over her thigh and splayed his hand on her damp mons, fingers slippery but holding the folds apart.


  The rush of blood through her head made her dizzy as he lapped the entire length of her pussy while fucking his finger in and out of her ass. She let her breath out in little gasps, until it dawned on her that they weren’t in the house she shared with a child. These brand-new walls and floors of Simon’s apartment were made to keep the noise inside this concrete box, and so she let it out and shrieked.

  The bed became the site of a cataclysm. Miranda didn’t know how much more she could take. Simon was relentless, starved, licking and sucking as his finger kept her corked. Greedy, gluttonous sounds mingled with hers and broke through the thunder of her heartbeat drumming in her ears.

  The maestro of her orgasm, Simon seized upon it as Miranda was stripped of any semblance of common sense. The back of her throat burned with all the energy that poured out of her as he bobbed his head back and forth, up and down, riding her clit with his tongue. She wept, literally wept with tears squeezing at the corner of her eyes.

  ‘Stop. Oh, stop, stop, stop!’ she cried out. She needed escape but her body refused to relent, rocking her sex against his mouth until pleasure became too intense and the rest of her bucked and twisted, and he lifted his head.

  He rose over her and the image of him faded in and out, jerky like an 8mm film as he dragged his arm across his shining mouth.

  ‘Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God,’ she said with every exhalation. Joy and disbelief flooded her liquid body as she fought to come back to the world outside the furious cadence of his tongue, but it was nearly impossible as he bowed over her and licked her nipple until it peaked.

  As he tugged and nibbled, Miranda sagged into the plush mattress. She could have just closed her eyes and drowned in pleasure if it wasn’t for the insistent bump of his cock against her belly.

  She reached between them and wrapped her fingers around him, but was too weak to do more than give him a gentle squeeze.

  ‘Jerk off for me,’ she croaked, and gave him a wicked sprite of a smile as he lifted his head. ‘Right here where you are.’

  ‘It could get messy.’

  Miranda laughed. ‘I’m going to need to shower off anyway, and I like your version of messy.’