One to Chase (One to Hold 7)

Chapter 1: Family Favor

Marcus

Leaning my head back against the door, a hoarse groan scrapes from my throat. “Fuck, yeah.” My eyes clench shut as the blonde head bobs faster on my cock, shooting currents of pleasure down my legs.

Shit.

Sidebar.

Okay, just for the record, blowjobs in the men’s room of five-star restaurants are not my usual lunchtime routine.

I’m not twenty-one, and I prefer the comforts of my penthouse condominium to blocking a narrow wooden doorway with my thousand-dollar loafers. Digital surround-sound speakers provide a far superior backdrop to kitchen noise, and when we’re done, we can share a glass of expensive wine before I call a car to drive her home.

My balls tighten in response to her rapid pumping. Her hand flies up, down, and over my dick. Paige Goldfarb is working me like a pro, and I thank the magic of the Internet for teaching our society gals how to give superior head.

Actually, that’s not correct. I know as well as anyone where Paige acquired her skills.

“Mmm,” she hums around my shaft as she pulls me deep, all the way down, the back of her throat closing around my tip.

“Fuck, that’s good.” A lock of shiny blonde hair has fallen onto her cheek, and I slide it back, gently touching her face. My knees are liquid.

So if this isn’t my usual routine, what the devil am I doing?

Glad you asked.

What’s happening right now is called Payback.

Not against Paige, mind you, against someone else. I’ll explain more when I’m not attempting to enjoy myself. Payback has no gag reflex, it appears. Hold that thought while I ride this one out.

“Yes,” I hiss. “I’m about to come.”

Her head bobs faster, and I feel my balls drawing up. Just then she pops out and gives them a teasing suck, her hand flying up and down my shaft. Shit shit. Teabagging.

My jaw tightens as I grind out, “Here comes.”

Just like that, she’s back on my cock, sucking me off like a damn Hoover. I can’t hold back, and she’s not stopping. With a shuddering groan I let go, and she goes all the way, her lips touch my torso. I shoot straight down her throat, again and again.

That’s one way to spare my Armani slacks.

The thought makes me laugh weakly as I exhale a deep breath. “Shit, girl. I’m pretty sure I saw stars just then.”

My back is against the door of the single-serve men’s room at The Q—Chicago’s finest lakefront restaurant—and no, this is not on the menu in case you were wondering.

Paige rises in one fluid movement and steps over to the lavatory. She’s tall and willowy, and I watch as she opens her clutch with slim, perfectly manicured hands to remove a rectangular plastic box.

“Tic tac?” A glance back, and a slim brow rises over one of her clear blue eyes.

Pulling my grey slacks up, I take a moment to fasten my alligator belt. “I’m good, thanks.”

As I said, this is payback for me, but I have no idea what our naughty little rendezvous means to Paige. This newly minted heiress is smart, and I’m sure she’ll use what we just did to her advantage.

“Who are you having lunch with?” I ask, watching her glide nude-pink lipstick over her slightly swollen lips.

“Karen,” she says, stepping to the door.

Karen Philpot is not a newly minted heiress. She’s as old money as they come, and a possible motive unfolds slowly in my mind. As a lawyer, it’s my job to read people, after all.

“No wonder you followed me in here.” I’m only half sarcastic. Karen is also the sjudgiest trust-fund baby on Riverside Drive.

Paige stops at the door before leaving and gives me a wink. “I’ll be in touch, Marcus.”