Loyalty Card

“Rush Street.” I amble over to stand behind her. The city lights are on and there are a few cars going up and down the road. People are starting to spill out of the bars and climbing into taxis. “This was my mom’s favorite hotel. They would come in from the North Shore and stay here.”

“Is it close to something?”

Her hair smells like strawberries. I dip my head down until my nose brushes the top of her head. “Yeah, Barney’s. It’s a block away and Mom’s favorite place. Also Hermès is over there.” I point to the right. “She’d pick up something new there every visit.”

“I have no idea what those names mean but they sound fancy.”

“After this is all over, we’ll go on a little shopping spree then.” I smooth a hand over the curve of her shoulder and then down the outside of her arm. She feels small and fragile under my fingers. For the thousandth time, I wonder if I should’ve told her anything and whether I should’ve left her back with Gran.

“Birdie, maybe you—“

She turns and places a finger over my lips to shut me up. “Don’t say it.”

My skin burns under her touch and I can barely get my question out. “What?” I croak.

“Don’t say you don’t want me.”

I laugh, a dry, humorless chuckle, and capture her hand, pressing it against my cheek. “I’ve never wanted anything more and that’s the problem.” I turn so my lips are against the inside of her palm. “Until I met you, I had lost everything important except for my gran. If you’re gone, what’s the point?”

“You’re not going to lose me. We’re going to get into the house, get the rest of the files, figure out the clue to your uncle’s embezzlement, and send him to jail forever.”

Her confidence is as sexy as anything. “I love your dirty talk,” I tell her.

She laughs at this. “If that’s what turns you on, I guess I don’t have to be so nervous about the one bed here.”

“Birdie, you breathing turns me on.” I drop our hands to my groin and press her hand against the erection I’ve lived with since she started sassing the clerk at the grocery store.

She sucks in a harsh breath. “Is this really your dick? It’s huge!”

I almost choke. “Yeah, real dick.”

“Man, I don’t know.” She backs away, shaking her head. “Is there like a starter dick in your pants? I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.”

I advance. If she’s talking about it, she wants to do it and that’s all the sign I need. “Yeah, it’s called my tongue.” I waggle my hand at her. “Also my fingers.”

Because she’s watching me and not where she’s going, she ends up falling onto the sofa. I pounce, pinning her to the cushions. “Trust me, Birdie. It’ll all be good.” I don’t let her answer. She just needs to feel and so do I. We both need out of our headspaces where things like doubts and revenge and anger are bottled up. Instead, we should concentrate on the moment—on how her soft lips feel crushed against mine and how she tastes like mint and chocolate—tangy and sweet. My tongue dives into the humid recesses of her mouth, exploring the rough, sensitive roof and the smooth, porcelain teeth. Her own tongue rubs against mine, timid at first and then more aggressive, claiming me as I claim her.

I cup her breasts, molding and shaping her tits, flicking a thumb against the hard nipple that is trying to poke through several layers of fabric. My hand drifts to the hem of her shirt and the strip of skin above the waistband of her jeans. She shifts restlessly, her legs drawing up so I can sink even deeper against her sex. I start to move, stroking my jean-clad erection against her cloth-covered cunt. She gasps against my mouth and clutches me closer.

“That’s right, Birdie. Ride me. Come for me. Show me how hot you are.” I pull the shirt up until her bra is exposed. I don’t bother to unclasp the damn thing. Instead, I pull the satiny fabric to the side until her nipple pops free. I latch on, sucking hard.

Her nails dig into my scalp as I work the small nub into a diamond hard point. Deep, long draws have her squirming. I slide my hand between us, pulling the cotton aside. She’s wet. My cock jumps in my jeans, pressing hard against the zipper. I need to be inside of her like yesterday. I slide my fingers along her juicy lips. She shivers and gasps.

“That’s right. You like that?”

She nods.

“You touch yourself?” I want to know so I do this right. “What makes you feel good?”

“This…what you’re doing. I like that.”

Those simple words make my heart soar like it’s a fucking bird in my chest. I didn’t know I could feel like this. When Dad told me to hold out until I found the one, I thought it was a joke, even though I nodded along and tried to look serious, but he was right. I’m ready to say the L word but I don’t know that she’s prepared to hear it. I need to make this the best night she’s ever had. Slowly, I slide one finger inside her channel.