Free Hard Target by Tibby Armstrong

herself together, swallow the lump in her throat and pretend indifference she didn’t feel before he faced her and sat. By the time he glanced her way, only a faint heat in her cheeks could give away the shock and hurt buffeting her heart’s rocky shores. She cleared her throat. Looked about for a place to hide in the wide-open space. Her searching gaze alighted on the bed’s rumpled covers.
    “I need to do some research. Figure out where the MoMA security office is located,” he said, sliding his glasses on his nose. “You can have the bed if you’re tired.”
    “What about my things?” Though it cost her to admit she needed something from him, she kept her chin up and soldiered on. “I need a change of clothes. Something to sleep in.”
    A thread of silence stretched taut between them. When Simon finally spoke, he didn’t look up. “Your stuff is in a box. At the bottom of the armoire.”
    Her heart skipped a beat. Changed directions and threatened to provoke a six-car pileup on the throughway of her emotions.
    “You kept my things?” Given his animosity toward her, she’d have thought he burned anything she’d left behind long ago. And gleefully.
    He didn’t answer, merely crossed one ankle over his opposite knee and adjusted his glasses. Reaching over his head, he clicked on a reading lamp and settled in for what appeared to be a long session of research and snooping.
    Alex rested her attention on a simple oak armoire at the far side of the room. Going to it, she then opened the doors and knelt down. Fingers skimming shoes and forgotten clothing items, she discovered a cardboard records box beneath. She took it out and deposited it on the floor before lifting the lid. The item on top draped lightly from her fingers when she held it up. A pink satin cami. A familiar fragrance wafted toward her nostrils and she inhaled deep. With the aroma came a deluge of memories. In her mind’s eye, Simon caressed the strap from her shoulder, encouraging the satin to drape lower. The top slipped, baring the delicate pink crest of her nipple. He’d dipped his head and sucked hard.
    “God, Simon.” She’d breathed his name and he’d cupped her bottom to position her against his naked erection.
    Still damp from the shower, smelling of mint and spice, he’d pumped his hips forward. The careful movement slid his cock along her seam, pushing her matching satin shorts aside and settling his shaft between her legs. The head of his cock bumped the nub of her clit repeatedly as he teased her pussy, never entering. Wet sounds, heavy breathing and the scent of musk wrapped around them. Hands still at her bottom, he’d canted her hips to better receive him. Sweat poured onto her legs, making her slip against his skin as she anchored her limbs around his waist. She’d whispered sweet nothings born of half-crazed need and determined self-denial.
    “Come for me, sweetheart,” he’d said, breathing hard. “Come for me and I’ll give you my cock. Come on, baby. Please.”
    A thread of sensation pulled at her abdomen and her cries quickened. Desire pooled in her sex until sensation overflowed the bounds of her existence. Her hips jerked involuntarily, bumping him hard at the door of her sex. She’d come in sharp, repeated pulses. On the first wave, he’d entered her, slamming home with a force that sent her orgasm sailing into the stratosphere. She’d cried out. He’d clutched her to him, convulsing with the power of his own release.
    Breathing hard in the here and now, Alex slammed the lid on the box and grabbed a book from one of Simon’s many overflowing shelves. Cheeks flushed, she surreptitiously glanced at him as she perched on the edge of his bed. Engrossed in his computer, glasses reflecting the monitor’s glow, Simon appeared not to notice as she fluffed a pillow and settled against the headboard. The bed rocked softly from side to side, mattress swaying long after she settled in and began to read. Many hours