Secret Connection: Francine wants what she wants, the hot hunky cigar smoker in the kilt…
Heat crept up her cheeks. Nipples tightened into hardened buds. Her jeans grew damper.
The subtle rush of adrenaline mixed with hormones began to flood her body.
Waving once more at the Englishman, she sauntered over to him and took a seat in the large leather chair beside his.
He shifted in his chair and faced her. His calf brushed hers. Pushing dark glasses back up his nose, he smiled. “Hi. I couldn’t help but notice you were staring in so I thought I’d offer you a seat.”
She smiled, tilting her head to one side. Running a hand through her hair, she waited a beat before answering in a soft voice. “Yeah. I was just curious about what goes on in one of these shops. I’ve never been in here.”
“Well,” he took another puff from his ridiculously huge cigar and blew smoke into the air away from her, “just this.”
The depth of his voice rumbled in the quiet of the lounge. “Just this?”
He waved smoke from her. “Yup. I’ve had a long day. Been at the office all day busy and just need to unwind. How about you?”
“Oh,” she leaned back in the chair, “I understand those days.” She lifted a hand to her head and began twirling strands of hair around her fingers, all while watching the direction of his gaze.
His eyes reached her chest.
Something low pulled in her gut. Nipples ached against the fabric of her top.
Kilt man shifted his weight again and spread his legs, letting the material of his kilt fall between his thighs.
Her eyes riveted to his lap.
He smiled. “My name’s Don.” Setting his cigar aside, he extended his hand to her.
She reached for him, “Francis.” The touch of his skin, rough fingers against her more delicate hands sent an electric spark through her that rushed straight to her core.
Only in San Francisco would something like this happen.
She felt the stare of two other pairs of eyes on her and heat rose in her cheeks.
It didn’t matter. She would find out what Don wore beneath his kilt and she’d have it buried in her soon.
“I was curious,” he picked up his cigar and took a puff, filling the air with a thick plume of smoke and the scent of wood, “what a woman like you would stare at a guy like me for.”
“What do you mean?” She leaned forward, setting her weight on the arm of the chair, making sure that her cleavage showed.
Don’s eyes hid behind sunglasses but stared at her.
He was playing into her hands. “Yum.”
He took off his shades and arched a brow. “Pardon?”
She thought she whispered the word! Oh well. “I like uniquely attractive men and with your beautiful hair I couldn’t help but notice you.”
Don slid his glasses back on and brushed strands of blonde hair behind his ear. “I see. I definitely appreciate the compliment.”
Francis leaned further into Don’s personal space, far enough that she could practically smell him over the cigar. “I’d like you to come see me sometime.” She licked her lower lip, letting her tongue glide along her mouth ever so slowly while remaining aware that his eyes were watching that tongue behind those shades.
He started to puff on his cigar but stopped short. Crossing one leg over the other, Don set the cigar in the ashtray beside him and looked at the other two men behind him, then back at Francis.
His heated gaze burned her skin, made her wetter.
“I’d like to do that. How late do you work til?”
She sat back in her chair and checked her watch before turning her attention to the empty humidor. “Let me buy you a smoke and we’ll figure out it.”
Without waiting for his response, she stood and headed towards the humidor. Pushing the heavy door open, she walked past it and let it slam shut.
The noise of the door shutting startled her but she kept her poise while browsing through the various cigars and keeping an eye on Don.
He took another puff on the stogie and set it down. Slowly, he made his way past the Englishman and opened the door to the humidor, carefully shutting it behind him. “What’s your favorite aroma?”
Need poured from his voice that made her nipples harder beneath her shirt. She adjusted her jacket over her shoulders and turned to face him while running her fingers up and down the length of a rather large cigar. “I personally enjoy a manly scent. Something about the ruggedness of man who knows what he likes just…” she purred, “does it for me.”
Up close he was a good eight inches taller than she.
Don slid his glasses down his nose and arched an eyebrow. “Really now?”
She nodded. Pointing to a box of cigars that read “Executive,” she picked one up and caressed the length of the fat stogie. “Are these any good?”
“I see you like robust things.” He stepped closer, his hand now brushing her elbow. “That’s a personal favorite of mine.”
The rise and fall of his chest was amusing. “Will this work?”
He pushed his glasses back up his nose and smiled. “When and where?”
Now was her chance. “Half an hour, top of the building?”
“Done.” He leaned into her and brushed his lips over hers in a gentle caress that ended with the flick of his tongue over her lips.
She started to kiss him back but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.
“Not here. I don’t care about the ribbing from the two jackasses in the lounge but we are in a public place.”
She smirked. “That wouldn’t stop me.”
His lips curled upwards in a sly smile. “Me either. But I’m not a minute man, either.”
She purred low and breathy, “Good.”
“I’ll see you in half an hour then? Top of the building?”
She nodded. Taking the large cigar with her, she exited the humidor, dropped a twenty on the counter in front of the Englishman and told him to keep the change before walking out of the shop and back to her mundane little security desk next door.
Her hormones were alive with desire coursing through her body. There wouldn’t be any disturbances atop the seven story building other than the breeze and night sky.
Thankfully it was only moderately cool outside at this hour.
Though she wasn’t sure it would matter once Don showed up and slid his length inside her to heat things up.
Half an hour later, Francis took leave from the desk and made her way to the rooftop of the building. She remembered to leave the cigar on her desk hidden from anyone’s view.
Pushing her way through the large metal door, sent butterflies dancing wildly through her stomach but her jeans were already soaked so much that she could smell her own arousal.
“Now, I wait.” She checked her watch. She’d give him five minutes. Tossing her keys aside, she realized the fewer accoutrements she wore, the better.
Leaning over the edge of the building gave her a view of Market Street, along with the sounds of cable cars clanging down the tracks.
A pair of hands on her hips startled her.
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