Dirty Trick by Christine Bell Page A

over? She found herself torn. She wanted to see him, but the mystery of it all, the naughtiness of it made her feel so hot inside. Like she’d swallowed the sun.
    A tall figure stepped into the room, and her hands went slick with sweat. She opened her mouth to whisper to him, but stopped when a second, smaller figure followed behind. A woman. The pair made their way down aisle hand in hand and Grace could barely stomach her disappointment. It wasn’t him. And worse, if he did show, they were no longer alone. She watched, an empty ache filling her, as the couple chose their seats toward the middle row. She was so intent on seeing where they ended up, she jumped when a low voice murmured in her ear.
    “You came.”
    She jerked in surprise and looked up to see him standing over her. His face was obscured by the black hooded sweatshirt he wore, but she’d know that voice anywhere. Unless, of course, Christian Bale happened to enjoy French films as well. A familiar tingle washed over her, and her thoughts immediately went to Trick.
    Only Trick wasn’t here. And besides, he’d been happy for her just like he was when he found out that she’d hooked up at Chaz’s party. Exactly the way a friend should be. Which was exactly how she’d wanted it from the very beginning, so second-guessing herself over it now was nothing but selfish and silly. She shoved aside the disappointment and focused on the man in front of her.
    “I did,” she whispered softly. The relief was overwhelming, and for the moment, she didn’t care that they wouldn’t be able to do whatever it was he’d had planned. The fact that he’d shown up and had wanted to was enough for her.
    “I’m going to sit behind you for a while, all right?”
    She hesitated, not sure what he was getting at. “I guess so.”
    He settled into the chair behind her, and she attempted to stay calm. It was no easy task. The movie played on, and she tried to pay attention, but with every squeak of the chair behind her, she grew more agitated. What was he doing back there?
    About ten minutes in, when she was close to screaming in frustration, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and nearly jumped out of her chair.
    “Relax. I just want to touch you.”
    His mouth was close to her ear, and the heat of his breath sent a bolt of need through her.
    His hands were gentle, but they held that restrained power, a power she was all too familiar with from their activities last night. Her breath caught as he traced the line of her collar bone.
    “Come on, sink back.”
    She did, pressing her shoulders against the cushioned seat. His hands stayed safely above her neckline, which was at once calming and frustrating. It took a full five minutes before she realized that with each swipe of his fingertips, he was moving closer and closer to the curve of her breast. Her breath hitched as his thumb ran over the very beginning of one slope, a whisper of a touch that made her stomach ache.
    “Grace?” His breath tickled her ear, and she quivered.
    “Yes?”
    “You’re not at all relaxed.”
    “Sure I am,” she lied.
    “I can make you relax, you know. You just have to let me.”
    Her whisper was a little louder this time. “There are people here.”
    “Right. And there a lot of things I can do to you without them ever suspecting.”
    “L-like what?”
    “Well, for one, I know I can make you come.”
    Her throat stuck together, and she regretted passing on the concession stand soft drink. “I’d like to see you try it,” she heard herself say.
    His chuckle warmed her from the inside out. “Oh, I’m going to try it, all right. I tried it the other night and you know what?”
    She shook her head but then realized he probably couldn’t see that. “No, what?”
    “I haven’t stopped thinking about it. The way your pussy tastes. So fucking sweet on my tongue. Tell me. Did you like my mouth on you?”
    The memory of it sent the blood rushing downward, pooling low and tight, the