by JB Heller
Reaching down, I cup Kinsley’s downturned face in my palm and tip it up, then I bend my head and mark her with a long and passionate kiss.
Whatever it takes, I will show her how beautiful and worthy she is.
My heart beats triple time as Atticus leads us down a hallway toward the bathrooms instead of the table he pointed out. He then backs me into an alcove and cups my cheeks in his warm hands.
His voice is pure gravel as he asks, “Are you all right?”
I beam at him, a riot of emotions coursing through me: gratitude, hope, adoration, amazement, disbelief. “Yes,” I breathe. “You didn’t have to do that, but I’m glad you did.”
“It’s become rather apparent to me that there’s not much I won’t do for you, my sweet girl,” he tells me, pressing his forehead to mine then closing his eyes. “I couldn’t … you don’t deserve …” He sighs then grinds his teeth together, and when he opens his eyes, they’re burning with passion. “Fuck them, Kinsley. I get that they’re your family, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t toxic. And take it from me—you don’t need that kind of negativity in your life.”
“Okay,” I agree. It’s what Lennon and Emory have been telling me for years, but I always felt, deep down, that I deserved their criticism. I’m not sure when I started feeling that way, but I know it was wrong. Atticus has helped me see that, feel that.
My hands rest against his chest as it rises and falls, his thunderous heartbeat pounding against my palm. I tip my head back and offer him my lips as I murmur, “Kiss me again.”
The corners of his mouth curve as he lowers it to mine, sweeping his tongue inside, devouring me heart and soul. I moan into him and let my hands roam over his hard body until I’m squeezing his delectable ass.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, not again.” Arlo’s frustrated voice penetrates my little lust-filled bubble, and I stifle a shriek. “This is not the do-over I had in mind!” he groans.
Me either, dude. Me either.
Later that night, in my room, Atticus kisses me tenderly then moves off the side of my unmade bed and offers me his hand. “Do you trust me?” he asks.
My brows furrow in confusion. “Yes,” I murmur, placing my palm in his outstretched hand.
“There’s something I want to show you. Will you humor me for a few minutes?”
“Umm, okay …” I say, following him as he leads me to the floor-to-ceiling mirror in my closet then positions himself behind me. I twist my neck to look at him, and he presses a quick kiss to the tip of my nose.
“Look ahead for me,” he instructs. When I do, he rests his chin on my shoulder and places his hands on my hips. “What do you see?” he asks.
“What do you mean?” I return, not getting the point of this exercise.
His lips kick up in a small smile in our reflection, then he says, “When you look in this mirror at yourself, what do you see?”
I blink, then blink again as I bite down on the inside of my cheek. Eventually, I murmur, “Just an average, plain girl. Nothing special,” I tell him honestly.
He shakes his head, coming to stand at his full height at my back. “I’m going to tell you what I see, and you’re going to listen and take it all in. You’re going to open yourself up to seeing yourself the way I see you.”
Emotion lodges in my throat, making it impossible for me to speak, so I simply bob my head in acknowledgment.
Atticus brings one hand up to stroke my cheek. “I see mesmerizing green eyes that stop my heart in its tracks when they land on me.” His fingers graze my temple as he continues. “I see a woman with brains, beauty, and an immense amount of talent.”
My breath seizes in my lungs at his words, and tears prickle in my eyes.
Moving his hand down to my mouth, he cups my jaw and caresses my bottom lip with his thumb. “I see lips I want to kiss every single day. A mouth I want to watch as you speak about your work and your girlfriends.”
He continues to blaze a path down the column of my throat, across my collarbone, then between my heaving breasts, stopping at my stomach where he flattens his palm. Drawing my body back into his, he trails a line of delicate kisses along my neck then speaks again. “I see a brilliant, beautiful, kind-hearted, and sexy-as-hell woman who consumes my every waking thought and draws me further under her spell with every day we spend together,” he says with conviction.
My knees go weak, and if Atticus wasn’t holding me tightly, they’d give out on me.
He really sees all of that in me?
We stand there, staring at our reflections in silence as I do as he asked and let his words truly sink in.
A week has passed since Atticus rescued me from that disastrous brunch with my mother and sister. We’ve continued to have coffee at the café in the lobby every morning where we talk about our lives.
This morning, he told me his cousins, Tom and Sam, actually own Zenith, the building my mother and sister live in. And that they’re aware of who my family is, and they’re not fans. I think I like those guys already; they’re clearly good judges of character.
We’ve talked about so much, but I’m still holding back a huge part of myself that I’m well aware he’s desperate to know. Although he won’t push me to discuss it, he deserves to know. After everything he’s given me, I owe it to him and myself to open up.
Tonight is the night I’ll tell him about Sadie.
We’re lying on my bed, panting, after he showed me the beauty of the sixty-nine. And I know he deserves this; he’s gone above and beyond to make sure I know how he feels about me and how he sees me. He’s even confronted my demons head on, on my behalf, so it’s now or never.
Clearing my throat as my fingers trace the outline of his abs, I say, “So, about Sadie …”
When I don’t continue, he places his hand over mine, stilling its exploration. “Yes …”
My brows knit, and I stare at our joined hands on his taut stomach. I can do this. For Atticus, I can do this. I take a deep breath then expel the words from my system. “Miss Sadie came about after a drunken night with the girls. They thought it would be a good way to boost my confidence and that it might help me recognize that I am, in fact, attractive, despite my mother and sister constantly informing me I’m anything but.”
Atticus’s fingertips glide up and down my arm as I speak, soothing my nerves. I relax in his embrace and continue my story. “Growing up in Sophia’s shadow wasn’t easy, and having a mother who expected physical perfection was no picnic either,” I tell him, even though I’m pretty sure he already figured that part out.
Licking my lips, I tip my head back to look at him. He brushes a soft kiss across my forehead and surmises, “So, Miss Sadie was your conduit to confidence?”
I nod. “Exactly. My mother and sister, whether it was their intention or not, stripped me of any positive feelings about my appearance. I initially thought it was insane when Emory and Lennon came up with the idea that I create an erotic cleaning live-stream website. But one evening, after many, many wines, I sat down and created the site and did my first live-stream that night.”
“And the cleaning comes into it because you’re a little O.C.D. and it soothes you?” he asks.
“Yep. It also took my mind away from the camera recording me and my lack of coverage in the clothing department. I was in my own little cleaning-induced bliss bubble.”
He squeezes me gently, his arm curling tighter around me, and he presses a light kiss to my temple. “Do you still need Miss Sadie to feel good about yourself?”
I sit up, crawl over him until I’m straddling his hips, and shake my head. “Nope. I haven’t made one recording since you and I started talking,” I tell him then moan when he grips my hips and thrusts his up into me.
We’re both gloriously naked, and I’m well aware that a month ago, there was no way in hell this would have been a possibility for me. To feel so at ease and comfortable with a man that I’d not only be buck-ass naked, but sitting astride him, was a distant dream. A
nd I’m beyond thrilled that Atticus has made it my reality.
Looking down at him, my stomach flutters with butterflies, my pulse thrums in my ears, and euphoria swells inside my soul, because I love him. It came out of nowhere, but it’s there now, and it’s settled so deep inside my heart it’s like it’s always been there.
“I love you.” I give voice to my feelings despite wanting to flee. I have no idea how he’s going to respond to such a declaration after only a few weeks, but I couldn’t hold back.
“Thank fucking Christ,” he utters, sitting up then taking my face in his big hands and planting one hell of a kiss on me.
His cock hardens between my legs, which makes me moan, and I rock against it.
Atticus’s hands drop from my face to my hips in a punishingly tight grip. “I want to be inside that hot little pussy of yours so bad, my sweet girl, but not before I tell you …” He pauses and presses his forehead to mine and smiles. “I love you too. So fucking much it steals my breath every time I look at you.”
My heart explodes with unbridled happiness, and I plant a million kisses all over his face until he rolls us and hovers above me. His shaft nudges my center, and I squirm, needing to feel more of him, all of him.
He lifts his hips, moving away from my drenched entrance. “We don’t have to do this right now. I’m okay with waiting,” he tells me, his gaze serious and intense.
“I know,” I say, stroking his lightly stubbled cheek. “I want to. I need to feel you inside me.”
He closes his eyes, and he groans. “I didn’t bring any condoms.”
“I’m on the pill to regulate my periods,” I blurt then flush crimson, because why did I have to elaborate? Period talk is so not sexy.
Atticus’s smile makes my heart stutter in my chest, then he presses a quick kiss to my forehead. “A bit eager, are we?” He chuckles.
“I’m keen as beans!” I beam, but my smile falters as Atticus’s brows snap together, frowning. “What?” I ask.
“Keen as beans?” He laughs. “What does that even mean?”
My shoulders shrug. “I don’t know, but it sounded right,” I say, wriggling my hips beneath him.
Shaking his head, he grins down at me and finally drops his lower half, letting his shaft settle at my core again. “I’m clean,” he murmurs. “I’d never put you at risk.”
“I know, you’d never do anything to hurt me,” I assure him.
“No truer words have been spoken, but this will hurt, Kins,” he says, his voice husky and raw. “I’ll be as gentle as possible, and when the hard part’s over, I’ll make you feel good,” he promises then moves a hand between us to stroke between my legs.
He works me with his fingers until I’m close to coming apart, then he replaces his hand with his cock and surges forward. My breath catches in my throat at the flame that consumes me as he breaks the seal that marks my virginity. Tears burn my eyes, and I close them tight as my sex pulses with pain instead of pleasure.
Atticus kisses my tears away and remains perfectly still inside me.
Moments pass, and slowly, the pain ebbs to a dull throb, and I open my eyes. Licking my salt-slicked lips, I lift them in a small smile. “I’m okay now,” I whisper, noticing for the first time that his jaw is clenched. I cup it in my palm, concern washing over me. “What’s wrong?”
He shakes his head and kisses me. “You’re so fucking tight, sweet girl. It’s taking everything inside of me not to blow my load like an inexperienced teenager.”
I burst out laughing as a pained expression passes over his face.
“Stop that! It makes it worse!” He chuckles, pressing his forehead to mine.
Looking into each other’s eyes, our humor subsides, and Atticus starts to move. He thrusts in and out of me excruciatingly slowly. Heat consumes me as his cock drives me to a peak I didn’t think was possible for my first time. My fingers dig into his sweat-soaked back as he plunges inside me over and over.
“Atticus,” I cry out. “Oh, God, oh fuck, you feel so good.”
My legs quiver at his sides as I draw closer and closer to the alluring ecstasy waiting to take me under, and I detonate around him.
His thrusts become uneven and erratic as his beautiful face contorts with pleasure. Atticus comes inside me with an almighty roar then drops to my side.
“Do you offer a frequent flyers loyalty program?” I ask on a contented sigh. “’Cause I’d totally sign up.”
He bursts out laughing and nuzzles into my neck. “God, I love you.”
Since Kinsley and I traded I love yous, we’ve barely spent a night apart. And those nights have all been in her apartment. Tonight, I’m going to change that, but first, we need to get through dinner.
Instead of cooking, I decide to order in, and we’re all eating together—me, Kinsley, and Arlo.
“If you two start mauling each other again, I’m outta here,” my son says as he spins his baseball cap backwards.
Kinsley snorts. “No danger of that happening. I’m on my period.” Then she flushes crimson. “Oh my Lord,” she mumbles. “I just said that out loud, didn’t I?” Then she takes a large gulp of her wine.
Arlo cracks up laughing. “It’s all good. I’m down with honesty, and just because I don’t have a momma doesn’t mean I’m ignorant of female menstrual cycles.”
Wine sprays from my girlfriend’s mouth all over me.
“Well, this is going well,” I mutter, wiping my hand over my face.
“I’m so sorry!” Kinsley says, rushing to hand me a napkin to dry myself off.
Arlo continues laughing like he’s having a grand old time. At least one of us is.
The buzzer for the door sounds, and Arlo goes to answer it, still chuckling to himself.
I take Kinsley’s face in my hands and nuzzle my nose against hers. “I promise it won’t always be like this.”
She shrugs. “It could be worse, remember?”
Smiling down at her, I can’t resist pressing my lips to hers.
“Oh, come on. I wasn’t even out of the room for two minutes!” Arlo complains, the bag of takeout hanging from his hand. “You two are like a pair of handsy teenagers.”
I grin against Kinsley’s parted lips, and we chuckle as we turn our heads to face a thoroughly grossed-out Arlo. He mock cringes then sets out the food on the table.
My smile is huge. I am so completely happy in this moment; nothing could make it better. Well, except when I get to hold Kinsley in my arms in bed later, but right now, this is perfect.
TEN GLORIOUS MONTHS LATER …
It’s our one-year anniversary, and I’ve got something amazing planned for Atticus.
Arlo is at his friend’s place for the weekend, so we have the apartment to ourselves. I came home early from work to set up my camera on a tripod in Atticus’s office. Then, I dug out my old Miss Sadie maid’s outfit and donned it with my new pair of Louis Vuittons. I’ve got the connection all set up, ready to go. All Atticus has to do is click on the link I’m about to send him.
ME: Happy Anniversary, baby! I hope you like your present. {private link attached}
I only have to wait two minutes before the little notification below my text appears, telling me he’s read it. Then I get to work, cleaning my man’s office.
Holy fuck.
One of these days, my woman is going to kill me with her flirtatious smirk and sexy-as-fuck come-get-me eyes. Kinsley’s confidence has grown in leaps and bounds in the last year, to the point where her Miss Sadie persona and the woman I used to ride the elevator with have merged into one. And she rocks my world.
I click on the link without even reading her message properly, and now I’m staring at my sweet girl’s ass covered in a barely-there maid skirt as she bends over and dusts the bottom shelf of a bookcase.
My eyes are transfixed to the screen of my cell as she straightens, looks over her shoulder, and stares directly into the camera, right into me. My dick swells in my trousers as she winks then goes ba
ck to dusting.
This is so reminiscent of the live feed I accidently watched that night what feels like forever ago. Except this time, she’s at home, in my office. And what the fuck am I still doing here?
I stand so fast my chair flies out behind me. It bangs into the floor-to-ceiling window behind my desk. I grab my briefcase and head for the door.
Tyson stands as I stride past his desk with purpose. “Leaving early?” he calls behind me, humor lacing his tone.
I don’t even bother giving him a response.
Twenty minutes later, I slam the door to our apartment closed as I storm down the hallway to my office and throw the door open.
There she is, my secret seductress, and she’s waiting for me.
I don’t waste any time yanking my tie off and discarding my clothes. Kinsley yelps when I stalk toward her, a predator closing in on its prey. My cock slaps against my stomach as I walk, and her eyes drop to it, then she lowers to her knees the second I reach her.
She takes me in her hot, wet mouth and sucks me back as far as she can, bobbing her head up and down on my length. But as amazing as it feels, it’s not what I want right now. Placing a hand on her cheek, I push her face away and look into her questioning gaze. “I want you bent over my desk. Now,” I demand.
Kinsley doesn’t hesitate. She scrambles to her feet then dashes to sit facing me on the edge of my desk where I notice she’s already cleared half of it off. Her eyes follow me as I approach. An eager smile pulls at her perfect mouth, and I wrap my hand around the back of her neck, bringing her in for a desperate kiss. She moans into my mouth, her hands going to my ass.
Breaking the kiss, I spin her around, track my palm up her spine until I’m cradling her neck and push her over the timber surface. When her torso is pressed flat against it, I glide my finger back down to her ass then flip the flimsy excuse for a skirt over it.