by Kyra Fox
“That sounds nice,” I moan. His mouth is back on my nipple as he draws lazy circles over my clitoris, slowly driving me crazy with need.
“More,” I plead.
He slides a thick finger over my opening, coating it with my juices, before easing it through my folds and moving it in slow strokes, his eyes never leaving my face as he shifts every once in a few strokes, observing how my body responds to his touch until he presses that elusive bundle of nerves deep inside of me, my back arches and I let out a soft cry.
That sexy grin spreads across Mac’s face as he adds another finger, filling me even more, touching me in all the right spots as he continues working my clit with his thumb, pushing me further and further until the world around me shatters into a million pieces, my entire body convulsing with waves of pleasure, clenching around his fingers, hungrily trying to pull as much of him in as it can.
“Jesus, Zoe.” Mac’s pants practically match mine as I collapse on his shoulder, trembling as my orgasm subsides. “You’re so fucking hot, the way you come… Jesus.” He shakes his head in awe, seemingly at a loss for words.
Mac keeps holding me as he eases his coated fingers out of me and sifts them through my hair, gently lifting my head from his shoulder and kissing me with reverence as he climbs on top of me, maneuvering us to the middle of the bed as we continue learning each other’s mouths.
He reaches over to the nightstand for a condom as I explore his firm body with my hands, running them over his abs, pecks, and neck, circling around and caressing his broad shoulders and strong back as he rolls the condom on and positions himself between my thighs.
My hands grab his butt cheeks, pulling him forward until his large body covers mine completely, the head of his cock nudging my opening. Mac brushes the stray bangs away from my face, and he pushes in, inch by inch, slowly stretching me and filling me until he’s seated deep inside of me.
He’s bigger than any of my former lovers, and I’m only an inch over the dictionary definition of petite, but somehow, he fits so perfectly inside of me, in a way that makes me forget there’s anything in the world aside from him and me in that very moment.
“Everything about you is perfect,” he whispers in my ear before starting to rock his hips as I lick the hollow of his throat, kiss his shoulders and run my fingernails over the ridges of his flexing back muscles.
I know he’s talking about how our bodies seem to fit like two adjoining pieces of a puzzle, but as he murmurs sweet nothings into my ear, driving into me over and over while I clutch at his strong neck until he achieves what I thought was impossible and carries me over the edge to yet another mind-blowing orgasm, a small part of me hopes that maybe, just maybe, he finds other things about me perfect as well.
Chapter Four
MAC
“No. Nope. No way.” I pull the sheet over Zoe’s exposed body.
She's laying on her back and decided to stretch leisurely, arching up and popping out those amazing tits with rosy nipples that match the color of her lips, another one of those motions she just does without even realizing how sexy it is.
It makes my thoughts run wild to places I have no energy left to go to. We had managed two more rounds of brain-melting sex, all in all, four amazing times I got to be inside her and feel her come around me. She isn’t a screamer, another point to her, but her body spoke volumes more than any sound she could have made.
“I didn’t know my boobs were that offensive.” She laughs, turning on her side to look at me, there’s a smile playing on her lips, and that dimple is just taunting me now. I’m sprawled on my stomach, the sheet low on my waist and my arms under the pillow, barely able to lift my head.
“Not offensive just more than I can handle right now.” I wiggle my eyebrows with a grin, and Zoe laughs, shaking her head in the way that women do when what they really want is to roll their eyes and huff out “Men…”
“Got it. My little boobs make your big dick hard.” She rolls off the bed taking the sheet with her, leaving me buck-naked and exposed in bed, chuckling at her abrasiveness.
“If I would have known you were a foul-mouthed sex goddess, I wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of not kissing you after our date.”
“And miss out on me showing up all Victoria’s Secret on your doorstep?” She winks, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
She doesn’t entirely believe my compliments. I wonder if her inability to see how she takes me off balance is about her own self-perception or if she’s different with me than she is with other men. I hope for the latter, though I don’t like the idea of Zoe with other men.
That thought makes me frown. Why am I feeling possessive about a woman who will never be mine again after tonight?
“You’re full of surprises, you know?” I call after her as she leaves the bedroom and comes back with her giant tote.
“How am I full of surprises?”
“You’re just so planned and rational. You have a lecture look because your regular clothes aren’t serious enough, as if a Ph.D. before the age of twenty-four isn’t plenty for people to take you seriously. You had a condom on you when you got here because, with all the alleged spontaneity of showing up pretty much naked on the doorstep of a practical stranger, you just can’t leave anything to chance, and I bet you have a change of clothes in that oversized bag of yours.” Zoe clutches her bag protectively to her chest. “Exactly. So not so much spur of the moment idea as a thoroughly planned seduction.”
“And all that is surprising?” she asks dryly. “Because you sound more disappointed than anything.”
“Not disappointed. It’s part of who you are, the part you don’t try to hide.” I catch her gaze, it’s wary and reminds me of how she looked at me when she thought I was going to run away from her, a grim acceptance that I find her either not enough or too much. “The surprise is that wild, passionate part in you that has no inhibitions, no barriers. Considering how planned you are, I never would have guessed she was in there. It surprised me, in the best way possible.”
Zoe’s gaze softens, and she smiles at me in a way that makes my heart clench in my chest. I have to resist the urge to go and hug her, tell her how truly remarkable she is.
“It wasn’t my idea, the lingerie and trench coat.” She looks at her feet, pushing her bangs back. “My friend Phoebe suggested it, and I didn’t have a better idea of how to un-friendzone myself, so I went with it.”
“Zoe, look at me.” I sit on the bed facing her, forgetting that just a moment ago I was too exhausted to blink and wait for her to lift her gaze. “I don’t care whose idea it was, I’m really glad you came here tonight, regardless of what you were wearing. And for the record, I liked you before tonight, and I really wanted to kiss you on Thursday.”
We hold each other’s gaze for a few seconds longer, unspoken words hanging between us.
“I should get dressed.” Zoe breaks the connection and goes into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
I force myself to get out of bed and pull on sweats and a shirt. Zoe emerges from the bathroom wearing lowcut jeans and a loose off the shoulder burgundy sweater. It seems like it’s the right size this time because, despite the loose cut, it compliments her.
She sits on the bed and pulls her shoes on, throwing what’s left of her lingerie into the tote, and I feel a knot form in my stomach. The realization that I don’t want her to leave catches me by surprise; I’ve never wanted any girl to stay before.
“Sorry about the panties,” I offer, rubbing my neck.
“Your tell is shooting red flares, Mr. Mackenzie.” She arches a single eyebrow.
“It’s late…” Stay. “And if you’re even half as exhausted as I am you really shouldn’t be driving.” I really want you to stay. “I feel like a dick for sending you out like this to drive home; let me at least make you coffee before you leave.” I’m a chickenshit.
“That’s really thoughtful, Mac.” Her smile is genuinely grateful. “But it’s not far, and
I’m still pretty pumped on adrenaline, I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. So, I guess I’ll see you around.” I tuck my hands into my pockets and rock on my heels.
“Maybe.”
I’m pretty sure maybe means never.
“I had an amazing night, Zoe.”
“Yeah, it was pretty amazing.” She walks to me and kisses my cheek. “Goodnight, Mac.”
“Goodnight, Zoe.” I hear the front door shut, and just like that she’s gone.
ZOE
“Tell us everything!” Trista squeals through the screen. We had decided on another happy hour on Saturday to catch up on how the grand seduction of Mac went.
“Is that a coke?” Phoebe wrinkles her nose, looking at my highball with dismay.
“With Rum. Cheers!” I raise a bitter salute and take a large gulp.
“I’m sorry, Zo.” Phoebe slumps back in her chair and plays with a pen on her desk. “I really thought my plan was solid.” Her eyes are full of apology when she looks back up at me.
“Oh, it was.” My words are a bit slurred. “And let me tell you, it was not the only solid thing that night.”
“Um, Sweetie, how many drinks have you had before happy hour?” Trista and Phoebe shoot each other a look through the screen.
“Three,” I say decisively, then scrunch my nose. “Maybe four.”
“Okay, how about you get a nice big glass of water and then tell us everything?” Phoebe suggests, and I sigh.
“Fine.” I come back with a large glass of water and take a long sip before setting it down and sighing again.
“So, it was that bad?” Trista glares at me over the rim of her wineglass as she takes a sip.
“It was that good.” I sigh once more and then roll my eyes. “God I’m so pathetic! I can’t stop sighing like a fucking Shakespearean protagonist.”
“Who swears like a fucking pirate.” Trista snickers at me. “Just walk us through it.”
“I got there, and I think the outfit kind of turned him on because he just stood there and stared at me, and then, when I dropped the coat, he was a lot turned on. And let me tell you, there was a lot of him to turn on if you get my drift.” I’m snorting at my own stupid innuendo, not caring that I probably look like a crazy lush, my girlfriends laughing right along with me. “Anyway, I strayed from the script a bit, Phoebs. I don’t know what came over me, but I made him strip for me before letting him do anything more than kiss me, and dear God that man is gorgeous.”
“You go, Zo!” Phoebe cheers. “Write your own damn script, it’s your booty call.”
“Yeah!” I take another gulp of water, and a thought crosses my mind. “Hey, guys. What’s the maximum number of times you can fuck someone in a single night before it’s not a one-night stand anymore?”
“I’d have to say if you fuck the next night as well,” Phoebe provides, and Trista snorts at the answer, choking on her wine. I contemplate the response and decide it makes sense.
“Why?” Trista asks through coughs. “How many times did you guys go at it?”
“Four.” My grin is so wide my cheeks start aching. “And I came every time, at least once. And crazy orgasms. I’m talking holy-fuck-I-think-the-big-bang-just-happened-all-over-again orgasms.”
“Even when you’re drunk talking about fucking a guy on a one-night stand you’re still a total nerd.” Trista and Phoebe are giggling, but it’s in good nature, and I join in. Those two get me, and I adore them.
“He was so sweet.” I keep giggling and don’t notice that Phoebe and Trista quieted down. “He was so tentative about everything. And he said everything about me was perfect. That was nice, it made me feel nice.” I had stopped giggling as well by that point and sigh again. “And when I was leaving, he said he didn’t care what I was wearing he was just happy I showed up at his door, and I swear he was going to ask me to stay, but it freaked him out so he asked if he could make me coffee so I wouldn’t be tired driving home. Which was also kind of sweet, I guess.”
“Why don’t you call him, Zo?” Trista asks softly, but I just shake my head.
“No, it was one perfect night, that’s all it was and all it ever will be,” I say with more determination than I feel.
“Okay, Sweetie.” Phoebe’s using that voice, the one she only uses when one of us is being unreasonable, usually Trista. “Maybe you should finish your water and call it a night, what do you say?”
I yawn and nod, resigned that if Phoebe has to use that voice on me, I better not argue.
“Yeah, I’m exhausted and drunk.” There’s a warmth in their smiles, but also a hint of sadness.
“Okay, I have to go get ready. This guy I met at a coffee shop after work yesterday is taking me to dinner tonight.” Phoebe sends us air kisses. “Love you guys.” And then she’s gone.
My shoulders are slumped as I finish drinking my water in three large gulps. “Okay, I’m going to hit the sack.”
“You really are amazing, Zoe.” Trista stops me before I can log off.
“You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better, Tris.”
“I’m not.” Trista shakes her head fervently. “You’re smart and interesting, you’re funny and quirky, and you are so kind, Zo, you have the biggest heart, and you’re so strong. You’re the person we come to when we need someone to lean on. Also, you’re smoking hot.”
I laugh and wipe a stray tear from the corner of my eye. “Thank you.” Trista smiles at me and suddenly bursts into tears. “Tris? What’s going on, are you okay?” I feel dread taking over me, the buzz evaporating in milliseconds. Trista never cries; this is serious, fatal illness serious.
“I’m so lonely, Zoe.” Trista’s sobbing into her hands. “I know you guys think I make friends everywhere I go, and sure I’ve met some great people here, but none of them are you guys. None of them are Brian, I miss him, Zo.”
“Oh, Honey.” I look at my gorgeous friend, with her striking blue eyes all red and puffy, and her angelic baby face streaked with tears. Her full red lips are quivering and her honey-blonde hair, usually in some form of a braid, is loose and falling in a wavy mess around her face like a halo, making her look like a sad cherub you just want to hug until everything is better. “Have you talked to him lately?”
“We text a lot, but we’ve only talked a couple of times since I moved here three months ago. He keeps claiming he’s busy at the lab, but it sounds like a poor excuse to avoid me.” Trista blows her nose, her sobs reduced to hiccups. “Is he mad at me for moving?”
“No, Honey, of course, he isn’t mad, but you know how B is; it’s hard for him to accept changes that are beyond his control.” I wonder how much to reveal about Brian’s struggle to adjust to Trista leaving. “He misses you at least as much as you miss him.”
A soft smile drifts over Trista’s lips. “I think I’ll call him when we finish talking.”
I smile in encouragement. “He’d love to hear from you,” I assure her. “Maybe get him to come visit you out in LA.”
“You think he would?” Trista perks up, and her eyes fill with hope.
“I’m sure.”
“Okay. Thank you. I love you, Zo.”
“I love you too, Tris.” We end the call, and I sit for a few long minutes thinking.
The idea of Mac turning me down scares me, just like Brian fears Trista will refuse him. But unlike Brian, I have nothing to lose except my pride. Mac and I don’t have a close friendship, our families aren’t a close-knit clan, and our parents aren’t the best of friends, so there’s no one to consider in this situation but myself.
Maybe Trista’s right and I should just reach out to Mac. Worse comes to worse, he’ll say no or ignore me.
I pick up my phone and pull up his contact details, but as I’m pondering what to write, I feel a chill creep up my spine and my fingers freeze.
I can’t.
That perfect night serves as a perfect memory, and if he turned me down, it would be tarnished, ruined with the bitter tas
te of rejection, of Mac becoming just another in a long list of men who couldn’t see past my Ph.D.
Images of Mac’s hands on my body surface, his smoldering gaze flitting through my mind as I make my way to my room.
The fantasies will suffice, I assure myself. For now, they’ll be enough.
Chapter Five
MAC
“God fucking damn it all to hell!” I throw my hands up in the air with an exasperated shout.
I had put the head gasket on upside down, causing a jet of oil to squirt into my face when Lenny ignited the engine. Worse than a rookie mistake, it was an amateur mistake, one a mechanic twelve years into the trade shouldn’t be making.
“What the hell, Mac?” Lenny turns the engine off and marches in my direction, throwing a cloth at me. “You’ve been off your game for over a week now, what’s gotten into you?”
Lenny’s a head shorter than me but much wider and more muscular, his dark gray hair the only indication of his fifty-three years on Earth. He’s a well-kept man and also happens to be the only father figure I’ve ever known, so disappointing him is just not an option in my book.
“I’m sorry.” I blow out a long breath and run my hand through my hair and over my neck, the nervous gesture Zoe had quickly observed is my tell.
And there it is. Zoe. The reason I’m so distracted that I’m making amateur mistakes.
She’s been occupying all the space in my brain since she stormed into my apartment ten days ago and then just as abruptly walked out my door the very same night.
“Look, whatever it is, why don’t you take a couple of days off?” Lenny offers, placing his hand on my shoulder in a fatherly gesture. “Get your shit together and come back Monday with your head screwed on straight again.”