by Kayla, Mia
A blush touched her cheeks, and she waved a hand, pretending to be unaffected.
Can I say, Freudian slip? I dare say I can.
“No, I was just explaining how relationships work. It’s not about receiving. It’s about giving … of yourself.”
The blush brightened to an almost red. She was so unbelievably cute. I couldn’t resist, so I bent down and placed a chaste kiss on her lips.
“I don’t mind being the one to give.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re horrible.”
“You’re beautiful,” I countered, thinking of all the other things I could give her, particularly in the bedroom. I only hoped it was sooner rather than later with the way things were going.
Chapter 21
Brad
Working with Sonia was harder than I’d imagined. Harder being the key term. I had a hard-on every time she walked in the room. And her voice—what I had thought of before as a plain Jane voice was suddenly so fucking seductive. Everything about her had changed—or more so, how I saw her had changed. Being in love with Sonia had altered my whole outlook. I was becoming pathetic. I couldn’t stand not being around her anymore. When she wasn’t in my office, I’d stand at her desk, rambling about random things.
The need to see her and know every aspect of her day was overwhelming. I wanted to know what she’d had for breakfast, how she’d slept, what her plans were. I asked about her family and if she’d talked to them. I didn’t know what was happening to me.
I would watch her lips when she talked, when she drank her coffee, and I’d fantasize about those lips on my cock. When she was in my office, typing away on her iPad, I’d stare at her breasts, watch them rise and fall, and I’d stop the urge to imagine how they’d feel in my palms and in my mouth.
When she stood and walked away, I’d watch the sway of her hips, admire the curve of her ass, and imagine slipping down that skirt, anchoring her against my desk, and pounding my flesh against hers. Half the time, I was struggling to walk normally through the office.
Minutes seemed like hours till our date. I wanted to take Sonia to a nice restaurant—a twelve-course, three-star Michelin place. One she normally wouldn’t go to. Then, I wanted to have drinks on top of the Clement Hotel. The restaurant that turned slowly, so you could enjoy the view of the Chicago skyline.
I wanted to wine, dine, and impress her. But my way of wooing other girls wouldn’t work on Sonia. She was simple in what made her happy, in the things that mattered—family and friends.
And, as I searched high and low and with the help of my niece Sarah, I finally found the solution that I had been hoping for—a solution to the perfect date.
“Where are we going?” Sonia asked, stepping into my car after work.
“Somewhere. Everywhere.” My nerves were shot.
I couldn’t concentrate at work, and I’d kept checking to make sure that I had my reservations confirmed. I felt like a teenage boy on his first date when I’d been on a shit-ton of dates since then.
“Do you think I’m underdressed?” Sonia flattened her cream satin shirt, and I swallowed.
I knew what was underneath that shirt. I’d seen her practically naked the night of the wedding and every night since I’d fantasized about that shirt, unbuttoned and on my bedroom floor.
“You’re overdressed.”
She was. Part of my date included getting her an outfit for this occasion—not a clubbing outfit, but something that would add to the ambience.
“Overdressed?” She looked over her clothes, frowning, her hand skimming down her skirt. “Crap, I thought I was playing it safe with a semi-casual look.”
“You’ll be fine.” I reached for her hand and intertwined our fingers, needing the warmth of her touch.
During the workday, it had taken every ounce of energy not to reach her, touch her, kiss her. And, fuck, did I want to kiss her. Long and hard until she was breathless, panting, flushed.
“I’m nervous.” She fumbled with her hair and pushed up her glasses, fidgeting again. Her eyes focused on the forming traffic in front of us.
That was one of Sonia’s best qualities—honesty. If she didn’t voice it, her face would tell all. I knew this because I’d been the target of many of her annoyed looks.
“Don’t be. We’ll have fun.”
Thirty minutes later, we pulled into a park district where lights had been strewn from tree to tree. Cars were jam-packed into the parking lot, but when her eyes took in the countless people in robes and wands and hats, she flipped my way.
“Brad …” Her smile widened, and it did things to me—not in the horny way that it had all day, but in a deeper, more momentous way, where I couldn’t fucking breathe. “Where are we going?” Her eyes scoured the area in front of us again, and she squeed. She knew but only wanted me to verbally confirm it.
“I heard someone likes Harry Potter.” I shrugged, seeming unaffected, but I knew I had scored big, and this was the perfect date for Sonia. I’d have to take Sarah shopping later for the idea.
“No shit! Omigod.” And, just like a little kid, she pushed herself out the door, and I followed. Her eyes lit up like Mary’s on Christmas morning—bright, wide, and adorably cute. “I have nothing to wear.” She glanced down at her outfit again. Then, she jumped up and down and clapped her hands.
“There is a Harry Potter themed restaurant this week.” I grabbed her Hermione robe from the back of my car, the one Sarah had picked out and I’d bought online, and walked around to meet her.
“Brad … what’s this?” The joy bubbled in her laugh as I handed over the robe.
“Courtesy of Amazon.”
“And this event … it’s been sold out for months.” She beamed, shoving her hands into the robe and zipping it up. “I can’t believe this.”
I wasn’t telling her I’d paid ten times the price from some fans who were more than reluctant to let the tickets go.
“Unreal.” She motioned toward me. “Where’s your outfit?”
Reaching into my shirt pocket, I grabbed the thin, round Harry Potter eyeglasses and slipped them on. “Ta-da!”
She framed her hands on my face. “So cute. You’re so cute!”
Now, I was beaming. Like a fucking idiot. I’d wear these damn glasses to work if I could get a reaction like this from her every day.
“This will have to be written down as my best first date ever!” She squealed and flung out her arms wide, taking in the scene.
A Hogwarts Express train passed us, taking people from the parking lot to the restaurant.
“The night hasn’t even begun.” I tried to play it off, cool and collected, but inside, I was on an ultimate high, high on her joy, high on being on our official first date together.
In my mind, I had planned to change out of my shirt in the car, but Sarah had said I had to make this date memorable.
“Let’s get this night started.” Just like Clark Kent saving the day as Superman, I ripped open my Brioni shirt, revealing my Gryffindor shirt with the lion crest underneath. Buttons flew everywhere, scattering onto the concrete.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”
The fact that I had shredded a five-hundred-dollar shirt didn’t matter because the elation on her face was priceless.
* * *
Sonia
Brad’s fingers were intertwined with mine as I skipped—yes, skipped—back to the car. I’d never laughed so much with anyone, let alone Brad. It was hilarious, explaining every single Harry Potter drink and character who had passed us by. The makeup artist who had gone around even drew a little scar on Brad’s forehead. He twirled me and pressed me against the car, acting boyish and free, unlike his normal, serious demeanor I was used to.
“I can’t believe you have never watched the movies. If you can’t read the books, at least watch the movies,” I insisted.
His eyes twinkled under the moonlight, and he brushed strands of hair from my face. There was a zoo of bu
tterflies in my belly, which came alive every time he touched me. And the way he looked at me, it made me feel … beautiful. He hadn’t noticed our waitress, who was blatantly flirting, or the other Hermiones who were busting out of their robes. His sole focus throughout the evening was me.
“Ask me about princesses. I know them all and their little sidekicks. A few times, I pretended to be Flynn Rider because Mary was stuck in a Rapunzel phase. Or Eric when she was in her Ariel phase. I even dressed up as Eric for her fourth birthday. But Harry Potter? I know nothing.”
The fact that he played dress-up for his nieces increased his sexiness tenfold.
He dropped both hands to the edge of the car, caging me in. “I want to take you to Universal Studios in Florida.”
I laughed. “Actually, I haven’t made it out there yet.” That would be my ultimate vacation of a lifetime. Forget Europe or Bali or Tahiti. Take me to Florida, and my life would be good as set.
“Let’s go tomorrow. I’ll charter a jet.”
He angled closer, and I tiptoed and wrapped my arm around his neck, feeling things I hadn’t in a very long time. I was hyperaware of him whenever he was near, and having him this close, flushed against me, made my heart hammer in my chest.
“We can’t tomorrow.” I laughed. Him and his silly dreams. And his riches.
“Why not?” His fingers trailed down my cheek and pinched my chin.
“Because I want to go for a whole week.”
I’d planned my trip years ago but never had enough money to go. If and when I did go, I was going to drag it out and enjoy every second of it.
He grinned as if that was all he’d needed to hear. “Great. I’m taking off, and you can have a whole week off, too. I think I know your boss.” His hands went to my waist, and he lifted me onto the hood of his fancy, schmancy car. “Did you have fun, Hermione?”
His eyes flickered to my lips, and he unzipped my robe, exposing my cream satin shirt and black skirt underneath. I sucked on my bottom lip, taking him all in—from his Harry Potter glasses and painted scar above his right eye to the way his Gryffindor shirt hugged his broad frame. He was so out of his element and all for me. What he’d done tonight was exceptional. I couldn’t remember having a date like this, solely tailored to me, even with Jeff. He’d never gone this far to please me.
His fingers framed my face, lightly trailing down my arm and reaching for my waist inside of my robe. Every single trail of his fingertips—on my face, against my waist, at my hip—shot shivers through me.
And the way his eyes scoured my face made my heart beat faster.
“Just so you know, Hermione never dated Harry,” I deadpanned. “But today was the perfect date. Thank you.”
Because it had been, and I was enchanted and enamored with this man.
He cupped the side of my face, his eyes searching mine for permission, and then his fingers went to the back of my head, threading through my hair. Without a second thought, I closed my eyes and lowered my chin to his silent question.
When his lips descended on mine, it was soft, delicious, and erotic, all at the same time. Of all the boys I’d ever kissed before, this man was the best. His lips moved with purpose, sucking on my bottom lip and then moving to my top, paying lip service to each equally. I moaned against him, both of our breaths entangled into one. God, he tasted like mint and beer and all manly goodness. His hand dropped from my face and then moved to my ass, pushing my legs open so that I could cradle him. He was hard and erect, and every part of me pulsed with want and need and pure, uninhibited lust. Who knew how long we made out on the hood of his car. One minute bled into the next.
“Get a room!” someone yelled.
It was as if he hadn’t heard a word as his lips dropped to my neck, making it to the shell of my ear. “Your lips are my new addiction.”
I heard someone else muttering in the background. “There are children here, jeez. Come on, Darren. Let’s go.”
We both turned at the same time to see two kids about Sarah’s age laughing and walking with their mother.
“Great,” Brad muttered.
My heart thrashed against my rib cage. “Yeah.” My voice was a breathless whisper. “I think we were just about to give them a lesson on sex ed.”
He assisted me off the hood and then adjusted his pants, his well-endowed length pressing against the front of his slacks. “I can’t seem to stop kissing you.” He tipped my chin with his finger and placed one more peck on my lips.
I reached for his face, cupping his cheek. “I think I like the glasses on you.” I adjusted them on his face.
His smile was BILF beautiful, and my heart staccato-stuttered.
“I think I’m going to permanently keep these glasses now.”
And I think I want to permanently keep you.
The words rang loudly in my head.
There was no denying how I felt now. It was in the rapid patter of my pulse every time he was around. It was the way my eyes searched the room to look for his. It was the way my body craved his touch and the way my soul needed him to be fulfilled.
All hell had frozen over because my BILK had officially turned into my BILF.
* * *
Sonia
Silence overtook the car.
He stared into the parking lot as people started to file out. We’d been sitting in the car for two minutes. You could feel the tension in the air, taste it even. I counted every breath that left my body and every second that passed by. The passion-filled moment from earlier had disappeared without a trace and was replaced with a brewing tension, a sexual one that had us both quiet but thinking the same thing.
Brad turned to me, eyes conflicted. “Are you tired?” His voice was so soft, I wondered if he’d even said it.
I swallowed and wrung my hands in my lap, clenching my teeth and throwing him an awkward smile. “Not really.”
Given tonight’s date and how badly I wanted him, the deed would undoubtedly get done, but my nerves were shot. I crossed my arms over my chest and then uncrossed them, repeating the motion as though I didn’t know what to do next.
The engine roared to life, making me jump, and I was glad that there was noise to break the silence.
“You’ve got some power on this thing.” I straightened my skirt, pulling at the back, which lay mid-thigh.
“Power just like its owner.” His stare flickered to my mouth, and his tongue darted to lick his bottom lip.
The tension from deep in my gut tightened like a rope being knotted over and over again. It had been forever since I’d had sex. Almost a year. I was practically a virgin again.
“Is your condo by work?” My nipples pebbled against my shirt and I swallowed, wondering how I could give a hint without being too forward.
“Downtown. Ten minutes from the office.” His eyes flickered between me and the road ahead of him. His hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. He tilted his head from side to side as if to release some tension from his neck.
“In a high-rise?” I’d bet he owned the penthouse suite.
“No. House. I own a three-story flat. I live on the top floor.”
“You have a house in downtown Chicago?” The money this man had access to was Christian Grey–worthy.
“We own the building I live in. It’s right by Michigan Avenue.” His voice was guttural and low. “Do you want to see it?” He visibly swallowed, but his face didn’t give anything away.
I sucked in my bottom lip, blinking rapidly. “Okay.”
He was my boss. Was I really going to do this?
Staring at his profile, I knew I was. Not only because I was horny, but also because I liked him—Brad, the guy who had planned the Harry Potter date, the man who had lied to all my friends to be my date for the wedding, the man who radiated strength and kindness and drew me in like a magnet.
“Okay?” He didn’t sound convinced. “If you’re tired, I can … I can take you home.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s earl
y anyway.”
A noticeable tension filled the silence and spread through the tight space. It was like we both knew what we wanted, but neither was willing to say it out loud. I tried to dim the dizzying current racing through me but couldn’t.
He linked our fingers and kissed my inner wrist, right by the pulse, and the intimate gesture sent shock waves of desire straight down my thighs. His touch lit me up like a live wire.
I’d never been the aggressive type in my prior relationships because, like all men, they’d taken the lead, but I knew Brad was playing it safe, taking it slow with me, and I was done with slow.
I rested our hands on my upper bare thigh, and the air was sucked from the car. The electricity between us was undeniable and thick in the air.
The pulse on his neck ticked, ticked, ticked away. He eyed me when we were stopped at a red light. He rubbed circles on my thigh, slow at first and inching higher as though he were testing to see how far he could go.
When my right leg fell to the side, his fingers trailed up farther until I was pushing the seat back and angling toward him.
His eyes were on the road the whole time, and if it weren’t for the deep breaths escaping him and his hard length pressing against his pants, I wouldn’t even guess he was barely holding it together.
When his fingers grazed the edge of my panties, my eyes locked with his hooded ones when we were stopped at a light. I bit my bottom lip, watching as his fingers slipped past my underwear, touching the light patch of trimmed hair. When he slipped a finger between my folds, my right arm braced the car door when the light turned green.
My breathing increased in tempo to match the movement of his fingers making circles around my clit and then pumping into me, fast and steady.
I moved against him, against the sensual friction, yet it wasn’t enough.
This man had endless talent—to drive and finger-fuck me and keep his eyes on the road the whole time. It was deliciously erotic.
I’d never done anything like this before—foreplay in the car. Hell, I’d never had sex in a car or any other place other than a bed.