A Week in New York (The Empire State Series Book 1)

by Bay, Louise

  We were showed to our table toward the back of the restaurant. I was jumpy. I was very close to fucking this whole evening up.

  “You ok?” she asked as we sat.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Sorry for going all Sylvia Plath in the car.”

  I laughed. “You don’t have to apologize. I just want you to be yourself. I’m just a bit concerned this restaurant isn’t the right place for you.”

  “Really?” she looked around. “It seems nice. You don’t like it?”

  “It’s fine. I just don’t think it’s the type of place that I should have brought you. I should have picked a better restaurant.”

  “It looks plenty fancy enough.”

  “That’s the point. It’s too much I think. You suit something …”

  “You don’t think I’m worth taking somewhere fancy?” She was smiling but it concealed an edge to her question.

  “I think you’re worth taking to the fanciest place in New York City. But I’m not sure you’d like it as much as you’d like something a bit more relaxed. Less pretentious.”

  She raised her eyebrows at me. “I can do fancy,” she said simply.

  A very nervous waiter came over and went through the menu with us. I watched her as she smiled and nodded at him, trying to put him at ease. It was a kind thing to do, and when he left he looked like he was a little bit in love with her.

  “What are you going to order?” I asked.

  She was looking over my shoulder, not at the menu. She shrugged. “I’ll have whatever you have.”

  “You will?”

  She nodded. “I hate menus. I hate the deciding, so I prefer not to look.”

  “So now I have to order something I think you’ll like. Like a test.”

  “God no, that’s awful—what kind of women do you normally date? Just order what you want. It’ll be fine.”

  “But if you don’t like it?”

  “Then I won’t eat it, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s not a test, honestly.”

  I ordered. Sea bass. I wouldn’t normally order fish, but women liked fish, didn’t they?

  “I don’t date,” I said when the smitten waiter had taken our order. Or my order for both of us.

  “What?”

  “You asked me a question about the kind of women I normally date.”

  “Oh, yes. You don’t date?”

  I shook my head.

  “Oh, right. I can see there’s something of a monk about you.”

  I laughed. “I didn’t say I was a monk. I said I didn’t date.”

  “I’m not following you. You don’t like to call it dating?”

  “Call what dating?”

  “Dinner, drinks, back to your hotel. Do you live there?”

  “No, I don’t live there. I just … book that suite sometimes.”

  “Somewhere to stay with your non-dates?”

  “I don’t stay there.” Why was I telling her this stuff?

  “You’re talking in riddles.”

  I took a deep breath. “I don’t do the dinner, drinks, dating thing usually … or ever. I book the suite, I fuck in the suite, but I don’t stay over.”

  She looked at me but didn’t say anything.

  I waited and she still didn’t say anything. Fucking hell. I knew I was going to fuck this up. This restaurant. Telling her about my relationships, or lack of them. What was I thinking? I should never have run into her at lunch. This was a disaster.

  “You haven’t said anything,” I reminded her.

  “I don’t know what to say.” She gulped down half her glass of wine. “You don’t need to woo me. I fucked you last night. I’ll fuck you again tonight. You didn’t need to bring me to dinner. You don’t need to tell me that I’m different—that you don’t normally sleep over, but you made an exception for me; that you don’t normally take women to dinner, but you made an exception for me. I told you last night. I don’t want the bullshit. I can take it if it’s only sex. That’s all I want. I just want the truth.”

  She took her napkin off her lap and pushed it onto the table and stood up.

  “Let’s go,” she said. “Let’s get to the bit where we’re fucking. That’s what we’re here for. The rest of this is just bullshit.”

  I reached across to her and circled my hand just above the wrist. “Sit down. Please.” She looked beautiful. Unguarded.

  It hadn’t occurred to me that she’d think it was a line. But I guess she didn’t know that I didn’t do that. I didn’t need to do that. She didn’t know that I had a no-bullshit policy. Why would she? She’d been fucked over by a series of douchebags full of lines like that. Why would I be any different?

  She hesitated, but she sat down, her eyes fixed on the wine glass in front of her. I grabbed the bottle from the bucket beside the table and shooed away the waiter who came to assist. I topped up her glass.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “I’m going to promise you something.”

  She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable.

  “I know you don’t want me to, but I’m going to do it, anyway. I’m going to promise you that I’m not going to bullshit you. You can choose to believe me or not. I’m not going to tell you that I’m going to tell you everything, but everything I do say to you will be true. I like you. You’re funny and sexy and amazing in bed. You’re here for a week. Then you’re gone. You’ve said you need a little fun in your life and I’m happy to oblige. Why don’t we just hang out for the week? We can have some fun and then say goodbye. No bullshit. No promises. Just great sex and a few laughs.”

  She looked at me for the first time since she sat down. I could tell she was trying to think of a funny response. I grinned at her and she took a sip of wine rather than grin back, although I could see the twitch at the corner of her mouth. Wow, she was stubborn.

  “Is that such a bad offer?”

  “No bullshit,” she repeated.

  “I promise. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to pay you a compliment.”

  “You can only do that if it’s not bullshit. Not because you think it’s what I want to hear, or what you think you need to say to get me into bed.”

  “Agreed.” I nodded. “You look beautiful tonight.”

  “Fuck off,” she grinned.

  “You do. Suck it up, buttercup.”

  Chapter Six

  Anna

  Once we’d established our no-bullshit rule, I allowed myself to relax. We’d laid it out there. I was here for a week. And I wanted some fun and some good sex. No complications, no promises, no bullshit. He was easy company. And easy on the eye, that was for sure. Was it possible to be as handsome as he was without being a total douche? Well, he put on a good act, because he seemed funny and charming and nice to the obviously very nervous waiter, despite the fact he wouldn’t let him pour our wine. I was determined to just let myself enjoy the here and now.

  Dating back in London was never about the here and now. I was always skipping ahead, fast forwarding the relationship in my head. Would my friends like him? Would my parents like him? Could I live with his quirks? Would he be a good father? It didn’t have to be like that with Ethan. It was only ever going to be for a week, so I was forced to live in the moment.

  “Shall we go and find a cocktail bar and an after dinner drink?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “No?”

  I shook my head again. “I want to see you naked again.”

  “Well that’s a coincidence. Because I want to see you naked again, too.”

  He grinned and asked for the check.

  Unlike the night before, our car journey this evening was full of chatter. He seemed to know every building in New York City and pointed his favorites out as we drove along. A couple times he pulled me toward him so I could see better.

  It seemed we were headed back to Daniel’s apartment. “Where are we going?”

  “The hotel. Is that ok?”

  I nodded. Had I hoped w
e would go back to his place? Maybe a little. But it didn’t matter where we were going, because wherever it was I was going to have the best—or the second best, after last night—sex of my life. He stroked my cheek with his thumb and leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips. It seemed, romantic almost. He pulled away and put his hand around my shoulders and pulled me closer.

  When we got out the car, he held his hand for me and I took it and we crossed the lobby as if we were a couple. As we got in the elevator, despite being surrounded by other guests, my skin started to fizz. I knew what was going to happen when we got up to his suite. The delay of only minutes felt too much. I looked up at him, to try and see what he was thinking. He looked back at me with darkened eyes and shook his head and looked away.

  “Don’t,” he said quietly and the fizz of my skin grew. His hand on my hand was not enough. I needed to feel him.

  As the last guests got off the elevator, the door hadn’t quite shut when Ethan released my hand. For a brief moment I was confused, until he pushed me against the wall of the elevator and kissed me hard. His tongue pushed straight into my mouth, and his hands thrust into my hair, as if he couldn’t stop himself. I reached around his neck, drawing him closer. He smelled so good. It had been less than 24 hours since my body had been taken by him, but I felt like it had been months. I felt a longing from somewhere, like it was never going to be enough with him.

  He pulled at my clothes, releasing my shirt from my pants, and his hands spread up and across my naked back.

  He reached for my leg, drawing it around his waist and he pushed me harder against the wall. I curled the other one around so he was holding me up. I felt his erection against me, but there were too many layers between us.

  His mouth was still on mine, his tongue desperate and thrusting, when he released me from the wall and carried me from the elevator. Then I felt another wall behind me, and he pressed his hardness against me, making sure I knew he was ready for me.

  I needed his shirt off. I clawed at his collar, fumbling for the buttons, his mouth having found my neck, nipping and sucking. Not gentle, but desperate like he had to taste me.

  I started to make my way down his shirt, undoing the buttons, when he pulled away.

  “We need to get in the room,” he whispered. “Or I’m going to fuck you right here.”

  I realized we were in the hallway, just outside the elevators. I’d assumed we’d made it into the suite. I giggled and buried my head in his neck as he pulled me off the wall and moved toward the door. I should have got down from him. He should have released me, but I needed his body against mine. I pulled him tighter to me as he opened the door. He strode down the hallway of the suite and I pulled back slightly to look at him as he walked. He looked purposeful and determined and I let out the tiniest sigh. He was so handsome.

  “Fuck,” he said. “When you look at me like that, it does something to me. It flicks a switch in me.”

  I felt my back against the mattress as he leaned over me and I relaxed my hold on him.

  “Seriously. Naked. Right now,” he said as he went for the zipper to my trousers, tugging at it. I pushed his fingers away and took over and he reached for the buttons on my blouse. “Look at your gorgeous tits,” he said as he spread my blouse open. “I need you right now,” he said as he fumbled for his own zipper.

  “So take me. I’m yours to have. You have my body for a week.”

  I shrugged off my blouse and kicked off my pants as he finished undressing and found a condom. He crawled up my body, pressing his flesh against mine.

  “You’re mine to have,” he repeated to me as he thrust into me. My legs parted farther and my knees drew up either side of him at the feel of him, as if trying to make more room for him. He watched me and my reaction. For a second, I couldn’t make a sound; I was so caught up in the sheer feel of him inside me. And then from the back of my throat I heard myself groan.

  “Oh, that’s it baby. Take it all,” he said as he thrust into me again. Long, hard, pounding strokes.

  “Ethan. Ethan. Ethan,” I screamed.

  I felt myself clench around him and I dug my fingernails into shoulders. Oh god, he needed to slow down. I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn’t ready to feel this so quickly. My hands grabbed at his arms and then started to push at his chest.

  “Ethan. Slow down. I can’t.” But he kept me there, pushing into me, deeper and deeper and deeper. “I’m going to...” I couldn’t get my words out before I felt myself falling, and there I was floating, feeling nothing and everything as my orgasm washed over me.

  I opened my eyes. Ethan had stilled and was watching me. “You look so incredible when you come. You feel so incredible when you come.”

  “For you.”

  “For me,” he repeated and started his rhythm again, and I saw the moment his orgasm started and spread through his body. God, he was sexy. He was my Sex God.

  He rolled off me and went into the bathroom, and I climbed under the sheets and lay back on the bed.

  “I thought it might have been a fluke,” he said when he came back into the bedroom.

  I sat up on my elbows and looked at him.

  “Last night. Me coming like a teenager. I thought it must have been fluke. But it’s you, Miss Anna.” He crawled over me and kissed me on the nose and lay down on the other side of me. “Come here,” he said, inviting me to scoot into the crook of his arm.

  Ethan

  Her skin was amazing. It glided over mine like warm silk. I liked stroking it and I liked it touching me. Her leg was hooked over mine and her hand rested on my chest. I’d just come like a teenager. Jesus, what was with that? It was the look on her face that pushed me over the edge a few minutes ago. It was the way she tried to resist her climax for a few seconds before giving into it and opening herself up entirely to me. It was like I could see everything about her when she came. All there, laid bare. Fuck, I could feel myself hardening again. I reached across to cup her ass.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked.

  “You.”

  “You liar.”

  “I told you, no bullshit.” My hand dipped and her leg inched up. I sat up and pushed her gently onto her back, leaned over to her and took one of her nipples. It pebbled in my mouth and she moaned. So reactive. I felt her hands in my hair, urging me on. I wanted to taste her. All of her. I moved lower, trailing kisses down to her stomach, across to her hipbone, and she shuddered. She was ready again. She wanted it as much as I wanted it, and that realization was the biggest fucking turn on. I delved my tongue into her folds and I held her knees out, giving me the best fucking view. She looked so incredible lying there, disheveled, only just recovered from having my dick bring her to her first orgasm, but still ready for my tongue to take her to her next. She wanted it. She wanted me. I heard myself groan and she arched off the bed. I thrust two fingers into her and circled.

  “Hold still, Miss Anna. I’m going to make you come so hard, you’re going to forget yourself.”

  She answered with a moan. It was the only answer I needed. My tongue found her nub and pressed flat and hard before circling. She thrust her hips off the mattress, pushing herself into my mouth. I pushed her back down and my tongue replaced my fingers and I tasted deep inside her. She tasted just like honey. I couldn’t get enough.

  I could tell she was close when she twisted to try and escape me. I reached up and found her hands, then took her wrists and held them under her ass. That was the perfect angle for me—it held her still. I kept sucking and tasting and licking until I felt her tiny shudders. I could tell she was almost there.

  “Ethan,” she cried. I wasn’t sure if it was a cry of pleasure or pain. Either way, I was in control of it. I could bring her over the edge or leave her right there. Fuck, my dick was throbbing. The power I felt. I increased the pressure of my tongue and there it was. She was over. She held her breath as she came, for so long, as if she forgot everything else. I released her hands and they went straight to my
hair as I sucked the last remaining waves of her orgasm from her. Jesus, my cock ached for her.

  I lay beside her, propped up on one elbow, and watched her as she came around. Her eyes eventually opened and she looked at me.

  She absentmindedly stroked my chest. “You have magic in your touch.” She said it in a way that let me believe I was the only one who could do that do her. That only I could make her body respond that way. Fuck, I wanted her again, badly. Before I had the chance to grab her and push my cock into her, she rolled out of bed and went into the bathroom.

  I lay flat on my back, staring at the ceiling. If I died now, after tasting her and fucking her, I’d feel like I’d achieved something in my life. Fuck my job—making her come like that was the biggest fucking thrill.

  As she came from the bathroom, she looked at me and then down to my hard-on, which I quickly covered with a sheet. I was constantly ready to go around her; it was verging on embarrassing.

  I moved up the bed, rested against the headboard, and held my arm out for her to lie next to me. But instead, she took my hand in hers to steady herself as she climbed astride me, her eyes never leaving mine. She leaned forward, pushing her pussy back along the length of my cock, and pulled my bottom lip between her teeth.

  I sat up, grabbed her face in my hands, and kissed her hard on the lips, pushing my tongue through to meet hers. She responded, her mouth open and ready—just like her. She trailed her fingers up my sides so lightly, with such a contrast to the heat and passion I felt from her, the way she moved above me, that it was as if those fingers told me something more, something deeper about her.

  Jesus. How did she do that, open herself up to me like that? Without even realizing. But I knew. And I knew then that I had to be careful with her. She was feisty and passionate, but also gentle, sweet, and breakable.

  I moved my hands to her magnificent tits. They were just fucking perfect. Natural, firm, not too big, and it felt like they were made for me. I felt harder than ever. I looked across to the bedside table. She followed my eyes and reached over for a condom, which she handed to me. After fumbling around like a 15-year-old, I placed my hands back on her hips and pulled her onto me. I loved having her above me like that, pushing down at her own pace. Her eyes left mine and to watch me move in and out of her. I tilted her chin so she looked at me again.