Caleb brings his hand back down to my pussy, now grinding his fingers hard against my clit. I need his fingers inside me. I need them so fucking badly, to feel him inside my pussy. Even more than that, I need his cock. Without considering it first, I push my hand down to his crotch and feel his dick through his shorts.
It’s massive and heavy in my hand, and oh, so thick. I start at the base and work my fingers along the shaft, and it feels like I’ll never reach the end of it.
“What’s that, baby?” He pulls his lips away from my nipple and grins mischievously, looking down at what my hand is doing to him. “You found something you like, didn’t you?”
“I…” Gasping, unsure of what to say, I pull my hand away and bring my hands up to his sexy, stubbly chin, leaning up to kiss him.
His fingers slowly start to bend past my clit, and slow down to a halt at the entrance to my pussy.
Caleb slowly inches his fingers past my opening, and I shudder and brace myself between him and the door behind me. With his thumb on my clit and his middle and index fingers stroking the inside of my pussy, I feel the aching inside my clit grow, heat spreading and growing through my belly.
“Baby, you’re so damn sexy,” he growls into my ear, nuzzling against me. I breathe him in, totally enraptured by the moment, my breath coming in quicker gasps like I’m struggling to find air.
“You’re so sweet, baby,” he says, slipping a hand around my throat. I’m surprised by this, and I feel my eyes go wide as my pussy gets wetter, his fingers sliding in and out of my tight channel. I can’t help myself as I breathe faster, his hand moving against me, his thumb grinding out a rhythm against my clit.
I close my eyes tight, my body rocking against Caleb. It’s happening again; I can feel the heat inside me spill over as I come.
“Ahhh...yes…” I moan as he places his mouth over mine, his teeth scraping against my bottom lip, making me pant and squirm in his arms as I ride his hand. “Yes!”
“Baby, you like when I make you come, don’t you? Don’t you like it?” His hand slides up my throat to my chin and his thumb brushes lightly over my bottom lip. God, I can’t believe this. I open my eyes and nod as the corners of my eyes prickle with tears, my body on fire with cresting lust.
“Say you like it. Tell me how much you like it,” he growls, looking down at me. He’s never looked sexier, not last night in his suit, not before when I saw him in the hallway. With me, alone, I’ve never seen a sexier, more masculine and more delicious than before.
“I like it, Caleb,” I gasp. He pulls his fingers out of my panties and brings them to my lips, and I’m still coming when he slides his fingers into my mouth, making me taste my own juices. My pussy clenches up as I suck my fresh, sweet desire from his fingers, my newly touched pussy craving more and more.
“You’re a fiend,” he whispers into my ear as he pulls his fingers out of my mouth. I moan as he takes them away, and my clit jumps as he puts them into his own mouth, hungrily sucking away the last of my desire. He lets out a growl from deep inside his chest and looks down at himself, his dick hard as a rock and erect inside the little shorts he has on. “You always come first, sweetheart, but wait until I give you a taste of what you really want. But not now. Not yet.”
I close my eyes and let my face fall forward onto his chest; he’s panting as hard as I am. I want to drop down to my knees, yank his shorts off and see for myself my very first real-life cock.
But something’s still stopping me.
“Baby, everything okay?” I lift my face up to see him. His smile is big and kind and protective and just for me.
I want to tell him I’m a virgin...that I was untouched by any man before him. But I don’t know if I can do it. Fear is overwhelming me.
11
Caleb
“I want to tell you something.”
Bad news always comes at the worst fucking time, doesn’t it? You’re either riding high and your world comes crashing down under a mountain of shit, or you’re already down and life decides to kick you in the shins when you’re already lying on the floor in the fetal position.
Right? Or is that just me...
If it was any other girl, I’d be fine with bad news like this. Let her pretend to take a phone call and then make up some bullshit excuse for why she has to go. No fucking skin off my back; let her go. I was probably going to make up my own excuse in a minute, anyway.
But she’s already run away from me before, and I’m not going to let that happen again without a good fucking reason.
“What is it, A?” I push her hair behind her ears and she softens at my touch. “Whatever it is, just tell me.”
There’s nothing bad she can tell me that can pull me out of the great fucking mood I’m in.
Her pretty lips form a little uncertain frown, and I have no idea where the hell this is going. I have no clue what she could have been dishonest with me about. Does she mean she’s not the exact fucking thing I need in my life right now?
Not possible.
“Let me guess. You’re married.” I scratch my chin, but I know that’s not it. A married woman looking to screw around on her husband never has the temerity to confess her sins, or the fucking conscience to admit her wrongdoings right away.
That’s not it.
She shakes her head, her brown hair falling in locks around her face. I need to get my dick wet, have her suck me off. Her lips were made for my cock. But instead, I keep guessing. I like games.
“You’re a Russian spy.”
“Okay, now you’re really going off the deep end. As if the fact that you work with my dad isn’t bad enough, you think I’m a married Russian spy? What, did I have a hand in selling your browser history off to the highest bidder too?” Ava pulls her bra straps over her shoulders and adjusts everything into place. “Let me just tell you.”
This is gonna be good.
“Look,” my girl says, grabbing her shirt and pulling it on.
“One quick question,” I say, “how is it possible for you to be as sexy putting on your clothes as you are taking them off?”
She shakes her head and wiggles her shorts up her curvy hips.
“Just stop and listen.” She throws her hands around my neck and sighs. “I...I can’t wait. I can’t wait any longer for you to fuck me.”
My heart skips a fucking beat inside my chest and my cock instantly springs into action.
“I’ve got you,” I say. “You’re mine now. And I’m yours. All of me. But you’ve got to wait just a little bit longer.”
“No, please. Now!” she writhes against my body, and fuck, I want her now.
“But baby, you’ve waited this long for my cock. What’s another couple of hours?”
“Why do we have to wait?”
“I have a previous engagement, and I don’t like breaking my promises.”
We walk out of my office like a couple of thieves in the night, stealing away and darting through shadows as we walk back to the waiting area. Mike’s still there. Always the best fucking wingman. He’ll wait for instructions. He won’t abandon a fellow soldier on the field.
“Hey, Mike,” I say, swooping in to grab my ball. “Don’t we have a game to get to?”
He gets up and shoots a curious glance at Ava and smiles.
“Come on,” she says, grabbing the ball from me. “Don’t we have a game to get to?”
12
Ava
The three of us make our way out of the building and into the warmth of the early evening. My legs are still shaking and I’m still trembling from the way Caleb handled my body, but now that I’m out on the street, I wish I could be alone with him again.
I was so close to telling him the truth, but for now the moment has passed and I’m walking behind him as his butt flexes and moves inside his shorts. My pussy jumps when I see him look behind his shoulder and wink at me.
The courts are a quick walk from his office. I assume that we’re on our way to Equinox or one of th
e other high-end, expensive gyms, but instead we keep walking East on 54th Street to a nondescript brick building with the NYC Parks Department placard out front.
Caleb grabs my hand and leads me around the side of the building to an open area filled with basketball courts.
“This is us,” he says, jogging past me and Mike to claim one of the hoops. He stops at free throw line and hits the fifteen-footer with ease.
“You’re pretty good at that,” I say, perching on a bench off to the side. I haven’t been to a park like this in years. When I was younger, my dad would bring me to college games all the time. I always loved the openness of the experience, the way the sneakers would squeak on the floor, the sound of the buzzer.
“Why don’t you get out here and shoot some hoops with us?” he says, crouching down and rolling the ball to me. “Let’s see what ya got.”
I stop the ball with my foot and bend down to pick it up. Caleb and Mike are standing by, looking at me intently, and I feel like a damn fool. I have no clue what to do, but I do know you’re supposed to dribble, so I stand up, and do just that. I start to dribble.
“You’re good at that,” Mike says, stepping away to clear a path for me to the basket. I steady the ball in my hands and look over at Caleb, who’s standing there expectantly, flashing his signature smile, eyes squinting slightly as he looks from me to the basket.
“Aren’t you going to shoot?” he says, inching toward me. “You’re taking too long, babe.” He quickly lunges forward and tries to steal the ball, but I spring my arms into the air and let fate, wind, and physics take over as my heart stops for a second.
Damn, this actually is quite a workout.
Surprisingly, the ball hits the backboard and makes it through the circular metal frame, and Caleb and Mike cheer for me, giving me high fives. Caleb even smacks me on the butt.
“That’s enough for me,” I say. I just want to sit in the sun and watch the man candy from a distance.
I look over and see a group of Upper East Side women off to the side, with their big sunglasses and even bigger LV purses. One of them whistles, and then the four of them look away and giggle.
The catcall is not lost on Caleb. He shoots a look over at them and gives them a big, cheesy smile, but even the hint of silent sarcasm on his face comes off as sexy.
“Nice moves,” one of them says casually, her voice dripping with sensuality and innuendo. I roll my eyes and cross my legs. I don’t mean to pout, but this is exactly what I was thinking of when I first saw him. Some rich, gorgeous, glamorous woman with a baby carriage and a professional nanny so she can make getting manicures and blowouts her full-time job.
Looking up at Caleb, I squint against the sun as he pulls his shirt over his head, his abs and chest slightly sweaty, glistening with heat and slick, salty moisture. He slowly tosses his shirt over to me and it lands in my lap, and I grab it and can’t help but laugh.
Caleb turns around and Mike tosses him the ball; Caleb makes what I know from watching basketball with dad is called a layup, and rebounds his own shot under the hoop.
The catcalls from the side of the court continue. Those...bitches! And then I get mad at myself, of course, because the tinge of jealousy rising in my chest is so not like me. The “nice moves” lady whoops and hollers, and I’ve just about had it. I’m here with Caleb, and even though I have no claim to him, I don’t like how this experience is making me feel.
I’m reminded of the time I went out on a date the first week I was in college. Some guy whose name I don’t even remember was in my Contemporary Poetry class, and I remember thinking he was the cutest thing ever. With slightly long hair, hipster glasses and an emo sweater-vest, he was my absolute girly fantasy of the kind of sensitive, coffee-sipping, Dashboard Confessional listening guy I should be with. Slightly alternative, not like other guys, I thought.
But when we had our coffee together on that stupid date, he completely chastised me for what he thought I was doing - flirting with the guy behind the counter making our coffee. Flirting, as though just being nice and polite to someone is an invitation to get into bed together.
So now I’m wondering if I’m acting as bad as he’d acted that night. I start to get up from the bench and gather up my bag, just to step away for a minute and think.
I lock eyes with Caleb and he tucks the ball into his hip, crossing the basketball court to come over to me. Looking down to avoid his gaze, I pretend to fumble around with something in my bag.
“You’re not leaving already, are you?” he says, his eyebrows knotting together and his supple pink lips turning down into a frown. “You weren’t intimidated by my moves, where you? I’ll teach you.”
His fingers reach down and brush a stray lock of hair behind my ear, tracing along the back of my neck and down to my shoulder. God, he is so freaking sexy. I reach my hands forward to touch his abs, but pull them away quickly. His skin is so unlike guys’ my age. Guys my age can barely be considered men, with their skinny torsos and awkward legs. Sure, there are some, like the athletes, who have the gym rat thing down pat, and they’re nice to look at, but they don’t have the maturity to talk about anything other than what kind of protein powder they put in their shakes to bulk up.
Caleb is natural. I can tell. His body’s been sculpted into what it’s become through late afternoons tossing a ball around. He isn’t obsessed with it. In another life, he didn’t work with my dad. Maybe he was a construction worker or a fireman. Because he’s got that kind of easy, natural charm and body that just comes about from who he is, not who he’s trying to be.
And that’s what’s so unbelievably irresistible about him.
Everything must come so easy to Caleb Ryan.
Even those women in the corner, who I technically think I should be calling ladies. Ladies who lunch, or something, whatever that actually means.
“Teach me?” I say in a small voice, nervously taking my hands away from him. I want to push him away, but he’s got me boxed in. The air around us grows silent as he slips his arms around my waist and pulls me in close. His fingers slide under my chin and he tips my face up to his, and my eyes close and my body melts against his, all muscle and rock-hard. I put my hands on his upper arms and feel the thick ropes of flesh against my fingertips as his lips part mine in a dizzying kiss, his mouth soft and strong against mine, sending a flash of heat through my body.
“Yeah,” he says, breaking our kiss, “I’ll teach you.”
I’ve almost forgotten they were there, but the ladies on the side of the court start hollering and laughing, and I realize that they weren’t trying to hit on my man - they were just appreciating him. And maybe that’s the maturity factor at play. I look over and they wave at me kindly, smiling as I push my forehead against Caleb’s chest.
“Sorry,” I say, almost embarrassed. “I thought…”
“That’s okay,” he says. “I told you before. You’re mine now. I’ve got you.”
13
Caleb
Is that discomfort I sense on my girl’s face?
“I thought you wanted it out in public,” I tease, tasting her strawberry lipgloss on my mouth. It’s so sweet; it makes me want to drop down to my fucking knees right now and rip her panties off.
“Whatever could have made you think that?” she says saucily. I know she knows. That first night, when we met in the dark cover of the party, the anonymity of it turned her on. I know she’s a dirty girl at heart.
I take her by the hand and turn to Mike to let him know our game’s over for the night.
“Fair enough,” he says as I toss the ball over to him. He dribbles between his legs and shoots easily into the basket as I put an arm lazily over Ava’s shoulder.
“You forget something?” she says, handing my t-shirt back to me. “You might want to put that on before you get arrested for public indecency.”
“I’m friends with the police chief,” I say, “but there’s no law against a man going topless in public. As a matte
r of fact,” I add as we start strolling onto the quiet side street, “there’s no law against a woman going topless in public, either.”
She stops and looks up at me, rolling her eyes. “You’re making that up.”
“No, I swear,” I say, putting my hand over my heart.
“Well,” she says, starting to walk down the street again as we make our way toward the corner of the quiet tree-lined block, “I trust you. So I guess if you say so.”
I haven’t felt this comfortable with a woman in a long time - probably not since a year ago, when I was at that wedding with Christine on the day we broke up. But I don’t want to think of her. It’s not right to compare your relationships, even if the one you’re in now is more incredible than anything you can imagine.
Relationship. Shit. I’m breaking my own fucking rules left and right over here. It doesn’t matter. I follow no one’s rules but my own. And I can change them whenever I like.
And it’s not just comfort with her. It’s more than that. It’s excitement. Shit, she was so fucking cute when she got all embarrassed at those old biddies watching us, and the flush on her cheeks when she saw my dick nearly poking out of my shorts made me want to spank her ass so the pretty shade of pink on her butt would match the flush on her face.
I don’t even care that she’s the daughter of a colleague. He might care, but he’ll get over it right quick when he sees how well I treat baby girl.
But there’s still something I can’t quite figure out.
“Sweetheart,” I say, putting her small hand inside mine “There’s still something I don’t understand.”
“Oh?” She peers up at me as we cross the street. I squeeze her hand gently as we cross, the cars and cabs stopping at the light and delivery boys on bikes zipping through traffic. “What’s that?”
Mountain Man's Valentine Page 18