Wreck Me

by J. L. Mac

  “Frank. It’s my cars name.”

  He looks at me with disbelief written on his face.

  “You named your car? Why Frank?” He reaches in as he finishes his question and pulls the seat belt out for me to buckle up.

  “You know. Frankenstein car. It’s all mad scientist looking so, I named her Frank.” I shrug and smile. He smiles as he shuts my door and makes his way around to the driver’s side. It is one of those half smiles that seem to melt my panties right off and I have the urge to kiss him right here in his truck. He gets into his seat and buckles his seat belt.

  “Are you buckled in?” I give my belt a tug to give him my answer and he starts his big man-toy of a truck.

  “Why in the world do you have wrist candy and drive a pickup truck?”

  “Well, this is one of my vehicles. I like to switch things up. I don’t like getting bored or restless with only one car.” Definitely another ladies man having a good time on the playground known as Vegas. I can’t blame him though. I am on the same damn playground. Of course my scenario is not as nice. I don’t sport a Rolex or a new car. My clothing sure is not designer, but I make out just fine anyway.

  “Okay. I get it. You like variety. Nothing wrong with that. Is your kitchen stocked or should we go to the store?”

  “I think we can find something in my cabinets.” He looks over to me and sends another panty dissolving smile sailing my way and I soak it in. I could look at that smile all day.

  The drive does not take long before we end up at some seriously swank looking high rise. It looks like typical Vegas high class.

  “We’re here.” He says as we park and he shuts off his plain pick up at this high class place. I look to him and quirk up an eyebrow.

  “You’re kidding right? You live here?” Damon doesn’t respond. He slips out of the truck and walks around to open my door. It’s a nice gesture. Not many men do shit like that. I kind of like it. He reaches in and yet again grabs me about the waist and lifts me from the truck. He pulls me to his rock solid body and slowly lowers me to my feet. Oh damn this man smells and feels amazing. My heart speeds and my breathing becomes rapid.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be too forward.”

  “No need to apologize,” I say sounding a little out of sorts and breathy.

  “Shall we?” I nod and the alarm on his man-toy chirps as he locks it. His hand finds the small of my back again and I revel in the warmth of his touch. He guides us into the foyer of the high rise building. This place is definitely swanky. What the hell does this guy do for a living? I will piss my pants if he says he owns a casino or some crazy shit like that. He is a little older than me. I can tell. How old is he? Thirties for sure. I’ll ask later.

  “How’s it going Howard?”

  “Pretty good, boss. What can I do for you?” Damon slides my keys, chintzy rabbit foot keychain and all, across the security desk to Howard.

  “I need you to give these to Brian when he gets here and this note.” He grabs a pen and notepad from Howard’s desk area and jot’s down my plate number. I catch the word “multi-color” as he slips it back to the middle aged Howard.

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  “Excuse me for being rude. Howard this is my friend Jo. Jo, this is Howard. He is head of security here at the towers.” I extend my hand to Howard and we shake.

  “Nice to meet you Howard.”

  “Likewise ma’am.”

  “Please, just Jo. “ He releases my hand and smiles warmly. I like Howard. He seems like a cool guy.

  “See you later, Howard,” Damon tosses over his shoulder as he guides me towards a bank of elevators. Four to be exact. Damn this place it fancy. I feel uncomfortable. I don’t want to touch a thing.

  “You must be loaded to live in a place like this,” I blurt before thinking better of it. Damon chuckles and nods his head as we step into the elevator. The doors shut and he stamps a code into the control panel. We start to ascend the high rise.

  “I’m an entrepreneur. I do well for myself.” It’s a simple, vague explanation that leaves me curious to know more. The elevator has come to a halt and his hand on my back guides us through the elevator doors and into a foyer. He slides a panel open on the door and punches some buttons. I hear the slide of a dead bolt. He opens the door and motions for me to walk ahead. I step into his private home and survey the space. It reeks of an overpriced interior decorator. Geez. This place is as modern bachelor pad as they come. It feels almost clinical with all the clean lines and light color scheme. I can feel his eyes on me and I turn to face him. I nod and do my best to feign approval.

  “You have a nice place. You must have had one of those expensive decorators huh?”

  “Yeah. I paid her a considerable commission and she did this.” He raises his hands and motions to the whole of our surroundings.

  “You don’t like it?”

  “No I guess I don’t, but I’m not here much so it’s not that big of a deal.”

  “So make her change it! You paid her. You should be getting what you want.” I fold my arms over my chest and scowl a bit. I have no reason to get pissy over his shit, but I guess I have this deep rooted issue with people who fuck over others. He cocks his head a fraction and studies me for a beat.

  “Come with me. I want to show you something.” I plop my purse down on the low profile couch and follow him. He leads us through the penthouse, then up a flight of stairs. He keeps walking past the loft and I pause. Holy shit. Paradise. A loft library. He comes to stand beside me.

  “Looks like your over-priced decorator either got something right or has multiple personalities.” I stand perfectly still and admire the cozy library. It is a huge contrast against the cold, modern theme that the rest of the penthouse is bathed in. This space is large by any ones standard, but just not on the same scale as the rest of his home. This loft feels smaller and cozier. It feels like a place I could sit in for hours reading book after book. It’s amazing. There are only two walls in the loft. Both of which are outfitted with floor to ceiling dark wood shelving. There must be thousands of books here. It’s impressive. There are two oversized chairs that could easily be loveseats. They are upholstered in some type of fabric that reminds me of corduroy. They aren’t leather and cold like the slim line furniture downstairs. The floor is carpeted not tiled. It feels plush even through my sandals. I bet it feels great under bare feet. There is a coffee table and two end tables with small reading lamps on them. I notice that one of the walls have a few empty shelves. Why are they empty? I would fill those suckers up with my favorites. I make my way further into the loft and walk a slow path in front of one of the large bookshelves. I raise my fingers and allow them to lazily graze the spine of each book as I pass. The ink and paper smells like home to me.

  “She didn’t do the library or my bedroom. I handled both of them.” I turn away from the shelf and gape at him.

  “Wow.” It’s all I can force out. Damn he just got way hotter in my opinion and it’s only because he has an obvious appreciation for books like I do. Maybe his appreciation is not quite like mine but still. He shows no clear response to my reaction. He makes his way towards me and stops just in front of where I stand. His right hand lands on my shoulder and slips down the length of my arm until my fingers are tangled with his.

  “Come on.” I don’t utter a fucking word because my heart is racing in my chest. Damn the way he said that was sexy. He leads us from the loft. I look over my shoulder one more time at the most amazing private library I could ever imagine. Then keep right on walking behind him. He swings open a door and walks me through it. I step into a room that is a world away from all things cold and clinical. This room feels plush. The walls are painted a neutral earth tone with one accent wall the color of sea water. His bed has a huge headboard that reminds me of one of those wingback chairs. It’s upholstered and tufted. The fabric is the shade of champagne. He has two nightstands with lamps. There is a gas fireplace on the wall adjacent the bed. On
the wall above the fireplace is a gorgeous abstract painting of who knows what. It’s probably done by one of those whacked out hippies. His bed looks like heaven. I have a rock hard piece of shit mattress, but his looks like a cloud. I don’t even want to see his fucking bathroom. If his bedroom is any indication, his bathroom is likely modeled after a spa or some shit. Damn.

  “Your room is impressive. Maybe you should get your money back from that chick and just decorate the place yourself.” I laugh but he doesn’t. Ah shit, don’t get all serious on me. His fingers tighten around mine and he pulls me towards him. He turns away from me and leads the way back downstairs. He walks us into his kitchen and I am not shocked to see that the damn thing matches the cold theme. Slick granite countertops and dark wood cabinetry flank the walls. The cabinetry has an opaque glass center. Each one has a thin brushed nickel handle. The appliances are all top of the line and cost more than I make in 6 months I bet. It should be fun cooking in this kitchen. It’s better than my electric hotplate, toaster oven, and microwave.

  “So, is it okay if I just get to it?” He lets my hand go and rounds the center island to sit atop a stool on the opposite side.

  “Have at it,” he says with another panty incinerating smile cast in my direction. It smacks me square on and I can swear for just a second I feel those butterflies. Butterflies? What is that shit? That is a no go zone. I don’t do the emotionally attached thing. It has never been a good idea for me. I have only ever loved three. My Maman, my Papa, and my job. I have already lost two of the three and the third is a hairs breadth from being ripped from me. I shoo away those thoughts. I can’t deal with that right now. That shit is the whole reason I am seeking out a night of hot sex and distraction. I start digging through his cabinets and drawers. All my depressing thoughts are soon on their way out as I throw together one of my signature dishes in Damon’s cold kitchen.

  “This is the best thing I’ve had in ages. Really, really good Jo. Thank you.” Damon caps of his sentence by shoveling the in the last heaping forkful of my signature cheeseburger casserole. It’s one of my favorite dishes to make since it is pretty cheap and easy to make. I make it for just myself all the time. I have never really cooked for anyone else. This is a first for me and I am kind of liking the compliments. It’s out of character for me to even give a shit. There is just something so damned familiar about him. Something familiar and comforting. I feel like I want to be around him. Like, maybe being around him will make things alright. Like it will make me alright. It’s fucking preposterous. I know that, but it’s a feeling that I can’t shake. I take another long gulp of my water and he follows suit.

  “You’re welcome. I have never cooked for anyone so this is a first. Glad I didn’t screw it up.” I smile. What the fuck? Who cares if I screw it up? This is a one night stand. Plain and simple.

  “Do you want to have coffee in the library?”

  “Sure.” He quickly sets the coffee maker, and loads our dirty dishes into the dishwasher. I watch and wait. He looks so handsome. Those luminescent amber eyes have a way of cutting right through me and making me feel naked in the most incredible way. I have been itching to run my fingers through his dark disheveled hair since I first laid eyes on him. He pours our coffee and makes mine just the way I like it with cream and one sugar. He must have remembered from this morning.

  “Coffee. Cream and sugar.” I take the cup.

  “Thank you.” He offers his arm and motions for me to hook mine with his, and I do. My arm slips into the crook of his elbow and we ascend the stairs arm in arm. We enter his loft library and I set down my coffee to admire the space again. I love it in here. Damn I would kill to have a private library like this. I don’t usually kid myself with having wild dreams of being highly successful. I am quite the realist, but I can’t help but wish that someday I might end up lounging in a library of my own just like this one.

  “I really love your library. I didn’t picture you as a book lover.” I glance over to him. Damn he looks good enough to eat.

  “Why?”

  “Oh I don’t know. I shouldn’t stereotype, but you don’t look much like a man who sits around and reads.” He shakes his head.

  “I don’t. I never have enough time, but that’s not what I mean. I mean, why do you love my library?” What? Is he fucking dense? I work in a book store for crying out loud. That should be a big indication that I have a thing for books. I furrow my brows.

  “I work in a book store. I don’t imagine I would work there if I did not enjoy it.” He arches a skeptical eyebrow and I can tell he wants to know more.

  “Yes, but why would you want to work in a book store?” I help myself to one of the ultra cushy chairs and take in a deep breath. He sits in the chair across from me and props his feet on the coffee table between us. Against my better judgment, I decide to toss it out there. I have nothing to lose really. Though this guy is undeniably a catch, it doesn’t change my bottom line. This is a one night stand, and I don’t do relationships. It would not matter if I did date because I am nearly one-hundred percent positive that he doesn’t do relationships either. So, fuck it. I’ll tell him why I have a thing for books.

  “My childhood was shitty. I started living on the streets when I was twelve years old and I didn’t have a roof over my head for six years. I use to go to the library for hours a day. It started out as a place to keep warm in the winter or cool in the summer, but then I became hooked. I didn’t have anyone, but every time I walked through those doors I felt like each of those authors was my family and the characters they created were all my friends. I counted on them. None of them ever let me down or left me. They never yelled at me or hit me. They never did anything but occupy time and keep me company. They were all I ever had. All I still have. Now that the store may go out of business I feel like I’m losing my family and friends. I love all my books. Being a book lover saved my life. I spent more time reading in the library than I did putting myself at risk in the streets. I was able to teach myself what I needed to pass my GED exam. The librarian, Evelyn, never turned me away. She could have and she should have. Homeless people are not usually welcome to squat in the public library for so long, but I think she knew I was not just using the place for shelter. One day she came to me with a registration card for the GED and told me to go take it. All I had to do was show up. It was all paid for. She also allowed me to use her personal address on the paperwork since I didn’t have one. I owe a lot to every book I’ve ever cracked open. That’s why I love them.” I sure as hell hope he remembers what I said about apologies and how I despise them or I am going to regret opening my mouth about my screwed up childhood.

  “You have a dirty mouth don’t you,” he says in a manner saturated with innuendo. Hell, yes I have a dirty mouth. I will show him just how dirty it is if we can cut to the chase and get rid of some clothes. I have not been laid in weeks and I am getting impatient. I stand from my chair and skirt the edge of the coffee table to get to where he is seated.

  “I don’t really feel like coffee and conversation anymore.” He stands and his body is so close to mine I can feel his warmth radiating outward. He leans in and his full lips brush against the rim of my ear.

  “Then what would you like to have, Jo?” His warm breath lights my skin on fire and my core turns to molten hot, liquid arousal. Fuck, I want him between my thighs.

  “What would you like?” I ask in a whisper.

  “Would you like me to show you what I want?”

  “Yes.” One of his hand snakes around my waist and he jerks me to him. My body crashes against his with such force that the air in my lungs evacuates in an instant. His other hand slowly makes its way up my spine, past the nape of my neck to my hair. His fingers tangle in my wavy brown locks and he pulls to force my head back just enough to give him my neck. His hot mouth lands on my neck and takes from me greedily. He kisses and licks at my skin. His mouth works a trail up my neck to my ear. He takes the lobe of my ear into his mouth and suckles just a
moment then bites down lightly, coaxing a moan from me. His breathing it heavy and so is mine. I’m panting and wanton in his grips. My body is humming with need for him.

  His hips are flush against my body and his erection is pressed against my stomach. It’s rock hard and pulsing. I can feel his cock twitching even through the cloth separating our bodies. I am helpless in his vice-like, dominating grip. His hand has not left my hair and I am pressed to him as close as I can get without having his cock filling me. Fuck I want to feel him in me. He keeps at his ministrations on my neck and ear. He switches sides and shows the other the same amount of attention. I am soaked for him. I can feel how slick he has made me. If he doesn’t take me soon I may beg for it and that is not my style at all. But, dammit this man does something to me that I’ve never experienced before. He keeps lapping at my neck and pulling my hair. His hips make one expert roll against my body. That’s it. Fuck it.

  “Please.” He freezes and backs away marginally to look at me. Those warm honey eyes are my undoing. I place my palms against the firm wall of his chest and resort to begging. “Please,” I repeat sounding more desperate than the first time. He grabs me and pulls me to him harder than the first time and growls in my ear.

  “I’m going to take you now. It’s going to be hard and rough. Get ready.” Another moan escapes my throat and I all but melt in his arms. He sweeps my body up into his arms and I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist. He strides swiftly down the hall to his bedroom. He kicks the door open without regard and rushes me to his bed. He hasn’t kissed me yet and my lips are eager to taste him. He has me on the side of the bed. He slips his hand between my knees and I allow my thighs to spread for him invitingly. A low growl of appreciation rumbles through his chest again and damn it turns me on.

  “Damon, pl-”

  “Hush. Patience.” Oh for fuck sake. I am going to burst if he doesn’t take me now. He moves to stand between my thighs. I glance at his erection and my mouth waters to taste him. He slowly runs the palms of his hands up my thighs as he leans down to me. His lips are so close to mine. One hand grips my upper thigh hard as hell. It’s to the point of pain yet my core stirs deliciously. It’s the biggest contradiction. His other hand slips further up my thigh to the junction between my legs. He watches observantly as he completely dominates me. I have never allowed anyone to have such power over me, but I want Damon to take me. All of me. It feels good to let go right now. I have no rational explanation and at the moment, I really don’t give a fuck. I can only think of him. He has dominated me body and mind and I don’t want to do a damn thing to fight against it. This feels too good to deny him. His mouth is so close and I want his lips on mine. I want to feel all of him. One finger hooks into the tiny triangle of cloth that conceals my arousal and I hear a rip of fabric at the same time his mouth takes mine. His tongue slips over my lips the very same moment his finger slides into me. Fuck. I moan as his soft wet tongue slides against mine. A second finger slips into my channel. He has consumed my mouth so completely that I can barely breathe. His tongue delves deep. My hips undulate of their own volition and it speaks to him. He breaks our kiss and his fingers withdraw from me. I watch as he licks both fingers clean. Oh fuck that’s hot.