Enticing Daphne

by Jessica Prince

  When we’d gotten back to his place and I got him naked, I almost drooled at the sight of what that suit had been covering up. Firm pecs, chiseled abs, and that damn V carved along his hip bones that dipped into the waistband of his trousers.

  Ladies, he had the V! I wanted to lick every single glorious inch of him, but he had other ideas, basically stripping me completely bare and feasting on me like I was Thanksgiving dinner. I came twice from his mouth alone before he flipped us and demanded I ride his cock.

  I’ll admit, even with my level of experience, the size of it had intimidated me when he first pulled it from his pants. But I’d never been a quitter.

  “Fuck yeah, baby. That’s it.” He squeezed my hips tighter as he forced me to grind against him, rubbing my clit along the base of his dick. “Jesus, fuck. You’re so goddamn hot.”

  Stars burst behind my eyelids, my whimpers turning into short, loud cries as my orgasm began washing over me. Just as I was about to come, I felt myself flying through the air—literally.

  My back hit the mattress and Blue Eyes began pounding into me at an unrelenting pace. And I exploded. I screamed so loud he had to muffle the sound with his palm.

  “Sorry, Gorgeous,” he ground out. “Can’t have you waking the neighbors.”

  I panted and mewled against his hand as one orgasm bled into the next. The edges of my vision started to turn black. I feared the lack of oxygen was going to cause me to pass out, but damn it was worth it.

  Just when I thought I couldn’t take it any longer and my eyes were about to roll back in my head, Blue Eyes let out a ferocious growl, followed by “Yes. Yes. Fuck yes!” Then he began to roar so loud I had to slap my hand over his mouth.

  “Sorry, Blue Eyes,” I mumbled once we’d both started to come down. “Couldn’t have you waking the neighbors.”

  His chest rattled against mine as he laughed. Cool air rushed over me, causing goose bumps to break out across my skin as he exited the bed. He went to the attached bathroom to deal with the condom, and I climbed from the bed and began searching for my clothes that were strewn all around the room.

  I’d just slipped my panties back on and was pulling my bra from where it was draped over the lamp when he spoke, making me jump. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  I smiled, slipping my arms into the bra straps. “Pretty sure we both got our prizes for the night, wouldn’t you say?”

  He slowly made his way toward me, not the slightest bit self-conscious with his nakedness—not that he had any reason to be. “Oh, but I’m nowhere near done with that sexy little body of yours.”

  My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. “Already?”

  His large hands spanned my waist. “I’m not as young as I used to be, so I’ll need a bit more recovery time, but that doesn’t mean I can’t eat you again.” He placed kisses along my neck as he spoke. “And that’s.” Kiss. “Exactly.” Kiss. “What I plan to do.”

  I let out a peel of laughter as he lifted me off the ground and threw me to the bed.

  By the time I finally dressed and headed back to my house, I’d come three more times. And just like he’d promised, I had trouble walking thanks to my jelly-like legs.

  Best. One-night stand. Ever.

  Chapter Two

  Daphne

  Two and a half months later

  Something was wrong with me. Like seriously wrong. I couldn’t figure out why I’d been in such a slump the past couple of months, but it was like something inside me was broken.

  I hated to admit it, but every sexual experience I’d had in the past two and a half months—all two of them—had fallen embarrassingly short of the mark. Usually if a dude wasn’t up to the task of getting me off, I was able to take control of the situation and get there on my own. But since my night with the man I’d dubbed Mr. Perfect Penis, my orgasms had packed up and disappeared. It was like he’d ruined my va-jay-jay for all other men. The selfish bastard!

  I hadn’t bothered to get his name or number after our hot night together, so I wasn’t even able to call him up and demand he fix me. It was starting to mess with my head to the point that I was having trouble focusing at work.

  My job as a co-host to Washington’s number one talk radio show, Girl Talk, was to offer advice to women with man troubles. Usually I was on point. I’d been doing this show with my two best friends, Lola and Sophia, for the past ten years and loved every aspect about it. But recently I’d been struggling. Case in point: I was barely paying attention to what our current caller was whining about.

  “Well… I’ve been with my boyfriend for about six months now, and lately I’ve been thinking about breaking up with him,” Rose (the caller) droned on.

  Lola spoke into her microphone across the studio from me. “And why have you thought about breaking up with him?”

  I could hear Rose’s breathing through my headset. “The thing is… God, this is so embarrassing.”

  “Nothing to be embarrassed about,” Lola soothed. “We’re all friends here. Just let it out.”

  Typically I was the one offering our listeners comfort. The three of us had our roles when we were on air. Lola was the hard-ass, Sophia was the one to tell it like it was, and I was the soft-spoken shoulder they could lean on.

  “Okay,” Rose sighed. “Well you see, my boyfriend… he’s….”

  Something finally registered between all her hemming and hawing, and I found myself blurting out a question. “Is the sex bad?”

  “No, no. The sex is good. It’s… the stuff leading up to the sex that’s bad.”

  Well that certainly got my attention.

  “You mean foreplay?” Lola asked.

  “Yes. Foreplay. You see… my boyfriend’s not very good at… going downtown.”

  Ding, ding, ding! Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner! “Ah,” I said knowingly. “We’re following.”

  Lola rolled her eyes, and I knew right then that she was thinking the exact thing I was. “Okay, look,” she cut in. “You’re not the first woman to call in with this particular complaint, Rose. I’ve got to ask… have you bothered to try and teach your boyfriend what you want him to do down there?”

  “Well… no, not really. I mean, he’s twenty-five years old. Shouldn’t he know what he’s doing by now?”

  I smacked my forehead. Sometimes I couldn’t understand my fellow women.

  “See, this is the problem with the younger generation,” Lola scolded. “You expect to get whatever you want without having to actually work for it. Here’s the hard truth, Rose. Men aren’t born with the innate ability to give amazing oral. Just like everything, it’s an acquired skill, something taught over time. You can’t possibly expect him to just dive in and know what he’s doing if you and all the girls before you never bothered to guide him in the right direction.

  “You need to pull up your big girl panties and take the bull by the horns—literally. Grab hold of his hair next time he goes downtown and show him what you want. Use your words. When he hits a spot you like, moan, scream, ‘Yes, right there!’ Do something to let him know what works and what doesn’t. Don’t be afraid to be vocal. You’re in your midtwenties, sweetheart. If you’re unhappy with the foreplay in your relationship, there’s really no one to blame but yourself.”

  Right on, sister!

  “But… wouldn’t he find that offensive?”

  “We aren’t telling you to give him a bullet-point list of instructions,” Sophia said, finally joining the conversation. “There’s no need to bruise his ego or insult him. You can do it without him even realizing what’s going on. Make it sexy. Compliment him when he does something right. Reward him for a job well done by returning the favor. Trust me, he’ll get off on it and keep doing what you like if he sees it’s getting results.”

  “We’ve said it on this show a hundred times, and we’ll say it again,” Lola added. “You’re just as responsible for your own pleasure as he is… maybe even more so. You can’t just sit back and expect to see t
he results you want. You have to demand them, work for them. You want the best sex of your life? Then teach your man to give it to you.”

  Rose sounded leery as she asked, “You really think that will work?”

  “Oh, most definitely, honey.” Lola grinned. “Now you be sure to call us and let us know how it goes.”

  “Okay, I will. Thanks, you guys! This was exactly what I needed to hear.”

  “No problem,” Lola told her. “We’re happy to help out. And we look forward to hearing from you again, Rose.”

  I let out a relieved sigh when the On Air light clicked off and our producer Jerry spoke through our headphones. “All right, ladies, that’s a wrap. Good show.”

  I slipped my headphones off and set them down, closing my eyes and rubbing at my temples to stave off the nagging headache building in my skull. Thanks to my wandering mind, I wasn’t paying attention to what was going on around me until Lola’s clipped, agitated tone pulled me back. “What, are you stalking me now?”

  My head shot up, my eyelids flying open at the sound of Grayson Lockhart’s voice. I’d been on edge for a while now when it came to that man. All three of us had. Ever since the debacle where we’d accidentally humiliated the CEO of our parent company, things had been strained. Unexpectedly, Grayson had turned his sights on Lola almost immediately after that. Not that she wasn’t beautiful enough to hold his attention, because she certainly was, but it had been surprising that he’d begun to pursue her right after we inadvertently smeared his name far and wide.

  It had been a surprisingly entertaining turn of events, because even though she acted as soft as a porcupine toward the man, Sophia and I had seen beneath the act. She liked him, a lot, whether she was willing to admit it or not.

  But as hilarious as it had been to watch her struggle against her attraction to the handsome man these past couple of weeks, that wasn’t what had caught my interest at that moment.

  Oh no, what had me struck completely speechless was the man who’d walked into the studio with Grayson. It was none other than Mr. Perfect Penis himself, almost as if my mind had conjured him out of thin air. Words failed me because good Lord, the man was even sexier than I’d remembered. My lady parts cried out with joy at the sight of him even as the rest of my body was frozen in disbelief.

  He stuck out his hand for Lola to shake. “Hi. Caleb McMannus. Huge fan of the show. Huge,” he declared emphatically.

  She returned the gesture and quickly made introductions for the rest of us. My heart rate spiked, pounding against my ribs, quick and angry the instant those strange blue eyes of his landed on me. Something flared within them that I thought to be recognition.

  But then he spoke. “Hi, I’m Caleb,” he repeated, somewhat dazedly. “I’m an Aquarius, thirty-five years old, the CFO of Bandwidth, and I learned the proper way to go down on a woman when I was sixteen.”

  My eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. It wasn’t recognition I saw in his gaze, not at all. Holy. Freaking. Shit. He didn’t remember me. He gave me the best sex of my life, effectively breaking my girly bits, and he didn’t remember me? Talk about the ultimate humiliation. That son of a bitch!

  Lola made a strange choking noise in the back of her throat and Sophia snorted with humor, neither of them aware of the raging embarrassment coursing through my blood.

  Grayson cursed. “Excuse my friend,” he apologized on behalf of Mr. Perfect Penis—now known as Mr. Douche Canoe. “He was dropped on his head as an infant… a lot.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek nervously. “Uh….” I didn’t know what to do, what to say, where to put my hands, how to act. It was like years of confidence had just flitted away with that one rejection. “Good to know, I guess.” I shot a look to Lola, pleading with my eyes for her to jump in and save me somehow.

  Caleb was looking at me like he wanted to lick me up like an ice cream cone. That look from a man as hot as him usually would have made my belly flutter, but I couldn’t get past the fact that the asshole seemed to have forgotten he already did that. More than once!

  My ego had taken a serious hit. I needed to get the hell out of there so I could wallow in self-pity and chocolate in an attempt to repair it. I didn’t know what I wanted to do more, kick him in the balls or burst into tears. It was looking like a strong tie at the moment.

  “Well, it’s been a pleasure and all, but we were just heading out to lunch, so….” Lola pointed over her shoulder and started moving backward.

  Grayson wasn’t having any of it. “Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast. You and I have lunch plans.”

  “We most certainly do not!”

  They started to argue, but I was too busy internally freaking the fuck out to care. “Well, we should be going!” I exclaimed, my tone sounding far too chipper in my own ears. “We’ll see you later, Lo.”

  I hooked Sophia’s elbow with mine and started pulling her out the door. I heard Caleb shout from behind me just when I thought I’d safely escaped. “I’ll walk you out!”

  Damn it!

  “Dude, slow down.” I was practically running down the hall, dragging Sophia behind me. She stumbled on her heels, forcing me to stop. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “Nothing. I’m just hungry. Let’s go.”

  But it was too late. The guy formerly known as Mr. Perfect Penis, a.k.a. Mr. Douche Canoe had caught up.

  “Hey.” Sophia, oblivious to my inner turmoil, looked my way and said, “I’ll go grab our purses. Be right back.”

  Caleb was still looking at me like I was his next meal as he asked, “So where are we heading?”

  “We aren’t heading anywhere,” I answered sharply. “My friend and I are going for dumplings. Nice meeting you, Caleb.” I spit his name like it tasted foul, then turned to stomp off only to have him stop me by grabbing hold of my elbow.

  “Whoa, hold on, beautiful.”

  I swung back around, skewering him with a nasty look. Those intense blue eyes of his scanned every inch of my face. For a second, I thought the jerk might actually lean in and kiss me. Instead he asked the one question that was most likely to turn me homicidal.

  “Do I know you?”

  Oh hell no.

  Chapter Three

  Caleb

  I’d never had a woman look at me with such disdain before. I didn’t consider myself perfect—far from it, in fact—but I was well aware of my effect on women, and to say her reaction to me just then was surprising was an understatement.

  Her mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. “I’m… you… I can’t… are you…,” she stammered. “Do you know me?” she asked in bewilderment. “Do. You. Know. Me?”

  Hearing her repeat the question, slowly, like she was speaking to a five-year-old, didn’t make me understand what was happening any better.

  I nodded, racking my brain to try and remember where it was I knew her from. “I swear to god I know you from somewhere. You look so familiar.”

  She did that open-close thing again with her mouth before barking, “You asshole!” Then she turned on her heels and stormed off.

  Minutes ago I’d been in the sound booth with Grayson and the two guys who ran the behind-the-scenes part of the radio show, watching the blonde with the killer rack and a set of legs that went for miles. Now I was standing in an empty hallway with my mouth hanging open like an idiot. “What the hell just happened?” I asked myself.

  “Seems to me you just got blown off by the insanely hot Daphne King.” I whipped around at the unexpected voice and saw the pimply faced kid who’d been in the booth with us earlier. “What’d you do, bang her and forget to call her the next day or something?”

  “What? Of course not! I’d remember someone like h—” Visions of a stunning blonde with a body made for sin and no gag reflex suddenly filled my head. “Oh fuck,” I groaned. It had been more than two months since that night, but it was definitely her.

  “Holy shit,” the kid breathed. “You totally forgot her, didn’t you? You forgot having sex with D
aphne King? Jeez, man, are you crazy? That woman’s like God’s gift to the universe!”

  She’d rocked my entire fucking world that night. I remembered thinking that I was going to do everything in my power to track her ass down after she left. Then my mother had called in hysterics. She and my father had gotten into one of their epic fights once again and I had to clean up the mess. Unfortunately, after weeks of dealing with their bullshit, the best sex of my life had become a distant memory.

  “Wow,” the kid kept going. “I mean just… wow. I can’t—”

  “All right!” I snapped, not needing this video-game-playing, basement-dwelling virgin making me feel worse than I already did. “I get it, I get it.”

  He held his hands out. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just… Daphne King. I’d give my mint-condition copy of the Batman #7 comic for a night with her, and that’s saying a lot. I mean, it has one of the earliest appearances of the Joker.” He snorted, like I had the first fucking clue what he was talking about.

  “I said I got it! I fucked up.”

  “Uh, yeah you did.” He started laughing uncontrollably as he wandered off, leaving me feeling like an even bigger ass.

  I took the elevator back to my floor and headed for my office, racking my brain for a way to fix what I’d done. Sure, blowing off women wasn’t something new for me. I made myself perfectly clear that I wasn’t looking for more than a couple hours of fun before ever taking a woman to bed, but that didn’t mean they always listened. I took what I wanted and left without a backward glance, sometimes upsetting the fairer sex in the process. The way I saw it, it wasn’t my fault that women chose not to listen when a man spelled it out for them.

  But Daphne had been different. She hadn’t wanted any more from me than I’d wanted from her. She was like a sexy, feminine version of myself. And she was smokin’ fucking hot in bed. I hated myself for not remembering. If I didn’t make it right, there’d be no chance of me getting her back into bed, and now that I knew she was only a few floors away, every single fiber of my body cried out to go caveman on her ass and drag her back to my cave for a repeat performance.