Beg Me (A Sexy Standalone Romantic Comedy)

by M. Malone

  “Touch yourself.” I lift her hands and place them on her breasts.

  She looks alarmed at first but quickly gains confidence, playing with her nipples as she rides me. Her dark hair is a wild mass of curls around her face and her eyes flutter closed when I rock up against her, like the sensation is too much for her to handle.

  I’ve never seen her more beautiful.

  “That’s it. God damn you’re so sexy.” I growl as she pinches her nipples, the tight points standing out like stiff little berries. Her body is so ripe. I want to take my time to play with her, watch her respond to my touch.

  I reach between us and press my thumb on her clit, adding more pressure with every stroke. My fingers keep up the steady rhythm until she convulses against me, the pulsing grip of her body triggering my own release. It’s sooner than I’d like, but as soon as she clamps down on me I know I’m too far gone. My orgasm nails me right at the base of my spine and I surge against her completely consumed by shattering waves of pleasure. She falls forward, landing on my chest in a heap.

  I sweep her curls to the side, only to see tears on her cheeks. “You’re crying. Did I hurt you?” I kiss the moisture away.

  “No, you didn’t hurt me.” She laughs and puts a hand over her heart. “You just overwhelmed me.”

  “In a good way though, right?” I exhale with relief when she nods.

  She laughs again and pulls back so she can see my face. “You were right.”

  “I’m always right.” I laugh when she pinches my nipple. “Ouch. Okay, I’ll bite. What was I right about, beautiful?”

  Her eyes are soft as she answers. “With the right man, it is mind-blowing.” Then she kisses me gently and curls up against my side, as if she hasn’t just blown my whole world apart with her shy words.

  11

  My whole life has been a lie.

  As my breathing finally returns to normal, I snuggle against Milo’s side. Before Will, I hadn’t had a boyfriend in a few years so I’m not really sure what’s considered good after-sex etiquette. He always fell asleep right after sex and hated when I would try to talk then.

  So I’m guessing that jumping up and yelling SCORE would probably be the wrong thing to do right now. But honestly, that’s how I feel.

  Five years of believing that I was broken. That sex was this big cosmic joke that everyone was playing on me. That orgasms on TV and in movies were grossly exaggerated.

  I’d watch those scenes where women were biting, scratching and of course screaming and just roll my eyes at the blatant over dramatization. Worse, I was convinced that they were doing active damage to real women, women like me who were dissatisfied with their partners because they couldn’t measure up to the Hollywood ideal.

  Well, after the things that have just come out of my mouth, I want to write to the Motion Picture Association of America and tell them they didn’t do enough. Because I think I just left this plane of existence, used every four-letter word in the English language and probably a few in a language that doesn’t exist yet.

  And mortifyingly I’m pretty sure I begged. Multiple times.

  “I’m sorry I lost control at the end. I wanted to make you come at least one more time.” His voice is soft but still startles me. I thought he’d fallen asleep.

  “You wanted… um, wow. Milo, I came twice. I didn’t even know I could do that.”

  Even though I can’t see his face in this position, I can feel his satisfaction at my words and it makes me feel cherished. Strange how my experience with a guy who admits he’s only after sex has been better than with the man who was supposed to be my husband. Probably because Milo actually cares about how it was for me.

  Maybe there’s something to what Ariana has been saying this whole time. She’s always been more free with her sexuality and I just couldn’t understand how that worked. It made me feel like a judgmental bitch but I was always a little appalled when she’d bring home random guys or sleep with a friend. The whole friends-with-benefits thing had seemed like an oxymoron. But she’s always maintained that she’s happy with her choices because they’re her choices. And she’s not sharing herself with anyone who doesn’t make her feel respected.

  Meanwhile I felt morally superior because I was only sleeping with my fiancé who made me feel cheap because I couldn’t get off with him.

  This whole thing has been eye-opening to say the least.

  My fingers have been playing with the skin on Milo’s stomach so I’m startled when his hand clamps down on mine.

  “You have to stop that,” he growls.

  Will I ever get enough of that rough, gravelly voice? It only sounds like that when he’s turned on. The idea that I’ve made him like that is a heady one.

  “Doing what?” I bury my face in his shoulder suddenly shy.

  All the things I said and did are coming back to me and I’m not sure where to look. Did I really yank his hair? Hit his shoulder? I vaguely recall digging my nails in his back, too. This violent side of me is surprising. The old Mya thought sex was supposed to be this gentle wave of sensation. Instead it’s like a tsunami.

  “Touching me. I’m trying not to jump on you again because I’m sure you must be sore but your fingers rubbing right above my dick is not helping the case.”

  A startled laugh escapes my lips but dies when he snatches the sheet away and his fully erect cock comes back into view. Wowza. The fact that I fit that thing inside me… not only that but rode it and begged for more. Just thinking about it is making me wet again. I cross my legs, something Milo immediately notices.

  “You want it again don’t you, beautiful? That sweet little pussy is already aching to take me again.”

  Good lord, this man’s dirty mouth. “Don’t make me say it,” I whisper.

  His eyes dance as he leans over me. I sigh as his lips land on my neck. How did he discover that’s my weak spot so fast? It’s like he has some sort of cheat sheet that tells him exactly how to make me fall apart.

  “Oh, I won’t make you say it. Whatever you want, you can have. All you have to do is ask me nicely.”

  I growl playfully. This man. Of course he can’t resist poking fun at me a little. He said he would make me beg and he wasn’t wrong. But he’s not the only one who can play dirty. I sit up and toss my hair over my shoulder before climbing on top of him. Milo’s eyes follow as my breasts swing and bob with my movements.

  “You want to hear me beg?” I purr, running one hand down my stomach, stopping right before I hit the good stuff.

  His eyes don’t leave my hand as he nods slowly.

  I bring the same hand slowly back up and hook my pinky finger in my mouth. Once I have his attention again, I place my hands on his chest and crawl forward until our lips almost meet.

  “Milo?” Gentle kiss. “Do you know what I want?”

  Another gentle kiss. His strangled moan is accompanied by a small twitch of his hips. I place a hand on his cheek and look him right in the eyes. His head moves slowly back and forth. Like he’s hypnotized.

  “I want your long, thick, hard” my hand encircles him, “cock inside me right now. Do you want that, too?” My thumb brushes over the head as he struggles to nod even as he groans at the erotic touch. “You do? Well, maybe you should beg me for it.”

  In the span of a heartbeat, he flips us over.

  “You’re a hell of a quick learner, Miss Taylor. Because when you have my dick in your hand, you can have anything you want.”

  I’m laughing until he puts me up on my knees and fucks me from behind. But that’s okay because I still have a smile on my face even after he makes me scream his name.

  12

  I retreat to the other side of the room, my cell phone clamped to my ear. This is not my normal post-sex behavior, I assure you but after spending the past thirty minutes just staring at Mya, I’m certifiably freaked out.

  Because I don’t want to do my usual. I don’t want to sneak out before she wakes up. What I want is to watch as she makes
those adorable little snuffling noises and then wake her up so we can do it all over again.

  “Something had better be on fire.” Ethan growls when he finally answers the phone. This is my third time calling.

  “Is it technically illegal to force a co-worker to marry you?” I bite my lip when Mya lets out a loud sigh and then rolls over to face the other direction. I walk closer to the front door of the room, hoping I won’t wake her just yet.

  Not until I figure out what alien force has hijacked my brain.

  “Okay, I need you to run that by me again. It’s the middle of the fucking night, Milo. What the fuck?”

  Apparently he’s just realized what time it is.

  “You heard me. I need some advice. Legal advice.”

  He sighs. “I don’t think legal advice is what you need. What is going on? You’re supposed to be in Vegas right now with James.”

  “I am in Vegas,” I hiss as quietly as possible.

  “Did you meet some stripper and decide to throw it all away for love? And why are you whispering?”

  I glance behind me to where Mya is sleeping peacefully in my bed. “Because I don’t want her to hear me.”

  “Who?”

  “Mya.”

  There’s a long pause and I can hear Ethan shuffling around. Then a few seconds later, I hear him come back. “Okay, I had to get up for this. Something tells me I’m not getting any more sleep tonight. Now, what the hell is going on?”

  With permission granted, I launch into the whole long complicated story starting with James’s meltdown in the lobby before dinner and ending with my fake engagement announcement. After I finally pause to take a breath, I hear Ethan chuckling.

  “James doesn’t pay me enough for this shit,” he says finally.

  “Thanks for the helpful advice.”

  “Somehow I don’t think you need me to tell you this is a really bad idea.”

  “You’re my friend. You’re supposed to tell me everything is going to be fine. Plus, I figured you’d need a heads up anyway before we get back and you hear that we’re engaged.”

  “Wait a minute, you mean you’re actually going through with it?” He launches into one rant about sexual harassment and a bunch of other boring shit that I tune out when Mya rolls over again, this time facing me.

  Ethan’s incredulous voice follows me as I creep closer to the bed to stare at her. Her hair flows all around her face, surrounding her like a dark halo. One hand rests on the pillow next to her cheek. A strange feeling comes over me looking down at her as she sleeps unaware. So trusting. I want to be the one who watches over her. Protects her. And the idea that after she wakes she might decide to just walk away is torture.

  This is a hell of a time to discover that my feelings for Mya Taylor might be about much more than just the physical.

  “Uh, what are you doing right now,” Ethan’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “Because you’re breathing pretty heavily in my ear and it’s making me uncomfortable.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m watching Mya sleep and I’m trying not to get caught.”

  “This is even worse than I thought. Do you hear yourself? You even sound like a creeper.”

  “Never mind. I don’t know why I called you.”

  “Uh, maybe to keep you out of jail before you do something insane. Well, anything else insane. Sounds like you’re already pretty far gone though.”

  He’s right. I’m legitimately off the rails. What the hell is it about Vegas that makes people do crazy things? I’ve lied to, hell, everyone. Then I seduced Mya and had a sexual experience that makes even me question whether I’ve had good sex before. Now I’m standing in a dark hotel room watching her sleep while thinking about what it would be like to be with Mya for real. To have the right to wake up next to her and call her mine.

  For all this not to be a lie.

  “I need to get out of here.” I’m speaking more to myself than to Ethan. Hopefully he doesn’t take it personally when I hang up, suddenly needing to be anywhere but here.

  My shoes and dress pants are still in a heap in the middle of the room, so I dress quickly and then turn around looking for a shirt. The one I was wearing is missing buttons from when Mya tore it off me and I’m for damn sure not putting on the one she was wearing. Having her scent on my skin is definitely not going to help me break free of whatever spell I’m under.

  Finally I grab a clean T-shirt from my bag and throw it on. I look a little odd I’m sure wearing dress pants and shoes and a casual shirt but this is Vegas. You can get away with anything here.

  Except it seems your heart.

  I’m settled at the hotel bar with my second drink when I see him.

  Andre Lavin walks through the casino with the assurance of someone who is used to getting everything he wants. Warning bells are blaring in the back of my mind. Talking to the client alone would be a red flag on any given day when I’ve been drinking but especially after everything that went down earlier.

  I still haven’t forgotten how he looked at Mya. He wants her.

  Get in line, buddy.

  “Mr. Hamilton. I wasn’t expecting to see you again before you left.”

  Without waiting for an invitation he takes the seat next to me. The bartender immediately brings him a drink, as if they’ve just been waiting with his favorite in case he should happen to drop by. The life of a high roller.

  Is this what he’s used to, having people fawn all over him all the time? Bring him whatever he wants. Whoever he wants.

  Anger storms through my system, aided by the amount of alcohol I’ve had in the past twenty-four hours. I’m not thinking about what’s good for my career right now. I’m thinking about what’s good for Mya.

  “I’m not going to let you treat her like she’s some delicacy to be brought on a silver platter,” I mumble accusingly.

  His lips quirk up at the corners. “Is that right?”

  Was I this smug when going after women? God, I hope not because I really want to punch that grin off his face.

  “How long have you worked with your fiancée?”

  There’s nothing inappropriate about his question but it feels like a challenge somehow. Like he’s testing me.

  “Two years. She kicks my ass at work, too.”

  He takes a sip of his drink. “I bet. She seems like a formidable woman. And quite beautiful. The kind of woman a man has to keep happy.”

  My fingers clench around my shot glass. “Oh, I keep her happy. In the office and out of it.”

  His eyes flash as he catches my meaning. His gaze takes in my sloppy dress and I’m sure he can put two and two together. I look like I’ve just had sex quite frankly with my bed head and haphazard outfit.

  “That’s good. Very good. Because there will always be another man waiting if you mess it up.”

  “I won’t be messing up.” Now he’s just asking to get popped in the mouth.

  “Of course not but I felt it only fair to give you notice. It doesn’t hurt to let a man know he has some competition. Good night, Mr. Hamilton.” He leaves a few twenties on the bar and then walks off the way he came.

  While I’m left with an empty shot glass and no idea what the hell just happened. This whole situation has gotten completely out of hand. I invented this engagement to get the job and now jealousy might prevent Andre Lavin from hiring us anyway. I wouldn’t think he’d allow his personal feelings to play a part in his business decisions but he’s only human.

  What if this conversation was his way of warning me that Mirage won’t get the job?

  James can never know about this. I don’t think he would encourage Mya to flirt with a client to secure a job but this is too important to gamble on. I don’t want there to be any chance she might be put in that position. This sex thing between us scrambled my brain a bit but I have enough wits left to know that work is the most important thing to Mya.

  Hell, it’s the most important thing to me, too. I might have been feeling sentimental after tha
t intense round upstairs but that doesn’t change who I am or what I want for my future. I put a shaky hand to my chest, trying to calm my suddenly racing heart. So, it’s settled. I won’t say anything to Mya about this either. She doesn’t need that pressure. I need to protect her from this.

  And not because I feel anything for her beyond desire and friendship. It’s just the right thing to do.

  Obviously.

  13

  The trip back to D.C. is much like the trip to Vegas, except Mya and I drop our usual banter and instead treat each other like polite acquaintances. She doesn’t make any comments when the flight attendant slips me her number and I don’t make fun of her plastic stress cow.

  The whole thing feels fake as hell.

  But we’ve come to an unspoken agreement to pretend last night didn’t happen. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?

  Well, I think that’s bullshit but I can’t tell where Mya stands on this. Are doubts starting to creep in? Is she wishing last night didn’t happen? Maybe a part of me is afraid to find out because I’m hoping our newfound chemistry will continue on our home turf.

  After the plane lands, Mya lets out a sigh of relief as the pilot makes his announcement and welcomes us back to the nation’s capital.

  “We made it. Safe and sound. I told you we had this in the bag.”

  Her lips curl up slightly. “Things didn’t go exactly as planned though, did they?”

  I wish I could read her mind right now because her comments aren’t giving anything away. That statement could be referencing last night’s dinner debacle with the Lavin team or our late night mattress wrestling. Her expression gives nothing away.

  Flying across the country and back within twenty four hours has even the most perky of our employees looking dead on their feet. Even Kevin is quiet and he usually doesn’t miss an opportunity to talk James’s ear off.