Fortunate Encounters (The Sign Series Book 1)

by Caterina Passarelli

  “Have some fun…”

  I trail the thought out loud, as if trying on the idea. In no way does that translate to … get to know each other better, start a relationship, or get married. My ultimate goals when it comes to dating.

  “Are you having fun in your life right now?” Clark interrupts my scrambling thoughts.

  His question flashes me back to Charlotte asking if I was happy.

  Happy–no.

  Having fun–not really.

  Don’t get me wrong—my life is good, by most standards. But I know it could be better. Half the time I’m living a life similar to a seventy-year-old grandma’s. Actually, I bet some of those grandmas are having more fun than I am.

  “Should I take your silence as an answer?” He pauses for me to think. “If so, what do you have to lose?”

  It’s then I hear a great deal of commotion on the other end of the line. It sounds like a team of people is surrounding him; his name is mentioned a few times. Mr. Chambers—sounds authoritative and sexy.

  “Do you need to let me go?”

  I don’t know why asking that makes me a little upset. I want his full attention, even though that’s the one thing I’ve been fighting off.

  Since when did I become this wishy-washy chick? Grow a pair, Juliette.

  “Yes, I’m starting a meeting. Text me your answer.”

  And with that, he hangs up, leaving me looking like a fool doing donkey kicks on the floor in my bedroom.

  Rolling over onto my back, I stare at the ceiling. I plop my hands to my sides, palms up. I’ve never been one to meditate or pray because I suck at sitting still, but right now I have the sudden urge to try.

  “Hey Universe,” I say out loud while staring at the white paint. “Show me a sign that I should say yes to Clark’s sleazy proposal.”

  I begin looking around the room for whatever sign could be coming my way. But … nothing happens. What was I expecting? Lasers to shoot through the roof? To hear a voice from above? Some kind of voodoo?

  Getting up off the floor, I slip on my tennis shoes and walk out the door. Fresh air may do me some good. Strolling around the block a few times, I decide I’m over what Manhattan has to offer and head back.

  Walking into my apartment complex, I push the button to wait for the elevator. As I’m standing there, minding my own business, a kid wearing a red Superman cape comes running out of an apartment carrying a small cardboard box.

  “Hey lady!” he shouts. My guess is he’s slightly older than Charlotte.

  “Do you need help?”

  He sets the box down, and that’s when I hear a noise. Stepping back slightly, I have no clue what he’s got in there.

  “Can I give this to you? My mom is gonna be home soon, and she’ll yell.”

  “Give it to me?” I eye him in curiosity. “I have no idea what’s in there.”

  Superman Junior opens the lid as we both peer inside to see a tiny orange and white kitten on top of a blue fleece blanket.

  “You want to give away your kitten? You don’t think your mom would be mad?” I reach my hand toward the cute little kitten as he … or maybe she … rubs her head against it. The sound of purring forces me to continue.

  “No. It’s not my cat.”

  “Did you steal this cat?” I ask. Is Superman a thief?

  “No! Are you crazy?” He runs around the box as his red cape blows behind him. “I saved him.”

  “From what?”

  What kind of danger was this little kitten in?

  The kid continues running as I continue staring at him. He’s going to give me vertigo just watching him race around.

  “I found him on the street when I was walking home from school. He was meowing and chased me. I fed him and now here I am talking to you, lady. My mom can’t have cats because she’ll sneeze.”

  “How do we know this cat doesn’t belong to someone else?”

  He stops running and stares at me. “He ain’t got no tag.”

  Inspecting the still purring kitten, I come to the same conclusion as the kid—no tag.

  “Please, please, please,” he says, begging as he flashes me round eyes. To make his display more pathetic and heartbreaking, he brings his hands clenched together toward his face. This kid knows how to work a room.

  I’ve never had a pet before, and it would make my apartment less lonely. I was just thinking about a puppy.

  “Fine. I’ll take the cat.”

  Superman’s whole face lights up as if I just told him tomorrow is Christmas.

  “Thank you!” He runs toward his apartment door.

  I shout before he disappears. “Hey kid! What’s your name?”

  I’ve never seen him in the building before, but I rarely interact with my neighbors.

  He spins back. “Clark.” He grabs his cape and tries to pull it around, but his little body spins with it—he’s like a dog chasing his tail. “Get it?” He laughs. “Clark Kent is Superman.”

  And with that Superman dashes into his apartment, leaving me standing in the hallway with a new little friend.

  I do make a call to Animal Control to report the kitten missing—just in case he really does belong to someone. But for now, he’s all mine. And he’s the only companion I need.

  Thanks to Clark Kent.

  9

  Clark stares from across the table inside the dimly lit Italian restaurant. A candle sits on the table between us. “I didn’t expect you to text me. What made you change your mind?” he asks before taking a sip of his red wine. We are sharing a bottle, which is different from his traditional whiskey.

  “It had something to do with Superman.” Sipping my wine, I avoid giving him any extra details.

  He laughs, knowing that’s the best answer he’s going to get, and it makes zero sense. This whole situation doesn’t make much sense, to be honest.

  The waiter drops off our food in a hurry. I dig in, leaving little time for Clark to grill me with more questions. Tonight my nerves are on edge. I try to focus on my spaghetti carbonara, but my hand shakes as I twirl the pasta around my fork and bring it to my dry mouth.

  Clark observes me but surprisingly holds back any sassy remarks about my unsteady hand.

  I don’t know why I can’t pull myself together. Ever since I texted him a few nights ago saying I’d like to meet, I’ve been a bundle of anxious energy. Getting ready before he picked me up, I curled the same piece of hair about fifteen times without realizing it—which I’m now doing with my spaghetti.

  “You plan to tell any of the ladies at work about this dinner?” He bites into his pork chop without a care in the world. He’s not the least bit nervous.

  “Hell no,” I say, swigging my water this time.

  Clark throws his head back in laughter. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  “Why not?”

  “You want to keep me a secret. I should be insulted about that. Normally women run around telling all their friends details about everything.”

  Who are these women he’s referring to? The women he normally sets up these arrangements with?

  I’m instantly disgusted just thinking about that. I set down my fork, not sure I can eat another bite.

  “You have so much going on in that head of yours.”

  His observation is correct.

  Looking up from my plate, I lock eyes with his. “You don’t know that,” I smirk, brushing off his comment. I don’t want him to ask me what I was just thinking about, preferring to avoid the topic of other women.

  “I do know that. You go quiet for just a second too long, but you aren’t an airhead. You’re contemplating everything that’s happening. Deep thought.”

  “What are you, a philosopher?”

  If we are going to do this—and by this, I mean have sex without being in a relationship—I’d prefer he didn’t know every detail about me. That makes it too real, and I’d like to pretend this is happening in some kind of alternate universe.

  “There you go
… using your wit to throw me off my game. I’ll let it slide, but I know what you are doing.” Clark winks.

  He’s the first guy to read me so well. Once I went on a date with a data analyst who tried to make commentary on every little thing I did. He told me I was tapping my foot because I was nervous. Nervous? I was tapping my foot to the catchy song on the radio. When I told him that, he had the nerve to tell me I was offbeat. Seriously?

  And this was a dude who expected to have sex on the first date. No, thank you. He said observing everything is “just what analysts do.” I think that’s just what assholes do.

  “Okay, now you just went to outer space.” Clark waves his hand in front of me. “What was that all about? Do I have something in my teeth and you’re thinking up a polite way to tell me?”

  “Sorry,” I laugh. “Nothing in your teeth. I was thinking of a terrible date I went on before.”

  “You’re thinking of another man while out with me?” Clark teases, faking an expression of shock.

  “I said it was a terrible date. Maybe I was comparing it to how nicely this one is going.” I shrug, hoping to recover from my faux pas.

  “And now I want to fuck you even more.”

  My stomach is in knots at his dirty remarks.

  When I sent Clark the text, I was taking matters into my own hands. I’ve never been the ‘take charge’ type of girl, but Clark has me completely out of my element. I need some kind of control. He doesn’t know this, of course.

  When the waiter sets down the black billfold, Clark slips cash inside. I offer to contribute, but he shrugs me off. He makes a remark about ladies never paying for a date.

  Reaching across the table, he takes my hand in his. “It’s time we get out of here. We have much better places to be.”

  The knots climb from my stomach and into my throat.

  In his car, I notice he’s driving in the direction of his place. Or what I assume is his place because it’s not toward my apartment. This will screw up my entire plan for this evening.

  Be brave, Juliette. Take charge.

  Reaching over, I place my hand on top of his massive thigh. “Can we go to my place?”

  Clark looks down at my hand and then up at my eyes. I bat my eyelashes a few times for extra effect.

  “That’s what you want?” he asks in a husky tone.

  “Please,” I say, biting my bottom lip.

  And off we go!

  Ushering Clark into my small apartment, I’m a woman on a mission.

  “Can you give me a minute? Make yourself at home. Play with my cat,” I say, pointing in the direction of my living room where Milo is curled up asleep.

  “I plan to play with your … cat.”

  Giving him a look of annoyance, I say, “You will not make an inappropriate pussy joke about my cat. I’ll kill you.”

  Before he can say something back, I sneak into my bedroom.

  I squeeze myself into the black corset and matching panties I bought yesterday from a lingerie boutique downtown. I pair it with black stockings and hook the straps to my garter belt.

  I light a few candles and dim the lights to the bedroom. Then I slip on my silky black robe. My hands shake slightly and my heart races. It isn’t until this very moment that I realize he may think this is stupid.

  What if I say something silly and kill the mood? What if he thinks this outfit is ridiculous? Or that I’m trying too hard?

  There’s a knock on the bedroom door. No turning back now. I open the door, and his smiling face takes in my robe as he smirks.

  “You are following me,” I say in my most seductive voice.

  “I’ll follow you anywhere,” he says as he lets me guide him into the room. I instruct him to sit on my king-sized bed.

  Turning on a sexy music playlist, I take my spot standing in front of him. I’m not close enough to touch, but he’ll be able to see all that I have to offer from where he’s sitting. To the beat of the slow, sensual music I untie the pink ribbon around my robe and slowly drop it to the floor.

  “Juliette, you look ravishing,” Clark growls.

  I bite my bottom lip and slowly turn around to give him a good look.

  When my back is to him, I playfully stick my butt out to slowly shake from side-to-side to the beat of the song. When I turn around, his chestnut eyes have gone from playful to lustful.

  He jumps off the bed.

  “Wait a second, I’m the one in charge here. Did I say you could get off that bed?”

  But his answer doesn’t come in the form of words.

  Clark pushes me against the wall. His mouth hits mine in a matter of seconds. And all the built-up anticipation is worth it. A fire ignites within me. My lips tingle as I whimper into his mouth as shivers run through my body.

  All this just from a kiss?

  Through his pants he presses his hard cock against me. I smile, happy to know my little dance did its job.

  Clark pushes my hands over my head. He kisses my neck down to where my full breasts are pressing out against the corset. He licks the top of them before pushing the corset down and taking a nipple into his mouth. I grind myself against his body before letting out a raspy moan. He twirls his tongue around my nipple before sucking the tender breast into his lush mouth.

  Clark tells me to put my arms around his neck, and the next thing I know he’s lifting me off the ground as I wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me to the bed before tossing me down.

  He takes off his clothes as I watch with needy eyes. His body looks even better than I imagined.

  Clark unhooks the corset and slips it off my body along with my panties, leaving me in just my stockings. Now giving him full access to my breasts, he licks, sucks, and twirls his skilled tongue around them. I want to close my eyes and enjoy the sensations rippling through my body, but watching him devour me turns me on even more.

  He kisses my stomach down to the top of my sex and lifts one of my legs. He trails his nose up my stocking and stops where the black lace ends at my upper thigh. Clark runs his tongue along my thigh getting closer to my entrance, and when he’s nearly at it, he stops and repeats the sensual teasing on my other leg.

  Reaching down to run my fingers through his thick hair, I inch his head closer to where I want him to be. He catches on to what I’m doing, and he looks up and smirks. “Someone is a little eager?”

  “Please,” I moan. If I’m going to get sex out of this arrangement, I want it all.

  “Please what?” he asks, daring me to tell him what I need. “Say it, Juliette.”

  “Please lick me,” I moan the words in desperation.

  Clark dips his head lower and gives me what I’ve just begged for. He slides his tongue over my clit and then blows on it—sending shivers down my all-too-willing body. As his tongue circles and sucks on my bud, his slight facial hair causes a burn against my body, it feels entirely too good to tell him to stop.

  Clark slides a finger into my entrance. I grip the sheets in fists of passion and clench Clark’s head between my thighs. He doesn’t say a word. Instead, he puts more intensity into his actions. Clark slowly rubs my clit with his thumb, applying pressure in just the right places. He manages to get himself out of the hold of my thighs and makes his way back up my body.

  With his manhood pressing against my entrance, he slides it up and down. His tip creates a magnificent friction while he teases me.

  “I can’t take much more of you doing this,” I moan out.

  Locking eyes with his, I see all restraint is gone between us. He can’t take much more of this either. He leans over, pulls out a wrapper, and slides on a condom.

  I smile up at him. His normally stoic face turns to a handsome smile as well. As quickly as the smile comes, it’s gone as Clark slides his cock into my entrance and then thrusts until I can’t take much more.

  He pulls out of me, and I gasp in desperation at the emptiness inside of me.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be back,” he smirks. “Flip over.
I want to see that sweet ass of yours.”

  I do exactly as he says. He spanks my butt, and I giggle.

  Clark straddles my legs—they are now locked straight underneath him. This time when he enters me it feels entirely different. He’s snug inside of me.

  Clark makes some shallow thrusts as we both breathe deeply; this position allows him to sink deeper inside. Hearing him growl as he squeezes his hands on my ass is just what I need to push me to the edge of ecstasy.

  With my face down on my pillow, I can’t tell if he’s ready, but then his pumps pick up speed. I’m so close to climaxing.

  “Juliette, come for me,” Clark commands.

  With his hands gripping my hips, he tilts me up just a little more and then pulses inside of me as I too bliss out. We moan breathlessly together as our bodies experience an amazing high. He pulls out of me and then lies on the bed. I roll over to face him.

  “For a woman who kept turning me down, that was some show you put on,” Clark says, running his fingers against my stockings.

  It’s then I remember I was on a mission to be in control.

  I’m glad I threw that bullshit plan out the window.

  10

  Lauren looks shocked. “You did what?” she yells loudly in the teacher’s lounge.

  The school librarian shoots us a death stare from across the room. The smell of her tuna sandwich makes me want to barf but I can’t react to it—Olga scares the crap out of me.

  “I didn’t do anything. You need to calm down.” I give Lauren a stare to keep quiet before Olga puts us in detention. “I simply went on a date with Clark. No big deal.”

  I didn’t plan to tell a soul about Clark, but she asked me what I did this weekend and my face betrayed me … I blushed. Instead of telling her the dirty details, I went with a story about a pleasant evening.

  “Are you seeing him again? You are notorious for ditching people after one date.”

  She’s right. Most dates end with me lying about how I’d love to do this again, but then I disappear.

  “I don’t know.”

  Her smile turns into a frown.