by Dani Wyatt
He’s a man. I mean, yeah, obviously I’ve been around men before. But this guy . . . he’s a man.
He’s a tower looming over me, with dark, close-cropped hair and eyes that make me think of blue raspberry lollipops. Except, they have power. When he looks at me there is a twinge in my belly. Something that tells me things I didn’t know about myself. Things I think he knows about me already. But how could that be?
Something inside me is saying that love may be something more, something bigger than I’d ever thought before.
Wow. I’m thinking about love?
I don’t know what it feels like to be in love. I’m engaged. And I suppose I just figured love was something that grew between two people after they’d been together a long time. Like Mom and Dad.
Mom told me once that when her family told her she was getting married, she hadn’t even met my father. It was all arranged; that’s just how it’s been done in my family for generations. She also said it took a while, but they grew to love each other. And I know that’s true because we saw it–me and Leah–we were lucky enough to experience that love between them in the short time we had with them.
Deep down I’d hoped that would occur between me and Victor too. That I would develop some sort of pleasant feelings for him. At least something.
Over time.
The only feeling I’ve managed so far is a morbid curiosity. And a little bit of petulance too, since whenever we are in the room together, the only thing he does is look down at his phone and grunt occasionally when Simon asks him a question. He isn’t off-putting in his looks. He’s lean, usually dressed in a dark silk suit or a pair of those men’s jeans with rhinestones on the back pockets. That seems odd to me; they look like some whacko bedazzler went nuts on his behind.
But, something is happening here with this Decker person.
Man.
He’s a complete stranger, but when he kissed me, it felt so dang good. I should have been scared, but I wasn’t. It felt right and I want him to do it more. But that woman knocked on the door and stopped all that. And now I’m just wondering how I can get it back again—how I can convince him to kiss me again.
I know that’s wrong. I need this job. And I am not entirely sure if maybe he just kisses all the girls that work here, like it’s some sort of package deal.
That thought makes my heart crush and shatter. And that is so weird. Why would I be jealous of a man I don’t even know?
There is a problem with my panties too. I’ve never had that reaction to anyone before. I’ve never been touched like that, nor even kissed, and I hope like heck there isn’t something wrong with me. Anything I know about sex I’ve learned from Leah, and that’s not much because she doesn’t know very much either.
She said Mom had one talk with her, but then there was the accident, and since then it was all just speculation really. And a few books that had naughty bits in them. She said when Mom talked to her, it was mostly about “that time” of the month and the practicalities of how babies are made.
I’ll admit, I’ve slipped my fingers into myself a few times. There’s this wanting, but I could never satisfy it. Leah said there are orgasms. Something that I guess feels really, really good, but I’m not sure I’ve had one because when I’ve played with myself it felt nice, but it wasn’t like mind blowing or anything. Maybe my expectations are off, since both Leah and I have no experience.
But right now, when he kissed me, something definitely felt mind blowing . . . and the dampness that’s growing between my legs, soaking my panties and making them stick to me, seems to be directly related to Decker and that kiss.
And the other thing. He’s older than me. A lot. And I like it.
A lot.
“I . . . I needed—” The blonde girl is stuttering. She keeps looking over at me with a bit of curiosity. “A signature.” Her look makes me shift in my chair, and pull my arms around myself. I suppose she’s wondering what a girl like me would have to offer a place like this . . .
She looks like Leah. Ready for the runway, a body straight out of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue, only with a splash of hard knocks thrown in. Her hair is a bit more Dolly Parton than Leah would go for, and her make-up is a coat or two past the natural look, but she’s clearly beautiful. Suddenly I’m trying to tug the hem of my skirt lower and wondering what the hell I was thinking coming here.
“A signature on what?” Decker clips the words like they taste bad, and I watch as he runs a hand over his head, back and forth. I can see each indent and movement of his arm muscles under his skin.
The tingle between my legs turns to a throb. I’m sure a man that looks like that has his choice of any of these girls every night of the week. I sneak a full on glance at him from my place in the chair, impressed by the way his shoulders fill out the back of his jacket. Physically speaking, he’s a mountain up top, wide and immovable, but lower down he’s built like a runner.
Cindy’s voice is shrill and I involuntarily roll my eyes when he looks over at me again, then Decker looks at me, runs his tongue over his teeth and shakes his head.
“This . . .” He thrusts the stack of papers looking back at her “ . . . can wait until tomorrow. You know better than to knock on my door for this.” I like that he’s being straightforward without being rude, but you can tell from the sheepish look on Cindy’s face, she did know better.
Maybe she’s his squeeze. Like his regular girl and she is checking out the new kid. Maybe, this is like his own private harem and she’s the lead concubine.
That thought twists a knot inside me. My chest tightens thinking of Deck with all these other girls. A man like him surely keeps busy. He’s older, sure. The smallest bit of silver-grey hair decorates his temples, and it surprises me that I’m finding him so attractive. But even looking at that, he makes me feel light-headed and giddy.
“I’m sorry.” Cindy’s reply is measured. Polite, but with an edge, like a fox keeping its distance while the farmer is watching. “I just saw you come back down here and figured I could get it wrapped up tonight. I have to get payroll in early tomorrow and figured I could get this off my to-do list.” She clutches the papers to her chest and crosses her arms over them, darting her eyes toward me again.
“Here.” Decker says, holding his hand out for the stack of papers. Cindy holds them out along with a pen and he scratches his name on the top paper. “Tell anyone else if they knock on that door, there’d better be blood or cops involved.” Deck steps forward and opens the door. He doesn’t have to say anything else. She takes the cue and sashays her perfect size zero butt out with a defeated sigh.
I think about how stupid I must look compared to all the other girls here. It was quiet out in the bar, but I stood there long enough to see that I am not necessarily the ‘type’ they’re looking for. And some of the confidence I’d had while I strutted around in my bedroom to ’Super Freak’ is leaking out and settling around my feet in a defeated puddle.
“I’m sorry about that. No one usually comes in here. It’s sort of off limits. Unless you are in trouble.” Deck comes around to lean against the front of his massive, dark-wood desk. Everything in here is at annoying right angles to everything else and it’s so clean you could perform surgery.
“It’s okay.” I scan the room and find it cold. Unwelcoming. There are no soft touches anywhere, but my body is a furnace and I let out a stupid, nervous laugh at absolutely nothing. “Do you kiss all your employees? Even the guys?” The words just run out of my mouth like a locomotive. I’ve always had a problem with the usual order of things. I know you’re supposed to do the thinking first and the talking second, but it’s all just one process for me. And it’s managed to get me locked in the bathroom plenty of times over the years.
Simon, my guardian, doesn’t have much of a sense of humor. His punishment of choice when I was growing up was to send me to my room, so that I’d be out of his sight. But when it got so I didn’t mind that, he took to putting me in my bathroom, locking me in the
re for hours on end.
Decker’s stern face explodes, lighting up with the kind of smile that I just don’t remember seeing before. Not on a man. Not in real life. Maybe in an ad in the newspaper, a kind of grin that looks so genuine and seems so infectious that it’s difficult to keep the smile off of my own face. But right now my body is reacting in its own way. Something throbs inside me, some organ I didn’t know I had before, somewhere in a deep part of me that might not have even existed before I met him.
“No. I don’t kiss them all.” His smile dims a bit but his blue-raspberry colored eyes sparkle with a life that has me feeling drugged. “In fact, I’ve never kissed any of them before.” He stands and steps in front of me, his knees only inches from mine, and I draw in a breath that sounds more like a death rattle. Suddenly I hate how awkward I am, convinced that he will quickly realize that he’s making a mistake.
“Well, you should,” I blurt out, then desperately search for something less inane. “Because you are good at it.” I almost die right there. I just can’t seem to stop myself, and being around Deck is making it worse. “I wouldn’t mind if you did it again.”
I think it, and I speak it. It’s a curse.
His hand comes down and picks one of mine from my lap like a forbidden fruit. His touch is warm and reassuring, but it sends a pulse of energy up my arm and down into where my heart is about to explode all over these white walls, and for a second I imagine it looking like a blood spattered crime scene. My panties take another hit from the gush that is coming out of me.
He’s pulling me up and without another word I’m on my feet. The heat from his body washes over mine; I can feel him looking at me from above. I’m sure he must have done this a thousand times because there is a confidence rolling off of him that has me utterly helpless in his force field.
“Then I will. Because, May, you deserve to have everything you want. And if I can give it to you, all the better.”
With that he drops my hand. It falls limp, while his moves to pinch my chin, forcing me to look up at him. His eyes are like frozen fire, ice blue but burning into me, and something inside me clenches with such desire I nearly lose my balance. His mouth comes down to cover mine and my head falls back, letting him consume my lips with his.
His tongue traces the line between my lips, hungry and urgent but without arrogance. He nudges his wet warmth forward and I open, letting his tongue swoop into my mouth. Something deep inside me cracks open. He tastes like something from a dream. Like strength, desire, with just a hint of something fresh and minty.
I’m lost inside my head, spinning, spinning, in time with our tongues, matching the way they move together. This kiss feels better than any of the times I’ve touched myself. Maybe this is an orgasm, because it’s definitely the most mind-blowing feeling I’ve ever had.
His hands cover the back of my neck, drawing me into him as the euphoria collapses over me in waves. This is it, this is an orgasm. I’m sure of it. I’m having an orgasm from a kiss. Leah said they only happen when you have sex, but I know this is it, it has to be, because his mouth is on my lips but it’s affecting my entire body.
My nipples are hard, aching as he closes the space between us and crushes his body into mine. Compared to me he’s a giant, massive and powerful, and a flash of what it would be like to be under him crosses my mind, making me shiver. I surprise myself with a sound I’ve never made before, somewhere between a squeak and a moan.
Decker doesn’t stop. He actually pushes his tongue farther into my mouth, swooping around mine like he is corralling me somehow. A flash of panic swells in my chest. I am here kissing a man I barely know, in his office, with a security lock on the door.
What if he plans to hurt me? What if I never make it home? What if Leah is left alone—without me?
As if he feels my rising anxiety, Decker releases my mouth with a deep rumble. It comes up from his chest, and it almost makes me topple over, because the sound seems to grip me in my heart and down between my legs almost as much as the kiss. The hunger in him is physical somehow, hanging in the air between us.
I’m frozen. My feet feel like they are nailed into the soft, cream-colored carpet, and the logical part of my brain tells me to turn and run because he could do anything he wanted to me in here.
But I stay still, looking at him. It’s the oddest feeling, like being on the edge of the precipice. I feel more protected and safe right now than I have since my parents died, with this man I barely know. After just one kiss.
“I won’t hurt you, May.” He breathes the words and they trickle down toward my ear as his hand glides over my hair and down my back.
I suck in a breath when he stops just above my ass, settling his hand, firm and warm, in that curve of my back. Just above the bigger curve that juts out below.
I clear my throat and puff out a little burst of air just before the giggle tumbles out behind it.
“I know you won’t hurt me. I mean you could, but somehow I know you won’t.” My words come out in a shiver, and my eyes are drawn upward until my gaze rests on his face. I swallow hard as I regard him. His jaw is tense, clean shaven but his dark beard still shows through. His chin juts out with angular lines that contrast with the unusual softness in his brilliant blue eyes. His nose is cocked a bit to one side, and his lips are full. There is a scar that cuts almost through his top lip and I can’t help reaching up to touch it.
I’m dimly aware of our obvious age difference; he’s a man, not a boy, but in that moment none of that matters. He is the most stunning man I’ve ever laid eyes on, and there is a quivering electricity running through me that has me wanting to do things I barely know about.
“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” I blurt out and there is a shift in the tension of his body.
The hand that is resting just above my rear end pulls me closer, while the other one caresses the skin at the back of my neck, sending wild signals down my spine, making the muscles in my core tighten and release over and over. I can’t stop myself from talking, the breathless thoughts tumbling out of me like apples falling from a torn bag. “And so, you said I’m hired? Don’t you want to see me dance?”
Decker chuckles and I keep my finger on his lips as he smiles. Then his tongue comes out to taste my finger. He moves it, then pulls it between his lips until he’s sucking it into his mouth. My mind goes completely blank, and at the same time the hand on my back presses me forward until we are crushed together.
“That feels really good. I wouldn’t expect it to. I would have thought it would feel gross. But it doesn’t. It’s . . .” My words catch in my throat as he draws my finger deep into the wet heat of his mouth and his tongue wraps around it, nearly writing his name on it with its rapid movements. “You don’t even know where my finger has been,” I whisper, letting my eyes start to drift closed as he smashes my chest into the craggy rocks of his upper abs.
My head rests against his chest, and I can feel his breath beating down on my face from above. I am lost in this moment. He takes his hand away from my neck and gently grips around my wrist, drawing my finger from his mouth. Before I can focus another breath or thought, he’s got me around the waist and I’m off my feet. The white walls are spinning around and he shifts to sit me on the desk, pushing his body between my legs.
His voice is ragged. “Yes, you’re hired. No, I don’t need to see you dance.”
“I’m engaged.” I drop that bomb and hold my breath.
Decker
A girl walks into a bar . . .
And blows my world apart.
“You’re not engaged anymore.”
I don’t know what possesses me to say that, but it’s the truth. The second she took my kiss I marked her as mine, and whatever this animal is inside of me, the one that she’s awakened, he will destroy any and all obstacles that try to stop him from taking what is rightfully his.
Mine.
Fucking seriously. Twenty minutes ago, I was settled on the fact that I would proba
bly die alone. A fucking hundred-year-old virgin. And now I’m ready to skin any mother fucker that might even dare to think they have a claim on her. This sweet pink wink that’s sitting on my desk like a ripe little cherry waiting to be picked.
“What?” She tips her head to the side, and her cheeks plump out with a smile that nearly empties my balls into my pants. “Yes, I am. I’m engaged. For real. I have a fiancé. And so I suppose I’m a cheating whore right now.”
The way she talks makes me want to wash her mouth out with soap and pinch her cheeks with a bawdy laugh. Not only does she look like no other girl I’ve ever seen, she doesn’t talk like any I’ve ever heard. And trust me, I’ve heard plenty in this business. She’s clearly no whore either, and I highly doubt she’s even clear on the meaning of the word.
The sound of the words “fiancé” and “whore” on her lips makes me want to throw her over my knee and spank those thoughts out of her. No fucking way is she engaged. I can see it in her eyes; she’s as fresh as a Sunday afternoon in spring. And if she really belonged to someone else, she wouldn’t have kissed me like she just did. I can taste something in her, something familiar, something I’ve been waiting for my whole life. So whatever this engagement bullshit may be, I’ve just added it to my to-undo list.
“Do you kiss him?” I grumble because if any other word comes out of her mouth but ‘no,’ I may just come apart.
She wrinkles her nose at me; she’s thinking about what to say and I know the answer right then.
“Naw,” she says shaking her head. “It’s kind of a strange set up. It’s my family, they are very . . .” She bobs her head side to side squinting one eye. “ . . . traditional.”
That’s all I need to know.
I shift closer, splaying her knees farther apart and her eyes go wide. They are silver-gray, wrapped in a cord of black. Alabaster skin just waiting to be tasted, framed by long tresses of amber waves. I’m admiring every inch I can see, memorizing it for later because I intend to map her with my tongue until I know where I’m kissing with my eyes closed.