Come Undone: Romance Stories Inspired by the Music of Duran Duran

by Kim Carmichael

  It was called anticipation.

  She preferred to call it insanity.

  Until that moment, she didn't admit to herself she expected the man to show up. She didn't even know if she wanted him to appear.

  Who was she kidding?

  Yes, she did.

  She was a sucker. A sucker for the guy in the fancy duds. The one who spoke words fit for her poetry books. A sucker who let her passion for a gorgeous guy get the best of her.

  Her brother's music boomed through the club. Though she knew every word, every beat, every inflection by heart, nothing seemed familiar, and she seemed stuck in a movie about her, watching things go by without her actually living them.

  Well, she only had a few more minutes, then she would lock up for Milo. Tomorrow she would lie in bed, write and attempt reset her life. Trying to glean the experience from this entire fiasco, she concluded what she learned was that there would be no more sex for pure passion and nothing else. Next time she had sex there would be some potential.

  Finally, the music ended. Her brother and the rest of the band made their way off the stage. She knew Ciro would find her later to make sure she made it home safe. The club emptied and the last of her customers left their table and waved. She returned their gesture, collected her tip and rounded up their empty glasses.

  At this time of night, the club offered a strange, welcome stillness. She never minded being left to do the last bit of cleanup. It gave her a chance to collect her thoughts.

  "Owen Blakeney."

  A familiar voice with a deep timbre rumbled through her. She shuddered when he came up behind her.

  "My name is Owen Blakeney, but most people call me Blake."

  Her breath caught. Unsure if she wanted to slap him or kiss him, she didn't move.

  "I felt your presence as well, Ms. Luna Morrow. I would call it longing, but you're better with words than I am."

  Lord, somehow he read her poem. She dropped one of the glasses.

  "Whatever foolish publication rejected you will never know what they missed out on, you are quite talented.”

  Her mouth went dry. She didn't even bother wiping up the liquid as it dripped off the edge of the table. Still, her body heated, and she hadn't even looked at him.

  "I apologize I'm so late, I meant to get here earlier. I just wanted to see you, but making love to you yesterday lit my creative spark and I spent most of my time designing." He reached over her shoulder and righted the glass, his body pressing against her back, his cologne filling her lungs, his energy taking over her senses.

  "I worked for hours, sketching, planning and finding exactly the right fabrics. I even began constructing the first outfit, but something was off balance in my world and I knew what I had to do." He wrapped his arm around her waist and used his nose to move her hair away from her ear. "Are you going to ask me what I had to do?"

  His breath brushed against her. "What did you have to do?" She gasped out the question.

  "I had to find you, and I showed up in search for anything that would lead me to you. While you weren't here, I swear it was like you were guiding me. I found the package you left me." He punctuated his riddle by kissing her behind the ear. "It was perfect, and I was late because I had to finish the first outfit. It's for you."

  After an unsuccessful attempt to catch her breath, she had no choice but to face him.

  He held up a garment bag and slowly pulled the zipper down. The protective covering parted, revealing an outfit that almost didn't seem real, sort of like this entire situation.

  The dress was exactly what she envisioned every time she went shopping, except no one ever had what she truly wanted.

  Black leather was intertwined what appeared to be matching crocodile or lizard or something of that nature. The short ensemble would hug the body, the different textures act to show off one’s best assets and hide the flaws.

  The fitted corset-like bodice fastened with intricate golden buttons that curved around the top to the back, making the whole thing edgy and interesting and the black lace sleeves gave the outfit almost a timeless look. "The lace."

  "It's perfect." He took her hand and kissed the back. "You are my muse, I want you to wear this for me as you walk down the runway when I premier my line at LA Fashion Week."

  "I'm not a model." She took a step back.

  "Let me worry about that." A smile graced his way too handsome face.

  Her focus darted between him and the dress, the tiny dress, the dress that wouldn't fit her but some preconceived notion of her. Last night he didn't truly see her, only felt her. What he wanted and what she was were two entirely different things. How many times did she have to hear the story of her life before she read ahead to the end? "That won't fit me. You need to go now." She scooped up her glasses and stomped to the bar.

  Her mind went blank and stared into the empty club as she loaded the dishwasher with the last load and turned it on. Before leaving she needed to take an inventory and close down the register. Instead, she put her hand over her eyes, willing Owen or Blake or whatever his name was away.

  “Along with letting me worry about if you’re a model, I think you should let me worry if my creation will fit you or not. I’m well aware you are not a size zero and six inches taller, I felt everything I needed to last night.”

  She put her hands on her hips. The hips too large to fit in anything fit for a runway.

  “Why is it that every siren goes off the moment a male mentions a woman’s size? From someone in the industry, let me tell you that it is the most arbitrary number and run by marketing, not by actual facts.” He hung the garment bag over the far end of the bar and slowly approached her. “Most women don’t even wear the correct size or clothing for their body, and most haven’t had a garment custom-made for them. Especially by me.”

  Well, maybe she wasn’t model material, but the man standing less than an inch away certainly could be one. Even in her heels, she needed to tilt her head up to look into that perfect face.

  “But before I get you to try on my masterpiece, I better double check I had everything right.” He stared into her eyes and put his hands on her waist, running his palms up to the bottom of her rib cage and down to the swell of her hips. “Oh, I got that exactly right.”

  “Blake.” How did she stop her body from reacting to him?

  “Hold on. I have to make sure of the most important detail.” Once more, he slid his hands up, but this time making it to the side of her breasts. “Wait.”

  He wanted her to wait? She had no choice. At the moment she couldn’t move if she tried.

  Still gazing right in her face, he palmed her breasts and licked his lips. “I already imprinted your magnificent chest in mind, but there is no doubt about it, my memory is right on.”

  Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t take a breath, speak, do anything but stand there in a state of want.

  “The entire time I draped the fabric for the dress I couldn’t stop myself from getting hard, knowing how your body would look in my clothes.” As if she willed it, his fingertips grazed over her tight, sensitive nipples. “Seems I’m not the only one who gets aroused at how well we fit together.”

  Before she realized it, she had wrapped her arms around his neck and connected their mouths.

  The moment their tongues met, her knees buckled. What was it about this man that made her turn into a quivering pile of feminine need?

  He caught her, pulling her tight against him and deepening the kiss.

  As if they were long time lovers parted for ages and finally reunited, they pawed each other, their hands traveling over the other’s body, taking everything in.

  “I thought about you all day.” In one swift motion he pulled his shirt off, then hers, and tossed them both aside. He cradled her breasts in his hands, pressed them together and dipped his head down kissing and licking her cleavage, all the while guiding them around the front of the bar.

  Lost in sensation, she leaned back, knocking two
of the bar stools over and not caring.

  “I never wanted anyone so bad.” His hands snuck behind her and flicked open her bra. Again, he went in to take a taste, this time his tongue flicking over her nipples before he pulled one between his lips and grazed his teeth over her.

  “Oh, God.” She fisted his hair in her hand. The man made her into a sex crazed lunatic, pun intended.

  He returned to her mouth, and she caressed her hands down over his smooth skin and hard muscles. Like the night before, she found her fingers at his belt, and like the night before he went to help her.

  Wanting, no needing him to have the same extreme need she had around him, she moved his hand aside. “I got this.” As she kissed him she took his lower lip carefully between her teeth and successfully unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants. The erection she craved was covered only by his briefs.

  A moan escaped his throat.

  Through her lashes, she gazed up at him, lowered to her knees and freed his erection from its confines. While he might be able to remember her size from merely a touch, he seemed even more thick, long and luscious than before. Without pause, she corralled him into her mouth.

  “Luna.” His voice hitched and he combed his fingers through her hair.

  She swirled her tongue over him, taking in every inch, every ridge, everything that was essentially male and relishing in his pure masculine taste.

  He moved with her, as she sucked down his length, his breath coming faster. “That’s good.”

  Continuing her onslaught, she took him down her throat as far as she could.

  “Wait!” He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up, crushing his mouth to hers.

  His hardness pressed against her and he snaked his hands under her skirt. He cupped her bottom and then his fingers grazed against her soaked panties. “I have to have you now, I can’t take it.”

  In a move that impressed her, he literally picked her up and set her down on the bar. “Are we alone?”

  “For now, you better hurry.” Without regard to anything but the fact she needed to have relief from the aching she experienced all day, she laid back.

  “That’s right, get ready for me.” He retrieved a condom out of his wallet and got rid of the rest of his clothes.

  She watched him put on the condom. Again, they were going to have sex in the same brash and bold way.

  Experience, her whole life was about experience. One day this would make for amazing writing. The day she gave in to every one of her desires. Maybe the potential came from recreating this moment in words. She raised her hips off the bar and removed her underwear, managing to kick them away right off the toe of her stiletto.

  “Holy Hell, I can’t wait.” He crawled up on the bar, spreading her legs as he positioned himself and plunged into her, giving them what they both needed.

  In unison, they cried out, clung to the other and kissed.

  He filled her completely. In fact, she had to wrap her legs around him to accommodate all of him.

  Tonight there was no time for slow strokes and build up. Instead, he thrust into her with power and a goal, their mutual release.

  A passion she didn’t know existed swelled throughout her body. Already she could sense her climax stirring. The way he arrived, the things he said, how he touched her, she had no choice.

  They moved together yet in opposition, one moment their bodies crashing together in bliss, then pulling apart and edging them closer to their frenzied end.

  He hooked her leg over his shoulder, driving deeper inside her. “Luna.”

  “I’m going to come.” The ripples started, it was only a matter of time, but it was so fast. She dug her nails into his shoulders to hang on.

  “Yes!” He sped up. “Come, now!”

  Though she wanted to hold back, her body betrayed her by exploding in primal ecstasy. The force of her orgasm knocked the breath right out of her, and she gasped as the contractions continued, growing rather than ebbing.

  “Ah!” Blake’s yell echoed through the empty club. He arched his back and ground into her, the throbbing of his orgasm matching hers.

  For at least a minute neither of them moved nor spoke.

  Panting, he lowered his face into the crook of her shoulder. “Oh, God.”

  She shut her eyes, the calm after the climax exhausting her.

  “I came so hard I thought I was going to pass out.” He kissed her neck and his fingers toyed with her sensitized breast. “I’ve never come like that.”

  “That was really good.” At her confession, she bit her lip.

  “Go home with me. I want to be able to take my time with you.” He put his fingers to her chin, turned her head and kissed her.

  Refusing to give in all the way, she summoned all her strength to say her next words. “I can’t.”

  “Then let me take you out tomorrow night.” His tone lowered.

  “Blake.” The sheer thought of going out with him sent butterflies through her, but she couldn’t get involved. Every relationship, even down to her parents, always ended in disaster, only Ciro stuck around.

  “I’m not walking away from this or you.” Again, he kissed her, a slow kiss, one that claimed her. “I’m used to getting what I want.”

  A challenge? “I’m used to taking what I get.”

  He leaned up on his elbow and shook his head. “Give me something to go on.”

  “You know where I am.” Maybe the key to it all was the fact they had no potential.

  “I’ll tell you what, take the dress home, if it fits like I say it will then you meet me at my studio tomorrow at four o’clock and you agree to model for me.”

  “What if it doesn’t fit?” At the thought of even playing his game, she ground her teeth together.

  “Leave the dress here and I’ll never bother you again.” He slid off her, dealt with the condom and collected their clothing.

  “Where is your studio?” She allowed him to redress her.

  “You need to find me.” He kissed her cheek.

  With the rules made, he turned and walked away without looking back.

  She got off the bar, grabbed the garment bag and peeked at the dress. Did it hold potential or not?

  Chapter Six

  “FIFTY LOOKS.” Blake glanced at his sketches his staff hung around the room. “I have forty-four, but once Luna gets here, I’m sure I can get inspired to draw the last few.” All he needed was to taste her lips and his creativity would be recharged. Underneath each drawing he displayed the fabric boards and any part of the outfit that was completed.

  “Are you sure she’s coming?” With needle and thread in hand and two interns trailing behind him, Sam dashed over to one of the dress forms and completed some detail work on a pair of fitted pants.

  Well, he was sure she came and if he had any say about it, she would be coming again soon, but that wasn’t the question. Two nights of mind-blowing sex in a row coupled with creating a line and little to no sleep, made him a little punchy. If he could get her in his bed tonight, maybe he could sleep, and that’s all he would do, sleep. They needed to get to know each other on a more intimate level. All they had done was have sex. Not that he didn’t want to have sex, he did, with her, a lot, but he wanted to know more about her. In the morning they could make love…a couple of times. Now he forgot the question. “What?” He watched one intern, Nelson, practically fall all over himself trying to help Sam while the other, Kathy, stood there with her arms crossed doing nothing.

  “How do you know she’s going to show up?” Sam adjusted a couple more items and snipped a thread. “It’s 3:50.”

  “The dress fits her.” He took a quick inventory of all the outfits. Primarily dresses, a few skirt ensembles and a lot more pants than most designers showed. Coming from men’s wear did have certain advantages.

  “That brings up something I wanted to ask you.” With an over exaggerated movement, Sam looked at his watch.

  In an effort to distract himself from the time, h
e returned to his desk and studied some epaulets he wanted to use. “Kathy, did you enter all the outfits into a spreadsheet like I asked?”

  With a blank expression, she stared at him. She was also the one who never brought him his lizard skin.

  “Blake.” Sam pointed out a hem to Nelson and faced him. “I need to ask you a question.”

  “Ask away.” At least he answered, his one intern still did nothing.

  “The dress may fit her, and so may all the other samples we’ve made thus far, but they don’t fit the women we normally use for models.” As if it were nothing but a casual statement, Sam put his hands in his pockets and sauntered around the room.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Blake balled his hand in a fist. “It’s no wonder all women are obsessed with this nonsense. Maybe this is the size I want to make my clothing. It’s my line. It’s supposed to be revolutionary.”

  “Well, Mr. Fashion Institute Degree, the outcome of anarchy is rules and remember, my family invested in this too, so we are in this together.” Sam crossed his arms.

  “We have been in everything together our whole lives.” Blake reminded him. They shared the same mother for God’s sake.

  “I’ll have the samples made in the traditional sizes as well. This is for LA Fashion Week.” Sam lifted his chin.

  “Fine. Maybe Kathy can put that in the spreadsheet as well.” The woman didn’t move. Maybe they took on a mannequin instead and no one told him. He took a breath and glanced at his computer monitor. It was a couple of minutes past four, though technically late, she wasn’t late according to Los Angeles standards.

  “You know the dress may fit, but she may not show anyway.” Again, Sam paced the room.

  Blake shut his eyes. Like he hadn’t thought of that. He felt he needed to give her a reason to show other than she wanted him. Well, if she showed or not would prove her character. The least she could do was face him. “Don’t the two of you have samples to work on?”

  “There are three of us.” Nelson piped in, his voice strained from lying on his back looking up under a dress form.