Hungry CEO

by Charlize Starr

  Instead of going straight up to the apartment, I go into the lobby to sit on the creaky rocking chair in the corner. I just need a minute to think, to calm myself down. It’s silly but, if I go straight up there, I’m going to just end up bursting into tears. Here in public, I can be trusted to not cry for at least a few more minutes. I’m too proud to cry in public.

  Who would’ve thought one little mistake would’ve caused all this – would’ve caused my entire life to fall apart? I can remember that morning as if it were yesterday: waking up and stumbling out of my room to find my livid dad. He literally threw me into his car with a bathrobe. Who, after yelling at me for a few hours, then dropped me off at Gillian’s, along with all my things a few hours later?

  I shake my head, thinking of the months that followed. Thank God for Gillian; she’d been there through it all. Only a few weeks later, I was curled up on the bathroom floor, sobbing, clutching the 2-lined positive pregnancy test in my hand. Then came weeks of wandering from one minimum wage job to another, hoping for the second job I couldn’t handle but had to have for the baby I still wouldn’t be able to afford. And she’d be there for me today too, helping me do the baby shopping I had been putting off until the last minute, buying the supplies I would undeniably need but, month after month, still couldn’t afford.

  Even my Mom couldn’t be bothered to visit these past few months, only wishing me a drunken “best wishes” over the phone.

  And then there’s Luke. Luke, the father of my child. The only man I’ve ever slept with – and maybe even loved. The man who, even now, I can’t stop dreaming or thinking about. The man who I’ll never see again.

  God, all of it – these past six months – it’s just too much. Now, my eyes full of tears, I rise. Looks like it’s time to go upstairs. I can hardly hold in the tears another second.

  I take the elevator. Stairs have been a no-go since month four. Getting on, I press the 12 button and then the creaky old thing shrieks its way up. At my floor, the doors clatter open. I walk out, and then I see him. There’s a man waiting at my door.

  He looks well-built; familiar somehow. When he turns around, I know why. It’s him. Luke.

  “Oh my God. It really is you,” he says.

  I stare at him because I don’t want the tears in my eyes to stream down. More than that, I don’t know what to say at all, to say about anything.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” he says.

  And the funny thing is, seeing him here like this, so impossibly, I almost believe him.

  “Come inside,” I tell him as I open the door. Whatever he’s got to say, better inside than out in the hallway. Once the door’s opened and we’re inside, Luke’s gaze goes from my belly to the rest of the apartment.

  “This is your place?”

  I shake my head. Striding into the living room, gesturing at the sheet that half-successfully partitions me from the rest of the room, I tell him, “That’s my room.”

  “Emma,” he says in a low voice. When I step to him, he says, “Kiss me.”

  I do, because there was never any choice, really. He isn’t gentle this time. His lips are hungry and impatient. They bite at mine as his hands savor my body like it’s the last time. Which makes sense, since it probably will be. Once he finds out the truth, once I tell him just whose baby is in my tummy, he’s going to walk out that door and never come back. But not right now. No. Right now, it’s his body and mine, his hands and mine, moving all over each other, peeling off clothes. It’s his tongue and mine, picking up the old dance, the old swoop and slide, the foreshadowing thrusts of what’s to come.

  Now my shirt’s off and his shirt is too – and he’s as muscled as he ever was. Our chests are pressing together, but his hand is shoving between them, peeling off my bra too – an ugly skin-color one because this was the last thing I expected. It doesn’t matter. As he presses his pelvis to me, I can feel his excitement, his rock-hard rod of excitement. My breasts are free now and he’s batting them like a cat, grabbing them like a child, sucking them like a babe. This isn’t a good idea, and yet, it’s the best thing that’s happened to me in months.

  Now my tit’s out of his mouth, so he can say, “We’re going to finish what we started.”

  And, with one swift yank, my pants are on the floor too. Then, my panties.

  I’m naked and he’s still got his pants on, but he likes it that way. When I grab his belt, he swats my hand away, kisses my neck.

  “I fuck you when I want and not a second before, you understand?”

  When I frown, he spanks me, hisses in my ear “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.” His hand darts between my legs. The wetness there gives me away and soon I’m moaning too. It’s too late to stop this. Not that I’d want to stop this feeling – this delirious, drowsy, pussy-tingling feeling. No, I need this. I need this escape.

  And so I lead him into my room, my sheet-partitioned joke of a room. He pushes me onto the bed. The sound of a belt, zipper, clothes dropping to the floor. And then his naked form is crawling over mine, pressing me into the bed.

  “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he growls into my neck.

  And now he’s flipping me around, shoving me to the top of my bed, so my head’s propped up.

  “I never got to fully experience you, you see,” he says as he slips his dick in my mouth. When I start to suck, he pats my head and shakes his. “You’re there to take it, understand?”

  I nod, open my mouth wider and he shoves his dick in all the way. It mashes against the back of my throat and my whole body quivers. He pats my head. “Good girl.”

  And then he repeats the motion, in then out, back and forth, deep then deeper. I move my tongue around while he slides and he groans. His cock keeps getting harder and harder, he keeps shoving his dick deeper and deeper down my throat, until I’m practically choking and he’s patting my head.

  “Now, my dear innocent Emma, I’m going to give you a little snack.”

  By this time, I’m dripping wet myself. I can’t help but nod when he asks, “Would you like that?” Smiling, he pats me again. “Of course you would.”

  And then he’s shoving his dick in as far and as fast as he can, ramming the back of my throat over and over again. His dick starts quivering and then he shoves it all the way in, so far that I’m gagging, but he’s cumming. And he grabs my head and holds it there, choking on his dick and his cum and loving every second of it.

  “Lick it clean,” he instructs once he’s done. I do. Then, collapsing back, Luke wraps me in his arms.

  “Give me a few minutes,” he says and I do.

  We snuggle ourselves together, our fingers dancing all over each other, still locked in the tempting old rhythm. I’m burning with questions I don’t want the answer to, with questions that will only ruin things, that I’ll ask at the end, once I’ve gotten what I needed. Already, Luke is extricating himself, throwing his lips over mine, tracing his hands over my sides, my hips, my thighs. His kisses start to slide down, over my chin and neck, then my front. They envelop every inch of my tits, do a zigzag down my front until, finally, they reach my pussy.

  They slip over my outer then inner lips, trace all the way down to my ass then back up to my clit. His finger slides into my pussy just as his tongue starts licking my clit. All the while it’s the same excruciating slow, teasingly tantalizing pace, the same tongue-flicking, finger-jerking dance of ecstasy I can hardly stand.

  The “more” slips out of my lips before long, and so he gives it to me, amping up the jack-hammering finger and the clit-circling tongue. And soon I’m twisting with delighted agony, needing “more,” begging him for it. Luke – my one and only, my punisher and deliverer. And so, he finger-bangs my pussy more and tongue-mashes my clit more until my pleasure is built to an unbearable anguish. I’m howling “more” and he’s doing it more than more. I’m not on the edge but over it, my whole body shaking with shrieked-out orgasm after orgasm.

  Even when I fall still, however
, my rest is only a minute or so before Luke’s pawing at me again.

  “Hell, did I miss you.”

  I say nothing, because I’m aroused again, the way his hands are snaking over every part of me. Saying it, mentioning that him missing my body is not missing me, would ruin it.

  So, I lay there and give in to the sensation once again building through my body, the warm buzzing feeling I’m shaking with once again.

  “Turn around,” he orders me suddenly, and I do. Now his hands are all over my back, massaging my shoulders, his kisses not far behind.

  “Luke―” I murmur.

  “What’s that?” he asks, his hands sliding down to my ass, “You want more?”

  Me shoving my ass out is the answer. With his hands all over each cheek, it feels so good. Moans gurgle out of my mouth as his one finger starts tracing my crack, while the other slips into my pussy.

  “Nice and wet, just how I like it,” he says as he starts fingering me.

  His other hand, however, is starting to nuzzle into my other hole.

  “Luke . . .”

  He pauses. “Don’t worry, we’ll go slow for the tight little ass.”

  He continues fingering me, ramping up the pace, while his other hand plays with my hole. It’s weird. It feels wrong, and yet . . . it almost feels good, too. Besides, now his finger is vibrating in me so rapidly that I’m twisting in pleasure while his finger at my ass starts to go in deeper and deeper and . . .

  “You’re right, maybe we should stop,” Luke says, falling still.

  My whole body shaking with the building pleasure, I groan and shove my ass out. “Please.”

  And Luke happily complies. He starts fingering me again, each time going a bit deeper in both holes. And I’m groaning and moaning because it feels good and bad, painful and pleasurable. His finger in my ass feels instinctively like it shouldn’t be there. It hurts but I like it.

  And so, soon both fingers are sliding in and out once more, even the one in the ass going all the way in then out. When Luke slides out both fingers I know it’s time.

  At the sound of splurting, I turn back to see Luke holding his cock, now shiny with lube. “You ready?” he asks.

  Just as I’m about to respond, he pins me to the bed and shoves his dick in. I cry out, yet its progress is relentless. Deeper and deeper in it goes. I’m twisting away from it and into it at once. His dick is now ripping into me while that same cry is ripping out of me. My whole body is shaking and yet, as it hurts, as it really fucking hurts, I can’t deny the sensation underneath that – the pleasure. No, I can’t deny that, even as I grit my teeth with the pain. I like it.

  And so, in and out he slides, each time the pain diminishing and the pleasure increasing. More and more it builds, faster and faster he thrusts. Our groans mingle into one soundtrack of delirious delight. The faster and harder and deeper he goes, the more warm hot pleasure overtakes my body until I’m on the edge and my groans are now yells. He’s slamming into me, digging his dick into me. And, all at once, he grabs my hips and thrusts all the way. Now we’re both yelling, both cumming, one flow, one feeling, one nirvana fuck-yes of a feeling exploding into both of us, shaking us together then shoving us onto the bed, one on top of the other, breathing together, half-awake, spent.

  Afterwards I lie there, the pleasure seeping out of me, waiting for him to make some excuse, leave. For him to not even make an excuse, just slip away. But Luke’s arms stay wrapped around me, and, when I twist to look at him, his eyes are closed.

  “Why did you do it?”

  I scan his face, but there’s no change since he asked the question. “What do you mean?” I ask, and he opens his eyes.

  “Can I take you somewhere?” He sits up and, his arms still around me, continues “There’s this place I’ve been visiting these past few months; I think you’d like it.”

  I’m about to respond when, as if reading my mind, he says “It’s not a club or bar. You’ll like it.”

  I stare into my room’s sheet partition. Being here, I already feel stifled and embarrassed. “Ok.”

  We change back into our clothes quickly, then, taking my hand, Luke leads me out of the apartment.

  “I’ll drive, if that’s alright.” I nod because it’s not like I have a car.

  When will this dream end? Sure, I’ve missed Luke, spent nights crying over Luke – he’s the only man I’ve slept with and I’m carrying his child, for God’s sake. But that doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to think that we could actually work together, that he has ever actually cared for me.

  No, these past few months I may have been stupid, but I’m still not stupid enough to think he may actually give a damn about me.

  Chapter Sixteen - Luke

  The car ride is more silence, which my fears are all too happy to fill: hissing at me that this was all a mistake, that I’m a fool, that this will never work. Once we pull into the now almost-empty parking lot and Emma sees where we are, she can’t help but smile.

  “You’ve been visiting the zoo these past few months?”

  I nod. “Yeah, well, I’ve already rewatched like every episode of Planet Earth four times by now, so I had to get my animal fix somehow.”

  At the zoo counter I nod to Sandra, who’s at her usual spot at the counter, before going through without paying.

  “I have a membership,” I explain to Emma, “They know me by now.”

  As we wind our way through the last of the zoo visitor stragglers and past huge cages and pens, Emma finally asks the question that’s been hanging over us since she saw me waiting at her door. “What’s this about, Luke?”

  “One second,” I say. And then, a few seconds later, I’ve sat down at a bench in front of a tall wide cage, patting the space beside it.

  “This is where I go to sit.”

  As Emma sits beside me, I continue. “These guys are my favorite.”

  And, as she sits there, her eyes lighting up at the sight, I think she can see why. The two golden lion tamarins are ridiculously adorable. With their bright orange shiny fur and little black-eyed faces, they would’ve been mesmerizing already. As it is, their being crazy in love makes even me fall silent as I watch. They walk hand-in-hand and are constantly grooming and licking and embracing each other. Even when they swing from one branch to the other, each monkey is only one branch behind the other.

  It’s a touching sight, but, judging by Emma’s now-falling face, she too finds it a bit depressing. Finally, my gaze on the little creatures’ big love, I say it.

  “I’ve been looking for you a long time, you know.”

  “What?”

  Now I turn to face her. “After that night and your dad showed up, you just disappeared. No note, no text, nothing. You just vanished and, no matter how I searched, I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

  She avoids my intent gaze. “I didn’t think you’d go looking . . . I hardly thought you’d care.”

  “Me too.” My voice is low, filled with emotion. It almost doesn’t even sound like mine.

  “As it turns out, we were both wrong. Every day without you just going through the motions back in my old life drilled it in deeper. The undeniable gap that was there. No one to talk to, to laugh with . . . No one who really got me. Emma, I’ve never felt lonely in my life and, after you, I’ve felt more alone every day for the past six months. And that night . . . that night, you and I in my bed . . . I’m sorry, and yet, I’m not sorry. Because every minute of it, Emma, every second of it – it felt right. For the first time in my life, I don’t know why . . . Every part of it, of being with you, felt completely right.”

  “How did you find me?” she asks quietly.

  I laugh. “I had just about given up. I’d scoured the internet for you, the phone book, even risked asking a few friends who knew the commander better than I did. But everything turned up nothing. So, expecting nothing to come of it, I hired a private investigator.”

  As she gapes at me in disbelief, I laugh again, nod. “Th
at was a few months ago. And, yesterday, he told me where I could find you.”

  As I grin at her, her face struggles with a smile she can’t quite allow. She still doesn’t believe what I’m saying. “But . . . why?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “You first. Why did you leave?” When she says nothing, I repeat the question: “Why, Emma?”

  She keeps her gaze on the tamarins, who are huddled in the corner of their cage in a hug-ball. Then, she gestures at her ballooned-out belly. “You’re looking at why. At first, I just left in a hurry to escape Dad’s rage. I planned to get in touch in a few weeks. But then, my period didn’t come and I took a pregnancy test . . . Well, then this happened. I had seen how you were with the other girls, and so I knew that I was probably just another fun lay that night. I knew you wouldn’t want the responsibility – that it would be better off if I just left you alone. So, I did.”

  I nod. “And what do you think now?”

  My sidelong glance at her impassive face reveals nothing. “Now, I don’t know. I don’t know what to think. I mean, you went to all this trouble and everything you just said, but―”

  Now I turn to her, seize her hand. “But what? I’ve gone through so many girls that by now I’ve lost count? I’ve never had a girlfriend for longer than a few months? I’ve never been in love?”

  As she nods dumbly, I continue “All that is true but is missing the point. The point is you, Emma. You are the exception. You. You came into my life unexpected and unwanted – completely unprecedented. I never hoped for this, for these terrifying, overwhelming feelings that haven’t left me alone until now. Until I found you. And you want to know something? I still don’t want them. Yes, I want you, but I don’t want to want you with this desperate inescapable need that makes every new day without you feel empty and hollow. I don’t want Parker to keep asking me nonstop, “When’s Emma coming back?” I don’t want to think about that night we had every time I’m with a new girl . . . To have your delighted, rosy-cheeked face flash in my head every time I spot a cute animal. No, Emma, I don’t want any of this, but I’m stuck with it. I’m stuck with wanting you, with needing you. There’s no choice in any of it, not anymore. Emma, I’m stuck with loving you.”