ChampagneCravings

by Ava McKnight

  “Fog machine.”

  “So, since I need a shower and you need a shower…” He wagged his brows at me.

  “May as well conserve water,” I concurred. I was having a hell of a time not touching him, so why not? Unfortunately, a thought niggled my brain, telling me there was something I was supposed to say to Mike, but I couldn’t quite get the words or the sentiment to gel in my head. All I knew was I wanted to see him naked again.

  Therefore, I didn’t let any errant thoughts interfere. Mike gulped down the rest of his milk and then took my hand and led me into his bathroom. I used his mouthwash as he turned the water on in the shower. Then he stood behind me and slid the zipper on my top down its track. He discarded the garment and palmed my bare breasts as his lips glided over my neck.

  “God, I love your hands on my body,” I said on a breathy sigh.

  He massaged the mounds, then teased my nipples tight as the steam covered the vanity mirror in front of us.

  “That’s good,” he whispered in my ear. “Because I really like your body.”

  His hands shifted to the fastening of my skirt in the back. He had me out of clothes and stockings in a heartbeat and then stripped off his Levi’s and briefs. He was already hard and that made me ridiculously turned-on.

  “Are you still playing the ‘no sex’ card?” I asked as my hands roamed his muscular body.

  He groaned. “You’re drunk. I can’t really take advantage of the situation, can I?”

  “I’m not that drunk,” I insisted.

  With another amused chuckle, he said, “We’ll see how it goes. You might fall on your ass again.”

  “That was pretty funny.”

  “I might have to check the security tape from the hallway to see it myself.”

  I swatted playfully at him. “Don’t you dare. My hip-factor will drop back to zero.”

  “I doubt it.”

  He kissed me and I lost all train of thought. My arms encircled his neck and I held on for dear life as his tongue delved deep, setting every inch of me on fire. My breasts pressed to his chest as his hands gripped my waist. When I was delirious from the euphoria coursing through my veins, he pulled away.

  “This will lead us straight to the bedroom,” he said in a strained voice. “Come on.”

  He took my hand and we stepped into the shower. The water felt refreshing against my skin, still damp with perspiration from my dance-a-thon at Velage. I dropped my head back to drench my hair as Mike reached for the body wash and squirted a healthy amount into his palm.

  As he rubbed his hands together to lather up, I grinned at him. “We don’t need the bed, you know?”

  He clearly got my meaning. Heat flashed in his eyes and his jaw tightened for a moment. “You really do like playing with fire, don’t you?”

  My arms slid around his neck again as I muttered, “Yes, I do.”

  I kissed him and his soapy hands went to work on my wet body. When we were both squeaky clean, we shampooed and then rinsed off, but didn’t leave the shower. The warm spray hit my back as I squeezed more of the body wash into my hands and then wrapped my fingers around his erection.

  Mike let out a sharp grunt and I bit back a satisfied smile.

  Steadier on my feet now, I was able to ease down to my knees in front of him without losing my balance. In fact, my buzz had almost worn off.

  I rubbed suds over my breasts and then took his cock between them, enveloping his shaft.

  “Lace,” he muttered. His hands plowed through my hair, lifting the soaked strands away from my face and neck.

  His penis slid along my slippery skin, poking out of the valley between my breasts before disappearing again. Mike’s hips jerked as he pumped his thick member in the tight, yet slick embrace I created.

  As his breathing quickened and his fingers tangled in my hair, I released him and leaned to one side until the water ran clean between us. Then I bent my head and whisked my tongue over his head, making him buck.

  My lips closed over his tip and I took him deep in my mouth. He groaned.

  “Christ, Lace,” he said on a harsh breath. “I’ve thought about this more times than you can imagine.” He pulled in a sharp intake of air and added, “You kick the crap out of every single fantasy.”

  This, of course, prompted me to suck him hard, making him grunt. I palmed his balls and lightly toyed with them, rolling and massaging, then gently tugging on them until his legs trembled.

  I released his cock and slowly dragged my tongue up the length of him, teasing the rim of his head before taking him in my mouth again. I’d never been opposed to oral sex, but with Mike, I enjoyed it even more. His sexy grunts and the shudders that ran through his body sent a wicked thrill down my spine and made me more determined to pleasure him.

  My diligence paid off.

  His hips jerked again and he said in a tight voice, “You’re going to make me come, babe.”

  I appreciated the warning, but I didn’t back off. I intended to see this job through.

  Still massaging his sac, I sucked him harder.

  “Oh, yeah, Lace. Just like that. Damn, you’re good.”

  I kept at it and seconds later, his fingers tightened around strands of my hair and a violent tremor rocked his body. He called my name as he came.

  I let him ride out the climax, and then smiled up at him.

  Mike snorted. “Pleased with yourself, eh?”

  He untangled his fingers and gripped my shoulders, hauling me to my feet as I still beamed brightly.

  “Let’s just say you’re not the only one who fantasized about that.”

  With a low groan, he said, “It was worth the torturous wait.”

  He reached behind me and shut the water off.

  In a sassy tone, I said, “You know, I have no idea where you keep your towels.”

  His smirk was a sexy showstopper. “Smartass.”

  He retrieved two of them for me from beneath the sink. I used one to wrap my hair as he draped the other around my shoulders, then yanked his own towel from the hook on the wall and dried himself off.

  I couldn’t take my eyes from him. I pulled the bath sheet around my body and tucked in the corner above my breasts. When Mike returned his towel to the hook and scooped up his briefs, I lifted a brow.

  “Really? You’re not going to stay naked for me?”

  He grinned. “Well, I’m not sure what your intentions are, sweetheart.”

  “Bed,” I told him as I ran a hand over the ledge of his pecs and then gently scraped a small, beaded nipple with my fingernail. “Definitely bed.”

  He tossed aside the black material he’d held in his hand. He dug out the blow dryer from the vanity and I used it while he sauntered off toward the bedroom. I swished mouthwash again and then joined him, closing the door behind me, which plunged the room into darkness, save for the soft glow coming from beneath the blinds. The sun was rising.

  Mike pulled back the covers next to him and I slid between his crisp, white sheets. He had a cleaning lady who kept his apartment spic and span and she also did his laundry.

  I snuggled close to him and his hands were instantly on my body, cupping my breasts as his head lowered and he tongued my nipple, teasing it tight. My palms slid over his rock-hard biceps, up to his broad shoulders and down his back. Then I ran my fingers through his damp hair and sighed contentedly as he pleasured the other nipple, already puckered and primed for him.

  A molten sensation oozed through my veins and my clit tingled. I hadn’t come remotely close to reconciling all the thoughts I had about my involvement with this man, but the sexual bliss he so easily evoked assured me I wasn’t crazy for jumping onboard his bandwagon.

  He rolled onto his back, taking me with him. My thighs straddled his lap as he kissed me. One of his hands skimmed down the front of me and found that sensitive knot of nerves between my legs. He rubbed it vigorously, inciting a riot of blazing sensations within me. His other hand moved over my ass, squeezing a cheek be
fore his fingers swept along the crevice and he thrust two fingers into my wet pussy.

  I propped an elbow on a mountain of pillows and stretched the other arm so I could flatten my palm against the tufted headboard for support. Mike’s fingers inside me pumped in the same erratic rhythm he used on my clit, making me moan and writhe and go up in flames.

  He sucked a nipple into his mouth and I let out a small cry of pleasure. My hips rolled and gyrated with his quick pace and I felt intensely raw and dynamic feelings collide and erupt deep in my cunt. My small cry turned into a satisfied scream. I shuddered from the sheer ecstasy coursing through me and my breath came in heavy pulls. My skin tingled and my insides felt vibrant and fiery.

  I collapsed against Mike’s chest, savoring all the glorious sensations as I tried to catch my breath. He held me in a tight embrace and though I felt his erection, he didn’t make a move to enter me.

  As I came down from my high, sleepiness edged in on me and I yawned. Mike laughed softly and the sound was music to my ears. A sweet lullaby that made me wiggle out of his embrace, slide off his hunky body and curl up next to him. His fingers stroked my hair and he kissed my forehead.

  “Sleep tight, party girl,” he murmured as my eyelids drifted closed. I was out in seconds.

  * * * * *

  I woke to the rich and wondrous aroma of a fresh pot of strong coffee…and a note. Mike had slipped from the bed at some point and I’d been too out of it to stir and take notice. Sparing a glance at the clock on the nightstand, I groaned. It was past one in the afternoon. I had work to do, and here I was snoozing the day away.

  I snatched up the note card Mike had left on his pillow and read it as I tossed off the covers and padded into his bathroom. He had a break in his art theft case and was chasing leads today.

  His parting words on the monogrammed stationery said, “Thanks for taking the edge off, babe. Love, M.”

  Ignoring the tickle of excitement that naturally accompanied the reminder of our steamy morning together, I stared at his closing remark. The “Love” part in particular.

  No, I didn’t immediately jump to the conclusion that Mike was in love with me. He’d simply used a very standard sign-off not uncommon amongst friends.

  It was the word itself—the blatant intimacy of it—that threw me. I sank onto the lid of the toilet and inhaled deeply to steady myself.

  I didn’t freak out or overanalyze any implied meaning. I forced myself to focus on the fact that Mike and I were close friends and he felt comfortable enough to be this personal with me. The things he’d said recently, and the way he acted toward me, were significant unto themselves. Yet I’d been so wrapped up in my insecurities and fears that something hadn’t quite registered in my head until I’d seen how easily he could make our association feel special and familiar. Substantial, though not so overwhelming I constantly panicked.

  Yes, it was good that he pushed my buttons from time to time. It was good that he backed me into a corner every now and then. Otherwise, I’d remain stagnate.

  Instinctively, I believed he knew all of this…that he knew me a little better than I knew myself. Because he watched me, he listened to me, he learned from my past experiences…and tried to make the future ones better.

  He was a tried and true friend, as I’d known all along. But he was much more than that to me and I was suddenly desperate to find a way to embrace that fact—and to be more to him. To give him more of what he needed—my trust.

  I had additional transcripts to wade through this afternoon, but found myself shuffling off to the living room where Mike had left my purse. I dug out my cell and hit the speed dial number for Biel, who’d programmed it into my phone around three a.m.

  “Hey, it’s Lacey,” I said when she picked up.

  “I know, silly. I took a photo of you last night when I added you to my contacts.”

  “Right. So, I was wondering…I know this is a horrific imposition, but can you spare a few minutes today to meet with me?”

  Her laugh was dainty, for which I was grateful, because my temple throbbed from my hangover. “Of course. I’d love some company to distract me from rearranging the entire apartment to spite Piper when she finally comes to her senses. Come on over.”

  She gave me her Park Avenue address and told me she’d leave my name with the security guards in her lobby.

  I threw on my day-old clothes and went next door to shower and change into jeans and a white Oxford. I pulled my hair back in a high ponytail, applied a little makeup with crimson lipstick and headed out the door. I sent Mike a text, brazenly asking him out on a date for later that evening. Dinner and a movie. God bless him, he immediately accepted, rather than leaving me in a state of agonized anticipation.

  When I arrived at Biel’s, having gone through three layers of security, I found her looking just as fresh and perky and fashionable as ever in a sleeveless dress and heels. The shimmering, emerald material complemented her green eyes and auburn hair. She looked radiant, though I suspected that might be a guise. I had a feeling her breakup with Piper took a toll on her, but she was strong enough to weather the storm. Precisely the reason I’d sought her out today.

  I handed over a bouquet of calla lilies and an expensive bottle of chardonnay I’d picked up along the way. Her eyes lit up and I could see she was clearly delighted—and pleasantly surprised—by the gifts.

  “You didn’t have to bring me anything,” she said with a tsking noise, though it was obvious she was glad I’d gone to the trouble for her.

  “Please, you insisted on paying for all the drinks last night.”

  She made another dismissive sound. “Oh, Lacey. Do you have any idea how much money I make?”

  Mav Linnear had lobbed out a figure when he’d told me Biel was headlining his latest campaign, so yes, I had a very good idea. And surmised she was quickly climbing her way up the Forbes list of wealthiest women in the country. Oprah had some real competition here.

  “Anyway,” I added as she gestured for me to step into her spacious and opulent foyer, “I’m hijacking your afternoon.”

  “Not at all. I was serious on the phone. Idle hands and all that…” She looked duly flustered, but said, “Though I was going to take some photos. Maybe you can help me with them.”

  “Sure. But if I’m keeping you from a job—”

  “Not a job,” she was quick to say. “I’m just practicing.”

  We walked through the enormous double-framed entryway into her elegant living room. The wide molding, the furniture and the dozens of floral arrangements were all pristine white. The wood accent pieces were a rich walnut, polished to a high sheen. And the floors were shiny, immaculate white marble. The calla lilies had been an excellent choice. So too was Biel’s jewel-toned dress. It was the perfect centerpiece in this room, no matter where she stood.

  “Give me just a sec,” she said before she ducked into what I presumed was the kitchen, but couldn’t tell for sure because of the door that closed it off.

  When she returned, she had the flowers in a tall, slim cylinder made of cut crystal. She set the arrangement on an end table beneath a glowing chandelier. The soft illumination caught the intricate design of the vase, creating a spectrum of colors that danced under the sparkling light.

  I said, “You’re an amazing decorator.”

  “How’d you know I decorated the apartment?”

  I shrugged. “It’s so you. Who else could have pulled it off so perfectly?”

  She beamed as she lifted a digital camera from another table and snapped a few shots of the calla lilies basking in all their delicate, yet sophisticated glory.

  Then she crossed the room to show me the photos on the screen.

  “Seriously,” I said in a mocking tone. “Do you have to be good at everything you do?”

  She swatted playfully at me. “Stop. I suck at a lot of things. You just don’t know me well enough yet. So don’t be surprised I ordered hors d’oeuvres for this afternoon—I can’t cook wor
th a damn, or even slap together a decent-looking veggie tray. The food should arrive any minute. Shall we crack open the bottle of wine?”

  “Absolutely. I’m going to need it when I tell you why I wanted to see you.”

  She shot me a coy smile over her shoulder as she swayed her shapely hips toward the wet bar where she’d left the wine. “You changed your mind about me?”

  I laughed. “Sorry, still straight. And you’re still in love with Piper.”

  The corners of her mouth dipped for a split second. “Yes, I am.”

  “Has she called?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact. To tell me she loves me.”

  “But she’s still in LA?” I asked, incredulous, though I really shouldn’t be so shocked—I ran at the first sign of trouble too. That being one of the reasons I’d come for Biel’s counsel.

  “Needs to sort things out, she says.” Biel pulled the cork on the wine and splashed some into what I was certain were Baccarat crystal glasses. Handing one over, she said, “Call me naive and simplistic, but love shouldn’t be so melodramatic. I mean, if you really care about someone, why would you purposely put them through hell? Sure, every relationship has its ups and down that naturally come with two people trying to be simpatico with each other. But why specifically create the emotional roller coaster?”

  “Wow,” I said after taking a sip. “That’s neither naive nor simplistic. In fact, if there were written laws about love, that would have to be number one.”

  The doorbell rang and she set her glass on the wet bar. “Excuse me.” She rushed out of the room, only to return a minute later with the catering staff, who quickly and expertly set up a buffet for us, complete with white linen napkins, appetizer plates and elegant silverware. They added a silver chiller with a bottle of champagne nestled in it. Biel signed for the lovely spread and the staff saw their way out.

  “Help yourself,” she said to me. “Please.”

  I realized I hadn’t eaten anything since Mike’s bagel delivery the previous morning and was famished. I’d been too distracted by my evolving life to notice.

  I added chopped, smoked chicken on top of triangular pieces of iceberg to a plate, along with tuna nicoise crostini, crab salad canapes and endive boats filled with julienne, marinated vegetables. Much to my surprise, Biel loaded up a plate as well. You had to respect a supermodel who didn’t fear food.