by L. Duarte
There has to be a loophole. I question his motivations, his mental sanity, and his intentions.
My head spins as I try to understand it all. It’s been a little over twenty-four hours since my twenty-first birthday, since I was a single virgin, but it seems like a million years have passed.
Sleek hands slide against my waist, startling me.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Seth whispers against my ear, his teeth scraping the shell. “I just realized we could christen my desk,” he says as his lips trail down my neck. He bites me there. Hard.
A moan leaves my parted lips. Involuntarily, my back presses against the length of him, seeking the firm edges of his erection. My head falls back on his chest, and my legs are wobbling.
He says, “I want to eat your sweet pussy and watch you come apart over my desk.”
Then he takes me to the desk and does just that.
After three orgasms, one in his mouth and two with him inside me, I bask in the glow of post-desk copulation. Lying on the small couch with our legs tangled and rumpled clothes in a disarray over the floor, I ask, “You said you wanted to christen the desk. You mean with me?” I can’t help but ask. In the heart of my heart, I hope he meant what I think he meant.
“Yes with you. But also, the first time I have sex on my desk.”
“Is it a new desk?” I ask.
“No.”
“You mean you never, ever, had sex on your desk before?”
“No. Never. You’re the first person I’ve had sex with in my office.”
“Oh.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am. I mean. It would only make sense. You have a healthy sexual appetite. So it would be a routine affair to um, eh, have . . . you know what I mean.” All guys have sex in their offices.
“No. What do you mean?”
“Are you being purposefully obtuse?” I ask in a mocking, indignant tone.
“Maybe.” His fingers glide over my ribcage until he cups my breast. “Fine. I just want to hear you say it. It’s so cute when you talk about sex and get all flustered.”
I feel my cheeks burn.
“I bet you’re blushing right now,” he says.
“Am not,” I declare.
He bends his head and glances at my cheeks as I try to bury them into his bare chest. He laughs, and his chest rumbles under my hidden face.
“I thought so,” he says smugly. “And to be clear on answering your question, you are the first woman I’ve had a relationship with in my adult life. Consequently, you’re the first girl I’ve ever brought here.”
I’m stunned into silence by his revelation. It makes no sense. Why would a guy like him not have tons of girls? Is he bisexual? Maybe he’s using the term “relationship” loosely, applying it to women only. When in truth, he’s had relationships with other men. According to an article I read recently, it’s a common practice nowadays.
I sit up, and my eyes fix on him. “Seth, don’t take this the wrong way, but why would a guy like you, who doesn’t do relationships, just suddenly decide to marry a girl like me?” I snap my fingers. “Just like that?”
He sits up too. The muscles on his shoulders are taut.
“What do you mean a guy like me and a girl like you?”
I stand up, scoop my dress off the floor and yank it on.
All the confusing thoughts and feelings of the last several hours tumble around in my mind. I pace the length of the office, stop in front of the panel of pictures and draw a deep breath in the hopes of gaining the courage to say what’s been bugging me.
“Come on, I don’t have to spell it out to you.” I turn to face him. “Look at me. Look at this.” I wave my hand to the panel. “There is an enormous, ginormous difference between the two of us.”
Seth leaps from the couch, and with two long strides, he is towering over me. “Listen—”
“Don’t. Please let me speak,” I say, meeting his gaze. “It doesn’t make any sense. Look at you. You were the most gorgeous guy in that nightclub, and you set your eyes on me? Heck, you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. What would a man like you find attractive in a girl like me? If that’s not mind-boggling enough, you’re obviously wealthy and successful. You can snap your fingers and have your pick of any girl you want. What did you see in me? You say you’ve never had a girlfriend. Why? I need some answers here, Seth.”
He pauses.
God, the planes of his bared chest are extremely distracting. I force my eyes to look away.
Seth seems to be organizing his thoughts. If he’s completely honest with me, why does he have to deliberate so much on how to answer?
He rakes both hands through his hair and lets out an exasperated breath of air. “First of all, I didn’t set my eyes on you at the club. This is important. I want you to know this. I set my eyes on you in the lobby of that hotel. It will sound cheesy, but the moment I saw you standing at the front desk, I felt a pull . . . Shit, this is corny as hell.” He goes to the fridge and comes back holding a Fiji water. “It took a lot of restraint not to walk to you and make a fool of myself, not to mention to come across as some wacko stalker.” He opens the bottle and takes a long pull of the water. “When I got to the club, regret was eating at me. It had been years since I felt that attracted to someone, and I just let the opportunity to approach you escape. Then I saw you again. And it felt like I had been given another shot at meeting you. Carpe fucking diem.”
I’m sure my mouth is agape as I listen to his explanation.
He puts the bottle on a nearby table and stands in front of me, his hands cup my face and his voice is passionate when he adds, “And let me tell you, I don’t know what you mean by referring to yourself the way you do. You’re gorgeous.”
He traces his thumb over my lips. “Regarding my lack of relationships, I’ll only tell you this: I’ve been with my share of women. More than most guys my age. I fucked them. All of them. I had a good time, yes. But it all amounted to a string of superficial sex. Until I found you. Please believe me.”
He draws his brows. His voice is low and pleading. I see that’s all he is going to share with me today. His explanation is simplistic but convincing. However, although it sounds like he was truthful, it also looks like he’s purposefully omitting something.
“I know this is too soon, too much. I’m not professing my undying love here. But there is something between the two of us that demands to be explored.”
And there I have it: flipping insta-lust relationship.
I lower my eyes. This is all wrong. Seth will realize that we are as opposite as day and night. He’ll want out. And I’ll never recover.
“Lottie, look at me,” he demands. “I’m not sure of what this is, where it’s going to lead us. God, I should tell you to run for the hills, to get the hell away from me. But I won’t. I can’t. I believe we didn’t come across each other by accident. Since the first minute I spent with you, all I could think about is burying myself in you. It’s as if I dreamt of you my entire life. And now I get to touch that dream.”
He grabs my hands and places them at the center of his chest. His gaze holds me captive. “Can you feel it? Can you feel my heart beating? Because ever since I saw you under that constellation, I have felt every fucking beat of my heart. And it’s good to feel alive again. To feel my body pulsing with life. It’s like I existed all these years with the beating of my heart suspended. Then you came along and startled it into motion. And this is screwed up, I’m more fucked up than you can ever imagine. And to drag you into my world is selfish and all shades of wrong. But I can’t fucking walk away. Unless you don’t feel the same. God, I’ll take whatever you feel. Even if it’s just a sparkle. I’ll flame it to life. Because, damn me, if I let go of whatever is happening between us.”
I have so much to say. But his words reverberate through my body, reaching the deepest part of my soul. For the life of me, I won’t confess I feel the same, even though I do. But I couldn’
t turn away even if I tried. Furthermore, I will no longer question my reasoning. Or his sanity.
“Okay.” I breathe.
His mouth is on mine the moment the word falls from my lips. He grips my hair and deepens the kiss. There is nothing erotic about it. It bruises and brands with desperation and demand.
I savor the hunger in which he consumes my mouth, my groans. I understand that his desire and need for me transcends the physical. I know it because it matches my own.
When we break our lips apart, we are both panting.
“We need to leave. Now. Or else we won’t be leaving anytime soon, and I want to show you around.”
He puts his clothes on as I find my panties and sandals under his desk.
He adjusts my dress. His hand finds mine, and he links our fingers. “Ready?”
“Yes,” I say, still breathless. Though I have to admit to myself, I would much rather we stayed and made love. Again. Maybe with my back pressed against the window.
With wanton ideas swirling in my mind, I regretfully follow him. We bid goodbye to the very handsome Fernando and head to the elevator.
IN THE HALLWAY, a door from another office cracks open. Seth’s body tenses next to me. I glance toward the opened door. My mouth goes ajar.
Exiting the office is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life. With a gait that is runway worthy, she strolls in the same general direction we do. A broad smile graces her perfect full lips. She must be the same height as Seth, with dark red hair draping over her plump breasts. Her bright blue eyes briefly fix on our clasped hands, a smile gleams on her face. Curiosity and something else I can’t identify cross her expression.
“Well, well, look who’s here,” she says. No, she purrs the words with a freaking sexy accent.
“Hey, Adriana,” Seth responds. And if I’m not mistaken there is an undercurrent of a warning in his voice.
“I see you’re feeling better.” She arches her perfect eyebrows. With her gaze locked on me, she adds, “Where are your manners, Querido? You’re not going to introduce us?”
“Yes, sure. Lottie, this is Adriana. Adriana, Lottie.”
It doesn’t escape me that he refrains from using surnames or titles. Like this is my wife, meet my ex or something. Because one thing is for sure, the way she looks at him tells me she has some kind of claim, past or present on him.
She offers her hand. “Pleased to meet you.” She flashes her perfect teeth at me. Jeez, the word perfect is becoming a redundant adjective in reference to her. I could be more creative and go down a list of synonymous, such as flawless, unrivaled, unequaled, superb . . . But why torture myself?
“The pleasure is all mine,” I say, shaking her hand. To my relief, my voice is steady.
“I’m off to lunch, would you two care to join me?” She pushes the elevator’s button.
“Actually, we have other plans,” Seth says.
The elevator arrives. “Please,” Seth says, motioning to the opened door.
“Oh, pity, pity. It would be great to catch up with you. And to eat in good company. I’ve had the most troublesome morning, trying to convince a client to settle for something lesser than I had originally promised.” She purses her lips, and her eyes are full of hidden meaning. It seems there’s an underlying conversation going on between the two. Or maybe I’m just jealous? The idea makes me cringe.
“Next time,” Seth says with a clipped voice.
We settle in an uncomfortable silence until a ding announces we’ve arrived on the main floor.
“Well, I’ll look forward to it,” she says.
She kisses both my cheeks. “Hope to see you soon, Querida.”
She kisses Seth’s cheeks. “Call me when you have a chance, Querido.”
“Sure,” he responds.
We part ways. I try my very best to refrain from asking about her but fail miserably. “Who’s that?”
“An old friend.” Seth ushers me out of the building.
“Oh.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “She’s beautiful.”
“Yes. Adriana is a beautiful woman,” he says with a flat tone that gives nothing away.
“She belongs on the runway,” I say.
“Yeah,” he says distractedly and abruptly changes the subject. “Let’s go, I have lots of places to show you.”
WE HAVE A tour of the Wild West at Old Town and a romantic dinner at the Eiffel Town Restaurant.
The following day, we witness the sunrise during a hike surrounded by red rocks and marvel at a red sunset at the Stratosphere.
Throughout the week, we take long walks along the strip and enjoy late night gambling.
Like rabbits, we have sex all the time, and everywhere. During the day, we have sex in the car, in the restaurant’s bathroom, in the desert surrounding Vegas, only to surrender to languorous lovemaking at night.
The week passes blissfully.
We laugh, we share secrets, we map each other’s body, and we discover each other’s quirks.
All duly registered through the lenses of my camera, with Facebook’s share button properly avoided.
SETH KISSES MY shoulder and asks, “What are you thinking about?”
I keep my eyes focused on the clouds beneath the airplane. We are on a flight to St. Lucia to meet my family for our annual vacation.
“So much and nothing. Do you ever feel that way?” I finally say, meeting his gaze.
“Hmm? Elaborate,” he asks.
“It’s been one week, yet, it feels we’ve lived a thousand lives together, known each other for a millennium.”
“True, we packed a lot in a week.”
“In a few hours, you’re going to meet my family. I’m a little reluctant. My dad is reserved, conservative. I’m not sure how he’s going to react when he meets you.”
“No worries. I have yet to meet someone who doesn’t succumb to my charm and charisma.” He snuggles in the crook of my neck.
“Cocky much?” I say.
“Not that I should have to point out my skills, nor am I bragging.” He sprawls his hand on my tummy, under my shirt. His hand traces along my ribs, setting my skin on fire. “But take Chloe, for instance. Remember the day we met? It was hate at first sight. Look us now. She’s all but shouting to the four corners of the world how happy she is that we’ve found each other.”
“But that’s because you prepared and cooked a meal together and took those fantastic pictures for her Pinterest.”
“And because of my magnetic personality . . .” He looks around and his hand cups my breast under my shirt.
“And you spent two hours.” I hold up two fingers. “Two hours browsing her Pinterest and complimenting her on all her failed culinary attempts.”
“And because of my refined and gallant way with the ladies . . .” He pinches my nipple, and I have to focus really hard to continue the conversation.
“And because you and Zach autographed that exclusive picture from His Secret,” I say.
“And my undeniable charm . . .” His hand moves to the other nipple.
“And you were both bare-chested in the pic.” A little whimper leaves my mouth.
“And my distinguished character . . .” His lidded gaze fixates on my lips.
“And because you gave her a sneak peek at the new collection for His Secret,”
“And because of my beguiling persona . . .” He leans in and nips at my lower lip.
“And your pleasant disposition . . .”
“And my gentlemanly manners . . .” He plants kisses on my neck.
“And your suave moves . . .”
“And my honorable intentions with my lovely wife . . .” He pinches my nipple harder.
“How honorable?”
“Outstandingly honorable.”
“Does it include a membership to the mile high club?” I ask breathily.
“Maybe.”
“Hmm, that would be an utterly honorable and most admirable intention.”
“I’m
glad we came to an agreement.”
“Hmm-hmm . . .”
Seth
THOUGH LOTTIE THINKS it unnecessary, I rent a car for our ten-day stay. She argued that they own a car.
I don’t know her family and the last thing I want to do is come across as a freeloader. Besides, having our own vehicle will allow us to have escapades.
I link my fingers with hers. After I kiss her knuckles, I put her hand on my thigh. It’s a full hour drive until we reach their beach home.
“So what should I expect?” I ask, glancing at her. The tropical air sifting through the windows tousles her hair. God, she’s beautiful. Not the coveted Barbie doll beauty. No, everything about her surpasses that. She has perfect and generous curves. A wonderland that I can get lost in and never find my way back to reality. But her most alluring feature is her eyes. They are smart in a non-presumptuous way.
“Mom is very warm, and you two will hit it off immediately, I’m sure.” She bites the inside of her cheeks before proceeding. “It might take a couple days for Dad to warm up to you. But once he knows you, he can be quite pleasant. Especially if you like Cuban cigars.”
I hate cigars. “Good to know,” I respond.
“The best part of this trip is my grandparents. Granny is ninety-one. Grandpa is ninety. But you would think they’re still teenagers. They’re my mom’s parents. You’re going to love them.”
“What about your brother? Is he the typical overprotective type? Should I be worried?”
“Oh, that’s the bummer part of this trip. His wife’s pregnancy is high risk. She has complicated pregnancies. They won’t make it. But Mom brought their son. He is the cutest thing in the world; I can’t wait to see him,” she says with a distinct gleam in her eyes.
“Are you one of those super aunts?”
“No, not really.” She shrugs repressing a proud smile.
“With that look on your face I find it hard to believe.”