by Maggie Riley
“Hello?”
“Hi, Libby,” Jack’s voice was low and smooth even through the crackly static of the intercom. My knees got all wobbly as I buzzed him in.
When I opened the door, my knees nearly went out completely. I was used to seeing him in suits – last night with his sleeves rolled up was the most casual I’d seen him before. The guy in front of me was practically a stranger – his hair windblown, his biceps on perfect display in a tight black shirt and a pair of jeans that sat low on his hips and seemed molded to his thighs. My mouth watered.
“You look incredible,” he told me, snapping me out of my X-rated fantasy of discovering what else was hiding under his suits.
“Thank you.” I patted my hair self-consciously.
“Are you ready?” he asked as he held out his hand.
It was a simple question, but I was pretty sure I would never be ready for a guy like him.
“Wow,” I breathed as I stared at the motorcycle parked out in front of my building. It was all gleaming chrome, but looked more vintage than modern.
“Have you ever been on a bike before?” Jack held out a helmet.
I shook my head.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
I nodded, taking the helmet and putting it on.
He grinned and straddled the bike. I got wet just looking at him sitting on the bike as if it was an extension of himself. It was really hot.
“Just hold on tight,” he said, patting the seat behind him.
I could do that. I could totally do that.
Carefully, I slid onto the bike, my legs going on either side of his. I put my hands on his waist, enjoying the muscles I felt bunching under my touch. Then, before I could say anything, Jack hooked his hands around my knees and pulled me forward so my chest was flush against his back.
“Tight,” he told me.
“Ok,” I croaked, my arms wrapping around his waist.
God, his entire body was like marble. It was unbearably sexy. If the date began and ended in this exact moment it still would have been the best date I’d ever been on. But then, Jack gunned the engine and we took off.
It was amazing. We tore through Manhattan, weaving through cars and taxis, the city whirling past us. I had never seen New York like this – a blur of color and sound. The wind blew into my face, the cold night air hitting my cheeks as I leaned my head back to look up at the skyscrapers flying past.
With every turn, I could feel Jack’s body move with the bike. It seemed as if it was a part of him, his hips guiding it, his chest leading. I had never imagined being on a bike would be like this, and I never wanted it to end.
But it did, with Jack pulling up in front of a nondescript building.
I pulled off my helmet, not caring that my hair probably looked even more insane than usual.
“That was incredible,” I breathed, my heart pounding.
“Nothing can compare,” Jack agreed with a grin.
God, his smile. He had been so stingy with it before, but now it seemed as though he was a completely different person – warm and playful. I had liked businessman Jack quite a lot, but I was really, really attracted to biker boy Jack.
“Hungry?” he asked.
I put my hand to my stomach, realizing that I was. “Starving,” I confirmed.
He reached out and took my hand. “Great,” he said. “Because it’s hard to eat just one slice of this pizza.”
My mouth watered. I loved pizza.
The restaurant was busy, which was a good sign, and it didn’t look anything like the place we had gone to with the Sinclairs. The floor was sticky, the walls covered in band posters and the tablecloths plastic and checkered. Exactly my kind of place.
I was starting to get used to the way that all women seemed to stare at Jack wherever we went. Even our hostess looked at little stunned by how goddamn gorgeous he looked climbing off that motorcycle, but she immediately endeared herself to me when she caught my eye behind his back and gave me a thumbs up.
We sat, and Jack ordered for us. The waiter brought us each a pint of beer. I took a long drink, suddenly incredibly thirsty. When I put it down, Jack was smiling at me.
“What?” I asked.
He reached over and swiped his thumb across my upper lip. It came away covered in foam, which he then sucked off his own finger.
Holy. Shit. My entire body got warm, especially when I remembered exactly what he had done to me with his fingers and his mouth. I wanted him to do it again. Badly.
And from the hot look in his eyes, he wanted to do the same.
It took all my self-control to take another sip of my beer when what I really wanted to do was drag him out of the pizza place and back to his apartment. Or my apartment. Or a hotel. Whatever was closer and had an available bed. Or couch. Or, hell, we could do it against the bathroom wall. Looking at Jack, I knew it would be hot no matter where we were.
Luckily, the pizza chose that moment to arrive and I shoved a slice in my mouth before I could shove my foot in it.
Unfortunately, the pizza was hot. Scalding, in fact, and I immediately burned my tongue and the roof of my mouth. Forcing myself to swallow, I fanned at myself, wincing at what a moron I was. This was not my first New York pizza for goodness sakes, and everyone knew the best places delivered your pie straight from the oven.
Jack gave me a bemused look and then silently pushed a glass of ice water towards me. I took a long drink, soothing my mouth.
“You ok?” he asked once I had cooled down.
“Just got a little overexcited,” I confessed.
“You must really like pizza,” he said with a smile.
“I do,” I told him, which was the truth. With my budget, pizza was still a bit of a splurge compared to my usual ramen packets, but it was something I was able to treat myself to once in a while.
“I do too,” he said. “Maybe more than caviar.”
“Definitely more than caviar,” I laughed. “Not that the caviar wasn’t delicious,” I quickly added, not wanting to sound ungrateful.
“Hard to compare the two,” Jack lifted his slice and took a bite.
I watched, mesmerized as he chewed and swallowed. Every single thing this man did turned me on. He looked up, and caught me staring. Quickly, I glanced back down at my pizza. This time I blew on it before taking a bite. It was fantastic. I closed my eyes and let out a satisfied sigh.
“This is really good,” I moaned.
“Uh huh,” Jack said, his voice husky.
I opened my eyes to find that he was the one staring now. His eyes glittered with desire, and my throat went dry. I licked my lips and he groaned. I smiled.
“You’re something else, Libby Hanson,” he told me.
“Something good, I hope,” I responded playfully.
He reached across the table and took my hand. I thrilled at his touch.
“Something very, very good,” he confirmed. “And I can’t wait to show you exactly how good I think you are.”
“Likewise,” I somehow managed.
He grinned and gestured for the check.
Chapter 19
LIBBY
This time when we got to Jack’s apartment, there was no hanging up of coats or pouring expensive glasses of wine. We started kissing in the elevator and by the time the door slammed behind us, my jacket was already on the floor, his shoes kicked off to the other side of the room.
His mouth was hot and wet, his tongue tangling with mine. I fisted my hands in his thick, silky hair, unable to get enough of him. He tasted like beer and something else. Something I couldn’t place, but was intoxicated by.
Jack’s hands slid down my back, cupping my ass, and before I even knew what was happening, he had lifted me up and put me on his kitchen counter, our upper bodies lined up perfectly. Other parts of our bodies too, I discovered as he stepped between my legs, his hard cock pressing against me.
I hooked my ankles together around his back, pulling him closer.
; “Tight,” I murmured against his mouth, repeating the same order he had given me when I first got on his bike.
I felt him smile against my lips before he began kissing downward. He pressed kisses against the side of my throat, my head falling back as his hands traveled upward, slipping underneath my shirt. My stomach clenched as his fingers dragged across it, but he didn’t stop until he had reached the underside of my breast. He swept his thumb along the curve there, and I felt it through the lace of my bra.
I moaned, wanting more. His hand moved higher and this time it was my nipple his thumb caressed. Clenching my teeth, I arched my back, pressing my breasts more fully into his hand.
He pulled back. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” his eyes were dark with need.
Before I could blink, he had whipped my shirt up and over my head, tossing it across the room to join his shoes. I was sitting on his counter in my tight, leather accented jeans and a black bra that did wonders for my cleavage.
Jack groaned and curved his hands around the sides of my breasts, lifting and pressing them together before dragging his tongue along the curves he created. I clawed at his shirt, wanting to even the playing field, but before I could, I was scooped up in Jack’s arms and carried away from the kitchen.
A guy had never picked me up before. And certainly not in the way Jack had, lifting me as if I weighed nothing, his steps strong and steady as we made our way towards the part of the apartment I hadn’t seen during my last visit. Not that I was paying much attention to the layout. I was more focused on Jack’s mouth against mine.
I heard a door open, and then I was on my back, bouncing slightly on a mattress. Jack followed me down, stretching his long, hard body across my soft curves. I opened my legs to him, cradling his hips against mine, the sensation making me gasp.
“Your shirt,” I ordered as he kissed behind my ear. “Now!”
He leaned back with a smile, and with effortless grace, reached back and pulled his shirt over his head with one smooth movement.
I was speechless. The man was built. Built like I had never even imagined – and I had imagined a lot. His arms were ripped, his muscles flexing as his hand went to his fly.
“Let me,” I pushed his hand away, wanting to touch him. Wanting to touch all of him.
His stomach muscles tensed as I ran my fingers down his six-pack. He was gorgeous, and I could have spent all night fully clothed, just touching him, and it still would have been the most erotic evening of my life.
Luckily, I was going to get to do a whole lot more than then. Sitting up on my knees, I unbuttoned his fly, each button revealing more of his cock pressing up against his jeans. Of course he wasn’t wearing briefs or boxers or anything. It was all him. Ready for me. Unable to help myself, I reached in and wrapped my fingers around him. He was big. Really big.
I stroked him, feeling his groan vibrate through him. I pushed his jeans down off his hips and leaned down, taking him into my mouth. His hand fisted in my hair, and it was the sexiest thing I’d ever experienced. I loved how he tasted, the slide of his cock against my throat as I took him deeper. But I didn’t get long to enjoy it because soon I was on my back again, my bra quickly stripped away, my jeans yanked down and off of me until I was lying in front of Jack wearing nothing but a teeny, tiny black thong.
“Fuck,” he ran a hand through his hair, the look in his eyes so intense and so hot that I nearly came right there.
He hooked his fingers around the waistband of my thong and soon that joined the rest of my clothes. Pulling a condom out of his jeans, Jack quickly discarded them and then we were both naked, his skin against my skin as he leaned down to kiss me. I pulled him close, wanting to feel his weight against me, but he kept himself braced on one arm, his hand snaking down my stomach and between my legs.
I was wet. Very, very wet, and I eagerly spread my legs for him, giving his hand free reign to touch and stroke me. With the first touch of his fingers against my clit, I bucked against his hand, the sensation so intense, and so good that I almost couldn’t stand it. Jack kissed me, his smile against mine.
Slowly, he slid a finger inside of me, stroking me gently, carefully. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I needed more. I gripped his hair, his arms, his hips, and finally he obliged, adding another finger, thrusting deep inside me.
I came, crying out as I shuddered beneath his touch.
When I returned to reality, I opened my eyes to find Jack rolling on a condom. Watching his strong hand stroking his cock had me ready and raring to go once again. I reached for him just as he settled between my legs.
The blunt head of his cock nudged against me, the sensation so sweet that I arched my back, pushing my hips towards him. He groaned and with one smooth thrust, buried himself deep inside me.
I gasped, my body stretching to fit him. He was so big and went so deep. It felt so good. And then he started to move. Gripping my hips, he slowly eased out of me and thrust forward again, going even deeper.
At first his rhythm was smooth, steady. Heat gathered low in my belly as he fucked me, his thrusts driving me up the bed until I nearly hit the headboard. He pressed a hand above me, his groan echoing through me, as he moved faster and faster. I wrapped my legs around him, hooking my ankles up around his back. The angle shifted my hips, allowing him to sink even deeper inside me.
“Fuck,” he managed, his teeth gritted.
“Tighter,” I urged, not even fully away of what I was saying. Or trying to say. I was so lost in the pleasure building inside of me.
But Jack seemed to understand, because he began to fuck me harder and faster. He slid a hand beneath my ass, tilting my hips even higher. With each thrust his pelvis kissed my clit, the sensation intense and perfect.
“Yes,” I panted. “Yes, right there.”
With those words, Jack seemed to lose his last bit of control. His thrusts were coming faster now, each of them desperate for release, desperate for more. My own pleasure coiled tightly inside of me and then, suddenly, I was tipped over the edge.
I screamed, my orgasm overtaking me, and just as I hurtled off the edge, I felt Jack find his release as well.
I didn’t want him to move. I liked the feel of his body on top of me too much, but I knew that we couldn’t stay like this forever, sweat cooling on our skin, his muscles pressed against my curves. Still, when he excused himself to get rid of the condom, I immediately missed him.
Then again, I got a pretty good view when he came out of the bathroom. I sat up, leaning on one hand, and watched him walk across the room naked.
“You should never wear clothes,” I told him.
He looked over at me, and grinned. “I could say the same for you.”
I blushed. I liked my body, but I knew that it wasn’t the kind of figure you’d find in magazines or on the runway. The kind of body I assumed Jack was used to. But the way he was looking at me, all hungry and sexy, made any insecurities I had disappear.
He climbed back onto the bed, and stretched out next to me, leaning up for a kiss. Unlike the one on the couch last night, or the one that had taken us through his front door tonight, this kiss was soft and gentle. He took his time, savoring me.
“This is the best first date I’ve ever had,” I told him once we broke for air.
“Me too.” He traced my jawline.
“Really?” I raised my eyebrows.
“Really,” he confirmed. “Besides, I don’t date much.”
“That’s not what the tabloids say,” I teased, immediately regretting it. The last thing I wanted to talk about was what the tabloids said about him. I didn’t want him to be thinking of me in terms of the book. I just wanted him to be thinking of me in terms of being naked and satisfied.
To my relief, he laughed.
“The tabloids are full of shit,” he told me.
“Good to know,” I responded, dragging my fingers up his stomach.
His body was incredible, and I still couldn’t believe it was mine for the whole e
vening.
“If I’m the best first date,” I looked up at him. “What was your worst first date?”
He gave me a look. “Are you asking for you, or for the book?”
“For me!” I put my hand on my chest, offended. “None of this,” I gestured between us, “has anything to do with the book. Nor will I write about it.”
He grinned and seemed to visibly relax.
“In that case,” he leaned back, his eyebrows furrowed. “My worst date had to be Cindy Morris. Ninth grade.”
“You were a baby,” I joked. “What happened that made it so terrible?”
“She was using me to get back at her boyfriend who had just broken up with her,” he told me. “And he showed up on our date and challenged me to a fist fight.”
“Oh my god,” I put my hand to my mouth. “What did you do?”
“I handed him the bill and walked out of the restaurant,” Jack said.
“I can’t believe that,” I told him, imagining him as a teen. “What girl in her right mind would do that?”
Jack shrugged. “I was the bad boy foster kid,” he reminded me. “Good for making parents and boyfriends jealous.”
“That’s terrible.” I felt a sharp tug in my chest, imagining some girl thinking that Jack was just some means to an end. Clearly these girls had had no idea what they were missing.
“At least I didn’t have to pay for it,” Jack reminded me. He smoothed his hand over my hip and I leaned into the touch. “What about you? Worst first date?”
“Oh there are so many,” I grimaced, shaking my head. “There was the blind date that told me I was too chubby to order fries with my burger. And then there was the guy that told me that my job was basically to be a professional liar. But my favorite is probably the time a guy dined and ditched me.”
Jack winced. “Those guys all sound like colossal idiots.”
“They were,” I quickly agreed. “It still stung, though.”
While I was pretty happy with the direction my life had gone – lack of money notwithstanding – dating had always been a source of disappointment. But it looked like my luck was changing. Not only had I caught the eye of one of New York’s most eligible bachelors, but he had also given me the best orgasm of my life. It was a real win-win in my book.