Start Me Up

by Maggie Riley

  I lost myself in it – in him – immediately. I forgot that we were on the street, forgot that we were in public, forgot that this was the start of our date, not the end. I was practically climbing his body when we broke apart.

  I was gratified to see that he looked as dazed as I felt. My legs wobbled. He flashed me a wicked grin and handed over a helmet.

  “Ready?” he asked, straddling his bike.

  Oh boy, was I ever.

  “I never come here at night,” I told Jack once we were walking along the High Line. “I always forget how late it’s open.”

  “I prefer it at night,” he confessed. “Less people.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I teased, enjoying how he had slung his arm around my waist. I loved the way he felt next to me. I loved the way he felt period.

  I told myself not to get too caught up in the moment, but it was hard. It was pretty damn romantic out there on the High Line at nine o’clock at night. Jack was right, it was far less crowded than it was during the day and it was nice to walk along without the sun beating down on us, which was usually how it was when I came to visit.

  “How’s the book coming?” he asked, but there was a slight strain in his voice as if he knew he should ask but he really didn’t want to know.

  “It’s going well,” I said, keeping my voice light and up-beat. “I think it’s going to be good. Something you can be proud of.”

  Our conversation stalled for a moment as we walked, and I was grateful because I really didn’t want to talk about the book. It only reminded me how complicated things between us were – the proverbial elephant in the room that we both had been doing our best to ignore. Talking about the book would only be a reminder that I was still technically Jack’s employee, something I knew he didn’t feel great about. It wasn’t something I liked either, but it was hard to deny the chemistry between us and it was clear that neither of us wanted to.

  For a moment, I thought about asking him about his weekend, but I didn’t want to pry. I also didn’t want him to ask about my weekend because I still didn’t know how he would feel about the fact that I went and spoke to Mac.

  “You look incredible tonight,” Jack finally said, stopping and turning to look at me.

  I blushed. The look in his eyes was so hot, so appreciative, that it was impossible not to feel beautiful. But it also wasn’t something I had a lot of experience with – especially when it came to men. Most of the men I had dated had always made me feel like there was something lacking. I never felt that way with Jack.

  “You look pretty good yourself,” I told him, sliding my hands up his chest. This was definitely a topic of conversation I was comfortable with.

  He was wearing jeans, a tight white t-shirt and a leather jacket. He looked like a modern-day James Dean, his dark hair falling over his forehead. I thought Jack looked sexy in a suit, but when he was dressed casually like this, it made me want to rip his clothes off.

  And the way his eyes darkened as he looked at me, I could tell that he felt the same about me. It was a powerful aphrodisiac.

  “I suppose we could talk more about our favorite places in New York,” he suggested as he linked his fingers with mine, his thumb stroking my palm seductively. “Or we could get back on my bike and go somewhere where I could enjoy my favorite places on you.”

  I went red hot, my skin tightening with anticipation of his touch.

  “I do like riding on your bike,” I managed to rasp, not even realizing how seductive that statement sounded until it was already out of my mouth.

  Jack grinned. “Oh baby, I love you riding on my bike.”

  There was something different about his apartment this time. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but the place looked a little messier and a little brighter. Maybe it was the flowers on the table – ones that didn’t look like they had been professionally arranged, with slightly mangled stems and an uneven design. Or maybe it was the colorful throw that was slung over the back of the couch. Or the pizza box sticking out of the trash can.

  Not that I had much time to examine it. As soon as Jack locked the door, he had me pinned against his kitchen counter, his hands skimming my breasts. I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him, loving the heavy feel of his hips against mine, with his hard cock straining against his jeans. I loved knowing how much he wanted me. Knowing that it matched my own desire.

  I dragged my hands downward, slipping them underneath his shirt, my fingers desperate to touch the hot, smooth skin beneath. His stomach tightened as I explored his six-pack before pushing his shirt up and over his head. I pulled back slightly to examine my handiwork and nearly sighed out loud. The man was gorgeous.

  Shirtless and with his jeans hanging low on his hips, he was practically edible. My mouth watered and I realized that’s exactly what I wanted to do. Unzipping his jeans, I pulled them and his boxers down, dropping to my knees with them.

  “Libby,” Jack’s voice was half-warning, half-encouragement as I took his cock in my hand and squeezed.

  I glanced up and saw his head fall back, a groan escaping his lips. I smiled and licked my lips. Then I drew him into my mouth. He tasted of salt and sweat. I took him as deeply as I could as he fisted his hand in my hair. I loved the way his fingers tightened as my tongue drew circles around the head of his cock.

  It was always something that the guys I dated expected, but I had never really enjoyed. Until now. I took so much pleasure in the pleasure I was giving Jack, in the way I could sense him losing a tiny bit of control with each taste. Finally, it seemed that I pushed him to his limit and he pulled me to my feet.

  He kissed me hard, his fingers making quick work of my clothes. Then we were naked. In his kitchen. Jack’s hands cupped my breasts, lifting them and pressing them together, his head bent so his tongue could circle my nipple – one and then the other. I gripped the kitchen counter behind me, my legs barely able to hold me upright as he teased my sensitive breasts with his tongue and teeth. Pleasure spread throughout my body and I was so turned on that I thought I might come from that touch alone.

  Then, without warning, he slid his hands down to my ass and hoisted me up on the counter, the marble cold beneath my hot, hot skin. He spread my knees wide and knelt in front of me, just as I had done to him. Within seconds his tongue was on me, licking and nibbling. Driving me crazy.

  With one hand flat on the counter to keep me steady, I thrust my other hand through Jack’s thick hair, needing more of him. He speared his tongue deep inside me and I cried out, the beginning of an orgasm rippling through me. Then he slid a finger and then another inside of me and I came hard, my hips arching off the marble.

  My body shook with the aftermath of my orgasm, pleasure still rippling through me, my skin humming. I could hear my breath coming in ragged pants, my chest heaving as Jack kissed me gently, and then not so gently, stealing my breath once again.

  He grabbed a condom from his jeans and unwrapped it. But before he could put it on, I reached for it. I wanted to touch him. I couldn’t get enough.

  “Let me,” I murmured, not even recognizing the sex-husky voice that came from my lips.

  Jack braced his hands on either side of my hips, his knuckles white as I rolled the condom onto his considerable length. His breath hissed out of him through gritted teeth as my fingers brushed against him. Then, I was spreading my legs against and tugging him towards me. My nails dug into his narrow hips as I made room for him, the head of his cock nudging against my wet entrance.

  With a hand on the back of my neck, Jack kissed me deeply. His tongue tangled with mine as his cock slid inside me, slowly, every inch driving me crazy. When he was deep inside of me, he stopped.

  “Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, pressing his forehead against mine.

  “More,” I urged him, arching my hips. “More.”

  He closed his eyes and nodded. Slowly he drew back, inch by inch until he had nearly withdrawn completely. Then he thrust deeply. Again and a
gain and again. I wrapped my legs around his back, pulling him closer, wanting him, all of him.

  My moans echoed through the kitchen as another orgasm built inside of me. It had never been like this before. Never had I felt so connected, so sexy, so sexual. I wanted him. Everything he would give me.

  He was thrusting steadily now, each smooth slide of his cock making me cry out with pleasure. Leaning forward, his chest pressed against mine, lowering me down onto the counter. The angle allowed him to go even deeper and my breasts bounced as his thrusting grew faster and less even. He was losing control and I loved watching it. Loved watching the intensity on his face, how he was losing himself in my body, in my pleasure, in his pleasure. It was too much and when he caught my gaze, his eyes hot and intense, I came again, shaking and crying with the wave of pleasure that overcame me.

  It was only a few more frantic thrusts and he joined me, his big body shuddering as he found his own release, his head buried in my neck.

  Chapter 23

  JACK

  I felt like an addict. I couldn’t get enough of Libby. After fucking her on the kitchen counter, it wasn’t long before I was ready for round two, which took us into my enormous shower where I pressed her up against the wall, her breasts against the tile, and took her from behind, my fingers digging into her hips, the sounds of her pleasure echoing off the bathroom walls.

  We fell into my bed, exhausted, but in the middle of the night I reached for her again. This time, she was the one on top, riding me in the moonlight, her breasts fitting perfectly in my hands as she rolled her hips forward, taking me deeper with each thrust. And now, as the sun was peeking through my window, my cock was already stirring, ready and eager for her.

  Thankfully, she was still tangled up in my sheets. Waking up alone after our first night hadn’t been especially enjoyable, so I was grateful that she had stayed the entire night. Which was not how I usually felt. I liked my space and my privacy and I rarely brought women back to my apartment to begin with, let alone wanted or encouraged them to stay the night.

  But everything with Libby felt different.

  She stirred against me, rolling over, and throwing an arm and a leg across my chest. The blanket slipped down, revealing the tantalizing curve of her back and her ass. My cock responded accordingly.

  It felt like I’d never be able to get enough of her.

  That thought was enough to have me untangling from her grip and getting out of bed. Suddenly I felt in desperate need of space. Because this was not how I did things. I didn’t bring women back to my place and I didn’t have them spend the night. And I had never wanted to before.

  Libby seemed to be taking all of the boundaries I had put up to keep myself protected and smashing them to dust. It might not have been such a terrible thing if it weren’t for Ella. The last thing I wanted was to introduce something into my daughter’s life that didn’t come with a guarantee.

  My divorce from Jennifer had been stressful enough for Ella, and it finally felt like our family – as dysfunctional and fractured as it had become – was now finding a real, healthy balance. It was something that worked. And I couldn’t risk introducing something – or someone – who might upend that delicate balance I’d work so hard to create.

  But knowing that didn’t help me tamp down my never-ending lust for Libby.

  I pulled on a pair of boxers and slipped out of the bedroom, knowing I was being a bit of a hypocrite, leaving her to wake up alone. Walking through the apartment, I gathered the clothes that had been left in the kitchen. Picking up my jeans, I felt them vibrate.

  It was Mac calling.

  “Hey,” I answered, surprised that he was calling so early.

  “Hey bro,” he said, trying too hard to sound casually.

  “What do you want?” I asked him point blank. No point beating around the bush with my oldest and closest friend.

  “Just wanted to know how your date went.”

  “Bullshit,” I retorted, and he laughed.

  “She seems really nice,” he told me and my blood went cold.

  “What are you talking about?” I demanded.

  “Libby, right?” he asked. “Funny, curvaceous, writing a book for you? Ring any bells?”

  “I know who she is.” I felt my jaw tightened. “How the hell do you?”

  “She came to see me yesterday,” Mac told me, still sounding annoyingly casual. And slightly amused, too. If he were standing in front of me, I probably would have punched him in the face. “We talked. About you.”

  I stared at my phone, unable to believe what I was hearing. Libby had gone to see Mac? Yesterday? And she hadn’t said a damn thing about it to me?

  Hadn’t I asked her point blank how the book was going?

  “What did you tell her?” I asked through clenched teeth.

  “Calm down,” Mac told me. “I didn’t mention Ella or Jennifer or any of the secrets you guard like an obsessive dog. I just talked about growing up together. I made you look good, don’t worry.”

  “That’s not what I was concerned about,” I practically growled. “You shouldn’t have spoken to her.”

  “Don’t be a dick,” Mac responded. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “Fuck you,” I shot back and hung up on him.

  I ran my hand through my hair and stared at my phone, wondering how a morning that had started off so great, had gone bad, so quickly. As I took a deep breath, my phone rang again. For a moment I thought it was Mac and was prepared to hang up on him again, but the name that showed up was someone I was always glad to talk to.

  “Hey sweetie,” I answered.

  “Hi, Daddy,” Ella said cheerfully.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, as early morning calls on a weekday were not the usual time I got calls from my daughter. Not that I minded – I loved hearing from her, night or day. My life was a pretty great one, but Ella was hands down the best thing in it.

  “Mommy said I could call on the way to school and tell you the news,” Ella told me, and I could practically picture her bouncing in the seat of her mom’s car.

  Jennifer was one of the few people who had a custom Celero. Like mine, it was sleek and gorgeous, but also incredibly child-safe. Even though our market was mostly single men looking for a fast, good looking car, I still wanted to make sure that everyone inside said car was protected. Though, I might have gone slightly overboard with the safety features on my car and Jennifer’s. An egg would be safe in our rides.

  “News?” I asked my daughter. “What kind of news?”

  “I get to be the rat,” she said proudly.

  I paused. It wasn’t the weirdest conversation I’d had with Ella but it did seem pretty random. “The rat?”

  “In the play,” she clarified. “I’m the rat in Charlotte’s Web.”

  Now it made sense. Her class was putting on a production of the children’s book, and Ella had been hoping to get a good part. I supposed I was pretty biased but I couldn’t imagine anyone looking at her and not wanting to make her the star of every production. She was adorable, of course, but smart and quick witted too. Not a trace of stage fright with this kid. Not a trace of fear, period. My girl was going to take the world by storm and I was going to do everything in my power to help her accomplish her dreams.

  “Is the rat good?” I asked, trying to remember the characters in Charlotte’s Web. All I could recall was the spider and the pig. Clearly, I needed to brush up on children’s literature.

  “It’s great!” Ella said with pride.

  I smiled, knowing she was doing the same. “Then I’m very happy for you, honey.”

  I heard footsteps behind me. Turning around, I saw Libby standing in the doorway of the bedroom. She was barefoot, wearing only a button down shirt that she had probably snagged from my closet. She was backlit by the rising sun, her hair a curly halo around her face. I reminded myself that I was mad at her, but it was hard to be mad and turned on at the same time. And it was hard not to
be turned on by that view.

  “I’ve got to go, sweetie,” I told Ella, not taking my eyes off of Libby.

  She stepped into the room, and I could see the questions in her eyes. Fuck. This was not the conversation I wanted to have right now.

  “Ok, Daddy,” Ella giggled in my ear. “I love you.”

  “Love you too,” I said, the response as automatic as breathing.

  The questioning crease between Libby’s eyes grew deeper, and I looked away as I hung up the phone. I needed to regroup. I had learned a lot in the last half hour about Libby, and I still didn’t know how I felt about it. But I knew that I didn’t want to share information about my daughter with her.

  Maybe I wasn’t being fair. But I knew from experience that life wasn’t fair and love certainly wasn’t fair. The thought practically stopped me in my tracks. What was I doing, thinking of love? What Libby and I had was physical. Sexual.

  Ok, I also liked her as a person. She was sweet and funny, but now I didn’t know if I could trust her. How much of what she showed me was the truth and how much of it was something she had been doing to get information about me. I felt exposed in the worst possible way.

  “Morning,” said Libby, stepping into the kitchen. I could hear the hesitation in her voice.

  “Morning,” I responded, hearing how gruff I sounded. “Want some coffee?”

  She nodded. “Sure.” She came over to me, but I moved away before she could make contact.

  I knew that if I touched her, I would be distracted by her mouth, her breasts, her body. I had been too distracted already. I needed to put a stop to this. To all of it.

  I made the coffee in silence, the tension in the room thick. And not the good kind of tension. My entire body felt stiff, and even rolling my shoulders didn’t help alleviate the feeling. I poured two cups of coffee and handed one over to her. Our fingers brushed and there was still a spark. Still an attraction. I told myself to ignore it.

  “Early phone calls?” Libby asked, trying to be casual, but failing. The expression on her face was practically hungry for information.