“Stay,” he ordered.
My breathing grew jagged, and the muscles between my legs quivered as I steeled myself to receive him. I bit my lip when I thought of how he’d just come hot and out of control in my mouth. I wanted to feel him inside me now, taking what he needed. I almost bit my lip off when I let my head fall between my arms and saw his naked size fourteen-and-a-half feet.
I felt a soapy hand between my legs. “David,” I whined. “Please.”
“Please what?” he asked huskily.
“Please—I’m so ready.”
He skated one hand up my back and grasped the ends of my hair, pulling softly. He set his other palm on my backside and rubbed it gently. As it landed against my skin with more force this time, I cried out.
“Ready for what?” he asked.
“To get fucked,” I begged.
“How do you want it, baby?”
“Hard,” I rasped. “I need it.”
His hand returned between my legs, opening me up. I trembled as he played with me, alternating between rubbing my clit, inserting a finger, and spreading my wetness over me. When I felt the pressure of his cock against my opening, I shuddered.
His other hand pulled my hair at the same moment he shoved into me, propelling me forward. I gasped, my knuckles whitening on the edge. He slid out and then inched back in so I felt myself stretching and then closing around him.
“You’re made for me,” he said on a growl.
“Because I’m yours.”
He gave me another hard thrust, bouncing me forward. “You know I fucking love when you say that.”
His body closed over mine, and his breath heated my shoulder. He rocked into me, picking up his pace as he tugged on my hair.
“Pull it,” I pleaded through gritted teeth. His fist tightened and yanked. He kissed the skin at the nape of my neck and then between my shoulder blades, all the while driving steadily into me. He wrapped both hands over my shoulders, straightened up, and began hammering me as he pulled me back onto him.
I squeezed my eyes shut and whimpered as I took him to the base. “Oh, God,” I yelled into the bite of pain. I braced myself against the bench and pushed back harder.
“Christ, Olivia. Give it back to me,” he uttered. I faintly registered the sound of slapping skin echoing throughout the shower. As one hand knotted into my hair, he spanked me again.
Then he was pulling on my biceps, demanding my hands behind my back. His fingers wrapped around my wrists, putting me in his complete control. His grip tightened and my arms twisted as he took me fast, his chest rumbling as he got closer to the edge.
This was his finale; this was how he wanted me to come. My breath caught as my insides coiled for him, lost in the sensation of submission. My toes curled into the stone floor. I held on and clenched around him, squeezing his dick and eliciting incoherent words of praise from him.
As I tipped into oblivion, I had the urge to grab something and hold on, but he still had me tightly in his grip. I could only focus on the heat rippling through my body in rays of molten bliss, and somewhere in my consciousness I heard his roar, felt his warmth begin to flow, pouring himself into me . . .
Only me. I’m doing this to him.
I fell to my knees, and once I was down, he released my wrists.
“Jesus,” he said, staring at me, his breathing labored. “You’re on fire in the morning.”
I only looked back at him, blinking and trying to catch my own breath. “It’s your fault,” I said as he bent down and hauled me to my feet. “Those sweatpants . . .”
His eyebrows shot up. “Sweatpants?”
“You, shirtless, sweatpants,” I managed. “Super sexy, honey.”
He grinned. “You blow me first thing in the morning. Then you let me fuck you to your knees. Now you’re telling me I’m sexy?”
“Not sexy. Super sexy,” I corrected.
His eyes darkened, and he seized my waist, jerking me to him. “Mmm,” he moaned against my mouth, squeezing me. “I love your pussy that wet, your wrists in my hands, letting me give it to you hard as I can. You’re so tight, but you take every inch.”
I nodded against his mouth. “I can take it,” I whispered.
He drew back slightly, and his eyes changed—softer, but still intense. “I lose myself in you,” he said. “I could fuck you again right now, just as hard. I’m like a damn teenager.”
I ran my hands along biceps I would never tire of touching. “I lose myself, too.”
“Is it too much?” he asked.
I thought about the rolling, destructive orgasm that had just brought me to my knees. It was his utter and complete control that had taken me there. “Oh, God, yes, too much,” I said, “and it’s perfect.”
He kissed me deeply before trailing hard kisses over my temple to the top of my head. I let him hold me for a minute before pulling back. “I’m going to be late,” I reminded him.
“I’d better start setting my alarm earlier,” he said.
I laughed, even though he hadn’t meant it to be funny.
“Holy fuck,” he said to himself, shaking his head.
* * *
As David dressed, I stood dumbstruck in my robe and wiped drool—real or imaginary, I wasn’t sure—from the corner of my mouth. Watching him get ready for work was as beautiful a way to start the day as anything I could think of. It was hard to believe that we’d only really been doing this a few days. He’d shaken me from my waking sleep and introduced me to a life of color, hope, love, and sex. Rip-roaring, amazing, out-of-this-world sex.
He flipped his collar and did up his tie in the mirror while I gaped like an audience member at Cirque du Soleil.
“It doesn’t normally take me this long to put on a tie, but you’re distracting me,” he said, his eyes fastened on the mirror.
“Sorry.” My cheeks heated, and I looked around the massive closet, taking in the absurd amount of suits, ties, dress shirts, and shoes. My insides stirred when I thought of what I might like to do to businessman David in one of his fancy suits.
Snap out of it! I’d fantasized about David countless times since we’d met, but now I had him—and I’d just had him in the shower. Why was I still fantasizing?
I refocused my attention on picking out an outfit for work, eyeing the pieces we’d purchased over the weekend. I smiled when I spotted the simple black dress he’d zipped me into right after he’d made me quietly come with his fingers. Our conversation from that moment filtered through my mind. Something he’d said had nagged at me that day, but in my post-orgasmic stupor, I hadn’t been able to grasp it. I replayed the memory.
“You have one like this, don’t you? With the thingie?” he asked, motioning to the shoulder of the dress.
I smiled, amused that he was at all familiar with my wardrobe, although I couldn’t remember wearing that particular dress around him. “I have one with a rosette, yes. Different designer but similar.”
“What’s wrong?” David asked, jarring me from the memory.
I looked up. “I’ve never worn that dress around you,” I said.
“Pardon?” he asked, righting his collar and glancing over at me.
“The black dress with the ‘thingie’ on the shoulder—the rosette. You said I already owned something like it,”—I pulled out the hanger with the new dress—“but how did you know? I never wore the other dress around you.”
“Are you sure?” He walked over to peck me sweetly on the lips. His fingers pushed hair from my face. “I’ve seen you in your work clothes lots of times.” He cleared his throat and looked away.
I was sure, because I’d only worn that dress once—to Davena’s funeral. Instantly, heavy tears welled in my eyes, and one dropped down my cheek. “You were there, weren’t you?”
David took a deep breath, ran his thumb along my cheekbone, and looked directly at me. “Yes. I attended the funeral.”
My chin quivered, and I wiped my face, careful not to smear my makeup. “Why?”
His mouth twitched as he looked at me, and finally, he shrugged. “Why do you think? You had her death to deal with, plus Mark Alvarez, plus running out on me days earlier after our night together. I was worried.”
“But I never saw you,” I said.
“I stayed in the back so you wouldn’t.”
“You were there, and you didn’t say anything?” I asked. “How’d you know when . . . where?”
“It wasn’t hard to find out,” he said sadly. “I was concerned Bill wouldn’t show up because of some bullshit work excuse. But he did. I saw you two together, and that was tough, but it was nothing compared to how heartbroken you were. I could see it in your face . . . and he didn’t do shit . . . I wish it had been me by your side.”
I stared at him in mild shock. It hadn’t occurred to me David might show. That he might watch me go through the motions, ignore Bill’s grief and his attempts to comfort me, however lame they were. That he’d be there in case I’d needed him.
After a beat, he asked, “Are you mad?”
“Mad?” I exclaimed. “I can’t believe you did that for me.”
“I told you I was looking out.” He ran his thumb under one of my eyes and then the other. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m so lucky,” I said. Before he could respond, I put back the dress and rose onto the balls of my feet to kiss him, steadying myself on his forearms. Even then he had to lean down to meet me.
“Thank you,” I said.
“It was my pleasure.” He smiled. “What do you want for breakfast?”
It was such a regular, everyday inquiry, but I couldn’t help smiling wider. We were a couple now, and those were the things couples asked each other. “I’ve been too preoccupied to think about it.”
“Mmm, preoccupied you say?” he asked, reaching under my robe and tightening his hand over my ass. “What do you want?”
I could only focus on the way his hand possessively pulled me against him. “Hmm?”
“For breakfast.”
I didn’t want to eat. I just wanted to stay there with David all day. “Did I ever tell you how sexy you look in a suit?” I breathed in a rush of air.
“Don’t distract me. Breakfast?”
I sighed. “I don’t have time. You go eat while I finish getting ready.”
His eyebrows dipped together. “Olivia—”
“I don’t have time to argue about my eating habits, either,” I said, turning away from him. “I promise I’ll have a big lunch instead.”
He grunted but left me so I could get dressed. I sneaked a peek at his behind as he left the closet and vowed to get myself some businessman David very soon.
12
The simple act of being driven to work, something that millions of people participated in every day, felt like a gift. Still, though I’d loved spending guilt-free time with David, my anxiety returned as we neared my office.
I could anticipate some reactions, but not my co-workers’. They all knew David as one of Chicago’s top bachelors featured in our “Most Eligible” issue months before. And most of them also knew Bill—as my husband, of course. I sighed when I thought of all the explaining I’d have to do in the near future and decided to put it off for as long as possible.
“This weekend was crazy and hectic and a whirlwind,” I told David as he drove, “but in the best way possible.”
He reached over to rub my knee. “Don’t forget, we have a date tonight.”
I grinned. “Can’t wait.”
“Have lunch with me, too. Something big and greasy to make up for missing breakfast.”
I laughed. “I have a date tonight. Don’t want to look fat.”
“Fat?” he grumbled. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”
“Yep,” I said. “I know I’m skinnier than normal, David.”
“It’s not funny.”
“All right. Yes, handsome, I’ll have lunch with you.” I waited a moment before peeking over to see if he’d settled. “God, you are handsome, though.”
He rolled his eyes. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”
And that’s exactly what I planned to do. I pulled out my new phone and found a missed call from the night before. Bill. A missed call from the husband I’d devastated a few days earlier was not surprising but definitely unsettling.
I ignored it and snapped a picture of David’s perfect profile. The profile that, in this same position, I’d fallen for months ago when I’d agonized over not being able to touch him. For that, I reached over and felt the muscles of his arm under his shirt. When I raised my hand to his cheek, he leaned into my palm. I returned my eyes out the windshield but played with the ends of his hair—so as not to mess it up—until we arrived at my office building.
I reached for my seatbelt, but he stopped me. “I’ll get that,” he said with a mischievous smile.
My face heated as his fingers grazed the houndstooth wool fabric of my new skirt, and I wished suddenly there wasn’t so much of it. He hit the release, but his hand lingered, sliding up my thigh until his fingers brushed between my legs. I involuntarily sucked in a breath.
He leaned over awkwardly in the small space of the car and kissed me on the cheek. “Let’s ditch,” he said against the corner of my mouth, and I sighed. “I’ll take you home, throw you on the bed, watch you ride me till you come on my dick. Then I’ll flip you on your back, make you come again underneath me.”
I whimpered as his hand compressed my thigh. He turned my face to his so we were inches apart. “You know, when you’re about to come, your body trembles like a leaf. It makes me rock hard just thinking about it.” He kissed me hard and much too deeply for the start of a workday. His tongue invaded my mouth, thorough and probing like it was searching for something. When he pulled away abruptly, I might have been swaying, and I definitely saw stars. “You’re now officially late,” he noted.
I was somehow both breathless and breathing heavy, and it took me a moment before I said, “Shit.”
“Want me to write you a note?” he asked, slipping on his sunglasses as I gathered my purse.
“Beman would be thrilled, actually,” I muttered. “He has a crush on you.”
David’s grin faded. “I don’t like your boss, Olivia.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t like Arnaud,” I retorted and clamped my hand over my mouth. “Oops. Sorry.”
“Wait, what?” David raised his sunglasses. “Why not?”
“I’m sorry, baby,” I said, pecking him on the lips. “I didn’t mean it. Have to run.” I shut the door and took a few steps before turning and waving quickly.
It wasn’t that I worried David would tell his colleague what I thought. I just didn’t want David to feel weird bringing me around the office. He’d worked with Arnaud Mallory for most of his professional career, and that included their house-flipping business on the side. I had enough conflict in my life without making enemies of David’s friends. And I vaguely remembered David referring to Arnaud as a brilliant architect, which meant he wasn’t exactly expendable.
I decided to worry about my careless comment later as I sneaked into the office relatively unnoticed. Oddly, my day continued normally. It seemed, with the uprooting of my life, as if the world should feel differently, as if everyone should look and act differently, but they didn’t. Jenny, the office receptionist, remained cheerful. Serena, my assistant, stopped by my office to chat twice before ten in the morning. Lisa, the toxic co-worker, dutifully ignored me when I passed her in the hallway and a curt nod from Beman, my boss, meant he’d acknowledged my existence and nothing more. I went about my work, nipping, tucking, erasing, marking, removing, adding, and writing.
A text from David around lunchtime was a very welcome distraction.
David: Swamped over here. I need an assistant.
Me: Want me to come fill in for the day?
David: I’d get nothing done.
Me: But I think I’d be a good fit for the job, Mr. Dylan.
David: Qu
alifications?
I smiled. I was no architect, but I could work with what little I knew. Attempting to keep a straight face, I tapped out a response.
Me: I’ve been told I have unequaled skills in steel erection… In fact, I was cantilevered just this weekend and can be for hours on end.
David: That’s all good, Ms. Germaine, but being an architect’s assistant is very physical work. It involves a lot of hammering, mounting & screwing.
Me: As it happens, I’m a pro at nailing studs. When do I start?
David: Right away. We’ll begin with any and all cracks that need caulking.
I clasped my hand over my mouth and giggled.
“Something funny?” I heard.
I jumped in my chair as my head snapped up to find Bill in the doorway. “Jesus,” I said, adjusting my mood from giddy to somber. “What are you doing here? How’d you get in?”
“I’m your husband.” He frowned. “How do you think?”
“Right. Sorry.” I exhaled, trying to get my heart rate to slow. “You startled me.”
Purple bruises rimmed his eyes and swollen nose. My heart squeezed at the sight of him. He looked tired, defeated, and though he was dressed for work, I wondered if he’d slept in his rumpled suit.
“You can’t ignore my calls, Olivia,” he said. “We have things to figure out.”
“I wasn’t.” I refrained from pointing out that he’d cut off my cell service. I ignored him and said, “Your nose.”
“Broken.” He held up his bandaged right hand. “Sprained.”
“I’m so sorry.” Out of instinct, I stood to go to him but stopped myself. Instead, I gestured at a chair. “Come in. Sit. Are you in pain?”
He furrowed his brows at me and finally stepped in the office, closing the door behind him. “We need to talk.”
I nodded and sat back down, scooting my chair under my desk. “Saturday night was awful. I’d really like if we could keep this divorce civil.”
Anger crossed his face but disappeared in a flash. He slumped into the chair across from me and sighed while scrubbing a hand over his hair. “God. Please, just . . . think about what you’re doing.”
Cityscape Affair Series: The Complete Box Set Page 68