Man in Charge: A Steamy Contemporary Romantic Comedy (The Manly Series Book 2)

by Teddy Hester

  So, I leave his cock resting on his abdomen and take the head in my mouth. From his cry, Tony likes that a lot. I roll my tongue around it, and tickle a bit, but finally, I suck. His backside flexes and he bucks like a bronco. I can’t get much in my mouth, but I can suck like a vacuum cleaner and pump his shaft with my hand close to the base. Once I get the timing coordinated, his hips push that monster cock to the back of my throat. When my jaw and my hand get too tired, I pull off him with a pop.

  He sags back onto the bed. “Oh, that was good.”

  “But I couldn’t finish.”

  He grins and sits up. “Maybe we could find another way.”

  “Yeah?” I watch him grab another condom and scooch to the bottom corner of the bed.

  “Maybe. Come here.”

  I crawl on hands and knees to where he’s sitting, his huge boner jutting straight up at the ceiling. He picks me up and sets me on his thighs, facing out into the room. I hear foil crinkling, and then one hand reaches around my hip to check between my legs.

  “Mmm, you like sucking my cock. It makes you wet.”

  “Actually, I’m a testicles kinda girl.”

  He chuckles and picks me up by the hips to hoist me onto his steel pole. He has to lift and lower me a few times until I’m seated against his belly, but it’s well worth the extra effort. With a huge moan, I fall back against his chest and lay my head back on his shoulder. He does all the work, plowing up into me. I’m in outer space, riding the comet’s tail.

  Just when I think it couldn’t possibly get any better, his fingers find my clit, and suddenly, I’m knockin’ on heaven’s door.

  CHAPTER 10

  “You are planning to stay the weekend, aren’t you?”

  My hummingbird is perched on the corner of my kitchen island, snacking on salted almonds. “I brought a bag.”

  “Good.” I scrape scrambled eggs and chipped beef onto two plates. “Grab the toast, please?”

  She hops down and pads to the oven, where buttered toast is sitting in the warming tray. That platter in one hand, she snags the jam in her other and joins me at the kitchen table, facing the water. I pour us coffee, adding the amount of fake creamer she likes. She digs into the eggs.

  “Hungry?”

  “Yes! You never gave me dinner. You reneged on our deal. Does that mean our relationship is null and void?”

  I observe her over my cup as I sip. “It means I owe you another date.”

  She shovels in another bite of eggs, then shrugs. “Okay.”

  That was too easy. “What’s going on in that fertile brain of yours, hummingbird?”

  “Maybe you owe me a date—with interest.”

  “Another negotiation? Lay it on me.”

  Putting down her fork, she gulps some coffee. “Did you know I own a second company besides Avant-Garde?”

  The woman’s just one surprise after another. “No. What is it?”

  “It’s called Scanties. I design and manufacture undergarments.”

  “Like the bra and thong I divested you of last night?”

  “Ha! Ripped off me, you mean. Those are some of mine, yes, though they’re not on the market yet. Right now it’s primarily children’s things.”

  “How’s it doing? Would you like for me to go over your books sometime?”

  Her lips purse. “Maybe someday. We’ll see. Scanties pays for itself and nets me some extra bank. It’s doing pretty well, especially for a newer business.”

  “The garment industry is hard to get into and hard to keep afloat in. If you’re already showing profit, you’re doing really well.”

  “I’m working on a new line.”

  “For kids?”

  Her finger traces a pattern in the wooden tabletop. “No. See, this is where you and payback come in.”

  The fact that she’s having trouble looking me in the eye tells me I’m not gonna to like where this is going.

  “I’ve designed a line for men.”

  “Of?”

  “Silk boxers.”

  “Ah.” Well, her feeling me up the other night finally makes sense. And why she wanted to know whether I was a boxer or briefs guy. “Go on.”

  “I’ve been wrestling with a campaign, but the models they send just aren’t right. They’re all pretty-boy types. When I asked for more masculine-looking guys, they sent me cowboys.”

  “That was silly. Bikers would have been better.”

  She looks at me suspiciously. “Are you making fun of my predicament?”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Yeah, you should work on suppressing that sparkle in your eyes when you’re trying not to laugh. Totally ruins the poker face.”

  “Sorry. I hate when that happens.” I choke back a guffaw.

  “And now you give me a chuckle-snort.” She turns her back on me and gazes out the window, coffee cup in hand.

  “Chuckle-snort? I wonder if that’s like a chortle? Chuckle, snort, chortle, yeah, I bet that’s where chortle comes from.”

  “You can stop now,” she complains, but her lips are quivering, so I know she’s trying not to laugh, too.

  “Cleo, can it be that you’re actually asking me to model silk boxers for your campaign?”

  She perks up and gives me her most endearing wide-eyed smile. “Yes!”

  “No.”

  Her face falls like a soufflé. “I knew you’d say that.”

  “Then I’m surprised you’d even bring it up.”

  “Are you afraid to be seen in a pair of tastefully-designed underwear?”

  I huff and gaze out the window at the flying gulls for a minute to regain my equilibrium. “Cleo, that’s not the point. I’m sure your boxers cover as much or more than most bathing suits.”

  “Then, why?”

  “I’m a professional. With a professional reputation to preserve. People trust me with their money. A stunt like this would damage that trust.”

  She nods. “I get that. Okay. You’re off the hook for a photo shoot. But you could do me another favor instead.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If I gave you a week’s worth, would you test them out for me? They’ve been through beta testing and had favorable reviews, but I didn’t know any of those people. I’d like feedback from real men.”

  “Sure, I’ll be glad to do that for you.”

  The smile returns. “Thank you very much.”

  “Come here.”

  “No. I recognize that look. I’m going to finish my breakfast.”

  “Bring your breakfast over here and sit on my lap to eat it.”

  “Ewww, give it a rest, perv! I just got off your Eiffel Tower.”

  I capture her wrist and pull her toward me. “Let me show you my oil derrick instead.”

  She waggles her brows at me. “So you can cover me with your liquid gold?”

  “That sounds like fun.”

  I tug, and she lands draped across my lap.

  *****

  “Hi, Dad. What’s up?”

  I can’t remember the last time a woman and I were in bed when my father called. And normally, I wouldn’t have answered with a woman in my bed, but Cleo and I had been in bed for most of the day, and when the phone vibrated, I glanced to see who it was.

  “Sure, I can stop by and take a look. When’s good for you?” At the sound of my voice, Cleo squirms in her sleep.

  “Right now? Well, I’m entertaining.” A delicate hand palms my crotch, strokes my cock like it’s a pet. Dad better hurry up, because the blood’s rushing out of my brain.

  “Better make it closer to an hour, hour-and-a-half. Good deal. See ya then.”

  I put the phone back on the nightstand and flip us over. “You’re a bad girl, Clementine Waiteberry.”

  Her throaty giggle as I latch onto a breast makes my cock throb. “Spare the rod, spoil the child.”

  “Oh, you’re gonna get the rod, all right. Plenty of rod. And guess what? We get to have what you’ve been pushing for since ou
r first time—Jack Rabbit sex! We have to be someplace in an hour. How fast can you come for me?”

  “You’re wasting time—aaaaggghhh!” she cries as I bite down on a stiff nipple and grind hard on her clit.

  “That’s one.” While she recovers from that sneak-attack climax, I roll on a condom.

  Positioning myself, I drive into her. She squeals and whips her arms and legs around me, chanting my name as I pound her pussy fast and deep. I’m just feeling the tingle in my balls when she stiffens and clenches like a vise on my long, thick cock. It sucks the cum right out of me in a few more thrusts.

  “That’s two.”

  Still more than half hard, I go again, digging deep, grinding her clit on the downstroke, then I pull back and repeat. She adds “omigod” to the chant. My thrusts are so intense, they force a short whine from her every time. I’m not full-strength again yet, so to help her hit her next one, I shove a hand under her hip and slide a finger down her backside. Locating the tight, little bud, I give it a rub. It makes her clench down on me, pulling her closer to her release. A couple more rhythmic rubs, and she’s shuddering through another climax.

  “Three.”

  She moans. “No more. I surrender.”

  “But, honey, I’m hard as a bone all over again. You gonna waste this prime piece of man meat? Here, I’ll make it easier on you.”

  I pull out and flip her on her belly, a pillow under her hips. I feed myself back into her, my legs on the outside of hers so she’s even tighter on me, and I start pounding her again. I slide a hand in and add pressure on her clit. Every time I thrust, it rocks her up against the fingers on either side of her nub and wrings one last orgasm out of her just as I explode inside her a second time.

  My body collapses on top of hers, heart racing, and I’m sucking in air like I just ran a marathon. She’s a limp noodle underneath me. “Are you still with me, hummingbird?”

  “Jack Rabbit sex,” she monotones, utterly spent. “Anytime, anyplace.”

  I can’t believe he’s taking me home to meet Mom and Dad. The one and only date we’ve had was a disaster. I don’t even know his favorite color. Oh. Yes, I do. Beige. But I don’t know his favorite food, his birthday…I don’t know when his birthday is! I saw a brother, I think, in the coffee shop with him, but is there just the one? We’ve never talked about our families. And here I am, about to meet his. Oh, well, what’s the worst that could happen? I’m too blissed out to worry about it right now.

  Shit, if Tony’s plan to slow me down is to wear me out with sex, I guess he’s succeeding. That’s okay. I like it much better than meditation. It’s easier to practice.

  We pull into a driveway. “Your parents live on the beach, too?”

  “Yep. This is where I grew up.”

  He hops out the driver’s door and comes around to help me out. After climbing a flight of steps, we reach the front door and walk on in. I glance around, noting the layout of this house is similar to Tony’s. But with lots of nice, warm color. No monochrome chic going on here, thank goodness.

  “Hello!” Tony calls out.

  A beautiful woman with high cheekbones, silvery blonde hair, and the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen pops out of where I figure the kitchen is. “Hello, darling!”

  He scoops her into a hug and pecks her cheek. “Mammina, this is Clementine Waiteberry.”

  “Cleo, please. It’s very nice to meet you.”

  “Cleo, I’m Evelyn, but my friends call me Evie, so I hope you will, too. I can’t tell you how pleased I am you’re here.”

  I exchange glances with Tony, who grins and shrugs. “She begs all the time to meet the girls we date.”

  “And you’re the first I’ve met.”

  Well, isn’t that an interesting bit of news. I smile sweetly up at Tony and flutter my lashes at him. Oh, I am so gonna milk this later. “I’m very happy to be here, thank you.”

  Her grin tells me nothing much gets past her, at least when it comes to her son. Evie pats his shoulder. “Honey, your father’s in the den. Why don’t you go talk business, and I’ll entertain Cleo.”

  He checks with me, question in his eyes. I nod, and he smiles. “I won’t be far, and I won’t be gone long. Mom, behave yourself.” Her chuckle is inviting and slightly mischievous.

  “Take your time, money-man. Your mom has all sorts of secrets I want to know.”

  He looks pointedly at his mother. “That’s exactly what I mean. Don’t give Cleo any more ammunition. She takes enough pot shots at me already.”

  “Excellent!” she says, linking her arm with mine. “Come keep me company in the kitchen, will you? I’m dying for some girl talk.”

  “I’m all yours, and Evie? I want to hear everything.” I scrunch up my face at Tony.

  He groans before he turns to join his dad. “And you wonder why we never brought anybody home.”

  *****

  “Tell me everything I should know about Cleo,” Evie says when we have wine in hand and are sitting at the table facing the sea.

  “Okay, pertinent facts: I’m twenty-nine. I have a degree from Chapel Hill in Marketing. I own my own ad agency and a newer business designing undergarments. I’ve never been arrested or married. My parents are dead, and I have no siblings. I don’t live on the beach. Enough?”

  She smiles at me. “It’ll do very nicely for a start. But since I’m starved for another woman to talk to with all the men in my life, I’ll be wheedling information out of you constantly. So, my turn: I’m fifty-three, my husband and I both graduated from Raleigh-Durham. He’s the CEO of a local hospital, and I was lucky enough to get to stay home with our four boys.”

  “Four!”

  She blinks. “Yes. Hasn’t Tony mentioned that?”

  “Nope, hasn’t gotten around to that yet.”

  The oven dings, and she squints to see what it is. “It’s up to temperature. Nothing I need to react to. Don’t let me burn dinner. I’m so used to Adam grilling, I forget how to cook during the colder months.” Evie swallows some of her wine, then leans in and pats me on the arm. “What I want to know now is the story of how you and Tony met.”

  “Well, Evie, that’s an entertaining story.” I tell her all the stupid things I did and how he handled it. I tell her about the project we ended up working on together.

  I omit how our second date ended up being a trip to the doctor together to have our STD tests and renew my birth control prescription.

  I tell her everything that’s fit to tell, because I like this woman. Tony’s mother is warm and intelligent and kind. She knows when to laugh and when to commiserate. I hope no matter what happens between her son and me, that we’ll be able to be friends. With time, she could end up being the mother I can’t remember and a best girlfriend, all wrapped up in the same package.

  “Is he good to you?” she asks.

  I can’t help but smile, thinking back on our sass and the nose-to-nose confrontations. But is he good to me? “Yes, he’s always been good to me. You raised a very nice son. Oh, except when he’s being bossy, of course.”

  “Which is most of the time, of course,” she adds.

  “Pretty much.”

  “Of all our sons, he’s the most like my husband, Adam. Sensitive souls with innate leadership instincts. They are fiercely loyal to the people they care about, which makes them bossy and overprotective and controlling sometimes. I learned how to deal with Adam during those times. I’m sure you’ll figure it out with Tony, too.”

  “And I can ask you for advice?”

  “You can ask, but these men, I’m tellin’ ya, they can be a handful. But in strange ways, they’re almost fragile. Their hearts can be broken. I wouldn’t be much of a mom if I didn’t warn you to please take care of my son. Try not to hurt him. The fact that he brought you to us means you’re special to him. And that means you have the power to hurt him.”

  The lump in my throat makes it hard to swallow.

  CHAPTER 11

  Well, that’s a first. T
he first time I took a girl home to meet the folks. The first time my dad took me aside to have the sex talk. The married sex talk. About keeping a woman satisfied over the long haul rather than the short term. I’m sure it was very good advice. But I’ll never know, because I tuned it out, afraid he was going to tell me more about his and mom’s sex life than it would be humanly possible to forget later.

  One thing jumped at me, though. He kept talking about how to show my love. That when you love a woman, yaddah, yaddah. Love this, love that.

  So, the bottom line is this: am I falling in love with Cleo?

  She’s infuriating, yet I come back for more.

  She’s a mess, yet it makes me feel better than I’ve ever felt before to have her lean on me, even when she doesn’t realize she is. Maybe especially when she doesn’t realize she is.

  She’s a bundle of nervous energy. But when she falls apart in my arms and lets me hold her close, I never want to let go.

  She invades my space and disorders the structures of my life, yet I feel more vibrant and happy than I can remember.

  Is that what love is?

  Or I am just fascinated by her novelty? Will her charm eventually wear off, and only the annoyance remain?

  A woman like Eleanor would be easier, smoother, without the constant ups and downs Cleo brings. Yet in all the time we dated, I never considered having her meet my parents. Cleo and I haven’t even really dated. We just dived head-first into a relationship. Yet, when Dad called, wanted me to come talk to him about some investment he’d heard about, I didn’t hesitate to say yes and drag Cleo with me.

  Is that love?

  *****

  A commotion outside my office door heralds Cleo’s arrival. Voices murmur, and I wonder what she’s going to spring on me today. I get up from my desk and cross the room to find out. When I open the door, I’m met with her cheery grin, peeping at me from behind a twisted metal sculpture that looks like tongues of purplish-red flame.

  “Oh, good! I’m glad you’re here. This base is really too much for Linda or me to carry, and the delivery guy is bringing up the trees.”