by Cat Carmine
He reaches out his hand and pulls me to my feet and then he’s grazing his lips against mine. For a moment, I let my arms twine around his neck, letting my body press against his. Even with the orgasm he just had, I can already feel his cock stiffening against my belly as we kiss.
I lose myself in the moment. His lips move against mine and when he slips his tongue across them I don’t resist. I let him kiss me. There’s a passion in his kiss and a tenderness in his touch that makes my knees feel weak.
It feels like a real kiss.
For a half a red hot second, I even let myself believe it. I let myself believe that the chemistry I felt with Mister Bigshot is something real. That it’s more than just words on a screen.
Trent’s arms around me feel too good to be true though. This whole thing feels too good to be true.
And don’t they always say that if something seems too good to be true, it probably is?
I force myself to break off the kiss. I turn away so that he can’t see how hard it is for me to catch my breath.
“I have to go,” I tell him abruptly.
“Hannah?” There’s confusion in his voice.
“I’ll see you around … or something.” Then I grab the knob, push open the door, and get away from his office as fast as I possibly can.
24
lovemail
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: “or something?”
I’ll see you around … or something? That simply isn’t good enough.
When can I see you again?
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Well
We work in the same building. You can see me any time you want.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Still not good enough
I mean when can I see you. /insert sexy inflection.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Sorry
I don’t know.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Huh
What’s going on here, sweet?
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: The problem
What’s going on here is you’re my boss.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Pfft
I was your boss the other day too and that didn’t seem to stop us. Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Ha
Oh, I’m on my fifth or sixth thoughts by now.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: How about this?
Okay, well, let’s go back to a version where this worked out better for me. Was there a version where you said yes to going out with me?
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Smart ass
I think that was version three, but it was heavily influenced by cheap beer.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Why thank you
Perfect. So I’ll take version three. I’ll just make sure there’s cheap beer there.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Right
Somehow I can’t picture you drinking cheap beer.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: ??
Why not?
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Seriously?
Ummmmmm let’s see, maybe because you wear suits that cost more than six months of rent for me?
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Then you may be interested to know…
… That when we were first trying to get Loft & Barn off the ground, Luke and I used to go to Freaky Freddy’s Pool Hall every week for Friday Buck-a-Beers.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Freddy’s??
I just spit coffee all over myself.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Oh dear
Then you must let me make it up to you.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Well…
Only if you take me to Freaky Freddy’s Pool Hall.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Done
It’s a date.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: ??
Wait, really?
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: I win
Yes, really. Wear something slutty. ;)
25
Hannah
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
How in the hell did I let Trent Whittaker talk me into going to a dodgy pool hall with him? I mean — those two things are so incongruous. I’m starting to think it was my very own incredulity that made me say yes.
Freaky Freddy’s pool hall is in an area of town I haven’t really ever been to before. Trent had offered to drive me but I didn’t want to be dependent on him for a ride so I take a cab. When it pulls up in front of the building I almost tell the driver to take me somewhere else. The building is old, with peeling beige paint and a red and green hand-drawn sign that just says Freaky Freddy’s. It’s a little serial-killery, to be honest.
I force myself out of the cab and push open the dusty glass door. Fortunately, the inside isn’t nearly as dodgy as I’m expecting. The place is clean and instead of the old-timers I’m expecting, it’s mostly bustling with hipsters.
Even though it’s not what I expected, I still can’t picture Trent here.
I wander around but there’s no sign of him yet. I go back to the door to wait. It feels like I wait forever, but it’s probably just nerves. A few minutes later, I see a huge black SUV pull up in front of the pool hall. I know instinctively that it’s him — no one else in this neighborhood would drive a car that expensive.
Trent pulls the glass door open and smiles when he sees me. The smile lights up his entire face and I feel my legs go a bit wobbly. They only get worse when he leans over and kisses me. It’s not an intense kiss — just a soft peck on the side of the mouth — but somehow the casual intimacy of it is even more beguiling. Every time I see him, the dynamic of our relationship seems to change.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he says. “Traffic was terrible.”
I finally get a moment to take him in and I have to admit that the view is pretty spectacular. He’s traded in his usual suit for a navy blue polo shirt and a pair of dark, perfectly worn jeans that probably cost more than my whole wardrobe. But the way they fit him — yeah, I’d say they were worth every penny. They hug his muscular thighs and sit just low enough on his hips that I can imagine the vee of his body underneath, the treasure trail that leads to …
I force my mind off that train of thought and follow him over to the bar. I look around while he pays for a table, and when he finally turns back to me, I have to tell him.
“I have bad news.”
“What?” He looks worried.
“They don’t do buck-a-beers anymore.” I gesture to the sign over the bar. “They’re two-fift
y-nine-a-beers.”
“Fucking inflation,” he curses. I laugh and he grins. “That’s okay. We’re going all out tonight and getting a pitcher.”
“And fries?”
“Anything you want.”
“Wow,” I say breathlessly. “I never knew dating a CEO would come with so many perks.”
“Stick with me, babe. You might even get an ice cream cone out of it later.”
“I’d rather have something else to lick.” The words are out of my mouth before I realize what I’m saying. I clap my hand over my mouth but Trent just laughs and slings his arm around my shoulder.
“That can most definitely be arranged as well.”
The flush on my cheeks fades to a comfortable warmth as Trent orders a pitcher from the bar and we make our way over to an empty table at the back of the room. It’s dark back here except for the green globe light hanging over the table. Trent pours us each a beer and we clink our glasses together and drink. I feel another rush of warmth but I don’t know if it’s the beer or the way Trent is looking at me over the rim of his glass.
“Ladies break?” Trent asks finally, as he sets down his glass and starts racking up the balls.
“Sure,” I say. “I feel like I have to warn you though — I’m really terrible at this.”
“Oh, I don’t believe that.”
I laugh. “You don’t have to believe it. You’re going to find out for sure in about two minutes.”
Sure enough, I break and the balls barely scatter.
“That was … good,” Trent says and I laugh again.
“I told you.”
“You just need to put some muscle into it. Here.”
He comes to stand behind me and even though it’s cliche as hell, it still sends a shiver from my head to my toes when he leans his body against mine.
“Hold it like this,” he says, as he adjusts my arms and the way I’m holding the cue. “Come on, Hannah. I know you know how to handle a stick.”
My cheeks flush. “A stick, I can handle,” I say. “It’s the balls I seem to be having a problem with.”
“No, I’d say you were rather adept at balls as well.”
I don’t know what to say to that so I just let him bend me further over the table and wiggle my ass back a little bit, just to tease him.
“Ahem,” he says, holding his hand over mine. “Now, in pool, I find it helpful to think about someone you really hate.”
“Someone I hate?”
“An ex is usually a good choice, in my experience.”
An image of Matt pops into my head. I almost giggle when I think about what he would say if he could see what I’ve been up to with Trent. Trent and I haven’t even had sex and it’s still the best sex I’ve ever had.
“Got someone in mind?” he asks. His body is still pressed against mine and it’s hard to keep thinking about Matt when I can feel the beginnings of Trent’s erection digging into me.
“Yes.”
“Good. Now all you have to do is imagine that the cue ball is this person’s face.”
I try to picture Matt’s face on the ball.
“Now hit it.”
I shove the cue into the ball and for once, there’s some power to it. It hits the other balls, which are still tightly clumped at one end of the table, and they scatter. The yellow one goes into one of the side pockets.
“I did it!” I turn around and face Trent, who’s grinning at me.
“See? A little bit of hate can be a powerful thing.”
I take a sip of my beer and smile. “I like it. So who do you picture?”
Trent doesn’t answer. He grabs his beer and takes a long swallow.
“Sorry,” I wince. “I forgot. The ex-fiancee.”
He nods. “The ex-fiancee.”
Trent had mentioned his former fiancee a few times, but he had never said exactly what happened between them. I’d be lying if I said my curiosity wasn’t piqued, but the way Trent’s eyes darken in the already dark bar tells me I’m better off changing the subject.
“So where did you learn to play pool?” I ask instead.
“College,” he says. He takes another sip of his beer and then lines up a shot. “Luke and I used to play all the time. That and foosball.”
He takes the shot and sinks the red ball in the corner pocket, then gestures for me to take a turn.
“Where’d you to school again?”
“Harvard.”
“Right, I think you mentioned that once. MBA?”
He nods. “We both started out there, though Luke ended up dropping out part way through. He absolutely hated it. I think he’d be happy if he never had to see another number again in his life. Unless it’s a measurement.”
“So you guys split the work now? Luke does the design stuff and you handle the business side?”
He nods.
“Must be nice for him. Sounds like you got the short end of that stick.”
“I don’t mind it,” he says. “Business is like a combination of art and science, and I like that it appeals to two different parts of me. Besides, I look better in a suit than he does.”
“That I would definitely agree with.”
We finish the game and then play another — although calling it a game is a stretch. Mostly we just take turns and Trent sinks most of the balls. I’ve got a little more strength in my shot now but they still go wild as hell and I’m lucky to even hit another ball with the cue ball. But between the conversation and the beer, I end up laughing more than I have in ages.
I never would have believed it, but it turns out that Trent Whittaker is a fun date.
By the time our pitcher is done, I’m slightly tipsy and enjoying myself a little too much. I lean into Trent’s chest.
“Kiss me,” I tell him, surprising myself.
He looks down at me, the corners of his mouth twisting up into a smile. “With pleasure.”
He snakes his arms around my waist and pulls me to him. I have to stand on my tiptoes but when he finds my mouth with his, it’s heaven. His lips move softly against mine at first. It’s so gentle and sweet that it makes me dizzy and I lean into him even more. I kiss him harder, opening my mouth to him and swirling my tongue around his. I want to taste every part of him. I want to feel every part of him. I want to …
As if he can read my mind, Trent pulls away. His eyes are hooded, his breathing short and quick.
“Want to get out of here?” he asks.
Goosebumps prick my arms and a heat courses through me.
“With pleasure.”
26
Trent
I text Ted, my driver, and tell him to bring the car around. He appears in record time and I hold the back door of the SUV open for Hannah.
“You have your own driver?” she whispers, as if he might hear her, even though the partition is closed and it’s quite soundproof.
I chuckle. “Yes. Does that surprise you?”
She shakes her head, looking bemused. “Nothing surprises me about you.”
I laugh as I climb in behind her. “Well, then that makes us opposite. Because so far, everything has surprised me about you.”
She turns to face me as I close the door behind me and the car pulls away from the curb.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you keep me on my toes.”
“Is that a good thing?” She looks suspicious and I have to laugh again.
“Yes, sweet, it’s a good thing. Now come here.”
I pull her onto my lap so that she’s facing me, and then I pick up where we left off. Her mouth is so fucking soft and amazing — and kissing her makes me think of how her lips felt wrapped around my cock the other day. The memory alone makes me groan into her mouth.
She moves her hands up and tangles them in my hair, tilting my head so she can kiss me even deeper. I run my hands over her body and bring them to her chest, cupping her full tits in my hands. That makes her moan this time and when she tilts her head back I kiss th
e soft hollow of her throat.
“Hang on,” I tell her and stop caressing her nipples.
“Trent,” she groans, which makes me grin.
“Just a second,” I tell her. I reach for my phone and then open up the Lovemail app and the email I have cued up. I start to read to her.
“Have you ever had sex in a car? I would love to do that some day. I would love to just crawl into your lap, push my panties aside and slide down onto your cock while we drove down Lake Shore.”
I look up at Hannah. Her eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed.
“Look where we are, sweet.” I press my nose against her neck as she turns to look out the window. I feel her sharp intake of breath — though I don’t know if it’s because she’s just realized we’re on Lake Shore now, or if it’s because of the way I run my tongue along the soft hollow of her throat.
She turns to look at me again. Her brown eyes are dark with lust and her lips part as she leans in toward me again. She finds my mouth and then we’re kissing again. She braces her hands against my chest and I reach around to cup her ass, nestling her in tighter against me.
She squirms in my lap and I know she can feel how hard my cock is right now. It’s straining against my jeans and I shift to try to get comfortable — but it’s not happening. There’s no getting comfortable right now. Every part of me is calling out for her.
“I can’t wait to bury myself in you,” I say. My words are almost lost in her mouth but I know she hears them because she groans against me. Her lips are moving all over my face now, kissing me everywhere, and she grinds herself back and forth in my lap. She’s wearing another one of those fucking little sundresses — I’m starting to think I should send a thank you note to whoever manufactures them — and I push it up her thighs so that I can feel her soft skin.