by L. M. Carr
“Morgan, I can’t promise you I won’t fuck up. I’ve had no regard for anyone else pretty much my entire life.”
I nod, accepting his words to be a reminder when he screws up. After all, he is a man.
“Things will be just fine as long as you don’t eat all the peanut M&Ms I’ve got stashed away.”
Sucking in through his teeth, Andrew says playfully, “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
♦♦♦
My email pings shortly before lunch and I open it to find several attachments. I click on each one and realize they’re restaurant menus.
I type and send a response to Andrew’s lunch request. Lunch @ 1:30 with a new client. You coming?
An immediate reply. Not yet, but soon. ;)
He’s been texting me nonstop all morning and I’ve not gotten much work done, thinking about how he provided a very detailed and extremely explicit play by play of what is going to happen tonight.
Andrew Darling is a mischievous man.
♦♦♦
Andrew and I walk into Maggiano’s Italian Eatery and are quickly escorted to a large table where Dominic Maggiano awaits. The wait staff fly around, meeting the needs of the lunch hour patrons. Introductions are made, seats are taken and a beverage order placed.
“We waita few minutes for da chef. He wantsa to meet you.”
A pretty waitress dressed entirely in black smiles at Andrew before placing our drinks on plain, stark white cocktail napkins and departing quickly. I smile at him, knowing how much he enjoys teasing about the green-eyed monster who resides in me. My free hand squeezes his thigh beneath the table. He covers my hand with his own and slides my hand closer to his groin. I shoot him a look then return my attention to the older gentleman whose restaurant bears his last name.
Mr. Maggiano looks at Andrew. “Imma very sorry abouta Mark anda Diana. Dey were gooda people.”
“Thank you,” I reply in his stead although I bite my tongue from setting the record straight about them and the mistreatment of their son.
I slide the glass of water off the cocktail napkin and flatten it with my fingers as I ask Mr. Maggiano what his branding plans are.
The burly man who looks like he’s eaten one too many bowls of Fettucine Alfredo shrugs and takes a healthy swig of his prosecco. “I don’ta know. My son, he saysa we needa to,” he looks up as if he’s trying to retrieve the word from his memory.
“Advertise,” I suggest with a smile.
“Yes! That’sa it. For fifty yearsa, I usea white. Buta nooo, my son saysa no white, papa.”
A man of average height hurries over and sits next to the older man. “Sorry, pop. It’s busy back there. I’ve only got a few minutes.”
When the man turns away from his father, I am met with a pair of incredible green eyes set deep against smooth olive skin. My eyes roam over a face so perfect that I doubt even Michel Angelo could’ve captured its beauty.
He extends his hand. “Hello. I’m Al.” Al? He doesn’t look like an Al.
I slide my hand into his and offer a quick greeting. “Morgan.”
His father interjects as Andrew and Al shake hands firmly.
“Andrew’s a silent business partner,” I clarify with a wink when asked about his role in the company.
“Al? Why you saya Al? Your namea is Alessandro. Alessandro Vittorio Maggiano.” Raising a hand in the air and pointing to the embroidered lettering on the white jacket. “I hatea whena you saysa Ala. Whata doesa it saysa righta therea? Chefa Alessandro no Chefa Al.”
Andrew and I chuckle at Alessandro’s expense as he shakes his head at his father then grins. “Sorry, pop.”
I feel Andrew’s chair shift as his body moves in closer to mine.
“I don’t know why this meeting was schedule for one thirty.” Alessandro looks at his father pointedly. “We’re in the middle of lunch.”
“You worka too harda. You needa to settle downa, geta married, havea bambinos. Look at thisa one. Sheesa beautiful girla.”
Mr. Maggiano tips his chin at me. “Are youa married?”
My cheeks flush. “No, sir, but I do have a boyfriend.” I swallow nervously at my use of a label.
“Pop, please!”
A waitress returns to the table with hot fresh bread, olive oil and a small bowl of peppers mixed with Kalamata olives.
“Mangia, bella.”
After breaking off two slices, I dunk them in the oil and sprinkle cheese on top of the bread keeping one dish for myself and handing the other over to Andrew.
“So, Alessandro, tell me what your marketing plans are. Like your dad said, you’ve been in business for fifty years so why the need to rebrand?”
The chef smiles warmly at his father before glancing at me. “My father is pretty much retired. The same people have been coming here year after year and I want to reach more people, spice up the menu a bit by adding some new dishes and possibly expand upstate or down the Jersey shore.”
“Okay, so you want to spice things up,” I ask, reaching for my fork and plucking a small pepper out of the oil filled bowl. “What kind of pepper is this?”
Alessandro grins and a dimple appears. “Be careful! That’s a diavoletti. It’s hot and spicy.”
“Hot and spicy. Why don’t we think about incorporating this pepper into your brand?” I grab a pencil from my bag and sketch a few ideas down on a white paper placemat. I offer it to the Maggiano men and wait for their feedback.
The elder Maggiano nods as does his son. “I like it. What do you think?” Alessandro asks, addressing Andrew.
Andrew looks at me and smirks. “Not only is she beautiful, but she’s also the brains behind the business. She’s got a great eye for nice looking things.”
Commotion from the kitchen requires Alessandro’s attention for which he apologizes profusely. He rises from the table to tend to the mess behind the swinging doors. “Call me so we can set up another meeting. Maybe after dinner some night this week,” he calls back as he disappears.
With bellies full and a million ideas swirling around my head, Andrew and I thank the restaurant owner for his business and hospitality.
“I’ll be in touch,” I promise with a smile and firm handshake.
“You calla my Alessandro. He knowsa more.”
Stepping outside, Andrew reaches for my hand and pulls me into the small alleyway between the next brick building.
“What the h—”
A rough hand grasps the nape of my neck and my head is tilted, held firmly in place as Andrew’s eyes bore into mine. “You are something else, Miss Montgomery.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask slowly, wondering if he drank a little too much prosecco at lunch.
“You had both men eating out of the palm of your hand. The way you spoke to them and shared your ideas. I...I don’t even—”
It’s my turn to crash my mouth against his and thrust my tongue into his mouth, savoring the taste of sweet wine. My hands roam over his hard chest and my fingers grip the collar of his jacket, baring my teeth as though I want to eat him alive. “Take me home NOW.”
♦♦♦
We crash into the front door of the pool house, clawing wildly at each other’s clothes, desperate to shed any barrier. Passionate moans fill the small space of my temporary home as I wrap my legs around Andrew’s waist and he carries me to my room.
My shirt is yanked open and the small buttons fly in every direction, causing me to laugh at his uncontrollable desire to be buried deep inside me.
“Don’t laugh at me,” he warns as he pulls my pants and underwear down in one quick motion. “I’ve waited long enough to have you again.”
Lying naked on my unmade bed, with my libido racing and pebbled nipples, I take a moment to appreciate his beautiful, sculpted body when slowly he reaches back and pulls off his black T-shirt after having already shed his button down shirt.
“You made me wait a very long time. Maybe I should make you wait a little, too.”
Moving away to stand, Andrew unbuttons his jeans then unzips them at a painstakingly slow rate, exposing the dark hair at the end of his V until inch by inch his thick hard cock is released. Standing in all his glory, Andrew takes hold of his erection by the shaft and strokes it slowly while keeping his eyes pinned on me. I gasp at the sight and clench my thighs when my core muscles throb.
“Please,” I whimper and beg as I watch him pleasure himself. “Please, Andrew.”
“Open your legs for me, Morgan.”
Immediately, I do as he commands; the deep tenor of his voice leaves me no other choice. I am enthralled, entranced by the back and forth motion of his hand.
“Touch yourself like you did the other night.” His blue eyes darken as his voice deepens.
My hands move simultaneously. One clutches my breast then moves to roll the beaded nipple between shaky fingers. The other slides over my stomach, descending southward to the intimate place where desire rages out of control.
“Rub your clit.”
I widen my legs and the light scent of my arousal floats in the air, causing me to close my eyes momentarily and inhale as I continue the small circular motion.
The bed dips and the sensation of Andrew’s tongue replaces my index and forefinger.
“Hold this beautiful pussy open for me,” he says, reaching for both my hands.
Like a hungry and thirsty man returning from the desert, Andrew devours and laps at my wet folds. He moves his tongue effortlessly with the perfect amount of pressure as the tension in my sex builds. Raising my hips so my inner thighs rest on his shoulders, the feast continues.
“I can’t,” I pant breathlessly. “I can’t take it.”
Spurred on by my words, Andrew shoves his fingers into my core and plunges them deeply.
I release the hold on my sex and grip the bedsheets with fingers curled so tightly, I fear they may break. I swallow thickly, and my eyes shoot wide open, as if they’re dilated, I’m unable to focus on any one thing.
“Give it to me. I fucking want it.”
My painted toes curl and my thighs slam shut when a surge of energy mingled with heat shoots through my core, giving way to the most intense and epic orgasm I’ve ever experienced. Like a roller coaster reaching the summit, I throw my head back and freefall, zipping around every corner as my body thrashes wildly. “Oh my God!” I cry out. “Fuckkkkkk!”
“That’s it!” Andrew mumbles while still fucking me with his mouth and fingers. “Don’t stop!”
A continuous wave of bliss lifts me higher and higher until I reach the peak and crash again.
Sweat covers my skin as moisture continues to seep from my core.
I struggle to breathe and am on the verge of tears. Not tears of sadness but tears of joy, laced with satisfaction that I finally experienced what most women only dream of.
When my eyes eventually open, Andrew is kneeling, positioned adjacent to my face. I lick my lips in anticipation of tasting him, of returning the favor.
Gripping the base of his cock, I lift my head and guide him close. My tongue slides out greedily and licks the bead of moisture before I part my lips and take him into my mouth entirely. Swirling my tongue slowly, I pay attention to the thick, swollen head. With even, rhythmic movements, I stroke him as I suck harder and take him deeper into my throat.
“Holy fuck.”
Torn between wanting his dick in my mouth or between my legs, I scramble to my knees and push him so that he’s sitting back on his haunches. Quick hands gather my hair, providing him with an unobstructed view of my mouth.
“So fucking good.”
Saliva pools in my mouth and coats his erection while some seeps through and drips down to his balls. My free hand cups the sacs and massages gently.
“You’re,” he stammers and exhales sharply. “You’re gonna make me come, Morgan.”
I continue sucking and stroking until every muscle in his body tightens as does the firm grip of my hair.
Grunting and cursing, Andrew comes hard. A huge explosion of hot, creamy liquid erupts into my mouth, shooting a continuous flow all over my tongue, leaving me no option but to swallow his seed. I look up to find him with his head tilted upward and his eyes closed shut, a pained look on his face.
“You okay?”
He nods and gasps for air as if he’d been deprived of it for far too long. He drags his hands through his hair then returns them to my head and slowly caresses the long strands. “That was...”
Rising to my knees, I slide my hands around his neck and pull his mouth close to mine, mumbling against his lips. “Amazing.”
“What the fuck!” he yells, startling me, prompting me to ask what’s wrong.
He chuckles as he guides us down to the bed. “Dammit! I still haven’t fucked you.”
“Uh,” I look up and smirk. “You kind of just did.”
Stretching his body over mine, Andrew grins wickedly at me. “That, sweetheart, was just a little foreplay.”
“Oh God. I don’t think I can take much more.”
“You don’t really have much of a choice now.” His mouth moves against mine and I feel his erection stiffen and press into the seam of my sex.
“Already?” I laugh.
He hums in confirmation, and I feel the head of his dick push in.
“Wait!” I yelp. “You’re not wearing a condom.”
“Don’t you have any?” he asks seriously.
“No! Where are the ones you bought Saturday?”
“At the house.”
“Wait, why the hell would I have condoms anyway?” I hiss, trying to remember the last time I had sex with someone other than a battery operated apparatus.
“Maybe you were hoping Alessandro Maggiano might make a special home delivery.”
I scrunch my face, feeling slighted by the backhanded comment. “Why don’t you run up to the house and grab some. I’m sure you’ve got a stock pile from when you get together with Paige.”
Andrew rolls off me and throws his arm over his head, covering his eyes. I turn on my side to face him, my fingers long to touch his chest and make things right again.
Instead, I ask quietly, “What the hell just happened here?”
His anxious eyes find mine. “I’m sorry. It’s just...never mind. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Then why did you?”
A deep sigh escapes from his chest. “Morgan, growing up the way I did, I never really had anything to call my own. This,” he points between us, “makes me a little nervous and a little possessive. I want you all to myself, all for myself.”
“Okay,” I sing song, wondering where this is all coming from. There has to be more to the story.
“I saw the way you looked at him.”
“Who?”
“The chef.”
“He’s a beautiful man,” I confirm.
Andrew’s swollen lips purse and he exhales, putting his insecurity on full display.
“But I’m not attracted to him. Is that what you’re worried about?”
Seemingly embarrassed, Andrew groans at his reaction. “It’s hard for me to believe someone like you wants someone like me.”
In an instant, I curl myself into his body and toss my legs over his thighs. “I’m not sure who you think I am, but I’m no saint. I’ve got my fair share of sins.”
“Oh really? Name one.”
“Okay.” I grin. “When I was thirteen, I broke into our local Catholic Church, got drunk on wine and ate all the communion wafers. The cops brought me home.”
My confession elicits his laughter. “Is that what your mother was talking about?”
I nod and smile. “She’s a devout Catholic. She probably still thinks I’m going to hell for it.”
“My sins are much worse.”
“And I just committed an act which used to be illegal in some states.”
“I’ll forgive you for that one.”
M
y fingertip traces small circles through the hair on his chest. “Everyone has some insecurities.” I prop onto my elbow, look at him and prepare to speak. My voice squeaks, tiny and unsure. “I told you about my ex and how that made me feel. I know Paige calls you all the time and...”
“And what?” he asks.
“I won’t go through that again.”
Forcing a hard swallow, Andrew exhales but says nothing.
“Remember at the beach I told you I know who I am and what I want?”
He nods thoughtfully.
“I won’t be tossed onto the back burner ever again. I’d walk away before that happened.”
Andrew searches my eyes.
“So before this thing between us even begins, I need to know that Paige won’t be in the picture.”
“Paige who?” he chuckles, attempting to lighten the somber tone of our conversation. “No, Morgan. You have nothing to worry about there. She’s not important at all. She doesn’t have anything I want or need.”
Nodding, I accept his answer and pray for its sincerity.
“You are who I want, Morgan. You’re the one I think about all the time. You’re the one I need. Even when I was being an asshole, I thought about you. I couldn’t deny it even though I tried really hard to push you out of my mind.”
“Why would you do that? Why deny it? We have a connection. I think it’s probably always been there.”
“We do, but we also have an intense physical attraction to each other and sex has always been a way for me to deal with shit. I didn’t want to do that to you. You’re not like everyone else.”
He stops talking momentarily, contemplates quietly and then begins again. “I didn’t get attention from the one woman who should’ve given it to me so as I got older, I accepted attention from any woman who was willing to give it.”
“Sex.” My heart pinches at the thought.
He nods. “I know it was stupid and reckless.” He shrugs. “But it is what it is.”
Oh God. I can only imagine the number of women who’ve showered him with attention.
“Andrew, it’s not ideal, but it’s not stupid; it’s a coping mechanism. Everybody’s got one.”
“Yeah? What’s yours?”
“Peanut M&Ms.”
I lay my head on his chest and feel his heartbeat, wondering how his parents could have ever treated him so unkindly. So horribly. So abhorrently.