Vanilla Twist: A Walk on the Wild Side Novel (Heather and Tony, Book 2)

by C. J. Ellisson

  “I… uh…”

  He kisses me, long and deep and sensuous. He moves us, repositioning me on the couch so he leans over me, pinning me beneath him. “Cat got your tongue?” he smiles, then leans in to kiss my neck. “I know how you feel. Don’t hide from me.”

  A little eep of sound escapes as he nips under my ear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  His head whips up and he laughs at the faux innocent expression on my face. “Little minx.” He thrusts his hips forward, grinding his growing erection into my middle. “You sure do know what I’m talking about.”

  His lips return to mine, insistent and persuasive, nibbling on my bottom lip and then licking lightly. A soft moan of want escapes me and he smiles against my mouth. He shifts his weight to the side and runs a possessive hand across my breasts, then trails lower to my abdomen, and beyond, hesitating over the heat between my thighs.

  “You want me to take this dress off you, don’t you?” he whispers, nuzzling my cheek, while lifting his hot hand away.

  In answer, my hips arc off the couch, seeking his touch once more. I stare into his caramel eyes, my voice hitching with desire. “I want more than just that, Tony.”

  “Tell me,” he whispers, trailing his palm up my thigh under my dress.

  “I want you in my arms, all night, making me feel like there’s no other man in the world.”

  There’s a devilish glint in his eye. “And why would you want that?”

  The words struggle to break free, barreling past every fear I’ve ever had. “Because I love you. And you’re the only man for me.”

  His hand cups me over my underwear. “Now see? Was that so hard?”

  I chuckle, a low throaty sound, as I reach to massage him between his legs. “There’s certainly something hard right here.”

  A shudder ripples across his frame, “Woman, what you do to me.”

  “Hmmm… do tell.”

  The tenderness in his eyes makes my breath catch in my throat. “I’ll sum it up with three little words—I love you.”

  I may not know what tomorrow holds. But one thing I know for sure. This man will have a place in my heart forever.

  ~~*~~

  About the Author

  C.J. Ellisson lives in northern Virginia with her husband, two children, three dogs, and a fluffy black cat who makes her sneeze. Unlike most full-time authors, she's also battling severe chronic illness. C.J. works daily to put her Lupus into remission and continues to fight numerous bacterial infections while her immune system slowly attacks her body. She turned to writing when she could no longer work outside the home and claims the escape of penning contemporary erotic romance, urban fantasy, and erotica has helped save her sanity

  Vanilla Twist is the third published book in the Walk on the Wild Side series and there are currently five novels (three for Heather and Tony) and two novellas planned.

  Titles in reading order: Vanilla on Top, Vanilla Twist, Vanilla Spice (release date late 2014), Avoiding Mr. Right (Carla’s story), and Loving Ms. Wrong (Marcus’s story, March 2014). Andrea’s story (no title yet) will be written after Vanilla Spice is completed and there may be books for Tony’s brothers if there is enough reader interest.

  Books in C.J.’s erotic vampire series:

  Full Length Novels: Vampire Vacation, Book 1

  The Hunt, Book 2

  Big Game, Book 3

  Novella: Death Times Two, Book 3.5

  The V V Inn eBook Bundle, Books 1-3 (best price!)

  Prequel Novellas: Death’s Servant (Jon’s tale)

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  Dedication

  For Peter, my very own Tony.

  Acknowledgements

  I know I’m always thanking my readers in this section, but honestly, if it wasn’t for all of you I’d never be where I am today. I’m living the dream so many writers aspire to, and I have the support of my readers to thank for it. You lift me up when I’m feeling down, you offer comments and suggestions on Facebook when my health issues threaten to overwhelm me yet again, and you laugh at my attempts at humor. Thank you.

  My alpha readers stepped up to the plate on this manuscript. Once again, I’d taken on too much in my personal and work life and worked all the way to the wire on this novel. You ladies read and offered feedback faster than I could have ever expected. Big, BIG thanks to Sandy Schairer, Katrina Hough, Dea Jones, Patricia Statham, Kim Lapp, Danielle Nicholson, Cheryl Cape, Laura Ward, Kim Engstrom, Melissa Nelson, Teri Zuwala, Samantha Cudworth, Peggy Ptacek, Andrea Genovesi, Chelly Pazdan, Wendy Higgins, Tara Horn, Melissa Lewis, and Anna Cade. Writing is often a solitary journey and I appreciate your friendship and support more than you could ever know. Thanks again for being a part of the creative process with me.

  Thank you, Tina Winograd, for consistently being an editor who understands my vision and respects it, and for always improving my prose. You rock, girlfriend. I had a new proof reader on this book, Angela King, recommended to me by one of my loyal readers, Caren King. Thank you for working on a tight deadline with a sharp eye, you did a great job!

  As always, the biggest thanks goes to my husband, Pete. I really appreciate you agreeing to be my fully-clothed, posable fuck-dummy when I needed to “picture” a scene, and for patiently waiting while I wrote the scene immediately.

  Please read on for the first chapter to Avoiding Mr. Right.

  Book Description: In order to take control, you often have to let it go...

  Carla Johnson thinks issuing orders to a lover will keep her heart safe and leave her in charge of her own destiny. Afraid for Carla's future, her best friend Heather implores her to change her self-centered ways, handing her a list of love life mistakes to steer clear of:

  1. Casual Sex

  2. Friends with Benefits

  3. Avoidance of Intimacy

  Carla ignores the list—unwilling to face she might have a commitment problem. Until she invites a co-worker to her place one night. She instantly regrets the hum-drum sexual encounter and discourages the accountant from pursuing her.

  Andy Shea refuses to become another lover the feisty blonde dumps. It'll take a patient man with a strong hand to unlock Carla's sexual awareness and win her heart. He's up for the challenge to convince her he's the one--and eager to prove this number cruncher won't make a boring bedmate.

  Chapter One

  Carla

  “Casual Sex,” I say, twisting the phrase so it sounds like a bad thing. “There. I said it.” I look across the table and meet my best friend’s dark, knowing gaze. “Happy now?” Unable to hold her penetrating stare any longer, I reach for my tepid chai latte, grateful it’s tasty even cold.

  “I know you think I’m being a shrewish bitch, Carla. But it’s for your own good.” Heather picks up her favorite vanilla cappuccino and takes a drink.

  “And why is that, exactly?” Regret gnaws at my stomach. Why did I let myself get dragged into this conversation during my lunch hour? “Sure, you found your great ‘one-and-only’ guy, but I don’t think that’s going to happen with me.”

  Heather ignores me and taps her finger on the small sheet of paper on the table b
etween us. “Next one.”

  Geez, this feels like a one-woman intervention, and despite the jokes I could make over that realization, I’m really not enjoying it. The pleading on her compassionate face has me glancing at the slip of paper once more. “Friends with Benefits. Oh, come on, that too? I kind of like that one. Makes it much easier to stay friends when the guy winds up being dumb, but not bad in bed.”

  Heather’s mouth sets in a firm line and I plow ahead to the last item on her unhelpful “list” of what she sees as my love life faults. “Avoidance of Intimacy. Seriously? You think I do all this crap?” A knot of anxiety sits in my throat. “I’m not a fun-loving chick all the time, you know. I have been searching for the right guy.” The right guy who’s perfect in the sack and magically disappears before dawn. “Just haven’t found him yet.”

  “Really?” she counters, showing a touch of backbone my once-shy friend didn’t have a month ago. “And none of them were worthy of your time after you slept with them, huh?”

  A grimace twists my face and I try to smooth my features. “It’s not like that—I swear.” Secretly I fear it’s exactly like that. And what the hell does that say about me? That I’m a slut? I’m not. I like sex but I don’t sleep with just anyone like her darned unasked for list of faults implies. “They weren’t good matches for me.”

  “Uh-huh. Sure.”

  “Why are we discussing this…,” I gesture to the paper between us, “list of yours? I’m a careful woman. I always make sure they use a condom. My instincts are good. I’ve never been in a situation I couldn’t handle. What happened to make you think I needed—no wanted—your input in my love life?”

  Heather’s strength deflates and I feel like I’ve kicked a puppy. “It’s because I care about you, Carla, and want to see you happy. You keep up with this casual approach to relationships and you’re going to be alone for the rest of your life.”

  A snort erupts from me. “Like that’s a bad thing? I’m not afraid of being alone. In fact, I’m quite all right with it.” I resist the urge, just barely, to throw her words from a few weeks ago in her face. She was the one afraid of winding up alone and eating microwave meals-for-one her whole life. Not me. Never me.

  My goal has always been to find an exciting, independent man—one who’s a great lover and wants nothing emotional from me in return. I gaze out the window of our favorite coffee shop, staring at the pelting rain washing the city streets. Maybe my relaxed attitude would be better suited in Europe. Seems like the Puritanical ideals of America are still going strong, no matter how much women struggle with equality. If I were a guy no one would bat an eye at my desire for a lover with no emotional attachments weighing us down.

  An exciting man who’s good in bed. That’s not too much to ask is it? We’re in “the city that never sleeps” for crying out loud. There’s got to be a few guys who learned something in the sack since college, right? Maybe I can find one who isn’t emotionally scarred from a long-term relationship and where the woman taught him a thing or two. That would be hitting the relationship lottery in my book.

  Don’t forget good looking, great body, successful career, a big dick…

  Yeah, a girl can dream, right?

  Aware I need to get back to work, I glance at my watch then gather the remains of my meal. We say our goodbyes and I race into the rain, pulling up the hood on my stylish raincoat for the three-block trek to the office.

  Heather likes to forget—I’m not like her. I’ve always known what I want in my life and in my bed. She and Tony met at the exact time she was ready to blossom. My sexuality bloomed a long time ago and I quickly became disappointed with the unknowledgeable lovers I invited into my bed. Hell, when the first few trysts were a let down, why go back for more?

  It’s pretty sad, really. They all appeared to be so promising during our initial dates.

  Despite Heather’s list making me sound like a “good-time girl,” a phrase I hear a lot from my mom, I actually practice a lot of decorum when choosing a lover. They all have ambitious careers, their own apartments, aren’t married, and know how to treat a lady with manners. I don’t have a set laundry list of physical attributes the guy has to have, but I do want a man who cares enough about his health and appearance to not be slovenly or obese.

  Unlike Heather, I never sit on the sidelines waiting for life to come to me—I actively seek adventure and always will. Who says a woman needs a man to be happy? I’m happy as I am on my own. And I intend to keep it that way—not hung up on a guy like my mom was with my dad. When he left us, she was devastated and it changed her outlook on life forever.

  Avoiding large puddles and dangerous sidewalk grating, I wish I would’ve changed out of my heels before dashing off to meet Heather. A short woman like me learns the benefit of being on equal eye level in the advertising world. Doesn’t hurt that I look great in them, too.

  The awning to my building appears and I gratefully step under it and push back my hood. I unzip the coat and flap the sides, knocking off moisture before entering.

  “Hey, Carla,” a masculine voice calls from the doorway.

  I look up to see one of the company accountants holding the door for me. “Thanks, Andrew.” I step through, avoiding eye contact with him.

  He’s tried to make casual conversation with me for months, and I’m always polite but careful not to lead him on. I mean really, he’s an accountant. Could a job be more unexciting? Just stick him in an IT position and buy him a ticket to the next Trekkie convention in town.

  One thing I’ve learned while shopping for an exciting man—I won’t find one in a humdrum job like his. I’m not saying Andrew is boring, he seems nice enough. But his job sure as hell is unexciting, which decreases his chances of being a stimulating guy by eighty percent.

  While we walk across the lobby to the elevators, I sense him fidgeting beside me, perhaps too nervous to talk. I smother a smile at his awkwardness. Honestly, he’s not bad looking—no beer gut and he dresses okay. Maybe I should hook him up with Katrina from yoga class. She’s been on the prowl for a decent man.

  He clears his throat as we step into the elevator. “Do you have time later to talk about the Stringer account?”

  My ears perk at the mention of my largest client. “Of course. Is something wrong?”

  The doors whisk closed and we ascend to our floor. “No, nothing’s wrong. I was looking over the latest numbers and think I’ve found a way to free up some advertising money in their budget that isn’t working where it is now. Might help you up-sell them to a larger ad space in the areas that are working.”

  “Sounds good.” I smile, the first genuine one to grace my face since I met Heather for lunch. “Your cubicle or mine?”

  His blue eyes crinkle at the corners as he returns my smile. “Come to mine, I’ll show you the spreadsheets.”

  Hours later I hang up the phone with Jennifer Stringer, the owner of the largest independently owned fabric distributor in the legendary New York garment district. She was thrilled with Andrew’s findings and eager to pour fifty thousand more into the current advertising campaign. We helped to increase her business twenty percent in the last three months. Satisfaction for a job well done warms me, filling me with a sense of completeness like no encounter with a man ever has.

  A sigh escapes as I relax into my chair. Damn, talk about a long week. It’s Friday and after five. I stifle the urge to chant TGIF and log off my computer, eager to shake the stresses of the week from my shoulders.

  IMs flew around the office ten minutes ago and people are gearing up to meet at the bar down the block for drinks. I freshen my lipstick, straighten my desk, and grab my bag. Andrew stands the same moment I do and our eyes meet across the cubical walls. “Are you going tonight?” I ask him.

  Interest lights his eyes. “Yup.”

  He runs a hand through his short brown hair, the gesture making him appear more confident. Too bad he’s boring, he’s almost handsome. “Great, I owe you a drink for that
tidbit you shared after lunch.”

  A small smile turns up his mouth as he walks down the opposite aisle toward the door. “Just one? Could have sworn my ‘tidbit’ helped you make your monthly quota a week early.”

  I laugh at his ballsiness. “Maybe I’ll buy you two. But don’t get your hopes up.”

  A spark ignites in his blue depths as his gaze travels up and down my length. An awareness tingles through me and I can’t deny, he looks different, somehow. He’s only a few inches taller than I am in heels, which makes him a couple of inches shy of six-foot. His shirtsleeves are rolled up to reveal corded forearms with a light dusting of hair. With warm heat banked in his gaze, his average looks jump a thousand points.

  I brush off the sudden interest spiking in my gut. I can’t let an office romance begin to brew. I told Heather I wasn’t doing any of the things she accused me of. No matter how much I might wish otherwise, I highly doubt a co-worker with benefits is much different than the friends with benefits on her sheet.

  As a large boisterous group of our co-workers join us in the elevator, I resolve to steer clear of any temptation offered by Andrew at the bar. No way in the world could he be a good match for me.

  ~~*~~

  Avoiding Mr. Right is currently on sale at most online eBook retailers. And if you’d like to save some money, you can find it in a five-book, multi-author bundle titled Contemporary Nights, Volume 1.

  Contemporary Nights, Volume 1 titles include:

  Grooming the Player, by Allie K Adams: Bainbridge University sophomore, Emma Rae, embraces her title of perpetually single. All the guys at BU are total players, and if there's one thing Emma hates more than anything, it's a player.