Wrong Number, Right Guy

by Elle Casey

  He leans back onto the couch again, bringing the bra up to his face. He closes his eyes as he inhales. “Smells like your skin.” His eyes open and he smiles.

  I almost laugh. “Creepy.”

  He tosses the bra aside and sits up again. His hands start at my calves and slowly draw upward, both tickling me and setting me aflame. Goose bumps rise up everywhere.

  “I love the way you smell, the way your skin feels, the way you stare at me with that wrinkle between your eyes.”

  “Wrinkle? What wrinkle?”

  I’m too distracted to realize what he’s up to until his fingers are at the edge of my panties, near the top.

  I grab my chest with one arm, while the other hand goes over my panties. “What are you doing?”

  “You want to keep them on?” He shrugs. “Okay by me.” He leans in and puts his face on the front of me, over my panties.

  Holy crap, what’s he . . .? Oh my god, that’s . . . niiiice.

  My hand is in the way, but he moves his face around until he can get his mouth between my fingers. His hot breath comes through the light, silky material, heating up my most sensitive area. I think that’s about as sexy as this thing can get, and then he starts moving his mouth around and I realize I was waaaay wrong about that.

  I moan when the feelings start to get out of control. How is he doing this to me? He’s moaning too, and moving his mouth and breathing hot air everywhere, and it’s making me feel like I’m going to have an orgasm with my panties still on. What the hell? I don’t even have orgasms. My orgasm maker is broken or something. I figured that out a long time ago, and it’s been confirmed by every boyfriend I’ve ever had. I’m just one of those women who never gets them.

  The hand of mine that was trying to guard against his invasion moves back up to my chest. Pretending I don’t want him doing what he’s doing is ridiculous. I’m not fooling anyone.

  He takes advantage of my surrender by pulling my panties down and burying his face in my mound. I was totally not expecting that.

  I gasp and drop my hands, putting them first on his head and then his shoulders. I need to hold on to something so I don’t collapse. His tongue is sliding into my hot, wet folds and I cry out with delight. Maybe I should be self-conscious about being so free and open to him, but I’m too turned on to worry about anything right now.

  I feel him moving around as he continues to lick me, but I don’t realize until his hands are on my waist and he’s pulling away that he was taking off his boxers and putting on protection.

  I look down and see his hard-on angled up at me. My panties are at my thighs. He’s looking up at me with a mouth covered in my wetness. I let my panties drop to the floor and step out of them.

  “Come here,” he says, guiding me to sit on him.

  I put one knee next to his left thigh and the other to his right.

  “Put it in,” he says, this time with more of a growl to his tone.

  My heart is racing, but I need to feel him inside me. That tongue of his really got me amped up. Forget being embarrassed, forget being naked at work. I need this, and I need it now.

  When our bodies first make contact, I’m not sure it’s going to work. He’s too big and I’m too swollen from what he’s done to excite me already. But when he pushes up into me, he proves that I’m wrong, wrong, wrong. Again. He fits, but just barely. I lower myself onto him, groaning the whole way as I’m stretched to the max.

  “Mmmmm . . .” He obviously enjoys it too. I smile at the look on his face when I lift myself up and come down for another stroke. “May, you’re amazing . . .”

  I lean forward and rest my hands on the couch, making it easier to move like I need to. My breasts touch his face.

  He takes them in his hands and sucks first one and then the other nipple. The sensation of feeling him inside me, and also his hands and mouth fondling my breasts, is unreal. I move faster to keep up with the need building. He squeezes and kneads. My nipples get harder than they’ve ever been before.

  “Kiss me,” he says in a whisper.

  I lean down as best I can, but it’s not easy to reach him. I’m about to give up when he grabs me by the waist and flips me over onto my back. He’s above me, positioning one knee in the couch cushion and the other leg on the floor.

  “What are you doing?” I ask breathlessly.

  He sinks all the way into me, even farther than he’d been before. “I’m fucking you, May.”

  The hard words and the dangerous look on his face send a rush of sexual energy through me. My muscles spasm and grip him from the inside. His eyes widen as he feels it and then he bites his bottom lip, pushing into me until he can’t go any more.

  “Oh my god . . .” I lift my legs and wrap them around him. “Ozzie . . .” It’s a plea. I’m not sure what I’m begging for, but I hope he gives it to me soon.

  His thrusts start slow and easy. We kiss, tongues tangling, lips mashing, his late evening beard scratching my chin. I can feel the muscles move beneath the skin of his back. Massive muscles, tense and corded, undulate with the in and out strokes that are slowly building a tension in me that begs to be released. My hands slide down to his hips and his butt where I can push him harder against me. He reads my signals perfectly, slowing at the deepest part, rubbing, drawing away only to bury himself again.

  I can feel when he starts to lose control. His sweat begins to drip down onto my belly, where it mingles with mine. His breath comes in pants. His face is an expression of both pain and pleasure.

  “Oh, Ozzie,” I cry, feeling like I’m about to explode. I’m not sure where we go from here; I just know I don’t ever want this to stop.

  “Come on, baby,” he says, urging me toward something.

  I have to move faster. My body demands it. The core of me insists. It’s the only way. The only way to end this sweet torture.

  And then he just stops. He freezes. Buried to the hilt, he stops and breathes heavily above me.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You move now. It’s your turn,” he says.

  I lay there under him in confusion. “How can I move when you’re on top?”

  He half-shrugs. “I don’t know. See if you can figure it out.”

  If this will make him happy, I’m going to do it. Besides, the feeling of his huge hard length inside me is driving me wild. I couldn’t sit still if I wanted to. My hips are already moving.

  I tense my pelvis up toward him. With that tiny movement, I feel a sharp but amazing sensation in my core. Pulling away and doing it again makes it happen a second time. I spread my legs farther apart.

  “That’s it, baby . . .”

  I don’t need his encouragement, but when he speaks to me while I grind up against him, I feel wild. Feral. A little bit savage. I move against him with more urgency, answering to the demand that’s coming from my more primal self. With every thrust up toward him, I take him into me more fully, until the most sensitive part of me is rubbing on his body while his rod stretches me to the fullest.

  “Oh my god,” I say as a slow burn starts to build.

  “Oh, yeah. Come on, beautiful, come on.” He pushes against me when I come up to him. Together we meet in the middle and I feel him grow even larger inside me.

  And then I feel like I’m drowning. An intense fire rages between my legs. He feels it and starts pushing harder, faster. I meet him stroke for stroke, every thrust sending me closer to the edge.

  “Ozzie! Ozzie!” I’m clinging to him, afraid I’ll be lost forever if I let go.

  “Come for me, baby, come!” he yells.

  He pushes into me up to the limit, and then his body starts jerking inside me. I can’t take it anymore. I cry out and hold on to him for dear life. I’m falling over the edge of a very dark cliff and I can’t hold back. It’s finally come for me: the orgasm I never had before but always read about in romance novels.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  When Ozzie is done and I’ve stopped yelling like a crazy
person, he collapses on top of me.

  “Urph.” It’s about all I can manage. My throat is sore. I think I might have busted a vocal chord or something.

  He rolls off both me and the couch and lands on the floor on his back.

  “Ow.” He sounds as exhausted as I feel.

  I giggle. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll survive. As long as you don’t try to do that to me again anytime soon.”

  I lean over and tap him with my fingers. “You did it, not me.”

  He reaches up and takes my fingers to kiss them. “Time for bed, Bo Peep. We have work in the morning.”

  “What time is it?” I roll onto my side and look for a clock.

  “Midnight.”

  I sigh and stare up at the ceiling. He lets my hand go, and I slide it up to rest on my chest.

  “Happy?” he asks me.

  I grin and nod. “Happy.”

  “Tired?”

  I shake my head. “Not in the least. I feel like I could fly right now.”

  “You’re dangerous.”

  I love being dangerous. “You’re the one who tricks perfectly nice girls into taking their clothes off and having crazy sex on the couch at work.”

  “I didn’t trick you. You tricked me.”

  I roll over and stare down at him. “How so?” I pretend to be indignant over his accusation.

  “You walked into that bar last week looking all hotsy-totsy in those pants and that shirt, with your little dog, making me think you were a bored housewife looking for a little action . . . come to find out you’re a ruthless, Taser-wielding, singlestick master with a taste for ex-grunts in beards.”

  I can’t stop laughing. His characterization of me couldn’t be more ridiculous.

  “Why are you laughing? You know I speak the truth.”

  “I know you speak nonsense.”

  “Name one thing that wasn’t accurate.”

  “I hate beards.”

  He jumps up off the floor, and before I know what he’s planning, I’ve been swept up into his arms.

  “What are you doing?!” I yell. I sound way too happy for him to mistake my reaction for anger.

  “I’m bringing you to bed to give you a spanking.”

  “Ohhh, a spanking. I’d like to see you try.” I left my Taser in my purse in his bedroom. If he even thinks about spanking my butt, I’m going to light him on fire.

  We fly out of the room and down the hall, with me laughing all the way. I feel like I’ve been tazed or something the way I can’t control myself. It’s like all my life the light switch that is the real me has been turned off, and Ozzie somehow figured out how to turn it on. This is me, the real May Wexler, running through a house naked with Ozzie. So, so Crazy Town right now. I am May “the Orgasm Queen” Wexler.

  I’m not one bit surprised this time when he launches me into the air and onto the bed. I am, however, when he flips me over and smacks me on the butt.

  “You . . . !” I scream. “You’re going to pay for that!” I twist my body over and make a grab for his arm, but he’s too sweaty to hang onto.

  He pushes me back down onto the bed, face first. “You stay there, girl. I’m going to teach you a lesson in manners. Saying my beard was horrible. How dare you.”

  I’m lifting my head to defy him, when his hands come to my waist and yank my hips up.

  “What are you . . .?”

  Suddenly he’s there, behind me. “Surprise,” he says, an evil grin on his face. He’s pressing his hardness against me. It easily slides into the wetness there between my legs.

  “Again?” I ask, my voice barely coming out. “Already?”

  He smacks me on the butt, lightly this time. “Here I come, baby. Ready or not.”

  Oh, I’m so ready for him. He puts on a condom and I lift my butt as high as I can, sighing with pleasure as he fills me once again.

  He goes slow this time, building the passion, mindful of my sensitivity. His fingers find their way around to the front of me, stroking me in time with his rhythm.

  “You like that?” he asks, pulling me against him hard as he swivels his hips against me.

  “Mmmm . . .” My eyes are closed, but I’m smiling. I stretch my arms out to the sides and hang onto the sheets. His rhythm is picking up, pushing me into the mattress.

  “That’s it,” I say, encouraging him. “Harder.”

  And harder he comes, thrusting in and out, faster and faster. I push into him, letting him know I need even more.

  He leans forward, putting his fingers on me again. “Come on, babe.”

  “Fuck me, Ozzie.” The words slip out, but I don’t regret them.

  “Say that again,” he growls.

  “Fuck me . . .” I have to pause for breath, “. . .Ozzie.”

  He roars like a wounded lion, and shoves into me so hard we both collapse. His body jerks above me like he’s being electrocuted and I can feel him come inside me.

  His hand is still below me and now it moves again. Knowing I drove him over the edge with my body and my words is all I need. I cry and struggle with the orgasm that racks my body. I’ve lost complete control of myself, and I don’t care.

  When it’s finally over, what seems like several minutes later, I feel as though I’ve died, or at the very least, run a marathon. I cannot move.

  “I’m glad you decided to come over,” he says in my ear.

  I giggle like a schoolgirl and then snort lazily. “Me too.”

  He rolls off me and lies on his back next to me. I turn my head to look at him.

  “Happy?” he asks.

  I grin as best I can. My face doesn’t really want to work. “Happy.”

  “Good.” He leans over and kisses me before getting up.

  “Where are you going?” I ask.

  “Bathroom.”

  “‘Kay.” I rearrange myself on the bed, getting under the covers and resting my head on the pillow. This bed is so comfy. I’m just going to relax here until he comes back. Maybe he’ll want to talk or something. We probably should discuss how we’re going to handle working together tomorrow. I don’t want things to be awkward, and I’m sure he doesn’t want that either.

  That’s the last thought I remember having before an alarm is going off next to my head and I see a clock reading seven-thirty in the morning.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Oh my god! I slept here! With him! In his bed! And I have to get up for work! And Felix has to go outside! Ack!

  The spot next to me looks slept in. Was Ozzie there all night and I never even noticed? Wow. That sex really knocked me out or something.

  I throw my legs over the side of the bed and look around. Hopefully, Ozzie’s taken Felix out with Sahara. Otherwise I’m going to have some cleaning up to do.

  There’s a door ahead of me that isn’t the one that leads out into the hallway. It had better be the bathroom door, because there’s no way I want to walk out into the kitchen area and have my coworkers catch me looking like I just rolled in the hay. Twice.

  I grin as I collect some clothing from the drawers I was given and go through that door and into the bathroom.

  Whoa. Now that’s a bathroom. Marble, glass, and metal work together in the big space to create a spa-like oasis. I brush my teeth first, just in case Ozzie comes in and gets near me. I don’t want to get dumped for having dragon breath.

  The shower, big enough for several people, has three separate nozzles with various spray patterns. I use Ozzie’s products for my body and hair, skipping the conditioner, since I guess he doesn’t use it on the spikes he calls hair. I’m surprised he doesn’t have any left over from when he had that beard. Surely he conditioned that mess?

  A sound behind me distracts me from the memory of the bird’s nest that used to decorate his face. I spin around and find Ozzie himself standing there, dressed and ready for work. He’s even wearing his combat boots already.

  I cross my arms over my chest self-consciously. For sure I’m going to use
this scenario for a fantasy when I’m bored and alone one night. Me, naked and wet. Him being my boss standing there all muscled up. Talk about sexy.

  “Good morning,” he says.

  “Good morning.” I’m shy, which is ridiculous, considering what we did last night, but I can’t control how I feel. Why did he just go to sleep last night without waking me up? Did he even sleep with me in the bed? Maybe he slept on the cot. That idea makes me sad. It feels like rejection.

  “Meeting in fifteen minutes.”

  “Fifteen?” I move to rinse my hair out. “Okay.” I hope he doesn’t expect me to be gorgeous. I’m not exactly high maintenance, but fifteen minutes isn’t enough time to pull off a miracle.

  “Is Felix okay? I should have taken him out already.”

  “He’s fine. He went out with his girlfriend.”

  I smile but don’t say anything. I don’t want Ozzie thinking I’m pressuring him into calling me his girlfriend, even though nothing would make me happier. I shut the water off and step out of the shower area. Ozzie hands me a towel, warm from being on a heating rack.

  I hold it against me and blink the water out of my eyes. The heat from the towel seeps into my skin, relaxing me. I have nothing to be nervous about, right? We might not be a couple, but we’ve been intimate. And I’m an adult. I have enough confidence to move past this, whatever it is, whether it’s for better or for worse.

  Ack! Why are wedding vows swimming around in my brain?! Have I lost my mind completely?!

  “Is there something else?” I ask, wondering why he’s just standing there staring at me. God help me if he can read minds.

  He leans toward me and kisses me on the cheek. “Nope.” He turns and starts walking out of the bathroom.

  My body is warming from not just the towel, but his touch too, even though it was as chaste as a kiss next to a shower can be.

  “Ozzie?”

  He pauses with his hand on the door. “Yeah?”

  I have no idea what to say, but I feel like I should say something. Anything.

  “Thanks. For everything.”

  He turns just his head to look at me. “Everything?”

  I can’t stop the smile that comes over me. I’m that non-virgin virgin again. Ridiculous, since we had sex not just once, but twice last night. “Yes, everything. For letting me stay here, for worrying about me, for Felix, for . . . the television show. All that stuff.”