by Wyatt, Dani
That hasn’t happened to me since puberty. I’m always in control, including when and if my dick gets hard.
“Thanks.” She swings her legs out, her navy skirt pushed up over her knees, and my eyes keen on her inner thighs trying to push away the thoughts of what they might taste like.
“The restaurant selection in town is limited.” I look up at the family style Italian restaurant.
“I’ve been here plenty of times. Mr. Vinny has been cooking in the kitchen since it opened, like forty years ago. Their mushroom risotto is the best, and they have a vegan Tiramisu that is better than sex.” Her eyes flash on that last part, and she shakes her head as she blushes. “Sorry,” she finishes on a shrug. “At least that’s what everyone says.”
Inside, we are seated at a booth in the corner and it looks like a movie set for The Godfather. Red tablecloths, black tufted leather booths, gold trim around the ceiling and hanging bottles of Chianti across the top of an old wooden bar at the back.
“Your little town is charming,” I manage as she stares me down.
“It is charming. You say it like it’s an insult, but it’s not. One thing New York isn’t is charming.” She pushes a loose strand of light copper hair behind her ear and I remember last night, reaching over as she slept and touching it. Bringing it to my nose and breathing in her scent.
Lavender and sandalwood, I guessed. Probably an organic shampoo bar from Etsy, highly sustainable, no packaging. Her face is remarkable. I’ve never seen a woman like her. Not a stitch of make up, but with skin that looks like it must be airbrushed to be so perfect.
The slight pink that always seems to highlight her cheeks gives her a sweetness that is the perfect layer on top of her intelligence and her straightforward manner.
I can’t pinpoint her age, but she looks too young to be through school yet, let alone passed the bar already, but maybe that’s just her fresh, pure look.
The waiter comes over and takes our drink order.
“Water,” she says, licking her lips as she looks over at me, setting her teeth into the bottom one as I swear I see something like lust spark in her eyes.
“Same.” I look at the waiter, who hands us both a thick, green, leather bound menu with the name of the restaurant, Mama Carbonara’s, embossed on the front in gold.
We look at the menu for a moment in silence, but all I’m hungry for is her.
It’s been a long fucking time since I lusted after a woman. Our family had money long before my father founded his law firm, and in the social circles of Manhattan, or pretty much wherever I go that my name precedes me, finding company would not be a problem.
Only, that’s never been my way.
I was a little crazy in college, sure, less so in grad school though, and from there, my work has been my life. From the empty refrigerator in my penthouse on 57th Street to the fact that I barely sleep four or five hours a night, everything else is work or social life that supports work.
Women have been off my radar for a while. When I need a release, my hand does the job, but over the last year or so even that’s lost its luster.
Now, sitting in this booth in Nowhereville, Michigan, all I can think of is what I would do to Missy Evergreen if I ever got her into my bed again.
Conscious this time.
“So.” She puts down her menu, turning my way. “What happened last night?” She crosses her arms, giving me her best cross examination stare, and as much as I want to drag out the idea that we had some mad passionate night together, I spill the truth.
“Nothing. You were not in any condition to drive, I barely got you up the stairs before you blacked out cold.”
“So, why wasn’t I dressed?” She tugs her lips to the side and I want to taste them again.
I hope she remembers the kiss, I hope she doesn’t regret that part of the night.
“Well, in my experience when someone is as intoxicated as you were, their body can take over and…” I cough. “Expel the poison from the stomach. All over whatever you might have been wearing. And I figured the morning was going to be rough enough for you without your clothes being covered in vomit.”
She glances around the room, then her golden-brown eyes catch on mine. “So, nothing happened between us? You didn’t touch me, do anything…because, you know, if I couldn’t consent…”
I raise my hand, stopping her. “If I needed it so badly, I would get myself off…” I shake my head. “No. I didn’t touch you.”
Except your hair. Your cheek. Oh, and I kissed your forehead.
“I believe you.” She exhales, blushing slightly at my mention of what I would do with my hand. “Sorry. I mean, I’m not a big drinker and clearly I’m not that good at it, but I’ve never, ever been that drunk or passed out. It was like a black curtain came down and bam. I remember nothing. I guess scotch isn’t my drink.”
“Guess not. What are you wanting to eat?”
“Uh, my stomach is not so great. So, probably just a bowl of vegetable soup.”
Just then the waiter appears and takes Missy’s order. When he turns to me, I add, “Do you have fresh bread too?”
“Yes, we do.”
“Bring her bread. And a vegan Tiramisu for dessert.” I look her way. “Your blood sugar is probably low.”
“That’s okay. I’m off desserts.” She wraps her arms around her mid-section for a split second, and for the first time I see insecurity in her eyes.
“She’ll have the Tiramisu.” I repeat. “I’ll have the eggplant Parmesan. With marinara. No meat in the sauce.”
“Very well.” The waiter nods and walks away to tend to another table to our left, and my finger twists, wanting to reach out under the tablecloth and put my hand on her leg.
She’s a perfect package of real beauty and a real body. I’m all for body positivity, but growing up how I did, I watched so many girls and women torture themselves, taking to heart the old saying you can never be too rich or too thin.
I have to say, I sort of bought into the too rich thing most of my life, but the too thin? Not true.
I’m more attracted to Missy than I’ve been to any woman as far back as I can remember. I don’t know sizes, I’ve never bought clothing for a woman, but her tits are more than a handful, her thighs are thick, and they balance perfectly with an ass that is driving me crazy.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” I ask.
She looks up, then down at her hands as she plays with the silverware.
“I remember coming in the bar. I saw you. I was sort of already tipsy and one of the security guys that works at our firm was being a little...friendly, and I wasn’t interested. I put him off a few times, but on our way to the bar, he got a bit…” She shrugs. “Anyway, I told him I had a boyfriend meeting me, he acted like he didn’t believe me, so…there you were. The boyfriend.”
New rage starts to heat my face and tighten my gut, but I don’t let her see. I want to know where her memory stops.
“Okay, what else? The last thing you remember.”
She looks down, squeezing her eyes together on a tight smile, then her eyes flick open and she looks at me.
“I kissed you. I remember kissing you, then…sitting back down. Then...” She shakes her head. “Nothing. Just black until I woke up this morning.”
“And, you’ve never blacked out before?”
“Nope.”
“Anyone buy you a drink? Any drink you didn’t watch someone pour for you besides one your ordered yourself from the staff?”
She thinks for a minute. “Only when we were finishing dinner. We had coffee and Ray came back to the table with Baileys shots. He added one to my coffee.”
Mother fucker.
I nod, clenching my jaw so hard I think my molars are going to crack.
Thank God the waiter returns with her bread and soup, distracting her, because if she put a little more thought into that, she would surely put together the same pieces that I did.
The rest of lunch,
I try to keep things light. We talk about family, her mother is Latino, her father German. She grew up here in Holly, on a farm. She has a sister who’s a nurse and her mom and dad still farm their property, raise sheep and don’t believe in credit.
There’s nothing about us that’s alike, and yet, the pull to this woman feels so fucking good. She comforts me just by being close. Makes the constant tension I carry disburse.
I forget for a moment about which cases I have pending. What work I should be doing instead of sitting here, watching her put a spoonful of Tiramisu in her mouth, and I think I’m going to cum in my pants.
Chapter 5
Missy
I shouldn’t like him.
In fact, I shouldn’t have gone to lunch with him, except he promised to tell me what happened the night before.
And anyway, it’s sort of courtesy for two opposing counsel to break bread sometimes. Many more deals are made over a meal or a drink than in conference and court rooms.
Only, at lunch, I nearly forgot about poor Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins, and the ruin that awaits them if I can’t get Nikolas’s clients to see the humanity in the situation and take their utilities around the Christmas Wonderland.
The limo hums under us as we head back to my office and I decide I need to take another stab at trying to turn this around for my clients.
“So, you said you will allow the Jenkin’s to write a letter to your client.” I cross my legs, leaning back as I rub the bridge of my nose, the last of my headache finally gone.
“Sure.” Nikolas runs his tongue over his top teeth and I remember how good it felt kissing him. “Won’t make any difference.”
“But,” I swallow, frustration building, “you’ll try? You’ll present it to them.”
“I said I would. I also don’t want you or your clients to get their hopes up. They should try to make peace with what’s coming. They can re-build their little town somewhere else.”
“They are in their seventies!” I snap back, shaking my head. “Besides, the value of the land is nothing compared to the value of the business. What the state is offering won’t be enough for them to start over, re-build all the structures and the business.”
He shrugs and I want to reach over and smack his smug face.
“Sorry,” he answers, but in his eyes I see something else. Conflict? Doubt?
“You can be a bit of a jerk.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Representing my client to the best of my ability makes me a jerk?”
“Yeah,” I answer, my mouth agreeing but the throb between my legs disagrees.
“Did you think I was a jerk last night when I pretended to be your boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Or when you kissed me?”
I huff out a sigh. “Of course not.”
“Then kiss me again. See if you’ve changed your mind.”
“What? I’m not kissing you again.”
He stares at me. The silence between us is heavy, and my heart is about to punch through my chest wall.
Don’t kiss him.
Don’t do it.
He cocks his head to the side, his lips in a half smile.
God, those lips.
His smile should be illegal.
Don’t—
It’s too late.
“Holy shit,” I hear him grunt out just before my lips are on his.
He pulls me forward until I’m on his lap, facing him. My legs spread wide as he pushes my skirt up, jerking my hips with his hands on my ass until my weeping sex is mounted on top of a thick cock, straining against his perfect, hand made in New York, gray slacks.
“What is it about you?” I whisper, more to myself than him, when we finally come up for air.
“I don’t know, what is it about me?” His hands start pushing and pulling me until we are full on dry humping in the back of the car.
“I don’t know…” I half moan, feeling the rising tension between us. His rock-hard erection feels enormous as his dark eyes fixate on my face.
“You wanted me to pretend to be your boyfriend. Maybe this is what you wanted after all.”
His face is intense as he bucks his hips into my drenched panties, and I wonder if he’s worried I’ll leave a wet spot on his fly. I let my head fall back, my hands gripping his shoulders, and he no longer has to guide my movements.
“That’s a good fake girlfriend,” he teases, his voice thicker and deeper than usual. “When you kissed me in the bar last night, it didn’t feel fake to me. Like this doesn’t feel fake.”
As my hips grind against him, he slides a hand up my back, fingers looping into my hair as he pulls my face down into his.
I whimper when our lips connect and our tongues seek each other. The tightness in my core is starting to spin and my movements take on a frantic pace. I’m moving, back and forth, in little circles, harder, trying to find that perfect spot…
“Oh, God…” I seethe into our kiss, but just as I’m about to tip over the edge, both his hands are on my waist, lifting me as he shifts on the seat, putting me next to him as he drops to his knees on the floor of the limousine.
He looks up at me as my head spins, the car hitting a bump, making my body bounce on the seat as Nikolas shoves my skirt up again, exposing my panties.
“Soaking.” He nips his bottom lip on a sniff. “These are mine now.”
Am I doing this? Am I really?
He reaches up, loops his fingers in the elastic, and pulls them down my legs and over my shoes, bringing them to his face. He closes his eyes on a long inhale then smiles, pushing them inside his suit jacket, into the inner pocket, as I sit there, legs wide, exposed, throbbing.
I am. I so, so am doing this.
“Play with yourself. Show me how you do it when you’re alone. Needy.” He orders as he takes each of my legs and rests them on his shoulders. “Do it.” He grunts, and I startle, but bring my fingers down as he watches and start to run little circles around my hard nub. “That’s a good fake girlfriend. No panties and putting on a show.”
He runs his hands up my thighs and leans his face down so he’s just inches from my moving fingers.
I gasp as I feel his warm breath, my body tight like it’s been wound up and it just needs the trigger touched to release the bullet.
I can barely breathe. I can’t blink or stop looking at him. The tension grows again and my fingers move faster and faster. I bite into my bottom lip, urging the release forward as I push my head back and moan, so close.
I’m there, teetering, when Nikolas grabs my wrist and pulls my hand away, bringing my fingers up to my lips and holding them there.
“We’re going to taste you together,” he says, a haze filling my brain, need chomping at the bit inside me, but he doesn’t make me wait long.
He shifts forward, taking my needy, soaking sex in his mouth as he pushes my fingers between my lips and I taste my lusty arousal.
He eats me until I’m begging, my body twisted in knots, ready for him to untie them.
“Please…God…” I’m desperate, my hands drifting down to his hair, and I rest them there, feeling the movements of his head as his tongue tantalizes and then dips into my opening.
Back to my clit in circles and flicks, then he fucks me with it again, until the dam breaks.
He centers his mouth on my clit, his tongue doing things I didn’t know a tongue could do, then a finger presses to my opening and glides in, curling forward and hitting a spot I didn’t know I had.
That’s it.
All I see is white as pulses of pleasure make my hips grind on his face, my fingers twisting into his hair. An explosion starts in my toes and bursts upward, until my voice cracks and my legs kick and spasm.
I see nothing.
Hear nothing.
I’ve been catapulted into another dimension.
By my fake boyfriend's mouth.
When I finally come down, I’m breathing like I’ve just run a four-minute mile, and I look down to see th
e devious smile on Nikolas’s soaking lips.
“You are fucking beautiful when you cum.” He licks his lips, then runs his fingers through my soaking folds and pinches my clit, making me wince. “Sensitive?”
“Yeah…” It’s all I can manage as his nearly-black eyes lock onto mine.
“You are full of surprises, you know that?”
“I am?”
“One second, you’re acting like I’m the enemy, then the next you jump me in the back of the limo.”
Red heats my cheeks as I shrug, trying to regain some dignity with my shirt bunched up and my legs wide, my professionalism nowhere I sight.
“I’m a puzzle, that’s for sure.” I sit up, trying to put myself together as the limo comes to a stop in front of my office building.
“Wow.” He brushes my hair back from my face, my neat bun a loose mess. “That was good timing.”
My impulses got the better of me, but it’s time to get good ole practical, predictable Missy back in charge. “I just must be a little off from last night still.”
Before Nikolas can retort, my door opens and the driver reaches in for my hand to help me out and I wonder if he can smell the sex scent going on. I gather my purse, step out of the limo, but Nikolas slides across and comes out behind me.
“Dinner. Let me take you to dinner.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t, I have a family thing.” The day’s snow is beginning to pile up and it’s coming down harder as the day rolls on.
“Listen, I have to fly out tonight. I want to see you before I leave.”
The driver steps away and I look at my feet, then back at Nikolas.
“Look, this has been a very unusual set of circumstances last night and today. But, we have a case together. You need to get back to your life, your world, which is about as far away from here as Mars. It was fun. I gotta go.”
I smile, trying to figure out why I feel like crying before I turn and make my way back into my building.
Men like Nikolas Snow probably have girls like me in every city. He could have anyone he wants. And I know that’s not me.
* * *