Obsessive Temptation: A BWWM Romance Limited Edition Collection

by Peyton Banks

  I feel a bit awkward he knows so much about me, but I come up with a deflection. “Why are you noticing these things? Are you like obsessed with me or something?”

  “Maybe,” he replies as he takes another shot.

  “Well, why are you here then? Don’t you have a girlfriend or friends at home waiting on you?” I try my damndest to sound tough, but his single-word answer has me shook a little. What the fuck he means, maybe?

  “I don’t have a girlfriend or friends, as you say. I had one, but she didn’t keep me intrigued, and our lives were on a different course.”

  “Oh, I see. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “You didn’t. I volunteered.”

  We both take another hit of tequila, and the in-house DJ changes the song to Breathe by Shania Twain.

  “Oh, wow. I haven’t heard this song in a while,” I say, bobbing my head along to the tune.

  “My turn,” he says, bringing my attention back to him. “Would you like to dance?”

  Okay, shit has become awkward as hell. He stands and takes my hand into his, and we move out to the designated dance area. Suddenly my senses are alive. I work with Lucas Weathers and have for the past two years. Never have I noticed his height puts him about six inches above me, even with my heels on. Or he smells like sweet sex on a king-sized bed with two thousand five hundred thread count sheets. Or his arms around my waist feel like they belong there. Our bodies swing natural, and I lose myself in his eyes.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You haven’t told me to fuck off or not to touch you.”

  He looks at me and grins, but I turn my head to break the small, but very real trance. Lucas Weathers, tall, dark-brown hair, with piercing gray eyes, an athletic build, and a sexy smile.

  “Well, I can be nice at times.” The song ends, and I make an excuse to leave the dance floor. “Thank you for the dance. It was nice. Even if it was with you.”

  I laugh, and he joins me as I walk back to the bar. We continue our conversation and game of questions until last call. The one bottle sustained us since we danced and even joined in the fun of the crowd when singing songs like YMCA or Macarena. He told me he loved the way my hips moved when I was doing the dance steps. I blushed at his comment, which rendered me speechless.

  “Greene, are you driving home?”

  “Call me Simone, and no, I sent for an Uber. I’m gonna go stand outside to catch some fresh air while I wait.”

  “Mind if I join you? Warning, I’m coming either way. I have to make sure no one messes with you.”

  I throw my hands up, giving into his request/demand. I grab my wristlet and offer to pay for half the bar tab. Shot down again.

  He places his arm around my waist and steadily guides me outside where we wait for the driver.

  “This was nice. Maybe we can do this again? But with dinner?” he says.

  “Lucas Weathers, are you asking me out on a date?” I giggle through my question, not because it’s funny, but we’re rivals, and tonight, that disappeared.

  “Maybe,” he replies with a smile.

  “If I said yes, how will we coordinate our outing?”

  “Are you saying yes?” He looks at me with those damned eyes, and his bottom lip glistens in the glare of the streetlight.

  “Maybe,” I retort, using his single word against him. I go into my wristlet to get my house key out and drop the whole damn thing.

  He bends to help me pick up the contents, and when we stand, you can’t deny the electricity between us. It’s been building all night, and I swear it’s like a powder keg about to go off.

  “Here’s your pen,” he says, breaking the tension.

  Words fail me once again as I stand there, my breath catching and my mouth slightly ajar until I bite my bottom lip. I cast my gaze away from his stare, only for it to land on his fitted jeans and the semi-erection they’re holding hostage. I glance back up, meeting his intent glare. My emotions are building within me, and I’m about to lose my composure.

  “Fuck it,” I say and I crash my mouth onto his.

  Our tongues swirl and dip in and out of each other’s mouths, neither wanting to concede to the other. The tips of his fingers gently press against the back of my head the deeper he dives into my mouth. I don’t know where this attraction is stemming from—the alcohol, open conversation, natural stimulation—but I am enjoying every minute of it. The passion comes to an abrupt halt when the Uber driver arrives.

  “Call for Simone?” he says when he pulls up beside the curb.

  “Yeah, that’s me,” I acknowledge.

  “I guess I’ll see you at work on Monday,” Lucas says, turning away and beginning to walk towards his car.

  I don’t reply. Instead, I grab his hand and pull him into the car with me, because I always close the deal.

  4

  We go at it like two teenagers at a hilltop overlook. The driver attempts to make small talk, but I can only focus on Lucas’ hand caressing my thigh as he moves it up my leg and under my skirt. His kisses land softly on my neck, and his tongue outlines my collarbone. Low moans and hisses escape my mouth before his covers mine again.

  “Ma’am, we’ve arrived at your location,” the driver interrupts.

  We sit up, grabbing our composure and adjust our clothes before exiting the car. I clasp his hand as we walk up the short set of stairs to my front door. The entire time I have a mental discussion if I’m doing the right thing while my intoxication begins to wear off. We reach the door, and I punch in my access code and turn to Lucas to make sure he’s aware of what’s about to happen on the other side.

  “Lucas,” I say his name, and before I know it, he crashes his mouth into mine keeping me captive.

  I drop my clutch while he reaches behind me and turns the knob, opening the entryway. The weight of our bodies thrusts us inside. His quick reaction braces us so we don’t crash to the floor, but it doesn’t stop us from knocking over my lamp and a few pictures when we bump into my table. I fumble around with the belt on his jeans, trying to unbuckle it while he slides my cardigan from my shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor. I step out of my heels as we continue to undress each other, stumbling and bumbling around the furniture. He lifts and backs me into the wall, moving his lips down my neck to the top of my breasts. The passion in his kisses heightens my senses, and suddenly it’s not the liquor driving me, it’s him.

  “Lucas,” I moan while he unsnaps the garter and rolls my thigh-high stocking down, removing it, then repeats for the other side.

  He slides his finger along the seat of my panties, and I know they’re soaked with my excitement.

  “Damn, you’re wet,” he mumbles in my ear. He suckles at my lobe while his fingers slip and slide inside my slickened lips.

  I struggle to fight the intense pressure I’m feeling below, and a moan escapes my mouth, giving him clear indication of how much I’m enjoying this. “Lucas,” I call out. Speaking the unspoken want within me.

  He wastes no time taking me to the couch, sitting me down, and kneeling; looking at my swollen lips longingly. He slips his fingers into the band of my undies and slides them off my body. Pulling me closer to the edge, he positions my feet on his shoulders and buries his face into my pussy, his skillful tongue diving in and out of my opening, making circles around my clit before he gently sucks. Each motion sends pulses down my legs and back up through my body.

  Amidst my throaty moans and groans, I call out to him, “Lucas,” in bated breaths. He continues, not giving me a break. My hips rise and feet curl when his tongue moves at a rapid-fire speed, bringing my heightened senses to an eruption point. “Shhhh…” I exhale, wanting to howl like a wolf baying at the moon when I explode.

  He doesn’t stop, and I ride the wave until my body stops convulsing.

  “Fuck,” I say when he finally separates his face from my pussy. An orgasm is the perfect nightcap for the week I’ve had, but the
gaze from his eyes tell me it’s not over.

  Lucas stands there, stroking his dick and licking his lips then biting the bottom one. “Oh, that was just the appetizer, now I need my meal.”

  I stare helplessly at the size and girth of the monster before me. I swear it’s like a third leg. He’s gonna fuck me sober with that thing, I think to myself. After the verbal assault my pussy took, I can only imagine what she is going to endure now. But we love a challenge.

  He leans down over me, taking my bottom lip between his teeth and gently bites and covers my mouth with his.

  This shouldn’t be happening, I think to myself. But I allow the ecstasy to overpower me. I turn to a more comfortable position, and he hovers above me, still kissing me and stroking his dick until I take over. I gently caress and tease his balls with one hand while the other moves in an up-and-down motion, digging my nail softly into the head.

  Continuing my caressing action, he relaxes and takes a sitting position, tossing his head back in pleasure, and letting out a deep, throaty moan.

  “Fuck, Simone. Don’t stop. That shit feels so good,” he says.

  My pussy is getting jealous of all the attention she’s not getting, especially when I squeeze out a good amount of precum. I know he’s clean. We’ve had those tests done by one of our clients for free, and I snuck in and saw his results, looking for something on him. You know, for our office battles. Not that I even imagined doing this. Without a second, rather, third thought, I ease onto his cock and gently slide down, making my mini-girl happy. He locks eyes with me and grips my hips tightly. Guiding my hips in the same direction my hand took earlier. Getting a hang of the size of the beast, I speed up my actions, pumping him harder and faster. My walls are wetter with the tension building between my legs. I slow to a deep grind and rock my hips in circles.

  His right hand grips tighter while his left grabs my hair and pulls my head back, exposing my neck. He buries his face in the crevice of my breasts and licks the sweat forming between them while he, too, thrusts in sync with my movement. He slides us off the couch and crouches with me still on top. He maneuvers my legs onto his shoulders and rests upon his knees.

  This is a position I ain’t ever been in, but I’m not complaining. The change up stimulates not only my clit but my G-spot as well. I’m not prepared for what my body is about to go through, I can tell.

  He supports my back with his hands as he pushes deep, and I hold on for dear life.

  “Tell me when you are coming,” he mutters through clenched teeth.

  The room seemingly spins, and my toes curl. “Lucas, I’m—”

  With one final push, we both erupt simultaneously. My legs are a quivering mess as they rest on his shoulders, and I fall back.

  He takes them down, not before kissing each of them. After a few minutes, silence falls around us, and I drift off to sleep.

  There is nothing worse than cotton mouth after a night of drinking. I look at my phone, with surprisingly twenty-seven percent battery left, and see it’s almost eleven AM. “Fuck,” I say. Glancing around, I see that Lucas is still here, passed out on my floor next to me, naked. I run my hands over my face and through my hair, disgusted at what I succumbed to last night. Part of me was very aware and conscious, the other half flat-out didn’t care. It was some dick, and we needed it. Now when all cylinders are firing, the afterthought of last night is I fucked my rival. I shudder when I think of that and want to get him out of here fast.

  “Lucas,” I call. He remains motionless. “Lucas,” I raise my octave a little more, and it still doesn’t garner a response.

  Smack

  I slap him a bit on his thigh, and he jumps up, hitting his head on the table.

  “Fuck!” he exclaims while rubbing his boo-boo.

  “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I had to make sure you were alive since I called you twice and there was no response. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  His gray eyes look at me with a hint of ‘fuck off’. I think he sees through my façade. “What time is it anyway?” he asks as he presses the power button on his phone to turn it back on.

  “Eleven o’clock,” I reply. I gather all his things and hand them to him. “I’m sorry. I have to meet my mom in an hour, so…”

  “Yeah, yeah. No worries. I have to pick up my dad from the airport, then we are going to go grab a bite so he can tell me all about his trip.”

  He slides his jeans back on, sans underwear, and I can’t help but watch him put the monster back inside. I shake the impure thought away and focus on the brush-off attempt at hand.

  “Oh, sounds lovely. Look, can you lock the bottom on your way out? I’m gonna go hop in the shower. Thank you for a nice evening.” I saunter off to my bedroom and secure the door so he can’t follow. I take a few moments to listen intently for the front door to close. When it does, I scurry to my window and see him walking down the street to a waiting car. I take a deep breath and go start my shower.

  As the temperature of the water warms, I look through my closet for something to wear. Seeing how my time is limited, I grab a pair of jeans with little rips, a classic rock t-shirt, and, of course, chucks. Setting my items on the bed, I get in the water and allow it to wash off the remnants of last night, or was it this morning? Either way, I want to rid myself of the experience. It wasn’t a bad one. No, in fact, it was…fuck it. It was amazing.

  My body felt charges it has never felt before. And those positions…I didn’t know I was so limber. Didn’t know he was so big. He is cocky, and arrogant, and…sexy as sin allows. But he’s my rival. We’re enemies when it comes to work. I shouldn’t even be thinking about his piercing gray eyes or plush pink lips or… seemingly forked tongue. I bite my bottom lip when I think of how that one part of his body had me coming apart at the seams. Quickly, I let out a deep sigh and shake my head before he causes another orgasm, but at the mercy of my hands. I continue to bathe, putting all of yesterday’s memories behind me and go meet my mom for lunch.

  5

  When my mom’s plane touched down, you would’ve thought I was a young kid all over again. See, my parents divorced five years ago, and at my urging, I suggested she go on this single for seniors’ cruise. The stories she told me about the man she met had me quite intrigued. But she wanted to talk to me about starting a new relationship before she jumped into one. I thought it was sweet, seeing how I’m the only child. I think it’s her way for me to low-key tell Daddy to see how he’ll react.

  “Mommy,” I shout as I run to hug her when she enters the airport gate area.

  “Aww, look at my baby. All grown up with her big financial job.”

  Nina Greene, fifty-five years young and currently single. Smooth and flawless mocha-brown skin like ribbons of chocolate. Hazel-brown eyes, with long salt-and-pepper hair that she never puts chemicals in. Wish I could say the same.

  “Mom, I am so glad you are here. I miss you being around.” We’re originally from Michigan, but once I graduated from the blue and maize, I moved to Chicago to start my career. I thought Mommy would follow me after the divorce, but she has a paid-off house, car, and other things she obtained in the settlement.

  “Well, I am here for a few weeks while Charles gets his business matters together.”

  “Oh, you’re meeting him here?”

  “Well, yes. Didn’t you get my message, love?”

  I recall the missed voicemail on my phone from her but I assumed it was a reminder of when to pick her up.

  “To be honest, Mom, I didn’t listen to it. I figured you were telling me the flight schedule. Anyway, let’s go grab lunch. I’m starving.”

  “Sure. I want to try this Chicago Cut Steakhouse I’ve heard so much about. It’s right on the river, and they say the views are spectacular.”

  “Great idea. We’ll stop at my place and then go there for lunch. I’ll make the reservation.”

  “Oh, no need. love. I already did when I got off the plane. I knew you couldn’t say no to Mother.”“

/>   I signal for the skycap to help with her bags and I pop the trunk on my car, giving him a nice tip, and we go to drop off her luggage before heading to lunch.

  On the way to my place, Mother casually mentioned I’ll be meeting her beau at this luncheon. I figure it would be best for me to look a bit more presentable than casual, even though she said it would be okay. She also changed her ensemble to this full-bodied jumper with slits in the legs. Now I know my mother is in great shape and doesn’t look like she’s anywhere near her fifties, but this is too much leg for her to be showing.

  “Uh, Mom. You’re not going clubbing, and even if you were, that’s still too much skin to be showing. Don’t give him the wrong impression.”

  “Oh, my poor, green baby. He’s seen me in my best suit, and I had no complaints,” she says with a smirk as she walks to the bathroom to spray on her perfume.

  My eyes roll at the thought of my mother having relations with any man.

  “Mom, some things I don’t need to know.” I wave my hands and grab my lip gloss to apply.

  Soon we are in the car heading to the Riverwalk for lunch.

  We enter the swanky eatery off the Chicago river and follow our hostess to our awaiting guest. Along the way, Mom stops me for a moment.

  “Now, Simone, I really like this guy, and he likes me, too. I don’t want you to pass your judgy eyes or comments in his presence. Save them for later this evening, please.”

  My mom knows me well and knows how crass and blunt I can be, but I see this is important to her.

  “I promise.”

  She takes my hands and gives them a gentle squeeze before we continue to the waiting guest.

  “Ah, there she is. I was thinking you stood me up.” A tall, gray-haired man with blue eyes, stands to greet my mother.