She breathes out a laugh and shakes her head, but reaches for the shirt.
I toss it to her and she shoves both arms in and snatches it closed in front.
“Ohh, I was hoping for a little show,” I protest.
“Well, I guess you have something to look forward to next time…if you’re nicer to me,” she says with a pert smile before spinning around as she walks out. I note the way it lifts just enough in the back to show the cusp of her ass, leaving me salivating for more.
“I’m holding you to that!” I shout after her as she leaves the bedroom.
I’m left with a grin on my face, loving where we’re going with this. I bring my arms up to cross underneath the back of my head as I ponder everything that’s happened over the past weekend.
Friday, everything seemed to be falling apart.
Now that it’s Monday, everything seems to be snapping into place. A possible way to save my magazine, and a definite way to finally keep Edie.
“Thank you, Conniver Media,” I say toward the ceiling. Certainly not the ideal way to go about things, but I’ll take it. If anything, this might be fun. Either way, I know Ideal Gentlemen is on relatively safe footing. We’ve got a reader base and decent circulation and subscription numbers, certainly enough to carry our weight once the umbilical cord is cut from Conniver.
I don’t know if Contempo Woman has similar numbers but it’s probably enough to hold its own. Maybe without Conniver holding the purse (i.e. puppet) strings, Edie will be able to do something new and different with it to make it the success it once was. Because hell if we won’t need all the sales we can get. Starting something like this is no minor undertaking and the risks of going bust are definitely there.
That bit of pessimism disappears as Edie comes back. In one hand she holds something dark and lacy, in the other a navy blue dress on a hanger.
“Underwear and bra,” she says holding up the hand with the lacy bits. “Work dress,” she adds, holding up the other hand. She drapes it flat across the bed and lays out the lingerie next to it. Then she releases the balled-up fist she used to hold the hanger. “And a shower cap, since I’m guessing you don’t have one.”
“Shower cap,” I repeat.
“If you think I’m getting this hair wet, you’ve got another think coming.”
She must see the slight crease in my brow. “Have you ever dated a black woman before?”
“Define date…” I say in a slow, drawn-out voice.
“I don’t even want to know,” she says giving me a mixture of disbelief and disgust.
I laugh. “Of course I have, Edie. I just—I guess you’d be the first I took a shower with. But just in case you’re wondering, I think you’d look damn sexy with wet hair.”
“He says as though it has anything to do with him and not the pain in the ass it would be to fix said wet hair,” she retorts. She reaches up to grab her hair and twist it around, then expertly snaps the pink shower cap around all of it. “How about now, Romeo?”
“She says as though she isn’t still wearing my shirt with only half the buttons done leaving me salivating.”
An amused smile comes to her lips, morphing into something more seductive as she slowly undoes one button. “How about now?”
“Warmer,” I say with a grin.
A gleam comes to her eye as she undoes another, now revealing a deep vee that shows off a good portion of her breasts. “Now you’re in hot territory.”
“Well then,” she says, undoing the final buttons. “I guess it’s bath time.”
“Oh, let me get my rubber duckie,” I croon.
She frowns, then laughs. “Was that supposed to be sexual?”
“Anything can be sexual given the right tone, Edie,” I counter, throwing off the covers to reveal my dick, which is most definitely at half-mast thanks to this little show of hers.
“Well, look who’s raring to go,” she muses.
“And how,” I say, hopping out of bed. I chase her into the bathroom and she leans against the wall as I reach in to turn on the water. Her eyes fall to my dick and some spark of inspiration has her reaching out for it.
“Just what do you think you’re doing, young lady,” I say in an admonishing tone.
“Tickling your pickle? Or is it rickling your dickle?”
I cough out a laugh, which is cut abruptly short as she begins stroking me. My hands come out to shove my shirt off her shoulders. She removes her hand just long enough to allow it to slip completely off.
“We’d better hurry and get in this shower before I make a spontaneous mess all over you.”
“Ohhh, keep talking sexy like that, mister, and you’re going to cause me to have a spontaneous mess as well.”
I grin as I walk her into the spray of water, which has just started to steam up. If she thinks that ridiculous shower cap puts a damper on my libido, she—like many women, I’ve found—just doesn’t understand how powerful simple enthusiasm is for the male brain.
When her back is against the wall of the shower, I lean toward her, both hands placed on either side of her as she continues to stroke me.
“You like that, Bryce?” She says with a coy smile, knowing exactly what the hell she’s doing to me. “Me stroking your big, fat cock? The one that made me come sooo hard last night that I’m still feeling it.” She moans it out, closing her eyes as though the words alone take her right back to that moment.
What the fuck?
This is a new Edie, but a version that I fully support. I’m definitely no longer at half-mast, and if she keeps up with this dirty talk, the load that I unleash will make Mt. Vesuvius look like a sputtering fountain.
“That’s right, Bryce,” she purrs. “Come for me, baby. Shoot that big load all over me like a…porn star.”
“What?” I ask, pulling back and giving her an incredulous look.
“I don’t know,” she protests. “I don’t ever do this kind of thing. I thought that would be sexy.”
“Okay just…” I breathe out a laugh. “Keep stroking and tell me what it felt like last night again.”
“Like,” she sighs and gets that sultry look on her face again, which, to be honest, is more than enough without the words. “Like I’d never stop coming. The things you did to me, the way you take control and completely destroy my body. No one has ever made me feel the things you bring out in me, Bryce.”
Just like some bit of sorcery, the words work magic on me, though I doubt even J.K. Rowling could conjure up the nonsensical words for this spell.
Erectus-eruptus.
Sometimes I’m thoroughly disappointed with the immature places my mind wanders, even at the most inopportune times.
But staring at Edie, with my seed covering her lower stomach, is enough to push me right back into maturity. It’s diluted by the water flowing down the front of her, trailing a line down between her legs, which takes my mind to the obvious.
“My turn,” I say, grabbing both her hands and forcing them over her head. I lean in so she can feel my words across her skin. “Let me show you how it’s done, Edie.”
I can see her pupils dilate either in anticipation or trepidation.
The fat part of my palm rests just below her navel and my fingers work their way right toward the spot my cum was practically leading them toward. I slip them lower until I find just the right spot.
Talk about magic. So very kind of Mother Nature to make it easy for us idiots to bring a woman to orgasm. One touch is enough to cause Edie’s abdomen to spasm against my palm.
“That’s what I like to feel, you coming against my hand, watching your body shake just from me touching you. Next time it’ll be my tongue, torturing your clit, showing you absolutely no mercy until I’m sure you’re not just satisfied, but absolutely ruined.” All the while, I’ve been flicking and circling my finger, watching her grow more and more agitated, her body squirming with pleasure.
“You like that, the things my fingers do to you?” She’s probably at t
he point of being incoherent, but I lean in and deepen my voice so she knows I’m in charge right now. “Then say it, Edie. I want to hear you beg, writhing for me to stop or keep going. Either way, I want to watch you come.”
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Don’t stop,” she says in such a tortured way that she probably means the opposite. It’s no doubt a reflection of just how damn good I am. I grin, and work my fingers even more. “When you come, you damn well better scream my name.”
Her breath is heavy and her eyes are trapped by my gaze. Good. I don’t want her to think I’m in a joking mood. Sex always brings out this side of me, a sharp contrast to the more self-deprecating, humorous Bryce that works so well at getting a woman in this position in the first place. The perfect bait and switch—not that I’ve had any complaints so far.
Even from Edie, the queen of self-control.
But she’s anything but in control right now. Right now, she’s all mine.
Her face reveals the first signs of it, wrinkling as she strains to hold on. But even she can’t hold back from where her body takes her.
“Bryce!” she screams, loud enough to give me momentary shock as she comes hard against my hand.
I grin, as she slumps back against the wall of the shower. “Oh, I’m not even remotely done.”
She glares, but those eyes quickly widen with surprise as my hand slides lower until the palm that rested against her abdomen is now flush against her tortured clit and two of my fingers easily slip into her opening, slick with the orgasm I just produced from her.
“I just love the way your cunt feels around my fingers, it makes me ache for the next time I get to fuck you.” I can’t tell if the shock on her face is from my filthy words or the way my fingers slip deep inside of her.
“Because this right here,” I curl my fingers, to stroke just the right spot inside of her, causing her back to arch as she moans. “It belongs to me.”
She’s mewling with pleasure now.
I lean in, pressing my body against hers and lowering my head to whisper in her ear as I continue to pleasure her. “Say it, Edie. Tell me it’s mine, that every part of you is mine. You don’t get to leave again.”
“Yours,” she manages to eke out in between moans.
I work my fingers harder inside her. “Not good enough.”
Now, she’s in a frenzy and again, I doubt she could string together a coherent sentence. But I’m a demanding lover, something she needs to realize.
“Say it the way you know I want to hear it,” I growl.
Instead, she orgasms, crying out and trying to release her wrists from my grip before she truly is destroyed. I don’t even let up, even when she slumps against the wall like a rag doll.
“I’m yours, Bryce,” she mutters.
I grin and stroke that tender spot one last time, before pulling out. I let go of her arms and have to hold her up, being that she’s temporarily too weak to stand.
“That’s right, Edie. All mine,” I whisper against her ear.
Emphasis on mine.
Chapter Twenty
Edie
At some point, we did manage to actually complete the bathing part of our shower together. Bryce was even nice enough to lather my back, a much needed massage after the torture he put my body through.
As we get dressed, I can’t stop myself from stealing glances at him, and not just because of the way the muscles in his back work as he shrugs himself into a dress shirt.
The things he said…
I nibble the bottom of my lip, wondering how I feel about it.
Screw that, I know damn well how I feel about it. I reveled in it. Hell yes, I’m his. I was probably his since that night seven years ago, just waiting in hibernation until exactly the right time.
Still, a part of me is loathe to show it.
“Oh no you don’t,” he says, catching my face. “I know that look. That’s the Edie-has-misgivings look. No way am I wasting another seven years, waiting for you to see what a catch I am.”
A twisted smile comes to my lips. “Someone has a mighty high opinion of himself.”
He struts over, his shirt only halfway buttoned, revealing that brush of hair on his chest that I love. The look on his face is back to that hard, commanding expression from the shower. Just like a charm, it works to make me weak in the knees.
“Someone has very good reason to,” he murmurs. “I’d be more than happy to strip you down and carry you back to the shower if you need another demonstration.”
Like some damn sex kitten, I lower my lashes and smile to myself as tingles spread throughout my body.
Bryce chuckles and pulls away. “God, I love watching you like that.”
“Like what?” I say, my eyes springing back up to him, filled with indignation.
“Like you can’t wait to get another taste of me.”
I laugh. “Don’t get too big a head, Bryce. It was good.”
“More than good.”
“Above average.”
“The best you’ve ever had,” he counters with a cocky self-assurance that is both sexy and humorous.
Instead of responding, I twist my lips and turn around to present the unzipped portion of my dress. “Care to use all that bravado to help a gal out?”
I feel him come up behind me. Rather than zip me up, he traces one finger up my bare back, from the top of my underwear to the nape of my neck. I sense him lean in closer.
“Don’t act like I can’t have you right back in my bed with a snap of my fingers.”
Before I can retort some smart-assed response, he has the zipper up and has pulled away with a laugh.
I turn around and give him a sour look. “I believe I was promised coffee?”
“And coffee you shall have, Edie.”
He gives me one last grin as he passes to head toward his kitchen.
I follow. “I’ve got to go put on my shoes and do my hair and makeup. And before you say anything, no you can’t help with either. There are somethings a woman has to do on her own.”
“I wouldn’t dream of trespassing on that front,” he says with a wince, as though already picturing the disaster that would ensue.
I laugh and head out across the hall to my own apartment. In my bathroom I stare at myself, noting the smile that I can’t seem to get rid of.
This time last week, if someone told me I had just come back here after spending the night with Bryce Wilmington, I’d have laughed in their face. Now, I’m grinning like the damn cat who ate the canary.
I bite my lip as a shiver goes through my body, once again recalling what happened in the shower, while I fix my hair. I decide to leave it down, curling the ends. An over-indulgent smile is on my face as I look at the result. Bryce has a point about all those times he suggested wearing it down.
I should let him take charge more often.
That just results in another electric shock to my system, threatening to turn me into a puddle.
“Get it together, Edie,” I say, standing up straighter and grabbing my mascara.
There’s too much work to do today to start melting into some giggling airhead every time I think of him. Everyone down to the interns has no doubt heard the news about Conniver by now, and I’ll have my work cut out for me in rallying the troops.
Certainly no time to be focused on my blossoming sex life.
“There will be plenty of time for that tonight,” I say with a satisfied smile toward my reflection after applying my makeup.
No sooner have I left my apartment than Bryce opens the door to his, holding two mugs.
“Hello, neighbor,” he says with one eyebrow raised daringly. “Ready for something hot, strong, and oh so filling to perk you up.”
I hold back a laugh for exactly one second. “Just give me the darn coffee.”
He grins and holds it out for me, moving back so I can enter his apartment again. We stand around the small island in his kitchen sipping.
&
nbsp; “So, are you going to tell anyone today?” I ask.
He nods around his mug. “Definitely Lucien, one of the photographers. He’s my best friend since school and I trust him. Maybe Smith; he has a creative mind and is loyal.”
I nod. “I’ll definitely tell Veronica. I can trust her to keep quiet out of professionalism. Eventually others later on, obviously with a nondisclosure agreement.”
Bryce cocks a smile.
“What? We don’t want someone jumping the gun before we do.”
“I do love a woman who maintains an iron grip on her staff.”
“You make me out to be some Cruella de Vil type. Having worked my way up, I encountered enough horrible bosses to know how not to lead, while still getting things done.”
He gives me an admiring smile. “I’m sure of that.”
I purse my lips and drink my coffee.
“So, back here again tonight,” he says, raising one eyebrow as though to challenge me.
“Do we really need to schedule? That takes some of the fortuity out of it. It’s not a business meeting,” I retort.
“Nonsense, for me this is absolutely research for my magazine.”
“What?” I say, lowering my mug and staring at him, mouth agape.
A wide grin spreads his lips. “Of course it is. I can already see the headline: ‘Twenty Ways to…,’” He frowns, and his brow wrinkles in bewilderment. “‘Dazzle her Snazzle?’”
I erupt with laughter, despite being not entirely sure if he’s serious about using our sex as fodder for his magazine. “Doesn’t work so well in the opposite direction,” I tease, tilting my head with a smile on my lips. “I wonder what that says about the sexes.”
“No…” he says, his brow wrinkling in consternation. “There’s got to be something that fits. Now that you’ve made it a challenge.”
“Go for it,” I dare him. “It will finally give me something to tease you about in the mornings.”
“Now I’m even more determined,” he says, pacing back and forth. “‘Twenty Ways to…Power Her Flower?’ ‘Empower Her Flower.’ No, that’s little too Simone de Beauvoir.”
Bryce: Ex-Business: An Ex-Club Romance Page 11