by Kim Karr
I grip his shoulders tight enough for my blunt nails to scratch him and move up and down over and over again, feeling like there is a chance I might never get enough of him.
“Fuucckk,” he groans again, this time drawing out the word. Soon his hands are moving me as fast as my hips are already moving.
I lean in to kiss him and his mouth devours mine. His tongue strokes mine, and his lips crash against mine with a hunger that would have made me weak at the knees if I were standing.
I am climbing higher and higher and his groans are becoming more intense, even fiercer, with every passing second. One of Keen’s hands drifts down and his thumb is directly over my clit. With pressure he circles me, and my hips jerks as my thigh muscles tighten in preparation for my impending climax.
“Oh God, I’m going to come,” I cry out.
His hand lifts and takes my chin to look at him. “I’m right there with you,” he groans through clenched teeth.
I take his thumb in my mouth, sucking on it, and then we both explode as shattering climaxes run rapid through our veins.
When I can breathe again, I look down at him. “You let me take control.”
He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “Did I?”
Okay, so maybe not, but I’ll call it a win. “Yes, you did.”
Being naughty, he nips at my lip. “I’m going to be honest: I don’t like giving up control.”
I nip back at his. “I don’t like giving up control either.”
He laughs.
“Don’t laugh. I’m serious.”
“I know you are,” he chokes out, trying to contain his laughter.
I lean down and suck on his neck, probably harder than I should, and then purr, “I am woman, here me roar.”
Laughing now, he stands up with me in his arms and turns around, setting me on my bed.
I look up at him, admiring how gorgeous he is, and wishing it were early morning so I could see him again. Really see him again. This time study every line, ripple, and dimple.
Under my heated gaze, his limp cock starts to stiffen again.
He stares down at me with an odd gleam in his eyes.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
“I think you’ll be able to figure that out in a matter of seconds.”
Reluctant, but so turned on, I search for my words. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
He drops his head and lightly licks up my thigh. “Don’t overthink this, Maggie. Just lie back.”
“Keen,” I call out in desire, “I know you’re up to something.” I try to protest, but I end up moaning instead.
Ignoring my attempt to get him to spill the beans, he drives his tongue into my pussy, thrusting it in and out and in and out in the most delicious way.
That mouth.
I grip his hair. “Oh God, yes!” I scream as his tongue drives me to a state of near insanity.
I can’t believe how quickly he is bringing me to orgasm again. And I can’t believe how much I want it. Need it.
Desire builds fast and the pleasure starts to overtake my entire body. I am rising higher and higher and higher. I’m on the brink. “Oh God, don’t stop. Don’t stop. I’m going to come.”
And then like a car hitting a brick wall, he just stops.
“What are you doing?” I pant.
“Do you like that?”
I wrinkle my nose in confusion. “Yes, you have to know I do.”
He doesn’t respond. Instead he drives his tongue into my pussy again and brings me slowly back to the brink.
“That’s it,” I call out. “Oh, God, that’s it.”
And just as before, he stops.
I glare down at him. On his knees, with his face between my legs, lips glistening with my desire.
“Did you like that?”
“Yes,” I say impatiently.
He does it two more times.
By then I am practically whimpering.
No man has ever dared to tease me like this. If anyone had, I would have simply stood up and ordered him to leave. I have no intention of doing such a thing right now, but that doesn’t mean I won’t if he pushes me too far.
Keen licks his shimmering lips. “You taste so good, I think I might do this all night.”
No way.
No way is he doing this all night.
I can’t take it.
I can’t take his teasing anymore, so I beg and give up control, both at the same time. “Please, Keen. Please. I’m begging you. Don’t stop.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Tell me you like when I’m in control.”
He’s so pushing it, and yet, I have to admit, I rather like it. “I do like giving up control.”
His grin is wide. Cat-that-ate-the-canary wide.
I have to narrow my eyes.
He ignores my stare and drops his head back down.
And right now I don’t care about anything else because his face is right where I want it, and unlike the way too many times before, this time he doesn’t stop. He licks and sucks me until I see unicorns and rainbows and stars and scream out in pleasure.
And then, just to be nice, he does it again.
When I’m spent, he pulls me up into his arms. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Putting on my most serious face, I tell him, “You can go now.”
He narrows his eyes at me.
I raise a brow.
And then he smirks at me.
Damn it! He’s too good.
“Have you not learned your lesson yet?” he says, rolling me onto my back and pinning my arms over my head. “Because like I said, I can taste you all night.”
“Uncle!” I shout.
“Uncle? I’m not tickling you.”
“I know, but it’s all I could think of.”
Together, in a fit of laughter, we find our way to the head of the bed.
I turn and rest my head on his chest.
He rolls me over to spoon me.
I roll back. “Keen,” I whisper.
“Yeah, Maggie?” he asks in the sexiest, raspiest sex-induced voice I’ve ever heard.
“When you asked who fucked me over in the head, I lied to you. I never talk about this. Makayla knows, and she is the only one besides my mother.”
“You can trust me.”
I nod. “It was my father, and I was nine years old.”
In a flash, he rises on his elbows, gripping the sheets. “What do you mean?”
I lift my gaze to his. “Nothing like that. For as long as I could remember, whenever I’d ask my mother who my father was, she’d say he was a very important man who had very important work to do for the state of California. She never told me he was the governor, but I knew he was. His picture hung in the hall of our school, and every day I’d stare at his image and wish he’d come for me. I imagined him riding in on a white horse and taking me away. How silly is that?”
“You were a kid—not silly at all.”
I shrug. “Well anyway, one day my mother received a call from my father and he asked for us to come to him, and I just knew he was ready to meet me and make me a part of his life.”
Keen pushes a piece of hair from my face.
I suck in a breath and go on. “We drove more than six hours up the coast to Sacramento. I remember my grandmother begging my mother not to go, but she insisted it was time I met my father.”
Keen shifts so we’re facing each other and he looks really concerned.
I give him a slight smile. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”
He nods.
“The whole way up there I thought I was finally going to have a real family like all my friends at school. But then as soon as we pulled into the Governor’s Mansion, we were ushered through the employee entrance and taken into a very private room. I thought it was weird we didn’t get to walk in through the grand front entrance. Yet, still I waited in my new dress for my powerful father to come
and be a part of my life. We waited for hours until someone finally came in. It was a nurse, and she whispered something to my mother. My mother started to cry but told me to be brave while the nice nurse took a sample of my blood.”
“What? Are you kidding me?” Keen asks in shock.
“Yeah, my dear old dad wanted proof that I was his. And we waited three more hours, at which time an older man in a suit came in. I knew he wasn’t my father since I’d seen my father’s picture. He sat down beside my mother and took some documents out of his briefcase. Turns out dear old dad wanted her to sign a gag order in exchange for a million dollars. To get her to promise never to tell anyone I was his, he was going to pay my mother off.”
Keen gently places his hand on my hip. “Why after all that time would he do that?”
“He was going to run for the highest office in the nation, and the President of the United States could not possibly have an illegitimate child.” I laugh. “He never made it that far.”
“What did your mother do?”
I smile. “She told that attorney to go fuck himself, and took me home.”
“Good for her.”
“It wasn’t long after that that she took the job in New York City.”
“Because of him?”
“I don’t know for certain, but I think so. I think she just wanted to get far away from him and all the political bullshit.”
“I guess I can understand that. And you’ve still never met him?”
“Nope. He died two years ago and left me a letter.”
“What did it say?”
I shrug. “I never opened it. Just gave it to my mother and told her to burn it.”
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to—his eyes say it all.
I give me another reassuring smile. “I have to admit, I learned a valuable lesson that day while I waited to meet him.”
Sadness fills his eyes that a moment ago were filled with compassion. “What lesson is that, Maggie?”
I suck in a breath and then blow it out. “That dreams never come true, and that the only way to have control of your life is to take it.”
Keen pulls me to his chest. “I wish I could tell you that wasn’t the truth, but I’d be lying.”
I close my eyes and whisper, “I know. Now we should get some sleep. We have an early flight to New York to catch.”
After a kiss to the top of my head, Keen settles on the pillow beside mine.
And then I fall asleep, waking in the middle of the night from a dream about white horses.
How ridiculous.
29
WELCOME TO NEW YORK
Keen
Simon Warren is about men’s fashion.
Everyone in this company has their role. Cam is trying to refine those roles while at the same time trying to grow his company.
My role is to see the big picture for Simon Warren.
Before I can do that, I have to understand the very core of this company’s existence—fashion.
Which is why I’m back home so fucking soon after hightailing it out of here. Not because I want to be here, either. This city holds way too many memories I’d rather forget. My job, all the women, a restlessness I could never quite understand, and then my father’s sudden death. Nothing I want to be reminded of.
Good thing I’ve been on the move all day with no time to think about any of that shit.
As soon as the plane landed in New York City, I spent the entire afternoon being shuffled from one fashion show to another. Simon Warren’s show was first on the agenda, Jordan having flown out yesterday to be here for the preparation of presenting the fall line. After that he took Maggie and me to three other shows.
The final show of the day has just finished. It was Austin Mars—the company Cam is in the process of buying—and I arranged to have a drink with Austin to get a feel for him and his business style.
You see, I’m not sure I agree with Cam’s business model. He wants to grow the company by adding fashion brands that complement Simon Warren. I think he might be better off considering taking over companies that have a decent share in markets Simon Warren is not in, and turning them into Simon Warren locations. It will be the fastest way to grow the brand.
Talking with Austin Mars will help me better assess his company and its disposition before knowing for certain if my idea is viable with his brand.
Maggie and I are down at Pier 59 Studios and have to meet her mother for dinner at seven, which is just over an hour from now.
Leaning against the wall outside the large room where the show was just held, I can tell Maggie’s feet are killing her. She wore sky-high heeled boots all day and slid on the ice at least twice that I’m aware of.
I glance at my watch again. Shit, we’re going to be cutting it close.
The minutes tick by as we wait for Austin to finish his meet-and-greet. With each passing tick of the clock, I begin to worry about cutting the meeting times too close.
Maggie looks down at her watch, and I can tell time is becoming a concern to her as well.
The buffer zone now clearly beyond both our comfort levels, I turn to her. “Hey, why don’t you go and have dinner with your mother, and then I’ll meet you both for drinks at the hotel at nine.”
As expected, she can’t just agree with me. Sometimes she infuriates me with her willpower. Which she is doing right now as she shakes her head no. “No, it’s fine. I can just let my mother know we might be late. She’ll understand.”
Although I have to say that keeping things professional with Maggie has been easier than I thought, sometimes I have to take a deep breath. Sure, she has her job, and I have mine, and when we’re not vying for control like right now, we actually work well together, but the bottom line is I’m in charge.
That holds true both in and out of the bedroom.
However, I’m not a fucking idiot. I know playing that card is a huge risk, and believe it or not, I’m willing to take it.
Approaching the situation with finesse, I lean toward her. When I catch a whiff of her delicious scent, I feel my excitement right in my dick.
Fuck.
Breathing her in, it becomes glaringly evident that it has been more than twelve hours since I have been inside her.
Fuck.
Drawing in a deep breath, I force myself to insist she go. I know her feet are killing her, I can tell by the way she’s standing, and also, I really hate to keep her mother waiting. “Maggie, you should go,” I tell her.
She worries her lip with her teeth. “No, I shouldn’t. I should stay with you to facilitate the meeting with Austin.”
I want to nip at that lip, but resist the urge. “Mag…gie.” I draw out her name in insistence.
She grabs hold of my tie and pretends to be straightening it when she’s really tugging on it as if to strangle me. “I heard he likes good-looking men in suits.”
A quick glance around tells me everyone else from Simon Warren is gone, so I put my mouth on her ear and lick around it. “Jealous?”
She tugs on my tie harder. “No. Don’t be ridiculous.”
I laugh and plant a quick kiss on her lips. “I’m a big boy and can handle him. Promise. Now call the car service, and I’ll grab a cab.”
She releases her hold on me and visibly sags against the wall. I can tell she’s beyond exhausted. I am too. We hardly slept last night and have been on the go all day. “I left my phone in my purse, which is in the lockers at the back entrance,” she sighs.
I move a little closer. “We could trade services.”
Her brows pull together. “What are you thinking? Maybe I could blow you right here and in exchange you’ll get my bag for me?”
I make a show of looking around. “Would you mind? I don’t think people will notice, do you?”
Her lips lift into a smile. “And you call me crazy.”
Pulling my phone from my suit pocket, I hand it to her. “Make the call. I’ll be right back.”
By the time
I return with her purse in my hand, she’s talking to a man with dark brown hair that is combed straight back over his round skull.
When I’m close enough, Maggie outstretches her hand. We exchange her purse for my phone and before I can say a word to her, Austin Mars is right up in my face. He grabs my hand before I even have a chance to lift it. He starts shaking it vigorously. With a huge smile he says, “Ahhh, Keen, Keen—you and I must become fast friends.”
In the whirlwind of him talking on and on about how young and wonderful I am, I find it hard to follow him. To be honest, I’m too busy trying to follow his enormous jowls, which seem to sway back and forth like sails on a rough ocean.
“Now about that drink,” he says, slapping a hand on my shoulder. “I was thinking we could go up to The Deck.”
I nod in agreement as I look around for Maggie.
He rubs his round belly and laughs. “They also just so happen to serve the best clams…”
While he’s discussing his food preferences, my head swings around, still searching for Maggie. She is nowhere to be seen.
What the fuck?
She left without so much as a goodbye?
With my blood boiling, I turn my attention back to Austin, whose own head seems to fit directly upon his chest without the benefit of a neck.
An hour and a half later, I find myself raring to leave despite the enlightening conversation and the floor-to-ceiling windows in front of me that provide one of the best panoramic backdrops of the Hudson River and the Lower Manhattan skyline.
Perhaps because of the three scotches Austin insisted I drink, I break one of my golden rules of business and pull my phone out during our meeting to check and see if Maggie has called or texted.
An apology is what I expect to see.
While Austin’s pudgy fingers dip his cocktail fork into the slimy confines of a clamshell, I swipe my finger across the screen and pull up my phone log. Nothing new. Next I pull up my text messages.
Nothing from Maggie, but there is a text from Sarah.
212-567-0987: Your brother told me you were back in town. I’d like to meet up with you for a drink and catch up like old times. I miss you. Call me. XOXO Sarah
Sarah is the friend I guess I’d call my go-to girl. We went to grad school together, and although I never considered her to be my girlfriend, she was about as close to one as I’ve ever had.