Womanizer

by Katy Evans

  I’m silent, just listening.

  He throws some chopped veggies and potatoes with herbs on the stove and stirs them a little before dribbling some extra virgin olive oil on them. I walk over and peek at the food cooking on the stove. “I hadn’t realized I was so hungry until I saw all this,” I confess.

  He turns around from marinating two steaks on the island and hugs me from behind, places a hand on my growling stomach and lays a kiss on my exposed shoulder. “I got a head start before picking you up. Food’s almost ready, baby; you don’t have to wait long.”

  I gulp and try to overlook the fact that he just called me baby, but the sound of his deep, rumbling voice calling me his baby does some serious things to me. I clench my thighs together, silently begging my body to calm down because we haven’t even had dinner yet and I’m already thinking about being in bed.

  “So, what did you do today?” I hear Callan ask.

  “Oh, nothing, I lounged around the apartment, watched some TV, got my nails done . . .” I trail off and admire him walking around the kitchen, occasionally checking this and that, sprinkling spices and stirring and adjusting temperatures. “What about you?” I ask.

  “I went on a run, went to Carma to review some options for our next takeover, bought a painting at an auction. The usual,” he responds.

  “Sounds like a very busy day.”

  He turns to look at me, leaning back against the counter with his arms across his chest. “I guess you could call it that. I made an effort to distract myself.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Because if I didn’t, I would’ve been at your door as soon as you woke up.”

  My stomach clenches at the thought, and my heart races.

  I smile and answer honestly. “That would’ve been nice.”

  We look at each other, a thousand unspoken words fluttering in the space between us, and the moment is broken when the timer for the steaks rings and it’s finally time to eat.

  We sit down and he pours us both a glass of red wine, the reason being it “enhances the flavors” in the food.

  I mock him for that comment but quickly shut up as soon as I take the first bite—because this is seriously some of the most delicious food I have ever tried.

  I tell him so, and he just smiles in thank you.

  We talk about everything. About Carma, about his anal dress code (I tease him about keeping my bra and hair band somewhere around his house), our favorite foods, my fear of heights, and his reason for smoking. We talk about anything and everything, effortlessly moving from one topic to the next.

  I have never felt so comfortable, or so at home, with another human being in my life.

  His eyes make me lose track of time. Everything about him drives me crazy . . . his smell, his touch, his voice.

  When we’re finished eating, we wash the dishes together and finish in no time. At one point, I splash him with water and he solemnly tells me, “Big mistake.”

  I begin to laugh, but then he picks me up and slings me over his shoulder like a caveman.

  I start to shriek and laugh in total delight, all the while demanding he put me down. He walks effortlessly with me slung across his shoulder and lays me down on his couch in front of his huge flat-screen TV.

  He places his hands on either side of me, caging me in.

  I lean back away from him.

  “Playing hard to get?” he demands, staring at me intently but playfully.

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “No?” he repeats, challenging my answer.

  I gulp but respond again, “You heard me, Carmichael.”

  He chuckles, but when I meet his eyes, there’s no laughter there. “Kiss me,” he says, fluttering his lips over mine.

  I don’t answer.

  “I don’t know if you noticed, Olivia, but that was not a question . . .”

  My heart speeds up and I feel myself getting wet between my legs as he gets closer to me, his breath fluttering over my lips. I keep trying to act like I don’t want to kiss him but I know he can see the truth in my eyes.

  I am dying to kiss him. I am dying to taste him. For him to taste me.

  “Kiss me,” he says again, this time more gently.

  I look at him, his eyes fiercely looking at mine as his hands frame my face tightly. I see the desire in his eyes, I see the pain, the relentlessness, the ambition; I see caring.

  I see a man. A man who I want to love. And a man who I want to love me . . .

  I know it’s not possible, that I’m too young, and he’s too worldly, but in this moment, I sort of tremble with the knowledge that I still want it nonetheless. At least for tonight. For this night.

  “Callan . . .” I whisper.

  “Kiss me, Olivia,” he whispers, huskily now, and with that, I crack, and I raise my lips to his, kissing him with everything I’ve got, with everything I feel, wrapping my arms around him and pressing my mouth to his, fair and square, tongue and all.

  I let all of my confusion, all of my lust, all of my wanting, all of my waiting pour into this kiss. I let it all go. I focus on him, his soft yet firm lips kissing me back just as hard and just as passionately.

  He tears his mouth away from mine, only to place it on my neck, and I feel him travel lower, toward my breasts, as though my kiss unleashed his hunger full-on.

  I moan.

  He brings his mouth back up to mine and we start to kiss again, and we don’t stop for what seems like an eternity.

  His tongue slips between my lips and it’s warm and wet, and it makes me want it someplace else. I moan again and wrap my hands around his neck, welcoming his kiss.

  He picks me up and turns us around so he’s sitting and I’m straddling him on the couch.

  I rub against him, never breaking our kiss. Soft breasts to hard chest.

  I feel him hard between my legs and I ache for more.

  His hands grip my ass and press me against him, as if he knows I need more.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he says against my lips.

  I kiss him in response, holding on to him, my fingers threaded in his soft hair, pulling his head closer to mine.

  He puts his hands underneath my dress and grips my thong-clad ass.

  He breaks the kiss and looks at me. “What have we got under here?”

  “What . . .? What do you mean ‘what’? My underwear.”

  His hand rubs against my naked ass cheek, challenging what I said.

  I roll my eyes at him and he chuckles.

  I take his hand and lead it higher, to the bow on the back of my new thong.

  He arches an eyebrow. “Let me see it.”

  His fingers rub the satin of the bow on my ass, and I sit there and let him, looking into his eyes.

  “It’s not red,” I say regretfully, suddenly wishing it were.

  “Show me,” he says, rubbing his thumb along my bottom lip.

  “Show you what?” I whisper, concentrating only on how hard he is between my legs and on his beautiful eyes staring at my mouth.

  “Your underwear,” he says.

  I laugh. “What are you, fifteen?”

  He grinds me against him, reminding me that he is most definitely not fifteen, and I gulp.

  He plants a kiss on my cheek before leaning back and placing his hands behind his head, apparently waiting for me to dismount him and show him my underwear.

  I’m about to ask him if he’s serious but the look in his eyes stops me.

  He looks like he’s about to unwrap the greatest present Santa ever gave him. Life ever gave him. He looks like a starved lion about to eat his first meal in days.

  He looks like he is about to attack me.

  And I am loving every second of it.

  And I’m about to make him die for it.

  This is why you got the underwear in the first place, Olivia . . . who cares if it’s not red? He doesn’t seem to care.

  I try to pump myself up because I’m about to strip for this deliciously
sexy man who is basically fucking me with his eyes right about now.

  I get off his lap and hear him moan in protest.

  I smirk.

  I get up and walk so that I’m a couple of feet away from him.

  I look him straight in the eye as I start to slowly slip off the straps of my dress.

  I see him gulp.

  I reach behind me with one hand and slowly draw down the zipper of my dress.

  I let the dress fall so that the whole top half of my torso is exposed.

  I look down and see my tight stomach, and my full breasts decorated in the black lacy bra.

  I run my fingers along the edges of the bra’s cups and play with the straps, letting one fall down my shoulder. I look at Callan, and his eyes are fixed on mine. His pupils are so dilated, his eyes almost look black.

  I pull down the other strap of my bra and take a step toward him.

  “You still haven’t shown me what you’ve got under there . . .” Callan teases. But his eyes are serious.

  “Shh, be patient,” I say.

  I unzip my dress the rest of the way down and let it drop to my feet.

  I hear Callan inhale sharply and I see his eyes make their way down my body. I’m left standing in my thong, my bra, and my high heels.

  I hear Callan curse under his breath. He stands up and makes his way toward me, but I raise my hand to stop him and take a step back.

  I unclasp my bra and let it fall down as well, the cool air that meets me making my nipples pucker, and I see Callan’s eyes flare at the sight.

  “Do you like what I’ve got, Callan?” I ask.

  He smirks, and takes another step toward me, to which I respond by taking another step back.

  “Jesus, Olivia, let me touch you,” he growls, and takes another step forward.

  I shake my head no, and take another step back, before turning away from him and bending over and taking off my high heels. I unfasten the straps and slip them off my feet, one by one, knowing each second Callan has to wait to touch me will drive him even more crazy. Also knowing Callan is enjoying a very, very nice view of my ass.

  When I turn around, I see Callan basically eating me up with his eyes.

  “That’s it,” he roughly whispers.

  He wraps me in his arms and kisses the hell out of me. His hands all over my body. He picks me up and wraps my legs around his waist, taking me to his bed.

  Finally . . .

  We get there and he unbuttons his shirt, tossing it to the ground. He takes off his shoes and socks and unfastens his belt, so he’s naked except for his black slacks.

  He lays me down and kisses my neck, licking and sucking.

  I moan and squirm under him, wanting him to take me already.

  His lips find my nipple and he sucks it in his mouth, sending a tingling sensation right between my legs.

  He turns his head and takes the other one in his mouth, and I moan in response.

  His hand slips between my legs and I feel him tease me through my lace panties. His lips find mine and he kisses me hard and rough, his teeth nipping at my lower lip and his tongue slipping between my lips to taste. His kiss is drugging and delicious, his lips perfectly molded against mine.

  His fingers keep working me through my panties and I feel like I’m going to die if he doesn’t give me more soon.

  “Callan, please,” I beg.

  He kisses my neck and uses his hand to pull my panties to the side before pushing a finger inside me.

  I gasp and hold on to his shoulders, my nails biting into his skin as he slowly pumps his finger in and out.

  “God, Olivia . . . you’re so tight,” he groans as he keeps fingering me.

  I whimper and feel myself getting wetter and wetter.

  I bite his neck a little. He groans low in his throat, and at the sound, need rips through me. I run my hands over his head, and his hair ends up rumpled and sexy.

  I feel drunk, and naughty, and impulsive. I’ve never been the girl to just go with it, to fuck everything, but this . . . this man . . . this moment . . . this need, I cannot deny myself him. He drags his fingers down my bare abdomen and expertly teases his hand over my panties.

  Oh.

  God.

  My hips jerk in a circle to get closer and I grip the back of his neck for balance.

  “You’re so responsive. I could tease you all night and get off on watching you.” He rubs my sex lightly over my panties and leans over to nibble my lips. He kisses and nibbles my neck and continues to move his finger, making my knees weak when he knowingly passes by my clit.

  I’ve never had this. Even kisses like this. I want to take every feeling apart and figure out its contents and I want to put into words how amazing it feels, and I want to forget about all that and just feel alive, intensely connected, wanted and so, so desirous. I’ve wanted things, but this wanting is more like an ache or an obsession. I can’t seem to pull apart the feeling either, or give it a word, so I don’t, and just let him finger me, half dressed at his place, panting and making noises like I’m some sex kitten.

  His toned arms come around me.

  He’s soon tasting my nipple again with his tongue, long, warm swipes. He moves his tongue to flick the tip in a circle around my breast. He squeezes the flesh to push my nipple deeper into his mouth, and when he has it right where he wants it, he sucks.

  He stops and lifts his head and watches me, lips curled, as a fingertip circles the sensitized point of my nipple.

  He hooks his thumb on the edge of my panties and pulls them down my legs. Revealing my pussy.

  He grabs me by the ass and dips his head downward. “Do you know what you’re getting into?” His eyes are dilated and swirling with a combination of tenderness, desire, and heat.

  His lips press to the inside of my thigh, then trail a delicious path up my abdomen. “Open your mouth and kiss me,” he says.

  I arch my back and stick my tongue into his mouth even as he plunges his own in mine. He groans as he makes contact. “You as into this as I am?”

  “Mmm . . .”

  He ducks his head and a hungry sucking sound leaves him as he tortures the hardened, sensitized point of my nipple back in his mouth.

  I cling to his shoulders, pleasure cascading through me as I start humping his hand.

  “Callan . . .”

  “Callan what?”

  “Callan Carmichael—”

  “That’s right.”

  He smothers my mouth and kisses me hard again.

  We’re kissing wetly and heatedly when he withdraws his finger from my tight sheath and continues brushing, grazing. I can’t breathe from the anticipation of waiting for him again. I pull my mouth free and press it against his jaw, panting against his skin. Soon I’m holding in my breath, waiting for it—for him to fill me with something, anything at this point would be good.

  “Is this what you want?”

  He caresses my breast with one hand as he eases the tip of his long, strong middle finger inside me.

  I groan out something unintelligible, thrusting my hip out for more.

  He pulls it back and smiles.

  “You want it or not?” He moves over my slickness and I groan.

  “Yes,” I gasp.

  He pushes it into his mouth and tastes it, and then he pushes it back into my pussy. Already my orgasm is building as he rhythmically starts to finger me.

  I undulate to his hand.

  He tastes my mouth again, really possessively this time. I’m still not used to feeling this intensity during sex.

  Now I get it, why people have heart attacks during sex. Maybe my lungs will just turn to stone because it sure as hell feels like it.

  All my energy is gathering in a ball of fire at the core of my body, I don’t have the energy to breathe, much less speak. But I somehow manage to breathlessly say, “So . . . amazing . . .”

  “How much do you want it?” He rubs his thumb over my clit, clenching his jaw as he pushes another finger i
nside me.

  Our eyes meet, and a raw look crosses his features before he lifts his fingers and tastes me, softly, so softly.

  “Oh god, that’s too hot.” I run my fingers over his jaw.

  He strokes his hand down my bare thigh. “I really enjoy kissing you. All over,” he adds meaningfully.

  He looks at my naked body for a whole minute then his hand cups my jaw. His eyes are a mixture of hunger, amusement, and tenderness. He leans over and kisses me, slipping his tongue into my mouth slowly this time, as if I’m irresistible. Meant to be savored.

  He eases his hand between my legs to open me wider and parts me so he can taste my pussy.

  “Ohhhhh,” I hear myself breathe as he licks his tongue slowly along the entrance of me.

  His hand clenches my thigh and squeezes, he groans as if he could get off on my taste alone.

  I gasp when he dips his tongue inside, deep, deeper . . . deepest. I groan and drag my bare feet up the back of his thighs.

  I inhale sharply when he reaches up to massage my breasts, his eyes closed as he tastes me. I watch his face move between my legs and the sight is so hot I’m about to go off.

  He starts kissing my sex lips again as he eases his thumb over my clit and starts rubbing in delicious circles. I don’t know how to feel, how to react, my world is spinning a thousand miles a minute, there is nothing beneath me, nothing but my arms around his neck, clenching, and his hot mouth, and his expert hands.

  I can hear my breathing in the dark, crazy fast, when he withdraws and strips down to his bare sexy bones. And muscles. Lots of muscles and perfection here.

  “Who do you want here, Olivia?” he says as he spreads above me, his voice rough in the dark as he straightens.

  He takes my hips and parts my legs wider open with a nudge of his knee. He leans over to tease his tongue over the tips of my breasts. I arch in agony and pleasure.

  “You, Callan.” I’m trembling, gripping him to me.

  He grabs his erection and teases the tip inside me. “Say it now.” He sounds so possessive, so determined to take it all.

  A guttural sound leaves my throat as I lift my hips, desperate for him. “Callan.”

  He pushes my hips down to pin me in place, then drives forward in one smooth, hard thrust.