The Starfish Method

by JB Heller

  I cock a brow then shake my head. “I shouldn’t be surprised, should I? I mean, you refer to sharks as sweet babies.”

  “I think I was a mermaid in a past life,” she says on a dreamy sigh. “So, what about you? What do I need to know, Sam? Please include any weird sexual fetishes in your rundown—just so we can get those out of the way here and now. I reserve the right to veto anything too outrageous.”

  I cough. She’s a riot. I’m enjoying this way too much to stop her, even though the waiter clearing our empty plates away has just turned fifty shades of red. “Weird sexual fetishes?” I sit forward, supporting my elbows on the table and cupping my jaw as if to think about her absurd question. “Nope, don’t have any. Doesn’t everyone collect their lovers’ toenail clippings while they’re sleeping?”

  Hannah throws her head back and laughs. It’s a beautiful sight, and it sounds as good as it did the other night.

  When she’s regained a semblance of control, I cock a brow. “What? You don’t do that?”

  She wipes a tear away from the corner of her eye, and I’m ridiculously pleased that I’m the one who produced this reaction from her. I’m not known for being an amusing person, but I couldn’t help myself. She makes me want to be, just so I can listen to her laugh.

  “Oh my God. Stop. You’re too much.” She gasps and I grin, pride blooming in my chest at my accomplishment.

  The other tables in Zenith’s restaurant are beginning to fill as Sam and I are leaving. Which reminds me . . . “You didn’t tell me why you were up so early yesterday—or today, for that matter.”

  “I’m in the gym by five every morning. It’s a habit I can’t break nowadays.”

  I stop dead in my tracks. “That sounds awful.”

  Sam shakes his head at me and places a palm on my lower back, urging me onward. “You were awake when I messaged you yesterday. And you agreed to an early breakfast today, so obviously mornings don’t bother you. What’s so awful about it?”

  “I’m not worried about early mornings—I can’t sleep past five myself. It’s the gym.” I cringe. “No, thank you. Everybody’s sweat mingling on the equipment. It’s nasty.”

  He chuckles as we come to a stop outside his building. “It’s a great way to start the day, gets your blood pumping and creates endorphins. Win–win. Also, there are these things called sanitary wipes that the machinery is cleaned with after each use.”

  I pat his chest, patronizing him. “Okay, gym junkie, whatever you say. I’ll stick to going for a dip with my girls. That wakes me plenty.”

  Sam grimaces. “I’d rather be a gym junkie than insane. Of course swimming with sharks wakes you up—your subconscious is preparing for an inevitable bloody death.”

  Oh. My. Goodness. This guy. I can’t contain my laughter. “You’re a hoot. But you know I’ve just made it my personal mission in life to get you in that tank with me one day,” I say with a wink.

  He blanches. “The hell you will.”

  I waggle my eyebrows as I walk backwards to my awaiting Uber. “We’ll see,” I say then slam the door on Sam’s response, laughing at the expression on his face as the car pulls away from the curb.

  Unsurprisingly, a text chimes on my phone before I’ve reached the end of the block.

  SAM ~It’s not going to happen. Ever.~

  ME ~I think it will.~

  SAM ~I think you’re deluding yourself.~

  ME ~Is little Sammy scared of the big bad sharks?~

  SAM ~Little Sammy feels as strongly about this as I do.~

  I snicker and my Uber driver eyes me through the rearview mirror as if I’m a crazy person. Ignoring him, I tap out my reply.

  ME ~Are you telling me you refer to your penis as Little Sammy?~

  SAM ~What? No! I was just making my point.~

  ME ~Sure you were. Anyway, I’ve decided it’s my turn to pick where we go next since you chose today. When are you free?~

  SAM ~Who’s the eager beaver now?~

  SAM ~I could do lunch on Tuesday.~

  ME ~I’ll be working. How about Thursday evening?~

  SAM ~I can make that work. Where are we going?~

  I’m going to show him how us regular folk kick it.

  ME ~I’ll send you the address in time for you to get there. But you can’t Google it. It’s a surprise.~

  SAM ~I don’t do surprises.~

  ME ~You do now.~

  THURSDAY AFTERNOON …

  Tom and I have been reviewing the employment contracts all day for a company we recently acquired. The salaries the CEO and VP are collecting are insane compared to the profit margin of the company. It’s no wonder it was going under.

  After hours of reading, the words on the page are beginning to blur together, so I set them aside and text Hannah.

  ME ~So, where’s this address?~

  HANNAH ~It won’t take long to get there. I’ll send it when you need it. Be ready by seven.~

  God, this woman is going to drive me crazy. If I didn’t know better, I’d think pushing my buttons was her new favorite pastime.

  ME ~Now is good.~

  HANNAH ~So is seven.~

  ME ~Hannah . . .~

  HANNAH ~Patience is a virtue ;)~

  I loosen a frustrated growl and drop my phone on my desk with a thud.

  “What’s got your panties in a bunch?” Tom asks from the other side of my desk.

  “Hannah is doing my head in.”

  Tom smirks. “Already? Maybe you should hand her over to me. I’m sure I can handle her.”

  I scowl. “Fuck off, dickwad. You’re not going anywhere near her. Besides, didn’t you hook up with her friend?”

  “That I did. And I’m seeing her again tomorrow,” he says with a shit-eating grin. “Having trouble sealing the deal, cousin?”

  “You’re an asshole, you know that?” But I’m aware he’s just being a wise-ass. I crack my knuckles then strum my fingers on the edge of my desk. “She’s different, Tommy. I’ve never met anyone like her.”

  He scoffs. “Of course not. You think the women at the country club would get in a fish tank full of sharks?”

  I shake my head. “It’s not only the shark thing—although, that is a big part of it. It’s everything. The way she talks to me, how she dresses, her laugh. I actually want to spend time with her.”

  My cousin simply nods. He knows exactly what I’m talking about. We have the same issue when it comes to women.

  After Hannah got over the initial shock of me telling her I own Zenith, she was back to making jokes at my expense and eating like there was no tomorrow. Not a flicker of wedding-bell scheming to be seen.

  “So what’s the problem?” Tom asks.

  “I don’t know what to do with her. Like tonight, we’re meant to be going out, but she won’t tell me where. She’s going to send me the address when it’s time to leave. Who does that?” I throw my arms out, exasperated.

  Tom laughs. “I like it. She’s keeping you on your toes. Just go with it, Sam. It’s not going to kill you to hand over control for one night.”

  “It’s not about control,” I huff.

  He rolls his eyes at me. “Yes, it is. You can’t handle someone else holding the reins. Sit back and enjoy the ride, man.”

  Tom’s always been the free spirit of the two of us. I don’t know how he does it, but if I’m going to keep seeing Hannah, I guess I’m going to have to learn.

  I sent Sam the address to Mojo’s Bowling Alley ten minutes ago. He didn’t reply.

  We may have only spent time together twice, but it was enough for me to get a good read on him. He lives the upper-class, silver-spoon life. I’d bet my life savings he’s never been to a place like this.

  That thought makes me irrationally happy. I’m so excited to see how he reacts to being pushed out of his comfort zone.

  I’m leaning against the outside wall, under the flashing neon sign, when a sleek black town car pulls up. I grin when Sam steps out, frowning at the establishment I’ve cho
sen for our night together.

  I push off the wall and stride over, but not before I glare at the group of women practically drooling on themselves at the sight of him. “Hey there,” I say, my eyes roving up and down his tall frame. God, he’s a fine specimen. Just looking at him has my bits tingling in awareness.

  He raises a brow at me when I come to a stop before him. His gaze rakes over my body, sending chills skating across my skin at the hunger clear in his eyes. I swallow—hard. “Hey,” I mumble again.

  “Hey,” he says in a husky tone that has my toes curling. Then, he steps forward, closing the gap I’d left between our bodies. His large palm snakes around my waist, settling in the center of my back as he tugs me into his warm chest then drops his mouth to my ear. “I think you’re trying to kill me, Hannah,” he murmurs.

  My hands shoot out, gripping his firm biceps to steady myself. “Why would you think that?” I ask, my voice shaky.

  “You’re more beautiful every time I see you. It makes things very hard for me,” he growls, rolling his hips into my lower belly.

  My knees quake, and heat pools in my lady parts. Holy smoked salmon. He is hard—like, really hard. I almost say, ‘To hell with bowling—let’s bone instead!’ because God, he feels good. His palms skate along my spine, going lower each time.

  I turn my face, my lips lightly grazing his cheek as I force words out. “We should go inside.”

  Sam rolls his hips again. “We should get in my car,” he counters.

  It’s an enticing offer, and I’m so damn tempted. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to gain control over my raging libido. We’re supposed to be bowling, not banging. It’s a struggle to remind myself of my three-date rule when he’s this close.

  Mustering all my resolve, I step out of his hold. I slide my hands over his corded arms as I go until our fingers are our only point of contact. “Come on, horndog. Bowling first. Then we’ll see where the night takes us.” I wink and tug him toward the entry.

  He releases one of my hands. “Fine, just give me a sec,” he grumbles then reaches to rearrange his package.

  I can’t take my eyes off his hand as he repositions his boner. I gave him that. And I didn’t even have to touch it! My smile is so wide it hurts my cheeks.

  I could have swallowed my tongue at the sight of her waiting outside in that little black top and red tartan skirt showing a sliver of her creamy stomach. My dick thought all his Christmases had come at once.

  I’ve had to adjust my junk every damn time she’s bent over to roll the ball down the lane. She’s not flashing the whole place or anything, since she’s got black tights covering her legs and hiding all the good stuff under that skirt. But damn, the visual of bending her over my couch in nothing but that skirt and those chunky boots . . .

  Hannah strides back to where I’m sitting behind the dingy scoreboard. “Did you get that?” she asks when she notices I haven’t entered her most recent tally.

  I blink at her. “Nope. I was distracted by the view.”

  Her grin is breathtaking as she leans in and plants a kiss on my jaw. “I’ve been a bit distracted myself,” she croons in my ear, then—Lord, save my soul—she nips the lobe.

  “Hannah,” I growl, tugging her down into my lap, unable to go on without touching her again. I shift my hips, letting her feel exactly how uncomfortable this evening is for me. She wiggles, and I have to squeeze her thighs to keep her still. “I’m going to kiss you now, and you’re going to let me,” I tell her before slamming my mouth onto hers.

  It’s not gentle or soft. I devour her lips, sliding my tongue along the seam, forcing her to open for me. My fingers dig into her hips when she moans into the kiss, her tongue tangling with mine. I break away, my hard-on now throbbing painfully beneath her pert little ass.

  “If you’re done torturing me,” I hiss into her mouth, “I think it’s time to leave.”

  Her answering nod is the only confirmation I need. I stand and Hannah’s lithe form slides down my front. Looping my hands around her waist, I bend to kiss her again. She melts into me, and damn, if that doesn’t feel good—the power I have over her body.

  “My place or yours?” I ask.

  “Mine’s closer,” she breathes.

  Suits me fine. I take her hand and lead her to the exit, following her when we reach the street and she tugs me along the sidewalk.

  “Three blocks this way,” she says, speeding up once we’re past a group of people lingering in front of the bowling alley.

  My fingers flex around her hand, loving her impatience as she curses under her breath at the ‘Do Not Walk’ symbol we’re stopped at. Her booted foot taps rapidly against the pavement, then she’s off, yanking me along behind her the second we’re able to safely cross.

  Not ten minutes later, we arrive at her apartment building. I don’t even have time to take in the façade as Hannah ushers us through the doors and into the foyer.

  “Evening, Steve.” She waves to an elderly gentleman sitting in a lounge reading a newspaper, a small fluffy dog sitting in his lap, as we wait for the elevator. The dog barks at her, wiggling its tail in excitement, and she smiles impossibly wide. “Hey, Ginger,” she croons, and the dog yaps back again.

  Steve eyes me over the top of his newspaper. “Evening, Miss Archer,” he says then adds, “and friend.”

  I dip my chin. “Good evening, sir.”

  “Eyes off, Steve,” Hannah chastises, and the way he’s looking at me suddenly makes sense.

  The elevator doors slide open, and Steve’s chuckle follows behind us as we step inside. The second they close, I have Hannah pinned, my mouth on the sweet skin of her throat. Her fingers tangle in my hair, but we arrive on her floor before I can do anything more.

  I grip her hips from behind, rolling mine into her ass as she jams her key in the lock and throws the door to her apartment open. She spins in my arms when we step over the threshold, backing me against the wall then yanking me to her by my collar to kiss the shit out of me.

  Her fingers fumble with the buttons of my shirt until she lets out a frustrated little growl and tugs at either side, sending buttons flying. I scoop her up by her thighs, reversing our position as I pin her with my hips, and her legs curl around my waist.

  I’m desperate to be inside her, but I need to see her first. My hands slide under the hem of her top, pushing it past her ribs and above her breasts. Our mouths part only long enough for me to pull it over her head and discard it on the floor.

  Hannah’s hands latch onto the buckle of my belt, unfastening it then my jeans. Her little hand skates across my happy trail under the band of my boxer briefs until she’s gripping my cock in her warm palm. My hips surge forward, and my neck strains at the sensation that shoots down my spine.

  “Bedroom,” I grunt into her mouth with another thrust of my hips.

  “Second door on the right.”

  Digging my hands into her ass cheeks, I stride down the short hallway before dropping her onto the bed in the center of the room. She jackknifes, arms going behind her back to unfasten her bra while I kick my pants off to the side then let my ruined shirt fall to the ground.

  Leaning over her, I take one of her rosy nipples into my mouth before sucking gently as I pinch the other—hard. Her torso arches, pushing her chest into my face. My free hand finds its way under her skirt and hooks in the band of her tights. I tug them and her underwear downwards.

  I want her just like this: wearing this skirt, these boots, and nothing else. Her tights pool around her ankles, and I release her breasts to drag her to the edge of the bed.

  Her eyes eat me up, roving over my body with liquid heat. She reaches forward and trails a finger down the center of my chest, all the way to the band of my boxers. She flattens her palm over my straining cock before dropping her lips to lightly suck the head through the thin layer of fabric.

  “Fuck, Hannah,” I groan.

  When she glances at me, the feral need shining in her gaze has me removing m
y boxers in a flash and reaching for my wallet in my pants. After retrieving the condom, I drop my wallet back to the floor then sheath my cock in the latex. Hannah watches my every move, a seductive smirk on her pretty lips and fuck if it doesn’t make me harder.

  Leaning in, I grab hold of her hips and flip her so she’s bent over the side of the bed, her ass in the air, waiting for me to slap it. I’ve never spanked a woman before, but the urge rises in me so powerfully I do it without a second thought. Hannah squeals but pushes back into my awaiting cock, her slick pussy begging for me.

  Grabbing her cheeks, I drop to my knees and run my tongue through her soaked folds. She tastes of woman and sex. The sounds she makes move me back to my feet. I lean over her, taking my cock with one hand and guiding it to her entrance before surging forward.

  “Ahh, Sam . . . yes!” she cries out, and I can’t stay still. I have to move; I have to fuck.

  My thrusts are hard and deep. Hannah quivers beneath me, whimpering with every glide in and out. Reaching a hand under her, I find her clit and run tiny circles around it, never quite touching it where she needs it most. Her body begins to quiver, and I pound into her harder, faster.

  “Come for me, baby,” I command, sinking my teeth into her shoulder at the same time as I finally pinch her clit between my fingers.

  Her moan ricochets off the walls as her body clenches around my cock so hard I shoot my load. I slow my movements then still inside her. My head spins with the intensity of my release, and I slide out of her warmth before dropping to lie beside her.

  We stay like that, panting and staring at each other, for a good few minutes as we come down from the high of amazing sex.

  “Better than steak?” I murmur, grinning when her eyes light with amusement.

  A small chuckle escapes her. “So much better.”

  That was, by far, the hottest first-time-with-a-partner sex ever. Zero awkwardness, no “Is this okay?”, and a mind-numbing orgasm, to boot.

  My legs feel like jelly, and I’m beyond satisfied. I want to curl up and have a quick power nap.