by Jackie Lau
Maybe we’re going to do it here, in the front hall, the hard marble floor beneath my back...or my knees. However he wants is fine with me.
But instead, he scoops me up in his arms as though I weigh nothing and walks up the stairs. “I want to make love to you in my bed.”
He enters the bedroom and deposits me on his bed, which is huge and covered in soft blankets. He climbs in next to me and makes quick work of his suit and boxers. And okay, I might drool the first time I see him in the nude, the first time I properly get a look at all his sculpted muscles.
I squirm against the bed as he positions himself over me, his gaze intent on my body. He’s breathtaking, and I want him more than I’ve ever wanted another man.
Before this, I knew what it was like to have a need I had to satisfy, but I didn’t know what it was like to want one particular person only, because nobody else would do.
I am in over my head, and all I can do is want.
“Are you ready?” he asks, reaching into his bedside table.
“Yes,” I say. “Yes.”
He chuckles low, and it vibrates in my chest.
I continue to squirm as he rolls on a condom. He notches the tip of his erection against my entrance and slowly pushes inside. I watch as he enters me, gasping when he’s maybe halfway in.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “It’s been a while, and I—”
“Don’t apologize for anything.” He puts his finger to my mouth, then presses a kiss to my temple and kisses his way down my jaw and throat. So tenderly, even though I’m sure he’s aching to be fully inside me.
I’m about to tell him to continue when he pushes in further, as though he can read my mind. Finally, he’s seated within me, and I exhale slowly. He’s so hard, and just the perfect size.
God, he feels amazing.
He brushes the hair back from my face. “Okay?”
I nod, and he rocks his hips, moving in and out of me with long strokes. I grip his back with my hands, feeling his muscles as he thrusts inside me.
“That’s good,” I say breathlessly. “Yes. Good.”
If he likes dirty talk, too bad for him. I’m barely able to form words at all.
Some other time, perhaps. I know this will happen more than once.
One of his arms supports his weight, and he touches me with his other hand, as though worshipping me, as though every inch of my body is a work of art. Then he moves his hand between my legs, and my eyes pop open.
“Do you like that?” he asks.
I nod.
“Can you come again for me like this?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
He stops thrusting, but his hand remains between my legs, rubbing light circles over my clit. “I have to stop. I don’t want...to finish yet.”
I’m glad that he, too, is overcome.
I love being joined with him like this. I tighten my hold on him and bring his chest against mine, skin against skin, and it feels glorious. When he starts moving again, I grind against him, and I can feel myself getting closer and closer.
“Josh,” I say, my fingernails digging into his back, and then I come apart beneath him.
He growls as he spends himself inside me.
Afterward, he goes to the washroom to clean up, and I stay in the bed, rolling around in in the soft sheets. They feel so luxurious against my sensitized skin, and I can’t help grinning.
When he returns to bed, he wraps his arms around me from behind and presses kisses all over my neck and shoulder. “I hope you have no plans to go anywhere.”
“Of course not.”
I often leave after sex, but tonight, it’s not a consideration. I will stay here with him.
“I promise to last more than two minutes next time,” he says. “I was just...you know.”
Yes, I do know.
I turn in his arms. We kiss lazily; it’s perfection. I run my hands through his short hair and over the light stubble on his jaw, and he runs his hands over my curves.
I want to be in his bed, with his arms around me, for as long as I can.
Chapter 15
Josh
When my alarm goes off at six o’clock, I turn it off, then roll over and see Sarah next to me in bed. She’s scribbling in a little purple notebook.
I smile at her. “Morning. How long have you been up?”
“An hour. I usually wake up at five, even on my day off.”
“What are you writing?”
“Notes on the hazelnut chocolate tart we ate last night. I didn’t intend to do any work, but I have a couple ideas for minor changes I can make to my chocolate hazelnut tarts.”
“Should I be insulted you were paying enough attention to your food last night that you can make notes on it?”
She laughs. I love hearing her laugh first thing in the morning. It’s good to wake up with her in my bed.
I toss the notebook to the floor and roll on top of her and kiss her. We’re both wearing short-sleeve Henleys—I lent her one of mine—and underwear and nothing else, but it’s too much clothing. I love feeling her softness beneath me, and I ache to touch her skin.
I’m about to reach for the bottom of her shirt when I notice a book on her pillow.
A Secret Baby for the CEO.
I freeze when I read the title.
Sarah sees where I’m looking and tosses the book on the floor next to the notebook. “Just some reading I was doing before you got up. One of my employees decided to give me a bunch of romances about CEOs since I was going on a date with you.”
“Right.”
A Secret Baby for the CEO. The book is face-down on the floor, but the title keeps running through my head.
I roll back to the other side of the bed.
This isn’t the morning-after I anticipated. I imagined waking up together and fooling around, cocooned together in my room, safe from the winter cold, then going downstairs, where I’d make her breakfast. Maybe we’d have a shower together.
I usually get to work around seven thirty but figured I would show up late today, at nine or—gasp!—ten o’clock.
But now I’m thinking about what happened when I was sixteen.
“What’s a secret baby?” I ask.
“The CEO got the heroine pregnant, but she didn’t realize it until after they’d broken up. She kept the baby a secret from him for a couple years, until they happened to meet again... Josh, what’s wrong?”
I feel like the details of my past are something I owe Sarah, like it’s a big secret I shouldn’t be keeping from her.
I turn toward her and prop my head up on my hand.
She does the same. “I hope you’re not assuming that I’m already dreaming about marriage and babies with you and—”
“I got my girlfriend pregnant when I was sixteen. That’s why my dad doesn’t talk to me.”
She’s quiet for a moment, seemingly disoriented by the change in conversation, then reaches out and strokes my cheek. I lean into her caress. I’m not used to people touching me like this, and it feels nice.
It feels nice because it’s Sarah who’s doing it.
“Is there...” She hesitates. “Your girlfriend—did she have the baby?”
I shake my head. “I’d have a teenage kid right now if she had. I can’t imagine it. And if he or she also had a kid at sixteen, I’d be a grandfather.”
I start to climb out of bed, but Sarah grabs my hand.
“Did you tell your father? How did he find out?”
I hadn’t planned on sharing everything, but it pours out of me. “My girlfriend told her sister, because she wanted her sister to drive her to the doctor—we were so young that we only had our learner’s permits. Her sister told her parents, who were friends with my parents, and...yeah. Her parents accused me of corrupting and pressuring their daughter, since I was the rebel, and she was the straight A-plus student. But she wanted to have sex as much as I did, and it was only once that we were stupid and didn’t use a condom. We were confused about
a lot of things and thought she couldn’t get pregnant at that time of month, and...it happened.”
I pause to take a breath. I’m not sure why I’m telling her all this, but I can’t help it.
“To my dad,” I continue, “being bad was getting a B or missing curfew once. Getting a girl pregnant was beyond his comprehension. He didn’t understand how that could happen to his son, and he was furious with me because my mom’s health wasn’t great at the time and I made her worry.”
“And you’ve been paying for that for almost twenty years?”
I nod.
“Oh, Josh.”
She pulls me into her arms, and I’m caught off-guard by her reaction. Not many people know this story, and I’m not used to someone comforting me after I tell it.
“Melinda and I,” I say, my voice hoarse, “our relationship didn’t survive the aftermath, but we’re friends now. Not close friends, but she lives in Toronto, too. She’s an OB/GYN who’s a crusader for quality sex ed. What we had in school wasn’t great, and—”
“Your parents didn’t talk to you about it?”
I bark out a laugh. “Ha! No way.”
“My mom did. She was good with that stuff.” Sarah frowns, then shakes her head. “Not that she approved of casual sex, and not that I was having sex in high school, but I had all the knowledge I needed. I know many kids don’t get that at home, which is why it’s important for it to be part of the curriculum. I’m sorry about your father. I’m sorry he let that one incident destroy your relationship.”
“If I hadn’t been so stupid...”
“You were a kid who was careless once. You didn’t do anything malicious. Lots of people deal with an unplanned pregnancy at one point or another, whether or not they use birth control.”
“It wasn’t just that. For two years, I was a nightmare for my parents.”
“You told me what you were like. It reminded me of my brother, but my parents never would have stopped talking to him, not for more than a day. Now he’s an auto mechanic with a wife and two kids, and he has a good relationship with both of my parents.” She puts her hand on my shoulder. “Josh, it seems like you’ve been angry at yourself for seventeen years, but you’re a good guy. Truly. The fact that he doesn’t talk to you is on him, not you, and he’s missing out. No matter what happens with your family on Pi Day, you’re okay.” She gives me a kind smile. “I had a great time last night.”
“And now I’m burdening you with my past. It’s just...when I saw the title of that book, it felt like I was keeping a big secret from you.” God, I’m making a hash of this.
I feel uncomfortably vulnerable, even though she’s reassuring me. A man who has a successful company and friends and a house in Forest Hill shouldn’t need to be told he’s okay, but I did need to hear that.
I hold her close and pepper her skin with kisses. We stay in bed, snuggling, for a few minutes.
To be honest, this isn’t something I’ve done much of. I have one-night stands, I have flings, and often we wake up beside each other, but we don’t just hold each other.
I haven’t had a girlfriend since Melinda. I told myself I wasn’t interested, and besides, I was busy with work. I was always clear about this from the beginning—I never led a woman on—and if we started feeling too close, I’d break it off.
But being here with Sarah feels pretty damn awesome, and I’m starting to wonder...was I punishing myself? Did I think I didn’t deserve to have a relationship after what happened when I was sixteen, after I disappointed my parents, after all the crap Melinda had to put up with in the aftermath?
Perhaps.
And for once, I think this time might be different. Maybe I could have a proper relationship with Sarah and wake up to her scribbling recipe notes and reading romance novels in my bed on a regular basis.
Maybe I could have that, and maybe I deserve it.
Her stomach rumbles.
“Let me make you breakfast,” I say.
“What are you offering?”
“I can prepare a few very fine breakfasts. All begin with coffee. How do you like yours?”
“A little cream, a little sugar.”
“Very classy. Alright, option one. The first course is a glass of refreshing orange juice, followed by a bowl of O-shaped cereal with cold two-percent milk, fresh from...um, Loblaws. The cereal comes in two flavors: our finest chocolate, or honey nut, the honey produced by cartoon bumblebees.”
She giggles. “Are you offering me Chocolate or Honey Nut Cheerios?”
“I am, but wait until you hear option two.”
“I’m listening.”
“Option two—which can also include orange juice, if you desire—is a bowl of frosted oats and marshmallow shapes. The exciting thing about this option? There are now unicorn marshmallows.”
“Lucky Charms?”
“You are correct.”
“I didn’t know they had unicorns.”
I shake my head. “Tsk-tsk. I thought you were a food expert.”
“I can’t believe you have Lucky Charms and Chocolate Cheerios.”
Okay, I’m starting to feel a bit embarrassed that my breakfast choices are the kind a seven-year-old would make.
“There’s also a third option,” I say. “Toast with peanut butter and jam. A rarely-chosen option in this household, but it does exist.”
“No, I’ll go with option one.”
“Chocolate or honey nut?”
“Chocolate, please.”
We’ve moved on from talking about my past to talking about Lucky Charms and Chocolate Cheerios, and somehow, it all seems perfectly normal and natural and wonderful.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, we’re sitting at my kitchen table. Usually I’d be flipping through emails or reading the news on my phone while I eat breakfast, but today, I have company.
Sarah’s still wearing one of my Henleys and her underwear, but nothing else. A very good situation indeed, and one I plan to take advantage of later, but for now, we’re drinking our coffee and eating our cereal together.
I scoop up a unicorn marshmallow with my spoon and deposit it in Sarah’s bowl of Chocolate Cheerios.
“A unicorn for you, my lady,” I say.
“How kind of you, Sir CEO.”
“Sir CEO? Is that what the heroine calls the hero in the book you’re reading?”
“Well, I haven’t gotten very far, and mostly she’s been calling him ‘you asshole.’”
I chuckle. “Does this asshole eat Lucky Charms for breakfast?”
“No.”
I gasp in faux horror. “The author didn’t do her research. CEOs always eat Lucky Charms for breakfast. It’s the source of our power.”
We giggle stupidly together. It’s amazing how much fun talking nonsense can be when you’re doing it with the right person. Sarah’s light brown hair is a bit of a mess and some of her makeup from last night is smudged under her eyes, but she’s not self-conscious about it, and she looks beautiful.
She sips her coffee. “And what power would that be?”
“Our power to, uh, look devastatingly sexy in suits and yell at people all day?”
“You don’t seem like the yelling type.”
“I’m not.”
“And you don’t wear suits to work. Although you did wear one last night, and you did look devastatingly sexy in it.”
“It’s all thanks to Lucky Charms.” I pat my abs.
She snorts, and when I not-so-discreetly slide up the bottom of my shirt, she can’t seem to tear her gaze away.
“You spend lots of time in kitchens,” I say. “You must have had sex in a kitchen at some point?”
“Absolutely not.”
“No?”
“It’s unhygienic. I keep my kitchen spotless.”
“Fortunately, I’m not as strict about my kitchen.” I’m finished eating, but she’s still got a small amount of cereal in her bowl, and in the time it takes her to eat it, I intend to drive
her crazy. I shift my chair close to hers and slide my finger up her inner thigh to the edge of her underwear. “I say we change your record. Today, you’re having sex in my kitchen. Sound like a plan?”
She nods, as though unable to speak while I’m touching her like this.
“Where would you like me to fuck you?” I ask.
Her pupils dilate at that word, and I file that away for future use. Last night, there wasn’t much talking; mostly it was me checking in with her, making sure everything was good for her as I tried not to blow my load too soon.
I want to learn everything she likes.
“Perhaps on the table,” I say casually as I slide my fingers inside the crotch of her panties. “Your body spread out like a buffet before me. Or maybe you’d like to sit on the counter, gripping the edge of it as I thrust into you over and over?” I slip the tip of one finger inside her. She’s getting wet, and I suppress a groan. “Or perhaps you’d prefer to be fucked from behind against the fridge?”
Her breath quickens.
“Okay, against the fridge it is.” I take off her panties and slip two fingers all the way inside her. “Good?”
When she nods, I kiss her lips as I stroke her, relishing her reaction to me. I pluck the unicorn marshmallow out of the bowl with my other hand and place it on her tongue.
“There,” I whisper. “Now you have special powers, too.”
“What powers do I have?”
“The power to drive me absolutely mad.” I press a kiss to her neck. “Actually, scratch that. You were already driving me mad.”
I slide to the floor in front of her chair and part her legs. I lick her clit and her eyes flutter closed, and when I curl my finger inside her, they pop open again.
“Maybe the unicorn marshmallow gave you the power to have ten orgasms in a row.”
“Ten orgasms? I’d be a heap on the floor afterward.”
“Hmm.” I lift my head. “Is that a challenge?”
She pushes my head back between her legs, and I laugh softly as I set about giving the best oral sex of my life. I usually pride myself at being great at going down on a woman, but I’m determined that this time will be even better. I want the very best for Sarah, who eats both burrata at fine restaurants and sugary cereal at breakfast with me.
