Someone for Me

by Addison Moore

  I crop up behind him and spot a picture of a luxury resort on the screen.

  “Ooh, where’s that?” There’s a waterfall and a golf course and a view of the sparkling ocean off in the distance.

  “The La Mer Inn.” He pushes the screen out so we can both see. “I thought you might like it for the wedding.”

  “Cruise.” My heart melts. And here a part of me was convinced he wasn’t the least bit interested. “That looks amazing.” I glance down farther. Wedding packages starting at thirteen thousand. “God!”

  “I’ll set up an appointment if you like. I’ve already called and they have Christmas Eve available.”

  At thirteen thousand a pop, I bet they have a lot of dates available.

  The strong arm of temptation bids me to shout a fiscally unsound Yes! After all, you only get married once and all that other BS I seem to be shoveling by the ton these days.

  “Um, maybe later.” Coward. I so should have said no. “Anyway . . .” I lean in close and twirl my fingers through his hair. “I’ve got a little treat planned for you in the bedroom. Give me about five minutes to set up.”

  “Set up?” His brows rise into his forehead. “I like the sound of this. And—I happen to have a little treat of my own.”

  “Sounds like a good time will be had by all.” Something tells me his treat doesn’t involve nipple clamps and anal plugs—not that mine does. I found out today exactly where I draw the demented line, and Lauren didn’t dare cross it.

  I rush off to the bedroom.

  Chapter seven is going to rock. I can just feel it. More like rock the bed. Oh hell, the whole damn bedroom.

  I pluck out all of the contraptions Lauren bought and rip through the packaging like it was Christmas morning. I lay them all over the bed and just stare at the perverted paraphernalia. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I was prepping for a lab experiment—a sexperiment. I pull off my clothes until I’ve reduced myself to a bra and G-string. Maybe I should put on heels? Should I strap myself to the bed? Wait, where’s that cock ring?

  The door rattles and I snap up the cuffs and paddle, then spin around to find Cruise standing there with not a stitch of clothing on—holding out a round, gloriously huge cake.

  “For the love of all things chocolate.” My mouth falls open and I don’t know what to drool at first. I give a tiny smile while peeking over at the tiny black ring ready to bejewel his love muscle, and quite nicely.

  He steps in and shuts the door, glancing behind me at the plethora of kinky equipment displayed, and swear to God, Cruise Elton blushes. He sets down the cake on the nightstand and presses his hands together like he’s about to get to work.

  “Now”—Cruise snatches the blackout blindfold and quickly straps it over my eyes—“about cheating on those exams.” He pulls me into his bare chest and rides his lips slowly up my neck. “How far are you willing to go with this?”

  He sounds out of character, so I slip the blindfold up an inch and inspect him for a moment.

  “All the way.” I enunciate each word as if it’s its own sentence. “And the safe word is red.”

  He breaks out in one of his signature sexy-as-hell grins and my stomach pinches tight. “Oh wait.” I reach over and swipe the cock bling off the mattress and hold it up. “With this ring, I thee bed.”

  He takes it from me and slips it over his penis.

  “To bed and red it is.” He secures the blindfold over me again, and I can feel the cold click of steel over my left wrist as he brings my other hand behind my back and secures them together. Cruise dips his warm hands into my panties, working his magic fingers over my folds until I groan into him.

  “Oh wow. I’ve been really, really bad, Professor Elton.” I moan even harder as he works me into a heated oblivion. “Make sure you use a belt.” I work my hips into his as his hands have their delicious way with me. “I said, use a belt for God’s sake.”

  A soft laugh rumbles from his chest.

  He steps away for a moment, and before I know it he’s lowering me down on the small wooden chair he keeps in the corner with piles of his clothes on top. Only the clothes are gone, as evidenced by the fact I just hit the wooden seat and my skin stings from the chill. Something firm makes its way around my waist, strapping me to the backrest. At last the belt comes into play, and I wholeheartedly approve. The icy feel of metal glides over my right ankle as he parts my knees ever so carefully before securing my feet together at the ankles behind the legs of the chair.

  Here I am perfectly parted for him, vulnerable, unable to see a damn thing—and suddenly I’m thrilled I ixnayed the vaginal marbles. Then it hits me that the lights are still on and a fresh sting ignites over my entire body at the realization that Cruise has a bird’s-eye view to, well, everything. I hold my breath for a moment as my entire body turns every hue of red.

  The scent of chocolate wafts over me and I can feel the cake physically coming toward me. It’s like I’ve got this sixth sense when it comes to chocolate.

  “To please or to be pleasured?” Cruise asks, and I give a little laugh because there is no wrong answer here.

  “Let’s start with to please and end with to be pleasured.”

  “Have it your way.”

  A soft jab of chocolate frosting touches against my lip and it takes a mouthwatering minute for me to figure out it’s not being delivered by way of his finger but rather a long, hard appendage.

  I take a lick off the tip and roll the rich, dark decadence around on my tongue. I’d let him know how much I appreciate the Cake Chief’s way with confections, but I’m pretty sure you should never bring up how wonderful another man is while in restraints with the one you love.

  “Looks like I get to have my cake and eat it, too.” I lean and in and take the entire length of him into my mouth. Mmm . . . Cruise Elton never tasted so good.

  He lets out a hard groan, and I can feel his entire body writhing with pleasure. I graze my teeth along his ridges just enough to entice him, and he digs his fingers into my hair. Cruise has an amazing body and an even more amazing male member that stretches my jaws to their maximum proportion. I glide him in and out of my mouth a solid five or six times before I suck in my cheeks in an effort to intensify the experience for him.

  “Shit, Kenny,” he groans while holding me down by the shoulders. He pushes deep into my mouth and for a second I think he’s going to explode, so I brace myself, but he doesn’t, and truth be told I’m fifty shades of relieved.

  Cruise reaches down and releases my feet and hands in a single motion. He unbuckles his belt and pulls me to my feet. He whips off the blindfold and scoops a healthy amount of frosting onto his hand and I hold my breath.

  “I thought you might want to watch.” His left eye twitches as he holds the dark frosting next to his shoulder like we’re about to have a snowball fight. “North or South?”

  I reach over and run my hand through the frosting before digging in and breaking off a giant piece of what has to be the moistest pastry on the planet. It takes a hell of a lot of self-control not to shove the entire thing into my mouth.

  “Well, Professor Elton”—I lick my lips looking right at him—“I say both.”

  Cruise starts at my neck and carefully moves down my body in the shape of the letter S—all the while never taking those glowing eyes off me.

  I reach down to my left nipple and swipe through the frosting with my free hand and lick it.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Jordan.” Cruise steps in until my chest adheres to his. “I do believe you’re cheating again.” He sharpens his gaze over me while his cheek hikes up on one side. “The only person you’re allowed to touch with that pretty pink tongue of yours is me.” The smile slides off his face.

  “Lucky for me.” I glide my hand over his chest, up his neck, and through his hair. “I’ve had bona fide fantasies about you dripping with chocolate.”

  Cruise curls his lips, handing me the rest of the cake. I dig in with both hands and come up with e
nough frosted ammunition to cover every square inch of him. Then without hesitating, Cruise presses the remainder of the confection into my chest.

  “Oh, is that how you’re going to play?” I hold back a handful while Cruise tackles me onto the bed. Before I know it, we’re slipping and clawing at one another as one big chocolate wrestling match ensues. His hands glide down my thighs before swimming up to the most tender part of me, and I giggle because I happen to love where he’s going with this. He grips on to my knees and gives a devilish grin.

  “Open,” he says.

  And I do.

  Cruise

  Kenny and cake—there is no better combo. I might have to initiate this as a weekly occurrence, and even her dopey brother might approve. After all, it does take place in the confines of my four favorite walls.

  My hand slips through the creamy icing as I maneuver her leg over my shoulder. I run my tongue along her inner thigh, all the way up to the beautiful slick that waits for me, and I dive right in, burying my tongue deep inside her.

  Kenny lets out a groan that I can feel clear into my throat as it echoes through her body. I lash delicate circles over her, taking in the nuances of her sweet spot, taking in the taste, the texture, and memorizing the way she feels. I pull out and move my mouth over the most sensitive part of her, sucking and grazing my teeth until she’s twisting her hips into my body from sheer pleasure.

  “Have I ever told you how much I love the way you taste?”

  Kenny’s entire body curls when I say it. I happen to know she loves it when I talk dirty to her, because she has a visceral reaction each and every time I do.

  Kenny hikes up on her elbows, her face brightened strawberry red while her teeth tug over her bottom lip.

  “That’s because you’ve impaled me with chocolate.”

  I give a slow lick that spans from the bottom to the top, and she moves beneath me approvingly.

  “Not true,” I refute her calorie-laden theory. “This happens to be a chocolate-free zone.” I run my tongue over her again, harder this time, and a quiet cry escapes her throat.

  “Cruise.” She runs her fingers through my hair and clutches on. “Do something with a belt.”

  Did she say belt? I try to look up but she redirects my head right to where it was to begin with, so I continue on with my lingual efforts. Kenny is soft, and sweet, and I’d never want to taint this part of her perfect body with anything that diverts from her own natural sweetness.

  That cock ring I stupidly put on slips a notch, but my hands are too busy pinning her knees back to the bed to bother with it.

  “Yes, Cruise, yes!” She shouts it out so loud, the walls vibrate, and any second now I except Molly to join in on our lovefest while hammering her fist to the wall, but she doesn’t. It remains perfectly silent, with nothing but the sound of Kenny’s wild panting and my own breathing picking up steam. My hard-on rockets to life as never before, and a sharp pinch ensues at the base of it. I try to flick Kenny’s hand off, only to find she’s nowhere near my lower region. I try to ignore the strangulating feeling building around my dick and focus on the fact Kenny is about to lose it under the supervision of my tongue.

  “Yes, Cruise, yes! Faster, harder.” She pins me down, and it amps my testosterone past the point of no return while the rest of my anatomy begs to get in on the action. A squeezing pain ignites deep in my penis and shoots through my balls like a firecracker just exploded through them.

  “Fuck!” It roars from my lungs and Kenny screams right along with me.

  “What?” She jumps up near the headboard and takes cover as if there’s an infestation of rats.

  “Holy shit!” I stare down at my dick in mindboggling pain. It’s swelled to twice its size—and it’s purple as a welt.

  “Oh my God!” Kendall hops off the mattress and spins in a spastic circle. “What the hell are we going to do?”

  “Shit, shit, shit!” I burst through the door and make a beeline for the kitchen to look for a fucking knife, of all things. I violently open doors and drawers, howling nonstop like a lunatic from the brilliant pain of it all.

  Molly and some dude turn up to see what the commotion is about.

  Molly’s face turns an instant flaming red as she screams at the sight of me. Her date for the evening looks down at my dick in horror, and somewhere in the back of my mind it registers this is the idiot who teaches her creative writing class.

  Kenny bops up and down in front of me, her boobs bouncing like chocolate-covered melons as she wields sharpened blades in my face—scissors.

  “Yes.” I snatch the kitchen shears from her and pause as I stare down at my newly deformed dick.

  “I’m calling 911!” Molly’s date howls as he takes off into the living room. Molly’s gone, and most likely for good now that I’ve scarred her emotionally. Some father/brother combo I’ve turned out to be.

  Then the painful throbbing subsides a bit. It turns out thinking about Molly makes my dick wish it could melt right off my body, so I force myself to think of Mom—and sure enough, it gives a painful jerk backward as it tries to evict the ring of fire I’ve attached.

  Kenny gets on her knees and digs a finger between me and the contraption, and Molly comes back in with a giant towel, only to scream at the sight as if she’s being mauled.

  Kenny gives a firm tug, and I let out a roar powerful enough to blow the roof off every damn house in Carrington. She holds up the black rubber circle victoriously as Molly throws the towel on my back and runs like hell out the front door.

  It’s over.

  A siren wails its way closer, and I shake my head.

  Just fuck.

  Once the ambulance leaves, I take my bruised ego and my bruised dick back to the bedroom, where Kenny has already stripped the bed of its chocolate mayhem.

  “Have they left?” She looks up at me, still naked, still very much drenched in my favorite confection, and gives a dirty grin.

  “They have. And so has Molly. Permanently, I’m assuming.” I head over and scoop Kenny up in my arms, dotting kisses across her neck. “I think we could both use a shower.”

  “Yes!” She gives a little bounce. “I think hot, steamy shower sex is just what we need to round out this scene—I mean night.”

  “It’s been quite a scene, that’s for sure.” I give a wry smile at the mess. “Next time I think we might want to invest in a tarp.”

  “Yes. And a tarp practically calls for all kinds of delicious things, like Jell-O and honey”—her fingers drip down my chest—“and ice cream and fudge.” A wild look ignites in her eyes as she gazes past me at some pornographic horizon.

  I lean in and kiss her like I’m dousing a fire. I don’t care what Morgan says—I sure as hell appreciate Kenny’s wild side.

  “Are you sure you’re up to this?” She glances south of the border as I get us to the bathroom and twist on the faucet.

  “We’re about to find out.”

  Once the water hits a comfortable temperature, we step in and Kenny lovingly lathers me up. I don’t know that I’ve ever been so proficiently cared for. I take the soap from her and return the favor as a chocolate puddle forms at our feet.

  “You know, we never did eat that cake.” She rakes her fingers gently over my chest, leaving a series of lines in their wake.

  “We ate the best parts.” I land a tender kiss just shy of her temple. “Besides, we’ll have another cake from the Chief in a few short weeks and we’ll eat all we want.” I squeeze the shampoo in my hands and gently work it through her hair. I can feel my dick struggling to rouse from unconsciousness.

  “No, we won’t,” she corrects. “My credit card was declined and dismembered.” She takes the shampoo and does the same to me, and I can’t help but smile down at her.

  “I’m heading back and taking care of everything. Don’t you worry—we’ll have our cake and eat it, too.”

  “Really, you don’t have to do that. It was far too expensive. We can get another one.” />
  “I want to.” It’s true. “I’d do anything to make you happy.”

  “I swear to you a forty-five-hundred-dollar cake won’t make me happy. It’ll just put me a little more miserably in debt.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got a backup plan up my sleeve. But right now, I just want to focus on you.” I help rinse her hair out and run my hands over her arms until she’s shiny and clean, just the way God intended. My hard-on blinks to life and I wince.

  “Hello there.” Kendall looks down with a smile tugging on her lips. “Are you okay, big guy?”

  “He’s fine. A little stiff but that’s to be expected.” I dip down and let it slip between her legs for a moment. “There—he’s better now.”

  “I think we should let him go home.” She guides my hand to her sweet spot, and I give a soft groan in her ear. “A special part of me is just dying to give him a hug.”

  Kenny flicks the tiny metal handle at the base of the tub and reroutes the water flow. She squeezes just enough shampoo under the current to create a bubble bath.

  “That’s why I like you,” I say, pulling her carefully down over my body. “You’re always thinking. You’re a crafty one.”

  “If you only knew the half of it.” She settles her head over my shoulder as if she could fall asleep this way as we stretch out over the length of the tub. She takes a hard sniff and her chest hiccups as if she’s ready to have a good cry.

  “Hey, sweetie.” I sit up a little and pull her with me. “What’s got you down?”

  “Nothing.” She shakes her head but the tears glittering in her eyes send a different message.

  “Is it because I bolted just as you were about to—”