by Meghan Quinn
“Meow? Seriously? Does your boss say that?”
“All the time.” I laughed. “We have meetings every Monday morning and you should hear some of the things she says. Meow is her favorite, but she will also say things like purr-fect.”
“She does not.” He chuckled.
“She does, unfortunately. The lady is certifiable. Pretty sure she had a pillow made of cat hair.”
“That’s terrifying.”
“Tell me about it. If I ever need a crazy-ass lady in my story I’m writing, it will be based off Gladys, because she is perfect book material.”
Nodding, he asked, “What kind of books do you want to write?”
Swallowing hard, I took a sip of water and said, “Um, romance novels.”
A small grin spread across his face. “I was hoping you were going to say that.”
“You were?” I asked, slightly confused.
“Yes. I think woman who can write about romance, about sex, and describe it in vivid detail are one-of-a kind, exquisite creatures. I love a woman who is comfortable with her sexuality.”
His eyes blazed right through me, lighting me up inside. Talk about flirting. Damn, he was singing to my lady parts with just his eyes.
“I try my best,” I lied, thinking about my last attempt at writing a sex scene, where I talked about pubic hairs and uneven breasts. As I’d learned from Delaney, who had zero filter when telling me when something was wrong, apparently that stuff wasn’t sexy.
“I’m not going to lie, Rosie, that makes me want you even more.” Well that’s . . . new.
“Want me?” I gulped.
I felt like I was in one of those erotic romance novels. One minute you were enjoying a fine meal and the next minute, you innocently licked your lips because they were seriously dry, but the alpha male in front of you thought you were licking your lips to show him how “pink” your tongue was, and that’s when things got out of control.
I was waiting for the moment where Phillip ordered me to bend over the table so he could take me from behind while slapping my ass and telling me to come on demand—something I was pretty sure I’d never be able to do. Did woman really orgasm from a man telling them to?
“What are you thinking about that has you giving me that far-off look?” he asked in a deep voice, pulling the whole alpha-male act on me . . . and damn if it wasn’t working.
“Umm, nothing?” I asked in a question.
“Were you thinking about sex with me?”
Yup, this was a romance novel. No one was that abrupt when just getting to know each other, right? Were you thinking about sex with me? I mean, I just met the man in an elevator and he was asking about sex?
“Yes.” The word fell out of my mouth before I could take it back.
Who the hell just took over my body? Sheer mortification ran through me from head to toes.
Patting his mouth dry with a napkin, he nodded, and stood while holding out his hand to me. I looked at my half-eaten soup and then to the heat in Phillip’s gaze. Well looked like I wouldn’t be finishing my meal. Like there was any choice in the matter.
Was this really happening? He led me back to our building and up the elevator, all the while, keeping his hand on my back and not saying a word. We rode past my floor and to the top floor where I knew the fancy people worked.
The doors to the elevator opened and with a hello from his secretary, he walked me past her and into a big corner office. The man was in some kind of high position, but I didn’t have much time to think about it as he locked his door and turned toward me.
“Go sit on my desk and take off your pants.” Excuse me?
He loosened his tie and took off his jacket in one smooth motion.
Umm, was he serious? Take my pants off, in broad daylight? I knew the red brick road was non-existent now but still, couldn’t he dim the sunlight? I was pretty sure the light would be harsh on my skin, casting a nasty glare on my curves.
“Rosie, don’t make me repeat myself,” he bit out, with a harsh tug on his clothes.
Holy crap. I wanted to say, “Yes, sir, Mr. Grey, sir,” and then bat my lashes like Anastasia, but decided to not role play since I was pretty sure he wouldn’t like it.
Concluding I was living out a scene from an erotic novel, I pushed away all my insecurities, my work obligations, took off my pants, and revealed my white panties that had a small heart on the front. Not the sexiest pair of underwear I had, but it hid the panty lines and that was all I cared about.
“Take off that child’s underwear,” he demanded while rolling up his sleeves with precision and examining me.
It wasn’t children’s underwear, I got it at Victoria’s Secret, but I kept my mouth shut, took a deep breath, and pulled my underwear down, which he took and tossed in the trash.
Romance novelists were spot on when it came to alphas and underwear; they were as disposable to them as toilet paper. I wanted to complain that underwear was five dollars, not some two-cent tissue he could toss around but once again, kept my mouth shut.
“I want to taste you,” he said as he trapped me against his desk. “Since I saw you in the elevator, I wanted to know what that pussy tasted like.”
Okay, when I first met Phillip, I thought he was attractive, strong and confident, but I certainly hadn’t thought he’d have a dirty mouth.
Taste my pussy? Goodness, guys really said that? Apparently so.
This was a whole new experience for me, one plucked straight from the last chapter I read on my Kindle. I wish I could ask him to slow down, if I could record what he said, maybe take notes for my future books and to compare to other erotic novels because right now, this little scene playing out was spot on and straight up inspiring.
With one lift, he had me sitting on his desk, bare from the waist down, and legs spread.
“This won’t do,” he said as he took my legs and brought them up to my chest, exposing every last inch of my lower half. I instantly turned red from the thought of what my vagina looked like next to my bleached asshole. I was praying it wasn’t a whole ebony and ivory situation down there.
“Rosie, your pussy pleases me. I didn’t depict you as a waxer, but I couldn’t be happier.”
My pussy pleased him? Well, thank the heavens for his approval, I thought sarcastically.
In one swift bow, his head was between my legs and his fingers were parting my “sex”.
I was actually being touched in my most private parts by a man.
I’d feel more comfortable if he didn’t literally have my legs pinned against my chest and spread out as far as I could make them. If he wanted to conduct an exam, he would be able to do a bang-up job.
When I thought he was going to just sit there, with his head between my legs, not doing anything, he dipped his tongue against my clit, causing the most heinous sound to come out of my mouth.
It sounded like I gargled a vat of molasses while being struck in the ass by a rattlesnake.
Pleasure ripped through me just from one simple flick of his tongue.
A bolt of lightning straight to my center.
A wave of lust swirled in my stomach.
Holy.
Moly.
Now I knew why women’s bosoms heaved and their legs quivered, because with one flick, Phillip had me panting. Literally, I was panting, tongue hanging out, leg bouncing up and down, drool dripping from my mouth as he flicked the right spot.
Right there. Good GOD, right there.
A complete stranger was licking me, licking Virginia, who by the way was by no means protesting. No, she was rejoicing, clapping in appreciation, letting me know that my inappropriate and rash decisions were greatly appreciated.
His tongue dipped in and out then traveled to my clit where he teased it, blew on it, and licked it again.
The torment had my body lighting up, sweating profusely, and words like shit balls, fucking fairy magic, and thank you, coming gods were at the tip of my tongue as this need—this burning need in
the pit of my stomach—started building at an alarming rate. My toes felt like they were no longer attached to my body, rather floating to the side, wiggling at me. My knees shook as the center of my lady cactus started to hydrate, preparing for a monsoon.
My head fell back, and I thrust my hips into his face. I could feel pressure build, and with one flick of his tongue, my body relaxed.
And by relaxed, I meant maybe relaxed a little too much as, a loud, very ugly sound escaped me, but as my mouth was closed, I realized, the sound didn’t move past my lips.
Rather, it was from . . . my ass.
Phillip pulled away, seizing all pleasure, and scrunched his nose as he looked at me through my legs.
Playing back the last couple seconds, I thought about what just happened.
Licking.
Flicking.
Man between my legs.
And . . . the sound. The retched, blasting sound that rumbled the top of the desk, easily sliding this moment into the top most embarrassing things I had ever done..
Did I really just fart while a man was performing oral on me? No, not possible. Please for the love of all flavored condoms, please tell me I didn’t fart.
Unfortunately, from the look of disgust on his face . . . I think I did.
Panic set in. There was only one thing that came to mind.
Only one thing that could possibly make this situation worse.
Don’t say it.
Bad idea.
Keep your mouth SHUT!
But life was never that easy as I nervously laughed, licked my lips and then said the one thing that would ruin any chances of ever seeing this man again. “Whoever smelt it, dealt it?”
From a far distance, I heard Virginia queef me a “fuck you” and then felt her shrivel up to end all humiliation. The poor girl was never going to come out to play, ever again. I swore at my ass, wanting to take a cork to it and teach it a lesson.
I farted.
I farted on the man’s head.
I farted on his chin, on his damn chin.
Without a word, Phillip pulled away and walked to a closed door, which I assumed was a private bathroom, to wash off the flatus I imparted on him.
Mentally I brushed off my hands. Well, my work here was done.
It was time to bolt.
Not caring if I even zipped my fly, I threw my pants on and got the hell out of his office as quickly as humanly possible, keeping my head down, and trying to avoid all eye contact with every human in the building.
On my elevator ride down to my office, I mentally swore a slew of obscenities at every erotic romance novelist I’d ever read. Not once did they ever mention the possibility of farting on a chin while being eaten out. Why was that?
Oh, I know, because it wasn’t sexy!
Fuck you, asshole, fuck you.
Chapter Fourteen
The Best Friend
The cab ride to my apartment after work was a lonely one as I shifted on the worn-out leather seat, missing my underwear, especially since the zipper of my pants was rubbing against poor Virginia. I normally took the subway home from work since it was cheaper and faster but right now, I couldn’t face the underground world of New York City.
I could feel myself start to slip into a dark vat of denial soup. I’d spent a good portion of my life reading books about romance and never once was I exposed to such a depressing reality that it wasn’t as easy as it seemed. Then again, Delaney and Henry seemed to have a pretty easy time when it came to relationships. So what it came down to was simple. I was cursed. There was no other reasoning for it.
Four for fricken’ four. Stats don’t lie.
Maybe I had high expectations; maybe I was setting the bar too high?
Maybe I was living in an imaginary world where sex really was this complicated.
Or maybe . . . I was a ball crushing, pant splitting, blow job puking, oral sex farting lunatic who should be locked up in a mental institute and never be seen again.
My phone rang in my purse and without looking at the caller ID, I answered.
“Hello?”
“Rosie?”
“Yes?” I couldn’t quite place the voice but I knew I’d heard it before.
“Hey, it’s Lance.”
“Lance?” I asked, a little surprised to hear him on the other line. After my split-pants situation, I thought we were done. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”
“Why not? I said I was going to call,” he answered in a relaxed tone. I was anything but relaxed because frankly, I was beyond uptight when it came to men now. It felt almost impossible to relax.
“Yeah, but not to get all girly on you, that was a few days ago. After not hearing from you right away, I kind of tossed the idea of seeing you again.”
“I’m sorry.” Lance blew out an exasperated breath. “I wasn’t expecting to like you so much.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said while rolling my eyes and looking out the window.
“That didn’t come out right.” He let out another deep breath. “I got scared.”
“After you said you wanted to date me? After you said you waited to be put on another photo shoot? Stop playing with me, Lance. I’m not stupid.”
Yeah, I was being a bit of a bitch but right now, I didn’t want to deal with anyone, especially men. I was crabby, irritated, embarrassed, and all I wanted was to put on a pair of sweats and drown my sorrows in a pint of ice cream.
“I’m not playing with you, Rosie. I’m sorry I made you think otherwise. I’m an idiot, and yes, I should have called earlier. I really hope you’ll forgive me and consider going out with me again. This time, just you and me, no bowling or opportunities to rip your pants open.” His dash of humor miraculously eased the tension in my body. “What do you say, Rosie? Can I take you for a boat ride in Central Park on Saturday?”
“Hmm, that depends. Do you plan on tipping the boat? With my luck, that would happen.”
“Promise, there will be no tipping of the boat.”
Did I want to go out with him again? I thought about it for a second and honestly, I did. Out of all the dates I’d been on, I really enjoyed Lance’s company the most. Atticus was fun, but I cracked his nuts so there was no shot there. Alejandro was a no-go with the whole wildebeest growing in his pants, and Phillip, well, pretty sure I wouldn’t be hearing from him again.
“I might be free on Saturday.”
“Are you playing hard to get?” He chuckled into the phone.
“Maybe, is it working?”
“It is. I’m starting to get desperate here. I would love to see you again, Rosie.”
“It would be nice to see you again too,” I said. “But I won’t be paddling that boat.”
“I got it covered. How about a picnic as well?”
“Depends, what do you take on a picnic?”
“Um, how do you feel about bologna sandwiches? I make a mean one with mustard, and I cut them in little triangles.”
“Triangles, well, I have to say yes to that. I don’t think I have a choice.”
“You really don’t.” He laughed. “So do you want me to pick you up?”
“I can just meet you, no need to come pick me up. Just let me know when and where.”
“How about by the boathouse around noon?”
“Works perfectly,” I replied, feeling a little better.
“Good, I look forward to it. Before we get off the phone, tell me, how’s the cat world?”
“How do you think it is?” I asked while chuckling. “Pretty sure if I let my guard down today, the cats would have eaten me alive. They can sense when I’m having a bad day and my resolve has weakened.”
“You had a bad day?” he asked softly, and that tone made butterflies float in my stomach. “What happened?”
Ha! Like I was going to tell Lance what happened. Yeah, no, thank you. I wasn’t about to tell a man I wanted to date that I just ripped a loud one on a guy’s face. Pretty sure that was dating suicide.
“Well, if you want to talk, let me know.”
“Thanks, Lance,” I said as I pulled up to my apartment. “Hey, I have to pay the cabbie so I should go. I’ll see you Saturday?”
“Yes, don’t be late.”
We hung up and I paid the cab driver, giving him a decent tip for not making me wait in traffic for too long during rush hour. He did some fancy maneuvering that yes, had me peeing my pants a couple times, but he got me home.
When I walked in the apartment, I was surprised to see Henry was home already, and that there was Chinese food on the kitchen counter, a pair of sweat pants and a baggy shirt folded on the chair, and a smiling Henry in a pair of shorts and a tight-fitting T-shirt, waiting for me.
“Welcome home, love.” He walked toward me and picked up my change of clothes. “Thought you might want to change before we get our date started. Delaney will be staying at Derk’s place tonight, so we have the place to ourselves.”
“You say that as if something’s going to happen,” I said with a sad smile and grabbed the clothes from him. “Thanks for this. I’ll go change, and then I’ll be back.”
“Hold up.” Henry grabbed my hand and pulled me into him. “What’s wrong? Are you still mad at me? I want you to know I’m really sorry, Rosie, and I’m sorry if I was acting like an ass to that lint-roller guy earlier.”
“It’s not that,” I said, pulling away. “Just a bad day. I’ll be right back. Fix me a plate?”
I left him to tend to the food while I changed. I stripped down, took off my bra and went panty- less since I already was. I didn’t want anything constricting me tonight. Once I threw my hair into a messy bun and put my fuzzy socks on, I walked to the living room where Henry was starting the DVD player and placing two huge plates of food on the coffee table.
“Got us all set up,” he said while coming around to the couch.
I sat cross-legged on the sofa and placed a pillow on my lap. Henry sat next to me and was about to hand me my plate of food until he saw the tears welling in my eyes. Instantly, he had his arms around me and hugged me close to his chest.
