Calendar Boy

by HELEN HARDT

  He led her to the bed. “Lie down on your back,” he said, a tone of command in his voice, “and spread those long pretty legs.”

  His jeans still hanging on his hips, Michael knelt between Stacy’s thighs. He closed his eyes and inhaled. “Mmm. I’ve been smelling you all night, and it’s been driving me slowly insane.”

  Stacy shivered. She wanted this, wanted it more than she wanted to breathe at the moment. No man had ever put his mouth on this part of her, and though she’d written about the ecstasy of oral sex, she knew nothing about it firsthand. How would it feel? Would she shoot to the sky as Starr did? Would she…come?

  God, she hoped so.

  “You’re as swollen as a ripe peach, Stacy. Swollen and so pretty down here.” He slid his fingers over her wet folds. “So slick and wet for me.” He squeezed her labia between two fingers. “Beautiful.”

  Stacy took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The sensation of his fingers on her private parts was new and exciting, so much more than she had imagined despite what she’d written, and he hadn’t even tasted her yet.

  Yowza! Sparks blazed across her flesh when he flicked the tip of his tongue against her swollen clit. A low moan escaped her throat.

  “Yeah, baby. You like that? I’m going to shove my whole tongue up that hot wet cunt, baby.”

  Cunt? She used naughty words frequently in her writing, but the c-word was one she’d refused to use. Cunt. She mouthed the word, imagined Michael’s low husky voice saying it again. Cunt. Damn, it was sexy! It turned her on.

  “Tell me what you like,” he said against her wet flesh. “Tell me how to lick you, to make you hot.”

  She was already hot. On fire. How could she tell him what she liked when she didn’t yet know herself? “I like it all, Michael,” she said, her breath coming in rapid pants. “Do it all to me. Lick my…cunt.”

  Wow, it felt good to say the word! Like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. With that word part of her introversion melted away, replaced by raw need and desire. The carnal hunger inside her grew and grew.

  “You taste amazing,” Michael said. He tugged on her labia, plunged his tongue into her passage.

  Her whole body ignited. Something was happening, something big. Little pings of pleasure jolted through her each time his tongue hit her clit. The sparks broadened, intensifying, and soon her entire pussy was pulsing. Big. This was fucking big! She breathed rapidly, focusing on the steady need building within her. Part of her longed to break away, escape this mounting gratification. It was too much really, just too much. Time wasn’t suspending. She was still fully coherent. But how could the whole world be centered in her pussy? Her hips moved, seemingly of their own volition, matching each stroke of Michael’s tongue. He lapped at her, sucked her, and when he forced one finger into her slick channel…

  Explosion.

  The contractions started inside her but soon encompassed her entire vulva and radiated upward to her belly and chest, outward to her arms and legs. Words left her mouth, words over which she had no control. “Michael…God, Michael…so good…again….again!”

  The orgasm rolled through her, and just when she thought the waves were subsiding, they started again. He thrust his fingers in and out of her.

  “That’s it, baby. Come again. Come for me.”

  The line between reality and fantasy dimmed as thrill after thrill shot through her. Nothing existed except her and Michael and such intense pleasure she could barely comprehend it. She floated downward gently, and when the contractions finally subsided, she lay still, spent.

  A faint kiss on her lips jarred her back to reality. She opened her eyes to see Michael’s green-brown gaze locked onto hers.

  “You have the softest, sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted,” he said. He kissed her lips again, tracing them with his tongue. “I haven’t even come close to having enough of you.”

  She smiled against his lips, the zest of her own juices teasing her tongue. Should she tell him that had been her very first orgasm ever? That he’d shown her something amazing that she’d only imagined until now?

  No. That would spoil his fantasy, if he had one, of bedding the erotic romance author. She’d play the experienced woman tonight. She’d play Starr.

  “Lucky for you then,” she said, “because it just so happens that I’m not going anywhere.”

  Chapter Four

  Christ, she was hot. The lips of her pussy had opened like a flower for him. God, that was so sappy. She was beautiful down there, though, as beautiful as she was everywhere else. And her taste—a mixture of sweet and tart that tantalized his mouth like nothing ever had. Servicing her indefinitely would be no hardship at all. He was hooked, and he hadn’t even fucked her yet.

  He stood up and removed his shoes and jeans. His cock throbbed. He was so horny. He couldn’t wait to sink into her hot cream.

  He turned to look at her spread out on the bed like a Renaissance painting. Her reddish-brown hair splayed across the white comforter like flaming tresses. Her crimson lips were slightly parted, glistening and kissable. Long black lashes rested on the tops of her cheeks. Her breasts hung lazily to each side, the nipples rosy from his earlier attentions. Her legs were still parted. The triangle above her treasure was a deeper auburn, and her pussy lips were a shimmering burgundy, still swollen.

  He couldn’t wait to make her come again. His erection stirred, pulsing. Pre-cum oozed from its tip.

  Stacy’s eyes were closed, but Michael knew she wasn’t sleeping. Afterglow. He’d seen it a thousand times, but never had it been more radiant. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, her breasts swaying gently.

  For a moment, he thought he could be happy just staring at her.

  His cock had other ideas.

  As much as he wanted to feel her sweet mouth envelop him, more than anything he wanted to sink inside that pussy. He fumbled in his jeans for a condom, ripped the packet open, and sheathed himself. He moved back toward the bed and gazed at her body sleek with perspiration. A rosy glow. Beautiful.

  He sat down next to her and touched between her legs. Mmm, still wet and juicy. He could slide right in.

  “Stacy?” he said softly.

  The long black lashes framing her big eyes lifted. “Hmm?”

  “I want to make love to you. Are you ready?”

  “Mmm hmm.” She opened her legs a bit more, welcoming him.

  Missionary position wasn’t his favorite, but right now he couldn’t wait. He had to have her. He climbed atop her shimmering body and thrust into her heat.

  Her soft sigh made him groan. What was it about this woman? She was beautiful, yes, and her pussy was sweet as clover honey. Yet his craving for her seemed insurmountable. He’d fuck her all night to sate himself if he had to. Anything to get his raw need for her out of his system.

  No way was he going to be emotionally dependent on any woman, not even the one taking care of him for the rest of his life.

  He pulled out and plunged back in. She was so tight, so warm, so welcoming.

  “That feels good, Michael.”

  “Oh, yes it does.” He ground his hips into her in slow circles, pushing farther and farther into her depths. Then he returned to slow and methodical thrusts.

  Sensation filled him, tore across the length of his rigid cock. He pumped harder, faster, the head of his shaft fluttering with every thrust. Soon the convulsions started at the base.

  “God, Stacy. God!”

  He thrust once more, and then he tensed as he filled the condom with his seed. He let out a ragged groan of release.

  He pulled out and disposed of the condom quickly in the wastebasket next to the bed. How selfish could he be? He’d wanted to make her come again. She’d just lain there while he fucked her like a goddamned animal.

  He lay back down next to her and swept a few strands of hair out of her eyes. “I’m sorry, Stace.”

  “For what? It felt wonderful.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad. But I wante
d you to come again.”

  She let out a short giggle. “There’s plenty of time for that, handsome.”

  “I’m afraid I need a few minutes.” He raked his hand through his moist hair.

  “Not a problem. We’ve got time.” She sat up. “Are you hungry?”

  On cue, his stomach growled. “Yeah. I could eat.”

  She reached for the phone on the nightstand. “I’m famished. Let’s order some food.”

  Food? Okay, that would work. He needed to get to know this woman whose sexuality and beauty had ensnared him. One romp in the hay did not a relationship make, and a relationship was what he needed. A relationship that she couldn’t do without. Somehow, he had to become irreplaceable to her. Fucking her without giving her another orgasm hadn’t been a great start…

  “What do you want?” he asked, grabbing the room service menu from the nightstand. “It’s on me.” Room service food was expensive, but this was an investment in his future.

  “That’s kind of you. But you don’t have to—”

  He took the phone from her and placed the receiver back on the cradle. “I insist. Let’s see…” He perused the menu. “What sounds good? How about strawberries and champagne?” He grinned.

  She answered with a smile. Then, “That sounds wonderful, but I’m craving something a little more…substantial.”

  “Strawberries dipped in chocolate?” he teased.

  “The strawberries and champagne sound great. Just add a corned beef sandwich.”

  A woman who liked to eat. He could get behind that. His Italian Catholic mother loved to feed people, and he, an accomplished cook himself, had inherited her passion for the art. “I don’t see a corned beef sandwich on the menu.” He continued to glance over the options. “There’s lasagna, though. You like Italian?”

  “Love Italian.”

  He grinned. “Good girl. Of course, I really should only feed you the lasagna I make myself. I’m sure it’s far superior to whatever slop they make here.”

  “This is a five star restaurant in a five star hotel,” Stacy said, throwing a pillow at him.

  “Let’s just say I’m picky when it comes to Italian.”

  “Okay, no Italian then.”

  “I’ll make you lasagna.”

  She let out a laugh. “How exactly do you plan to do that? Hijack the kitchen?”

  “Well…not tonight, I guess. Sometime soon.”

  “Right.” She grabbed the menu from him. “Let me look. I’ll have…the club sandwich. That’ll do fine. What do you want?” She picked up the phone.

  “I’ll have the same. But don’t forget the strawberries and champagne. And charge it to room 311.”

  “Michael…”

  “I said I insist.”

  “Okay,” she relented. She ordered the food, replaced the phone on the cradle, and excused herself to go to the bathroom.

  Now what? His cock stiffened. He could make love to her again, but they’d no doubt be interrupted by a knock on the door delivering the food.

  He sat down in a nearby chair and leafed through a magazine until the whoosh of water met his ears. She was taking a shower? The image of water droplets trickling over that buxom body caused blood to rush to his groin. He imagined her arching her back, raking her fingers through her long wet hair. Massaging shampoo into her scalp and working it through to the ends, soap dropping from her hair onto her plump breasts, down her soft belly, into the curls between her legs…

  Could he join her?

  Should he?

  The knock on the door saved him from the decision. After the waiter left, Michael popped open the champagne. The strawberries were displayed in a silver bowl with a glass of chocolate syrup in the middle. Perfect. He arranged the two club sandwiches on the table and set the strawberries in the middle. He poured two flutes of champagne and waited for Stacy.

  When the water stopped running, his heart began to race. Silly, he knew. He’d already had her, but all he could think about was having her again. He wanted to feed her strawberries, draw circles of chocolate around her luscious nipples and lick them. Chocolate, yes…chocolate on those amazing pussy lips of hers…

  She came out of the bathroom clad in one of the hotel robes. Her hair was wet and combed back over her forehead, making her facial features prominent. Her big eyes seemed even bigger and browner, her lips fuller, redder, and perfectly sculpted. Her face was a perfect oval, her cheekbones high and chiseled.

  Quite a beauty. He wondered briefly what had led to her divorce. What kind of idiot would let a gem like her go?

  He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Developing feelings for Stacy Summers was not on the agenda. This was business, pure and simple.

  “Hey, beautiful, the food’s here.”

  “Sorry, I was feeling all sweaty.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?”

  She laughed. Her laugh was like a tinkling bell, cute and infectious. “Not a bad thing, handsome. I just want to be fresh for you.”

  “You look amazing.”

  “I look like I just got out of the shower. Not at my best, but clean.”

  “Well, I can’t wait to dirty you up again. And that wasn’t fair, by the way.”

  “What wasn’t fair?” She squeezed a small amount of water from her hair.

  “You taking a shower without me.”

  “Oh.” She let out a nervous giggle. “I didn’t actually decide to take a shower until I got into the bathroom. I looked in the mirror and I looked like such a mess, so I—”

  “Are you kidding?” He stalked toward her and opened her robe. Her breasts beckoned. “You looked great. There’s nothing sexier than a woman who’s just been fucked.” He took one breast in the palm of his hand. Heavy and plump, it fell in a beautiful mass, filling his hand perfectly. “I’ll forgive you for leaving me out on one condition.”

  “What’s that?” She smiled, and her lips trembled a little.

  Was she nervous? After what they’d just shared? He squeezed the breast in his hand and ran his thumb over the tight nipple. “Next time you take a shower, you invite me. In fact”—he eyed the table, specifically the strawberries and chocolate—“I think I can guarantee you’ll keep that promise.”

  “Oh? How’s that?”

  He sauntered to the table, picked up a strawberry, and swirled it in the chocolate. He returned to Stacy, who was still standing with her robe open, her lush breasts in full view. Michael grinned as he touched the chocolate-covered fruit to the tip of one pert nipple.

  “I’ll just get you dirty again.”

  * * *

  Stacy shuddered. The sauce was warm, like hot fudge, and it seemed to light her nipple on fire. The intense heat surged through her and landed between her legs. Michael busied himself painting her other nipple, and as the sauce dripped down over her areolas, her breasts, and her belly, Stacy felt as though she were dripping to the floor as well. Fresh nectar gushed from her pussy and dripped down her thighs.

  What was going on? Confusion coursed through her brain like a speeding bullet. Why was Michael Moretti doing this to her? What on earth did he see in Stacy Oppenheimer, introvert extraordinaire? The girl who walked into a room and was invisible?

  Maybe she should lay it on the table and just ask him.

  “Michael.”

  “Hmm?” He delicately traced her areola with the strawberry tip. Her robe slid off her shoulders and puddled to the floor. The chocolate was long gone now, and the friction from the tiny strawberry seeds tightened her sensitive skin even further.

  “I…I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t understand what, baby?”

  “What you’re doing here.”

  “That’s an easy one.” He raised the strawberry to her lips and traced them.

  Seemingly of its own accord, her tongue darted out and tasted the tang of fruit and the bittersweetness of chocolate.

  “I’m painting you with chocolate. Then I’m going to lick it off you. And then I’
m going to put you back in the shower, only I’m going with you this time.”

  “Oh, lord…” Stacy’s head spun. Her wet tresses clung to her shoulders and back while her core heated. Really, did it matter why Michael Moretti was painting her with chocolate? Why he wanted to shower with her? Why he seemed to want to make love to her?

  Correction—fuck her. This was not lovemaking. It was fucking, pure and simple.

  Still, there were over one thousand women at this conference, all of whom would love the chance to spend an evening in Michael Moretti’s arms. He could have any of them, and he had chosen her. Amazing.

  Why question it? She might not like the answer.

  She could like the experience, though. Indeed, she did like the experience. So far she liked it a lot. And she was comfortable—more comfortable than she thought possible with this handsome man who seemed to want her. Though not quite ready to completely shed her introvert status, she had stumbled way out of her comfort zone tonight.

  It felt damn good.

  “Baby?”

  “Yeah?” She looked up at Michael who took a small bite of the strawberry.

  “You ready for me to clean you up now?” He gave her a saucy grin.

  The chocolate had cooled. What her flesh needed now was Michael’s warm lips. “Oh, yes, I’m ready, Michael.”

  “Mmm, me too.” He lowered his head and swirled his tongue around one nipple, licking the chocolate from her puckered skin. “Delicious.” He snickered. “And the chocolate’s not bad either.”

  Her cheeks warmed. His tongue was smooth compared to the dimpled fruit of the strawberry. And warm, oh so warm. Despite its warmth, shivers coursed through her. Her clit throbbed. Damn, why hadn’t he painted her down there? Painted the lips of her pussy, the crease between her ass cheeks? Oh, to feel his slippery tongue there…

  Her nipples hardened as he cleaned the other one and headed downward to the trails of chocolate that had dripped over her breasts and belly. His cock jutted outward. God, was it even larger than before? Large and beautiful and just waiting for…

  “Michael…”

  “What, beautiful?”