His hair hangs down around my face like curtains, his own face mostly in shadows, but the sound of him exerting himself and moaning is all I need.
He starts pumping harder and faster, and just when I think he must be reaching a climax, he pulls out, flips me over, draws me up onto my knees and enters me from behind. He squeezes my breasts while I clutch onto the bedspread and let this animal side of him take over while I enjoy the entirely new sensation of being penetrated from this angle.
Holy crap, that must be my G-spot!
The dull burgeoning pleasure is like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
This … this … there is nothing better than this.
I lean down on my forearms, and that small adjustment makes Chase squeeze me harder, plow into me faster.
When he slaps my ass, it sends a surge of excitement through me.
I don’t know who I am anymore, except a woman who has just discovered that she likes to be spanked during sex.
“You like that?”
“Yeah, I like it.”
He does it again.
I slowly realize that I’m having the kind of soul tingling, life-altering full-body orgasm that I thought was just a myth.
He grabs onto my hips and pulls me down toward the foot of the bed. My stomach is flat on the mattress and he holds me up by my hips while plunging down into me, hard and fast and then hard and slow. The groan that he makes while he tenses up and empties himself is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. He remains still and standing, holding me up like that for a few seconds, and then collapses onto my back, both of our legs bent and hanging off the edge of the bed. He pushes my hair to one side, to plant kisses along my shoulders. Our breaths are in sync. His hands cover mine.
I’m not sure how much time passes before he kisses the back of my head and tells me he’ll be right back.
Crawling further up onto the bed, I turn over onto my back and close my eyes for a moment, blissed-out and smiling.
I must have drifted off to sleep for a few minutes, but I can sense that he’s there when I wake up.
I’m all sultry and languid, lying here on the bed like a nude model in a Klimt painting. I feel like I’m composed of spinning circles and wavy lines, surrounded by a gold halo and vibrantly-colored flowers, a tree of life.
I can’t even lift my head up to look at him, but my hand searches for him.
I need to touch him.
You did this to me.
What have you done?
I want more.
My hunger for him is insatiable. It’s surprising and overwhelming and terrifyingly unfamiliar. Maybe it’s a good thing if we only have tonight. I don’t know that my body could even handle much more of this.
But then again—before tonight, was this body of mine ever truly alive?
I know the answer to that, and the real question is: how can it possibly go on living without him?
9
Chase
“No one has ever made me feel this good,” she says, her voice like honey. “Ever, ever.” I rest my head on her belly and she tugs at my hair, giving me a little scalp massage.
“You’re an incredibly stunning and sexy woman, you know that?”
I hear air blow out her nostrils. She finds that amusing, but I couldn’t be more serious. The way she responds to me—it’s like my body knew as soon as I saw her that it would be like this. Maybe my brain knew it too and was afraid of it. I don’t feel vulnerable, exactly, but it has been a long time since I’ve felt this way. If I’m being honest, it’s never been quite like this.
“More Than This” comes on the hotel satellite radio. I dig this song, but I’ve never felt it more than I do right now. I stroke her calf with one hand, exhausted and so satisfied and almost ready for more. I don’t want to sleep. I have a meeting in the morning, so I need to sleep, but I’m not going to waste one second of this night with Aimee.
I hear her sniffle.
“You want me to turn off the air conditioning?”
“No, I’m fine,” she says, her voice all gravelly now. She wipes her eyes.
I sit up to look at her.
“Are you crying?”
“No. Yes. It’s so dumb.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. This night has just been so … much. I’m happy, that’s all.”
“Good.”
She pats my arm, reassuringly. It’s a sweet gesture, but it made her tits jiggle a bit, and now I can’t take my eyes off of them. I drag my fingertips down the center of her torso, collar bone to pelvis. She shivers. “Tell me something about you. Anything. Do your parents live here?”
“Yeah. They have an Italian restaurant in Park Slope. Had it my whole life. My mom’s the chef, my dad’s the manager. So if you ever want a Guinness with your organic rigatoni, go to Graziella.”
She laughs. “Graziella. I like that. Did you ever work there?”
“All the time, until I was in high school and got too busy with other stuff.”
“Busy being a little reckless?”
“A little of that, but mostly busy doing homework and making money for college. My parents could no longer afford me at that point.”
She sits up carefully, so that my head drops from her belly to her lap, and those perfect tits are now hanging directly above my face.
“Okay, I have another question. I hope this isn’t rude, but I’m so curious.”
I think I say “Go on,” but all I’m thinking is get in my mouth.
“How could you afford Wharton and law school? That’s so much tuition.”
A beautiful naked woman who wants to discuss my money-making skills? Where am I, and can I stay here forever?
“Combination of savings, stock investments, scholarships, fellowships. I worked really hard.”
“That’s impressive.” She eyes my cock, which is a fucking flag pole right now, practically waving at her. “That is also very impressive.”
In one second flat I’ve got her pinned down underneath me. She squeals, but soon realizes that it’s going to be slow and steady this time around. I kiss her jaw, her neck, her shoulder, her collar bone, the notch between collar bones. I plant kisses all the way down the center of her and back up to her breasts, licking delicately until she’s shuddering and wriggling around and whimpering. I let the strands of my hair tickle her skin while I explore every single inch of her with my mouth and my hands, top to bottom, front and back.
This is mine, and this is mine, and this is mine.
Tonight, tonight, tonight.
Mine.
When I’m kissing the arch of her right foot, she mutters, “Get inside me now, fuck, please!”
Well, since she said ‘fuck.’
She grabs hold of my face when I’m gliding inside of her. It’s so slick in there, but that gasping sound she makes as I fill her up, while she’s kissing me, turns me on even more. I swear, I’m a bigger man for her than I’ve ever been.
Her arms and legs are wrapped around me so tightly. I’m so deep in her but it seems like I can’t ever get deep enough for either of us. I feel this strange primal need to become a part of her. Not just to make my mark on her, but to live inside this woman, somehow. Create a third person that’s not her or me, but some being that we become when we’re together. This is entirely new but also feels like coming home.
“Chase, Chase, Chase!”
God, the way she says my name like I’m her savior or her master.
I’m the one who’s surrendering myself to her.
Drowning and being reborn in the depths of her.
Union.
That’s what this is.
This is what it’s meant to be.
I can feel her orgasm slowly take over her, a tidal wave.
That movement ignites something and the wild beast in me takes hold of my body, soul and mind.
I lied.
I do want to make my mark on her.
She’s mine.
&nb
sp; Not just for tonight.
The explosion of energy from my center rips me apart and destroys everything that isn’t us in this moment.
I’m unhinged.
I’ve lost control.
Everything goes black, and I am magnificent fucking nothingness, for less than a minute or for infinity, I don’t know anything anymore.
When I come to, I’m lying still on top of her, two sweaty bodies breathing in tandem, returning to the room.
She says nothing, I say nothing.
I’m twenty-seven years old and this is the first time I’ve had sex with a woman that I love since I was seventeen.
Whoa.
What am I saying?
I barely know her.
It’s too soon to really call this love. Isn’t it?
I don’t know what to call it yet, but I do know this: There are two lines that divide my adult life—the one that divides the time before and after I formed my company, and the one that divides the time before and after I spent the night with Aimee Gilpin. I have no idea what after tonight will look or feel like, but I know what’s changed. I know I’ve changed. I may have been able to give up an insidious ten-year habit out of sheer force of will, but there is no way I can live the rest of my life without this woman.
AFTER TONIGHT
10
Chase
It’s a great fucking morning.
My body feels raw and wrecked and alive and I am so fucking optimistic, I don’t even care that I don’t have time to pick up my phone from Denny. I’ll catch up with him at some point today. It’s more important for me to get to the office and have a face-to-face talk with Keaton. This can’t wait. No more treating that fucker with kid gloves when it comes to Aimee. When it comes to Aimee—she’s mine. That’s all there is to it. He needs to know it, so I can let her and the world know it too.
Neither of us wanted to sleep last night, but the human body will only gift you with a certain number of orgasms before demanding sleep as payment for services rendered. Even after shower sex. I bolted awake at nearly eight o’clock. No sun was streaming through the windows because of the blackout curtains, and only the faintest traffic sounds could be heard outside. In the dim light of the bedside lamp, I watched Aimee sleeping and didn’t want to wake her. She didn’t mention having a job or an interview today, so I figured I should let her sleep in.
I left her a note on the hotel stationary, telling her to order whatever she wants from room service and to take her time getting up because I told the front desk not to send up housecleaning until noon. In the note, I told her that last night was the best night of my life, and that I would call her once I got my phone back. I wrote that I want to see her again tonight, and the next night, and the next. I told her that I plan to tell Keaton about us as soon as possible.
I kissed the crown of her head and then left. Her hair was still a little bit damp from the shower, all spread out across the pillow. Wavy. Her hair must be naturally wavy. If I had my phone on me, I’d have taken a picture for her. She looks more wild and reckless like that.
She certainly seemed reckless to me.
I had been dreading the “after tonight” part, but the bandage will be ripped off.
Life will go on, and it will be fucking amazing.
Keaton and I are best friends because he likes that I give it to him straight. “Straight no Chaser,” he always says. I’m going to give it to him straight today, whether he likes it or not.
Me, I like that Keaton’s a bold-as-balls risk-taker, even though he needs to be reined-in half the time. He balances out my own heart and brain-motivated choices. I overthink. He overspends, overacts, overreacts.
We’re a good team, and putting up with his entitled rich kid idiosyncrasies is a small price to pay, most of the time. He’s had my back and I’ve had his, ever since we met at Wharton. While I was at law school, Keaton was partying and investing in real estate and the stock market with his trust fund money. He tried to convince me to drop out and launch my startup before anyone else did something similar, but I stood my ground. Having a lawyer CEO would give clients more confidence in the company, and I knew my patience would pay off. I never planned to take the bar exam or become a practicing lawyer, but having that NYU law degree is worth its weight in gold. By the time I’d gotten it, Keaton had made a couple of bad investments and he needed a win. He had always wanted to fund my startup because he knew it was a great idea and he helped me select a good group of co-investors. I agreed to back him as my Chief Financial Officer. It’s not that I felt that I owed him for letting me live with him in Philadelphia—I just think he’s a good partner for me when it comes to business, and I know how good he is at dealing with all of the investor bullshit that doesn’t interest me.
SnapLegal-NYC is legal tech for small businesses. We provide affordable on-demand à la carte legal advice, plus low-cost legal services for local businesses. It’s not robo-lawyers, it’s real people and low overhead. The lawyers work remotely but they can use our offices whenever they need to. It may not be a big sexy startup idea, but I saw the need for it at my parents’ restaurant and all the other storefronts in the neighborhood, and we’ve had steady growth ever since we launched.
Keaton wanted to go global, I insisted on staying local until we’d built up more of a reputation. He wanted to lease a huge premium converted loft space in Williamsburg, I got him to compromise on a fairly large kickass space in downtown Brooklyn, which my buddy Vince’s brokerage helped us find. The one thing we’ve both agreed on in the last year is that it’s time to switch to a subscription-based business model. It’s never an easy transition, but it will lead to more revenue, sooner rather than later. We’ve hired a consultant to help us with the transition, and it all starts today.
By the time I get to our offices after changing clothes at home, it’s after nine-thirty. We have a meeting with Elaine Hoffman and the project manager she’s assigned to us at ten. I’ve never gotten to the office after nine unless I had a breakfast meeting first. I see Keaton’s assistant, Nora, peeking in to see if I’m at my desk.
Why does the CFO have an assistant while my CTO and I don’t, one might ask? Because my CTO and I agreed it was better for our budget to hold off on assistants for the first couple of years, but Keaton is paying Nora out of his own pocket because he would disappear up his own asshole if he didn’t have a babysitter/wrangler around and I’m not going to do that job full-time.
When Nora sees me, she gives me a look that speaks volumes. Keaton’s already here and why the fuck am I not answering my cell phone? Nora is barely over five feet tall, but she could knock you on your ass with one of her looks. The girl knows who signs her checks, and I’ve learned to stay on her good side—which is why I stopped by her favorite coffee shop and brought her a latte and a scone.
“Forget to charge your phone, Chase McCan’tanswerhisfuckingphone?” she says this while reaching for the coffee and taking a bite of the scone.
“That was weak, but good morning to you too, sunshine. He in his office?”
“Yes, please get him out of there, he’s driving me crazy.”
I had been planning to check messages first, but I might as well let that wait, at this point. I didn’t see any frantic emails earlier, so there can’t be anything more urgent than what I have to say to Keaton.
“Hey,” Nora says, her mouth full. “Don’t not be here when you’re usually here. It pisses me off and everything goes to shit.”
I look around to confirm that nothing at all appears to have gone to shit.
“Right. Your grammar is shit. Get to work.”
“I have been working. You get to work.”
I stare her down until she withers.
“Thank you for the coffee and scone, Mr. McKay.”
“Atta girl.”
I drop off my laptop in my office and cross the open space to Keaton’s, saying ‘hi’ to the five engineers who are situated at a long bank of desks between us.
&nb
sp; I find Keaton pacing back and forth in front of his desk, while scrolling through his phone. “Dude. What the fuck?”
“I don’t have my phone on me—I’ll get it back after work.”
“Christ, I thought Greg and I would have to do this meeting without you.”
“It’s just a quick introductory meeting, you can relax. We hired them to do the hard stuff, remember?”
He cracks his neck. “I don’t know why I’m so anxious today.”
Because you obviously didn’t have as much hot sex as I did this weekend.
“You wanna grab a quick coffee downstairs?”
“Yeah, let’s do that.”
I figure my best play is to take him to the café downstairs, give him the news about me and Aimee in a public place where he won’t lose his shit, and then hustle up to our meeting so he has a chance to cool down before we discuss it any further. It’s not that I’m scared of the guy, it’s that I care more about this company than he does. I need his support at board meetings, but I also can’t have him quitting or stirring up any kind of trouble before we go into our next round of funding.
I slap him on the back as we head out of his office.
“I can’t believe you don’t have your phone. You never lose your phone.”
“Yeah, well. I had an unbelievable weekend. How about you?”
“It was okay. What’d you get up to?”
“Tell you in a minute.”
I signal to my Chief Technology Officer, Greg Lee, that we’ll be right back. When I’m looking into his office, I hear Keaton say, “Holy shit,” under his breath as he stops in his tracks. When I look up to see what he sees, I say and do the exact same things.
Aimee Gilpin is standing around the waiting area by the entrance to our offices, looking around. From the neck down, she’s all put-together in a pencil skirt and tucked-in blouse, but her hair looks like she’s just driven around town in a convertible at high-speed and she appears to be even more anxious than Keaton was just now. I have no idea what she’s doing here, but she doesn’t look like she had even half as good a time as I did last night and that’s troubling.
The Brooklyn Book Boyfriends Page 50
