PosterBoyForAverage

by Sommer Marsden

  “Nope. Sorry. I pulled something working out and was just sitting up.” Lies, lies, lies! But what can I do? “When do you want me to go?”

  “Today.”

  “Today!”

  “We got you a noon flight.”

  Aubrey looked at her phone. That was six hours away. “But…um…where will I stay?”

  “Don’t worry. We’ve taken care of it all. The flight—sorry, it’s business class. We’re doing better, but are by no means rolling in dough,” Gail laughed.

  “No problem,” Aubrey said. She was used to flying sardine class. Being packed in with other passengers wasn’t something she’d even bat a lash at.

  “And then we have a room that’s on standard reservation for this time of year that we managed to snag because it’s reserved by one of the editors’ uncles. And he’s in Singapore this year! So he said you can stay in his room while you do that shoot.”

  “Wow.”

  “Well, it’s very small—by no means a suite. Or so I’m told. But small in Key West is as good as large anywhere else, right?”

  “Right,” Aubrey said, feeling a pit in her stomach at the talk of leaving. Leaving things all shook up and a mess with Mike.

  Mike who you just met! Mike who should not be this important already!

  But he was.

  “I wonder if that’s true with penises too,” Gail said.

  She caught Aubrey so off guard, she gasped and then whooped with laughter. “Oh my God! Gail, you are too funny. Am I the only one going?”

  “Unless you want to bring someone,” Gail said. “And sadly that would be at your expense.”

  “No, no, I was just curious is all. E-mail me all my info.”

  “And your boarding pass—”

  “And my boarding pass. E-mail me all the info and I’ll do my best to shoot you a spectacular amount of hunky men for your calendar.”

  “We have a list. They’ll be showing up three a day. And of course, in your downtime, if you find any…” She laughed.

  “If I find any hunks, I’ll be sure to tackle them and make them pose for me.”

  “Good girl!” Gail said. She sounded very excited and it was rubbing off on Aubrey.

  “E-mail me,” Aubrey said again. She stood and Bruce went insane, seeing food in his future.

  “I will. And if you have any questions, call me.”

  “Will do.”

  They hung up and she looked at Bruce. “Looks like I’m going to Key West and you’re going to visit Laura and Bradlee.”

  His tail thumped. He was okay with that.

  * * * * *

  Once she’d fed Bruce and made arrangements for Bradlee and Laura to come get him after school, she marched across the lawn that separated her and Mike and knocked.

  “What are you doing?” she muttered. “This is ridiculous. This is just an excuse to see him.”

  And it was. She knew it was and she didn’t give a shit. She wanted him to know she’d be gone for various reasons. They ranged from in case someone broke into her house or it burned down, to if he needed her she wouldn’t be there. And yes, part of her hoped beyond reasonable sane-person hope that he would miss her. Some. At least a little.

  A bit.

  It wasn’t even seven a.m. so she rang the bell. Best for him to hear her. When she heard the chain slide back her heart jack-rabbited and she had the irrational urge to flee. Instead, she straightened her spine and stood there waiting.

  Mike opened the door and regarded her with bloodshot eyes.

  “Hi,” he said, leaning forward against the door jamb.

  “You look like shit,” Aubrey blurted.

  “Why thank you. Did you stop by just to tell me that?”

  She snorted and quickly covered her face. “No. I actually came by to tell you…” Her tongue didn’t want to put the words out.

  He opened the door wide and stepped back. “Why don’t you come in and tell me? It’s weird keeping you out there.”

  She’d kept him out there the night before. But it had been midnight and she’d been—

  Hurt. Unsure.

  Aubrey stepped inside and realized she’d never been inside before. Her eyes went to the sofa. It was milk-chocolate brown, deep, cushiony and rumpled all to hell. A throw lay tangled at one end as if he’d camped out there all night. An infomercial ran on TV, so she was pretty sure her guess was accurate.

  “Tell me what?” He hooked a finger at her and went into the downstairs half-bath. He took a swig of mouthwash, swished it and recapped it. “Sorry, didn’t want to kill you with my dragon breath.”

  “I wanted to tell you,” she said, so close to him in the small room she couldn’t seem to draw a deep enough breath, “that I’m going away for three or four days.”

  “Is it three or four?” He grinned at her. Between the grin and the unreadable blue eyes and the sleep corkscrews in his hair, she felt the draw of attraction in the pit of her stomach. She tried to shake it off but it refused to be shaken.

  “Not sure. Can’t remember.”

  “Can’t remember?” He touched the underside of her wrist with his fingertip. Simply stroked gently above her pulse. That small gesture nearly undid her.

  “Yeah. I just got the call. I’m going to Key West.”

  “Business or pleasure?”

  The word pleasure made her knees feel all buckly and such. “Business. Shooting a calendar. Which reminds me. They want to use one of my shots of you. For December. But I was thinking when I get back I could…” She was staring at his bare chest. He’d slept in his jeans, but that was all. Aubrey realized she could see the tanned skin jump softly with each beat of his heart. Judging by the pace of the jumps, his heart was beating a little fast.

  Just like hers.

  “Could what?”

  She did two things simultaneously. She took a step back but she reached out to touch that leaping skin. Her fingers came in contact and he stepped toward her just as she retreated.

  “Could set up one of my fake trees and take some shots. So you really look all Decembery.” Her hand was now splayed against his warm skin. She could feel his heartbeat now. Not just see it.

  “That’s fine.” He looked down at her hand and she glanced at his jeans. He was hard. She could see it. And the visual coaxed a shivery little sigh out of her. “You’re touching me.”

  “You’re wanting me,” she replied. Why had she said that?

  He looked her in the eye and she saw the intention there. Her knees went from sort of buckly to very weak. “Always,” Mike said. He led her back into the living room.

  He put his hand behind her neck and pulled her toward him. His other hand held her wrist loosely. He was the only man to touch her wrist so often. He was the only man to ever turn her on and get her hot from touching nothing but her wrist. When his mouth met hers and his tongue slipped past her lips, she got a shot of mouthwash flavor. They both laughed.

  “Minty fresh,” she sighed. But the laughter fled when he pulled her fully to him, his body fitted to hers. She could feel the press of his hard cock to the front of her yoga pants. She’d thrown them on along with an oversized sweatshirt to knock on his door.

  Her hands moved restlessly across his chest, she liked the feel of his soft, warm skin. The hard muscle underneath. The now-heavy pound of his heart. The back of her legs hit the sofa and she sat, Mike moved over her to kiss her more deeply. His hands roamed along her face, her neck as the other slipped up beneath her sweatshirt. Everywhere he touched her bare skin grew hot. Every place he stroked her grew more sensitive.

  Her pulse was racing in her throat and in her pussy. She wanted him, so she shut out every thought in her head that contradicted her desire.

  He straddled her and she let her head tilt back as his big hands framed her face. He stroked her cheekbones with his thumbs as he deepened the kiss. His erection rested hard and heavy against her belly. She found him with her hand and stroked him, wishing his pants would magically evaporate.


  The thought made her smile.

  “What’s so funny?” He paused to look down at her. Then he kissed her nose in an entirely gentle, affectionate gesture and her heart crimped.

  “I was just wishing your pants would disappear.”

  Mike stood. “I had the same wish. But it’s your lucky day. I can make your wish come true.” He pulled the top button of his jeans open and then yanked so the entire row of brass buttons popped free of their holes. Beneath the jeans he was bare. She heard her own sharp intake of air and then her fingers came around him and he was smooth and hot in her hand.

  “Jesus,” he muttered. She ran her thumb over the weeping slit on the tip of his cock.

  “Just call me Aubrey.”

  Aubrey leaned forward slowly. She heard his own intake of air, sharp and startled. And then she wrapped her lips around the tip of him only. Dragging her tongue across the small dot of pre-come there. She sucked him but didn’t move any lower on his shaft. Mike plunged his hands into her hair but didn’t move, didn’t thrust. She could tell from the energy coming off him that it was a struggle not to. She could literally feel his self-control.

  When she thought he might shatter apart from the tension, she slipped her lips slowly down his length, taking him into her mouth. His groan made excitement race through her, caused her nipples to spike hard and sensitive inside the shapeless warmth of her sweatshirt.

  God, how she fucking wanted this man.

  She sucked him slowly, relishing the feeling of both power and pleasure it gave her. Her own arousal beat wet and heavy in her pussy. Her stomach tingled with excitement and need. She could smell him, the perfect, wonderful scent that was uniquely Mike Sykes. It filled her head and made her drunk. She ran her tongue—held rigid for the friction—up the back of his cock and he grunted.

  “Lie back.”

  “But—”

  “Do it,” he said.

  She obeyed, happily. Another fresh rush of excitement coursed through her. Another spike of power. His urgency was her power. His want, her control. And yet, when he pinned her hands down by her side and he kissed her roughly, he was in control.

  She parted her legs and he nestled between them. His knees on the floor, his waist between her spread legs. He took his time pushing her baggy sweatshirt up to see her body. He dragged his tongue up from the waistband of her leggings, over her bellybutton, up her torso and then between her breasts. The air in her lungs seemed to evaporate as blood beat like a bass drum in her ears.

  “Mike…” she said. He swept his lips to the right, pausing to grind his cock against her core. Then he trapped her tight nipple in between his lips. After a heartbeat, he found her with his tongue, teased her, sucked hard so that she felt a tug and draw from her breast to her belly. Aubrey gasped.

  He put his hand over her mouth and she stopped talking. Or trying to talk, at least. When he dragged his mouth slowly from her right breast to her left, she parted her lips, sucked his finger into her mouth and teased him with her tongue.

  This time Mike made the noise. It made her smile. Until he sucked her left nipple and then promptly bit it. Goose flesh broke out along her arms and her pussy grew so wet she felt the tops of her thighs grow slick.

  She took his face in her hands and kissed him, sucking his tongue, nipping his lower lip until his shaft felt unbearably hard against her belly.

  “Fuck me,” she said suddenly. “Fuck me now. Fuck me, Mike.” He pulled his head back and looked at her. His want was so visible in his blue eyes it made her feel lightheaded but she sealed the deal by saying softly, “Fuck me…please.”

  He pulled her yoga pants down so fast and hard she heard the sharp sound of ripping fabric. “Buy you new ones,” he mumbled gruffly and threw them across the room. Beneath her pants she was bare and he pushed her thighs wide, running his large calloused hand up and down her inner thighs until her hips bucked up with urgency.

  She had hours before she had to board a plane to Key West but all that flew out of her head as he put his mouth on her. He simply put his mouth over her mound and breathed—hot, humid breath invaded her folds and she begged, pleaded and prayed to all deities in her mind that he’d move his ever-loving tongue.

  Instead he just stayed that way, pinning her hips with his big forearms.

  “God, Jesus, fuck, Mike!” she finally groaned.

  His tongue snaked out and touched her. Gently at first. Just a searing lick that sent her mind into a stark white place where nothing but sensation lived.

  He unpinned her hips, parted her thighs, pushed them tight—nearly too tight—to the sofa and his mouth invaded her. His tongue slid along her nether lips, parting and baring them to his breath and when he moved the cooler air of the room. His teeth found her clitoris, so gently it stole her breath, then he nipped it. Just enough for her to jerk beneath him and moan.

  That was that. The moan triggered him. He righted himself, yanked her hips until her ass was flush with the edge of his sofa. A light cotton blanket was crumpled beneath her.

  “You slept on the sofa,” she panted.

  Mike paused, gave her a brisk nod. “I had romance-movie fantasies of you coming over to talk to me.” He ran the head of his cock along the split of her. She was so wet, so ready for him, they both let out a little sound of desperation.

  “You did? Men do that?” He tipped himself forward so very slowly it was maddening. When just the head was in, he took her wrists again, brought them down by her hips and held them to the sofa tight.

  When he did that, trapped her, bound her, kept her where he wanted her and she surrendered to it, something in her body grew warm and peaceful. She curled her fingers up just to come in contact with his strong hands.

  “Men do that. Yes. When it comes to women like you, Aubrey.”

  Finally, once the words had sunk in, so did he. He drove into her so fast her toes curled in his pale-green carpeting. She said his name—just that and nothing more—and tilted her hips up to take him.

  Mike lowered his upper body, but kept her wrists pinned. He kissed her, his fingers encircling her wrists a bit harder. Hard enough that she could feel her pulse trapped beneath his grip. She wondered wildly as she drove up and he thrust deep and they both tried to breathe if she would wear his fingerprints on her skin while she was away. If she’d see pale-purple-moon bruises from him holding her while she adjusted her camera settings or posed her models.

  “God, I hope so,” she said aloud without thinking.

  “What?” His lips moved down her throat. He kissed the sweet spot where her neck met her shoulder and Aubrey felt her skin prickle with sensation. Her nipples were tight and insanely sensitive against his chest. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist as he continued to pound into her.

  “Nothing. I was thinking. It was just in my head,” she said, driving up to take him. Every thrust pounded his body against her clitoris. Every kiss of his pelvic bone pushed her closer to orgasm.

  “Good. I want to be in your head. I want to be in your head while you’re gone. I don’t want you to be able to shake me loose.” He paused and began to drag his hips from side to side. Side to side. And again, until Aubrey was fighting his grip on her wrists and biting her lip and coming. Coming so hard she saw tiny little fairy lights in her vision.

  “That’s what I like.” He kissed her shoulder, moving his mouth to suck at her nipple.

  “I’m rather partial to it myself,” she whispered.

  “Turn over for me, Aubrey.”

  She moved so that her belly rested against the sofa seat cushion and spread her legs. The hair on the nape of her neck tingled as he moved in behind her. The big energy that was Mike invaded her space and she welcomed it. He made her feel alive. Electric. And when they were together the fact that things were sticky and complicated fell by the wayside. They didn’t matter so much at all.

  His hands on her hips were just as unforgiving as they’d been on her wrists. But under that she could
sense the awe and the reverence he felt when he touched her. That, more than anything, was what made her so wet when he touched her. So ready to surrender herself to him, even if things were a nightmare logically. Even if he was pushing her away and it hurt.

  Aubrey angled her hips back so he could get deeper. She felt her heartbeat beneath where he held her. Her head thudded with blood and small, frantic noises escaped her. His breathing was labored and at first she thought he was simply muttering nonsense sounds, but when he leaned his body over her back and thrust so deeply her hips hit the lip of the sofa cushion, she realized he was saying her name. “Aubrey, Aubrey, Aubrey,” over and over again like a prayer.

  Her forehead hit the sofa, her body prone before him. She let herself be the most willing, pleasured receptacle for him. He grunted. “Touch yourself, Aubrey. Get yourself off. Come with me. I’m pretty,” a long, low moan slipped out of him and she felt the wash of his breath across her bare back, “far gone,” he managed.

  Her hands were shaking. Adrenaline, endorphins, lust…it was a heady cocktail. Her fingers were difficult to work at first with the hard tremor that had taken up residence, but once she touched her slick, thumping clitoris, the shakes disappeared. She was harsh with herself, hard and fast circles, because she could feel the urgency building in him. The rough thrust of his hips and the rough sound of his breath. He was so fucking close and she wanted to fall down that rabbit hole with him. She wanted to be swept under by that particular wave.

  Where he went, she wanted to go.

  “Aubrey,” he said again. And the way he said it told her. One more brutal nudge of her clit and she squeezed her pussy tight around him and she came, just as he did. They went taut and silent together and then it was nothing but moans and breathing and unfurling ribbons of pleasure deep inside her.

  Her body went limp and she sank herself against his beaten-up, pleasantly comfortable sofa. His mouth came down on the back of her neck and he licked the salt off her skin. “You leaving wasn’t how I thought this scenario would go. And here I had a soap-opera reunion for us.”

  He withdrew and she rolled so that she was sitting on his floor, her back against the sofa. “Watch a lot of soap operas, do you?”