by Kylie Adams
But Fab resisted. And the kiss throbbed on and on.
Kiki realized that this was war. A war they were both winning. A war she wanted to fight seven days a week and twice on Saturdays. And never once ask for mercy. That was a personal promise.
It took every bit of willpower to tear her lips away from his. "Fab please ." Her begging was life-or-death, but Kiki didn't know exactly what it was for. She only knew that she wanted more .
More of him.
More of that.
More of this.
Fab's eyelids sank down over smoldering eyes that were suddenly heat-seeking missiles zeroing in on a target.
And then Kiki got her answer. His first order of business would be her breasts. She watched him watch themthe two white triangles of surgically enhanced perfection.
Kiki was proud of the job. Unlike so many women who went in for implants, she'd resisted the urge to go too big. Unlike Jarinda, her actress friend who made the decisionwhile fading on the operating table no lessthat a DD cup size would be the cat's meow. Now she couldn't wear designer anymore, suffered from back trouble, and had to strap herself down to use the StairMaster. Even worse, her boyfriend ended up leaving her for an Asian model who was built like a little boy. Poor Jacinda.
Fab made a move.
Suddenly, all thoughts of Jacinda's fake-boob Waterloo got kicked out the door. Kiki released a shuddering sigh as she witnessed the greedy act of Fab's hands claiming her breasts, pushing them together, bending down as if in homage to the eighth wonder of the world.
He nuzzled there, his unshaven cheek tantalizingly rough against her silken softness. "God, your tits are spectacular." His tongue ran over the shell pink cones that capped his new discovery, teasing them one at a time.
Kiki's hands found the back of Fab's head and pulled it closer, just as she wondered about the other plans he mind might be dreaming up.
Fab's tongue became Fab's teeth. And he bit down on the petal tips. Soft and loving. Hard and threatening.
Kiki groaned out her delight.
His eyes were shining at her twin marvels, and the lusciously arrogant way the impossibly tight buds sprang back against him seemed to render him spellbound.
A passionate realization roared inside her. This was one for the sensual memory filesa moment Kiki knew she would access one night while pleasuring herself.
Fab was a man of unforgettable firsts. The first time she saw him. The first time she kissed him. The first time she
"Oh! Ooooooh!" Kiki moaned, ecstasy blanketing her mind.
It happened without warning. Fab slipped two fingers inside her, his touch firm and insistent. The shock sent a shudder down her body. She arched her back and thrust her pelvis at the magical intruder that was his hand.
"I can't believe how wet you are," Fab whispered.
"Trust me," Kiki murmured. "It's not the shower." It was official. She was melting for him. The most precious part of her had become a flood tide. Another first. Usually, it took time to heat the kettle. But this man got her whistling quicker than any other man could put his lips together and blow.
His fingers dipped deeper inside, pausing, separating, ruling her with an almost rude boldness.
"Fab, please." Kiki cried out the words, but their meaning got lost in the translation. The truth was, she had no idea what she desired. Her brain was an order screen with bad electrical wiring. She wanted him to go faster. To go slower. To be more intense. To do it with tenderness. To whisper sweet entreaties. To bark out dirty commands. There was only one thing she knew for surethat Fab triggered a wanting beyond the ken of any reality she'd ever known.
"I can feel you pulsing on my fingers," Fab murmured. "Can you feel it?" And as he waited for the answer, his lips feasted on her neck with a sudden, ruthless, ravenous aggression.
Kiki barely nodded. That was already old news to her. Okay, Fab's fingers could turn her into a Jacuzzi fountain. So what? She was more interested in another part of his body. And her heart hammered against her ribs as simple anticipation became magnificent obsession.
"Fab, please." Oh, God, those same two words again. She sounded like Faith Hill in The Stepford Wives before the combustion. But Kiki knew what she wanted now. She was just afraid to say it out loud.
His body tightened like the strings of a bow. He withdrew his hand and replaced it with something elsethe dream at the end of her illicit rainbow, pulsating with purpose and radiating heat, hovering right at the mouth of the cauldron she'd become. "Please what?" Fab asked.
Kiki's realization was instant. He was playing with her, mocking her, at the most terrible, wonderful moment. Bastard. Quite suddenly, she felt a return to form. The spark came back. No longer would she be the pliant native girl to his Tarzan. The collision of bodies might've started his way. But it would end her way. "Please Fab tell me that you have a condom."
He looked at her, his face a masterpiece of astonishment. It was the last thing he expected to come out of her mouth. Please, Fab, make love to me . That's what he wanted to hear. But it wasn't the medieval era, he wasn't the marauding conqueror, and she wasn't the girl from the village he just burned. Arrogant greedy man. For a minute there, he almost had his own scene from one of those bodice-ripper novels.
Fab's hand swooped overhead to a shelf that housed sample-sized shampoo, conditioner, and body wash products by Kiehl's. He fished around, suddenly producing a Mylar-wrapped Trojan Magnum. In a single sweeping movement, it was ripped open with his teeth and slipped onall while using just one hand.
Kiki raised an eyebrow. "Impressive. I take it you didn't learn that in the Boy Scouts."
"No, but the first girl I tried it on was a Brownie once upon a time. Does that count?" Fab grabbed a fistful of her wet hair in a way that wasn't rough but masterful. And he moved in until their lips were millimeters apart. Without warning, he plunged inside of her.
Kiki's body shook with the force of his momentum. She felt fullwrapped tight around him. It was exactly where she wanted to be. Breath rushed from her lungs as he increased amperage, his chest crushing against her breasts.
She reached down to cup the steel that was his butt, amazed by his hard muscle. If there was an ounce of fat on this man, she hadn't found it yet.
Fab's fist was still twisted tightly in her hair, his other hand caressing her neck, his tongue plundering her left ear in between desperate breaths and worshipful murmurs, invoking God, her name, and the occasional, "Oh, Fab!"
Kiki's muscles quivered with the effort of holding her stomach tight. In fact, her body was shaking with the strain as Fab continued to thrust up and down, side to side, in a fantastic rhythm that was building fast to the moment .
And then he began to speed-whisper into her ear. "I'm going to be honest. I could come any second now. I'd like to think I'm that guy you know, the one with the stamina who can wait until his partner's there, too. Usually, I am that guy. But I was so hot for you today I could hardly stand it. I thought about you all night. I couldn't even go to sleep. I did, finally. But I had to do something first. I won't say what. It's too embarrassing. But let's just say you stepped into a fantasy role usually reserved for Catherine Zeta-Jones. So take all of that into account, plus the fact that I've got a management meeting that was supposed to start ten minutes ago. Don't get me wrong. I know you're busy, too. God, you're writing a book. That has to take up a lot of time. By the way, I talked to my friends. The agents I was telling you about. They all want to take a look at your stuff. I've got the details on how to write a proposal in my office. Think about it. Between my work and your work, we're two very busy people. So I think I should just come. That way we can both get on with our day. But I'll be back tonight, and it will be all about you. I promise. What I was"
"Fab, please ! Shut up! God, I've never heard a man talk so much during sex in my life. It's like you're channeling Lorelai Gilmore or something."
Fab Tomba had already lost his famed cool. But in the howling cry into the steam clouds that
came next, he lost it even moreand he shot into her like a runaway river.
What saved Kiki from the cruel eternity of waiting for tonight was Fab's last brilliant move, a corkscrew motion where he bucked down and reared up with such amazing force that her feet went flying up from the shower floor in perfect concert with her bottom banging against the tile. The zenith of sensations overwhelmed her. Oh, God! Celestial choirs. Flights through the sky. Phosphorus starbursts. This is what a mind-melting orgasm felt like.
Fab collapsed, still inside her but completely spent and fighting for breath. Kiki grinned lazily into the mist, struggling with the weight of his body.
"Sorry," Fab murmured, stretching his arms against the wall like pylons and trapping her between them. "My legs are so weak right now. I think my knees literally buckled." He made no move to exit her. "I just want to stay inside you for a little bit longer." He sighed the sigh of the deliriously satisfied. "It's a great place to hang out."
Kiki shut her eyes. Oh, God, she wasn't quite done with the little points of pleasure. Then she let her head fall back and sucked in a slow steady breath as the final erogenous pulses dissolved. Okay. Now it was over.
In celebration, Kiki cupped his cheeks and kissed him full on the lips. "I can't believe I beat out Catherine Zeta-Jones in your self love fantasy. I'm dying to tell Suzi-Suzi and Danni. Dying ."
* * *
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected] vshelton@kleinschmidtbelker
Subject: Saving Graces
Girls, girls, girls!
And I'm not talking about that ghastly Motley Crüe song. I'm talking about us! I have a plan in motion that you're both going to adore. I've already teased Julia with this brilliant concepta winter wedding. First of all, I'm swamped and, quite frankly, I think one more wedding might turn me into Mariah Carey. Remember that incident when she was walking around Times Square with the Hello Kitty boom box? Well, that could be me! Anyway, winter weddings are a hidden jewel. Why is everyone so hell-bent on tying the knot during the summer? And in Texas! Horrors! The heat will be unbearable. And there's always some old man with flop sweat who wants to dance with every woman under the age of eighty. And I've already mentioned that I wany my brother to be at his most scrumptious (sweat on the upper lip is a bad look for a wedding). Anyway, I'll keep you posted on developments. PS This will also be particularly fabulous if either one of you suffers from underarm flab. It's a winter wedding. No sleeveless worries!
Air Kisses, Kiki
* * *
Chapter Eleven
"That is so romantic." Suzi-Suzi sighed wistfully. "I wish Chad would masturbate and think about me. But he never does that."
"Never masturbates or never thinks about you?" Kiki asked. She was lounging in her suite, basking in the afterglow of her trip with Fab to the waterfall at the end of the world.
"Oh, didn't I tell you? Chad never touches himself," Suzi-Suzi said. Her voice took on a serious tone.
"But that's ridiculous," Kiki argued. "Of course, he does."
"No, he never does," Suzi-Suzi insisted. "That man does not like a hand on his you know tal-lywacker. I tried to give him a hand job once, and he totally freaked out. Like a little girl who just saw a big spider or something. Anyway, a hand is a hand. And that includes his own. He swears up and down that he never pleasures himself. At first, I didn't believe him. I thought every man had to do it or his thing would fall off, or he'd get red balls or something."
"I think it's blue balls," Kiki coirected.
" Blue ?" Suzi-Suzi countered. "I thought that's what happened to them in really cold weather." She groaned. "Whatever."
"Now I'm intrigued," Kiki murmured. "Why do you think he's so scared of a hand on his penis? You know, Chad's got some serious sexual hang-ups. Between this and the crying after he comes"
"I know!" Suzi-Suzi thundered. "I tried to look it up on the Internet, but I couldn't find anything. Now I know it's weird. I mean, everything's on the Internet these days. That's where I go to get my horoscope."
Kiki stretched luxuriously. God, it felt so good to have sex. Especially after such a long dry spell. It'd been months and months. Now she felt like a nymphomaniac, because getting Fab back into this room as soon as possible was her very reason for living. Hmm. As goals go, this was hardly one that Stephen Covey would endorse as representing one of the Eight Habits.
Suzi-Suzi blathered on. "My life is way too complicated. Why does God punish me? I pray for simple things. I want a boring modeling job like, say, bathing suits or nursing uniforms, and I want a guy who, after he shoots his spunk, doesn't act like me whenever I watch Terms of Endearment ."
"Hey, why not hire a sex therapist," Kiki suggested.
"Chad would never go for that," Suzi-Suzi grumbled. " 't can't even get him to agree to couples counseling."
Kiki chuckled. "That's a new one. Couples counseling for a married man and his mistress."
"Oh, not just us," Suzi-Suzi said. "I told him that his wife should be there, too. We're all in this together, and it's time to start dealing with the issues."
Kiki gazed out the window for a moment to make sure that there was an outside world and that she wasn't living in the same alternative universe as Suzi-Suzi, who truly had no idea that having a married boyfriend was well, just wrong .
"I suppose I could fib about the sex therapist," Suzi-Suzi muttered. "You know, just say we're going to a friend's place for dinner, casually bring up sex during the conversation, and just let things go from there."
Kiki pulled a face. "Uh, sweetie, I don't think Chad's going to announce to someone he just met that he cries when he ejaculates and that he's got a phobia about hands on his tallywacker."
"Oh, well, I'm sure that I can work it in," Suzi-Suzi said earnestly.
"Don't you think he'll be furious at you for bringing it up?" Kiki asked.
"Oh I never thought of that." One beat. "I should definitely wait for him to bring it up. And I still think the pretend dinner is the way to go. Where do you find one of these sex therapists? The only one I've heard of is Dr. Ruth, and I imagine she's quite expensive." Suzi-Suzi gasped. "Speaking of money, I need a job. Did you ever find out the name of that agent?"
"No," Kiki said, her voice drenched with instant apology. "I thought about it this morning, but then before I knew it, I was having sex with Fab. I'll find out today. I promise."
"Do you realize how lucky you are?" Suzi-Suzi gushed. "I mean, Fab is a great lover, and he doesn't cry in bed. That is so rare. At least in my experience."
Kiki yawned and stretched. "Do you ever just sit around and think about all the guys you've ever slept with?"
"I try not to," Suzi-Suzi said. "I've been with some really kooky men. Normal on the outside, but get them in the bedroom, and it's, like, 'Paging the psych ward.' Did I ever tell you about the guy who could only get an erection if I dressed up like Batgirl?"
"Yes," Kiki replied. "That was Chad last Halloween."
Suzi-Suzi was silent. "Oh, that's right!" One beat. "Okay, this is ridiculous. We totally need a sex therapist."
"I don't know," Kiki mused. "It's just kind of in-teresting to reflect. There's a wild new trend now in publishing. Women are writing sexual memoirs detailing everything . I'd never do that, but it might be interesting to have to relive each guy in order to write about him."
"Oh, my God," Suzi-Suzi cut in. "I saw this woman on one of the morning shows who wrote a whole book about her anal sex experiences. She was completely in love with her own butt. By comparison, Chad seemed almost normal."
Kiki gave the subject some philosophical focus. "You know, on second thought, I would never write a book like that. These are the people I slept with . I mean, it's so self-indulgent. And there's no insight. Nobody's learning anything that can improve their life. I don't even think it's that entertaining. It's like the sex version of some old person who wants to tell you what they ate that day. Pointless really."
"I suppose you're r
ight," Suzi-Suzi agreed. "But your book would be way better than mine. They'd make yours the next Red Shoe Diaries . Meanwhile, Chad and I would end up on Comedy Central."
Kiki giggled. "I don't know about that . I suppose there have been a few memorable ones." Her mind tripped back. "In high school I had this boyfriend my junior yearJaron. Oh, my God. Phenomenal kisser. I wanted to make out with him all day. And I did. We were always getting caught under a stairwell or outside in the parking lot. He had a Dodge Colt that was so small, but it didn't matter." She windmilled her legs in the air to get a few Pilates moves in for the day. "College was like, whatever. Most guys I knew stayed drunk those four years. When I took that acting class, though, the first year I moved to New York, there was this guy named Yaz."
" Yaz ," Suzi-Suzi repeated dreamily. "I love that name. Why can't I date a Yaz?"
"Oh, you would definitely want to date this one. Not just a stud. A super stud. He could do it like nobody's business. But you know, it was almost too much. He just went on and on and on. Finally, I'd be like, 'Enough already! I'm getting sore, and I don't want to miss Beverly Hills 90210 .' I dated a Chad once, too. He was okay. That man was obsessed with my breasts. Flattering up to a point. And then it's like, hello, there are other parts to my body. Wait a minute. Now that I think of it, he had a weird thing after he came, too. He would leave really really fast. Like a fireman who just heard the three alarm bell or something. Maybe that's just a weird sex thing with guys named Chad"
Suzi-Suzi remained silent.
Kiki blabbed on. "There was this guy Johnny, too. He was the IRS agent who helped me straighten out that mess after I didn't file for three years. Pretty much blah as a lover, but he sure did love to cuddle."
"That sounds nice," Suzi-Suzi murmured from a million miles away.
"What are you doing?" Kiki demanded.
"Oh, sorry. I jumped online to look up sex therapists, and there are so many in New York. If all these people make a living at this, then we're in a city with some serious sexual problems. Oohhere's a woman who does hypnosis sexual therapy. That sounds like fun. While he's under, maybe she can get him to stop slobbering so much when he kisses."
