by Jordan Marie
“Well, I aim to please.”
“Show me,” he says, sucking gently on my neck and nibbling there. I’m trying to concentrate on what he’s saying, but the desire he’s stoking inside of me makes it impossible.
“Show you what?” I gasp just as his hand moves between my legs.
“How much do you want to please me?”
“We’ll be late,” I tell him, but not really giving a damn. I’m sure he can tell that by the way I spread my legs to allow him easier access.
“I don’t really give a fuck,” he says as his fingers slide into my pussy.
“In that case,” I gasp as he thrusts his fingers hard and deep inside my walls.
“Yeah?”
“Fuck me, Gray. Oh god, fuck me and don’t stop.”
“I got you,” he whispers against my lips, driving his fingers in again just as his tongue thrusts into my mouth. “I got you,” he says again, when we break apart for a moment. He does too. He has me. I’m addicted to this man. It’s never happened before, but it’s too late to stop it now. I let myself get lost in the sensations he’s creating in my body and try to ignore the fear—at least for now.
19
CC
“You’re late,” Miranda grumbles as I walk through the diner to the back booth—the same booth Miranda claims every freaking time we eat here. She demands we sit at the back of the room, and she always faces the doors. She’s got more than a few issues. She’s also the one friend besides Jackson that I allow in my life, so I put up with her quirks. God knows I have more than enough of my own.
“I had sex,” I tell her, smiling sweetly and grabbing a menu. “Have you already ordered? I’m starving.”
“Wait… you had sex? You’re smiling and you’re starving? Who are you and what have you done with my best friend? You know the one. The one who is always grouchy, says men aren’t worth the trouble, and who eats like a horse but usually not until the afternoon so she can wake up?”
“Hmmm… Yes, I had sex, and it was awesome sex, so of course I’m smiling. It’s almost noon, so I’m awake enough and I’m starving because having sex on the regular is exhausting. I need food to keep up my stamina.”
“I’ve entered some kind of alternate universe, haven’t I? That’s the only explanation. Oh, and I think I hate you in this universe, too.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because the beauty of our relationship is that we both bitch and quarrel about men and go long periods without sex. We whine about how lacking our vibrators are and eat chocolate. It’s our thing.”
“What can I get you girls?” the waitress asks, interrupting us. Miranda orders tuna salad and an iced tea. Usually I would order the same, but today I really am hungry.
“I’ll have the turkey club, no mayo, and an order of fries, and a tea to drink too, please?”
The waitress leaves, and I catch Miranda staring at me with her mouth open. My best friend since sixth grade, Miranda Kerr is everything I’m not. She’s tiny, small-breasted, and so pretty it hurts. She’s got dark black hair and shining blue eyes that look almost lavender in color. She wears glasses in the newest, trendiest frames and has plump to-die-for lips smothered in dark red lipstick. We don’t match at all—the grease monkey tomboy and the book nerd, girly-girl—but somehow we click on every front. I trust her with my life. She’s as loyal as they come.
“I think I could hate you,” she huffs.
“You can’t. You love me. Besides, you have Kurt, right?”
“Wrong. I kicked him to the curb.”
“What? Why? I thought you two were getting along great?”
“I thought we were, too, and then I discovered he was getting along just as well with a girl in Harvest Corners,” she says, naming a small town two counties over.
“That asshole.”
“Amen to that.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“You were gone to Lexington for the weekend. I didn’t want to bother you, and I’ve been so busy with training that I hadn’t been able to check in with you until now. Though, it sounds like I should have. So tell me all about your new boy toy! And leave nothing out.”
“There’s not a lot to tell. I met him in Lexington, and we—”
“You’re kidding me? You are on friendship probation! You should have told me that you met someone!”
“Well, at the time I didn’t think it’d be anything past the weekend…”
“The weekend?”
I feel the blush hit my face before I can stop it, and I shrug. “Yeah, well…”
“How have we lost touch this much?”
“You’ve been busy, Mir. I have, too. It happens.”
“Yeah, well, we need to put the kibosh on that right now.”
“Hey, it’s not completely my fault. Kurt didn’t exactly give you spare time to—”
“You’re right. Let’s not talk about that douchebag anymore. That’s over and done. D. O. N. E.”
“Douche canoe is more like it.”
“Girl, you ain’t lying.”
“So tell me more about Mr. Curl-My-Toes-For-The-Weekend and how it’s still going on! Was it that good?”
“Umm, it was better than good.”
“Better? You’re saying on a scale of one to ten, he’s a…?”
“Off the charts.”
“Holy fluck,” she whispers the fake curse word in awe.
“I know,” I agree, and in my whole life, it’s probably as close as I’ve come to sounding like a giddy teen discussing prom.
“You told him where you lived?” she asks, and again I feel the telltale heat spread on my face. What is up with that? I’m not a blusher! Then again, I’m not the kind of woman who discusses boys at a crowded diner either.
“Well, no. That was by accident?”
“Accident? He’s not a stalker, is he? Did he follow you and find you? Oh my God, C! You have to be careful. This is the kind of shit they make TV movies about!”
“He didn’t follow me home. At least, not on purpose. His car broke down while he was in town for business. He had no idea that I was here.”
“I don’t know, C. That sounds kind of fishy to me.”
“Well, it’s not. He had no idea it was me. In fact, he was kind of a jerk until he figured it out.”
“A jerk?”
“He’s kind of…” I sigh. I don’t really want to talk about this part even though I know that I need to, at least with Mir. Besides, if there’s one thing that worries me the most about Gray—other than the fact that he’s not going to be around for a very long time—it’s that he has money. He has lots of money. He deals with people who have money. He deals with people I can’t stand. He deals with people who would rather see me dead than draw another breath.
Okay. So there’s lots of things that worry me about Gray. They all stem around his money, though.
“Earth to C! Hello, can you hear me?” Mir asks, waving her hand in my face like an idiot.
“Stop that.” I knock her hand out of the way. “He has money, Mir.”
“So? That’s good, honey. Geez, you had me thinking that he had herpes or something.”
“You don’t get it. He’s here on business.”
“C, I hate to break it to you, but not everyone in the world holds down a job that keeps them in one place. This is good. That means he can come visit you when he’s on the road, and…”
“He’s here on business to meet with David Riverton.”
“Flucking hell.”
“Yeah.”
“Does he know what a butt-munch the man is?”
“Probably not, but then again, Gray has money. I imagine good old Dave is much nicer to him than he has ever been to me.”
“That wouldn’t be hard to do. I’m sorry, C.”
“It can’t be helped.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“For what?”
“Well, this guy works with Riverton, and yet you’re not kicking him
to the curb. You get major props, lady. He’s either special to you or he’s got one hell of a…”
Even before she finishes the sentence, I know what she’s going to say. I squirm in my chair because I might have sounded giddy, but I don’t do this female sharing thing easily—even with Mir.
“Oh. My. God,” she says. I’m looking down at my shoes, and even though I know I’m in trouble, I’m still surprised when she continues. “Claudia Cooper! You got a hold of the holy grail.”
I look up, side-eyeing everyone around us to see if they are paying attention to Mir. Thankfully, they don’t seem to be. “Mir!” I grumble.
“You did, didn’t you? You hooker!”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, almost afraid of what she’ll say next.
“The three-peater.”
“The what?” I ask, having no idea what she’s talking about. Though he usually does give me three orgasms before he’s done—that I’m not going to discuss with her at the diner.
“Here ya’ go, ladies,” the waitress says, thankfully interrupting our conversation. We spend the next few minutes arranging our food, and just when I think we’ve finished this whole conversation, Mir starts back up.
“A three-peater. That means he has brains,” she says, holding a finger up. I nod because Gray is extremely smart and witty, it’s one of the things I really like about him. “He has money, or at least a steady job so you don’t have to keep his ass up,” she continues, holding a second finger up. I don’t respond because I figure she knows that. “And finally, he has at least seven inches when you take a ride on the man train.”
“You did not just say that,” I gasp, knowing I’m blushing from head to toe now. I look all around us, just knowing everyone has heard what she said.
“I did, and from your reaction, I can tell the answer is affirmative. So how much are we talking here?”
“Will you stop? Honestly, Miranda, I am not answering that at all. No way.”
“So more than seven?”
“Oh my God! Who are you and what have you done with my quiet, kindergarten school teaching friend?”
“Answer the question and I’ll let it drop.”
“I will not.”
“Fine, I’ll just ask him when I see you two out together.”
“You would not!”
“Try me. Now are you going to give the deets or what?”
“I have no idea!”
“Bullshit!”
“It’s true! I haven’t exactly taken the time to measure it.”
“Measure what?”
I look up at the question to see Mir’s sister Valerie standing at our table. Christ! That’s all I need. Crosstown has three methods of communication: telephone, telegraph, and tell Valerie. Seriously, when you need something spread around town, all you have to do is let Valerie know and it’s all over this town and two counties over by nightfall.
“C has gotten ahold of the mythical bigfoot.”
“Jesus,” I mutter.
“Mythical bigfoot?”
“Her new boy toy is big.”
“Ohhhh… Do tell! Give me all the juicy details, and I do mean juicy,” Valerie says, pushing Mir over and sitting down with us.
“There are no details! I keep telling Mir! I haven’t measured it! I have no idea.”
It’s a bold faced lie. I mean, I haven’t measured his dick. I did read the tabloids though and the general consensus from all the women in his harem is that Gray, golf’s new young stud, is packing a very thick nine iron between his legs. I think they might be doing him a disservice. After experiencing him inside of me, it definitely has to be more than that.
“You flucking hooker! You’re holding back from us,” Mir says. Jesus! I hate that she knows me so well.
“Shit. If I tell you, will this conversation please drop?”
“Totally,” Mir says.
“Absolutely,” Valerie joins in, and for some strange reason, I don’t trust either of them.
“I mean it, and Val, if this gets out, I will tell Elmer at Pro-Hardware you have a thing for him,” I warn her. Elmer is a fifty-year-old, never-been-married-before bachelor who goes cruising parking lots looking for women. Not just any women, however. No, Elmer wants women that are at least twenty years younger than him. Never mind that he’s got a beer belly, thinning hair that he combs over, and none of his own teeth. No, the real problem is that the man is as stingy as they come. He probably has more money in his checking account than even Grayson. But the reason it’s there is because he is a skin-flint. According to a very good source (Valerie), the man has only used one pack of light bulbs in two years. The reason for that is, he gets out one light bulb and uses it in whatever room he’s in. When he leaves that room, he unscrews it from the lamp and moves it into the next room with him. Rumor has it—again from Valerie—he also takes the time to separate every roll of two-ply toilet paper so he gets twice the use out of it.
“That’s just mean, C.”
“Promise.”
“Fine, I promise. I don’t see what the problem is. If I had a man with a big dick, I’d be shouting that shit near and far. Hell, I’d be so loud in the bedroom that the whole county would know it anyway,” Valerie says, and I flip her off.
“Spill,” they say together, and I take a breath. Did I mention this oversharing and girl-time isn’t easy for me? Yet another reason why other than Miranda and, obviously sometimes by default, Valerie, I don’t have girlfriends. You wouldn’t catch Jackson asking me about the size of Gray’s dick.
“I honestly haven’t measured it. Though the tabloids say he is nine inches.”
“Sweet mother of… Wait. Hold the flucking presses and call Maury to find the baby daddy. Did you say tabloids?”
“Yeah.”
“C, you said he had money, but you didn’t say he was famous. Just who the hell are you dating?”
“Damn it! If you’re dating my man, I’m going to hate you for life!”
“Trust me when I tell you, Valerie, that I’m not dating the lead singer from that band.”
“His name is Adam and he’s mine. His wife is the only thing in my way, but that won’t last much longer. She doesn’t understand him like I do.”
My eyes go over to Mir, who’s pointing a finger at her head and spinning it in a circle to indicate that her sister’s whack-a-do. That’s a sentiment I wholeheartedly agree with.
“It’s Grayson Lucas,” I tell them, and they look at each other in question. It’s good to know I’m not the only one who doesn’t follow golf. “He plays golf,” I add.
Valerie is the first one to look him up on her phone. “Oh. My. God,” she whispers to her screen.
“Sweet Jesus,” Mir adds, yanking her phone over to look at it.
“Does he have a brother?” they both say together and I laugh—a real laugh, because just like that, I’m good. I feel really good. They aren’t saying Gray is out of my league. They aren’t telling me I’m crazy for seeing him. Just the opposite, and so I laugh and then proceed to tell them about his colorful (pun intended) family.
This might just work out after all.
20
Gray
“What do you mean we’re taking the boat out?” I grumble, trying to keep my game face on, but really just wanting to get the hell out of here. I feel like I’m in level three of hell. Three levels, because there are three major things fucking with my plans for the day. One, I’m on Riverton’s sea cruiser, which is most definitely not a sailboat. Secondly, Cammie has been flirting and pawing at me for the last hour, and finally, Riverton is M.I.A. “Your father’s not even here yet.”
“I told you, daddy said he may be held up at the office and for us not to wait for him,” she says almost giddily. Hell, I’m a man, and I’m the first to admit men are usually clueless, but even I can see the calculation in Cammie’s eyes.
“Honestly, Cammie, I have plans for this evening. We can just reschedule this and do it some other time.”
“What? Why?” she whines, her face scrunched up and sounding like a small child. “I’m here and, Gray, I am the CEO for daddy’s marketing. It’s really me you should talk to about this anyway.”
“You are? Then why has your father been…”
“Daddy was just being generous with his time, Gray. He likes you, but I’m the one who usually makes all of the decisions about corporate sponsoring. I had the cook prepare us a nice lunch. How about we take the boat out? There’s a nice island in the middle of the lake. We can drop anchor close to it and enjoy lunch and talk business?”
Warning bells are going off in my head. Cammie’s got me in her sights and that is reason enough for me to turn her down. On the other hand, it appears I’m never going to get to talk to Riverton one-on-one about any of this. If Cammie is really the one in charge here, it would be smart to deal with her, get it over with, and put this entire trip behind me.
“I have dinner plans tonight I can’t be late for,” I warn her. I promised CC I’d take her out to make up for the other night and I have every intention on keeping that promise.
“I can always call the club and…”
“It’s not the club. I have dinner plans with CC tonight.”
“CC?” she asks, sounding confused. “Are you dating Claudia?” The tone of her voice gets on my nerves as well as the scandalized look on her face.
“We’ve gone out a few times, yes. Is there a problem?”
“Well, no. I mean, who you see is your business, I guess. I just thought that you and I had a connection.”
“Listen, Cammie. You’re a very nice person,” I lie through my teeth, “and I have the upmost respect for you, but I’m afraid I have one rule when it comes to business. I don’t date people I work with—ever.”
“But…”
“I just find it bad practice to mix business and pleasure,” I tell her, cutting her off. “I’m sure you understand.”
