Nothing Personal: A Standalone Romantic Comedy

by Karina Halle

  “It’s a good idea and you know it!”

  “No, a good idea is keeping with the times. You yourself said you wanted to turn Kahuna Hotels into something that’s tailored to young couples and professionals. None of this family shit, just young, sexy and hip, a place where you’d even Instagram the toilet. That was your objective and you did it with the revamp of the hotel bars. You made a place where people could go to work and not be disturbed as well as try and pick up the hottie next to them. Why are condoms any further off? I mean, those bar hookups are going to go back to the hotel rooms and guess what, they’ll need condoms.”

  “Pineapple ones? On a stick? Kessler, it’s going to look like a lollipop. What if someone does bring their kids here? Next thing we know children are going to start eating condoms by accident.”

  “You’re the one who said to stop catering to families. Besides, parents have to get laid and have fun too.”

  “I know you fucking do,” I say under my breath.

  “Excuse me?” Kessler says, coming around the desk to me. “I need to get laid? You’re the one who came all over my fingers last night.”

  “You’re the one who keeps bringing that up. I’d like to pretend it never happened.”

  “Yeah fucking right,” he says, getting right in my face. His nostrils are flaring, his eyes burning into mine. “You go on pretending, but I know that last night you closed that door to your room and you got off thinking about me, thinking about my big fat cock squeezing inside your tight little cunt. Those fingers weren’t enough for you, nothing is enough for you when I’m in the picture.”

  “You’re so full of it,” I sneer at him, staring at his lips, hating the words that are coming out of his mouth, hating how much they’re turning me on, hating how that mouth makes me feel when it’s flush against mine.

  “You wish you were full of my cock,” he says, grabbing my hand and placing it right on the stiff length of him straining against his fly.

  I want to laugh but it dissolves in my throat as my fingers curl around his dick, feeling the heat pulse through the fabric into my palm.

  I’m fucking aching for him. I hate what he does to me, I hate that I should push him away and call him out for being inappropriate when all I want to do is sink to my knees and do inappropriate things to him.

  “I hate you,” I hiss at him.

  He smirks. “You only hate that you want me.”

  “Same difference.”

  “I don’t think so,” he says, his hand going to my hair and making a fist in my strands. I grip his dick harder in response. “I can practically smell how wet you are. You want me to shove up that little skirt and make your eyes cross when I slam inside you. You want me to fuck the hate out of you.”

  “I’d like to see you try,” I say.

  Then before I can stop myself, I’m kissing him.

  It’s angry.

  There’s power behind it, all mashed lips and teeth and tongue, a fight for dominance, a lust fueled by raw frustration and need and everything else that’s been swimming inside me for days, weeks, years, ever since we broke up.

  I’m undoing his pants, taking his cock out, feeling his heat in my hand, the veins and the blood pulsing and the familiarity of it all. Big Dick Energy, indeed. I’m aching to be a part of it.

  “Fuck yes,” he whispers into my mouth, yanking back on my hair until my throat is exposed. “Go wild with me.”

  “I’m not doing anything with you except getting off,” I snap at him, as he licks along my neck. “So hurry up and fuck me.”

  “You know I love it when you talk like that,” he says, grabbing me by the waist and spinning me around so my stomach and breasts are pressed down on his desk, my back to him. “You know what it does to me.”

  He shoves up my skirt and moans at the sight. “White lace,” he says thickly. “Pretty flimsy looking. Did you wear these on purpose so I could tear them off of you?”

  “Shut up,” I tell him, because the thought did go through my head when I was getting dressed this morning and I don’t want him to know how much I think about him.

  But who am I kidding? He knows.

  Why else am I bent over his desk right now, my ass wriggling in his hands, begging for him?

  He runs his thumbs underneath the bands of my thong and with one quick snapping motion, rips the underwear in half. “Oh, you definitely wore these on purpose.”

  Then he’s running his hands down my inner thighs, spreading me wider, and he’s dropping to his knees behind me. I instinctively grip the edge of his desk, my breasts pushed up against a stack of books on Hawaii, and I brace as I wait for his tongue.

  It starts off slow, licking me right behind the knee, causing shivers to cascade down my spine in electrifying rivers.

  Fucking hell.

  He’s barely done anything to me and I’m already losing all sense of self control.

  With his hands gripping my thighs, fingers pressing in so hard they’re almost bruising, he works his way up, his beard scratching my sensitive flesh as he continues to lick and nibble.

  I can’t control the moans slipping out of my mouth, even when I feel him smiling against my skin, loving every second of the pleasure he’s bringing me.

  I decide to let it go. If this means he thinks he wins, if this feeds his ego even more, fine.

  “Just fuck me,” I blurt out.

  He chuckles, the vibrations running over my thighs and up inside me where I’m so damn desperate for him, it’s pathetic.

  “Someone’s impatient,” he murmurs, his thumbs now in the crease between my pussy and my inner thighs. He gives me a squeeze, pressing his thumbs in and then he’s licking me out from behind. His flat, strong tongue dips inside me, tasting me, and he’s moaning loudly now, enough that my eyes roll back in my head.

  I whimper a bunch of nonsense, not sure what I’m saying, just knowing that I’m begging for more, begging for him, and I hate that I have to beg for it but this is what Kessler does to me. He strips me of everything that holds me together and fills in the missing pieces.

  “I’ve missed this,” he says hoarsely, and I can hear the lust dripping from him. “Your taste, your skin, every secret, hidden spot.” He grabs my ass cheeks and spreads them, then pauses. “Tell me that I’m the only man you let do this to you.”

  Before I can answer he licks up my ass, eating me out in a wet, arcing curve and I’m moaning loud. “Jesus.”

  “I take that as a yes,” he says, sounding so fucking satisfied but I don’t care because so am I. He continues to probe me with his tongue and eager lips. It’s so wrong, so bad, so dirty to have my boss tongue-fucking my pussy and ass like this, bent over his desk like I’m being punished in the best way. Fuck if I care, though.

  But when I’m close to coming, he pulls back and then spanks me hard across my ass. “Fuck, Nova,” he groans, smacking me again, the sounds filling the air. “So fucking good. I’m going to give it to you so fucking good.”

  Even in my horny stupor I remember he needs a condom but I don’t have to tell him, he’s opening a drawer and I hear the tear of the wrapper.

  I brace myself, my hands already cramping as I grip the edge of the desk and he positions his cock at my entrance, slowly pulling it back up and down in a long, sensuous tease, mimicking what his mouth was just doing.

  “This has been in my dreams,” he says, his voice so rich and husky it makes me even wetter. “You, just like this.”

  “Over your desk, ass in the air?” I ask.

  He laughs. “I’ll take you anywhere, Nova,” he says, and with one swift thrust he pushes deep inside my pussy, so deep it feels like the air is being expelled from my lungs. I gasp, a cry dying in my throat, the pain mingling with the sweet until he pulls out fully.

  Suddenly I’m hollow without him there.

  “Please,” I tell him. “More.”

  He smacks my ass again with the flat of his palm and then he’s pushing in again, his long thick dick stretch
ing me to the point of pain. “Nova, Nova,” he murmurs, breathless as he pulls out and thrusts in again. “Jesus, I don’t think I can last long.”

  “As long as you make me come,” I warn him, because if he doesn’t there will be hell to pay. I’m not getting done like this just for his enjoyment.

  “Still a greedy girl, huh?” he moans and then his grip on my hips tighten and he starts to pick up the pace, thrusting in deeper, longer, harder until the desk starts to shake. His hips piston into my ass, creating a wet slapping sound and I know that despite the AC blowing, he’s sweating on me. Nothing has felt hotter, the slick sounds, the way he’s exerting himself, grunting with each powerful thrust.

  “Come for me,” he bites out. “Fucking come for me.”

  “Fucking make me,” I tell him through a moan, and he adjusts himself so the curve of his dick is hitting my G-spot. He is the only man to ever make me come like this and my body is tensing up already, anticipating how earth-shattering these kinds of orgasms are.

  And then it’s rising up inside me and I’m letting go. Kessler works me harder and harder and I’m swept away by the tide, pounded by waves as the orgasm takes over. I’m crying out loud, so loud that I have to shove the pineapple stress-ball on his desk in my mouth to keep from alerting the whole office what’s going on in here.

  I bite down, hard.

  “Fuck,” he swears. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

  He grunts loudly, his pumps slowing, but I feel like I’m somewhere on the ceiling, completely obliterated. If I were to look down, I’d see him hunched over me, his toned bare ass flexing as he milks every last drop out of himself.

  “Nova,” he says, and I open my eyes, staring at the painting across the room of a Waikiki sunset. Suddenly I’m half on this earth, in this office, in this reality, half in the stars where my body is still floating, my mind stunned by the galaxies whizzing past, at what Kessler was able to bring out of me.

  But then the other half takes over. The dominant half. The one that sits up straighter, pushing aside all the hazy strands of the orgasm and realizes what happened.

  I just had sex with Kessler on his desk.

  Motherfucker.

  “Are you okay?” Kessler asks, stepping back.

  I pull down my skirt and quickly flip over. His brow is cocked as he eyes me and slowly slips off the condom. “I’m fine,” I say, licking my lips, trying to appear cool, calm, collected.

  Then I notice the open drawer beside me.

  It’s absolutely stocked full of condoms.

  And not just any condoms.

  Novelty condoms.

  “What the fuck?” I ask. “Why do you have so many condoms?”

  “Market research,” he says.

  My eyes snap to him. “What?”

  He gives me a wary smile. “I was doing some research for my condom idea. I went to the ABC store and stocked up on the novelty condoms. Where do you think I got the pineapple lollipop idea?”

  “Please don’t tell me you used one of those condoms to fuck me.”

  He grins and picks up the wrapper and tosses it at me.

  “It’s piña colada flavoured,” he says proudly.

  I stare at the plastic wrapping that has a picture of a piña colada and says Hawaiian Flavored Condom Pop.

  Oh my god.

  “These are novelty condoms!” I yell at him.

  “So?”

  “So? You can’t rely on these!” I grab my hair. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I just let you fuck me with a piña colada dick!”

  “Hey, you love that piña colada dick,” he says, obviously insulted.

  I shake my head, edging away from the condoms. “Now I have to go out and get Plan B.”

  “What?” he says, picking up a cheap paper-wrapped one that says I got lei’d in Hawaii. “They don’t say you can’t use them for real.”

  “You’re unbelievable. No wonder you got someone pregnant.”

  “Hey,” he snaps at me, frowning before he tosses the condom in the wastebasket. “That’s not fair.”

  “And market research,” I cry out, gesturing to his giant stash. “Please don’t tell me I’m a test subject.”

  “Oh come on, that’s the conclusion you’re jumping to?” he says. “Can’t you just stop being so bitter and distrustful for one second?”

  I gasp. Oh no he didn’t.

  I’m done here.

  “I’m going,” I tell him. “And because it’s Friday night, I’m going straight to my volunteer work after I pick up my car. I trust by the time I get home tonight, you’ll be moved out of my house, because I really don’t want to see you.”

  “All because I fucked you with a piña colada dick?”

  I shake my head. “Just…it’s fine. It’s fine, forget it. I need to think.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Oh brother, here we go with the thinking. Let’s see what crazy conclusions you’re going to jump to, what strange reasons to hate me you’re going to conjure up.”

  I should have something to say back to that but, actually, he’s kind of right.

  Of course I don’t want to admit that.

  I open his door. “Have a good weekend, Kessler. Stay away from the piña coladas.”

  And then I leave, walking through the office with my head held high, ignoring any looks that I might be getting because of what just went on in there. Nothing to see here folks, just horny Nova making very bad decisions.

  As usual.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  KESSLER

  “HO, HO, HO,” I say in an extra deep, jolly voice.

  “Hmmmm,” Teef says, leaning back and striking a pondering pose as he looks me over. He leans in and tugs my beard to the right. Then to the left. “Maybe no ho, ho, ho. You have this Gandalf vibe going on. Just say Mele Kalikimaka.”

  “Mele what?”

  “Mele Kalikimaka. It means Merry Christmas.”

  “Can’t I just say Merry Christmas?”

  “I believe that’s politically incorrect.”

  “And Melekalamalaka isn’t?”

  “No. And it’s Mele Kalikimaka. Cookie?”

  He’s brought a tin of what appears to be homemade sugar cookies in the shape of a Christmas light and holds one up to me. “On second thought, you’re just going to get crumbs in your beard.”

  “No cookies, no ho, ho, ho. Remind me why I volunteered to be the Kahuna Hotels Santa?”

  “Because you’re the new guy, you’re the only one who hasn’t done it yet, and I don’t believe you volunteered, you were offered up like a sacrificial holiday lamb.”

  It’s the Kahuna Hotels corporate Christmas party, and Teef and I are backstage at the festivities. Every year they hold it at the Kahuna Hotel on Waikiki Beach, where the pool area spills out onto the beach. There’s a luau and a stage for a hula show, which I think is rather redundant since no one here is a tourist, but everyone’s families are here and the kids seem to love it.

  Which is why they also need a Santa Claus.

  Thankfully I’m playing a Hawaiian Santa, which means though I have a very fake white beard attached to my face and a giant velvet Santa cap, I also get to wear board shorts, flip flops and a Hawaiian shirt, which is stuffed with many Kahuna Hotels pillows to get that Santa paunch. Or perhaps they made the exception for me since I’m already sweating in this and they probably knew I’d go up in flames in a full-on Santa suit.

  “So what do I have to do again?” I ask Teef, as he peers out around the wall to look at the crowd.

  “Just sit on the surfboard throne and then kids will sit on your lap and then you give them a present from the bag beside you.”

  “That’s it? No chit chat? No, were you a good boy or girl?”

  “I don’t know man, do whatever.”

  “You were Santa last year, what did you do?”

  “I protected my nuts, that’s what,” he says through a mouth full of cookie. “Some of them keiki have poor motor skills. But there’s only like ten k
ids so it’ll be over fast and then you can go on stage for the hula.”

  “For the what?”

  Just then “Jingle Bell Rock” starts up from the loudspeakers by the pool. Teef pounds me on the shoulder. “Good luck, brah.”

  Teef walks off just as Bradah Ed strides over, slurping from a coconut. He’s got a red hat on with fake elf ears.

  “I’m Bradah Elf, here to escort Santa Claus,” he says.

  I eye his drink and swipe it from him. “Give me that,” I say, taking in a deep sip through the straw.

  It fucking burns like I’ve swallowed napalm.

  “What is this, pure rum?” I start coughing, giving it back to him.

  “You obviously haven’t had to get through many Christmas parties,” Bradah Ed says, casually taking a sip. “You need more, you know where to find me.”

  He takes me over to this giant chair made out of surfboards, beneath tinsel and twinkly lights, and I sit down, finally taking a moment to eye the crowd.

  Thankfully Teef was right and there aren’t that many kids but that doesn’t mean every single person I work with and their significant others aren’t all staring at me, like I’m part of the entertainment. The only person I don’t see is Nova, which bothers me more than it should. Ever since we had sex in my office, she’s been avoiding me like the plague. Not in the way she would sometimes before, now it’s like she’s ashamed of what happened, which hurts because that actually meant something to me.

  Yeah, it was dirty hot angry sex, sex that we so desperately needed to get out of our system, sex that was fueled by the past, sex that was inevitable. But it was still sex with Nova and seeing her come with me inside her brought my feelings for her to another level, like I’d walked through another door, into another universe.

  Unfortunately, it seemed to do the same with her, in the opposite direction. For the last week, all I’ve gotten are curt responses and quick, stone-faced glances. She’s not even mad at me anymore, which is no fun. I’d rather have that raging Supernova on my hands than this cold indifference. She gives me a bigger chill than my AC unit, and I have that thing on full blast.

  I just hope she’s not avoiding the holiday party because of me.