“Fabulous. See you on Sunday. I’ll forward you the details” she sings a little too happily.
I shut the phone off. I close my eyes and then reopen them to take in Jarrod’s apartment.
Rich dark hardwood floors without one stitch of tile or carpeting is in sight. It’s a completely open floor plan. I look to my left and see a fluffy gray suede full sofa and love seat with a gigantic television hanging on the wall and a black coffee table. There are huge windows surrounding me and not one curtain. My eyes shift to the right, and I see the kitchen. It’s gorgeous with light-gray cabinets and absolute black granite countertops. A coffee machine and a KitchenAid mixer sit on display, shiny and new looking. The refrigerator is gigantic. It has black wood paneling, and I can just imagine it’s almost large enough that I could actually walk inside it. There is a black table with four chairs surrounded by windows and four black barstools at the breakfast bar. I can’t wait to see what the master bedroom and bath look like. This place is beautiful and manly yet chic.
I decide to leave my luggage by the front door and go in search of water. I don’t want to appear nosy and just make myself at home although it would be fairly easy to do. I have the refrigerator door open, and I’m taking a bottle of water out when it happens. Oh, and I was right. The fridge is basically large enough to walk inside if it did not have shelves, which are filled with fruits and veggies and low-fat cheeses and yogurts.
He is a total health nut.
The door is ripped from my fingers and slammed shut. I slowly rise to straighten my body when I am lifted by my hips, and my ass is set down on the countertop. I don’t even have a chance to see who is doing all of this maneuvering. But by the massive size of the hands around my waist, my body knows exactly who it is.
“Hey, baby.” Jarrod’s deep timbre echoes in my ears. His lips leave a trail of kisses on my neck.
“Hey,” I whisper, trying to hold back a moan.
Jarrod places his large hands on the tops of my bare thighs and slides them toward my knees. Then, he spreads them wide, settling his body in between. His hands slide up the outside of my thighs to my ass, and then he pulls my body closer to his. His lips finding mine, and he gives me a searing deep kiss, his tongue diving into my mouth, rough and ready. One hand slides up my spine and cups the back of my head, twisting in my hair. I try to keep the moan from escaping my throat, but I can’t help it. When his other hand slowly slides up from my ass to my rib cage, the moan escapes.
“I’m sorry, Amalie. You just looked so fucking sexy, bent over with your head in my fridge and your fantastic ass sticking out. I didn’t expect that. Fuck, baby,” he says, his forehead pressing against mine.
I need to have this man inside me. It’s time to dust off the ole vag. I wrap my legs around his narrow waist, hooking my feet at the ankles.
“That feels nice,” he says, his nose sliding down the shell of my ear.
“What are we doing tonight?” I ask. I’m hoping he’ll say that we’re spending the entire evening in bed, wrapped around each other.
“Dinner with some colleagues and their wives,” he whispers, making my whole body shiver.
“What time?”
“Seven,” he quickly answers before placing a sweet kiss on my neck.
I look at the clock on the microwave. It is now four thirty.
“Invite them here. We’ll do take-out. That way, we can spend more time in bed.” It is brazen. It isn’t something I would have ever said before, but I need him. I have been hot for him since the club, and it was becoming necessary to breathe that I extinguished some of my flame.
His head pops up, and I see a primal look in his dark blue eyes.
“You sure?”
I nod.
Jarrod picks me up by my hips as I throw my arms around his neck, holding on for dear life. He carries me like I weigh no more than ten pounds, and we walk straight into his master bedroom. I was right. It is gorgeous.
The dark hardwood floors are underneath us, and the bed is huge. It must have been custom-made because I have never seen a bed of this size. The black headboard is leather, pulled taut. There’s no footboard. The side railings are also black. The comforter is a dark rich charcoal-gray color. Everything in this place is black and gray. It reeks of masculinity. Jarrod tosses me on the bed, and my body does one small bounce before he throws himself on top of me.
“I’ve waited so long to have you in my bed, Amalie,” he whispers before softly kissing my collarbone.
I close my eyes as his lips trail from one side to the other, my body feeling each and every kiss. His hands slide up my sides, bringing my tank top over my head as they move. I hear his groan when he looks down and sees my light nude lace bra. It is almost the exact color of my skin. His mouth goes directly to the swell of my breasts, licking and kissing alternately, making my whole body shake and shiver.
“Do you want me?” he inquires, sliding his massive hands to my back. His fingers deftly work on the clasps of my bra and unhook it a little too expertly. He slides the fabric down my arms and throws it to join my tank top somewhere on the floor.
I simply nod. Words escape me in this moment.
Jarrod licks my breast, taking it into his mouth and sucking hard. Then, he lightly bites my peaked nipple, something no man has ever done to me before, and I love it. A moan of excitement bubbles up and escapes my lips I arch my breast closer to him, silently begging for more.
“Say it,” he says demandingly with a firmness in his voice that I haven’t heard until now.
“I want you,” I whisper.
His hands unbutton my skirt and slide it along with my panties down my legs. His face is at my entrance as he roughly grabs my thighs before spreading them far apart. It has been so long, and I know I am embarrassingly wet for him. He takes a long finger and lightly traces my core.
“So wet,” he murmurs before his face is buried between my thighs.
His tongue is firm and licks me in one strong fluid motion before spreading my lower lips and concentrating on my clit, sucking it hard. One of his hands leaves my thigh, as a strong finger enters me. It makes my body shiver, and I moan with delight. His tongue, his hands, his teeth—it is all too much. When a second finger slips inside me and begins to slowly pump in and out, I am instantly on the verge of coming. Suddenly, he pulls away, leaving a coolness that I do not appreciate. I whimper like a freaking animal at the loss of his warm skin.
“It’s okay, baby. I want you to come for the first time when I’m inside you,” he says softly.
He divests himself of his clothing and grabs a condom from his bedside drawer. As he rolls the condom on, I look over at him. He is beautiful. His chest is thick with muscle, and his abs are so defined and cut that he should be the model, not me.
Jarrod’s body is better than I ever anticipated it to be, and I anticipated it to be out-fucking-standing. His broad chest is full with hard muscle. He actually has a defined six-pack abs and the V.
Oh my effin’ hell.
That V is so freaking sexy that I literally have to wipe the drool from my mouth. Then, my eyes drift down to his…cock. It is more than a penis. A penis or a dick doesn’t describe what he is packing. He has a full-on cock. It is so long and thick that I can’t imagine it actually fitting inside me. I have visions of being split in two. Before I can question or comment, Jarrod is back on top of me. His big, hard body hovers over mine. His mouth is on mine. His tongue is inside of my own mouth, thrusting in and out, swirling, and making me moan with want. I wrap my legs around his waist, right before he plunges deep inside me, causing me to whimper with the surprise of him, of his length, of his size, and of his warmth.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight. Fuck,” he utters with a surprised look in his eyes. His body stills.
“Move, Jarrod.” I have the primal urge to move, and he is so big that it is beginning to cause me discomfort.
“If I do, I’ll come too soon,” he says with a tipped lip smirk.
/> I start to slightly move underneath him, causing him to groan.
He finally begins to move slowly with strong, slow long strokes in and out of my body. It makes a humming noise escape from my mouth. It is beautiful. One of his hands slides down our bodies, and his thumb proceeds to place strong circles on my clit, which causes my legs to automatically wrap even tighter around his waist. As soon as I do, his long even strokes start to become hurried and frenzied. I can feel myself building, and I know what my body wants. My body wants him to take me hard. I know he is holding back. His arms are taut, and his face is struggling, so I push.
“Harder,” I moan.
He looks down on me, confused.
“I’ll hurt you. You’re too tight,” he says through gritted teeth.
“No. Harder, Jarrod, please,” I whine.
One hand leaves the bed and wraps firmly in my hair, pulling my head back, and he begins to, without control, slam into me—hard.
It hurts, and it feels fantastic all at the same time. We are both sweating, moaning and groaning. Then, when I can’t hold on for one more second, I call out his name with my release. Jarrod slams into me five more deliciously painful times before he throws back his head and stills his body. I watch his thick neck strain, and the veins bulge as he groans with his release. Then, he collapses on top of me. All of him is beautiful and gorgeous, and I can’t believe he is mine.
We are panting and sweating, my legs loosely wrapped around Jarrod’s back. My body is deliciously sated, welcoming his weight.
“I hurt you, didn’t I?” He kisses my neck.
“Yes…but no. It was wonderful.”
His head pops up, and his eyes narrow as if he’s trying to figure me out. I smile softly.
“You are so tight. I didn’t expect that,” he says almost bewildered, rolling partially to the side but taking me with him.
We are face-to-face, his fingers tracing the side of my face.
“Well, it’s been a while,” I confess even though he already knows exactly how long it has been for me.
His fingers are slowly trailing up and down the side of my neck, and his eyes are focused solely on mine. “I can’t believe I found you. You’re wonderful, Amalie. Do you know how lucky I feel just to be here with you right now?” His Kentucky accent comes through thicker. He must be like me, and only when he’s emotional, he loses his grip of control on it.
“I feel like the lucky one,” I say.
It’s true because I have never had a man look at me the way he does or call me every day just to see how my day went. The way he took me was sweet and loving. Even though I begged him for hard and rough, he never lost control. I’ve never felt anything like it before. I feel like crying at the thought of him, how wonderful he has been, and how wonderful the promise of him is.
He shakes his head and sits up to rifle through his clothes, pulling out his phone.
“I’ll call everyone and let them know we’ll have dinner and drinks here instead of going out. You go and get ready. Do whatever you need to do, baby. Make yourself comfortable,” he says. He gives me a sweet kiss on my cheek before walking away with his phone attached to his ear, completely naked.
I sit up on the bed and grab his white T-shirt. I slip it on and walk out to his living area to get my bag. I make quick work of rolling my suitcase back into his expansive bedroom. The man, or his interior decorator, has excellent taste. Everything in his home is perfect. I prop my bag open on the floor and rummage through it until I find the dress I’m looking for. Then, I grab my makeup and toiletries and head to the bathroom.
I don’t know what I expected the bathroom to look like, but whatever it was, my imagination didn’t do it justice. It is just as gorgeous as the rest of the home. The countertops are a wild cobalt blue-and-cream granite with flakes of gold running through it. The sinks are above two large clear glass bowls. The shower is large enough to fit six people in it at least. It has two large rainwater showerheads above and then several others scattered around along with a bench I could lie down on and take a snooze. The shower is tiled in cream, and the bench is black. I look over at the tub, and I can’t even comprehend its state of gorgeousness. It is set inside a black wooden box, and it has an outer edge that separates the actual tub. It’s an infinity tub, and it’s so freaking awesome. The only reason I know it’s an infinity tub is because Jo and I went to Vegas a couple of years ago where she met someone who had one of those fancy suites, and there was one there. I was in awe of it, and now I’m standing in Jarrod’s bathroom, looking at one. I can’t wait to dive in.
I make quick work of showering and getting dressed. I am so nervous to meet Jarrod’s colleagues, considering I still have no clue what he does for a living. I decide to wear one of the dresses I modeled in a couple of years ago. A perk to modeling the clothes is that I’m so tall and buxom that they have to special make them for me, so I usually get to keep them all.
This dress is a typical forties-style pinup dress. It is royal blue, sleeveless, and has a definite sweetheart neckline. It tightly hugs my entire body, showcasing every single curve I have, and it ends just a few inches short of my knees. I wear my pale blonde hair down and curl it to give it some volume. My makeup is light as usual, and I swipe some pale pink gloss over my lips. I walk out of the bedroom and slide on my black four-inch high heels. Then, I search for Jarrod.
My mouth goes dry at the sight of him. He is standing in front of one of his large windows, looking out at the city. The sun is setting, and it is casting a warm glow on the whole room. His hair is still disheveled, and he is wearing a crisp black shirt. It’s probably a button-up, but I can’t tell from the back. It is untucked, and his jeans are his signature light-wash denim, showcasing his wonderful ass. I visibly shake with a shiver. The man is beautiful. He must sense me staring at him because he slowly turns to look at me, and his eyes rake over my body, making me warm with want and desire.
“Fuck,” he growls.
“Hmm…”
“I can’t let the guys see you. Fuck, you look beautiful, baby.” He takes several long strides toward me and wraps his arms around my waist.
“I thought all these guys were married?” I ask, looking up at him.
“They are, but that won’t stop them from looking at you, and that’s gonna piss me off,” he growls in my ear. Then, he places a sweet kiss right behind my earlobe.
I just giggle. The man can’t get pissed off every time someone looks at me. Hell, I’d be pissed off all day long if that were the case with women ogling him.
“Hey, before everyone gets here, I had a couple of phone calls today that I wanted to discuss with you.”
Jarrod’s eyebrows pinch together with confusion as he waits for me to continue.
I tell Jarrod about my brother being in the city and wanting to meet up for drinks tomorrow evening. He seems all right with this, but he tells me that he’s going with me. I didn’t anticipate going alone, so I’m perfectly fine with it. Then, I tell him about the photo shoot and how they requested me by name, how I’ll be on the cover, and that I’ll essentially be spokeswoman for the company.
“What will you be modeling? Clothes?” he asks, grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator.
“Lingerie.” I watch as he slowly rises and closes the door.
Then, he turns on his heels and looks right in my eyes. The look on his face is indescribable.
Anger maybe?
“Excuse me?” he asks.
But I know he heard me.
“Lingerie,” I simply state again.
“I don’t think so,” he says, shaking his head.
“Um, I wasn’t asking for your permission. I talked to the woman in charge, and she assured me that it was completely high-end, mostly bustiers and such. It’s nothing fetish or anything like that. It’s a new company, and this will be their first catalog. It’s a great step up for me. I will only be able to model for a short time, and I should take advantage of the opportunities as
they arise, Jarrod.” I don’t know why I’m even explaining this to him. We just started seeing each other.
“I don’t want your body on display like that for every man to see. It’s bad enough that you do swimsuits,” the arrogant ass actually says to me.
“Excuse me. I think you’d better stop right now before I get angry. This is ridiculous. If I want to model lingerie, I will model lingerie, and if I want to model nude, I’ll fucking model nude. You are not my husband. You don’t get a say in what I do.”
I shouldn’t have said any of this. As soon as I finish, I can see the red rising in his face. He stomps over to me and pulls me up by my waist from my seat.
“Am I your man?” he growls like a damn animal.
“Well, we just started seeing each other.” This is another very wrong thing to state.
“Was my cock inside you an hour ago?”
I am stunned by his brash words. I just look up at him and nod once.
“Anyone else’s cock going to be inside you anytime soon?”
I look at him, completely and utterly confused. This is a side to Jarrod that I don’t know if I love or hate.
“The answer to that is, fuck no. I am your man. You are my woman. You will not fucking model nude. Your naked body is for my eyes only. Do I make myself clear?”
I really want to tell him to fuck off, but he seems really pissed, so I can’t do that. It would only make matters worse.
“I wouldn’t model nude even if you weren’t my man, Jarrod. You know that,” I say softly, trying to bring him down from wherever the fuck he’s at.
“You want to model underwear? I’ll fucking be there. If I don’t like it, you don’t put it on.”
I want to think that’s a question, but I know it isn’t. I decide to play nice. I wrap my arms around his middle and look up at him as doe-eyed and innocently as I can.
“If it bothers you that much, then all right. You can be there, and we’ll decide together what’s acceptable and what isn’t. But I don’t like it when you try to tell me what to do,” I say softly.
Pitching for Amalie Page 6
