Taylor Made

by kj lewis

  “You’re hungry? Again?”

  “I’m always hungry. I saw some apple pie in the fridge earlier. I’ll cut you a slice.”

  We make our way back to the kitchen. I grab the pie dish and cut two large slices. While they are heating I grab the heavy cream, powdered sugar, and vanilla to whip up some homemade whipped cream. I spoon a large dollop of cream on both slices, sprinkle with cinnamon, and done. We sit on stools at the kitchen island and dig in.

  “Mmm.” I close my eyes and take another bite. I lean across the island and grab another spoonful of whipped cream. I hold one up in offering to Graham but he just shakes his head.

  “Watching you eat is one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. The sounds you make and the enjoyment that shows on your face.”

  “I’ve always figured you for a ‘hanger girl’ kind of guy,” I probe, running the back of my spoon across my tongue.

  “Hanger girl?”

  “You know the girls that look like they could model. They’re a size zero, maybe a two. Everything hangs perfect on them, they never have to try it on beforehand. Hanger girl,” I shrug. His silence tells me I am spot on.

  “So, what are you working on?” he asks.

  “A corporate mentor program.” I finish the pie and snack on the rest of the cream in the mixing bowl.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I want to start a mentor program for graduates who are smart, but high risk. Either they don’t go to college or drop out of college—because of the environment they come from, or in many cases, because they can’t afford higher education.”

  “How would it work?”

  “Well,” I take a breath, “I have an interview process that I do when I image a client. I’ll take that same process and shift the questions to match the right candidate to the right corporation. That corporation would commit to mentoring the young man for one year. At the end of that year, they could choose to hire him and pay his way through college while he continues to work, or release him. I’m betting we’ll have a 100% retention rate at the end of the year.”

  “And you’re predicting that based on what?”

  “My matching abilities. I’m very good at what I do,” I say without arrogance.

  “The grants are for…?”

  “The corporation will be expected to pay them five-hundred dollars a week, but I’m working on several grants that will cover everything from the mentee’s room and board to a wardrobe suitable for the office, and any supplies they might need.”

  “What does the corporation get out of it?”

  “Well for a start, publicity for participating. They would also have loyal, dedicated hard-working employees they can train from the ground up with little to no expense to the company. These guys are hungry for opportunity. Of all the interns they hire, my guys will excel to number one. No question,” I say unequivocally. “Most of all the companies will know they are doing some good.”

  “Only guys?”

  “For now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t trust executives to keep their dicks in their pants.” My bluntness seems to throw him off a little. He pauses for a beat.

  “How are you going to get companies to participate?”

  “Actually, your brother is helping me. Adam’s matching me with CEO’s he thinks would be interested in the program. The rest is on me to convince them. Between his connections and mine, I should be able to convince six companies to take the risk.”

  “What companies?”

  I list off the companies Adam has suggested.

  “Taylor Organization is the parent company of two of those. I’ll have to ask him who he planned on you meeting with.”

  “I had a meeting with Richard Raines on Friday, but he had to cancel. I have two meetings next week with CEO’s I help image.”

  I can see his wheels turning as he takes in the information I’m giving him. Watching his mind at work is kind of fascinating.

  “Where do you get the mentees from?”

  “For the first year, they will all come from my old neighborhood in the Bronx. There’s a group of guys I used to tutor who all graduated last spring, but don’t have the money to go to college. It’s either try and make a way for them or watch them get pulled into gangs.”

  “You lived in the Bronx?”

  I stand and put the pie back in the fridge. As I load our dishes into the dishwasher, I explain, “For four years. It was all I could afford when I left Julliard.” I drape the towel I was using to wipe down the counter over the sink. Leaning against the island and placing a hand on my hip, I decide to jump into it.

  “Why do you have security following me?”

  “Because you refuse to be honest with me.” Just like that, the air has changed and he’s primed and ready.

  “I have been honest with you,” I counter.

  “I told you, Emelia. Omission or diversion on purpose is dishonest”

  “And I told you, Graham. Just because I don’t tell you everything doesn’t mean I’m lying to you. Trust is earned.”

  “It’s also a two-way street.” Frustrated, he starts a list to prove his point. “Who sent you the flowers?” He continues when I don’t respond, “Where did you get the bruises on your arm? On your face?” Another pause. “You said two days ago you weren’t seeing Blaine Moore, yet your photograph is all over the place with his tongue down your throat and his hand taking up residence on your ass.” Another pause. “You refuse to tell me about your professional relationship with Colleen Cameron. Shall I go on?”

  “So, has your security detail given you those answers? How’s that working for you?”

  “Careful.” It’s a warning. “It’s not,” he concedes. “That’s not the intention. They are there to ensure your safety until I have a better understanding of what I’m dealing with.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He’s in front of me now. “It means, Emelia, that I want you in my bed. I want to fuck you. More than I’ve ever wanted to fuck someone.” He presses his body into mine. “I need control. I insist on it. I can’t have control if I don’t know what I’m getting into. So, do you have any answers to my questions?”

  “No.”

  “Then security stays.”

  His look and tone tells me he is not to be brokered with. Then, suddenly, something shifts. He leans down and kisses me hard. His hands cup the bottom of my ass, and he lifts me onto the island, his lips and tongue never breaking contact. His hands move up my thighs, and he runs his thumbs over my panties, up the middle of my sex. He’s teasing me. The moan that escapes me and the smile I feel on his lips tells me he knows exactly the effect he’s having on me.

  Continuing their path, his hands slide under his shirt and map their way to my breasts, pulling and tweaking my nipples then moving to caress my whole breasts, only to come back and pinch my nipples. He repeats the pattern.

  I wrap my legs around his waist and try to get some relief by rubbing my sex against him. He pulls his hips back, denying me. I voice my displeasure in a frustrated growl.

  “Frustrating isn’t it?” His kisses are coming in staccato between his words. “To be denied something you want, something you need so desperately.” His hands never stop the repeating pattern on my breasts.

  “Graham.”

  “Yes?” His kisses are lighter, now, teasing.

  “Please.”

  “Please what? You’re very responsive. Do you want me to let you come like this?” God yes. I want nothing more right now. I’d hump his leg if he’d hold it in place for me.

  “Answer me,” he demands sharply.

  His authoritative manner bristles me and I don’t reply. I am not going to beg. At least not a second time. His response is to slow his movements almost to a stop.

  “You will beg, Emelia.” He reads my defiance, driving me crazy with his slow movements. His lips leave mine and he trails his kisses down my neck. He unbuttons the shirt down to my navel. Pullin
g it to the side to expose my left breast, he twirls his tongue over my peak then applies a deep suction. My hands move to either side of his face, trailing my thumbs up his cheeks and into his hair, giving it a tight tug. He bites my nipple in retribution, then softens it with a lick of his tongue. Pushing aside the rest of my shirt, he moves to my right breast and starts again. I am so close. Sensing this, he kisses back up my neck and dives his tongue back into my mouth, his kisses coming faster, but still controlled.

  “Please, Graham.” I don’t care anymore. I just need to come.

  “Yes, Emelia?”

  The bastard is going to make me say it. Out loud.

  “Please don’t stop. Make me come.”

  “Good girl” escapes the smile on his lips and he quickens his ministrations. I try again to push into him. He moves his hand to my hips to stop me from coming closer but slides his thumb down the front of my panties and applies the slightest amount of pressure. This sends me into an orgasm that leaves me shaking as he wraps his arms around my waist and holds me close to him. I rest against him for several minutes as my body climbs down.

  “It’s like my body was designed to respond to you,” I muse softly. Docile, I nuzzle my head into his neck. My admission wins me a passionate kiss and he lifts me off the island, wraps my legs around him, and carries me to the foyer, starting up the stairs. The movement has me bouncing on his erection and I push my weight down on it. He groans and stops half way up the stairs.

  “I have to taste you. Now.” His words are forceful while setting me down and leaning me back against the steps. Reaching up, I caress him through the sweatpants that are working hard to contain him. He takes my hands off him and moves them to the step above me.

  “Don’t move them. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He rips open the last two buttons on his shirt I’m wearing and run his hands from my shoulders down my breast and over my stomach.

  “God you’re beautiful.” His eyes follow his hands.

  “The curve of your hips…” He leans down and works over my hip bones with little licks and kisses. I move my hands into his hair urging him further. He drifts over me and pulls my hands back over my head to grab the step again.

  “I don’t need your help. Move them again and I’ll punish you, got it?”

  Uh, not really. Punish me? I start to remind him for the second time that I’m grown and he is not the boss of me, but he preempts my response.

  “I’m in control, Emelia. Not you. You submit to me. I will punish you. Do not move your hands again.”

  “I’m…”

  “Emelia,” he admonishes. “Got it?”

  It’s a battle of the wills, but my necessity to have him inside me diminishes my will to be in control and I submit with the nod of my head.

  “Tell me.”

  “I got it,” I say like a spoiled child.

  He shakes his head like he understands exactly how hard it was for me to say it.

  Pressing his hands over mine one more time, emphasizing his directive to hold the step, he moves back down kissing the side of my waist and working his way down to the middle of my thigh. He works his way back up, running his tongue over my underwear, against the folds of my sex down my other thigh and back again. This time while he kisses the spot where my leg and hips come together he tugs on my underwear ripping the lace from my body. The sound is so erotic, I almost come on the spot. He presses his tongue to my clit, and I’m wound so tight it sends me straight into another orgasm, lifting me off the stairs. I’m vaguely aware that I’m still holding onto the step. His tongue continues to weave its way through my folds, licking and sucking every part of me. Drinking me in. He begins to fuck me with his tongue, moving it in and curving it up on its way out.

  “Graham,” I’m breathy and barely able to get his name out.

  Pulling his tongue out of me, he submerges two fingers into me while placing his other hand under my buttocks positioning me against his hand, slightly off the step. “You are so tight.” He moves his fingers in and out until his tongue takes over again. With his mouth now wrapped around my clit, I feel his wetted finger move to my backside. He creates a suction with his mouth, pulling on the bud of my sex, and then he plunges the tip of his finger into my ass. The hybrid of sensations spirals me off the edge into an orgasm so intense my body convulses. Graham catches me as my hands release and I begin to slide down the stairs, unable to control my own body.

  He holds me, absorbing my tremors, soothing me after the magnitude of what I just experienced. He runs his fingers through my hair as my breathing slows to normal.

  “I love to listen to you, to hear what I do to you. How I make you feel.”

  I blush at his praise.

  “Only you, baby,” I whisper.

  I had no idea I had even made a sound, I was so lost in the experience. I initiate the kiss this time, injecting it with every ounce of thankfulness I can show. I dance my tongue across his, tasting myself on him. Making sure I’m secure on the step, he stands in front of me and offers me his hand. I reach up, but move my hand to the waistband of his sweats instead, pulling his hips closer to me. Standing on a step a few down, he’s at the perfect level. I slowly slide his waistband down, exposing his happy trail and more of the v-cut of his abdomen. His body is god-like, toned to perfection.

  “What are you doing?” His voice is an amalgamation of teasing, daring, and need.

  Displaying all the sincerity I feel, and with as innocent a look I can muster, I say, “I want to suck your dick.”

  I know exactly what I am doing. I feel raw after that experience, and I need to regain some control if I’m going to keep a grip on whatever is happening between us.

  “Fuck me,” he breathes, caressing the side of my face. “Those words in that sweet voice.” It’s all he needs to say for me to understand the effect I’m having on him, too.

  His erection springs free, and I move his sweats down just below his buttocks. I’m usually the first to admit that penises are not beautiful to look at. Until now. Graham’s is perfect in girth and length, and is encased in a velvety smoothness. I grab the base of it with one hand and the tip with another moving my hands until they meet in the middle and back again. He has one hand on the banister and one on the railing. His lips part and his breathing quickens. His response encourages and entices me. Leaning in, I place the head into my mouth and run my tongue through his slit, causing a little tremor to run through his body. He groans and moves his hands into my hair. Gentle, not trying to control the pace.

  I get the feel for him and think about all the tips Patrick was talking about in the car. Who knew it would come in handy this week.

  Suckling the head of his cock, I lick the skin just below the rim all the way around before taking him back into my mouth, deeper this time, stroking him with my mouth as I bob back and forth. Coming to the tip again, I run my tongue through the slit, suckle the skin around the head and take him deeper. I repeat the pattern each time. When he responds more intensely to my strokes, I pull back and tease a little, placing light open mouth kisses down his shaft. Exhaling, I concentrate on breathing through my nose and pull him to the back of my throat. Turned on by how deep I’ve been able to take him, I hum, feeling the vibration move up his shaft.

  “Fuck me,” he whispers. Looking up at him through my eyelashes, I see a look of pure bliss on his sculpted face, as I slide my mouth back down him. His hands move and just like that he has taken back control. His hands dictating the pace as he fucks my mouth. My hand cups his sack and I run my finger across the smooth skin right behind it. Another shiver ripples through him. I make a mental note of his response. The next trip I take to the tip of his head, I run my tongue on the underside of his cock, humming my way. I feel his control snap, and he starts to really move his hips, but never at the detriment of harming me. He’s close, I can feel it. Releasing one more breath I take him all the way in so that my lips brush against his pelvis, while I rub
his sensitive spot.

  “If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, you need to stop now.” His knee comes on to the step near my head and he leans me back where his body is hovered over mine. I like this angle. My lips touch his pelvis again, and he pulls back slightly coming on my tongue and down the back of my throat. My excitement to undo him outweighs the taste and I continue to milk him to the last drop. His knees give out and he slides down, laying over me. Pressing me into the stairs.

  “Fuck,” he says again. “That was…I’ve never had…I’m not sure I can find words to do it justice.” His breath is coming in gasps.

  I love the feel of his weight on my body. I could use a softer spot than the stairs, but I’ll take what I can get. I hold him and caress his scalp as he continues to settle down. Eventually he lifts his head and places a tender kiss on my lips.

  Standing he slides his sweats back up and lifts me into a standing position. I arch my back to stretch it. He moves his shirt I’m wearing to the side, taking in the full view of my ass as he turns me, walking behind me the rest of the way up the stairs. We make it to the landing. He turns me again, this time leaning me against the railing that overlooks the family room below. My nails dig into him and I squirm in his arms.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t like heights,” I look over my shoulder and grasp him harder.

  Moving me to the opposite wall, he bends slightly to kiss me.

  “I would never let you fall. I promise you.”

  There’s a truth to his promise that comforts and surprises me.

  “I can’t get enough of you. I have thought of you constantly since our flight. Who you are. What you taste like. What you kiss like. How you would feel under my hand. How your mouth would feel around my cock. What it would feel like to be inside of you. The noises you make when you come. How your eyes would look when I’m making you come.” He leans forward and kisses the whimper off my lips, trailing his kisses down my throat.

  “I want you only, Emelia, but I won’t share. I already texted Colleen and told her I would pay double your rates. I want exclusive access to you.”