Randall stopped his machine and reached for the towel draped over its handles. “For what?”
“Taking me out to dinner, for starters. And granting me the exclusive about your latest research. That alone is enough to increase the length of my contract, or have my superiors sit up and take notice at the very least.”
“No payback needed. We’re always trying to find ways to get our information out there. It was my pleasure to share.”
“I insist,” Jacqueline said, stepping around the treadmill until she faced him.
The offer was tempting, and so was the woman. There was no cleavage showing, but the tight cotton across her 36Ds left no doubt as to her generous mounds. He stepped down from the treadmill. “I have thoroughly enjoyed your company, but we’re here in the City of Angels, filled with bars, fast cars, and movie stars. I’m surprised you don’t have . . . I don’t know . . . someone like Denzel Washington or what’s that other guy’s name?”
“Idris Elba.”
“Ha! I knew you’d know who I was talking about. It’s Saturday night. I’m surprised you don’t have a date with someone like that.”
“Seriously?” Jacqueline laughed. “Doctor, you underestimate yourself. Besides, it’s just dinner, and no matter what else you’ve planned for the day . . . you have to eat. Am I right? We’ve enjoyed a whirlwind week, and tonight will be my last opportunity to show you how much I’ve appreciated all of your help and . . . our time together. I even have the perfect place, a hidden gem I discovered three years ago, tucked away in Topanga Canyon.”
“Topanga? Sounds like a jungle.”
“It’s enchanting, and the food is divine. You’ll love it, I promise.” When Randall continued to hesitate, she added, “Have you even seen any other part of Los Angeles besides this hotel? Come on, it’s one last dinner. I’ll make the reservations and hire a car.”
She flashed him an irresistible smile and he caved like an ice cream addict at Coldstone. “I’ll have to meet you there,” he said, crossing his arms and offering up his own simple smile. “In a little while, I’ll be leaving the hotel for an all-day meeting in Malibu.”
“I don’t think that’s far at all from the restaurant, so that’s perfect. It’s an outdoor setting with a wonderful ambiance, so if your schedule will allow it, I’ll make our reservations early, before the sun goes down. How does six thirty sound?”
“Our meeting will go until six.What about seven?”
“Seven sounds great. Listen, I’m going to do a little shopping and may not be in my room. So let me give you my cell number.”
“Just call me and I’ll lock it in.”
Jacqueline retrieved her phone from the treadmill cup and Randall recited his cell phone number. She keyed it in and when his voice mail came on she said, “Dr. Atwater, this is Jacqueline Tate, confirming our appointment for later today. I look forward to seeing you. Thank you. Good-bye.”
“Very professionally stated,” Randall said, warming to this woman’s unique mix of beauty, intelligence, and quirkiness. “I look forward to seeing you too.”
She walked away. Randall was sure that the extra sway in her hips was for him.
Little vixen, he thought with a smile as he restarted the treadmill. He liked the way she made him feel: handsome and important. A couple times, when he saw the way she looked at him, he felt a little guilty as well. He wasn’t in the mood or in the market for a longtime love. But spending time with the freelance writer had definitely had its benefits. One never knew who was reading what publication. Some billionaire could stumble across an article and decide to fund his research. That alone was worth the few hours he’d spend with Jacqueline tonight. That she was as beautiful as she was talented and that they’d been able to enjoy each other’s company—well, he wouldn’t hold that against her.
Several hours later, after hours of talking, listening, and planning strategies, a slightly weary but mentally invigorated Randall stood and shook hands with the men who’d gathered. He’d declined their dinner invitation, citing a previous commitment. He and James walked out together.
“So what do you have going tonight?” James asked as they reached the driveway where several town cars awaited.
“Dinner with Jacqueline.”
James stopped walking, almost in midstride. “Just you two?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Randall asked with a shrug.
“You can’t be that naïve, man. Anybody with eyes and close proximity to her could tell how much time she spent checking you out. I think she attended every workshop you conducted, every speech and every meeting where she could go and you showed your face.”
“She’s very interested in our research.”
“Then why didn’t she come to any of my talks?”
“I think the world focus on stem cell research makes what I’m doing quite marketable right now. Plus”—he rubbed his chin and struck a GQ pose—“I’m better looking.” From James, a deadpan stare. “Look, you can even join us if you want. We’re meeting at a restaurant that’s not too far from here.”
“You definitely could use a chaperone. But my frat brothers have the night all planned. I’m headed over to see one of them, who just purchased a home in the Holmby Hills.”
“The name means nothing to me. I don’t know much about LA.”
“Let’s just say it’s Beverly Hills, only better.”
The two men shook hands. “Well, all right then. Enjoy yourself. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bright and early. We’re starting at nine. Maybe we can end early enough for me to fly out tomorrow night instead of waiting until Monday.”
“Shoot me that flight info. Since we’re both heading east, I might be able to get out too.”
The men got in separate cars and left the home of the brain surgeon, which boasted modern architecture and ocean views. During the scenic ride from Malibu to Topanga Canyon and the Inn of the Seventh Ray, the restaurant that Randall had viewed online, he thought about his friend James, and his not-too-subtle warning about spending time with Jacqueline. Concluding that all of his rhetoric was much ado about nothing, he decided to sit back, relax, and enjoy the evening. Because even though she’d be in D.C. and the science community was a small one, chances were that he wouldn’t see much of Jacqueline Tate.
CHAPTER 11
Jacqueline entered her room and fell on the bed. She was giddy with happiness; so far her plans had gone perfectly. Dinner had been amazing: the ambiance perfect, the food superb. And the night? She giggled like a schoolgirl dreaming of her first crush. She had no doubt that tonight—their last together before leaving LA—would be sweeter than the berry panna cotta that they’d shared at the Inn. Tonight she’d do more than warm his bed; she vowed to give Randall the type of loving that he wouldn’t forget.
After a quick shower, she donned the provocative design purchased at Frederick’s of Hollywood, in her opinion a precursor to the nationally popular Victoria’s Secret. One look at herself in the dressing room mirror, and she knew this sheer black catsuit that covered everything yet left nothing to the imagination would be just the image to imprint upon Randall’s mind; just the memory for him to take back to Virginia. Now giving herself a front-and-back perusal, she knew that tonight would be their hottest yet! After sliding her slender feet into five-inch stilettos, her look was complete. She wore nothing else: no makeup, no jewelry, not even a tie to hold back her hair. She’d washed it and, after doing a flash dry with the hair dryer, let the slightly damp curly locks cascade down her back. All week she’d sported a flatiron-straight style; tonight he’d see her hair wild and untamed—just like her.
Just like she wanted this night to be: wild, untamed, unforgettable.
She’d barely laid her head on the pillow when the door opened and he walked in. Easing up on her elbow, she turned her body toward him and struck a pose, laughing as he stopped dead in his tracks. �
�Well, hello there.”
“Wow.”
She laughed again, sitting up completely and tossing her thick curls away from her face. “You like?”
His eyes devoured her, much as his mouth had the filet mignon earlier in the evening. He took a step toward her. “Just . . . wow . . .”
She slid off the king-size bed, with an agenda. All week he had taken the lead; tonight, she planned to do a Janet Jackson and take control.Walking over to the iPod and speakers and selecting the song she’d preset for his arrival, she turned to him. “Have a seat. There’s something I want to show you.”
As the lyrics from Beyoncé’s “Halo” filled the room, so did Jacqueline’s sensuality. She moved her hips—slowly, sensually—knowing that the black mesh made her butt cheeks stand out even more than they normally did. Rubbing her hands across them she bent down, hips in rhythm, and touched her toes as if she’d been born on a pole and weaned on the rain that showered the dancers. Using muscles she’d only recently read about, she caused her cheeks to wink at him, finally opening her eyes to view him from between her legs.
She liked what she saw.
He was lying back on the bed, his eyes at half-mast—slowly, sensually, massaging his dick. It was something she planned to do in the not-too-distant future. But not yet. She wanted him harder, thicker, and longer than he’d ever been, almost ready to explode upon contact. She wanted him so excited that he felt his balls would combust. When he came, she wanted it to be deep inside her, his love flowing into her womb.
She turned around. Her eyes never wavered from his. He seemed powerless to do anything but stare. Yes, baby. I know what you want. And I’m going to give it to you. She took her middle finger, placed it in her mouth, and began sucking it. All the while she ground her hips standing up, the way she planned to later while lying down. She took her wet middle finger and began tracing the miniature dots the mesh of her catsuit created, along her breasts and stomach, vagina and thighs. She worked her way to the floor, still keeping her butt in time to the rhythm. She licked her fingers again, playfully tapped the top of her punanny, becoming aroused as the mesh rubbed against her hardening nub. She tweaked her nipples. They popped like headlights against the mesh, lighting up Randall’s awareness of what she was working with. And then back down again, dropping it like it was hot. Even hotter than Randall looked right now.
Uh-huh. I’m going to make you need this, Randall. I’m going to turn you into a real-life mad scientist. Mad about me.
Playtime was over.
Striding purposefully over to the bed, she stayed him with a hand to the chest when he would have risen. “Lie back,” she whispered huskily. “This is my show.”
She undid his tie, pulled it from around his neck. Then she reached for his wrist and tied one end of the tie around it. The other end was secured to the leg of the nightstand.
“What are you doing?”
“Shh. I’m tying you up so that I can have my way with you.” Using a scarf that had been draped over the headboard, she secured his other hand, straddled him, and began to unbutton his shirt. Her fingers were nimble. It was quick work.
He’d never done this, gone outside the sexual box. She could tell. His eyes showed that perfect mixture of fear, curiosity, and excitement that she’d expect from someone like him. Someone in a conservative field with a conservative countenance, but with a streak of freak beneath the surface.
She leaned into him until her face hovered above his, and after staring deeply into his eyes, plunged her tongue into his mouth. “Kiss” was too tame a word to describe this maneuver. She assaulted his mouth, attacking his well-defined lips with licks and nips before swirling her tongue into his mouth again. All the while her hips never stopped, and her pelvis joined the dance, grinding into his rock-hard shaft, making him strain against his bonds the way she knew he would.
Rising up just enough, she pressed her breasts against his mouth and was rewarded with a nipple being quickly sucked in. He arched his back to try to take the lead, but with his hands bound, that was not happening. She sat back, her laugh throaty and victorious as she reached for the lone zipper that kept the mesh around her.
It was time to up the ante. It was time to release the weapon from its holster and stick it somewhere else. For safe keeping, you might say.
After removing the mesh garment in one fell swoop, she slid back into the stilettos and got back on the bed. She reached for his belt, undid it, and yanked down his zipper. The snake sprang up like a python ready to strike. But she was, too. The same lips that had smashed against his just seconds before now covered the tip of his penis.The same tongue that had thrust its way into his waiting mouth now swirled around the mushroom-shaped head before exploring the length of him and back again, teasing him as she took him in, licked him up and down, teased his sac, and used her hands to increase the pressure.
“Baby, untie me.”
She shook her head in a way that caused her curls to dance around her shoulders and back. “Not yet.”
She scooted down until her face was flush against his pelvis and continued sexing him orally. His groans and hisses let her know she was doing something right. The way his head turned this way and that, the way his hips raised off the bed, the way he pulled against his constraints.
You will never forget me, Dr. Randall Atwater. After tonight, you’ll be addicted.
After several long minutes of intense attention to Randall’s burgeoning erection, Jacqueline poised herself over it . . . and slid down.
Slowly, delicately, with vaginal muscles constricting and releasing as she went.
“Oh, baby.” Randall’s voice was hoarse as yet again he pulled on the restraints. “Oh my God.”
She repeated the motion, once and again, becoming wetter with each trip down his long, thick dick. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she began to ride him, her bountiful breasts bouncing in front of a mouth searching for her nipple like one bobbing for apples. When he captured it he latched on, rolling his tongue around the pert areola, licking the tip of the nipple as he held it between his teeth.
Picking up the pace, she continued to ride, grinding her pelvis, twirling her hips, squeezing her walls until she felt him shiver. Her gyrations became wilder, faster. Her mouth went slack as she felt a powerful release coming on. She squeezed his shoulders as her booty bounced up and down, riding his dick like a horse on a merry-go-round, only with way more of a thrill.
“Yes. Yes. Yessss!”
She collapsed on Randall’s chest. For several seconds she lay there, pussy twitching, legs shaking, head rising just enough to initiate a hot, wet kiss. He was still rock hard, which meant this was only round one in a match that would go several. She slowly freed him from the constraints.
“Do you like chess?” she cooed, stroking his hairless chest. He wearily nodded. “Good.” She slid off of him and got on all fours. Looking back, she taunted, “Your move.”
Sunday morning. The night with Randall had been as amazing as Jacqueline had imagined it would be, and now, sitting in her bulkhead seat on her flight to Washington, she had five nonstop hours to replay each tantalizing moment. Before leaving, she’d shared snippets of the night’s adventures with her best friend. Kris had once again stressed caution where her feelings for Randall were concerned, and Jacqueline agreed that falling head over heels was not recommended. But she’d never met a man who made her feel the way he did, and from his actions of this past week, she believed his interest in her was more than fleeting. The sparks between them were genuine and their erogenous fire burned bright and hot. His parting words to her were to keep in touch and he looked forward to seeing her again.
As the plane leveled off at a comfortable cruising altitude, Jacqueline fired up her iPad and settled in to work. But every now and then a memory of her times with Randall would make her pause and bring a smile. Maybe all the frogs she’d kissed had brought her to this handsome prince. If so, it had been more than worth it. Knowing the payoff was
to end up with someone like Randall . . . she’d kiss them all again.
The Malibu meeting ended earlier than scheduled. Randall and his research partner, James, both caught a redeye flight. Several hours later, an exhausted Dr. Atwater spotted his driver and entered the town car. He didn’t realize how tired he was until he woke up mere blocks from his home with his mouth slightly open and his iPad on the floor.
“Looks like you had a long week, Doctor,” the friendly driver said, watching through his rearview mirror as Randall ran a hand over his face.
“Man, you don’t even know the half.”
“Well, we’ve almost got you home now. You can get a good night’s sleep.”
“That’s exactly what I need. I can’t wait.”
They arrived at his stately residence, and Randall paid the driver, waving away his offer to take the luggage to the door. He inserted the key, opened the door, and was immediately greeted by family.
“Daddy!” His twelve-year-old daughter, Albany, bounded into the foyer and into his arms. “We missed you, Daddy. I’m so glad you’re home.”
Ten-year-old Aaron strolled around the corner. From the look in his eyes, he too wanted to jump into his father’s arms. But it was obvious he thought himself too cool for that. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, Son.” They gave each other dap.
“Where’s your luggage?” Aaron asked.
“Outside. Will you grab it for me?”
“Sure.”
Randall stepped aside to make room for his son and heard a sultry voice behind him. “There you are.”
He turned around and walked into arms that hugged him tightly, and lips that brushed his own. “We’ve missed you,” she said to him as hand in hand they strolled into the living room, kids and dogs not far behind.
“I’ve missed you too.” They sat. He immediately pulled her into his arms. “How are you, baby? How’s my beautiful, loving wife?”
The Perfect Affair Page 6
