It's useless… nothing can get her out of my mind.
I take another sip of my drink, tilting my head back as the bourbon burns a fiery path into the pit of my stomach.
Fire.
Action.
That's it, I decide. I need to do something.
I can't sit here and let thoughts of Nicole consume me.
I walk over to the kitchen and grab my cell from the granite counter top. I scroll through my contacts until I find her name.
I hesitate for just a moment, a split second of time, asking myself if I'm making the right decision. I pace the kitchen, shuffling my feet across the marble floor, fingering the screen of my phone. My fingers hover over my contacts, frozen, waiting for me to act.
Fuck it. You only live once, I think to myself.
And with that I dial Nicole.
It only takes two rings for her to answer. And the voice that answers is the softest, sweetest music to my ears.
Fuck. There's no more guessing.
There’s no doubt about it. I've made the right decision.
Nicole
My phone vibrates under my pillow.
I'm dozing off, but it instantly shakes me awake. It's a light, familiar buzz that always leaves me shuffling my hands through my pillows and sheets, scrambling to answer it before the caller is sent to voice mail.
What if it's someone from the restaurant? Or family? Or...?
I know you shouldn't sleep with your cell phone next to your head, let alone in your bed, but I can't help it. I panic if I don't have it nearby.
"Hello?" I answer.
"I need you."
It takes me a few seconds to realize who it is.
"What time is it?" I ask, looking over at the clock on my nightstand.
"The night's still young—come over," Palmer says.
His voice is smooth and deep, like coffee and cream, and despite the fact that I'm tired, I find myself saying yes.
"Good," he says. "I'll text you my address. See you soon."
And just like that, the phone line goes dead.
I toss my phone onto my nightstand and wonder what in the hell I'm doing.
I don't understand why I'm leaving. It's the middle of the night, and I'm perfectly comfortable between my sheets. I started my night with a hot bath, and freshly shaved legs.
And let me tell you… I don't think there's any feeling better than freshly shaved legs against clean, cool sheets. It's heaven.
But here I am, agreeing to get out of bed and drive over to Palmer's place.
I swing my feet out of bed and grab my clothes. I don't have the energy to put on anything more than jeans and a t-shirt, so I quickly dress, throw a thin coat of red lipstick, light mascara, and then drag a brush through my hair before pulling it up into a messy bun on top of my head.
Tomorrow I have a long drive ahead of me—hours. I promised to meet my family for lunch, which is going to be exhausting, dodging my mother’s questions about why I'm not married yet and when I'm going to giver her grandkids, and my dad asking me when I'm going to put this restaurant stuff behind me.
He doesn't take it seriously because he doesn't understand food. And he certainly doesn't see this restaurant as something I should pursue for the rest of my life.
I love my family, but sometimes they're a bit… much. Or, rather, they’re not enough. Not when it comes to supporting my dreams.
Which is why I should be sleeping.
But I can't… not after hearing his voice.
Why can't I just forget about him? When the Pearl on Park first opened its doors next to The Old Tale, I never would've imagined that I'd be feeling this way about Chef Palmer.
He's the competition. I mean, what am I thinking?
I take one last look at my face in the mirror. I've never considered myself an especially beautiful woman—I'm more likely to be considered "cute" than "pretty"—but here I am, being pursued by one of the most eligible—and, yes, I'll admit hottest—bachelors of the culinary world.
But could I really see myself dating a guy who might ruin my business?
I stop myself just short of answering that question. I justify it by saying that at least Palmer is the best sex I've ever had.
I'm talking mind-blowingly good . Sex like that is hard to walk away from.
I look at the clock and am reminded that it's only getting later and later, and so I grab my purse and keys, and leave the apartment.
Once in the car, I type in Palmer's address and wait for the GPS to route me.
I look down at the map. Swanky neighborhood , I say to myself. But what did I expect? Palmer is a culinary rock star.
As soon as my phone says, "You've arrived at your destination," I look up and see just how breathtaking his apartment is.
A valet parks my car, and a doorman ushers me inside.
"I'm looking for Chef Palmer," I say.
"Is he expecting you?"
"Yes, he is."
"One minute," he says, making a quick phone call, and I can only assume that Palmer tells him to let me through because immediately he says, "Right this way, ma'am."
I walk to the elevator, and as soon as I step in and see the door close behind me, my heart starts to thump in my chest. It's beating to a whole new drum, as if it has a mind of its own.
My heart and mind are racing in equal measures. Why am I so nervous? This isn't the first time I've met with Palmer… but it is the first time I'm meeting him at his apartment, in his space… not mine.
And for some reason, it makes everything feel so different.
It's new, and it makes me feel vulnerable.
I watch the elevator climb to the top penthouse suite, and as soon as the door dings open, I take one last deep breath and step out.
Everything about this building screams luxury. It couldn't be more different from my own apartment.
Finally, at the end of the hall, I see two massive doors. It's the entryway to his apartment.
I straighten my hair and knock.
It seems like an eternity before Palmer answers, but in reality, I know it must've only been a few seconds. Regardless, as soon as the door opens, my heart catches in my throat.
He's wearing an easy smile and smells like summer on the Atlantic, and I want nothing more than to feel his body against mine.
He doesn't give me a chance to say a word. Instead, he scoops me into his strong arms, lifting me nearly off my feet, and in this moment, there's nowhere else I'd rather be.
Nicole
The moment his lips touch mine, I become his.
There’s no other way of saying it. Whatever it is about Palmer, I simply can’t resist him.
I don’t even know why I came here. Is that all it takes—one phone call, and I’m knocking at his door? I’ve never thought of myself as the easy type, but when it comes to Palmer…well, when it comes to Palmer, I have no idea what to think.
He was supposed to be this cold figure, a harsh man that cared about nothing but his ambitions. But that’s not the real Palmer.
At least that’s not the Palmer I’ve come to know.
"I’m glad you came," he whispers and, leaning in, Palmer brushes his lips against mine once more. As he kisses me, my hands roam over the fabric of his shirt, untucking it and pulling it free from his pants. My fingertips feel the outline of his abs, and I almost lose it.
Butterflies hit the pit of my stomach, outstretched wings on their maiden flight. Palmer's lips captivate me with a wanderlust that I have never felt before. My skin is covering with prickles from the chills rushing up and down my spine.
As stupid as it might sound, I believe these are the kind of feelings women succumb to in romance novels. As a young girl, I could sit for hours and read how the perfect romantic tryst would begin. I never really believed in them, but I wished they were right.
And now here I am, living a romance like that. Wait—did I actually say the word romance ? Oh, Palmer’s messing with my mind more than I’ve be
gun to imagine.
But I didn’t leave my bed tonight to think about the meaning of things.
No, I came here because my body demanded it.
“I had to come,” I tell him, whispering these words against his lips.
Our lips are softly massaging against each other, our tongues locked in a tight embrace. My hands move up Palmer's chest, and I start unbuttoning his shirt; I keep my eyes locked on his as I do it, my knuckles softly brushing against his tanned chest on the way down. Then, I take my hands to his shoulders and push the shirt down. It floats down to the floor softly, landing at his feet.
I can't believe how perfect he is.
I use the tip of my fingers to trace over his flesh like a soft feather, and I can feel him tense slightly, but not in a bad way.
"Nicole… keep doing that and I won’t be held responsible for my actions," Palmer mumbles against my lips, our tongues taking turns at tasting each other lips.
I move my hand up to the back of his neck, cradling the back of his head in my palm.
He’s a weakness for me. The truth is I’ve imagined this in my mind, over and over again, never knowing if we’d be together again.
After the first time it happened, I just tried to push it off my mind. But then he stormed inside The Old Tale, pulling me against him as if he needed it more than anything in his life. And now… now here I am.
I want to pinch myself to make sure I'm not daydreaming again. Gripping a little flesh on my hip, I smile against his lips.
Oh, he’s real, more real than anything else in my life.
Pulling back, Palmer looks at me, chuckling.
"Did you just pinch yourself? This is real, Nicole. And by the end of the night…you will never forget just how real it is."
I widen my eyes, my lips parting a little in awe. Palmer knows me too well already. I've let my guard down, and though that isn't bad, it does scares me.
"Shh, kiss me again,” he whispers, his voice gentle and seductive. “I feel like I've become addicted to those lips already."
I lean up on the tips of my toes, grasping his bottom lip with my teeth.
Pearly white teeth clamped onto his lower lip, I press my body against his and close any space between us.
I feel my nipples hardening against the cup of my bra, my breasts mashed against his naked chest. I can feel his heartbeat too. It’s slow and steady, but I can tell that its pace is slowly building up.
And so is mine.
I'm Alice in Wonderland and I’m falling down the rabbit hole farther and farther as the clock ticks on.
I’ve never felt this way—so consumed with another person that I’m already looking forward to doing this again. I mean, we haven't even started yet.
Palmer reaches around to the back of my black pencil skirt, pulling the zipper down. I can feel as the teeth release each other.
"I want you so fucking much, Nicole… you have no idea," he continues, his hungry eyes locked on mine.
As my skirt falls down my legs, he then takes his long fingers up my legs, closing in on my inner thighs. I almost feel he’s going to press his hand against my pussy, but he makes a quick detour and rest both hands on my hips; hooking his fingers on my black silk panties, he pushes them down slowly, the cool air in the room caressing my nakedness.
“C’mere,” he whispers then, his hands going back to my waist. He grabs the hem of my blouse and pulls it over my head, my hair cascading over my naked shoulders as he throws the blouse to the side.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he tells me, his fingers going around to my back, looking for the clasp of my bra. He releases it the moment he finds it, and I feel the cups drooping over my breasts, my nipples becoming even harder than before.
He removes the bra gently, his eyes widening as my breasts jump into sight.
The only thing I’m wearing right now are goosebumps, and there are a lot of them.
Palmer slides his hands down my back, not stopping till his palms grip my ass. Holding me tight, lifting, he takes me to the large leather couch that takes over his living room, and lays me back on it.
The only light in the room is coming through the large floor-to-ceiling windows. The moon is full tonight, and it blends with the dim lights of the night, the towers around Palmer’s apartment like beacons.
Palmer stands at the end of the couch, his eyes staring at my feet and working their way up my long, tan legs. He’s taking in every inch of me into his memory. He’s etching the perfect masterpiece in his mind.
I suck in my stomach when his eyes stop right between my thighs. Suddenly, and I don’t even know why, I feel a little shy. We’ve done this before, but with him…it always feels like the first time.
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, biting down softly on a pillow. It's incredible the way he makes me feel.
I clear my throat, my voice shaking a little.
"Do you like what you see, Palmer?"
Of course, he does. Why am I asking this? I can tell by the outline in his pants that he likes what he’s seeing.
And if likes it as much as I like what I’m seeing, this is going to be a good night.
"How about I show you how much I like it?" Smirking, Palmer doesn't wait for me to respond. He moves between my legs, kissing my lower lips.
"Oh, God!" Trembling, my whole body shakes the moment I feel the warmth of his breath on my pussy lips.
"Open your legs wider. Put them on the floor." Palmer’s voice is authoritative, demanding, but it doesn’t need to be. I’ll do anything he says at this point.
I can’t—and I won’t—resist him.
I open my legs wide, the wetness of my pussy drawing his gaze. My inner folds are glistening, the soft pink tint slowly deepening in color. I'm more aroused than I’ve ever been.
Palmer’s between my legs, his tongue swiping up the outer lips like a brush painting a canvas. Long strokes over the mound, soft ones as he goes further down.
He’s driving me completely insane, and I want more. I want him to wiggle his tongue between my lips; I want him to satisfy my desires.
"You taste incredible, Nicole,” he whispers, stopping for a moment to get the words out. “I want you," he continues, pressing the tip of his tongue against my clit, pushing down hard on the tiny button of happiness.
I can't stop my legs from trembling. It's driving me crazy the way my body craves him. He’s perfect in every possible way, and I can't get enough of what he’s doing to me.
Palmer parts my lips, and his tongue slides up and down as he lays his forearm over my stomach, holding me against the couch.
I clench my cheeks, but the way his thumb is rubbing my clit relaxes me.
Pushing the tip of his tongue past my pussy lips, Palmer knows exactly how to make me quiver. I’m shaking, and thankfully, there is a cushion beneath me to hold me, my fingers gripping the fabric till my knuckles turn white.
"Palmer, that…that feels so good. Don't stop."
Using his tongue to paint a picture inside my pussy lips, I almost feel breathless from the intensity. I never even knew that a man could make a woman feel like this using only his lips…
I arch my back from the surface of couch beneath, and my legs tremble.
"What are you doing to me? This is completely insane,” I tell him breathlessly, but I don’t wait for a reply.
I push my pussy against his mouth, feeling Palmers' tongue slide inside my pink lips, the small entrance stretching around the tip. The way he’s using his tongue reminds of the way he takes me when he’s inside of me... there’s a certain eagerness to his movements, a certain recklessness.
Placing his hand on top of my pussy, pulling upwards towards my stomach, Palmer has me unable to form words. I moan out with approval as he forcefully devours me.
Putting his hands on my thighs next, he spreads my legs open even wider. I stretch as far as my muscles will allow, exposing myself entirely to him.
"Nicole, you’re ju
st… fucking perfect. I could keep doing this forever,” he tells me, breathing out each word slowly. His eyes are locked on mine, and I feel my heart thumping hard as I notice the way his lips are glistening from my wetness.
And then he’s back on my pussy.
"I can't take it anymore,” I cry out, reaching for his head and tangling my fingers in his hair. I pull him into me once more, forcing him to bury his mouth against my pussy, and I start swaying my hips like a woman possessed.
“Oh my god! I'm going to…I’m going to come," I moan, clamping my hand over my mouth to muffle my cries, my body giving in to ecstasy.
Consumed with pleasure, my body trembles to the point my muscles ache from the tension. Complete rapture overtakes me. Thankfully, it’s just the two of us in here, and I can moan and scream as much as I want to.
Palmer is drenched in my juices, and when he looks up at me, I can see a trail run down his chin.
I remove my hand from my mouth, shaking, "Oh God, what the hell was that? I've never come like that. Ever."
Smiling, Palmer leans into me again, licking me till I’m free of all my juices, sliding up my body to share them with me. Softly, he brushes his lips against mine, the flavor of his kiss so sweet it’s almost maddening.
I've never done anything like this, but what can I say? When Palmer’s with me, I feel capable of almost anything.
His touch has changed me.
"It’s my turn," I tell him, still out of breath. I didn’t need to say it, though; he’s ready for me to take him in my mouth. I can't miss the fact that he has his whole length pressing against my thigh through his pants.
It must be uncomfortable for him, I think, reaching down to help.
I tug his zipper down, reaching in. I slide my hand inside his boxer briefs, and curl my fingers around his shaft. The warmness of his cock spreads to the palm of my hands, and then it goes over my arm and takes over my brain.
Slowly, I start flicking my wrist, stroking him as my heart keeps on racing faster and faster.
"I want you so much," I continue to say, the rhythm of my hand keeping up with that of my heart, my eyes locking on his.
I take my free hand down his back and push both his pants and his boxer briefs down; I pull his cock out, and the moment I feel his shaft brush against my naked thigh, my insides feel as if they’re about to explode.
Double Stuffed Page 59
