by Saylor Bliss
I can’t remember the last time I went out on a date. Maybe when I was fourteen? Yeah, I think I remember taking someone to the movies, hoping to get a kiss afterward. I can’t remember if I did, in fact, get the kiss. It wasn’t long after that when I discovered what an easy girl was. Now, I usually just pick up a willing girl at whatever bar I'm at, in whatever city we’re playing.
I jump in the shower, excited to get a start on the day. Hopefully, it will fly by and tonight will be here before I know it. Shoving my hands through a tee, I stop with one arm in and one halfway. I didn’t get her fucking number.
“Shit.” Pulling the shirt on the rest of the way, I leap on my bed and grab my phone.
Please let there be something. I type in my name and hit search and then wait for Google to pull up the most recent articles. A picture of Skila graces the front page, along with a small article detailing my willingness to interview with her. It lists the paper she works for at the end, and I almost jump for joy.
Clearing the search, I type in Los Angeles Daily Home and press the highlighted call button. A scratchy-voiced receptionist answers on the second ring, and I ask her to patch me through to Skila Parker.
“She isn’t taking calls today.” I could hear her popping gum across the line.
“Well, can you take a message or patch me through to her boss? Is he taking calls?” I ask, getting angrier by the second. This one person is not going to stand in the way of me and my date.
“Sure. What’s the name?” she asks, bored.
“Kiptyn. Kiptyn Price,” I say.
It’s amazing how quickly her entire demeanor changes when she hears my name. “Oh, Mr. Price. I’m sure I can transfer you. Hold, please.” I don’t reply.
Fuck that.
I make a mental note to contact her manager about her shitty people skills. The more I think about it, the angrier I get. Like she has any right to be nasty to regular, everyday people? I’m famous, so I get special treatment? That’s not cool. No one has the right to be an asshole just because. Fuck that.
“Skila Parker speaking,” she answers, and her voice alone soothes my temper. She sounds irritated, exasperated, and yet she answered the phone cordially.
“Sky, its Kiptyn. I’m sorry to call you at work, but I forgot to get your number last night,” I say. I don’t know why I’m apologizing, but it seems right.
“Oh, it’s ok.” She rattles off her number and I tell her goodbye. The phone is resting in my lap, discarded and forgotten, while I sit on the edge of my bed and smile off into space. Five seconds. I spoke to her for maybe five seconds, and it wasn’t nearly long enough. I pick my phone back up and dial her cell this time. She answers on the third ring.
“Hello?” It sounds like she’s whispering. Shit. I didn’t think she might get into trouble for my calling her at work.
“Hey. It’s me again.” She laughs into the phone, and the worry I feel for calling her melts away. I would do it all over again and again if it meant I got to hear that laugh one more time.
“Did you need something, Kiptyn?” she asks when her laughter dies down.
“No, I just wanted to hear your beautiful voice again, and I need your address to pick you up tonight.”
What the fuck? I don’t talk like this.
This.
Is.
Not.
Me.
I don't compliment women. At least not anymore. The old me might have, but the new me suggests, quite provocatively, that they strip or suck me off. I've never had to be the one to pass out compliments to get what I wanted, and so I don’t do it, period, until now. Until Sky. She sighs on the other end of the phone.
“I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work.”
“What? What am I trying to do?” I ask. I’m truly curious to hear what she thinks I want from her.
“To seduce me, and it’s not going to work. I mean it. I’m . . . I’m not available.”
Not available? What the fuck does that mean? Is she married? I rack my brain, conjuring images of her, and then relax. She wasn’t wearing a ring either time I saw her, so no husband. She might have a boyfriend, but that won’t last long.
No. Not after seeing the way her body reacted to my touch last night. If she does have a man, I would be doing her a favor by stealing her away from him. She needs someone to show her what it means to be treasured.
“You’re wrong. I’m not trying to seduce you . . .” I let my sentence trail off. Let her wonder what I mean by that. It's true, at least. I’m not trying to seduce her. I'm going to tonight.
She may have denied me once, but she won’t get the chance again. I’ll make sure of it. I plan to pull out all stops for this date. Wine and dine.
Chapter Ten
Skila
Kiptyn is due to arrive in fewer than ten minutes. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. I'm practically shaking in my heels. Lisa passes me a glass of water. “It's going to be fine. You’ve got this.”
I nod my head, agreeing. Yeah, I’ve got this, if he shows up. I can’t help but be reminded of the last person I stood by the door waiting for. I still haven’t heard a word from Amryn in almost two months. My cell rings, and for a second, the blood in my veins freezes.
Surely it’s not him. Thinking about him couldn’t have conjured him up. If that was possible, he would have appeared months ago, not the moment I’m about to walk out the door with another man. I reach my hand into my purse and pull out my cell. The call has already gone to voicemail. I check the missed calls, my hands shaking now but for a totally different reason. I breathe a sigh of relief. It wasn’t him.
It was the doctor’s office. My phone chirps with a new voicemail right as Kiptyn knocks on the door. I drop it back into my bag and smile when I open the door. Each time I see him, he’s more handsome than the time before, and tonight is no different. I could just eat him alive, right this second, with his bright blue eyes and that dimple in his left cheek. Jeans and a button-down, cream shirt are nothing special on your average man, but Kiptyn is no average man. His shirt is unbuttoned at the top, teasing me with a peek of his tan chest. I want to lick it. I can’t believe I just had that thought.
“You look beautiful,” he says, holding out his hand, and I can feel him taking me in. His words are so sincere. He makes me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
“Are you ready?” I nod my head and follow him outside the apartment to his blue Audi. He opens the door for me and waits as I lower myself inside before shutting it behind me.
When he pulls out of the complex, he takes a right toward downtown. I assumed we would be doing the traditional dinner and dancing date night, and in a way, I'm disappointed. I wanted tonight to be special, extraordinary. I gaze out the window and watch the cars fly by, feeling dejected. He must sense a change in me, even though I don’t mean for him to, because he pulls off the interstate and turns around, heading in another direction.
Surprised, I turn and look at him. “I want you to know I had an amazing night planned for us.”
Had. He said had. Is he taking me back home? Has he changed his mind already? Why?
“I was going to take you to Bareli’s and then maybe take you dancing, but I'm sensing that you could use something else tonight, so I’m taking you to my favorite place in the world when I was a kid.”
I smile. I can’t help it. Going to his favorite place sounds like so much more fun than dinner at a snobby restaurant. I could do that alone if I wanted to, granted, probably not at Bareli’s, since the waiting list for that place is around two years long, but still.
Ten minutes later, we pull up outside Susie’s Miniature Golf. There’s a giant sign out front with a picture of a missing giraffe. I can tell from the picture that said giraffe used to sit right where the sign is now.
It reads, Missing Giraffe. If found, please return. Reward.
I instantly love this place. Kiptyn climbs out of the car and comes around to open my door.
He places his hand at the small of my back and leads me to the front window. An older woman sits behind the counter, staring at a book in her lap.
“How many?” she asks, not lifting her eyes from the pages.
“Just two, if you can handle it, Suzy.” Her gaze lifts, and her eyes brighten when she takes in who is standing in front of her. Coming around to the front, she wraps her arms around his waist, not able to reach much higher, and when she’s done with him, she pulls me in for a tight embrace as well.
“What do I owe this wonderful surprise?” she asks, her gaze darting between me and Kiptyn.
“Well, now. We're just out looking for some fun. You still have that around here?” he asks, teasing her.
“Always for you, Kip. Y’all go on in and pick out your clubs. The new ones you ordered are in there on the right, beside those kiddie ones you picked up.” She ushers us through the gate and into the club room.
I wonder at her statement for a minute longer than I need to, and shame swallows me whole. This entire time, I've been judging this man before me based on other people's experience rather than taking the time to get to know him myself and then form an opinion. How many times have I, myself, faced that—someone looking at me and automatically deeming me inadequate because I'm a woman, or worse, when they judge me based on the color of my skin?
Kiptyn grabs two from the shelves and passes me one. I take a second to watch him and ponder what I've learned about him so far, not what someone else has told me. He is a sweet, kind man, and judging from Susie’s statement, he hasn’t let the fame go straight to his head. He gives back—some, at least. I make a decision in that moment to forget everything I've heard and just go with the flow and see where tonight takes me.
“You ready for this, Miss Parker?”
I laugh wholeheartedly, feeling the apprehension melt away. “Why yes, Mr. Price, I think I am. I've got one question before we go, though.” He looks at me, waiting. “Are you a sore loser?” I taunt him before running through the entrance to hole number one.
Chapter Eleven
Kiptyn
I haven’t had this much fun in . . . I can't remember ever having this much fun. I was worried at the beginning of the date that Skila wouldn’t have a good time, and it crushed me to do so, but turning around and not going to the restaurant was the best decision I could have made. She relaxed instantly when I told her of my change in plans.
“Yes. Beat that, sucka!” she yells into the night after making a hole-in-one on our eighth hole. She’s leading the game, and not because I’m trying to let her. She’s just really good or really lucky.
I glance over at her as she dances around in the fake grass. She ditched her heels after the first hole, claiming they were messing up her game. I chuckle, remembering the sigh that escaped her soft lips when her feet were flat on the ground. It made me wonder what kind of noise she would make if I took them in my hands and kneaded the balls of her feet. My already hard cock twitched. She didn’t notice. She was too caught up in the excitement of her most recent hole-in-one to pay me and my cock any attention. I should be worried.
I'm not.
I'm happy just watching her, my midnight Sky, beautiful and exquisite.
“I'll make you a deal. If you win, I get to kiss you.” She stops dancing around and smiles at me, holding out her hand. I shake it and then line up for my shot. I tap my ball and watch as it rolls straight over the hole.
Damn. My turn again.
This time the ball goes in.
It’s her turn again.
I watch her as she lines up the perfect shot, measuring the distance in her mind and testing the weight of her club. She closes one eye, aims and swings. It’s perfect, just like her. I don’t even bother to take my turn. It doesn’t matter. Even if I score perfectly on this hole, I still lose the game.
I step into her personal space and pull her to me. Her breath catches and then rushes out. Her eyes widen the tiniest bit as her gaze fixes on my lips. I've never in my life wanted to kiss a woman as much as I want to kiss her. But I can't. Not like this. I refuse to force her to kiss me just because she lost a bet.
“I cheated. I tricked you with my bet.” Her eyes dart to mine and then back down to my lips. She licks her lips, and I almost die on the spot.
“I know,” she says, and then she crushes her mouth to mine.
My cock leaps for joy and I moan, low and deep in the back of my throat. Her lips taste like cherries and vanilla. I bite down on her lower lip and she gasps, opening her mouth.
I devour her.
My tongue darts in, hungrily seeking her own. They meet in a passionate embrace and she whimpers, pushing against me. I know she can feel my hardness against her stomach. She squirms, and her dress rides up a little. I run my hands down her back and across her round ass, and I squeeze when I feel her bare skin there.
I try to slow down, really I do, but her soft, silky lips won't let me go. I’m their willing prisoner.
“Kiptyn?” she asks.
“Yeah, baby?”
“We need to stop this. It’s too much, too soon.” I pull back, trying to give her the space she’s asking for, but it doesn’t last. She wraps her arms back around my neck and pulls me to her, latching onto my mouth once again. Our tongues weave a seductive dance on the ninth hole of Suzie’s Mini Golf. I want more than anything to take her in my arms and make sweet love to her, but I don’t want to rush her. I know she needs time, and I’ll give it to her even if it kills me.
“Take me home . . . to your place. Please.” The please is not necessary. I've dreamed of nothing more since the moment I met her: taking her to my home, laying her against my satin sheets, and stripping her naked, piece by agonizing piece as she’s laid out before me, completely bare and mine for the taking.
Mine.
I have her. Finally.
The thought settles into me, comforting me. I answer her with a kiss. I put everything I have into it. Everything I can't say at the moment. Everything I feel but don’t have words for yet. I kiss her like there’s no tomorrow. I kiss her like my life depends on it, and in that moment, suspended in time, I wonder if it does. I've never felt more alive than I do right this second. Something about this woman awakens the deepest, darkest parts of my soul and makes me crave . . . more. I need her. I want her.
Scooping her into my arms, I carry her back to the car and then run back to grab her shoes. The drive back to my place isn’t that long, but selfishly, I wonder if she’ll change her mind before we get there. I’ve never had to worry about stuff like this before. If I took a chick home before, we both knew what that meant—I was going to fuck them into oblivion, and they were going to enjoy it and then leave.
Simple, perfect. Until now.
Now, nothing will ever be that easy. I can already sense the change in myself. I won’t be happy with easy, simple sex anymore. I want more. I want Sky.
I climb in the car and start the engine. Skila shifts in her seat. Placing her hand on my thigh, she leans her head against my shoulder. A sense of vulnerability overcomes me, crashing into me so unexpectedly that I swerve a little on the road before righting the car and wrapping my hand around her small, dainty one in my lap. She doesn't even notice. What the hell has the girl done to me?
Chapter Twelve
Skila
I’m beyond nervous. I’ve never been the type of woman to go home with a man on the first date, but Kiptyn has done something to normal, plain me. He’s invaded my body, my soul. I no longer know who or what I am.
I no longer care.
It’s time for me to have a little fun and not worry so much about my image and what other people think of me. Tonight is for me. If I never hear from him again after this, then so be it. I won’t regret a thing. I’m a grown woman with needs, and he is a grown, unattached man, able and willing to satisfy those needs. That’s all I need right now. I’m not looking for my happily ever after. Hell, I’m not even looking for my happy right now. I’m j
ust going with the flow and praying I’m in one piece when the river of life washes me up and spits me out.
We pull in the driveway of a sprawling estate, complete with a bubbling fountain on the front lawn. His house is massive, and for a moment, I question myself again. Do I really want to do this? I don't belong here. He climbs out of his side and meets me at my door, gently pulling me from the seat and wrapping his arms around me.
“If you change your mind, I understand. We can make popcorn and watch a movie. I don't mind.”
His words put my mind at ease. I stand on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck. He dips down when I pull on him, and I place my lips against his. I want this, I tell him without words. He understands perfectly.
He opens the door, and we crash against a wall in the foyer, grabbing and clutching, desperately trying to touch every part of each other at once. The sound of the door slamming shut and Kiptyn’s hands on my body simultaneously startle me. When I jump in his arms, my pulse takes off at a million miles a minute, like a filly in the Kentucky Derby.
The adrenalin rush from the start added to the desire flowing through my blood and has me panting as I tug at his shirt. He pulls me away from the wall to steer me down the hall, back toward what I can only assume is the living room, while I strip his shirt over his head, only parting from his lips long enough for it to pass between us. I feel a piece of furniture against the back of my calves, and I feel as if I’m going to fall. His strong arms circle my waist just in time for us to tumble onto the couch.
I use the situation to my advantage and raise my legs, wrapping them around his hips and feeling his swollen, protruding dick. I can’t breathe. I want him inside of me. My dress is bunched up around my hips, giving him easy access except for the black lace panties that are barely covering me.
“Please. I need it.”
I'm not above begging at this point. I struggle to open his button and unzip his fly while his mouth assaults mine. Finally, I get it open and free him, but before I wiggle enough to get him inside of me, he pulls back, trailing a line of kisses down my chest and over the fabric still covering my stomach to the top of my thigh. His tongue darts out, licking along the top until he comes to my panties. His fingers wrap under them and tug. I lift, helping in the only way I can, and he takes complete advantage of it.
