by Jo Leigh
The truth of the matter was that she was as excited as she could ever remember, her mind taking off in flights of erotic fantasy that grew more exotic as each minute passed. She was glad, however, that she’d insisted they eat. Not only was she fortified, but the tension had mounted and mounted. Now it was her turn. She giggled.
His eyebrows rose.
“Nothing,” she said. “Just random odd thoughts.”
“You don’t want to share?”
She got up from the table and walked around in back of him. “I do. But not my silly thoughts.”
Although he’d put on a bathrobe for the waiter, he’d taken it off as soon as the man had left, so he sat virtually naked. With so much wonderful flesh to explore, she wasn’t sure where to start. Deciding at last, she ran both hands down his chest as she leaned forward, her breasts just touching the back of his head as she closed her eyes and let her fingers do the walking.
His sharp intake of breath was her first clue that she’d done good, and his pebbled nipples her second. She’d be willing to bet that his shorts were quite tight as she circled his nubs. She’d noticed last night that he was very sensitive there, something she could completely relate to.
“Jessica, my God. What you’re doing to me.” Dan’s voice was hardly more than a growl as he stopped her torment by grasping her hands. He stood, turned around, put those same hands on either side of her face and came in for a long, slow, wet kiss.
He tasted of maple with a hint of coffee, and she felt sorry that she hadn’t eaten something more exotically sweet. He didn’t seem to mind.
With the satisfaction of her plan to bolster her courage, she opened her mouth freely to let him in, and in return she grew daring with her own ministrations.
He moved closer to her, rubbing against her, letting her feel what she was doing to him. It was amazing to know what was rubbing against her, to anticipate a rematch, this time with nothing to rein in her abandon.
Wanting Dan was a new experience, why exactly, she couldn’t say. A combination of things, she supposed. His looks were but a small part of it, a delightful benefit. Mostly, though, it was the man himself, his unique approach toward life, his strength, his passion.
As she thought the word, Dan moved his hands down to her belt and loosened it, letting her robe fall open.
It felt daring and wild to be naked like this. It wasn’t the bedroom, and it wasn’t at night, and his hands touched her breasts, cupping them gently, stealing her breath away.
“You’re amazing,” he whispered just before he nuzzled her ear. “So incredibly beautiful.”
“So are you,” she said, hardly aware of the words when her senses were under such sweet assault.
He kissed down her chest until he reached her right nipple, which he took between his teeth, not biting, just holding. Then his tongue flicked very fast, like a lizard’s, focusing on the incredibly sensitive flesh, and she arched her neck with pleasure.
Her hands went to his hair, raking her fingers in the soft strands, gripping him to hold herself steady as he moved to her left breast to repeat his torment.
Then, just when she thought she couldn’t stand another minute, he fell to his knees in front of her.
He kissed the flat of her tummy, then just below. His hands moved to her thighs, applying gentle pressure so she spread them. Knowing what he was about to do made her quiver with anticipation, but he was not to be rushed. He continued his slow descent, swirling his tongue on her bare skin, tasting her, nipping her with his teeth.
All she could do was moan and hold on as he reached her lips. Kneeling there before her, she gasped as his wicked tongue entered her, taking long, slow licks, his own moan merging with hers.
He didn’t dawdle; instead, he found her clit and mimicked his trick with his teeth, taking the tiny bud with infinite care, then flicking, flicking, giving her goose bumps, making her tremble, coaxing loud gasps as he went on and on, unrelenting until, in less time than she thought possible, she cried out with an orgasm that shook her to her toes.
So violent were her spasms that he lost his grip, and when she finally opened her eyes, still gulping great drafts of air, she found him staring up at her, watching as if it was the most fascinating and wonderful thing he’d ever seen.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. Her body continued to shake, and she realized with a guilty start that she still had his hair in her fists. She let go, but before she could apologize, Dan was on his feet. The next second, he ran his hands down her sides until he cupped the back of her thighs, then she was up in his arms, her legs wrapped around his back, her arms hanging on to his neck.
He kissed her as he walked her backward, the taste of him her taste, sultry, dark, erotic.
A moment later and her back hit the wall, cold even through the silk of her robe.
He looked at her, his eyes smoky and dangerous. “Come again,” he whispered. “Let me watch you. Come.”
Then she felt the hard pressure of his penis as he searched for her opening. When he found it, he thrust in so hard, her head hit the wall, but she didn’t even feel it. She was too busy gasping at the incredible sensation of fullness, of perfection.
Then, bracing them both, he started his assault, slowly at first, building in speed and pressure. The way he rubbed her, by some delightful fluke of nature, his length slid over her swollen clit, in seconds wringing out another climax, stronger, if possible, than the first.
His gaze never wavered, his eyes never closed, and she struggled to keep from closing her own. They stared into each other’s souls as he pushed into her over and over, faster and faster, until finally, he cracked, and every muscle in his body, in his face, tightened to fever pitch, and then he cried out, a long, low guttural cry of release.
After several quavering breaths, he opened his eyes again. He kissed her, the fever still in him, but waning. She could feel his trembling as much as her own as he stepped back, guiding her to her feet.
She wasn’t terribly steady. Holding on to his arm, he walked her over to the couch, where they both sat, catching their breaths.
He held her hand. The simple gesture struck her as impossibly tender. They didn’t speak, didn’t need to. A single thought repeated over and over in her mind. Perfection. Her plan was perfect. She could live a long time on memories of this. Anticipating this. When they finally did get together, it would be fireworks and earthquakes. Yes, it was the very essence of perfection.
She lifted his hand to her lips, kissed him gently, and whispered the word aloud.
HE’D SPENT the afternoon taking a long nap. It was hard to believe she had to work. If she felt anything close to what he did, she must be a wreck. After that earthshaking encounter after breakfast, they’d showered together, and things had led to things. He was pretty damn proud of himself. Tired, but proud.
He’d decided to eat some dinner at a nearby Mexican joint, careful not to dirty his tuxedo. Afterward, it was a quick cab to Rockefeller Center, and the hoopla at the Rainbow Room.
The guests wouldn’t begin to arrive for another thirty minutes, so it was a little tricky getting past security, but finally they paged Jessica, and she came down to meet him.
Stunning again, this time in a dress that was to his eye pink, but she informed him it was actually ashes of roses. Whatever. She looked like a million bucks, and he felt like the king of the world walking into the venerable old club.
Some things never change, and for that he was grateful. The Rainbow Room still had that thirties art deco look, with a revolving dance floor, killer views of the city, including the Empire State Building, and the best damn bands the country had to offer. Tonight, one of his favorites: Harry Connick and his Big Band. Gotta love it.
“I’ve missed you,” he said as soon as they were out of earshot of any roving workers.
She smiled. “Believe me, I would have preferred to stay at the hotel.”
“Uh-oh. Owen?”
She nodded. “He’s shadowing me, reg
aling me nonstop with tales of your unbelievable rudeness. He suggested most strongly I should break up with you. Actually, I think he wants me to dump you in the East River with a block of concrete, but breaking up would suffice.”
“I have to say this for him, he’s consistent.”
“That’s for sure. I just wish he would stop being such a consistent jerk.”
“I’ll do my best to keep him off your scent, but it’s not going to be easy.” He leaned forward and nuzzled her neck. “You smell so damn good.”
She ran her hand down his neck. They turned at the same moment to meet in a kiss that reminded him just how lucky he was.
“How long do we have to stay at this shindig?”
“Till the bitter end.”
“Suppose anyone would notice if I, say, hit the fire alarm in about an hour?”
“Cute.” Jessica kissed him quickly on the mouth. “Very cute. But I need you to be a good boy. Go find my boss and neuter him, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ll find you when I can.”
“Oh, goody.”
She sighed.
“One thing, though. You owe me a dance. I didn’t get the last one, and I won’t leave without it tonight. Especially on that revolving dance floor.”
“All right. I promise. Now I have to get back to work.”
“I know. But think of me.”
Touching his sleeve lightly, her expression grew sad. “That’s all I’ve been doing. Which isn’t so good. I need this week to be perfect.”
He touched her chin, lifting her face until her gaze met his. “We’re fine,” he said. “So you can safely put me on the shelf until it’s convenient to bring me out again. I won’t mind. And I’m not going anywhere.”
“Thank you,” she said, and he could see she meant it. “I’ll try. But you’re not that easy to forget.”
“I’m trying hard to see how that’s bad. No, I’m kidding. I mean it. The place looks fantastic, you’re the most beautiful woman in New York, and everyone in America and beyond is going to rush out and buy New Dawn cosmetics. So just go with the flow, my love. You’ll be perfect.”
Jessica kissed him one more time, only this time she lingered. When she walked away, he had to fight the urge to follow.
Better instead to use this energy to find Owen. The little weasel.
JESSICA STOOD at the edge of the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, but her gaze wasn’t on the spectacular view. She watched the dance floor, the banquet tables, the bars, as the crowd enjoyed the festivities. Even she had to admit, this was one hell of a bash.
The room, maybe the most elegant in Manhattan, sparkled. The walls and floors had a rich and subdued color scheme with full-length mirrors between narrow wall panels covered in brown satin. The emerald-green carpets blended perfectly with the jade-green leather-upholstered chairs. Mirrors, crystal, especially the magnificent chandelier above the dance floor, made everything and everyone in the space radiant.
The slide show, running continuously on the wide screen above the bandstand, was the best she’d seen of its kind, worth the incredible hours of hard work she’d put into it. New Dawn was having one hell of a send-off, and the movers and shakers of Manhattan were all in attendance.
From where she stood, she could see Oprah, John Travolta and his beautiful wife Kelly Preston, Chris Noth, Barbara Walters, Kate Hudson, Gwen Stefani, Marla and Shawn, and a host of InStyle magazine regulars. But none of them held her attention; she only had eyes for one man.
There he was. At the edge of the bar, staring right at her. The sexiest guy in the room.
He lifted a martini glass in tribute, drank a bit, then put it carefully on the bar behind him. Then he headed toward her, artfully dodging dancers, drinkers, models, reporters, waiters. The nearer he came, the faster her heart beat. Everything about him, the way he looked in his tux, the insouciant lock of hair, the very way he moved, all grace and raw sex appeal, made her feel as if this was her first date. It was crazy, really, for it to hit her so hard, so fast, but it was utterly undeniable.
He passed the last barrier to join her by the window. He lifted her hand and kissed the back. “I believe we have this dance.”
She glanced at the bandstand. “There’s no music.”
“There will be.”
She couldn’t say no, but she did hope real hard that she wouldn’t make a complete fool of herself. She had a seriously limited sense of rhythm. She could keep the tempo of anything by John Philip Sousa, but beyond that, she was rather hopeless. Dancing was mostly to be avoided. But tonight she wouldn’t dream of it.
Because the band had taken a break, they were alone on the dance floor. All around them, the room buzzed with conversation and laughter. None of it penetrated their cocoon.
He put his arms around her, drew her to him. Her cheek went to his chest as she snuggled close. They stood quite still while she counted his heartbeats, and in an act of magic, her rhythm became his rhythm, her breath, his.
To complete the moment, to honor his promise…music.
The song was that lovely Hoagy Carmichael tune “The Nearness of You,” so romantic that it carried her on wings. He led, she followed, and together they were exquisite grace.
When she lifted her chin to look at him, she realized he was singing, very softly. That he knew every word. Not just that, oh, no. She knew that every word was meant as a promise from him to her. For this dance. For this night. For…
Why Men Are Happy To Be Men
1) Phone conversations are over in thirty seconds flat.
2) A five-day vacation requires only one suitcase.
3) You can open all your own jars.
4) If you are thirty-four and single, nobody notices.
5) Same work…more pay.
Source: PLiG “Being a Bloke”
http://plig.org/things/beingabloke.html
14
TOO TIRED TO MAKE LOVE when they got back to the hotel at three, Jessica did pull him with her into the bedroom. “Is this okay?”
He nodded. “More than okay.” He kissed her, then brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Go do your stuff,” he said. “I’ll wait.”
She smiled with an effort, not because she didn’t appreciate his gentlemanly behavior, but because she was just too exhausted.
When she got back from the bathroom, Dan had stripped down to his shorts, a nice silk plaid. She thought about the last time she’d seen him in boxers. They certainly hadn’t fit him that loosely.
How was it possible to feel so aroused when she was ready to drop. Strange, strange.
By the time he got back to the bedroom, she was tucked beneath the comforter, wearing nothing at all. Normally, she slept in a nightshirt, but she wanted to feel Dan next to her.
God, how he’d made her feel tonight. Like a princess. Like the luckiest person in the world.
She’d seen how the women at the party had looked at him. Enviously. Greedily. Even the most glamorous and celebrated of the party guests had coveted her.
In one way, it made her feel smug, powerful. But the attention was also a bit intimidating. When people looked at them, she wasn’t who they were looking at.
“Hey,” he said as he crawled in beside her. “Did I mention how much fun I had with you tonight?”
She nodded. “A few times.”
“Did I forget to say that you were the most beautiful woman there?”
“Uh, nope.”
He turned on his side, putting his arm around her waist. “How about that I’ll never forget dancing with you? That you made me feel like Fred Astaire?”
“Me? You’re the one who can dance. I can’t believe I didn’t step all over your feet.”
“Nonsense. You were an angel with wings.”
“And you’re full of baloney.”
He got that shocked look on his face. “You wound me.”
“You’ll survive.”
His eyes softened as he leaned forward to kiss h
er chin. “You should probably know that if I had an ounce of energy left in my body, I’d be ravaging you about now.”
“And you should know if I could stay awake, I’d be letting you.”
“Okay, then.”
“Right.”
He kissed her again, but not on the chin. This one lasted a lot longer, too. But finally, he pulled back, she settled down, and they slept, their bodies nestled together like spoons.
MARLA WALKED into the hotel pressroom to find Jessica talking with the editor in chief of Glamour. Listening without looking like an eavesdropper, she couldn’t help admiring Jessica’s aplomb, her ease, her wit. Marla still wanted to grow up to be just like her. But before she got all adult and stuff, she was champing at the bit to tell her boss everything that had happened in the last few days. Not the work stuff, because Jessica knew all that, but the Shawn stuff.
In the meantime, Marla checked in with Cord Wilson, who, with his team, staffed the press booth. They were in charge of tonight’s shindig, a press party aboard a boat that would cruise along the Hudson River. Marla was going, of course, and so was Shawn.
Just thinking his name made her sigh.
“What’s wrong?”
Marla spun around to find Jessica right behind her. “Oh, I thought you were with the Glamour editor in chief.”
“We’re finished. Why did you sigh like that? Are you okay?”
“Oh, yeah. Very, very okay.”
Jessica smiled. “I gathered that last night.”
“Really? You saw us? I mean, you saw he was, like, talking to me, and we were kinda together. Like a date?”
