by Kailin Gow
Filthy
Dirty
Laundry
Book 2
kailin gow
Filthy Dirty Laundry #2
Published by Sparklesoup Inc.
Sparklesoup.com
Copyright © 2016 Kailin Gow
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Chapter 1
Sidney
I want to. There's no question about that. I want Philip LaFleur to make love to me more than I've wanted anything in the whole world. My body is on fire. My desires have been set aflame in a way I didn't even know was possible. I had no idea that the body could feel so many conflicting and contradictory sensations. I had no idea that the nerves could be brought to such a point of sensitivity where every touch, every breath, every soft caress, is enough to make my eyes roll back into my head, is enough to make me moan in ecstasy.
But I know it's a terrible idea. All these complications – not just the professional relationship, but Kendall's insistence on making my life miserable. If anyone found out about us, I'd be ruined. I'd lose my job. I'd lose the respect of my peers and colleagues. And I would lose my own certainty that I'd gotten ahead because of my talent, not because some guy wanted to fuck me. I'm worried, too, about other things, things I'm embarrassed to admit. They say girls aren't supposed to have feelings about every single guy they hook up with – that in this modern age of ours, we're supposed to be free. Free to fuck whomever we want, like Kiley does. And maybe that's true for some people. But it's not true for me. I'll get emotionally attached – I know I will. And how can I get attached to a man like Philip, who has a different girl in his bed every night of the week?
“Oh, Philip...” I moan softly. “I want to...I really do...”
His hand is delving between my legs, finding the wetness there. His whole body explores my own. His hands are discovering points of pleasure I didn't even know I had.
“I know you want to,” he groans huskily, feeling my desire for him. Feeling how wet I am. “Believe me – I can feel you. I know just how badly you want me.”
“Wait...” I whisper. He doesn't hear me. I say it again, louder. “Philip, stop!”
He pulls back in surprise.
“What is it?”
“Philip, I can't....I can't sleep with you....”
“Why not,” he leans in, slightly. Rubs his fingertips up and down my inner thigh, making me mad. “It can't be because you don't feel what I'm feeling...”
“No, it isn't that...” I fumble for the right words. “It's not that at all. Believe me, Philip. My body is saying one thing...”
“Is it because you're a virgin?”
I look up at him in surprise. How did he know I was a virgin? I'd never told him that. Was it that obvious? Am I so apparently inexperienced? My face turns beet red.
“No...” I stammer. “I mean, I am, but...that's not it. Or at least, it's not just it. Philip, there are so many factors...”
“Then we don't have to sleep together,” he moans into my neck. “Not tonight. Not before you are ready. But I swear, Sidney, I'll make you ready for me.” He kisses me again and I melt into him, biting back a yelp of pleasure. He's such a good kisser, and his hands are on my thighs, so dangerously close to where they meet.
“It's not Johnson, is it?” He narrows his eyes. “You don't want him, do you?”
I hesitate for a moment. I don't want to hurt Johnson, that much is true. And I know getting with Philip will hurt him.
Slowly I shake my head. “Not the way you think.”
“I saw you today with Kendall,” he says, pushing me against the wall. His touch feels almost dangerous. “You stood up for him, didn't you? You'd do anything you could to protect him, wouldn't you?”
I sigh...
“Yes,” I whisper.
“You love him?”
“Yes,” I say, “but...”
He pushes me away. Pulls away roughly, abruptly.
“But not like that...” I try to explain. But it's too late. He's already walked away from me.
“Philip, wait...”
He goes to the light switch. He flicks on the light. Streaming white incandescence takes over the room. And after a moment, after my eyes adjust, I see that the room is filled with flowers. More flowers than I ever have seen before. Roses, violets, peonies, posies, carnations, everything. Lilies and orchids that delicately scent the air with their cool spice.
“What are these for?” I ask.
“They were for you.” Philip doesn't meet my eyes. “I wanted to congratulate you on your first assignment. I couldn't do it properly in the office – I didn't want my behavior to appear inappropriate. And I would have sent them to your place, but I didn't know how private you wanted to be about us. You said you had a roommate...” he sighs. “I didn't realize there was another man in your life, Sidney, or I never would have...”
“There isn't another man in my life,” I say. Softly, but firmly. “Jonson is just a friend. That's all. I don't have any feelings for him. I never have.”
He looks up at me. I see pain and pleasure warring in his gaze. “I shouldn't be jealous,” he says. “I never have been jealous over a woman before. It's never been my place. I'm incapable of monogamy, after all. Or at least – I always have been. I ask nothing but pleasure of my lovers, and I offer nothing but pleasure in return. But with you...somehow it bothers me more than it should. The idea of you with someone else, made to feel pleasure by the hands or lips or tongue of someone else, falling in love with someone else. It unsettles me, Sidney, and I don't know why. I don't like it.” He shakes his head. “I don't like it at all. And yet...”
“And yet?”
“I almost enjoy this feeling that's come over me. Absolute and utter obsession. Desire. Need. It's more than just lust, Sidney. What I've started to feel for you. At first, it was only that. But as I've gotten to know you. You're not just a beautiful woman, Sidney, though of course you are that as well. You're also incredibly cultured, intelligent, dogged, hard-working. I was as impressed by the way you went after that dog food story as I was by your incredible good looks. Your writing turns me on as much as your body does.” He sighs. “I want you, Sidney, so badly I can taste it. Just touching you like this is making me so hard – making me lose my mind.”
I bite my lip. I'm in shock. I knew that Philip LaFleur wanted me – that much was evident. But knowing that he likes me, too, cares about me, wants me...it's an overwhelming sensation. Maybe he's more than just the billionaire playboy he pretends to be for the eyes of the world. Maybe Philip LaFleur is more like the Philip Trellbanks of his articles than he lets on. It's an exciting prospect. A relief, too. Philip likes me for more than my body. He likes me for me.
And right now, all I want to do is sleep with him, let him sleep with me. Give into the desire that's coursing through my body like adrenaline. Give myself over to absolute pleasure. The warmth of him. His muscles. His fingers. But something is holding me back. I want to explore with him, absolutely. And for the first time, I find myself willing to give in...just a little. To experiment with what I want, what he wants.
“Thank you, Philip.” I walk up to him and into his arms, wrapping my arms around him. He pulls me into a tight hug: a warm and tender embrace. I press
my face into his chest – so big, so broad, so muscular, very well-defined. Clearly Philip works out. And he smells so good, too – a warm, masculine musk that overpowers even the scent of flowers. We look up and our eyes lock. I see a kindness, a sweetness in his eyes than I have ever seen before.
I'm not sure how to feel. I'm confused by him, intimidated by his brusque manner, and yet part of me is touched by his sweet gestures, overwhelmed by my respect for the way he lives, his adventures, his history, his skill. One thing is for sure: Phililip LaFleur is complicated. And at times like this, I wish I knew more. So much more. I want more of him: more understanding, more truth. If only I could be sure that I can trust him: that he isn't like his mother or sister, that he isn't the person the tabloids seem to think he is.
“I don't want to have sex with you tonight,” I say, softly.
“I see.”
“Wait...I'm not done.” My voice gets stronger now. “I might want to have sex with you – eventually. When I'm ready. You were right about me being a virgin. But for now...I want to take things slow. Try...a little bit of fun, maybe?” I smile. “If you're okay with that.”
“I'm okay with having whatever bit of you you choose to share with me,” smiles Philip. “I won't pressure you for more. Not like this. You know what I want from you, eventually. But I'll give you time to get there – if you need it. You're worth waiting for, Sidney....”
His eyes are devouring mine. But there's something else in them now. Something beyond red FDL stark desire. A kindness. A look of...admiration.
“Let's get you some dinner.”
He's looking at me like I'm special, like I'm precious. I feel for the first time like I'm truly beautiful.
He bends down, kisses me gently on the lips. And this time I respond with my own kisses: tender, sharp, loving, passionate, as he leads me into his bedroom...
Chapter 2
I wake up the next morning in Philip's bed. It's the softest place I've ever been: silken sheets, pillows with 1000-thread-count Egyptian cotton, every imaginable luxury. The soft morning light is streaming in through the windows. Unlike last night, I'm not hung over. Instead, I'm pleasantly refreshed, enjoying the slow, sensual feeling of opening my eyes and feeling the warm sun upon my face. I love this feeling, I think. I could be happy here.
It's a strange feeling. A scary one. Last night, after all, Philip and I explored one another's bodies. It wasn't the kinky, dark power-struggle he had promised me on our first meeting – not at all. Instead, he was a sensitive lover, a kind one. One who took his time to get me into my comfort zone, and made sure not to keep me out of it. He was slow with me – caressing my forehead, caressing my cheeks, touching me softly with his fingertips. We didn't have sex – he was too much of a gentleman even to ask – but he did find me with his fingers, moving slowly with his thumb over my clitoris, exploring me inside out.
“I don't want to hurt you,” he had whispered. “Not tonight. Not like this.”
“You're not hurting me,” I replied. “In fact...I've never felt better in my life.”
He had worked me with his fingers until I was on the verge of screaming, going over the edge. Only then did he work me with his tongue, allowing me at last to achieve that sweet and necessary relief which I had sought without realizing it since the moment I met him: a rapt scream of delight and ecstasy that practically sent me unconscious.
He asked for nothing for himself. He did not have me reciprocate. “Tonight is all about you,” he whispered. “Your pleasure. Your delight. I want you to come – and feel no obligation to return that pleasure. Another night, I will claim it. Another night, I will come to collect. But for now – I want to enjoy that delectable expression of utter peace upon your face.”
Now I wake up. I'm still in that post-coital blush; my whole body is still shaking from the memory of that first, that best pleasure. Around me: all the flowers that had been in the living room the night before. Clearly Philip had chosen to move them here for my benefit, so that I would wake up to them. What a strange man, I think. So cold – and yet so elaborately caring when he wants to be. I rise with some hesitation, for I wish I could sleep forever. But my flight to Vegas is today, and I know I can't miss it. I wrap myself in the sheet and go over to the window to look at the sunrise. The window is facing west, so I don't see the sunrise itself, but rather the stunning view of the ocean, the waters full of pink rosy light. On the property itself, cherry blossoms bloom and frame my view of the horizon and the sea.
“Good morning, champ!” Philip walks in with a tray of food expertly balanced. “After all the pho we ate last night, I wasn't sure if you'd be hungry – but it turns out, all of our adventures last night awakened quite the appetite in me. And I hope you have just as much as an appetite as I do.”
He's stunning. I almost look away – half-flustered, half-embarrassed – remembering that Philip likes to sleep naked, but right now he's in elegant silk pajama bottoms that hang loose and low beneath his waist. I take him all in. His tanned skin, his flat hard muscles, his perfectly proportioned V-line. The line of dark hair running down to that bulge that...my face flushes as I remember the first time I saw him naked. He was the perfect Greek statue of a man – hardly human at all, but what someone dreamed up as the ideal of what humans should look like. From the waist up he is bare now, and I greedily feast my eyes on his muscular chest, his strong arms, his broad shoulders, his perfect face. I feel so lucky, I think – getting to go to bed with a man who looks like this. No matter what happens between us from now on, I tell myself, I will remember this night and the pleasure I felt in it my whole life.
My mouth is practically watering from desire. I want him again – already? – I can't help myself. I need him.
“I knew you were hungry,” says Philip, catching my eye with a smile. “Breakfast in bed,” he presents me with a tray of croissants, bread, and jams and honeys, along with a bowl of perfect fresh figs. “What a way to start the morning, eh?”
“It looks lovely,” I say, blushing, “but...don't we have to be at work?”
“It's Saturday, sweetheart,” Philip smiles. “The office is closed – but yes, I suppose there are stories to chase, people to call. And we have to get you on the airport for the Conway story.”
“I can't believe I slept over again...” I smile. “What will my roommate say?”
“Does it matter?” His smile is a glimmering one. “What does it matter what anybody thinks – except you, of course. And you seem happy enough to wake up in my bed. Did you like it, Sidney? Did you like looking out of the window at that view – didn't you love seeing what an amazing world we live in just by seeing the way the ocean can be so beautiful at sunrise that it takes your breath away? I'd like you to stay over more often, Sidney...”
“Believe me, I want to,” I say. “But it's not that easy.”
“Don't you love all this?”
“I do,” I admit. “It's much nicer than my little place, my little hard rickety bed, but...it's yours, Philip.”
“So what?” he asks me.
“It's yours...and I'm not.”
“What?”
“Yours?”
His smile darkens into a frown. “Just eat your breakfast,” he says, “we can talk later.”
I gobble down my breakfast. I'm starving, but also nervous. Waking up like this – being with Philip feels like a dream, not a reality. Like I'm not really me.
“So, the story?” I ask brightly.
His face falls. “What about it?”
“I need to find out more about Conway. Where he lives, where he works out...”
“Well, if you can't get out of here fast enough...” he sighs. “I'll tell you more about your assignment. Conway – Johnson should have been briefed on him already; you two can compare notes on the plane. This guy – he's been all over the sports pages, every single outlet for months, since he's rumored to be fighting in one of the biggest prize fights coming up, a fight which has millions of dollar
s of that sweet prize-money at stake. He's the favorite to win, too, which makes this gifrlfriend thing so scandalous.”
“If he doesn't play...”
“The other guy will win by default, exactly, Sidney.” Philip gets that familiar glint in his eye again.
“Okay – so this could be a set-up?” I'm feeling better, now, happy and excited to get the ball rolling on this story. “Is that what you think?”
Philip looks tense. His jaw clenches. “You and Johnson will be staying at the Grand Suites at the MGM. Right on Conway's floor. You'll have access to where he sleeps...and to the Hotel gym.”
“You've put us in the same room?” I ask, surprise.
“No!” Philip nearly roars; I flinch with surprise. Then he calms now. “What I mean is – you will not be sharing either a room or a bed, Miss Stone, as far as I'm concerned. You'll each have your own suites at the hotel. In fact I want you to act as if you don't even know one another. Johnson is there on a fluff piece for the FDL sports vertical. But you...you have a different purpose. You're there on holiday. You want to get a good time, to relax, to enjoy yourself to the fullest, and to maybe make a friend or two while you're there...In fact, you're going to be exactly like...”
“Like who, Philip?”
“You're going to love this,” he grins. “You're going to play the part of a Kendall type. Schmoozing, air kissing, flirting with every man around, looking haughty and too good to be bothered...”
“Great...” That shouldn't be hard. “You should have gotten Kendall to do it, then.”
“Believe me,” he says, “you're the better journalist. And I thought you'd enjoy a bit of role-play...” Something about the way he says it sounds unimaginably kinky.
“You want me to flirt with every man in sight?”
He grabs my wrists, holding them down roughly. “Do I want you to? No. I need you to for the story. Don't let any of them get to you, Sidney. If you get turned on, I want you to think instead of me...waiting for you. Of what I could do to you...”
