by Virna DePaul
“Nope. Not good enough.” I pull her into the dressing area, and note that a loud bell chimes as soon as we enter. I find the largest dressing room, tug her inside, toss our carry-on bags into the corner, and shut the door.
“I am not— What are you doing?” she whisper-shouts as I place her hands at my belt. Her breathing quickens.
“I need help.”
“Help with what?” She’s breathy and flushed.
“I’m not about to undress myself when a beautiful woman can do it for me.” I trace a finger down her throat, and then I lean forward to nip at her shoulder. She shudders. I take her hands and press them against my crotch.
Heather stares at my groin and her fingers play at my button.
I must admit, I usually prefer my women svelte, fit, and with cheekbones that could cut glass. Your usual model types. Heather is the complete opposite: curvy, freckles all over her cheeks. But her lips are a dark rose, and I can’t help but wonder what that blond hair of hers would look like fanned across my pillow.
She’s licking her lips now, and her eyes are glassy. Her nipples pucker against the thin fabric of her blouse. She’s sending me every signal in the book.
I trail a hand down her back, down to her luscious ass.
Her breasts push against my chest. Our lips are only a breath apart. Her bright green eyes look up at me.
“What if someone catches us?”
“Did you hear the bell ring when we entered? It’ll warn us if someone gets close.”
She stills, and I sense that goes a long way toward reassuring her. Thank you God for that bell.
“So long as you’re quiet,” I press, “no one will know what we’re doing. Are you going to be quiet?” I say, raising my brows in a challenge.
She swallows hard. Bites her lip. Then blows my mind when she says, “Yes.”
That’s the only signal I need. I kiss her, taking her luscious mouth, and she groans. God, she’s sweet. When she begins to unbutton my pants, I revel in the triumph.
Yes, you’re mine. I’m going to fuck you and make you compare every other man with me.
The thought of her with another man sends a surge of jealousy through me. I kiss her harder, lapping at her mouth. I want her to know that I’m in control here, that I’m the one conquering. She doesn’t fight me. She surrenders, wrapping her arms around my neck. A minute later, she lowers her arms and I hear my zipper being pulled down as my belt loosens.
I kick off my shoes, and she does the same. I take the pins from her hair and then tangle my hands in its heavy weight. I kiss her pale neck, licking and nipping, and she clutches at my shoulders even harder. I can feel her shivering. So responsive, so sensitive. When was the last time I kissed a woman who gave me this kind of control?
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” I mutter. I cup her breasts, thumbing her nipples, and she tips her head back and moans. Suddenly, we’re wearing too many clothes, and buttons fly as I rip open her blouse to reveal the lacy camisole underneath.
“Caleb.” She says my name as I tear off her camisole. She’s wearing a lacy white bra, and there’s nothing there to enhance her assets. My cock is so hard at this point that it’s painful.
I tug her hair; she digs her nails in my shoulders. I kiss her sternum, feel her heart pounding in her chest, and then I’m unhooking that bra to get to the best part. And they are the best part—so far. Her breasts are soft handfuls, her nipples a dark rose like her lips, and there’s not a freckle on them.
“So pale,” I say. “You’ve never gone sunbathing topless?”
She shakes her head. “Never had the guts.”
Now that is something that should be corrected, but when I swirl my tongue around one nipple, thoughts disappear from my mind. I play with her, sucking and licking her juicy nipples, making them redden even more.
“Caleb…” Her voice is insistent, and I stop to look up at her. “Caleb, I don’t…” She struggles for words.
I take her into my arms. “Trust me, okay?”
She stares at me, and after what seems like forever, she nods. “Okay.”
Chapter Five
Heather
The voice in my head screaming at me to be careful, to not do this absolutely crazy thing, is drowned out when Caleb kisses me again. I do trust him: maybe I shouldn’t, but I do. He took care of me on the flight when I was freaking out, and I’d be a liar if I said that he doesn’t kiss like an angel. Or a devil.
I’m not sure if sleeping with him will take me to heaven or hell, but at this point, I don’t care. As long as I’m with him when we go.
I strip him out of his shirt, and I stifle a gasp when his torso is revealed. Muscular and tanned, he’s practically sporting an eight-pack on his ripped stomach. He chuckles at my look.
“Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?”
Uninterested in letting it be me who’s the only one losing their mind, I delve beneath the waistband of his pants. I’d unzipped his pants earlier, but when he’d started kissing me, I’d gotten sidetracked. Now, though? Nothing’s going to distract me.
His eyes darken as he watches me. I dance my fingers right above his groin, feeling the prickle of hair, and when I delve beneath his boxer shorts, he groans. I cup him through his pants with my other hand, and my entire body shudders as I’m reminded of his size. I thought my ex Bo was a decent size, but clearly, I was missing out.
“Are you just going to play with me?” he growls.
I can’t help the smile that comes across my lips. “Tit for tat,” I tell him. Before he can react, I yank his pants down along with his boxers, and I get an eyeful of the package in question. My God, it’s an eyeful: his cock is long and wide at the top, and a pearl of moisture sits at the tip. I brush that pearl with my thumb, and I can hear him curse.
He’s like steel encased in velvet, and a rush of wetness floods me as I play with him, stroking and massaging his cock. I can’t even get my fingers around him, he’s so big, and I’m not even sure I can take a cock so huge.
He seems to sense my trepidation when he mutters in my ear, “It’ll fit. Don’t worry, sweetheart.”
The thought of him thrusting inside of me with a cock this size? I’m dizzy. I almost collapse at his feet. I hang on with one hand on his shoulder, another continuing to stroke him. To my astonishment, he grows even more underneath my fingers.
“Enough playing.” He bats my hands away and strips me of my own pants, leaving me in my lacy panties. When he sees how soaked I am, he makes a noise of approval in the back of his throat.
“Sit down.” He takes me by the wrist and I sit down on the bench in the corner. He opens my legs wide, and I can’t even think about saying no. I don’t want to say no. I want him to do whatever he wants to me, to my body. I’m completely enthralled with him.
I never do things like this. I’ve always been a sex-within-a-committed-relationship kind of girl. The one time I thought about having a one-night stand, I chickened out and ran back home to drink wine and watch Netflix alone.
Now the hottest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on is kneeling at my feet, his eyes dark, and I’m shivering just from his look. I’m so turned on I feel like my body is a live wire, filled with electricity.
He hooks his fingers in my panties and slowly slides them down my legs. Thank God I shaved my legs yesterday, I think, and I bite my cheek to keep from laughing. I’m hysterical. I’m losing it.
But now he’s leaning upward and parting my sex, and all of my hysterical thoughts flee. I should be embarrassed, but I’m only turned on. He gazes at me, and I hear him groan, deep in the back of his throat.
“Damn, you’re soaking for me, sweetheart. Like a juicy peach I just want to take a bite out of.”
He dips his finger into my sheath, and my toes curl. He’s barely touching—just a butterfly’s touch—but I’m going insane. I hook my fingers into his hair and gasp as he kisses my sex, his tongue coming out to lick me. Licking my folds as he would an ice cream cone, he drives my pa
ssion up, higher and higher, and my entire body clenches. I don’t know whether I’m going to scream or cry—maybe both. Even if someone walks into the dressing room right now, activating that damn bell, I’m not sure I would care, I’m that far gone.
“You taste amazing,” he says, and I can see my juices glistening on his lips. When he takes my clit into his mouth, he delves inside me with two fingers. I bow upward, panting, and he just sucks my swollen bud harder. He’s relentless. My body is on fire, and I can feel the wave coming upon me with each stroke of his fingers inside of me. He quickens his pace, thrusting his fingers inside me as he mouths my clit, and it’s only a few moments later that the wave hits me.
I scream, my body convulsing, and he just holds my hips down with his other arm. I’m shaking and moaning, riding his face, and I hear him chuckle darkly.
I’m a limp mess, panting and gasping, when he grabs his wallet from his Coke-stained pants and takes out a condom. He sheathes himself in latex, and then stands and picks me up in one movement. I’m on his lap now, my sensitive sex brushing against his hard cock, when I hear a bell that tells me someone has walked into the dressing room.
We both freeze. Caleb stares into my eyes, a question there. Do I want him to stop?
Although I’ve just come, I want him inside me. I want to feel him thrusting his hardened length until I’m crying out again. My sex flutters.
Quickly, I shake my head. “Keep going,” I mouth.
He grins, then kisses me, and I taste my own tang on his lips. I feel his fingers delve between us, and then he’s pressing inside of me. My earlier fear that he’d be too big makes me still, but he slides in easily, I’m so hot and wet. But he’s big, and I almost whimper at how full I am.
But I can’t. I have to be quiet.
He presses his lips to my ear and breathes, “Fuck, you’re tight,” as he finally pushes inside of me completely.
I lean back, and he kisses my throat as he begins to shove inside of me in quick thrusts that inflame me all over again. He takes me furiously, using my body for his own pleasure, and I love it. I bounce against him, holding onto his shoulders, and he grunts. He picks up speed; our bodies slap together, and for a second I fear someone will catch us. That we’ll be caught. But I don’t care. I can’t stop him.
I can feel that wave again. It’s going to hit me, and it’s going to be even more intense. I’m trembling and gasping for air, my sex clenching around his cock. He licks my throat, then he freezes and cants his head to the side as if listening to something.
That infernal bell rings again.
“We’re alone again,” he says.
I widen my eyes, silently asking, How do you know someone else didn’t come in?
“Trust me,” he says.
And the amazing thing is, I do.
I trust him to protect me from embarrassment. I trust him to give me more pleasure. He’s a total stranger, but I trust him in a way I haven’t trusted anyone in a very long time.
He licks my throat again and starts thrusting once more, causing me to moan. “Come for me, sweetheart. Let that pretty little pussy come all over my cock.”
No one’s ever spoken to me like that before, but it only arouses me further. I nip at his shoulder, wanting to mark him, and he chuckles that low, dark laugh again. His hands are on my hips now, his fingers digging into my skin, and I’m so close. I gasp; my throat closes. I can’t breathe, the pleasure is so intense.
And then the wave is here, and I’m gone. I spiral, down and down, and I hear him groan, but all I can concentrate on right now is the absolute bone-melting pleasure of this moment.
I collapse against his chest. I can’t move, and I’d be fine if I never had to move ever again. My body is still shaking, and a fine film of sweat covers us both. Caleb tilts my chin up and he kisses me, all lips and tongue and teeth. It’s a kiss that tells me he’s claimed me, and with his cock still inside of me, I know it’s true.
He’s captured a part of me that I’ll never get back. It’s a terrifying thought, but when he kisses me, any fear melts away.
I’m not sure how much time passes before I realize that I’m getting cold, sitting here in the air conditioning, naked as the day I was born. I move off of his lap and we both dress. I leave the dressing room first, stopping at a mirror to make sure I look as presentable as possible given I’m missing some buttons so my blouse gapes open in certain places. The woman who stares back at me is a stranger. Flushed. Her eyes glazed with satisfaction.
I should be horrified.
I’m not.
What an utterly exceptional experience, I think. One I enjoyed and the memory of which I’ll be able to savor during the long, lonely nights ahead.
Several minutes later, I’m looking at a V-neck shirt I think would look amazing on Caleb when he wraps his arms around my waist and kisses the side of my neck. When I turn, he’s dressed and carrying the pair of pants I picked out for him. He holds it up and says, “perfect fit,” and I can’t help but think he’s talking about the two of us and how our bodies had come together so easily.
“I’m glad,” I say. Reaching up, I straighten out his collar, even though it really doesn’t need to be straightened. “You’ll look great for your meeting, or whatever it is you have planned,” I say.
At my words, he frowns and checks his watch and grimaces. “Shit, I have to go. I really do have a meeting.”
He pulls me toward him one last time and ravishes my mouth. Then we pull apart, and for moment, we stare at one another.
He looks conflicted when he says, “Heather…”
I shake my head. “It’s okay. Thank you for helping me through the flight. And as for…” I tip my head toward the dressing area. “Well, it was unusual for me, but it was fabulous.”
He nods. There’s still something in his eyes, though, like he wants to say more, but when I just smile at him, he shakes it off. “Take care of yourself, sweetheart.”
“You too, Caleb.”
Chapter Six
Caleb
I won’t lie, I really wanted to stay and savor every inch of Heather’s body, preferably someplace with a big bed and complete privacy, but I have a meeting with the editor in chief of Bella and can’t risk being late. More than that, I’m strictly a casual sex kind of guy. I don’t do relationships any more, and if any woman screams she’s a relationship-type of woman, it’s Heather, with her fancy clothes and adorable inhibitions. So when she’d basically shooed me along after she’d gotten hers (and I’d definitely gotten mine), I’d tapped down my surprising reluctance to leave her and had done just that.
After checking into my hotel and quickly changing in my room, I head out for the meeting in downtown LA. I arrive at a swanky high-rise and the editor in chief is already seated.
She raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow at my entrance. “Glad you could join us, Johnny,” she says in her posh accent.
“Nice to see you again, Rebecca. Dave, Catherine.” I shake hands with the rest of the group before sitting down.
Although my first name is Caleb, I go by Johnny (from my last name Johnson) after some fashion bigwig basically decided that he preferred it to Caleb. So, I’m Johnny in my professional life.
“Yes, well, we were just about to get started.” Rebecca is in her mid-forties, her hair a dark brown and her makeup minimal. But her clothes are perfectly tailored and she exudes money. Rebecca was born with a silver spoon in her mouth but everyone in the industry knows she fought tooth and nail to earn respect from her peers, as she was often dismissed as a silly little rich girl. Now she controls the world’s most elite fashion magazine.
She probably should freak me out, but Rebecca and I have known each other for a few years now. When I was still doing odd shoots here and there, she was the one who found me work and called me up. I respected her from the beginning; as a result, she’s given me the same courtesy.
“Now that everyone’s here, let’s go over the week’s agenda. Tomorrow is the s
hoot for Talina Designs & Boutique. Talina is an up-and-coming designer. She has yet to be showcased in Bella, but after seeing her latest collection, I know it’s perfect for a multi-page spread.”
The meeting continues with Rebecca going over every single detail, never leaving anything to chance. She can be extremely exacting, but it’s one of the reasons she’s gotten where she has.
When her focus shifts to the other people in the room, though, I find myself thinking about Heather again: her hair flowing down her back, how her entire body flushed when she was riding my cock, how she tasted underneath my tongue. Usually my encounters with women are satisfying—quick and with no-strings attached—but I can’t get Heather out of my mind. I don’t just want to fuck her again, but I want to see her again. I want to rile her and ruffle her feathers and make her glare at me before I kiss her until she moans.
My cock hardens at the memories, and I force them away. I can’t be having a hard-on in a meeting, for Christ’s sake, no matter how hot Heather was. Rebecca already thinks I’m a horn dog who can’t keep it in his pants. If she found out I was almost late because I was screwing some woman I just met, she’d have my head.
* * *
The next morning, Rebecca picks me up in a company car and we drive to Talina Designs & Boutique. Behind us are several other vehicles transporting models and other crew members. When we arrive, I start unloading my camera bag, tripod, and other accessories when Rebecca gets a call and mouths to her assistant Catherine that she’ll be right in. Catherine is a tall, leggy redhead with the palest green eyes I’ve ever seen. I’ll admit, I tried to get into Catherine’s pants years ago, but she laughed in my face. Come to find out, she only has eyes for the ladies.
Catherine and I, plus the rest of the crew, head inside.
The first thing I see is a woman bent over, her ass up in the air. When she stands, her blond hair cascades down her shoulders and I know.
