by Sky Corgan
“That's bullshit, and we both know it. I spoke to Freddie Montanez about you, and he told me that he specifically created that position to match your personality type.”
“If that's true, then why don't you just fire me?”
“It seems we both have a soft spot for pretty, snarky girls.”
I exhale a defeated breath. “So you're saying that you just created the online sales associate position for me. Just like Freddie created the other position for me.”
“Not really.” He glances away, perhaps realizing that the conversation is upsetting me. “I did want to implement a new online chat client for the website. It's the progressive thing to do. But yes, I also wanted to save your job.
“I like you, Ember. You have a good work ethic. As you so brazenly pointed out to me in your office earlier, you've worked for the company for three years. You almost never call in. And it's definitely not like there isn't a place for you there.”
“This isn't making me feel any better, you know.” I'm beginning to wish I would have ordered some alcohol.
“I know. You asked, though, and I wanted to be honest with you. Honesty is very important to me.” He meets my gaze as he says it.
“Is that why you were such a liar in your dating profile?”
“That was different.” He grins.
“Was it?”
“It's obvious that this conversation isn't headed in a good direction. We've already argued about this once today. Let's find something else to argue about.” His eyes brighten in amusement.
“I don't want to argue anymore,” my voice is small.
“Then tell me about your family. I told you about mine. I'm guessing that you were not born with a silver spoon in your mouth.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“No, it's not. I'm just making conversation.”
“Oh.” I sink back into my chair.
The idea of talking about my family makes me uneasy. It's not a happy subject.
“My parents are still married. I also have two siblings. Brothers. One older, one younger. My younger brother has autism.”
“I'm sorry to hear it. That must have been hard for you growing up.”
I inhale deeply. “I don't want to talk about my family anymore.”
“Why not?”
“This is getting a bit too deep for a first date. How about we talk about something else?”
The waitress saves me from any further awkward conversation by bringing our appetizer. We nosh on the spring rolls, and I hum at how tasty they are. When all of the food is gone, I worry that Colton might ask me more questions about my family and past. Thankfully, he decides to change the subject, though I'm not exactly comfortable with this one either.
“So what's a beautiful girl like you doing single?”
“I could ask you the same thing, but the answer is already quite clear to me.” I turn the tables on him.
“Oh? So tell me, my dear, why do you think I'm still single?” He smirks in amusement, eagerly awaiting my answer.
“Because you're the self-serving type. Settling down probably isn't in the cards for you. Frivolous sex is more convenient. Did I hit the nail on the head?”
“Yes and no.” He tilts his head from side to side. “Believe it or not, I have had serious relationships in the past.”
“Until you figured out that you didn't need one to get laid.” I take a long sip of water.
“No one needs a relationship to get laid. I'm sure that getting laid is easy for you too.”
“Except I'm not interested in that.”
“Why not? Sex is amazing.” He shifts his weight.
That queasy feeling returns to my stomach. Memories flood back to me like salt being poured into an open wound.
“I haven't had the best experiences with sex,” I confess.
“Then you haven't had it with the right men.”
“Are you saying that you could make it better for me?” My heart thuds in my chest as I realize I'm taking things in a direction that I shouldn't.
“I could.” He leans forward and props his elbows up on the table.
“I don't believe you.” I turn my nose up to him.
His mouth falls open for a split second. “Miss Washington, I'm hurt.” The mocking in his tone is so thick that I can't help but laugh. “But believe me, I'm well equipped to take care of all of your needs.”
“I don't believe you. A pretty face and a big dick. Sounds like a fairytale fantasy to me.”
“I'll show you later if you're game.”
When he winks at me, I turn about fifty shades of pink. Why did I try flirting with him? I'm definitely outmatched.
Our food is delivered, and everything tastes absolutely delicious. The fried green tomatoes in my salad crunch in my mouth but aren't too greasy. The blue cheese gives it just the bite of flavor it needs.
Colton seems to be enjoying his meal as well. We eat in near silence, which suits me just fine. I spend most of the time trying to decide if I enjoy the date or not. We're still feeling each other out, but I do find him amusing. He seems interested in my life but doesn't push too hard on the subjects that I obviously don't want to talk about. For that, I'm grateful. Plus, despite his filthy mouth, he actually is being quite the gentleman.
“So what do you like to do for fun?” I ask when I finish my meal and the waitress delivers our bill.
“She didn't ask if we wanted dessert.” He frowns.
“It's fine. I'm so full that I couldn't eat another bite.” I rub my tummy.
“I suppose I'll just have to feast on your sweetness later.”
It takes a moment for the meaning of the comment to sink in, but as soon as it does I wave my hands in a no-go gesture. “Oh no. My no sex rule extends to everything.”
“Everything?” He arches an eyebrow.
“Everything.”
“Well, you're no fun.”
“We've already established this.” I nod, standing my ground. “Let's not talk about perverted things when I feel like I'm carrying a food baby, please.”
“A food baby,” he bellows out with laughter.
“Yes, a food baby.” I wrap my hands around my stomach as if there's actually a child inside.
"So what do you want to do for our next date?" He places his credit card in the card holder and hands it to the waitress.
“Our next date,” I parrot as if the words are foreign.
“You seem surprised that I'd want a second date.” He grins.
I hug myself, feeling a bit uncomfortable. “I don't get what your end game is.”
“Does there have to be an end game?” He leans back, looking in the direction of the waitress as if he can't wait for her to bring him back his card.
“There's always an end game with guys like you,” I mutter.
“You don't trust men very much, do you?”
I refuse to let him think that he has me figured out. “No. It's just you that I don't trust.”
“Give me time to make you trust me, then.” His smile softens, and I can't help but feel that he's being genuine. There's no malice in his eyes, no sign of a threat.
“I'll think about it.”
The waitress returns with Colton's card and then we both make a pit stop at the bathroom before heading out to the limo. He stays close to my side, his hand on the small of my back. It feels like all of my energy is focused on that one spot. My body is more desperate for physical contact than I could have ever imagined. It's a little disturbing how much I'm actually enjoying being touched by him, even though it's so subtle.
I keep a good foot away from Colton inside of the limo as we drive back to my apartment. My gaze stays fixed on the floor, but I can feel his eyes burning into me the entire ride.
When we arrive, a sad feeling comes over me from knowing that the date is almost over. Part of me wants to spend more time with Colton, but a bigger part of me knows that's a dangerous idea.
The limo stops, and Colton climbs out
of it behind me. I turn to him, preparing for awkward goodbyes.
“I had a good time,” I tell him sheepishly.
“I'm going to walk you to your door to make sure you get inside safely.” He gestures towards my apartment building.
“Do you really care that much?” I let out a sarcastic laugh.
“I do.” His expression is earnest. It makes me feel a twinge of warmth that seems misplaced.
“Alright.”
I allow him to follow me to my apartment. Tension builds with each step. Can this really be as innocent as him just walking me to the door? I doubt it.
I hesitate before pushing my key into the lock, wondering if he'll take it as an invitation for him to come inside. I'm not ready for that yet, so I stand in front of the door for a few seconds before taking a deep breath to face him.
“Well, this is it?” I smile, giving a solid indication that he should go.
“When do I get to see you again?” There's a darkness in his eyes that wasn't there before. A predatory gaze that has me shivering internally all the way down to my core.
“I don't know.”
“Tomorrow night. I want to see you again tomorrow night.”
“I can't. I have plans.”
“Another internet date?” A muscle in his jaw flexes.
“No.” I lean back against the door, wanting to put a bit of space between us. “It's a doctor's appointment.”
“Are you not well?” His expression shifts to concern.
“I'm fine. It's just a visit with my psychologist. Working with so many disgruntled clients, I need someone to blow off steam to,” I lie.
“Oh,” he sighs in relief. “That's okay, then.”
“That's okay?” I smirk. “We've only been out together once. Are you telling me that I'm not allowed to see anyone else?”
“That's exactly what I'm telling you.” He closes in on me, making my heart skip a beat as he holds my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You're mine now. Only mine.”
“That's a very brazen thing to say.”
“I'm a brazen man. And I don't like sharing, Ember. You should know that off the bat.”
“I don't like sharing either,” my voice is a lusty whisper.
He has me trapped, feeling weak and vulnerable and wanton. Oh so wanton. Everything in me that is trying to resist him is failing. Miserably.
I part my lips instinctively when he bends to kiss me. Fireworks go off inside of my head as our mouths mold together. His tongue peeks inside eagerly, and mine rushes to meet his, tasting him. His hand slips around my waist, and he presses me back against the door. My clit pulses as I feel the front of his slacks bulge against me, and the thought comes to my mind that I could have him if I wanted him. Right now, I could take him into my apartment and be lying beneath him. I could run my hands down the hard planes of his chest and the rippling of his abdominal muscles. I could experience what it's like to be filled by him. Would it hurt? I wonder. Would he be selfish and uncaring? And would he disappear from my life forever the next day, having gotten what he wanted?
That thought makes me want to push him away. I'm just about to when he backs off on his own. He caresses my cheek with the back of his fingers, gazing down into my eyes in a way that makes my legs wobbly. I want him to kiss me again, but I'm so terrified of what all of this is doing to me.
“Tell me you'll see me again,” he says, his deep voice sending my body into a frenzy of desire.
“I...I don't know.” I'm so drunk from just being around him that my words don't even make sense to me anymore. English? What is English?
His lips pull up into a cocky smile, and he takes a step back. “You'll see me again. Goodnight, Ember.”
The space between us feels oddly unwelcome, and I'm left dumbstruck as he turns to walk away from me.
That was it? He didn't push for sex. He didn't advance on me in a way that would make me have to fight him off.
Geez, Ember, he's not a damned rapist. Still, I thought he'd be at least a bit more aggressive. Is that what I wanted?
No, but it's what I had expected. The fact that he's leaving with just one kiss—an amazing kiss that has my soul screaming for more—is almost unfathomable. Surely, he knows he probably could have seduced his way into my apartment. But he didn't even try. All he asked for was another date. And now he's gone.
I want to stand there until I see the lights of the limo pull away, but I also don't want to look like a creeper, so I enter my apartment and subtly peek through my blinds instead. My heart is thudding heavily in my chest, and so many emotions are swirling through me. When the limo finally leaves, I sigh. There's a strange emptiness in knowing that Colton is gone—that I'm alone again. I try to distract myself from thinking about it by getting ready for bed.
While I'm brushing my teeth, my phone buzzes in my bedroom. Excitement bubbles up in me like a shaken soda, and I run with my toothbrush still in my mouth to go check the message, hoping that it's Colton. If that's not proof that I like the guy, I'm not sure what is. It's been so long since I've genuinely been interested in someone that I forgot how good it can feel.
Colton: This is what you do to me.
There's a picture attached to the message, and as soon as I see it, my mouth falls open and a glob of toothpaste trickles down my chin. It's a dick pic. He's standing in front of the mirror with his pants and boxer briefs pulled down just enough for his cock to hang over them. His shirt is pulled up so that I can see his abs and happy trail. My tongue craves to lick down it. His pubic area is manscaped. Not shaven, but trimmed short so that the thick, veiny appendage looks even bigger. Not that it needs amplification. He's big—bigger than any guy I've been with in the past—and his cock is every bit as beautiful as he is.
Shit. How can this guy be so perfect? It's not fair.
I ogle the picture for a good five minutes. Even worse, I zoom in on it like a pervert, examining every inch of exposed skin. This is so not like me. So out of character.
Normally, I'd be disgusted if a guy sent me a picture of his dong. Seeing Colton's, I'm turned on beyond belief.
I set my phone down and return to the bathroom to finish brushing my teeth. As I stare at myself in the mirror, I realize that my nipples are as hard as rocks. They show through the front of my tank top like two beacons. I imagine what it would feel like to have Colton's deft fingers pinching them, and my entire body shivers.
Damn him for doing this to me. Damn him for making me want...
Two can play this game, I decide once I finish my nightly routine. Even though I've already changed, I take off my tank top and slip into one of my sexiest bras. I point the camera straight down at my cleavage and snap a picture.
My finger lingers over the Send button as I question what in the hell I'm doing. Never before have I sent anything this seductive to a man. Yet here I am, about to send Colton a picture of my breasts. Despite the fact that they're covered, it still feels a bit dirty and wrong. Payback is in order though.
I hold my breath and press the button before typing out a message.
Ember: That's all you're getting from me.
A few seconds later, he responds.
Colton: Christ. You have the most perfect tits I've ever seen. Show me more.
Ember: Ask and you shall not receive.
I change back into my tank top and settle onto my bed with my phone in hand, grinning down at it.
Colton: You know I'm going to be jacking off to that picture later.
With a smirk, I turn off my phone, deciding to leave him hanging. Guys hate that, but maybe it will keep him chasing after me.
I lie back on my bed and stare up at the ceiling, an image of Colton's perfect, hard cock burned into my mind. There are flashes of the rest of him too. His stomach. His chest from his profile pictures. The memory of how he looked in his glasses sitting in the limo. I put all of the pieces together like an adult puzzle, and in my mind he's standing naked in front of me. So ready for me.
Masturbating is not something that I do, but between everything that's happened tonight and imagining Colton sitting at home stroking himself off, I find my own hand beginning to wander.
I cup my breasts, squeezing them before pinching my nipples through the rough material of my tank top. It feels like there's a direct circuit connecting my nipples to my clit. As soon as I tweak them, electricity zips from one place to the other. I nearly fall over the edge just from the small bit of stimulation.
“This is what you do to me, Colton Larsen,” I whisper in aggravation, glad that he can't see me. Glad that he can't hear how desperate I sound for him.
I try to imagine what he would do to me if he were here, but there's no good comparison. There's what I want him to do. And then there's the unknown—what he would actually do.
I pull the neck of my tank top down over my breasts, knowing I'm probably stretching it out but not really giving a crap. This is long overdue—allowing myself some bodily enjoyment. And I need it now more than I ever have. No man has made me feel like this.
I take my time pinching and tweaking and tugging on my nipples. I pretend that my hands are Colton's—that he's taking his time lavishing affection on my breasts, one and then the other. I close my eyes to deepen the fantasy, imagining his lips pressed against the blade of my collarbone trailing kisses across it. His hands grow greedy, a bit rougher.
I part my legs for him, wanting to feel his hard length grinding against the wetness of my panties. The slow tease makes me shudder. My hand slips between my legs and I make a hard pass over the crease of my lips with my thumb. My clit responds by pulsing back against it. How would his mouth feel down there? His fingers and tongue? Good lord, I want to know. Want to know so damn bad.
I push my hand into my underwear and touch myself for the first time in years. This part of me has been off-limits. Not just physically but psychologically. The thought of anything going on down there has brought back memories that I'm not fond of. Tonight, though, my mind is focused entirely on what could have happened with Colton Larsen. That alone feels like a breakthrough, a gift that I secretly thank him for.
