Before she consciously realized it, she found herself responding. Her body heated and her moan vibrated through her. By the time he opened his mouth, she craved his taste and deepened the kiss on her own. As if thinking with one mind, the moment their tongues connected, they grabbed each other. He pulled her in tight against him, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had truly been kissed, kissed well and by someone who seemed to need the contact as much as she.
“Gorgeous.” He growled the word and tilted his head, giving her another kiss, this one hard and demanding. “Sexy.” He slid his lips down to her neck and cupped her breast in his hand. “Magnificent.” Once more he found her mouth.
Her body flooded with a need she’d suppressed for far too long. As he caressed her every curve, she took him in as well, running her hands down the muscles in his back and over his stomach. The man was built, the ideal combination of lean and strong.
A haze of lust clouded out her good sense, her mind, even reality. All that existed were the two of them, their hands, their mouths and the thrilling sensations igniting her body on fire. Acting on instinct, she grazed her palm over the massive bulge in the front of his expensive woolen pants and her mouth watered. If his kisses were any indication, he would be an extremely satisfying lover.
"Yes." In a sudden move he pushed her up against the wall and kicked the door closed.
The complete darkness gave them the invitation they needed to let loose. While she worked the buttons of his shirt, he tended to her chest, pulling her corset down skimming his hands over her tight nipples.
"You're perfect." With reverence, he dipped his head down and kissed each one of her breasts, first the tops and at last drawing her hard peaks between his lips, taking his time to pay attention to each one.
"Oh, God." She twisted his hair in her fingers and even in the dark closed her eyes, allowing all the delicious sensations to take her away. With her writing she tried to take in every sensation, every experience, and this would be no exception.
Their kissing never let up. Though they each took their turn to lick, taste and suck down one another's neck, or in his case, her breasts, their paths always led back to their mouths.
In this moment she craved more, in fact, demanded more. No one ever touched her like they couldn't get enough. She curled her leg around his and drew him closer, grinding their bodies together.
"Damn." He snaked his hands up her skirt, skimming his palms over her bottom, his body movements mimicking what she really wished they were doing.
"Oh." Her breath came ragged. The only word echoing through her mind was more. She wanted it all, every last morsel. Almost beyond her control, her hands made their way to his belt buckle.
He took it upon himself to help her unfasten his belt and pants. Right as his thick erection sprang out into her palm, his fingers snuck between her thighs, the evidence of how much he turned her on more than evident.
Though her hand barely made her way around him, she stroked his length, enjoying the way he moaned and bucked his hips. She soon joined him when he moved her panties aside and circled her most sensitive spot with his thumb, taunting her delicate flesh but not giving her nearly enough.
"Please." Her head spun, if he weren't supporting her, she would crumple to the floor.
At her plea, rather than satisfy her, he removed his hand.
The pain of unrequited arousal radiated through her. She sucked in her breath and prepared to take this jokester out when she felt him fumbling around and heard the satisfying snap of cellophane giving way on what had to be a condom wrapper.
Curse her, but there was no way she was going to stop him. Before she could second-guess her decision, she grabbed him, ensured the condom was well in place and guided him inside her.
"Ah." While she was more than thoroughly aroused, his size still stretched her and she dug her nails into his shoulders.
"God, you're tight." He crushed his mouth to hers.
Between his kisses, his hands gliding over her legs and his slow yet powerful thrusts, she couldn’t reflect, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but focus on her insatiable need that only he could quench.
Using the wall and him for leverage, she managed to move with him. He inched her leg up to around his waist and she cried out as he made his way even deeper inside her.
They writhed against one another, together but each lost in their quest for the ultimate pleasure. Already the telltale throb began to resonate through her. Her arousal never peaked quite this fast, but her end was drawing near. "More." With her primal needs taking over she seemed to only be able to muster one word at a time.
"Come for me." His voice came out strained with exertion and he drove into her, giving her what she had to have. "I need to feel it."
Her words left her and she nodded, her body tensing, the pressure mounting. She held her breath. Almost, almost.
"Now!" He continued his assault on her body, hitting her in exactly the right spot.
At last her body let loose her pent up energy in a series of glorious explosions. Even submerged in the darkness she saw stars before her eyes. "Ah!"
With urgency, he sped up, his strokes erratic until he slammed into her. "Damn."
Their bodies oddly in unison, they pulsed in time, drawing out the other’s climax.
They also came down together both panting in an effort to catch their breath and holding on to each other.
"Tell me your name and I’ll tell you mine." Like a good, appreciative lover, he stayed put and nuzzled her neck.
With her euphoria clearing, she shook her head. What had she done? "I don’t think either of us need that information now."
"On the contrary, I need to know what name to call out tonight when I make love to you again in a more proper location." He kissed up her jaw line to her lips. "Come home with me."
Part of her appreciated the invitation. The other part of her lived in the real world. She summoned all her strength and pushed him back. His body left hers, leaving her feeling oddly empty, and she did her best to straighten out her clothes. "I think we both need to get to our respective homes." With her clothes relatively put back together, she leaned down and felt around on the floor until she found her bag.
"Don't tell me you didn't feel what I did." The moment she straightened up, he grabbed her wrist.
"I think we both needed a release and we found it. Thank you, I'll sleep well tonight." Her door was closed to anything more in her life. No one ever stayed even after they promised. She shook him off her and opened the door. Thankfully, the club was packed and she could blend in and sneak out without anyone being the wiser, though she couldn't say the same for the man who called her gorgeous.
"Just let me see you again." He came up behind her.
Before leaving she glanced back at him and sighed. No doubt in the clear light of day his taste would change. Finally, she walked away. Sleep might not be in her future after all.
Chapter Two
“WHERE ARE THE LIZARD SKINS I asked for?” Blake held his hand out expecting one of his interns to give him what he requested.
“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Without knocking, Sam entered his studio. “What is all this?”
A quick glance around the space told Blake he made quite a mess in his creative frenzy. Sketches, muslin, art boards and fabric were strewn everywhere. It was wonderful. “Our new line.”
Sam walked the perimeter of the room, nodding, touching a couple of the fabric swatches, and letting out a noise of approval. “I see the source of the inspiration.”
“Military meets anarchy.” With another idea flashing in his mind, he dashed over to his sketchpad. For the runway, he could build a traditional corseted dress, but for ready to wear they needed a solution to allow women to breathe. That would take it to a whole other level. “We need to reinvent the corset.”
“Interesting.” Sam continued to stare. “Who did yo
u summon to take you home last night?”
At the mention of the night before, he couldn’t stop a smile. The afterglow still lingered. He had never been so raw or free. She brought it out in him. “I didn’t go home. I took a taxi here and started working.” Lucky for him, he had plenty of samples of his men’s line in his studio. He changed his clothes and with the scent of his muse’s perfume still lingering on his skin, got to work.
“I see this.” His tailor leaned over and pointed at the sketch. “A corseted bodice attached to a traditional top. I have some fabric ideas.”
“Yes. It needs structure not suffocation. Last night, I could feel how the boning dug into her skin. I wished I could have just taken the whole thing off.” At realizing he spoke aloud, he turned his attention back to his drawing, but more accurately he wished he could have seen her breasts pouring out the top of that contraption. “I’m thinking a long coat will pair with this nicely.”
“Wait. Hold on a minute.” Sam put his hand over the paper. “Let’s rewind to that boning. I thought you just wanted to talk to her.”
“Well, we did speak.” He glanced over at one of his vision boards. The main image was missing. “I should have taken her picture last night.”
Sam elbowed him and looked down at the floor. “That was quite a conversation.”
Part of the condom wrapper from his back room mind altering savage sexcapade lay there just shy of the garbage can. He bent down and tossed the evidence of his enjoyment in the trash. “After our conversation, we got to know each other better.”
“What’s her name?” Sam strummed his fingers on the page.
“We didn’t get to know each other that well.” The frustration of having no way to contact her except by stalking the club built up in him, and he pounded his fist into his desk. “She wouldn’t tell me her name. Called our lovemaking some release, and walked away, and I’m not going over to that club to find her.” Nodding at his own conviction, he returned to his dress form and fiddled with the best way to drape his fabric.
“Does she know your name?” Again, Sam followed him. He took a pair of scissors from the side table, folded the fabric and cut it in precisely the right spot.
“I’m thinking in the apocalypse, clothing would need to be functional as well as well structured, and in this case, that would mean a shorter skirt.” He blatantly ignored the question.
“What function would that be?” Sam knelt down and cut the skirt.
“Giving the men something to look at while we fight off zombies and nuclear sized insects.” The outfit definitely needed lots of visible closures, zippers, snaps and whatnot.
“Owen Montgomery Blakeney!”
Yet, another person entered without knocking, this one in the form of father number one. Blake refused to turn and face him. “I am creating here.” His whole life he was told his creative endeavor and comfort came above all else.
“What kind of sexist filth is spewing from your mouth?” Father number two joined in.
Blake narrowed his eyes, spun on his heel and faced his parents. In his post coital euphoria, he got his fathers involved when he asked them for help in researching some of the military styles. “If one had to run from a zombie, a short skirt would definitely be preferred over a long flowing skirt that could get caught in some sort of machinery or whatever.”
Father number one, or Mr. Henry Owen, shrugged. “I think a woman could kill a zombie, or a bug, as well as a man. To this day your father comes to me when there’s a bug in the house.”
“I don’t like bugs, but if there was some huge zombie bug attacking you or our son, or the son of our son’s mother, I would most definitely kill it.” Father number two, Joshua Blakeney, came forward with a stack of books in tow. “I found what you asked for, and I think you need to make the skirt an inch shorter.”
Yes, he was named after his fathers’ last names. Yes, he had two fathers. Yes, Sam’s mother was his birth mother and they grew up closer than brothers. Yes, he was the only kid in school with this arrangement long before it was taught in school, and no, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
His middle name, Montgomery, came from the last name of his fathers’ mentor in school who understood them and taught them enough to open up their estate appraisal business. The two men in front of him knew more about furniture, fashion, jewelry and real estate than anyone.
“Thanks.” He cleared a spot amid the mess.
His dad hoisted the books on the desk. “I marked some pages.”
“I found a brooch you may want to use.” Henry held out a gold bauble. “Circa 1930.”
“A griffon.” Part lion, part eagle, the mythical animal was king of both land and sky and used throughout the centuries for their symbolism. “This is perfect.”
“It’s also a Trifari.” Joshua clicked his tongue and nodded. “Some of the best vintage costume jewelry.”
“Hopefully this helps with the inspiration.” Henry glanced around the room. “Though by the looks of things, something spurred the creativity.”
“Amazing what a night in a club will do for inspiration.” Sam piped in, his voice muffled from the pins he held between his lips. “Actually, amazing what a night in a waitress in a club will do for inspiration.”
Both his fathers turned to him.
Now on the spot, he opened his mouth, closed it and then opened it again. “I don’t even know her name.”
Henry crossed his arms.
No, no, no. Not the treat your partner right speech, treat him or her like you were treated. Lord, he heard this too many times to count. “You don’t understand. I asked her out, I practically begged. I was all set to take her anywhere she wanted to go and be a gentleman.”
Josh squared his jaw and tapped his foot.
Blake held up his hand trying to stop the words before they began. “I told her she was gorgeous, she walked away from me. I bribed the wait staff to tell me where she could have gone. We ended up in the back employee locker room and things sort of progressed.”
Since neither parent moved, and he didn’t really want to explain in any more detail what he meant by progressed, he skipped to the end. “I never experienced such an instant connection to someone. I tried to get her name, I tried to give her mine, but she was having none of it. Then I was overcome with inspiration and came back here before I lost it.” A sick nausea bubbled through his chest. Maybe he didn’t lose the moment, but he lost her, or misplaced her, or more precisely let her slip through his fingers. “I need to find her, I need help.”
“What can I do? What can we do?” Joshua dashed toward him and turned back to Henry. “Our son needs help.”
“I suppose we could go to this club and speak with her, or maybe we should hire someone.” Henry took his cellphone out. “Perhaps some sort of entertaining telegram?”
Blake returned to his chair.
“Blake.” His father turned his cell phone toward him and then toward his other father. “Look, this one comes with a man dressed in a heart costume and will sing any song you choose.”
“If Blake is going for the whole post apocalypse thing, maybe we should actually send her a telegram? That distinctive type face is very indicative of the time.” Joshua rubbed his chin. “I believe we may even have some of that yellow paper, it would really put an air of authenticity on the whole thing.”
“Perhaps, Blake should go to the club himself.” Sam came forward. “I think that idea would be revolutionary and much less bizarre.”
Everyone in the room turned to him. Blake considered the options. Singing heart, real telegram, his fathers or him. The sheer thought of seeing his nameless muse scintillated his senses, and she seemed like the type who wouldn’t be impressed by a singing person in a costume. He supposed he could try a different tactic. “Let me tell you what I really need help with.”
Both fathers moved closer to his desk.
“If you wouldn’t mind making actual copies of the pages you marked so I don’t have to rif
le through the books, and also I am looking for interesting buckles and buttons. He stood and checked his pants for his wallet and phone. “I’ll be back shortly.”
“Going to the club?” Sam called out.
“Get my lizard skins.” He dashed out the door.
Chapter Three
Intimate strangers
I don’t know his name
In the darkness he followed
It’s some kind of game
An explosion of passion
Veiled by thick smoke
I saved myself
Before I could choke
THE WORDS EXITING LUNA’S mind today were on point. With care she folded the paper, slid it in the front flap of her bag and continued her stroll through the LA Fashion District, the part of downtown that sold all things clothing, accessories and notions.
Too many tourists crowded the few city blocks in search of some great elusive deal on luxury goods. She doubted many true designers walked these streets.
Of course, her most pressing question was if one designer in particular called this area home, or if he was a designer at all.
As she passed by a store specializing in fabrics, a piece of intricate black lace displayed in the window caught her eye. Though never one to make her own clothing, or do more than pick up a shirt or dress or two at some shops in Hollywood or from friends, she wanted to understand the allure. She decided to experience what it would be like to actually choose fabric and contemplate every detail involved in constructing a garment.
She entered the store. The options were overwhelming. Rows and rows of bolts of different colors and types of fabric were stacked to the ceiling. How did one choose? Was it an organic process or did clothing designers come to a place like this with a list of what they wanted?
Mr. Dressed and Nameless seemed enamored with her clothing. He also seemed enthralled with her and enamored with her body. Though their lives converged for only a moment, no one had ever made her feel so desirable.
Come Undone: Romance Stories Inspired by the Music of Duran Duran Page 2
