The sexiest grin I’d ever seen slipped across his face. “Best decision I ever made, hiring you.” He licked his lips and leaned down to blow across the wet flesh.
I lifted my hips, “Prove it!” I taunted and he did, again and again.
***
“So why are we having dinner with this guy again?” I asked while Wes led me into an elevator that would take us to a restaurant at the top of a skyscraper. I’d lived in Los Angeles half a year, and I didn’t think I’d been to a ‘dress up’ dinner once. Reminded me how sad my dating life was. At least with this job, I’d get to experience the finer things…at least I hoped that was a pleasant side effect. Guess it would depend on the client. Right now though, I was holding the hand of what I’d definitely consider the sexiest man alive and thoroughly enjoying myself.
Last night after he took care of me multiple times with his mouth, I returned the favor by giving him what I would consider a top notch blow job. When he was done, we showered together and talked while we cleaned up. When I noticed him get hard, I promptly got on my knees and took care of it, to then have him finger me into another state of sated bliss. It was odd, but I realized this morning that we never had actual intercourse. On top of that, we’d never even kissed. It was by far the best sexual experience I’d had and yet, the emotional side was left to the wayside. Maybe that was in fact the trick? What my best friend, Ginelle, and all my other girlfriends had already figured out.
Fucking…with no strings attached.
It seemed to go against the grain for me. Even though I considered myself a badass, half attitude, eyes always-on-my-goals type of girl, I had still fallen in love with every man I’d ever slept with.
Every single last one of them.
But after last night, I felt better with Wes than I ever had with any of them, and it was all based on mutual respect, friendship, and a heaping dose of pleasurable orgasms. After I had finished showering, he stayed in, and I made my way down the hall, through the living room and face-planted into a cloud. I vaguely remember Wes covering me up and kissing me on my temple with a “Goodnight, sweetheart.” Then I woke to my schedule slipped under the door and bacon and eggs at the breakfast bar. Ms. Croft served both Wes and me as I went over the schedule for the week. Wes explained the finer points, such as whether an event was casual or not, and I’d made notes about clothing, timelines, and the goal for each outing.
It actually seemed like a real job. As if I was a personal assistant to Weston Charles Channing, the Third, and not a hired hooker. Technically, I wasn’t a hooker, even though I did have sexual relations with him on the first date. But, that was because I was horny, lonely, and he was hot, and I felt down about myself. Wes definitely fixed that problem and set the rules. I was perfectly happy with those rules and planned to stick to them. No screwing around with anyone else, no sleeping together, as in going to sleep, and no falling in love. Easy peasy.
Wes pressed the button for the top floor and leaned against the elevator wall. “It’s a meeting with the primary director on Honor number four that I’ve named Honor Code. It’s about a soldier who writes secret messages and codes to his officers while hiding undercover with the enemy. He sends messages to his girl with those same codes, but she doesn’t know what they say until he leads her on a journey toward finding out how to decipher the letters.”
I smiled at him, watching while his eyes lit up explaining his story. “Sounds really romantic.”
He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “That’s the idea. It gets the women hooked on movies that are typically geared towards men. Blood, violence, things blowing up, the military, espionage, things a man’s man can really wrap his head around.”
I nodded and followed him as he led me to a quaint table for four. A man in a suit and a petite blonde were already sitting.
“Mr. Underwood, Mrs. Underwood,” Wes held out a hand to shake each of their hands. “Good to see you. This is my date, Mia Saunders.”
I shook both their hands, and Wes held out my chair. I beamed up at him and his eyes softened momentarily before turning back to his business persona. The pretty blonde to my left said her name was Jennifer, and complimented me on my dress. It was actually a pretty tame cocktail dress. Royal blue jersey with a deep V to offer a nice dose of cleavage, but other than that, it wrapped at the front, tied at the side, and didn’t have any other embellishments. I wore my hair down and had flat ironed it leaving it a shiny black sheet of ebony down my back. The best part of the outfit was the shoes.
Ms. Croft might look like Mary Poppins, but she must have had a gold card membership at Prada, Gucci, and Louis Vuitton, and scoured over the latest trends because she was right on point with these LV ankle booties.
If I didn’t make it a year with this gig, at the very least I’d have some serious cash in designer shoes and clothes I could hock if I had to. These shoes alone were listed as twelve hundred and fifty dollars online. It may sound gold-diggerish, but I had to check.
“The dress is nothing, check out the shoes!” I leaned out a foot and we instantly started gabbing about her outfit, the designer, and what she did all day. Basically, not a whole lot. She was official arm candy and spent her days making sure Mr. Underwood’s needs were met. I figured that meant she did what she wanted all day, made sure his cook made what he wanted, his maid ironed his clothes and kept his house clean and kept herself, his sparkly piece of ass, waxed, buffed, and primed to go when he got home from work all day.
“It’s true; I don’t know what to do with myself,” Jen whispered. Yep, in twenty minutes we were already on a first name basis, and she was telling me her problems. I had that kind of face. Turned out she originally met her husband, whom she married only a year ago at the tender age of twenty-three—he’s thirty-eight—when she was cast as an extra in one of his movies. Apparently, it was love at first sight or lust at first sight. I laughed internally at my own joke.
Twisting my lips to the side, I leaned closer. “Why don’t you volunteer or something. Got any hobbies?”
Her big blue doe eyes blinked happily. “I love to swim. I swim every day!” and it looked like it too. Her body was svelte but not in the anorexic way that seemed to be the theme in Hollywood. She definitely had the fake ta-tas, but they looked good on her size fourish frame.
“You could volunteer at a local ‘Y’?” I offered, but she scrunched up her face and shook her head.
“I don’t think Jay would be okay with that.”
I mulled it over for a minute. “Do you like kids?”
Again, eyes lit up like the candles on a fifty year old’s birthday cake. “I love children! Believe it or not, I used to teach preschool before I met Jay.” She looked over at her husband, and her smile widened. I caught his gaze when it slid to her, and he winked then continued nonstop in his conversation with Wes. She turned to me happy as could be. It was almost infectious how cheerful she was.
“Why can’t you work with kids, or better yet, have some of your own?”
Her head slammed back as if struck, then she looked at Jay and then back at me. “We’ve only been married a year, and we only dated a few months before that. Don’t you think it’s too soon?” she said, though I could tell her wheels were turning.
I shrugged and took a hefty sip of my wine. “Doesn’t matter what I think. It only matters what the two of you think and want. If you want kids, you’re young, have at it. Besides, he’s fifteen years older than you. That’s got to slow down some swimmers. Could take a while.” I leaned back nonchalantly.
As Jen thought about it she became physically excited with her enthusiasm. Her back went straight, her knees started bouncing, and she couldn’t stop fidgeting, or smiling for that matter. Her eyes were locked on her husband. Again he turned, looked at her, but this time he held up a finger to Wes to pause whatever they were talking about. I’d started tuning them out when I realized that Jennifer wasn’t a soulless bimbo.
“What is it, darling?” Jay asked his wife
.
She smiled wide and I swear, that smile could bring peace to the Middle East. “Just happy. And, I can’t wait to talk to you when we get home,” she leaned a hand over and placed it over his on the table. He leaned forward and pecked her lips then nuzzled her nose.
“Is it anything that can’t wait?” he asked with concern, all eyes on her, his focus redirected completely.
She kissed him softly and shook her head. “Nope, it’s good. Very good.”
Wes leaned over and slid an arm around me. “Anything I should know about?” he asked conspiratorially.
“I’ll totally give up the goods later,” I whispered in his ear referring to the gossip.
“I’m counting on it,” he nuzzled my neck. “And I want to know what was up with that, too,” he gestured with a head tilt to the happy couple mooning over one another. I laughed at his blatant innuendo.
Dinner continued without a hitch. Apparently, I’d helped keep Jen busy which allowed Jay to feel at ease with discussing the upcoming movie. Turned out, he was going to let Wes direct a lot of the heavier dialogue scenes between the couple and possibly even the bedroom romantic scenes. I found that hysterical and laughed when he made his announcement.
Wes’s eyes shot to mine and narrowed. “Sorry, I remembered something funny from earlier, don’t mind me,” I covered, but I could tell by the way Wes tucked me into his side when dessert was delivered that I was going to get an earful.
“What was so funny?” he asked when Jay went out for a cigarette and Jennifer went with him.
Twiddling with my napkin, I leaned closer to him. “I’m sorry. I just thought it was funny that Mr. I’m-Not-In-A-Position-To-Have-A-Relationship is going to be directing romantic scenes. It just seemed out of your wheelhouse is all,” I giggled.
He looked as though I’d ruffled his feathers when he brought up a hand to cup my neck. “You weren’t complaining last night.” His voice lowered to that sultry timber I recalled him having when he was issuing the rules. So much so it sent fire shooting through me to warm and soften the space between my legs.
I leaned very close, so close my lips were only an inch or two from his. Definitely close enough he could feel my breath against his lips as I spoke.
“Last night was fucking...” He inhaled and licked his lips. They looked good enough to eat, and I wanted a taste so bad. “...except,” I added, “we didn’t fuck.” I let the word ‘fuck’ roll of my lips with a hard ‘k’ sound. “We had sex, not romance.”
Wes’s hand came up to clasp my neck while a thumb caressed my cheekbone as his lips came impossibly close but still didn’t touch mine. I could practically taste the coffee on his breath from the after-dinner drink. “Is that what you want? Romance?” he asked, his lips barely hovering against mine.
“No, I wanna fuck…“ I barely got the word out before a heavy hand landed on my shoulder.
“You two love birds!” Jay Underwood broke the moment, and we both slumped back into our chairs. I was beginning to think I’d never feel the lush taste of his mouth, the pressure of his lips against mine, and I wanted it…dammit! I was getting very impatient for it, but damned if I was going to make the first move.
Wes covered his mouth with his hand. I’m pretty sure it was to conceal silent laughter.
“Later sweetheart; we’ve got all night,” he promised.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that before,” I fake yawned and lifted my tea and took a sip. Lukewarm. Blech.
His mouth dropped open and he shook his head, green eyes dazzling in the candlelight. “Challenge accepted.”
Chapter 5
We barely made it through the door when Wes twirled me around and used his body to press me into the wall. His lips went instantly to the sensitive skin of my neck. He licked a long trail from my clavicle up to behind my ear. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, goose bumps rising on my flesh as I closed my eyes. Wes’s hands went under my skirt and over my bare ass, as he lifted one leg and then the other with no trouble at all, wrapping my legs around him. He hoisted my tall, curvy frame against his and pressed me harder into the wall at my back.
“I’m going to be so deep inside you, you’ll feel me in your throat,” he promised.
“Fuck,” slipped from my lips as he carried me toward my room.
“Exactly.” He bit down on my neck, trailing his teeth along the slender column.
Every nerve, every pore, every molecule was focused on merging with this man.
Without preamble, he dropped me onto the bed and stood staring down. “Take off your dress,” he demanded. His eyes were black, filled to the brim with lust. I could tell he was taking a moment because he clenched and unclenched his hands into fists, the tendons in his neck bulged with his desire.
I whipped the dress over my head and stood up on my knees in a matching deep midnight blue bra and thong. At seeing me exposed, he sucked in a harsh breath and let it out with a hiss.
“Your turn. Lose the suit,” I said while trailing my hands down to cup each breast. His jaw clenched as he made quick work of dropping the jacket and tie, and opening the dress shirt to reveal that sun-kissed chest I love so much. I bit down on my lip. “All of it. I want it gone.” My voice sounded raspy and needy.
Wes grinned and slowly removed his belt and loosened his pants. He took a condom out of his pocket, ripped it with his teeth, and placed it on his straining erection, all without ever losing eye contact. I lifted my hand behind my back and undid the clasp of my bra. Just as his pants fell to the floor, so did my bra.
“Christ, I can hardly look at you,” his voice held awe. “So fucking gorgeous.” He ground his teeth loud enough I could hear it.
My eyebrow rose and I gazed at all that was his naked glory. Tall, tan, muscles for days, and a thick hard cock ready to please. “You’re not so bad yourself,” I offered while enjoying the view.
“Prove it,” he taunted with a grin. My words from last night coming back to me proved he paid very close attention to our interactions. That made me happy, giddy in a way I didn’t want to think too much about.
Crawling to the edge of bed, I placed my hands on his hard chest. I leaned down and licked the flat disc of his nipple. He moaned, then hissed low in his throat when I bit down on the bit of flesh. His hands tunneled into my hair. I brought my face close to his and hovered around his lips, close enough he could feel my breath against his lips. He licked his own, preparing for that first touch. I didn’t give it to him. Instead I kissed just the edge of his mouth.
“Are you toying with me?” he asked, a hint of playfulness in his tone.
I moved to the side of his cheek, running my chin along it, then licked and nibbled on his earlobe. “Whatever do you mean?” I whispered, making sure to blow enough air against the sensitive spot so he’d understand my intention.
His fingers gripped my hips and looped into my panties, tugging them down unceremoniously. I gasped when the air hit my wet center.
“I think you are,” he countered then pushed me back onto the bed. I fell in a whoosh against the comfy cloud of blankets.
Just as I opened my eyes, his hands were on my knees. He opened me wide, saw my aching moist sex and groaned. He trailed one finger through the wetness. A whimper slipped past my lips when he twirled one finger against the tight, aching knot of nerves. “I’m going to devour you.” His eyes flashed to mine. “But first, I need to be inside you.”
He centered himself over my cleft and pushed just the tip inside. I arched wanting more, needing more. Using the strength of his upper body, he hovered over me. “Watch me take you the first time,” he said, his voice a sexy, possessive growl. And I did. Watched, as he took me inch by torturous inch. The lips of my sex were stretched wide over his girth, his thickness making me feel full, stretched to capacity, more so than any lover before.
I groaned, my head tipping back, no longer able to watch while he pushed that last inch inside. He was already so deep. “Mia,” he whispered, his voice tig
ht. My eyes snapped open and stared at his lust-filled gaze. He braced himself on his elbows and his hands cupped my cheeks. He reared his hips back and slammed home as his lips took mine. United in that moment as one body, there was no Mia or Wes. There was just us.
The kiss was fiery hot, wet, and overwhelming. He plunged his tongue into my mouth the same way his cock rammed into my body. With precision, depth, and so much pleasure, everything that I was, quaked with the effort.
I wrapped my legs and arms around him, holding onto him as he drilled into me, his cock reaching places inside me I didn’t even know I had. He’d triggered feelings so intense I cried out and clung to him as the first orgasm raced through my body.
“Fuck yeah, Mia. You squeeze me so good. Again, sweetheart.” Wes rode me through the orgasm but still didn’t find his own release. Shit, the man was a stallion in the sack. I swear I drew all the aces in the deck when my aunt lined me up with him.
Wes sucked on my lips then pulled himself out of me. Before I could protest, he turned me around and yanked my hips up. “Perfect fucking ass. Damn, Mia.” He smacked one cheek then plowed back into the heat between my legs, even before the sting of his slap left my skin.
“Jesus, fuck, you know what you’re doing,” I moaned and let my upper body fall onto my forearms.
He gripped my hips and set up a punishing rhythm. I could hear the sounds of our flesh smacking against one another. “Need that squeeze on my dick,” Wes growled as he leaned over my body and reached a hand between my legs. His fingers zeroed in on my ‘O-trigger’ and I was gone. Bucking wildly, the walls of my sex clamped down on his rock hard cock until he roared. Three swift plunges more and his entire body stilled, nestled flat against my ass as he pulsed inside me.
Wes collapsed over me, his breath coming in fast pants against the hair of my neck. We were both winded, lost in our combined pleasure. He rolled off then tugged me to his chest. We spent the next few minutes making out like teenagers. The room smelled of the ocean, sex, and the faint remnants of my perfume, Tresor. Pretty much, perfection. If you could bottle the scent, I’d wear it every day.
January (Calendar Girl #1) Page 5
