Desire: Ten sizzling, romantic tales for Valentine’s Day!

by Opal Carew

  “I want you, now.” She cupped his balls and they swelled tight.

  “Not yet, Red. I must have a kiss.” He leaned down, tracing his tongue alongside her full bottom lip.

  “That tickles.” She giggled.

  “Good.” He loved it when she laughed. He traced his tongue over her top lip. Convinced she’d let her guard down, he said, “It’s time we talked.”

  “Fuck first. Talk afterward.”

  The limo accelerated as they hit a bump. They must’ve made it across town. Soon, they’d be at the airport.

  Warner gripped her chin in his hands and butterfly kissed her right cheek with his lashes. He hoped to make her laugh again.

  After their tongues waltzed, he confessed, “You were on my mind throughout the conference. I was giving the speech, but my thoughts were racing over Taddy Brill.”

  “Honestly?” She gave off an unfamiliar shyness he’d not seen on her before.

  “Definitely.” You are clueless, Taddy, when it comes to how I feel about you. He kissed her again and again, holding her face in his hands, inhaling her tuberose.

  “This is on my mind.” She grabbed his hard-on.

  “What else is on your mind? Tell me.” He encouraged her to be verbal. She’d tried to shut him up so many times during their lovemaking that weekend. He adored it when she talked dirty to him.

  “I haven’t eaten lunch yet today.” Taddy unfastened her pavé diamond karat white gold bangle from her dainty wrist. After placing her jewelry to the side, he kissed her hand. She wrapped her fingers halfway around his penis.

  “Are you telling me…?”

  “I’m telling you I’m hungry for you. I devoured you for breakfast, and I’d like to order the same for lunch.” She stroked his cock harder. Her lips slipped over the sensitive tip of his dick. His penis’s slit rested, right there, at the edge of her mouth. Taddy traced her tongue in one—two—three long strokes along his shaft and tugged down on his nuts.

  “Baby, you make me happy.” Warner leaned forward, giving in to temptation. He pushed his stiffness into her mouth. She gagged, a little. Panicked, he looked down to see if she was okay. Taddy grinned. His hands held the back of her head and guided her. However, he didn’t push because he didn’t want to offend her. “Red, did you hear me? I said you make me happy.”

  Lost in him, she answered, “Yes, darling.” Her suction increased as she tugged harder on his nut sac. She spread her legs wider.

  “You want this, baby?” He leaned further into her mouth. Hearing her inhale—she became breathless—he pulled out.

  Pissed as a teething baby whose father had taken her pacifier, she argued, “Don’t take what’s mine away from me.”

  “Am I yours?” Waiting for her answer, he unbuttoned his oxford, tearing at the white plastic closures. How many buttons does this shirt have? At last, his shirt fell to the floor. He was naked in his stretch Maybach with the most beautiful woman in the world, and he didn’t want to fuck. No, they needed to talk.

  “Perhaps.” She went back to his cock, licking, pumping, and sucking with a frantic stride. Taddy loved a career challenge, but could she take a personal one?

  His nuts swelled tighter. The air-conditioning blew on his ass cheeks, which were held tight in Red’s grasp.

  Her acrylics felt like meat hooks in his flesh. He couldn’t move. He didn’t dare.

  She sucked harder.

  He’d waited months to find her, and he’d loved having her with him that weekend. She couldn’t leave.

  He gripped her face. “Taddy, stop. I’m going to—”

  The limo’s intercom chimed.

  “Monsieur Truman, we’ll be arriving at the airport in about ten minutes,” his driver voiced over the limo’s speaker.

  Warner withdrew from her embrace. “Thank you, driver.” He turned the intercom off and kissed Taddy again. “You make me insane with desire.”

  “Ahem.” Her sourpuss face returned.

  “We need to talk.”

  “No, we need to have sex.” Taddy grabbed his hands, guiding them under her red mink bra straps. She unleashed their beauty in one fell swoop.

  My, my, my. He knelt back down and admired Brill panorama.

  Her pear-shaped breasts in his hands looked as perfect as a fifty-eight-facet diamond. If the Gemological Institute of America would have graded Red’s breasts, they would be, without question, “FL” for flawless. “I love your breasts.”

  “They haven’t changed much since this morning. Do they still turn you on?”

  “Very much so. I’m in awe each time I see you. It’s a new experience every time. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You’re all I need.” He looked up at her.

  Taddy’s mouth fell open as her eyes glistened.

  He cupped her face in his hands. Get real with me, baby.

  Shaking off her confusion, Taddy gave him a PR-diva smile. “My tah-tahs say thank you for the compliment.”

  “Taddy…” Damn your intimacy issues. He’d get her to open up, one way or another. His attempt to make love in the car had seemed like a good idea, but hadn’t worked out too well. She’d come close, he could tell. Taddy just might start to trust him. He’d love her if she’d let him. “I promise I’ll come see you in New York. I will.”

  She reached forward, holding on to him. “I don’t want to be a clingy girl, but for the first time in my life…I’m weak over you.”

  “Why can’t I be stronger than you?”

  “Vulnerability is foreign to me.”

  “Order a passport for your emotions.”

  “Meaning I don’t like it.” She massaged his biceps. “I’ve taken care of myself since I was a kid. I don’t want to need you.”

  “But I need to want you,” he comforted. “Let’s celebrate us.”

  Taddy wiped her eyes and admitted, “I’m scared, Warner. We hardly know one another, and already my stomach is upset. I’m dizzy. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, ever.”

  “Good to hear, Taddy.” Their feelings were becoming mutual. He held her hands in his. They felt warm.

  “I shouldn’t be talking to you like this. It’s not good for me.” Taddy shook her head and her lips trembled.

  “Why do you fear us? What’s the real reason? Tell me.”

  “No.”

  “Is it your family?” Warner pressed.

  Her eyes narrowed. “I can’t explain.”

  “Yes, you can and will.”

  Taddy swallowed loud enough for him to hear. Her eyebrows rose, maybe with the revelation he was being serious. She offered, “In time, Warner. I don’t want to frighten you.”

  “Nothing you can say will make me run away. I promise I won’t hurt you. I want to get to know you better.”

  “I want to spend more time with you, too.”

  “We can go at whatever pace you’re comfortable with, as long as it’s forward.”

  “Backward would suck.” Taddy huffed into a laugh, but it didn’t come out convincing.

  He pulled her into him. “Do you remember last night, at dinner? When I said you hadn’t felt a man’s touch in a while?”

  “Yes.” She buried her face in his chest.

  “I can also tell you haven’t experienced love. Not in a long time—if ever.”

  “No, you’re right.”

  “You deserve to be loved. Please, let me show you.” He drew her face to his and kissed her. “I’ll show you if you let me.”

  “I’m needed in New York. I’m…” Shaking her head, she closed her eyes, unable to finish her words. Taddy didn’t mean what came from her lips. He knew her rebuttal was bullshit. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her.

  Warner shushed her and held her in his arms as they pulled into the airport. When the limo arrived, he got dressed, stepped out with her and walked her as far as airport security would let him. He’d promised Taddy he’d come to New York on his way to Asia. He gave her the keys to his penthouse, his personal assistant’s na
me, and contact information in Manhattan. Warner guessed she’d never use it. She was Miss Millionaire Independent, but he hoped those ‘strings’ would provide assurance that they’d continue this new relationship.

  I want her to be as excited about ‘us’ as I am. But she radiated terror. His words had meant nothing to her, he could tell. Taddy’s media world was built on hearsay and things that might not ever come into reality. Her personal life was about action. And he’d realized in the limo that talking to her wouldn’t do either of them any good, because she wouldn’t listen. She had to be shown.

  I’ll give you action, Miss Brill. Like you’ve never seen.

  Chapter 18

  Suck It, Blake Morgan

  While stuck talking to Air Euro Airways’ President Monsieur Jérôme du Tautou in the first-class lounge, Taddy had missed her flight and booked herself on the next departure, two hours later.

  A true Frenchman, Monsieur Jérôme didn’t scold her over the Hôtel de France Kiki debacle. Rather, he’d asked to use her Park Avenue residence that summer. Taddy didn’t see his visit as a problem, since she holidayed Memorial Day through Labor Day out east in Bridgehampton with Blake and Vive. Although, after he’d busted her sex toys up, her replacement items would be off-limits. Jérôme promised to arrive with his own dildos, corsets, and whips.

  Late from her Paris connection, Taddy finally arrived home. Her Manhattan penthouse felt unlived in and dark. Díma, already asleep in his servants’ quarters, had left a note in her boudoir which read, “Muffie stopped by. The puppies were good while you were gone. Breakfast is at 8.”

  The city’s summer humidity had settled in early for the spring season, so she set the air-conditioner to sixty-eight. Kissing Ruby, Carmine, Scarlet, and Cherry on their black snouts, Taddy doted over each puppy. Cherry danced in circles, spinning the tucked-in sheets out from the bed’s corners. Scarlet barked with a not-quite-a-dog yelp. Ruby licked Taddy’s dry hands with her tongue. And to finish the list, Carmine waited for Taddy to snuggle her face in his silk coat and kiss his belly.

  She crawled under the covers, but before she closed her eyes, she did what she promised herself she wouldn’t do—Taddy referred to her cell phone. No calls, texts, or e-mails from Warner wishing her a good night. She was familiar with personal disappointment and realized she might have to accept that being in his arms that weekend would never come to more than a Big Daddy good time. If she allowed her mind to fill with expectations, she’d go mad.

  At eight o’clock the following morning, her cell phone chimed with two messages, one from Lex and another from Vive. Leaving them unanswered, she dressed in a Chanel suit, pulled her hair in a bun, and sat in the formal dining room while Díma served her breakfast.

  Díma called the dish zavtrak. She identified it as crap. He considered breakfast an essential meal for the day. His usual preparations included protein-rich foods fit for an Olympic athlete. With a loud thud, he placed a Hermes bowl before her filled with Kasha.

  Yuk. “Díma, darling, didn’t I say you can’t make me suffer like Oliver Twist living in some godforsaken orphanage by serving me this…shit?” Resentment filled her empty belly.

  “Huh?”

  “You can’t put this crap in my good china, either. It dries like flippin’ concrete.”

  “Kasha is good for you.”

  Taddy stared at the gray-brown slop, wishing he’d prepare crepes, eggs Benedict, or lemon poppy seed pancakes. “Why do the Shih Tzus receive better meals than me?”

  “Ms. Brill, please do not start.” For some reason, Díma’s Russian accent thickened in the morning. His muscular body frame leaned over the table, teasing her with his chest as he poured orange juice.

  Once tempted to make him wear a slave collar, she’d settled on a formal black-tie uniform. “Where’s your bowtie?” She shook her head, dropping the spoon in the gruel.

  “Pardon?”

  “I told you, man-cleavage turns me on.” But oddly that morning, Díma’s pectoral wonderment exposed did nothing for her. Zero. Zilch. Nada. WTF? This is a first. Usually I’m sitting here eating my porridge while imagining a cock ride on your Mount Elbrus. She studied her butler’s physique. Nothing had changed. Standing tall, delicious, and Eastern European-imported, he remained a stud—one who, as a rule, she’d fuck. Damn, Big Daddy, get out of my head.

  “Apologies, Miss Brill.” Díma withdrew his tie from his front pocket and slid it around his neck. “Let me cook you something else. Kolbasa won’t take but a few minutes.”

  “Perfect.” She pulled out her papers and jotted down her day’s punch list.

  Not caring if Taddy paid attention, Díma talked to her from the kitchen. He chatted on, claiming to be a distant relative to Michael I of Russia, first Tsar from the House of Romanov. Díma filled the dead silence between them with elaborate stories on the Romanov dynasty’s former wealth. Supposedly, they also ate—and enjoyed—the buckwheat paste.

  Taddy thought about what her father used to like to eat when she was growing up. “You noted Aunt Muffie came by yesterday.”

  “Yes, she brought friend,” he shouted from the kitchen in broken English.

  “Who?” she asked then sipped her orange juice.

  Díma popped his shaved head out of the kitchen. A whiff of meat sausage filled the room. “A small woman, late fifties, black hair. She introduced herself with a regal title. I did not get name.”

  “Flat-chested?”

  “Very.”

  “C–Countess?” Taddy choked on the title as it left her lips. “Countess Irma Brillford?” The citrus nectar in her stomach turned to acid. Her mother had accompanied her aunt?

  “I don’t recall. Muffie mentioned she will ring you today.”

  “Díma, I’ll take a rain check on your sausage. I better get into the office.”

  “What is a rain check? It’s sunny outside.”

  Ignoring his lost-in-translation question, she grabbed her bag and called down to José, who pulled the car around. As she rode to work, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She just needed to work.

  Taddy headed straight for Blake’s executive offices on the opposite side to her suite. Pushing her mother and Big Daddy from her mind, she focused on the day ahead. Ass-kissing remained on her agenda to cover up for her sex-filled weekend, but she wasn’t looking forward to Blake filling her in on the Neve Adele account. She imagined his tone would be bitter.

  She walked into his office, unnoticed. Blake sat at his desk, surfing Craigslist for ass. “Happy Tuesday, Blake.”

  Blake grinned. “For someone who claims to have worked the Cannes film festival this weekend, your smile is anything but media-related.” Sporting Prada, he walked out from behind his desk. “Did you attend the parties I e-mailed you?”

  “Well…”

  Arms crossing at his chest, Blake examined her. “My Vanity Fair peeps reported back that you didn’t show up to any of the events. Not a one.” He made a tsk-tsk noise, as if he’d already come to the conclusion she’d spent the weekend in bed.

  “I worked on Hôtel de France for three days.” On purpose, she kept her voice flat, so she wouldn’t raise suspicion. “Time escaped me. Please tell your magazine friends I’m grateful for the invites, and I’ll be sure to go next year.”

  “Work doesn’t explain why your lips look like you’ve had a collagen injection.” Blake’s signature wit and sarcasm never stopped.

  “It’s from Baden Cosmetics new lip treatment. It’s called Blow Me,” she lied.

  “You sucked dick.” Going in for the attack, he accused, “I can smell the sex coming off you.” Blake stepped closer, breathing in.

  “Stop it.” She pushed him back. “Jealous green isn’t becoming on you.”

  “Pardon me.” He laughed. “Over-sexed red looks fabu on you.”

  “Ha. And how long has it been since you and your hubby got it on, Blakey?” She attempted to redirect his interest, but realized they were tormenting one another as i
f they were kids again.

  His manicured eyebrows rose. “My soon-to-be ex-husband and I haven’t topped or bottomed in years. Speaking of bottoms…” Whack! He smacked her ass.

  “BLAKE.” Taddy rubbed her heinie. Inching back to the door, she realized her office visit had backfired.

  “I’ve never seen your ass up s-o-o-o high. Your tush is grazing the popcorn ceiling.”

  “It’s called squats. Suck it.” She turned around to show him what he envied. “Come with Lex and me to Gilad’s Pilates studio and you’ll get a better butt, too.”

  “And your long legs are spread a teensy bit farther apart.”

  Crossing one foot over the other, she put her hands on her hips. “Ah-ah-ah.”

  “Taddy Brill, you reek of a good ol’ fashioned face-fucking.”

  “Ha?”

  “A clit-shaking!”

  “What?”

  “An ass-pounding.” His voice was filled with envy as he clapped his hands together, causing her to flinch.

  “I told you I worked this weekend, Mr. Morgan.” Taddy’s nipples pebbled just thinking about what pleasure the previous forty-eight hours had brought her. “Anyways, I came in to give you my gratitude for dealing with Neve this weekend. And to bring you this check.” She slipped him a thank-you bonus as she always did when he covered for her. “I love you and your work.”

  “Thank you. I’ve enjoyed our friendship and our business together.” He sat back down at his desk and handed her today’s Wall Street Journal. She graced the cover, in Warner’s arms. The headline read, “TRUMAN’S PROFITS RISE FROM SEXY NEW IMAGE.” Warner’s Hollywood smile beamed, but his stare didn’t find the camera as intended. He looked into Taddy’s eyes, as if ready to kiss her. The photographer had captured the moment’s true essence. “Your canoodling was caught at the Hôtel de France press conference. Mr. Truman shows good face.”

  “Mr. Truman is very handsome.”

  Blake’s eyes rolled back. “You must’ve given him good head. Wanna tell me about—”

  “Nope.”