She pushed back to get me to move, wanting more, needing more. I stood and gripped her hips, holding her in place as I watched my dick slide in and out of her.
“Holy Christ, Nessa. You have no idea what I’m dealing with right now. Fucking you raw is indescribable.” I pulled out to my tip, only to quickly piston back inside her. A tiny gasp meant Vanessa enjoyed my method, and I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.
“Your ass is perfection.” I clutched her right cheek with my hand and gave it a squeeze. “One day, I want to make it mine, just like I made your pussy mine.”
In a rushed breath, she said, “I want that, too.”
What? Did she just agree to anal? Holy fuck. I was green-lighted, and even though it wouldn’t be happening today, it would happen. I planned to take her every way possible.
Those four words turned my cock into a jackhammer. There was no way of slowing down. I straightened and watched my cock slide in and out of her. Papers that I had in a neat pile were now scattered. With each pump, my desk shifted slightly from where it had been. Jesus Christ, I’d never be able to work again without picturing this moment.
“I’m so close, Kyle. Don’t stop.”
“Never.”
Her wet heat pulsed, tightened, and milked my cock dry as we came together while yelling each other’s names.
“Holy fuck, Vanessa.” I flashed her a grin. “Amazing. Admit my idea was genius.”
Still in her post-coital bliss, she easily agreed. “Brilliant.”
Grabbing her chin, I curved my body over hers and kissed her hard on the lips. “I know. You and I could be onto something.” She accepted my offered hand and straightened. I reached into my desk drawer and pulled out a few tissues. While wiping her clean, I went on to say, “Just think…”
“What are you doing?” Her hand gripped my wrist as her cheeks flushed a deep rose hue.
“I just fucked you bareback, Nessa. I’m cleaning you up,” I stated the obvious. Removing her hand, I continued and then tossed the tissues into the trash. “Anyway, I was saying. Just think of all the angst and stress so many could avoid if they signed up to an arrangement like ours.”
The awkwardness slipped away as quickly as it came. Side by side we added clothes in the reverse order we removed them.
“Fuck all the dating services making millions, we should start our own for people just like us who want great sex without the hassle of dating. Call it something like, No Strings Attached or E-Fuckery.”
She laughed and shook her head. “E-Fuckery?”
“Yeah. It takes out all the awkward unanswered questions of when and how.”
“Before you go sinking all your money into your idea, why don’t we take some time to see if this so-called arrangement even works out?”
“Why wouldn’t it work out?” Once we were dressed, I pulled her into my embrace. “I’ll even make you vice president.”
“Why am I vice president?”
“Because it was my idea,” I responded with an obvious eye-roll.
“It was because of me you came up with the idea.” She pointed over my shoulder. “Just like that sinful fragrance you worked on.” Her finger then tapped her right boob. “All me.”
She had me there.
It was all her.
Since meeting her, the creative juices within me flowed in abundance–almost as much as my sexual ones did. I pretended to ponder her point. “Fine. Your title can be over mine on paper, but I’m over you everywhere else.”
“I can live with that.”
A phone ringing in the lab reminded me where we were. “Want to hang out for a bit while I finish up? We can grab dinner afterward.”
“Dinner?” The one word question seemed heavy enough to halt the movement of her hands as she finger-combed her hair.
“Uh, yeah. Dinner.” I closed the distance between us to fix a thick strand that stood straight up on the top of her head. “You know that stuff you shovel into your mouth to fuel your body every evening? Otherwise known as food.” Our faces were only a few inches apart, and up close her beauty overwhelmed me. The tether between our gazes sparked with electricity. In the way her green eyes widened, I knew she felt it, too.
Just as I was about to kiss her, she shoved me, effectively killing the moment between us. I’d been in pretty compromising situations with this woman, yet staring into my eyes freaked her out. I allowed her the distance she needed and took a step back.
Either she was a great actress or I overestimated our connection as she nonchalantly walked out of my office. “I meant, dinner sounds like a date,” she called out over her shoulder.
“Why is getting food a date?” I challenged, again following and coming to stand before her. As a test, I cupped her face and forced her to meet my gaze. “Nessa, stop over thinking this so much. We’re simply having a meal. It doesn’t have to be any major production. In fact, if you want, we can grab dinner and go back to my place. Eat it on the floor, naked. Eat it off each other naked. Whatever you want.”
“Okay, fine.” She gripped my wrists, pulled them away, and plopped down on a stool at the table where I was working when she came in. “Naked dinner at your place it is.” With a wave of her hand toward my current project, she said, “So, show me how you work your fragrance magic.”
My test proved correct. She wasn’t comfortable with intimacy… and now knowing that, I planned to have some fun with her. “Magic is my middle name,” I responded, pulling my stool right up against hers until our hips aligned. With our bodies so close, it didn’t take much to lean in and whisper into her ear. “Most of my magic begins with this.” Her stiffening at the moment I sucked on her earlobe contradicted her stifled moan.
Oh, yes. This was going to be lots of fun.
Vanessa
The first time I went to Kyle’s apartment, I really didn’t pay attention to my surroundings. I was too preoccupied with the internal debate on whether taking him up on his offer and showing up at his place was the right thing to do.
That wasn’t me. I wasn’t the chick who dropped everything and ran because a man told me to. Yet, there I was at his door because of his suggestion.
So, the frou-frou marble lobby, the poor sap in the brass-buttoned navy blazer complete with epaulettes, and the smoky-mirrored elevator went unnoticed on my first visit.
Tonight, with Kyle beside me as we made the eternal trek from lobby to the eighteenth floor, this time there wasn’t a detail I didn’t miss. He respected my silence and thankfully said nothing until we walked into his apartment.
He led me from the foyer to the only room I had become familiar with. The sight of that kitchen island caused my vagina to tighten at the memory of what he did to me when I was last on it. How did I not notice the opulence of the connecting family room that screamed New York success? My entire apartment could fit in that one space.
There were two long leather couches, plenty of tables, and all the electronic necessities every respectful bachelor needed in this day and age. It may not have been as sprawling as the Sorens’ penthouse, but it was just as stunning. I was impressed.
After he took my coat and removed his own, I continued my perusal of the space. The man was seriously OCD. There wasn’t a thing out of place, a napkin on a counter, or so much as any evidence a human even lived there. I felt him before I heard him when his chest pressed into my back. “Why are you so quiet?” he asked with lips directly at my ear.
There was no way I’d admit to being embarrassed that my apartment was a mess, while his was immaculate, manly in all the right ways, a work of art. “Tell me you have a cleaning lady and that you’re not just a freak.”
“A freak?” He chuckled, causing a warm puff of air to hit my neck. The effect was as sexy as his lips touching me. “Yes, I have a cleaning lady, but I still prefer things clean and organized.”
“So, you are a freak then. No one lives like this. It’s disgusting,” I teased, and another hearty laugh escaped at my insult.
“What about spontaneity? Winging it? Keeping things exciting?” His eyes narrowed as he searched my face.
“Are we still talking about my apartment? Because if you veered onto a different subject, I’ve proven that I’m pretty fucking spontaneous, Nessa.” And just like that, the fun banter turned more serious. The tone in his voice, combined with the affronted look on his face, forced me to change the subject.
“How about a tour of this place? Last time I never got out of this kitchen, then again I really never got off that island.” At the hint of what occurred on the island, a brilliant smile suddenly spread and all of his ire disappeared.
“Sure. I’ll start with my other favorite room.” Not giving me a choice, he grabbed my hand and pulled me down a hallway to the third and last door at the end. With a flourish, he opened it and said, “Ta-da.”
More shades of gray decorated his bedroom. Nondescript white pleated shades covered the enormous wall-to-wall windows. My guess was when drawn his view was of 2nd Avenue. His furniture throughout was more contemporary than traditional, but with an obvious masculine influence. I could feel his eyes on me as I examined the room he dubbed his favorite.
“This is where some of my best magic happens,” he bragged shamelessly.
“Maybe you should have gone as Copperfield to the party and not The Riddler.”
“You’re a comedienne. Maybe I should fuck the hilarity right out of you,” he countered. Kyle lifted me with little effort and tossed me onto his impeccably made bed. His eyes seared into mine as he raised the hem of his light blue T-Shirt and flung it on the floor. The feel of silky fabric beneath me, combined with his predatory glare, hindered my breath from escaping without effort. He noticed and gave me a cocky smirk.
While standing at the foot of the bed, and while his fingers worked the button and zipper on his jeans, the Man with a Plan informed me of his plan. “I hope you’re not starving because dinner is going to be a while.”
Chapter 12
Vanessa
Martha Stewart had nothing on Kyle Cleary. Even the man’s cabinets were immaculate. When I pulled open the bleached oak doors, I’d never seen such organization. Not only were the plates of various sizes held in their own racks, but also his breakfast cereal was removed from their original boxes and placed in plastic containers labeled with the contents. He and Brae were separated at birth. I had a feeling he didn’t have a junk drawer. Note to self, clean out kitchen cabinets.
Kyle walked in with a brown paper bag filled with Chinese takeout boxes. Waving my hand over the set table, I said, “This was why I suggested pizza. Chinese requires too many dishes to clean up, and you’re not the type to eat directly out of the containers like I do.”
“Yeah, not usually.” He placed each white carton down in the center of the dining table next to a bottle of wine before recycling the bag. “And based on the last time I had it, I was suddenly in the mood for Kung Pao again.” He wiggled his eyebrows before pulling out my chair, which earned him a glare. “What?”
“Pulling a chair out is definitely date type shit.” I sat down, and he chuckled behind me before kissing the top of my head and then moving to sit in the chair next to mine.
“It isn’t date type anything. It’s called manners. So, don’t freak out when I open a door for you. My mother raised me right. That’s one thing about us Canadians, we know how to treat a woman.”
“So, is that why a beaver is your national symbol?”
“Wiseass.” Kyle shook his head before opening all of the containers. He ordered enough for at least four more people. “As far as your easy pizza theory, we’ll do that the next time. We can even sit on the floor so you don’t have to worry about me pulling out your chair.”
“Sitting on the floor eating pizza were your original conditions when we were in your lab. Again, you’re a swindler, Mr. Cleary.”
“Guilty as charged.” He served me some of the Kung Pao, and I served him some of the rice. He added an egg roll to my plate. I added dumplings to his. We each cracked apart our chopsticks and dug in. Kyle chewed before working a swallow. “Speaking of my lab, what did you think?” he asked, stabbing a dumpling and taking half of it in one bite. Once again, the image of him wearing just a lab coat popped into my head. I hadn’t realized I smiled until he said, “What are you smiling at?”
“Nothing.”
“You don’t make a good liar.” After I let a few moments pass, he added, “I can torture it out of you.” He gripped my thigh beneath the table to support his threat.
“No don’t, I’m hungry. I’ll tell you.” The moment I conceded, he removed his hand. “I envisioned you sitting in a lab, kind of similar to yours, but you had on a white lab coat and nothing else.”
“Really?” He popped the rest of the dumpling into his mouth and grinned around it. “That could be arranged. Do I get to wear shoes in this fantasy?”
“Sure. I guess. But you do have to wear your glasses. Those are important to the visual.”
“Done.” I felt his left hand slide under my hair to hold the back of my neck. I’ve come to learn Kyle liked touching me there. Sometimes, such as at Jude and Brae’s place, I wasn’t even sure he was aware of it. With his right hand he ate his meal, and with his left hand he made it hard for me to act cool.
“Um… so what made you become a mad scientist?” His fingers began stroking my skin, causing an impromptu hot flash to erupt. Opting for the water, I gulped down half of it in an attempt to cool off as I waited for his response.
“Well, it was sort of an accident.” He pulled his hand away to take a quick sip of his wine. “In my normal procrastinating fashion, I waited until the last minute to work on my eighth grade science project. I had nothing, and my only option was the local five and dime. Sitting on the shelf was one of those arts and craft perfume kits. Since I was out of time and had no choice, I used my own savings and bought it. I concocted a perfume that won me an A—end of story.”
“Just like that?” He shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth and nodded. “Did everything in your life come so easily?”
“Not everything. My finances were a mess before Soren took them over. Algorithms, Table of Elements, or the metric system, I love. Debits, credits, stocks, bonds, and all that shit, I despise.”
“Aren’t scientists supposed to be good in math?”
“I am good in math,” he said in an obvious manner.
I pushed my plate away and sat back. “Regardless, even if you stumbled upon your career, you still need to be smart to major in chemistry.”
“It’s just the way my brain works. I see things in smells, in textures.” At the look on my face, he shrugged. “I know that sounds strange.”
“I just guess I figured you more for beauty than brains.”
“Gee, thanks.”
I realized how that sounded once I spoke the words. “No, that’s not meant as an insult. The first time I saw you, I assumed you were very vain. Now, having gotten to know you a bit, I can see your intellect actually adds to your looks. I really don’t know you all that well; it’s just an observation.”
“You know me better than you think.” He glanced down at his empty plate and dished out another portion of Kung Pao, plucked a peanut between his chopsticks, and popped it into his mouth. “What were you like in school?” I responded with a casual shrug. Undeterred, he added, “I picture you as the head cheerleader that every guy wanted and every girl hated. Smart, hot, funny—the entire package.”
I blushed from his compliment. “I was more of a daydreamer in high school… and very easily distracted. Even in college, I never
embraced everything it had to offer. I kind of moved through in a daze until I woke up one morning and realized I was a month from graduating without any real skills to show for it.” My shoulders rose in a shrug. “It was my own fault for letting so many opportunities swirl down the proverbial drain.”
I wasn’t sure if it was my forced blasé attitude or the sadness in my eyes that he picked up on. His otherwise content expression turned to one of concern. “What happened to distract you, Nessa?”
There was no way I was tugging on that thread. I forced a smile and laughed. “Oh, let’s see. I had friends who loved to party and have a good time. And I found out pretty quickly that I did as well.”
My heart clenched from the look on his face. Going down the pity road with a man I agreed to being fuck buddies with was not an option. Fuck no.
“At first I thought you over ordered, but you ate a ton of food. I’m always getting flak from Brae that I don’t eat healthy enough. She’d be lecturing us right now.”
“You’re in incredible shape, Nessa. I wouldn’t change a thing. You’re stunning.” Hunger was the only way I could describe the look on his face when he said that… and I knew enough to know it wasn’t food he wanted.
“Thanks.” After a quick pause, I veered the conversation back to him. “How do you stay so fit?”
“I have many methods,” he said with a devilish grin. Finally pushing his plate away, he quirked up a brow and added, “Can I show you one of my favorites?”
And like a magic trick, my innocent question managed to derail his thoughts and aim them toward the reason we were sitting in his kitchen eating bad Chinese takeout to begin with.
Sex.
The Mr. Wrong Series Page 39
