#1 Crush

by T Gephart

  “I’ve got a car out front, I can give you a ride if you want?” Ryan offered, a slight smile curling on his lips.

  “Now listen here, Mr. I-don’t-need-to-Rogaine-my-hair.” I stood up as straight as I was able, puffing out my chest. “That is my best friend and if you so much as hurt one hair on her head I will yank out all of yours, one by one.”

  It wasn’t a threat either, that shit was a guarantee. No one hurt one of my friends and got away with it. I wasn’t too drunk that I wouldn’t remember either.

  “I’ll be a saint. I promise.” He placed his hand on his heart.

  “You better.” I breathed into his face. “Or else.”

  To his credit, he didn’t laugh. I’m not sure how serious you could take a person when they were three sheets to the wind wearing an animal costume. But lucky for him he just nodded, asked me if I needed anything before they took off and then helped Lila out the door.

  I wasn’t usually trusting but given that I had been “researching” Eric for some time and Ryan’s name had never been flagged, it could only mean two things. He was either a genuine friend to Eric, who kept out of the limelight, refusing to sell out. Or he was an assassin. I hoped for both our sake’s it was the first option. Mental note. “Research” Ryan—I don’t know his last name—as soon as possible.

  And on that thought I decided it was time to strip out of the bunny suit. Sadly it wasn’t as sexy as it sounded, the fur now matted and slightly soiled from tequila and pizza. I was positive Judith was going to pitch a fit. Something about that made me laugh out loud.

  Collapsing into bed should have been what I did, but I was hot and sticky and refused to get into my sheets without a shower. So, making sure I didn’t slip on slick tiles and concuss myself, I quickly stepped under the spray and washed away the day.

  Dread filled me.

  Oh. Crap.

  I was almost positive Ryan would give Eric an account—one-sided and probably wildly embellished—of the night. Eric had asked him to check on me so it would make sense there would be a follow up.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  That didn’t seem fair. For him to have a skewed view of events based on a spectator who arrived later. I deserved right of reply. A rebuttal. A chance to have my say.

  Yes, I concluded. I would have to call him. Not because I desperately wanted to hear his silky voice through the phone, so hot I’d have to fight the urge not to touch myself. No, it was so he didn’t get inaccurate information.

  So while part of my brain was reasoning it probably wasn’t smart that I drunk dial the movie star I’d hoped to have wild, dirty sexy time with—thanks a lot frontal lobe, could have used you earlier—the other part decided it was best to clear the air. Internal cerebral debate ensued.

  I couldn’t help myself.

  I picked up my phone.

  Fine, I had poor impulse control. Sue me.

  My heart thumped as I got between my sheets naked and selected his number in my contacts, never having used it before. It felt so illicit, so forbidden, that I had to remind myself I had obtained it honorably. Well sort of honorably, I wasn’t about to get hung up on the semantics now.

  I waited, my breath hitching with every passing second.

  “New York.” His husky voice crooned into the phone.

  This wasn’t phone sex, I reminded myself, pushing out a breath in a rush.

  “Larsson.”

  I was a bad, bad girl thinking bad, bad things.

  “I hear you had quite an eventful day. I’m disappointed to have missed it.” He chuckled, his voice stroking me from the inside out. “Tell me, did you really threaten to pull out Ryan’s hair?”

  “Yes.” The word elongated by another exhale, making it sound velvety and sexy.

  If this writing gig didn’t work out I could totally rock it as a phone sex operator. Or maybe I was still drunker than I thought.

  “Hmmm.” He let go of a deep breath of his own. “I was going to ask you about my apparent human rights charges. I had hoped to be able to mount a defense.”

  Not even going to pretend I didn’t get inappropriately aroused by the way he said mount.

  “But I’m finding it very difficult to concentrate when you sound . . . so relaxed.”

  “I’m very relaxed.” I eased my head back on the pillow, stretching out against my soft cotton sheets. “And like you, I am finding it difficult to concentrate. Would it help to tell you that I’m in bed, naked?”

  “No.” He coughed, his voice hoarse. “That wouldn’t help at all.”

  “Ah, well that’s too bad.” My hands trailed lazily against my naked skin. “Sadly I’m all alone which means I will probably have to entertain myself.”

  “Hmmm. Another disappointment.”

  “What is?” My hand swept lower, lingering on my stomach. “That I have to entertain myself?”

  “No, that I’m not there to watch you. Although I have to warn you, New York.” His gravelly voice was making my skin tingle. “I’ve never been good at being a spectator.”

  “Well then, you have a problem.” The words lingered on my lips. “So much disappointment. But I on the other hand—the pun completely intended—refuse to be disappointed. Good night.”

  My thumb hit the end button as the laugh bubbled up my throat. It gave me an immense sense of pleasure to know that I’d probably made him hard. Him now having the mental image of me touching myself.

  Ha! Take that. Two could play at that game. If I was going to be frustrated and aroused then so could he. My victory was savored for a minute or two before I realized my mistake. I had the perfect opportunity to have Eric Larsson talk dirty to me and I hung up. Gah! I foiled myself.

  Was it bad if I called back? No, I couldn’t do that. It would show weakness and I wasn’t weak. No, tonight I would suffer, hopefully learning a lesson.

  Clearly I wasn’t as good at this game as I first thought.

  ERIC LARSSON HAD HIS ARMS around me.

  His embrace was warm and tender, and he stroked my hair as my head rested on his perfectly defined abs. I loved the way the ridges felt under my fingertips—all that toned, muscular flesh. It was hot and I needed to remember to lick them before I woke up.

  Because I knew this was a dream.

  And when I woke, it would all be gone.

  It wasn’t the first time I had dreamt of Eric Larsson. Hell, I’d lost count of his nocturnal visits; it was my favorite thing to do with my eyes closed.

  Most of the time they would all start the same way. He’d be naked—it was a crime to have all of that covered up—and he’d be in my bed. Always mine. There was something about knowing his scent would linger on my sheets that turned me on. And I could have him as long as I wanted him.

  Then he would kiss me. Leisurely at first, slowly teasing my lips with his teeth. But then the kiss would deepen, his mouth desperate to have mine.

  In the past he’d give me sweet kisses, but he wasn’t in the mood for that tonight. No, he was hungry, hungry for me as I was for him and he wasn’t interested in being sweet. Which was good, because I didn’t want sweet either.

  God, I loved to be kissed. Properly kissed. Not lips smashing together indiscriminately. But with intention and passion. And he knew exactly the right way to kiss me, especially tonight.

  His hand drifted down my body, his fingertips just grazing my skin and it slowly drove me crazy.

  “More.”

  I wanted more. So much more than what he was giving me. And because it was my dream, he would do exactly as I asked. Always, every time, without question.

  “Like this?” His hand moved from my back and down the center of my chest, his splayed fingers sweeping along my breasts, teasing me further.

  He wanted to play, draw it out, but I didn’t want that. And since this was my dream and he had to do what I wanted, I grabbed his hand and placed it on my breast and held it there. My nipples hardened under his touch, and I could feel myself getting wetter.

&nbs
p; “Tia.” He whispered my name as his mouth moved down my neck, a trail of kisses in its wake. “Baby, your body is incredible.”

  “And tonight it’s yours,” I whispered into the dark, loving the feeling of his hands and mouth on my skin. “Touch me, please.”

  It was painfully slow, his lips taking their time making their way down my body as I writhed on the sheets. The contact not nearly enough.

  “Here.” My hand captured his and moved it to the juncture between my thighs, “I need you here.”

  “Tia.” His voice gravel as his hand touched me, my slick center ready for him as his fingers circled. “Fuck, baby.”

  “Yes, fuck me. All of you. I need it.” I was done being polite. Screw that. I needed him, needed him to make me come. Feel myself clench around him as I exploded.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, having never asked that before.

  What the hell kind of dream was this? Yes I’m fucking sure.

  “Yes.”

  A finger was thrust inside of me, my breath hitching at the invasion. I loved it, his thumb circling my clit before he added another finger. Those deft fingers and large hands proved their worth, the delicious pressure almost making me orgasm on the spot.

  “Don’t stop. Please just don’t stop,” I begged. I didn’t care how needy I sounded. I was so close, my own hand pressed against his. Just a little more, I was just at the cusp, seconds from tipping over.

  “Yes, yes.” My hips moved seeking the additional friction I needed. “I’m so close.” My eyes scrunched even tighter.

  I couldn’t wake up. Not now. Not when I was having the best sex dream of my life.

  “This is the best dream of my life.” My mouth echoed my thoughts. “I don’t know how you got even better than last time, but you did.”

  “Tia, look at me.” His voice rough, straining almost. “Baby, please open your eyes.” His hand slowed, that delicious pressure easing as he started to withdraw his fingers.

  “No, no, no. What are you doing?” I grabbed his hand holding it hostage between my legs. “If I open my eyes you will disappear and I don’t want this to end. Not yet, I need you right now.”

  “You’re killing me, Tia.” He laughed, his lips pressing against my shoulder. “But you need to open your eyes.”

  Why, of all the dreams I’d had, Eric picked tonight to be so disobedient. It was really inconvenient and probably a little selfish on his part. He needed to stop fighting me and be my fantasy, damn it. Didn’t he get the memo? This was the best sex dream of my life, I’d even told him so.

  “Don’t say no to me.” My body turned to face him as my fingers moved down his body. “Not tonight. Don’t you want me?”

  “Jesus Christ, Tia.” He cursed out my name. “Yes, I want you, but not like this. Please, open your eyes.”

  There was something in his voice, something that didn’t sound right. An edge, a sharpness that I’d never heard. Definitely not something I would have conjured up. Which was odd because you would think of the millions of times we’d made love, I would have heard it all. We sure as hell had done it all.

  Which could only mean.

  Oh.

  Shit.

  This wasn’t a dream at all and the minute I opened my eyes this was probably going to stop. There was no way I was going to face reality until I had at least had a taste.

  Keeping my eyes tightly closed, my hand moved down this body. My fingers traced the curved lines of his chest, then his abs, moving lower until it hit a waistband. He wasn’t naked—the cotton of his boxer briefs stretched across his very large and hard cock, keeping it under wraps as my fingers moved up and down his thick, swollen length.

  He hissed, his body stilling as my hand grabbed him hard.

  I refused to stop, moving my mouth over every part of him—kissing, licking, and tonguing.

  “Tia.” He groaned out my name as I went further down his body. “Fuck, if you don’t stop now, I don’t think I’m going to be able to stop you.”

  Too late.

  I didn’t care about his inability to stop, I only cared about tasting him. My tongue swirled against the tight muscles of his lower stomach, my hands working his length until I pushed down the waistband. My tongue swept along the head of his cock, my lips closing around it as I sucked it hard.

  His fist knotted in my hair as his breath quickened, a guttural groan bubbled from this throat. And then with a yank he pulled my hair forcefully and I had no choice but to release his cock.

  “Tia.”

  My eyes opened, taking just a minute to adjust to the surroundings.

  In my bed was a mostly naked Eric.

  And I was about to give him a blowjob.

  “You need to know it’s me.” He tilted my head up so my now-open eyes could see his lust laden ones. “I want you, but I want there to be no doubts about what you’re doing and who you are doing it with. Do you understand?”

  His jaw was clenched tight, the words barely getting out. He looked massive in front of me, every muscle tightly coiled and ready to strike. This blew everything I’d ever imagined right out of the water. He looked so hot, so sexy, so worked up and I was the cause of that.

  I wasn’t sure whether to high five myself or pass out from the freaking shock.

  “Yes.” The only word I was able to say.

  “How drunk are you?” His eyes narrowed, the hold on my hair tightening.

  “I don’t know.” I answered honestly because I had no idea. “I probably shouldn’t operate heavy machinery and driving is definitely out of the question.”

  A rush of air passed between his lips, still struggling. “Do you know who I am?”

  “I’m drunk Eric, not dead.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes.” My hand grabbed his cock poking out of his thin cotton boxer briefs. “I know who you are.”

  “Good.” He released my hair, his hands wrapping around my arms and lifting me onto his chest. “Because stopping you has been near impossible.”

  “So don’t stop me.”

  “I’m not.”

  His lips came crushing down on mine, hands pressed hard against my waist as he lifted me higher. My knees fell to either side of his hips as I straddled him. The only thing between us the thin cotton boxer briefs he was still wearing.

  I needed more contact, my hands moving from where they’d been resting on his chest to the waistband. My fingers clumsily shoving them down his hips until he took over, stripping himself bare for me.

  “Back on me,” he ordered, pulling me back onto his hard length. All my imagining and guessing in all that time hadn’t come close to how good this felt. “I want to feel you, right here.” His fingers pressed against my hips as I started to move.

  His hard-on stroked my core as I rode him, rocking against him.

  “Yes.” My fingers gripped his shoulders as he met each one of my rocks with one of his own

  “Fuck, Tia,” he moaned as I felt him lengthen even more. “You are so wet for me.”

  He wasn’t kidding either. If I thought the dream had turned me on, it wasn’t even close to what was happening to my body now. It felt like there had been a hundred tiny wires attached to all of my skin and electricity running through it all at the same time.

  “Touch me, please.”

  He lifted me, taking away his hard-on as he flipped me over, my back hitting the mattress. My eyes so wide there was a good chance they were going to drop out of my head.

  I had no idea how he’d gotten inside my apartment, nor did I care. Not right now when he was looking at me like that. I was about to have sex with Eric Larsson, and it had already surpassed every fantasy I’d had. So if he’d busted my locks or climbed in my window, I was totally fine with that.

  He hovered above me, his huge looming figure lowered. He smiled, like he knew what I was thinking. Little did he know I had imagined this a million times. His hands latched on to my breasts, his mouth moving down to meet his fingers. The hard pink peak being sucked between his l
ips.

  “Oh God.” My head strained to watch him as he moved further down, kissing my stomach before parting my thighs with his hands and giving me the most wicked grin I’d ever seen.

  “Oh God,” I repeated, my vocab completely depleted of any other nouns, adjectives or verbs as he lowered his mouth onto my pussy.

  “Oh . . .” That was all I could manage.

  His mouth covered me as his tongue pushed inside, my body exploding into a million tiny pieces.

  I couldn’t talk.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  I couldn’t move.

  Falling.

  Falling.

  Falling.

  My body convulsed as the pleasure traveled through every cell.

  “Mmmm, I liked that.” He slithered back on top of me, the weight of him against me making me shiver. “You taste so sweet.”

  Nope, still couldn’t talk, my eyes nailed to the man who’d just gone down on me.

  “Did I break you, New York?” He laughed, his elbows on either side of my body as his tongue flicked one of my nipples. “Just so you know, I’m not done yet.”

  Those hundred tiny wires pumping electricity into my body just got another surge.

  “Good.” My hips bucked against his hard-on. “Because I’d really liked to be fucked now.” Holy shit, was this actually going to happen?

  “Would you now?” His hips moved against mine, his smile taunting me. “Just as well, because if I’m not inside of you in the next minute I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

  BOOM.

  That was the sound of every hormone inside of me fragmenting into oblivion.

  Arms, legs, lips, hands—all just a frenzied mess as we collided into each other. His breath hot against my neck as his erection slid against my core, both of us out of control.

  “Condom,” he growled, his lips sucking so hard against my shoulder I was positive it was going to bruise.

  “Top drawer,” I yelped, thankful for my Girl Scout mentality of always being prepared.

  The drawer was yanked open, his hand pulling out one of the shiny silver wrappers. Never in my life had I been so glad to see the small square of wonder. When the stock markets opened, I was buying shares in every condom company I could.