by Lexie Davis
I opened the door to a smiling man with Chinese food and a briefcase in his hands. I’d changed from my simple skirt and frilly camisole to plain lounging pants that could double for pyjamas and a white tank.
“You didn’t have to bring food.” I opened the door slightly, unable to hide my smile of appreciation.
“You wanted a quiet night in the hotel room, so I brought you dinner so you wouldn’t be disturbed. How’s the story coming along?”
I stepped aside allowing him to enter my hotel.
“Not good.” I closed the door and went to the sofas in the centre of my suite. Blake was already there spreading out the food on the small coffee table. “I sort of have a bad case of writer’s block.”
I mentally thumped my head with my palm, thinking he’d withdraw my contract opportunity. It wasn’t wise on my part to tell the owner of the publishing house I write for that my muse was gone. Not until after he gave me a nice contract offer, that is.
“Really?” He wadded the white paper sack, set it on the corner of the table, and squeezed between the sofa and coffee table, sitting on the floor. “I’m sure you’ll get past it. Does it happen often?”
I scooted beside him, shrugging. “I’ve never had real writer’s block until six months ago when I found out my boyfriend was cheating on me. You probably don’t want to hear my dirty laundry.”
He helped me open the containers. My mouth watered at the sweet and sour chicken and rice laid out before me. How had he known this was my favourite Chinese meal? I breathed in the sweet scent, my stomach growling from denial of food.
“You do like sweet and sour chicken, right?” He handed me an egg roll that I politely refused.
“Yes. It’s the only thing Chinese I’ll eat.”
He held two fortune cookies putting one above my carton of food and one above his on the table.
It was ridiculous to smile at such a simple gesture. The guy bought me food—my favourite food, no less—and was actually being sweet. That was rare in my experience. The last time a man had treated me to a meal was the first night Rich had asked me out. From then on it had been fend for myself.
“I can see those wheels turning.” He smiled, biting into an egg roll. “What’s going through your mind?”
Other than the fact I feel like an idiot? Nothing. “I’m just curious as to why you want to give me a five book contract?”
I ate, revelling in the delicious taste of the chicken. For a brief moment, I forgot about my muse, my life, my sexual appetite—I forgot about everything. The food slid down the back of my throat slowly burning with its spicy flavour as he stared at me.
“You’re a writer. I’m a publisher. You write great books. I want to sell your books.” He shrugged. “Plus I liked you the moment I saw you. I’ve read your book, your biography and even Googled your website to learn as much about you as I could. I want to work with you, Megan. That’s the reason I offered you the contract.”
And here I was thinking dirty thoughts about him and his amazing cock. He was being totally professional toward me and I was acting like a horny sex-withdrawn slut ready to open my legs for the first dick that came walking by. What the hell had I been thinking?
The rest of the meal was mostly business. He pulled out the contract and explained the fine print. We negotiated royalties and advances. Since Quicksand Books is mostly a digital publisher, the only advances they pay are for series. He offered me the opportunity to write for one of the up-coming series, but I declined. I’m not one for people telling me what or how to write.
Blake remained completely professional, so unlike any other male I’d met before him. I will not brag about my looks, but several have said they found me attractive. Blonde hair, big boobs—I’m a walking cliché of a life size Barbie, but I do have a brain. I earned my MBA in less than half the time I was permitted, while taking creative writing classes on the side. I hardly ever bragged about anything but my books. My books I can’t talk enough about.
“So, you’re next signing is at the Chicago conference?” Blake seemed all too happy about that.
Quicksand Books, Inc. was located in the heart of the magnificent Windy City. I’d put my sexual attraction for him on hold because he was being all professional and everything. I didn’t know what he was hinting at now, but if it was to invite me to do anything with him, I’d have to decline.
“Yes,” I said, wishing I had a better distraction than cleaning up the remnants of our meal. “Why?”
He studied me, causing pause in my actions. I stood with my hands on my hips—the best defence I had—staring down at him. Okay, I tried my damndest to be a bad ass when in reality I cared more than I wanted to.
“I like you, Megan. I want to see you again.”
If that wasn’t a shock nothing was. “Like a date?”
He chuckled. “Yes. Like a date.”
I stared at him for a long moment, certain parts of my body screaming one thing, while my brain said another. His eyes were cool and mesmerising, and my body heat rose a notch. I thought I’d been unreasonable in thinking dirty little thoughts about what I wanted him to do. My pussy responded at my memory. Now, maybe I wasn’t so wrong.
“Like a relationship or just a fuck?” Maybe I sounded a little bitchy, but guys did this all the time when they found out what I do for a living. They seemed to think writing about sexy people doing sexy things means the writer does all those things in real life. I hated being compared to my characters.
He stood, probably feeling slightly disadvantaged sitting on the floor with me narrowing my eyes at him, but I didn’t care. I’d already signed the contract, so technically I didn’t have to kiss his ass.
“What do you want, Megan?” He seemed cool and collected, mocking my stance with his hands on his hips. “Do you want a true relationship or just a fuck?”
Right now? Fucking wins. “Why does it matter what I want? I’m asking your intentions. This isn’t the first time a man has read my work then tried to get into my panties to see if I do half the stuff I write about. And if that is your intention you’ll get a fast rejection because I’m not putting up with it.”
I really didn’t want it to be his intention, but I had to find out. Men are fickle creatures who hold more mysteries than a Stephen King novel. I stared into his eyes as he contemplated my response.
“I’m sorry some losers have made you feel that way, but that’s not my intention. Yeah, I’m attracted to you. Yes, my cock responds to you. Any red-blooded male with a beating heart would.”
I felt like a moron. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to accuse you.”
“I accept your apology.” He dropped his hands to his side. “Now, answer my question.”
“Do I want sex? Yes.” I looked away, contemplating my next move.
He stepped around the coffee table, pulling me against him. The hard wall of his chest slammed against my breasts with full force as he lowered his mouth to mine. The taste of the sweet and sour sauce lingered on his tongue along with the flavour of hot, desirable male and a taste that was unique to Blake Lockland.
He licked at my mouth, his lips a sweet caress against my own. I sucked gently on his probing tongue, as I wrapped my arms around his neck. His steely cock pressed into my stomach as he gripped my ass, pulling me closer. He lifted me slightly until the sweet pleasure of our bodies rubbing against each other created pooling moisture between my thighs.
“Tell me now if you want this to stop.” His breaths came in hot short bursts of air in my face.
“No. Don’t stop, Blake.”
Somehow, the whole undressing thing, blurred in my mind. Miraculously our clothes flew from our bodies and landed in piles leading from the couch to where we stood next to the bed. Blake’s mouth was hot on mine, his hands touching everywhere.
The man worshiped my breasts, his fingers rolling my nipples until they pebbled. I moaned against his mouth and he responded by doing it again. His tongue lashed out licking my nipple as if it
was a creamy ice cream cone and he was burning up. I nearly came then and we hadn’t even gotten started.
“Blake,” I moaned as he kissed his way down my body. “Blake, I need…” The last of my thought faded when he slid the crotch of my panties aside and flicked my clit with the tip of his tongue.
Damn. If he hadn’t been holding my hips firmly in his hands, I would have fallen on my ass. Thankfully, there was a bed behind me but that wasn’t the point. His tongue flicked my pussy. The hungry need to have him inside me was overwhelming. My hands latched on to his short brown hair, keeping him where I needed him.
“I want you now,” I said trying to pull him up. I was breathless and panting as he continued his sweet torture. I didn’t want to come this way. I wanted him inside me. I wanted him to fuck me with his cock until I lost my voice from screaming. I wanted him to let me suck him like he sucked me, feeling the pulsing length of him in my mouth. “God, enough. Fuck me now!”
In an instant he stood, his mouth coming down hard against mine. The force of his body sent me crashing back on the mattress, his large body covering me. He still wore his boxers but his erection prodded my clit as if there were nothing between us. I felt him, the heat, the hardness and wanted him more.
“God, Meg.” He pulled back long enough to get a condom out of his jeans pocket. “You taste so good.”
He pulled his boxers down freeing his magnificent cock for my viewing pleasure and donned the condom in one quick move. I didn’t have time to admire him before he shoved inside my pussy in one hard stroke. I stretched to accommodate him, but he was big. The kind of big magnum condoms were made for. Yeah, I never thought a man would really need the “magnum” size. I just figured every man had his dreams, and if buying a box of magnum sized condoms made him feel better, then so be it. Boy, was I wrong.
He stopped a minute, his blazing blue eyes dilated with arousal, almost black in the low light. “You’re a fucking fist, Meg. God, are you always this tight?”
My six months of abstinence could have contributed to that problem, but he didn’t need to know that. Instead I moaned and lifted my hips, pushing his steely length impossibly farther inside me.
Okay, I felt a smirk on my face when his eyes rolled in the back of his head, but as far as I was concerned, talking time was over. Now was the time for action. Hot, wild sexy action that ended with both of us panting and screaming.
He pulled out, nearly all the way and shoved right back in. Again it took a few seconds for my body to get used to his size and the movement. Each stroke held delightful friction, his cock hitting my G-spot perfectly. I felt moisture seep out of my body, when his mouth found my breasts again. My orgasm was coming, but I wanted to make it last. I didn’t want the rhythmic strokes to cease. The pleasure was too great for me to ever want it to end.
“Let it go, baby,” he said, his hot tongue licking a path to the pulsing vein in my neck. “Let it go and come for me.”
His mouth slid to my breast, while his fingers found their way between our meshed bodies, fondling my clit. One stroke and I arched my back. Two strokes and I gasped. Three strokes and I fell apart. In the far distance I heard a scream, my pulse pounding hard in my ears. My body convulsed gripping him, squeezing him until he let out a string of curses as he came.
When we slowly drifted back down to earth, he rolled off me to take care of the condom. I couldn’t move. My arms were limp, my thighs ached and the mind numbing serenity I felt was too good to disturb. Oh, I’d had sex before—plenty of it—but nothing like this. I’d never been fucked so…amazingly…and had an orgasm so powerful and tiring that I couldn’t open my eyelids. I was completely sated.
When Blake came back, he crawled toward me, lying on his side staring at me. His hand stroked my stomach, the tip of his finger drawing circles around my navel.
“Is our sexual relationship going to be awkward for our working environment?” I wondered aloud.
“Not on my part. You?”
I finally mustered up enough energy to turn to face him. “Depends. Is this a one night thing or is this something a little bit more?”
His hand stilled, pressing his palm flat against my belly. I wasn’t sure if I wanted it to be more, yet here I was pressing him for answers. How insensitive was that of me? I pulled his hand up with mine, linking our fingers together. Maybe he wouldn’t answer. Maybe me and my big fat mouth would learn how to keep my lips shut.
“It’ll be hard having a relationship living in two different cities, across the country from each other,” he finally said, his eyes locking with mine.
Okay. That’s fine. I knew in the back of my mind this was a one-night stand. But that didn’t mean it hurt any less to be rejected. “Yeah.”
I felt vulnerable and exposed lying naked next to this man with our fingers interlocked. God, I was an emotional wreck. I’d had meaningless sex encounters where we stripped, fucked and put our clothes back on ending the night with a trusty “thank you for that wonderful orgasm.” I’d been there. I’d done that. So why the hell was I getting all worked up over this man? He’d told me the same thing many guys before him had told me. Why did I feel he was different?
“Meg, what’s wrong?” He sat up, hovering over me.
“Nothing.” I felt stupid again. Dammit if the dumb blonde euphuism wasn’t alive and well tonight. I sat up, pushing him back against the mattress. I needed my clothing. There was no way in hell I was going to walk across the room butt-naked. Yeah, he’d seen every part of me, but still. It felt weird, especially in a hotel.
I grabbed his shirt instead to wrap around my body until I got my own clothes.
“Meg, tell me what’s wrong.” He pushed up, propping his exceptional body up with his arms.
“I think we should remain on a professional level,” I said pulling my pants on with my back turned away from him. “It’ll be easier that way.”
“Fuck easy. What made you sullen all of a sudden?” He stood as I pulled off his shirt and turned me around to face him, breasts exposed. “Just because we live apart doesn’t mean we don’t have a fighting chance. Meg—hell I don’t know what I want but I feel something special with you. I can’t say that’s the foundation to a lasting relationship, but I want to explore it.”
I rolled my eyes, oblivious to my nakedness. “Look, Blake, you’re off the hook. You don’t have to feel sorry for me. It was consensual sex.”
He pushed me back against the wooden bedpost, slight pain biting at my back. “You might want this to be a one night stand, but what about what I want? Are you so shallow to believe men can’t have real feelings for women?”
Real feelings—no. Expressing feelings—that’s a different story. I stared into his eyes, hating the way my body responded to him. I knew I should stick to my guns and ignore what he said. I should kick him out of my hotel room and never think about him again…only he was the owner of the company where I’d just signed a five book contract.
Dammit. I was fucked over again.
“Meg, you try hiding your heart behind worthless barriers that I’m only going to tear down.” A wicked gleam sparkled in his eyes. “Keep trying sweetheart, I like the challenge.”
Before I conjured a response, he pulled on his clothes and headed out of my hotel room and out of my life. The last sight of him was his very fine ass, sculpted to perfection, leaving me…
Chapter Three
Chicago, Illinois
Three weeks and no sign from Blake.
Ever since our romp in the hotel room, followed by our fight, I hadn’t so much as heard anything from the owner of Quicksand Books. Kaitlin called me to see if I’d signed the contract. I’d told her I had. Nothing more was said, nothing more was done.
Now I sat at my table at the convention autographing my book for adoring fans and he walked into the room. I thought I’d be pissed to see him, but my body reacted to his memory, making my job harder now that he stood in the same room. Groaning, I put on a fake smile as I greeted my
fans.
I avoided his gaze though I felt his eyes on me as a woman asked if she could take a picture. Of course I said yes. I’d been writing some in my little breaks—just to clear my head if nothing else. Granted, I wouldn’t claim he’d given me my muse back, but he had helped with the tension blocking my creativity.
“Ms. Raine, I’m such a huge fan,” a younger woman proclaimed as she came up to me. “I have every one of your books and how-to articles. I’m an aspiring author, myself.”
I grinned. “That’s lovely. What’s your name, so when you get published I can make sure to buy a copy of your book?” It most likely wasn’t going to happen since half the people who proclaim they want to be writers have yet to complete a first draft.
“Bethany. Bethany Miller,” she said happily. “It’s sensual romance too. About a…”
As she continued, I couldn’t help shifting my gaze to the man staring at me. I wanted to send him a hateful look, but he had a smile on his face—a devastatingly perfect smile that made me think twice. What the hell was wrong with me?
He started for my table as I shifted my attention back to the woman. I couldn’t really make sense of her conversation about her book, but I tried my damndest to keep my thoughts on her instead of the man now standing beside me.
I hated feelings like this. The nervousness for no reason, the sudden arousal at the memories of what had happened, and the stupidity that followed my really bad decision—I felt them all right now and suspected they wouldn’t go away any time soon.
“…So that’s my book. I’m still working on the first draft but I plan to be sending it out soon. I just hope editors will think it’s good enough to buy.” Bethany shifted her gaze to Blake and smiled. “Hi. I’m Bethany.”
He smiled back, the prick. “Nice to meet you, Bethany. Did I hear you’re writing a book?”
If he’d turned up the charm any more, I might have puked all over the paperback books situated on the table before me. I started signing another lady’s book hoping that Bethany would soon end her non-stop chatter and move about the conference with the rest of the people visiting. But no. She was hitting on Mr. Charming trying to get him to buy her book. Please, how unprofessional.
