by Koko Brown
Arriving early and unsure of where to sit, Yvonne decided to prepare herself a cup of cappuccino and then take the lead from there. Plus, she would have the opportunity to watch and observe everyone as they came into the room.
Like the rest of Nico Acqua’s offices, the espresso service followed the same elegant, modern lines. Wrapped in stainless steel replete with all the bells and whistles, pristine white cups sat in the machines warmer. Fully automatic, the thing was a work of beauty.
As she reached for a cup, her whole world collapsed. “Isn’t caffeine off-limits during pregnancy?”
Yvonne didn’t even bother turning around, she could recognize the sultry accented cadences of his voice even in a crowded room. And to her consternation, she felt there being all alone like a weight on her shoulders. Needing a safe outlet, she prepared herself a cup of cappuccino with a healthy dose of whole milk.
“Looking to get the same deal I worked out for your boyfriend?”
Yvonne turned around slowly. She’d barely taken a sip of her milk with a splash of coffee and she was already buzzing.
Of course the cause of her natural high had nothing to do with her drink, but the man walking along the other side of the conference table, his fingertips grazing the bamboo surface. She ignored her trembling fingers and the blood pounding in her ears.
“Yvonne, I co-own Nico Acqua. I’m not here to work out any deals…at least none concerning business.”
Surprised by the news, Yvonne stuttered, “T-t-then what are you doing here?”
“You left Rome without telling anyone where you were going.”
He was concerned about her whereabouts?! Yvonne felt the first crack in the wall she’d erected, but she refused to crumble. “Well now you know I’m in Venice, now go back to your boyfriend.”
“Robbie isn’t my boyfriend or my lover. It was the best way I could ensure he had a contract by the end of the season. So I supplied a large enough incentive that Maggione wouldn’t fail to offer him a multi-year contract.”
Heart racing and her fingers stiffer than a data entry clerks, Yvonne set her cup down on the counter before she dropped it. She hated to admit it. She was almost buying his explanation. “So you decided to kiss him in front of forty million people and jeopardize your career.”
Paolo took his time rounding the table as if not trying to scare her off. The closer he came her hormones ran to their battle stations. Her body temperature, already erratic from the pregnancy, had started to escalate causing sweat to bead along her upper lip and across her brow. Foregoing makeup in her first trimester, Yvonne didn’t hesitate to wipe at the unwanted show of nerves.
“I needed to make amends for what I did to him, you and João.”
Who is João? It better not be another woman or this conversation was so over. “Amends, for what?”
“Blackmailing you and trying my best to ruin Robbie by outing him to the press.”
Outing Robbie? What was he talking about?
Sensing her confusion, Paolo continued. “In some crazy and roundabout way, I blamed Robbie for my best friend’s João Schmitt’s death. In actuality it was more my fault than anyone else’s.”
Sighing heavily, Paolo spun around one of the conference chairs and sat down. His dark gaze met hers and she had to dig her heels into the carpet to keep from running into his arms.
“He came out to me two summers ago. He’d made plans to marry one of our former teammates back home in Brazil and he asked me to be his best man.”
As he stared down at the floor, his hand shook as he wiped his mouth. Sympathizing with all the despair he must surely feel, Yvonne pushed away from the coffee counter.
“I refused. He accused me of letting him down much like his own family who’d disowned him years before. We didn’t speak from that day forward. Even though I didn’t tell anyone, I’m sure he expected I would. He became erratic. He lost his spot on the team. Four months later, his mother called. He’d put a gun in his mouth.”
Unsure of what to say, Yvonne reached out and took his hand in hers. He gripped her as if holding on for dear life.
“I’ve done things I haven’t been proud of, but I hope that you can forgive me.” He let go of her hand and dropped to his knees, his head resting against her small bump, their baby.
Despite the circumstances, Yvonne couldn’t deny the way her body came to life at his touch. Even pregnant she’d allow him to throw her onto the conference table. “I’m in love with you. I want us to make a life together—you, me and the baby.”
Yvonne ignored the tears stinging the corners of her eyes, pushing back slightly she gazed down at him. She needed to make sure they were on the same page. “Is that a marriage proposal? I love you too, but I’m not going to settle with being your personal dairy cow.”
Paulo fumbled in his pants pocket. With each passing millisecond, Yvonne’s heart wedged its way north. He palmed a navy blue velvet box and held it up to her. With a fissure of excitement running down her back, Yvonne popped open the box.
Nestled against the white satin was a square-cut diamond the size of a small third world country. Well… not quite, but the square-cut diamond was close in Yvonne’s book.
Robbie’s ring long gone and shipped back to its original owner, Paolo slipped the gem on her ring finger with ease. Unbeknownst to the both of them, the board of directors along with Nico Matteo had filed in quietly. As soon as the ring fell into place, they erupted into ecstatic applause and well wishes.
Despite their audience, Yvonne only had eyes for Paolo who slowly came to his feet. He was her point of reference in a now spinning world. Thankfully and before she toppled over, he enfolded her in his arms and crushed his mouth against hers.
EPILOGUE
Three months later
“You promised you wouldn’t bring your laptop.” Paulo placed his chin on Yvonne’s shoulder. He was sitting behind her on their bed, his arms wrapped lovingly around what used to be her waist.
“I needed to come up for air some time. We’ve done nothing but bumping uglies for the past four days.”
Paulo snatched the leg she was leaning on out from under her, sending her sprawling on the bed. His hand slid between her legs, causing her eyes to dilate with desire.
“Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing on our honeymoon? Bumping uglies.” Paulo bent down for a kiss, but his advance was thwarted by her computer. “Aren’t you interested in knowing what the press has printed about our surprise wedding?”
“Nope.” Paulo moved her life line to the world aside and planted a kiss in the hollow over her neck. Yvonne’s limbs grew weak and she melted down into the well-used mattress. Despite her words to the contrary, she would never get used to his passion and would always want more.
“I’m not actually interested either, just doing my job. He’s my client you know, all twenty million whopping Euros of him.”
“I’m your client now as well and my ninety-eight million Euros are demanding some one-on-one attention.” Paulo growled as he nipped her ear.
“Don’t remind me. I still don’t understand why I agreed to mixing business with pleasure.”
“Because you like how I pleasure you while doing business.” Purring like a jungle cat, Paolo licked a circle over her pulse, stoking the fire just beneath the surface. If he kissed her, she was a goner.
Before she turned all gooey, Yvonne started reading. “It’s the same old headlines: How Gutierrez Lost Both His Lover and Fiancée. Gutierrez Consoles Himself with Boy Toy and Model Christopher Wilkes.”
One by one Yvonne flipped through the articles she’d Googled. “Hmm, here’s a funny headline, Gutierrez’s Skank of a Fiancée Caught Robbing the Cradle.”
Paolo’s lips stilled. “Did they really call you a skank?”
Yvonne didn’t answer him. She was too busy scanning the byline to notice Paulo had rolled away from her. Coming to a sitting position, she tore through the web pages. By the time she finished reading Paulo wa
s wrapping a towel around his waist and heading to the bathroom.
“Stop right there!” Yvonne scooted off the bed as fast as her belly would allow.
Although Paulo appeared to be in his late twenties, give or take, behaved in the manner benefitting a man ten years his senior, Yvonne still cringed at the facts staring her in the face.
“According to this blog post, I’m a lecherous older woman who set her claws into a virile younger man and wooed him with her charms all the while engaged to another.” Yvonne pointed at her computer screen. “Is the article correct?”
Paulo ignored the article. Instead he looked straight at her. “What does the blog say?”
So he wasn’t going to make this easy! Well he was playing with the wrong woman. “You know perfectly well what the article says, Paulo. You’re a-a kid!”
“I am not a kid.” Paulo reached out and traced the curve of her breast exposed in the open collar of his dress shirt. “I’ve done more in my twenty-four years than most men twice my age.”
“I’m seven years older than you!” Yvonne dropped the laptop back on the bed, and then stalked over to the open French doors. Blinded by her anger, she couldn’t appreciate the golden beauty of the Indian Ocean only steps away from the private bungalow they’d rented off the coast of Bali.
Still she heard, Paolo coming up behind her. She attempted to sidestep him but failed. While she struggled against him, he dropped to his knees and began placing butterfly kisses against the inside of her thighs. Shivering, Yvonne grabbed onto the door frame.
“What’s a little age difference between two consenting adults?” He asked between expertly placed kisses. He wedged his lips against her already wet sex and she moaned. She’d forgiven him the minute he laid his hands on her.
Paulo parted her pussy lips and swiped the broad side of his tongue slowly through her slit. Although her body jerked reflexively, she didn’t close her legs or utter a word of protest.
Her response as good as any yes, he dove in with gusto, swirling his tongue around her silken walls. Sighing in resignation, Yvonne allowed Paulo to sweep her up into a wave of passion she’d never experienced with anyone else. She slid her hand between her legs and played with her clit, while he fucked her with his tongue. Yvonne licked her lips and beat the little bud at the top of her mound.
“Are you going to allow me to teach you some tolerance?” Paulo stood his cock sliding between her legs, nudging her eager slit.
“You’re lucky I’m an older woman at the top of my sexual peak.” Yvonne purred, spreading her legs wider, giving him a better angle.
“Then we’re perfectly suited.” Paulo nipped at the buttons on his shirt. Instead of unbuttoning each of the garment’s pearly buttons, he simply slipped it off of her shoulders exposing her ripe breasts. He flicked at one of her nipples with his thumb and index finger. The chocolate-tipped bud sprang to life.
“I should get you pregnant more often. You’re so sensitive to my touch.”
Yvonne snorted. “For a minute there I thought you were going to say you love how my breasts have doubled in size.”
He showed her how much he loved them by cupping them in his hands. He lifted and kneaded them until Yvonne was practically squirming and grinding her ass against his cock. Unable to wait any longer, she scooted back, guiding her sex over his lap. Already wet for him, she’d have no problem slipping him inside of her body.
She eased up on her toes then slid down. Like always, they both gasped at the initial contact of coming together as one.
Hands firmly planted and leaning forward slightly, Yvonne pressed down pushing him deeper. She sucked on her bottom lip as a shudder racked her whole being. Paulo was so big and deep inside her she wasn’t sure if she was experiencing pleasure or pain. Whatever it was it bordered on exquisite.
Fully seated, she bucked her hips back then forward, barely releasing him.
Paolo gripped her hips with a low, guttural growl. “Yess, baby, ride me. Ride this dick.”
Turned on by his response, she quickened her pace, rocking her hips back and forth with sharp thrusts. Her vigorous efforts triggered a flutter of butterflies along every one of her nerve endings. A thin sheen of sweat to coated her body causing hers to slide against his.
With each stroke, Yvonne felt herself coming undone. It never failed, she could never last with him, but he never complained. He just took control and rocked her world.
Yvonne sped loudly towards her reward, chanting his name. Her orgasm bubbled in the pit of her stomach along with the soul-stirring heat between her thighs.
Paulo threw one of his hands over hers their fingers entwining, while the other held onto her hips. Yvonne felt sweat drop on her back. Before the droplet drizzled down her spine, he licked the bead away inadvertently triggering another orgasm.
“Paulo...Paulo...fu...I love you!”
“Love you more,” he said bucking his hips wildly in reaction to her climax. “Any regrets?”
Although she’d stopped pumping her hips, her pussy clutched and milked him. “None,” she gasped, barely regaining her breath. “Absolutely none.”
The End
About the Author
Koko Brown is a quintessential erotic romance junkie who once read over 200 Zebra Club novels the summer before her senior year in high school.
Calling the east coast of Florida home, this multi-published author of multicultural erotic romance loves to travel, shop in thrift stores, ride motorcycles, renovate houses, and volunteering.
For more about Koko Brown and her other books visit www.kokobrown.net
NERDS ARE FREAKS TOO
Koko Brown
Chapter One
“What qualities are you looking for in your Mr. Right?”
Roxanne glanced up at the bakery’s carnation-pink ceiling and pretended to mull over the question. “I think he should be young, hung and full of cum.”
Apparently not amused, her best friend Leonidas slammed his laptop shut. “I’m out of here.” He began to stand but Roxanne grabbed his hand.
“I’m only teasing, Leo. Please don’t leave.” Roxanne glanced at the booth next to theirs. A group of Catholic schoolgirls sat across from them. They munched on chocolate cupcakes and giggled over the current issue of some bubble gum magazine, but Roxanne leaned forward just in case.
“I’m nervous about this whole online dating thing. If you don’t help me, I’ll end up with some bald, sixty-year-old guy with a postage stamp fetish.”
A smirk lifted one corner of Leo’s mouth as he pushed his black Buddy Holly-esque glasses up the bridge of his nose. The thick glass magnified the size of his beautiful blue eyes.
For the thousandth time, Roxanne wished he’d ditch them. His baby blues rivaled Jake Gyllenhaal’s.
“If you’re so skittish about online dating, why sign up? You’ve never had an issue meeting men.”
True. With her Coke-bottle size-twelve curves, gregarious personality and confidence equivalent to a she-lion’s, Roxanne never had trouble meeting men. Just not the right man. Silently cursing how well he knew her, Roxanne pulled on her earlobe.
“Roxie…” Leo coaxed.
She wanted to squirm. Talking to a guy with a Mensa-certified I.Q. of one hundred and fifty-one about needing more variety in your sex life seemed so trivial. “You don’t want to hear the boring details.”
“Try me,” he replied, relaxing back into the booth.
Roxanne caught his gaze and held it. “No judgments?”
“Have I ever judged you?”
Actually, no. Despite all the tomfoolery she’d committed over the years, Leo had always been tolerant.
“I’m hornier than a private during Marine Week.” She sighed dramatically. “I haven’t had sex in—”
“Eight months, three days and…” Leo glanced down at his watch. Roxanne had given him the titanium timepiece for landing his first client several years ago. “Sixteen minutes and forty-five seconds.”
R
oxanne wrinkled her nose to keep from laughing. “You’re exaggerating the minutes and seconds.” Leaning forward, she pulled the sugar shaker toward her and fingered the rim. “I guess I’ve over shared one too many times.”
Leo inched his index finger toward his thumb. “I’m this close to handing out ‘Get Roxanne Laid’ campaign buttons.” His perfectly timed humor made Roxanne chuckle. “Jokes and horniness aside,” he continued, “I believe the ‘why’ is more important than the ‘how long’.”
Damn he’s good! Roxanne sat back, wavering between confession and mule-headed secrecy. She drummed her polished nails against the chrome tabletop, trying to buy herself some time. But Leo’s I-can-outlast-you-any-day look obliterated her game plan. “My sex life is missing something.”
“Missing what?”
Roxanne glanced at the teen-pop crowd again. “Actually, my sex life is abysmal,” she muttered.
Leo’s eyebrows jutted above the frames of his black spectacles. “How abysmal?”
“Black-hole, Deep Impact abysmal.”
Leo rubbed his hand over his mouth and regarded her with what looked like disbelief. “Deep Impact?” Roxanne nodded. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that. Not from the poster girl for young, black and fabulously single in the Windy City. Up until several months ago, you ran through men faster than the NFL draft.”
Roxanne winced. She hadn’t been that free with the milk, had she? “You make me sound like a two-piece-chicken-and-biscuit whore.”
Leo chuckled. They’d come up with the term in college to define all the co-eds who’d put out for the cheap two-dollar meal from Ray’s Bar-B-Que, a popular late-night hangout.
“You know I’ve always followed the motto, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.” His voice dropped an octave. “So, let me get this straight. You stopped having sex because whoever was doing it to you wasn’t doing it for you?”
