by Alexis Angel
"Go big or go home, right?" I tell the florist as he carefully wraps the heavy bundle in clear plastic paper.
"She must be pretty special," he smiles.
"One in a million."
I realize that the bundle is so big I need to use both of my arms to carry it across three blocks across Columbus Circle to Julianna's place. But I know it was important that I make a lasting impression, and this should do it. So I walk in the direction of her building, and in a few minutes I see it. The Time Warner Center is a massive and iconic structure. It stands majestic and proud, nestled in the bustle of the city. I adjust my tie, take a deep breath, and enter the lobby. An older man is seated at the concierge desk. He quickly stands up and approaches me.
"Can I help you, sir?" he asks.
"I'm here to see Ms. Julianna Heaton."
"Is she expecting you?"
Shit. I didn't have an appointment. Should I say she's expecting me? Or should I be truthful? I decide that honesty was probably the best policy. And besides, I've never been a good liar.
"I don't, but my name is Ethan Blake. I'm currently trying out for the defensive end position with the New York Nailers, and it's important that I see her this evening."
"Wait a minute!" the man exclaim. "I know you! You're the guy from SportsNation! Yes! Yes! That's you—the guy who got knocked out by that other football player."
I swear it seemed that no matter where I went, I couldn't get away from Colt Stackford. I’m sick of the tabloids buzzing about our fight, and I was even sicker of being reminded about it from strangers.
"That's me, but listen," I say, changing the subject, "Could you let me up to visit Ms. Heaton? Like I said, it's important."
"I can see that," he says with a whistle, looking down at the bundle of flowers in my arms. "I'm not usually permitted to let guests up without an appointment, but I'll make an exception this once … under one condition that is."
Oh great. How did I find myself bartering with a concierge? "Sure, what's that?" I ask. He walks back to his desk and pulls out a New York Nailers hat.
"Can you sign this? I'm a huge fan."
I take the elevator to the top floor and find myself in front of the grand double-door entrance of her penthouse. I straighten my suit coat and gather my nerves before knocking, and then lightly rap on the door with my knuckles. No answer.
I wait and listen for movement, but don’t hear anything. I knock again, this time with a little more force. Did she leave? Could she have slipped out without the concierge noticing? I figure I’ll try knocking once more. If she doesn't answer, I'll leave. Here goes nothing...
I think I hear someone coming to the door. Yes, she's home. The lock clicks and the door opens. There she is, I swear, a goddess in heels. Julianna stands in the doorway wearing a stunning, form-fitting red dress. She’s smelling amazing, and her blonde hair is cascading down to her shoulders. It's taking everything in me not to touch her—not to run my fingers against her cheek and through her hair. But my fantasy is stopped abruptly when she speaks.
"Wh-what are you doing here?” she asks. “Did Sammy let you up?"
"It's nice to see you too," I say, brushing aside her confusion. "I didn't catch the concierge's name downstairs."
"I can't believe it. I told him to not let anyone up without an appointment."
"It's not his fault,” I say, not wanting to get him in trouble. “I was pushy."
Then I see her look at the bundle of flowers and do something I didn't think she was capable of—she blushes. It only lasted for a moment, and then she shakes it off.
"It's a bad time, Ethan. Let's talk at the office." She begins to close the door, but I place my shoe inside of the frame.
"I'm not leaving," I say.
This catches her off guard, and she stands there for a moment. We lock gazes. I can see a new intensity flare in the depths of her clear blue eyes. My pulse quickens as I step closer to her. This is my chance. I reach out my arm, but instead of touching her, I rest against the doorframe. I watch as her breath quickens and I think I can see a flush appear in her cheeks.
Then I hear what sounds like the voice of another man. "I've just poured your wine, Julianna. Who’s at the door?" Yes, it’s definitely a man. Who was he? What was she doing with him? A middle-aged man in a business suit appears in the doorway. I guess he’s in his early 40s. His hair is beginning to thin, but I can tell that he combed it meticulously to hide this fact. He looks at me and then looks at the 100 long-stemmed roses in my arms and asks Julianna, "Who the hell is this?"
Given all of the SportsNation hype, I’m a little surprised he didn't recognize me, but also relieved. Before I can answer, Julianna turned to him. "I think you should leave. I'm sorry to do this Matt, but—"
"It's Mike—"
"Sorry, Mike. Maybe another night?"
The man can’t hardly believe that he’s being replaced, but he doesn’t argue, and just shakes his head. "There won't be another night," he says, his ego obviously crushed. He goes back to grab his keys, and then leaves for good.
I watch as the elevator closes behind him, and then I turn to Julianna. "These are for you," I say, handing her the roses.
She takes them in her arms and I can’t help but notice how closely her lipstick matches the deep red of the roses. Coincidence? Or fate? I’m entranced. The red dress. The deep-red plump lips. The scent of her perfume. The impossibly high heels. All of this heightens my senses, and I feel my cock twitch in my pants. It’s ready to burst through the confines of the material. Fuck, I want her so badly. I feel as if in that moment I'd do anything to have her. I step into her penthouse and she closes the door, locking it behind her. My shoes make a faint clicking sound against her brightly polished hardwood floors. Her place is huge with a wide-open floor plan and ceiling-to-floor windows that look out over Manhattan, with all of the lights of the city shimmering in the distance. I scan the darkness and think idly that the lights look like broken glass spilled across the skyline.
"You get what you wanted?" she asks with the hint of a smile. She saunters over to the table, swinging her hips suggestively and places the flowers down. " It's just you and me,” she says with a wicked smile. “Whatever shall we do?"
I think for a moment, and without hesitation say, "Besides doing you, I don't know."
"That's bold," she replies, "but I like a man who knows what he wants."
This spurs me on. I step closer to her and touch her hair, and then her shoulders, one at a time. Her dress hangs just below her shoulders, so I touch the exposed skin. My other hand brushes against her thigh. "You're so beautiful," I say. "I can't stop thinking about you. Ever since our first meeting at your office, I knew I needed you."
"Well, aren't you just the bleeding heart romantic," she says dismissively. "The roses, the accolades—what's next?"
I place my hands on her face and look into her eyes, trying to break through her cold exterior. "I mean it. I've never met a woman like you before."
For some reason, that does it. I finally have her attention. I can see the pulse in her neck flutter and quicken. I lean in, slowly brushing my lips against hers, and then her lips part. She opens her mouth to take me in, our tongues mingling and exploring, and pressing against one another. The warmth of her tongue against mine is intoxicating. She bites my bottom lip and I run my fingers through her hair, breathing in her scent deeply. I grab a fistful of her blonde locks and use it to pull her head back, I expose her throat. I kiss her vulnerable neck, traveling with my mouth upwards until I’m back at her lips. I press my mouth into hers hard. My cock stiffens. I want to hold her breasts in my hands, I want to touch the small of her back and touch her perfect ass. I want to know what she feels like in the secret inner spaces of her thighs.
She pulls back and looks into my eyes. I think her gaze could melt me into a puddle at her feet. She then leans back in with her arms wrapped around my shoulders and whispered, "Would you like to stay here tonight?"
My he
art thumps. I touch her hair, and whisper back into her ear, "Do you want me to?" I then run my tongue across the ridges of her ear and she shudders.
"My couch pulls out, but I don't," she says with a sinful, wicked grin.
8
Julianna
Ethan Blake - now this is a man that hates losing more than anything. On and off the field.
If it were anyone else showing up at my place, I’d be calling security in a heartbeat. But with Ethan… Let’s just say the moment I saw him I had to throw Matt - or Mike or whatever his name was - out. Opening the door and seeing Ethan’s soulful eyes, his strong frame towering over me, I knew I had to have him.
Colt won the scrimmage, yes, but Ethan has just pulled the rug out from under his feet. Having him so close to me, his lips on my skin, his chiseled muscles begging for me to touch them, I know who’s won the first round.
I want him. I want him really bad. And, like everything that I want, I’m going to have him.
Do you doubt me?
Good.
“Come here,” I whisper, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pulling him into me. He grins, delight and desire painting his face, and comes willingly. He rests his big hands on my waist and, the moment he leans into me and kisses me once more, I close my eyes and let go.
We’ve just kissed and I already know this is going to be good. For a man as imposing as him, he’s actually more than a good kisser. I tilt my head to the side, pulling him closer and pressing my mouth harder against his. I part my lips and slip my tongue inside his mouth, a whirlwind of lust dancing inside my head.
I exhale sharply as, still grabbing me by the waist, he pushes me back and pins me against the door. His fingers dart to my wrists and he lifts my arms up over my head.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment since the first time I saw you,” he says, his brown eyes filled with desire. I have no doubt about what he just said - I’m pretty sure he actually thought of this the first time he laid eyes on me. Each word that tumbles out of his mouth makes me want him more, boiling blood traveling through my veins and raising hell between my thighs. My panties are drenched, my juices soaking them in a way that hasn’t happened for a long, long time. Sure, I have my urges and I sate them with a hefty dosage of men and sex whenever I want to, but this is something entirely different. This is raw desire in its purest and most violent form.
“I know,” I whisper, a smile pregnant with anticipation dawning on my lips. He doesn’t know it yet, but after I’m done with him, he won’t be able to look at any other woman the same way.
I throw my head back, baring my neck to him, and he savors my skin with gentle kisses. I pant each time his lips touch me, a gentle fog of pleasure blanketing my mind. I get out of his hold with cat like movements, freeing my hands and taking them to his shirt, my frantic fingers popping button after button. I untuck his shirt then and, almost with a growl, I press the open palm of my hands on his pectorals, feeling the iron and steel of a rare breed of men under my fingertips.
Ethan presses his body against mine, the warmness of his skin sending a shiver down my spine, and then grabs a handful of hair on the nape of my neck. Holding my head, he presses his mouth against mine; fireworks go off behind my eyelids as we kiss savagely, our tongues dancing and fighting against each other with abandonment.
Still kissing me, he takes his hand and lets it slide down my side, then makes it climb up my inner thigh. I shudder as I feel his long fingers on my skin, my hips unconsciously bucking against him. He brushes one finger over my thong, long flames of pleasure darting through my body as he does it; I rock my hips against him, trying to have him press his hand against my pussy. He doesn’t relent, though, taking his time and slowly brushing his finger over the fabric of my thong and my aching pussy.
Clearly, he has no idea about who’s actually in charge.
I pull back from him and, grabbing the hem of my skirt, I hike it up to my waist. I curl my fingers around his wrist and make him press his hand against my pussy. He relents, submitting to my own pace. With a growl, he takes his fingers to my thighs and pushes on my thong, sending it down my legs. I bite my lower lip as I feel it sliding down, and I step out of it eagerly, kicking it with my heels to a faraway corner.
I exhale sharply, his fingertips caressing my labia with a maddening gentleness. Still grabbing his wrist, I allow him to keep his soft rhythm and slowly drive me to the edge with his touch. And damn, I love it. Why rush into things?
He traces the contour of my pussy with one single finger, carefully avoiding my clit. I sway my hips, but he takes his other hand and holds me in place by the hips. Slowly parting my labia, he takes his finger all the way up my crevice, and only then does he brush his fingertip against my clitoris. And, God, the moment he does it… It’s almost too perfect. I grit my teeth and close my eyes, surrendering to the sparks of electricity that fly inside my body as he gently rubs my clit.
Then, before I can even moan, he opens his hand and presses it hard between my thighs. I snap my legs shut by instinct, trapping his hand there as he flicks one finger against my labia. I open my mouth and sigh in frenzied delight as I feel his finger sliding inside of me; he takes it all the way, curling it upwards and pressing his fingertip against my G-spot. He rubs me there, drowning my brain into pleasure. When he slides one more finger inside of me, I can’t stop myself from moaning - I open my mouth and let a high-pitched cry of pleasure fall from my lips, my skin prickling as I do it.
With two fingers pressed deep inside of me, softly rubbing against my inner sanctum, he presses his thumb right above my clit. I don’t know how he does it, but his touch simply takes hold of my mind and sends all my thoughts spiraling down into an avalanche of pleasure. I moan between my gritted teeth, my pussy tightening around his fingers as I come.
I’m still shaking from the orgasm when he takes his fingers out of my pussy and, with both hands, grabs my blouse and pulls it over my head. I lift my arms up as he undresses me, the fabric caressing my skin on the way out. I turn around then, and he pins me against the wall, his chest pressed against my back. He starts unclasping my bra, his fingers pulling the straps down my shoulders and, in an instant, I’m grabbing it and throwing it to the floor.
I jut my ass back at him, pressing it against his body, and I have to close my eyes as I feel the hardness he hides in his crotch. Swaying my hips from side to side, I grab my skirt, keeping it up on my waist, and grind against his cock as hard as I can. He pulls back before I can complain, though, his hand darting to my skirt and tugging on it with hurried movements; I press my legs together as he pulls it down my legs. His fingers slide down my calves and go over to the straps in my heels.
“No. They stay on,” I tell him. Looking over my shoulder at him, I see him get up, a grin on his face.
“Heels on it is,” he whispers in my ear.
With his chest on my back, the outline of his perfectly carved muscles pressed against my skin, I start rocking my ass against him once again. I dart my hands back and, even though I can’t see what I’m doing, I let desire be my guide: I unbuckle his belt and pull it out, my fingers unbuttoning his pants with an eagerness I hadn’t felt in a long time. Zipping down his fly, I let the bulging inside his boxer briefs push against my ass, its thickness resting against my crack in a way that makes me grow even wetter.
I allow my unconscious mind to take charge and I turn to Ethan, his eyes falling on my breasts. He grabs them eagerly, his fingers cupping the softness of my flesh as he leans into me, his parted lips engulfing one hard tip as his tongue softly flicks against it.
My hands fall down the side of his body and I push on his pants, sending them down his legs; taking the hint, he kicks off his shoes and removes his trousers as I pull his open shirt down his arms. I put both my hands on his chest and push him back hard, just enough so that I can take in the sight of the perfect man right in front of me. God certainly went above and beyond duty the moment he decided to sculpt Ethan into e
xistence.
He pushes against my hands, but I hold him in place, a smirk on my lips. I want to take my time.
My eyes wander down from his face to his chest, the ridges between his abdominals almost making me salivate, and then settle into the long shape that tents his underwear. I take my hand there, curling my fingers around it as my heart keeps racing faster. With his pulsing cock in my hand, I’m hit by the sudden desire to show Ethan the kind of pleasure a real woman can give to a man. I don’t even have to think twice about it: I’m on my knees before my brain even has the time to second guess itself...
I look up at Ethan, a devious grin of anticipation on his lips. Just the way I like it. I lean forwards, tilting my head to the side and laying my lips over the fabric of his boxer briefs. I feel his thick shape becoming even harder, straining against the fabric that holds it, and I start sucking on it over the boxer briefs. I close my eyes then, Ethan’s hands resting on the top of my head. Cupping his balls with one hand, I start sucking harder as I hook my fingers on the hem of his boxers, slightly pulling them down, just enough for a faint tan line to reveal itself.
I know he can barely wait - he wants me to pull his boxers down, for me to take his cock in my mouth with eagerness and anxiety of an inexperienced virgin. But, lucky for him, that’s not me. I tease him hard, wanting to prolong his razor thin edge of anticipation. Inch by slow inch, I pull his boxer briefs down, Ethan grabbing my hair harder with each teasing movement of my fingers.
I keep teasing him to no end, my fingers softly brushing against his shape. Then, when he least expects it, I push his boxer briefs down with a jerking motion, his cock springing free with a brutish eagerness.
It’s simply massive. I’ve felt it with my hand and with my mouth, but seeing it now, so dangerously close to my lips, it becomes real. A shiver goes up and down my spine as I imagine me guiding his menacingly thick cock between my thighs, his fat head pushing my labia aside as he rams it inside me.
