by Conn, Claudy
Feeling myself on the brink, I do as he’s asked. I scream as the sensation of a hard and intense climax reels throughout my body. He pulls out and quickly slides down between my legs, on a mission with his tongue. Grinning and licking his lips, he remarks, “You taste so damn good.”
The sight of this gorgeous man between my legs makes my bottom lip quiver as I lift myself up to watch. Fisting his hair with both hands, I grind my hips upward to meet his tongue. He doesn’t miss a beat, and I come once again.
“You’re so wet. I’m gonna fuck you hard, so hard, baby. Can you come for me again? I want you on top.”
I nod as he effortlessly flips me over and positions me on top of him. His hands are on my hips, guiding me, and before long, we climax simultaneously. I fall back onto the bed and he turns on his side, out of breath, with his arms over his head, sweating as we both laugh. I can feel my heart rapidly beating. I place my hand over my face, and he removes it. “Jesus. That was …”
I smile and catch my breath. “Yeah. It was. Mind blowing.”
I lay my head on his chest, and he tenderly rubs my head while running his leg over mine. We talk about the night we met, and I’m shocked when he tells me how he felt the first time he saw me sitting at the bar. He encourages me to open up about my insecurities and issues with my body. I tell him that I’ve never considered myself attractive.
He is softly rubbing my arm, and I feel at peace, safe, and secure. He leans down to kiss my shoulder. “What don’t you think is attractive?”
Reluctantly, I tell him that my weight has always bothered me.
“So, what would you say your best physical asset is then?” I don’t answer, and he nudges my side, teasing me. “Come on, you have to name something.”
I roll my eyes and purse my lips. “Okay, I think I have a nice mouth.”
Looking into my eyes, he tenderly traces my lips with his finger. “Oh baby, you’re spot on there.”
I nip his finger. “I meant my lips, not my mouth.”
“I know what you meant, baby. Your lips are so full and perfect. So, so kissable.”
He runs his tongue around my lips and begins to kiss me. I moan at his touch. “Sheer perfection,” he whispers. “You’re perfect.”
“You said I was a land mine,” I remark in a pouty tone, and he sits up, surprised.
“No, if I recall, what I said was I thought I’d found a gold mine, but realized I’d stepped into a land mine, referring to the situation—not you. I felt like I’d finally found someone, and when I saw Dave touching you … I told you how I felt.”
I touch his arm. My own hurt is evident as I speak softly. “But you just left.”
“I told you I had to protect my feelings, Noel. You did a number on my head, and I went into protective mode. That’s how I deal with my insecurities. It’s called survival.”
I look down at the bed and trace the figure-eight, stitched shapes in the comforter, fighting tears. “I’m sorry.”
Taking my face into his hands, he rubs my temples and scoots closer to me. “We both did some stupid shit that we can’t take back. The main thing is that we’re here now, together, and we have a chance to make this work. Look, I need to go get my things, if you want me to stay here. We’ve got dinner reservations at eight-thirty.”
“How long will you be gone?” I ask with a pouty face.
He lightly kisses my nose, reassuring me with his sexy smile. “I’ll be back before you know it, within an hour or so. Hold that thought.”
Chapter 14
In an hour and fifteen minutes, he’s back with a suitcase. Tucked under his arm is a beautifully wrapped, bright red, gift box tied with exquisite, silver, lace ribbon.
Dropping his suitcase, he smiles, while proudly handing me the package. “Merry Christmas, Happy Birthday, and Happy New Year, Noel. I hope you like it.”
I run my fingers through my hair, embarrassed that I don’t have a gift so I can reciprocate. I stand there, holding the box to my chest. “But I don’t have a gift for you, Leon. I feel so bad.”
His face lights up. “Noel, I’ve just unwrapped the best gift ever. You. We made love. I’d say I got the better gift here.”
I tearfully place the box on the bed as Leon laughs and gives me a light push. “You gonna open it or just stare at it all day?” His prevalent, New York accent is so damn sexy. I point my finger at him. “You are very sneaky, Mr. Hallas. Sneaky and pretty damn sexy.”
He sits on the bed, pointing at the box. I untie the ribbon and remove the lid. I carefully turn back the silver, metallic, tissue paper, revealing a beautiful, red, silk Kimono robe and matching chemise. Both are adorned with exquisitely detailed, embroidered, black lace. I hold the gown up as Leon rubs his chin, pleased with his choice. “You like?” he asks.
“Oh my God, Leon, they’re beautiful. But how did you know my size?” I ask, looking at the size large tags.
With such confidence, he says, “One of my many talents. I’m glad you like it, and I can’t wait to see you wearing it tonight.”
He leads me into the bathroom, motioning me to sit on the commode as he prepares a bath for us. I prop my leg on the tub and watch as he tests the temperature, and pours fragrant bath oil into the water. He gets in, spreads his legs and extends his hand. “Come on.” I sit between his legs, and he begins to wash my back with a soft washcloth. I look at the mirror, and he’s written our names with my lipstick. I look at him, puzzled.
He points confidently. “You and me, babe, backwards and forwards.”
“Huh?” I ask.
“Our names. Haven’t you noticed? Noel is Leon spelled backwards. We were meant to be.”
I smile and lean into him. “Leon, I’ve fallen for you, badly.”
He nuzzles closer to me. “Not as badly as I’ve fallen for you, Noel Calabrese.”
After our bath, he gives me privacy to do my hair and makeup. I stare at the beautiful bodysuit hanging on the door. Removing it from the hanger, I step into it. Looking in the mirror, I smile. This day and being with Leon, intimately, has made me feel loved and adored. My hair and makeup look great, and I’m gonna do this. I take a deep breath, ready to walk out in this sexy bodysuit that’s cost me the national debt. I slowly open the door and see Leon at the dresser mirror while tying his tie. He’s so damn sexy with his damp hair. He looks up at me and gasps, turning around holding his arms out for me. “There you are, gorgeous. Look at you. You look incredible!”
I curtsey while batting my eyes. “I, and all of my curves, thank you.”
He runs his finger over the lace appliques of the bodysuit. “Your curves are beautiful, baby. I love every single one of them.”
I grab my dress from the closet and slip into it, turning my back to him. “Zip me up?” I ask, flirtingly.
He places his hands on my shoulders, and I hear the sound of the zipper. The feel of his lips on my neck gives me chills as he whispers, “Let’s go ring in the New Year, baby. I have a feeling two thousand sixteen is gonna be our year. I love you, Noel.”
To be continued …
Did you like the story of Noel and Leon? Look for more in the near future.
About the Author
Jennifer Theriot hails from the Great State of Texas. She is a career woman, working as CFO of a Texas based real estate investment firm by day and does her writing at nights and on weekends. In her limited, spare time, Jennifer enjoys being outdoors; preferably somewhere on a beach while curled up with a good book. Spending time with family and friends, listening to music, watching a baseball game, and enjoying a good bottle of wine are usually on her to-do lists. She’s Mom to three grown children and ‘MiMi’ to three (soon to be four) grandkids – all of whom she adores!
http://www.jennifertheriot.com
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Naughty or Nice
By Ever Coming
Prologue
It was official. Performance reviews sucked. Not usually. Every one Lac
ey had up until now had been filled with “exceeds expectations” and “goes above and beyond” with a few “promotional potential” thrown in for good measure.
“I’m not asking that you change who you are, just that it might be prudent to be a little more, shall we say, social in the office.” Using her pen as a pointer, Mrs. Jones tapped on the one and only “needs improvement” section of Lacey’s evaluation.
“I … I haven’t … I am doing the best I can. I get all my work done, and I’m polite to everyone.” Lacey could hear the pathethicness in her argument. This was the last thing she had expected to happen. This was supposed to be a “You are so amazing, look forward to a decent holiday bonus” talk.
Lacey’s professional achievements were impressive for her age, education, and lack of know-how. She’d started answering phones at Northrup Enterprises her second, and sadly last, year of college. Five promotions later, Lacey’s desk was no longer part of a phone bank or even a tiny cubical. Fine, technically speaking it was a cubical, but this one had elbowroom, two filing cabinets, and a window. Practically an office. Not too shabby for someone who barely made it out of college with an associate’s degree. All of her success had left her unprepared for what to do when an evaluation wasn’t all sunshine and roses.
“Lacey, as I have repeatedly said throughout this meeting, your work is impeccable and you go above and beyond the workload expectations. That isn’t what this is about.” Mrs. Jones leaned back in her chair, no longer using the paper as a prop. Her eyes held kindness, which was good because Lacey feared hers would soon hold tears. “This is about how you hide yourself off from other employees and put your blinders on to get work done. In order to continue up the ladder here, you need to be able to foster team building. I just don’t see that in you right now.”
Lacey sighed. The woman was right. She came in, did her work, and left. She often worked through lunch and only went through the staff lounges and lunchrooms when she needed the refrigerator or to heat something up. People tended to think they were being kind and helpful by asking her how her mother was doing, but it always felt like a slam to the gut, so she gave up the lunchroom all together. She wasn’t purposely being a butt, it just was the only way she was able to handle life at the moment.
Team building was most assuredly necessary in the job she had her sights on, and while it didn’t actually have jack spit to do with socializing, Lacey could see Mrs. Jones’ point. The position she was gunning for, unlike the one she currently had, was managerial. Teambuilding and organizing projects to people strengths was a skill Lacey not only possessed, but shined at. If she wasn’t showing that side of her, then stepping up her game was a must.
“I will try.” Lacey fidgeted with her fingers on her lap, not sure the best way to approach this. It was easy when you got marked down for something you could prove was not true, but this sort of was. Unintentionally so, but that was neither here nor there.
“Lacey, as I said, you don’t need to change who you are.” The woman stopped mid thought and Lacey quickly adjusted herself to the “I’m paying attention” stance Mrs. Jones always pushed for. At team meetings, people joked Mrs. Jones missed her calling as a teacher because her silence, a single look, or a walk around the room had everyone focused. They weren’t wrong. “Just do some of the office activities from time to time. Maybe participate in one of the potlucks or eat with other employees a couple of days a week.”
Potluck. She could have avoided this by bringing in a stupid dessert to the Thanksgiving potluck last week. She wanted to kick herself. The four thousand emails and fliers should have given her a hint that it was important. How eating tepid food all smooshed in a tiny room with only forty-five minutes to eat and clean up was important, she didn’t know. But no, she had to penny pinch and now she had a crappy performance review.
“Yes, ma’am.” Lacey slipped into schoolgirl formality, knowing that if she tried to say anymore, she would shed more than a few tears.
“Lacey, I hesitated to even bring this up.” Mrs. Jones saw her shift for what it was, her eyes softening alongside her tone. She leaned in slightly, handing Lacey the pen, pushing the paper forward. Stinks, she needed to sign it, making it all official.
“In your current position you don’t need to be part of all the touchy feeling kumbaya stuff, you really don’t.” Her attempt to lighten the mood probably would’ve worked better if Lacey wasn’t scratching out her signature with a death grip on the pen, sealing the conversation. As Lacey placed the pen down, Mrs. Jones placed her hand on hers, a very uncharacteristic yet welcome gesture. “I‘m just looking at the bigger picture. I don’t want you to miss out on opportunities because you allowed yourself to be too serious too soon.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The crack in her voice accompanied the escape of a few tears. This was no big deal, not really, and yet in the moment it was everything and she was barely holding it together.
“Would you stop yes ma’aming me?” Mrs. Jones stood up, paper in hand, her teasing tone giving Lacey just enough of a break to reign in the tears that she was so desperately trying to hold back. “You’re making me feel old.”
A giggle escaped Lacey. Mrs. Jones was old. She joked that she would never retire, and Lacey believed her. She loved Northrup and had been employed there as long as anyone could remember.
“Sorry. I do that when I’m nervous.”
The woman scoffed at her apology, swishing it off with her hand.
“I just don’t really know where to go from here. I could probably eat in the lunchroom once in a while.” Lunches were easy … well easy-ish. She could start there and add in a yes to happy hour or something.
“Excellent.”
Perfect. Lunches it was.
“And interoffice activities?”
Crap on a cracker. She knew that was a little bit too easy.
“I will find one to sign up for.” Halfway to the door, Lacey turned back. “Do I really come across as a bitch?”
It wasn’t the best language to use, especially with Mrs. Jones, but she had to know. If she did, she had a lot of work to do before Marsha, the current holder of the position, retired.
“I never said that.” Mrs. Jones shook her head, not angry for the word choice from the look of it, but almost saddened by it. “But no, no, you don’t. You come across as sad and lonely more than bitchy.”
“I just have a lot on my plate is all.”
Understatement of the freaking year. Or several years. It had started when her mom had been diagnosed with cancer. And then they had exactly two months to the day to savor her victory over cancer before she was slammed back down with a stroke. A stroke that should have been avoided, if only the pharmaceutical company properly tested the drug the doctors prescribed to keep the woman in remission before passing it out like candy. The drug had five pages of warnings, as was the way of things nowadays, and never once were strokes mentioned in the fine print. The drug was thankfully pulled, but too late for her mother.
And on top of all that, the bills had started rolling in.
The student loans were doable-ish. Working full time during college had kept her borrow amount down and faithfully paying her loans each month—and sometimes even paying extra—helped Lacey avoid the albatross so many in her office kvetched about daily. The payments may have been miniscule compared to many others’, but sending the money each month still impacted her ability to do wild and crazy things, such as buy a data for her cellphone and replace her broken toaster.
Her mother’s hospital bills were an entirely different story. Lacey would pass those bad boys onto her children and grandchildren. Not in actuality, because that’s not how medical bills worked, but paying them off at her current pace would barely make a dent in them before she was old and grey. Not one of her appeals to lower the balance or forgive a percentage had worked. Not one. Being uninsured sucked. Being uninsured with cancer brought suck to a whole new level, especially with her mother’s complications post remission.
“I know, Lacey, but you are young and you need to have more than work and responsibilities.”
So, there was more to it. Mrs. Jones was being a mama hen as well as a boss. She wasn’t wrong in her analysis, but as Lacey’s mom told her once, “You have to live the season you’re in.” And the season she was in held responsibilities and hard work with little room for anything else.
“I’ll try to be more active. I didn’t realize I was so … I’ll try.” She made the rest of the way to the door before being interrupted just as her hand reached the handle.
“Don’t worry about your holiday bonus. They are already locked in, and yours is a bit higher than last year.”
Relief flooded her. Lacey counted on the bonus for little things like winter fuel. Losing heat because she was embarrassed by her lunches and too poor and busy to go out with coworkers would have triple sucked.
“Thanks. I was worried about that.”
“I know, Lacey. Now try to let loose a little.” The woman gave her a small, yet very warm smile before shooing her with her hands. Lacey might not have liked the content of their meeting, but she really was fond of the woman. She knew in her heart that Mrs. Jones only wanted what was best for her, for everyone, actually. She was part of the reason Lacey had been able to switch from an internship to full time when all things fell to the mud and she had to quit school.
The walk back to her desk was short, and when she sat down, a paper fluttered from her chair to the floor. Bending over, she picked it up to read: Office Secret Santa Sign-ups Have Begun
Twelve days of gift giving for a new position and raise wouldn’t be the worst thing. Not that the twelve days made sense. The twelve days of Christmas actually start on Christmas, but she wasn’t about to get technical. Not with so much at stake.
It was a sign. It had to be. She picked up her pen and filled out the form before she could change her mind.
