by JD Hawkins
Flawless
JD Hawkins
Copyright © 2019 by JD Hawkins
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Prologue
1. Zoe
2. Liam
3. Zoe
4. Zoe
5. Liam
6. Zoe
7. Liam
8. Zoe
9. Zoe
10. Liam
11. Liam
12. Zoe
13. Zoe
14. Zoe
15. Liam
16. Liam
17. Zoe
18. Liam
19. Zoe
20. Zoe
21. Liam
22. Zoe
23. Zoe
24. Liam
25. Zoe
26. Liam
27. Zoe
28. Liam
Epilogue
Also by JD Hawkins
About the Author
Prologue
Liam
I see her across the hotel’s ballroom floor, through a sea of striking, blonde model-types selling the last of their wares before the makeup convention ends at 5 p.m. They promote glosses and bronzers and skin creams to potential buyers, cool and confident, persuading the customers that the right shade of lipstick or the perfect night cream could change their lives. Despite the lack of windows overlooking Downtown Austin, you can tell that the convention is occurring in Texas—even though Austin is the liberal blue bubble of the Lone Star State, the voices echoing through the room still have the vestiges of southern accents, and a handful of the women have matched a pair of classic cowboy boots with their outfits.
I take a professional interest in all the flawless faces, the thick eyelashes emphasized by mascara, the soft pink lips and the range of glowing skin tones. Sure, these women are important for research purposes, but at the same time there’s a monotony to their beauty that makes it hard for me to focus. And though I usually love myself a leggy drink of water in a tight dress just as much as the next man, tonight I already have plans—I’ll be watching a Houston Rockets game at my best friend Darren’s place, our usual weekend ritual with my cousin Josh and his wife Allie.
It’s my turn to cover the snacks, and as a devoted foodie, I take my job very seriously. I can’t let my friends eat generic tortilla chips out of a bag with that fake cheese sauce—tonight we’ll be eating al pastor nachos with home fried chips and pineapple salsa, Mexican caesar salad to keep Allie from lecturing me about our endangered arteries, and chorizo-manchego tacos with locally-made pickled jalapenos.
Another glance at my watch tells me it’s almost time to head over and get the food started.
As the crowd begins to thin out, I sip at the last of my Old Fashioned, watching the commotion from the safety of the small, dark, speakeasy-style bar just a few steps away from the convention.
I wave over the bartender to close out my tab, ready to get going to Darren’s place, but that’s when I spot her again. The one woman who’s actually managed to catch my attention this evening, who I’ve been following with my gaze as she travels up and down the rows of booths, chatting and smiling so genuinely that I can believe she’s legitimately having a great time—she’s not like the rest.
I examine her with hawk-like precision. Her expression is open and direct, her eyes the clear blue of the ocean in the Bahamas, a slinky black dress pulled tight against her ample breasts, with an ass as firm and round as a peach waiting to be picked. She has the class of a sophisticate and the air of a Hollywood starlet from the golden age of film, high cheekbones framed by side-swept waves of dark hair. Her aesthetic is more stripped down than the other women at the convention, except for the deep red lipstick that accentuates her voluptuous lips.
I finish off the whiskey, lustful but reticent to bail on my friends. Stay strong, I silently command myself. You’re gonna pay the tab, walk out of this bar, and go straight to your car. Except then the woman starts walking this way of her own volition, slinking directly toward me. As she gets closer, I realize she’s got a searching, focused expression on her face.
“You haven’t seen a phone left behind anywhere, have you?” she asks the bartender, leaning across the bar. He shrugs, and this close up, I can’t help drinking in her good looks all over again. She turns, catches my eye, and takes in my charming smile.
“Excuse me, but I’m not for sale. So you can stop staring at me like I’m a piece of merchandise,” she says to me, a flush rising in her cheeks even as she calls me out.
I let out a surprised laugh, hoping to charm her with the deep, rugged voice that causes most women to instantly melt. “I do apologize, but I wasn’t staring at you. I was admiring your fastidious sense of fashion. Those are Louboutins, no?”
“You were looking at my shoes?” She laughs, shaking her head as she gives me a once-over. “Right. Is that the best you’ve got? Let me guess, the chiseled jaw and sultry eyebrows usually do the rest?”
I feign offense. “Ouch. That’s a bit reductive, don’t you think? I’m more than just a pretty face. I have some depth.”
“Okay, Mr. More Than Just a Pretty Face, how about you demonstrate your ‘depth’ by letting me borrow your phone for a minute? Mine’s gone M.I.A. and I need to call a friend to pick me up.” Her sassy expression softens, and I see a vulnerability there that piques my inner chivalry. “And to be honest, it's been a rough day so far. I’d really appreciate the help.”
“I’m happy to assist.” I slide my cell across the bar. “But may I buy you a drink first? The phone is yours, regardless. But if we’re being honest with each other, it looks like you could use a moment to unwind.”
The woman picks up the phone and considers for a moment, then lowers herself onto the barstool beside me and sets my cell back on the bar. She flags down the bartender. “An Old Fashioned please, courtesy of this gentleman.” Her gaze darts to me, taking in my amused grin, and then she adds, “On second thought, make it a double.”
“You keeping this tab open, then?” the bartender says to me.
“Yes. Changed my mind,” I reply. I slide the phone toward me just long enough to text an apology to Darren, telling him I may not make it tonight since I found an opportunity at the convention that I can’t pass up.
“You have excellent taste,” I tell the woman, lifting my glass to hers when her drink arrives.
“Thank you. And thanks for the drink. You’re right. I do need a breather.” She takes a deep swallow of the liquor and then licks her lips, and I have to drag my eyes away from the teasing movement of her tongue.
We sit in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the sound of the music. The ambiance is jazz, classics like John Coltrane and Miles Davis, the chandelier sparkling above us. When I hear the unmistakable gypsy jazz of Django Reinhardt’s guitar, a pleased smile lights up the woman’s face.
“Can you turn it up?” I ask the bartender. He obliges with a nod. “Love this song,” I tell the woman.
“Me too. Who do you like best?” she says, nodding toward the speaker nearby.
I give it some thought. “A favorite? Probably Charlie Parker, if I had to choose.”
She cocks an eyebrow, her eyes sparkling a little. “Interesting. Not all that surprising, though. I’d pick Thelonious Monk any day.”
“Did you know Monk is the second-most recorded jazz composer of all time? Didn’t quite beat Duke Ellington, but he came close.”
She grins. “Guess there
really is more to you than the pretty face after all.”
“I’ve been told I have killer abs too, if that helps,” I deadpan, and she rewards me with a full-throated laugh.
I swim deep into the woman’s eyes as she swims in mine, heat smoldering between us. She clears her throat and looks down at her glass, lifting it again for another deep, slow drink.
I tilt my head. “I never caught your name, by the way.”
“That’s because I never gave it to you,” she replies.
She takes a breath and studies the space behind me as if she’s thinking hard, considering a proposal. I imagine cupping her chin, feeling her skin against my fingertips, her soft lips trembling with anticipation as I run my thumb across them.
But I wait. I know exactly how to play this game—it’s all about timing.
“So what brings you to a makeup convention?” she asks. “You may be the only straight man here. Assuming…”
While typically I believe in honesty, it’s not like we’ll ever meet again after tonight, and the truth of why I’m here would just complicate things, lead our conversation quickly down a very dull, very predictable route. So I improvise. “There was a lecture on the floor above, about artificial intelligence and virtual reality. I’m the CEO of a tech startup. The lecture was great, but the cocktail hour was all awkward young guys ten years my junior, talking about algorithms and favorite programming languages. Once the discussion moved to World of Warcraft, I knew I needed a break. And lo and behold I found a room full of attractive women down here. And now, as luck would have it, I’m sitting next to the most stunning of them all.”
The woman takes a long drag of whiskey and then fixes me with a penetrating gaze, suddenly all business. “Spare me your flattery. Here’s the deal—my boyfriend broke up with me earlier today and then flew off to Italy with his administrative assistant, so I am very recently single. I don’t know what your agenda is, but the last thing I need is some Don Draper look-alike to pull the moves on me and then send me out to pasture.”
“I have no such intentions.” I lean away and hold up my hands, a move which causes her to subconsciously lean closer. “The truth is, my only interest tonight is in your pleasure. If that means offering you my phone and a drink and making sure you get on your way safely, I am happy to do so. If that means giving you space, I’ll walk out the door of this bar right now. I am completely at your service. And by the way, whoever this guy is, he doesn’t deserve you. Not by a long shot. So just tell me what you want. Us men? We’re not all bad.” I shrug.
“Okay. I want…” The woman glances down, then runs her hand up my forearm, feeling the muscle rippling. She leans in closer to my ear and then whispers, “I want you to fuck me.”
“Do you?” I say. She nods, and I trace a finger along her neck. “I would be thrilled to give you what you’re asking,” I whisper back.
“But it has to be on my terms,” she adds.
“And what might those terms be?” I ask.
Instead of answering, she just smiles. She looks like a femme fatale from a film noir the way the shadows play across her face. “Want to go on an adventure?” she says, her hand now stroking lightly at the stubble on my cheek.
I nod again.
“Then these are the rules. First off, no names. This is a one-time thing only, no strings attached. Does that work for you?”
“Anything you want.”
“Second, we better both have a good time. And by that I mean that you’re not done with me until you make me come so hard I forget my own name. Think you can handle it?”
“I would have it no other way. And I must say, I like your style.”
“Thank you,” she purrs. “You aren’t so bad yourself.”
The room has mostly cleared out. I bend down, as if I’ve dropped something, and glide my tongue up along the inside of her thigh. The sound of her gasp sends blood rushing to my cock.
“Let’s go,” she says, slamming her empty glass against the bar.
“After you.”
We chase each other through the halls of the hotel, giddy as kids playing tag, basking in the warm orange glow of the sunset spilling through the white, airy curtains. The woman’s heel wobbles and I scoop her up, her body so tantalizing in my arms that I can barely keep myself from taking her right there on the carpet. I spot a conference room, try the knob. Unlocked. We stumble breathlessly through the door and I lay her down on the glossy wooden table surrounded by office chairs, projectors, and filing cabinets.
We finally kiss, hungry mouths devouring each other as if only we can quell each other’s thirst, her tongue deep in my throat, mine reciprocating, my fingers tugging the front of her dress down and rolling her exposed nipples between them until they’re rock hard. I bite gently at her neck, then trail kisses down her chest.
“Mmmm.” Her moans grow in intensity as I unzip the back of her dress, her clothes dropping away to reveal a body like that of a goddess.
She pushes me gently onto my back, climbing on top of me. As she carefully unfastens each button on my shirt, seeming to relish the way she’s making me wait, she looks down and grins at my cock, noticing how stiff and ready it is straining against my pants. She leans over and starts to grind against me, and I tense with anticipation, unbearably turned on. When I try to sit up to kiss her, she pushes me back down against the table. I can tell she’s basking in her power over me, turning herself on with her aggression. She reaches down to tug my belt open and yanks off my pants.
“Oh wow,” she says, eyes glinting with the hunger of an animal. “This should be fun.”
She rubs my cock between her breasts, lapping at the tip with her eager tongue, and my breathing grows harder, faster. I pull her toward me and reach down to touch the wetness between her thighs, slide two fingers in as I press my thumb against her clit. I stroke her with my fingertips, curling back to find the soft pad of her G-spot, tapping hard until her hips are bucking.
“Yes, there,” she pants, pulling roughly at my hair. “God, you’re good.”
I pump my fingers into her a few more times and then run my hands along her naked body, turning her so that my head is between her thighs, my cock brushing against her plush wet lips and warm, gasping breath.
“Tell me how bad you want to taste my cock,” I grind out.
“I want it bad…so bad,” she pants, squeezing my shaft with her warm hands. “I need it.”
She takes me in her mouth with a slow, hard suck that has my toes curling, and I start to thrust into the back of her throat. When I dip my head to trace my tongue along the slit of her pussy, a loud moan escapes from her.
“Oh my god, wait. Did you lock the door?” she asks suddenly, her lipstick smeared across her mouth in a way I find completely irresistible.
“No sense of excitement in that, now is there?”
She laughs. “You’re crazy. But I like it.” Her eyes lock on mine and she bounces my cock against her tongue a few times before wrapping her lips around it once more.
“That’s real good,” I tell her. My cock plunges deep into her throat, faster now, and it’s like ecstasy as she sucks harder, her tongue exploring the full length. My hands squeeze her ass, massaging her glutes as I lap at her swollen clit like I’ll drown if I don’t get enough. I’ve barely gotten going when her moans grow more desperate and high-pitched, and I feel her body start to quaver.
“Oh my god,” she moans, hips thrusting, rolling her soaked pussy over my mouth. “Oh my god. Don’t fucking stop.”
I plunge my tongue into her, stroking her clit with my thumb, still fucking her mouth as I eat her pussy, and in seconds she comes so hard she whimpers, gasping as the orgasm ripples through her. I start to pull away, the need to pound my throbbing cock into her unbearable now.
“We’re not done yet. I need you inside of me,” she says, not a question but a demand. She massages my balls and I can tell I’m on the edge.
“Sounds like we're on the same page,” I say, my vo
ice gone ragged with lust.
I pick her up and carry her to the wall, pressing her against it face-first as I slip on a condom. She spreads her legs to give me access and I slam into her from behind, a feeling of pure euphoria as I find my pace, thrusting deeper and faster with every stroke. I grab her hips and lift her further up the wall so I can get an even better angle, gliding in and out with a punishing rhythm. She twists and runs her tongue along the rim of my ear, her breath warm against me.
“More.”
I grunt my agreement and thrust harder, our breathing in sync, fucking her faster, deeper, knowing we could get caught in here any second. I’m relentless, the feel of her shuddering body and lush, bouncing ass sending me into a frenzy. Her moans reach a fever pitch, the sound coming from somewhere deep inside her, unleashing my inner beast. I grab a fistful of her hair and pull her head back, ramming her with everything I’ve got, making her beg. As she orgasms again I let out a low growl, pulling her body against me as I come in a hard, hot rush.
We pull apart, panting as if we’ve just run a marathon. I kiss her neck and hold her steady as she rests her head on my shoulder, breathing out a long sigh of contentment.
I lean back against the wall, catching my breath, high on the post-orgasmic bliss. A few moments later, I find myself overcome with an inescapable weariness, a combination of alcohol and a really good fuck. I could probably fall straight into bed after that, but something tells me we’re far from finished with each other.
