by JD Hawkins
“Well, we need a field where they can type in any allergies, or maybe we can list the most common ingredients that cause skin sensitivity and let them choose from those. And we can have them describe any issues they’ve had with previous products they’ve used, whether it was a matter of a wrong color match or a reaction or simply not liking the texture of a skin cream. The programmers will need to set up a system that will flag any disparities between the recommendations of the app and the survey responses. And as for the color issues, Adam has some great ideas about building an amalgamation of a user’s skin tone based on multiple photos with a white background to create a common baseline. This will help prevent potential glitches in the algorithm. I’d reach out to Adam for the details, but the guy knows what he’s talking about.”
“You think he knows how to fix this? You sound so sure of yourself.”
She shrugs. “This app isn’t rocket science. I know the programming of it is tricky, and I understand the stumbling blocks you’re hitting, but you can definitely overcome them. You didn’t get to where you are now by giving up at the first hint of a challenge.”
I feel my cheeks flush despite myself. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Zoe laughs and pops the last bite of crostini into her mouth. “Moving on—LoveLife’s makeup. Make it in-house. Outsourcing production might seem cost effective right now, but you give up all control over what’s actually going into the products—and once you put in a purchase order, you’re stuck with a huge amount of merchandise in pre-selected options that may or may not reflect our actual users once the app is up and running. And what about custom shades?”
I frown. “I get how this makes sense, but the company isn’t equipped to manufacture a full line of makeup and skincare products. The overhead alone…I mean, we’d have to hire someone right away to come up with colors and formulas, and then actually making the—”
“This afternoon, when that guy was blathering on the phone at me? I got the contact information for Shanice Harris from Le Boutique. Word is, she’s looking for a new gig at a smaller company where she can spread her wings and branch out into products that serve more diverse users. Think about it, Liam—we’re her dream job. And Shanice has had a hand in developing every bestselling makeup product they’ve come out with in the last five years.”
I weigh it in my mind, warming to the idea in spite of all my reservations. “I’m not sure LoveLife can afford to bring on both Kiley and Shanice right away.”
Zoe lights up. “That’s where the branding comes in! I have a loyal audience in the tens of thousands, great relationships with beauty and lifestyle influencers, and I’ve had dozens of makeup industry guests on my show. You need these people to use your app and buy your products, and I guarantee they’ll be endorsing LoveLife to their friends once they’ve seen what we have to offer.”
I mull it over, nodding. “So what are you asking, in exchange for offering your reach and influence to LoveLife? And what happens if the sales don’t meet expectations?”
Zoe takes a long drink from her wine glass before continuing. “I propose a partnership. Call your yet-to-be-named app ‘Makeup for the People.’ The show already has brand recognition, and it’s very much in line with your new endeavor. I’ll feature a demonstration of the app on my show once you’re ready to launch, and we can set it up as an exclusive first peek to get everyone excited. As for sales, I guarantee you’ll benefit from a massive built-in network of potential buyers—at last count, my show had over 900,000 subscribers. We can even set a minimum number of orders or users into the partnership contract, and if I fail to help you get this app off the ground then the contract is null and void. But if I do get you those sales—and trust me, I will—then I get a certain percentage of the profits generated by the app.”
The plates start to arrive at the table, but all I can think about is the bomb Zoe just dropped in my lap. “Look, everything you’re saying sounds good. Great. The mission statement, the built-in network, the promotion. But the bottom line is that we need more money upfront, and while your ideas are sound, we need to have a viable financial plan in order to make this work.”
Zoe delicately lifts one of the slices of carpaccio and places it on her tongue, savoring the flavor of the soy vinaigrette. She looks back at me, and suddenly I can tell she already has an agenda, though I don’t yet know what it is.
A beat. “Let me speak to the investors,” Zoe says. “We’ll have an official presentation—give them a detailed breakdown of our budget and justify the need for increased funding. I’m not trying to encroach on your position as CEO, but makeup is gendered, and if I, as a woman, am able to pitch the app with the new specifics we’ve developed and use my experience as an authority on makeup and a potential user who is part of the consumer demographic—or maybe we get Lanie in there too, and Patricio—it’s just a suggestion, of course, but…well…”
As she trails off I take a bite of the chicken, and it’s like heaven on a fork. On top of that, I’m feeling the effects of the whiskey I drank earlier, and several glasses of prosecco. Suddenly I find smiling warmly. “Oh come on, Zoe, don’t let your convictions fade now.”
“What?” She’s so startled she almost chokes on her wine.
“You took charge of this conversation, but when it came to making the big ask, you started adding qualifiers to your sentences, tiptoeing around what you wanted. Be bold. Ask for what you want without apology. You’re brilliant, and you should never be afraid to stand up for what you want, one hundred percent of the time. Even with the Big Boss.”
Zoe’s eyes narrow. “How can you say that? What about the hard time you gave me when I started working at LoveLife? Even on day one.”
“That was because you barged into my office and tried to play alpha. But you know what? I loved that you stood up for yourself. I respected you for it.”
“Why not just respect me in the first place?”
I look away, exasperated. “I did, in spite of any behavior indicating otherwise. If I acted like a hardass, it was because I was still attracted to you and I was trying to keep you away.”
“Well it worked.”
“I know. And I wish it hadn’t. Because now I’m just your asshole boss,” I say, grinning.
Zoe looks straight at me. “Look, I want to pitch the investors. I can get the extra money we need, which means I have financial a stake in our partnership right from the get go. Deal?” she says, emphasizing the latter part of her sentence.
She holds out her hand, but I don’t take it.
“That was great, Zoe. That’s exactly how it should be done.”
She lowers her hand, uncertainty written across her face. “And your answer?”
“It’s a no.”
Zoe glowers at me. “Why not?”
I put a hand on her forearm, just a slight touch. “Because I’m going to do you one better. The investors in Austin are small potatoes. Come with me to New York. Next week. Present your ideas to my contacts on Wall Street. Deal?”
She smiles, and all the tension is suddenly gone. “Deal.”
My hand is still touching her arm across the table, and she slides herself around the booth so that we’re sitting side by side. “I can’t eat another bite,” she admits. “You might be calling my dessert bluff after all.”
“That’s too bad. Though I’d be happy to bring you back here, just for dessert,” I reply, a different kind of appetite taking over inside.
Zoe takes a breath and turns toward me. “I would love to go on a dessert date with you.”
A blush comes into her cheeks as her lusty gaze meets mine. I let my hand drop from her arm, my fingers against the bare skin of her knee.
“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t I have the waiter pack us up a selection of their finest desserts, and we’ll take them back to my place and continue the meeting there? With the New York trip coming up so soon, we should really get down to logistics, though I’m happy to call it a night if yo
u’d prefer.”
“No, I think that’s a good idea. A very, very good idea. A brilliant idea.” She hiccups.
“Zoe, are you drunk?” I realize the bottle of prosecco is now empty, and that we’ve both had about three glasses of it.
She giggles. “I am definitely tipsy, though my assessment is that I’m not quite drunk.”
“We’ll get a cab, then,” I tell her, already dialing my phone.
“Does this mean your hands will be free on the way there?” she asks.
“Count on it.” I lean in, brushing back a strand of hair that’s fallen across her cheek. “And believe me when I say that they will be all over you.”
When we arrive at my house, our clothes in slight disarray from the subtle groping in the cab’s backseat, Zoe’s mouth is agape. “Wow. This place is huge,” she says. “Daddy Warbucks’ mansion status.”
I shrug, the lust suddenly drained out of me. “It’s complicated. Family money that has a long story behind it. Plus, I’ve been told my home seems more impressive when drunk.”
“I’m not drunk, I’m tipsy, and I am convinced my impression of your absolutely not at all humble abode would remain consistent even if I were sober.”
As we enter through the doorway, I head into the kitchen to put the box of desserts in the fridge. When I ask Zoe if she’d like a glass of water or more wine, she points at me, then turns to point at the brown leather couch in my living room, and says, “We have some catching up to do, Mr. Bartock. Now.”
I oblige. I settle onto the couch and click a remote. The Velvet Underground plays quietly over the speakers.
“You like that?” I ask Zoe.
She nods, swaying to the music, dancing as she approaches me. She puts her hands against the back of the couch and then straddles me, gyrating her hips over my crotch as she closes her eyes, a blissful expression on her face.
I grip the edge of the couch, feel myself getting hard, my cock pressing at my zipper, yearning to get out. Zoe wears a thong under her dress and as she rolls her pussy against me, her warm, wet, waiting entrance sets a fire in my loins.
“I want you,” I tell her. She sighs happily. “But I fully intend to respect your boundaries. So if you don’t want me to fuck your brains out right now, I suggest we get you a ride home.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she purrs.
“Then you’re all mine,” I growl, holding her hips as I grind up against her.
She’s tantalizing as hell, her lips getting ever so slightly closer to mine as her body keeps time with the music, until finally our mouths open against each other, tongues doing a slow dance as I unzip my pants, one hand sliding up and down my cock as I use my other to stroke her clit. I slip a finger into her pussy, back out again, in and out, then two fingers, curling back to hit the spot that drives her wild.
“Yes, yes,” she murmurs as I lay her down on the couch below me, my fingers probing until I find the angle that makes her body quiver. “Right there,” she says, breathless, and I increase my pace, stroking in a steady rhythm until Zoe gasps, orgasming hard, digging her nails into my shoulders, her walls contracting around my fingers as she comes all over my cock.
“Oh my god, Liam!” she moans, and I don’t know if I’ve ever been so turned on in my life before. I slip her dress down off her shoulders, frantic with lust, running my tongue along her nipples, squeezing her breasts. I rub the head of my cock up and down her soaking wet opening, pressing against her clit.
“Sit up,” she whispers into my ear, fully naked now except for those black stiletto heels. I take her directions. “I want to sit on your lap. Do you have a condom?” I nod, pulling it from my pocket and letting her slip it on me.
Then she puts a finger to my lips and climbs on top of me, ever so gradually letting her wet pussy envelop my cock, squeezing the muscles of her vagina in a way that almost has me coming right then and there. She leans back and rides me slow and hard as I tilt my head back onto the headrest and bite my bottom lip, trying to make it last, both of us letting out short, quick breaths of pleasure. I slap her ass lightly.
“Again. Harder. Please,” she begs. And I do it again, and again, moving faster and deeper as she meets me with every thrust. She grabs onto a fistful of my hair, tits bouncing as I slam into her, sending shockwaves through both of us. “Fuck me, Liam. Oh my god. So good.”
“I’m about to come,” I tell her.
“I want you to come on my tits,” she says.
Zoe lays across the couch and I roll off the condom and finish myself off with my right hand as she reaches down and rubs her clit, her moans reaching a fever pitch. I push my fingers back into her pussy, then groan and jolt as I come all over her tits and stomach. Moments later, I feel her come for the second time, hot and wet against my hand. Zoe sighs and drop a kiss onto her plush lips, the Velvet Underground still playing in the background.
“I’ll be back in a moment.” I go into the hallway and grab two towels from the closet. When I return, Zoe’s sitting up, taking off her heels. I hand her a towel and sit down beside her.
“I swear to you,” I tell her, “I really had no ulterior motives tonight. All I wanted was to meet up and hear your thoughts. I had no idea it would turn into…this.”
“Me neither.” She turns to me, mischief in her gaze. “But I liked it.”
“Me too.” I take her hand. Zoe leans her head against my shoulder.
“Why don’t we just go for it?” she says. “I don’t know what ‘it’ is yet, but I don’t feel like this is wrong.”
“Same. I’ve created these boundaries for myself, all for the sake of trying to be ethical. I’ve had bad experiences getting involved with colleagues—in fact, that’s part of the reason I left LA. But I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since the night we met. Cross my heart.”
Zoe pauses. “Are you saying you haven’t been with anybody since we hooked up at the hotel?”
“Yes. I haven’t even thought about it. You’re everything I want.”
Zoe blushes. “That’s very sweet but a little naive. You barely know me.”
“I know everything I need to know. You’re brilliant, you’re driven—you’re a fighter. And you’re sexy as hell, as much for your brain as what I see when I look at you. Look, what happened at the hotel—I don’t do that kind of thing anymore. That was the old me. We just had so much chemistry. And look what happened. Fate or coincidence or whatever you want to call it just happened to bring us back together again. So let’s do this. I want to be with you.”
Zoe snuggles up against my chest, sleepy. “I want you too.”
I hold her for a few minutes, my thoughts shifting back and forth from how incredibly Zoe is to how exactly we’re going to save the app, and then suddenly realize that she’s fallen asleep in my arms.
I carry her upstairs to my bed, tucking her under the covers and setting a glass of water and a bottle of Advil on the nightstand beside her. Then I stretch out beside her and put my head back against my pillow, beyond grateful that we don’t have to go into work tomorrow.
12
Zoe
When I wake up in the morning, it takes me a moment to remember where I am, the sun dappling the plush king-size bed through expensive looking linen curtains. I’m flooded with a peaceful, floating feeling, the memories of what Liam and I did last night coming back to me in a rush. He said he wanted to be with me, that I was everything he wanted. I can hardly believe we’ve ended up here. Even when things were going well with Jonathan, it was nothing like the passion, the lustfulness I feel with Liam. Not only that, but Liam respects me for my brains and my sass, and doesn’t think I’m wasting my potential on a stupid makeup show or degrading myself by loving girly things. In fact, as far as Liam is concerned, it makes me an asset.
I hear the shower running and let myself into the steamy bathroom, still naked from the night before, impressed with the immaculate marble countertops, the large whirlpool tub, the gigantic granite-sided
shower with water pouring down over Liam like rain. He tilts his head back to wash the shampoo out of his hair and I sneak into the shower, coming up behind him and pressing against his back.
“Morning, beautiful,” he says, twisting around to give me a kiss, and I let my hands explore his body, his chiseled shoulders and firm, bulging biceps, his six-pack abs, the tight V of muscle leading down to his cock.
“Your body is like a work of art,” I say, blushing as the words leave my mouth.
“Lots of basketball and working out at the gym.” Liam grabs my butt and pulls me up against him, kissing me for a long time. “And your body is like royalty,” he whispers into my ear, and his flawless cock stiffens against my navel.
“Close your eyes,” Liam instructs me, and I comply. I hear him turn off the water, though the bathroom is still warm like a tropical paradise. He picks me up and lays me down on my back on the teak shower bench, and then I feel his tongue against my pussy. He plays with my clit, using his tongue with the precision of a painter perfecting his masterpiece, nipping gently with his teeth. I let out a breathless moan.
“You like that?” he asks.
“Mmm, yes,” I reply, and I feel his tongue outlining the shape of me before his mouth opens against my pussy. His tongue is fully inside of me as he rubs the tip of his nose against my clit to create pressure. The pleasure builds inside of me as he takes my thighs in his hands, spreading me wider and burying his tongue even deeper into me. No one has ever eaten me out like this before, fucking me hard with their tongue, teasing my clit, driving me totally insane.
“Oh, oh, wow,” I gasp. “God, you’re good at that. Fuck.”
A few minutes go by, pleasure pumping through my veins like liquid ecstasy. Right when I think I can’t hold back anymore, Liam stops and pulls his head up. “I want you to come on my face,” he says.
