Panty Dropper (A Sexy Standalone Contemporary Romance)

by Paige North

  Leo moaned as he ran his tongue over my wetness. I felt dizzy, my head swirling, my body unable to do anything but move in the direction of Leo’s mouth. My hips gently rocked as his tongue explored me, gliding over me as I thought I’d lose consciousness. He moved slowly over my opening and back up to my clit, his tongue making gentle work of it as I moaned, hoping it never ended while desperate for the release he’d soon give me. His tongue became more pointed as he moved in quicker motions over my clit, and my breath came in short gasps in time to the flicking of his tongue. With no warning, he flattened his tongue and drove it in long licks up the entire length of me. I breathed out, reveling in the sensation.

  My hand moved up to my breasts, massaging them through my shirt. Leo noticed and moved his own hand up the skin of my stomach and over my bra. I gently put my hand on top of his, letting him move at the perfect pace while I sat back, along for the ride. When he sucked on my clit, my breath caught and I knew I was close. My groans were loud enough to be heard outside his office door and I hoped everyone had really left for the evening because I was only getting louder as he continued his gentle sucking and licking of me. With my eyes closed, I reached down to him, pushing his head closer into me as I sucked in air, every fiber of my body rippling until I felt myself explode, releasing the air from my lungs, stars bursting behind my eyes. Leo grabbed my bucking hips, holding me down as he pressed his face into me, making sure I rode it out as long as possible.

  When it was over I collapsed back into the chair, every ounce of energy spent, my eyes closed and limbs limp. Leo kissed my thighs, going back to wear he started, but it felt sweet this time, gently pulling me back to reality.

  “Now that that’s done,” he said, “I might be able to concentrate on the movie.”

  “You’re awful,” I said. “And when I say that I mean amazing.” A smile played on my lips as I opened my eyes. Seeing Leo there, a satisfied look on his face, made me feel warm and happy.

  “I’m going to go change,” he said, nodding toward a bathroom door on the other side of his office. “Can you manage to pull yourself together?”

  “I have a better chance if you’re not kneeling in front of me,” I said, resting a hand on top of his, resting on my thigh.

  “This is the best place in the world to be,” he said, making me groan with pleasure. Finally, he stood up and went to change, and I got myself dressed again. When he came back he was more casually dressed in jeans and a polo shirt.

  I told Leo I’d drive. Even though the drive-in was for a story for Crush, I wanted it to be like it was a date. Leo had paid for everything so far—the dinner and all the take-out food he’d had delivered to the beach house—and I wanted to put in my fair share as well. He’d asked me if I was working again next week, and it took me a moment to realize he meant the temp job. A stab of guilt hit me as I told him that yes, it was back to the grind working reception.

  We took the elevator down to the parking garage and I led us to my car, a little Honda Accord that was only slightly rusty around the edges.

  “No,” Leo said suddenly as I unlocked my door. He stood at the bumper as if an electric force kept him from moving closer.

  “What?” I asked, confused.

  “This is what we’re riding in?”

  “Come on,” I said. “Not everyone can drive a fancy car.”

  “Exactly,” he said. “So if you have one, you should take it out as often as possible. Come on.” He began walking back to the garage elevator.

  “Are you kidding?” I said.

  “Not in the slightest,” he said.

  I shook my head and followed him. “You are a snob. Total and complete, stuck-up snob.”

  He punched the button for the elevator. “Fine. I’m a snob. But I also have standards.”

  “Uh huh,” I said. “You’ve also insulted my car. I worked really hard for that thing!”

  “How many phones did you have to answer to have enough money to buy that thing?” he asked.

  “Very funny,” I said, feeling that twang of guilt again.

  “My car is more comfortable. And safer,” he added. “Plus I like driving.”

  “That thing you drove us in back from Malibu?” I said. Despite my intentions of distracting him on the drive back down the coast, the car did not feel safe. And it wasn’t that I cared about going in his car, exactly, but I had wanted to sort of take control of the evening, and one way of doing that was driving.

  “No, not that car,” Leo said. “I have my other car here.”

  “I’m sure I’ll regret asking this,” I said, “but how many cars do you have?”

  He smiled. “Several,” he said. “But this one is much more comfortable, I promise.”

  “Fine,” I said. “But I’m paying for the movie and food.”

  The drive-in was just as I had pictured it, on a big empty lot with cars lined up neatly in rows with a little red shack of a concession stand at the back. His car—a midnight blue Mercedes S-Class sedan—was not too much fancier than many of the other cars there. It didn’t stand out, at least.

  I was nervous about what he’d think about a movie I loved so much. As it began, I kept stealing glances at him to gauge if he was enjoying it. He quickly had me distracted when he rested his hand on my thigh. When I put my hand on the smooth skin of his, he flipped his hand over and clasped our fingers together. My heart skipped a beat. Something about holding hands—despite all the far more intimate things we’d done together, and to each other—made things with Leo feel significant. Official, maybe. But it was more than that. I loved being with Leo. Being near him, sitting beside him, felt so normal and right that I’d almost forgotten that tongue-tied feeling I’d had at the audition that first day.

  When the movie ended, we didn’t move. Leo sat staring at the screen as if it were the middle instead of the credits. I let the silence hang like that until the screen finally went black, and we were almost the only ones left.

  “I guess this means you liked it,” I ventured.

  “That,” he said, “was amazing.” Which made me absolutely beam. “Those parents. What dicks. When Todd Anderson’s parents sent him the desk set again for his birthday…”

  “I know!” I said, so excited he liked it.

  “And then his roommate, what’s his name…”

  “Neil Perry,” I said.

  “…told him it wanted to fly.”

  “Such a great scene,” I said. I felt happiness bubbling up as I heard true excitement in Leo’s voice.

  “And Neil’s parents,” he said, his eyes focused on nothing outside the windshield of his shiny car. “They’re miserable human beings who insisted on making their son just as miserable. I thought he was going to shoot his dad for a while there.”

  “Yeah, but what about letting yourself be free, like Mr. Keating encouraged them all to be? Especially creatively free. Not letting anyone or anything hold you back?” As I said the words, I realized how closely it all mimicked his life—sans suicide, of course.

  “Exactly,” he said. He finally turned to look at me, his eyes bright with thought. “Thank you, Sophie. Thank you for showing me your favorite movie.”

  I smiled. “You liked it?”

  “I loved it,” he said.

  I turned to better face him. “So is there anything you’d like to say to me, then, Mr. Armstrong?” I asked coquettishly. He looked at me curiously. “Something along the lines of, ‘I was wrong about the movie, and you were right’? Ring a bell?”

  He leaned across the seats toward me, lightly touching my chin. I held my breath as his lips moved closer to mine. When he kissed me, I felt the air rush through me, and I wondered if the feeling would ever end. I certainly hoped not. He pressed closer to me, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, and I loved the taste of him. It all felt so real and so normal, and I wanted the moment to last forever.

  “Not a chance,” he said, making me laugh but roll my eyes.

  “The ego on you,�
� I said.

  “My place?” he asked. As usual, his kisses scrambled my mind so much that I couldn’t speak sensible words. All I could do was nod yes.

  We were hardly off the elevator of his apartment before we were clawing the clothes off each other. It was like we were starving, and the only thing that could fill us up was each other. His mouth devoured my neck as his hands slipped under my blouse, feeling up my ribs until he was sliding it off over my head, tossing it aside. My mind became so frazzled in these moments, not knowing whether I should go for his shirt first and feel that hard, strong chest, or go straight for his pants for what I really wanted. I started with his shirt, although I almost ripped the buttons off I was so eager.

  Leo paused and stepped away from me, panting. His lips were red with the force of his kisses, and I had no doubt mine looked the same. He took my hand and guided me up the curving staircase and into his bedroom. Windows surrounded the room, the view similar to the one on the balcony, directly below us. He kept the lights off, letting the city’s glow fill the room just enough to see each other—to see his ever-hungry look.

  “You ever get lonely in this big apartment all by yourself?” I asked because, honestly, the place was big enough for a family of ten.

  “I’m never lonely when you’re around,” he said, pulling me to him. His skin was hot on mine, and I felt us melting into each other. My hands wrapped around to his shoulder blades, feeling the muscles down his back. I ran my hands over the back of his jeans, cupping his firm ass in my hands, feeling his strength wherever I touched.

  Leo suddenly picked me up and tossed me onto the bed—literally tossed me. I laughed as I bounced across the ocean of sheets, but stopped when he crawled across the mattress toward me like a lion. He was on top of me in a flash, his strong arms blocking me in, and I ran my hands up them, slowly, feeling every ripple of muscle. He leaned down into me, and when our lips met again, my breath finally came back.

  Even after what he’d done to me earlier that same evening in his office, I needed more. I always needed more of him. I was starting to realize I needed all of him, all the time. He seemed to feel the same. We both ripped off our remaining clothes, and then Leo grabbed my hips and pulled me down closer to him. In quick time he slid into me, making me gasp with pleasure, and as he thrust in and out of me he kept his eyes on me, never looking away. I was mesmerized by the beauty of those eyes and by the perfect feeling of Leo inside of me, moving and filling me and making me feel like at any moment my entire body might explode with satisfaction. He continued his thrusting until we were both sweating, my hips angled up toward him.

  “Leo, come with me,” I said, because I was so close.

  But he stopped and flipped my body over as easily as a pancake until I was on my stomach. He never left my body. He took my hips again and pulled me up on my knees, then gently pushed my shoulders down until I was ass up. As he began moving again the new sensation made me cry out a new, the angle of his dick pushing down on my clit. I begged Leo to push harder, go deeper, get more of me, and he complied.

  “Sophie,” he cried out, a grunt mixed with passion, and he exploded inside me. I felt some of his juices run down my legs, and I kept pushing back into him to get every last drop.

  Afterward, as the world came back into focus, we settled on the pillows and under the sheets properly, facing each other. Leo had a little grin on his face, and I stroked his sharp jaw, feeling the stubble touching his smile. I ran my fingers through his hair, which made his eyes fall slowly shut. He whispered my name, and in that moment I felt possibly more connected to him than I had when we made love. My heart ached for him. I felt those three little words deep in my chest, beating inside me as clearly as my heart thumped at his every breath.

  But I didn’t dare say them. I didn’t know what to do with the words, but I held them tight. When Leo pulled me close so that my head was nestled in his neck, I had this comforting sensation that he felt it, too. Then again, it might have just been a healthy dose of wishful thinking.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked me. I gave a little laugh. God, no way would tell him.

  “Nothing,” I said. “You. Just wondering when you’re going to get tired of me.”

  He kissed my forehead, his arm holding me close. “Never,” he said. I ran my hand over his stomach and ribs and squeezed him tight.

  We talked for an hour. Not about anything special, just our lives. Leo told me he about the huge premiere he had coming up, and that he was concerned about critics’ responses to his latest film. I told him about Delaney and her custard empire, which made him laugh when I put it like that. He said, in a lazy way, that she should come to L.A. and open up a shop here. “We’ll fly her out,” he said, and that we got me again. I realized I was on the hunt for any little sign that he felt for me like I did for him. There were signs but they were small, and always I had Kait in my ear, convincing me that he said these things to all his girls.

  In his bed that night, I pushed thoughts of Kait aside. I made plans with Leo—a new restaurant to try, an overnight trip to Catalina—and only once did I think about the ending. Or how he told me that, when he walks away, he doesn’t look back. We held each other close, and eventually, we fell sleep.

  16

  I stayed up late Sunday night to write my drive-in story. When I finished at three in the morning, I felt really proud of what I’d written. My first piece for Crush magazine, and it was a fun, flirty story about an old-fashioned date. Naturally, I left Leo’s name out of it, but I was sure it’d make the magazine’s readers want to try out movie-watching from the front seat of their cars—or the backseat, if the movie was boring.

  I emailed it to Pam so she’d have it as soon as she arrived at work on Monday. I certainly didn’t want her having any new ammo on me by turning it in late, or even on time, considering what a bulldog she’d been about being the one to edit it. I was actually excited for her to read and edit it. I felt like I’d learned so much from Leo about writing and creating stories that, even though this was an article and not a story, I’d been able to use his insight to make it better. Plus, I welcomed Pam’s constructive criticism. Everyone said she was a really strong editor, and I wanted to be the best writer I could.

  Monday morning I didn’t even make it to my desk before Kait was screaming my name, calling me into her office.

  I stepped inside.

  “Close the door,” she said, not looking at me. I did as she said, feeling an epic-sized boulder in my stomach.

  “I went to the drive-in for my New Girl column this weekend,” I said, because surely that’s what she was pissed about.

  “I know you did. And I bet I know who you took on that date,” she said, and slapped a print out on the desk in front of me. I picked it up and saw a dark, grainy photo of two people sitting inside a luxury sedan, parked at a drive-in movie theater.

  “Is that you?” Kait asked. “It looks like you, and it’s definitely him, but those are not our clothes.”

  Leo Armstrong Spotted With Mystery Woman. Who Is She?!

  “Need I remind you that you are undercover?” Kait said. “If the paparazzi find out that you’re a writer with Crush magazine then the whole thing is over. Do you get that?”

  “Yes,” I stammered, holding the picture in my shaking hands. The picture showed Leo looking me, smiling. It was right before he leaned across and kissed me. I had lost focus on the story and now the whole thing was about to blow up in my face. What if Leo had seen this? Would he think I was just with him for press?

  Christ, I thought. Maybe I did have the two confused.

  “I know you’ve been out with him in public, but that was to his places that he knows—and I know how people in this town can bribe anyone from a restaurant manager to the busboy to keep their mouths shut about their celebrity clients,” Kait continued. “But you took him to one of your places—and on assignment for the magazine. I can’t even begin to know what you were thinking. So what are we suppos
ed to do with your drive-in story? Run it with this picture? Jesus, Sophie.” She sat back in her chair, exasperated.

  “I’m sorry,” I began, and my voice was trembling. God, if I started crying…

  “Your story is scrapped,” Kait said, swiftly, like the drop of the guillotine. “We need to know the impact of this photo. We’ll have to wait a couple of days to see if the press picks up on who you are because I guarantee you, they’re digging right now. You’re lucky you weren’t in your own car. Someone would have run your license plate through the DMV to find out. Not taking your own car is the only thing you did right.”

  If she only knew. I couldn’t believe such a great night had turned out to be such a disaster. And what about Leo? My phone was in my bag at my feet and I was itching to check it, see if he’d texted me. I had to make sure he wasn’t mad about the photo—to see if he even knew about it. I also had to make sure I didn’t lose my job.

  “I’ll fix it, I promise,” I said to Kait, but she quickly cut me off.

  “I’m here to tell you how to fix it,” she said. “Get your phone out and text him right now.”

  I didn’t dare tell her that’s exactly what I wanted to do. Except, of course, I would have preferred to do it alone in my cubicle. I hesitated for a moment before reaching down into my bag.

  “Text this,” she began. “‘Still thinking about you. Dinner tonight, question mark. Your choice.’ You got that?”

  I was sick to my stomach, but I wrote the words. My thumb hovered over Send. Maybe I could go back to my desk and write what I wanted to write. Ask him if he was okay, or maybe write a joke, like, The name is Nuwanda. He’d get it. I wouldn’t even have to remind him about Dalton from Dead Poets Society saying it.