by Whitney G.
“I’ve only fucked one woman in my office.”
“Lucky her.”
“Maybe. She’ll have to let me know if that sentiment holds when we’re done.” His lips suddenly met mine and my back hit the wall. His hands fisted my hair, and my arms went around his neck.
I didn’t want his lips to ever leave mine, didn’t want him to ever let go.
He pushed the dress up my waist, and I sucked in a breath as I felt his cock hardening against me. As I felt the thickness and the length of it.
Oh my god…
He slid a finger between my thighs and touched my soaking wet slit, making me moan.
A loud knock came to the door.
“Mr. Anderson!” It was a female’s voice, and she was knocking even harder now. “Mr. Anderson, are you in there?”
“Yes…” He groaned as he kissed my neck.
“Um, can you meet me downstairs in four minutes? A certain guest of ours wants to speak with you.”
“Tell him I’m fucking busy.”
“It’s Rio Warren sir,” she said. “He seems to think that you’re fine with him being here, and I’ve told him that you’re not.”
“Jesus Christ…” He moved back. “I’ll be there. Get away from the goddamn door.”
“Yes sir.”
Looking into my eyes, he sighed as he pulled my dress down over my thighs.
“Give me five minutes to come back to you and finish what we started,” he said. He smoothed my dress before opening the door and letting me out. He led me back to my booth and poured me a glass of champagne before walking away.
On edge, I downed the entire glass in one gulp. As I was leaning forward to pour another, the familiar sound of Adele’s “Set Fire to the Rain” song came over the club’s speakers. Although it was over a much faster beat, her words were the same, and each syllable she sang cut deep.
All of a sudden, I couldn’t focus on sitting in this club anymore. I was now sitting next to my mother in the front seat of her truck—singing the lyrics at the top of my lungs, laughing as she said, “Even your terrible singing voice can’t ruin my new favorite song of all time, Meredith. I’ll be singing this one for the next fifty years…”
Shaking away the memory, I grabbed my purse and left the booth before the tears could fall. I took the elevator to the lobby and collected all of my things from the security check. I rushed outside, stopping when I saw the sea of slow moving cabs. The music was now gone, and I could breathe again. I could also go home and try to forget about fucking up this night.
Stepping close to the curb, I held up my hand to hail a cab, but I felt someone pulling it down. A set of hands gently grabbed my waist from behind and spun me around.
“So, this is going to be a pattern with you…” Michael said, smiling. “Running away from things you want?”
“No, it’s—” I shook my head. “It’s a lot of things.”
“Tell me the most important ones.”
“Well, for one, what type of DJ plays Adele at a fucking party? Like, what the hell is that?”
He raised his eyebrow.
“What type of best friend tries to talk you out of having sex after you’ve been in a dry spell for two years because she thinks that deep down you want more than that?”
“Do you?”
I didn’t answer that. “I just wanted to get fucked tonight. Really hard, really rough, and then really soft, too. I wanted to feel something other than the feelings that are in my chest right now, and I was so close to getting it, and—” I stopped talking. I was baring my soul to a man I hardly knew. “Your club is beautiful,” I said instead. “It deserves all the praise it gets in the press and—”
He pressed his fingers against my lips. Then he tilted my chin up with his fingertips.
“The Four Seasons or The Waldorf Astoria?”
“Four Seasons.”
“Penthouse suite or sky suite?”
“Penthouse.”
He clasped my hand and led me to the alleyway that was next to his club. He pulled his keys out of his pocket, and the bright lights of his Jaguar flashed in the darkness.
A gentleman, he opened the door for me and waited until my seatbelt was secure before walking to his side of the car.
The drive to the hotel passed by in a hazy blur, and by the time we reached it, Michael was leading me through the doors of the penthouse suite.
He hung the ‘Do Not Disturb’ hanger on the double doors and made sure they were locked.
Pinning me to the spot with his gaze, he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his suit jacket. He took his time taking off his clothes—teasing me with his every move.
When he was down to his dress shirt, he took his time unfastening every button, and I gasped once his chest was completely bare.
His six-pack of abs led down to a beautifully carved “V,” but the grey and black tattoos that snaked around both sides of his torso took my fucking breath away.
Without saying a word, he pulled me against his chest and kissed the fuck out of me until my knees went weak under his sensuous assault.
“Ahhh…” I moaned against his mouth when he finally allowed me a few seconds to breathe.
Sliding his hand against the side of my dress, he grabbed the zipper and slowly pulled it down.
Staring into his captivating eyes as he took his time, I lifted my arms a bit. He smiled and pushed the dress down to the floor, the green fabric falling to the floor in a silk pool.
He unclasped the hooks of my strapless bra next and let it fall, then he kissed my forehead.
I fumbled for his belt buckle, and he let out a low laugh.
“Take your time, Meredith…”
Pulling a few condoms from his pocket, he waited for me to finish the job, running his fingers through my hair.
The moment his pants hit the floor, my jaw dropped as I caught sight of his cock.
It was at. least nine inches, thick as hell, and way too big to fit entirely into my mouth.
As if he could read my mind, he claimed my lips once more—making my knees weak all over again.
Lifting me up by my waist, he carried me into the living room and pressed my body against the windows. I let out a sigh as my ass hit the glass.
Using his hips to pin me still, he rolled a condom over his cock and slid into me all at once, giving me every inch of him. No restraint.
I cried out loudly as he pounded into me, as he hit a deep spot no man had ever hit before.
“Michael…” I said his name with each and every stroke. I attempted to slow him down, but it was no use. He was in control of our ride, and I was along for however long he wanted to drive.
I couldn’t help but gaze into his eyes as he fucked me, and he couldn’t help but gaze into mine.
My nails dug into his skin as the sound of our bodies slapping together echoed through the room, as he continued pounding into me mercilessly.
He said my name under his breath, and commanded me to wrap my legs around his waist a little tighter, to give him even more control.
I couldn’t.
My pussy was throbbing in pleasure, and I knew it was only a matter of seconds before I came apart in his arms.
“Meredith,” he said, his voice a bit more terse. “Meredith, tighten your legs around me. Now…”
Unable to follow his command, I shut my eyes as tremors began wracking their way through my body, as tremors began traveling up and down my spine.
Before I knew it, I was screaming at the top of my lungs, and experiencing the most intense orgasm I’d ever felt in my life.
Fuck…
I felt Michael gripping me harder, felt him pulling me onto his cock a few more times before finding his own release.
Slowly pulling out of me, he took his time setting me down on the floor. My body still shook from our sex.
I heard him whispering something, but I was lost in a daze.
Several minutes later, I felt him picking me up and carrying me over his shoulder. I fe
lt him positioning me across his lap and running his fingers through my hair.
He trailed his palm against my back, using his fingers to outline the tattoo that wound down my spine, the vine of black roses with thorns that bore small grey cursive with my initials.
“You know that black roses signify death, right?” he asked.
“I’m well aware,” I said, sucking in a breath as he gently smacked my ass. “People kept sending them to me long after my mother passed, so I started to actually like them.”
“Hmmm.”
“Do your tattoos have any meaning?”
“Every single one.” He continued tracing the petals on my back.
“Want to tell me what that meaning is?”
“Same as yours,” he said. “Loss, pain, and regrets.”
“Mine are for loss and strength.”
“No…” He pressed a kiss on my left shoulder. “That’s what you tell the people who happen to see them. You’re still obsessed with keeping a bit of the truth for yourself.”
I didn’t say a word. He was more than right, and I felt exposed.
Kissing my back one more time, he rolled me over so I was facing him. Guilt was etched onto his face, or at least that’s what it looked like.
“Is something wrong, Michael?”
“Yes.” He sighed. “I shouldn’t have fucked you tonight…I shouldn’t have talked to you, or messaged you on fucking Tinder.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Exactly what I said.” He shook his head. “I’ve fucked up, and I never fuck up…”
“If you’re worried about me wanting more after tonight, you could just ignore me like all the other guys, but I’m not interested in having casual sex.”
“That’s not what this about,” he said. “It’s…” He didn’t finish that sentence. “I’m going to ruin you.”
“Impossible.” I swallowed. “I’m already ruined.”
Staring at me for several seconds, he dipped his head low and sucked my right nipple into his mouth. “I’m going to spend the next few hours devouring your pussy until you come in my mouth at least twice, and then I’m going to fuck you in all the ways you have listed on your profile. Unless, you tell me that you don’t want that.”
I nodded, unable to refuse the offer.
“Good.” He gently moved me off him and walked to the door.
“Wait,” I said. “Where are you going?”
“I need to get my phone to call the concierge so he can bring us a few things.” He smirked. “We’re going to be here awhile..”
Meredith
Before
Several hours later…
* * *
Sunlight streamed through the windows in the morning, beating my skin with their harsh, unwanted rays.
I groaned as my eyes fluttered open, catching sight of the concrete jungle. Beyond exhausted, I slowly pushed the thick linens off my body and realized I wasn’t still bare-ass naked like I’d been all night. I was wrapped in a plush robe, my body still sore from hours prior.
Soft music played from the speakers that were hidden in the ceiling, the rough refrain of Frank Sinatra’s “Under My Skin” sifted through the open hallways.
On the nightstand to my left was a tall glass of water with two aspirin, a silver tray of assorted bagels, and a note from Michael.
* * *
Meredith,
* * *
I booked the room for the next few days since you’ll probably need time to recover.
You’re welcome.
~Michael
* * *
I mentally replayed all of our conversations, all of the times he was inside of me and brought me to a climax. I’d never been handled that way, never felt so connected to another person, and I never wanted to let it go. At least, not right now.
It was the best night I’d had in the past two years of my life, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it for a very long time; I also knew that I needed more of Michael. In any capacity.
Even a small dose right now…
Grabbing my phone, I dialed his number and hit call.
“Yes?” he answered on the first ring, his voice deep.
“Um, hi.” I lay back on the pillows. “It’s me. Meredith.”
Silence stretched over the line for several seconds.
“How the hell did you get this number, Meredith?”
“You opened your phone and texted the concierge at some point last night…” I paused. “I have a photographic memory.”
“How very interesting.” There was a smile in his voice. “Well, seeing as though I didn’t give this number to you, that means that I wasn’t interested in talking to you past our fucking.”
“Or maybe you forgot to give it to me, and you were just in a rush on your way out.”
“I can guarantee that wasn’t the case.”
“Well, I don’t see why you wouldn’t. We had a good time and talked quite a bit in between all of the sex. And you definitely came.”
“Not as many times as you.”
I blushed, and his sexy laughter came over the line.
“What’s the real reason you’re calling me, Meredith?”
“I wanted you to know that I meant what I said last night about not being okay with only having casual sex with the next guy I dated.”
“Hence, why I didn’t give you my number.”
“You mentioned wanting something deeper, too,” I said. “You said you don’t really get to know people past the two or three-month mark, and you’d always wanted to know what that’s like. You said that we seemed to both fit that bill… Did I misinterpret your words?”
Silence.
“It was nice meeting you, Meredith,” he said. “You and I can’t go any further.
“Is it because you’re married?” I wanted him to give me the truth. “Is that it?”
“No, I’ve never been married.”
“Girlfriend?”
“No.”
“You’re just not into me?”
“I’m very into you.” He paused. “But I can’t date you for reasons.”
“Tell me the best one.”
“Well for one, I’m way too old for you.”
“What?” I laughed, damn near falling off the mattress. “You don’t look a day older than thirty. I just turned twenty-five.”
“I’m thirty-nine.”
What? “Oh …” I said, several seconds later.
“Yes, oh.” He let out a low laugh. “Are we good to get off the phone and get on with our lives now?”
“No.” The word slipped out before I could think it through. “I think we should have at least one more date.”
“I don’t.” He ended the call without another word, and I scoffed at his rudeness.
When I finally realized that he wasn’t joking and wasn’t calling me back, I forced myself to get out of the bed. I made my way to the oversized bathroom that showed off a perfect sky view of Central Park.
Starting a bubble bath, I sighed as the suds slowly filled the tub.
I untied my silk robe and felt my phone vibrating in the pocket. Hoping it was Michael coming to his senses about our undeniable chemistry, I quickly pulled it out.
It wasn’t Michael. It was my dad.
Dad: Happy New Year, Meredith! Hope your year is off to a great start. I’m filing the campaign suspension papers when I get back from Italy in a couple weeks, and I’d still love to see you and catch up. Hope you haven’t changed your mind about us... Love, Dad.
Smiling, I assured him that I hadn’t, but before I could hit send on that message, a new email popped onto my screen.
* * *
Subject: One more date…
Since you asked so nicely, I’m willing to consider one more and only one more…
Name the time and place.
In the meantime, this is my email address.
--Michael
* * *
Subject: Re: On
e more date…
I think you’ll end up begging for way more than one when we’re done…
Next week. Somewhere in SoHo. (I’ll get back to you on that)
PS—Um…How’d you get my email address?
--Meredith
* * *
Subject: Re: Re: One more date…
I can guarantee that I won’t.
Let me know the time and place by tonight.
PS--You’re not the only one with a photographic memory…
--Michael
Meredith
Before
Three weeks later…
* * *
Me: Can I stop by Fahrenheit 900 this weekend? Maybe right before it opens?
Michael: You can stop by whenever you want as long as you don’t bring your damn phone. (Why would you ever want to come before it opens?)
Me: I’m never bringing my phone again. (That was me attempting to be discreet about wanting to have sex in your office … You know, since you clearly have no idea what romance is…)
Michael: Good. I will put you out next time. (Yes, you can stop by Fahrenheit 900 so I can lay you back on my desk and eat your pussy, before bending you over the wood and filling you with my cock from behind. Discreet enough?)
* * *
I blushed and started to type a new message. Over the past few weeks, he’d surpassed all of my wildest fantasies in bed, showed me just how many times I could come in a single night, and pushed my body to its ultimate limit. Our “one more date” had longed turned into every other night, and each one ended with sex that stamped its way onto my memory.
I still wanted more, though. More talking. More romance. More us.
“Um, Meredith?” My father waved his hand in front of my face, interrupting my thoughts in the middle of brunch. “Meredith?”
“Huh?” I blinked a few times. “What’s going on?”
“Well, you’ve done nothing but blush and stare at your phone for the past twenty minutes, so I was wondering if it would be okay if we could talk for five minutes without it.”
