Mr. Pink

by Tessa Layne

  The tone of her voice implies years. Decades, maybe. The man’s only forty, and the fact that Miles has history, apparently significant history, with Gorgeous shoots jealous spikes through me. I raise my eyebrows, inviting her to tell me more, but she sits there primly with a Mona Lisa smile.

  “If you know Miles, how come I’ve never seen you here before?”

  “I’m only in for a visit.”

  So she has a history with Miles, and somehow knows my brother, yet doesn’t live here. “Where do you live?”

  She lifts a shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is why you’re bent on destroying your brother.”

  And just like that, she’s turned the tables again. Frustrating, but I have to admit I admire it. “That’s Nico’s fight.”

  “And you’re just along for the ride.” The disgust is evident in her voice, and I don’t like how it makes me feel. As if she’s disappointed I’m not living up to my potential.

  “Jason can do whatever the fuck he wants with his life,” I grit. “But he’s not going to use us to do it.”

  “Because that’s not what you’re doing? Sucking your trust fund dry?”

  “What I do with my trust fund is none of your damned business, Gorgeous.”

  “But Jason has every right to use those grapes however he wants.” Her eyes sharpen. “Doesn’t he? He is a Case, after all.”

  She has a point, but I don’t want to give it to her. “Why do you care?”

  Her face softens, and my stomach drops. Fuck me. Is she in love with my brother? Jealousy rises through me like an angry beast. But she leans forward, looking more like a mama bear than a sensuous woman. “Jason is my friend. And after all the pain he’s endured, he deserves to keep the happiness he’s found.”

  I can’t fault her logic. But before I can manage a witty comeback, Miles appears with a cart. He lifts a silver dome off the tray, and I’m surprised to see another châteaubriand. How utterly refreshing to dine with a woman who eats more than salad. Without saying a word, he places two wine glasses in front of each of us and impeccably presents the wine.

  I lift a glass of the cabernet. “To discovering beauty in unexpected places.”

  Macey’s cheeks pink and she drops her gaze, taking a sip of the Bordeaux. Her face relaxes as she holds the wine in her mouth, and I catch a glimpse of a wholly sensuous woman who relishes, who savors. I lean in. Watching her like this is fucking foreplay, and I can’t help but wonder what else puts this look of ecstasy on her face? When she opens her eyes, they’re hazy with pleasure, and my cock iron in my slacks.

  “What else makes you smile like that, Gorgeous?”

  She holds my gaze and the heat builds between us. “You’d love to find out,” she finally answers with another Mona Lisa smile.

  Fact.

  And I’m not about to deny it. “I would.”

  Heat sizzles in her eyes and the air crackles with unspoken words. But she doesn’t take me up on my offer. Instead, she picks up her fork and digs in, cutting a tiny slice of her meat and chewing it thoughtfully before taking another sip of her wine. I’m mildly annoyed she’s chosen the French wine over our family’s renown reserve cabernet. People waited in line for the ’06 vintage. But my irritation is quickly forgotten as I watch her swallow.

  Again, the pleasure is evident on her face, and I’m already fucking addicted to it. I don’t care if it’s pervy, because let’s face it, I’m a total perv - I could get off just watching her eat. And I think she knows it, too, because she shoots me a look that’s pure triumph. “Your food’s getting cold.”

  “I didn’t notice.”

  Her mouth quirks in amusement and she lifts her glass. “Try a glass? It’s a perfect pairing.”

  I have to ask. “Not the reserve cabernet?”

  She studies me, and I can tell she’s trying to be gentle. “It’s not my style,” she says after a pause.

  “C’mon, you can do better than that,” I prod. “Don’t hold back.”

  Her eyes dance with challenge. “Okay, fine. It’s cougar juice.”

  “Cougar juice.” I put down my fork and stare at her, incredulous. “Cougar juice?”

  She lifts a shoulder. “It’s flabby, over-oaked and too hot.”

  I grunt.

  “And overpriced.”

  “Tell me more,” I say sarcastically.

  She leans in. “If I’m going to get drunk and have sex, it’s going to be with something a little more sophisticated than the equivalent of a frat boy wearing a backward ball cap.”

  I overlook the dig and lean in so close I can smell her citrusy perfume again. “I like my women sober,” I say low enough that only she can hear. “So they know exactly who’s making them come apart at the seams.”

  Her eyes darken. “You’re that good, huh?” she answers with a hitch.

  I take her bait. Hook, line, and sinker. “Say the word, and you can find out.” It would be so easy to move in right now and taste her mouth, taste the fancy wine on her tongue, but she backs away, and the fragile, vulnerable look I remember from our first meeting, flits across her face - as if she’s fighting some inner battle. A warning bell jangles in my head, but I’m in too deep, and I’m seeing this game through to the end, whatever its outcome.

  “How do I know I can trust you?” she asks.

  “I give you my word as… a gentleman.”

  “You’re no gentleman.”

  I grin like I’m Mephistopheles offering her most secret desires on a silver platter. “You’re right. I’m not worthy enough to lick your sexy little feet, Gorgeous, but pleasure is my crack, not pain.”

  She rolls her lips together, and I can see her mind whirring.

  “I promise all you have to do is say the word. You can leave whenever you want, no harm, no foul. And if you think I’ve done you wrong, go to Jason. He’d love nothing more than to make mincemeat of my face if given the chance.”

  That seems to satisfy her. She draws a thumb and two fingers up and down the stem of her wine glass, and my cock jumps, because fuck, I want her caressing me like that. She licks her lips and lets out a breath. “I’m okay with touching. All touching, really.”

  Her voice rises at the end as if she’s nervous. Another set of alarm bells jangle, but I’m too close to claiming the brass ring, and she’s setting the terms, so I’ll go along. “I plan to do more than touch you, Gorgeous. I plan to fuck you. Hard and repeatedly. But first we start with kissing.” I pause to gauge her reaction. Her mouth drops open, eyes turning hungry. “No part of a woman’s body should be left unkissed.”

  “I hope you’re a good kisser.”

  “The best. I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”

  That draws a laugh from her. “Cocky, much?”

  I shrug. “I know my strengths.”

  “We never see each other after tonight?”

  Perfect. I pride myself on being the King of first dates. The last time I took a woman to breakfast was the morning of my senior prom, and only because there was a group of us. But she does know my brother. “What about Jason?”

  “Only tonight,” she states firmly. “And in the very unlikely event that our paths cross again, I’m sure we can both handle it.”

  I push back from the table, and help her with her chair, bending my head to inhale the scent of her. “Done,” I murmur into her ear before nipping at her lobe. A shiver ripples across her shoulders before she stands.

  I drop my hand to the small of her back, fingers flirting with the curve of her ass. Even touching her there sends sparks of awareness shooting up my arm. Somehow, we manage to exit the bar without seeing Miles. I’m certain he wouldn’t approve, but he’s not my keeper. Or hers.

  “Elevator bay on the left, last one.” As soon as the private elevator recognizes my key card, and the doors shut us in, I spin and back her against the wall, bracing my hands on either side of her. “Tell me to stop,” I say roughly.

  Chapter Six

  She responds by pull
ing on my tie, and lifting her mouth to meet mine. “Kiss me,” she growls, but in her, it’s more like a kitten purring. A chain reaction ignites the second our lips meet. I feel it starting in my head and dominoing through my neck and straight to my balls. I grind my cock into her at the same time my tongue breaches her mouth. I taste the faint remnants of the wine she drank, redolent with oak and fruit, combined with a sweetness that reminds me of strawberries in May, and the tang of arousal. With a groan, I deepen the kiss, wanting to taste more. I never want to taste wine again, unless it’s on her tongue. Her hands come to my shoulders and she presses back against my cock, grinding in a way that brings filthy visions of pole dancing into my head.

  I hitch up her skirt, searching for skin while we devour each other like it’s our last meal. The elevator slides open with a ding, and I realize that was the fastest forty-five-second ride of my life. Somehow, we manage to stumble into the marble foyer without falling.

  She drops her hands, surveying my private kingdom. I could live here if I want. At times, I have. To the left is a galley kitchen that opens on one side to the black square dining table set in front of floor to ceiling windows overlooking the bridge. Directly in front and down two steps is a sunken living room with a fireplace and sliding doors to my private balcony. To the right and down a short hall is my master suite.

  I’m suddenly filled with the desire to impress her, and it temporarily knocks me off my game, because I’m not sure what impresses her, and I want to know. I come up behind her, trailing my knuckles down the length of her arm. “I can have that whiskey you ordered sent up. Or the Bordeaux.”

  “I thought you liked your women sober,” she teases, giving me a sideways glance.

  The back of her dress is open at the top, held together at the neck by a single onyx button, which I slip through, freeing it. The lace falls open, exposing creamy skin and pale gold freckles. I bring my mouth to the base of her neck, tongue tracing a pattern down the top of her spine. “Perhaps this is what you had in mind, then?” I murmur.

  Her answer comes out on a hiss. “Yes.”

  I find the top of her zipper and pull, it slides down her back like a warm knife cutting through butter, all the way to the curve of her ass, barely covered by a thread of lacy thong. I push the dress off her shoulders and it whispers to the ground, landing around her ankles in a pool of frothy lace. She’s a pearl. A Venus rising from the black depths. Dark stockings end in a wide ribbon of lace at her thighs, heightening the contrast between light and dark. I draw a knuckle down her spine, then follow with my mouth. She shivers and twitches, swaying as she lets out a high sigh. I work the clasp at her bra, and she shrugs out of it before turning and displaying herself.

  “Someone should paint you,” I say, voice thick. Her tits are full and round. In the center, dark peach nipples and areolas are puckered and firm, begging to be sampled. My mouth waters, and I continue my perusal. I see a hint of copper glinting beneath the black lace of her thong, but I’m more captivated by the obviously wet spot at her apex. I step forward and touch the pad of my thumb there, pressing into her softness. She makes a noise deep in her throat and my thumb comes away damp.

  If she were anyone else, I’d take her right here. But her body deserves a more thorough exploration. She stares at me unabashedly, eyes glittering, and I step into her space, bringing my hand to the base of her head, and fisting her hair. It’s silky and heavy, and falls across my hand like a caress. I pull just enough to expose her throat, which I sample, letting the scent of her perfume and arousal fill my brain. She loops her hands around my neck, bringing my mouth to hers in an open kiss, greedily taking my tongue into her mouth. My hands drop to her ass, squeezing and kneading, and somehow, I’m holding her, and we’re walking down the hall. She’s so wet I can feel it through my shirt.

  I set her on the bed and step back, pulling at my tie. “Are you ready, Gorgeous?” I shrug out of my suit jacket and begin to work the buttons of my shirt. “This is the part where I kiss every inch of your body. Starting with your magnificent tits.” Her eyes light with a feral hunger that eggs me on. “And then I’m going to rip that flimsy covering off your pussy and spread you wide and taste you.”

  She hisses in a breath, hips bucking off the bed as she licks her lips. “Then what?” she breathes, eyes lasering in on my cock. I swear it swells under her gaze. “When do I get your cock?”

  Fuck. Me.

  “You’ll get it, Gorgeous. I promise. Where do you want it? Your mouth? Your cunt? I’ll fill you up wherever you like.”

  Her eyes narrow to bright points, and I swear she looks like a fucking tigress, ready to pounce. “Start with my tits.” She braces her hands behind her, arching her back so that her tits thrust forward, inviting my touch. I bend over her, mouth hovering over where I know she wants it, and I wait, savoring the anticipation. I lap at her first, bathing the perfect swell in concentric circles, first one and then the other. She groans in frustration. “Please,” she utters, arching higher and letting out a sigh of pure satisfaction when I finally take the tight peak into my mouth, rolling my tongue over the point and grazing the skin with my teeth, before sucking hard. Her hand clutches the back of my head, encouraging me, and I take my fill until she’s writhing beneath me, every exhale a vocal cue.

  My hand drops to the tiny scrap of lace that barely covers her pussy. I snag the elastic and yank. It comes apart with a snap, and I pull on the other side, baring her to me. I push off the bed and take in the neatly trimmed thatch of dark copper. “Open your legs, Gorgeous. Let me see your pretty little pussy.”

  Her nipples draw to tight peaks at my words. God, I love that she likes filthy talk. She’s such a contradiction - sweet and sensual on the outside, dirty and wanton on the inside. “I have a name, you know,” she sasses, even as she drops her knees wide and exposes swollen pink lips, slick with her arousal.

  My mouth waters to taste her. “Do you want me to take you, Macey?” Her name catches on my tongue, a foreign, but not unwelcome sensation. “I will take you completely, do you understand?” My voice is rough with desire. “All your pain, your secrets, your past, your longings, your dreams.” I pause, letting my words sink in. “All of you. No exceptions.” My cock has never ached so painfully. I’m filled with a Berserker kind of lust for this woman spread open before me, like a ripe peach, begging to be devoured. “And then, I’m going to make you come so hard, you forget your name.”

  Her eyes light as she nods, a slow smile pulling up the corners of her mouth. “Bring it, bad boy.”

  I drop to my knees, spreading her even wider so I can take in the beauty of her pussy, the engorged labia, her bright pink clit poking out like a rosebud. I place open-mouthed kisses on the silky skin just above where her lacy stockings end, taking my time to taste her, to memorize the musky scent of her arousal.

  When I taste her, we both groan. She’s a fucking aphrodisiac, a drug, and in that instant, I’m an addict. The sweetness of her hits my tongue first, followed by a spicy, salty finish that I can’t get enough of. I could feast on her for days and still be hungry for more. I lick again, more slowly this time, savoring the flavor as it evolves on my tongue. I explore her crevices, memorizing the pattern of her, and where her breath catches. Her hips roll as she seeks more of me and I comply, spreading her wider, and hooking my arms underneath her thighs, pulling her closer. I taste her clit, alternately teasing and sucking, pulling away just before she shatters. “You’re killing me,” she mutters.

  “I promise you won’t die.”

  Her legs are trembling, she pulls at my hair, and the sweet pain of it goes straight to my cock like an electric shock. I flirt with her entrance using teasing little licks, then dive into the center of her, fucking her with my tongue. Lapping at her clit until her body bows and she lets out a high keening wail as she shatters, body jerking erratically as I lap and fuck and let her milk every ounce of pleasure from her orgasm. With a sigh of pure bliss, she collapses back on the bed. I can’
t help but grin. I’d give myself a ten out of ten for that.

  She lifts her head, eyes hazy. “Take off your pants.” She lifts a finger with the air of a queen commanding her subject. “I want to see what you’ve been hiding.”

  I hold her gaze as I reach for my belt, slowly removing it, and dropping my slacks and boxer briefs in one move. My cock springs free and juts out proudly, growing thicker under her sharp gaze.

  She makes an appreciative humming sound in the back of her throat. “Impressive,” she murmurs, eyes going hungry. She rises slowly, still under the spell of her own orgasm, but with unmistakable intent, and reaches for my cock. She pulls a finger along the underside, then slicks my engorged head with the pre-come weeping from my slit. It’s erotic as fuck, and I’m so aroused, I fight not to let go too soon, deny her the pleasure of playing with my cock. She almost breaks me when her tongue rolls over my head, tasting me like I’m a fucking ice-cream cone. My breath leaves my body in a hiss as fire races up the back of my thighs.

  I’m ready when she takes me into her mouth, pink kiss-swollen lips surrounding me with wet heat. But then she applies suction, and my eyes roll into my skull. “Fuck, that’s good,” I say with a tight jaw. “Do it again.”

  She hums with satisfaction, swirling her tongue along the underside of me before sucking harder. My hips jerk forward, and for a second, I feel like a rank amateur, like her hot mouth has made me forget everything I learned about sex the summer between sophomore and junior year of high-school. Her hand works the base of me, alternately squeezing and tugging. I don’t want to come down her throat, not this time, at least. I want to see her wearing my come like a fucking necklace. I want to mark her and remember the wild look in her eyes when she gazes up at me, mouth full of my cock. Tension builds at the base of my spine and in a rush, the pent-up energy releases, and I come with a shout, pulling out of her mouth as I shoot hot jets of come over her lips and across her chest. I come so hard my legs go numb and I lock my knees to keep from collapsing.