Could have been that toe-curling kiss.
I reach for the open bottle of wine sitting on the counter and pour myself a glass, topping off his half-full one as well. “How was your afternoon? Did you go into Apollo?”
Tony stiffens and reaches for his glass. “It was okay.” He raises a shoulder and takes a drink, his face revealing nothing. “I’ll probably have to go in quite a bit the next month.”
Something seems off with him. He was certainly present during that kiss, but now he’s not quite himself. Could it be me? Nah, that passion wasn’t faked. Maybe something at the office is weighing on him more than he’d like to admit.
I take a big gulp of wine to bolster my courage and decide to act daring. I’ll bring him firmly to the here and now with what I plan to do. He loved it that night after we danced in the bar. Boldly, I unbutton my blouse, staring at him the entire time.
The tense look on his face fades and he sets down his wine glass. “Hey now, what are you doing? Fun before food?”
What I hope is a sexy smile curves my lips. “Just a simple stress reliever.” I slip my blouse off and step closer, roll the fabric into a ball and offer it to him. “Hold this for me?” He accepts the shirt and moves to place it on the counter nearby. “No, hold onto it.” He looks at me, an inquiring expression crossing his face. I place my hands lightly over his and steer the shirt toward his face. “Take a deep breath.”
He does as I ask and his eyelids drift lower. “God, that’s good. What perfume are you wearing?”
“Does it matter?” I ask softly. His eyebrows raise in question. “When I’m done with you, all you’ll know is the scent reminds you of me… this moment… and what I’m going to do to you…” I run a hand down his chest and hook my fingers onto the waistband of his jeans.
“Heather,” he reaches one hand to stop me, looking awkward. “Today I—”
“Shh…” I silence him by pressing the fabric toward his face and using my other hand to stroke the hard length behind his fly.
He takes another deep breath as I lower myself to my knees and use two hands to open his pants. I’m turned on just at the idea of doing something so brazen, in my kitchen no less, with all the lights on.
The muscles in his abdomen jump as the button pops open. The silence in the kitchen is broken only by the rasp of the metal zipper descending and Tony’s increased breathing. I grasp the material at his hips, yanking down his jeans and underwear to mid thigh. His thick, veined erection springs into view, making my mouth water.
Wrapping one hand around the base, I peer up through my lashes at Tony. My discarded blouse is fisted in one hand near his chest and his eyes burn with desire. He opens his mouth to speak but I silence whatever thoughts were about to escape by taking the silky head into my mouth. Salty pre-come leaks out to coat my tongue, exciting me with the evidence of his arousal.
God, he’s stunning. The tight six-pack of his stomach tenses at my touch. My fingers trail over the light smattering of hair and follow the vee of his hip down to his crotch. I slide his length in further as he leans against the counter. It’s like he’s forcing himself to relax and experience the moment. He’s really wired tight tonight. Thankfully, I know just what he needs.
Slowly I pump my fist at the root while tunneling my tongue under his girth, lapping at the engorged tip when I retreat. The musky smell of aroused man fills my nostrils, making me wish I had him plunging inside my pussy rather than my mouth. I’ve never enjoyed being with a man as much as I do Tony. Gradually I increase my pace, massaging his balls in one hand while my head bobs.
Tony’s moans fill the air and he reaches out to cup the back of my neck, tentatively applying pressure to encourage my actions. I’ve never been able to take a man as large as him all the way back in my throat, but I love the feel of him inside me just the same.
After getting him good and slick, I open my mouth as wide as I can, eager to see how far I can take him. Pressure expands my jaw, igniting a tinge of fear I may start to gag. So far so good. I push harder, hoping to drive his length past the three quarter mark. Tight skin scrapes along my back teeth and I worry I’m hurting him.
“Holy shit, Heather,” Tony rasps. “That feels fucking incredible.”
I back off a little bit, unable to go any further, and slowly pump his cock in and out, one tight fist still locked at his base. Wetness gathers at my opening, urging me to slip my hand down to pleasure myself. I release his smoothly shaved ball sack and reach under my skirt, shoving aside the scrap of fabric covering my heated mound.
“That’s it, baby. Play with your pussy.”
I slide off his cock and lick the head like it’s my favorite ice cream cone, glancing up to see him watching my every move. My fingers encounter the slippery folds under the silk, delving lower to the wet opening and then spreading the moisture over my clit. I waste no time, rubbing the hard nub furiously while my other hand pumps his cock.
“I want you to come, Tony. And I want to taste every inch of you while you do.”
“Will you be able—?”
Before he finishes his question my mouth slides back over his dick, bringing a shudder of pleasure from the big man. The familiar tingle of a hard and fast orgasm builds inside me, ready to crest from my ruthless ministrations. I quicken my pace, shuttling him in and out of my mouth while my pumping fist races to catch up.
Before I can bring him relief, my own pleasure races to engulf me. My head pauses as the starbursts explode behind my eyes, lighting my entire body with shuddering spasms. I moan around his flesh, unable to focus on my previous rhythm while my peak is upon me.
Tony’s own need drives his hips forward. The grip on my head lessens, like he’s worried he may shove me onto his length. I open wide, forcing myself back to the task at hand, and start to suck, hollowing my cheeks with the intense suction. The added pressure draws a series of whispered pleas from my lover before warm liquid floods my throat. After the jetting spurts have stopped, I swallow every last drop and lick the tip as I pull away.
I rest my head on his thigh while the two of us recover, waiting for the coordination to return to our muscles.
Firm hands grasp under my arms and lift me. Tony pulls me into a tight embrace. “That was amazing,” he whispers, peppering my face with tiny kisses. “What brought that on?”
I shrug, not sure if I should voice the worry that grew inside me at his perceived distance. “You seemed like you needed to relieve some stress.”
He sighs, rubbing his five o’clock shadow lightly against my forehead. “I did have a difficult afternoon. And damn… you managed to wipe it all away. Thank you.”
“Want to talk about it?”
Resolve settles over his face before he hugs me tight once more. “Nah. I can handle it. I don’t want anything to sour our time together.” He leans away and kisses me hard. “Besides, we need to eat so I can get you naked and return the favor.”
Chapter Four
Tony
The rest of the evening was like every other night I’ve experienced with Heather by my side—hot, sweaty, and freakin’ incredible. We explored each other’s body, learning more about what aroused us. She never knew a man humming against her pussy felt so good, and I had to hold back from chuckling as I went through every hard rock tune I could muster—twice.
The look of pure ecstasy on her face… simply priceless. She moaned and writhed, the noises and movements escalating until she was bowing off the bed, and begging me to fuck her. Oh, and man, did I ever. The musky, spicy scent of her perfume filled my head and drove me hard to a big climax. I’ve never reacted to a woman’s perfume before, and now I can’t get it out of my mind.
Her shy smile this morning when she woke next to me had me wishing for a camera. What I wouldn’t give to capture all these early moments of discovery and bliss for a lifetime of memories to look back on. I wonder if she’d let me take pictures of her? I may not have the skill she has with a camera, but I know beauty when I see
it. One shot right after she orgasms would be amazing. I’ll have to see if I can talk her into it.
Today I plan to work on her photography studio in my apartment. After yesterday’s last sanding, the walls are ready for primer and color. I’m going the untraditional route and plan to paint the walls a pale blue. There will be enough white with the backdrop area and I don’t think the whole place needs to look like a sterile slate. The commercial photo printer I ordered should be arriving tomorrow, along with Heather’s new car.
How will she react to the convertible? Should I play it off like I planned and say the car was one I don’t drive much? Heather is the first girl I’ve dated, in I don’t know how long, who doesn’t know my net worth the moment we go out to dinner. It’s refreshing.
Since she doesn’t know what I’m worth, she might balk at such a pricey gift. Yeah, maybe presenting it like she’s borrowing one of my cars would be the smartest option.
Everything feels like it’s progressing smoothly… until I think of Portia. My resolve hardens to keep any stain from what we share—yesterday’s phone call from Portia being the first thing that comes to mind. There is no way I will let some conniving ex-girlfriend ruin what we’ve found. If the woman really is pregnant then I’ll deal with what to do next. No need to borrow trouble without any actual proof. She could be lying like that Tasha chick I dated five years ago. Another nightmare I’d rather not dwell on too long.
Do these gold-digging bitches all think guys are so dumb that we’d fall for some stupid trap without certified blood work from a lab? Those damn drugstore tests are wrong a lot of times.
I push the mean thoughts away and focus on Heather again. She left for work around seven, despite my blatant enticement she should join me in bed for another round of sex.
Damn, I should have thought of the black leather cock ring. I bet that would have tempted her to leave a little later for work. I’d hate for her to become what I was—a driven workaholic who practically lived at the office. A smile curves my face as I contemplate all the fun ways I’ll remind her of what really matters in life.
As I lock up, still in awe she gave me a key to her place, my cell phone rings. Fuck. Portia.
I answer, wariness in my tone, “Yeah?”
“I know our call yesterday didn’t go well, but we really need to talk.”
I jab the down arrow on the elevator, wishing I was anywhere but here for this phone call. “Okay, what do you need to say?”
She sighs. “I’d rather speak face to face. Discuss things like rational adults.”
My anger at her conniving ways bubbles to the surface. “Yeah, I bet you would. If you’re not actually pregnant you’d try and lure me into bed so the pregnancy would be a reality after the fact. No thanks. Not going to happen. What do your parents think of this latest scheme of yours?”
She affects a hurt tone. “It’s not a scheme, Tony. I really am pregnant. I haven’t told them yet. But they always liked you.”
“Uh-huh, sure. I met them briefly at a charity function we all attended. We spoke for possibly three minutes, tops. It’s not like you took me home for Sunday dinner.”
She sniffs loudly, possibly real emotion, possibly staged for my reaction. “Still. They remember you.”
Remember my money more likely. They acted like they were thrilled she was finally dating a man they approved of. Yeah, more like someone else qualified to pay for their spoiled daughter’s expensive habits. “How far along are you?” The elevator arrives and I enter, then select the lobby level.
“Seven weeks.”
I do the quick math in my head. I was with her one last time a few weeks before I met Heather. It could match.
Remembering what I went through with Tasha I say, “Are you sure, or are you just guessing? Have you been to a doctor yet?”
“It was a home test. My first doctor visit is scheduled for tomorrow.” She hesitates. “I was hoping you might want to come with me.”
The doors open and I step out, the brightness of the spring morning flooding the lobby with light. God, this can’t be happening. Not now, not when I have finally found happiness with someone. “In case you can’t tell, I’m not thrilled with this development, Portia. I have no desire to go to the doctor’s with you.” I have a hard time holding back the vehemence in my voice. “Let me know when you have blood work from a real lab saying you’re pregnant. Then we’ll go from there.”
I hear a small sob escape her as I step into the sunshine and start down the sidewalk. “You don’t have to be such a bastard. We were really good together.”
I abruptly stop in place, the sea of morning commuters parting and walking around me. “Are you fucking kidding me? We dated for two weeks. That’s not ‘together.’ That’s a couple of dinners, a charity event, lots of sex, a weekend in Vegas, and me buying you whatever your heart desired—which if I recall was quite a bit.”
“But I wanted more.”
Could that be the heart of what this is about? She wanted more of me, wanted us to be together so she made up this whole pregnancy thing? Or was she really after more money the whole time we dated?
“Yeah, well, I didn’t. You turned out to be just another spoiled rich girl more concerned with parties, clothes, diamonds, and weekend getaways. There’s no way in hell that’s what I want for the rest of my life.”
I hang up, thoroughly shaken that Portia rattled me this badly.
Now I don’t want to drive out to Hoboken yet. I need to clear my head before working on something that matters to me. Maybe I’ll stop by Apollo and corral Marcus into getting a coffee. Someone’s got to have tried this crap on him before, right?
“Sure I remember Portia. Isn’t she the loud chick you were banging in the back bedroom on the jet that time we flew to Vegas?”
“No, that was Tara.”
Marcus smiles. “Oh, yeah. She was freakin’ hot.”
I shake my head in disgust. Jesus, I really was a man whore. What the hell would Heather think of all the women? Is she the jealous type or the live-and-let-live type? I run a hand over my forehead, massaging away the knot of tension forming between my temples. I could screw up this relationship before it ever gets off the ground.
“So which one was Portia again?” Marcus asks.
“Maybe you never met her. She was my date at the Children’s Hospital fundraiser, the one Nikko donated a bunch of money to. Short reddish-brown hair. Nice rack. Long legs. Late twenties. Loves to party. Her parents are wealthy, but she’s got a habit of plowing through her trust fund allocation each month like money grows on trees.”
My best friend nods. “I recall the accounting paperwork for that event.” Marcus heads the financial department for Apollo Industries, the large conglomerate where I used to acquire smaller companies. “But I didn’t go. I’d remember someone like that—in an ‘avoid them like the plague’ way. Do you think she’s telling the truth?”
“Damned if I know. I’ll just have to wait and see. Have you ever had a situation like this happen to you?”
A look of compassion crosses his face. “No, man. I don’t rank high enough on the wealthy social scale to attract the kind of… uh… materialist women you have.” He tries a joke to lighten the mood. “Although it’s been great being your wing man and getting their less-vacuous friends for a hook up.”
I grunt and stare at my coffee. I never minded dating the party girls who were after my money because I knew they were temporary. In and out of my life quickly. Never someone I’d take home to meet my mom or worry about long term.
“Are you going to tell Heather?”
“Hell no. Wouldn’t that be the kiss of death in a new relationship? What the hell would I say, ‘Hey, I may have gotten this vapid, money-hungry socialite pregnant. But don’t worry, she means nothing to me. It was just mindless sex and a spending spree.’”
Marcus smiles weakly, clearly feeling my pain. “Yeah, I bet that would go over like a fart in church.”
I smile at the
old phrase my mom used to say. My sweet Catholic mother who would kill me if she found out I got a girl pregnant and didn’t intend to marry her. “I am so screwed.”
“Not necessarily. Could Portia have been with someone else around the same time you were dating her? Maybe you’re not the dad?”
I stifle an involuntary gag over the term “dad.” I thought someday, maybe in the far distant future, it might happen, but never like this. I grab onto Marcus’s suggestion with a bright burgeoning spike of hope in my chest. “Well, she did like to party. You’re right. If she is pregnant it might not be mine.”
Marcus claps a hand on my shoulder as he rises from the bistro table. “Hold onto that thought, man. It might work out in the end.” He tosses his paper cup into a nearby garbage container. “I’ve got to get back to work. Are you coming by the office later this afternoon to help transition more accounts over to Brian?”
I scowl at the mention of the annoying man and shake my head no. “Might as well go up now since I’m here.” I glance down at my jeans, uncaring I won’t be dressed appropriately. “It’s kind of nice not having to wear that monkey suit anymore.”
Marcus fake shudders and turns away. “Heathen. Next you’ll be burning your silk neck ties on that rooftop slum you own in Jersey.”
I shove him in the back while we cross the lobby. “Shut up, pretty boy. I’d invite you out to see my ‘slum,’ but you might mess up your precious metrosexual manicure on the commute.”
My old college friend buffs his nails on his suit lapel. “Wouldn’t want that, would we? I’ve got an image to uphold.”
“Loser.”
“Sperm donor.”
A sharp bark of laughter rips from me as we enter the elevator. “Low blow, man.”
“That’s what she said.”
After lunch I’m more than ready to see the last of Apollo for a while. I grab a cab to the parking garage housing my car and drive out to Hoboken. I think I’ll stay there tonight so I can push through and get the painting done before the printer and studio supplies get delivered. That way I can set up everything and surprise Heather by Friday.
Vanilla Twist: A Walk on the Wild Side Novel (Heather and Tony, Book 2) Page 3
