by TC Matson
He pulls his shoulders back. “I could’ve gone all the way, but two weeks in, the principal caught wind that I was washing my clothes in the shower.”
“What on Earth made you want to pierce your eyebrow?”
He shrugs. “Just to piss him off. He had said something about one of my friends having his ears pierced, so fuck it. I shoved one in where it’d be right in his face. I was turbulent toward him. He had an ugly way of love.”
Our lighthearted conversation turns jaded and I make an attempt to steer it away from the icy waters. “I was mad at my dad for a long time because he wouldn’t let me get a dog. Once I brought a stray home and he gave me the silent treatment for a week. I couldn’t handle it so I broke. Thankfully, Old Poppie, the owner of the store by the school, took it in.”
The rest of the conversation flows freely about the brown shaggy dog and how after school for years I’d stop in to see it. Bailey…she was the sweetest dog with the best second chance, who also loved Momma’s pot roast.
Easton pushes open my apartment door and gestures for me to enter first. The moment the door shuts, he snakes his hands around my shoulders and twists me to face him. His gaze is dark, inflamed with a beautiful intent and desire.
He slants his mouth over mine and kisses me while twisting my ponytail around his hand and tugging it. It forces our kiss to break leaving me panting for more. Drifting his lips from my mouth to my ear and then down to my clavicle, he backs me against the wall.
He slides his hand under the hem of my dress. The moment his thumb grazes over my thong, his eyes flash and a smirk plays on his lips. I watch, fascinated, as he squats, simultaneously taking my underwear down my legs.
Bunching up my dress above him, he leans in. Warmth. Desire. I’m bombarded with sensations as his tongue strokes across my clit and then circles unhurriedly. I moan, dropping my head against the wall, closing my eyes as he presses his fingers into me. He moves my leg over his shoulder and continues. Electricity throbs through me. I wiggle against the pleasurable burn zipping over me.
Fascinating strokes. Perfect pressure. My hips rock. My body starts to shudder. My legs threaten to buckle as he works his tongue over my clit faster, his fingers in rhythm, pushing me higher and higher until…
I’m falling over the crest.
“Oh!” I moan, shoving my hands into his hair, crying out and rolling my hips. The shiver forces my body to jerk and I shake, riding the wave.
As he stands, my dress falls back into place. His heavy lids pour over my shoulders and then he twists me away from him. Slowly, he unzips my dress and it falls to the floor. He guides me, taking several steps and molding his body against mine, as he bends me over the arm of the couch.
“Your ass is marvelous…” He says, dragging his hand over the curve.
His zipper lowers. The condom wrapper rips open. I’m overwhelmed with need and so much anticipation, I whimper as my hips involuntarily sway from side to side, my body begging for him.
“You’d look riveting bent over my desk. Bare. Wet. Begging.” His voice strains. “What do you want, Zoey?” He lines his dick up to me. I whine, wanting more.
He thrusts forward, impaling me quickly. I cry out from the intensity. Slowly he withdraws and then gradually sinks back in. “Is this what you wanted?” he rasps.
“Yes. Please,” I pant my plea, needing so much of him deeply.
With one hand gripping my hip, he uses the other and pushes down the small of my back, forcing me to deepen my arch. His pace picks up as he drives into me, alternating between short and long, gyrating and hard strokes.
My body pulsates with pleasure. My orgasm growing, fervor intertwining within my muscles. Wrapping my ponytail around his hand, he pulls…hard.
I whimper from the pleasure.
“Your pussy feels so good,” he growls. “So fucking wet. You’re gorgeous, Zoey.”
The lecherous way my name drops from his mouth blisters me. I push back, my hips meeting his thrusts, and he surges forward.
I lose it. “Please,” I beg, but for what, I don’t know. Everything.
He digs his fingers into my skin and slams into me, pumping vigorously. I’m fraught with euphoria, torrid heat sizzling. He raises my leg, coercing me to my side, and places it on his shoulder. It forces me to stand on one dangerously shaky leg, but the angle intensifies everything, including the orgasm screaming through me.
High pitched and long, my moan rolls out.
Holding my leg tightly against his chest, his hips gyrate and he plunges forward. “Shit,” he hisses and then becomes frenzied as he plows into his release. He grits his teeth, grunting low and sexy as hell.
After he slows, he lowers my leg and drops his head to the side of my shoulder. His heartbeat bangs against my side, his dick pulsing, his breath rapid.
“Holy shit. I can’t get enough of you…” His breathless words batter my skin.
It takes us a minute to gather our bearings and then as he stands us up, he kisses me so incredibly tenderly. If I didn’t know better, there are emotions…feelings…affection behind it. “I’m staying again.”
It’s a demand I already wanted.
I’m sliding my legs into my shorts when he emerges from the bathroom still gloriously naked. His tanned skin, hard with muscles, stalks to my bed. He drops, snatching my arm, and yanks me into him. With a gentle grasp, he cups the sides of my face and stares with so much intent and devotion, my stomach dips.
“I need you to get over the boss thing you’re stuck on,” he says. “However you have to, separate it from us.”
“What—” I swallow and ask the very question plaguing my thoughts. “What are we doing?”
He places a kiss to my forehead and then moves me to the side, tugging my back to his chest. “I don’t know yet.” The words are in my ear. “Let’s see where this goes.”
He tightens his grip around me and we lie in silence.
Let’s see where this goes… His words repeat over and over. I’m filled with questions, questions I’m scared to ask. Are we exclusive? Are we just sex? Is this serious?
It’s all overwhelming. “Easton?” I say quietly, not sure if he’s asleep and hoping he isn’t.
“Yeah?”
I chicken out. “Good night.”
He nuzzles deeper into my hair. “You think too much, Zoey. It’s bad for you.”
I exhale a breathy giggle. “And how would—”
“You always do,” he says nonchalantly, like I’m not freaking out that he’s reading my mind. “We’ll figure this out.”
We lie in silence, his breath leveling out until I know he’s asleep.
Soft lips kiss my cheek. “Zoey…” Another sweet peck.
I crack open my eyes to the features of his sexy face. The sun is barely up, casting the room a weird blueish orange. “Hmmm?”
“I have to go.” Another soft placement of his lips against my temple. “I have a flight to catch. I’ll text you when I get there. Go back to sleep.”
Feeling…bold? I reach for his arm and pull it into my chest. “But you just got back,” I whine.
He kisses my temple. “Work never slows, baby. I’ll be back Tuesday.”
Baby…
Reluctantly, I let his arm go. “Be careful.”
Pressing his lips to my forehead. “Always. Go back to sleep.”
Yeah right. My heart cramps watching him walk out of my bedroom. Emptiness settles around me when I hear the front door shut. I sigh, sitting up, feeling tired but wide awake. My body unknotted but sore from our sex. I glance over. The spot beside me still bears the ruffled sheets where he had slept.
Last night. This morning. Baby. I feel like we’ve turned over a new leaf.
I’m curled up on the couch when there’s a knock on the door and in struts Britney. She’s slow, eyes squeezed shut.
“You alone?”
I laugh. “One day you’re going to bust in and see something you can’t unsee.”
“W
e need a code. Like a sock on the door or something.” She flops into my recliner.
“I’m not putting a sock on my door,” I snort. “How about you wait for me to answer the door like a normal person?”
She taps her long finger against her lips. “How about no? I can’t even remember the last time I waited for you to answer it. How about you lock it when he’s here?”
I cock my head to the side. “You’re not afraid to use your key. Example—the other morning when you came bounding in and drooled over Easton.”
“Damn. Yeah. Okay. If the door is locked, I won’t come in. But in all fairness, that was an incredible sight to see. Instantaneous drool.”
I roll my eyes with a chuckle.
“How was the date?” she asks, prying for information.
“Romantic. Sweet. All things Easton Langley has the reputation for.”
“Is he trying to woo you or screw you?”
“I’d venture to say both.”
She studies me with quizzical eyes. “Where’s your heart in all of it?”
I grin a little goofy. “He makes it dance.” I raise my palms to her. “I know. I know. You told me to be leery and I tried, but—”
“Sparks. Attraction. Sexual tension. It’s a perfect equation that will make any heart go flippity flop,” she says.
“I swear there are times I feel he wants more,” I admit.
“How many other women have said the same thing?”
I pinch my nose, closing my eyes. I don’t want to think of it. “Please don’t remind me.”
“I’m just saying, Zoe—”
My phone chimes.
Easton: You know this hotel would be perfect if you were in the bed when I walked in.
Me: You left me in the bed.
Easton: Reluctantly, might I add. You were naked and your morning puffy face is beautiful.
I feel the blush creeping up my neck.
Easton: Dinner when I get back?
Me: I’d love to.
Easton: Have a good weekend.
I sigh, a little broken hearted when I feel Britney’s stare on me.
“How’s Easton?” She grins knowingly.
“He just got to the hotel.”
She scratches her head. “Maybe we’re wrong here. Maybe we’re blind to the subtle hints?”
“What do you mean?”
She scoots to the end of the cushion, resting her elbows on her thighs. “What booty call gets a check in? None.”
I titter. “The assistant does.”
Her gaze turns dead serious as she draws a brow down low. “He didn’t do that before he started sleeping with you. Maybe he is after more than just horny and good lays.”
I bite my thumb nail. “Is it bad I’m hoping so?”
She shrugs, pursing her lips. “Just be careful. We know the stories he leaves behind. Hedge yourself and take it slow.” She rises to her feet. “I’m off for a wild night in the sack with Garret before he goes to work tonight. Late shift and all.”
It’s my turn to flip the subject on her. “You’re pretty serious about him.”
There’s a flicker in her eyes when she beams. “What makes you think that?”
“The fact he’s still around.”
“I like him. He’s not clingy. He’s fantastic in bed. And damn he’s pretty to look at. I guess I’m in the same limbo boat as you are. Waiting to see where things are going, except I’m not screwing the sexiest man in Denver.” She pauses. “Bitch.”
I laugh.
“Oh!” She points to me. “Tuesday night, be here or be square. Tuesday pizza night is back in full effect, except I’m bringing Garret. Invite Easton if you’d like. I just thought it would be nice to squeeze our routine in since it’s been fooorreevveer since we’ve had one.”
“Whose turn is it to get the pizza?”
“I’ll grab it. Next time it’s on you.” She winks.
The door shuts me into my tranquil silence. I rest back on the couch. Tuesday night pizza has always been fun. It started off as a way to get out of cooking since we both had full-time jobs, but then it turned into a gossip fest, some nights morphing into a quiet movie night.
I glance back to my phone, rereading the texts from Easton. Pizza night with our guys here will be interesting.
Easton
I’m in the office before Zoey—the first time in a long while. I had a shit Sunday and an intense meeting with Royal Company on Monday, who ended up slapping me with an ultimatum—either get this job done or we’re moving on to the next security company indefinitely. The weather has held us up. It’s out of my hands, yet they think despite the torrential weather my crew should work. Simply not the case. I absolutely will not put any of my employees in danger. But they’ll be pushing overtime to get it done.
I’m maxing out my company, stretching my employees thin, overworking my project managers.
It’s my empire I’m building and I have a ferocious appetite for success.
While in Texas, I had to turn down Mandi—my fun as fuck lay who is always down for anything with gorgeous tits, mile long legs, and a mouth that’ll make any street hooker envious. Instead of listening to her mewl for my dick, I witnessed a range of emotions from shock to confusion before feeling her entire wrath across my cheek when she slapped me.
“I’ve been at your beck and call only for you to throw me away,” she snapped before sashaying her perfectly round ass away.
It never fails. Even when I tell a woman nothing serious will come out of this, or when I tell them I’m only here for the fun, they still put on their blinders in hopes they’ll be the one to change me.
It takes someone more than a piece of ass to open my eyes.
Penelope might have forced my eyes open, but she also slammed my heart shut. I knew better than to get involved, but something about her jumbled me up. She was sophisticated, flirty, beautiful, and knew the game she was running on me. I didn’t know what I wanted, but she worked me until I figured out it was her.
She did shit, little shit, and she stayed on my mind until I was crazy enamored by her. Blinded by her sweet side—the glimpses in between the manipulative bullshit. Dazed by her compassion—the slivers she shared. Stunned by how career-driven she was. We wanted the same things in life—prosperous business, elegance, premier choices—at first. I remember numerous times thinking how strange it was she wanted everything I did. But I pushed forward, sticking with it.
She was gorgeous as ever—long blonde hair, flawless skin, a beautiful smile, slender and petite nose, and attractive blue eyes. Those eyes could go from alluring, loving, and compassionate to steely, sharp, and hollow in a blink. She knew her beauty spoke to everyone—men and women—and used it for her benefit. She was refined on the outside. An utter bitch on the inside.
Daddy’s money made her that way.
My stupidity made me miss all of the signs until it was too late. I fell hard in love with her, or so I thought. I would’ve thrown myself across fire and brimstone for her to walk over and not get burned. She always wanted me to persevere, yet hated all the work I did. She’d never admit it, but she was jealous of Langley Security. No matter how much I loved her, my business will always be number one as I continue to grow it. I had obligations, and Penelope Elliots didn’t like that she had to take second place to the corporate meetings.
She babbled out she loved me about four months after our first date. I was walking out the door after an argument. It stopped my feet in their tracks. I guess I fell for her manipulation, tumbling straight into the web of deception. But I was crazy about her…
Our work required commitment, and we started spending a lot of time away, not speaking for days. Arguing started overpowering our fun. We’d fuck and she’d pick a fight. Tears—the fake ones that tricked me—would evoke a shamefulness inside of me. I always was in the wrong, and always the one idiot to make it up to her.
She was using me.
Rumors of infidelity—her, not me—started, a
nd when I confront her, she’d somehow make me feel like a dumbass. I was stuck in a vicious cycle of needing to make things work out with her to quell my feelings of failure. I’m good at a lot of things, but holding down a relationship has never been one of them. That’s until I couldn’t take it any longer. My “I love yous” felt forced, never easily coming out. Like someone was holding a gun to my head.
I planned a romantic dinner one night, and before meeting her, my phone rang with a man claiming he had knowledge of her sleeping around. It wasn’t the first time I’d gotten a call. Men and women would somehow let me know, but I blew them off. But this guy knew details no one other than me should’ve known.
While we were at the table with our food in front of us, I blatantly asked her if she was sleeping around. Her eyes gave it away. I don’t know what was different about this time. The lighting? The fact I was done with it? Either way, it was clear as the fucking air between us.
I left. Oddly, it hurt amongst the relief, but even so, it reminded me of why I hate relationships. Why I loathe giving my all to someone.
Because they always end up hurting me. I sound like a punk, but I’m closed off for a reason.
Feeling this way for Zoey—wanting her to want to be with me. Wanting to be with her—it’s confusing the fuck out of me. It’s different and it’s causing me to be on edge. I detest how Zoey feels like home—a peace and belonging in this swirling life of mine. Except I truly don’t hate it as much as I’m pining for her.
Zoey steps in and skips a beat when she spots me already at my desk. I soak in the sight of her—light pink shirt loose and sinking low between her tits. Flowery skirt tight against her hips.
“Jesus. You’re going to make things hard on me today.” I eye the soft skin of her cleavage. “Are you intentionally trying to fuck up my concentration?” It comes out harsher than I intended even if I’m in a bad mood.
She brushes it off, her sultry pink lips pulling up. It’s a sight I’ve craved since the moment I left Saturday morning.
