“Well, that is very charming…in a back-handed sort of way. And thank you for the excellent advice. Patience is a virtue, after all.” I’m okay with that coming out a little snippy. He’s got me so flustered, and I’m not really sure how. Either way, I don’t like it. I am totally out of control with all these involuntary reactions my body has suddenly found an affinity for. Needing to regain some semblance of control, I continue. “Now that we’ve established you have an uncanny ability to read lips from the reflection in your rearview mirror while driving down the highway and you apparently have wisdom beyond your years, I think we’re good. Plus, I’m sure you have places to be and more important things to do.” Like maybe some blood to suck and a coffin to get into.
As he puts his hand on my car right next to my shoulder, a waft of his scent hits my olfactory nerve, instantly heating my entire body and numbing my brain. What the hell? Trying to shake it off, I hear his smooth voice ask, “What makes you so sure of that? Perhaps I have nowhere to be and am perfectly happy standing in this parking lot, sharing with you my wisdom on giving up control.”
Wow, he’s really good at this, and if I’m not mistaken, that was a very suggestive comment—one that my traitorous body thought had a nice ring to it. Did his nostrils just flare? Dear Lord, tell me he cannot smell me. The thought makes me heat up even more in all the places I shouldn’t. Making matters worse, I swear when I look back at his eyes, they are dilated, which is evidently my body’s signal that we need lubrication because my panties are now soaked with my wetness.
Oh. My. God. Is this even possible? I have no clue who this guy is, but my body is acting like the family dog when someone finally comes home after it’s been alone all day.
Avoiding his suggestive comment and the sexual tension that is about to make me spontaneously combust, I retort, “Perhaps. But I do have somewhere to be, which would explain why I was in a hurry on the highway. Again, I apologize for my aggressive, out of control driving and promise to be a good girl and never do it again.” Moving away from the door so I can open it and make an escape, I give him a quick, “Have a good evening.”
But before I even get near the handle, he stops me. “Where do you have to be?”
His question surprises me, catching me off guard because I’m not sure how to answer. Clearly, I was lying, but it’s none of his business either way.
For whatever reason, I decide to go with the old standby for getting rid of a guy and tell him, “I have a date…with my boyfriend.” I’m really hoping that did not come out as awkwardly as it felt.
I’m guessing it didn’t, because Mr. Impossibly Gorgeous And Cool In Every Possible Way suddenly shuts down, gives me a curt, “Very well, then,” and heads back to his car. Once he’s in, he starts the engine and puts it in reverse.
The finality of it lands heavy in my chest, like I’ve somehow made a terrible mistake. Is this guy some kind of sorcerer, taking control of my body and mind? What the hell? I should be happy he finally left—now I can get on with my life! To prove to myself that none of this matters, I turn to his retreating car and with all the confidence and attitude I can muster, I bring my hand up to my mouth and blow him a very sincere, very exaggerated kiss.
I realize my mistake when bright red lights flash on the back of his car and the engine revs as he shifts to reverse. I really need to check my horoscope for today. I’m starting to think I should have stayed home.
Racing backward to block my car, he screeches to a halt. As he throws open the door, I brace myself. For what, I’m not sure. All I know is that the look on his face scares the hell out of me, and the intensity in his turquoise eyes leaves me paralyzed. A freight train could be careening toward me, and I would stand here like a deer in the headlights, frozen, waiting for impact.
Hearing the firm cadence of his designer shoes tap across the pavement, a chill goes up my spine, and I take a deep breath, readying myself to beg for mercy. I don’t get a chance because the next thing I know, he is fully up on me. Putting one hand under my hair to cradle the back of my head, he puts the other on my lower back as he masterfully brings me to him, dropping his mouth to mine, every move gracefully and impeccably timed.
My conscious mind takes a backseat, and I am suddenly his to do with as he pleases, and God help me, it feels amazing. The warmth of his strong body pressed against mine, his hands holding me in a way I can relax and fully enjoy this unexpected pleasure. His kiss is so delicious, I am lost. I don’t even know what is happening around me; all I know is that—right or wrong—I don’t want him to stop.
My body is hot and humming with a tingling vibration. His kiss is wet and warm and firm and soft all at once. The rhythm of our lips and tongues moving together is like a well-choreographed ballet. I can’t help pulling him closer, my hands in his hair and around his broad shoulders. An unstoppable moan escapes as he deepens the kiss, lighting my body on fire.
In the back of my mind, I acknowledge what he’s doing. Somehow, I managed to infuriate the beast, and now he’s going to ruin me for all others. Because I can pretty much guarantee that no one will ever kiss me the way he is in this moment. All others will pale in comparison, and I will be left longing, never fully sated. It’s okay, though, as long as he doesn’t stop right now, I’ll deal with the consequences later.
The kiss goes on and on, melting my core and leaving me hungry for more. As if sensing my need, he turns my body, pushing my back up against the car. I arch into him, desperate for more contact, more of his strength…more of his potential. Reaching up, he cradles my head with both his warm hands and long fingers. He moves his mouth around mine, kissing it slowly from every angle. He’s savoring me as if he doesn’t want to waste a taste or touch, like his body knows something neither of us is fully aware of. It’s a heady combination; the experience in his touch, the comforting heat that surrounds him, the clean sweetness of his mouth, and his spicy scent are more powerful than anything I’ve experienced before. Add to that his obnoxious good looks and it’s like every one of my senses is experiencing pure euphoria.
Holding me steady, he talks through his kiss, that deep voice penetrating my daze. “You taste so fucking good, I could devour your kiss for hours. But your submission tastes even better. Do you know that I can smell how much you want me right now? That I can feel the vibration of your desire radiating through your beautiful body?” He continues his slow perusal of my mouth, licking my lips, nipping the edge with his teeth. It’s like I’ve been drugged, but he’s not done yet. “Do you feel what that’s doing to me?” He pushes against me so I can feel the hardness that causes a gush of wetness to completely soak through my panties.
As if reading my body, he asks, “If I were to reach underneath your skirt, would I find you soaking wet, ready for me?”
My breath hitches, and I’m suddenly aware that this is way out of hand. I pull away, breathing heavily, lightheaded and confused from being overly aroused…but I’m yearning for more, even though I know it’s wrong. Terribly wrong.
I look up, his eyes penetrating mine and I swear they can see his soul and mine. My God, who is this man? Then his thumb slowly glides across my bottom lip, wet and swollen. His face is close, his voice deep and raspy with desire. “Somehow, I don’t think your boyfriend would appreciate how your body reacts to mine. Perhaps he’s not providing you with what you really need.”
Thrown by his statement, I don’t have time to react when he grabs my arm and brings it up over my head, stretching my breast, making it feel heavy and erotically exposed. My head falls back as he cradles that side of my body with his own.
His next move, though, will likely ruin my sanity and self-esteem forever, because when his hand glides up my ribcage and across to cup my swollen breast, he takes my erect nipple between his thumb and finger, giving it a masterful pinch, twist, and pull.
And I literally have an orgasm right on the spot.
My head falls to his shoulder; I’m trying hard not to make a sound, hoping to sav
e some of my dignity. I squint my eyes, and my breathing becomes erratic as the pleasure pulsates through my core. I am somewhat grateful for the fact that he doesn’t just leave me there, broken and humiliated. At least he held me through it, keeping me from collapsing onto the pavement. And when my body has completely come down from a high I couldn’t fully enjoy, he politely opens my door and gently guides me to my seat, then he reaches over me, slowly pulling the seatbelt across and latching it with a loud click. Leaning in, he kisses my temple and whispers in my ear, “You are perfect, but don’t ever lie to me again.”
And then he was gone.
Two
Ian
I may live to regret that. And not because of the throbbing erection that has become somewhat painful and is wondering why the hell I’m in my car, driving in the opposite direction of the most desirable female it’s ever…almost…come in contact with. Truth be told, I’m wondering that myself. Unfortunately, my original plan—to locate her this weekend and ask her to join me for dinner—was completely disintegrated when she blew me that smartass kiss that screamed triumph after her blatant lie. That single move obliterated all reason, and my actions became instinctive, and my instincts said to punish her…in the most delicious way possible.
Her instincts were to submit and I can’t deny, the ease at which she did so was both a confounding surprise and a mind-numbing turn on. Regardless, it was powerful and it stirred something in me I didn’t recognize. As if it went beyond sexual desire, beyond physical attraction—it was more like possession, as if she belonged to me and we both knew it. Whatever it was, it was a potent aphrodisiac, like nothing I’d ever experienced before.
The more I analyze the singularity of our encounter the more it reeks of the essence of fate. The thought raises the hair on my neck. Something was there, something extraordinary, and I suspect she could feel it, too. Whatever that may be, I am suddenly grateful for the stars’ alignment that crossed my path with hers. She is mesmerizing, and when she came up behind me on the highway, I could see her clearly in the rearview mirror—she was so close. That gorgeous hair, a natural mix of blonde waves over a darker base, as if she spends most of her time outside near the ocean, soaking up the sun. It artfully framed her delicate face with its tan creamy skin, clear light eyes, and sinfully full mouth. I just wanted to stare at her, frustrated I couldn’t without the risk of crashing into something.
It was entertaining to watch her unleash her road rage on me, flashing her lights and moving from side to side, trying to get my attention. Little did she know, she already had my full attention, which meant I was going to drag out the game as long as possible. I would have eventually let her pass so I could get her tag number and have Jackson locate all her information. But she thwarted my plan when she decided to cut me off and quickly take the next exit, not giving me the time I needed to get the number and completely pissing me off with her reckless driving. So, I opted to follow her, waiting for the opportunity to see if she was worth the trouble. She is definitely worth the trouble and then some.
I knew my efforts would pay off when I pulled up next to her and she got out of her car, staring at my jet-black window without knowing who or what was behind it and waiting patiently for me to emerge. When that didn’t happen, she cocked her gorgeous head and raised one eyebrow as if to say, “Okay, now what, asshole?” My fingers twitched at the thought of how much fun that sassy attitude could induce.
Yet her involuntary reaction to me was a thing of legend, from a time long forgotten. The raw carnality of it activating the traces of my caveman DNA that had me wanting to throw her over my shoulder, return to my cave, and mark her as mine. I saw her breath hitch, eyes dilate, nipples harden… God, that was beautiful. She even relaxed the tension in her muscles, subconsciously submitting, as if she’d been waiting an eternity for me to come and take her. There was something so primal, so visceral about her reaction that it tugged at some foreign place deep inside me. My grandmother is always commenting on my old soul and all the power therein. Perhaps today was a reuniting of sorts. It would certainly justify its intensity.
I smile remembering the sound of her laughter when she lost her composure. My breath caught in my chest as I momentarily stopped breathing as the sound wrapped around me and sent a tingling up my spine. But seeing her gorgeous head thrown back, exposing the creamy skin of her throat and neck, tested my willpower to its limit. I cannot believe how close I was to taking it in my mouth and marking her, as if it were my right to do so. The look on her face—when she opened her eyes and realized my proximity—was priceless. Remembering the sound of her gasp forces a laugh of my own, despite the fact that my cock is still throbbing and pissed off at me.
Without thinking, my hand comes up to run along the shadowing of my chin and jawline. Chills spread across my body. I still have her delicious scent on me, an exquisite combination of her arousal, nervousness, whatever spicy perfume she had on, and her own natural sweet scent doused with pheromones. I am suddenly tense and edgy with need and wondering why my sadistic ego just left her in that fucking parking lot.
A sudden burst of irrational anger ignites in my chest as I make a sharp turn and head back to the convenience store. What I intend to do when I get there, I don’t really know. Perhaps I will throw her over my shoulder and take her back to my cave. All I know is that I want her with a force that suddenly feels violent.
A few long minutes later, I’m stopped at the red light barely a block down from the parking lot I had hoped she‘d still be in, recovering from the unexpected orgasm I gave her. But she’s gone.
“Fuck!” My hand hits the steering wheel right as my cell phone rings. It’s Jackson, and I pray he has her information.
“What did you find?” I ask my right-hand man and best friend. Jackson and I grew up together, and the old cliché, He’s like a brother to me, isn’t a cliché with us. Our friendship was founded and solidified when he protected me from some of the local meat-headed bullies that decided the skinny kid was an easy target. I never backed down from them, but there was no way in hell I could have beat them physically. However, Jackson could. Even as a kid, he had the height and muscles of an oversized teenager, but it was his fierce stare that diffused any confrontation before it ever happened. As a black man with pale green eyes and sharp features, he was intimidating as hell and learned early on to use it to his advantage…and, thankfully, mine. Jackson has more honor and integrity than any other man I know and always has; it’s his nature. So when he saw a bunch of punks picking on someone half their size, there was no question how that situation was going to end—with the little pack of dogs running away, whimpering, their tails between their legs.
“Charlotte LeFay,” his deep voice sounds through the speakers. Some of the tension leaves my body as I hear her name. Charlotte LeFay…fucking beautiful. My imagination takes over with images of her naked and ethereal. “She’s the general manager of The Clara Sea, a luxury resort and spa in South Miami Beach.”
“I know the place,” I respond, essentially cutting him off. “We need to book something there immediately. A conference, dinner party, cocktail party. Hell, a bloody masquerade ball, for all I care. Just make sense out of it and book it. We can go over the details tomorrow.”
When I hear Jackson’s baritone laugh, I notice how desperate I sound—which is totally out of character. I thrive on control; Jackson knows this and evidently thinks it’s funny that I appear to have lost it, especially over a woman. “What’s so funny, asshole?”
“Oh, nothing. Just can’t wait to meet the girl that has your panties in a wad.” He ends his sarcastic comment with a chuckle. Lucky for him, Jackson has no drama in his life. He doesn’t create it, and he masterfully deflects it. He married his college sweetheart, has a two-year-old son, and a daughter on the way. It’s like a storybook, all perfect and sweet.
“Yeah, I bet. Hopefully, that happens sooner rather than later.” The flat tone in my voice indicates my mind is elsewhere. Like
wondering where Charlotte is right now and how long it will take to have her, naked and screaming my name in ecstasy as I devour her next climax.
“All right, man. I’ll be in touch with the specifics. Go home, have a drink, and call your grandmother. She’s always good for a few laughs to snap you out of a bad mood. I talked to her last week and she asked me if Becca was having pregnancy wet dreams yet.”
Our laughter mingles through the car, finally ebbing out with me asking, “What the fuck is a pregnancy wet dream?”
“Man, you have no idea what happens to a woman’s body when she’s got all that extra blood and hormones pumping through her. It’s intense! Ask Nana, she’ll tell you all about it.”
On a half-laugh, I state, “I’m not sure I want to give Nana extra ammunition to talk trash. She does fine on her own.” My grandmother is in her late eighties and no longer has a filter—not that she really ever had one. She’s been known to make grown men blush, something Jackson and I find immensely entertaining. In her youth and even beyond, she was beautiful with dark hair and blue-gray eyes. She has a passion for joyful living, and something tells me that my grandfather was a very happy man during their long marriage. Although, I’m sure he was occasionally embarrassed by her sharp wit and inappropriate topics of conversation. “But I’ll give her a call anyway. Thanks, man.”
“You bet.” And we hang up.
I’m almost home. Very much looking forward to the peace and tranquility of my sanctuary. That’s what my penthouse is to me. It’s my escape from everything and everyone. High above the city where no one can find me, no one can see me, no one can hear me. It’s perfect.
The Essence of Fate Page 2
