by Hope Irving
“Hey, gorgeous.” Graham wraps an arm around Soraya’s waist from behind and kisses the side of her neck softly. Then, he glances at me with pride. “Congrats on this,” he makes a wide gesture with his free arm and points at the paintings that are, according to my chatty new frenemy, improperly hung on the walls. “What are you guys talking about?”
The girls and I answer at the same time, only they reply, “His dick,” and I respond, “My art.”
Graham tilts his head quizzically, looking back and forth between the girls and me, with his eyes as big as saucers, which says a lot for a guy who’s hardly ever floored. The one and only time I’ve seen him like this was when he was courting Soraya, pretending to be in charge when she was actually the one running the show, but I won’t ever tell him that.
“You’re right. Your cock is a piece of art now.”
My brown eyes shoot daggers at my friend. “I’m warning you, Soraya… I’ve had enough!”
“What the hell is going on?”
“You don’t want to know, Graham,” I remark before one of the two giggling she-devils can. “What I wanted to say, though, is thank you. I wouldn’t be here tonight without you.” I’ve had quite a few art openings in the past, but never as big as this one. The fact that Graham plays golf with one of the most prominent gallery owners in the city might have helped… and I’m nervous as fuck. Tonight needs to be a success so that Graham can brag about discovering me and I can be rewarded for my hard work.
“Nah, I didn’t do much.” He waves his hand dismissively, an expensive watch on his wrist. “Your talent convinced Mr. Van Dyke, not me. If he hadn’t believed in your potential, he wouldn’t have lifted a finger. He runs a business, not a charity.” He pats my shoulder blade. “Good job, man!”
“Fingers crossed,” I add, doing just that.
And just like that, the conversation is redirected and flows easily as I keep an eagle-eye on the final preparations. Thank God, my piercing is forgotten.
Countless smiles. Numerous handshakes. Several business deals. A couple of hours later, I heave a contented sigh at the event’s success. Resisting the urge to celebrate the occasion with a champagne toast has been a challenge. I’m ready to escape the upstairs buffet when I spot the one woman that I’ve been longing to see. To touch. To fuck. I’ve hooked up with a couple of women since meeting her, but I haven’t thought about anyone else when I was rubbing one out.
She’s downstairs, schmoozing with Soraya, her hand on the banister of the metallic staircase that leads my way. Their body language shows an odd familiarity, since they must have just met… unless I’m mistaken.
My seltzer in hand, I spy on them. I should have thought this through. I don’t date, and yet, inviting her tonight felt as natural as my next breath. I don’t date, and yet, warning her that dating’s off the table was a mistake. I don’t date, and yet, seeing her mesh so naturally with my best friend makes me think that it might be a date after all. Maybe the karaoke night was one, too.
What the fuck are you doing, asshole? It’s not fair to give her false hope.
Despite knowing all this, I don’t regret asking her to come. Alie’s not a hookup—never has been. She’s my best lay in years, and my paintings are what brought us closer, so why not?
I’m brought back to reality when I notice her hand waving in my direction. That gives me the opportunity to ogle her, admiring how her fitted navy turtleneck is stretched across her girls.
Busted!
I can’t control the growing semi that’s tightening my jeans, and slide a hand into my pocket to rearrange myself. She’s perfected the turtleneck look to a T. How many different turtlenecks does she own? Tonight’s is paired with snug beige pants that hug her perfect ass.
This girl has the ability to turn me on in no time…
The corner of my lip tugs upward, and a large smile brightens her lovely face. Somehow, her expressive brown eyes appear bigger than usual. Soraya whispers something into her ear, and they burst into a fit of raucous laughter. I’m not sure that I like how comfortable they are together, especially after Claire’s earlier indiscretion. I’m just hoping that they’re not up to something when I see them disappear to the back of the gallery. But I’m being paranoid, since they reappear upstairs to join me a moment later.
“Look who I found while you were busy selling your art to the happy few!”
“Aren’t you the proud owner of one of my paintings? I remember gifting you the first one I did after I thre—” I stop in my tracks. My first painting after stopping for two years because of Delia’s death. My first painting to get back on the proverbial horse. My first painting to repay her for ruining her expensive boots. My best friend clears her throat to stop me from fixating on the ghost that suddenly entered the room, but it’s the weight of Alie’s stare that jars me from my unwelcome pity party. “I’m being rude. I’m sor—” Once again, I pause mid-sentence, then try another approach. “Good evening, Alie.” I nod and give her a warm smile to finally acknowledge her presence while fiddling with my watch. I swallow the lump that’s blocking my throat, but breathing still aches. As eager as I am to touch her, it isn’t safe to be any closer… Otherwise, I won’t behave.
“When I got here, I didn’t know anyone, so after studying a few pieces, I just thought maybe I should just ask someone where you might be.”
“And lucky her, she found me!” my energetic friend jokes, throwing her arms into the air. “Of course, I asked inappropriate questions before I even introduced myself. Of course, Alie provided more inappropriate answers after I got around to introducing myself as your childhood best friend.” My brow spikes higher with each piece of information. “Of course, Graham ruined my fun by telling Alie where you were. Anyway, we decided that we like her.” She’s talking about Alie as if she wasn’t standing next to her. Suddenly, I’m glad that Claire’s nowhere to be found because I wouldn’t have been able to deal with both of them in front of the first girl since...
My ongoing inner monologue is interrupted by the blur of Alie’s hand rushing to cover it as she bursts out laughing at Soraya’s bluntness.
Does this woman have any clue how fucking breathtaking she is?
She’s wearing a bit more makeup than usual on her eyes. I don’t know the first thing about makeup, but it makes her lashes seem even thicker and longer than normal. She’s a mix of raw sex appeal and innocence, and yet she doesn’t shy away from broadcasting her single forbidden zone, which ramps me up every time I see her.
Yup, I’m definitely breaking my own rules with this girl.
Flames of embarrassment lick my cheeks, and I pretend to be unaware of my not-so-subtle boner. I cast my eyes down, inhale deeply, and say, “I blame my lack of manners on my nerves. I’m not much of a people person, as you must know by now.” Then I turn to Soraya. “I’m not going to ask what you discussed because that would be prying,” I offer playfully, as if our earlier bickering didn’t happen, and return my attention to Alie. “So, what do you think?”
“I like Soraya.” She winks at me, and my friend giggles, fully aware that I was alluding to the art. Without breaking eye contact, she adds, “Her mood board is an awesome idea that I might borrow one of these days.”
“Thanks, Alie.”
“You’re most welcome.” Turning back to me, she continues, “Oh, and I approve of your new addition.” She leans my way and runs the pad of her thumb over my left eyebrow… well, the barbell that was added to it a couple of days ago. Chills break out along my spine, and I can barely keep my composure.
“Thank you.” My fingers reach for hers, getting reacquainted with her skin. “Piercings and tattoos are as addictive as you are.”
“Well, you two have a lot to catch up on, so I’ll leave you to it. Alie, it was a pleasure meeting you.”
My young lover nods at my departing friend. “Likewise. I’ll see you in a bit. You’re sticking around for a while, right?” Soraya confirms. “It was a pleasure to meet your
husband. He’s such a charmer!” A pang of jealousy hits me in the gut, and I bite the corner of my lower lip. “You two make a beautiful couple.”
“Thanks. So do you.” My face warms at my friend’s words, and I stand, dumbfounded. “By the way, Alie, disregard my warning. You have nothing to worry about. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
The athletic blonde mouths a thank you to the curvier brunette before my friend ambles away without another word.
Meanwhile, I’m frowning, perplexed and wave at a few people that I recognize. I clear my throat, curious about their exchange, but too much of a coward to ask.
“It’s a great exhibition. You’re so talented.” She pecks my cheek. “Aren’t you proud, Omega Artist?”
Taken aback, I disregard her compliment and focus on the nickname.
She lets out a hearty laugh. “What?” Her eyes are laced with mischief. “We both know that I’m the alpha here, right?” She plants another quick kiss on my cheek to seal the deal.
I don’t protest, knowing that she’s accurate, and I don’t mind it—there’s nothing wrong with being an omega.
After a few seconds, I manage to impart, “I’m glad you came.” Our fingers are intertwined. Her eyes are heated. My body is combusting.
She squeezes my knuckles. “I haven’t… yet” The raunchy once-over that she shoots my way leaves no room for interpretation. My fingers tighten around hers. “Where to?” she inquires calmly.
“Follow me.” I mutely lead the way downstairs to the far back of the gallery. There's a narrow hallway with a couple of tiny storage rooms; at the end of it is a small office where I locked up my stuff. The owner of the gallery went out to dinner after giving an introduction speech and won’t be back for some time, so I have the office all to myself.
I should have considered the number of people who would stop us to praise my work. Far from ungrateful, I play the part and introduce my French fan, only to realize that we’re holding hands and everyone assumes that she’s my date.
Torn because I can’t bring myself to call her my girlfriend or let go of her hand, I leave a string of frustrated grunts in my wake that make her chuckle. The more I talk to the guests, the more she strokes my hand with her thumb, driving me crazy. The more I talk to the guests, the more she subtly moves behind me, initiating a delicious friction that stirs the fire within me. The more I talk to the guests, the more I want to be buried inside her.
Plucking the key from my pocket, my trembling hand fumbles to unlock the door. My pulse quickens with each failed attempt. My skin itches with the loss of contact. My cock twitches with every wasted second.
We barely have a chance to tumble through the doorframe before the door slams behind us.
Damn, that was close!
It feels like everyone knows we’re in here. Safe. Alone. Horny.
“Desk?” I suggest in a strangled voice, and my hips forcefully thrust her against the closed door that I lock with one hand. She tosses her purse on the small leather couch to the right of the door. My other hand kneads her perky ass, and I pull her to me, then grind my jean-clad cock against her southern region. I ignore the pressure that's building behind my zipper as well as the burning sensation of my knuckles when they rake against the wood. Speaking of wood, mine just became timber that needs chopping down ASAP.
“Too far.” Given the closet-like size of the room, is actually not that far, but the urgency in her hoarse voice matches my intentions. The tip of her tongue attacks my neck, outlining the patterns of my tats, and my desire flares.
I wiggle. I groan. I beg. She giggles, obviously basking in my reaction to her; she can be the alpha for now.
Her perfect tits brush against my chest, worsening my state; I’m afraid I’m going to come in my pants. Every time we’ve fucked, I haven’t been able to last because my need for her is so intense. I’ve never lost my shit as much as I have around this stunning girl.
Before I know it, I’m the one being pushed against the office door. I'm the one whose jeans and boxer briefs are bunched around his ankles. I'm the one whose boner just sprung free and is under the scrutiny of my French addiction, who licks her plump lips at the view.
Her gaze travels from my face to my dick with an expression that oddly resembles greed. Then, she gets acquainted with my piercing in a whole new way. Shortly after, she exclaims, “I think your cock’s my new favorite sex toy!” This is one of the most sensual declarations that anyone’s said to me. My manhood approves by twitching at the most erotic gaze I’ve ever seen. It’s sexy. It’s salacious. It’s awe-filled.
“You think?”
“You’re my own omega prince.” She winks. I flash back to the convo when I called her Queen Hen and she called me King Cocky, although I wanted to be King Cock. Omega prince is the next best thing, I suppose. “I’m obsessed with your accessory, you know… and there’s something I’ve wanted to try ever since I saw you naked.” And without further ado, her expert tongue traces its way around the jewel. Her teasing tongue swirls around my length. Her skillful tongue plays with Albert; hey, some guys name their cocks. I named mine after my piercing.
Under the TLC of her pointy tongue, sensations that approach an orgasm overwhelm me. My legs wobble as jolts of pleasure course through my body, and my heart thuds in my chest. The expletives that escape my filthy mouth express my appreciation while I have no choice but to let her set the pace, which is perfect.
“You know, nobody’s gone down on me since I got pierced.” I weave my fingers through her well-groomed hair.
Her mouth makes a popping noise as she releases my tip and kisses it. “Why not?” Her eyes leave Albert to meet mine.
I shrug. “They were probably scared… I don’t know.” She begins pumping me as I go on. “I… I decided to get it on a whim.” Her tongue resumes its teasing around the jewel, and I explain in between gasps, “I was fucking scared, and it fucking hurt. Some guys have a hard time getting used to it. Not me… Maybe I should have warned you.”
Building the pressure, she sends me closer to the edge until she releases me from her wet paradise with another pop. “I’m a big girl. The only warning I needed was how addictive you are.” Then she’s back to enticing, we’re back to fighting for dominance, and I’m back to building tension. I’m two seconds away from losing my shit and blowing my load in her mouth.
Considering my lack of experience in the blow job department with Albert, I guess we still need some fine-tuning to be at the top of our game. I really have to slow this down, and my desire to be inside her is stronger than the delicious torture that she’s putting me through. Regretfully, I pull out of her and grasp her hand, drawing her to her feet. “I want you so bad, Aliénor.” Hearing her name with my shitty attempt at French always has an effect on her; her brown eyes widen and her mouth forms an O. It’s fucking adorable!
“You make me so horny.” With these words, her face splits with a depraved grin, and she steals a blistering kiss from me, stopping my heart for a split second before my lustful thoughts are disturbed by the distinct sound of shuffling feet outside the door. Wrongly believing that she’ll flee, I tense. Instead, the mouth that cajoled my dick releases my tongue from its sweet embrace and grazes my earlobe to whisper, “Live a little.” She saunters backward, yanking off her boots and socks and giggling; this sound alone has the ability to make me hard as a rock. Her pants are next. She tosses them my way, and I catch and drop them on the sofa. So much for being the alpha after all. By the time I’m in front of her, her bare ass is on top of the desk and her legs are spread.
I work her quickly and steadily with impatient fingers. She works me quickly and efficiently with the condom that magically appears in her hand. We work each other quickly and frantically with the amazing fucking that we partake in… and the risk of getting caught adds to the thrill. As expected, I don’t last long, and she tightens around me as our orgasms thunder through us.
How can this girl elicit such sensations? How can thi
s girl be so compatible with me? How can this girl make me break all of my rules so easily?
A couple of days later, I continue to dwell on these unanswered questions. Like a moth to a flame, I’m afraid that I’ll get burned as quickly as she made me come the last time that we were together. Nah, strike that, I’m not afraid…
Terrified.
Chapter Twenty-One
It Takes a Lot to Know A Man
Aliénor
“I can’t believe you dragged me here! What was I thinking?” Tig slings both of our weekend bags over one shoulder. His is a beat-up army green duffel bag. Mine is a multi-colored floral Louis Vuitton. I smile at the endearing sight; we make such an unlikely pair!
“Oh, come on! You’re dying to try this out.” He winces as he slams the trunk of the SUV that he borrowed from Graham. Standing next to him, my heart lurches when his face falls further. I know that I’ve unintentionally said something that upset him, but I’m not sure what. To make amends, I rub his forearm with my gloved hand and switch my tone from lighthearted to serious. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah… I’m so…” A timid smile settles on his face. “Damnit, John Wayne!”
“You’re John Wayne?” I know exactly what he means, but I enjoy teasing him.
His brow spikes up. “Sure, let’s watch The Night Riders all night long, baby.” And just like that, he chuckles deeply.
“You really know your John Wayne. I’m genuinely impressed.” He beams, puffing his muscular chest under his partially open winter coat. I couldn’t imagine unzipping my coat in this chilly April weather in upstate New York, but I can’t complain. I’m enjoying the view. “If you ask me nicely, maybe we’ll explore New Frontier.” As if on cue, his eyes betray his dirty mind. Thankfully, mine’s in the same boat.
“You care to elaborate?” he asks, sliding his free hand into his pants pocket to adjust himself.
