Come to think of it, if guys were smart—which, let’s face it, we aren’t—when we were about eighteen, we’d pick up one of these books and study it like it was one of our core subjects in school. We’d have the girls eating out of the palm of our hands in no time. This kind of book was all but giving a guy the code to the safe that was otherwise impenetrable. The female orgasm. Men work for years, sometimes a lifetime, figuring out what makes a woman get off, when all along, here it was, written, step by step.
And it wasn’t just sex. The courting, the love language, the dirty talk, the navigating the family maze—all of it. I ended up reading until two in the morning, finally falling asleep after promising myself just one more chapter. I had a strange desire to talk to someone about the book I was reading, but waking up Skye seemed out of the question. It would have to wait until daylight so I could wait for Janine and the rest of the Friends gang at the pool.
I never heard Skye leave for work in the morning, which was highly unusual. She wasn’t particularly considerate as she slammed around the condo getting ready in the morning, and I had always been a light sleeper, so the combo usually meant when she was up, I was up. But staying up late reading ensured I slept through her cacophony, and I didn’t wake up until my cell phone finally rang at nine fifteen a.m., stirring me from a bizarre mix that was part sex dream part nightmare.
“—lo? Hello?” I mumbled into the phone, hoping whoever it was had something important to say.
“Are you really still sleeping?” Harrison’s voice chastised me from the other end.
“I’ve been under the weather.” Hell, the excuse had worked on Skye. Why not go for broke?
“Oliver.” His dramatic sigh had me clenching my fists. “This can’t still be about Lagerfeld.” Why did he sound so put out when it was my career that was drying up?
“I just said I’m sick. There’s something going around.” A fake cough was added for bonus points.
“You should go get a colonic. It would do you wonders. I have a great therapist—”
“Please do not say another word about your colon, Harrison. Or having things pumped into you from down below. It’s way too early in the morning. Is there a reason you’re calling me?” If I didn’t interrupt him, the granola medical advice would go on for the better part of his commute.
“Of course.” This time the pause, just as dramatic, was way more self-congratulatory. “I have a job for you to go to today. Clean yourself up and be ready by ten. They’re sending a car. I emailed you the info, but when you didn’t respond, I figured I’d better call and make sure you’re still checking your email.”
“Shit,” I mumbled into the phone and instantly prayed Harrison hadn’t heard me. God, could this be a sign? Maybe the dry spell was just temporary and I had misread the signs in my usual paranoid panic. Maybe this would be the start of the feast and the end to the famine. Maybe I could say goodbye to the likes of Jason Riley before I got too comfortable even considering wearing his shoes.
“My head is throbbing. I just didn’t sleep well.” Who would believe I’d stayed up too late reading?
“Too bad, Oliver. Fake it if you have to. This is LA, baby. And Oliver? You’re welcome. I really had to pull strings for this one. Wear your navy Armani. It’s my favorite on you.” And he was gone.
I flopped my head back into my pillows and opened my email. The job was an easy one, at least. A few hours on location with a photographer I’d worked with before. The campaign was for a top-shelf vodka and was being shot at some trendy hipster place in the Financial District. I took a quick shower, skipped the shave per the client’s request, and threw on some track pants. I’d have my hair and makeup done on-set and get into my suit at the last minute. I wondered why Harrison had to pull strings to land this gig. I’d done a hundred shoots just like it in my career. Grabbing my e-reader off my bed, I headed out the door. According to the call sheet, I should expect to be back home with plenty of time to get ready for the BBI date tonight, as long as the traffic gods cooperated during the afternoon rush hour.
Chapter Four
For the first time in my entire modeling career, a shoot had dragged on. Even though I had worked with the photographer before, every single nuance about his style grated on my nerves. The shots seemed to take an eternity to set up, only to snap a handful of frames and move on. My posing had been spot-on; some things truly were like riding a bike. The dailies I saw looked fantastic, and I was confident the client would have what they were looking for. Still, I couldn’t have left the set fast enough. Where I used to feel accomplished and satisfied when a job wrapped, I’d felt uninspired and restless.
Over the lunch break, I’d found a quiet corner and read a few more chapters of the Riley House book I was so engrossed in. One of the lighting interns caught a glimpse over my shoulder of what I was reading, and we’d talked for a few minutes about the characters. Oddly, I had more interest in that conversation than in any other part of the day. We’d exchanged socials and agreed to keep in touch on something called Goodreads. Apparently, there was an entire platform and community dedicated to the love of reading. Who knew?
The photographer had gone way over time, and I’d ended up going straight to my date from the shoot. It all worked out since I had my best suit on and my hair was styled to perfection. I met Melanie, as she’d listed her name, in the lobby bar of the Standard, one of Los Angeles’s trendiest hotels. Also, as luck would have it, the hotel was in the same neighborhood as the photo shoot, so I didn’t have to travel far and actually was early for the date. I had the pleasure of watching her arrive and fidget, while she wasn’t aware I observed her from across the bar.
She was stunning. Nothing like I had worked myself into expecting over the past twenty-four hours leading up to this moment. And the fact that I had done that seemed so unfair now. Just because a woman chose a dating service instead of finding a date some other way shouldn’t automatically check off boxes like spinster, cat lady, and dowdy. This woman was anything but those descriptors. Quite the opposite, actually. She was stylishly dressed and had an air of sophistication a woman couldn’t be taught. No, a woman was born with this type of poise and grace. My body reacted to her in ways I hadn’t felt in quite some time. I shifted on my perch of a barstool and chuckled to myself, surprised by the effect she already had on me before we’d even met.
We had drinks and great conversation, getting to know one another casually, all while I played the character to a T. She ate the shit up quicker than I could dish it out.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She smiled shyly into my shoulder as I backed her farther into the dark corner of the hotel lobby’s bar.
I leaned close to her ear, breathing heavy on her bare neck before whispering, “Why? Not one for adventure?”
“Not normally, no.” Her voice was thickening with arousal, much like my dick. The drinks and spirited atmosphere of the bar played right into the vibe of the scene.
“Maybe we should change that.” Delivered with the trademark smoldering stare of her book boyfriend, Jason Riley. She melted within seconds and looked down.
“Don’t do that, Melanie.”
“Do what?” Her question was asked with a batting of her black lashes.
“Avert your eyes when I’m looking at you.” I kept my voice commanding without being mean. Right on the edge of “Dickville.”
“It’s too much.” She waved her hand. “Too hard to—”
“To what?” I volleyed back quickly like my character was known to do.
“I don’t know. Never mind.” She was blushing. I had her just where I wanted her.
“You’re going to have to say what you mean. Say what you want—if I’m going to give you what you need, Melanie.” I brushed a lock of silky hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger on the shell.
I waited for her to look up again. Finally, when she did, I hooked my forefinger under her chin and bent closer to kiss her. Moving slowly, both to draw
out the moment and to give her plenty of time to say no. Even though we were knee-deep in this role-playing, she had every right to tell me no.
When the kiss was finished, I pulled back. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Her lips trembled as she raised her hand to touch where mine had just been. Finally she spoke. “No, no, it wasn’t bad at all. It’s been so long since someone kissed me like that. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed like that.”
“You deserve to be treasured, Melanie.” I looked out across the bar dramatically like the actors did in the soap operas my mom used to watch. “But I’m not the right man for you.”
“No!” she answered too quickly. “Why are you saying that?” She tugged on my lapel to get me to look back at her—as though she had watched the same cheesy soap opera scene too.
“I’m not a nice guy. I work too much.” I was pouring it on now. She was putty in my hands.
“No, I want you. I want you just the way you are.” Her voice broke a little on the last word.
“You don’t know what you’re saying.” This couldn’t have gone better if we’d rehearsed it.
“I’m a grown woman. I know what I want.” She stood taller, resolve straightening her spine, as if a decision had been made deep inside.
“And what is that?” I looked her directly in the eye. “Tell me what you want, Melanie.”
I felt something touch my hand and looked down. A plastic hotel room key card.
“I want to spend the night with you.”
“Make sure you understand what that means. We can’t go back in time once we cross the line.” Subtle warning edged my tone.
“I want to be with you. Feel you.” Her hands were roaming over my chest, inside my suit jacket, nails scraping my skin through the thin cotton of my dress shirt.
“Melanie,” I rasped in her ear just before I sank my teeth into the lobe. Her moan was like fingers wrapping around my cock, a firm grasp as I kissed down her neck, and she let out a rush of warm air.
“Please, please. Take me to your bed, Melanie. I need to feel you.”
She turned on her spiky stilettos and strode out of the bar and across the lobby toward the bank of elevators. I went closely behind, although keeping a respectable distance once inside the guest-filled car. On the eleventh floor, we both exited, and I watched her strut down the corridor of the hotel toward the room she must have reserved earlier. I waited a few moments before following in her wake. She opened the door but didn’t turn to see if I had followed before going inside. I caught the door just before it closed and pushed it with a force that startled her. She watched with big green eyes as I prowled toward her, minimizing the space between us in two long steps.
“I-I don’t know what to call you,” she breathed as I kissed her neck.
“Do what feels right. You’re in control of everything that happens here. If you want this to be strictly a fantasy, then so it shall be. You know my real name. We talked about that over dinner. I won’t mind if you say that when I’m deep inside you either.” I kissed down her neck again, trading stinging bites for soothing licks, holding her in place by her lithe waist. “Melanie.” I held her still and waited for her to look at me. “Melanie, look at me.”
“What? What’s wrong? God, please don’t say you’ve changed your mind.” Panic filled her voice and stare.
“No. It would take every ounce of my will to walk out of this room right now. But I want to make sure you’ve had every opportunity to say no. If this is not what you want to be doing, say the word, and I will be a gentleman and walk out that door.”
“No. God, no, Oliver, please. Make love to me. Fuck me. However you want to word it. I need to feel alive. I need to know I’m desirable. That a man could actually be attracted to me. Please, if only for one night. Make me feel special. Make me feel like I’m beautiful, that I’m needed. Wanted.”
Her eyes were welling with tears, and her swollen lips trembled. She looked so vulnerable and lonely, I wanted to wrap her in my arms and hold her until the sun came up. But I knew she needed more than that. I kissed her again, letting my desire swirl through her system, replacing the doubt and fear that had crept in over the past few minutes. I pressed my erection into her soft flesh, making it abundantly clear how desirable she was.
“Feel what you do to me? You have the power to bring a man to his knees.” I took her hand and wrapped it around my cock through my slacks. “You have the power to destroy me. Say you’ll have me. Say you’ll have me between these milky thighs.” I slid my hand up under the fabric of her dress, pressing in at the junction of her pussy. “Say this is mine, Melanie.”
Her green eyes glowed in the dimly lit room.
“Say it.”
Her stare could’ve lit the way for a battalion of soldiers on a midnight raid.
“Don’t make me ask again.” This time my command was issued against her lips as I grabbed her pussy firmly in my palm, making her suck in air from my mouth.
“I can feel the heat from your cunt. You like when I tell you what to do. Don’t you?”
She nodded her head quickly.
“That’s not an answer, baby.” I pulled her panties to the side, widening my eyes when I felt the moisture at her lips.
“Well, now. Are you going to answer me?” I swiped my fingers through her wetness and brought them to where our mouths remained nearly pressed together.
“Open your mouth, Melanie.”
She parted her lips, and I slipped one wet finger in, watching her reaction as she tasted herself.
“More. Open more.” I slipped the tips of the other two cream-coated fingers into her mouth and painted her lips with a mixture of her pussy juice and her saliva. When I pulled my fingers away, I immediately covered her entire mouth with a full kiss, licking and sucking, taking and consuming every inch of the inside and outside of her mouth with mine. When we parted, she looked as drunk as I felt from the experience.
“Dirty girl. I like it. You taste fantastic. I need more.” I paused a beat as though I were formulating a plan. “Take off your dress.”
She hesitated a moment with our gazes locked before turning around. “Can you unzip me, please?”
“It would be my pleasure.”
She moved her ebony hair to one shoulder so I could easily access the zipper, but I leaned in and kissed her neck, continuing down to her shoulder and back instead. I gathered the fabric up around her waist and kneaded her ass while I kissed and nipped her skin, not able to get my fill of her creamy flesh.
“My zipper.” She tapped on the metal tab with her index finger, which I quickly caught between my teeth.
“Oh!”
Her little yelp shot down through my dick, making my balls squeeze up closer to my body, encouraging me to make her cry out again. I pinched her ass a bit harder while biting her finger, confusing her senses as to which area felt more pain. And whether the pain actually hurt or felt good.
“Oliver!”
I released her finger and quickly pulled the zipper of her cocktail dress down to its limit. When I spread the fabric down her shoulders, the dress fell easily to the ground. I steadied her while she stepped from the garment, and then I quickly picked it up, smoothed it out, and laid it carefully over the back of the chair. I remembered that Jason Riley always took particular care with his ladies’ clothes, so I wanted to make sure I impressed that upon her. She gave me a coy smile, and I knew it hadn’t gone unnoticed. I had to remember this was a business I was building, and I would rely on recommendations for securing future clients.
My clothes were divested in record time. I laid them on the chair beside hers but not nearly as carefully. I didn’t want to keep this woman waiting a second longer than necessary. Earlier, I had made sure I had condoms in my wallet, so I quickly slid one on. I wanted to be ready in case things went faster than I planned. I had a feeling Melanie hadn’t been satisfied sexually in a long time, and I was worried when I got my mouth on her pussy, all be
ts would be off with taking it slow.
Melanie lay back on the bed, and I crawled up between her legs, scraping my nails lightly along her calves, up her thighs, and then spread her wider so I could settle between them for a feast.
“No. No. Just fuck me.” She tugged on my shoulder while she whispered her plea. “Please. Just please. Put your cock in me.” As if she had an inside track to my earlier thoughts, Melanie’s begging tempted my resolve.
“Let me make it good for you, baby. Slow down. We have all night.” I moved to rest between her thighs again, and she stopped me once more.
“You don’t understand. It’s been so long. I feel like I’m going to explode if you don’t fuck me.”
“Do you trust me?” Riley had major trust issues with everyone in his life, and I had no choice but to pull the book boyfriend card.
“I do.” She had a look of desperation in her eyes, and I got the sense it had nothing to do with the story we were pretending to be a part of. “You just don’t understand.” She hesitated to say more. Then finally, “It’s been so long since a man touched me. I mean really touched me.”
“Then let me take care of you. Lie back and let me take care of everything. Your only job is to feel good.”
She settled back into the pillows and closed her eyes.
“No, Melanie.” I waited until she opened her eyes and looked directly at me. “Watch me.”
Her eyes sprang open wider and she sat forward, but I gently pushed her back by her shoulder. “I said lie back. You don’t follow instructions very well.”
Grinning, I finally settled in between her thighs, kissing her velvety skin with lazy swipes of my tongue mixed in. In the pale light streaming in from the windows, I could see the goose bumps break out on her flesh.
Misadventures with a Book Boyfriend Page 4
