“So close. So close, baby,” I croak. “Touch yourself. Play with your clit while you make me come.”
She doesn’t hesitate this time, and a hand disappears between her legs. I feel the exact moment her fingers meet her soft folds, because she sucks me harder, more enthusiastically. Seeing her so turned on by her own flavor, my cock in her mouth and her hand stroking her pussy, makes the heat at my core burst and expand into a glowing hot ball of liquid fire, that snakes through my body faster than I can stop it. With an agonized growl, I grudgingly pull Ally’s mouth away, just as the first spurt is purged from my body. She watches with rapt fascination as cum spills onto my tight belly, and I jerk and shiver through the category 5 climax.
“Wow,” she whispers, her lips red and swollen. I groan in response, unable to do much more.
As if I could be even more enamored by her, as if she could possibly do anything else to make the magnitude of infatuation grow any more, she leans over and licks the salty, milky trail of my surrender cooling on the rigid muscles of my abs. I cradle her face lovingly and stroke her hair, so overwhelmed with emotion in this moment, and too raw to even begin to put it into words.
It’s the ultimate act of submission, yet Ally dominates every muddled thought, every sensation coursing through my body, and every single, ragged breath in my lungs.
Soft purrs tickle the inside of my thigh while her head rests on my leg after she’s devoured every drop of me. I lift her into my arms and cradle her against my chest, both our naked bodies sticky with sweat and arousal.
“You should’ve recorded that for your spank bank,” she says, once our breaths have leveled.
“What makes you think I didn’t?”
“True. Just Photoshop some bigger boobs on me. The Olsen twins need some meat on their bones.”
“Shhhh. You’re perfect, angel,” I whisper in her hair. “Perfect just the way you are.”
IT’S FUNNY HOW you never realize how much you hate sleeping alone until you’re forced to.
There. I said it. I hate sleeping alone.
Or maybe I just hate sleeping without Ally tucked into my side, her red, disheveled mane falling into my face and smothering me in slumber. Or her drool trickling onto my chest, or her spontaneous bouts of snoring scaring the shit out of me in the middle of the night.
God. I fucking love it.
So much so, that I couldn’t sleep a wink after she slipped out my front door, leaving me satisfied, yet still hungry for her in every way, shape and form.
“People will start to talk,” she said, sliding on her sandals. Those ugly-ass sandals. God, I fucking love them too.
“Let them talk.”
“You’re cute,” she smiled, before touching her lips to mine. “Cute, but not careless. You know how people love to talk. And those women haven’t had a piece of juicy gossip to feast on in months.”
“Fuck them,” I answered, wrapping her in my arms, refusing to let her go.
“Mmmm.” She ran her nose from the base of my throat up to my chin. “I like it when you don’t shave. Scruff is sexy on you.”
“You’resexy on me,” I replied, letting my hands drift down to squeeze her ass. It fit perfectly in my palms. “Stay. Don’t go.”
“You’re diabolical, Mr. Drake,” she said shaking her head. She kissed my lips and unwound my hands from her body. “Tonight, ok? I’ll come by right after dinner. I’ll even skip the panna cotta, so you better have some ice cream for me.”
“I’ll have more than that for you.”
She turned around and smiled at me just before she hit the doorframe, and all I could do is bask in that smile like it was the warmest, brightest ray of sunlight I’d ever seen. I would go blind before I stopped staring at her.
“Tonight,” she said. “We’ll have tonight.”
I wish I had made her stay. I wish I would’ve told her that I needed to talk to her, that it couldn’t wait another minute, that there was something she needed to know about me before we went any further. But I just stood there, dumbfounded, staring at that trail of fire until she disappeared into the main house.
Even with the lack of sleep, I can’t wait to get to class this morning. I shower, shave and throw on my clothes with more zeal than I’ve ever had. I don’t even bother to do my daily ritual of checking Google alerts, Page Six or all the other gossip rags. None of that matters anymore. Not when the memory of Ally’s body under mine, trembling with the aftershocks of orgasm while mewling my name, is permanently burned into my skull.
I’ve barely stepped inside, when Riku approaches me, trailed by my head of concierge, Diane, and a few members of my staff.
“Dude…are you ok?” he asks, concern engraved in his face. He squints his slanted eyes, making them look black under his dark brows.
“Yeah,” I frown, taking in everyone’s anxious stares. “What’s going on?”
“Haven’t you checked the news? I’ve been texting you.”
I fish my cell out of my pocket and press the Home button. Completely black. I must’ve forgotten to charge it after Ally and I took naked selfies yesterday. Shit, that’s not like me.
“Phone’s dead. Why? What’s up?”
Riku looks around, stalling nervously, as a few of the housewives trickle into the great room for this morning’s lesson. My gaze goes straight over his shoulder, past everything and everyone else, in anticipation of seeing Ally.
“You should really check the news, J.D.,” he says gravely. “Heidi is on her way down.”
“Heidi?” That gets my attention. I’ve worked with her for years, yet have only actually seen her less than a handful of times. This obviously isn’t a social visit.
“Yeah. Flight got in early this morning. She’ll be here any-”
“She’s already here,” a voice says from behind me. Heidi DuCane, the HBIC of the PR world, and renowned pit bull in a skirt. Heidi is probably the only person on earth that can make me shiver at her cold demeanor. The ice queen’s penchant for perfection and results is what has made her the most sought after—and highest paid—publicist in the business. And her sharp, Nordic features and statuesque frame have definitely made her the hottest.
I take in the tall, leggy blonde holding a sleek briefcase at her side, and nod at her approach. Heidi’s flawless face is screwed into a scowl that would make even the toughest alpha male wilt on sight. Riku shrinks back into the kitchen before she stops in front of me.
“Charge your fucking phone, Drake,” she says without preamble. Then she turns to make her way across the courtyard towards my house.
I look back at Diane, feeling a few inches shorter. “Dismiss the ladies. Tell them to review in their suites, then they’re free to enjoy the day.”
When I look up, she’s there, stealing the breath from my lungs and replacing it with what feels like helium. I feel like I’m floating when she’s around, so high that I can kiss the sun. She looks back at me, frozen in place, those cherry lips slightly parted as if she’s just gasped or moaned. It takes everything in me not to stride over to her and find out for myself.
“Standby. I’ll be in touch,” I mutter to Diane without looking at her. Then I turn away and step back into my cold, dark reality.
“THIS IS FUCKED, Drake. Seriously. How could you let this happen?”
Heidi paces the floor of my living room in 6-inch Louboutins, a smartphone in each of her hands. She brings one up to her ear and barks out an order, but I don’t hear it. My eyes and ears don’t move past the scenes playing out on the television screen. Variations of the same headline play over and over again as people try to speculate and dissect the bit of information they’ve been given on a silver platter.