Her finger traces my jaw. “Every acquisition has risks. You have to show him the payoff is worth it.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
She perks up then. “You know, I have something that could help you out. One of my old study partners from Wharton designed a template for a new valuation model. If you run it and the numbers are solid, it might just be enough to persuade Jarvis to take the plunge.”
I’m starting to think Kate’s brain turns me on almost as much as her ass.
“It’s on disk in my bag. I’ll get it for you.”
As she stands to go, I grab the bottom of her shirt and pull her back down on my lap—so there’s no way she can miss the perpetual hard-on I’m sporting. My arms wrap around her waist, trapping her. My mouth’s against her ear.
“Before we get into that, there’s something I want to do first.”
There’s amusement in her voice as she asks, “What do you want to do, Drew?”
I pick her up, sweep everything off my desk, and lay her down.
We spend the rest of the day working. And talking. And laughing. I tell Kate about Mackenzie and the Bad Word Jar that’s sucking me dry. She tells me more about growing up in Greenville and her parents’ café. We eat lunch on the balcony. It’s cold, so Kate sits on my lap to keep warm and feeds me with her fingers.
I can’t remember ever having such a good time. And we aren’t even screwing.
It’s after ten. We’re getting ready for bed. Kate is in the shower.
She took my razor and kicked me out. Unlike women, guys don’t need privacy. There is no bodily function a man won’t perform in front of an audience.
We have no shame.
But whatever; if Kate needs her space, she can have it. I keep myself busy while I wait for her. I change the sheets. I take the box of condoms out of my drawer—to have a few in easy reach.
Then my heart sinks. And if he could, my dick would cry.
The box is empty. “Fuck.”
“My thoughts exactly. Great minds think alike.”
I turn at Kate’s voice. She stands in the doorway, one hand on her hip, the other braced against the doorframe. She’s beautifully, wonderfully naked. Her snatch is shaven even closer than before—just a whisper of dark curls. Sweet Christ.
I keep waiting for the time when Kate’s body doesn’t get to me. When I feel been-there-done-that. So far, it’s just the opposite.
It’s like…eating lobster. If you’ve never eaten it, you think, “Eh, maybe.” But once you’ve tasted it? The chance to eat it again gets your mouth watering like the goddamn Mississippi River. Because now you know how fucking delicious it really is. Even just the thought her…God. I may end up being the first man in history capable of masturbating without touching himself.
Look, Mom—no hands.
She walks toward me, wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me slowly, her tongue coming out to trace my lower lip in the sexiest frigging way. I force myself to pull back. “Kate, wait…we can’t.”
Her hand slides into my boxers, around my already hard cock. She gives it a few pumps. “I think someone disagrees with you.”
I press my forehead to hers. My voice sounds strangled. “No…I mean, we’re out. Condoms. I…um…” I put my hand over hers, stopping her strokes so I’ll be able to string a few words together that actually make sense. “I have to go to the store on the corner and get more…and then…God, then I’ll fuck you all night.”
Kate looks down and swallows. Her voice is hushed. “Or, we could…not…use them.”
I’ve never gone bareback. Ever. Not even during my younger years. I’ve always loved my dick much too much to have it shrivel up and fall off.
“I’m on the pill, Drew. And Billy…he’s a lot of things, but he’d never cheat on me. Have you been…tested?”
Sure I have. Once a month, for as long as I can remember. It’s a must with my lifestyle. An occupational hazard, you could say. My voice practically squeaks. “Yeah. I…I have. I’m good. But…are you sure?”
I’ve been offered a lot of things in bed. Every kind of kinky contraption and role-play you can imagine. Some you probably can’t. Fucking without protection has never been one of them. It’s not smart or safe. A woman can say she’s on the pill, but how do you really know? People can tell you they’re clean, but I wouldn’t believe them. That would require trust.
And trust has never been a factor in my sex life.
It’s not about sharing—getting to know someone and letting them know me. It’s about getting off and getting the girl off in the process. Period.
“I want to feel you, Drew. I want you to feel me. I don’t want…anything between us.”
I gaze at her eyes. The way she’s looking at me…it’s just like she did after our shower yesterday. Like she’s giving me something—a gift. That’s just for me. Only for me. And it’s her. Because she trusts me, has faith in me, believes in me. And you know what?
I don’t want Kate to ever look at me any other way.
“Kate, these last couple days with you have been amazing. I’ve never…I’ve just never…” I don’t even know how to describe what I’m feeling. I have no idea how to tell her. I make my living off the ability to communicate. By being able to verbalize an idea. Describe a plan.
But at this moment words are pitifully inadequate.
So I grab her by the upper arms and drag her against me. She moans from surprise or excitement—I’m not sure which. Her tongue slides against mine, and her hands pull at my hair. Somehow we end up on the bed, side by side, mouths fused together, my boxers on the floor. My hand slides over her tits, down her stomach, and between her legs.
I groan, “Fuck, Kate, you’re already wet.”
And she is. I’ve barely touched her and she’s dripping for me. Jesus. I’ve never wanted anyone or anything as much as I want her at this moment. She nips at my neck as I slide my fingers inside. Her pussy closes around them like a goddamn glove, and we both moan loudly.
Then Kate’s hands are on me, all over me. Cupping my balls, stroking my cock, scratching my chest and back.
I roll her under me. I need her—now. I tease her open with my dick, coating the tip with her sweet cream. Heat rolls off her, from her. She’s like a fire—calling to me, drawing me in. I push inside slowly but to the hilt, and my eyes fall closed in perfect fucking ecstasy.
She’s bare, unguarded, all around me. She feels…more. Wetter, hotter, tighter. More in every way. It’s unbelievable.
Kate grips my ass, kneading and massaging and urging me in deeper. But I pull all the way out, just so I can slide back in again.
I set the rhythm. It’s not slow or sweet or tender. It’s brutal and hot, and fucking amazing.
High-pitched whimpers escape through her parted lips. Then my mouth is on hers again, cutting them off. And we’re grasping at each other, desperate and raw.
Like it’s the first time. Like it’s the last time.
She’s curled around me in every way. Her cunt envelops my cock, her legs surround my waist, her arms encircle my neck—all wrapped tight like some exquisite vise. And I’m burrowing into her, wanting to be closer, needing to be deeper. God, I’d fucking crawl inside her if I could and never want out.
Kate’s hands find mine. Our fingers fold together, and I bring them, joined, up over her head. Our foreheads touch—every pant, every breath mixing and mingling. Her hips move with mine, like the flow of the ocean. Back and forth. In frenzied unison. Together.
Our eyes lock. “God, Drew…don’t stop…please, don’t ever stop.”
I’m drowning in her. I can barely draw a breath. But somehow I grind out, “I won’t. I’ll never stop.”
I feel it when she comes. Every scorching wet inch of her tightens blissfully around me. And it’s so good…so savagely intense I want to fucking weep from the pleasure. I bury my face in her neck, inhaling her, devouring her. And then I’m coming with her—within her. Bathing her insides with each carnal thrust. Sweet electricity races through me as one word falls from my lips over and over again:
After several moments, our bodies still. The only sounds in the room are our rapid breaths and pounding heartbeats.
Then Kate whispers, “Drew? Are you all right?” I lift my head and find her beautiful eyes looking at me with concern. Her hand cups my cheek gently. “You’re shaking.”
Have you ever tried to take a picture of something really far away? And you look through the lens and the whole scene is a blurry blob? So you mess with the focus; you zoom in and out. And then the camera whirls and seconds later—boom—instant clarity.
Everything snaps into place.
The picture is as clear as crystal.
That’s what it’s like for me—right now—looking at Kate. Suddenly, it’s all so obvious. So frigging clear.
I’m in love with her. Totally. Helplessly. Pathetically.
Kate owns me. Body and soul.
She’s all I think about. She’s everything I never thought I wanted. She’s not just perfect—she’s perfect for me.
I’d do anything for her.
I want her near me, with me. All the time.
It’s not just the sex. It’s not just her gorgeous body or her brilliant mind. It’s not just that she makes me think or how eager she is to challenge me. It’s more than any of that.
It’s all of it.
I’ve broken every goddamn rule I’ve ever set for myself to be with her. And it wasn’t just to fuck her.
It was to have her. To keep her.
How did I not see it before? How come I didn’t know?
“Hey?” She kisses me softly on the lips. “Where’d you go? I lost you for a minute. Are you okay?”
“I…” I swallow harshly. “Kate, I…” I take a deep breath. “I…I’m fine.” I smile and kiss her back. “I think you just wore me out.”
She laughs. “Wow. Never thought that would happen.”
Yeah—tell me about it.
I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE THINKING: What the fuck?
If I realized that I’m in love with Kate, and she’s obviously infatuated with me—how does she end up back with Billy Why-Don’t-You-Just-Die-Already Warren?
Excellent question. We’re almost there. But first: a science lesson. What do you know about frogs?
Yes. I said frogs.
Did you know that if you put a frog in boiling water, he’ll jump out? But, if you put one in cold water and heat it slowly, he’ll stay in. And boil to death. He won’t even try to get out. He won’t even know he’s dying. Until it’s too late.
Men are a lot like frogs.
Was I freaked out by my little epiphany? Of course I was. It was huge. Life-changing. No more strange pussy. No more stories for the guys. No more Saturday nights. But none of that mattered anymore. Honestly.
Because it was too late. I was already boiling—for Kate.
That whole night I watched her sleep. And made plans…for us. The things we’d do together, the places we’d go—tomorrow and next weekend and next year. I practiced what I would say, how I would tell her my feelings. I imagined her reaction and how she would confess she felt the same way. It was like a movie, some horrible chick flick that I would never go see. The dashing playboy meets the take-no-prisoners girl of his dreams, and she snags his heart forever.
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