Chapter 15
I’M NOT BORING YOU with these sordid details, am I? I could shorten this whole thing by simply saying: Kate and I f*cked each other’s brains out all weekend.
But that’s not really much fun.
And it wouldn’t give you the full picture. By taking the long way around, you get all the facts. And a bird’s-eye view of all our little moments. Moments that seemed silly and insignificant at the time. But now that I have the flu, they’re the only things I can think about.
Every minute of every day.
Have you ever gotten a song stuck in your head? Sure you have, everybody does. And maybe it’s a beautiful song, maybe it’s even your favorite. But it’s still annoying, isn’t it? It’s second rate. Because you don’t want to just hear it in your brain—you want it on the radio or live in concert. Replaying it in your mind is just a cheap imitation. A mocking, frigging reminder that you’re not able to hear the real thing.
Do you see where I’m going with this?
Don’t worry, you will.
Now, where was I? That’s right—Saturday night.
“This is the perfect pillow.”
We just ordered food—Italian—and we’re waiting for it to arrive. Kate is sitting on my couch amid an oasis of pillows and blankets. And she’s holding one bedroom pillow in her lap.
“The perfect pillow?”
“Yes,” she says. “I’m very high maintenance when it comes to pillows. And this one is perfect. Not too flat, not too puffy. Not too hard, not too soft.”
I smile. “Good to know, Goldilocks.”
We’ve decided to watch a movie. On-demand cable is the second greatest invention of our time. The first, of course, being the big-screen plasma TV. I get up to fetch the remote while Kate fishes something out of her bag on the floor.
Have I mentioned we’re still naked? We are. Very. It’s liberating.
Fun.
All the good parts are easy to reach. And the view is fantastic.
As I turn to make my way back to the couch, a now-familiar scent assails my nostrils. Sweet and flowery. Sugar and springtime. I look at Kate and find her rubbing lotion on her arms. I grab the bottle from her, like a dog snapping at a bone. “What is this?”
I bring the bottle to my nose and inhale deeply, then fall back against the pillows with a satisfied moan.
Kate laughs. “Don’t snort it. It’s moisturizer. I didn’t realize fighting dry skin got you so revved up.”
I look at the bottle. Vanilla and lavender. I take another deep sniff. “It smells like you. Every time you’re near me, you smell like…like a bouquet of f*cking sunshine with brown sugar on top.”
She laughs again. “Aw, Drew, I didn’t know you were a poet. William Shakespeare would be so jealous.”
“Is it edible?”
She makes a face. “No.”
Too bad. I’d have poured it on my food like a rich hollandaise. Guess I’ll just have to settle for tasting it on Kate.
Now that I think about it—that is the preferable option.
“They make a bubble bath too. Since you like it so much, I’ll get some.”
It’s the first reference she’s made about a next time. A hook-up at some later date. A future. Unlike my past bump-and-grinds, the suggestion of a second go-around with Kate doesn’t fill me with indifference or irritation. Instead, I’m eager—excited—about the prospect.
I stare at her for a moment, soaking in the strange enjoyment that comes from just looking at her. I could make a full-time profession out of watching Kate Brooks.
“So,” she asks, “did we decide on a movie?”
She settles up against me, and my arm goes naturally around her. “I was thinking Braveheart.”
“Ugh. What is it with that movie? Why are all men addicted to it?”
“Ah, the same reason women are obsessed with the freaking Notebook. That is what you were going to suggest, right?”
She smiles slyly, and I know I guessed right.
“The Notebook is romantic.”
“It’s f*cking gay.”
She hits me in the face with the “perfect” pillow.
“It’s sweet.”
“It’s nauseating. I have friends who are flaming homosexuals—and that movie is too gay for them.”
She sighs dreamily. “It’s a love story, a beautiful love story. The way everyone tried to keep them apart. But then, years later, they found each other again. It was fate.”
I roll my eyes. “Fate? Please. Fate’s a frigging fairytale, sweetheart. And the rest of the story is a bonfire of bullshit too. Real life doesn’t work like that.”
“But that’s—”
“That’s why the divorce rate is so high. Because movies like that give women unreasonable expectations.”
And the same goes for romance novels. Alexandra practically took Steven’s head off once because he borrowed one of my Playboys. Yet every summer, there’s The Bitch laying out on the beach with her Fabio-covered soft porn.
Yeah, I said, “porn.” That’s what it is.
And it’s not even good porn: “He moved his trunk-like manhood toward the weeping petals of her womanly center.”
Who the f*ck talks like that?
“Real guys don’t think like Nolan or Niles or whatever the hell that douchebag’s name was.”
“Noah.”
“And any man who would build a room in his house for some chick who blew him off? Any man who would wait years for that same girl to show up at his door, knowing she was with someone else? He’s not a man at all.”
“What is he?”
“A big, hairy, unwaxed vagina.”
Was that too crude?
I’m afraid that it was.
Until Kate covers her mouth with her hands and falls over on the couch, convulsing in a fit of deep, snorting laughter. “Oh…my…God. You’re such…a…pig. How…how do you even come up with these things?”
I shrug. “I call them like I see them. I won’t apologize for it.”
Her laughter dies down, but the smile’s still there. “Okay, no Notebook.”
“Thank you.”
Then her whole face lights up. “Oohh, how about Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy?”
“You like Will Ferrell?”
“Are you kidding? Have you seen Blades of Glory?”
It’s one of my favorites. “The Iron Lotus? Classic.”
She wiggles her eyebrows at me and quotes expertly, “You got some sweet cream to soothe that nasty burn?”
I laugh. “God, I love y—”
And then I choke.
And cough.
And clear my throat.
“I love…that movie.” I fiddle with the remote, and we lay down on the couch as Anchorman starts.
Okay—don’t get crazy on me now. Let’s just all calm down for a second, shall we? It was a simple mistake. A slip of the tongue. Nothing more.
My tongue’s been getting quite the workout lately, so I think it’s allowed.
After eating, we continue watching Ron Burgundy, lying against each other on the couch, her back to my front. My face is in her hair again, inhaling the scent that I’ve become addicted to. I drift in and out of sleep. Kate’s laughter vibrates against my chest as she asks softly, “Is that what you thought of me?”
“Mmmm?”
“When I first started at the firm. Did you think I was a ‘scorpion woman’?”
She’s referring to a line Will Ferrell just delivered in the movie. I smile drowsily. “I…when I first saw you that day in the conference room, it knocked me right on my ass. After that, I just knew nothing would ever be the same.”
She must have liked my answer. Because a minute later, she rubs her hips back against me. And my half-erect cock slides between the cheeks of her ass.
I don’t care how exhausted a guy is—he could’ve just worked a thirty-five-hour shift hauling sand bags across state lines—that move will always, always wake him up.
My lips find their way to her neck as my hand skims across her stomach. “God, Kate. I can’t stop…wanting you.”
It’s getting kind of ridiculous, isn’t it?
I feel her breathing pick up. She turns to face me, and our lips meet. But before we go further, my curiosity gets the better of me, and I pull back. “What did you think of me when we first met?”
Her eyes roll to the ceiling as she contemplates her answer. Then she smiles. “Well…that first night at REM, I thought you were…lethal. You just radiated sex and charm.” Her fingers trace my lips and brows. “That smile, your eyes, they really should be illegal. It was the only time in all my years with Billy that I wished I was single.”
Wow.
“And then at the office I’d hear the secretaries talking about you. How you had a different girl every weekend. But after a while…I saw that there was so much more to you. You’re brilliant and funny. You’re protective and caring. You shine so bright, Drew. Everything you do—how you think, the things you say, the way you move—it’s…blinding. I feel…lucky, just being close to you.”
I’m speechless.
If any other woman said that to me, I’d agree with her. I’d tell her she was lucky to be with me—’cause I’m the best of the best. There’s no one better. But coming from Kate? From someone whose mind I envy, whose opinion I actually admire? I just…don’t have any words. So, once again, I let my actions do the talking.
My mouth presses against hers, and my tongue begs for entrance. But when I try to roll us over so I’m on top, Kate has other ideas. She pushes me on the shoulders until I’m on my back. Then she moves her mouth over my jaw and down my neck, burning a trail down my chest and stomach. I swallow hard.
She takes my cock in her hand and pumps slowly, and I’m already stiff as steel. I was hard the minute she started talking. “Jesus, Kate…” I keep my eyes open, and watch from above as she wets her lips, opens her mouth, and slides me in. “F*ck…” She takes my entire length in deep and sucks hard as she pulls back slowly. Then she does it again.
I’m sort of a connoisseur of blow jobs. For a guy, they’re the most convenient kind of sex. No fuss, little mess. If any of you out there have never given one, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Once a guy’s dick is actually in your mouth, he’ll be so happy, it doesn’t really matter what you do with it afterward. That being said, there are certain moves that make it better.
Kate pumps me with her hand while increasing the suction at the tip with her hot little mouth.
Like that, for instance.
She swirls her tongue around the head like she’s licking a lollipop. Where the f*ck did she learn that? I moan helplessly and grip the cushions on the couch. She takes me all the way down her throat once, then twice. Then she switches to fast, short pumps with her mouth and hand.
It’s magnificent. I’ve been blown by the best of them. And I swear to God, Kate Brooks has the technique of a freaking porn star.
I try to hold still, conscious that this really is her first time, but it’s difficult. And then her hands are under me—on my ass—urging me upward. She guides my hips back and forth, pushing me in and out of her mouth. Holy God. She removes her hands, but my hips continue to move in short shallow jabs.
I’m close to losing it—but I always give a warning first. If a guy doesn’t warn you? Dump him fast. He’s a f*cking prick.
“Kate…baby, I’m…if you don’t move now…God, I’m gonna…” Coherent words are apparently beyond my ability at the moment. Still, I think she gets the idea.
But she doesn’t move away. She doesn’t stop. I look down at the very moment Kate opens her eyes and looks up. And that’s all it takes. It’s the moment I’ve fantasized about since I first saw her. Those big brown doe eyes staring up at me as my cock slides between her perfect lips. With a whimper of her name, I fill her mouth with a pulsing stream. Kate moans and takes it all in, swallowing greedily.
After what seems like an eternity, I start to come down. You know when you first step out of a Jacuzzi? How your limbs feel like Jell-O? Yeah—that’s me. Right now.
I’m breathing hard and grinning like the village idiot as I pull her up by the shoulders and kiss her deep. Some men are grossed out about kissing a woman whose mouth they just came in. I’m not one of them. “How in holy hell did you learn to give head like that?”
Kate laughs at the wonder in my voice as she spreads out on top of me. “Delores dated this guy in college. He was really into porn. He used to leave movies at our dorm all the time. And, once in a while…I’d watch them.”
The next time I see Delores Warren? Remind me to drop to my knees and kiss her ass.
Once the movie ended, Kate and I decided to have a full-out Will Ferrell marathon. We’re halfway through Blades of Glory when my phone rings. We’re still on the couch, lying comfortably side by side, and I don’t really feel like getting up. Or talking to anyone not currently in the room, for that matter.
I let the answering machine pick up. Jack’s voice fills the room, yelling over the sound of pounding music in the background: “Drew! Dude, pick up! Where the f*ck are you?” He pauses a moment, and I’m guessing he realizes I’m not going to pick up. “You have got to come out tonight, man! I’m at Club Sixty-Nine, and there’s someone here who wants to see you.”
This doesn’t sound promising. I start to sit up, my Y-chromosomal instincts telling me to turn the machine off. Now. But I’m not fast enough. And a sultry female voice comes out of Pandora’s Box. “Dreeewwww…it’s Staaaacey. I’ve missed you, baby. I want to take another taxi ride. Remember that night when I sucked your dick so g—”
My hand slaps down on the off button.
Then I glance sideways at Kate. Her face is frozen on the TV, her expression indecipherable. I should probably say something. What the f*ck should I say? “Sorry, one of my other come-dumps called?” Nah, for some reason, I don’t think that one would go over very well.
She sits up stiffly. “I should probably get going.”
Shit. Frigging Jack.
Kate gets up, holding my pillow close against her, covering herself.
Well, that’s not a good sign. An hour ago she was pushing her snatch against my face. Now she doesn’t even want me looking at it.
Goddamn it.
She walks past me toward the bedroom. Even with my stomach churning, I can’t help but admire the sway of her tight ass as she goes by. Predictably, my cock springs up like Dracula rising from his coffin.
When I was ten, we had a dog. He humped everything and anything—from the maid’s leg to my parents’ four-poster bed. He was insatiable. My parents were mortified whenever company stopped by. But now I realize he really wasn’t a bad dog. It wasn’t his fault.
I feel your pain, Fido.
I sigh. And get up to follow Kate. By the time I make it to the bedroom, her skirt’s on and her blouse is buttoned. She doesn’t look at me when I walk in.
“Kate—”
“Do you know where my other shoe is?” Her eyes gaze at the floor, the bed—anywhere but at me.
“Kate—”
“Maybe it’s under the bed.” She kneels down.
“You don’t have to go.”
She doesn’t look up. “I don’t want to get in the way of your plans.”
Who has plans? The only plan I had was to gorge myself on the juicy buffet between her thighs. Again.
“I don’t—”
“It’s okay, Drew. You know, this has been nice…”
Nice? She calls what we did last night and all day—in the bedroom, the kitchen, the shower, up against the hallway wall—“nice”? Is she f*cking joking?
She must see the look on my face, because she stops mid-sentence and raises an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, was that the wrong adjective? Did I insult your fragile male ego?”
I stutter indignantly, “Well…yeah.”
“What word would you prefer?”
FYI—I’m still naked, and if my dick’s posture is any indication, it doesn’t take Einstein to figure out what I’d really prefer at the moment.
“Stupendous? Transcendent? Unparalleled?” I punctuate each word with a predatory step in her direction.
She matches my forward momentum with nervous steps backward, until her ass bumps up against my dresser. I smirk down at her. “You’re a graduate of the most prestigious business program in the country, Kate. My honor demands that you come up with something, anything, better than ‘nice.’”
She stares at my chest a minute. Then she looks up into my eyes. She looks serious. “I should go.”
She tries to walk past me, but I grab her arm and pull her back. “I don’t want you to go.”
No—don’t ask me why. I won’t answer. Not now. I’m only focused on here—and her. The rest doesn’t matter. She looks at my hand on her arm and then at me. “Drew…”
“Don’t leave, Kate.” I pick her up, sit her on the dresser, and step between her legs. “Stay.” I kiss her neck and nibble her ear. She shivers. I whisper, “Stay with me, Kate.” I look into her eyes. “Please.”
She bites her lip. Then smiles slowly. “Okay.”
I smile in return. And then my mouth is on hers. The kiss is long and slow and deep. I push her skirt up, skimming the skin of her thighs with my fingertips. She’s still not wearing any underwear.
You’ve got to love the easy access.
I kneel down in front of her. “Drew…?” It’s a half question, half moan.
“Shhh. If I’m going to top ‘nice’ I need to concentrate.”
And there’s not a single coherent word between us for the rest of the night.