Amuse Bouche (5 page)

Then, with her emerald eyes focused directly on mine, she pleaded, “Fuck me harder.”

And I did. With nothing but a smile I took her order and injected myself into her. My dick cried and my muscles ached for a second of relaxation to recoup the energy it took to please her. But I continued fucking her relentlessly. “Please,” she beseeched me, and I knew there was only one thing she wanted.

Rising to my toes, I pulled her into me over and over again. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and I could feel her pussy clamp around my cock. I knew she was coming, but that couldn’t stop the sexual creature she had created the moment she stepped on to the dance floor.

Lifting her leg over my shoulder, I angled my piercing motions upward. This was all I needed as my body began to descend into an impending orgasm. My hair stood on end, my crotch became warm, my mind grew fuzzy, and my dick throbbed. She reached for my tie and pulled me close, allowing for even deeper penetration. Holding her tight, I unleashed everything I had as she matched me thrust for thrust and grind for grind.

After a few moments my body couldn’t take any more, and I tensed as I jumped into her with as much force as I could, sending me reeling over the edge of sexual bliss. My mind turned off completely as my cock contracted inside of her. Once. Twice. Three times. I fluttered against the back of her leg as I succumbed to the dissipating pleasure of such an intense orgasm. It was fucking monumental.

Looking at her now, no longer strangers, I knew the feeling I’d had the moment I saw her was true. I kicked my feet free from my pants, swept her up into my arms (like all good leading men do in the movies), and carried inside to the bedroom. Her eyes remained on mine the entire time. She was mesmerizing.

Without words I helped remove her dress, and she helped remove my tie and shirt. The sight of her was…it was fantastic cloaked in the soft glow of the bedroom. Every curve perfect, every crevice inviting. “No, don’t,” I begged her as she moved to cover herself. “You’re magnificent. I want to see you.”

“I…”

“You’re breathtaking,” I added as I quieted her with my lips.

The satin of the bed was nothing compared to her warmth as our bodies meshed together in a tangle of skin on skin and legs and arms wrapped around each other.

She ran her finger along my body as we shared a final kiss goodnight. My final taste until morning. As exhaustion and alcohol lullabye-ed us to sleep, I breathed in her scent once more. It was a scent I would not soon forget.

Click
.

The sound of a closing door mimicked an alarm clock, which bombarded my unready mind.

Ba-dump, ba-dump
echoed through my ears, indicating a heart struggling to push blood through a body struggling to overcome a night filled with red, red wine and a red, red dress.

“Ahhhh,” was all I could muster as my brain reminded me of my medical schooling. Alcohol dehydrates you. Always make sure to drink a lot water before you go to bed after drinking. Oops. I guess sex isn’t a hangover-prevention measure.

Once my senses converged onto a state of somewhat normalcy, my sixth sense—the one that alerts you to the presence of someone near you—informed me that something wasn’t right.

Something was missing. There was no delicate arm draped around my waist, the bed bowed under the weight of only one body, and the sweet smell of sex-tinged lavender, passion-coated vanilla, and orgasm-encrusted cinnamon had dissolved.

Rolling to my side, I found emptiness. Complete and utter nothingness.

Slightly confused I mentally reconfirmed that last night had taken place. Jaden was not some alluring figment of my drunken imagination. But as I looked to the side of the bed where the red dress should be, I found nothing.

Nooo… She couldn’t have. Probably in the bathroom.

Without any care for my nakedness or morning wood, I went to the main room and surveyed the area with groggy eyes as if it were the scene of a crime. Expensive furniture, art, and electronics sat motionless. The bathroom was empty.

On the balcony I found the same, nothing. No signs of a night full of star-cloaked coitus except for a small red strap that peeked out from one of the potted plants near the edge of the railing. Still naked and semi hard, I reached down and retrieved a pair of silky red panties.

Falling back into a chair, I sat as the morning sun warmed every inch of my skin. I shook my head. Cinderella left the good prince a shoe. All I had left from my night with Jaden Thorne was a red thong.

Never before had I felt such…worthlessness. The garden, the music, the car, the elevator, the balcony, the tastes, and the smell—all memories of a night of uncertainty now.

What should have been a morning of breakfast in bed and conversation now turned to questions unanswered. Was she married? Was she mad? Was she embarrassed? What? These questions only deepened my sorrow at waking up alone.

I looked at the red thong dangling from my finger in the morning light. She was real, she was here, and she wasn’t going to get off that easy. This wasn’t a one-night stand. It didn’t feel like it.

Jaden Thorne had better be prepared. Her destiny was going to come calling….

About the Author

Dr.Ivan Rusilko, DO, CSN, PT,is the Medical Director and Co-Founder at the new Club Essentia Wellness Retreat at Delano. Dr. Rusilko specializes in creating healthy lifestyles that support longevity and improved overall quality of life through medically supervised and customized diagnostic and treatment programs, with an emphasis placed on personal patient attention and follow-up. A certified sports nutritionist, champion bodybuilder, international male fitness model, and former Mr. USA
2008
and
2010
, Dr. Ivan graduated from the Lake Erie College of Osteopathic Medicine in
2010
and sits as the national media and public relations expert and spokesperson on diet, exercise and sports nutrition for the American Osteopathic Association (AOA).

Dr. Ivan has been a feature health writer and lifestyle coach for numerous magazines and online publications including
The Washington Times
and
Quarter Life Health
.

With his debut novel,
The Winemaker’s Dinner: Appetizers
, co-authored by Everly Drummond, Dr. Rusilko is excited to offer a male voice in a predominantly female authored genre. Always one with a story to tell, he hopes to continue writing, exploring new genres and projects.

He is proud to bring two of his passions, his medical wellness and sexual health background and writing together in this unique project. He hopes that The Winemaker’s Feast Trilogy will help spark an enthusiasm and ignite liberation among women, inspiring them to celebrate their sensuality and focus on their sexual health in order to achieve a better quality of life.

by Dr. Ivan Rusilko and Everly Drummond
Chapter 1
“Something”

A
cool breeze caressed Jaden’s body, and the scent of butterfly weed and columbine infused the late-summer air around her. Brilliant purple and orange hues colored the evening sky as she stepped onto the makeshift wooden dance floor that served as the centerpiece for this evening’s event at the Florida Wine Festival.

Jaden wrapped her sheer, black shawl tightly around her shoulders and over the open back of her slim, red cocktail dress. She surveyed the scene, looking for table number nine and trying her best not to seem lost.

In the garden of the private estate on the edge of the ocean, throngs of guests had started to arrive. An army of waiters and waitresses dressed in blue scurried around like clockwork soldiers carrying silver trays brimming with glasses of wine, while another army, dressed in green and laden with trays of hors d’oeuvres, followed suit.

Tables set with fine bone China and sterling silver surrounded the dance floor, and beyond them were the well-manicured lawns and shrubbery of the opulent estate — the home of a rich philanthropist couple who were thought to hold a large stake in the premier wine of this year’s festival, Mollydooker, as well as being connected with some of Florida’s most elite.

As the sun slowly sank beneath the horizon, the vibrant purples and oranges of the evening sky faded into muted shades of gray and black. Scanning the crowd once again, Jaden finally recognized a short brunette in a blue dress.
Thank God
.

Tasha was Jaden’s roommate, lifelong friend since they were girls together in Colorado, and only ally in the mob of wine enthusiasts clamoring for a glass of this year’s premium blend. Tasha waved from where she stood on the other side of the tent. Beginning the voyage to meet her, Jaden pushed through the crowd clustered at the bar. She made her way along the edge of the near-vacant dance floor, mindful of her formfitting dress with every step.

Jaden could feel the eyes of more than one man following her as she sauntered by. She smiled. It had been a while since she’d enjoyed the calloused touch of a man, and Jaden was determined to turn heads this evening.
Just as long as they’re not married,
she thought, sneaking a sideways glance and sighing. Most of the prime real estate at this dinner wore telltale wedding bands.

The Winemaker’s Dinner was the hottest ticketed event of this year’s Florida Wine Festival, and they’d landed it smack in the middle of Labor Day weekend. Celebrity chefs, world-renowned sommeliers, and politicians were among the guests, and it was pure luck that Jaden had managed to be on the guest list as well. Her new boss, Geoff, owner of a prestigious restaurant in Miami Beach, had come down with the flu and insisted his head chef take his place and network in his stead. Coincidentally, the event fell on Jaden’s birthday, which was why she’d been adamant that Tasha accompany her. It had been a tradition since their midteens that they spend birthdays together.