Mr. Wright & Mr. Wrong: A BWWM Romance (15 page)

H
er secretary rang her through
.

“Michael?” she answered, surprise in her voice. “How did you get my number?”

“There’s this thing called Google,” he said. “Fortunately it’s on your firm’s website. So, it seems we’re both partners, but at least you get top billing.”

She laughed, then got straight to the point. “What do you want?”

He decided to do the same. “I want to see you again.”

“Listen, Michael—”

“Before you say no,” he interrupted. “I have it on good authority that you are available.”

There was a pause on the other end as London put the pieces together. “What in the world did she tell you?” she asked. He could hear the displeasure in her voice.

“Oh,
yadda, yadda
, ten years,
yadda, yadda,
loser,
yadda, yadda,
rebound,
yadda, yadda,
hoped I was good in bed.”

She gasped, which made him smile. “Oh my god, I’m going to kill her.”

“If it helps any, I haven’t had any complaints as far as that last bit goes.”

“I’m not having sex with you, Michael,” she stated quite firmly.

“How about drinks then, on me…as usual.” He smiled into the phone.

She gave a small laugh. “Listen, Michael—”

“Every time you say that, I get this feeling you’re going to go into some extended diatribe as to why you can’t. So let me head you off and give you a few good reasons why you
should.

“One, it’s just drinks; perfectly harmless. Two, You’re obviously attracted to me—”

“What?”
she laughed.

“—as am I to you. Three, even if we get caught, there’s nothing wrong with two lawyers meeting for drinks. Occupational necessity. Four, no pressure. It’ll be a chance to let go of whatever baggage you seem to be holding on to.”

“
Excuse
me?” she responded.

“Am I wrong?” he asked.

“Baggage is a very loaded word,” she pointed out. “No one likes being told they have it.”

“And yet everyone does,” he responded. “Look at me. Afraid of marriage, avoiding my dad, begging a woman who has no interest in me to go out for one simple drink. Baggage coming out of my ears.”

She laughed.

“One drink,” he urged.

“I…I really can’t—”

“One drink.”

“Michael.”

“One drink.”

She gave another soft laugh then sighed. “Okay,
one
drink. But not any place up here in Harlem,” she quickly added.

“Hmmm,” he mused. “So, like a secret tryst?”

“
No,
not like a secret tryst,” she countered.

“Okay, fine,” he conceded. “How about we meet halfway. The Roosevelt Hotel has a lovely lounge area.”

“Smooth,”
she laughed.

It took him a moment to realize that he had just suggested a hotel. “I suppose it would do me no good to point out that I wasn’t suggesting anything.”

“Not really,” she chuckled.

“Well, they really do have a nice lounge, and it’s right smack in midtown. I’m downtown, you’re uptown. It’s pretty much a no-brainer.”

“Is that what your subconscious is telling you?” she suggested.

Now that it was out there, maybe she had a point. However, he had already started down this road so he might as well roll with it.

“I promise, no pressure. We can drink, talk, people watch, complain about our younger siblings, whatever you like. It’s Monday, after all. Let’s get the week off to an interesting start.”

He felt her contemplating it on the other end. “Fine,” she said, coming to a decision. “But don’t get any ideas!” she warned.

“Wouldn’t think of it,” he promised.

It was a lie. He was a red-blooded man, after all. Of course he was thinking of it!

* * *

S
he tapped
the nail of her thumb against her teeth as she stared out the window of the cab.

What in the world was she doing?

Just one drink.

It was purely out of curiosity.

His phone call this morning had come at just the right time, almost fortuitously. She had naturally been pissed off when she realized how her little sister had been meddling. Then Michael had made her laugh. That was probably what had won her over in the end. That and the serious need for a drink. It was either this or a glass—let’s be honest, a
bottle
—of wine, and Netflix at home.

Just one drink.

No pressure. No promises. Just conversation (he was kind of funny), some enjoyable company (and fairly easy on the eyes), maybe a
little
flirting (she wouldn’t be entirely unopposed to another one of those kisses), and that was it (probably).

Just in case, she had booked a last minute appointment to get waxed.

Not that anything was going to happen.

“This is it,” the cab driver called out, snapping her out of her reverie.

She paid him and walked in the front doors. She had been to an event here once, but that had been a while ago and it certainly hadn’t been at the bar. As she walked up the stairs to the lobby she was instantly taken with how beautiful it was inside. It had a sort of old school glamour that didn’t seem faded, or overly nostalgic.

She was still in her work clothes. It was just a drink after all. All the same, she was glad she had chosen to look extra nice due to Dion Davis’ appearance at the firm this morning. Her hair was parted on the right and the edges curled in waves so that it fell on one side of her face, fittingly similar to a golden-era, Hollywood actress. She wore a slim, black pencil skirt, a sleeveless, cream-colored, tie-neck blouse, and black Jimmy Choo high heels. She felt like some dame, off to meet Don Draper for—yes, a secret tryst.

“Tempting isn’t it?”

It was a masculine whisper in her ear and she spun around in surprise. “God!” she gasped, putting a hand to her chest, “you scared me!”

She turned to look at him. He was wearing a nicely tailored, navy suit, such as befitted a partner in a Wall Street firm. Very handsome, almost dashing. If it hadn’t been for that wicked grin of his.

“Forgive me,” he said giving an exaggerated look of atonement. “I was just so taken with the gorgeous stranger who entered the lobby, I had to approach her.”

She gave an appreciative laugh at the corny line. This was exactly what she needed.

“You really do look gorgeous,” he said.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she replied, fingering the lapel on his jacket.

He smiled down at her. “Shall we?” He placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her over to the lounge. It sent a shiver of delight through her body.

One drink.

“
O
ne whiskey sour
for the lady,” Michael said, placing the glass before her on the table, “and one whiskey neat for yours truly.”

They had managed to snag one of the intimate sets of chairs facing each other in the lounge. As Michael set the drinks down before them, he admired the way the soft light made her smooth, brown skin glow. He found himself thinking it would be quite nice to see more of it.

He had promised one drink and one drink only, so he had exactly one drink’s worth of time to convince her to order another. Her sister had mentioned something about a loser and, more importantly, rebound potential. Who didn’t love getting drunk and talking about their exes?

“So what is this your sister was telling me about an ex?” he began, taking a sip.

“Oh no,” she warned. “We are not talking about him, especially not today.”

Promising.

“Why not today?” he pressed.

She gave him a look over her glass. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” he asked innocently.

“You’re hoping for rebound sex.”

“I’d be lying if I said I was opposed to it,” he confessed with a grin.

He was pleased to see her give a placating smile in return. It disappeared as she took a sip.

“It just…hasn’t been a good day,” she said softly.

“Fair enough,” he conceded, noting the change in mood.

There was a moment of silence as they sipped and eyed each other across the small table.

“Can I ask a rather rude question?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“Shoot,” he acquiesced.

“How did you get that little dent in your nose?”

He gave a weak grin. “Military school scuffle. Didn’t quite break the nose, but did enough damage.”

“It’s actually kind of cute,” she said, looking at him askance thoughtfully.

“You’re welcome to kiss it and make it better if you like,” he said.

She smiled into her glass at yet another corny remark on his part.

“So why did you ask me out?” she asked. “It can’t just be the sex. I imagine a man like you has no problems in that area.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he said with a smile.

“No, really,” she prodded.

He shrugged. “You’re fascinating, different—”

She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

“—as in not a swooning, or worse, plotting admirer. I think the bigger question is, why did you agree to come?”

Her forehead wrinkled in thought. “Honestly, I needed a drink,” she laughed. She raised her half empty glass to him, “So thanks for that.”

“Happy to help,” he said, raising his in turn. “Happy to offer another as well,” he suggested.

She peered at him with one eye squinted in speculation. Then she quickly finished her drink. “What the heck? If any day calls for more than one drink, today is it.”

“Well, now I’m really intrigued,” he said leaning forward. “Come on, you can’t leave me hanging here.”

She laughed. “Let’s just say, my sister picked the perfect day to pimp me out for rebound sex.”

“Okay, hold that thought,” he said quickly, raising a glass. “I’m getting us two more drinks.”

She laughed as he quickly jogged to the bar, re-ordered for both of them and jogged right back.

“Okay, you were mentioning something about rebound sex,” he continued, placing the drink in front of her.

She just laughed again. “Oh no, I’m not
that
cheap of a date,” she cautioned.

“I do have a trust fund that I have yet to tap into,” he replied. “I can’t think of a better way to break it in.”

He could see that the first drink was affecting her as she gave another laugh. It was a pleasant sound, feminine and musical.

She went quiet as she looked into her drink. Then she looked up at him almost shyly.

“It’s just that, I haven’t…there’s only been one man in my life for,” she blew out of her mouth, “ten years.”

“Well, I’d say you’re definitely due for a change.”

“Don’t joke,” she said seriously.

He put his glass on the table. “Hey. We don’t have to do anything,” he assured her “I’m happy to just sit and drink with a beautiful woman all night.”

She smiled. Her lips twisted as she looked off to the side of the room, some internal dialogue going off in her head. He sipped his whiskey and waited.

“And if,
if,
you wanted more…?”

“Well,” he paused. “We
are
in a very nice hotel.”

“Do you have…you know?”

“I was never a boy scout, but I do know a bit about preparation.”

She chewed on her—tantalizing—bottom lip. Then she finished off her drink.

“One more drink,” she said.

He was more than happy to accommodate her. He set the fresh glass of whiskey sour in front of her and waited for her to make up her mind. He could be patient.

She took it and drank a long sip. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said mostly to herself, shaking her head.

Michael chose not to push it, let her come to it all on her own.

She took another long sip. Michael mimicked her move.

“You promise to go slow?” she asked.

“Scouts honor,” he said holding up his hand.

“I thought you weren’t a boy scout,” she said with a smirk.

“Right,” he said pondering that. “Well, you have my word as an
attorney?”

She laughed, shaking her head. She looked at him and blew out her lips again, her eyes growing wide. “Okay,” she said as if giving herself a pep talk, “Let’s do it.” She threw the rest of her drink down her throat.

Michael did the same and quickly ran to pay the tab, before she changed her mind.

* * *

A
s soon as
they were through the door London was on him. Despite her insistence on moving slow, she hadn’t been able to resist lusting after his body as she watched him pay for the room and stand far too close to her on the elevator ride up. It wasn’t because of Clayton; he was just the catalyst.

She actually wanted Michael Wright. She realized the only reason she’d never thought about white men before was because she’d had no reason to. Clayton had always been in the picture, taunting her with the promise of a permanent future.

Now Clayton was gone. Permanently.

And Michael Wright was here. And he wanted her. And she wanted him.

The door slammed behind them and she pressed her body into his, dropping her purse on the floor next to him. Even in her high heels she had to reach up to place her arms around his neck. She pressed her lips against his and could taste the unadulterated whiskey on his breath, mixed with the sour tang from her drink.

He responded just as forcefully, following her lead, as he lifted her up off the ground, bringing her closer to his mouth. They tasted and sucked each other’s lips, one tongue occasionally glancing off the other. She felt him harden against her thigh and she massaged her hip into it. He groaned under her mouth in response.

Her feet dangled off the ground as his hands slid down past her ass, still holding her up firmly against his hard body. Fists grabbed at her skirt, snatching it roughly up the back of her thighs until her panties were fully exposed. Fingers snaked up the smooth skin until the tips reached the hem of her lacy underwear. They eagerly felt their way underneath until each hand was securely inside the thin triangle of lace.

He gripped hard, claws squeezing and kneading the flesh of her ass. She moaned and brought her legs up around his waist before her body weakened under his aggression. With her legs spread open to encircle him, she pressed the area between her thighs into his pelvis wanting a feel of what was to come. The stimulation of the lace against her clit as it met the resistance of is hard abs was already making her wet.

He carried her over to the bed and she felt the thud as his knees hit the edge. He loosened his grip on her and she unlocked her arms from around his neck. Her body slid down to the bed, sitting on the edge in heated anticipation. She had no idea what would come next but every inch of her body was open to it.

Her curiosity was quenched when he fell to his knees before her and reached under the skirt that was still partially hitched around her hips. She fell back to accommodate him as he grabbed her panties and pulled them down her thighs. She moved to kick her heels off before he stopped her.

“No,” he growled, pulling her Jimmy Choo clad foot through one leg hole, “keep them on.”

He pulled the panties off of her other leg and threw the strip of lace across the room. She was lying there, wearing every article of clothing, with one glaring exception. For some reason it was a million times more erotic than if she’d been completely naked.

“Open your legs,” he ordered, kneeling before her and gazing at her with such intensity it was almost terrifying. She obeyed, spreading herself wide for his visual exploration. The cool air of the climate controlled room licked at her soaking wet insides as they unfolded, giving her a tantalizing taste of what was to come.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured, running one hand up her inner thigh, making her body spasm with delight. He bent his head down to kiss the trail that his palm left.

“You look”—he kissed a spot on her thigh—“and taste”—another kiss, higher this time—“so fucking”—a lingering kiss, she felt his tongue dart out to lick the skin—“amazing.”

The last kiss was so close to home base, it was pure torture. His mouth remained on the spot of her upper thigh, only an inch away from her dripping pussy. The tongue made lazy circles on the skin, teasing and taunting her. She could even feel his, slightly stubbled, cheek grazing the puffy folds of her outer lips.

He was going to make her beg for it.

“Please,” she breathed.

That was all the encouragement he needed. His lips slid across the final inch of skin. The first kiss made her back arch so hard she had to grab his head for support. Once again he teased her, his tongue slowly lapping up the coating on her outer lips, savoring it like the world’s finest wine. Just when she wanted to cry in frustration, his tongue plunged through, striking her button with such rapid surprise she gasped. Her fingers reflexively grabbed the hair on his head.

He didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, he grabbed both thighs and threw her legs over his shoulders until her heels were hitting him mid-back. His head was cocooned by her thighs and it felt like home. She had no time to ponder it, as the next moment his expert mouth went to work on the tiny little nub of her womanhood.

With puckered lips he sucked the little man so hard out of the boat, it did backflips in the air, and came splashing down in a rippling orgasm that made her body shudder, and her voice scream out with something akin to pain. Tears literally came to her eyes as he sucked and flicked the exposed head.

Please stop,
her mind begged, but her body wanted more, more,
more!

She used the opportunity to embrace the newfangled sensation of the hair between her fingers. Clayton had always kept his cut short. Now she found herself pulling, tugging, grabbing, and intertwining her fingers through the silky strands. Politics on hair aside, at the very least, it made things
very
convenient—and she used it to its full advantage. After, yet another earth shattering orgasm, she reflexively grabbed with both hands and pressed him hard into her inner core.

He groaned with animal hunger as his nose, mouth, and chin were smothered by her body. She lifted her ass to rub herself hard against him. He reached under to grab her cheeks and push her even harder into his face. The workings of his lips and tongue, combined with her own grinding gyrations, sent fireworks through her body.

Just when she thought her body would turn into a molten blob of fiery lava, he moved his head back. She released the vice-like grip her thighs had on the sides of his face, giving him at least some relief. Her legs slid off his shoulders until they fell down to the floor, heels still standing at attention.

London was far too worn out to care about the indecent state she was in: work clothes completely wrinkled, skirt above her waist, trembling legs barely held up by a pair of heels.

Michael eased the transition by returning to his worship of her thighs, kissing his way down the same way he’d kissed them up.

“You,” she breathed heavily, “are just too damn good.”

“It’s all a ploy,” he murmured against the inside of her knee. “I want you weak and helpless.”

She laughed as much as her body would allow. “Mission accomplished.”