Sail (Wake #2) (32 page)

Deciding that was all that needed to be said on the topic, I stated, “Well, show me this office then, Mr. President.”

“
Vice
President,” he corrected with a chuckle. “I like it better when you call me Lord Casey.” Lord Casey was a product of my living arrangements after he bought the building. Landlord didn’t suit him, so we improvised.

His office wasn’t massive, but it was more than big enough for one person. Especially, since he was rarely there.

He had pictures and awards framed, which sat on a built-in, dark wooden bookcase. Empty bottles lined the top shelf. I raised a questioning eyebrow to Casey behind me, asking silently what they meant.

“Those are all of the brews we’ve offered here since the day I started,” he explained. He was sitting on the edge of his almost bare desk. Legs and arms crossed, as he watched me investigate, he held his beer bottle to his side with just one finger wrapped around its neck.

I smiled at the sentiment. I wondered if he saved them the entire time, or if it was an afterthought. Knowing him, he’d kept the first bottle he’d ever drunk. It’s funny how, and when, things become sentimental. Sentimental like our two ships that sat on the other end of his desk. He had them facing each other and it warmed my heart.

“Are they in order?” I asked, looking up at them.

“Yeah, I think so. Some have gone out and then come back, but for the most part they’re in order from when I started.”

“Which is your favorite?”

He chortled. “The one I’m drinking.”

Smart ass.

“I’m serious.”

“I’m serious, too.” He finished the last of his beer and set the bottle in the trash can next to his desk. I peered back up at the bottles to see if it was up there for examining.

He moved behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. He kissed my head and said into my hair, “It’s my favorite for two reasons. One, it’s the first I’ve had with you here. And two, hopefully, it’s the one I finished drinking the first time I had sex with you in my office.”

My breath caught. He’d always had a way of catching me off guard. My head rolled on its own accord and my eyes slowly closed.

“What if someone shows up?”

His hands worked my shoulders. With a firm grip, he sought out each muscle and gave it personal attention before moving to the next. He moved my hair over one shoulder so it wasn’t in his way.

“No one will,” he cajoled, his low tenor voice tightening my insides. “Sometimes, I’m here on Sunday evenings. I’ve never seen anyone. Besides, I don’t care if they do. I have a lock on my door.”

Well, didn’t he have an answer for everything?

His hands moved to my upper arms and squeezed, pulling me nearer to his chest. Then I felt his mouth on my skin. His tongue danced over the nape of my neck. One of his hands found my hair and wrapped it around his hand, pulling my head to the side as he passionately kissed my neck.

I moaned.
Loudly.

It was an embarrassing sound. He was no stranger to my embarrassments.

Casey pressed into my back. He was hard and I wanted all of him. My hands found his thighs, pulling his even closer. Would there ever be a time when he didn’t control my body at this range?

He was the master and I his puppet.
Willingly.

Saturday, April 24, 2010

HE-MAN DIDN’T HAVE SHIT on me. I was back to being the Master of the Fucking Universe. My thoughts and desires led her body. What I wanted, it did. Without being told.

I turned her around in my arms.

Where was I to begin?

Her mouth.

Her neck.

My lips were hungry for her and my greedy hands filled with her breasts, my lungs with her scent.

She rocked into my hip. She wanted me just as bad.

“Not yet, honeybee. Sometimes it feels like touching you only happens on leap years. I have lots of time to make up for.” A coaxing leg hitched up my waist. She moaned, a desperate sound, when I picked her up carried her to the top of my desk.

“What’s my name?” I crooned in her ear.

“Casey Moore.”

“Good. Now, where are we?”

She panted against my shoulder. “Where the magic happens.”
She remembered.

“What day is it, honeybee?”

“April twenty-fourth.”

“What did we just do?”

“Tasted the nectar of the gods.” The vixen mocked me, but I wasn’t fooled. I knew this Blake. She loved my games. Loved to be teased right out of her sanity. And Christ I’d missed her.

“And what do I want to do right now?”

“You want to kiss me,” she said. Our language of asking for kisses welcomed me home, as she tried to press her lips to mine, but I was faster and she wasn’t getting off that easy.

“Close. What do I want?” I repeated in her ear.

She moaned and rocked into my hand, which was under her skirt and between her legs. A place it always seemed to go on its own.

“You want to fuck me in your office?”

“That sounds like a question,” I chastised, then spread her legs wider with the weight of my hips. I stilled my hand. She leaned into it, displaying her frustration with my pause.

“It’s not, Casey. You do. You want me.”

“If you only knew how much.”

I moved the hair away from her neck and her body shivered as my fingers ran scribbled lines over her humming skin. All of the negative space within my body filled with Blake-scented air and my dick begged for its freedom, but patiently waited. I had the Nelson Mandela of dicks.

“I’m right here. I’m all yours.”

My knees released. Thank goodness I was leaning against the desk or I would have folded like a piece-of-shit lawn chair.

“Good, now let’s see how long it takes you to forget all that other shit.”

Her mouth opened to mine on contact, and our teeth bumped with our haste. Both of our efforts aggressive, her need kissed mine with a lick and a sigh.

Reality and joy kicked me in the balls. She
was
mine.

It’s hard to kiss when you’re trying to hold your shit together, between not wanting to laugh from the joy I felt and wanting to swallow her whole, I picked her up under her ass. Her bare legs bent like pretzels around me and I sat on the desk, switching her places.

I fucking loved it when she wore skirts.

My hand slid over her bare ass.

I fucking loved when she wore those kinds of underwear. She wasted no time undoing the button and unzipping my jeans. I lifted to let her pull them down just enough so my cock could spring free. All the while, her mouth never left mine.

With my dick in one hand, she moved her panties aside and lowered herself onto me. And she rode me with long slow strides, as our kissing turned urgent.

I wanted deeper.

It wasn’t enough.

“I need more, Casey,” she begged. “I need you to fuck me.” We agreed.

I picked her up again and began walking us to the other side of the room. She continued grinding on me as I walked. She fit perfectly in my hands and a carnal need inside me flashed thoughts of smacking her beautiful ass until my handprint stamped her peach of a backside.

Something about her body made mine a king.

Long live the queen.

I sat her down on the couch, and pulled out and away. Lust stained her cheeks and her nose was gloriously pink. I turned her around and lifted her hands above her head. Then I pulled her sweater and shirt off together. She shimmied when I tugged them over her shoulders, inside out. I ran my hand between her shoulder blades. I couldn’t help myself, and kissed her back as I unclasped her bra. I slid the straps down and she lifted her arms allowing me to pull it away from her. She relaxed on her knees and bent forward to the back of the couch.

My hands ran up the long ridge of her spine and I pushed my pants the rest of the way down. They bunched together at the top of my feet and shoes.

I licked my fingers and slid them under the strap of fabric between her legs. Then like a savage who knew it wasn’t a time play with his food, I put my fingers back into my mouth and wrapped a fist around my dick as I guided past her panties and straight into her.

I pushed in deep. She fell forward, and with a side-to-side rock of her hips, her body said, “Go.”

She moved with me, my every action mirrored with hers. When I pushed inside, she pushed back. Full long strokes.

Blake. Air.

Blake. Air.

Once again, she yielded to me. It was intoxicating.

I bent toward her and reached around to her breast, gaining leverage and a new angle. I held tight and held myself inside her as she ground down on my dick, rocking into me, finding her own pleasure with me as the vehicle.

My arm reached for the back of the couch and her hand found mine. She laced them together. It was like I was wrapped around her and it was decidedly my new favorite way to spend April twenty-fourth.

Her head pressed against my chest and I bit her ear.

“Casey,” she whimpered, “yes.”

I replied with gibberish sounds that translated to, “I found your superpower and it’s this right here.”

I pressed my cheek against the top of her head and my eyes squeezed shut as I felt my orgasm run full speed toward the end of my cock.

She tightened down around me and said, “I’m coming. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

There was no stopping.

Even if I could stop, why in the fuck would I want to?

Between the white noise in my ears and the sound of her saying my name, over and over, I left myself inside of her. I panted, fighting to catch my breath. After we were both finished, she buckled, falling flat onto the sofa. I rested against her back.

When everything tamed down and the air around us began to cool, I rolled to the side and pulled my pants up. She curled into the now warm leather and looked at me.

“Are you satisfied?”

“Satisfied, honeybee?” I asked her in turn. “I won’t be satisfied until your head sleeps on my pillow every night. Until we’re fighting over stupid shit like taking out the trash or sorting the laundry properly—like normal people. I won’t be satisfied until we’re having quickies while the coffee brews and we can’t agree on what movie to watch. When all of our problems can be solved with a kiss and a good night’s sleep. That’s when I’ll be satisfied.

She smiled and kissed my cheek.

Then I added, “Or were you just talking about sex?”

“I was just talking about sex.” She laughed under her breath and said, “I’m hungry.” Sex did that to her every time. My girl was ravenous, in more ways than one, when it came to good sex.

“What do you want?”

“Nine cheeseburgers.”

“That’s all?”

“I’m watching my weight.”

It was almost dark when we finally pulled into my driveway after grabbing a bite to eat. I hadn’t been home in over a week, so I sidled up to the mail box first. I pulled out the contents, handing them to her. Again, it hit me how these mundane tasks we were doing together made me feel like I was dreaming.

Then I thought of the dream I’d had so many nights—or nightmare if I considered the end of it—and it killed my moment.

I was sick of thinking about it. I wouldn’t let some figment of my imagination ruin her being in my home. It was only a dream. It wasn’t real.