That Wild Player, page 7
–CJ: Nope. I know because I feel the way you do.
I press my thighs together. That’s hot. But…
–Michelle: I have no idea why I shouldn’t “do it without you” when I know you have a date with Rosie Palm.
–CJ: Says who?
–Michelle: Don’t you?
–CJ: I’m saving myself for you. ;)
As I stare at the last text from him, sweetness sweeps through me. It doesn’t dampen my need, but it does make it more bearable. Normally I might raise a skeptical eyebrow, but somehow this feels sincere. Almost too much so, and I can’t decide if I like that or not. I worry my lower lip for a moment, then start typing again.
–Michelle: Hmm. I hate being left high and dry.
–CJ: High, I can agree with. But dry?
I can feel his raised eyebrows through the text, and I can’t help myself. I giggle even though my body’s humming with frustration.
–Michelle: There was no finale, high or otherwise. Now you want me to stew in a state of dissatisfaction until next time. How do I know it won’t end the same way again?
My finger hits “send” before my brain catches up. Crap. I didn’t mean to tell him that. Even if it’s something I wonder about before considering sleeping with a guy. After all, one hundred percent of my previous sexual encounters were about as exciting as celery sticks—limp celery sticks—but there’s a tiny voice that says CJ will be different.
My phone rings. I bite back a smile. “Yes?”
“Was that a challenge, Ms. Malone?”
“What if it was, Mr. Carmichaels?”
“You know I can’t resist a challenge.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“Prove you wrong.”
“Tough to do, when I’m here and you’re not.”
“Oh, I don’t have to be there to make you come.”
The sweet darkness in his purring voice sends a wicked thrill down my spine, making me warm and shivery. I love confidence with a hint of arrogance, especially when I know—well, suspect—it’s not all talk.
“Go to your bedroom.”
“And?”
“Take off your clothes and get comfortable.”
“It’s awfully early for sleep, and I don’t nap.” But I go to my room and get nude anyway. I’ve never done the phone-sex thing, and the prospect makes me feel wicked as hell.
“Sleep isn’t on the menu. I’m going to tell you exactly what I’d do to you if I were with you right now.
I squirm on the mattress. “I’m listening.” I tried to sound unaffected, but there’s no way CJ missed the breathless excitement in my voice.
“I’d kiss you…like I did before, a palm on your cheek and a hand in your hair. You taste amazing—I can still taste you in my mouth…and I’m still hard.”
It’s hot to hear him share how I affect him, to know I’m not alone in this. I lick my lips. I can almost taste him too…
“I’d stroke your jaw line…your neck…and bare your pretty tits. I’d admire them…put my hands on them…”
His husky voice washes over me, and my nipples bead. An aching sensation starts from there and ends in my clit. I arch my back a little, biting my lower lip. My breasts grow heavier and fuller. And I need—
“Touch your breasts, Michelle.”
I do, pinning the phone between ear and shoulder. It feels so good to cup them, my index fingers circling and then flicking over the tips. I’ve touched them before when I masturbated, but it’s totally different with CJ on the line. It somehow feels hotter…dirtier. My breath hitches, and I clench my teeth to trap a moan from coming out.
“If I were there, I’d do more than touch. I’d suck on the nipples. I bet they taste amazing—velvety and sweet.”
Ah, hell. Just thinking about his mouth on me—I remember the kiss—how well he used his lips, tongue and teeth for my pleasure and his… Lust blazes in my veins, making me impossibly soaked.
“When I stroke between your legs, and find you wet, I have no choice but to let go of your breasts. There’s no way I can stop myself from tasting what’s between your thighs, lapping you up.”
I moan, my fingers gliding over my slick flesh. He growls in return, and it stokes my desire further as pleasure pulses through me.
“Then I’d put a finger in you, sliding it gently inside, then another, and feel your pussy grip them hard.”
My fingers slip inside. “Ah…that feels amazing.”
“And I’d finger-fuck you while eating you out…until you were ready for my cock,” CJ says, his voice rough, his breathing fast.
I twist and arch, pressing hard against my busy hand. I’m so turned on that I can feel an orgasm right within reach… My hand moves faster. “Fuck me,” I whisper, so close now.
“I’d drive into you over and over again, hard, while kissing you so I can’t taste anything but…”
He keeps talking, but I’m far too gone. If he were here, I’d let him do exactly as he said and more. I choke back a scream as a climax breaks over me, sending waves of bliss through my body. I hear a low groan from him, and I wish I could watch his face flush and twist in orgasm.
When I can breathe somewhat normally again, I say, “Well done, Mr. Carmichaels.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” he rasps softly. I can hear a smile in his voice.
“Until next time, then?”
“Until next time.”
I hang up reluctantly. I’ve never come with a guy, but this sort of counts…right? And suddenly, a relationship with CJ seems like a pretty good idea. Or, at least, I can be more open-minded about the possibility of us hooking up.
Chapter Thirteen
CJ
My Ferrari speeds along the little road toward my mom’s house in Fredericksburg. The traffic’s light on Saturday afternoon. I wasn’t planning on visiting so soon, but she found out about my return to Northern Virginia and invited me.
Well. Invited. She has a way of compelling you to do things whether you want to or not.
At least thinking about Mom is good for me at the moment. I don’t know what made me text Michelle. It’s weird, because I used to not give a damn what the women I was with did with their toys in the privacy of their homes, but Michelle is different. I wanted to be there when she came, and it was gratifying to hear her scream her pleasure.
Heh. Gratifying. It was enough to make me come, too.
My cock swells at the memory. It’s going to be explosive when we finally get together in person.
Come on. Down, boy. We’re going to see Mom soon.
My mother bought a one-story house and the farm that came with it before her divorce was finalized. She doesn’t believe in waiting for people—not even courts or judges—before getting on with plans for her life. “If you’re not in charge, somebody else will be” is her motto, and she’ll be damned if she’s going to let some old man on a bench or my dad get in the way.
When I park my car in the driveway and get out with a bouquet of tiger lilies, I hear a bleat. It’s Hump, the furry little pigmy goat that Mom got a week after she moved in. She had the poor thing castrated—I still wince every time I think about it—and named him Humphrey…Hump for short.
And currently, he’s eyeing the tiger lilies with the greed of a demon intending to devour a hapless soul.
“Sorry, Hump. They aren’t for you.”
He stares at me with those crazy goat eyes. How the hell does an animal evolve to have horizontal pupils?
I go inside the house. It’s a cozy country home with lots of wood and lavender walls…and currently has an aroma of sugar, spice and peaches. My mouth starts to water. Peach cobbler. I’m a huge fan of Mom’s baking. She inherited Grandma’s recipes, and they’re to die for.
“Mom?” I call out.
“CJ!” she cries. Then she’s out from the kitchen, arms spread wide. She gives me a tight hug. Nobody hugs quite like Mom—warm, strong and like home. “So glad you could make it. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were back in Virginia! If I hadn’t heard from Alexandra, I would never have known!”
I grin shamelessly. “Nah, I was planning to call this weekend.”
“It’s already Saturday.”
“Exactly. The weekend isn’t over until midnight Sunday.”
She tsks, but a warm smile softens the rebuke. Mom is a historian specializing in Rome, and taught at Georgetown until she retired a year ago. She’s always been no-nonsense about everything, and it still shows in her basic bun, undyed hair and simple outfit of a Redskins T-shirt and shorts that stop right above her knees.
I give her the lilies, and her whole face glows. “My goodness. They’re so pretty!”
“Nothing’s as pretty as you, though,” I say.
She laughs. “Flatterer! You must want some of what I’m baking.”
“Am I forgiven for not calling the minute my plane landed in Dulles?”
Her lips thin, but she can’t stop the smile. “I suppose.”
“So I can have some peach cobbler?”
“You may,” she says with mock hauteur. “Your father went to an orchard and sent me three bags of peaches, that silly man. What am I going to do with three bags?”
“Feed me?” It elicits another laugh.
We go to the dining room, where she serves tea and warm, gooey, peachy goodness. She doesn’t offer coffee because she doesn’t drink it and never keeps any in her pantry.
We get caught up. She’s relaxed and laughs a lot. Her good mood puts me at ease, draining the earlier frustration about Michelle. It’s surreal to remember how Mom used to be before the divorce—tense, brittle, her temper constantly frayed and ready to explode at the slightest provocation. If you ask her why she was like that, she can’t tell you. Even though the marriage fell apart, she never really hated Dad or anything. It was mutual on Dad’s part too, and they get along fine now. The only difference between then and now is the piece of paper and separate residences.
“So now that you sold your company, what are you going to do?” she asks.
“I don’t know yet. Spend all my billions?”
“Ha! You only got a little over a billion.”
“I got two,” I say, holding up two fingers. “Big tech companies have deep pockets, and they wanted my smart-home security technology.” I shrug. “I don’t know… Matt’s getting married, so I figured I’d show him some moral support. He wants me to be his best man.”
“Lovely.”
I nod, but don’t tell her about my misgivings about his marriage. If I’m not telling Matt, I’m not gossiping about it with Mom.
“And how about you? Any special lady in your life?” Mom asks.
“Nope. I’ve been busy building my company. Well, not mine anymore. There’s this girl I met, but we’ll see.” I shrug to hide annoyance as a sudden image of Michelle, home alone and checking online dating sites to find a “special man,” floats up. I should’ve nailed down when our next time was going to be before letting her hang up. In my defense, my brain was uncharacteristically slow after that orgasm.
“What’s there to see? If the girl’s smart, she’ll see what amazing boyfriend material you are.”
Okay, so it’s coming from Mom, and it’s kind of in her contract, but it’s nice nonetheless. And just because she’s biased doesn’t mean she’s wrong. I’m fantastic boyfriend material. It’s about time Michelle realizes it, too.
Chapter Fourteen
Michelle
All through the rest of the weekend, there isn’t a single peep from a potential date prospect. Maybe it’s a sign from the universe to take it easy and chill from the dating sites for a while. Nothing repels like desperation.
And I know this. I always try to project a cool calmness and control. And in situations where it’s hard to do that, I just ask myself, “What would Mom do?”
Still… I’m lying here on the couch, all alone in the living room, and the silence isn’t helping. Was CJ right about taking chances?
No. Just because he gave me a phone-sex orgasm doesn’t mean he’s on point about everything.
Right. That’s why you’re thinking about CJ and whether you want to go for it…even though he saw you at your most ridiculous.
No, it isn’t like that. I’m just rethinking some things. Maybe it wasn’t as good for him as it was for me, because he hasn’t tried to reach me this weekend either. I mean, he should have if the sex was really great, right? Isn’t that how guys roll?
And besides, once the post-orgasmic euphoria wore off, I began to remember all the reasons why I shouldn’t think about him too seriously. Like how he saw me at my worst. How could he respect me after that? I wouldn’t respect mysel—
“Hey, what are you thinking about?”
My heart jumps slightly. Sammi is standing at the other end of the couch, staring at me. I fold my legs and sit up. “I thought you were out with Luke all weekend to see his brother.” Half-brother, actually, and still too young for elementary school. Luke’s dad is a cheating bastard of the worst kind.
“Just got back. I came by to see what you’ve been up to. How was the date on Saturday?”
I make a face, then tell her everything, minus the phone sex, because that feels a bit TMI somehow.
She gasps, then shakes her head. “Wow. What a creep. I’m so glad you found out sooner than later. But your parting shot? Perfect.”
I give her a weak smile.
“Maybe I should start screening men for you. Do a little triage before you waste time.”
“Uh, no, that won’t be necessary.” Sammi’s idea of “screening” involves asking inappropriate questions and hacking into social media accounts. Neither of which is kosher. “Lemme ask you something. Do you think I’m, like, limiting myself by rejecting too many prospects?”
Sammi tilts her head. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve seen how things are with HR. It’s hard to recruit if you’re overly picky. I mean, yeah, sometimes you get the perfect candidate…but more often you get someone who’s only, like, eight-five or ninety percent of the way there. You hire them anyway and train them until they can do the job.”
“So?”
“I’m wondering if I should do the same thing. You know, date a guy who’s mostly there, then train him.”
Her eyes defocus into the distance. “Huh.”
I lower my voice. “I’m not trying to be rude or anything, but wasn’t Luke sort of…not quite perfect when you first met him?”
“Nope. He was perfect from the beginning.”
“Then why did you call him That Man in My Way?”
“Because he wouldn’t let me date David.” Sammi shudders. “Which, by the way, would’ve been a horrible mistake. Don’t get me wrong—David’s a great guy, but he and I would’ve been incompatible.” She squints a bit. “Want me to ask Luke to hook you up? I’m sure he knows someone… Hey, how about CJ? He looks eligible enough.”
My cheeks warm. I clear my throat, looking away briefly, praying my face will cool down. “Maybe…”
“Lemme look him up…” She pulls out her phone and starts tapping. “Presto! Hey, look. He’s single! No recent breakup history, which means no rebound. Woohoo!” She punches the air, but her enthusiasm is making me cringe.
“And he’s worth…” She stops. “Oh my God… Wow.”
“What?”
“He sold his last company for two point seven billion dollars. Some cash and some stock. Damn.”
I frown. CJ doesn’t look old enough to be worth that much. “Really?”
“It’s a smart-home security company,” Sammi continues. “Damn. A legit billionaire. And he’s only twenty-eight. I feel so unaccomplished.” A cheeky grin. That’s my friend. “And his Ferrari is hot.” She shows me the picture of a red car. “Girl, he’s a good one. If you want, I’ll ask Matt to set—”
“No!” I say at the same time Jan walks in and says, “What do you need Matt for?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly, but it isn’t enough to deter Sammi.
“To set her up with CJ.”
“Oh.”
“He’s super eligible. And filthy rich!” She considers. “I bet he screws filthy, too.”
He certainly kisses filthy. And more.
“Uh…” Jan clears her throat. “I mean…he’s a great guy and all…but…”
“Right. The new HR policy on interoffice dating makes him not at all suitable,” I interject, desperate to stop this crazy train.
“Actually, the policy doesn’t apply to him. Matt said so.”
“Ha! I knew it!” Sammi crows.
“But…he’s not really the man for you,” Jan says with a small frown.
So I’ve been telling myself. CJ isn’t right for me, but hearing Jan say it makes my stomach contract until I feel a little queasy. As far as she and Sammi are concerned, he’s young, rich and eligible. So what’s the problem?
Well, I’m not going to lose my calm. I merely raise an eyebrow, which is no easy feat. “You don’t think I deserve him?” Shit. I didn’t mean to sound confrontational.
Jan gasps, pressing her palms against her cheeks. “No! It isn’t that you don’t deserve him. He isn’t what you want.”
Oh, for God’s sake. Does he have a secret mistress stashed somewhere? His profile can say whatever it wants, but men… They lie about stuff like this all the time. Otherwise I wouldn’t have my part-time job.
Sammi leans forward with a dark scowl. “Okay, spill it. What did you learn?”
“He’s not at all the committing type.” Jan shrugs. “What’s the point if the guy’s never going to be interested in anything long-term, right?”
Right.
“And he’s a total player.”
“He is?” Sammi glares at her phone as though it’s the gadget’s fault she didn’t know about his womanizing past. Well… Facebook’s fault, really.
Jan nods. “Matt told me.”
Sammi blinks. “He just told you, apropos of nothing?”
“Well.” Jan clears her throat. “I might’ve pestered him a bit, since, you know…we saw that picture.”
Fucking Izzy. “So now Matt knows.”
“Yes, but not because I asked!” Jan says quickly. “He already knew. He said CJ got the look when he saw you. He said he was betraying his best man by telling me because he knew it was going to go straight to you, but he couldn’t lie to me either.”
