Chapter 6

Christopher

“Hey there, Chris. I like those pants on you.”

“Guess I got tickets to the gun show today, handsome.”

“Are you free for coffee in the morning? I know this wonderful place we could try.”

It was funny to me that all the models were throwing themselves at me. It wasn’t new territory, but they’d never been this relentless. I was hit on by them several times a day and a few were ballsy enough to ask me out themselves, but I didn’t give a shit about any of them. The only woman in the room I wanted was Jessi.

She looked beautiful walking down that runway. Graceful and elegant as she twirled for my own private viewing. I used her time and time again as an example of how the other women should be doing it. The way the designer’s clothes draped along her curves tugged at my cock in ways I couldn’t describe. I’d been heated when she mentioned seeing another guy a couple of days ago. I felt that monster rearing its ugly head. The thought of another man putting his hands on her made my fists clench in anger.

She was no one else’s but mine.

“Jessi! Jessi, come here. I got something to ask you.”

I watched her turn her head, her sexy hair billowing around her shoulders. Just like those fucking clothes on her body.

“What’s up?” she asked. “Something wrong?”

“I was wondering if you were still up for the steak and parmesan broccoli.”

“This the dinner with the wine?” she asked.

“It is.”

“I didn’t realize I was up for that dinner in the first place.”

“Then I’m asking you now. Would you like to come to my place and have dinner, wine, and conversation?”

“Is that you call what we did last time?” she asked.

“If that’s how you want to phrase it, then sure.”

“I can’t,” she said. “I have to go home and check up on a package being delivered today.”

“You can do that then come on over. It’s only three o’clock.”

“You’re releasing us early? I didn’t realize.”

“My place. Five o’clock. Wine, steak, and broccoli. Bring nothing but yourself and prepare yourself for a night of decadent—conversation.”

I raked my eyes up and down her body as her cheeks flushed with want. I had her. Hook, line, and sinker. Her body was turning towards me and I could see her nipples poking through her bra. The scene made me salivate with want. I wanted to pull her into my arms, press her into one of these dark corners, and take her up against the wall. Pull those damn leggings down, scoot her panties off to the side, and slide my cock right in.

But I contained myself as she pondered my offer.

“Five-thirty,” Jessi said.

“See you then,” I said with a grin.

“But can you make the steak lasagna and the broccoli French bread?” she asked.

“I thought we already had those code words established?”

I wasn’t an idiot. I knew exactly what her favorite meal was. My homemade lasagna as well as the thickly-sliced and toasted French bread I made. I sliced garlic cloves real thin and layered the bread with it and some butter, and she couldn’t get enough of it. I loved watching her eat that meal. At the time, it was the only meal I could cook from scratch. But the past year and a half had changed many things about my cooking skills, and I’d become a master of my own domain.

But I knew she’d never be able to resist the original goodness of my lasagna.

I was pulling the French bread out of the oven as I heard a knock on the door. Fuck. She was already here. I was hoping to get all our shit on the table before she arrived. I pulled it out and set it on the stove next to the lasagna before I scrambled for two wine glasses, then popped the cork and poured her a glass.

“Chris? I’m coming in.”

“Just getting us some wine,” I said, as I came around the corner.

“It smells incredible in here,” Jessi said.

“Only the best for the best. This is yours.”

I handed her the glass of wine before I pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek.

She looked fucking gorgeous. She was in this sleeveless dress that had a navy blue bodice with a bow underneath. Then the rest of the fabric of the dress draped around her curves and settled into the dip of her waist nicely. Her hair was tumbling down her back, pulled into a half ponytail and blowing swiftly in the breeze coming in from the porch. The sunset twinkled in her eyes as she gravitated towards the balcony, the table and chairs calling to her as the sun set below the ocean.

I went into the kitchen and spooned us up some dinner before carrying everything outside.

“Figured this would be the perfect view for dinner,” I said.

“It’s gorgeous out here,” Jessi said.

“Well, you’re welcome anytime. And I mean that.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I might take you up on that. Does your lasagna taste as good as it used to?”

“Only you can be the judge of that.”

I held out a fork for her and she took it between her delicate fingers. I watched her scoop up a bite, the cheese stretching for days as she put it between her lips. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she moaned, relishing the taste as she chewed with delight.

“I don’t know how it’s better, but it is,” she said.

I grinned at her, settling my arms on the table as I watched her swallow.

“I’m glad you like it,” I said.

“How long have you been living here? On this property?” she asked.

“I’m about three months in,” I said.

“What did it cost you?”

“Not as much as some would think. I’ve done a lot of renovating to the place. It was practically a shack when I first bought it.”

“Well you’ve done a good job with it. It’s beautiful and very cozy.”

“Thanks. I’ve still got a few more things I want to do, but the big stuff is all done.”

“So if we aren’t going to talk about why you really left, then what are we going to talk about?” she asked.

“Why don’t we start with how your modeling career took off?” I asked.

“Part of it was luck, and part of it was me taking any job that would come my way. I was fortunate enough to walk into the right office at the right time, and the designer for the show we’re doing right now was talking with the man I was bringing my measly portfolio to.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. Up until that point, I’d done a couple of local magazine spreads and started up an Instagram feed to share my own pictures I took of myself. I did a local commercial and tried some shop-window modeling.”

“You did live modeling. Like, standing on your feet for seven, eight hours,” I said.

“I did,” she said with a grin. “And I was proud of that. I used the pictures others took of me as a way to promote my own Instagram, and I garnered a decent following. I did some hand modeling and some bust modeling. For nail artists and makeup artists that linked back to my profile. Things like that.”

“You really flexed those networking chops.”

“I’d like to say it got me this gig, but it didn’t. I walked in at the right time and the designer saw me and wanted to see my portfolio. It went from there to putting on a couple of things to see how I looked in them, and now I’m here. In the show you’re choreographing.”

“Still got eyes for New York?” I asked.

“It’s funny how now you talk as if you’ve always known that’s been my dream. Yes, I still have eyes for New York. I’m hoping to use the forward momentum of this show—especially since I’m the only plus-sized model in it—to score something that takes me there.”

“Let me know if you need any help. I’ve got connections there that would love you.”

“As much as I’d like to believe you, the last time I convinced myself you were helping me, I found out you weren’t really paying attention at all.”

Her words were like a slap across my face. I admit, I wasn’t the most attentive person when we had been together. But that didn’t mean I didn’t care about her. Nor did it mean I wasn’t willing to care now. What I needed was her to drop the angry wall she had up between us so I could show her that a year and a half changes people. It changed her and it changed me.

She needed to let me show her that.

“Jessi, I—”

“Hold your apology. I don’t need or want it,” she said. “Let’s just—keep moving.”

The two of us ate dinner while the sun set in front of our eyes. The way the changing colors played upon her skin called to me as I gathered up our dirty plates. I walked them into the kitchen as she polished off her wine, and I decided to take a chance.

I walked back out onto the porch and wrapped my arms around her waist.

She leaned into me and I dipped my lips to her neck. I felt her hand relinquish her wine glass as it clattered onto the table outside. The sun gave way to the mouth of the ocean, just like Jessi gave way to me. She tilted her head off to the side and allowed me access to the body I’d wanted to touch all night.

“You’re beautiful,” I said. “Stunning in this dress.”

I slid my arms down her sides until I was gripping her ass. She turned around and pressed deeply against me, her lips hovering above mine. I bent down and gripped tightly onto her body, hoisting her into the air as her lips came crashing down onto mine.

I couldn’t help myself.

And it seemed she couldn’t either.

I walked her into the room and slid the backdoor closed. But I didn’t have enough patience to get her up the stairs. I wanted her now. I wanted to taste her. I wanted her to sit back like the queen she was while I feasted between her legs. I sat her on the edge of the couch and leaned her back, her legs spread for me. I rolled the fabric of her dress up her legs, watching her soft thighs come into view. Her panties were soaked and the darkened fabric was calling to me.

So I hooked my fingers into the sides and slid them down her legs.

She was panting with want as I kissed up the inside of her leg. I nipped at her thigh, leaving glorious little love bites for her to find in the morning. I spread her pussy lips with my thumbs, taking in the glistening trove of arousal that was there for me to lap up.

Then, I pressed my tongue to the tip of her clit.

Her hands flew to my hair as I kept my movements light. I flicked her clit and lapped at her arousal. She rolled into me, ebbing the way the ocean did beyond the rocks of the California coast. I pressed my hands against her knees, spreading her as far as I could get.

I rendered her motionless as I dove my tongue into her depths.

“Chris. Chris. Shit. Yes. Harder. To the left. Farther. Yes. Right there. Right there. Right there!”

One of the things I loved was how vocal Jessi was in bed. So eager to guide me to what she needed. She was as submissive as they came, willing to do anything to receive what she so desperately wanted. I released her thighs and she clamped them down around my face, pressing into my cheeks as I sucked on her clit. Her hands twisted up in the tendrils of my hair as her toes curled into my back.

I could feel her shaking. Feel her throbbing. Hear the broken moans coming from her lips. I licked at her slit, sending jolts of pleasure through her body as her back crashed to the couch.

But I wasn’t done with her yet.

I wanted her one more way before I’d let her go from my grasp.