Zoey came awake to the soft beeping of the alarm on her phone. She held herself perfectly still for a moment, waiting for her brain to catch up with her body. The sheets around her were warm and smooth, crisp, and she was cradled in a bed that felt like the foam ones she bounced on at the stores when she wanted to fantasize about the good life. She stretched, carefully, but didn’t encounter another body. Maybe it had just been a dream that Alex had come to bed with her after their intense encounter late last night.
She fished her phone off the night table—he must have left it there, she was quite sure it had been in her bag when she’d been reading last night—and tapped the alarm off. She had a couple of emails she scrolled past, and a few new text messages. Nothing urgent.
She sat up, only realizing that she was nude when the sheets fell down to her waist. Her cheeks heated up; she’d never slept naked in her life. Tank tops and boxer shorts, every single night of her life. And her clothes were off the floor. So…she was trapped here? That was creepy.
No, not trapped. A plush looking velour bathrobe was draped over the foot of the bed. She snatched it up and wrapped it around her shoulders, then closed her eyes to drink in the deliciousness of the fabric shifting over her skin. It was one of the yummiest things she’d ever touched for more than a moment, and the way it brushed over her breasts was delightful.
She stuck her hands in the pockets and heard a piece of paper crinkle. She pulled it out, and found a note.
Let Sophia know how you take your coffee, and then find me in the workout room. —A
It was possible she was going to get the polite brush off now, but it seemed unlikely. Still, strutting around a man’s apartment in his bathrobe—the arms hung down past her hands in the goofiest way—and telling his housekeeper to get her coffee seemed bizarre to the extreme. At least, it was the not the life she’d ever lived, and not the life she’d expected to live. But she’d found herself falling into it, and maybe that would be okay. Just so long as Daddy never found out. Dating a black man, he wouldn’t care, but dating a rich man would probably break his heart. Mama, on the other hand, would be delighted for the chance to sashay around in New York society. She laughed thinking of it.
She’d encountered Sophia briefly last night when the woman had brought her a mug of coffee and a grilled cheese sandwich. It had been the most delicious food she’d had in recent memory, a blend of exquisite flavors that had only been improved by being dipped in the thickest tomato soup she’d ever had. She was fairly sure that it had never seen the inside of a can. She thought it might have been made out of actual tomatoes.
She tied the robe around her waist and rolled the arms up until she could see her hands. Alex wasn’t that much taller than her, but this thing was irrationally huge. He hadn’t bothered to tell her where the exercise room was, and the penthouse apartment was roughly the size of her parents house; it was time to go exploring.
She didn’t get far; just down the hall, Sophia was tidying up in the main hallway. “Good morning,” the woman said, without so much as a glance at Zoey’s attire. “Mr. Blankenship was waiting for you before he ate breakfast. He’s down the hall, exercising. He asked me to send you his way once you were awake. Sugar and cream?”
It took Zoey a moment to catch up. Her head felt fuzzy, almost like it was the first time she’d slept deeply in weeks. Months, maybe. Couches were great for naps, not so great for actual rest. “Yes,” Zoey said, after a bit. “Thanks.”
“Of course,” Sophia said, with a small smile. She stood for a moment, and Zoey didn’t quite know what she was supposed to do. The only thing that made sense was to walk past her, and head down to where Alex had said he would be.
The exercise room was located roughly opposite of the room where she’d slept. She walked past a huge living room with a twelve foot ceiling and gorgeous skylights, opening onto a balcony that made her toes clench on the wooden floor just from glancing out at the skyline. There was an office, the door half open, with a massive desk made of light colored wood, and bookshelves all along the back wall. Real books, though, not the kind of leather bound volumes that looked like they’d been ordered with the book cases, actual books. The only thing that kept her from walking in to scrutinize the titles was that her own coffee table cum office space was more private than her bedroom area. She restrained herself to simply glancing in from the doorway. She saw shelves full of paperbacks, as well as rows and rows of hardcovers. When he’d mentioned that his guest bedroom came complete with a charged eBook for the guest’s convenience, she’d hoped that she’d found a reader; this just seemed to confirm that.
The exercise room was at the end of that hallway. The room made her stop and breathe. It had as many windows and as much sunlight as the living room had, but it also had an entire wall of mirrors. There was music playing softly from a speaker set in the corner. There was a large rectangular mat set up on one side of the room. It looked large enough to practice some martial arts forms. On the other side of the room, there was a treadmill and a set of free weights. A heavy bag was hung in the opposite corner. It looked like someone had taken a high end gym and shrunk everything down so that it would all fit in one room. Which, it was worth noting, was still bigger than her apartment.
She took all of that in before she let herself focus in on Alex.
He was on the mat, wearing loose jersey pants and a tank top that had soaked through with sweat along his spine. He was sitting cross legged now, his hands turned up in his lap, breathing quietly. He seemed unaware of her, and she relished the chance to just observe him. There was something so calm and peaceful about him like this. She had the sense that he was someone who was very rarely at rest. Watching him breathe and be at peace was almost as delightful as enjoying the press of his arms around her waist.
After a few moments, his eyes opened and focused on her, and he smiled easily. “You found the robe,” he said. It was as good a greeting as any, she told herself. She resisted the urge to hug it closer around her. Let him enjoy what little cleavage she had.
“Yes,” she said. “Frankly, I’m disappointed.”
He raised his eyebrows, then moved smoothly up to his feet without using his hands, a swift motion that would have left her flat on her ass and wincing at the pain in her tail bone. “Disappointed?”
She nodded, glancing up at him through her eyelashes. She was incredibly glad she’d stuck to the bare minimum of makeup last night, and had been reasonably able to wash it off in the bathroom without make up remover. Raccoon eyes were a good look for no one. Other than raccoons. She resisted the giggle that bubbled in her throat, threatening to ruin her tempting pose.
He was moving toward her with the same sort of easy, loose jointed motion that said he was still thinking of the heat they’d generated last night. “What in the world disappointed you about this,” he asked, running his hand over the plush velour. Conveniently, his hand ran down the swell of her breast, and she swallowed a sigh.
“Well,” she said. “Given that you have condoms everywhere, and your driver trained to expect you to fuck women in the back of your car, you’re obviously much more of a player than you’re letting on.” She layered her tone thick with sarcasm and teasing, and he grinned at her, giving her faith that he got the joke. “Given all of that, quite frankly, I expected a silk kimono.” She fluttered her eyelashes and let her lower lip drop out in a melodramatic pout. “Wasn’t I good enough to rate silk?”
His hands glided down to grip her hips, swaying her ever so slightly back and forth. “Oh, you were fine,” he murmured, leaning in slowly to brush his lips, light as butterflies, over the curve of her ear. “And I would have given you silk. But I didn’t think you’d accept it.” He drew back in such a way that his hips pressed forward, and she could feel him, thick and there. He wasn’t hard, not yet, but he was present, and how was she possibly wet again? Was there any limit to how very much this man could make her feel?
She laughed, but the sound was a little gaspy and thin. “Probably not,” she said. “I don’t know if I can even accept this.”
“Oh, you have to,” he said, kissing her other ear, tracing the tip of his tongue down its exterior until he could nip the lobe. She whimpered, and his laughter rumbled in his chest. “You have to, because how could I possibly give a used robe to the next woman I invite home with me? And you’d never let me throw out a robe that was only used once, would you?”
“Well,” she said, “When you put it that way, I suppose my environmental concerns leave me morally required to accept.”
“Good,” he said. “Now can I take it off you? Because it is so in my way right now.” His hand scooped inside, capturing her breast and caressing it. He didn’t go straight for the nipple this time, more just lifting the light weight of her in his hand, stroking over her breast, which fit easily in the palm of his hand.
“What do I get if you take it off,” she asked. She was impressed that the sentence made even the vaguest sort of sense.
He laughed again, his eyes sparkling with humor. “All sorts of fun,” he said. “My tongue on you. My fingers. Whatever you want. I’m at your mercy, princess.” His knee nudged at her thighs, and she stepped apart, letting his thigh press between hers. She was the perfect height to feel him press against the core of her, and the broad, heavy pressure made her whimper again.
“I’m going to leave a wet spot,” she murmured as he left a trail of fire made by his tongue and teeth down her neck.
“I don’t give a shit,” he said. “Is it okay for me to untie the robe? I want to see you in daylight.”
“Yes,” she said. “Please.”
He gave a deep groan, and fumbled at the tie so hard that she thought it might tear. He didn’t shrug it off her shoulders, just untied it and pushed the two sides apart so that he had access to her body. “I love your tits,” he murmured, licking the space between them as he pressed them towards each other with his hands. “I love how they fit perfectly in my hands, and I love how hard you respond when I do this.” He brushed his thumbs over the two peaks in unison, and she cried out, pressing down onto his thigh just a little bit harder. Her hips wanted to rock over him like a kid trying to masturbate with a pillow. She forced them still. She could wait. There would be more if she waited.
“What else do you love?” she asked.
“I love that you’re still coherent enough to ask me questions like that,” he said. And then his eyes twinkled again. His hands steadied her as he took back his thigh. She hadn’t realized how much of her weight he’d taken until she had to stand on her own again. “And I love the way I think you’re going to look when I do this.”
Before she had a chance to ask him what he meant, he dropped to his knees. Her feet were still separated, and his eyes locked with hers as his hands rested on her upper thighs, gently easing apart her outer lips. Even seeing it, she wasn’t ready for the onrush of sensation when his tongue brushed over her pussy. She cried out, her knees wavering, her hands slapping against the wall for something to brace herself on. He made a sound, something deep and vibrating, and the sensation ricocheted through her as she melted into a puddle in his hands.
The second pass of his tongue was slightly less brain altering, and she was able to force herself to breathe again as he flicked over her suddenly swollen and aching clit. He tortured the nub for a few seconds, then dragged his teeth over it in something less than a bite, but more than anything else she could find words for in that moment. “Oh god,” she whispered, and his eyes smiled at her.
His tongue was molten fire, caressing her body, teasing at her. He’d promised to make her scream, and she could see that he was determined to make her do it. He was going to have to work for it, though. He’d set himself up at a disadvantage, though, she realized. If she’d had a way to brace her hands and lock her elbows, she would have been able to let go of the tension in her legs and let go much more easily. Instead, she was clinging to his head, trying to keep her balance, and it was harder to just drop away into the fluid waves of sensation that were pouring over her. She was gasping and whimpering and moaning and begging him for more in odd little half sentences that she was quite sure made sense to no one but her, but she wasn’t screaming.
Alex realized it, after a moment. His eyes narrowed, and then his arms wrapped around her upper thighs, and he lifted her as he stood. She squeaked and laughed, putting her hands up, afraid of bumping into the ceiling, but it was high enough that she would still have had to stretch to brush her fingers over it. He carried her the few steps to the mat, then leaned over it with her. He dropped her a few inches, letting her bounce just a little bit, then was back on her before she could recover.
He pressed her thighs sideways into a gentle stretch, exposing her cunt to him. He blew a soft breath over her inflamed flesh, and she writhed for him, her mind disappearing into sensation. His mouth closed over hers as his fingers stroked over her, plunging deep into her, and she tore at him with her fingers and nails. She heard his shirt tear and cursed, but he was laughing as he tossed the shreds off. She moved to shove his pants down off his hips, but he brushed her fingers away. “Not yet,” he said. “I want to pay attention to you. I told you I’d make you scream.”
“It’s too distracting,” she said. “Just fuck me. It’s okay.”
His eyes went quiet and serious, and she wanted to slap herself for breaking the mood. “If you want me to stop, we’ll stop,” he said. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.”
She rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands for a moment. “I’m not uncomfortable,” she said. “But I don’t want you to do that thing.”
“What thing?”
“That thing where you’re all “Oh, baby, let me do this thing for you that no one has ever done before,” and then you try, but the thing doesn’t work, and you’re all pissed off, and it’s somehow my fault, even though I told you my body doesn’t do the thing you said you could make it do.”
He sat back on his heels, and she waited for the storm of fury to come. “So what you’re worried about,” he said, in the calm voice of someone who was restating something of particular relevance in a business meeting, a fantastic voice to contrast with the erection tenting the front of his jersey workout pants, “is that I’m all invested in making you come by going down on you. And you’re saying that you don’t tend to get off that way, and guys have made you feel shitty for that in the past?”
Perhaps, if she tried very hard, she could dig her way through this mat, and escape through the apartment below them. She would be mostly nude, of course, but it was really impossible for that to be more humiliating than this conversation. “And girls.” Because if you were in for a penny, really it was ridiculous not to go for the full pound.
He raised one eyebrow just a little. “And it just doesn’t happen for you?”
She shook her head. “Feels amazing, but it’s too intense to actually flip the switch, I guess. At least, that’s the best I’ve ever figured.”
To her complete and utter shock, all he did was nod. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I promise you that if I do go down on you, I don’t expect orgasms from it. I am just looking to help you feel good. If it doesn’t feel good—well, that’s the point, isn’t it?”
She sat up, pulling the robe loosely over her. He was sitting there, legs crossed now, as if he was perfectly normal. She gave him a little poke in one very nicely shaped pectoral, and when that didn’t provoke any response, she very gently pinched his arm.
“If you’re looking for something,” he said, his voice clearly containing laughter, “you might get more of it if you tell me what you have in mind.”
“I don’t know how you’re real,” she said. “You’re ultra-rich, you’re amazing in the sack, and you’re a decent human being, even around kind of weird and gross body shame stuff. How does that happen?”
He shrugged. “It’s balanced by being involved in a multi-national corporation that sells weapons used to murder and maim around most of the globe.”
She winced. “It’s not all that AEGIS does.”
“No," he agreed, “but it’s enough.”
The idealistic part of her, the part that had gone to anti-war protests in college, wanted to tell him to just change it, then, but she’d learned since then. It was nowhere near as easy for things to change as she’d wanted to believe when she was an undergrad. His eyes were focused in the middle distance, quiet and distracted. It took her a moment to be comfortable reaching out and laying her hand lightly on his arm; she didn’t know him well enough yet to know if it would be an invasion or a comfort.
To her relief, he came back with a smile, placing his hand over hers and giving her a light squeeze. “I’d like to shower before I eat. Care to join me?”
It was funny, as a question. It honestly didn’t sound flirtatious, just honest. A quiet inquiry. An invitation to just a shower, nothing else. “Sure,” she said. “That would be lovely.”
Something surprising lit up his eyes, and he grinned. “Fantastic,” he said. He stood and held out his hand to her. She let him pull her to her feet, even let him overbalance her so that she fell into his arms. She tilted up her chin obligingly to receive his kiss, his mouth moving quietly over hers as his hands stroked down her velour covered back.
A memory slipped in and she broke off the kiss, her hands on his chest as she looked up at him. “Hey, is everything okay with your sister? We didn’t—uh—really talk about it last night.”
A smile flitted over his lips for a moment, but she got the idea she’d won some points with the question. “Everything is fine for the moment. I have made some mistakes in the past, I think, and I’ll look to correct them as soon as possible. She’ll be staying here for a while, I think, but I saw her off to school this morning. It’s part of why I was up so early.” Her ear got another gentle nip, and she stroked her hands down his arms in quiet appreciation of the sensation. “I had hoped to find you still in bed after I was done with my workout.”
“And what would you have done if you had?”
He went for the other ear this time, and she let herself sigh and wrap her arms around his neck, giving him some of her weight. “It wouldn’t have been all that much different from what I did in here. Although it might have been less sweaty. At least, you know, to start.”
“Maybe I like sweaty.”
He laughed lightly in her ear. “That’s just something they say in women’s magazines. No one likes the smell of a sweaty man.”
She leaned back, catching his gaze. “Nervous people smell nervous,” she said, “And there’s nothing nice about that. But a guy—or a girl—who has used their body to the limits, and has worked up a fresh, clean sweat? Before it goes stale and nasty? Burning hot.”
“Oh really?”
“Oh yes.”
“So noted,” he said. “This way.”