Fifteen

Ethan

Pink couches. Part of my redemption tour was sitting on a fucking pink couch talking to Brett & Megan in the Morning, two of the perkiest people I had ever met in my entire fucking life. They were nice enough, a little too boisterous for seven in the morning with smiles too bright and teeth too damn white. Like everyone in Nashville, they spoke loud and laughed loud, making me feel comfortable. Lowering my guards. But none of that mattered because I had my game face on. “Good morning Megan. Brett. Great to be here.”

“And it’s great to have you here with us! Welcome Ethan Mahoney, ladies and gentlemen!” The audience clapped and cheered and I sent them a friendly wave.

“Ethan, I’m such a fan of your Man Cans,” Brett gushed. “The name is so fun, isn’t it y’all? Plus, it’s my favorite thing to drink after spending time in the gym.” He flexed his muscles while the audience of forty-something women and a few husbands hooted their approval.

“That’s exactly what I use it for, Brett. Especially after you push it too hard on a leg day.” So far, so good. But after my interview with The Women, the whole country seemed to be talking about it. Luckily the good press was in my favor, but still the woman had a lot of damn nerve.

“I have to say Ethan I do love your philosophy on eating and living healthy. Tell us how you manage your cravings and otherwise unhealthy habits?”

That was a softball I could answer in my sleep and I had to remind myself to send a box of gourmet chocolate to Megan. Fans who were actually into living healthier often asked the question so I had no problems flashing my pretty boy smile and telling them how I occasionally indulge. “My weakness is Scotch and I do drink it sometimes, but never more than two. Well not never, but not always.” I gave my best shrug and explained how sometimes you had to give in. “But if you really don’t want to indulge, simply do your homework. Find out what goes in your food and learn the side effects.”

I felt good. The interview was going better than I could have hoped, especially after the tense shit show with Michelle fucking Trent. But to their credit, Brett and Megan waited until the end of the interview to ask the question. “So, Ethan, what’s the deal with you and Sam Stevens?”

I sighed as my thoughts swirled, wondering when in the hell did this woman become so popular? I had two options. I could go with the prepared statement given to me by my publisher or I could take Misha’s advice. “The deal is that some things should be private if we choose to keep it that way. But I didn’t know how to say that so I was a jerk to Samantha.” The nervous laugh was genuine but it also helped ease the tension as I raked my hands through my hair. “The question made me think about a woman I knew and loved a lot, a really long time ago. Her name was Katarina Shipova. We were in a relationship and we were in love but she was determined to be the next Cindy Crawford, Claudia Schiffer. She went to extremes to achieve her goal—thin and beautiful—until those extremes killed her.”

The audience was riveted, leaning on the edge of their seats with wide eyes and shocked expressions on their faces. Even Brett and Megan held the same surprised pose with the added frown of sympathy. Megan discreetly wiped a tear from her eye and I knew this interview was golden. “I can certainly understand why you wouldn’t want to talk about that,” Megan offered, adding a sniffle to highlight her own emotional response to my trauma. We cut to commercial and my shoulders went slack.

“Thank you both for having me. I always wondered if you two had this much fun for real or were faking it.” They both held their neutral expressions and I had to grin. “Looks like it’s the real thing. I hope you enjoy the Aegle goods I left for you.”

They thanked me and I left, walking towards the sexy blonde with a tumble of relaxed waves in her best southern belle dress, pale green with white polka dots. “Well, how’d I do?”

“I’m sure you know that you did pretty fantastic.” When a girl smiled at you the way Misha smiled up at me, a man knew he could do any damn thing.

I was over the hump and it was all thanks to the sexy hippie girl with the dangerous curves. I wrapped her in my arms, inhaling her sexy vanilla scent by burying my face in her hair. Misha’s scent was unforgettable, much like the woman. “Thank you.” I pulled back and the heat in her eyes was enough to have my cock standing up and taking notice.

“You’re welcome,” she patted my chest and pushed me back a little, motioning towards the curious cameras pointed our way. “Let’s go celebrate?”

“Hell. Yes.” I kept my voice low but averted my gaze, sending one final wave across the stage as they came back from commercial. “Let’s go.” I pulled Misha through the narrow halls until we were back in the limo and I couldn’t keep my hands off her. “Go out or stay in?” I knew what I wanted but if she wanted to go out then my plans would have to wait.

“How can I answer when you nibble my ear like that?”

I could hear the smile in her husky voice and moved my lips lower, kissing down her neck and scraping my lips back up. “Is this helping?”

“Not at all so let’s stay in. You can cook for me, something sexy.”

I chuckled. “Cook something sexy? Like warm caramel or like oysters?” I held her earlobe between my teeth and nibbled, smiling at the way her body shook beside mine.

“No like octopus and sardines or sangria and paella. You know, sexy .”

I definitely knew what she meant and pulled back so I could grab my phone and send my assistant a list of things I’d need for dinner. “Your wish is my command.”

“Yeah?” Green, lust lidded eyes raked over me and I felt my chest swell with masculine pride. “Good to know.”

“We don’t have to leave Nashville until Monday morning and aside from your dinner request, the house is fully stocked.”

“Why do you have a house in Nashville?”

“We have a plant here that takes care of our labels, all made from recycled products.” Though I rarely stayed the night here, I was suddenly very happy to have the privacy of a house. She opened her mouth to ask another question and I pressed my mouth to hers. “No more questions, lady” I told her and spent the remainder of the car ride ravishing her mouth. I laid claim to it like a conquering fucking army because she tasted good, like some candy she’d eaten recently and her signature watermelon flavored lip balm. And sex. Every time my tongue swiped across hers, I wanted sex. My mind, my body screamed sex. And when her hand landed on my cock, I wanted her sex.

Right. Fucking. Now.

***

“That was amazing.” Misha wore a satisfied, slightly sluggish smile and settled onto the sofa, kicking her legs up for good measure. “I’ve never had home cooking quite that delicious.”

And fuck if watching her eat up every damn bite hadn’t been the most erotic sight ever. Clarified herbed butter clung to her plump lips, and she moaned as she licked the remnants from her fingers, so lost to everything except the pleasure of the food. I didn’t know food could be quite so erotic, but now I understood what men meant when they showed appreciation for a woman with an appetite. “Your reaction to my cooking is well worth the effort.”

She moaned again and flung her head over the arm of the black leather sofa. “I swear I’ll be having dreams about that meal for a while. “Where on earth did they find octopus?”

Maybe I wasn’t playing fair, but being a billionaire was good when you wanted exactly what you wanted and nothing else exactly when you wanted it. I wanted to have Misha again. Tonight. Watching her now, the disheveled lady, with her shoes kicked off, hair mussed and cheeks pink from the wine, I wanted her more than I had ever wanted a woman. Which was strange, even for me. Women were usually easy. Boring. Predictable. But Misha was none of those things and I was still interested.

Very damn interested.

“I have my ways. But since we stuffed ourselves on this Mediterranean feast, we have to finish it off properly.”

Honey blond eyebrows dipped in confusion as she studied me, searching for a clue. “There’s more food? Let me burn a few calories first, okay?”

I laughed, stroking her ankle in slow circles that darkened her gaze. “We’ll burn plenty, I promise. But what I meant was Ouzo.” I held up the bottle for her to see and produced two glasses from the same table.

“Oh I see,” she crossed her arms and failed miserably to hide her smile. “Now that I’m near catatonic from that delicious meal, you want to liquor me up so I’ll make a move on you.”

“Like you need liquor to make a move. You know I’ll say yes.” I wanted to pull her to me, right on my lap and kiss that pouty smile she wore. Kiss her so fast and dirty just to see her blush again.

“I know. And I know,” she said, but she almost sounded mad about it. Maybe wistful or resigned. “Let’s start with the Ouzo,” she grinned at me and rolled her eyes, “and see where we go.”

“I can live with that.” And I could because I knew we’d be naked and sweaty very soon. I poured the glasses and handed her one, smiling at the way she sucked in a breath when our hands brushed. Yeah, she was as affected as me.

“Lift your glasses in the air ladies and gentlemen,” she spoke loudly like it wasn’t just us two in the house.

“Ladies and gentlemen?”

She narrowed her gaze, lips struggling not to smile. “Lift your glasses I said, to celebrate the interview that made America fall in love with Ethan Mahoney.” Her smile, so full of heat and affection, pride and something else, something softer and indescribable but I could sense it was addictive.

“I don’t know about falling in love with me, but thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you, hippie chick.” We tapped the edges of our glasses together and she took the whole shot and promptly began to cough up a lung. “You okay?”

“That shit is strong!”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the shocked expression she wore. “That’s why you’re supposed to sip it.”

Right on cue, pink bloomed on her cheeks and chest. “Oh. Now I know. Hit me again.”

“You sure?”

She tilted the glass side to side in front of me. “I want to see if it tastes differently if you do it slow.”

I stared at her for a long time, wondering if she was fucking with me or if she didn’t hear how dirty that sounded.

“Hmm, now I do wonder,” she said in a voice too deep, too low and filled with sex for me to do anything but cover her body with mine and press my mouth to hers, the glasses falling to the rug as reckless as we kissed.

I didn’t wait for permission, the way she clung to me was permission enough. Instead I dived right in, claiming her mouth starting at the wet, hot depths and working my way out. Her tongue tasted like the sweet earthiness of the anise flavor of the Ouzo and when her tongue moved against mine, there was an explosion of sensations, crackling between us because it could no longer be contained. Misha held my face close to hers, trying to take over the kiss but I had to control it. Needed to because the way she shifted her hips and locked her ankles behind my back drew my cock in close contact with her sweet heat. Just a thin strap of fabric kept me from her and I was damned eager to remove it.

Inch by inch, I slid the dress up her smooth, sun freckled legs until it pooled at her waist, showing off a pair of sheer green panties that gave me a perfect view of the triangle of hair pointing right to where I wanted to be. “I’ll take these.” I gathered the fabric in my fist and yanked, enjoying the surprised moan she let out.

“You’re ripping all of my underwear, Mr. Mahoney.”

My gaze darkened at the prissy way she said those words and her lips curved in satisfaction. The little minx knew exactly what she was doing to me. “I’ll buy you enough to rip a pair off you every day,” I told her, inhaling the hot honey scent of her arousal.

“In that case, rip away. I have an affection for lingerie,” she told me breathlessly.

“And believe me, I really appreciate it.”

She laughed and I needed to capture it, hold it for myself and savor it for a long, hot moment while her fingers moved quickly down my chest to open my shirt to her perusal. “Just as you have given me a deep appreciation for exercise.”

I laughed, hissing out a breath at the reverent way she slid her fingertips down my abs, her gaze so dark and hot my cock twitched in my pants. One nail scraped against my nipple, drawing a shudder from me and her hips moved just enough to be noticed. My hips pressed her down onto the couch, making sure she felt just how hard I was for her. “Misha,” I called her name as I slid one finger into her wet, hot pussy.

She responded on a long, breathy moan, back arched giving me perfect access to taste those plump tits. Her rosy nipples making my mouth water. “Yes, Ethan. Oh, yes!”

I backed up and pulled her with me so she was on my lap, bare pussy sliding against my jeans and making her moan in pleasure. “Look at that,” I told her and pointed to a dark spot on my jeans. “That’s how wet you are for me, Misha. Me.”

“Only you,” she panted and rocked again. “But you’re wearing too many clothes.” She slid down my legs, pulling the tab on my jeans and sliding them down my legs, including my boxer briefs too. The heat she aimed at my cock made him twitch, growing so fucking hard, he stood straight and tall. “I always forget how perfect your cock is.” She licked her lips and then she licked me, from my balls to the head of my cock, all around until I vibrated with needing her. “It does taste different when you do it slow.”

I grabbed her hips and lifted her up. “No more talking, Misha.”

She fisted my cock, defiant gaze set on me with a challenge. “But I like to talk,” she tugged my cock twice. “Talking is very stimulating,” she moaned when she slid my cock between her soaked pussy lips, coating me in her juices.

I thrust my hips up, hard and fast so she gripped my arms when she cried out, her pussy clenched tight around me. “So is my cock. Or did you forget?”

I gritted my teeth when she tightened again, on purpose. “Didn’t forget. Couldn’t forget. You feel so good buried deep inside me like this, filling me up. You feel that, Ethan?” She squeezed again and laughed in delight. “It’s the feel of my pussy salivating at how good you feel.”

“Misha?”

“Yeah,” she moaned as her hips made a slow figure-eight swirl, pulling me even deeper inside her heat.

“No more talking.” I thrust again hard and froze. I repeated the move, again and again, enjoying the shocked gasps she couldn’t contain, the lust rolling through her body, already past the point of no return.

She didn’t stop talking but I didn’t mind when she said things like, “oh yeah, just like that,” or “harder, Ethan!” Hell, I was a man and when a woman is giving out directions on how to get here there , then I’d follow them like my life depended on it. She was a wildcat, gorgeous tits bouncing as she took her pleasure, offering me up plenty in return. Her hands wrapped around the back of the sofa, feet planted on either side of my hips for an indescribable glide against her slick walls. So much fucking friction and I couldn’t take it. She bounced on my cock, hard and fast, painting my name as my greedy tongue circled her nipples.

“Oh fuck, Ethan. Yeah, oh yeah! Fuck me. Harder!”

“If you insist,” I panted.

“I do. Please, Ethan. Hard and fast. Don’t hold back.”

Music to my fucking ears. I grabbed her hips like the cord on a parachute, hard and tight and I didn’t let go as I pounded up into her just as she asked, hard and fast, while her body clung to mine, hands slick with sweat, gliding over my chest. “Fuck, Misha!”

“Yeah, So good, babe. So. Good.” She was there, I felt the tiny quivers inside get larger and faster, pulsing around me, sucking me in until it wrenched my own orgasm from me with a loud roar. My body shook and vibrated, Misha’s deep voice so thick with desire, panting in my ear. “Ethan.”

That was it, just my name as she waited for her breathing to slow down, body quivering around me. My hips couldn’t stop moving and hers began to move again. “I know what you need,” I told her, because I did. Misha liked to come back to back, her body wouldn’t allow anything more.

“You always do,” she moaned, screaming when my fingers took her clit and rubbed it between two fingers. “Oh, Ethan! Just like that.” She threw her head back and arched her back, offering me a perfect breast once again. “Harder,” she demanded when I nibbled her breast and I was happy to oblige, adding more pressure until once again her pussy convulsed around me and she came again, shouting my name.

“You’re a greedy woman, Misha.”

“Only for you.”

Now that was a promise a man could get used to hearing.

If he were open to those kind of emotions.

Which I wasn’t.

Not at all.

Right?

***

“I don’t know what smells better, you or that bacon.” She gasped at my nearness as I wrapped my arms around her. I woke up turned on and Misha hadn’t been beside me like she was the last time we reached for one each other as the sun rose. I had to come looking for her and the sight that said good morning was Misha in one of my muscle shirts, smooth curves of boob peeking through the sides. Legs and feet bare while she produced wonderful scents in the kitchen.

It felt damn good when she turned in my arms, twining her fingers in my hair with a sultry smile. “Bacon? You make Fake-on!” She rolled her eyes and pressed a soft but too short kiss to the side of my mouth. “But damn they do a good job of making it smell like the real thing.”

“Give it try and I’ll make it worth your while.”

When she looked at me, her head tilted to the side as a smile ghosted her lips. “Deal. Eat a piece of my fried chicken and I’ll make it worth your while.”

Damn I loved it when she got dirty right back. Using that sweet, lush mouth to say or imply dirty things always got me hard. Fast. “Yeah? How?” My eyes grew wide when she stepped closer, drawing up on her toes to whisper one of my dirtier fantasies in my ear. “I’ll eat a whole breast for that,” I told her with a pout, “but I feel compelled to tell you how much fat you absorb by deep frying. Luckily all of my oils are heart healthy, though in small quantities, of course.”

She glared up at me and poked me in the chest. “I didn’t deep fry it but even if I had, I like deep fried chicken.”

“But you didn’t make it.” I grabbed her finger and backed her up against the counter.

Her eyes flared with desire, instantly darkening as she wrapped her legs around my waist. “Because I didn’t want another lecture about my eating habits.”

She looked annoyed but her tone was affectionate and I blinked at the change. It was so fast, just a flash, I could be convinced I’d imagined it. I could, but I know I didn’t imagine my reaction to it. The warmth that spread from my chest out and the lightness that took over my heart. “It’s not a lecture, Misha.”

“I know,” she whispered, licking the curve of my ear until I groaned. “But it tastes good and we’ve got all natural, organic maple syrup. Lots of it. And Ethan? I love maple syrup.”

After breakfast she spent nearly an hour showing me just how big a fan she was of maple syrup and I had never felt so fucking loose-limbed in my life. She’d licked every inch of my body, paying extra special attention to my cock and wrung two more orgasms than I thought possible, from me. “I can’t believe I let you do that.”

“You didn’t’ like it?”

I frowned up at her. “Are you insane? I fucking loved it but I should be the one pleasing you.” I liked blow jobs as much as the next man and an expertly given blow job was an art form. But it didn’t sit right with me to just lie there and let Misha pleasure me.

“But you did please me. Look how wet I am from licking you all over.” She grabbed my hand and slid two fingers through her folds and deep inside her body. “So wet. The taste of you…,” she drifted off as my fingers began to move the way she liked it, with a bit of force and plenty of teeth.

“Tasting my cock did that to you?”

Her hips bucked against my hand, riding in search of her own pleasure. “You tell me.”

That was so fucking hot, she was half way there just from getting me off. “I’d like to see that for myself.”

“You want to see me get wet while I suck you off?” Desire flared when my cock twitched in her hand.

“I do, come on up here and bring that pretty pussy right here,” I told her and flicked my tongue out crudely.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

I couldn’t get enough of this girl. It wasn’t just that she was great outside the bed room with her quirky disposition, intelligence and her overall happiness, but in bed we were combustible. It just got better and better and no amount was ever enough. Arms wrapped around her waist, I held her to my mouth and licked and loved her until she begged me to stop. Three times.

“I don’t think I can feel my legs.”

I grabbed her thighs, pressing lightly up and down the length of her legs. “I feel them just fine for the both of us.”

“Very funny.”

I flipped her onto her back and she crawled up to nestle in the crook of my neck. “I think I’m in a sex coma,” she purred lazily.

“Good because we still have more syrup.”

Her eyes sparkled with delight. “I hear it’s even organic.”

It was nearly dinner time when we finally came up for food, both of our bodies wrung out and our emotions uncertain.