Not Quite Juliet: A Club Imperial Novel (Silver Soul Book 1) (26 page)

Deftly dodging the question, Nick pointed to the plate in front of me. “You have got to be hungry. Did you even take lunch today?”

“Sat at my desk, ate a Snickers. It didn’t satisfy.”

“We’ll have to take care of that.” His smile was flat out dirty. “Did you get the order?”

“What order?” I glanced up at him.

“The sexy nightie.”

Ah. Yes. That. I cleared my throat. “Yes. It got here today. It might be in my bag.”

He sucked in a little breath and I had the feeling his pants had just gotten a little bit tighter. Strangely enough, it kind of reminded me I was actually hungry – for him and dinner. “I am feeling a bit nibbly.” I leaned over and sucked softly on his ear.

He kissed my head. “Maybe dessert?”

“Mmm.”

Nick laughed. “Here’s what I propose. We eat this lovely dinner, and then we go upstairs, you put on that nightie, I’ll put on those satin boxers you like and might already be wearing, and we’ll have some fun. In a bed.”

“In a bed? How scandalous.”

My phone beeped in my pocket and I pulled it out.

555-8901:
Just keep it up, you whore. I see everything you do.

I rolled my eyes and deleted the message.

~*~*~

H
is bed was wonderful. It was an amazing waterbed, he bragged he’d bought it just a few weeks before. I had always been afraid of them, but this was a cellular supported water bed that didn’t slosh when I climbed on. I sank into it and waited for Sexy Rock God to come out of the bathroom so I could put the negligee on. He walked out in the satin boxers, as promised. I grabbed my bag and shut the door behind me.

I took a deep breath and looked in the mirror. I’d never worn anything like this before and judging by what I was seeing in the mirror this was going to be the only time. It looked like someone had dressed a Thanksgiving turkey in sexy lingerie and forgot to bake it. Not to stuff it though. When I turned, I was horrified to see my breasts jiggle like they really were fresh out of a Jell-O mold.

Still, this was what Nick had asked me to buy. He called the models on the website ‘lusciously curvaceous’- I’d called them photoshopped. Yes, they were distinctly plus size models, but there wasn’t a dimple on an ass anywhere. No plus size model didn’t have a lick of cellulite! Still, they all looked gorgeous in the mere suggestions they were wearing and Nick plopped down his credit card for me. “Surprise me, kitten.”

And here I was—in the skimpiest, sexiest outfit I never thought I’d ever own. I owned plenty of stuff from the club, but none of it was meant to be worn in private. I had tried on the lingerie when it had arrived yesterday, and now he wanted to see what he bought me. I had to admit, I wanted him to peel me out of it.

Nick D, the shaggy-haired rock god of Pittsburgh and double PhD in Chemistry, was waiting for me in his bed. How the hell did I get here? And welcome back, fan girl. Behave yourself; we’ve been at this for a few weeks now. I took another deep breath and pulled everything into place once more, then turned and walked out of the bathroom.

Nick was lying on the bed on his back with his arms behind his head. He looked me up and down like Wile E Coyote eyeballing the Roadrunner. I almost wanted to say ‘meep meep’ and run away.

Ok, mostly I wanted to run away.

“Oh, my God, kitten,” he said, sitting up. “You look lickable. Those shoes...”

Oh, the shoes. Yeah, those were a touch I added later. I had on a black baby doll with a lace bodice, a garter and a pair of black lace thigh-highs. The panties were something to try and keep some modesty in mind, but they were mostly annoying. But the shoes... Bona fide ‘come fuck me pumps’ - pink with metal spikes on the back and a four inch heel. I blushed like a virgin. “You like it?”

“Very much,” he said, and motioned me over. He watched everything on me move as I walked to the bed. He rubbed himself and I realized he was hard. And Praise the Lord, the boxers weren’t doing a very good job of containing him.

“God, I had no idea you were going to let the wildcat out, Morgan.” He circled around me, running his hand up and down my arm. It was a weakness now: he instantly revved up every part of me. It was like an on switch, and my nipples were now very ‘on’.

“I’ve never had anything like this before, and I figured if I was going to be a wanton harlot for you, I should go all the way.”

“Well done.” He stopped in front of me. “Oh, God. Are those laces on your tits?”

“Yes,” I said, his use of the slightly less than polite term doing wonderful things to me. “You said most of the time lingerie ends up on the floor. I wanted something that wasn’t going to
just
get peeled off. You can untie them and move them out of your way.”

He ran his hand around my back and down my ass. “Garters?”

“Thigh highs, and...” I leaned in close to him, “Crotchless panties.”

Nick let out a long slow breath. “I’m just going to give you a credit card, because I want you to fill up your closet with these naughty suggestions.”

“So you like it?” I asked, innocently. Really innocently. It made me feel sexy, but at the same time the image of that naughtily dressed, uncooked turkey came back into my head.

He put his hands on my shoulders and moved me over to the bed, pressing me back. I laid down and he pushed my arms up over my head. He was staring at me again like I was dinner, and he was starving. The turkey flashed through my mind again, and I couldn’t stop the snort. He peered at me confused, and I pursed my lips. A moment later, his questioning look not going away, I said, “You looked like you’re going to eat me.”

“I am,” he said.

I worked at a bar in the kinkiest club in all of Pittsburgh, and I had never heard those words come out of someone’s mouth sounding so sexy. Especially Nick D’s mouth while I lay in such a vulnerable position on his bed. And all of a sudden, I wanted nothing more than for him to do just that to this over-stuffed turkey. “But you just had dinner.”

He motioned me to scoot up, and I did. “You’re dessert.” He climbed on the bed with me and situated himself between my legs, spreading them while he softly stroked the thigh highs I was wearing. “These are a nice touch,” he said, and lowered his head to nibble on exposed skin. “I think you should always wear these. I want to peel you out of that suit one day and find you’re just wearing a garter and stockings.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I asked. “Knowing I’m sitting there all proper and buttoned up and my whole pussy just completely uncovered.” Holy ever mother loving shit. I confess to him that I’m secretly a wanton harlot, and now I need to prove it?

“Ohh, shit,” he hissed. “You’d do that?”

Would I? I looked up into the eyes of my Adonis, and realized that, “For you, yes I would. As long as you take me home and ravage me afterwards.”

“Any day, kitten,” he said. He lowered his head to my framed sex and licked gently. Light flashed through my brain at the touch of his tongue and I squirmed and pushed further onto the bed. He followed me, stopping when he was at the delicate little bows holding the lace closed over my breasts. He snagged it between his teeth and pulled the bow, the ribbon falling to the side and my breast slipping forward, pushing the lace away. He made a happy little purring sound and captured the hard bead in his lips, suckling hard. I thrashed a little on the bed under his careful ministrations. This was amazing. I was in Nick D’s bed at his house, in nothing but a babydoll and crotchless panties. His lips on me felt better than any dream I’d ever had. While I liked the voyeur stuff, knowing he could take his time with me now ramped me up to a whole new level.

He paused a moment later and looked up at me. “Baby?”

“Why’d you stop?” I whispered. I was really getting into this and he stops? Bastard.

“Uh, Morgan, kitten, did you... come?”

“I need a little more than that, Nick,” I said and looked at him. He was confused again “What...?”

“This is horrible to ask, but did you... pee?”

“No!” I gasped. “Ew, no. I’m not that kind of kinky. What’s going on?” I sat up, horrified.

He looked down, lifting himself up and I could see the sheets were clearly getting wet. We both stared for a long minute and then Nick gasped and jumped up. “Oh, shit there’s a leak!”

I launched off the bed and started pulling off the sheets while Nick sprinted out of the room. I piled everything in the corner and ran for towels in the bathroom, grabbing as many in a single armful as I could, and started throwing them over the pooling water. Nick came running back two minutes later with a garden hose.

He handed me one end and motioned to the window. “Toss it out,” he said as he quickly found the outlet, attached the refill valve to and screwed on the hose. The water started to rush down the hose and out the window and the leak didn’t empty out as fast after just a minute.

I stood with her hand over my mouth, staring astonished, and Nick with his hands on his hips, puzzling out what had just happened to his brand new waterbed. He walked over to the thoroughly soaked towel and pulled it off, throwing it into the bathroom. I joined him at the side of the bed and saw the leak was continuing to slow down.

To my utter horror, there were a dozen small to medium size puncture holes in the vinyl in two spots. I gasped and wanted to die, or slide down the hose out the window. Nick looked down at my shoes, realizing the same thing I did. He reached down and pulled off one of the hot pink pumps and lined up the metal spikes on the back perfectly with the holes in the waterbed’s mattress.

I didn’t know what to do. My cute pink bedroom shoes had just wrecked his brand new bed. I was half naked in Nick D’s bedroom while he crawled up me, and I went and stuck my shoe through the bed. Not just through the mattress either, there were probably matching holes in the sheets. Fuck. I was horrified.

“I’m so sorry, Nick!” I whispered, wrapping my arms around myself, trying to retie the cups of the babydoll. “I’ll replace it. Give me a minute and I’ll—”

Nick took my hand. “Morgan, stop. It wasn’t you.” He laughed lightly.

Oh, fab. The Stuffed Turkey with the grace and elegance of a rock. I didn’t mean to do that; a moment later I started to get angry at him. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Morgan, we punctured my waterbed with sex shoes,” he chuckled.

My breath hitched in complete embarrassment. The only way this could get worse was if I didn’t hold onto the tears. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Fuck no,” he said, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his chest. “Seeing you dressed like this was worth the price of the waterbed.” He started laughing. “We busted the bed, Morgan. Oh, my God, we busted the bed.”

I giggled a little, realizing he didn’t hate me for this, and then I started roaring with laughter. “We busted the bed with come fuck me pumps!”

“There’s no way we’re going to be able to keep this quiet.” Nick could barely breathe for the laughing. He was holding me against him and I could feel the laughter shaking through him. The best part about it was—he didn’t hate me, he didn’t tell me to leave. He actually found the whole thing funny and not because the fat chick popped the bed. I wrapped my arms around him, and laughed right along with him.

“Well, thank God for spare bedrooms and spare beds,” Nick eventually gasped. “Particularly one my sexy wanton harlot is not in danger of popping with these incredible shoes.”

Before I knew what was going on, I found myself hoisted off the floor and tossed over his shoulder. I was staring down at a top profile of the ass I so adored, but at the same time—“Oh, my
God
! Nick! Put me down! You’re going to hurt yourself! What the hell are you doing!?” He started walking with me over his shoulder.

“Shut up, woman!” he laughed, and smacked my ass hard. I gasped at the hit—not expecting it, but not really complaining. He walked me out of the master bedroom down to a guest room and flopped me on the bed.

“Nicholas Dovadsky!” I yelled sitting up. “Don’t you ever pick me up like that again! I am overweight and you’re going to break your back!”

He pushed me back on bed and crawled up to cover my body with his body, again. Shit I couldn’t deny I liked him like this... He stared down hard into my eyes. “Kitten, you are not going to tell me I can’t pick you up and carry you to my bed. If I want to pick you up, I’m going to pick you up and take you to the bed and ravage you.”

I sighed. “Nick, I’m fat, you have to be careful.”

He slammed his mouth on mine and delved in savagely with his tongue, teasing and dancing across my lips. Sweet Lord, this man knew how to kiss in twelve different languages, and I love each and every movement of him against me. I arched up into him, my body knowing more what I needed than my head at that point.

He backed off, and I was left breathless beneath him. “Now, you listen to me, Morgan Kirkbride. You are a gorgeous, unbelievably sexy woman, and I’m not going to hurt myself picking you up and carrying you. I do not ever want to hear you call yourself fat around me again.”

Realty check, Nick. Skinny girls don’t wear a women’s eighteen. “But I am.”

“You have the most luscious breasts I have ever seen,” he said, parting the lace of the cup and finding my nipple. He knew every trick to distract me. “You have hips I could spend a lifetime holding on to. You have the most incredible pussy; I could spend a day lost in, just licking and teasing and tasting.” I felt my core contracting when he dusted his fingers over me. Well of course, the fact he was latched on to my breast like a lamprey didn’t hurt either. He nipped at the suddenly swollen tip and I gasped. “I will not allow you to call yourself fat so maliciously.”

“Nick...” I tried to plead my case for not breaking his back carrying me around.

“Good God, woman, don’t you feel what you do to me?” He ground his hips into me, the erection rubbing the satin of his boxers against my very wet, very anxious inner sex. “Please, kitten, don’t call yourself fat. And trust me—I can handle you.”

I smirked. “Oh, can you?”

He reached towards my breast, and untied the ribbon I’d managed to get retied. “Oh, I think I can.” He released the ribbon and once again, the lace parted and my nipple instantly responded to him. Nick’s hot tongue ran around it, teasing the areola and never touching the erect tip. “I think I can do more than just handle you, Morgan Kirkbride.”