Undersold (6 page)

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Authors: B. B. Hamel

BOOK: Undersold
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“I’ve been thinking about this every day since we first messaged,” I whispered back. He breathed in my smell and kissed my neck. I felt the muscles in my back tense and relax as more pleasure ran up my spine.

Once he was down my neck, he pulled his hand away and dropped onto his knees. I let out a small sound of displeasure at him stopping, and he gave me that lopsided grin again.

“Remember what I said about wanting to taste you? No more out of you.”

I nodded, my mouth open. I ached for his touch, but this lull in contact was only heightening my desire for him. He reached up the sides of my legs and grabbed the top of my panties. I lifted my hips and let him pull them down and off me. He dropped my underwear on the ground and gently but firmly pushed my legs open.

He kissed along the inside of my thigh and moved the hem of my dress up as he went. Each kiss was a new string of joy and sensation as he moved closer. He was moving purposefully slow, and each kiss and lick built the anticipation. By the time my dress was up over my hips and his tongue pressed firmly against my swollen pleasure, I needed him so badly I could barely think.

“Oh god, Mr. Green,” I whispered and ran my fingers through his thick hair.

He pulled his face back and looked up at me. “Say my name again.”

“Mr. Green,” I whispered, and he began to run his tongue around in circles along my firm clit. I squeezed his hair and grasped on as the muscles in my back tensed again. I felt his tongue run around and down inside of me before returning up to move all around my clit. He alternated speed and pressure in a way I’d never felt before, and it made my head roll back and my shoulders tense with the pleasure. I could feel the slight stubble on his chin and cheeks rub against my thighs and the roughness only intensified the pleasure of his soft and wet tongue.

“Yes, right there, stay there, Mr. Green,” I whispered, as his tongue hit a sensitive spot and pressure in the perfect way. I could feel myself building toward climax, but was so desperate for this moment to last.

“Mr. Green, I’m so close, yes, keep it right there,” I moaned, and grabbed his hair. His hands grabbed my hips and I rubbed against his tongue. We moved together, my hips rocking in his hands and his tongue against my swollen clit, again and again, and I couldn’t stop myself from letting out small quiet moans. I felt the pleasure build inside, and the climax came on slowly but powerfully. My back muscles tensed and I pushed his head hard against me. I felt his tongue move to match the pace of my hips and my head leaned back as the orgasm rolled up my body in tiny spasms.

It felt like it lasted for hours, until finally my body calmed down. I loosened my grip on his head, realizing I had been grabbing it roughly. He slowed down the pace of his tongue, and stopped as my body came back under control. He moved his head back, but not before breathing my smell in deeply. He was smiling. I felt like I had blacked out. I had never experienced an orgasm that strong before.

“You smell amazing,” he said.

I was a little embarrassed, but the glow was too good to deny. I giggled quietly and stretched my arms up above my head as he rocked back onto his feet and stood up. I felt satisfied and drained all at once. More than that, I realized my core of self-doubt, the nagging sense of being not good enough, which usually held me back, was missing. I felt free and confident and right for the first time in longer than I could remember, probably since my mother died. I looked at him like I was seeing him for the first time, not just his body, but who he was. His hair was a mess but he looked perfect. I could see his firm cock outlined against his tight pants. I leaned forward and reached out, possessed with this newfound confidence. I pressed my hand and was amazed at how hard and large he was. He smiled down at me.

“Is it my turn now?” I asked.

He crouched down again and moved my hand. He kissed me hard on the mouth, which only excited me more. Usually, a guy moving my hand from his cock would destroy me, but he made it seem so natural and normal. From the way he carried himself, I knew I had to do whatever he wanted.

“Not just yet,” he said, pulling away. “I’m afraid we may have been a little too loud.”

I turned bright red. “I’m sorry!”

“Not your fault at all. I take it as a compliment.” He kissed me again, and then sat back in his chair.

I pulled my dress down and adjusted myself. He ran his fingers through his hair and did his best to fix the mess I had made. He bent down and grabbed my underwear, and he helped me slide them back on. I couldn’t get the image of his mouth between my legs out of my head, and my heart was still pounding.

“That was perfect,” I said quietly.

“Let’s meet later tonight.” He pulled my chair closer to him and pressed his hands against my hips. “I have to work late, but after.”

“I’d love that.”

“How does dinner sound?”

“Great, anything sounds great.” I was babbling and repeating words but couldn’t help myself. I was lost in the post-orgasm glow, and couldn’t believe my luck.

“Dinner it is then. I’ll pick you up around nine.”

“That would be perfect.” I couldn’t believe he was going to take me out.

He grinned big. “Alright then, let’s get back to work. Remember that, work?”

I laughed. “I can barely remember anything right now.”

We turned back to the laptop screen, but spent the rest of our meeting together laughing, kissing, and talking about nothing. We didn’t get any work done that morning.

11.

I
keep thinking about you,
the text from Shane read.

I was sitting on my couch at home, thinking the same thing. His strong hands on my hips and his tongue all over me were the only things I could picture all day. I had just gotten home, and was killing time until I could see him again. I mean, this guy was so deeply a part of my thoughts right now that I couldn’t forget him even if I wanted to.

I thought you were working, Mr. Green?
I sent back playfully.

Don’t start with that. I’ll have to leave this meeting early.

Oh, sorry Mr. Green. I don’t know what you mean.

You know exactly what I mean
.

I think you just loved getting your cute new employee off.

I did love that.

I had been lost in the glow all day, and I could barely think about anything else. I put my phone down and went into my closet, which suddenly was small and ugly. Nothing looked right, nothing was cute enough. Frustrated, I took a short shower, and finally decided on a tight dress, thin black stockings, and small heels. I didn’t know where we were going, so I decided to walk the line between casual and dressy.

At nine on the dot, my door buzzed. I grabbed my smaller bag, which I had packed with an extra pair of panties and some other overnight essentials, just in case. I felt a little presumptuous, but I couldn’t help myself.

He stood outside of my building. He was wearing an untucked gray button-down shirt and tailored dress pants. His sleeves were rolled up just below the elbow. He looked perfectly handsome and self-controlled, like he owned the streets and everything on them. He smiled up at me with that grin of his, and my stomach did flips.

“Got changed for me, I see,” I said.

“I had a feeling you’d outdo me if I didn’t.” He exaggerated looking me up and down. “Looks like you did anyway.”

“Oh stop,” I said, laughing. We walked down my stoop and climbed into a black town car. There was a fogged glass partition separating us from the driver, and once we climbed in, the car started moving.

“So, where to?” I asked.

“A place I own, over on Market. I hope you like Italian.”

“I love Italian.” I looked over at him. He was staring out the window with a faraway look on his face. I reached over and touched his hand.

“Is something wrong?”

He looked at me and shook his head. “Not at all. I just haven’t taken a woman out in awhile.”

“Oh yeah, sure. I bet this is your first date in years.” I didn’t believe him at all, but I could tell something was going on with him.

He smiled. “Actually, it is.”

“Yeah, right. And I’m the rich one.”

“Really, it is. It’s hard when you value your privacy and you’re someone like me. People recognize me in public, even though there are so few pictures of me out there. That’s only the case because I’ve worked so hard at keeping them to a minimum.”

“So you haven’t dated all this time?” It seemed like such a waste for a man that looked like him not to be with women, although it was hard for me to admit that.

His smile turned into a grin. “I didn’t say that, exactly. Just haven’t taken a girl out in public like this in awhile.”

I blushed and hit his shoulder. It felt like a piece of stone. He laughed at me, and the drive flew by as we moved our way through Philly traffic.

––––––––

A
t the restaurant, he was quiet. It was upscale Italian, but intimate and the room was mostly empty. It was only a Tuesday night, and it was after the usual dinner rush, so we had the place more or less to ourselves. There were a few other scattered groups, but nobody I recognized. He ordered a bottle of wine I had never heard of and that wasn’t on the menu.

“How’d you know to get that?” I asked.

“Remember, I own this place.”

I laughed. “Seriously? I thought you were kidding.”

“Yes, seriously. I think the only person who recognized me is the manager though, and he knows better than to run around telling everyone. Discreet people keep jobs in my employ.”

I smiled and shook my head with disbelief. I didn’t know he owned any restaurants, but it made sense. He certainly had enough money. He could own half the city for all I knew, and he probably did.

When the wine came, he held his glass up, and looked me in the eyes.

“To you and I. And to all the dirty texts you sent me.”

I laughed. “You mean, to all the dirtier texts
you
sent
me.

We clinked glasses, and drank. We chatted idly about our lives, but he looked distracted, and kept glancing toward the door. I told him about my brothers, but didn’t mention Derek’s drug problems, or any details about my mother’s death. I stuck mostly to my dad, his cancer, and my brother John’s successes. Shane didn’t say much about his own family, and spent most of the conversation nodding and asking questions about my story. He was evasive whenever I asked him anything directly, and he steered the conversation toward me whenever possible. When our food arrived, I realized I had spent most of the night talking about myself.

“This must be really boring,” I said. I took a bite of my fish and it was delicious.

“This isn’t boring at all,” he said. He ate a bite of his pasta and sipped his wine. He kept looking toward the door.

“I’d love to hear about your family,” I said.

“There’s not much to hear.”

“Come on, what was your dad like?”

He gave me a serious look. It surprised me, the sudden intensity. “Like I said, there’s not much to say.”

We started eating in silence. He picked at his food, and drank another glass of wine. There was a tension sitting over the table that I didn’t understand, and I was struggling. Did I offend him by asking a question about his family? I knew he needed privacy, and he had mentioned something about rules. Had I just broken one?

“Is something wrong?” I asked, finally breaking the tension. “You’ve been distracted all night.”

He let out a deep sigh. “You’re right. I apologize.”

“What’s going on?”

He paused. “I like being near you, I hope you understand that.”

I felt my stomach do flips.

“I like it, too.”

“It’s just that, I don’t think I can do this.” His face was serious but pleading, and his flint colored eyes looked sad in a way I couldn’t understand.

I felt my face drop. Was he breaking up with me? I didn’t even realize we were officially together. The knot of self-doubt twisted itself in my chest and I realized he was sick of me already. Too average, not sexy, not fun. He got his taste and didn’t like it enough to stick around.

“Okay, I get it,” I said quietly, staring down at my food.

“Wait, you misunderstand.”

I looked up, surprised. “What do you mean? You’re done with me. I get it.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m being unclear. What I mean is, I can’t do
this
.” He gestured to the restaurant.

“You mean, Italian food?” I didn’t know what he meant, and tried a lame joke instead.

He laughed a little. “No, I mean, being out in public. I know this is going to sound horrible, but I can’t do a public romance. I’m sitting here imagining paparazzi getting a picture of the two of us, and what that might do to your life. I can’t get that image out of my head. You, hounded by cameras, the strain it would put on your life.”

I could feel the hope coming back inside of me. That made sense, given everything. But more than that, he was talking about us as if we were an item, as if we were together.

He kept talking. “I have rules which keep me out of the spotlight. This is the life that I chose, for a lot of reasons. But the public life isn’t one you chose, and I won’t ask you to do that.”

“Shane, I want to keep seeing you.” His face softened as I spoke.

“I know, and I want that too. I just don’t know how to do this. Sneaking you around won’t be fair, but I can’t risk publicity.”

What was he hiding that so horrible? I kept thinking that, over and over, as we had this conversation. What secrets made this man?

“We can figure it out. I understand what you’re saying, and I’m willing to figure out something that works for us,” I said.

He shook his head sadly. “Maybe we can, or maybe we can’t. But the strain of it will be awful. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“I’m an adult, Shane. I can make my choices. And I’m choosing this.”

He reached out and took my hand. The electricity between our fingers was still there, and stronger than ever.

“I know you can,” he said softly.

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