Unwritten (15 page)

“Are you OK, Brooke?” Rich asked, as he began teasing my nipples with his fingers.

“Oh yes, please. don’t. stop.”

“Your wish is my command.”

I loved how Rich had me bent over before him. This position allowed for the deepest penetration. I assumed that in this pose, he would be in complete control of my body, but I quickly realized that the farther I leaned over, the deeper he could go in. In order to slow Rich’s movement within me, I adjusted my stance so that I wasn’t bent over as far, and his thrusting became shallower. Within seconds of my orgasm, I folded my body over completely, as Rich thrust deeply within me a few more times. I felt Rich’s orgasm ripple through him almost immediately.

“Wow,” was all I heard escape his lips as I slowly stepped away from him and returned to an upright position.

“Whoever said the G-spot doesn’t exist has never done that before.”

Rich erupted in laughter as he pulled me into him once more.

“Oops, I can’t believe I actually said that out loud,” I said, feigning innocence.

After nearly forty-five minutes in the shower, exploring each other’s bodies, we decided it was time to get out and get ready for our day. After all, I really did want to see at least some of the city. I was sitting on the edge of Rich’s bed watching him prepare for our day in the city, when I heard my phone chirp once again with an incoming text message. I quickly got up and grabbed my purse, remembering that I was supposed to call Cassidy the night before.

Cass: You better be dead on a sidewalk somewhere because I am worried sick, Brookie. Seriously, text me back, or I will hunt you down and kill you myself!

Ack! Sorry, Cass, I’m a terrible friend. I’m fine. Just about to head into the city to do a little sight-seeing before I catch my flight back to Detroit. I’ll call you when I land.

Cass: Thank God, you’re OK! I thought I was going to have to come fight a bear for you. I'd fight a bear for you, you know? Not a grizzly, or brown bear … or a koala … But like a Care Bear? I'd fight one of those sonsabitches for you. ;)

OMG! I don’t even know how to respond to that … Are you drunk? At 10 a.m. in the morning?

Cass: Nope, I found that on that Pinterest site that I was telling you about. Isn’t it hilarious? I just wanted to make my girl smile. Although, something tells me someone else has already taken care of that for me. Call me the second your flight lands! I need deets!

I will. Love you!

Cass: Love you, too! Safe travels, bbopof! Xxoo

I shook my head and smiled at my best friend’s use of our nickname. We joked that we actually created texting terms years before cell phones were even on the market. We were probably still using crayons when we decided we’d be “Best Buddy O’ Pal O’ Friends” forever. It’s always stuck and it’s always been just for us. Just as I was about to turn my phone off and go back to concentrating on Rich, I heard my phone chime in once more.

Cass: P.S. If you find any other hot guys please pack them in your suitcase for your girl! ;)

You really are a handful, Cass. Love you, bbopof! Xxoo

I tossed my phone back in my purse and looked up to see Rich staring at me with a quirky grin, plastered on his face. Walking toward me, wearing only his jeans which hung low on his waist, he stopped just inches away from where I was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“What’s got your face twisted all up, Davis?” I asked.

“I’m smiling at the most bewitching girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing in my bed. Do you have a problem with that, Anderson?”

I felt immediate warmth on my cheeks and I was almost certain I was blushing at Rich’s sudden declaration.

“Bewitching? That’s a pretty fancy word, Rich,” I replied.

“I am the editor of one of the world’s most influential newspapers, sweetheart. My vocabulary is rather extensive. Just wait till I break out some of my words on you in bed.”

“You’ve had me in bed. Not once, but … twice,” I said as I held up two fingers. I let my fingernails trace down his rock-hard abdomen, taking extra time to admire that perfect V. “And, I don’t remember you doing a lot of talking, really, just a lot of … groaning.”

“Actually, Brooke, I’ve had you three times, if you count the shower sexcapade,” he quipped, placing extra emphasis on the word “had.”

“See, my math skills are pretty good, too. And, let’s not forget my mad bedroom skills. I’m just a talented man, I guess. Oh, and I’ll groan for you any time, any place.”

“As much as I would love for you to have me again, Mr. Davis, we need to get out of here if I’m ever going to make a dent in my sightseeing list.”

“Seriously, Brooke? I really don’t know why you care about seeing the Washington Monument so badly. It’s just a prime example of phallic architecture. I bet you’re more impressed with the ‘Washington Monument’ in my pants, anyways.”

“Oh my god … you are too much, Rich,” I said, as I lightly smacked him across his chest. “Now put a shirt on and let’s get moving.”

T
he sun was beginning to fade in the distance and I knew my time in our nation’s capital was quickly ending. Rich and I had covered a lot of ground during the afternoon, once I got him out of his penthouse, at any rate. We may have been distracted by his bed once more, before he finally put his shirt on and agreed to come on my little sightseeing excursion.

Along with taking me to see the Washington Monument, the White House and Lincoln Memorial, Rich insisted on taking me to his favorite deli for a late lunch where I indulged on the thickest sourdough bread and fresh tomato bisque.

After lunch, Rich argued with me for several minutes about my list, insisting that he knew of some much better areas of the city that weren’t included on my list from
Frommer’s
travel guide. I finally gave in to his pouty nature, pointing it out to him, and decided to give up my trip to the Smithsonian’s National Zoo, in favor of his walk through historic Georgetown.

I would never admit this to him, but I knew he was right the minute we stepped off our DC Circulator Bus; the view of the stately homes, Potomac and Francis Scott Key Bridge were magnificent. I really had no words as we walked through the neighborhood. A small flea market and vendor area had been set up in the neighborhood as it was “Fall Harvest Days,” as advertised on a banner hanging above the lampposts.

Rich grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the vendors. He bought us two caramel apples and a large, frozen, apple-cider slushie to share. Trying to avoid “brain freeze” from a large gulp of the sticky, sweet, frozen concoction, I glanced in Rich’s direction to see him purchase a beautiful, handmade, beaded necklace. Returning to me, he soon wrapped the gorgeous purchase around my neck which had green beads of the most beautiful hues.

“I thought it matched the color of your eyes, at least today anyways, since you’re wearing that emerald sweater. Your eyes have always intrigued me, Brooke. They’re like the most exotic chameleon, always changing colors.”

“You shouldn’t have, Rich, but thank you. It’s beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” he added.

Before I got too distracted by Rich’s charming words, I walked over to the next vendor booth. It was filled with all sorts of cheap baubles from toy race cars to fashion dolls with creepy, googly eyes. In one of the farthest bins, I noticed a toy that I hadn’t seen in years. I reached over to grab the pink-foam top of the Ice Cream Punch Cone. I clicked on its release button just as Rich was walking toward me. I couldn’t stifle the laugh as the foam top bopped him square in the face.

“Ouch. What was that for, Anderson?”

“Sorry, Davis. You walked into that one, literally. Wrong place, wrong time, I suppose,” I giggled while giving him an apologetic shrug.

“Well, Brooke, I did walk right into that one, but whenever you are involved, it will never be the wrong place, or the wrong time.

“If I’m being honest though, that ice cream would be better if it was the real deal and I was licking it off your gorgeous body.”

Rich had this ability of turning even the most innocent thing into my wildest, sexual fantasy.

“You and your lines, Davis,” I said, as I swatted my palm against his chest. Damn the cool weather and the jacket that was covering Rich’s hard abs and solid arms. I tried to act annoyed by Rich’s flirtations, but I was trying my hardest not to soak through my panties. I had to get my mind off of Rich and what he could do, or rather did to me in bed.
Ice Cream Punch Cone, Ice Cream Punch Cone, Ice Cream Punch Cum
… It became a chant in my head – anything to forget my desires.

“I’m sorry, but did you just say ice cream punch cum?”

Shit, I didn’t even realize I’d said anything out loud. And,” cum?” Crap I said, “cum?”

“No, I said ice cream punch CONE.” I made sure to enunciate “cone.” I continued to recall the memory in hopes of distracting Rich, or maybe myself.

“I haven’t seen one of these in decades. I remember I begged my mom to buy me one at a storytelling festival we attended one summer. I took it home and bopped our cat in the face, repeatedly. As I recall, he growled, hissed and ran in the opposite direction.” I couldn’t help but laugh at the memory.

“Lucky for you, sweetheart, I won’t hiss and run away, but I can’t promise that I won’t growl.”

I had no words, but just rolled my eyes in Rich’s direction.

I bought the pink punch cone for Kaitlyn and we headed back into the open neighborhood, losing track of time as we strolled hand-in-hand through the community.

“Is this up to your standards, Brooke?” Rich said as he caught me gazing up at the sky.

“What?”

“Do you like this area?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, it’s beautiful here. I was just wishing that I didn’t have to go back home tonight. It’s been such a whirlwind these last two days. I almost feel like I’m dreaming.”

“You aren’t dreaming, Brooke. Everything you’ve experienced is real. Every place you have visited is real. I am real. And, most importantly, sweetheart, we are very real.”

I swear this man knew exactly what to say that would take my breath away at that exact moment.

“We can’t be too real, Rich, not if I intend to fly home tonight, pack my bags and move here to accept this job, this job that you are supposedly offering me in the morning … this job where you’ll be my boss. This job has been my dream longer than I can remember.”

“We can make this work, Brooke.” His eyes and his voice were almost pleading with me to consider what he was offering.

My dream job and my dream man … all wrapped up in one pretty package.
Who am I kidding? … One fucking gorgeous package. All I needed was the goddamn red bow.

As much as it pained me to say it, I knew it could never work between Rich and me and I couldn’t lead him on any more than I already had.

“It can’t work for us, Rich – not for you and me. If we were going to make it work, it would’ve happened years ago. We’ll be colleagues and nothing more. It’s all that I want.” I had to lie to him and hold back my tears all at the same time. I could see his chiseled jaw drop at my confession. He looked utterly crushed and that was all my doing.

“You know you don’t really mean that, Brooke.”

“I … I should get back to my hotel to grab my bag. I’ll understand if you’d like to say our goodbyes here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Babbling Brooke. You may have just gutted me, but my mother still taught me to be a gentleman,” he said, with both sarcasm and dejection in his voice.