Nerds are Freaks Too Koko Brown Roxanne is stunned when her best friend, Leo, admits his feelings for her—she’s so not going there. Lovers may come and go, but true friends are hard to find. Instead, she enlists his help to sign her up for an online fetish dating site. She immediately meets a man who can help her explore her kinky side, starting with a chat session that leads to the best orgasm of her life. While her body’s satisfied, her mind can’t forget Leo’s confession… Leo, meanwhile, isn’t giving up so easily. He knows Roxanne like the back of his hand, knows what she needs, and he’s more than equipped to give it to her. Subtle touches, a sexy spanking, the most erotic dessert-eating session ever… Leo is successfully proving that computer nerds can be sexual freaks too—until Roxanne discovers his secret. One that could kill not only a potential relationship, but their longtime friendship as well.
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
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Nerds are Freaks Too ISBN 9781419935480 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Nerds are Freaks Too Copyright © 2011 Koko Brown Edited by Kelli Collins Cover design by Syneca Photography: CURAphotography/Shutterstock.com Electronic book publication August 2011 The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book. The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for, author or third-party Web sites or their content.
NERDS ARE FREAKS TOO Koko Brown
Dedication I would like to give huge thanks to Briana St. James for giving me such great advice; Lena Matthews for all the tough love that set me back on track; and Jaid Black and Kelli Collins for taking a chance on the unknown. All of you ladies rock!
Koko Brown
Chapter One “What qualities are you looking for in your Mr. Right?” Roxanne glanced up at the bakery’s carnation-pink ceiling and pretended to mull over the question. “I think he should be young, hung and full of cum.” Apparently not amused, her best friend Leonidas slammed his laptop shut. “I’m out of here.” He began to stand but Roxanne grabbed his hand. “I’m only teasing, Leo. Please don’t leave.” Roxanne glanced at the booth next to theirs. A group of Catholic schoolgirls sat across from them. They munched on chocolate cupcakes and giggled over the current issue of some bubble gum magazine, but Roxanne leaned forward just in case. “I’m nervous about this whole online dating thing. If you don’t help me, I’ll end up with some bald, sixty-year-old guy with a postage stamp fetish.” A smirk lifted one corner of Leo’s mouth as he pushed his black Buddy Holly-esque glasses up the bridge of his nose. The thick glass magnified the size of his beautiful blue eyes. For the thousandth time, Roxanne wished he’d ditch them. His baby blues rivaled Jake Gyllenhaal’s. “If you’re so skittish about online dating, why sign up? You’ve never had an issue meeting men.” True. With her Coke-bottle size-twelve curves, gregarious personality and confidence equivalent to a she-lion’s, Roxanne never had trouble meeting men. Just not the right man. Silently cursing how well he knew her, Roxanne pulled on her earlobe. “Roxie…” Leo coaxed.
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She wanted to squirm. Talking to a guy with a Mensa-certified I.Q. of one hundred and fifty-one about needing more variety in your sex life seemed so trivial. “You don’t want to hear the boring details.” “Try me,” he replied, relaxing back into the booth. Roxanne caught his gaze and held it. “No judgments?” “Have I ever judged you?” Actually, no. Despite all the tomfoolery she’d committed over the years, Leo had always been tolerant. “I’m hornier than a private during Marine Week.” She sighed dramatically. “I haven’t had sex in—” “Eight months, three days and…” Leo glanced down at his watch. Roxanne had given him the titanium timepiece for landing his first client several years ago. “Sixteen minutes and forty-five seconds.” Roxanne wrinkled her nose to keep from laughing. “You’re exaggerating the minutes and seconds.” Leaning forward, she pulled the sugar shaker toward her and fingered the rim. “I guess I’ve over shared one too many times.” Leo inched his index finger toward his thumb. “I’m this close to handing out ‘Get Roxanne Laid’ campaign buttons.” His perfectly timed humor made Roxanne chuckle. “Jokes and horniness aside,” he continued, “I believe the ‘why’ is more important than the ‘how long’.” Damn he’s good! Roxanne sat back, wavering between confession and mule-headed secrecy. She drummed her polished nails against the chrome tabletop, trying to buy herself some time. But Leo’s I-can-outlast-you-any-day look obliterated her game plan. “My sex life is missing something.” “Missing what?” Roxanne glanced at the teen-pop crowd again. “Actually, my sex life is abysmal,” she muttered.
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Leo’s eyebrows jutted above the frames of his black spectacles. “How abysmal?” “Black-hole, Deep Impact abysmal.” Leo rubbed his hand over his mouth and regarded her with what looked like disbelief. “Deep Impact?” Roxanne nodded. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that. Not from the poster girl for young, black and fabulously single in the Windy City. Up until several months ago, you ran through men faster than the NFL draft.” Roxanne winced. She hadn’t been that free with the milk, had she? “You make me sound like a two-piece-chicken-and-biscuit whore.” Leo chuckled. They’d come up with the term in college to define all the co-eds who’d put out for the cheap two-dollar meal from Ray’s Bar-B-Que, a popular late-night hangout. “You know I’ve always followed the motto, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.” His voice dropped an octave. “So, let me get this straight. You stopped having sex because whoever was doing it to you wasn’t doing it for you?” Roxanne smirked. Leo had such a way of putting things. “All of them gave it their best. I think they were just too…” Roxanne paused, hunting for the right word to describe her whitewashed sex life. “Vanilla?” Roxanne rapped her knuckles against the table and Leo’s eyebrows rose another inch. Any higher and they’d blend into his hairline. “Jessina says I need a take-charge kind of guy. A macho man who’ll push me to the edge, make me beg for it.” During her sexual confessional, Leo’s expression grew increasingly pensive. As the seconds of complete silence stretched between them, Roxanne’s insides twisted. For someone who considered herself a sexual being, her lack of a decent sex life made her feel a little inadequate. “If you’re looking for what I think you’re looking for, you’re wasting your time on a traditional dating website.” He slipped out of the booth and moved to her side, sliding
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in next to her. “You need to go directly to the source,” he continued, swiveling his laptop around to face them. With a few quick strokes and a click of the mouse, he pulled up a website with a black background and deep red fonts. The site had the prerequisite smiling couple as its blissful mascot. Instead of the innocent hugging pose, the man wore a half-mask and lay handcuffed to a platform bed while his female companion stood over him with a braided flogger. “WhipADate.com?” she whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from the computer screen. “Why have I never heard about this?” “You’re vanilla, remember?” Leo maneuvered the cursor over the member profile link and clicked enter. “Oh my,” Roxanne breathed as a portal unlike any she’d ever seen unfolded on the screen. “What are those? Sexual fantasies?” she asked, pointing to a sidebar with scrolling text. “Member testimonials of fantasies fulfilled.” Roxanne sat forward. Her eyes devoured a catalogue of member photos featuring full-frontal nudity, skin pinched with wooden clothespins, limbs entwined in rope and chains, and mouths stretched with rubber balls. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she murmured aloud and then shook her head. It was one thing to talk shit, quite another to walk the walk, it seemed. “Everything on this site is real and hardcore. And you’d better be as well, or at least serious about your intentions, because the membership has a tendency to out those who are simply window shopping. If they do, you’re dead in the water and you’ll be using your vibrator for another eight months.” Roxanne stiffened. She and Leo discussed pretty much everything, but never the most intimate details of their sex lives.
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“You’ve never used a sex toy, have you?” Groaning loudly, Roxanne sat back. “It’s confirmed, Houston. I’m vanilla.” Leo drummed his fingers on the keyboard. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? Do you think you’ll be able to let someone else bend you to their every whim?” She might not have a submissive bone in her body, but for some reason the idea of being compliant to someone else’s every wish and command pulled at something deep inside her. “You know, there’s a more sensible alternative.” “There is?” Roxanne hated that she sounded so eager. Leo nodded. “You could start out slow with someone you know. I think―” “Only one problem,” she interjected. “I’ve never backtracked, and I’m not dating anyone currently.” Leo turned toward her and propped his arm on the back of the booth. When his thigh brushed against hers, Roxanne didn’t think anything of it. While in college, they’d often slept in the same bed. However, when Leo didn’t say anything…just sat there staring at her…she started to fidget. “I don’t want you to do this with anyone else, Roxie. I want to introduce you.” Roxanne slapped his thigh. “Ha ha, good one!” Thinking nothing else of his proposal, she picked up her half-eaten red velvet cupcake and took a bite. Too bad the dessert didn’t come with a dick. The mix of chocolate and cream cheese almost made her moan as she devoured the rest of the cake. When she fell back down to earth, Roxanne finally noticed she was the only one laughing. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” She couldn’t keep the incredulous tone out of her voice. “Very,” he replied, powering off his laptop.
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The crumbs in Roxanne’s mouth suddenly turned to dust. She picked up the Mason jar next to her plate and gulped down her milk, wishing it was something stiffer. Never in a thousand years would she have guessed Leo wanted more than friendship! If his tight-lipped answer was any indication, a new millennium had obviously dawned. Roxanne eyed him over her glass. Not as a good friend, but as a woman eyeing a potential lover. Easy on the eyes, Leo had a curly mop of jet-black curls that offset his electric blue eyes and the rich, olive-toned skin he’d inherited from his Greek parents. Those very same genes also contributed to a pair of full lips, high cheekbones and a lean, six-footplus frame that didn’t need much in the form of exercise, even though he worked out on a regular basis. Looks aside, Leo was also very intelligent and the owner of one of Chicago’s most successful internet companies. He’d earned his first million five years ago at the ripe old age of twenty-four. Despite the solid foundation, Roxanne knew she couldn’t go there. Becoming lovers would only complicate things. Boyfriends came and went, true friends did not. Wedged between a rock and a hard place, she decided to grease her way out of a difficult situation with reverse psychology. “You and I both know I’m not your type.” “Not my type?” Leo rolled his eyes. “You’re one of the most desirable women I’ve ever met.” Leo’s light gaze slid over her in a lingering perusal. Hot, predatory and disturbingly wicked, the gaze lingered far too long on her cleavage. Unsettled and feeling a growing itch between her thighs, Roxanne snapped, “Who are you kidding? Every woman you’ve dated sprouted from the same Grow Me a Barbie Petri dish. All of them were size zero, blonde and blue-eyed, just like your exfiancée.” Roxanne winced as a shadow fell over Leo’s expression before he quickly blanketed it. Damn! Leo’s confession had so unsettled her, she’d run roughshod into forbidden territory. 11
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Two years ago, Victoria Carlson, Leo’s former fiancée, had called off their wedding a month before the nuptials on the ridiculous assumption that Leo was in love with someone else. The idea was preposterous. Leo had always been a one-woman man. Roxanne reached out to diminish the damage. When her fingers brushed along his forearm, a jolt of electricity bolted up her own. Startled, she drew back. What was wrong with her? “You’re looking for excuses.” Leo cocked his head and mustered up a tight smile. “I would have never taken you for a coward.” Roxanne’s mouth fell open. “Take it back!” “Coward.” “I think cautious is a better word for it.” Leo tucked his thumbs under his armpits and flapped his arms. “Bock, bock,” he clucked. A patch of giggles erupted across from them. Time to go. Ignoring the whispers and giggles of the parochial set, Roxanne grabbed her clutch bag and pushed Leo from the booth, sliding out behind him. “Let’s take this outside,” she said, nodding at their underage audience. She threw a twenty on the table while Leo gathered his things. Roxanne stepped outside and pulled on her leather gloves. Chicago’s temperature must have plummeted twenty degrees while they’d been inside Let Them Eat Cake. Leo followed, bursting into a speech as soon as he cleared the threshold. “Why won’t you admit it? The real reason you won’t consider me is because you’re not attracted to me. Roxanne Simmons always falls for tall, dark and debonair. Not tall, white and geeky. You like guys who wear cashmere, tailored suits from London and suede horse-bit loafers. Not computer geeks who live in wrinkled khakis, button-down shirts, Chuck Taylors and glasses.” Broadsided by his superficial opinion of her, Roxanne stood rooted to the spot— because she realized she couldn’t entirely disagree. But saying she found him
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unattractive wasn’t exactly the truth. Leo might not be GQ’s man of the year, but there was something about him that appealed to her in a way other men never would. Still, his opinion stung. She refused his hand when he found an opening in traffic, instead picking her own way through Chicago’s midday rush. She needed the brief respite to dampen her hurt and anger. Once on the other side of the street, Leo clicked his key fob, opening the doors to his silver Maserati GranCabrio. Roxanne crossed in front of the shiny four-seater, which Leo called his First Born, and scaled the curb. Miffed by the whole situation, she didn’t get in the car but instead started to pace beside it briskly. “Leo…I’m hurt by what you said back there. I don’t find you unappealing. Far from it.” Roxanne stopped abruptly and faced him. “But you’re my best friend. I love you and I don’t want to lose what we have by downgrading you to a booty call. Think about it. If it doesn’t work between us, can you go back to what we have now?” For several drawn-out seconds, he didn’t say anything. In the late-afternoon sunlight, his exotic features were more pronounced and his gaze twinkled like diamonds behind the black frames of his glasses. “No,” he finally admitted, shoving his hands in the pockets of his khakis. “Once I’ve tasted you, I’d be unable to settle for anything else.” Roxanne blamed the milk she’d gulped down earlier for the sudden flutter in her stomach. “Come on, get in,” he said. “I’ll drop you back off at the boutique. I’ll come over later and we’ll finish your profile.” Roxanne nodded in agreement. But as she slid in beside him, she wondered if what she really needed was online…or already sitting right beside her.
***** Leo realized the dynamic between them had changed the moment Roxanne had climbed into his car. During the half-hour commute across town, she didn’t speak a 13
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word. She’d even taken pains to make sure they didn’t touch, sitting as stiff as an ironing board. And when he’d dropped her off, she’d jumped out of the car so quickly, he could barely say goodbye. Cursing under his breath, Leo gripped the leather steering wheel. He’d opened his big mouth and ruined everything. Leo made a sudden right. As he merged into traffic, he speed dialed his assistant. Instead of returning to his offices overlooking Lake Shore Drive, he headed west outside the Loop and Chicago’s downtown business district. He needed to let off some steam and there was no better place than a round at Halsted Boxing Club. “What’s up, boss?” His personal assistant, Marcello greeted him on the other end. “I need you to clear the rest of my afternoon.” “Okay.” Leo heard the hesitancy in the other man’s voice. “You’re not sick, are you?” If he were in a good mood, Leo would have smiled. He was notorious for his work ethic. He worked so many hours, his staff, which now numbered in the double digits, had nicknamed him the 80-Hour Man―behind his back, of course. “No, I’m heading uptown to HBC. I need to work through some things, let off some steam.” Damn, too much information. His assistant knew he and Roxanne had a late lunch every Tuesday and Thursday. And since he’d left in a good mood, it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out something had gone down between the two of them. Extremely private when it came to his personal life, Leo gripped the steering wheel even tighter. Roxanne had him so turned inside out he wasn’t behaving like himself. There was a long pause on the other end and then Marcello’s baritone voice drifted through the receiver. “No problem, boss. I can shuffle Mr. Lloyd around. Any phone calls you would like me to pass on to you?” “No.” He knew Marcello was fishing for information.
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“See you tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of your day.” “Same to you,” Leo replied automatically. He doubted he’d be able to really enjoy anything for quite some time. He’d made sure of it by alienating Roxanne.
***** Only five blocks from his parents’ home, the Halsted Boxing Club was so far removed from the shiny, spotless gyms most hip Chicagoans flocked to. Truth be known, many locals barely knew the club existed since the brick building still resembled the public bathhouse it once housed during the first half of the nineteenth century. The interior wasn’t much of an improvement. Converted into a boxing club in the early 1950s, Halsted remained dark, dank and smelled worse than the inside of an old gym bag. Leo wouldn’t want it any other way. The place kept him grounded, reminded him of how far he’d come from the hardheaded fourteen-year-old disciple of the No Mercy Graffiti Masters. To this day, Leo still marveled over the fact he hadn’t ended up behind bars or living on a park bench, still breaking into train yards. But he’d straightened his life out—or had it straightened out for him by the gym’s owner. Salvatore Cipriani had caught him defacing the front of the building with a Papadopoulos original. Instead of turning him in to the cops, he’d marched Leo down to his father at the family restaurant and told him to get one last look, because Cipriani now owned Leo’s ass, lock, stock and barrel. The crotchety, third-generation Sicilian hadn’t been bluffing. He put Leo to work fixing what he’d damaged. What should have only been two days, Leo’s punishment lasted two months as Cipriani had him repairing or repainting practically everything. But by then, Leo didn’t care. He was so hooked on boxing he was making up excuses to stick around. Thankfully the old man took pity on him and opened a spot for him on the youth boxing team. One single act of charity had led to half a dozen amateur
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boxing titles and a four-year academic scholarship from the USA Boxing Association, which he’d used to attend Northwestern University. He’d paid his debt, but Leo received far more in return. He attributed his strict personal discipline, his successful career, multimillion-dollar fortune and even Roxanne to boxing. As his thoughts turned to Roxanne, Leo developed a mental hard-on. What’s new? He’d been in lust with the curvaceous brown-skinned beauty since the moment he’d laid eyes on her outside the college bookstore several weeks into their freshman year, and secretly in love with her by the time they’d graduated. Now he’d gone and ruined a perfectly good friendship by allowing his one-eyed monster to lead, instead of his head. After all these years, why had he decided to finally walk the line? Simple—her rare sexual confessional had turned him on. “Great job, dumbass,” Leo muttered, retying the drawstring on his dark-blue athletic pants. “You’re here early.” Salvatore Cipriani’s gravelly bark followed Leo as he set himself up under a speed bag. The club’s owner had just hobbled out of his tiny office, carrying a mug of God knows what in one hand and a folded newspaper in the other. He glanced over at two guys sparring in the club’s center ring and snapped, “Keep your hands up, Rodney, unless you want your head to take the place of your ass.” Without missing a beat, he turned back to Leo. “What’s wrong?” Leo rolled his shoulders. Sometimes he hated how well the old guy knew him. “I came in to exorcise a few demons.” Salvatore’s shaggy eyebrows shot skyward. “Demons? They wouldn’t be of the female kind, would they?” Leo shook his head. Salvatore could read people like a book. “How’d you guess?”
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“You have a great head for business and you’ve tackled everything else with ease. Females, on the other hand, have always been your Achilles heel.” “I hit on Roxanne.” Salvatore nodded solemnly. He’d met Roxanne on several occasions and, with a sixth sense, he’d picked up on Leo’s secret infatuation. And ever since, the old man pestered him on an almost constant basis to finally seal the deal. “’Bout time,” Salvatore barked. “When’s the special day?” Leo shook his head. “Roxanne’s not interested. She doesn’t want to ruin our tenyear friendship.” “Pshaah!” Salvatore waved his newspaper in the air. “What a load of shit. If a woman is really attracted to you, she won’t give a damn if you’ve been friends for three minutes, three days or thirty years.” Leo rested his taped hands on his hips. “Now you know why I’m here rather than at work.” Salvatore swatted the paper against his leg. “What are you going to do?” “Nothing,” Leo muttered. In an attempt to close the subject, he lifted his arms and started working the bag. He didn’t get a chance to work up a momentum because Salvatore stepped around him and smacked his hand against the back of the bag. “Nothing? You’re not going to try to convince her?” “I don’t beg,” Leo countered with more attitude than he felt, but he didn’t need this right now. He was trying to blow off steam, not become even more worked up. “Begging isn’t convincing. She just needs to see you in a different light.” Leo almost rolled his eyes but didn’t out of respect. Salvatore believed he knew the art of seduction like he knew how to train a prize fighter. And he’d trained dozens over the years. “You need to lay down the three Ts.”
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“The three Ts?” Leo asked hesitantly, unsure if he really wanted to know the answer. Salvatore smiled slyly. “You need to tempt her, tease her and make yourself so tantalizing she’ll want you as much as you want her. Oh, and you should cock block any potential suitors. You do know how to do that, don’t you?” “Yes,” Leo replied, humoring his old mentor. “Good.” Salvatore let go of the speed bag. “I’ll leave you to your workout. You’re moving slower than day-old grits. And that’s never a good thing, in or out of the ring.”
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Chapter Two Roxanne clutched her third glass of margarita in one hand, a bottle of Heineken in the other and went to answer the door. Leo had called a little over an hour and a half ago to tell her he was on his way over to help set up her WhipADate.com profile. Her steps slowed. How could she have been so blind? Leo was her best friend. She could read him like the back of her hand. Obviously not. His offer to be more than friends had hit her like a dump truck with no brakes. Thankfully she’d imbibed a couple of margaritas to fortify her nerves. But as she opened the front door, Roxanne realized no amount of fortifying could have prepared her for seeing Leo again. Casually dressed in a pair of well-worn jeans that hugged his thighs, he looked fresh from a shower. His dark curls were still damp and she could see where drops of water must have dotted the collar of his long-sleeved, navy-blue Henley. Were his shoulders always that broad? Before she started to drool, Roxanne focused on his glasses. Instead of being a safety net, the dark frames drew her attention to his high cheekbones and aquiline nose, which helped her notice his full bottom lip— “Hey, you,” he said, his voice interrupting her blatant inspection. Damn, this is going to be hard. “Hey back.” Mentally applauding the casualness in her tone, Roxanne stepped aside to let him in. Per their usual routine, she handed him the beer then locked the door behind him. “The computer’s set up in the den. So we’ll work in there.” There was no way in hell they were going upstairs to her home office. As she led the way into the den, Roxanne found herself overwhelmed by his presence. It seemed to blanket and overshadows everything in the room, including her. Before she fell flat on her back and did something she’d regret, Roxanne hurried over to 19
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the sofa and sank down. She tried to slide over to give him some space but he sat on her skirt, trapping her. For the first time since she’d bought the winter-white maxi skirt, Roxanne regretted the purchase. “I came up with the perfect user name for you.” “Oh really,” she said, tugging on the flowing cashmere. “I think you should use WantTheBIGOne.” Roxanne didn’t care if she resembled a deer in headlights. His recommendation was disturbing on so many levels. Scooting forward, Leo pulled the laptop toward them. His leg settled firmly against hers and Roxanne wondered why she had never noticed his perfect muscle tone. “Like it?” he asked. She more than liked it. Couldn’t he see her hands were shaking? Any harder and she’d spill her drink. Just in case, Roxanne set her glass down on the table. When she sat back, he rested his hand on her knee. “You hate it, don’t you?” “Hate?” she squeaked, as visions of her grabbing his hand and thrusting it between her legs danced before her eyes. “Hate…hate is a harsh term. Is there any particular meaning to the name?” “I’m helping you kill two birds with one stone. You want great orgasms, of course. What’s the point of sex without them? And most women like men who are well endowed.” Imagining Leo giving her the big one, in more ways than one, Roxanne licked her lips. “WantTheBIGOne is perfect,” she said as if through a fog. Was that a smirk on his face? While Leo turned back to the computer, Roxanne found she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him. Fascinated, she noticed the way his muscles rolled under his shirt with
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every keystroke, and how his curls kissed the nape of his neck whenever he leaned forward to peer at the screen. With each passing second, the temperature in the room seemed to bump up a notch, which was impossible of course. It was almost Thanksgiving and close to fifty degrees outside. And Roxanne never turned on the heat until mid-December. Once again, she tried to put some distance between her and the source of the heat, but still found herself pinned. “Now the fun stuff.” Leo sat back some so Roxanne could see the screen. His arm bumped hers and a jolt of electricity ran from the tips of her fingers to her collarbone. She swiftly sat upright and rubbed her chest in an attempt to dispel her reaction. “Are you okay?” “Yes,” Roxanne gushed. “Just having a spasm.” When a frown wrinkled his brow, she rushed forward with an explanation. “Long day, on four-inch heels no less.” Leo shook his head. “I would tell you to shuck those torture machines but you look so damn sexy in them. I read somewhere that women call them fuck-me boots.” Before she went up in a puff of smoke, Roxanne averted her gaze to the computer screen. “S-so what’s the fun stuff?” she stuttered. His use of “fuck” and “sexy” all in the same breath had her wetting her panties. “We need to go through what you’re interested in.” Roxanne breathed a sigh of relief. They were back on neutral ground. “That’s easy. I like shopping in thrift stores, traveling, playing charades, cocktails with intimate conversation and watching old black-and-white movies.” A smile curled Leo’s lips, drawing Roxanne’s rapt attention. Can you add that I also like your lips? “Those are hobbies, and I’ve already entered them. We need to go through your sexual interests.” “My sexual interests?” Confused, it was Roxanne’s turn to frown. “I like men.”
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“That’s good to hear, but that’s not really what the site and its members want to know. Sexual interests include spanking or hair pulling or—” “Hair pulling? Why would anyone— Whoa!” she yelped. Leo had grabbed a hold of her ponytail and tugged it back. Hard. While she stared up at the vaulted ceiling, Leo shifted closer, his body invading her personal space. Her palms grew slick and her thighs parted of their own accord. If he pushed her back on the couch and tried to take advantage of her, she’d so let him. “Do you feel that pleasurable pain?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Now imagine that pressure intensifying twofold as your lover does it while taking you, surging inside you, riding you hard. Now—do you see the draw?” Roxanne squeezed her eyes shut. “Yes,” she gulped. “You can put me down for hair pulling.” Leo tugged on her ponytail twice before letting go. “Good girl.” While Roxanne slowly recovered and tried to figure out why she was so turned on by Leo’s simple praise, he went down her personal sexual checklist. Surprisingly, she said yes to all of them except for foot worship and girl-on-girl. Roxanne was so not a fan of toe jam or potentially sharing her clothes. “What about spanking?” Roxanne felt her butt cheeks flex. “What about them? I mean, what about spanking?” Leo rested his elbows on his thighs. “Are you interested in being spanked?” “Well, I never liked it as a kid.” “Then that’s a no.” Leo reached out to click the no box, but Roxanne grabbed his elbow. He turned his head and looked down at her. “Yes?” “It’s not the same, is it?” Leo rolled his shoulder and Roxanne resisted the urge to bite into him. She could so eat him up right now. “Depends on your partner. Everyone has their limits.” 22
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Days later, Roxanne would question why she said what she said next. “Do you think you can help me find my limit?” Leo cocked his head and Roxanne almost lost her moxie. Needing to defend her reasoning, she continued. “You know, a girl can’t say yay or nay without at least some kind of prior experience.” Roxanne knew she was sending mixed signals. But…why not him? Leo was both a man and seemingly well-versed in the lifestyle she so desperately wanted to explore. Better to test her tenacity with a friend than wasting some stranger’s time. Plus, she trusted Leo with her life. She could certainly trust him with her behind. “Are you asking me to spank you?” “Yes. I want you to spank me.”
Roxanne’s brown eyes widened, as if she were as surprised as Leo was. He thought he saw a hint of pleading there as well. Her eagerness teased his dominant side, but he wasn’t going to bite—not yet, anyway. Remembering the three Ts, Leo smiled at her then turned back to the computer. Even when her hand tightened on his elbow, he shook off the urge to flip her onto his lap and remained motionless. She needed to know who was in charge. “Will you spank me, Leo?” she asked so innocently his heart lurched with guilt. If Roxanne knew her present state of arousal had all been orchestrated with the help of an old and unbelievably wise Sicilian boxing coach, she’d kill Leo, but not before she gutted like a catfish. In truth, he didn’t care. He wanted Roxanne so badly he’d sell his first born son to Rumpelstiltskin. He glanced at her. “I’m waiting on you to say ‘please’.” Her eyes widened again, reminding him an anime character. Then, as if coming out of a trance, she blinked. “Leo, will you spank me, please.”
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Her assent moved Leo more than he’d expected. His heart started to drum almost violently and his balls tightened. Without a word, he reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist. Her mouth parted with a soft sigh and a shiver racked her body. “You know this is only a spanking between friends and not the real thing, right?” She licked her lips. “That’s why I think a taste should be sufficient.” Stifling a groan, Leo fanned his legs outward to relieve the tightness in his ball sac. It didn’t keep his cock from growing hard as a brick. “We should establish a safe word. If it gets too rough and you want me to stop, say red. If you want me to pull back some, say yellow. And if you want more, say green.” Leo almost laughed when her mouth formed a perfect O. She really was vanilla. His lust somewhat abated by her naïveté, Leo sat back against the couch’s overstuffed cushions and drew her onto his lap, needing to gauge her reaction to his touch. Roxanne immediately stiffened. Her hands rested in her lap and her legs jutted out awkwardly, reminding him of a wooden puppet. Leo smiled to himself. All he needed was a glass of water and they could tour Chicago’s comedy circuit. “Relax, Roxie. You need to trust that I’ll be gentle.” To his amazement, she expelled another sigh and did as he commanded. Her body went limp and she leaned into him, the heavy weight of her right breast and the warm press of her soft bottom rocking him. If he was a lion, he would’ve roared. Instead, he patted the open space next to him. “Stretch out across my lap, head and chest here, and try to relax.” The new position shifted the hem of her top, exposing a mouthwatering swath of glowing skin the color of dark-brown sugar. Of course, he suspected she would taste ten times sweeter. At this angle, her waist appeared even more narrow, her hips and ass fuller. Fuck! She was so beautiful. Leo tipped his eyes upward and prayed for strength. It would be so simple to flip her skirt up and take a bite out of each butt cheek.
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Testing her, Leo rested his palm on her lower back. She stiffened under his hand but this time Leo held his tongue. A good submissive only needed one correction. Roxanne sucked in several shallows breaths. On the last exhale, she relaxed slightly and crossed her arms, resting her cheek against them. “Okay, I’m ready,” she murmured. Not quite as stiff as a board, she was still pretty tense. Unable to hold back any longer, Leo raised his hand and let off some steam. Half expecting her to cuss him out, Leo hesitated after the first slap. He’d hit her harder than he’d planned. He couldn’t help it. His primal instincts had roared to life and his lust had run away with his self-control. Before he got carried away, Leo looked down at her. “Red, yellow or green.” To Leo’s surprise, she whispered, “Green.” Given the green light, Leo loosened the reins and let go. His lust demanded it. If he couldn’t gain release through his cock, he would reach the same sexual satisfaction from dominating her flesh. Steadying her with a hand on her back, Leo raised his hand again and let it rip. “Oh!” She started, her torso rearing up. Leo guided her back down. She hadn’t used the safe word. And until she did, he wouldn’t hold back. He lifted his hand once more and let it fall, harder this time. Leo’s breathing quickened as she wiggled and moaned, her round flesh quivering under his palm. “Green!” she squealed. “Green…green…green…” Her response fueled his desire and he gave her what she demanded, spanking her again and again, each time harder and harder. “How does it feel?” Leo asked. His voice sounded gruff and disembodied. He felt like a man possessed. If he wasn’t careful, he’d blow soon. And he didn’t want that. If he was going to come, he wanted to do it with his cock buried in her mouth or pussy, not still nestled in the safety of his jeans.
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“I definitely— Ah!” she sucked in a breath when his hand landed across her backside again. “I really like spanking.” Leo growled. He’d never been this sexually frustrated in his life. Not even in junior high when Keisha Johnson-Miller used to flash him on the playground. And the feel of Roxanne’s wiggling butt cheeks only intensified his longing. Damn! He wanted to witness his handiwork. If she were his lover, he could yank up her skirt, yank down her panties and plunge his fingers into her core. Just imagining a blush tattooing her brown skin had pre-cum leaking from his cock. Leo squeezed his eyes shut. His leg muscles tightened and breathing seemed impossible. She was just too warm and luscious. And totally oblivious to the havoc she was causing. She moved over him, rocking her hips over his crotch— Leo’s hand stilled in midair. She was dry humping him. He wanted her to come, but not like this. “Roxanne, stop.” “Stop what?” she panted, her hips gaining momentum. “If you don’t stop dry humping me, we’re going to end up fucking. Our friendship be damned.” When her hips suddenly stilled, he bit back a groan. He’d half hoped she would disobey. “Sorry,” she whispered, finally sitting up and sucking all the heat from Leo’s groin. “I guess that wasn’t very friend-like of me.” She laughed nervously and Leo couldn’t help the smile that came to his lips. “No it wasn’t, but of course you know I don’t mind.” “I’m sure,” she murmured as her gaze darted away. “I, ah, better see you out…long day at the boutique tomorrow.”
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Leo’s balls shrank in his boxer shorts but he understood. This was all too new to her. Hell, it was a shock to his system as well. Just this afternoon, he’d divulged a secret he’d been holding close to his heart for almost ten years. As they stood, he reached in his back pocket for his wallet. Better that than tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her upstairs to her bedroom. Taking his time, he pulled it out then fished inside for a business card. “Can I borrow a pen?” “Sure.” Roxanne looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. Leo smiled to himself. She looked like she had no clue which way was up or down. After some disorientation, she handed him a pencil she’d located in the sofa table behind the couch. Leo scribbled onto the back of his card. “Your profile’s almost done. This is your username and password. You should have no problem completing the rest of the questions.” Leo handed her the card and noticed she took pains to avoid his touch. It didn’t bother him. The damage was already done. She wore his handprint on her ass. “I might not be a fan of your decision, but I’ll help you weed out all the weirdoes and undesirables if you want.” While she stared down at the vanilla-colored business card, Leo wondered what she was thinking. So much so, he wanted to kiss it out of her. She finally looked up, meeting his gaze with a dreamy expression. “I’ve always appreciated you being my moral compass,” she murmured. “So, that would be nice.” Nice? Far from it, Leo mused. He was going to use her curiosity to drive her right into his bed.
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Chapter Three By the time daylight crept through the sheer panel curtains in Roxanne’s bedroom, her body was still screaming for release. Frustrated, she rolled over onto her back. “Ouch,” Roxanne yelped. Turning over quickly, she rested on her side. Her backside was still sore from last night. Too bad she couldn’t say the same for her cunt. Roxanne lifted her fist and punched the nearest pillow. Why couldn’t he have allowed her to keep going instead of throwing an ice-cold bucket of reality in her face? Who would’ve thought getting spanked could be such a delicious punishment? “You just want to be friends,” Roxanne sneered, mimicking the lame excuse she’d given him. Her lip curled in self-disgust. Once again her hard-headedness came with harsh consequences—the female equivalent of blue balls. If only she’d just given in, she’d be sated and grinning from ear to ear right now. Even better, Leo would still be here, spread naked across her queen-sized bed. His long, lean body would reach from end to end, but she wouldn’t care. She’d pounce on him, demanding another round. Groaning loudly, Roxanne grabbed one of the pillows and clutched it close. Self torture in the form of celibacy could be a bitch. But it doesn’t have to be, does it? Roxanne’s eyes popped open. She might not have a lover, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get off, especially when her unrequited sexual desires had resulted in a sleepless night. Of their own accord, her hands slid down her body as she rolled onto her back gingerly, mindful of her sore behind. She fisted the hem of her yellow nightie and hauled it over her hips. There wasn’t any need to be sexy or a tease since she was alone. “Alone, but still going to moan!” Laughing at the corniness of her rhyme, Roxanne lifted her hips and chucked the nightgown’s matching panties. 28
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“What would Leo do?” she wondered aloud. Considering he was a red-blooded man, he’d probably go straight to the source. Roxanne reached between her legs and touched herself. The shorn curls covering her mound tickled the palm of her hand. She applied more pressure and started to rock her hand back and forth. “Mmm.” She hadn’t expected her core to be so wet. In this case, it seems that if I don’t use it, I won’t lose it. Loving the power of working her own body, she applied more pressure. When she slowed her pace, she moaned; when she quickened the sweep of her hand, her hips shot off the bed. So close, yet still so far from the precipice that would finally give her some respite from last night. Roxanne snuggled deeper into the pillows, then tried inching herself higher, half lying down and half sitting up. In truth, the position didn’t matter; she needed more. “Damn, where’s a vibrator when a girl needs one!” Always willing to adapt to life’s circumstances, even when it came to sex, Roxanne pressed three fingers together and, licking her lips in anticipation, slowly parted her lips and eased them into her pussy. She glided her thumb over her clit repeatedly. As the sensitive bud stiffened, a frisson akin to static electricity shot through her lower body and all the way up her arm. “Ohh…now that’s more like it,” Roxanne purred. She moved her fingers slowly. She’d suffered for eight long hours and she didn’t want to rush this. With each measured stroke, Roxanne imagined Leo doing this to her, his big, strong hands and fingers working and stretching her. “Yes, yes,” she panted, her fervor increasing. Roxanne pumped and rolled the sensitive button around and around in a steady rhythm. Her clit swelled in gratitude, became slippery and coated her thumb. “Oh yeah,” Roxanne groaned, as pressure increased in the pit of her belly. She knew she’d soon reach the peak. Her nipples were puckered and her body buzzed, starting with her left butt cheek… 29
Koko Brown
Roxanne frowned. The hand between her legs certainly wasn’t vibrating her backside. Her cell phone. When will I catch a break? Roxanne groped the rumpled covers for her cell. Pulling it from under her, she glanced at the caller ID. It was only her assistant Jessina—not Leo, as she’d secretly hoped. Sighing loudly, Roxanne pressed the receiver button. “Buenos dias!” “Good morning, Jessina.” “Are you coming in today?” “Sure, why do you ask?” Sitting up, Roxanne’s gaze flew to the digital clock on the nightstand. It was only seven o’clock. Her store, Golden Years—one of Chicago’s hippest vintage boutiques—didn’t open for another three hours. “Well, I’m down here at Sunny Side waiting on you.” Dammit! It was Friday. One of the busiest days of the week at the boutique. To get ready for the impending chaos, she and Jessina met every Friday morning at their favorite mom-and-pop diner. “I’m sorry, Jessina. I overslept,” Roxanne lied, throwing back the covers and rolling out of bed. “Give me thirty minutes and I can meet you.” “No need to rush. Besides, I’m starving. By the time you got here I’d be gnawing at my own foot. Go ahead and sleep in a little longer. I’ll have breakfast then go open up the boutique.” Roxanne experienced a twinge of guilt. As the owner, she should be the one opening the store, not laying in bed masturbating. “Are you sure?” “You always look out for me, so it’s only right I return the favor.”
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“I appreciate it, Jessina. I had a rough night. While you’re eating breakfast, I’ll get a jump on all the online stuff, so when I come in we can get the storeroom in order. And I really want to change out the front window.” “Sounds good to me. See you later, ciao.” Roxanne said goodbye. As she leaned over to place the phone on the nightstand, she hesitated, her thumb hovering over the number one key. All she needed to do was punch the number then hit send, and it would speed dial Leo’s cell number. “What the heck are you doing? There’s absolutely no way you and Leo could be anything other than friends.” If things didn’t work out, she’d lose a lover and a friend. And that wasn’t worth any amount of sex in the world. Shelving her moment of insanity, Roxanne reached for her bathrobe, slipped her arms into its cloudlike softness and went into the bathroom, where she washed her face and hands. Determined to get back on track before she ended up a lonely, old woman with a Rabbit vibrator and fifty cats, she left her bathroom and walked the short distance down the hall to her home office. With each step her determination grew, and by the time Roxanne plopped down into her office chair, she no longer had thoughts of taking Leo as a lover. Well…almost. Loaded with extra RAM, complements of her sexual tormentor, Roxanne’s laptop booted up in a matter of seconds. After logging in, she tracked the delivery of the boutique’s resort collection, processed orders from the online website and answered as many email messages as she could handle without her brain frying. An hour later, Roxanne found herself in a satisfying lull. She’d made such good use of her time, she could play around a little before hopping in the shower. She jumped up and ran downstairs. She’d left the business card with her username and password on the coffee table in the living room.
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“I am not going to give in to you, Mr. Leonidas Papadopoulos,” she muttered, once again sitting back down in front of her laptop. “You might know what you’re doing, but there are plenty of kinky fish in the sea. And I’m going to find one.” Even if she only half-believed her self-affirmation, Roxanne pressed ahead by typing in the URL address for WhipADate.com. “Oh my,” Roxanne whispered as the website’s homepage popped up in all its S&Mstyle glory. The site must change its graphics regularly, because the couple featured previously was now a threesome. Sans clothing, a woman stood facing a giant X, while two men in full face masks and tiny black briefs flanked her. One held a length of rope, the other a garden hose. “Oh my,” Roxanne repeated. Was she really ready to explore her kinky side with a complete stranger? Of course not, but her stupid curiosity wouldn’t allow her to run scared now. Especially not after last night. After navigating through the welcome screen, she clicked into her member profile. To her surprise, she already had several messages waiting in her inbox. Roxanne tapped her foot excitedly, weighing whether to open her inbox or not. “Come on, big shot. It’s time to put out or shut up.” Making up her mind, Roxanne weeded through the initial welcome email then proceeded to open several others she’d received from various members. Their emails were straight to the point and seemed torn out of BDSM Dating for Dummies. Kink with a side of perversion was the order of the day. Every message was an open and unabashed invitation to partake in a vice or fetish much too hardcore for Roxanne’s taste. She didn’t have any interest in being a personal potty, a footstool or being kept.
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Not finding anyone or anything of interest, Roxanne sent each sender a polite “thanks, but no thanks”. Already sexed out for the day, Roxanne decided to sign off. Just as her finger moved toward the power button—a sex swing suddenly flew onto the computer screen. Amused and interest piqued, she clicked on the image. The swing slowly dissolved to display a message.
Hello, Thought I would never meet a woman under the age of thirty who still plays charades while sipping on Tom & Jerrys. I love small talk, dessert before dinner and playing tag football in the park on Sundays. Think we should meet at Restoration Hardware so we can pick out China patterns? Just kidding! Let your guard down and let me in. ThePuppetMaster
Impressed by his ability to write something other than, “Hey, you’re beautiful, I’d love to duct tape you to the bathroom door”, Roxanne clicked through to his member page. “Twenty-nine-year-old Caucasian male, six-foot-three with an athletic build. College educated. Self-employed. No kids. Never Been Married. Living with Pets.” Needing to find some kind of hidden flaw, she kept reading aloud. “Your hobbies include—drinking overpriced coffee, trying to decipher abstract art, working out, taking spontaneous road trips, renting old black-and-white movies and watching the Chicago Bulls. On the freak scale of one to five whips, you rate yourself at four and a half.” Well, at least he was modest. Roxanne glanced over at the website’s Whip-O-Matic scale. According to his personal rating, he liked voyeurism and/or exhibitionism, mutual bondage, random role playing and some fetishes with the right person.
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Her excitement mounting, she searched his profile for a photo. There wasn’t one, just an empty box where a photo might go. Roxanne frowned. He was almost too good to be true. She coveted her membership to Play It Again Video and her Java the Hut, buy-seven-cups-of-coffee-get-one-free card. She also attended every exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Art. And she and Leo had held Chicago Bulls season tickets since 2004. Déjà vu tickled the back of her neck. It couldn’t be Leo…could it? “He wouldn’t be that cruel or that stupid,” Roxanne mumbled. “I would put my foot so far up his behind, he wouldn’t be able to walk straight for a week.” Roxanne’s doubts evaporated like smoke when a live-chat request appeared in the upper-right-hand corner of her computer screen—from ThePuppetMaster. A simple graphic containing an open field for running dialogue, the message box also allowed for the exchange of pictures or images. Unlike his profile, there was an image attached to the request. “Hello, gorgeous.” Roxanne wolf whistled. Her admirer’s picture featured a hunk of a man in the process of removing a white t-shirt over his head. The shirt covered most of his face, except for his chiseled jaw, a pair of full lips and a nose. Roxanne pulled the collar of her now too heavy bathrobe. His tanned skin was roped with corded muscles only long hours in the gym and a proper diet could produce. Eight-pack abs and chiseled v-cuts peeked over a pair of low-slung jeans. His body was a lethal catalyst for any woman’s late-night fantasy, or gay man’s wet dream. Roxanne plopped her head in her hands. She’d always been a sucker for a hard body. And this guy’s body hit her like a sucker punch below the belt. Roxanne tried to stop the excited jump of her clit by shifting in her desk chair, but it only accelerated the throbbing. “Come on, get a grip, girl,” she chastised. “The sight of a beautiful body and a few common interests shouldn’t have you panting in heat.” 34
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Roxanne peeked at the computer screen again as he typed a message—then immediately jumped up and started to pace. She wasn’t ready yet for any kind of rapport, especially when she didn’t know the rules for internet dating. Like, were you a slut if you talked to several guys at once? Or how many messages needed to be exchanged before you pulled out the Hershey’s chocolate and chilled pineapple rings? Roxanne racked her brain for reasonable etiquette. Coming up empty, she returned to the desk and reached for the power button. But while she’d been wearing down her carpet, he’d left a brief message. ThePuppetMaster: Haven’t seen your profile before. First time? Roxanne leaned back, mentally relaxing. Somehow his intuitiveness soothed her rattled nerves. WantTheBIGOne: Yes Soon after pressing the enter button, Roxanne regretted her monosyllabic reply. Holding a degree in Serial Dating, couldn’t she have come up with something wittier and sexier than “yes”? “Great, now he’s going to think I’m a social retard.” ThePuppetMaster: No problem. Never know what kind of weirdoes or stalkers you might meet online. “Ding, ding, ding…two points for ThePuppetMaster!” His honesty was refreshing. Online dating wasn’t half bad. WantTheBIGOne: Speaking of weirdoes and stalkers…my name’s Roxanne. And yours? Roxanne didn’t supply her last name. She didn’t think that wise just yet. ThePuppetMaster: I’m Constantine. I’m not a stalker, but weirdo may be up for debate. So what’s a beautiful woman like you doing on WhipADate.com?
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Roxanne tugged at her earlobe. How could she explain to a stranger she wanted to be freaked up and down and any which way but loose and still be respected in the morning? “Better to beat around the bush,” she said, deciding on her game plan. WantTheBIGOne: I didn’t have any luck meeting the right man in all the usual places. So, I ended my gym membership, stopped hanging out in the produce department and stalking the youth pastor, and decided to try my chances online. ThePuppetMaster: Don’t believe it. A good-looking girl like you, with those brown eyes that make me melt, should have them lining up around the block. WantTheBIGOne: I stand corrected. I couldn’t find what I was looking for in any of the men I dated. ThePuppetMaster: What are you looking for? A husband? Or not quite ready for commitment and just looking to date around or hook up on the occasional booty call? Yes, I went there. :) WantTheBIGOne: Straight to the point? ThePuppetMaster: I don’t want to waste my time or yours if we’re not on the same page. Roxanne stared down at the keyboard, struggling with how to word her answer. She didn’t want to come off like a delusional twenty-something. WantTheBIGOne: I’m here to explore my sexuality. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t entirely forthcoming. ThePuppetMaster: Looking to release the inner vixen? WantTheBIGOne: No problem in that area. I’m always willing to try something three times before I’ve decided it isn’t for me. ThePuppetMaster: My kind of woman. So if you’re so open-minded about sex, then your issue must lay someplace deeper.
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Roxanne drummed her fingers on the keyboard, careful not to depress any of the keys. Even if they were hiding behind computer screens, it was still difficult to share something so personal with a complete stranger. WantTheBIGOne: Sex has always been just okay for me. I’ve never experienced the mind-shattering, moving-mountains kind of orgasm. ThePuppetMaster: That explains your username. I was under the assumption you were looking for a big cock. In case you’re interested, I’m almost eight inches and as thick as a woman’s wrist. Roxanne’s cheeks bloomed with heat. She wasn’t a virgin, but his frankness made her feel like a 1950s housewife. She almost reached up to clutch her pearls. ThePuppetMaster: Can you make yourself come? She almost had this morning before Jessina interrupted. Still, even then her orgasms weren’t earth-shattering. WantTheBIGOne: Yes, but making myself come usually isn’t as satisfying as an orgasm caused by a lover. ThePuppetMaster: I agree, and so do all of my exes. Cocky much? Playing the devil’s advocate, she decided to goad him. WantTheBIGOne: Are you sure your partners didn’t fake it? ThePuppetMaster: Doubt it. Determined to knock him down a notch, she called his bluff. WantTheBIGOne: You’re fooling yourself. A woman can fake an orgasm while paying the bills and whipping up a five-person brunch. ThePuppetMaster: Ha! None of those women had me as a lover. Roxanne’s eyebrows shot up. His overconfidence both rubbed her the wrong way and turned her on. She squeezed her legs tightly as heat rushed to the apex of her thighs.
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ThePuppetMaster: Maybe a woman can fake tears or moans. But she can’t fake the little aftershocks when she grips me with her pussy or comes all over my cock. Excuse my frankness. You’re excused, Roxanne mused, flapping the lapels of her bathrobe in a lame attempt at reducing the heat under her collar. ThePuppetMaster: Want proof? Roxanne’s stopped in mid-fan. He wasn’t suggesting what she thought he was suggesting? WantTheBIGOne: Proof of what? ThePuppetMaster: That I can make you come. Bingo! Roxanne sat forward, her fingers flying over the keyboard. WantTheBIGOne: How do you plan on doing that? ThePuppetMaster: We’re going to have sex right now. What were the chances of finding the Dalai Lama of sex on WhipADate.com? Sure she had a fruitcake on her hands, Roxanne decided to humor him. WantTheBIGOne: How are we going to do this? You’re there and I’m here. The last time I checked, you have to be in the same place at the same time to have sex. And I don’t have a webcam. ThePuppetMaster: So beautiful, yet so naïve. Sex is 20% physical and 80% mental. Have you ever had phone sex? Embarrassment heated Roxanne’s cheeks and neck. Maybe she wasn’t as openminded as she’d assumed. WantTheBIGOne: No. ThePuppetMaster: Well, think of this as phone sex, but in print. Before this conversation is over, I’ll make you come. Roxanne almost didn’t doubt; the idea of having online sex already had her body buzzing. 38
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WantTheBIGOne: I’m all yours. ThePuppetMaster: Any distractions around you? WantTheBIGOne: Just my computer. I’m in my home office. Do I need to move to another location, like the bedroom? Roxanne waited for the obvious answer, which would involve her lying in bed buck-naked with her legs cocked open like a Thanksgiving turkey waiting to be stuffed. ThePuppetMaster: The location doesn’t matter. Are you ready? Hmm. Okay. No bedroom then. WantTheBIGOne: I’m ready. ThePuppetMaster: Do you need to run and get any toys? Even though she knew what he was alluding to, Roxanne couldn’t resist the obvious reply. WantTheBIGOne: I haven’t played with dolls in years. ThePuppetMaster: Good one. I meant sex toys. You know, like a vibrator or dildo. Damn! Why had she traded that deluxe vibrator she’d won at her cousin Talina’s bridal shower? Like she’d really needed one more cupcake baking pan. WantTheBIGOne: I only have my fingers. ThePuppetMaster: Remind me to give you a list of items to pick up for the next time we meet online. We don’t need them for our first time anyway. Now, I want you to be absolutely still. Despite her earlier skepticism, Roxanne felt herself being drawn in, following his directive to a tee. Drawing a deep breath, she sat motionless. ThePuppetMaster: We all have a place deep inside that stimulates a pleasure area in our brains. WantTheBIGOne: What am I listening for?
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ThePuppetMaster: It’s not really a sound. Mozart called it his muse. It’s like a sixth sense. Now I want you to sit up straight, breathe deeply through your nose, fill your lungs with air, then release through your mouth. Doing as she was told, Roxanne sat up straighter. She lifted her legs and folded them under her, Indian-style, then inhaled and exhaled, filling her lungs. Of course, she felt sort of silly, but what did she have to lose? ThePuppetMaster: Keep breathing. Feel your breath pass through you, along with any stress you may have. Can you feel it leaving you? Roxanne exhaled. To her surprise, it did feel good. So much so, she relaxed back into the desk chair. ThePuppetMaster: It gets better. Now place your hands on the side of your breasts. “Umm…okay.” Still, Roxanne did as he asked. ThePuppetMaster: Move your hands slowly forward until you reach your nipples. Grasp them between your thumb and finger. Roxanne slid her hands inside her bathrobe. The tips of her fingers brushed over her rib cage to settle on her breast. She stroked the sensitive skin. Her breath caught in the back of her throat and she licked her lips. Amazing how the gentlest of touches could make all of her nerve endings go haywire. ThePuppetMaster: Now pull slightly, extending your entire breast. I want you to roll your nipples, then pull. Do you feel that spike of pleasurable pain? Roxanne grasped each nipple and rolled them between her fingers. She pulled and squeezed until her entire body zinged with an ever-building energy, making her lightheaded at the same time. ThePuppetMaster: Now pinch the tip of each nipple. Roxanne pinched her nipples. Instead of the pain she was expecting, an invisible thread of pleasure ran from the tips of her breast all the way down to her clit. And
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every time she pinched or rolled her nipples, the bud between her legs jumped excitedly. ThePuppetMaster: Take one of your hands and place it between your legs. Roxanne dropped her hand in her lap. Her fingers slid along the soft skin of her inner thighs, seeking her core. With a feathery lightness, she brushed her thumb over her slit. She was already soaking wet. ThePuppetMaster: I want you to touch your clit. Imagine me there, playing with your chocolate-brown nipples, my head between your legs, working you with my tongue. Her fingers brushed against her clit and pleasure rocketed through Roxanne like a Roman candle. Gasping loudly, she pressed her free hand into her thigh—more like clutched it to keep from tumbling out of her seat. She wanted more. Placing two fingers on the small nub, she rolled it around and around until her clit almost burned her fingers. ThePuppetMaster: How does it feel? Roxanne moaned. Every single nerve ending in her body was on high alert and pressure was building in all of her extremities. And if she kept it up much longer, she was going to come. ThePuppetMaster: Enjoying it so much you can’t answer me? WantTheBIGOne: I’m wet. Roxanne knew he wanted her to elaborate, but that was virtually impossible at the moment. She could barely remember how to breathe much less type a coherent sentence. ThePuppetMaster: I’m sure that tight honey pot of yours is good and wet. And I bet your pussy is on fire. I want you to check. Roxanne stilled. What was he saying? WantTheBIGOne: You want me to finger myself? ThePuppetMaster: Yes. Slide your fingers inside. 41
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Even though she wasn’t used to taking direction, especially when it came to sex, Roxanne liked having him in control. Blowing out a cleansing breath, she leaned her head back against the chair, closed her eyes and slipped her middle finger inside. Inch by slow inch, she worked her finger until her palm lay flat against the top of her mound. Roxanne moaned loudly. After months of voluntary celibacy, her pussy was tight and warm, just as he’d predicted. She withdrew partway then pushed forward. She did it again and again, her body shuddering with each thrust. Round and round, she rolled her clit with her thumb, adding fuel to what he’d started. She imagined his head wedged between her legs while his tongue worked her. Roxanne moaned. Her juices were gushing over her fingers. She became so wrapped up in her own self-pleasuring, she almost missed the beep of Constantine’s incoming message. ThePuppetMaster: Are you having fun? More fun than a barrel of monkeys! Just a little more and she should be free-falling over the edge… ThePuppetMaster: You can’t come until I tell you to. “What!” Roxanne sat up, suddenly hating his authority. ThePuppetMaster: Don’t worry. You’ll come soon, just not until I say you can. Now, I want you to put your thumb inside and imagine it’s me. Roxanne repositioned her hand to slide home with her thumb. Even though it was much shorter than her middle finger, it still did the job, slightly stretching her channel. Roxanne shuddered and her eyelids fell to half mast. Did someone turn the temperature up in here? ThePuppetMaster: Now pull my cock out and rub the head against your clit. Roxanne strummed and flicked the throbbing nub at the top of her slit. She couldn’t believe she was doing this with a stranger, and actually enjoying it.
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ThePuppetMaster: You like it when I do that, don’t you? WantTheBIGOne: Yes. ThePuppetMaster: I want you to imagine my cock, all eight inches of it, hard, thick and throbbing. Imagine me moving my hand up the shaft to the head. There’s pre-cum at the tip… Do you want to lick it off? Roxanne licked her lips. His cock was probably just as beautiful as the rest of his body. WantTheBIGOne: I want to do more than that. I want to take all of you in my mouth. ThePuppetMaster: I wish you could see my cock right now. Just thinking about your beautiful full lips wrapped around it makes me harder than a steel pipe. His cock wasn’t the only thing hard. Her nipples could cut someone. ThePuppetMaster: Imagine me standing over you while you’re on your knees, looking up at me. My fingers are playing in your thick black hair, telling you how beautiful you are. Do you want to please me? Well, she couldn’t be the only one having fun. WantTheBIGOne: Yes. ThePuppetMaster: I want you to stroke me. Roxanne groaned as she imagined her hand sliding up and down his hard shaft, droplets of pre-cum running unchecked over her fingers. Her hand picked up its pace between her thighs. ThePuppetMaster: I want you to put me in your mouth. Lick me all the way down to my balls and up to the head. Do you want that? WantTheBIGOne: Yes. ThePuppetMaster: Suck me, Roxanne. Put me in your mouth while you play with your pussy some more. Roxanne rubbed between her legs and imagined him standing above her, his cock slipping into her mouth. 43
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ThePuppetMaster: What do you want to do now? WantTheBIGOne: I want you to take me. ThePuppetMaster: Take you? Take you where, Roxanne? Roxanne groaned in frustration. Now was not the time to crack jokes. WantTheBIGOne: You know what I mean. ThePuppetMaster: Do you want me to make love to you? “Making love” sounded like more vanilla sex with no orgasms. Roxanne wanted it rough. She wanted to fuck. WantTheBIGOne: I want you to fuck me. Fuck me hard. ThePuppetMaster: Stand up and lean over the desk with your legs spread. Roxanne unfolded herself from the chair and bent over, resting her elbows on the desk for balance. She bit her lip as she felt her juices running down the inside of one leg. ThePuppetMaster: I can just see that beautiful brown ass and your pretty pink pussy. You want it rough, don’t you? You want to be handled. You want me to pull your sweet ass cheeks apart and slide my hard cock deep inside you. I want that tight ass, Roxanne. Do you want me to have it? Roxanne stroked her clit as she pondered his question. She’d never tried anal sex. But with the way he had her body so tightly wound from only a few sentences, she would probably be open to anything—with the right lubrication, of course. Wound up and barely able to type, Roxanne pecked out a reply. WantTheBIGOne: Yes, I want you to have it. ThePuppetMaster: Open yourself to me. Do you feel that? Do you feel my cock sliding into your tight ass? Roxanne reached back, pulled her butt cheeks apart and slid the tip of her finger in her ass. As her body tightened, Roxanne imagined it was him entering her body. Her eyelids fluttered as waves of sensation rolled over her.
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ThePuppetMaster: I’m all the way in now. Do you feel my cock sliding into your tight ass? Buddy, could she! ThePuppetMaster: Mmm, you’re so hot and tight. Roxanne, your ass is mine. You’re mine. *SLAP* WantTheBIGOne: ? ThePuppetMaster: That’s me slapping your ass…my ass! The thought of him spanking the soft globes of her ass until both cheeks jiggled made Roxanne rock on her toes. The room temperature escalated. Beads of sweat broke out on her upper lip. ThePuppetMaster: I’m moving harder and faster and you’re meeting every thrust. As she kept pumping her finger, Roxanne found herself stuck between an orgasm and frustration. She slipped her fingers between her legs and rubbed her clit faster and faster, in time with her other hand. The feeling was so unbelievable, her eyes rolled. “This is insane,” Roxanne huffed, quickening her pace. No way was she coming from some online chat! But it appeared she was. Any second now… ThePuppetMaster: I’m about to come. You like that, don’t you, the idea of me coming all over my keyboard. I want you to come too. Finally given permission, Roxanne allowed her sexual frustration to spill over into a full-throttle orgasm. Her knees buckled and she sank to the floor, a shout of joy exploding from her lips as her release gushed over her fingers. Roxanne wasn’t sure how much time had lapsed before she received another screen prompt. Unable to resist the strange pull Constantine had over her, Roxanne dragged herself from the floor. ThePuppetMaster: Did you like how I made you come?
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Roxanne smiled despite herself. The arrogant bastard. He wasn’t asking if she’d climaxed. WantTheBIGOne: I more than liked it. I might be addicted. ThePuppetMaster: Me too. Now—can we get to know each other better? WantTheBIGOne: Can I get that list first?
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Chapter Four “Miss Roxanne, your cell phone’s ringing.” “Who is it, Jessina? I need to finish dressing this mannequin for the front window before we get out of here.” Roxanne stepped back to eye the intricate folds of the blue cocktail dress from French design team Berge & Christian. The dress, a piece from their highly coveted spring collection, was so beautiful. It reminded her of a wedding cake. “If its Joplin’s, tell them I’m still waiting on those wool berets I ordered over six weeks ago. By the time they get here it’ll be summer, and I don’t know any Chicago socialite willing to rock wool after Memorial Day, no matter how fashion forward they are.” Jessina leaned over the front counter with the phone held out, already anticipating Roxanne’s next move. “It’s Leo.” Roxanne jerked, which caused the mannequin to teeter on its three-prong stand. Several gut-wrenching days had passed since she’d been spanked by Leo, and they hadn’t spoken. They’d never gone this long without either speaking or texting one another at least twice a day. “I’ll call him back.” “You’ll call him back?” Jessina set the phone back down on the front counter. “Trouble in paradise?” “No. I have so much to do so we can both get out of here before midnight,” she lied. Despite having online sex with Constantine, she still found herself thinking about Leo almost every minute of the day. So to protect herself and to sort through the feelings slowly drowning her in a mountain of confusion, Roxanne was being a coward. She was avoiding him.
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“Do you think I was born yesterday?” “Even if it’s none of your business, the answer is no,” Roxanne replied. Ignoring Jessina’s disapproving look, she turned the mannequin around to ensure the garment’s fit. Jessina came around the counter spewing a litany of curses in rapid-fire Spanish, one of the older Dominican woman’s regular habits. Roxanne barely batted an eye. “You’re right, querida. As your employee, it’s none of my business, but I’d like to think you and I are more than that. I care for you like I care for my own knuckleheaded ninos. That’s why I’m concerned that you’re blowing Leo off. In the three years I’ve been working here, I’ve never known you to not accept his calls. But today you’ve done it twice. So what gives? What did you do?” “Why would you automatically think I did something?” “I know you and I know Leo,” Jessina replied. “What did you do?” Caged in with nowhere to run, Roxanne concentrated on the mannequin, turning it this way and that. Noticing the gown’s loose fit near the right hip, she reached into the craft apron tied around her waist and pulled out a box of stick pins. Hopefully Jessina would take the hint and go back to uploading the week’s promotional items on the boutique’s website. No such luck. Jessina continued to stand there with her hands planted firmly on her hips. Roxanne pursed her lips. When Jessina latched onto a bone, she was worse than any pit bull. “Leo wants to be more than friends.” “And you’re just realizing this?” Roxanne winced. It was one thing to admit the truth, quite another to have someone else throw it in your face. “Someone forgot to forward me the memo.” Jessina snorted. “Obviously.”
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“How long have you known about his feelings for me? Did he tell you?” Unsettled by the direction of the conversation, Roxanne tried to extract a couple of pins but the bones in her fingers had suddenly turned to goo. “Give me those before you drop them all over the floor.” Roxanne hated showing any sign of weakness, but Jessina was right. If she didn’t let her do it, they’d both be on their hands and knees picking up stick pins. Jessina pulled several pins out of the box and placed them between her full lips. “I picked up on it the first day I met him,” she mumbled. Roxanne slapped her hand across her forehead. “I feel so stupid.” “Don’t beat yourself up, querida. The object of affection is always the last to know. Still, that doesn’t justify your handling of the situation.” Anger stiffened Roxanne’s spine. “What do you mean my handling of the situation?” Jessina waved her hand. “Don’t get your thong in a bunch. I just think you’re being a bit childish about the whole thing. So what if Leo finally told you? It doesn’t mean you have to hide from him.” Roxanne folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not hiding from him.” One of Jessina’s thinly plucked eyebrows lifted as if to say, “Who are you kidding?” “Okay, okay, something happened between Leo and me and it can’t happen again.” Jessina’s face suddenly lit up like she’d discovered the cure for cancer. Roxanne braced herself. “Yo comprendo. You’re not ready to face the fact that you have feelings for him as well.” Roxanne shook her head. “I love Leo, but not in the way he wants.” Jessina looked up at her sharply and, reluctantly, Roxanne decided to come clean. “Jessina, I’m so confused. What if it doesn’t work between us?” “It’s a chance you have to take.”
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“That’s just it—I don’t want to take a chance on our friendship. It’s one of the best things in my life besides this boutique.” “When it comes to love, caution only crushes true happiness. If it doesn’t work between you two, it won’t be the end of the world.” “Only the end of our friendship. Plus, I think it may be too late.” “What do you mean too late?” Roxanne pulled on her earlobe. She was about to open another can of worms. “I’ve sort of met someone else.” “Who, and why haven’t I met him yet?” If I have anything to do with it, you won’t. “I just met him about a week ago.” “So the plot gets thicker,” the older woman huffed, plopping her hands on her rounded hips. “And where did you meet lover boy?” “I met him on an online dating website.” “Madre de Dios,” Jessina moaned, clapping a hand over forehead. “Now there’s no way I’m going to have a good night’s sleep. Don’t you realize any and everybody can be on those things? If you don’t watch yourself, you’re going to wake up dead.” Roxanne’s lips quirked. “That’s going to be pretty impossible, don’t you think?” Jessina’s brow wrinkled. “Why?” “How am I going to wake up if I’m already dead?” Jessina pretended to pull the tight, salt-and-pepper curls of her short afro from her scalp. “You know what I mean, smarty pants. But I guess you think it’s funny that your behavior could land you in a landfill cut up into a half-dozen pieces?” Roxanne wrapped her arm around Jessina’s shoulders and pulled her close. “My mother didn’t raise a fool. I’ve been extremely cautious. I already know more about Constantine than most guys I’ve dated casually.” “So did Ted Bundy’s girlfriends.”
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“I might not know what he looks like, but I do know we both come from large families, attended local colleges and we both own our own companies. Oh, and he’s allergic to oranges.” Jessina pulled away, a frown indenting deep lines in her mocha skin. “Allergic to oranges? So is Leo. Do you remember when I made morir sonando for the boutique’s Christmas party two years ago? Everyone loved it, but Leo turned as red as a Santa Claus suit.” How could I forget? Jessina’s milk-and-orange-juice concoction sent Leo to St. Francis’ emergency room gasping for air. Jessina remained silent for longer than usual. Roxanne braced herself. “Are you sure your new novio isn’t Leo?” Despite her own lingering doubts, Roxanne shrugged off the older woman’s insinuation. “Let me get this straight. You think Constantine and Leo are one and the same because they’re both allergic to oranges?” “Si! They’re both allergic to oranges. I’d never heard of such a thing in all my years until I met Leo. And now your Constantine suffers from the same ailment. And didn’t you say he owns his own company and comes from a big family?” Roxanne recalled the late-night online conversations that usually lasted until the wee hours of the morning, and nothing raised any red flags, even now. Granted, the orange allergy was odd. But Roxanne also came from a large family—three older sisters and a younger brother—and owned her own company. Plenty of people did. “Purely coincidental, Jessina,” Roxanne concluded. “Plus, Leo has too much common sense than to do something so stupid. If he did, he’d wear my footprint for a week.” Jessina chuckled, her meaty shoulders shaking in amusement. “The heart knows nothing about common sense.”
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It was true Leo was particularly determined when it came to something he wanted. He wouldn’t be worth eight million cool ones if he wasn’t. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll meet Constantine.” “When? And don’t come crying to me if your dead body is found rotting in a crack house.” Roxanne planted her hands on the older woman’s shoulders. “As soon as I get home, I’ll jump online and set up a time and a place for us to meet.” “Fine. The sooner you meet, the sooner you can kick him to the curb and be with the man you’re supposed to be with. And the sooner you admit it, the happier we’ll all be.” “And why will you be happier?” Jessina tipped her head and gazed up at the ceiling with a fond look. “Whenever Leo drops in, he brings those little red velvet cupcakes you like so much.” Roxanne shook her head. “So all of this boils down to a cupcake fix for you?” “Hey, I’m a menopausal woman married to an impotent husband. What else is there for me to look forward to?”
***** “Are you up to date on your birth control?” Roxanne turned to Jessina, the taxi’s polished vinyl seat squeaking under her thighs. If both of them were closing, they always shared a cab uptown. It was less timeconsuming than taking public transportation, and warmer too. “That’s kind of a random question, don’t you think? And don’t forget, personal.” “Just wondering,” Jessina replied as she looked out the other widow. “You suddenly have all these novios and a girl can’t be too careful.” Thankfully, the cab was slowing to a stop. In an effort to hurry her along, Roxanne reached over and pulled the door handle. Of course, her self-appointed busybody took her time gathering her things. Still, Roxanne’s patience outlasted Jessina’s pace. 52
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“Have a good day’s rest tomorrow.” “You too, Jessina. See you Monday.” Roxanne sat back so Jessina could shut the door. But instead of doing so, Jessina stuck her head back in. “Miss Roxanne, can you do me a favor?” “Sure, ask away.” “Promise me you won’t be like one of those silly women in romance novels, who only realize they want the hero when they see them with someone else. Call Leo back and tell him you’ve changed your mind.” Roxanne sighed. “Good night, Jessina.” She leaned forward and tapped the cab’s separating glass. “1455 Lincoln Avenue, please.” “I can’t go anywhere unless she steps away from the door,” the cabbie said, jabbing his thumb at Jessina. Finding herself at an impasse with a cold Chicago wind biting at her bones, Roxanne sighed. She rummaged through her purse and pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll at least talk to him, if it will make you feel any better. I’ll see if he’s free for dinner tomorrow.” In short order, Roxanne sent Leo a text message. Smiling brightly, Jessina stepped back and shut the door. “Good night, Miss Roxanne.” Roxanne could barely wave goodbye before the cab jumped from the curb and merged into traffic. She tried her best to sit back and enjoy the rest of the ride but with each passing block, Jessina’s words in her head and no return text from Leo, Roxanne slowly worked herself into a dither. Had she really fucked up for good? Already? Had he moved on with someone else? Suddenly unable to stand the taxi’s close quarters or the questions riding her conscience, Roxanne tapped on the separating window. “Can you let me out at the next light, please?” The driver looked at her through the rear-view mirror. “Are you sure?”
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“More than sure,” she replied, handing him some cash. “I need to exercise my legs.” And a few personal demons. Roxanne alighted from the cab as soon as he stopped. Head down, hands shoved in her coat pockets, she pounded the pavement. For how long, she didn’t know—until she looked up and found herself in Old Town. “Geesh, I have it bad.” Roxanne’s steps slowed until she came to a standstill in the middle of the sidewalk. Not only had she walked more than fifteen blocks, she’d also found her way to Leo’s neighborhood. At half-past ten on a Saturday night, Old Town was a beehive of activity. People streamed in and out of the bars and restaurants and a crowd of moviegoers was flowing out of Regal Cinemas across the street. Not in the mood for dealing with the crush, Roxanne decided to head home. Turning around, she headed back up the block, toward the station on the corner for one of the uptown trains. The rocking of the train and its screeching starts and stops would be a welcome respite from the silent confines of a cab. Before she could execute her escape, the wind was knocked out of her sails and she stopped dead once again. Despite the dense crowd milling around her, she spotted Leo, standing out like a Christmas tree at Easter. A tall drink of water with broad shoulders, he stood head and shoulders above everyone else. He was also an exotic foil to his beautiful companion—a petite blonde clinging to his arm like a Chihuahua with owner-separation anxiety. “Sticky Vicky.” Roxanne instantly recognized the fashionable shoulder-length bob and killer bod of Leo’s ex-fiancée. Arm in arm, the two of them picked their way through the crowd, moving in her direction. For what felt like an eternity, Roxanne watched them as they talked and laughed.
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“Probably catching up on old times,” she muttered, her nails biting into the meaty flesh of her palms. While they chatted, she concentrated on the pain. Better than acting upon the sudden urge to gift Miss Perfect with another nose job. Leo had paid for the first one as a twenty-fifth birthday present. Feeling the walls closing in as they ate up the distance, Roxanne suddenly, desperately pursued a quick exit. Drawn by the bright lights of a store, she ducked inside. Somewhat disoriented, Roxanne closed her eyes to regain her bearings, feeling like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. “Hello! Welcome to Kandy’s House of Kink.” Roxanne’s eyes popped open and she found herself face-to-face with a twentysomething woman decked out in a hot-pink latex tank dress and matching collar. Roxanne bit down her bottom lip. The younger woman reminded her of a walking, talking prophylactic. She stood in front of a wall of brightly colored condoms. “I’m running a totally rad special today,” the woman continued, stepping forward and shoving a bubblegum-pink plastic basket into Roxanne’s hands. “If you buy a pair of handcuffs at full price, you’ll receive a fifty percent discount on all our dildos and vibrators. If you need any help, don’t be afraid to ask. I’m Kandy, by the way.” Killing two birds with one stone, Roxanne thought. She could hide from Leo and fulfill the wish list Constantine had given her last week that she hadn’t had the balls to actually fill. Right off, Roxanne found a pair of red, rubber-coated handcuffs on a revolving carousel near the front counter and dropped them in her basket. Remembering the discount, and one of the most important items on the list sitting next to her computer at home, she ventured deeper into the store. With its polished wood floors, fluorescent lighting and clean, white-washed walls, Kandy’s House of Kink reminded Roxanne of a chic boutique rather than a sex shop. So of course, she immediately lost herself amongst the shelves lined with nipple clamps,
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oils activated by body temperature, butt plugs, edible panties, cock cages and every kind of toy any sexual libertine could want or dream of. “Out on a late-night dildo run?” The hairs on the back of Roxanne’s neck tingled. She knew that voice, even in the dizzying bowels of Kandy’s House of Kink. Why did she have to run in to Leo here? And standing in front of a wall of plastic cocks! Sucking in a calming breath, Roxanne slowly turned around. Of course, she didn’t immediately look up. That would’ve been too much to handle all at once. So while she fought to gain her bearings, Roxanne checked him out. Starting at the tips of his scuffed square-toed boots, she let her gaze begin a slow, upward crawl. She smiled at the haphazard cuff in his dark rinse jeans, sure he’d flipped the hem more for ease of walking than as a fashion statement. Her smile faded slightly as she took in his muscular thighs and slim hips. He looked so good in his jeans, Roxanne almost dropped her basket just so she could see him bend over and pick it up. Her eyes lingered on his groin a little longer before moving on to his narrow waist and trim torso encased in a navy v-neck cashmere sweater layered over a white t-shirt. His chest was so well defined, Roxanne was sure the shirt itself loved being molded to his body. If she were in its place, she certainly would. He had to be the most mouthwatering specimen of male flesh this side of a men’s magazine style sheet. And she should have noticed years ago. He was what the fashion magazines dubbed a “sexy nerd”, with his perfect body normally hidden behind loose clothing, inky curls barely tamed and his baby blues hidden behind glasses. Not bothering to check her thoughts, Roxanne finally answered his question. “You know what they say? A dildo in the hand is worth two fingers in the bush.” A muscle jerked in his cheek, as if he were struggling not to laugh. “Why haven’t you returned any of my calls? Have you replaced me already?” He placed his hand over
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his heart and moaned and whimpered loudly. An older couple standing at the end of the aisle looked at them curiously. “Stop it. You’re going to make them think we’re doing something naughty.” Leo’s tongue glided slowly across his bottom lip. “If I can’t convince you, how can I do any better with them?” Before she went up in cinders and smoke, Roxanne changed the subject. “Speaking of being replaced, where’s Vicky?” “She decided to wait outside since I was only going to pop in and pop out.” Roxanne gulped, dreading the truth but wanting to know the answer. “Are you here to buy condoms?” Not taking his eyes off her, Leo shook his head. “I have plenty of those at home and a couple in my wallet. I saw you come in here and wanted to say hello. We’ve never gone this long without speaking.” “Ah, sorry about that.” Roxanne reached up and scratched her temple. She’d forgotten she was the guilty party. “Things have been really crazy at the boutique.” Leo nodded as if in understanding and then turned toward the wall, giving Roxanne a view of his drool-worthy profile. “It’s been crazy at the office as well, but I still found the time to call.” Roxanne winced. He was making sure she knew she’d messed up royally. “Do you need any help?” And just like that, good old Leo swept her transgression under the rug by changing the subject. Hiding a grin, Roxanne turned. But her smile wobbled and fell away as she faced what she immediately dubbed The Great Wall of Dildos. There are just too many to choose from! “Confused?” he asked. “Don’t be. They’re all hung according to size.” “You said hung,” she snickered. Leo’s gaze met and held hers. “Is that what you want? Hung, I mean?” 57
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Roxanne subtly crossed her booted legs at the ankles. It didn’t help. The pressure only increased the tingling between her thighs. Unable to help herself, she began to sway toward him… Inhaling a shaky breath, Roxanne abruptly reached out for the nearest thing she could find—a metal bar attached to The Great Wall. Her added weight caused the fixture to break from the wall, dumping electric-blue cocks onto the store’s wood floors. Before she could even bend, Leo dropped down and scooped them up. “Thanks,” Roxanne breathed, her eyes drifting over his ass as he straightened. His buns were so hard she could probably crack an egg on them. What was wrong with her? She was panting after him like a neglected wife with a pool boy. “Don’t mention it,” he said, sliding them on an empty prong above her head. “You didn’t answer my question.” As he turned back to her, Roxanne eyed his crotch. “W-what size are you?” It’s official. I’m worse than a neglected wife. I’m a puma on prowl during Fleet Week. Leo must have thought the question odd as well, because his eyes widened and he looked at her as if she’d grown a second head. “Let me get this straight—you want a dildo the size of my cock?” “I’m seeing this guy who’s about your height,” she semi-lied. “So I was thinking—” “That cocks come in one size per height?” Leo interjected. Knowing full well this had nothing to do with Constantine, Roxanne quickly returned her attention to the wall before she could blurt out a confession. Taking a random guess, she reached up and plucked a size-five cock from one of the prongs. “Is this close?” she asked, holding the dildo out to him as if it were nothing more than a box of cereal. Leo shook his head. “Not even. Follow me.” Roxanne’s mouth rounded in awe as he led her farther down the aisle. “You need about another three inches. Do you know
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what color you want?” Leo stopped in front of a display of monster cocks that made her slightly lightheaded. “I, ah, I guess I…” Roxanne choked on her words. Leo didn’t even try to help her. He just stood there, his ice-blue gaze boring into her. Each passing second washed over her like a tsunami, suffocating and causing her head to swim. Before she knocked down the entire Great Wall, she edged past him. Eyeing a flesh-colored dildo, she yanked it from its bracket. “What about this one?” she asked, holding it between them like a shield. Leo cocked his head. He glanced at the wall and then back at the dildo in her hand. “Close, but not quite. The head and the shaft are too narrow.” Tasting him already, Roxanne licked her bottom lip. Leo stepped closer, invading her personal space. With nowhere to run, Roxanne had to hold her ground or risk slamming into The Wall. One cock shower was enough for one day. Heat rolled off him in waves, igniting her body and sending her blood rushing through her veins like mercury. “You know,” he said slowly, edging even closer. “If you want my cock, I would love to give you the real thing.” Before she could respond, Leo slipped his hand around the nape of her neck and tugged her toward him. For the longest time, he didn’t say anything, just rubbed the sensitive area beneath her ear with the pad of his thumb. A light touch, but the effect went all the way to her soul. “What about Vicky?” Roxanne had to ask. They’d broken up two years ago and not once had he hinted at crossing that bridge again. “You weren’t returning my calls. She called me earlier today for some advice on buying a new computer…one thing led to another and—” “Hey, baby. I thought you were just coming in to say hello to a friend and you’d be right out?”
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Leo stepped back slowly. “My best friend,” he corrected. “I was and I did. You remember Vicky, don’t you, Roxanne?” Roxanne glanced at the picture-perfect blonde. “I remember Sticky— I mean Vicky. How ya been?” “Better now,” Vicky said, her eyes practically devouring Leo. “Now that I’m back with the only man I’ve ever loved.” Roxanne wanted to puke. “Can we go now? I hate these places. They’re so seedy.” Vicky squeezed her eyes shut and a shudder racked her thin frame. “Sex shops were invented for the desperate and the needy.” Vicky giggled. “Ha! That rhymed.” “Yeah, it did,” Roxanne mumbled. Feeling ten times worse than she had a minute ago, she edged past Leo. “Enjoy the rest of your date.” “We’re no—” he began. “We will,” Vicky interrupted. She smirked as Roxanne swiftly passed, gripping the dildo to keep from punching her in the kisser. “I’ll call you,” Leo shouted after her. “Make sure you pick up your phone.” “But don’t wait up for it,” Vicky called. The woman’s tinkling laughter followed Roxanne to the cash register and continued until she was out the door.
***** Roxanne tried to rid her mind of seeing Vicky in Leo’s arms, but she couldn’t no matter how much she tried. In truth, the two of them hugged up together would be etched in her memory until the day she died.
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But why? She and Leo had double-dated often. She’d even set him up with a few of her girlfriends. Of course, if any of them moved on him today, she’d scratch their eyes out. Roxanne’s steps slowed. If she couldn’t see the writing on the wall by now… There was no other explanation for her jealously and inexplicable anger. She was in love with Leo. And she’d gone and pushed him into the arms of another woman! Groaning loudly, Roxanne smacked her hand to her forehead. She could feel a migraine coming on. She always suffered one whenever she messed things up royally. And this debacle was the size of Buckingham Palace. Maybe she could right the wrong. Leo hadn’t seemed too immune to her in the store, even when Vicky interrupted them. Making up her mind, Roxanne did an about face. She’d barely tackled two blocks, so hopefully Leo and Vicky would still be in the area. With Kandy’s collared sheep sign in her sights, she swerved in and out of pedestrian traffic. Only to come skidding to a stop. “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.” Normally she would have shaken her head and hollered “get a room” to the young couple trying to suck each other’s lips off. But this time, all she could do was stagger over to the nearest building to catch her bearings. Standing on tiptoe, her arms wrapped around his neck, Vicky kissed the living daylights out of Leo. And he looked like he was enjoying it. So much so, he needed to keep himself upright by holding onto the door of the yellow taxi idling next to them. Roxanne’s heart sank. I guess one woman is as good as another. Turning away swiftly, she latched onto a suitable backup plan. She pulled out her cell phone and in quick order, sent Constantine a text.
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She knew she was taking the low road, but she figured she deserved some kind of solace. If she found it in the arms of another man, so what? Didn’t her grandmother always tell her a woman should have a spare? Roxanne walked quickly back toward the train stop. Her tummy rumbled loudly. She’d never been able to handle a broken heart on an empty stomach. She glanced down at her watch. If she hustled, she could make the next train and catch Gino’s before they closed the kitchen down for the night. Grease and tomato sauce could heal any broken heart. With only five minutes before the train arrived, Roxanne picked up her pace. As she ascended the stairs at the train stop, her purse vibrated. Constantine: What’s up, Hot Rox? Curiosity finally killed the cat? Despite feeling swamped with regret over Leo, she smiled at Constantine’s use of the pet name. He’d started using it right after they’d had online sex. She punched in a reply with trembling fingers. Roxanne: I really like you and I want to take the next step—and that’s hard to do if our attraction to one another can’t stand the light of day. Constantine: I don’t have any doubts, but since I know you do, we could meet someplace public. How about dinner? Are you free tomorrow night? Roxanne sagged in relief. Considering her luck this evening, she’d almost expected him to blow her off. Roxanne: Sounds good to me. Can you meet me at Riodan’s on N. Dearborn? Constantine: Isn’t Riodan’s a bar? Wouldn’t you like our first date to be someplace more romantic? Roxanne: Any suggestions? Constantine: The Geneva in the Dorset Hotel. Roxanne’s eyes widened. Ever since she’d relocated to Chicago to attend Northwestern University, she’d fantasized about eating at The Geneva, one of the finest restaurants in the city. Given five forks by the Chicago Daily Times, The Geneva was
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inaccessible to the average Joe. You needed to save up several weeks’ salary to afford one of the restaurant’s a la carte dinners. Leo had offered to take her, but she’d turned him down. She’d wanted her first time dining at The Geneva to be with a lover or significant other. And now it would be. Roxanne: The Geneva sounds great! See you there tomorrow at 7:30 p.m.? Constantine: Already counting the minutes. So was she. She was also ready to lay to rest her incessant thoughts of Leo—once and for all.
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Chapter Five “Hey, cool breeze. How did things go the other night?” Leo had too much respect to laugh in Salvatore’s face. The old guy tried his best to be hip. Unfortunately, he was still forty years behind the times. Leo slowed his jumping to measured hops to lessen the loud thwacking of the corded jump rope before he spoke. “Everything went like clockwork.” A slow grin lifted the corners of Salvatore’s thin lips. “I told you I knew women. So, when’s the engagement?” “No engagement and no wedding. She only wants to be friends.” Still smarting from Roxanne’s rejection, and more than a little confused after their run-in at the sex store, Leo looked away from Salvatore’s slack-jawed surprise. “What do you mean she only wants to be friends? You just said everything went like clockwork.” Suddenly losing his appetite for a good, punishing workout, Leo stopped jumping completely. “She was like putty in my hands.” Literally, Leo mused remembering her body moving over him as he spanked her. “But she stopped me before we could do anything else. Instead of admitting she wanted me, she pulled the friendship card and decided to find someone more compatible online.” Salvatore looked as if he was about to croak. “Online? Like from Amazon?” Leo started looping the rope around his hand. “No. She signed up on a matchmaking service.” Not really the truth, but a man of Salvatore’s age couldn’t handle the truth. Salvatore scratched the back of his head, pushing his wool paperboy hat forward over his brow. “I know this is none of my business, but doesn’t that seem a little whacked?” 64
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Leo grinned. “Not really. I know dozens of people who’ve found love online. And some of them ended up happily married.” Salvatore looked dubious. “Any of them still married?” “Every single one.” “I don’t know your Roxanne as well as you, but something about a computer matching her up with a total stranger doesn’t sit well with an old-fashioned codger like me.” “Didn’t you tell me your great aunt fixed you up with Pier?” Salvatore’s face softened. Pier Cipriani had been the love of his life. The pair had been married for more than forty years before she passed away three years ago. “Ah yeah, but that’s different.” Leo walked over to the nearest wall and hung the rope on a hook. “If I remember correctly, the two of you exchanged letters for six months, sight unseen. And five days after she stepped off the train from New York, you were married.” Salvatore nodded absently, his thoughts most likely somewhere in the past. Leo envied him. Salvatore Cipriani had married his best friend. “I still don’t trust what you young people call technology,” Salvatore said, sitting down on a nearby bench. “She could meet some stalker, or even worse, a murderer. Aren’t you the least bit concerned she’s meeting other men? Ones she can’t even pick out of a police lineup?” Leo sat down next to Salvatore and placed his hand over the old man’s in an attempt to comfort him. Leo loved him as much as his own father. “You kids and your silly pride,” Salvatore grunted. “Don’t come crying to me when you end up the best man at her wedding.” “It might be too late. I think she’s already met someone.” Salvatore balled his fingers and began to swear in Italian. By the time he was done, his cheeks were flushed from exasperation. “I know there’s no talking you into
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something, but for my peace of mind, if you’re not going to pursue her, make sure she meets this guy as soon as possible. All this man-of-mystery stuff is crazy and better left for the movies or some soap opera.” “How can I warn her when she won’t even answer my calls?” Leo palmed the back of his neck. “I don’t want to see her with anyone else…I’m in love with her.” “How about you tell her what you just told me?” “Tell her what?” “That you love her. It’s different than just telling her you want to be her lover. And the sooner the better. I want grandchildren I can stuff with baklava and take to the zoo.” “You already have sixteen grandchildren, and one on the way.” Salvatore started chuckling. Soon they were both laughing together. “Do you even know how to make Baklava?” Leo asked. “No.” Salvatore coughed a little as he chuckled. “But for you, the Greek son I never had, I’ll learn.” “I’ll hold you to that.” Salvatore pushed himself up from the bench. “And I’ll hold you to squaring things with your Roxanne. If you don’t, there won’t be a need to learn how to make baklava.”
***** Twenty-four hours came sooner than Roxanne had hoped. She was a bundle of nerves as she ran the brush through her hair for the hundredth time, more from sheer anxiety than actual vanity. Her dark hair floated around her shoulders thanks to an insanely hot Dominican blow-out, and her nails now sparkled like blood-red rubies with a fresh application of her favorite nail color, Sex Kitten. Her makeup was photoshoot perfect and her brown skin glowed from the peppermint-sugar scrub she’d applied in the shower. It was shown off to advantage in the off-white, vintage negligee she’d paid too much for. Despite the exorbitant cost, Roxanne knew she’d made a good
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choice. The sweetheart neckline made her girls look even perkier, while the ivory silk falling in soft folds to the floor accentuated her curves to bombshell proportions. If looks could kill, she could commit premeditated murder before the sun came up, or at least bring a man to his knees. But will it be the right man? “Stop doing this to yourself!” Frustrated and tired of warring with her conscience, Roxanne stomped out of the bathroom and into the sumptuous hotel room. Before taking a shower, she’d worked up a fine sweat achieving the room’s romantic atmosphere. A dozen vanilla-scented candles were placed strategically around the room and Sade’s latest CD played on the iPod stereo. As a final touch, she’d ordered a bucket of champagne, which sat perched on a table near the window. Roxanne glanced at the clock near the bed. Constantine would be here any minute. Upset over finding her mind preoccupied by Leo all night long, she’d taken drastic steps. Deciding to skip dinner, she’d instructed The Geneva’s maître d’ to send Constantine to the front desk, where he’d receive a key and further instructions to meet her upstairs. “If everything goes according to plan, I’ll have a new lover before the night’s through.” Roxanne frowned. Why had her plan sounded so much easier on paper? With each tick of the clock hand, Roxanne grew more anxious. Before long she started to pace. Better to wear the carpet thin than her nerves. “Constantine’s not exactly a stranger,” she rationalized. “And this isn’t technically a one-night stand since we’ve already had sex. Sort of.” Still, no matter how much she tried to rationalize it, Roxanne knew she was only fooling herself. This plan was ridiculous. She wanted Leo.
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A self-described emotional eater, she picked up a bag of complementary pretzels and tore into them. Almost immediately, the salty snack eased her frazzled nerves— which lasted exactly half the bag. No matter how she sliced and diced the situation, there was only one way to assuage her conscience. “Leonidas Papadopoulos, you’ve ruined me for anyone else!” Roxanne crumpled the bag in one hand as she reached for the dress and boots she had on earlier. If she hurried, she could be long gone before Constantine paid his taxi driver. Once dressed, Roxanne picked up a piece of the hotel’s complimentary stationary and scribbled a quick note of apology. After leaving it on one of the bed pillows, she slipped on her trench coat, grabbed her purse and headed for the door. Her room was located all the way down the very long hall from the stairwell. Located at the north end of the hall, the stairs would have given her the best exit to avoid any kind of potential confrontation. But even if she made it unnoticed, she still had to navigate twelve floors—in four-inch heels. Tugging on her earlobe, Roxanne weighed her options. “I’ll just take my chances with the elevator.” She rummaged through her purse and pulled out a pair of large, dark sunglasses. Sliding them on, she popped the collar of her trench coat. Satisfied with her makeshift disguise, she poked her head into the hallway. Greeted with an empty corridor, she breathed a sigh of relief. With her belongings in one hand, her other clutching the lapels of her coat, Roxanne stepped into the hallway. Going from zero to sixty in point-four seconds, she hustled toward the elevators. Skidding to a halt, she punched the down button, barely giving any notice to the ornate, scrolling floral artwork etched into the brass doors. “Just my luck,” Roxanne hissed. One of the elevators was on the way down from the twenty-second floor, the other coming up from the lobby. If Constantine happened
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to be on the ascending elevator, Roxanne figured she had a fifty-fifty chance of making a clean getaway. “Come on, come on,” she encouraged, willing the descending elevator to move faster. Her guardian angels must have heard her, because both elevators stopped—one floor above and one floor below. Seconds stretched into an eternity while both elevators lingered on their respective floors. She leaned forward and listened—muffled laughter and the rumble of luggage drifting from above; silence below. To make sure the descending elevator stopped on her floor, Roxanne pressed the down button again. As she dropped her hand, the top button lit up and the light above the ascending elevator went dark. Roxanne shuffled backward, her stomach dropping faster than the Raging Bull at Six Flags Chicago. Roxanne knew she couldn’t make it to the stairs if her life depended on it. And the ice machine room was near her suite, also too far. She’d made use of it earlier to chill the bottle of champagne now resting at the bottom of her overnight bag. The elevator bell dinged, snatching her chances of a quick escape like an open umbrella in a wind gust. Inching farther away, Roxanne could see the elevator operator when the doors parted—and a partial view of another man’s body. Just a shoulder, arm and leg, impeccably dressed in a black suit, the cuff of a white dress shirt peeking from the jacket. She didn’t dare crane her neck to see his face. Roxanne gulped. Constantine! “Twelfth floor, sir,” the elevator operator announced, while Roxanne deliberated over a course of action. With few options, she dropped her purse. Since she carried everything except her kitchen sink in the vintage Valentino hobo bag, it would be a decent distraction.
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“Oh my,” she gasped loudly. Even though only a few items tumbled out around her feet, it was better than nothing. She dropped to her knees. “I am just a butterfingers today.” She fumbled with a tube of lipstick while Constantine’s feet hesitated on the threshold of the elevator. Wondering why he’d stopped, Roxanne peeked over the top of her sunglasses—and her jaw dropped. Light gray eyes, dark hair and an olive complexion reminded her of a young Mel Gibson, circa Mad Max, before all the drinking binges and anti-Semitic jokes. “We don’t need another hero,” she whispered, unable to pull her eyes away. She watched him reach inside his trouser pocket and pull a twenty dollar bill from a silver money clip. He tried to give it to the elevator operator, but the attendant waved him off. “No tips, sir. Hotel policy. Enjoy your stay.” “Thank you, I’m aiming to.” Constantine stepped off the elevator, snapping Roxanne out of her trance. Returning to the task at hand, Roxanne threw the rest of her things back into her purse. “You missed something, miss.” Roxanne froze, her fist palming a half-eaten roll of breath mints. She refused to look up even as he crouched next to her. Instead, she concentrated on his black Gucci loafers. Not only was Constantine a good tipper, he was a Good Samaritan with big feet. “Thanks.” Roxanne came to her feet the same time one elevator closed and the other opened. Keeping her head down, she took the eye-brightener pencil from him, noting his long, tapered fingers. Roxanne gulped. Handsome. Tall. Big Feet. Long fingers. He was definitely her type. And yet in spite of all these positives, he had one glaring strike against him. He wasn’t Leo. 70
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And he wasn’t the one who’d stirred up the little butterflies now fluttering in the pit of her stomach. Confident in her heart’s choice, Roxanne turned toward the open elevator. “Here, let me hold the elevator for you.” Constantine rushed forward and stopped the elevator door with his hand. As she passed, she caught a whiff of his cologne. Undoubtedly expensive, the scent tickled her nose and teased her libido with a seductive mixture of bergamot and clover. Roxanne hesitated only slightly. There was no better panty-dropping inducement than a good-smelling man. When his hand slipped from the door, Roxanne suddenly remembered her manners and turned around. “Thank you, Constantine,” she breathed. Roxanne immediately groaned at her slip-up. “Any day, gorgeous,” he replied automatically, but then his gray eyes narrowed. “Wait—” The rest of his sentence was cut off by the closing elevator doors. “You were ready, weren’t you, miss?” the elevator operator asked. Noting the attendant’s slight smirk, Roxanne nodded. Despite the six-foot-plus temptation, there was nothing here for her.
***** Borrowing heavily from early 19th-century Art Nouveau architecture, the Dorset Hotel was lavish and well deserving of its countless accolades. The gas-lit lobby was five stories high, half a block long and topped by a glass dome with intricate ironwork similar to a spider’s web. Cream Italian marble covered the floors, and the walls, like all those in the guestrooms, were wallpapered with iris-patterned damask in antique gold. Unfortunately, Roxanne didn’t have time to appreciate any of it. Once out of the elevator, she hustled across the lobby toward the hotel’s revolving door. “Can I get you a cab, miss?” Roxanne nodded at the valet dressed in full uniform and white gloves. “Where are you headed?” he asked as he walked her to the curb. 71
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“West Confidential Street in Old Town, please.” The valet flagged the first cab in the queue, a late-model Volvo. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, miss,” he offered, stepping forward to open the door for her. Considering her life could change forever after tonight, Roxanne rehearsed her, “I’ve been a fool and, oh yeah, I’m madly in love with you” speech during the drive. “You don’t have anything to worry about,” Roxanne reassured herself. If Leo still had feelings for her, and if he wasn’t really trying to rekindle things with Vicky Roxanne suddenly felt lightheaded and queasy. Wound up and battling self-doubt, Roxanne didn’t realize she’d reached her destination until the driver smacked the meter. “Time’s money, lady,” he barked. “The fare’s six and a quarter.” Roxanne fished in her purse for the fare then climbed out of the cab and came faceto-face with the three-story mansion she’d helped Leo pick out three years ago. For Roxanne, the six-bedroom mini mansion had been love at first sight. Leo, on the other hand, hadn’t been as smitten. If it were up to him, he would’ve remained in his small, one-bedroom apartment the size of a potato chip bag. He’d only given in because his six-hundred-square-foot rental overlooking Wacker Drive hadn’t been conducive to entertaining his ever-expanding client list, nor was it saving him from an ever-growing tax liability. Spread out over four levels, the limestone and brick home had been custom built, but only eighty-percent completed before the owner found herself in the middle of a bitter divorce. Leo finished the construction, outfitting the place with a few extras not included in the original design, such as voice-activated lighting, a steam room, piped-in audio and Wi-Fi in every room. He’d allowed Roxanne to make it homier, and she’d helped him create a chef’s kitchen with stainless-steel appliances, selected Brazilian cherry hardwood flooring and picked out practically all the furnishings.
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He’d drawn the line at art, however, claiming it should be a purely personal undertaking. Leo had opted for sepia-toned photographs of graffiti ripped from the walls of Chicago’s grittiest neighborhoods. Having grown up in Chicago’s Juneway Jungle, he’d commissioned the pieces to remind himself how far he’d come. Smiling fondly at the memory of the expression on the photographer’s face when given the assignment, Roxanne bounded up the front steps two at a time. Halfway up, her steps slowed. One light burned in the downstairs office; the only other shining above the front stoop. The half-moon outdoor chandelier illuminated oak doors adorned with a pair of lion heads. Another of Roxanne’s personal touches; a nod to Leo’s name. Even though she had a key, Roxanne opted for the doorbell. After several heartwrenching moments and punching the doorbell repeatedly with no answer, Roxanne’s mind went into overdrive. Was he with Vicky at the moment? We’re they officially back together? And when the hell had it happened, anyway? God! She just bet they were in there right now… Needing to confirm her suspicions, Roxanne rummaged in her purse for the key. “You are in no way a stalker,” she reassured herself as the key turned in her hand. “You’re only going in to peek around.” Once inside, Roxanne hurried across the foyer to the chirping security system. Using the four-digit code Leo had given her, she disengaged the system. As she stepped back, she was suddenly shoved up against the wall.
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Chapter Six “I wasn’t breaking in! I was just returning your—” Roxanne’s words tumbled to a dead end. Something cold and wet nuzzled the inside of her hand. Looking down, she met the familiar hazel eyes of Leo’s chocolate Labrador retriever, Spiro. Flooded with relief, Roxanne sank to her knees and welcomed the two-year-old dog’s full-tongue greeting. “Hey there, big boy,” she cooed, scratching his large, floppy ears. “Where were you when I rang earlier?” Roxanne looked down at his wet paws. The doorbell must have summoned him from the dog run out back. “I miss you too.” And she meant it. Roxanne hadn’t gotten a pet of her own because Spiro has always filled that need. “So where’s your daddy?” Hearing the word “daddy”, Spiro’s ears perked up. “He’s not here, is he, sweetie?” Spiro hugged up against her hip as she stood, her gaze zeroing in on the foyer closet. Diagonal to the front door, the huge closet had been converted into a glorified mud room that allowed people to sit down to remove boots and coats. Leo’s favorite overcoat was slung over the doorknob, as if he’d hastily changed his mind about wearing it. Unable to help herself, Roxanne walked over. Probably in a rush for an oh so important date with Sticky Vicky, Roxanne thought, fingering the coat’s navy-blue wool. Batting back tears, she lifted the coat and folded it over her arm. She bent her head to rub her cheek against the slightly abrasive material and inhaled. Great! Not only am I a stalker, I’m a coat sniffer as well. Faint traces of heat clung to the coat’s lining, and his signature scent lingered like an intoxicating invitation. Roxanne leaned against the closet door for support. What she wouldn’t give to have his arms wrapped around her right now. 74
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Roxanne sidled over to the window. The street was as barren and devoid of activity as when she’d arrived. Knowing she was operating on borrowed time, she donned his coat, slipping it over her own. The garment swallowed her whole. The sleeves dangled past her fingertips and the hem brushed her ankles. None of this should have surprised her since Leo stood almost a foot above her own five-six. Still, she was struck by the difference, and the effect was staggering. All these years she’d emasculated her best friend, never looked at him as a man. Even the Adonis flirting with her inside the sex shop hadn’t seemed real. But the simple act of wearing his coat brought everything into perspective, made the man he’d become more tangible. The thought gave her a natural buzz. Speaking of buzz, Roxanne felt the familiar vibration of her cell phone. Praying it was Leo, she dove inside her purse. “Constantine,” she whispered, recognizing his number. Constantine: Cold feet? Roxanne pulled on her earlobe. She didn’t need this right now. Still, he deserved more of an explanation than the quick note she’d penned in haste. Roxanne: I didn’t want to waste your time. Constantine: How’s that? Roxanne hesitated. Her love for Leo was so new she found it difficult to put it into words. She decided on straight and to the point. She owed Constantine that much for leading him on and then standing him up. Roxanne: I’m in love with someone else. His reply was a long time coming and then her phone beeped. Constantine: Really? Roxanne: It sort of hit me by surprise. Broadsided me like a rush-hour bus. 75
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Constantine: 2 bad it wasn’t me. Roxanne’s gut twisted with guilt. In the short time she’d known Constantine, she’d actually come to like him. Roxanne: I’m sorry. You’re a super nice guy who’ll make some girl very happy one day. Constantine: U2. Whoever he is, he’s a lucky man. Take care. Roxanne: Bye… Roxanne flipped her phone shut and dropped it back into her purse. Shelving her current game plan, she took off Leo’s coat and draped it back on the doorknob. After giving Spiro one more scratch behind the ear and resetting the house alarm, she slipped onto the front stoop and locked the door behind her. Unsure of her next course of action, Roxanne remained rooted just outside the door. In the stillness of a cold Chicago evening, all the night noises seemed magnified. She could hear the metallic screech of CTA’s elevated train several blocks away, the blaring squall of an ambulance siren and the slam of a closing car door. She was so caught up in her silent reverie, she didn’t notice the taxi cab ambling down the block until it rolled to a stop in front of the house. “At least something has worked out in my favor.” Roxanne bounded down the steps, intending to snag the taxi. Before she could reach for the handle, the back door swung open. She stepped aside to avoid being broadsided by a carnation-pink Let Them Eat Cake bakery box and a pair of broad shoulders. Leo must’ve been just as surprised to see her, because he stared down at her like she’d grown two heads. Neither his expression nor his body language gave her any indication as to whether he was happy to see Roxanne and her two heads or not. Roxanne eyed the bakery box in his hand and her heart almost skipped a beat. Leo’s sweet tooth went into overdrive whenever he was depressed or lonely. Had things soured between him and Sticky Vicky already?
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Unable to keep her hands to herself, she clutched his arm and stepped forward, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “Hey, Leo.” “Roxanne,” he replied flatly. Where was the sexy-on-a-stick from Kandy’s House of Kink? Roxanne’s ego would’ve nosedived if she hadn’t caught the way his eyes lingered on her lips for a split second before they skittered away to some point over her head. “Coming from a hot date?” Roxanne knew she was being nosy, but she didn’t care. She needed to know if she still had competition. His gaze swung back to meet hers and he cocked his head to the side, his blue eyes narrowing. “She was a no-show. What are you doing here?” Ruffled by his impersonal tone, Roxanne found herself stuttering, “I-I…” She licked her parched lips before continuing. “I guess you wouldn’t believe I was simply in the neighborhood?” Leo shook his head. “Not when you live across town, and not in those boots.” Roxanne bit the inside of her right cheek. “What brings you to my ’hood?” “I wanted to—” “Hold that thought, I need to pay the driver.” Leo fished in his pocket and pulled out a ten dollar bill, handing it to the driver. “Keep the change.” That was a good sign, wasn’t it? He could’ve sent her packing in the cab. Once they were alone, Leo turned back around. He gazed down at her for what seemed like an eternity and then quirked his head toward the house. In silence, Roxanne followed him up the stairs and inside. She didn’t utter a word as he greeted Spiro. She didn’t make a sound while he picked up his mail from the foyer floor. And she stood quietly beside him when he flipped through it slowly before tossing it and his house keys into a Greek Sarpedon bowl atop the hall table.
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After a short walk past the front office and spiral staircase leading to the three top floors, they ended up in his favorite room—the kitchen. Upon entering, he walked over to the room’s centerpiece, a tall butcher-block table, and set the bakery box down. Roxanne had witnessed this routine a thousand times. Tonight she watched him with new eyes. His movements were graceful and exuded an air of confidence that so many men lacked, making him even sexier. Her body, so underutilized over the past year, responded. Leo toed the door of the side-by-side refrigerator; the hairs on the back of her neck tingled. He twisted the tops off two glass milk bottles; her nipples hardened into twin peaks. He kicked a stool out from under the table; her thighs quivered. Stifling a moan, Roxanne accepted one of the milk bottles with a strained “thank you”. She immediately placed the ice-cold glass against the side of her neck, hoping the chill would be a shock to her hay-wired libido. “What did you want to talk about?” he asked, taking the seat next to her. With what looked like a forced smile, he opened the bakery box, revealing a pie with a golden homemade crust. A tiny flag labeled CHERRY pierced its sugar-sprinkled top. Leo plucked the flag, stuck the stem in his mouth and sucked on it. Images of him doing the same thing to her body made Roxanne cross her legs with a shudder. “I need to tell you something.” “I’m all ears,” he said, mumbling around the flag and keeping her gaze firmly on his lips. Roxanne started to fidget as her temperature suddenly catapulted skyward. “I-I really appreciated you signing me up on that online dating website.” Leo set the cake flag down slowly and crossed his arms over his chest. For several moments, he stared at the pie while a muscle ticked in his jaw. “I was a fool for doing that,” he said, finally glancing up. “You met someone, didn’t you?” “I did, and I’ve come to—”
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“I’m happy for you, but I don’t feel like hearing this,” Leo interjected, not allowing her to finish. He snatched up the complementary plastic cake knife that always came with Let Them Eat Cake goodies and cut a double serving. “You might want to hear what I have to say, Leo.” “Doubt it,” he retorted, plopping the slice of pie in the center of his plate. “Yes, you do. I’m in love with—” Leo smacked his hand down on the tabletop. Startled, Roxanne jumped. She was even more surprised by his volcanic expression, darkened gaze and the quiet anger shaking his shoulders. “I told you, I don’t—” Fed up with his rudeness, Roxanne stood. She stepped forward and balled her fist in the collar of his sweater. Up close, his scent—a mix of mandarin, patchouli and cold Chicago night—tickled her senses and scratched at an inch that had lain dormant for far too long. “I’m in love with you,” she whispered, overwhelmed with both emotion and desire. Having never made the first declaration of love in a relationship, all of her exes usually beating her to it after the third date or so, Roxanne wasn’t sure what reaction to expect. Utter silence wasn’t one of them. “Did you hear me?” She tugged on his collar with one hand and snapped the fingers of the other. “I’m in love with you.” Leo placed his hands over hers, completely covering them. Roxanne shivered. His touch stirred up a pot of jumping beans in the pit of her stomach. What would it feel like, having his hands all over her body? Probably like a jumping-bean explosion. “Say it again,” he demanded. Roxanne’s heart pounded against her breastbone, threatening to shatter it. “I’m in love with you,” she repeated, stepping closer to settle her hips between his open thighs.
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With trembling fingers, Roxanne traced the line of his broad shoulders as Leo wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer still, fitting their bodies together like two lost puzzle pieces. He leaned into her and ran his mouth along the side of her throat. Roxanne squeezed her eyes shut. “Don’t you have something to say?” she groaned. One touch of his lips and her body exploded with heat. Leo tipped her chin so their gazes met. “Come on, Roxie. You know I’ve adored you since the moment I laid eyes on you.” Incredulous, Roxanne pulled back. “That was over ten years ago.” Nodding, Leo leaned in again and licked her bottom lip. Roxanne’s knees buckled. “Ten long years,” he rasped against her mouth, tickling the itch between her legs. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Leo shrugged. “I guess I was hoping for any indication that you might love me too,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Now shut up and kiss me.”
Leo didn’t have to ask twice. Roxanne angled her lips toward his, meeting him halfway. At the moment of contact, both of them moaned. He kissed her with a mixture of aggression and gentleness. He’d waited for this moment so long, the animal inside him screamed to be released so he could throw her atop the table and fuck her until she couldn’t walk for a week. The other, saner side of him didn’t want to hurt her; he cared about her too much. Leo settled comfortably in the middle. His tongue marched past her lips to capture hers. He almost lost it when she clutched him and moaned into his mouth. Her response jolted him from the top of his head to the head of his cock. All he had to do was pull down her panties and lift her up… Get a grip, man. Get a grip. “Roxanne you can’t imagine how much I’ve wanted to hold you like this,” he growled against her lips. “Kiss your lips…call you mine.”
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“Then let’s make up for lost time,” she panted, running her hands down his chest to cup his crotch. Blood rushed to the area, almost frightening Leo in its ferocity. “I want to take you upstairs, get you out of these clothes and spread you across the bed.” Leo’s cock jumped. His little Roxie was the aggressor. Not a surprise. She had a dominating personality, so why wouldn’t she be dominant in the bedroom? Leo’s ardor quickened. He couldn’t wait to see who broke who first. “Do you want to have your way with me?” “Yes,” she purred. “I love being in control.” God! Over the course of their friendship, they’d both developed the ability to read each other like a book. Right now, Leo didn’t need years of perception to know Roxanne was on fire for him. But they couldn’t move forward. Not yet… When he suddenly released her, he felt sorry as she stumbled slightly—but he needed to set the record straight before they could proceed. She deserved to know he’d been at the Dorset Hotel tonight. For safety’s sake, Leo stood up and put the stool between them. Roxanne had a killer right hook. He ought to know, he’d trained her himself. “Roxanne, we need to talk.”
Roxanne didn’t understand Leo’s abrupt turnaround. He might have separated himself, but his body still wanted her…badly. His nostrils flared and his eyes, now a deep shade of sapphire blue, twinkled brightly. She could see his cock straining at the front of his pants. Testing the waters, she stepped closer, her thighs brushing against the stool. She reached out and traced a finger across the top, smiling to herself when his eyes tracked her movements.
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“We’ve done enough talking for the past ten years,” she said, twisting the stool around and shoving it under the table. She stepped forward and placed her hands on his chest. Leo’s hands slid up her arms to capture her wrists. “Roxanne, I need to—” Roxanne placed her finger against his lips. “If you keep stalling, I’m going to start thinking you can’t handle me.” His eyes narrowed. He never could resist a dare. Just like Roxanne. “I can handle anything you give me and more.” He laced his fingers with hers, causing them to tingle. “The question is, can you handle me?” She kissed his fingers one by one. “I guess we’re a match made in heaven.” A smile played around the corners of Leo’s mouth as he shook his head. “You don’t understand. There’s something we have to talk about. Not the least of which, there can only be one dominant in my bedroom. And that’s me.” Roxanne’s mouth dropped open. “You like to have total control?” “Yes. Just like you. And if you want me, then you’ll have to accept the fact that I’m not going to just lie down like all those clowns from your past.” She hesitated. She’d never seen this side of him. The idea turned her on—really, really turned her on. Leo backed her against the table and reached around to plant his hands, blocking her in. She gazed up at him and the determined light in his eyes made her pause. Am I really ready for this? She’d better be—because there would be no turning back. “You really want to pursue this?” he asked, his lips deliciously close to her ear. Roxanne nodded. “I want to be pushed to the edge.” “Well, get ready, Roxanne Simmons. I’m going to press every single button you have. I’m going to push you over the edge. So far you’ll be begging me to never let go.” I’m already begging. “Give it your best shot.”
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Chapter Seven “Put your hands on the table behind you.” Roxanne complied without thinking twice, so ready for him she could scream. With excruciating slowness, Leo leaned down. He bunched the hem of her dress and lifted it. The soft glide of his hands was featherlike, barely noticeable, a stark contrast to the texture of her dress. His touch was a shock to her system and each stoke built upon the last until her body was on fire. Drawing in a ragged breath, Roxanne lifted her hand to wipe at the beads of sweat dotting her upper lip. “Did I give you permission to move?” Roxanne paused mid-swipe. She glanced down and was greeted with a steely expression. Leo’s hands had stilled as well. Not used to someone telling her what to do, she almost balked. But she didn’t, because somehow she knew her actions were tied to his inaction. “Sorry,” she mumbled, placing her hand back on the table. Doing so earned her a reward and Leo loosened her belt, parted her wrap dress. Cool air stole between her breasts, over her rounded belly and legs, tickling her pussy and nipples. Roxanne groaned. In her haste to leave the hotel room earlier, she hadn’t bothered with putting her bra and panties back on. Great way to start a relationship! He’s going to think you’re a certifiable slut for riding across town with no undergarments on. Roxanne braced herself for his reaction by splicing together a legitimate excuse for the faux pas. Standing, Leo whistled long and loud. “I was half expecting a thong. Or even those sexy boy-cut briefs. Not this.” He bumped the ridge of his cock between her legs and
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Roxanne’s breath caught in the back of her throat. “This just blows my mind,” he rasped, rocking his hips against her. In short order, he tugged the dress from her body and threw the garment on the table, leaving her in nothing but her thigh-high boots. As if she weighed nothing, he grabbed her waist and set her down on the table. Roxanne jerked as something sticky and warm gushed between her thighs and the crack of her ass. She looked down and her mouth fell open. He’d set her down in the middle of his cherry pie. His gaze, now filled with a primal gleam, raked her from head to toe as if she were a Sunday ham. “You’re more beautiful than I imagined. I’m going to take my time and do all the things I’ve dreamed about doing to you for ten years.” “I’m sitting in the middle of a cherry pie. Are you out of your mind?” “Nope.” Chuckling, Leo swiped his finger through the filling coating the insides of her thighs. “Just want to have my cherry pie and eat it too.” Not liking his humor, or the cherry working its way to her clit, Roxanne began to slide off the table but Leo grabbed her hips, holding her still. “Let me up,” she demanded. He looked down at her through a fringe of impossibly thick lashes and for the briefest moment, Roxanne’s resistance slipped. He possessed the prettiest bedroom eyes. “It’s always your way or the highway isn’t it? No wonder you’ve never had a mind-blowing orgasm. You always need to be in control.” Roxanne opened her mouth to dispel his assumption—but she couldn’t argue with someone when they were right. She had a controlling nature and it served her well in the business world. Unfortunately, she’d been unable to let that go in the bedroom, and she was suffering for it. “Can I take off my boots at least? They’re vintage, 1972 to be exact, and they set me back about five hundred.”
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Born with a touch of ADD, she’d never been able to sit still for long. Leo knew this. And he used it against her as his hands started a slow, haphazard journey down her legs. The burgundy leather rasped under his touch, punctuating the silence. The randomness of his caresses, from featherlight to slight pressure, set her on edge. And even through the layer of aged leather molded to her legs, she could feel his body heat. Roxanne gritted her teeth. No matter how delicious his hands felt, she was not going to cave. Not with her boots on the line… Who am I kidding? She should’ve admitted defeat the moment he’d touched her. And now all he was doing was working her into a sex-induced frenzy. Each squeeze of his hands plucked at her clit, making it swell. Every pass of his hands tweaked her nipples, turning them into hard little knots. And the barrier itself seemed to only heighten the eroticism of her vulnerable position, kindling a slow burn that needed more fuel―like a long, slow fuck. By the time his hands encircled her ankles, Roxanne would have agreed to being buried in her boots, just so he’d bury himself balls-deep in her pussy. “I’ll keep them on!” Roxanne gushed. To hell with having the upper hand when she wanted his hands all over her. “Just stop torturing me.” “Good girl,” he praised, grasping her legs and sliding them tight together then far apart. Roxanne shivered when more cherry filling bubbled up to coat her closely shaved mound. “I think you deserve to be rewarded,” he continued, drawing a figure-eight pattern through the pie filling on her skin, causing Roxanne to arch toward him. “Want to take a guess at what it could be?” A hard cock stretching and banging my pussy? Leo’s finger stilled, drawing Roxanne’s attention. Had she spoken aloud in her delirium? His eye color had deepened and he sucked his finger as if he was ready to do the same to her. Roxanne prayed he would, and soon. She’d been ready since the moment he’d stepped from the car.
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“You’ll get your dessert soon,” he said. “In my house, it’s always gentlemen first…up to a point.” Gripping her hips, Leo bent forward and settled his head between her thighs. Roxanne tended to lose it when men went down on her, especially if they knew what they were doing. She had a pretty good feeling Leo was going to blow her top. He swirled his tongue over the slight indenture in her right knee and Roxanne shuddered. His lips were firm and demanding as he began a slow crawl up her thigh, punctuated by licks and kisses. Each languid caress and bob of his dark head seemed to ignite every single nerve ending from the point of contact straight to her clit. Roxanne shuddered and ground her ass into the table, further coating herself in pie filling. If her body was reacting like this to simple kisses, she was in deep trouble. “Spread your legs wider,” he commanded. Roxanne decided she didn’t mind his authoritative tone since the order directly benefited her pleasure. Her quick compliance was further rewarded with a swipe of his tongue through the short hairs covering her sex. The sight was so erotic, she almost came. “I can’t tell which cherry is sweeter, you or the pie.” Leo pursed his lips as if he were a sommelier dissecting a vintage. “At least I have all night to find out.” Roxanne moaned, her eyes crossing when he tugged her pussy lips apart with his thumbs. A sweet, tortuous ache settled in her belly. Her legs started to quiver and the strength to hold herself upright was becoming increasingly elusive. As she slipped to her elbows, she wondered if she would last through the night.
Using a broad swipe of his tongue, Leo cut a hot path forward from her tiny puckered hole to the swollen bud throbbing at the peak of her slit. “Leo…that feels so good!” she cried as he pulled and sucked at her flesh. Her response rocked him to his very soul. She bucked against him, her hips almost coming
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off the table. His grip tightened but she kept bucking, rolling and pumping her mound against his lips. The more she moved, the harder he got and the more he wanted her. If that was even humanly possible. He’d waited for this moment for so long he could barely think straight. “Leo, I want…” She threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged, filling him with such immense pleasure, Leo’s eyes almost rolled to the back of his head. “Tell me what you want.” His blew against her heated flesh and she shuddered against him. “I want you. Hard and thick, pumping inside me.” “In due time. Now sit back and enjoy.” Leo was shocked at how calm he sounded, considering he felt like a hungry bear just waking from hibernation. So much so that he hauled her legs up and back until her thighs rested on her chest. She was practically curled in on herself—and at the perfect angle for what he wanted to do next. Leo shoved the pie box aside and placed his tongue against her anus. And almost came. She tasted better than any dessert, and not just because her behind was caked with one. With a slow, easy glide, he rimmed the tight, puckered hole, licking her clean. With each swirl of his tongue, she moaned and whimpered and clutched at his arms, her hands twisting the sleeves of his sweater. She was exactly how he liked his women— under his complete control. Her response kindled his and something inside him clicked, set him off. Bending her deeper into position, he covered the hole completely with his mouth. He quickened his pace, rimming her until she squirmed and her pleas bordered on begging. Leo resisted the urge to turn her over, give in to her cries and sink balls-deep. For one, she needed to learn who was in control. And two, she tasted too good to stop now. Giving in to his desires and continuing to ignore her pleas, he speared her pussy with his tongue. Ah, damn! Her honey was so deliciously warm, her body so tight, he almost creamed. Leo reached down and palmed his cock. As he returned his tongue to 87
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her hole, he imagined himself inside her there. In time, he mused. In good, sweet time, he’d have this ass! Leo strapped her to a dizzying, erotic ride. When she was close to the edge, shouting and grabbing at his shoulders, he retreated. But as soon as she recovered, he worked her body into another frenzy. Over and over again, Leo played this game of cat and mouse. But he could tell no matter how much he backed off, she wasn’t coming all the way down. Her sharp, panting breaths marked his tongue’s driving rhythm. Her body had tightened under him and her juices ran down the crack of her ass. Her orgasm was already gathering energy and all she needed was a little push. “I’m going to come,” she ground out. Not yet, his mind rebelled. Leo ripped his mouth away from her. He ignored her cry of protest. “Not yet, Roxie. You are not to come until I tell you to.” She moaned and clawed at the kitchen table. Leo squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop himself from coming. He was going to ruin this before it even began. There was nothing he loved more than to have complete control over his lover’s responses. “More control?” she squeaked. Leo grinned. She was a quick study. “Total.” He watched as she gazed up at the kitchen’s vaulted tray ceiling, panting. After a long pause, she released a drawn-out groan and her hands relaxed. Leo chuckled. She’d made a mess of her hair. What curls she hadn’t crushed, stood out at odd angles like she’d just rolled out of bed. Gorgeous. She looked at him. “You think this is funny, don’t you?” He shook his head. “No, but I do love your responses and your tenacity.” Roxanne looked back up at the ceiling. “Just trying to keep my eyes on the prize.” “Good,” he praised, circling her clitoris with his thumb. His cock jumped at her deep inhale and exhale. “Are you ready for more?”
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“Born ready.” Holding her open with his thumbs, Leo fell back between her legs. He guided his tongue over her labia to her clit. He drew the sensitive flesh into his mouth slowly. “So sweet,” he murmured, sinking a thumb into pussy and his middle finger in her ass. Caught by surprise at the double penetration, Roxanne’s hips jerked, driving his digits deeper. “Ohh…Leo…that feels so gooood!” she panted, grinding her hips back and forth over his greedy mouth and fingers. Her praise galvanized him. He sucked her clit with increasing gusto and pumped his fingers in perfect timing. He stretched and filled her, causing her to expel another gut-wrenching groan. In no time, he had her lingering on the edge. Her head fell from side to side and she started to pant his name over and over. The sight was mind-blowing. Leo felt his nerve endings mesh into one exquisite sensation that ran through his body like electricity, tightening his balls. “Oh, Leo, I don’t think I can take it anymore…” “Are you sure you’re ready?” he breathed against her before using his tongue to flick her clit rapidly. “Pleeease,” she whimpered. “Please what?” He wasn’t going to make this easy. “Do it! Take me over the edge.” Leo gave and gave, manipulating her flesh until he was unmindful of the time of day or even what day it was altogether; the only certain knowledge, that he knew how to push all her buttons. “Let go. Let go, Roxie!” His words acted like a catalyst, tipping her like a scale. Her back bowed from the kitchen table and a scream exploded from her lips. 89
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“That’s it, baby, come for me…only for me.” “Only you,” Roxanne declared. Leo continued to milk her instead of allowing her to come back down. Caught up, he rode her, his tongue and fingers working as one, controlling her in her release as she now controlled him. Once again, incoherent words spilled from her lips as he pushed her toward yet another climax.
***** Lethargic, Roxanne cuddled against him. After her third orgasm, Leo had scooped her up in his arms and walked them down a short hallway to the mansion’s elevator. “Where are we going, baby?” Leo nipped the side of her neck. Roxanne groaned and pressed into him. “I’m taking you upstairs to clean you up. Then we’re going to get down and dirty again. I’m going to feed you some of my cock. How does that sound?” His words made the walls of her pussy clench. Still, she couldn’t help joking with him. “I’m watching my calories. I don’t want my curves to get out of control.” Blue eyes twinkling, Leo bit the swell of both breasts. Her nipples puckered in gratitude. “I guess you didn’t get the memo? Protein does the body good.” “I thought that was milk?” Roxanne chuckled. “I’m going to feed you some of that too.” Leo gazed at her and Roxanne’s toes curled. “It’s a little thicker and stickier than you’re probably used to.” Roxanne leaned forward and drew his bottom lip into her mouth. She took her time tracing him with her tongue, needing to memorize his taste. When she finally let go, his chest rose and fell rapidly. “I plan on drinking up every…last…drop.” Leo banged on the elevator button. “I have the slowest elevator in all of Chicago.”
*****
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Leo’s master bedroom was located on the top floor along with a mini-laundry room, a home gym and a guest bedroom. A little under four hundred square feet, Leo’s personal sanctuary, as he’d dubbed it, occupied a third of the top floor, and like the rest of the house, boasted Brazilian hardwood floors and modern furniture that complemented the room’s clean lines. Despite its size, the room didn’t come across as a museum. Roxanne had done a good job breaking the room up into different livable spaces. If he wanted to watch TV or read a book, he could do both in a sitting area created in front of a floating fireplace, several bookcases and a flat-screen television. If he needed to send an email, surf the internet or send a fax, a smaller version of his home office blended effortlessly between the sitting and sleeping areas, separating the two. The bedroom was a home within a home, and Roxanne’s favorite room in the entire house. In fact, whenever she came over they usually hung out up here playing cards or watching TV. “Don’t move,” he said after depositing her in the middle of his California king-size platform bed. “What about the duvet?” she asked, feeling the sticky remnants of pie filling on her skin. “I couldn’t give a damn about the bedding.” Leo smiled then turned on his heel and walked into the bathroom, returning almost immediately. “Open your legs, babe, so I can wash you.” When Roxanne opened her eyes, Leo sat next to her on the bed, a wet washrag in his hand. Her gaze traveled over his bare chest and she sighed. He was too gorgeous for words. His torso was chiseled with hard abs and well-defined pecs offset by nipples the color of walnuts. Despite her blatant desire for him, lying in his bed felt odd. He was the same old Leo she enjoyed being around, who she shared her secrets with, but now he was something entirely new. He was her lover. 91
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One of Leo’s eyebrows shot skyward and he stroked her with the warm, wet cloth. “Not getting shy on me now, are you?” Roxanne pushed up on her elbows and cocked her head. “This feels strange, like we’ve just met for the first time.” Leo rolled her over, whisked the duvet from beneath her then ran the washcloth between her cheeks. Roxanne’s breath caught in the back of her throat “This is just another facet of our relationship, like adding another piece to a collection, making it almost complete.” Water dribbled over her ass and Roxanne looked over her shoulder, her attention on the hand now stroking between her thighs. Despite the cloth’s heat, she shivered. “Do you know what would make all of this complete?” “No,” Roxanne breathed, her eyes falling to half mast. “Marry me.”
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Chapter Eight If that didn’t come out of left field. “W-what?” she stuttered, turning to face him. “Will you marry me?” “When?” Roxanne’s eyes widened at her own question, more surprised she didn’t need time to think about it than she was by Leo popping the question. His slow grin softened his handsome features, causing her heart to somersault. “So, that’s a yes?” Roxanne wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. “A big, fat yes,” she purred, enunciating every word with a kiss on the side of his neck. “I’m going to plan the biggest damn wedding Chicago’s ever seen!” She started to lie back, pulling Leo with her, but he crushed her to his chest and captured her lips. Roxanne melted. He kissed her with such an intense thoroughness she didn’t know which way was up. But she definitely knew who was in charge. His command of her body excited her, made her feel alive and coiled as tightly as a spring ready for release. Knowing just how to get that release, she reached between them and unbuttoned his jeans. Leo leaned back, breaking their kiss. Roxanne almost groaned at the sudden loss. “I don’t care if you plan a circus rivaling Barnum & Bailey. But it better be before winter’s over. I’ve waited years to be with you and I’m not going to wait another.” Roxanne unzipped his pants. She smiled to herself as he lifted his hips, helping her to undress him. “You haven’t really waited that long for me, have you?” Leo nipped at her jaw. Feeling it all the way down to the apex of her thighs, she moaned and started tugging at his jeans.
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“Ever since July 31, 2001.” Roxanne’s hands stilled on the waistband of his boxer briefs. “Freshmen orientation?” “Love at first sight.” Sickened by her utter idiocy, Roxanne fell back against the bed. “I can’t believe I’ve been so blind this whole time!” She placed her hands over her face and groaned. “I’m so sorry for being such an idiot, Leo.” Hearing him chuckle, she peeked through her fingers. “I know a way you can make it up to me.” While she’d wallowed in guilt, Leo had removed the rest of his clothing. He now stood before her with nothing on but his birthday suit. A very, very hard birthday suit. Roxanne knew Leo worked out regularly. Still, she had no idea his button downs and khakis hid all this. His bronze body sported very little fat. It didn’t have room with all the lean muscle. And don’t get me started on that cock… Hypnotized by the girth, Roxanne didn’t object when he suddenly grabbed her by the ankles and pulled her to the edge of the bed, placing her feet on the mattress. “Didn’t you say I could make it up to you?” she asked, clutching the sheets. Leo crouched before her. “Yes, but it would require you staying in this bed for ten whole days. One day for every year you made me suffer.” Roxanne groaned and shifted her hips closer as he ran his finger through her slit, opening her pussy lips to his perusal. “Ten days?” she panted, her lungs constricting in excitement. “I need at least that much time to memorize every single inch of you. So ten days of straight lovemaking should suffice.” Pausing, Leo looked at her through inky black lashes. Be still, my horny heart!
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“Of course, the first time or two might be considered fucking, since I doubt I’ll be able to control myself.” He turned his head and kissed the inside of her thigh. “But what about our jobs?” “We’re both due a vacation.” Leo rubbed his chin against her leg, tickling her with his five o’clock shadow. Roxanne bit her lip. She couldn’t just abandon the shop, could she? “If you’re worried about the boutique, I’ll send someone over from a temp agency and pay their salary.” “You don’t have to do that. I can ask Jessina to bring in one of her daughters to help out.” “So what’s your answer?” “I’ll call Jessina in the morning.” Leo grinned wickedly. His tongue darted out to lick the curve of her ankle, catching Roxanne by surprise. This man is going to be the death of me! “Leo,” she whispered, running her other foot over his cock. She wasn’t verbally telling him what to do, but he’d have to be a fool to not know what she wanted. When he broke away to retrieve his trousers, taking his body heat with him, Roxanne almost regretted her impatience. He was starting to become her drug. And she seemed to need constant contact. Unable to help herself, she ran her foot over him and teased his cock with her toes while he fumbled inside one of his jean pockets. She must have gotten to him because he dropped his wallet next to her on the bed. “You do the honors, Ms. Impatience.” He chuckled, standing between her legs and pulling her closer. His thumb latched onto her clit and Roxanne’s eyes almost crossed. Eyes slightly unfocused, Roxanne groped for the wallet. Finding it, she pulled out a yellow-foiled condom from the billfold. Before she closed the wallet, her eyes drifted to his driver’s license. It had been taken several years ago, when his curly hair fell to his 95
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shoulders and his eyeglass frames were tortoiseshell, not black. Roxanne smiled. Even then, her geek was handsome. “Leonidas Constantine Papadopoulos,” she whispered. Leonidas Constantine Papadopoulos? Purely a coincidence? Or were Leo and Constantine actually one and the same? Then who was the hottie at the hotel? Roxanne rolled away from him. “What’s wrong?” Roxanne thrust the wallet between them. “Are you Constantine?” she choked. Her body was so numb she felt paralyzed. Leo stiffened. “Roxie—I can explain.”
“Explain?” she mumbled as if from a thousand miles away. Leo’s heart constricted. He’d never seen Roxanne at a loss for words. “There’s nothing to explain. I thought I was talking to someone else and it was you the entire time.” Leo tried to dredge up a viable excuse for his actions, but he couldn’t find one. Well, not one that would lessen the blow of his treachery. The bed dipped as she stumbled to her feet. “Why did you do it?” She looked as if she were in a daze. Leo had to clench his fists to keep from dragging her into his arms. Instead, he watched as she snatched up a pillow to cover her nudity. Leo lifted his head to look her in the eye. “I was being selfish. I didn’t want you to meet anyone else. And I guess I wanted to prove a point. I wanted to make you want me as much as I wanted you, without our friendship being used as some lame excuse.” “Lame excuse?” Roxanne choked. “Who died and made you the cupid? What, you can’t accept rejection?”
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Leo knew he shouldn’t take the barb personally, but it pierced his heart just the same. One of his eyebrows swept upward. “It worked didn’t it? You were so hot for me you were ready to milk Constantine’s dick.” Leo regretted his words even before she flinched. When she finally spoke, her voice was low. “But it was all about you. I decided to sleep with Constantine because I was jealous after seeing you with Vicky. But I didn’t sleep with him because, stupid me, I was in love with an asshole.” Leo raked his hands through his hair. “If it’s worth anything, I went to The Geneva tonight to tell you the truth. I even tried to tell you downstairs, but things got carried away.” Roxanne opened her mouth then, as if thinking better of it, turned to leave. She barely took a step before Leo blocked her path. She couldn’t leave. Not like this. “Please don’t,” she muttered. “I’m sorry I ignored you for so long. But I didn’t deserve this.” Expertly sidestepping him, she made it halfway across the room before he roped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against him. Leo nearly moaned as his cock grew instantly hard. All he had to do was touch her and he turned into a horny teenager. “Forgive me, Roxie,” he whispered in her ear, pleading, hoping to weaken her resolve. “Please don’t go.” Leo pressed his body even tighter to hers. “It was wrong, what I did, and I’m sorry for deceiving you.” “You crossed the line, Leo. You manipulated me, made a fool of me.” She grabbed his hands and pulled them away. “Friends forgive each other, but a true friend would never have done what you did.” She turned slowly to face him, the sadness in her eyes nearly killing him. “With friends like you, Leonidas Papadopoulos, who needs enemies?”
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Leo stepped back as if she’d hit him. And in a way, she had. She hit him right where it mattered—his heart. “So that’s it?” he asked quietly. “Ten years of friendship down the drain despite my apology?” “For right now, yes. I need some distance to figure everything out.” As she walked out the door without a backward glance, Leo prayed she wouldn’t need another ten years.
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Chapter Nine Sharon McGee, the host for Morning Buzz, accepted a mug from her co-host, Ben Fox, and then looked into the TV camera with a bright smile. “Welcome back, everyone. Glad you could remain with us for our second hour. And if you’re just joining us, good morning!” Sharon paused to take a sip of her drink before continuing. “We still have tons of things to cover this morning. So sit back, relax and grab a hot cup of coffee.” “So what’s the top story of the hour?” Ben asked, flipping through a stack of blue cue cards. Sharon rolled her eyes, her hand to her chest in a fake swoon. “Our top story is for the romantic in all of us. Leonidas Papadopoulos, local internet guru, millionaire and total hunk, has created buzz with his single-minded pursuit of another local by the name of Ms. Roxanne Simmons. Over the past three weeks, he’s literally bought every rose in the city and inundated the young woman with enough flowers to rival a Mafia funeral.” “And frankly I wish he’d stop, he’s making the rest of us look bad,” Ben pointed out as he settled back into his tall leather stool. Sharon clasped her hands together. “I know! Don’t you just love it?” Chuckling, Ben shook his head. Perfectly coiffed, his blond hair didn’t move an inch. “I feel for the guy. If he keeps this up, he’ll own half the flower shops in Chicago.” “So you’ve already seen the video?” “I’ve seen the tale of woe,” Ben corrected.
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Sharon clucked her tongue. “It’s not a tale of woe. It’s romantic that the man is trying so hard to win his lady love. Even more endearing is what Ms. Simmons has been doing with all those beautiful arrangements. Our very own Keilani Summers got that scoop.” “Yeah. A scoop of ice queen.” Ben winced when his co-host smacked him on the arm. “It’s true! Come on, she’s frozen the poor guy out for weeks, even with all the local media attention.” “Well, we don’t know what’s transpired between the two. But that’s not the gist of this piece. Instead, Keilani is highlighting how Ms. Simmons has turned a hell of a lot of thorns into happiness.” Sharon smiled into the camera. “Max, could you roll the piece, please?”
***** “Someone once said that love is like a rose. When pressed between two lifetimes, it will last forever. This can be applied to a tale of two lovers who have all of Chicago talking. But this isn’t just another guy trying to buy his way out of the doghouse. It’s a story of how one man’s determination has allowed a woman to bring happiness to hundreds of hospice patients, nursing home residents and even Meals on Wheels clients across the city.” The camera panned from Keilani Summers, a mocha-skinned beauty, to a shot of Roxanne in front of Golden Years. “You look great, boss.” Jessina waved the remote control at the flat-screen television mounted behind the checkout counter. Roxanne snorted. She had refused an interview, so the reporter and crew had filmed her opening the boutique yesterday morning. She continued working as Jessina turned back to the TV. “Every single day for the past three weeks, Roxanne Simmons has received ten dozen roses. No one knows the significance of the flowers, or what exactly Mr.
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Papadopoulos could have done to warrant such a grand gesture, but we do know the grateful beneficiaries. And we have a few of them for you tonight.” Roxanne couldn’t resist watching when the segment cut to a shot of several elderly residents at the Sunrise nursing home. One by one, Keilani interviewed the latest recipients of Roxanne’s impromptu recycling program. Each wrinkled face beamed as the residents recounted the day they’d received the flowers. Mr. Percy Kelly, from Oak Grove, Illinois, said, “I’m not really a flower guy. Heck, I don’t think I ever stopped to smell any. That’s female stuff.” A toothy grin changed the man’s craggy countenance. “But I’ll admit I was tickled pink when the nurse brought ’em in. These four walls can be rather depressing sometimes. It’s nice to know that someone cares, even a stranger.” About half a dozen other recipients followed Mr. Kelly’s heartfelt thanks. Then, to Roxanne’s surprise, Leo appeared on the screen with the reporter. Attired in a navy-blue suit dressed down with a navy-and-white-checked dress shirt, he was so strikingly handsome, Roxanne’s stomach did a cartwheel. “I didn’t know he was going to be on!” Jessing hurriedly smacked the volume button, turning it up. “We appreciate you taking time from your busy schedule to speak with us, Mr. Papadopoulos.” “My pleasure, Keilani.” Wearing a boyish grin, Leo winked at the reporter and she giggled. “Hopefully this will help my campaign.” Roxanne’s hackles rose. Are they flirting? “Speaking of your efforts to woo a certain young lady, most guys would be disappointed that their displays of affection were being given away to strangers. How do you feel about Ms. Simmons’ acts of generosity at your expense?” Roxanne winced. Turn the knife why don’t you?
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“Her generosity doesn’t surprise me. I know my best friend like the back of my hand. I know what kind of person she is, and this act is one of many reasons I’m in love with her. She might come off a little abrasive, but she has a heart of gold.” Keilani’s smile dimmed slightly. “Since the flowers are still coming, I assume you’re still in love with her?” “Why wouldn’t I be? Even if love is sometimes full of thorns, I’d still embrace it— because in between those thorns, there’s a beautiful rose worth all the pain.” She had been a major pain in his side, Roxanne acknowledged. All these years, the poor guy had quietly stuck beside her through countless lovers and boyfriends—even her initial rejection of him. And still he was lauding her like some crown jewel. True blue, her Leo. After the reporter signed off, Roxanne looked out the boutique’s front window as if she expected Leo to come barreling in. Didn’t all the heroes do just that after such a public announcement? Roxanne had a feeling that day would probably never come. Even though he’d started his crusade to win her back several weeks ago, he hadn’t come by her apartment or made an appearance on Milwaukee Avenue. It appears he’d thrown down the olive branch, or more like two thousand five hundred and twenty olive branches, and was now waiting for Roxanne to take the next step. “You’re my hero and all, Miss Roxanne, but don’t you think this has gone on long enough?” Roxanne shrugged at Jessina’s question. “Maybe. But what do you want me to do?” Jessina smacked the side of her head as if saying duh. “Forgive him before you’ll have to start calling the local cemeteries.” Roxanne pinched the skin between her brows. She felt a migraine coming on. “You know what’s holding you back? P. R. I. D. E.” Jessina wagged her finger. “Leo taught you a well-deserved lesson, one you admitted you needed not too long ago
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when you were all gaga over lover boy. Now you sit here acting like Mother Theresa, holding some unnecessary grudge. He’s shown the entire city how sorry he is. What more do you want?” Roxanne couldn’t deny the truth of Jessina’s words. They were so on the mark, they practically slammed into her. “I hate to interrupt your conversation, but do you have these jeans in a size four?” Roxanne looked at the customer standing outside one of the dressing rooms. Slim and long-limbed, the girl had on a pair of newly arrived Dumpling jeans in a dark rinse. “I believe we do.” Roxanne’s cheeks blossomed with heat as she rounded the counter. She’d been so engrossed in her thoughts, she’d forgotten they had customers. “I’ve got it,” Jessina volunteered, beating her to the jeans table. She thumbed through the neatly folded inventory, peeking at Roxanne at intervals. “He still loves you. He just admitted it on television!” Despite her best effort to thwart it, the four-letter word triggered a throbbing ache in Roxanne’s chest, instantly souring her recently returned appetite. She hadn’t eaten much since her showdown with Leo. As a result, she’d lost seven pounds. “And you still love him,” Jessina continued. “So what’s the problem?” Apparently her assistant didn’t expect a response, because she snatched the size four jeans and moved away to help the customer. Leaving Roxanne to dig for an answer.
***** The rest of the day plodded by like the thick-skinned Chicagoans who braved the harsh elements outside the boutique’s front window. Overnight, Chicago had turned into a winter wonderland, with several inches of snow that was replenished every few hours. In spite of the weather, Chicago still ran like clockwork, including Roxanne’s business. Her loyal client base was one of the reasons she hadn’t driven herself crazy. 103
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Still, she was stretched tighter than a piano string. She fumbled a major merchandise order, losing the sale entirely. And she’d lost her train of thought so many times, several customers had to repeat themselves and one had to remind her she hadn’t paid for her items. “Can we check out now?” “I-I’m sorry,” Roxanne blinked down at two college-aged girls at the front of the queue. She’d been thinking of then discarding dozens of excuses she could use to show up at Leo’s office unannounced. “I’m ready if you are.” “We are,” they both gushed. As if stunned by the coincidence, they glanced at each other then burst into giggles. Before Roxanne could reach over the counter and strangle them both, they placed their purchases on the counter. The shorter of the two, a squat brunette with a muffin top hanging over her jeans and heavy mascara, placed her elbows on the counter. “Excuse me, but are you the chick giving away all the roses?” Roxanne stiffened. Even though she could’ve ignored the girl’s question, she couldn’t find it in her to be rude. “In the flesh,” she mumbled then waited for the axe to fall. Chicagoans were notorious for their honesty. “What you’re doing is really nice, but…” “But what?” “I mean, it’s pretty obvious that maybe you were never true friends. If you were, you wouldn’t have allowed things to go on for so long and probably wouldn’t have gone to such great lengths to donate your friend’s flowers.” Well, the brunette definitely wasn’t her cheerleader. Roxanne couldn’t blame her. She’d been stubborn, foolish and egotistical. It wasn’t the first time. However, this was the first time her self-centeredness might have caused irreparable damage to a friendship she valued over anything else in life, including the boutique. Then why am I still here? she wondered suddenly.
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As a fire ignited under her feet, Roxanne reached over and locked up the cash register. “We’re closed. Everybody out!”
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Chapter Ten Opting for the fastest transportation, Roxanne took a cab. Instead of heading to Leo’s offices in the business district, she directed the driver uptown. Leo usually worked at home when it snowed. Roxanne kept her eyes straight ahead. No reason to look out the windows. This time of year, Chicago was a cold and dreary place devoid of any color except for varying shades of gray. And on a snowy day like this, you couldn’t tell where the sky began and Lake Michigan ended. Since it was midafternoon, traffic was substantially lighter, so it didn’t take the cabbie long to reach her destination. Once she alighted, she bounded up the stairs then used her key to let herself in. As expected, Spiro came running into the front foyer. “Where’s your daddy?”she asked, scratching him behind the ears. “Here to return your key?” Leo stood just inside his home office, barefoot and sexy as hell in a pair of jeans and a gray Chicago Bears t-shirt. Seeing him ignited a girlish excitement Roxanne hadn’t experienced since she’d abandoned pigtails. It took everything in her not to run over, wrap herself around him and beg to start over. “Just put the key in the bowl and make sure you lock the door behind you,” he said, then retreated back into his office. If his frown was any indication, he wasn’t happy to see her. Roxanne had half expected an open-armed reception, after seeing the morning show segment. Oh well, this just meant she’d have to worker a little harder. Despite his chilly treatment, she followed him. “I’m not leaving.”
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Leo turned. With each passing second, neither of them saying anything, heat pooled in the apex of Roxanne’s thighs. Even at an impasse, he could affect her libido. Finally, Leo smiled. “What took you so long?” If she could faint from sheer relief, Roxanne would’ve been stretched out over the threshold to his office. She almost wanted to do just that as he retraced his footsteps and took her in his arms. She settled on melting against him. “Being hardheaded as usual?” he asked, nuzzling her neck. “I’m so sorry for how I acted.” “You had a perfectly good reason to be mad. I acted like a douche. I was wrong. And I wouldn’t have blamed you if you couldn’t forgive me.” “But I do, Leo. I do forgive you.” “Enough to still marry me?” “More than enough.” Roxanne rose on her tiptoes to kiss him. Leo met her halfway with a kiss that flowed over her like a steamroller. As if he could kiss the love out of her. The way his lips and tongue devoured hers, he probably could. His commanding insistence made her body heat up faster than a hot plate at a PTA meeting and her mind turned a little fuzzy. Leo trailed his tongue down her throat. He stopped here and there to trace hearts or suck on her neck. By the time he reached her collarbone, Roxanne was holding on for dear life. “Do you mind if we consummate the marriage before the vows? Or do you think we should wait?” The idea of waiting made Roxanne groan. “If you leave me hanging one more second, I’m walking out the door.” “Just like a woman.” “Can’t help it when I’m around a beautiful man.” “I’m not beautiful. Cute maybe, but definitely not beautiful.” 107
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Roxanne cupped the sides of his face, his five o’clock shadow tickling her fingers. “You are beautiful,” Roxanne whispered, taking a serious turn. “You’re an extremely selfless person who would gladly calculate my projected revenues for the next twenty years without my asking. You’re a saint who allowed me to run roughshod over you while decorating this place. And you’re a great friend who, in spite of his love for me, signed me up for a dating service. Bundle them all together and you’re the most gorgeous man in the world to me―both inside and out.” He nipped her shoulder, bunching her sweater set between his teeth. “You have no idea how hard your little speech has made me.” “What are you going to do about it?” Roxanne asked, channeling her inner vixen. His confession had jumpstarted her libido in a matter of seconds and now a keen ache pulsed along her erogenous zones. Without any warning, Leo tore at her sweater and cardigan. “Even though I love the naughty librarian look on you, it’s got to go.” Roxanne wanted them gone like yesterday. She couldn’t wait to feel him, skin to skin. His movements were jerky and hurried, but he divested her of her pencil skirt and sweaters in short order. As his fingers brushed against her tan-and-brown argyle stockings, he hesitated. “Take them off if you want to keep them.” Roxanne began to remove them but she must have taken too long, because he ripped them from her, along with her bra and panties. Ruined beyond repair, he threw the scraps aside like an afterthought. Seeing him in such a manic rush had her trembling and her breath rushing past her lips in short, harsh bursts. With record speed, Leo undressed. Lordy, lordy! The man is fine. Unclothed, he appeared taller and broader, his wide shoulders blocking out anything else but him as he pressed her against the wall to capture her lips in another jarring kiss. “Aren’t we going upstairs?” “Can’t wait,” he mumbled against her lips. 108
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“What about condoms?” “No need. You’re clean and I’m clean. And If I get you pregnant, we’ll be married anyway.” The idea of having Leo’s babies sent a shiver of excitement through her body. “One more question. Are we doing this up against the wall?” “Right here, right now.” Leo gripped her ass and hauled her up. “Wrap your legs around my waist and hold on.” Roxanne followed his orders to the letter. “You’re such a freak.” “You love it.” More than he would ever know! He positioned the broad crown against her sex, thrust hard—and both of them immediately moaned. “Fuucckk, Roxie! You’re so hot and tight.” Even in her kinkiest wet dreams, Roxanne would’ve never guessed Leo was packing like this. He completely stretched her walls, so much so she wondered if he had any room to move. “Are you sure you’re only eight inches?” she croaked. Leo tongued one of her nipples until she writhed against him, sending his cock deeper. “Give or take.” “Give or take?” she panted. “Either you are or you’re not.” Half-lidded, lust-induced eyes bored into hers. “I can stop if you want.” “Not on your life! I want you to fuck me.” “Now look who’s the freak.” Leo grabbed a hold of her wrists and hauled them over her head against the wall. The position stretched her torso like a canvas that he proceeded to paint with his mouth and tongue as his dick plowed her pussy.
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Roxanne’s head fell to the side to rest against her arm. She could barely think straight. Every deep-seated, hard thrust robbed her of her sanity. All she could do was feel, while sensation after sensation ripped through her.
Leo watched their joining, his cock, though flushed, still so pale compared to her dark. He’d never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life. He dipped his head and licked a path between her luscious breasts, even more perfect than he remembered. More perfect than he could ever imagine. And he’d done a lot of imaging over the years. He could barely believe this was happening. But it had to be real, no dream could replicate the way her pussy squeezed and milked his cock. She was so tight, he couldn’t tell where he ended and she began. Leo bucked against her, again and again, until he established a maddening rhythm. If he could fuck her to oblivion, he would. Roxanne groaned and writhed with each thrust, her legs locked around him so tightly he’d probably have leg burns in the morning. Leo didn’t care. The marks would be a reminder that he finally possessed the only woman he’d ever loved. Dipping his head, Leo drew one of her cinnamon-tipped nipples into his mouth. Her nails dug into his back, clutching him close. Still he held on, sucking on one sweet nipple then the other. “Oh…Leo,” she moaned. Her walls clamped down on his shaft, barely making it possible for him to move. “You’re making me—” Whatever she was about to say ended in a scream of release. Her orgasm was so powerful—from her scent to her loud moans to the wet sounds between them—that Leo almost lost his footing.
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“You feel so good,” he panted. “I’m going to come long and hard.” He released her arms to clutch her ass. Splaying his fingers wide, he positioned her so he could sink even deeper. Pleasure rocked him as he pumped into her like a piston. Each thrust harder and deeper. “You’re going to be the death of me,” she breathed out in a lazy drawl. Leo rolled his shoulders, biting back a groan, he pressure inside him building. “I’m close again…” Roxanne cried. That made two of them. Gripping her neck with one hand, Leo guided her along his cock. Lifting her up and down in a chaotic ride, waves of gripping heat washing over him. Too much…going to explode! His back bowed under the pressure and, too far gone to pull back, Leo slammed into her again and again, taking her harder than before. And then release hit them both. Hers in sexy screams and writhing limbs, his in a blinding rush that stole his breath as he began to ejaculate. Leo had always credited himself with a good imagination, but none of his fantasies came close to what just transpired. He’d finally obtained the one thing he wanted most in this world. “Roxanne…” He was complete. With the little strength he could muster, Leo walked them to the back of the house. There was no way he would attempt the stairs. His legs felt devoid of both bone and muscle. Sheer tenacity had gotten them both this far without him dropping her. Besides, he’d had the elevator serviced thoroughly since the last time she’d been over. He had her flat on her back in the middle of his bed in a minute flat.
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Palming her buttocks, he settled between her legs. Her behind was by far one of her best assets. “I thought your lips were your best feature.” He gave both mounds a squeeze. “But these are in a league all their own. I can play with them all day.” True to his word, he moved down the bed and kneaded and squeezed until she giggled and shoved at his shoulders. Leo didn’t budge. Tonight he was going to take his time and explore every inch.
“You don’t like me playing with this luscious ass of yours?” His words drifted over her like milk chocolate—smooth and oh so good. “I love it,” she whispered. A slow smile curled his lips and his eyes shone like a beautiful summer sky. Deeply affected by his reaction, Roxanne rocked her ass against his hands. Her amusement fizzled into a startled catch at the back of her throat—he’d spread her cheeks and blew against her puckered hole. “How much do you love it?” Roxanne arched from the bed. “So much, I want you to fuck my ass.” “My pleasure.” His tongue darted out and he licked over her, rimming the tight, puckered bud with a punishing slowness. Roxanne’s stomach clenched. She’d never experienced this with any of her exes. They’d prudishly stayed above the rim. Overcome by the measured draw of his mouth and tongue, she could only lay panting, arms and legs akimbo. He rewarded her submission with tiny flicks of his tongue, adding fuel to a fire that had been quickly rebuilding since they’d entered the bedroom. Roxanne’s breasts felt heavy and achy. She yearned for more. As if reading her mind, he thrust his tongue inside. Moaning loudly, Roxanne gripped the sheets and her hips shot off the bed, dislodging him. “Easy,” he whispered, gently pressing her back down with a hand on her stomach.
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That was easy for him to say. No one was playing with his butt. Squeezing her eyes shut, she gripped the sheets and held on tight. He pressed in again, this time using his tongue on her clit and two fingers, one in her moist core, the other in her tight hole. Roxanne sucked in a ragged breath. The best full-on sex had never been this good. “Leo, I never… I’ve never had anyone love me like this before…” “Good. No one else ever will, because you’re mine, Roxie. All mine.” His possessive tone struck a chord. More so than the erotic glide of his tongue and fingers. Anxious pants dropped from Roxanne’s lips like a watershed of tears. Her tenuous grasp on reality was slipping. Roxanne rolled and pumped her hips, grinding against his mouth. Her breath felt like cotton at the back of her throat, her body burned and her mind became jumbled. Like always, he didn’t have to do much to push her to the edge. Leo’s assault suddenly came to an abrupt end. “No…no…no,” Roxanne chanted into the crook of her arm. She was so raw she felt like sobbing. She whimpered when he flipped her over onto her stomach and pulled her to her hands and knees, fitting them together, the head of his cock between the folds of her pussy. Roxanne couldn’t have controlled the involuntary quiver of her thighs if he’d paid her a million dollars. “Not until I say so.” Leo’s voice sounded coarse, as if his need for control affected him more than her. “Ready?” he asked, rocking his hips against her buttocks, the head of his cock nudging her opening. Roxanne nodded. “Are you sure?” he whispered against her ear. Roxanne nodded again. “Fuck me,” she said. He bit down on her shoulder and surged forward. They both groaned in unison when he slammed home.
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She wiggled her legs wider. He was so unbelievably thick. Normally, Roxanne liked it fast and furious. She found sex more bearable that way. So as soon as her lovers seated themselves, she immediately set the rhythm. But that was BL…Before Leo. There was no question about which of them was in control. He gripped her hips and began a slow but mind-rattling pace. His lovemaking so painfully measured, she almost lost it on the first stroke. But it wasn’t enough. She needed to be closer. She wanted more intimacy. Before he could even protest, she twisted her body around and pulled him on top of her. She pressed his body to hers with one hand while the other guided his cock back into her waiting pussy. Whoever said missionary sex was boring had lost their ever-loving mind! Roxannes pitched her hips forward, matching his thrusts. A low growl passed from him to her and she shuddered. “So worth the wait,” he rasped, slamming into her with a brutality that just made her want more. “Harder…harder!” she screamed. Leo slid his hands beneath her and clutched her shoulders. Then he rocked his hips with thrusts so forceful and deep, they propelled her upward on the bed. Roxanne raised her arms to push against the headboard and planted her toes into the mattress, meeting him thrust for thrust. Her world careened off track faster than a runaway train, Leo’s hot, hard cock an unyielding juggernaut pounding inside her. On the verge of an orgasm, Roxanne thrashed her head from side to side. “Leo!” Roxanne bucked against him, every cell in her body on fire. He ground a palm against her sex while he continued to pump his hips. “Come for me, baby.”
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Roxanne’s lungs seemed to expand with intense pressure. Her vision blurred. The headboard, the room, the bedding and even Leo collided into a shimmering dreamscape that seemed to stretch on forever as her orgasm ripped through her. “You’re insatiable,” she moaned breathlessly when he suddenly rolled her over and on top of him. “Only with you.” He gritted his teeth as she sank down on him. He filled her to the hilt, his balls resting against her butt cheeks. With his face flushed from sex, he was the most gorgeous man she knew. And he was all hers. Roxanne bit down on her bottom lip as he started to guide her hips. With each thrust he tickled her G-spot. “I guess you’re stuck with me now,” she said as her excitement grew once again. “I’m stuck like glue. And you can’t get rid of me, no matter how hard you try to.” Thank heavens for small blessings. After all, it took her ten years to find him—and she wasn’t going to let him go anytime soon.
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About the Author Ever since the age of nine, KoKo Brown has had a love for the written word. So much so that she got the idea to publish her own newspaper. Turning a tidy profit from the very first issue, the publication was unfortunately put out of business by KoKo’s grade-school principal, who didn’t appreciate outside competition. Undaunted, KoKo has never strayed too far from her passion, whether it was trying to bring some “liveliness” to her local newspaper’s obituary page or trying her hand at erotic fiction. When not writing, this Florida native likes spending time with family and friends, riding her Yamaha 650 Classic, surfing the internet or traveling to exotic locales.
Koko welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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