19. A GD Goddess
19
A GD Goddess
ANDREW
From: Victor Lynch
To: Andrew Jones
Sent: December 24, 4:16 pm
Subject: RE: New model
Thanks for sending the new model before you left for vacation. The results look promising. I’ve shared them with the rest of the senior leadership team.
I’d like to introduce you and Carly to a few board members at the holiday party next week. You’re looking like a strong VP candidate. Keep up the good work.
Sincerely,
Victor Lynch, Chief Financial Officer
F or the first time, I woke up with Carly Rose in my arms, and I never wanted to wake up any other way.
Her hair smelled incredible, like coconuts and sea breezes. It reminded me of a trip I’d taken with friends to Puerto Rico. One morning, I’d gotten up while the other guys were still sleeping off their hangovers and headed to the beach, where I’d soaked up the warmth like a lizard and watched the waves as families, slathered in sunscreen, played nearby.
It had been a perfect day. I had nowhere to go and no responsibilities. I lived in the moment.
But this was the moment I wanted to live in forever. A moment where I believed there could be more mornings like this, waking up nestled against this incredible woman. She was steel and soft satin, wisdom and compassion, beauty and fire. Every time I was with her, she cracked open a window and let me glimpse the amazing person behind her protective wall of couture. And every time, I wanted more.
I’d never get enough. Was this what love was like?
I gazed at her shoulder, bared by her sleep tank. It was smooth and round, and I contemplated laying a kiss on the mole right above her shoulder blade. If I could do it without waking her.
Carly moved, brushing her ass against my hard-on. A shudder traveled through my body.
Scratch that, I wanted to live in that moment forever.
She tapped my arm, slung around her waist. “Sorry, I have to get up.”
I kept my groan inside but lifted my arm. She slid out of bed, straightened her tiny silk tank and shorts, and without a backward glance, left the bedroom.
I flopped onto my back. There went the perfect moment.
I resisted reaching for my phone. I’d probably find a text from Mother repeating what she’d hissed in my ear last night: This arrangement of yours is ridiculous. Why choose her as your proof of stability? Brad Winner is a sinking ship, and he’ll take Carly down with him. You don’t want to get caught up in that.
She had a point about Brad. He used to be friendly, but last night, he’d been an absolute ass. How had Carly stayed with him as long as she did?
I knew the answer to that rhetorical question. He was an achiever, a business owner. I lived comfortably, but I’d never reach his level of success. I could never support her in the ostentatious style he had.
Plus, I was the son of her frenemy. Despite her rules, she kept bringing up our age difference. She saw me as a kid, not an equal partner in her life. But as long as she needed me, I’d stand with her against shithead Brad and anyone else who made her feel like less than the spectacular person she was.
Because I’d made the foolish mistake of falling for her.
“Hey.” She leaned against the door to my bedroom. She’d covered herself with a flowered satin robe. “Merry Christmas.”
I could think of a lot of things that would make my Christmas merrier, starting with touching that silky robe. But I had to play it cool or she’d run away. Just like Monterey. “Merry Christmas.”
“We have a few hours before we have to get ready for the wedding. What do you want to do? Do you need to work?”
“Nah, I’m on vacation. Besides, it’s a bank holiday.”
One corner of her mouth turned up into an ironic smile. “I know how you finance guys are. You’re always working and always on your phone even on holidays.”
“Nope.” I didn’t even glance at my phone on the bedside table. “Not today. Come back to bed. I can think of a better way to spend those few hours.”
She stared at the tented sheets. “I don’t think so.”
Chuckling, I propped up onto my elbow and shifted so my erection wasn’t as obvious. “Worth a shot.”
She looked anywhere but at my lower half. “We can order some breakfast.”
“Or…you can show me the city. We’ve hardly seen anything, and we leave the day after tomorrow.”
“Really?” Her eyes went wide. “You want to see the Gaudi sites or Picasso? We’ll have to narrow it down to show you the best?—”
“I don’t want to see what the tourists do. I want to see your favorite spots. I want to experience what you love about this city.”
She cocked her head at me like she was trying to translate what I’d said, then she peered out the window. “Looks like a good day for walking. Wear comfortable shoes.”
Fifteen minutes later, I trailed her as she moved confidently through Barcelona’s subway system. After getting off the train, we walked up the steps and emerged outside. A massive red-brick archway caught my eye across the street.
“The Arc de Triomf,” she said. “Like the one in Paris.”
“Or like Washington Arch in Greenwich Village.”
“Exactly.” She headed across the street.
As we walked under it, I marveled at the artistry of the carvings, but Carly didn’t linger. She continued onto a palm tree–lined promenade.
“Usually, it’s crowded, but today most people are spending Christmas with family.”
I wanted to slip my arm around her waist and tell her I was spending Christmas with the person I most wanted to be with, but Carly’s boots tapped out a fast cadence, carrying her out of my reach.
We crossed a street and walked between two massive classical statues into a park, this one greener but just as formal.
“This is the Parc de la Ciutadella. After they demolished the city’s fortress, they built it for the World’s Fair. The Arc was the entrance. There’s a zoo at the other end, but I prefer this side, the gardens.” She took in a deep breath. “It makes me feel peaceful.”
“Show me.”
She took my hand, and we meandered along the tree-lined paths past more sculptures and a playground. She stopped to pet every friendly-looking dog. While I looked on, she snapped a picture for a Japanese family in front of a modernist building with turrets. When my stomach growled, she showed off her Catalan by buying coffee and pastries from a cart.
Though the flowerbeds were bare and the day was subdued, I understood why she loved the place. We had the park almost to ourselves, and the winter light filtered through the tree limbs in a timeless kind of twilight. I didn’t know if we’d walked for minutes or hours when she pulled me to a stop.
“This is it. The pièce de résistance. Though that’s French, and I don’t know what the expression is in Spanish or Catalan. Anyway, it’s what everyone comes to see. They say Gaudi worked on it while he was still in architecture school.”
She gazed at the fountain, and I dutifully scanned the over-the-top structure from the clutch of golden horses pulling a chariot at the top to the stone statuary and griffins of the middle tier to the greenish water at the base. But I was less interested in the famous sight than in Carly and how she felt about it. Her gaze lingered on the trio of women in the center, her expression flat.
“What’s wrong? Are you tired?”
“Always.” She gave a rueful snort. “But…I don’t know. It just struck me, today of all days.”
I waited for her to continue.
“That’s the birth of Venus, at the top. She was born when one of the Titans cut off his father’s balls and tossed them into the sea.”
“Gross.”
“Right? She’s supposed to epitomize female beauty and love. But that story’s steeped in the male gaze. She is what she is because of male power.”
She went silent. Was she thinking about shithead Brad? Or the patriarchy? Maybe both. I wanted to reach for her to comfort her, but she might see it as an expression of male power.
“And the two women at the sides?” She walked around to the left and pointed. I squinted at the reclining female. “That’s Danae, the mother of Perseus. Zeus impregnated her in a golden shower.”
“Literally? Why didn’t my teachers tell me Greek mythology was so kinky?”
“Well, you never know with myths. The point is, she didn’t have much of a choice.”
Damn, I wished I’d listened better in school. Though I got the feeling we’d glossed over most of the patriarchal bullshit. And the kink.
“And on the other side, there’s a woman with a swan. That’s Leda.”
“I remember her! Zeus came to her in the form of a swan…ugh.” I cringed. “More rape. With a little bestiality thrown in.”
“You got it. The women in these statues, these stories, they’re vessels. Objects. Like I was for so long. Goddamned Brad didn’t even want me to give him kids. I was only a trophy to him, until I wasn’t anymore.” She swiped at her cheek under her sunglasses.
I was going to murder that asshole when I saw him later today, wedding day or not. Tentatively, I touched her shoulder. When she didn’t resist, I pulled her into my chest. She held herself stiffly.
“Is this okay?” I asked. “I don’t mean to project my male power. I only want to…to comfort you.”
“It’s okay.” She relaxed a bit.
“Did you want kids?” I murmured into her hair.
“Not really. Brad’s kids spent weekends with us sometimes, and that was plenty. I always wanted a dog though.”
“Why didn’t you get one?”
“I did. A Cavalier King Charles spaniel puppy. I’d wanted one ever since I saw the photos of Blake Lively’s. Shallow, I know. Anyway, I got her as a surprise for Brad.”
I grunted. I couldn’t imagine Brad liking any kind of surprise, especially a fluffy one that would shed its hair on his expensive suits.
“It was a terrible idea. I was young and foolish. I had her for one glorious day while he was on a business trip. I named her Gia. She was the cuddliest little thing. She slept with her head on my pillow. But she was a puppy, not house-trained yet, and when Brad walked in the front door, there was a tiny dog turd on the Aubusson. He made me take her back before he even unpacked his suitcase.”
I wasn’t a violent man, but I imagined myself punching Brad’s smug face until he bled all over his white dress shirt.
“Hey. Hey. It’s okay,” she said, gently disentangling her arms from my suddenly viselike grip. She set her hands on my shoulders like I was the one who needed comforting.
Our faces were inches apart. Gold flecks as bright as the fountain’s gilded statues glinted in her eyes.
“It’s not okay,” I said. “What he did to you. You have so much power, so much strength, so much worth. And he can’t tarnish that. No one can.”
She lifted a hand to my cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered, “for giving back my beautiful memories of Barcelona.”
I hadn’t yet figured out what we were to each other. I’d been her one-night stand, and now I was her wedding date. We’d kissed, though it was only for show, and she’d slept in her sexy pajamas in my arms last night. I wanted more. But every time I thought I’d crossed the drawbridge into her fortress, she catapulted me right back out. Until now.
I held her in my arms as every one of my cells begged me to kiss her pink lips, only a breath from mine. One rational thought speared through the haze of lust. “Don’t thank me. You don’t need me to approve you. You don’t need me at all. But Carly, I need you. I want you. You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever?—”
Her lips landed on mine, stopping my endless flow of words before I could say something foolish like loved. I knew she wasn’t ready to hear that. I’d worry about it sometime when Carly Rose wasn’t kissing me. In public.
Maybe she’d meant to give me a quick, grateful kiss. But I wasn’t having that. I threaded my fingers through her silky hair and held her to me as I plundered her with my lips and tongue. I poured all my desire, my longing, my admiration into that kiss.
And she did the same. She gripped my shoulders and returned the kiss with a wildness that matched my own. Everything disappeared around me, replaced by the rush of my pulse and desire for the woman in my arms.
I didn’t realize my hands had wandered until Carly broke away from the kiss and removed them from her ass. “Maybe we should take this somewhere more private,” she whispered.
I lifted my head and looked around like there was some alcove or outbuilding at the park where I could lose myself in her.
“Taxi,” she said. “The hotel.”
“Right.” I shook my head, trying to rattle the sensible parts back into place. I grasped her hand and headed along the path toward the street.
I flagged down a taxi and let Carly pronounce the name of the hotel before I pulled her into my lap and devoured her with more kisses. Her weight against my dick made my vision go gray at the edges, so to keep myself from going off in my pants, I thought of Brad and what he’d done to Carly last night.
I gentled my kisses to show her my respect for her, to demonstrate I wouldn’t take like he’d done. That I wanted the same type of partnership she’d wanted from him. That I’d never be a fool who didn’t appreciate what he had.
The car stopped, and I shoved a wad of euros at the driver to compensate him for having to witness our make-out session. Then I helped Carly from the car and hustled her up the stairs to our suite.
Fuck, the key. How did a key work?
My fingers shook too hard to get the old-fashioned strip of metal into the lock.
Carly’s hands were steadier as she eased the key from my fingers and turned it in the lock. I paused long enough to shove open the door, wrench out the key, and toss it to the floor before I pressed her to the inside of the heavy wood door and trailed kisses along her throat as I unwound her scarf.
I took my time at her neck, lapping at her pulse points where she’d dabbed her perfume that reminded me of tart apples in late summer. I found a spot that made her moan and thrust her chest against mine.
I pushed her coat aside and trailed my hands over the front of her blouse. “This okay?” I asked between kisses.
“Yes, I-I need…”
“What do you need?”
I started at her top button. As much as I wanted to rip and tear everything that separated our bodies, Carly cared too much about clothes for me to ruin them, so I eased the buttons loose.
“You. I need you.” She palmed the front of my jeans, and I hissed. Too much more of that, and I’d go off in my pants. And I didn’t want that. I wanted to savor her for hours like we’d done in Monterey. I’d tease her while she writhed against the white sheets.
I buried my face in her cleavage to inhale her, to taste her. Then I reached behind her to unfasten her bra. My fumbling fingers were too slow, and I licked her pointed nipple through the thin fabric.
She gasped and gripped my dick through my jeans.
We weren’t going to make it into the bedroom.
I finally released the bra hooks and shoved the cups up over her breasts so I could nip and lick her skin. I swirled my tongue around her rosy nipple, and she held my head to her.
“Don’t stop,” she moaned.
Never. But I didn’t stop to say the word.
I found the fastener to her pants—thank god there was only one, and it was easier than her bra—and flicked it open. I drew down the zipper and let her pants shush to the floor.
I paused at her breast long enough to ask, “Okay?” as I slipped a finger inside the waistband of her panties.
“Yes,” she whispered.
I dropped to my knees and tugged her underwear to her ankles. I worked one leg out of her panties and wide-legged pants, though I didn’t bother to take off her ankle boot. Nudging her leg over my shoulder, I gazed up at my prize, glistening with arousal.
“Lean against the door,” I said. “Let me know if you feel unsteady.”
“I—” She gasped when I licked her with the flat of my tongue, trying to taste all of her at once. Ever since I’d sampled her in September, I’d craved more.
I refamiliarized myself with the shape of her, her scent blooming around me. Her lips, pink and swollen. Her clit nudging out of its hood. The moisture dripping down the inside of her thigh.
I lapped that up first before I traced a circle around her lips. I swiped up the center, but I didn’t touch her clit. Not yet. Still, her legs trembled, and I put my hands on her hips to steady her.
“Andrew, I…I need…”
I licked her seam one more time before I smiled up at her. “What do you need, my goddess?”
Her cheeks reddened. “My clit. And you can be…a little rough.”
I gusted a breath over her. “Thank you for telling me.”
I did what she asked. I licked a circle around her clit. Then I did it again with more force. She cried out, and her leg shook on my shoulder. I gently took the nub between my teeth and hollowed out my cheeks, sucking for all I was worth.
She tensed and squeaked like a rusty screen door. I kept up the suction until she relaxed and nudged at my head. Releasing her, I cleaned her up with my tongue.
I sat back on my heels and gave her a playful grin. “I remember that sound from Monterey.”
Her face went red. “Sorry, I…I guess I really let go. I don’t usually?—”
“I love your sounds. Let’s hear the sounds you make when you ride me.”
Her eyes glowed. She slipped her leg from my shoulder and kicked out of her pants and panties. “I want you behind me.”
My blood roared in my ears at the thought of grasping her ass while I pounded into her. “You’re killing me. You know that?”
She bit her lip and nodded. She slipped off her coat and dropped it to the floor. Still wearing her blouse and her boots, she sauntered to the couch and folded herself over the arm.
I followed, unfastening my belt. A little embarrassed at my presumptiveness, but also thankful for it, I pulled the condom out of my jeans pocket.
“Such a Boy Scout,” she said, tossing me a smirk over her shoulder.
“Always prepared for when my wedding date might have a need.” Shoving my jeans to my hips, I rolled it on.
“A need?” Her body betrayed her. A drizzle of wetness spilled from her pussy.
“At your service, ma’am,” I drawled, scooping up the wetness and rubbing it over the condom. I gasped in anticipation of her warm, wet clench.
“Ready?”
She nodded.
I thrust inside, and every nerve lit up inside me. My head floated while my feet stayed firmly planted next to hers. When my vision cleared, I backed almost all the way out and surged forward again.
She gave a high-pitched grunt, not quite the squeak I wanted to hear again. I ground into her, grasping one of her round ass cheeks while I trailed my other hand lower to her clit. I tweaked it, and she grunted again.
“Good?” I asked.
“More,” she said.
I started at a steady pace that I desperately hoped would hold off my orgasm long enough for hers to build again. She was tight, squeezing around me, the friction exactly what I craved. She met each thrust, our skin slapping faster and faster, until my control slipped. I grasped her waist and used her until my vision narrowed to a pinprick and I came, roaring.
When my head cleared, I found myself slumped over her, bracing my hands on either side so she didn’t bear my full weight. I replayed my foggy memory. No screen-door squeak.
The back of my neck prickled. “Did you come?”
“No, but I did before. It’s?—”
“Don’t say fine,” I growled. “Don’t ever say it’s fine. Not with me. Not with—” I’d almost said with anyone, but the thought of anyone other than me fucking Carly replaced the lingering sweetness on my tongue with bitterness. “Not ever.”
I was still half-hard, and I ground my hips in a circle while I found her clit again, pinching it between my fingers, gently at first and then with determination. She gasped and pressed back against my groin. I rubbed and vibrated my fingers against her clit as her grunts lifted higher and higher in pitch.
I kept it up until, at last, she keened out that squeal I’d been chasing. She stiffened briefly before she went limp. I rucked up her blouse to expose the beautiful column of her spine, glistening with sweat, and kissed it. “You are a goddamned goddess, Carly. Never forget it.”