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“Don’t.” Horizontal lines slashed his brow, and his gaze intensified. “Don’t belittle yourself like that. I know women look at weight differently than men, but you are a goddess. Every time one of those models sauntered down the catwalk, I couldn’t help comparing them to you and thinking the first thing I’d do before sleeping with them was buy them a super-sized happy meal. You’re soft and sumptuous with so much for a man to embrace and sink into.”
“Really?” She wanted so much to believe him.
“Why would I lie?”
She shrugged. “Men have all kinds of ulterior motives. They want a convenient piece of ass. It’s easier to pretend than be honest. They’re stringing you along for a promotion.”
“Gerald is an idiot, thank God.” He traced the edge of her bodice, his fingertip scorching her like a steel pike heated among red-hot embers. “I’ll never lie to you, babe. There’s too much at stake.”
“What do you mean?” The peaks of her breasts became ultra-sensitive, poking insistently against the silky fabric restraining them.
“I’ve been falling in love with you for months.” His mouth twisted, the smile communicating frustration, determination, hopefulness. “I’ve been Nelson-the-Nice-Guy until you finally called me by my first name tonight. Did you really not have a clue how much I wanted you?”
“I sensed something between us, but…you know.” She closed her eyes, banishing Gerald from her mind forever. He’d undermined her confidence, but the worse part was that she’d let him. She’d become fearful and defensive and insecure—not a very nice person and certainly not a happy person.
She had the power to change that.
Curling her fingers into the soft cotton material of Ross’s t-shirt, she pulled him close.
“Stay the night with me?” She brushed her mouth over his chin, trailing it along his jawline and flicking her tongue over a smooth patch of skin behind his ear.
“It’s five in the morning,” he growled. “Invite me for breakfast.”
“The girls and I are meeting for brunch on the rooftop at noon.” She untucked his shirt, gliding her hands over supple skin, exploring the tight muscles and sinews that flexed under her caress. “Come with me.”
“Oh, babe, I thought you’d never ask.” He thrust her up against the wall, hips grinding into hers as he tunneled his fingers through her hair, hands fisting the silky strands and forcing her to stare into his face.
“Tell me yes. Tell me I can rip this costume off you and spread your legs apart. Tell me I can lick you and taste you until you scream. Tell me I can take you hard and then love you soft.” His grip tightened as his voice dropped low, pleading. “Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.” She’d never been so hot, so on edge, so desperate to climax. There was a magnetic pull between her and Ross, but his words made very cell in her body weep with need. She gripped his shoulders, steadying herself. “Please don’t make either of us wait any longer. Condoms…next to the bed.”
His moan sounded wrenched from the core of his being. With jerky, urgent motions, he grabbed both cups of her bodice and pulled, shredding the fabric. He did the same to the belt of gold coins, sending them bouncing across the polished wooden floor of her bedroom. He struggled with the pants until she guided his hand to the side zipper.
“My god, Macy.” He stepped back, eyes roaming her face, breasts, legs, hips.
She looked down at herself, trying to envision not what he saw, buthowhe saw her. In the soft illumination provided by a pedestal lamp, her skin glowed like ivory satin. Her curves conveyed strength and resilience and promised a wealth of decadent pleasure—for the right man.
Ross.
The moment shifted from lust to awareness. Without words, they honored the rarity of the space they occupied together. She helped him strip, touching and tasting and gazing as the physical and emotional layers between them peeled away. Gentle pressure on her shoulder guided her to the bed where he arranged her on her back, legs draped over his shoulders so he could feast. Her sighs and moans rewarded his efforts, and soon she was twisting, lifting her hips, clutching the sheet to hold onto reality.
“Love the way you taste, baby.” He teased her slit, nudging her close and closer to orgasm.
“Make me come,” she begged.
Delving two fingers into her tight core, he found the exact right spot, pressed firmly, and circled his tongue over her clit. Her body turned to glass and shattered into a million pieces as she called out his name over and over.
“Ross.” She stuttered on the last two letters, convulsing as he manipulated her body, drawing out the climax.
“Together this time.” He licked her juices from his fingers before positioning himself between her thighs and plunging deep.
He panted, countering her breathy inhalations as another orgasm began building, this one different, strengthened by the insistent in-and-out strokes of his thick erection.
Nice guy, indeed.
Ross Nelson was a demanding lover who took what he wanted and gave back triple what she needed.
“My Macy.” He pounded into her, fierce, unrelenting, as if he would continue until she finally believed she truly was perfect.
Wrapping her arms and legs around her Halloween lover, Macy clung to Ross as he came, muscles knotted, spine bowed, face contorted. He collapsed on top of her, ribs expanding and contracting as he caught his breath. After a moment, he rolled off, nestled her into the crook of his arm, and pulled the blankets over them.
As she drifted off to sleep, Macy decided brunch would include two of her favorite autumn delights: Ross Nelson and a raisin bagel from Mr. Goldshine’s deli, schmeared with pumpkin spice cream cheese.
