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“Hold up, boss,” Ahmed snorted, waving his big hands for emphasis. “How can you screw up something as simple as instant attraction?”
Rahm shrugged. “She might have a table of friends waiting on her who won’t let her go home with a stranger,” he said, remembering how reluctant Carly’s tablemates had been to see her go the night before. “She might have work tomorrow, or a roommate or have just gotten over a bad breakup with a guy who looks just like you. There can be a 101 ways you can fuck up ‘lust at first sight,’ trust me.”
“And when it’s not ‘lust at first sight,’ boss? What then?”
Rahm nodded, eager to explain. “That’s when you really have to learn to negotiate. To listen to what they’re saying and use it to your advantage.”
“Such as?” Ahmed asked, curiously, inching closer all the same – as if to hear better.
“Let’s say she just broke up with a guy who looks just like you,” Rahm said. “That would be a deal breaker for a lot of girls, and a lot of guys, but actually it’s an advantage because if she dated him at all, there will still be some feelings left over him. If you’re patient, and skilled, and careful, and listen, you can tap into those feelings until the attraction turns irresistible.”
Ahmed snorted, waving a big, dismissive hand. “I think I’ll just stick to getting them drunk and horny, thanks.”
Rahm nodded. “I’m usually in complete agreement, my friend,” he said, clapping the big guy on the even bigger shoulder. “But when you have as much sex as I do, that kind of willing compliance gets… boring… after awhile.”
“Boring? Boss, you’re usually with a different girl each night, each one sexier than the last, in all shapes and sizes. Black, white, Latina, full-figured, rail thin, supermodels, actresses, debutants and sluts. How can that ever get boring?”
“Trust me, my friend, those kinds of girls are all the same. They’re not fucking me, they’re fucking their idea of me.”
Ahmed rolled his intense green eyes. “Idea of you or the real you, boss, they’re still in bed with you.”
“Perhaps,” Rahm sighed, turning from his friend, confidante, protector and employee to peer down at the bustling city streets lit with neon and sulfur down below. “Their bodies might be in bed with you, but their minds are a million miles away, already thinking of what they can get from you. A shopping trip here, a platinum bracelet there, a watch or tiara or a gander at your private yet.”
Rahm felt the truth of his words sink in with every soft, sad syllable, recalling the countless women who’d lain beneath him, writhing away, panting and moaning, sweating and trembling, muttering words they’d know he’d love, praising his prowess as he panted and pounded between their legs. But in their eyes was the empty, hollow greed that saw past the chiseled good looks he worked so hard to attain. As easy as it was to seduce women with his looks, his charm, his freedom and, naturally, his money, for Rahm at least it was becoming more work than pleasure.
The very thought of going out, going through the motions, the noisy nightclubs and vapid small talk, the familiar pattern and paint-by-numbers motions it would take to get the hottest girl in the club away from the bar and into his Rolls Royce seemed like so much drudgery.
“Boss,” Ahmed said, clapping him on the shoulder then squeezing persuasively. “You’re over thinking all this.”
Rahm felt the tension leave his body as his bodyguard’s giant hand massaged the tension from the space between his shoulders. “Yeah?” he asked in a soft, malleable voice.
“Yeah,” Ahmed assured him. “Quit using your big head so much and start letting your small one make more of the decisions.”
Rahm shook his head, shrugging off both his lethargy and his bodyguard’s hands at the same time. “That’s where you’re wrong, my friend,” he said, eager to rid himself of the long, stilted day spent staring at not one, not two, but three computer monitors. “Both my heads are big, that’s the problem!”
Ahmed’s laughter filled the balcony as he followed his boss back inside the luxurious condo. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he thundered, following Rahm to his room to prepare for another evening out on the town. “I’ve been forced to watch you shower one too many times, boss. It’s not so big.”
Nine
He murmured her name, breath hot in her ear as his large, thick fingers raced to unbutton her lacy white blouse. Despite their fervor he took his time, left hand pinning her arms above her head defenselessly as she squirmed beneath his velvet tongue and warm, silken breath.
The fingers of his right hand danced along the soft white fabric of her blouse, gently tugging the hem free from the waistband of her sensible black work skirt and easing it to either side of her heaving, tender breasts. It had been so long since a man had undressed her that way, or any way, that Carly was more vulnerable than usual to her overloaded libido.
Every glance of his skin against her own sent lightning bolts racing through her veins, forcing her to bite down on her lower lip, already trembling and sore, to keep from crying out in unintelligible grunts, moans and curses – and he was only getting started!
As if sensing it, Rahm took his time, tenderly cupping the bottom swell of each breast, the heat of his flesh searing through the gauzy black material that separated his from her own. Then, as if testing even his own patience, Rahm expertly unclasped the bra at the front and it fell away, making her gasp at the sensation as his fingers immediately raced to dance between each nipple, tenderly rasping them to a heightened stiffness that sent a throbbing, velvet pulse through her veins each time his thumb or forefinger elicited a murmuring, mumbling pant.
She was heaving now, pressed against the wall, hands still yanked high above her, Rahm’s grip both firm and tender at the same time, her constant wriggling against his ironclad grip only serving to heighten the sensation of lack of control as he continued to dominate her with his single hand. Her breasts fully aroused, nipples stiff and tender, Rahm moved on to her quivering belly, soft fingertips dancing down her rib cage until dusting her waistline before unzipping and promptly slipping off her skirt.
She helped him by kicking it off, her work heels clattering on the hard wood floors as she stepped out of each one, naked now save for her black cotton panties. Even those were no match for Rahm’s roving hand, so expert at teasing pleasure above – and below – her undergarments. As his fingers traveled along the front panel, damp with desire and lust, they met the quivering ridge of her mound, flesh meeting flesh, the explosive combination making her cry out and bolt upright… from her bed!
Carly peered around, panting and damp with sweat, peering through rapidly blinking eyes at the room surrounding her. Her room; her bedroom. Not the foyer where she’d dreamed Rahm had taken her moments after stepping inside her south Beach condo.
Disappointed yet still throbbing and damp with desire, Carly moaned aloud in the quiet darkness and collapsed back onto her twisted sheets. The sultry air outside her bedroom sliders rustled the curtains on either side, caressing her with the warm embrace as she peered down at her body, naked and aglow in the moonlight.
She found her panties wadded and dangling precariously from one ankle, her usual night shirt tossed haphazardly to one side, her nipples hard, her skin flushed, her belly trembling, her mound on fire as her right hand drifted inevitably toward the throbbing joint between her legs.
She moaned aloud, lifting her left hand above her head to grip the iron rails of her retro headboard, right hand drifting down her trembling belly and toward her aching mound much as Rahm’s had in her dream – her wet dream, and the third since they’d met.
