Nothing More Beautiful (27 page)

“Twirling my tongue around your balls,” I
said happily.

He was panting, constantly changing pitches,
but between breaths I heard, “Oh, God! Suck it! Harder! Harder!” We
hadn’t discussed much about dirty talk, but his words triggered
something inside me and encouraged me to go a little wild. His hips
flexed and his balls reacted, shifting in gravity. He grabbed my
right hand, which had never stopped stroking, and brought me to my
feet. Out of the water, he wiped his face, then kissed me with such
passion, I thought he might come from it.

He turned me around so that I faced the
glass. His cock slid between my legs as he leaned against my back.
His hands caressed my ass, which sounded marvelously naughty in my
head as I thought about where they were going. They cruised down to
my legs and back up again, slapping a cheek. “I want to fuck
you—
hard
,” he whispered in my ear. The words, coupled with
his hot breath, pushed me over the edge.

I spread my legs a little, inviting him
in.

The head of his cock played with my lips,
parting them. A breath later, he thrust in and a gasp exploded out
of my mouth, while the sudden penetration sent a shockwave of pain
and delicious gratification throughout my body. His cock went so
much deeper from behind. It was a shock and a rush at the same
time. Placing his hands on my hips, he picked up his tempo, forcing
me to grab onto the top of the glass wall for support.

He glided one of his hands around my body
and fondled a breast, squeezing. The hand traveled down my stomach
to my clit, where he pressed into me. Another jolt ran through my
body and made me cringe in absolute ecstasy.

Nearly losing his balance, he reached for
the top of the glass, pushing closer and closer to the wall. With
his weight, he pressed my body against the glass, my breasts
squishing, the surprise of the cold tingling my hardening nipples.
The position just screamed “sexy,” and in response I cried out,
“Faster . . . Oh, yes, please. Faster!”

The pressure was building deep inside me
this time—bigger and bigger—and soon I was lost. For a time I had
no thoughts, only the feeling . . . the
sensation. It was only me and him—and the motion, the ceaseless
rhythm. His fingers pressed harder and harder. His cock thrust
faster and faster. Relentless.

I could feel the explosion coming. My
breaths were already so fast and so rough, that I didn’t know
anything more could come out, until I felt the first scream leave.
I couldn’t control or stop them.

Grunting and moaning, Vince shouted, “Come.
Come for me, sexy. Come for me, Maci.”

I stiffened, falling apart at his words, the
pressure unleashed, shattering me into a million pieces of orgasmic
paradise. As if from afar, I could hear my own screams, muted: the
explosive intensity consuming my thoughts, my senses, all that I
was.

As I settled, I heard Vince, still pumping,
his breath hoarse. Suddenly he buried his cock as far as it would
go while he called out my name. His fingers on my clit squeezed
firmly, and then relaxed, while the rest of his body remained still
and rigid. His cock pulsed inside me, and I shuddered every time it
did.

He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me
tenderly. I turned back, my mouth open, and he quickly leaned in,
kissing me with eagerness. We parted, and he slowly, carefully
pulled out, leaving me with an empty, and at once, full
feeling.

Full of satisfaction.

W
aking up to be at work at
4:45 in the morning had never been easy. Now, though, it was a
hundred times worse. Late nights with Vince meant a day of fatigue
the next. Add in a run or gym workout and I was dead. But I loved
my job, and business still hadn’t picked up enough that I could
ease back on the hours. Luckily, Bridgett handled most of the
financial load.

Vince had also been kind enough to set up
our network on one of his visits to the bakery. He and Terrance
often ate lunch there during the week. His bodyguard still hadn’t
warmed up to me, which was strange. I’d never met a person so
ostensibly cold. I received several glares a week from him.
Sometimes I swore he was grinding his teeth when he looked at
me.

At the beginning of April, about three weeks
after Vince’s dinner for my friends, I decided to surprise him with
a lunch visit at his office. I had yet to see it. I knew his main
office was in a downtown skyscraper. He had pointed it out from his
condo before, but I never had the urge to drop in. Until that
day.

I’d never bothered to learn the names of the
big buildings downtown, though some of them you couldn’t help but
hear about, like the Wells Fargo Center and the Fox Tower, and the
U.S. Bancorp Tower. Vince’s office was in the Bancorp Tower. Before
Vince corrected me, I knew it as “the pink building” or “the copper
building,” depending on the lighting. Imaginuity’s main lab was at
another location, but they ran all of their office-related work
from the skyscraper.

On Vince’s floor, I walked up to the main
secretary. “Excuse me.”

She put a finger up to my face. “One
moment.” She was looking down, nodding. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yes, I’ll
transfer you right now.” A second later she was staring up at me.
“How can I help you?”

“Where is Vince Forte’s office?” I asked
pointedly.

Her eyes narrowed. “Do you have an
appointment with Mr. Forte?”

“Appointment? No.” I grew nervous.
Would
I need one? I am dating the man, after all
.

“I’m sorry, I can’t let you see him without
an appoint—”

“Wait!” I cut her off. “I’m here for a lunch
appointment. Yes.”

She eyed me, skeptical. “Ma’am, clearly you
don’t have an appointment.”

“Is everything all right?” a familiar voice
asked behind me. I turned and saw Alma standing there in a skirt
suit.

“No, Ms. Perez,” the secretary answered
quickly. “I was just about to tell this woman that she will need to
set up an appointment in order to see Mr. Forte.”

Alma snorted. “Unlikely,” she said with a
tart bite. “This is Maci Goodwin, Vince’s
companion
.” The
way she said the word made me sound like an escort.

“Girlfriend,” I corrected, getting the words
out in a hurry, almost stumbling over them. “I’m his
girlfriend.”

“Don’t worry, Cassandra, I’ll show her the
way,” Alma said, taking my arm in a fierce hold.

The secretary looked blankly at us as we
disappeared down a row of cubicles. “Come for a quickie in the
break room?”

I understood her bitterness now, and I felt
sorry for her. I mean, Vince hadn’t been able to move on with her,
but he could with me, which had to sting in the most awful way.
Despite that, I couldn’t resist. “Yes,” I replied, raising an
eyebrow at her.

“Watch it,” she snapped. “His office is at
the end of this row.” She pointed left as we came to the last
cubicle in the hallway.

Before I could reply, she had turned and
charged off, making for the huge office opposite Vince’s.

As I drew near, Terrance opened the door,
hauling a man out of the office by his jacket collar. Tall, with a
scruffy beard, and a haggard look, he could have easily been a bum
or a drug addict. Terrance didn’t so much as glance my way,
handling the man with rough hands.

Vince caught sight of me and smiled, on the
phone. I passed his personal secretary’s desk and she tried to stop
me, but Vince waved her off. Closing the door, I sat across from
him. I was a little amazed by Vince’s choice of business attire: he
wore an Iron Man shirt under a black blazer. Apparently he didn’t
change for work. His confidence and sense of self turned me on as I
appraised him in his work environment.

Then I thought how funny it was that I knew
the character on his shirt. We had watched nearly every comic book
movie and dozens of sci-fi and fantasy shows in the last five
weeks, and the weirdest part was that I liked them.
Was he
nerdifying me?
I asked myself, staring at him. I reflected on
how compatible we were, how much give and take we employed. For
every comic book movie, we also watched a cheesy romantic comedy.
Of course our relationship involved much more than watching
movies.

Vince’s voice broke my thoughts. “All right.
Yeah, no problem. Okay. All right. Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you next
week. Okay, bye.” His bye was barely a word, more a blip than
anything. “Hey!” He jumped up. “What are you doing here? You never
come here.”

“Surprise!” I said, drawing out the end of
the word. “I thought we’d go out to lunch, and I wanted to see
where you work. Fancy.”

“Well, I work mostly at the lab,” he said,
his smile fading. “There are other people here to run things. If
you plan on stopping by more often, you should call, just in case
I’m not in.”

I nodded. “So was that your dealer in the
jean jacket?” I teased.

His lips hardened. “No. I’ve never had a
dealer up here.”

“So who was that guy? Terrance looked like
he was about to kick his ass.”

“He’s someone from my past.” Vince’s voice
grew dark. “Someone who believes there was a mix-up in our
contract. I have a restraining order against him. That’s why
Terrance was escorting him out.”

I could tell he wasn’t going to divulge
anything more on the topic, not at that moment anyway. “Oh, sounds
bad.”

He gave me a shrug.

I leaned in for an embrace, changing the
mood in the air. “So what would you like for lunch?”

Vince’s attitude adjusted to match mine.
“How about a picnic? There’s a great pita place not far away. How
long is your lunch?”

“I can take an extended lunch,” I answered,
leaning on his desk. “Why?”

“We could go up to Forest Park.” His eyes
were as excited as I’d ever seen them, completely different from a
moment ago.

“It looks like you’ve already got something
planned?”

“Not planned exactly,” he said. “But I’ve
thought about what we could do during a long lunch.” He took my
hand and bolted out of his office. “Ashley, I’ll be gone for a
while. Cancel any appointments I have until three.” We were gone
before she could open her mouth.

“No introduction?” I asked, on the way to
the elevator.

“Oh, right. When we get back.” Vince pointed
out a private spot labeled for him in the parking garage. Heading
to a pod of food carts on Third Avenue, we pulled into the parking
lot, ordered what looked like exquisite pitas, and then drove west
toward Forest Park.

We ended up on a gravel road, surrounded
mostly by forest, with a few houses and driveways along it. The
road ended at a trailhead. There was space for a few cars to park
on each side, though one side had a steep cliff. Vince chose a spot
a few feet from the edge. There were three other cars parked, but
no people within sight.

“So why did we come all the way out here?” I
asked him, gazing around at the wonderful and dense forest.

He pulled out his leather-bound notepad and
flipped to the list. “Number three.”

“Have sex publicly in a car,” I read aloud.
I glanced around at all the trees. “I don’t think this counts as
public.”

“It’s public enough, I think,” he countered.
“I’ve fantasized about this since we made the list. See, there’s
still the risk of being seen.” He nodded at a group of four hikers
returning to their car. “What do you think?”

I clicked the pen and crossed out the
fantasy, seductively licking my lips. He leaned over and stole a
kiss. I put the food on the floor while the other car departed,
leaving us alone . . . for the moment.

He climbed into the backseat. I followed,
reminded of high school and making out in
cars . . . it was so long ago, but there I was,
doing it again, about to take it one step further. I sat on top of
his lap, pushing his chest back. He slid his hands along my thighs,
up my back, and to my neck, playing with my hair. At that moment I
wished I had worn a skirt to work instead of khakis. Even though I
was shorter, my head touched the roof, so I had to keep it bent
down, which I didn’t mind since it allowed me to stare into Vince’s
intense brown eyes.

He yanked down my undershirt, kissing my
breasts. I ran my fingers through his soft, curly hair, mussing it
into chaos. Leaning back and, with one arm behind my neck, he
pulled me down for a delicate, passionate kiss. Arousal had taken
hold by then, and I wanted to tear his clothes off as badly as he
did.

Kissing my neck, he traveled from one side
to the other, and its titillating effect drove me to slip off my
top and undershirt. My heart hammered against my chest, the
possibility of being seen adding a thrill to the tight space of the
car. I tugged off his jacket, and then he stripped off his shirt in
a flash, reaching around for my bra.

Suddenly we were skin to skin.

The back of the Mustang was no SUV, cramped
and intimate, and it provided no room to move around. Getting off
our pants proved a difficult task. I flopped into the open seat,
Vince wrenching at my khakis—but they were so tight, I really
needed to stand for them to make it over my ass. Success came after
a minute of struggling, and we turned our attention to his slacks.
His practically slid right off.

I climbed atop him again, his erection as
solid as ever, but he tucked it under my ass, opting to rub my
clit. His deft fingers found the bundle of nerves, massaging it in
circles. I writhed, my hands clenching around his biceps. My
stomach flexed, my hips tensed, and I gasped in his ear.

As his fingers continued their sublime
assault, my hips began to sway, mimicking his motion. “You’re so
wet when I play with your clit.” He brought his fingers up and
showed me just how wet I was. He took each finger into his mouth,
slowly sucking each clean.