That Man 3
NELLE L’AMOUR
That Man 3
Copyright © 2014 by Nelle L’Amour
Nook Edition
All rights reserved worldwide.
First Edition: May 2014
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the
product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events,
locales, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is purely coincidental.
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Cover by Arijana Karcic, Cover It! Designs
Proofreading by Karen Lawson
Formatting by BB eBooks
To everyone who has dared to do something out of their comfort zone. This book is
for you.
*
And to my daughters, who I hope will make daring choices in their lives that will
bring them closer to the truth of who they are.
Blake
T
he shuttle from Friedman Memorial Airport in Hadley to the Sun Valley Lodge, where
I was staying over the Christmas break, took fifteen minutes. Leaving my rollaway
bag and skis with the valet, I headed inside to the check-in counter and took in my
surroundings. The lobby of the venerable resort, built in 1936, was decked out for
Christmas with a huge, almost ceiling high lit up tree and a roaring fire in the massive,
holly-trimmed hearth. The place was bustling with guests milling around the lobby,
hot drinks in their hands. Christmas music was playing over the speaker system. It
was a winter wonderland.
Fortunately, the check-in line was short, and I was able to handle my reservation
quickly. As the jolly attendant handed me my key card, a warm breath tickled my neck
and a familiar, seductive voice traveled through my ear.
“Hi, Blakey.”
I spun around. Fuck. It was Kirstie. Or was it Kristie? I could never tell those two
apart. She was dressed in skinny faded jeans, a tight turtleneck sweater that clung
to her D-cup boobs, and pink Uggs. Her platinum hair cascaded over her shoulders from
beneath a matching pink ski hat.
“I didn’t know you’d be here.” My voice wavered. Why wasn’t I excited to see her?
She was as drop-dead gorgeous as ever and ready to be laid.
She moved uncomfortably close, trapping me between the counter and her body. Her heavy
floral scent was suffocating me. She smelled nothing of cherries and vanilla.
She licked her billowy glossed lips. They looked bigger than the last time I saw them.
“Yeah. My sister and I got in last night. Why don’t we get in some ski time together?”
“Sure. Let me get settled into my room, and we’ll head to the slopes.” I immediately
regretted what I said. I wanted to ski alone.
“What room are you in?”
I glanced down at my key card. “Room 606.”
“Cool. Kirstie and I are right next door.” Well, at least, I now knew which one she
was. However, the thought of having the Barbie doll twins a wall apart was unsettling.
Too close for comfort.
“Want me to help you check in?” she breathed, circling her big tits against my ski
jacket. Her implants made her nipples so hard and erect I could feel them through
the thick down-lined fabric. I squirmed as far away from her as I could.
“I can handle it. I’ll meet you down here in a half hour, and we’ll head over to Baldy.”
Baldy was my favorite place to ski with its elevation of over nine thousand feet and
a myriad of blazing trails.
“Perfect,” she purred.
She sashayed away and I heaved a sigh of relief.
*
My suite consisted of a bedroom with an adjacent bathroom, a living room with a fireplace,
and a kitchenette. It was decorated in what I’d call Alpine-themed Ralph Lauren. Mirroring
the lobby, the décor was floral, with the king-sized bed, couch, and curtains all
done up in a red and pine green leafy print. Wall-to-wall dark green carpet lined
the floor.
I listlessly unpacked my suitcase, putting the jeans and heavy sweaters I’d brought
along into a set of drawers. The rest of my skiwear I hung up in the closet. I should
have been excited about being in Sun Valley—I’d always had a great time here with
all the fabulous activities the charming town offered, not the least being getting
laid morning, noon and night, but instead I felt blue. I fucking missed Jennifer and
wished she were here with me. All during my flight, I kept thinking about her. Hoping
she was thinking about me. I hadn’t seen or spoken to her since our gift exchange
at the office yesterday. Carefully, I set the last item in my suitcase on top of my
nightstand. The little snow globe she’d given me. I gave it a shake and watched the
glittery snowflakes flutter over the golden ball that somehow reminded me of my grandma’s
matzo balls. The memory of watching her eat one at my parents’ Shabbat dinner flashed
into my head. I’d fantasized her sensuous mouth on one of my balls and had almost
come in my pants. She’d given the expression “from soup to nuts” a whole new meaning.
And then my mind jumped forward to the other night. The night of the office Christmas
party—the night we fucked our brains out. It was the best sex I’d ever had. And I’d
had a lot. But it was more than the sex. While I could have fucked her one more time,
I could have held her in my arms forever. I thought the feeling was mutual. But it
wasn’t. To my utter shock, she didn’t want me. She said she’d made a mistake. That
I’d taken advantage of her in her vulnerable state. A rebound fuck after her jolting
breakup with her fiancé, that two-timing dentist. Dickwick. Plus, she was afraid of
having an office relationship. At least, that I could understand. If it didn’t work
out and one of us was going to get fired—who was it going to be? Her or me, the big
jefe’s
son? You guessed right. With his dreams of having me head up his media empire, my
father would never fire me from Conquest Broadcasting.
But then I really fucked up. Big time. Desperate, I told her we could be casual fuck
buddies. I honestly didn’t mean it, but she didn’t believe me. She got dressed and
left me. Alone in my fuck pad with no one to fuck.
Never having dealt with rejection, I was fucking devastated. And confused. Selfish,
spoiled, alpha me was a player. I left girls and not vice versa. They wanted me and
couldn’t get enough of me. But not Jennifer McCoy. I had succeeded magnificently
and failed miserably.
Her reaction to the gift I’d given her—the erotic painting of a kiss by Jaime Zander’s
late father that mirrored our own first, unforgettable kiss—had given me a little
hope. She was overwhelmed. And not because it was such an extravagant gift. My father
always said actions speak louder than words. And he was right. The painting brought
tears to her glimmering green eyes because it hit a nerve deep inside her. It made
her feel something. The same thing I felt. The electricity in the air between us was
so thick you could see sparks flying. It had taken all I had not to haul her into
my arms, smother her with another all-consuming kiss, and fuck her senseless over
my desk. And then just hold her in my arms.
She was right—we needed time away from each other to figure things out. Or at least
she did. With a weighty heart, I gave the snow globe another shake and made a wish.
I wished my tiger would come to the same conclusion as me: we plain and simply belonged
together. With a twitch, my hopeful cock toasted to that. But deep inside my soul,
I knew a relationship was a remote possibility. I sucked at them. In fact, I’d never
had one.
Donning my ski gear, I clunked downstairs to the lobby in my heavy ski boots, my skis
and poles under my arms. Kristie was already in the lobby. She was all dolled up in
an expensive hot pink fur-trimmed ski jacket and matching ski pants. Furry earmuffs
covered her ears, and she wore a thick layer of pink lipstick in the exact shade of
her outfit. I didn’t want that lipstick anywhere near me, but she was all over me
before I could say, “fuck off.” I finally managed to pull my lips away from hers without
creating a scene. I thought about stopping at the concierge and asking for an antiseptic
wipe on my way out. The thought of having to share a chairlift with her was repulsive.
*
We took the shuttle and got to Baldy in no time. There was a long line for the lift.
While we waited for a chair, my bubbly companion babbled on non-stop about all the
fun she and her twin sister had had so far from ice skating to skinny dipping in the
heated pool. She boasted how everyone recognized them from their print ads and commercials.
For sure, a movie offer would be coming soon. I half-listened, interjecting an occasional
“wow” or “cool.” My mind was elsewhere. Focused on someone else. My tiger. She was
roaring in my head.