Arousal Page 6

  Chapter Eight

  Just then, the limo stopped and it felt as if it pulled into a parking spot. Sure enough, we were at my apartment building on East 44th Street. I wasn’t sure what to do or say next. My legs remained wrapped around him, and my lower parts were sizzling. He also was still quite aroused. Yet, somehow, he had the presence of mind to get us organized for an exit.

  “Let’s get you into your apartment,” he said, lifting me off his lap. He reached over for his jacket and put it back on. Then he pulled my skirt back into place, tucked my blouse back in, and slipped my heels on my feet. He organized my hair so I didn’t look so disheveled. I was in a complete sex daze. He, however, was calm as he got out of the car and came around to the other end to help me out. I guess his moment of pulling me together gave him a chance to also let his erection calm down because it was no longer jutting from his suit pants.

  “How do you not have a raging hard-on?” I looked down at his pants and back up at his eyes.

  “It’s my superpower,” he said with a grin, offering his hand to assist me onto my feet outside the car.

  “You mean mind control?” I was curious how he did it.

  “Something like that,” he said. “I think about something that is the reverse of wanting to make love to you.”

  I decided against asking him exactly what that may be.

  He strolled into my building as if he owned it, steering me gently with his hand placed on my lower back. There was an aura of sexual tension around us, and I was still dripping with arousal. I said my hellos to the doorman, who looked at me with curiosity but smiled professionally. Nicolai also knew my floor number and punched the elevator key.

  “I guess you know my apartment number too,” I cracked, stepping into the elevator. “Is that a billionaire thing, or a stalker thing, to know where you are going before you arrive?”

  “It’s a being prepared thing,” he shot back with a smile. “And yes, it’s number twenty-seven. You signed as witness to a marriage license in New York City earlier this year and this information is all public domain.”

  “Jeez.” I rolled my eyes. It was my friend Betsy’s wedding. I was maid of honor. But why does he know that? Is that what he meant about my address being too easy for others to find? “You had to dig around for that.”

  “I have my ways.” He spoke as if searching my information was merely being a responsible adult. “How else could I properly escort you home?”

  I shrugged my shoulders and threw up my hands. “Um, you could ask for my address. That would be a novel approach.”

  “I took the precaution, simply on the off chance that you had a few drinks or were otherwise too distracted to tell me where you live.”

  “Or,” I said, placing my index finger on his chest and poking him a couple of times, “maybe you figured you’d get me so drunk on desire that I wouldn’t be able to think straight.”

  Looking at me with a slightly wily grin, he playfully grabbed my hand and kissed it. The elevator door opened and how we got here did not seem as important.

  We sauntered silently to my door. I pulled my key out and he took it from me. As he stood in front of my apartment, I wondered if I should invite him in or kiss him good night. “What do we do now?”

  “I’m not going to come in tonight.” The look in his eyes that said, “So don’t even ask.”

  “Oh … okay.” I leaned against the door. “So how does this work?”

  “I will call you.” He placed a hand above my head for support and leaned in closer to me. “Please don’t be mad at me for leaving. I will give you what you need and want soon enough.”

  “Okay,” I said on a big sigh that did not hide my unfulfilled desire. I smiled, trying to be a good sport. Just hours ago I was storming away from him on the terrace, and now I was quietly accepting that he was dropping me at my door in the throes of passion.

  What is happening to me?

  He kissed my lips, then pulled me close and held me in his arms in an embrace that made me feel wanted, as if he were glad he’d found me. He opened my door, gently nudged me inside, and looked at me, again, this time with softness in his eyes.

  “Tomorrow, please leave the evening free for me.”

  “How do you know I don’t have plans?”

  “You do have plans—with me.” With that, he kissed the top of my head; actually, it was the space between my brows. He kept his lips there for a long time, and gently circled the skin with his tongue. Then he blew, ever-so-softy. By the time he withdrew his lips, I felt a little tipsy. He whispered in my ear, “Dream of us.”

  “Okay.” This was my mantra for the evening. Okay. Okay. Okay. What else could I say? I was under the sensual spell of Nicolai Petre who was offering me—what I wasn’t sure—but I wanted to know more.

  I closed the door, leaned against it, and took a moment to feel the erotic forces of nature surge through my body. I was about to head for my vibrator when a call came into my cell. It was him. He had that number too.

  “Seriously?” I huffed into the phone. “This number is unlisted.” But I was glad to hear his voice.

  “If you decide you hate me, I will erase all traces of your contact information at your request,” he said. “For now, this saves time.” Clearly he had made it his business to know how to find me and reach me. A part of me was impressed he went to the effort.

  “I was just about to—”

  “I will look forward to seeing you tomorrow,” he said. “I forgot to mention, please don’t touch yourself tonight. I’ll know if you do.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I think you know the answer to that, my love. Remember, for this night, you’re still mine. Sleep well.”

  What could I say but, “Okay.”

  I met this guy less than five hours ago and, already, he is telling me what to do with my vagina in my free time. I’d met lots of men in my life but never one who was so dominant. Not in a BDSM way, but in a take-charge alpha kind of way. And, despite all the reasons why I should not, I was starting to like it. I wondered what tomorrow would bring.

  Chapter Nine

  Wednesday: Day Two/Second Date

  “Sometimes you can’t explain what you see in a person. It’s just the way they take you to a place you have never been.”

  I once saw that line in a meme on Facebook and it stuck with me.

  That’s where I was with Nicolai. Oh, he was hot enough to desire under any circumstances, but the rest of it was a big mystery. Obviously he was rich, charming, appealing—the kind of package most women say they want, but those are the surface things that they see when they gawk at him from afar. In the brief but intense experience I shared with him, I realized it wasn’t just the package that called to me. It was the oddly immediate feeling of intimacy with him, the comfort even in the discomfort. He was taking me someplace I’d never been, yet a part of me seemed to think I was supposed to go there. It was probably my vagina talking, but my emotions were also already involved.

  I washed off my makeup, tossed off my clothes and slipped into bed naked, as I always do. I was tempted to cuddle up to my vibrator but the minute my head hit the pillow, I fell into a deep sleep. Deep enough, apparently, to have vivid dreams in living color of me and a certain blond, blue-eyed billionaire. But in the dream, he was a knight and I was a lady, tying my kerchief to his arm before he headed off to battle.

  “I miss you already, my lord,” said my dream self, tears streaming.

  “It is my destiny, my love,” he replied.

  “Then come back to me soon.” I pressed my tear-stained cheek against his. With heaving breast, I kissed him farewell and watched as he rode into the distance with the other knights.

  Back in my candlelit chambers, with richly embroidered plum colored drapes, I sat in a royal-looking cherry wood chair with flowered upholstery drinking mead. Probably too much of it. My ladies in waiting came in and found me drunk, helped me out of my garments and placed me in bed. I k
icked off the bedsheets and lay there, in my nightshirt, atop the heavy velvet bed quilt and pined for my knight.

  My hand found its way to my lower belly and tried to massage the sexual ache within. My medieval double attended to her own needs and just as she was close to the precipice of pleasure in my dream, my alarm went off.

  I woke up feeling groggy, but happy and doped up on feel-good hormones. I was also aroused. Seriously aroused. I reached down between my legs. Totally wet, still, and Lord knows what other dreams I’d had overnight. They may have been more erotic than I realized because my clitoris felt engorged.

  “Jeez, how will I be able to work like this?” I wondered out loud. I reached for my vibrator. Screw Nicolai’s warning. I was close to experiencing the clitoral equivalent of blue balls. I had to have relief.

  The phone rang.

  “Good morning, my love,” said the mysterious man from Transylvania who claimed he was my soul mate. Shouldn’t he say, “I vant to suck your blood,” and sound like Dracula? Instead, his accent was smooth and sexy. His voice resonated through my body, leaving tingles in its wake. “How did you sleep?”

  “I think I had a wet dream.” I reached my hand between my legs.

  “I sent it to you.” He laughed, but I was pretty sure he was seriously claiming credit for seducing me in my dream state as well.

  “All-powerful, even in my dreams?”

  “Yes. I hope so.”

  I inhaled with a sigh and found myself thinking it would be nice if he were beside me. Why was I thinking that? I barely knew him, and he’d left me completely sexually frustrated last night. I should be angry.

  “Do you miss me?” he asked.

  I hesitated. It was a weird, egotistical question, and I didn’t want to admit it. But I did. “Yes.”

  “Don’t touch yourself this morning, or anytime today.”

  Jeez, somebody better touch me today. I wished he were here to soothe the need in me.

  “How am I supposed to go to the office and walk around so worked-up?” Everything that could be aroused in me was aroused.

  “Embrace your arousal.” I had to press my legs together at the sound of his voice.

  “You Eastern bloc people must have more discipline than us weak American-born girls.”

  “Yes,” he said. “But you are far from weak. If you were weak, you would have never taken the risk of hearing me out last night. You are strong and quite brave.”

  I kept silent but those last words rolled over my naked body, touching my nipples, my belly, and my lips below.

  “We need to renegotiate our status,” he said. “We agreed to disagree about use of the word ‘mine’ and to take it a day at a time.”

  “Ah, that we did.”

  “So? Will you give it another try? Pretend we belong together, just for today? And give me a chance to show you I can be likeable?”

  Why did that sound so sexy and make me like him, already?

  “Okay, but we need boundaries, like, keeping this a secret, for starters.” I tried to think of more things, like renegotiating the vibrator use, but his next words dramatically changed my focus.

  “No problem, but I will see you at work today,” he said. “We have a business meeting at five p.m.”

  “We do?”

  “Yes, I put it on the calendar last night with Sheila.”

  Oh God. Sheila, my boss, who last night told me in no uncertain terms to stay away from him. Fuck.

  “Okay.” But it was not okay. She was going to know.

  Memories of last night’s kissing shenanigans and moonlight soul mate chats flooded back to me. Somewhere between the moon and the limo, I’d folded, raised my white flag, and agreed to pretend this was all okay. Work talk was snapping me out of it.

  “I’m coming in with my team for an overview of the press response last night at the event, and to review the follow-up game plan for media coverage.”

  “Excellent.” My demeanor turned from smitten aroused woman to professional female who should not have sexual dreams about her client. “I’ll work on that today.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “From my perspective, an oral report is fine.” He paused and I flashed back to our intense time in each other’s mouths last night. “There’s nothing beyond that you have to do to prepare for the meeting—except for one small thing.”

  “Yes,” I said, getting up to grab a pen to write it down. I was totally getting into business mode.

  “Don’t wear panties.”

  His voice was a blend of dreamy romantic lead and dominant businessman. My legs quivered at the thought of being in the same room with him discussing business with just a thin sheath of my dress between him and me.

  “Okay.” I can’t believe I’d said that!

  “After our meeting, I will walk out the door and go to my car to wait for you. Then we will have the night, together. Secretly. As you wish.”

  “You mean spend the night?” Hope mingled with yearning as I thought of what it might be like to get naked with him. Yet another feeling tugged at me—I was once again to be thrust into a work situation with a client who I was making out with on the sly. The taboo of it all scared and excited me.

  “The evening is ours. And then, I will take you home.” He paused before taking a deep breath. I could almost feel his breath in my ear, through the phone.

  “As in drop me off, alone?” I panicked a little. “Round two of sending me home without sex?

  “Yes.”

  “And, um, remind me why I should be excited about that?”

  “Because we’ll be alone together—after the meeting—and we can make out and feel each other up a little bit,” he laughed warm and sexy. “And this will be considered our second date. One down and five to go. I look forward, my love.”

  I got up and literally took a cold shower. I couldn’t believe how turned on I was. The forbidden nature of it all was adding dry wood to passion’s fire. Every inch of skin was so sensitive. I had to find something in my closet that was not too clingy—because of the panties situation and the potential for erect nipples—and not too short. I settled on a sleeveless sapphire dress that belted at the waist and had a slightly fuller skirt than most of my outfits. I slipped on my neutral color high heels. No panties. No protection from the elements or the arousal caused by Mr. Nicolai Petre. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any strong breezes on the streets of New York today. I figured my best bet was to take a cab to work rather than risk a rush of air blowing up my dress on the subway.

  Fussing in the mirror, I noticed one problem with this dress: my love bite was in full display. It was crazy big, but I kind of liked it, as if it were a badge of romantic honor. Nicolai had completely branded me with his incredibly sensual neck sucking. I tried to hide it with concealer, but I should have remembered from high school that there’s no covering them up with makeup. Luckily, I found a jacket with a high neck that could possibly prevent everyone in the boardroom from seeing it, if I kept my hair down.

  My day at the office was odd, in a hazy, romantic, day-after kind of way.

  Yesterday I was a complete professional, preparing for a big media launch party, and today I was an overly-aroused New York woman who, against her better judgment, was now romantically linked to the client for whom the media event was arranged. I was bursting with anticipation about date two with Nicolai and at the same time filled with dread about the business meeting that would transpire prior. How was I supposed to act normal when just last night our big client had informed me I was his beloved, kissed me in to a hormonal stupor, and then nearly made me come from humping him in the back seat of his limo?

  Sheila had called me into her office the minute I arrived and revealed the big meeting. I acted as if I had no idea there would be one as she handed me a stack of papers and told me to put a PowerPoint together based on her notes—three lines scribbled on a sticky note—and my notes from last night. Typically, I did all the work and she took as much credit as she could for doing
everything. I hated doing her PowerPoints, but this time, I welcomed the distraction. Still, I could not stop thinking about my swelling lower lips and what Nicolai may do or not do to exacerbate, or relieve, the arousal.

  My pal, Aisha, passed by my office and poked her head in. “What’s up with you?” she said. “Why the scowl? Or whatever that look is?” Aisha’s gift with emotional intelligence was admirable. She was able to tune into other people’s feelings and moods, and also use her cheerful attitude to uplift others.

  “Nicolai Petre is coming in for a follow-up today.” It came out on a sigh. But I hoped it would be heard as an, Oh I have so much work to prepare sigh, not as a I am carrying on with this man even though he’s our client sigh.

  “Oh goodie,” she said. Her dark eyes literally sparkled with glee and she twirled a strand of hair in her fingers, the way girls do when they like a certain boy. “Hope I’m invited.”

  “Sheila has me working on a PowerPoint,” I groaned. And Nicolai gave me a panty task, I wanted to say, but I didn’t. I cut and pasted some images from my desktop onto the presentation page. Aisha watched as I struggled to get them sized properly to fit on the page.

  “Oh God, why doesn’t she have her assistant do that?” she huffed. “You’re the account executive?” I loved the way she was always in my corner when it came to Sheila’s evil-Queen approach to management, but fretted when I remembered her comment yesterday about Nicolai being on her short list of potential billionaire husbands.

  “Because she apparently thinks I am her assistant-slash-slave, too.” Finally, I got the photo the way I wanted it on the page. It was one of our hot guys from the e-reader to add a little pizzazz to the presentation with boring statistics.

  I had my jacket off, in the privacy of my office, and had forgotten Nicolai’s amorous art design on my neck, until Aisha caught sight of my hickey.

  “Where the heck … or should I say who the heck did that come from?” She came closer to get a better look. “Wow. Vampire attack?”