SEX, HEAT AND HUNGER: PART 1
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“His name is James Shaw, he’s thirty-eight, into running, fishing and woodworking, and he’s the owner of J.P.S. Developing Inc. here in Victoria,” I blathered into the phone Saturday afternoon.
“Really? You found all that out? And you met him at the pub? Or did you Google him?” Alyssa asked. She was feeling better, not a hundred percent or well enough to go to the gym, but at least she’d stopped puking when I’d called her the next day to catch up and fill her in on my encounter with Mr. Firm-Handshake-Sexy-Mouth.
“No. I found it out the old-fashioned, non-creepy-stalker way, by talking to him. I’m not going to Google him. Not yet anyway. And why are you so shocked that I met someone? It’s not like I was out clubbing and started making out with a random guy on the dance floor and then took him home. I’m not twenty-one. And I didn’t even do that when I was twenty-one, you know that. And I didn’t go home with James either. I behaved myself, thank you very much.”
She laughed over the phone. “I don’t know. You just don’t strike me as the type to meet someone at a pub or bar that’s all. Let alone a gorgeous business tycoon. Nobody meets anyone at a pub anymore, not since our parents were on the dating scene. It’s all online dating, some terrible hook-up app or through mutual friends. But more importantly…” Her tone changed, ready for the dirty details. “… you made-out with him?”
I nibbled on my bottom lip and bobbed my tea bag in my mug before lifting it out and tossing it into the compost. “Well, call me old-fashioned if you like, but I did meet James at a pub. And yeah, we made-out, kind of. We kissed in the cab. But who knows if it will amount to anything.”
The evening had gone quite well in my opinion. We’d grabbed a booth as soon as one became vacant, ordered nachos and talked for nearly two hours. We’d covered all the first date kind of topics, and even though it wasn’t a date, it ended like one — in a shared a cab as the taxi had to skirt his neighborhood on the way to my condo building.
When the cab pulled up to his house, my eyes went wide. Oh my god, what a house it was; a two-story masterpiece made of dark wood and stone, with big windows, a three-car garage, and a wrap-around porch. And although big, it wasn’t ostentatious or gaudy. Rather shyly, he admitted to designing and building it himself and even in the dark of night I could tell this man had taste. The air had continued to pulse and flicker around between us all night. By the time we got into the cab, it was fully charged and so was I, even though he hadn’t made a move all night, he hadn’t even touched me. It’d been years since I’d dated and wasn’t sure what to expect, was he going to kiss me? Invite me in? Another handshake? Oh fuck, a hug? What?
He fished around in his wallet and handed the cabbie a fist full of bills, murmuring, “And that’s for the lady too, keep the change.”
I protested, but he wouldn’t hear of it, and then he leaned in, grazing my cheek with the backs of his fingers. I closed my eyes and licked my lips readying myself for the goodbye kiss. The chill of the evening quickly banished by the heat he generated low in my belly, his look long and probing. Only he didn’t kiss me, he moved to the side of my head, his breath warm and stirring, the smell of scotch and his masculine scent driving my senses wild.
“I’d love nothing more than to invite you in and ravish your body until breakfast, but you said you have a gym class in the morning, and if you stayed over you wouldn’t get there on time, I’d make sure of it. And…” He nipped my earlobe, making my whole body convulse. “… you, Emma, why you’re more than a one-night stand.”
Grabbing the back of my head roughly, he kissed me, hard and deep, his mouth swallowing my surprised gasp. Thrusting his tongue into my mouth and spreading my lips, delivering slow savoring licks that made my pussy tighten and long for him to do the same thing lower down on my body. I melted into him, went lax as he pulled me close, allowing him to lead the kiss, matching his plunges and thrusts with my own, sucking on his soft tongue. I whimpered when he bit my lip. It’d been way, way too long since anyone had done that. Eventually, he pulled away with a wolfish smirk. I was panting as I licked my swollen lips. I can only guess what my face looked like, shock? Lust? Wanting? Wanting more, that’s for sure.
“Goodnight, Emma,” he said, opening the door.
I gulped. “’N-night… James.”
“Wow! That sounds hot,” Alyssa exclaimed. “Like something out of a romance novel, a real bodice ripper. But the big question is — does he own a pair of Crocs?”
I chuckled. “No! And thank goodness for that! I did manage to slip in that question at some point. It would have been such a pity if he’d said ‘yes.'”
“What was his deal-breaker?”
“Smoking, like so many people. I guess smoking is one of mine too. But I’d probably put Crocs above smoking.”
“Well, duh!” She snorted. “He’ll call, for sure.”
“Yeah? Well, we’ll see — oh, oh, hold on I’m getting another call… shit, shit, shit it’s him! What should I do? Let it go to voicemail or answer it?”
“Fucking answer it! And then call me back immediately! Bye. Good luck!”
I let it ring a couple more times before I pressed “accept.” Not so much as to play hard-to-get or make him sweat, but to simply compose myself. I hadn’t felt this giddy or ridiculous about a man since high school.
“Emma,” he growled. Oh my god that voice. “How was the gym?” The way this man said my name made my knees weak and my panties wet. I could feel the warmth and pull of his rock hard body through the phone.
I swallowed. “Hey.” Trying to sound as relaxed as could, even though inside I was a jiggly blob of goo. “Tough as hell, so in other words, amazing.”
“A glutton for punishment are you?”
“No, just a firm believer in no pain no gain.”
He chuckled softly. “Meet me for lunch today.”
My eyes flashed to the clock on my microwave. “It’s already one o’clock.”
“Okay, meet me for linner.”
“Did you just say linner?”
“Yeah, let’s get linner or lupper or whatever you’d like to call it. I don’t want to wait until actual dinnertime to see you. I’ll come and get you. Twenty minutes.”
I looked down at my yoga pants. Shit, I’d have to change. “Um… okay.”
“See you soon.”
It didn’t occur to me until after we’d hung up that he had no idea where I lived. He hadn’t asked for my address, and I hadn’t told him last night. How was he going to find me? Did he Google me?