Easy Virtue
Page 9
“Too bad.”
Not caring that people might be staring at us and listening to our hushed conversation, he lowers his face and lets the tip his nose trace the curve of my neck before adding in a soft voice, “I want to fuck you.”
Not a romantic statement, yet I can’t help blushing.
Walker straightens, slowly dragging his finger out of me. “It was great catching up,” he says, addressing the group, “but I’m afraid Blaire and I have to leave.” He looks at me before adding, “I’m done sharing her.”
More uncomfortable coughs. More angry stares. More disdain.
Less of me.
“Good night. It was great meeting you,” I address the group but stare at the girls in particular.
Walker grabs my waist, ready to leave when the black-haired girl speaks. “Walker, one word before you go. Don’t forget that Arthur and I are hosting a dinner party at our apartment on Tuesday to welcome back Emma from Europe,” she says, smiling maliciously at me.
He tightens his hold on my waist. “I haven’t forgotten. I’ll be there.”
Usually, I wouldn’t care what he does with his time, but the way the girl is staring at me with triumph in her eyes makes a bad feeling settle in the pit of my stomach.
When we walk out of The Met, leaving that nightmare behind us, we are greeted by a dark sky illuminated with fabricated lights. The sounds of a busy night in the city crowd my ears: the angry honking of yellow cabs, hip-hop music coming from a car with its windows all the way down, a frustrated deliveryman on a bicycle ringing his bell as he tries to scatter the crowd blocking his path, the smell of Chinese food drifting out of the white plastic bags sitting behind him.
After we climb down the stairs of the museum, Walker pulls me in for a hug. With his hands wrapped around me, he lowers his mouth until his lips touch mine. Opening my mouth for him, I welcome his kiss and the delicious assault of his tongue. I wish I could say that this kiss, or any of his kisses for that matter, makes my heart sing or fills me with light, obliterating the darkness inside me, but that’s not the case. I don’t think it will ever happen. But his kiss makes me feel wanted, needed, yearned for. It’s a kiss that doesn’t ask for anything other than a physical reaction.
Twisting my hair in his hands, he gives it a tug, making me stare at him. “I—”
One moment he’s gazing into my eyes and the next we’re tangled in leashes and dogs while they yap and howl around us, trying to break free.
“Shit!” I hear a girl curse. “Chanel! Down girl, down!”
“What the fuck?” I hear Walker protest angrily as a huge German Shepherd stands on its hind legs, placing its paws on the lapels of Walker’s pristine tuxedo, attempting to lick his face.
A giggle escapes my mouth as I watch my cool boyfriend struggling to remove the dog from his chest without any success. I’m about to help him when a black mastiff comes out of nowhere and leaps on me, the force of his jump making me lose my balance.
“Ow, ow, ow!” I exclaim, flapping my arms in the air like a duck.
My ass is close to hitting the ground when I hear a man curse. Before I make a total fool of myself by falling on the street, a firm body is behind me, breaking my fall. His arms are like corded steel bands around my waist, protecting me.
“Are you okay?” the man asks, close to my ear. The way his breath, soft and warm as a summer’s breeze, hits my skin makes funny things happen inside me—of the tingly kind.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?” I ask, turning to look at him.
He chuckles. “I asked if you’re all right.”
Oh. Oh. “Oh, yeah, yes. I’m okay. I’m sorry.”
I break the uncomfortable staring contest we have going on by lowering my gaze to the arms around my waist. “Your … um, your arms,” I say, sounding like a total idiot. Seriously, Blaire? Seriously?
“What about them?” he says, tightening them.
I swallow hard, clearing my mind, and I place my hands on his to try and move them. But they won’t budge. It’s like they’re stuck to me. “You can let go of me now.”
He laughs as he releases me, the warmth of his touch gone. “My bad.”
I turn to look at him and watch as the stranger smirks in a way that totally negates his apology. The small smile makes his eyes crinkle at the corners, a complete telltale. The asshole totally liked it.
I run a hand down my dress, smoothing it. “Thank you for—”
“Actually, don’t worry about it. This has been the best part of my day.”
Don’t smile … don’t smile …
I smile.
How could I not?
We continue to smile at each other as the angry sounds of dogs yapping and barking surround us. But then I remember Walker. Grimacing, the same thoughts seem to cross the stranger’s mind right before we turn around and watch an angry looking Walker going off on the poor dog walker. She’s holding the leashes to at least ten dogs, pulling and tugging in every possible direction. It’s easy to see why she lost control of them.
I’m about to defend her and tell Walker to calm down, but the angry flash I see in his eyes makes me think it would be a bad idea.
“Chill, man. It’s not the girl’s fault that the dog jumped you,” I hear the stranger say, becoming my personal hero.
I can’t help but compare how different they are. With his impeccable black tuxedo, blond hair, and blue eyes, Walker seems coolly untouchable. The stranger is wearing an old looking black suit, messy brown hair that sticks up at the top, and the softest of brown eyes that seem to be as warm as the earth.
I watch as he kneels and pats some of the dogs, trying to mellow them. “There … there … calm down,” he coos softly.
Walker doesn’t bother answering him. He turns to look at the terrified girl. “Next time, learn how to do your job properly. It doesn’t seem like it requires a lot.” He turns my way, grabs my hand, and starts to walk away without giving the guy or the dog walker a second thought.
“No need to be such a fuckin’ asshole, man! She said she was sorry!”
“Walker, wait … that wasn’t nice. You shoul—”
“Keep walking, Blaire.”
I glance back and watch the stranger standing in the middle of the street with the biggest fucking grin on his face while the dogs play around him, forgotten. I drown out Walker’s tirade as I grin back.
AFTER HE THROWS THE KEYS OF his Aston Martin to the doorman outside his building, Walker drags me to the elevator. As the doors close in front of us, he lets go of my arm and stands next to me without making eye contact. But the moment we walk into his place, Walker lifts me by the ass and carries me to his bed.
He unzips his pants, pulls them and his briefs down in one swift movement, his cock already hard. He doesn’t bother to take my clothes off, placing me on his lap, and entering me in one hard thrust. With his hands on my bare ass, he drives my movements, propelling me to ride his cock mercilessly. Up and down. Tilting slightly back, my fingers grip his thighs as I watch his cock pulling in and out of me, the erotic visual drugging my senses. All I see is him penetrating me, his glistening cock entering me, and all I want is more. And harder. The slap of our skin fills my ears as he fills me. He’s fucking me so hard it hurts, but it’s a pain that borders on delicious pleasure, like all good things in life.
Not caring that people might be staring at us and listening to our hushed conversation, he lowers his face and lets the tip his nose trace the curve of my neck before adding in a soft voice, “I want to fuck you.”
Not a romantic statement, yet I can’t help blushing.
Walker straightens, slowly dragging his finger out of me. “It was great catching up,” he says, addressing the group, “but I’m afraid Blaire and I have to leave.” He looks at me before adding, “I’m done sharing her.”
More uncomfortable coughs. More angry stares. More disdain.
Less of me.
“Good night. It was great meeting you,” I address the group but stare at the girls in particular.
Walker grabs my waist, ready to leave when the black-haired girl speaks. “Walker, one word before you go. Don’t forget that Arthur and I are hosting a dinner party at our apartment on Tuesday to welcome back Emma from Europe,” she says, smiling maliciously at me.
He tightens his hold on my waist. “I haven’t forgotten. I’ll be there.”
Usually, I wouldn’t care what he does with his time, but the way the girl is staring at me with triumph in her eyes makes a bad feeling settle in the pit of my stomach.
When we walk out of The Met, leaving that nightmare behind us, we are greeted by a dark sky illuminated with fabricated lights. The sounds of a busy night in the city crowd my ears: the angry honking of yellow cabs, hip-hop music coming from a car with its windows all the way down, a frustrated deliveryman on a bicycle ringing his bell as he tries to scatter the crowd blocking his path, the smell of Chinese food drifting out of the white plastic bags sitting behind him.
After we climb down the stairs of the museum, Walker pulls me in for a hug. With his hands wrapped around me, he lowers his mouth until his lips touch mine. Opening my mouth for him, I welcome his kiss and the delicious assault of his tongue. I wish I could say that this kiss, or any of his kisses for that matter, makes my heart sing or fills me with light, obliterating the darkness inside me, but that’s not the case. I don’t think it will ever happen. But his kiss makes me feel wanted, needed, yearned for. It’s a kiss that doesn’t ask for anything other than a physical reaction.
Twisting my hair in his hands, he gives it a tug, making me stare at him. “I—”
One moment he’s gazing into my eyes and the next we’re tangled in leashes and dogs while they yap and howl around us, trying to break free.
“Shit!” I hear a girl curse. “Chanel! Down girl, down!”
“What the fuck?” I hear Walker protest angrily as a huge German Shepherd stands on its hind legs, placing its paws on the lapels of Walker’s pristine tuxedo, attempting to lick his face.
A giggle escapes my mouth as I watch my cool boyfriend struggling to remove the dog from his chest without any success. I’m about to help him when a black mastiff comes out of nowhere and leaps on me, the force of his jump making me lose my balance.
“Ow, ow, ow!” I exclaim, flapping my arms in the air like a duck.
My ass is close to hitting the ground when I hear a man curse. Before I make a total fool of myself by falling on the street, a firm body is behind me, breaking my fall. His arms are like corded steel bands around my waist, protecting me.
“Are you okay?” the man asks, close to my ear. The way his breath, soft and warm as a summer’s breeze, hits my skin makes funny things happen inside me—of the tingly kind.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?” I ask, turning to look at him.
He chuckles. “I asked if you’re all right.”
Oh. Oh. “Oh, yeah, yes. I’m okay. I’m sorry.”
I break the uncomfortable staring contest we have going on by lowering my gaze to the arms around my waist. “Your … um, your arms,” I say, sounding like a total idiot. Seriously, Blaire? Seriously?
“What about them?” he says, tightening them.
I swallow hard, clearing my mind, and I place my hands on his to try and move them. But they won’t budge. It’s like they’re stuck to me. “You can let go of me now.”
He laughs as he releases me, the warmth of his touch gone. “My bad.”
I turn to look at him and watch as the stranger smirks in a way that totally negates his apology. The small smile makes his eyes crinkle at the corners, a complete telltale. The asshole totally liked it.
I run a hand down my dress, smoothing it. “Thank you for—”
“Actually, don’t worry about it. This has been the best part of my day.”
Don’t smile … don’t smile …
I smile.
How could I not?
We continue to smile at each other as the angry sounds of dogs yapping and barking surround us. But then I remember Walker. Grimacing, the same thoughts seem to cross the stranger’s mind right before we turn around and watch an angry looking Walker going off on the poor dog walker. She’s holding the leashes to at least ten dogs, pulling and tugging in every possible direction. It’s easy to see why she lost control of them.
I’m about to defend her and tell Walker to calm down, but the angry flash I see in his eyes makes me think it would be a bad idea.
“Chill, man. It’s not the girl’s fault that the dog jumped you,” I hear the stranger say, becoming my personal hero.
I can’t help but compare how different they are. With his impeccable black tuxedo, blond hair, and blue eyes, Walker seems coolly untouchable. The stranger is wearing an old looking black suit, messy brown hair that sticks up at the top, and the softest of brown eyes that seem to be as warm as the earth.
I watch as he kneels and pats some of the dogs, trying to mellow them. “There … there … calm down,” he coos softly.
Walker doesn’t bother answering him. He turns to look at the terrified girl. “Next time, learn how to do your job properly. It doesn’t seem like it requires a lot.” He turns my way, grabs my hand, and starts to walk away without giving the guy or the dog walker a second thought.
“No need to be such a fuckin’ asshole, man! She said she was sorry!”
“Walker, wait … that wasn’t nice. You shoul—”
“Keep walking, Blaire.”
I glance back and watch the stranger standing in the middle of the street with the biggest fucking grin on his face while the dogs play around him, forgotten. I drown out Walker’s tirade as I grin back.
AFTER HE THROWS THE KEYS OF his Aston Martin to the doorman outside his building, Walker drags me to the elevator. As the doors close in front of us, he lets go of my arm and stands next to me without making eye contact. But the moment we walk into his place, Walker lifts me by the ass and carries me to his bed.
He unzips his pants, pulls them and his briefs down in one swift movement, his cock already hard. He doesn’t bother to take my clothes off, placing me on his lap, and entering me in one hard thrust. With his hands on my bare ass, he drives my movements, propelling me to ride his cock mercilessly. Up and down. Tilting slightly back, my fingers grip his thighs as I watch his cock pulling in and out of me, the erotic visual drugging my senses. All I see is him penetrating me, his glistening cock entering me, and all I want is more. And harder. The slap of our skin fills my ears as he fills me. He’s fucking me so hard it hurts, but it’s a pain that borders on delicious pleasure, like all good things in life.
