Impossible Glamour (13 page)

Why ask why?

As though he’d read my thoughts, Webber’s arm snaked around my waist and pulled me close. His lips hovered above mine for a millisecond.

A gasp from my lips.

The heat of his kiss shot tingles down my spine. This desire, this physical connection, was what I wanted, what I needed. Hadn’t my future gone to hell? Didn’t I deserve this pleasure? I wanted Webber. Why? Maybe pheromones, hormones, proximity…who knew? Lucky for me, I lived in the twenty-first century and one night of passion did not a lifetime commitment require.

Just this. Just now.

I threaded my fingers through his hair. A growl came from his throat and my stomach tightened. His tongue pressed along the seam of my mouth and my lips opened to him. Yes, yes, yes. His hand skimmed up my hip and to the edge of my shirt, his fingers pressing against the flesh of my belly before trailing up to my breast. My nipple was pert and tight, and he plucked it with his fingers.

His lips found my neck and my head dropped back.

“God yes.” I clutched the back of his head and pressed him even closer to my flesh. Heat trailed after his kiss.

“Ellen, my God. Ellen.”

His hand grasped my shirt and pulled it up and over my head, leaving my body nearly bare. His gaze caught mine, and then he looked at me, my breasts. My hands rose to cover my nakedness, but he caught hold of both my wrists.

“Babe, do not cover perfection.”

Even through the heat and my want, Webzie made me smile. He caught my gaze with his and the corner of his lips curled into a grin. He was bad. Wicked. Funny in the most charming of ways. He ducked his head and his lips pulled at my nipple. My smile fell away with the hot pleasure of his mouth. Tiny gasps passed over my lips.

Oh. Yes.

His tongue rounded my nipple. He pulled and sucked me deep into the heat of his mouth, and my back arched as I pressed his face to my chest, wanting him, wanting more, wanting it all. His arm reached around me and my feet left the ground, then he was sweeping me up into his arms and we were into my room, past the chairs, past the desk, and he set me in the middle of the king-sized bed.

“This time, babe, we’re both sober. This is what you want, yes?”

I lay on the bed with only my tiny shorts around my body, my sex already wet from only his kisses. “Yes.”

Webber stood beside the bed and his gaze caressed me. He leaned forward and slowly peeled the shorts from my body, over my knees and my ankles. He tossed them to the floor.

“Babe, there isn’t a man on this planet that deserves anyone this perfect, and it sure as hell isn’t me.”

For a second, I thought he’d turn, maybe walk away from me. A hint of fear threaded through his eyes. He couldn’t walk away again and leave me alone to think and wonder and believe that I simply wasn’t attractive or what he wanted.

“Webber,” I said. “I want you.”

Any doubt, any concern, any fear present on Webber’s face vanished. He shucked off his clothes in an instant and his body was there beside the bed.

Oh. My. God.

“So
that’s
why you call him Big Boy.”

Again that smile over Webber’s face. “Why, yes. Yes it is.” A hint of pride laced his voice, and why not? As a medical student, I’d seen my fair share of male junk, and Webber’s? Well his junk was pretty awesome: size, length…I reached out and placed my hand around his cock. Girth. Oh, my, yes,
girth
. What woman didn’t want girth?

At my touch, he sucked in air and bent forward over the bed. A long, slow rhythm over his sex as I stroked down from the tip to the base and then back up. His breath came in pants and his stomach tightened.

“Babe, no bueno if you want—”

I tightened my grip. His words halted.

“No good, Webber? Really? No good at all?” I cocked an eyebrow. Who was this woman? The one who was mouthy and sexually powerful and… Where had she been all my life?

He took a breath as I continued to stroke. “Muy bueno, babe, on the stroking, no bueno on Big Boy performing anything but being the strokee.”

He leaned forward and his lips were on mine. I didn’t release his cock. Not at first. His lips trailed down my neck and Big Boy moved beyond my reach. So caught up in the heat that coiled through my body, I did little but thrust my hips upward and make mewling sounds I’d never heard come out of my mouth.

His lips suckled my other nipple. “Don’t want either of them to feel left out,” Webber said and then licked his way around my other breast.

My hips rolled, seeking the hardness of his cock, and my sex grew wetter. His lips trailed over my belly, hot kisses with tiny strokes of tongue and the occasional grazing of teeth. Until he hovered just above my sex, my curls.

“Babe, I do love bush. And a neatly trimmed one at that.”

Again my smile flirted over my lips. I touched my face. Heat flamed my cheeks.

“Happy to oblige,” I said, and a tiny, embarrassed laugh spilled from my lips.

“Why do you think women want to get rid of all their hair?” Webber asked and planted a long kiss just above the cleft of my sex.

My body trembled. Conversation? How could I possibly have a conversation with Webber’s face almost between my legs? He pushed my thighs open with his hands and settled between my thighs.

“Now this is beauty. Really. What has God made that is more beautiful than a woman’s pussy?”

At a loss, I had nothing. His lips pressed to my engorged nub. My pelvis rolled up, and he clasped his hand to my hip.

“Babe, nothing that a man wants more.”

His tongue slowly stroked from the center of my sex all the way up to my clit. He pulled the flesh into his mouth.

Fuck. Into. His. Mouth.

Heat seared through my body. My eyes pressed closed. I grasped the comforter and my hands fisted with pleasure. My entire body bowed up as his tongue, my God, his magic tongue… If he could do that with his tongue, what the hell could he do with his cock? His tongue circled and twirled, and two fingers pressed deep into my core, a slow rhythm that matched the rhythm of his tongue.

My body quivered. My entire center folded into itself. He pulled and licked and stroked, and then I was jetting up and over and into a shower of a million pinpricks of light thrilling every bit of my flesh.

*

Damn, she was hot. Hot wasn’t even the word. My lips between her legs with her clit in my mouth—fuck, the whole damn problem was that she was too much for me. In every damn way.

The salty-sweet taste of her filled my mouth. I sucked and my finger pressed in and out of her wet core. She tightened around my fingers and her hips shot up. She was close. Damn, she was close. Her hands clawed at the bed and then my back. Her nails raked my flesh, and Big Boy? Hell, Big Boy got harder.

How was that possible?

She was over the edge, her hips thrusting and bucking, a wildness to her orgasm. I sucked deeper and stroked her with my tongue, giving her every bit of pleasure she could take. Finally she quivered and lay still. I pulled my mouth from her sex.

Beauty. Pure, brainiac beauty lay naked and spread-eagle before me on a king-sized bed.

Holy fuck.

Her eyes had that sexy half-lidded look, and her thick black hair was mussed and tousled as though I’d already finished doing to her all the sexy things I wanted to do. I pulled up and fear struck my heart.

This was Ellen Legend. The brilliant Ellen Legend who one day might cure cancer or world hunger or win the Nobel Prize. The daughter of Steve Legend. Who the fuck was I? The Webzie? Like I could ever satisfy this woman, this formidable, beautiful, amazing woman.

Fear sliced through my chest and Big Boy felt it.

“Webber? Come here.” Her arms reached out to me. And I wanted to, hell yes, I wanted to. Every cell in my man-being, fuck-loving, seed-sowing self wanted to, but this tiny voice in my brain pinged, “Danger. Danger. Danger ahead.”

“Uh…”

I looked down. Big Boy was still hard but rapidly deflating.

“Is that my phone?” What a fucking lie. “Do you hear my phone?” But every man needed a lie sometime, right? Especially if his cock was suddenly soft.

“Your phone?” Ellen asked as though I’d just told her torturing puppies was my hobby.

I hopped off the bed, turned away from her so she wouldn’t see that flaccidity was rapidly encroaching upon Big Boy.

“Yeah.” I grabbed for my underwear and pants. “My phone.” I covered Big Boy with my clothes and turned toward the bathroom.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Webber?” She didn’t yell. She didn’t even raise her voice, but she did go from sitting upright to falling back against the pillows with her hand pressed to her forehead.

How to explain? I couldn’t explain. There was no possible way I was going to explain that I’d gone from full-on Tarzan the ape-man, king of the fucking jungle, with her clit between my lips, to yellow-bellied scared to fuck this girl. Nope. I couldn’t even admit that shit to myself. Big Boy was obviously smarter than I and he knew, absolutely knew, that fucking Ellen Legend would be the end of my career and quite possibly my entire life. I pulled on my pants and zipped and fixed my belt. Had to get out of here but do it smooth. Super Webber smooth. I turned toward the mirror. Two deep breaths.

“Zen, mother fucker. Zen,” I whispered, gave myself two thumbs-up, and walked out of the bathroom.

Ellen had pulled on her clothes and now stood between me and the bed with my shirt in her hand. “Here you go,” she said and tossed it my way.

I grabbed the shirt and pulled it over my head. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and while her lips seemed to be trying to sell me the I-don’t-give-a-fuck-about-this story, in her eyes I saw questions.

Oh shit. Questions I didn’t want to answer and probably couldn’t even if I gave it a try.

“Okay, that was my phone,” I lied. “Boss needs me. Something about signing a big client and then packaging this film, and—”

She held out her hand. “This phone?” She cocked her head to the side.

“Yeah, wow, maybe I hit my head… How weird, I could have sworn—”

“Webber, get out.”

“Seems most of our evenings together end with those words,” I said, trying to joke, trying to let Ellen know this was my screwup and not hers.

“This will be the last one.”

That was what I wanted, right? Not to have to worry about ever getting soft or frisky with Ellen Legend again. So why the hell did my heart fall to my toes with the idea of never having Ellen in my arms again?

“Ellen.” My voice softened and I took a step forward. “Listen, it’s not you, seriously…it’s—” I pointed to where Big Boy lay, quiet, flaccid, and in my pants. “It’s the equipment. I’ve got a little…hitch.”

“Hitch?” She squinted her eyes at me. “What kind of
hitch
?”

“Big Boy, he couldn’t, you know he wouldn’t…”

She pressed her hands to her hips. “Are you saying you couldn’t get it up for me?”

“Babe, come on. We both know Big Boy got up for you. It’s just, you know, he couldn’t
stay
up for you.”

Her face turned red, this color I’d never seen before on a human and was more like the color of a tomato…a really ripe tomato.

“Please go.”

“Babe, really, that’s all? No sympathy, no oh no, Webber, how could that happen to you?”

A deep breath and those lovely little titties heaved up and down while the red remained on her face. “I’ll call Daddy. I’ll have him ring you. That was what you really wanted, wasn’t it Webzie?”

Wanted? What I really wanted? No, what I’d really wanted was to fuck Ellen’s brains out, to make her come all night and to force Ellen Legend to scream my name and be ruined for any other guy that came after. After? My heart squeezed tight. I didn’t want any guy to come after.

“Uh, Ellen—”

“Go.”

This was new territory for me… Suddenly…I had this need…not sexual, but a want that no other guy got to see those bare-breasted, heaving titties but me.

“But babe, if you’ll let me explain—”

She was walking forward and I was backing through her room toward the door.

“Nothing to explain, Webber. I think you’ve made everything perfectly clear.” She reached out and opened her suite door.

“I have?” Nothing in my body indicated that what she said was true. Her words said all was good in the world of Ellen Legend, while the look on her face indicated she’d like to slice and dice both Big Boy and me.

“Yes.” She took a step, backing me into the hall. “Both you and Big Boy”—her gaze drifted toward my drawers and Big Boy perked up as her gaze latched onto him—“have made your desires very well known.” Her gaze swept back up and met mine. “Hope you two find exactly what you’re looking for.”

With one swift twist of her wrist and release of her hand, the door swung closed.

Damn. Ellen Legend was pissed, Big Boy be damned.

Ellen

“How much do I love a spa day?” Sophia didn’t want a response. She lay to my right on her massage table, facedown with her head in the circular cushion. My sister simply talked. A lot. All the time really. When we were kids she was rarely quiet. I preferred silence or selective conversation. But truly, silence during a massage would be preferable. Amanda was on the massage table to my left. I gathered she enjoyed a massage experience more similar to mine because she, like me, hadn’t uttered two words since our massages had started nearly an hour ago.

“Exfoliated, hydrated, and now relaxed. Oh my God, and then we’ll have the best dinner ever!”

Sophia continued to yammer and I tuned her out as I had most of my childhood. My little introvert technique of freezing a smile on my face and nodding every couple of words when in reality I had no idea what my sister or whomever was talking was actually saying worked like a charm. Right now I didn’t even need to expend the energy to fake the smile as all three of us were still staring at the floor or had our eyes closed.

My mind wandered away from Sophia’s words while Helga the Norwegian Hammer dug her fingers even deeper into my trapezius muscle. Oh. My. God. Her fingers were a flush of pleasure and pain. I opened my mouth and refrained from letting out a murmur of pain.