Not Just A One Night Stand (3 page)

Chandler was completely and utterly blindsided by the way Taylor felt around his cock. The way she felt against his flesh, well the little he’d freed in his haste to get where he was that very moment. She was magical, with her cunt brimming with suds soaped cream had easily disintegrated his will.

But when he still shook from orgasm the woman was rude enough to tell him to get out.

“Wow… now get out.”

“Whatever for? I think we just got started.”

“Oh, there are two condoms left. I guess that means you plan on burning a hole in me tonight with the rest of them?” Her tone was mocking, but her face told another story altogether.

“Maybe I will. But I was thinking along the lines of something to eat first.” He shucked the flaccid yet gooey prophylactic from his cock. He didn’t ask her where her bathroom was but merely walked across the foyer and turned left. It only took a moment for him to discard the condom and clean himself off.

When he returned, he realized that he made a mistake. She had the time to work up even more righteous anger in the minute or two he had been away. But he knew she had a right to be mad. Chandler could see that his actions had been precipitous, at least in her eyes. He certainly wouldn’t have thrown her out for coming to his house with sex on the brain and condoms in her pocket.  But if nothing else, she was all woman and they tended to think in ways that a man would never completely understand.

Chandler let her escort him out of the door, but he would be back. Back in her home, and back inside of her. But he would let her throw him out for now as apparently, he had earned ejection from her sanctuary.

Although, before he left he planned to give her something to think about. Her stance was one of defense as if she was afraid to allow him in her personal space. The next moment was a blink into the next as he grasped her crossed forearms. The limbs were tightly bound against her breasts. But he didn’t care. What he cared about was something infinitesimally important to him in this moment with the view of her delicious anger. She tried to hide her fury with a mask of indifference between two strangers.

“Get your hands off of me, you unn-c-couth brute!” She leaned away from him, but he knew the fight was half-hearted. His three year old niece had more spunk in her temper tantrums.

“I have to admit, I adore your verbose stammer.” He chuckled, but she was far from amused. Her words had been straight out of a regency romance.

Chandler would bet if he looked under her bed, he would find a cache of historical bodice rippers, or something along those lines. But he was sure that she was going to have a conniption fit if he did what he truly wanted. Well, he’d already had but… he wanted her again. The irritation and vexation written on her face were enough to make her wish that he could have some more of her delicious pussy.

Her mouth was cocked in a non-ferocious scowl, but he loved it. In fact, she was sexier than ever. His lips met hers and at first he had the intentions of being gentle. But the mutual savoring of lips became filled with unrequited hunger too quickly. And thus the savoring became a rapture of erotic aggression. Her tongue took forays within his mouth that no other woman ever bothered with imparting with their kisses. Their oral muscles danced a duel with no end as if the fight was to the death and neither of the participants was willing or able to accept loss. But even long minutes later, he wasn’t sure who the victor would be.

He could only keep control half of the time, the other half of the time she possessed him. He was stupefied and amazed at how well her lips were able to sweep him away. When he tugged his mouth from hers he didn’t want to. But he had to. Otherwise, she would find her back against the wall as he plundered her snatch for all that she was worth again.

When their lips parted stickily as if reluctant to allow the tasting to end, he saw her eyes change from the pleasance of prior passion to impassioned fury.  But he refused to be so easily dismissed, if anyone was going to be evicted, he would be the initiate, not her.

“I know, I’m on the way out now. But believe me the next time our paths cross, it will be much harder for you to dispense of me.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you. You weigh about two twenty, so I suspect that chopping you into bits would be a bit difficult for a woman of my size. But acid should work just fine given enough time.”     

“Really? You plan to resort to murder now?”

“You’d be surprised what levels a desperate person is willing to stoop to.”

“I’ll make sure to keep an eye on you then. But I mean what I say, Taylor,” he made sure to place a very deliberate emphasis on her name as that was the one crucial part of her hidden the first night, “you can’t get rid of me. Just like my nights were sleepless, I bet yours were these last weeks. And I’ll bet tonight, your dreams will be filled with me. But don’t worry. You will feature in mine too.”

With that said, he made his grand exit. But now it was on his terms, not hers.

But even when he climbed into the luxury of his Acura crossover SUV, he wasn’t sure if he had lost or won on exit. That was the best part.

That night he slept like the dead for the first time in a while. Although he woke with a hard cock embedded into memory foam and Taylor imprinted on his brain. He dressed quickly as if by rote. Really, even the drive to his office was a haze of confusion that even his morning cup of Joe was unable to banish. He considered it a miracle that he made it into his personal parking space without a fender bender.

Chandler spent the morning the same way, and even his assistant noticed his distracted train of thoughts. It was his fault as he called the woman into his office and although she had shown up quickly, his brain was still out to breakfast. There was supposed to be a conference at two, and he needed to have his development team work up a few things before he went.

“Hey!” Bernice snapped her fingers in front of Chandlers face abruptly.

It was a testament as to how badly he was distracted that he didn’t even remark on the clicking fingers. “Yes, Bernice?”

“What in the world is going on with you? I have been waiting for you now for ten minutes and you haven’t spoken a single world. If I’m going to get this email to O’Hara and Keats before lunch you better start talking.”

He opened his mouth, but Bernice cut him off quickly as she interjected, “You know what? Forget it. The only thing that could have you this scrambled is a woman. Just tell me and get it over with. Then back to work, or at least this email and you can be confused for a bit longer.”

“It’s… nothing.”

“Damn, you sound like a woman. For us, the word “nothing” has numerous meanings and not one has anything to do with zero problems. And you can’t even lie well. Just spit it out.” Her face was stern, but he noticed a slight twinkle in her eyes.

“I met her in Virginia last month.” Bernice sat patiently as if she waited for the garbled mess that spouted from his lips after to coalesce into a cohesive story.

He told her almost everything, except for the fact of just who Taylor was and the fact that she worked in his very office. But when he was finished, Bernice had a particular glint in his eyes that told him that he was about to get an earful.

But when she opened her mouth, she only made him dictate the salient points of the email to his development team. He was surprised as he expected a bit more response than he’d gotten. Especially considering his love life was always neat and tidy, not too many emotions were caught in the mergers that formed his relationships.

When she closed the laptop Bernice looked at him directly. “Lunch will be here shortly. Now back to business, she’s your Moby Dick.”

He had no idea what his assistant meant. But then again, he had no idea what he even was even wearing and he’d been in the clothes all day. The look on his face had to have spoken for him as she responded to his confusion so adroitly and her resume said nothing about being a psychic friend before he’d hired her over ten years ago.

“She is the one that got away. For you, acquiring whatever you want is easy. If you want a company, you buy it. If you want a car, or house, or meal, you buy it. If you want a woman, they jump in your lap and you don’t even have to buy what you are given for free. But here you have this one and she isn’t falling all over herself for the great Chandler Adkins. It has to be a novel concept, a woman that doesn’t throw herself at you. The point is if you want her then you’re going to have to work,” Bernice gasped abruptly with a mock look of fright in her eyes then continued, “for it. You can’t buy her. You can’t browbeat her into a hostile takeover, or haggle for her like a side of beef. You can however, put some effort into wooing her.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” The tone was sarcastic, but he couldn’t help himself to a bit of ire. Damn it! He was a person of logic and common sense and he hated the fact he barely was able to muster a rational statement let alone elucidate what he needed to say. 

“Because you’re a man, and the only wooing that people with dangly parts think about involves sex. It’s going to take a bit more than good, pardon my crass term, dick,” the last word was given air quotation marks for emphasis, “to keep her from tossing you out of bed for eating crackers. As women we want it all, good lovemaking, intimacy, trust, love, friendship and most importantly respect.” Each point was ticked off one finger at a time.

“Why is respect the most important?” That made little sense to him. Wouldn’t trust or love carry more weight with a woman?

“Because, every move you make when you are in a relationship is dictated by how much you respect her. If you have respect for a woman, she knows that you will never degrade her or insult her intelligence. She knows that you will not cheat on her, nor attempt to lie to her about the things that matter. She knows that she will always come first with you. A woman with a man’s respect never has to worry about roving eyes when he is away or even when they are together. That’s why respect is so important, capish?”

“Gotcha.” Strangely enough, he did.

With her words in mind, he was able to make a plan. At least that would give him a great start that he didn’t have with Taylor originally. She was not going to be the one regret he had when time turned him into an old man with more remorse than joy and he refused to stare his mortality in the face without every satisfaction he could garner from life first.

He was pretty sure that based on the itinerary that Taylor left, she was on her way to the Salisbury location today. That was only a hop skip and a jump from where he sat now.

“After the meeting with development, cancel all appointments I have left today. I’m taking a day off.” He could tell his right hand woman was a bit shocked. Heck, he was too. But if he was going to get her attention, Chandler was sure that he was going to have to step his game up.

Even at this point he wasn’t sure if he really wanted something more than what he had. But what he was sure of was that if he ever felt the need to have a relationship of that caliber, his body said vote for Taylor. His mind was half way there, as a man of logic, he had a difficult time with the realm of excess emotion. It was not that he lacked refined feeling, but Chandler hated the idea of being a man like his father. The elder Adkins was a wasteful wastrel and could not understand the concept of going without. If his father saw something, someone or anything else he desired there was no amount of money to dear to attain the object for himself.

Chandler was as far from his father as two people could be and still come from the same stock. He looked like him, enough that when his photo was placed on the wall along the generations of Adkins males even his mother could barely tell the two apart. The only difference was his father’s photo was dated while Chandler wore more current garb.

That was the main reason Chandler stayed clear from feeling too much. His father vacillated between love and hate every three days. His dad could meet a showgirl in Vegas and marry the woman after ten drinks and bit of pussy. Little wonder that Adkins Sr. had been to the altar ten times in the last twenty years. There was no way that he wanted that for himself. If nothing else, he could be alone and prosper rather than pay alimony like it was child support. Really, his father would pay the alimony and no sooner than he made the final payment was remarried and back at it again.

For that reason, Chandler preferred to live as he had. There was a sense of clarity when life was logical and well-planned. But somehow, he couldn’t let the beauty go. She had gotten under his skin. Each time his body had joined with hers felt like a vow between them. The chemistry was too strong and volatile to pretend as if it was nothing more than lust. He was certain that he could learn to like permanence and roots to another if it was her.

Was this what his father had chased all of these years and failed so miserably to find?

Chapter Three: Stalker-rific

Taylor was in Salisbury for the morning and she planned to mystery shop at the chain in Winston Salem in the afternoon as well. Neither of the managers had met her before, so she would get a real chance to see how these stores fared in the economic climate. The Salisbury store was small, cozy and the staff there gave her the sense of talking to loved ones or good friends. She perused the boutique with an eye to the haphazard shelving used to display scarves. The way the store was put together made good use of the space.

The room was categorized according to trends, a staple layout many stores used to move people into different zones to drive more spending. But she was particularly pleased with the placement of the accessories. The trinkets most complementary to a trend were housed in the same space rather than a confused cluster of everything on jewelry trees.

She ambled about the shop for about half an hour until she heard the clerks giggle.

“He is so sexy. I bet he has a girlfriend though.” She thought the delicate whisper belonged to the tiny blond, if Taylor remembered correctly her name was Amanda.

“I wouldn’t care if he had twenty kids and a harem of wives, all I want is to jump in line.” She knew the voice had to belong to Maritza, when Taylor first met the Hispanic girl she even looked to be a handful or two.