That Man 3 (23 page)

“Oh, Blake. I need you inside me. Will you fuck me?”

Another kiss. “No.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed.

“I’m going to make love to you.”

“Oh!” Her disappointment became instant elation.

For the first time in my life, I made passionate love in my bed to a woman I adored.
We were side to side, face to face, eye to eye, bodies and souls melded. Her soft
moans, our love song. A hymn. My arm draped across her sweet ass, I gently rocked
her as my slow, sensuous strokes brought us closer to orgasm. The emotional intensity
was as deep as the physical. Calling Dr. Phil. I swear, my eyes leaked tears as every
fiber in my body screamed, surging to the edge of ecstasy. My cock was home. Oh, baby.

We came. She roared.

There was no taming my tiger.

Although I was sure I’d knocked off a few stripes.

Jennifer

M
y first upfront presentation. I had no idea what to expect, but I certainly didn’t
expect this. A full-blown event with hoopla galore at New York City’s Lexington Avenue
Armory attended by all of SIN-TV’s key personnel, including affiliate managers from
around the country, as well as by top advertisers. I was seated in the front row next
to Libby on one side and my parents on the other. They had flown in for the event
and to meet Blake’s parents. Yes, my mother now knew I worked for a porn channel and
my father had been right. While I actually hadn’t heard her shriek when Dad broke
the news, he’d told me that her “Oh Lordy” had scared away the mailman. Somehow, she’d
gotten over it, and I had to say she was handling the upfront with its barrage of
erotic programming clips and almost naked, well-endowed presenters quite well. Okay.
She occasionally covered her eyes and look away. But I found this so cute.

Blake was a natural born showman. On stage, he was at ease, warm, and witty. And so
damn sexy. He looked devastating in a brand new tapered charcoal suit with the jacquard
tie I’d picked out for him. More than once, he stole a glance at me and my heart hammered.
It was no secret at our office that we were a couple, but we were making it work.

After he presented the prime time and late night blocks, he introduced his grandma.
I’d learned she was a regular fixture at this event and that affiliates and advertisers
alike adored her. Wearing a gray velour jogging outfit and holding a shopping bag,
she joined Blake on stage to cheers and applause.

“So, Blakela, should I tell everyone
vhat’
s new?”

“That would be a good idea, Grandma.”

I held my breath as Grandma introduced SIN-TV’S new daytime block. MY SIN-TV. “Trust
me, ladies, you’re going to need
vun
of these. She tossed the contents of her bag into the audience. Fans! “Finally. Some
sexy,
shmexy
programming for us
vomen.”
Loud gasps sounded in the audience, but you could have heard a pin drop when they
watched the video presentation I’d put together with the help of Jaime Zander and
his ad agency, ZAP! It included parts of my PowerPoint presentation to Gloria plus
trailers for the upcoming slate of
telenovelas
and interviews with the authors and big stars who’d committed to them. Fifteen anxious
minutes later, it faded to black. My heart pounded. Did they like it? Loud applause
and cheers erupted. I even heard wolf whistles and shouts of bravo. And some were
fanning. Oh my God! They did! My mom hugged me and Libby squeezed my hand.

Gloria Zander came up to the stage to tell everyone how much she believed in this
block of programming and had committed major advertising dollars. Then, to my total
surprise, Blake introduced me—the girl with the brains behind this “ballsy” block
of programming. Standing up, I felt myself blush with an ecstatic mixture of embarrassment
and pride. He asked me to join him on stage.

True to fashion, Calamity Jen almost tripped running up the steps to the stage. Catching
my breath, I eloquently and humbly thanked the potential sponsors for their support.

“I love this girl!” exclaimed Blake. “And you’ll be to be hearing a lot more from
her. She’s a fucking tiger!”

While scantily clad Gloria’s Secret supermodels paraded on stage for the upfront finale,
my man took me in his arms and smacked my lips with a passionate kiss. I had no idea
how it was perceived. But I didn’t care.

*

Blake

My father said Jennifer McCoy was the best thing to happen to Conquest Broadcasting
in ages and the best thing to happen to me… ever. My old man was not always right,
but he was never wrong.

Dressed in one of my tees and skimpy lace bikinis, she was snuggling next to me in
the luxurious bed in our suite at the Walden Hotel where we were staying for the upfront.
The five-star hotel was owned by Jaime Zander—one of his many holdings besides his
advertising agency. Gloria and Jaime were also staying here along with many SIN-TV
affiliate managers. So were my parents and Jen’s. They were going out for dinner.
And Grandma was tagging along. She’d promised not to talk about my
shmekel.

A SpongeBob cartoon was playing on the TV, but neither of us was really watching it.
Wearing just a pair of boxers, I was reading one of the erotic romances Jen had gotten
me addicted to.
Seduced by the Park Avenue Billionaire
by Nelle L’Amour. Yeah, call me gay or tell me I needed a sex change, but I was totally
hooked. Jen was deep into reading the script for our first erotic romance
telenovela
based on the bestselling
Pearl Trilogy
by Arianne Richmonde. The story: a forty-year-old documentary film producer falls
in love with a much younger billionaire Frenchman.

“Are you excited about going to Paris?” I asked, tugging on her ponytail to gain her
attention. Production for the movie began next week. Jen was going to stay in New
York and then go directly to France to oversee the shoot. Cameron Diaz had been cast
in the lead role, her first TV role ever, and some hot French hunk who’d I never heard
of was playing the love interest.

“
Oui!”
She’d been boning up on her French and beamed a smile my way. “Are you going to miss
me?”

“Nah,” I said nonchalantly.
Fuck yes!
The thought of my tiger being away from me for even a minute drove me totally crazy.
I’d become as possessive of her as I was protective—just like all those obsessed book
boyfriends.

She set the script down on the duvet. “What if I fall in love with a handsome twenty-five-year-old
Frenchman? Or the actor playing the part? He’s single and was voted one of the sexiest
men in the world by
People
magazine, you know.”

Inwardly, I cringed. I’d never been the jealous type until I met Jen.

“You’re going to pay for saying that, my little tiger.”
Big time
. I was crazy in love with her, but right now, I was going to fuck her like I loathed
her. No thinking. No mercy. In one swift move, I tore off the duvet and her scrap
of lace and then yanked her smooth legs apart. With a savage growl, I mounted her.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

“Punishing you. I’m going to fuck your brains out, Jennifer McCoy, until they hear
you come in France. My name is going to be the new French national anthem.”

“Oh.” She smiled brightly.

The thought of wasting her made my cock instantly harden and swell. It was a lit up
stick of dynamite. A fire raged from my groin to my blasting cap. Without wasting
a second, I rammed it into her. She moaned with a mixture of pain and pleasure as
my ruthless rod pumped in and out of her with ferocity and velocity. And I made sure
she felt my teeth as I pressed my lips all over her neck and shoulders and marked
her.

Her harsh pants and moans were like music to my ears. I had to let her know there
was only one man in her life. Yes, one man. As they say, in French,
moi.
Seulement moi.

“
Assez! Assez
! I need to come,” she begged in French, raking her nails through my flesh with one
hand and fisting my hair with other. The pain only made me push my cock harder into
her hot, drenched pussy, her muscles clenching each powerful thrust. Her nipples brushed
against my pecs, hardening with the friction of my chest pressing against hers.

My mouth was a palm’s width away from hers, and my eyes shone fierce on her. I tugged
the heart pendant she never took off. “Tell me, tiger, who do you belong to?”

“You,” she breathed out.

I wasn’t going to let her get away with one-word answers. “Say: I belong to you.”

“I belong to you,” she rasped, her voice as desperate as her need to come.

“Mine,” I growled, the possessive beast I was. “Only mine.”

“Yours,” she panted back. “Only yours.”

A satisfied smile slithered across my heated face and I moved a hand to her throbbing
clit. I stroked it vigorously. Then, with a pinch of her fiery bud and another deep
thrust, she shuddered all around me with a deafening roar of my name as I simultaneously
detonated. My explosive climax met hers.

Oh, my tiger! I had captured her and was never going to let her go. After stilling
ourselves, I carried her to the shower—where this time I fucked her the way I loved
her with kisses and caresses. After the mind-blowing sex, we got dressed for the Conquest
Broadcasting upfront party, taking place later tonight at the New York hot spot, Touch.

Before heading over to Touch, we had promised to meet up with Jaime and Gloria and
several others in the Walden Bar for a few celebratory drinks. My tiger’s daytime
block of erotica programming targeted at women had fucking blown away advertisers
and affiliates alike. Calling it “brilliant, breakthrough, and ballbuster,” advertisers
were clamoring to buy time in it. I was so fucking proud of her. Despite my initial
doubts, she’d proven to me she was right and fought hard for what she believed in.
Just before we left the suite, I told her that I’d left something behind. She shot
me a puzzled look.

“Oh, it’s just a little something for Gloria to thank her for all her support.”

Jennifer’s frown morphed into a smile. “Oh, Blake, you’re so thoughtful!”

Inwardly, I smirked. Yup. That was me. Mr. Thoughtful formerly Mr. Asshole. How my
little tiger had changed my life. I hurried back to the bedroom and yanked open the
bottom drawer of the dresser, grabbing the bag with the little toy that was going
to make her mine forever and off limits to any predator that came our way. Including
any French frog.

My tiger belonged to only one man.

I was
that
man… that lucky man.

*

Jennifer

The champagne was flowing; our booth in the corner of the Walden Bar was a circle
of raucous laughter and chatter. We were celebrating the success of the upfront. My
block for a women’s erotic lineup had been received with overwhelming enthusiasm.
In addition to Gloria’s Secret sponsoring the package of erotic romance
telenovelas
, other advertisers were eager to buy time on SIN-TV at a premium price. I had come
up with a breakthrough idea that had opened the door to a whole new wave of advertisers.
Blake and his father couldn’t be happier. Or prouder of me. In fact, I had been promoted
to Director of Daytime Programming.

There were ten of us at our table. In addition to Blake and me, our entourage included
Gloria and Jaime Zander; Gloria’s PR guy Kevin and his partner Ray, who happened to
be Jaime’s art director; Libby and her brother Chaz who was in New York for a fashion
show; and lastly a powerful woman I’d grown to respect and love, Vera Nichols, our
Vegas affiliate manager, and her delightful husband Steve. “Roar,” a song close to
my heart, was playing on the sound system.

“Let’s play a game of Truth or Dare,” insisted Chaz after popping another bottle of
champagne.

The hair on the back of my neck bristled. Anything but Truth or Dare. The last time
I played a game my life changed forever. Blake caught me biting down on my lip and
smiled. It had changed his life forever too. I wasn’t up for this game. I didn’t want
my life to change. It was perfect just the way it was.