So Sweet Read online

  “No skin-to-skin until L.A. too?” I mumbled.

  “Not unless you want it to end with dick in pussy? Or dick in ass?” He gave my butt a little pat.

  I think I laughed. Or maybe I just fell asleep.

  ✶

  The trip to New York was weird, but good. Michael was busy. Very busy. But when he was tied up I hung out with Ruben. Michael was already in his second meeting when I finally woke up. My phone had magically found its way onto a proper charger and there were a series of texts leaving me all sorts of crucial information, like Michael’s and Ruben’s room numbers, which I’d totally missed while I’d been sleepwalking, and Ruben’s cell number.

  I sent him a text letting him know I was up and, not ten minutes later, he and a nice girl named Angelique brought me new clothes and a toothbrush. And the perfect satin scarf, bless her heart. Once I showered and changed, I answered the seven hundred texts from Adler letting her know the name of the hotel where we were staying and when we’d be back. Then we got lunch.

  Angelique had to get back to her job at Teen Vogue after we ate. As he paid the bill, Ruben let me know the driver was taking us to pick up Michael for his appointment. I was so anxious to see him and continue with our date, but I was worried about the nature of his appointment. Was Michael sick? What if he’d come all the way to New York so he could see a specialist? I wanted to ask him as soon as he hopped in the SUV, but we weren’t there yet. It was too early in our arrangement to be digging for those details. He put me partially at ease when he kissed me, almost on sight. It felt natural. It felt like he’d been anxious to see me too.

  And you don’t even have to imagine my relief when we pulled up to a barbershop in Harlem. I almost lost it when all the men in attendance cheered for “White Mike” when he came in the door. He laughed the nickname off and hopped right in the chair for a straight razor shape-up.

  Oh they had some jokes for me too, asking what I was doing with his old ass, saying they knew he was going to end up with a sistah, just not one so thick. They appreciated his taste. All good-natured cracks. I couldn’t stop laughing and blushing like an idiot. It reminded of me of going to the barbershop with my dad and my uncle.

  When they weren’t teasing us I couldn’t keep my eyes off Michael. He came right over to me as soon as he was done.

  “How do I look?” he asked. His barber had managed to preserve the perfect thickness of his beard and mustache while cleaning up his neck and clearing all the errant hairs in his mustache. He looked good before, but a great barber could, well...

  “You took him from an A to an A+.” I looked at Julius and winked.

  A chorus of “Ah shits!” and “Okay, Jules!” erupted around the room. There were a few more minutes of conversation. Michael made a loose appointment for the following month, then led me out the door.

  That night we had dinner with a rep from the NBA. That conversation was interesting. He versed Michael in the full details of what his role as owner would be if he decided to purchase a team. He had to be part nurturing, yet stern, father, part party promoter, while dealing with the variety of personalities and families on an NBA roster.

  The whole time he was touching me, a hand in my lap or an arm around my shoulder. He checked in with me often, making sure I wasn’t bored to death, and each time he punctuated his concern with a kiss to my cheek or my temple. The whole thing was actually pretty interesting. I tried to just listen, but I had some questions about things like the draft process and dealing with players that have run-ins with the law. I apologized on reflex for interrupting, but Michael and Mr. Sands seemed happy with the directions my questions took the conversation.

  When Mr. Sands excused himself to go to the restroom, I got a real proper kiss right on the lips. The affection was working for me. I already liked Michael. He was easy to talk to, calm and sweet. And he was honest. Everything he’d talked about with Ruben on the plane was repeated to Mr. Sands with equal frankness. I liked that, but the way he was touching me made me like him even more. I was starting to feel like I was his, as if maybe when we got back to L.A. we’d be able to work something out.

  We were out pretty late, but when it was clear I was fading. Michael excused us and took me back to the hotel. We only kissed again before I changed for bed, but he stayed with me again until I fell asleep. He didn’t question my satin scarf.

  The next day was more of the same. Ruben took me shopping in the morning, but I only bought a few things. A new handbag and a wallet to match. I was almost sick at the price tags, but he insisted that Michael had asked him to buy me things and coming back empty handed was not an option.

  We grabbed a quick bite then checked out of the hotel and picked up Michael and headed for the airport. This trip only generated more discussions and more meetings to prep for, so, once we were in the air, I stretched out with my head in Michael’s lap and dozed most of the way home. He rubbed my side the whole time.

  ✶

  When we landed Michael was quiet. I followed him off the plane to a waiting Suburban, but before we got in he turned to me.

  “I think this is the end of our date. If you want it to end, that is.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “You could come back to my house.”

  “And we could do the sex?”

  “If you want to. We could also have some food and watch a movie.”

  I sucked on my lower lip and looked down at my new wedge heels between us. They matched my new bag. This new thing between us would be more than sex. It would be sex and dinners and meetings. And time. And money. So many lectures from my mom about doing for myself bounced around my head. Lectures about never owing anyone money, how money was a good way to let people control me. But I didn’t feel like Michael was trying to control anything. He was just offering something I needed and a few other things I really, really wanted.

  I looked up into his blue eyes and was put at ease by what I saw. No pressure, just genuine interest. He could let me go right now, if that was what I wanted, but he was interested in keeping me around a little longer. I wanted to keep him around too.

  “Let’s go to your place. I want to see how good you are at the sex. And then I’ll make my final decision.”

  “Yes, girl!” I heard Ruben yell from the steps of the plane. His outburst melted the look of shock right off Michael’s face as we both laughed.

  When we got in the car, I texted Adler again to let her know I’d be out another night. We dropped Ruben off at his boyfriend’s place in Santa Monica then got on the PCH. As we went by the Topanga Pass I realized where we were heading, but I didn’t say anything. Just moved closer to Michael on the seat.

  We were both in our heads I think. It’s strange when you know for sure that you’re going to have sex. Or when you know you’re waiting to have sex. I wasn’t worried about it being good. Michael already knew how to touch me and he sure as hell knew how to kiss. There was a chance he was into some freaky shit I couldn’t get down with, but I doubted that too. It was clear that the Michael you saw was the Michael you got and, so far, what I saw didn’t send up any creeper alarms.

  We pulled up a winding hill in one of those fancy Malibu neighborhoods I’d only heard of. Michael’s place was at the back of a massive cul-de-sac that only housed two other lots. Each was different, with a different high fence to hide the wealth from neighbors and lost delivery drivers. We went through a set of tall gates that opened to a wide driveway with a bit of an incline. The house was gorgeous, relatively new looking, white with tons of glass, and I could see even from the front that it looked out over a hidden valley and possibly the ocean beyond that.

  But I didn’t really care about the house. His driver, PJ, drove us straight into the garage and, after getting out of the vehicle, I followed Michael through a side door into a mud room on one side of the living room. Some of the lights were already on. A long hallway, and we were in his bedroom. He flicked a switch and only a bit of dim illumination guided the wa
y to his bed. Another massive bed. I’d have to have Adler and at least seven other friends over for a sleepover some time.

  This silence between us was working. We both knew we didn’t need to say a word. I just wanted him to kiss me. When he did I realized the kisses we’d shared so far were tame. Child’s play. Those kisses were his way of testing the waters and showing me how badly he wanted me close by. This kiss? It made me want him inside of me, like now. Faster than now. My pussy was done waiting. That was clear by how wet I was and the almost painful way my muscles were clenching and releasing. My body needed something to hold on to. When he pulled away for just a second, my breath was all short and quick.

  I pretended not to think it was a little funny when he produced a hair tie out of nowhere and pulled back his hair. I’d tease him about it another time.

  He kissed me again and, this time, his hands went to the button on my jeans. I went for the buttons on his shirt, but he shook his head slightly.

  “I got that.”

  “I want to touch you.”

  “You will, but if I don’t go down on you soon—”

  “What’ll happen?” I asked, even though I didn’t stop him from pulling down my zipper.

  “I’ll wait longer until you let me go down on you.”

  “I’m not going to do that to either of us.”

  “Good.” He pulled down my pants and I stepped out of them, but he left my underwear on. It was one of the pairs Angelique picked out for me, black cotton boy shorts that practically turn into a thong on an ass like mine.

  Michael seemed to like them. My eyes were closed, but I could tell by the way he let the word “Fuck” slip out of his mouth as he gave my ass a full manual inspection. His right hand found its way around to my front and it was my turn to bite out a “Fuck” or two.

  I was already so wet and swollen I wanted to fall onto the bed when he found my clit through the layer of cotton. He rubbed me with just the tips of his fingers for a while and I had to use his body to hold myself up.

  Then his whole hand got involved. I had to open my legs a bit more so he could work with the thickness of my thighs, but it was not a problem. He was rubbing me roughly, the heel of his hand grinding against my clit. He moved the soaked strip of cotton just out of the way and his perfect fingers were inside me. He’d said something about going down on me, but I knew I was going to come just like that, right on his hand.

  He pulled me closer and I held onto him, praying my legs wouldn’t give out. I came, on my tiptoes, practically sobbing against his shoulder. He lowered me to the bed, where I tried to come back to myself, but my thighs were still shaking and breathing was tough.

  When I opened my eyes he was getting undressed. I didn’t know when he found the time, but he worked out. Michael wasn’t bulky. Still, even before he peeled off his undershirt, I could tell he was cut. He liked ink too. A large piece covered his left pec and shoulder and later, when I gave him a full once-over, I was pretty sure I would find it extended to his back. Boxer briefs were the choice, for tonight at least, but I was more concerned about what was under them.

  He was hard. I’d felt it against my stomach the moment we started kissing. And he was perfect; good length, excellent girth, perfect combo of craftsmanship on the circumcision and genes. He reached for a condom in his nightstand. I held my hand out for it. I would get it on there before we got to the big show, but I wanted him in my mouth first.

  I sat up and motioned for him to come closer. I supposed I could’ve gone all porn star with it and licked the tip for forty-five minutes, but I was not about that. I sucked him good and slow, taking as much of him into my mouth as I could. I used my hand for the rest. I tasted his precum on my tongue. That triggered something and I needed him in me right then and there. Condom on and then I slid back farther on the bed, stripping off my bra and my blouse and my ruined underwear as I went. He seemed pleased with what he saw.

  He felt right on top of me, and even better when he slowly pushed himself inside. I knew I was tight and we both needed a second, but just a second. I asked him for more. He gave me what I wanted, kissing me as he ground his way deeper.

  Michael’s stroke game was on point, not the jackhammering I’d experienced before. I liked it deep and powerful, the way he was giving to me. I didn’t have to beg, but I did, over and over, begging him not to stop even though tiny orgasms were already erupting inside me. He came before I finished, pressing his face into my hair as he let out the sexiest groan I’d ever heard. But when I expected him to pull out, he found some reserve of strength, a renewable energy source, and kept going. It was not even the perfect way he was fucking me, but the idea that, even when this man was finished, he wasn’t gonna stop until I couldn’t move anymore.

  That made me climax, thinking about him and his freakish level of determination when it came to me and my pussy. I came hard, arching against him. I was disappointed when he climbed off me because it was one of those tricky orgasms that didn’t tire me out, it just made me want to go for the rest of the night. But this was Michael Bradbury and he didn’t get this far in life by packing it in early.

  He shuffled down the bed, pausing for a minute to remind me and my nipples that he hadn’t forgotten about them, and then I felt his tongue and his lips and the roughness of his beard pressed against my entrance. That was it. That was how I died. Kayla Davis, age twenty-four. Cause of death: Sexed into oblivion by one Michael Bradbury, Internet billionaire and master of cunnilingus.

  Four

  I should have known Michael wouldn’t sleep for long, or even close to the whole night. I was up with the sun, which is kind of a given in a house that is practically made of glass. I didn’t mind though. I hadn’t slept much, but after the second time Michael and I proved our physical compatibility, I conked out and I slept hard. When I opened my eyes Michael was gone from the bedroom, but I could hear him, outside the room somewhere, maybe down the hall, talking on the phone. Business, of course. It was still the workweek and I supposed his associates in New York were three hours ahead and already on the job.

  I was still naked. There was the option of throwing on my clothes from the day before, but I couldn’t resist the ol’ it’s-sexy-to-wrap-yourself-in-the-top-sheet gag. This might work with a twin sheet, but I was working with a Cal King. Michael came in as I was trying to untangle it from the blanket and the far corner of the bed. So much for sexy. I had wrapped the length of my body exactly once, with about three times to go when I looked up and saw him smiling that smile that loved to hide underneath his scruff.

  I froze as he came toward me, then straightened up and had the good sense to pout for help. I pointed to the corner of the bed.

  “If Larchmount is serious, then he needs to bring something serious to the table. I’ve talked to Steven about it already.” He leaned forward and freed the corner and then he came closer to me. I thought he was going to help me finish the job. No. “If we’re going to invest, they need to scale back.” He looped his fingers on the white fabric covering my boobs and pulled it down to my waist. “Exactly. They aren’t trying to start an app. They’re trying to start five apps under one umbrella.” He gently used his knuckle to brush one nipple and then the other. “I need to know they can handle one step before I give them money to take five.” He leaned forward and kissed one of my nipples and then the other. I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

  He straightened back up, but kept his hands on my body. An arm came around my waist and pulled me closer. His hand slid down to my butt. “Let’s go down and see them on Friday. Maybe we can help them find their focus. Yeah, okay. Thanks, bye.” He ended his call and tossed his phone into the middle of bed. I looked at his perfect lips as his other arm came around my waist.

  “I’m going into the office in a little while. Do you want to stay here or do you want a ride back to your place?”

  I want to stay with you, I almost said, completely horrified by how crazy that would sound. But I was already that sprung. An
d I hadn’t even come to a decision yet. “Um, I’ll take a ride. It’ll be kinda weird to be here alone all day.”

  “Well you wouldn’t be alone. Holger is out in the guest house.”

  “Holger?”

  “My chef/housekeeper/assassin for hire.”

  “Oh, you have an Alfred?”

  “I do. He keeps an eye on things.”

  “Holger sounds great, but I think I should head home. Check on my roommate. Show my face so she knows you didn’t murderer me.”

  “Murderer you?”

  “Long story. Just let me throw something on and we can go.” I turned to find my new overnight bag, but he gently pulled me back.

  “Slow down. It’s still pretty early.”

  “I know, but you’re up this early making business calls. I figured the office was waiting for you.”

  “We have time.”

  “For what?”

  He didn’t tell me. He just kissed me deep and slow. And then he pulled the sheet all the way off.

  ✶

  Thanks to L.A. traffic, my apartment was a cool hour out of the way from where Michael’s office sat in Westwood. I wanted to feel bad about it, but the stop and go meant I got to spend more time with him so I didn’t complain. It also gave me more time to think about what the hell I was going to do. I was still in my post-sex haze, completely comfortable with the quiet between us as we made our way down the PCH and back into town. I didn’t want this first date to be our last.

  Michael took one short call on the fancy Bluetooth feature in his Mercedes G-Class and the rest of the time he sang along with almost every song on the 90s satellite station. He had a terrible voice, but the enthusiasm made it cute. When we got closer to my place I asked the obvious question.