"Is this the woman you're seeing?" Camille practically shrieks as she stomps toward Macy and me. I cringe, knowing that her voice just carried down the hall, and I only hope it didn't go as far as Mac's office. The last thing I need is for her to come running in here to see what's going on.
"This is my place of business," I hiss in a low voice, releasing my grasp on Macy and taking Camille by the elbow. I pull her toward the door and with barely controlled fury, I grit out, "And you are way out of line. Now you need to leave, and I think it's best you don't come back."
"Wait, Cal," Camille pleads as she grabs onto my arms. "I'm sorry. I just got a little crazy is all."
I don't listen to it, my capacity for gentleness and patience completely obliterated. I take her by the arm and lead her out of my office, telling Macy with a pointed look, "Don't move."
I march Camille down the hallway, take a right, down another hallway, two lefts, and then we're in the lobby. I ignore the startled look on the receptionist's face and lead Camille right up to the elevator door. When we reach it, I release her and murmur, "Good-bye, Camille."
She opens her mouth to say something but then she's forgotten. I have no clue what is running through Macy's head right now... finding Camille straddling my lap. I need to go do damage control.
Which becomes impossible when I reach my office and find Macy is gone... clearly not interested in my excuses or explanations. My heart sinks as I realize that my date tonight is most definitely cancelled. My head hangs low as I walk slowly back to my desk, figuring I might as well work late since I won't be getting any.
As I sit down in my chair, I look up at my laptop and then a huge smile takes over my face.
Written in red lipstick on my screen, it says, See you at seven tonight.
Chapter 18
The look on Macy's face when she opens her apartment door to me is priceless. Her eyes go round as she takes in the huge bouquet of purple irises in my hand.
She's utterly adorable when her hand flutters to her gold necklace, and she whispers, "For me?"
"No," I say with a sarcastic grin. "For your little Pomeranian puppy that probably wears a diamond collar worth a million dollars."
Her sexy lips peel back into a bright smile and she fucking giggles.
Macy Carrington fucking giggles.
"I don't have a Pomeranian," she chides as she steps back for me to enter. "And if I did have a dog, it would be something big and brutish--like a Rottweiler."
"Now that surprises the shit out of me," I remark as I step through the entryway. "You're blowing all of my stereotypes of elegant, rich women out of the water."
"You seriously brought flowers?" she asks again as she reaches for the bouquet.
"I believe it's a time-honored tradition for first dates," I quip as I release them into her hold. She turns from me and heads into a beautiful kitchen done in a French bistro decor complete with whitewashed cabinets, black-and-white tiled flooring, and black granite countertops.
"Do you find it odd," she muses as she sets the flowers down on the center island and reaches into a cupboard for a vase, "that we've fucked like rabid animals several times and yet you're bringing me first-date flowers?"
"Hell yes, I find it odd," I admit to her... charmingly, of course. "But then again, Miss Carrington, you are about as far from the norm as possible."
She doesn't respond as she puts water in the crystal vase, and then spends a few moments arranging the flowers within them. She chews on her bottom lip as she fluffs at the stalks, pushing some in deeper while pulling others out. Within just a few minutes, it looks like a professional floral design straight out of Architectural Digest.
When it's to her liking, she turns around to face me, leaning back against the island. Her hands come up to grip the edge, and she tilts her head a bit. "This is just very weird for me."
"Guys don't normally bring you flowers?"
"They're the first ones I've ever received," she says flatly. "This is the first 'date' I've ever been on."
My jaw drops slightly. "Ever?"
Macy pushes off the counter and saunters toward me. She's wearing a simple black dress, which is fairly sedate, with some strappy, black, high-heeled sandals. Her hair is pulled back into a low ponytail that hangs at the base of her neck. She's completely unadorned other than a thin gold chain with a diamond pendant, and I think she might be the most exquisite creature I've ever seen.
She walks up to me, presses up against my body, and lightly fingers the lapels on my suit. "I'm not normal, Cal. This shouldn't surprise you."
"Are you uncomfortable?" I ask her hesitantly. I need to know if this evening is going to be as hard on her as last night was for me at Voyeur.
"Very," she admits with a gust of minty breath as she looks up at me. "But a deal is a deal."
Part of me wants to accept that, grab her hand, and lead her out of this apartment. I want to force her to sit through dinner with me and make merry conversation. I want to bring her back here, have her invite me in for a nightcap, and then I want to leisurely fuck her as the end to a perfect date. Then I want to hold her all night and not let her go.
But I also want to know if Macy is only allowing me to stand in her apartment right this very minute because she struck a bargain, or is there a possibility that she is curious about what more she could have.
I lean down, kiss her cheek, and then step away from her. "Listen... we don't have to do this. I don't want you to be pushed out of your comfort zone."
Macy crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes at me. "Sort of the way I pushed you out of yours last night?"
I shrug carelessly, pushing my hands into my pockets. "I'm really not a tit-for-tat kind of guy. You have limitations, and I can accept them."
Then suave, elegant Macy Carrington does something I never thought I'd see.
She gives an unladylike snort.
"You find that funny?" I ask with a cocked eyebrow.
"I find it adorable," she says with a smile and then turns away, walking out of the kitchen. I follow her back to the foyer where she picks up a small, black evening bag and reaches for the front door.
Reaching out, I take her wrist gently and turn her toward me. "Seriously, Macy... we don't have to do this. I'm cool with it."
Standing on her tiptoes, she leans in and brushes her lips against mine. "I know. But I learned something last night."
"What's that?" I murmur as she goes flat-footed again.
"You took a risk doing something for me that I wanted," she says simply, her eyes burning into mine. "And I'm not doing this because it's a bargain we struck, or it's tit for tat. I'm doing this because maybe you've inspired me to be a little more courageous in stepping outside of my comfortable and secure box."
I can't help the grin that comes. Roughly pulling her into my arms, I give her a searing kiss. She moans, slipping her tongue in my mouth and gripping onto my shoulders. Deep and wet, the best kind of kissing with Macy.
When I push her away, I lay one more sweet kiss on her lips and whisper, "Brave girl."
"The bravest," she whispers back.
"You do remember that tonight includes me coming back to your place... and I'm staying all night."
She nods with an uneasy smile.
"And that staying all night means that after we fuck, I'll pull you in my arms and hold you there while we fall asleep."
Her eyebrows rise as if the concept is completely foreign.
"And be forewarned... I'm a cuddler," I add on with a wink.
"Oh, God," she moans dramatically as she wrinkles her nose in distaste. "What have I gotten myself into?"
I throw my head back and laugh, loving the way that Macy can joke about something that truly has to be causing her some anxiety. "You're a mess, woman."
"The messiest," she whispers back.
On that... we are agreed.
We make inane chitchat at the restaurant until our food arrives, and as soon as the waiter retre
ats, I ask Macy, "You haven't said a word about that little scene you walked in on at my office today."
"Oh, you mean the woman grinding on your lap?" she asks smartly as she flakes off a piece of blackened sole.
"That would be the one," I quip.
Macy gives a delicate shrug and shoots me a smirk. "I saw enough to know what was going on."
"And that was?" I prompt.
"A jilted girlfriend who still has feelings for you, who just learned you're seeing me, and thought she stood a chance the minute you emphatically said you weren't in love with me."
I wince, wondering if that hurts Macy in any way.
But apparently not.
"She launched herself at you," she says matter-of-factly. "You were trying to push her off. Wasn't anything for me to be upset about. Except... seriously, salmon is not that woman's color. It washed out her skin tone."
Shaking my head with a smile, I cut a piece of bone-in rib eye that goes for seventy bucks a pop. "I was surprised she showed up at my office, and completely floored when she jumped on me. Camille was never the most aggressive of women."
"Not like me," Macy suggests wisely.
"She's nothing like you," I agree, and I mean that as a compliment, but I'm not sure Macy will take it that way.
"So in ten words or less, what's the deal with her?" Macy asks casually. She's not in the least bit threatened by another woman, and I'm not sure how I feel about that.
"We dated for a long time. Thought we were in love. She left me and now she's back, wanting another chance. And that was way more than ten words, I'm sure."
"You're a lawyer," Macy says with a grin. "Wordiness comes naturally to you."
"Speaking of being a lawyer," I segue as I reach into my jacket pocket. Pulling the envelope containing her check, I lay it on the table and push it across to her. "I'm not accepting that."
Macy doesn't reach for it but gives it a quick glance. When she looks back up at me, she asks, "Why not?"
"Because I don't want paid for what I did," I say simply.
"But why?" she presses.
"Because it was a favor," I tell her as I saw away at my steak.
"Why would you do me a favor?" The quizzical tone to her voice irritates me slightly. I'm not understanding why this is a difficult concept to understand.
"Because you're a friend," I blurt out. "And friends help friends."
"We're friends?"
"We are now," I say stubbornly.
"Friends," she muses out loud, almost as if she's testing the feel of it on her tongue.
"Why is that so hard for you to understand?" I ask in frustration, setting my utensils down on my plate.
Macy is silent for a moment, and then she sets her own fork down. Her eyes are contemplative, yet a bit aloof. "It's hard for me to understand because I only have one real friend in this world, Cal, and it's not you."
Her words aren't meant to hurt me. Just a mere recitation of the truth, yet they cause my chest to constrict upon itself. I nod sagely at her statement and amend my reasoning so she can accept it. "I know. I'd like to believe you and I are friends, but if that's not something you can relate to, then please just accept that Mac is my best friend, the way she is yours, and I would do anything for her. Since helping you helped her, then that's all the payment I really want."
"And this has nothing to do with the fact that maybe you're getting payment in the form of some fantastic fucking from me?" she asks caustically. "So that's why you won't accept the money?"
A startled cough from my left causes my head to turn, and I see our waiter there with a beet-red face. I incline my head toward him in question.
"How are your meals?" he practically squeaks out.
"Delicious," I say before dismissing him to turn back to Macy, because I don't want her ever thinking that she owes me her body in any shape or fashion. "Our fucking is completely separate. I fuck you because I want to, not because you owe me something."
I can see the waiter scurry off from my peripheral vision, and I'm satisfied he won't be bothering us the rest of the night until it's time for our bill.
Macy merely picks up the check and places it on top of her little handbag that rests on the side of the table. She gives me a smile and picks up her utensils. "In that case, I accept your generosity. Thank you very much for doing that for me."
"You're welcome," I say with a relieved smile and pick my fork and knife back up. We're silent a moment as we eat, a little in awkward territory after that exchange.
"If we're friends," Macy says out of the blue. "How come I don't know anything about you?"
Raising my head up, I blink at her in surprise. I consider how to best craft my answer to maintain honesty, yet not close the doors of communication, but realize there's nothing I can hand her but the simple truth. "Because you've never asked."
Her cheeks flame and her gaze drops from mine for just a moment. When she looks back up at me, she offers me an apologetic smile. "You see... I'm not a very good friend."
I see what she wants of me at this moment. She wants me to agree with a perceived shortcoming, so that in Macy's narrow little world, she can continue to believe that she's not worthy of much.
But that's not about to happen.
"Well, then let's rectify that," I tell her simply. "Ask me anything. And don't bother with that cheesy, impersonal crap like 'What's your favorite movie?'."
She stares at me a moment, a hint of fear on her face. I've opened the door, asked her in, and now it's time to see if she truly was inspired by my bravery to let a man suck my dick two nights ago.
Macy picks up her napkin, dabs at her lips, and then lays it back gently on her lap. Then she gives me a tentative smile and says, "Alright. Who is your favorite person in the world?"
"It's a tie," I tell her without hesitation. "My mom and dad are my favorite people."
Her cheeks pale just a bit, but she forges on. "Why?"
"Because they are the most wonderful, supportive people in the world to me. There isn't anything I can't count on them for, and they've seen me through my darkest days. I know they'll always be there for me."
"Your darkest days?" she asks quietly.
"When I lost my friendship with Matt."
Macy nods in understanding, and I half expect her to delve some more into that open door, but instead she asks, "Are you religious?"
"That's a deep one," I observe, taking a moment to ponder my answer while I eat some au gratin potatoes. After I swallow, I take a sip of my wine and tell her, "I believe in a divine creator. Call him God, I guess, but I have faith in Him. I don't go to church or anything, but I pray."
She leans forward, almost as if what she's getting ready to ask me is the most important thing in the world. "When you're walking down the street and you see a homeless person sitting there, do you pass him by or do you give him money?"
"I pass him by," I say, and even as the words come out of my mouth, I'm ashamed by that.
"Why?" she asks.
"Because... I'm not sure they really need it, I guess. I think maybe they're trying to scam me, or that they're just lazy and could find work rather than sitting on a street corner asking for handouts."
I expect a rebuke for some reason, but she doesn't even hesitate in her next question. "Do you believe that people are born bad or are created that way by circumstance?"
I'm utterly stunned by this question and completely perplexed. I have no clue how to answer it, and because I think Macy is referring to herself, I don't want to answer it. I don't think there is a right answer where she's concerned, and I don't want to damage the tentative friendship that might be developing tonight.
But I have to give her something, so I hedge. "You're talking nature versus nurture, and I just don't know enough about the science behind it to really say."
I don't miss the quick flash of disappointment on her face, and I feel terrible that I couldn't give her the salvation I think she was seeking. I open my mouth to say som
ething... anything... that lets her know that I think she's wonderful, but then she hits me up with another curiosity.
"Are we going to stay for dessert, or are you ready to take me back to my apartment to fuck me?"
Chapter 19
Macy tied to a bed.
Macy on her knees sucking me off.
Macy spread-eagled with a woman licking between her legs.
All beautiful pictures in my head, but right now, there is nothing more stunning than her lying naked on her bed, looking up at me with trepidation. Wondering what I'm going to do to her. How I'm going to push her straight through her boundaries and how I'm going to make her feel fucking amazing while I do it.
Having quickly shed my clothes after stripping her bare, I climb up onto her bed, pushing her legs apart as I move higher up her body. Then I settle down onto her, pressing my cock up against her warm folds, but holding my chest above her with elbows leveraged into the mattress at her ribcage.
I kiss her slowly, gently mating my mouth to hers. Licking at her tongue, nibbling on her lips. She doesn't respond for all of about three seconds, then her arms wrap around my neck and she's holding me tight.
The blood in my dick thumps, eagerly demanding to move things along, but I want to take my time with her. All of our fucking has been frantic with little to no foreplay, and I'm guessing that's exactly the way Macy is used to things playing out. She's a wet dream times ten, so it's easy to get lost in the haze of drugged senses and aphrodisia.
Leaning to the left, all of my weight on my elbow, I bring my free hand up and caress her breast. I tenderly knead the soft swell, grazing my thumb along the underside while relishing the softness of her skin. She gives me a tiny sigh into my mouth and her hips wiggle under me with mounting desire.
Peppering kisses over to the corner of her mouth, along her jaw, and then to the side of her neck, I work down to her collarbone, giving her a soft suck along the graceful edge, and when my mouth replaces my hand at her breast, I move my fingers down along her ribs, over her flat stomach.
I inch my way down her body, kissing and licking. I restrain the urge to bite, keeping my movements feather fleeting so I can build her up slowly. Macy becomes restless under my touch, and I know this by the way her hips flex upward... demanding something more. Her fingers slide through my hair and then grip it tight. At first, she wars with trying to pull me up her body, perhaps for another kiss, but by the time I'm grazing my teeth over the skin just below her belly button, she's pushing on my head, urging me further south.