Caress Part Two (Arcadia) (5 page)

The book fair stretched along Fifth Avenue on the Central
Park side of the street. Kiosks lined the way, shaded by the overhanging trees
and attended by book lovers of all ages from toddlers to seniors.

It was a beautiful late summer day, not a trace of cloud in
the sky and the air filled with dappled sunlight and the scent of drying leaves
and grass. I heard a group of tourists exclaiming about how lovely it all was
and couldn’t help smiling.

People who were unfamiliar with the city seemed to think
that it smelled of nothing but exhaust fumes and garbage mounds. True, there
was that special stink that settled over the streets when the temperature
soared above ninety and the humidity hung like a shroud. But that was rare and
most days were downright pleasant.

This one was even better, not in the least because of who I
was with.

Lucas had taken my hand as we left the Arcadia and he hadn’t
let go since. The sense of his warmth and strength spread out from that single
point of contact to enfold every part of me.

As much as I was enjoying the novel sense of being part of a
couple, the physical contact kept me on edge. So much so that I had to wonder
if that wasn’t his intent.

I couldn’t forget for a moment how he’d awakened me or the
crazy/daring inspiration that had hit me afterward. Making breakfast in nothing
but an apron? Where had I gotten the nerve to do that? Never mind how much I
was looking forward to a repeat performance.

Remembering the expression on Lucas’ face when he walked
into the kitchen, I couldn’t help grinning. That really had been priceless.

I darted a sidelong glance at him and my breath caught. He
looked almost impossibly gorgeous, all chiseled features and honed body with a
vibe that exuded masculinity.

 Sunlight glinted off the dark chocolate of his hair. Rough
silk stubble slightly softened the line of his jaw but also emphasized the
chiseled perfection of his mouth. He was wearing a hunter green T-shirt and faded
jeans that left no doubt that he was in superb shape.

He looked far less the successful executive and more like
the bad boy from the wrong side of town. One who had gone on to become a rock
star or maybe--

A bus rumpled by, heading down Fifth Avenue. The side facing
me hosted an advertisement for Calvin Klein underwear featuring a very fit
young man with chiseled pecs and rippling abs, wearing only briefs and a smile.

I laughed softly.

Lucas followed the direction of my gaze and snorted. “See
something you like?”

“Sort of… I was just thinking, you’ve spent your twenties
building a real estate empire when all that time you could have been a
superstar underwear model.”

He stared at me dumbfounded for a moment before tipping his
head back and laughing out loud. I couldn’t help noticing the women and a few
men who stopped whatever they were doing and just enjoyed the sight of him.

Not that I could blame them. Lucas relaxed and having a good
time was a sight to behold. But then so was passionate, intense Lucas and even
mad-and-going-to-fuck-you-up-against-a-wall-because-of-it Lucas. In any mood,
under any circumstances, he overwhelmed me.

As he did right then when, holding my eyes with his, he
raised my hand and brushed his mouth slowly over the curve of my fingers. His
touch shot straight to my groin. I only just managed to stifle a moan.

“You’re good for me,” he said softly.

I thought of all the reasons why I wasn’t, starting with my
family history and extending through my commitment issues. A well of regret
opened up in me. Softly, I asked, “What makes you think that?”

“If not for you, I probably would have gone into the office
today instead of being out here enjoying the beautiful weather with a beautiful
woman.”

I flushed at the compliment even as I was determined not to
take it too seriously. Lucas was undoubtedly very accustomed to beautiful
women. He could have his pick of them. The fact that he worked as hard as he
did at a business that was already hugely successful suggested that feminine
companionship wasn’t enough of a challenge or a novelty to divert him.

Determined not to dwell on that, I said, “But it’s Sunday.”

He nodded and lowered my hand but continued holding it. As
we began walking again, he said, “That means nothing to many of my clients. We
have to be up and running 24/7. I’ve got people on staff who are in New York
but only geographically. They stay synced to a different time zone—Asia, Russia,
the Middle East—wherever their focus is.”

I’d heard of people in international finance doing that but
it hadn’t occurred to me that it could be necessary in other fields. The fact
that Phelps Properties required it gave me some insight into the global range
of Lucas’ business.

But apparently he did have interests apart from that. When
we stopped at a kiosk that specialized in children’s books, he was quickly
absorbed. I listened as he chatted with the sales clerk, in the process
displaying a knowledge of the current children’s favorites that had her staring
at him with even more than the usual wide-eyed fascination.

“How do you know so much about what kids are reading?” I
asked as we walked away finally with a small shopping bag holding several
titles.

“I’ve got a niece and nephew, twins, just turned four.
They’re crazy about books.” A smile lit his face. “About most things actually
but they’re learning to read and I like to encourage them.”

I tried to imagine Lucas catering to the wishes of two
four-year-olds and discovered that it wasn’t hard to do so. For all his
domineering manner, I’d seen a tenderer side of him. I thought of our
breakfasts on the terrace and caught myself smiling.

“So you and Caroline have a sibling?” It wasn’t totally
impossible that the vibrant young woman I had met could have become a mother to
twins while still in her teens but I thought that extremely unlikely.

Lucas hesitated. Finally, he said, “My younger brother,
Jared, is the middle child but he’s not the twins’ father. That would be our
half-brother, Adam. My father was married once before, briefly. Adam was the
result. He’s a great guy.”

I thought of how much I missed my own brother and nodded.
“It’s wonderful that you were able to grow up knowing each other.”

“Actually, we didn’t,” Lucas said. “Adam didn’t want
anything to do with our father.”

He was silent for a moment before he added, “If they had
ever reconciled, it’s likely that the business would have gone to Adam. He’s
four years older than I am, got through Harvard on scholarships and grit, and
runs a very successful construction company.”

Was he really saying that he had been his father’s second
choice
and
he accepted that without resentment? If that was the case, I
wondered if his success was due in some measure to his determination to prove
his own worthiness.

That sudden insight into the nature of the man who I could
no longer deny fascinated me was followed quickly by another: I struggled to
live down my father’s reputation. Lucas, on the other hand, had not only lived
up to his but had far surpassed him. Yet for all the differences in our experiences,
both of our lives had been shaped by our relationships with our fathers.

“Do you think your half-brother regrets not inheriting the business?”
I asked.

It wasn’t the most discrete question but I wanted to know
more about the dynamics of Lucas’ family, if only for the insights they might
provide into the man himself.

“That’s not Adam’s style,” he said. “He loves ribbing me
about how I’m stuck in an office all day while he gets to roam around
construction sites. He sent me a selfie a few weeks ago of him at the controls
of a kick ass crane on the fiftieth floor of a building he’s putting up right
now. Bastard knew how envious I’d be.”

 “Well, sure, who wouldn’t be envious of somebody with his
own crane? That’s like having a giant Erector set.”

Lucas stopped walking again. He stared at me with amusement
and something more—a hot, dark something that made my heartbeat race.

“Really? A giant one?”

I shot him a chiding look as the penny dropped. “What are
you, fourteen?”

He laughed and said, “I’ll tell you a secret, sweetheart. Inside
every guy, there’s still a fourteen year old. Mine wants to know if you were
one of those girls who wished she could have an Erector set of her very own?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake—”

He wiggled his eyebrows at me and I was gone, laughing right
along with him. When I finally caught my breath, I said, “I’ll have you know
that I had lots of Erector sets. They were among my favorite toys.”

Lucas’ smile faded. He put a hand on my waist and drew me to
him. Standing right there in the middle of the sidewalk with the crowd of
booklovers all around us, he gently rocked his hips against me, just enough so
that I felt his hardening erection.

“Dare I hope that you might still feel the same way?” he
asked.

I inhaled sharply, fighting the urge to tell him exactly how
I’d like to play with his magnificent cock. The dream I’d had of kneeling in
front of him in the elevator, taking him in my mouth, suddenly returned with a
vengeance. The flashback to it was so vivid that I was left gasping.

And decidedly damp.

My lack of an answer—at least verbally—didn’t seem to bother
him. He just grinned again, took a step back, and clasped my hand more tightly.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

How many surprises would this make, I wondered? So far, he’d
surprised me with a job, a place to live, and the hope that my life might at
last be turning in a better direction. Not to mention rock-my-world orgasms
more shattering than I had ever imagined could exist.

So what could possibly be next?

“There’s just one thing,” Lucas said as we headed south
along the avenue, away from the book fair and toward the Plaza Hotel at the
bottom of the park. “When we get inside, let me order for both of us.”

“Okay, but you should know, I’m still pretty full from
breakfast.”

“You can’t be, I ate all the bacon. Besides, you don’t have
to be hungry for what I have in mind.”

Oh? What exactly might that be?

I found out almost as soon as we stepped into the ornate
lobby of the Plaza Hotel just south of Central Park. The twenty-story French
chateau-style building that was a combination luxury hotel and condominium
residence attracted affluent visitors from all over the world. Lucas wasted no
time directing me past the legendary Palm Court where the city’s most powerful
society matrons gathered for afternoon tea.

We passed through etched glass double doors into what had to
be the world’s most luxurious, crazy gorgeous ice cream parlor, as though the
set designers from Cirque de Soleil had been let loose to create a fantasy
somewhere between a Moorish palace and the Mad Hatters Tea Party. Wait staff on
unicycles, wearing colorful silk balloon pants and spangled vests, wended their
way around the marble-and-wrought-iron tables, delivering over-the-top
creations that made my mouth water.

Lucas was right, this had nothing to do with hunger. It was
all about sheer, unbridled indulgence.

“Do you come here with your niece and nephew?” I managed to
ask as I eyed a tray of the most extravagant milk shakes I had ever seen go by.
I could only hope that they were as decadently delicious as they looked.

“Every chance I get.”

We were seated almost at once, which made me think that he
really was known here. Lucas waved off the menu and said, “Bring us a
fou au
crème
and two spoons, please.”

Of course the names of the confections were in French; how
could they not be in a place like this? I spoke the language but I was still
puzzled. I’d never heard of a
fou au crème.

“What’s a ‘fool in cream’?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” he said and sat back, clearly enjoying
himself.

So was I. The day that began with such unbridled sensuality
had taken a charmingly innocent turn. A walk in the park, holding hands, children’s
books, and now ice cream. I wondered what Lucas had planned for next.

We chatted idly, more absorbed in just looking at each
other, until our order arrived.

 “You know the secret behind the most successful kids’
movies?” He asked as he handed me a long-handled silver spoon and picked up his
own.

Staring at the luscious mounds of whipped cream topped with
glistening candied cherries that filled the crystal dish, I shook my head.
“What is it?”

“They always contain adult jokes and references that go
right over the kids’ heads but keep the parents entertained. This is kind of
like that, too.”

“How so?”

“Dig in and you’ll find out.”

I did so but cautiously, wondering what I’d discover. Quickly
enough I lost myself in the sheer deliciousness of the French pot ice cream,
made from custard rather than just milk, hidden under the fresh whipped cream
and syrup-dripping cherries, and nestled between whole peeled bananas that
looked so very tempting.

Long, surprisingly thick bananas, not split but left enticingly
whole, happily nestled down in all that frothy cream.

I felt myself blush at the sudden salacious turn of my mind
and looked at Lucas. He grinned and plucked one of the cherries off its whipped
cream mound. That lucky little morsel of sweetness got a lick from the tip of
his tongue before he rolled it between his teeth and sucked it into his mouth.

Watching him, I had all I could do not to combust.

“I took one look at you in that outfit,” he said a moment
later, “and knew we had to come here.”

I glanced down at myself and saw what he meant. Pale yellow
slacks, cherry red top… I did bear a certain resemblance to the confection he
was enjoying.

“Is that so?” I murmured.

Holding his gaze, I used my spoon to reveal one of the
bananas wallowing in all that sweet, delicious cream. Perhaps the name really
was a veiled reference to the power of sex to make fools of men. Or perhaps
Lucas was just teasing me. Whichever the case, I wasn’t about to let him keep
the upper hand.

Keeping my voice very low so that only he could hear me, I
asked, “Do you know what I’d like to do?”

Not taking his eyes from me, Lucas said, “Tell me.” He
sounded a little hoarse.

Feeling suddenly very bold, I whispered, “I’d like to pick
this banana up, dripping with cream, and take the tip of it into my mouth. I’d
suck and lick it until it was completely clean. Then I’d take just the tiniest,
gentlest little bite—”

I didn’t get any further. Lucas flushed darkly, his steel
gray eyes glittering. “Jeez, Emma, you do know I’m going to have to stand up at
some point?”

Feigning a look of utter innocence, I asked, “Oh, is that
going to be a problem?”

He dropped his voice so that only I could hear him and said,
“I’m resisting the urge to say that it won’t be a problem if I can convince you
to drop under the table and make good on that image you just put in my head.”

I swallowed my shock, did my best to ignore the sudden
tingling between my thighs, and said, “Just to be clear, you’re
not
saying that?”

He sat back again and smiled—or winced, I wasn’t sure which.
“Of course not. This is a kids’ place. There’s just one thing I want to know. Are
you all talk or…?”

It was a legitimate question given what he knew about by
sexual history. Or more correctly the lack thereof until extremely recently.

I stroked my spoon back and forth along the length of the
banana and licked my lips as I decided how to respond.

When I was sure that I had his attention, I murmured, “Let’s
just say that what I lack in practical experience, I make up for in
enthusiasm.”

Lucas inhaled sharply, coughed, and reached for his water
glass. When he set it back down, it was empty.

With a wry smile, he said, “You win, Emma. Game, set, and
match. Just give me a few minutes and we’ll get out of here.”

A shiver of anticipation ran through me. I’d been hours
without an orgasm and I felt as though I was going through withdrawal. It
occurred to me that I’d dropped my guard where Lucas was concerned as easily as
I’d dropped my panties. He got to me as no one else ever had.

Gazing at him across the table, I had to wonder whether I
should be more excited or terrified about that. And how much longer it would be
before I found out.