Much to her surprise, she found a wide assortment of alternative rock including the Foo Fighters and harder stuff like Nine Inch Nails and Tool. Maybe Tyler had some anger issues to work out under that Ken-doll exterior. She slid a Foo Fighters CD into the Bose surround sound.
He emerged from the loft a few minutes later dressed in a pair of jeans so old they were bleached almost white in places and the hems were frayed around his big bare feet. “I hope you don’t mind.” He gestured to his equally well-worn T-shirt. “I was dying to get out of that monkey suit and figured that since we weren’t going anywhere…” his voice trailed off.
She didn’t think he could look any better than he did in his
GQ
wear. But instead of looking like a slob, he looked rumpled and sexy, and more human than she’d ever seen him. Though not tight, the soft cotton of the shirt draped against his chest, clearly delineating the muscles she’d felt shifting against her earlier.
This was Tyler, she reminded herself. The guy who’s barely civil to you on good days and treats you like you’re mentally challenged most of the time. Drooling over him was a very, very bad idea. He was an asshole, for starters. Which for some sick reason she always found irresistible in a guy. But she couldn’t justify slavering over a guy who so obviously thought she was a complete idiot. Even if he had defended her to the cops…
This was only happening because it had been a long, lonely six months since she’d had any action beyond a little heavy petting.
And it had been even longer since she’d experienced anything particularly noteworthy.
She took a fortifying gulp of wine, its warmth coursing through her veins. She’d bet anything Tyler really sucked in bed. Guys that good looking always did.
Oblivious to her internal vilification of his character and bedroom skills, Tyler poured himself a glass of wine, clinking it briefly against hers. “Cheers.” He gave her another one of those weird looks and turned back to the refrigerator. “Let’s see what we can rustle up here.”
She watched uneasily as he pulled out a package of chicken and assorted bunches of vegetables. Okay, that didn’t look too bad. He placed a cutting board and knife in front of her, along with the broccoli and bell peppers. “Here, julienne these.”
That was a cut, she knew. But for the life of her, she couldn’t remember more than that.
Tyler gave her a look, but this time it was more teasing than condescending. “That means cut it into little matchsticks. And you want to have your own cooking show,” he scoffed.
She didn’t bother to tell him that her idea was dead in the water, based on her last meeting with Max. If she had to listen to Tyler tell her “I told you so,” she very well might commit hari-kari with his paring knife. “Every week I’ll have a different chef co-host. That’s the whole point,” she said loftily. She picked up her knife and started in on the vegetables, giving it her best guess as to the size.
Meanwhile, Tyler sliced the chicken into thin strips and put on rice to boil.
No way was she consuming all those carbs, but she didn’t want to be rude.
He tossed the chicken into a pan coated with, in her opinion, way too much oil.
“You know you can save tons of calories using a cooking spray.”
He shot her a quelling look over his shoulder. “Why don’t you just drink your wine and leave the cooking up to me?”
Mellow warmth surged through her, and it occurred to her that maybe she should slow down on the wine since she hadn’t eaten anything since her small dry salad at lunch.
Her stomach growled as Tyler added something garlicky and spicy to the sauté pan. She filched a broccoli spear before he grabbed the cutting board and swept everything into the pan.
An awkward silence fell as he leaned his elbows onto the opposite side of the island. For several moments, the sounds of sizzling vegetables and chicken filled the room.
Finally, he said, “Like I said, I really liked your idea about targeting more than the usual cooking publications.”
She jerked back so hard she almost fell off her stool. While he hadn’t slammed the idea when she’d presented it, he’s said so little she’d been convinced he, like Max, was just humoring her because she was Reggie’s sister.
“It’s a good idea. I haven’t been targeting the women’s magazines because I don’t know the space as well, but that’s no excuse for ignoring a good opportunity.” He paused, watching his wine as he swirled the glass on the countertop. “I want you to come up with a couple different article pitches I can send out.”
“You really think it’s a good idea?”
He smiled, his eyes crinkling boyishly around the corners. “I wouldn’t ask you to work on it if I didn’t.”
He turned away, opened a can, and poured what looked like a bunch of heavy cream into the pan.
“What is that?” she asked in horror.
“Coconut milk. I’m making curry.”
“That’s pure fat. I can’t eat that.”
“Why the hell not? It’s not like you couldn’t stand to gain a pound or ten.”
She drained her second glass of wine and poured a third. “I have to stay thin for the camera.”
“And when’s the last time that was an issue?” He closed his eyes as she winced. “I’m sorry, that was rude.”
She stayed mute as he dished up two huge plates of rice and the chicken mixture and plunked down on the bar stool next to her. Shoving the food around her plate, she tried to muster up more offended dignity at his slight, but in the end failed miserably. “You’re right. I haven’t had any decent work in two years. My career was over when I moved up here, but it’s been hard to admit that I’m such a failure.”
He gave her a pat on the shoulder. She reminded herself it was purely meant for comfort and there was absolutely no reason to be squirming around on her bar stool the way she was. “Maybe you’re meant for greater things than hawking douche and underarm deodorant.”
Hah. “Easy for you to say, with your successful business, gajillion-dollar loft, and nice car. All I have is a degree in English lit that’s never been used and a short list of tampon commercials to populate my résumé.”
Chuckling, he said, “You’re a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for.” He stopped, frowning at her hand as it guided her fork in serpentine patterns through her rice and curry. “Will you just eat some fucking food, for Christ’s sake? I think we’ve just established it’s no longer necessary to keep yourself starved to Calista Flockhart proportions.”
She wasn’t sure what shocked her more: that Tyler sounded on the verge of losing his ever present cool over her eating habits, or that he had actually called her smart. She forked in a mouthful of rice and curry without a thought for its fat and carb count. She let out an involuntary moan as the richness of coconut milk and spicy curry exploded in her mouth. Swallowing, she scooped up another bite, this one as orgasmic as the last.
Taking a sip of wine, she sighed in satisfaction. “That is so good.”
She had no idea how it happened, but suddenly she was up on the breakfast bar as Tyler’s mouth devoured hers as eagerly as she’d devoured the curry.
Shoving the plates aside, he grabbed her ass and pulled her tight against him, urging her legs to wrap around his waist.
His fist tangled in her hair, and hungry sounds escaped his throat as his tongue stroked hers in a rhythm that left her breathless and panting.
She clawed at the fabric of his T-shirt, hands shaking as her head filled with his scent, his taste. Desire shot straight to her core, settling in a deep throb between her thighs so fierce it was nearly painful. How could she heed the voice in her head that warned this was a very bad idea, when with just one kiss he had her so turned on she was ready to come, right there, rubbing against the rock-hard bulge of his crotch?
“Christ, I’ve been wanting to do this for so long,” he muttered. His hands launched into action and their shirts ended up somewhere across the kitchen, leaving them half naked under the bright lights of the kitchen.
Thank god she’d splurged on a self-tanner application and Brazilian wax earlier that week.
Then all thoughts of beauty treatments evaporated. His hands were everywhere, splaying over the skin of her back and shoving down into the waistband of her jeans to press into the pliant flesh of her ass. Using his mouth, he tugged her bra strap down her shoulder, nuzzling the cup aside so he could tongue a tight brown nipple into his mouth.
She moaned as he bit down, holding the tight bud in his teeth and lashing with hot strokes of his tongue. His hand fumbled with the snap of her jeans, and the hiss of her zipper filled the room.
He shoved his hand inside the fly, pulling aside the crotch of her G-string to press his fingers against her wet heat. A shaky groan vibrated against her breast as he stroked her smooth, embarrassingly wet flesh.
Dragging his mouth up to hers, he whispered, “God, you’re even hotter than I imagined.”
Later she’d remember all the reasons why having sex with Tyler was a colossally bad idea. But right now any protest she might have mustered died at his admission that he’d been imagining her in any capacity.
He quickly got rid of her boots and tugged her jeans and thong down so they dangled off one leg. She ripped open the button fly of his jeans and shoved them off his hips.
Tyler went commando. Who would have guessed?
His cock pulsed and jumped eagerly in her palm. Of course he would have a big dick to go along with his movie-star looks. No wonder he was so arrogant.
She stroked him once, twice before he pushed her hand away.
Grasping himself in one hand, the other urging her hips closer to the edge of the bar, he guided the thick head of his cock between her juicy pussy lips.
But instead of the rough, urgent thrust she expected, he cupped her face almost tenderly, watching her as he sank inch by slow inch until he was buried all the way inside.
A soft, shuddery moan worked its way up her throat as he filled her. She could hardly believe she was here, with Tyler, and he was inside her, clutching her to him like he never wanted to let go.
He licked and sucked sweetly at her lips, breathing hard as he let her adjust to his size. Finally, he moved, two short, shallow thrusts that made her belly tighten and her toes curl.
His eyes squeezed shut, and a bead of perspiration trickled down the side of his face. “I can’t wait,” he whispered almost apologetically.
His hands gripped her ass, holding her as he fucked her hard now, ramming deep as she clutched frantically at his hips.
“That’s it,” he groaned, “take me deep, so deep.”
Dimly, she realized she was moaning like a porn queen, the noise amplified as the sound echoed off the loft’s high ceilings. But short of gagging herself, she didn’t think she could stop.
He filled her to bursting, his cock huge and hot, rubbing against millions of tiny nerve endings inside and out.
A loud roar erupted in her head, pounding in time to his thrusts as everything inside her coiled tight. Her mouth opened wide on a strangled cry as her orgasm ripped through her with such intensity she almost blacked out.
Vaguely she heard him erupt in a string of curses as he came, spurting hotly inside her as his whole body trembled and shook.
Little by little she came back to herself, to the harsh reality that she was sprawled, mostly naked and well fucked on the cold granite of Tyler’s breakfast bar, a bright recessed light shining down on her like a spotlight. Just when she resolved to make her escape to go wallow in a sea of confused embarrassment, he jerked her off the bar and into his arms, lifting her with no apparent effort.
“Now that I’ve gotten you all dirty,” he said, “let’s go get you cleaned up.”
Hot water cascaded down Natalie’s back, her moans echoing and bouncing off the shower’s marble tiles as Tyler ran his soapy fingers up and down her torso. His cock bobbed between them, brushing against her stomach as he took his time lathering up her tits. After their first, nearly frantic mating in his kitchen, now his movements were slow, almost leisurely as he familiarized himself with every patch of skin on her bare body.
“Your tits are so sweet and perfect,” he whispered, bending to take a hard nipple into his mouth. His fingers teased and pinched at the other, making her pussy flutter and clench in response. He slid down to his knees, his face level with her stomach. He scattered soft, sucking kisses across her belly and lower, until his mouth hovered her mound.
Turning her so she leaned against the back wall, he hooked one knee over his shoulder as her hands reached out for balance. Steam swirled around them, fragrant with soap and her arousal, clouding her view of Tyler as he knelt before her. The steam cleared, and her thighs tightened with embarrassment as he stared at her, spread wide to his gaze. “I’ve been dying to taste you for months now,” he breathed. “You have the most gorgeous cunt,” he whispered, “like a perfect, juicy peach.” One finger teasingly traced her hairless labia. He looked up, a naughty grin glinting in his eyes. “Make that a nectarine.” His laugh wafted over her ridiculously sensitive flesh, making her belly tense as he leaned forward and closed his mouth over her.
Her fingers tangled in his thick wet hair as he sucked and licked at her pussy, whispering between caresses how beautiful she was, how good she tasted, how much he wanted to fuck her sweet, tight, cunt after she came against his face.
Natalie’s breath came in short pants, his words turning her on almost as much as the hot wet caress of his mouth. No one had ever spoken to her like this. The things Tyler was saying were so dirty, but so eloquent and personal. As though he really
had
spent months and months fantasizing about all the things he was doing right now.
His lips pulled gently at her clit as his fingers traced the entrance of her body, teasingly denying her the penetration she craved. A high keening started in her throat as he sucked, drawing rhythmically on her clit in a way that had her digging her heel into his back and clutching his face harder against her. “I wanted to do this before,” he said, sucking and releasing until she was suspended on a razor’s edge of sensation. “But the second I touched you, felt how smooth and wet you were, I had to get my cock in you.”