Nothing More Beautiful (17 page)

“Gee, thanks,” I said sarcastically,
thinking it was a bit over the top. She only grinned in return. The
woman standing at the back took my name and size, wrote it on a
card, and pointed out an available room.

“Let me know if you need anything else,
hon.” I could hear her put the card on the door.

After hanging up the clothing, I stared at
the mirror, mentally preparing myself. I had never worn anything so
overtly sexy before. Ryan had tried several times to get me to wear
lingerie, going so far as to buy me a kinky outfit for my birthday,
but it didn’t fit right. I stripped off my clothes and put on the
panties first, then the main piece, which, oddly enough, fit
perfectly, as if it were made for me specifically—which had to be a
first.

Scrutinizing the outfit, the lingerie made
me feel confident, sexy, even bold. It was amazing. I actually felt
hot.
I grabbed the package of thigh-highs and thought twice
about slipping them on in the store. My phone lay hidden in my
clutch, and I fumbled to retrieve it, the thought that I was doing
something naughty forefront in my mind. I mean, lots of people sent
racy lingerie selfies to their lovers, right? Then how come I felt
so devious and sneaky? Like I was the only person in the world who
had stood in front of a Victoria’s Secret mirror holding a
camera.

Opening the camera app, I raised my phone to
the mirror, watching the live screen, and then snapped a shot. It
looked nothing like how I felt. The angle was weird and
unflattering. I took several more, all with the same result. Every
angle seemed wrong, unnatural. My lips were somehow unconsciously
pouty, but not in an attractive way, not in my eyes anyway. I lost
track of time in my attempt to get the dream photo. It never
came.

I settled on cutting off my head and legs
and focusing on my breasts. They were what really shined in the
lingerie anyway, and that way it would be more of a teaser, or so I
reasoned. I rejoined Danielle in the “pink” section of the
store.

“I take it the top fit?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were in there for like twenty minutes,”
she said, checking her phone. “Everything work out?”

“Yeah, it all fit,” I replied, following her
as she headed for the checkout line. “Well, I didn’t try on the
thigh-highs. I’ll just buy them.”

“Did you get a good pic?”

“I think so. It’s just of my boobs.”

“A sneak peek.”

“Right.”

She laughed. “Did you send it?”

“Not yet,” I answered, stepping into the
short line.

“Ooh, you have to let me help you write the
caption.” She nearly tossed her bag as she threw up her arms in
excitement. “I’m pretty good at writing dirty notes.”

“I can imagine,” I said, walking up to the
counter and laying the outfit down. Swiping my card, we were in and
out in a flash, Danielle using all her coupons on a full bag of
underwear and bras. “Migration isn’t far, you want to go there for
dinner?” I asked, climbing into the Crosstrek.

“Only if you say I can help write the
message,” she negotiated.

I put on my “really?” face and stared at
her. Why did she want to be
so
involved? I contemplated for
a moment. “Deal. But nothing too gross. I don’t want him to think
I’m a perv.”

“Or do you?” she joked. “Okay, okay, relax,”
she added when I glared over at her. “Let’s see, nothing too
obscene, eh? Hmm . . . Maybe write, ‘Turn you
on?’ below the pic.”

“That’s it,” I said, grinning with surprise.
“I thought you said you were good at this.” I laughed, digging out
my phone and opening up the pictures. I had saved a few but only
planned on using the one close-up shot.

“Hey, I’m just warming up, all right? It’s a
process.”

“How about ‘Making you hard yet?’” I wrote
out the caption to see how well it went.

“Speaking of his hard-ons, how big was it?”
Danielle asked, a bit more curious than I would have thought. “I
guess it wasn’t that impressive, since,
well . . .”

“God, Danielle, can’t leave anything to the
imagination with you.” I shook my head. “What if we end up
seriously dating? I don’t want you blabbing to the entire world
about his dong.”

“You mean cock,” she said with a wry
smile.

“Do I?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it out of you one of
these days.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” I said,
erasing the stupid line from the phone.

“Does that mean you’re not going to tell
me?” She made a sad-puppy-dog face with her huge brown eyes.

“When has that face ever worked on me?” I
asked, pushing her face away as she leaned over.

“When has it ever
not
worked?”

“Are you trying to kill us?” I screamed.

She corrected the car, which had swayed over
the white line. “Four inches? Five? Six? Seven? Eight? Was it one
of those monster dicks—is that why you didn’t like it?”

“I’m pretty sure I said the opposite of not
liking it,” I countered. “I just didn’t have an orgasm. Now, can we
get back to the message?”

“Sure, I’ll find out eventually,” she said,
confident. “Why don’t you just say ‘I’m wet.’ It’s short, simple,
and it will definitely turn him on.”

I wrote it in. “It’s a little dirtier than
what I was thinking, but I like it.” My finger paused over the send
key. “You really think this is a good idea?” I asked, having
last-minute doubts.

“Would you just send it already?” she
shouted, pulling headfirst into a spot on Glisan.

“Okay, okay.” I hit the button. “Sent.”

“Great, now let’s get something to eat
before I die.” She practically ran into the building, leaving me
far behind.

THE REST OF THE
night she
pestered me for his length, which I never gave up despite her
relentlessness. I had checked my phone every five seconds, looking
for a reply, but one never came, and when I finally crashed for the
night, worry plagued my mind. What did his silence mean? I conjured
up a million answers. Maybe he was really a playboy out on another
date, having sex with another woman, duping me just like every
other man I’d met. I hoped the reality was that his phone had died
and he hadn’t seen the text yet. It was about the only answer that
didn’t twist my stomach.

The first thing I did when I woke the next
morning was check my texts, ignoring the alarm. I sighed when I saw
there weren’t any new texts. What was he trying to do to me? The
silence was as torturous as a rejection, if not worse. A small
depression set in, the lack of acknowledgement eating at my
nerves.

The work day drifted by, agonizingly so. I
locked my phone in my desk, too obsessed with it. My irrational
compulsion was out of control. At 2:45, well past two hours since
last I’d checked, I unlocked everything. My inbox was still shy one
new message. I just about ripped out my hair at that point.

I debated about making the trip to the gym
for a good twenty minutes, finally deciding just to go and get it
over with. No use wasting the membership. Nearly swooning, I
struggled up the stairs when I spotted Vince working out on the
second floor. Another debate emerged on whether to confront or
ignore him. My boiling blood chose the former.

“What the hell?” I spat, speed walking up to
him.

He was sitting on one of the benches at an
angle, pushing weights into the air. Terrance was beside him,
leading Vince in the same exercise. Vince glanced over and rested
the weights on the floor. “Maci,” he said, standing up.

“You’ve got some ego,” I growled, poking his
chest.

Terrance was rushing to his aid a breath
later. Vince waved him off. “Ego?”

I poked him again. “Yeah, ego. I send you a
picture like that and you don’t even have the courtesy to
respond.”

“I’m sorry. I’m in the process of updating
my phone to some special prototype from a company I’ve invested
in.” He stepped back to avoid another jab. “I haven’t had access to
my phone since yesterday morning.”

“Since yesterday morning?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’ve only been able to
check my emails.”

“Oh.” My voice broke. “No texts?”

“No texts, honest.” He stared at me in
confusion. “Was this about tonight? Because I was planning on
calling you after my workout.”

“Um—kinda.” I hesitated to say more with so
many people around. “I, uh, sent you a text and was anxious for a
reply.”

He laughed. “I can see that.”

“It had a certain type of pic attached to
it,” I said, hoping he’d get the hint. By his puzzled expression it
was clear he didn’t. “When will you get your phone back?”

He turned to his bodyguard. “Terrance, when
will my phone be ready?”

“I picked it up before I met you here, sir,”
he replied. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. It slipped my mind.
It’s in the trunk on my motorcycle. Would you like me to retrieve
it?”

“NO!” I screamed. They both looked at me,
alarmed. “You—you should get it first,” I said, almost whispering,
overcompensating for the outburst.

“I see. Terrance, your keys please.” He held
out his hand, waiting.

“Sir?” The bodyguard’s voice was deep and
scratchy.

“I’d like to get the phone myself.”

“Sure.” He dug a set of keys out of his
pocket and handed them to Vince.

“Would you like to come with me?” Vince
asked.

I considered the offer. Would it detract
from the sexiness of the selfie if he opened the pic in front of
me? It really seemed like it would. “No,” I declined. “Why don’t
you just text me later about tonight? I think I’m going to go out
for a run.”

He was definitely baffled by my behavior.
“Can I walk you to the door?”

I nodded. The short trip to the main exit
was a bit uncomfortable, but also so relieving that it hadn’t been
one of those brutal outcomes my mind had concocted. He kissed me
shyly on the cheek and waved as I walked down the sidewalk back to
Friends.

My phone vibrated halfway home. I opened the
text and my eyes nearly popped out of my head in surprise. He had
sent a picture of the tip of his penis with the caption “Takeout,
my place, 7?” He clearly was even worse at this than I was. I
replied with a simple smiley face.

I WORE A PAIR
of loose
jeans over the thigh-highs, and covered the rest of the lingerie
with a sweater and a coat. When I stripped off the outer clothing,
I wanted the outcome to go smoother than the selfie had. Parking
Eddie in the Envoy’s gated parking lot, I zoomed up the elevator,
and then took a breath before I knocked on the mirrored door.

Vince opened it in a flash, as though his
hand had been resting on the door handle. “Hey, come in.” He waved
me inside. “Can I take your coat?”

I slipped out of it. “Thanks.”

He hung it in the closet around the corner.
“I was thinking we’d order from Henry’s, so that you could get your
mac and cheese leftovers. I can have Terrance pick it up.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Your bodyguard does
errands for you?”

“If I ask him nice enough and slip him a
hundred.” He smiled, hoping to get a laugh in return.

I gave him a quick, sharp laugh out my nose.
“Right.”

“Not funny?”

“Not really,” I said. “Can we order an
appetizer?”

“Like the buffalo wings?” he asked,
directing me through the kitchen to a tablet that lay on a fancy
walnut table. “I browsed the menu a bit. The Gorgonzola fries also
sound great.”

“They both sound really good.” I played with
the fringe of my sweater. “Um, I don’t know. You decide.”

He raised his arms with his wrists flipped
back. “How about both?”

“You talk with your hands a lot,” I
observed.

He shrugged. “Is it distracting?”

“No, I do the same thing.”

“Sounds like we’re made for each other,” he
laughed. “So both?”

I nodded. “And the mac and cheese for
me.”

He picked up his new phone, which didn’t
look too out of the ordinary, and placed the order. “Hold on, I’ll
send Terrance now.” He called his bodyguard and asked in a polite
voice for him to pick it up.

“So that’s your new phone?” I asked after he
hung up with Terrance.

He smiled. “I really enjoyed the
picture.”

Gazing at that smile, I couldn’t hold back
the urge to kiss him, so I threw my arms around his neck and stood
up on my tiptoes, our lips fusing. A rush of energy flooded my
body, my heart leaping. Without a word, I took his hand and led him
to the bedroom, pushing him onto the mattress. “Close your eyes.”
He did as instructed, and I undressed as quickly as I could without
falling over, using the pole of his four-post bed for balance. I
cursed my clumsiness before I said, “Okay, open them.”

His eyes grew when he did. “Wow. Is
this—”

“Uh-huh,” I finished for him. “The rest of
it.”

He grabbed me by the hips and pulled me to
him, my cleavage in his face. He inhaled a huge whiff. “Did I
mention that I like it?”

I wrapped my arms around his head and
suffocated him in my breasts. I gasped at how alive I felt when he
peeled back the cup and took my nipple in his mouth, his tongue
swirling around it, the suction growing as my nipple stiffened. I
pushed him back, afraid he’d run out of breath, and he gulped down
air, freed from some spell of compulsion.

He ripped off his shirt in a hurry, quickly
pulling down his pants and boxers, his erection springing up. I
gawked at his bush for a second, amazed and disgusted by its
length, but shoved the thought aside as he slid off my panties. I
coursed my fingers through his hair and down his neck and watched
him shiver. His fingers briefly caressed my v-spot while he kissed
me hard. He pulled back and eased me to the bed, his breaths ragged
in my ear, laying me flat. He stood, and with the head of his
erection, massaged my clit in gentle, erotic circles. Fire coursed
through my body, my blood rushing, singing, dancing—alive. So
alive. He reached over to the nightstand, and I grasped his hand,
preventing him from claiming the condom. “I have an IUD,” I rasped.
“You don’t need it. I tried to tell you last night but you rolled
one on in seconds.”