Текст книги "Fugly"

Автор книги: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

The short, ten-minute ride back to the hotel felt like five seconds. Five. My mind kept replaying his words about me throwing myself at men and then him telling me I was wrong to want to be desired sexually, followed by his confession that he wanted me but was unable to believe it.

Asshole. I really hope he doesn’t get it up so I can shove it in his face. Of course, that wasn’t true. My angry body was on fire for him. Hot, wet, carnal tension aching away between my legs. Did I hate myself for wanting him inside my body so badly?

No. Not even a little. The chemistry was too powerful.

The elevator doors slid open on our floor, and I marched to my room with a furious looking, but silent, Mr. Cole on my heels. When I pushed the door open, he shoved me inside and slammed it shut. His mouth was on my neck, his hands were on my tits, his body pressed against me, grinding and thrusting rhythmically.

Yes, he was hard. Really hard.

It took a moment to realize he was going through with this because he wanted to fuck me as much as I wanted to reciprocate.

Panting, I reached for his shirt and ripped it open, letting my hands grab a feel of those pecs.

“God, you fucking drive me crazy, Lily,” he panted against my neck and then yanked my dress down, popping the hooks from their stitches, and shoved the garment to the floor.

We both froze for a moment while he pulled back and stared at my chest. “Dammit. I could fuck those tits.”

He dipped his head, bathing the tops of my breasts in kisses while he expertly unhooked my strapless bra. Soon to follow were his expert licks and adoring sucks while I ran my hands through his thick short hair, pushing his mouth into my chest. I’d never had my nipples sucked, but I guessed that if a hundred guys had been put to the task, none of them would’ve compared to his swirling tongue and hot mouth.

He removed his lips and replaced them with his hands, massaging and pinching, while his hips ground and his mouth sucked the skin from my neck like a juicy buffalo wing.

“I want you, Lily. I fucking want you,” he panted, pinning my body against the wall like his personal dry-hump station.

I didn’t know the words to express my lust, but my body did. I shoved my hands down to his pants and ripped him free. He felt so hot and hard in my hands that I had to fight the urge to buckle at the knees and take him in my mouth again.

Before I could have my way, he yanked down my panties and bodychecked me to the wall, panting and kissing me like a hungry animal.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard that your dirty mouth won’t know what to say.”

“Do it,” I demanded. I was ready. So damned ready I was losing my mind.

With my thong now gone and his pants down, his arms reached down to my thighs and lifted me. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, feeling the tip of his shaft rubbing against my bud. Good God, he felt so good. He then reached under, gripped his cock in his hand, and found my ready entrance.

There were no words for what came next.

He thrust, but much too slowly, as if testing my readiness. But I didn’t want that. I’d always been a “rip the Band-Aid off” sort of person. Because nothing was worse than anticipating pain.

“I said ‘do it,’” I demanded, my tone egging him on before I lost my nerve. Or started thinking.

He hesitated for a moment, but then he gave me what I wanted. He slid all the way in with one smooth, firm stroke.

I screamed toward the ceiling, my body protesting from the painful, delicious intrusion. “Don’t fucking stop,” I said through my gritted teeth.

He withdrew and thrust again.

I moaned loudly, trying to process how the pain and pleasure felt like one giant sensation all scrambled together. He felt so good. So hard. So unrelenting.

“More,” I panted. “More.”

Still pinning me against the wall, I realized he’d been going easy on me.

His lips kissing my neck, his hips pounded into me, his balls slamming, his chest slapping, his arms flexing and holding me in place. I hung on tight, accepting the fact that the sexual pleasure of having Maxwell Cole unleash his lust on my body trumped any virginal pain I might be experiencing.

“Fucking hell, you feel so good.” He fucked his words into me.

I was so close I couldn’t speak.

“Come on, Lily, scream for me.” He pumped hard, and I realized he was waiting like a gentleman for me to come.

This was where my rational mind began to return and mingle with my sinful soul. Maxwell Cole’s hard, thick cock was inside my body, sliding and thrusting. He was likely ambivalent to the emotional impact of having just taken my virginity. Yet, he wanted this moment to be for me. That’s also when I realized he hadn’t put on a condom. It hadn’t even occurred to either of us. Lucky for him I was on the pill for nonsexual reasons, but it really was luck. Because this man had completely overridden my rational mind, and I’d overridden his. All I wanted was to fulfill this unyielding carnal need to feel him come inside me. I couldn’t explain it, and there was no excuse in this day and age, but it was what I wanted. Him. Me. Raw. And knowing his lust for me had made him just as reckless made me feel ten times more desired.

As these strange thoughts passed through me, I felt the sinful need building. I rocked my hips into him, and he pumped away at a ravenous pace, our naked bodies simultaneously giving and taking.

Then a big build started.

“Yes. Don’t stop, Max. Don’t stop,” I screamed his name as my body bucked and ground.

“Never. Fucking hell, never.” He hit hard, those biceps flexing, those abs contracting, those pecs protruding. Every inch of his sensual body was on display for my pleasure.

He rocked himself faster. “I’m going to come. Tell me you’re ready.”

Aspirational thoughts of prolonging the moment entered my head, but it wasn’t meant to be.

I came, my nails digging into his shoulders, my head pushed back while he hammered me like a nail into the wall.

It was a glorious, carnal moment of two people fornicating like animals. And when he’d pumped his last jet of cum inside me, groaning my name in a low, gravelly voice, my last orgasmic contraction subsided, and I knew I’d made a mistake.

No. Not just because he was my boss, but because he’d felt so good, so right.

And I’m not the girl for him.

He might be able to look at me with some effort, and fuck me, but that didn’t mean anything.

I would never be beautiful in his eyes. He would always be beautiful in mine.

Slowly, Max withdrew and lowered me. His hands then cupped my face, his eyes closed and his tongue sliding over my lips. “That was amazing,” he said with a deep, masculine breathy voice. “Better than amazing.”

I pulled away. “Please leave.”

A long moment of silence passed. “What’s the matter?” he whispered.

“Get out of my room.”

“What did I do?” he asked, and it was the first time he didn’t sound like the tyrant, but just a guy.

I sucked in a deep breath and let it out, still looking away. “You didn’t do anything, Mr. Cole. I just need to be alone.” I felt emotionally exposed, and I had no clue how to deal with it. I wanted him so badly that it hurt.

“Was I too rough on you?” He squeezed my shoulder, and I jerked away, shooting him a look.

“Don’t.”

“Lily?” He was pissed.

Well, fuck him and his perfect everything. Then my pride kicked in, and I realized I didn’t want him to know how much I wanted him.

I smiled. “Sorry. I’m a bit overwhelmed. It wasn’t what I expected.”

He looked down at me, frowning with pity. “You really think you don’t deserve anything. Not even this.”

He hit the nail on the head, but I wasn’t strong enough to face the truth, so I acted like a bitchy punk.

Not my best moment. Not even close.

“I deserve better,” I said.

He shook his head, his hands on hips. “I can’t argue with that. See you at five a.m.”

He slid on his pants and shirt and left my room, slamming the door behind him. I sank to the floor, covered my face, and bawled.

I am in over my head. It was impossible to be around a man like that and not feel something for him.

The next morning I felt sore all over. Even my ass cheeks felt bruised. But by far, my dented-up emotions trumped everything else.

Every human being had different sides. The rational side. The irrational side. Lust and logic. Love and hate. Pleasure and pain. There was often a difference between doing what was right and doing what we want. You shouldn’t eat that gallon of ice cream right before bed, yet you do it anyway. You’re happily married with two kids so you probably shouldn’t be looking at that hot waiter’s ass and imagining how it might feel in your hands; yet you imagine anyway. My rational side had not been in control last night and neither had his. This made me feel all sorts of really, really hopeful things about what that passion meant when I knew I shouldn’t.

Was what we felt last night normal? Was it special? Did it even matter?

Maxwell Cole was not the sort of man to grow attached to women, and he certainly wouldn’t grow attached to me. I simply needed to remind myself that while our relationship was extremely unorthodox and felt intimate in some ways, it was an arrangement of mutual benefit.

Did I secretly wish things to be different? Maybe. But they weren’t. And his distant and formal disposition when I saw him in the morning—oh God, yes, I had on ridiculous white short-shorts and a pink tee—confirmed everything I believed.

Still, I’d behaved like a petulant child running him out like that. The “ugly” episode landed squarely on my shoulders. But when I apologized, he’d barely looked at me. “Don’t give it another thought,” had been his response.

He then made no effort to make eye contact or acknowledge my presence while he stayed on the phone the entire ride to the airport, so I retreated and busied myself, reading all of the reviews and press releases about the new fall colors lineup. “Bold.” “Daring.” “Cole Cosmetics raises the bar again.” Mr. Cole had to be happy about that.

When I toggled my phone to the celebrity gossip section, however, I knew he was probably anything but pleased. There was a photo collage of me sitting next to him at the show and then dancing wildly with Franco, my arms raised over my head. Another pic showed Patricio holding me in a suggestive pose. The fourth set of photos was of me getting into Cole’s limo with his hand on the small of my back, staring at my ass. I didn’t even remember that moment, but the caption read, “Cole Cosmetics Manager Goes Wild and Gets Around.”

“Oh. God,” I whispered. “Who would write this?” I wasn’t anyone even remotely interesting.

I suddenly had the urge to hang my head out the car window and vomit.

Mr. Cole glanced over, still talking on his cell. His eyes flickered with annoyance at me.

So he’d likely seen it already. I could only assume he was upset because “it reflected poorly” on his company. But I was the one who’d been called a whore. The only saving grace being the fact that no one would believe I’d slept with those men let alone Maxwell Cole.

I shut off my phone as we pulled up to the private terminal. Mr. Cole ended the call and got out on his side. As we marched through the little checkpoint, I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my head.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Please stop,” I said.

“Didn’t say a word, Miss Snow.”

“I told you I was sorry.”

“And I told you not to mention it. Ever again,” he added coldly.

Wow. Point taken. Last night…mistake. Never happened.

We got on the plane in awkward silence, flew twelve hours in awkward silence, and rode back to his house in pissy-awkward silence. The longer he went without saying a word, the more irate I felt. I’d done nothing wrong—except fuck him. Which wasn’t technically wrong, as we were both consenting adults, but the other circumstances were not the sort of thing generally accepted by the public. Or my parents. Or anyone I knew. Okay, yes. I was a scandalous woman. And I’d behaved a little rude with him after sex, but I apologized. And I’d really, really meant it, but he hadn’t cared.

Now in his driveway, the limo driver unloaded my small suitcase and then Mr. Cole’s bags.

I dug through my purse, looking for my keys, eager to get home, crawl into my bed, and sob this one out.

“Miss Snow?”

“Yep?” I said softly, trying not to provoke an argument I didn’t have the stomach for.

“Now that this portion of our arrangement has concluded, I’ll expect you to behave accordingly.”

I blinked at him, my eyeballs feeling like sandpaper after the long trip and sleepless night. “Meaning?”

“Meaning you’ll act professionally.”

“Aha. So you don’t want me running around blowing kisses at you in the office? Darn. That had been my plan.”

“Do not make light. I allowed last night to happen because I believed you were the sort of woman who doesn’t drown herself in delusions.”

He’d “allowed” it to happen? Allowed? Like he hadn’t really wanted it so badly that he’d been out of his mind. Oh, but he allooowed it. Like he gave me some precious permission slip to ride his cock.

I frowned. “If by delusions you mean last night wasn’t anything more than a fuck, then we’re on the same page.”

“Yes,” he replied.

“No problem there. It was simply a transaction—part of our deal.”

“Good,” he replied coldly. “And I realize we were less than careful last night. I take very good care of myself, but you will inform me if there are any…other repercussions,” he said distastefully.

So he’d basically just said he was STD free, but if I ended up pregnant, shoot him a memo? Or something like that. And the way he’d said it made me feel so dirty.

“I’m on the pill, but I’ll let you know if I get any weird rashes.” I found my keys and pressed the unlock button on the remote. “See you at the office, Mr. Cole. And thank you for the weekend, especially for the part where you put your dick inside me. It was interesting.”

Asshole.

I got in my car, started the engine, and drove away, the entire time feeling his angry gaze pinned to the back of my head like a laser beam.

~~~

“You did what?” Sitting on my bed with her legs stretched across my white comforter, Danny spit out a mouthful of white wine, shooting it all over her gray sweat pants. I’d already showered and put on my yellow ducky pajamas, which was what grown women did in the middle of the day when they were preparing to binge on cupcakes and tragic movies to make themselves feel better about their life choices.

“I know you heard me,” I said, picking up my suitcase and laying it near her feet on the bed.

She blotted her face with the tip of her long brown ponytail. “No. I didn’t. Because what you said sounded like ‘I lost my virginity to Maxwell Cole at the Four Seasons in Milan,’ and I’m pretty sure that was my fantasy. Or something from a movie.” She shook her head. “And if it’s not, it should be.”

I reached into my suitcase and chucked my dirty clothes into the basket in the corner. The torn-up dress I’d worn got left behind in the closet at the hotel. I couldn’t bear to look at it, and it was ruined anyway.

“I was really thinking tell-all book instead of a movie,” I said sarcastically.

“How the hell did it happen, Lily? I mean…Wow.” She blew out a breath.

“It just did.” That was only part of the truth, of course.

“I’m shocked.”

“Why? You were the one who gave me the idea.”

“Me?” She pointed to herself. “Lily, I was joking. I would never advise you to sleep with your boss—even Maxwell Cole.”

I gave her a cynical look.

“Okay.” She held up her hands. “I’d at least tell you to wait until you had a new job lined up and it was your last day.”

“I’m sure it will be fine. This kind of stuff happens all the time.” As if I knew what the hell I was talking about.

“Are you going to do it again?” she asked.

“No. Absolutely not. It was a onetime thing, and we both agreed we’d move on. Business as usual.” We-hate-each-other business.

“All right. If you say so.”

I closed my empty suitcase and pushed it into my closet beneath my dresses. “I think he’s an asshole. And he’s not into me—it was a pity fuck for him. That’s all.” Or had it been an ego-fuck because I’d called him a pussy?

She looked at me in horror. “Lily, how the hell can you say that?”

“I’m not stupid, Danny. And I own a mirror.”

“Are you sure about the stupid part? Because you’re a very wonderful person, and you somehow don’t see it. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe guys don’t hit on you because they’re intimidated? Unlike your name, you’re not a timid little flower. A guy’s gotta have a lotta balls to even talk to you. Then they have to be comfortable with not feeling needed and being disposable.”

Huh? I looked at her and blinked. Actually, it had never occurred to me. Not once. “You think I’m mean?”

She set her empty wineglass down on my whitewashed nightstand. “God, no. You’re like the most caring, most genuine person I’ve ever met—but you also don’t let anything stand in your way. And you’re extremely independent and driven. Oh—and there’s that whole competitive thing about you.”

“What? I’m not competitive.”

“Maybe not on a one-on-one basis, but with the world? Oh yeah.”

Wow. She’d basically just said I had a huge chip on my shoulder. I’d never realized that about myself, but maybe she was right. I did feel a little like I was on a one-woman mission to kick ass.

“How come no one’s ever said anything?” I asked, going to sit beside her on the bed.

“Honestly, I figured you knew. You’re not like one of these assholes I work with who run around saying how great they are, but their heads are shoved so far up their asses that they can’t even smell their own bullshit.” She placed her hand on my thigh. “With the exception of your small insecurity, you come across as the kind of person who knows themselves—bullshit and all.”

I ran my hand over the top of my head and down the back of my long hair, thinking hard about what she’d said. I was beginning to see I didn’t know myself.

She went on, “So now that we’ve established your boss—aka my fantasy boyfriend—may have screwed you for non-pity related reasons, can you go over that part again where he threw you up against the wall and tore off your ten-thousand-dollar dress?”

“Nope. Scandalous porn story hour is over. I have to get ready for a long day tomorrow.” And honestly, now that I was beginning to see myself in this different light, I had to start questioning more than just my relationship with Mr. Cole. My entire perception seemed to be contaminated by this one small aspect of my life: my looks. A shocker because I’d never thought of myself as the type of person who could be influenced by something so shallow.

Nevertheless, I suddenly felt like my face had created a cancer that had been quietly undermining me my entire life, possibly robbing me of seeing good things that were right in front of me the entire time.

Crap. Mr. Cole had been so, so right when he’d said I didn’t believe I deserved “even this,” meaning casual sex. I didn’t believe the things I wanted were there for me, so I pushed and fought my way through everything.

I’m so damned confused. Who the hell am I?

“Come on, Lily!” said Danny. “You barely told me anything. How big was he? Do his abs ripple in real life, or were they painted on in that photo shoot?”

I glanced at her, almost forgetting she still sat there. “No more details tonight, but I promise you a good bedtime story tomorrow that will include how I did pelvic thrusts with Patricio Ferrari.”

“That cute Italian actor?”

I nodded. “Holy crap, Lily. You’re my idol. I mean, my other idol. Max Cole is my first.”

The notion of someone as messed up as me being anyone’s idol was pure ridiculousness.

My phone buzzed on my nightstand, and I picked it up. “It’s my mother.” I sighed.

“Oh. Good luck with that.” Danny smacked me on the back. “Gotta run.”

“Coward,” I sneered at her as I fled my room.

“Hi, Mom,” I sighed my words, expecting the worst.

“Honey, I understand that you are a grown woman now, but I think we raised you better than this.”

Oh, boy. “So you heard about the tabloid.”

“Yes. From Beverly.” Beverly was her best friend and neighbor. “And I’m extremely worried. Three men in one night? Please tell me this isn’t true.”

“It’s not true.” It was only one: my boss.

She let out a sigh of relief. “I knew it wasn’t. I’m going to call those people and demand they print an apology.”

“Mom, just let it go—okay? It was a fluke. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“That’s the other thing, young lady, why didn’t you tell us you were running off to Milan? What if something had happened to you? Where would we know to look if you’d gotten into trouble?”

Oh, God. I really couldn’t deal with this right now. “Mom, I love you. But this is my job now, and I can’t check in with you every time I take a business trip. And I have a phone if I need help and the company knows where we are—”

“Just remember, Lily, we are here for you. Even if you’re halfway around the world, we’ll be there to help you.”

I sucked in a slow breath and released it. My asking her to not worry was like asking her to stop being my mother. “Thanks, Mom. I appreciate that. Tell Dad I said hi, and I’ll send you guys some pictures from wherever I am this month.”

“Anywhere fun?” she asked, but I’d better not tell her; she might show up with her suitcase.

“Not sure yet, but—oh, by the way, I spoke to John. How’s he doing?” I grinned, so needing a moment of comfort, which meant messing with my brother’s life. In the most loving way possible, of course.

“I think he’s feeling better after I spent a little time with him. Did you know he has a porn collection?”

I held in a laugh. “Ummm. No. I didn’t know that.”

“I mean, really. Who owns porn these days? It’s all over the Internet for free.”

What?

She continued, “You just click and there it is.”

Ohmygod, I chuckled internally, trying not to imagine her at the helm of a mouse, sailing through the superhighway of porn.

“Maybe you should show him,” I offered. “I bet he’d save a lot of money, and you know how little he makes.” I was completely joking, however…

“I’ll do that. Great idea. You have a nice evening, baby.”

What? I pinched the bridge of my nose, laughing hysterically with the phone on mute. John was going to kill me!

We ended the call, and I texted my brother immediately, still cracking up: I am so, so sorry. Please forgive me.

He’d never see this one coming.