Kim Karr - Dazed

Jagger groans my name as he comes with me and together we ride out our pleasure. He rolls over next to me and pulls me to his chest. I’m not sure how much time passes before either of us is able to move—maybe fifteen minutes. But when he sits up he looks around again. “You have a really nice place,” he remarks.

“Thank you.” I sit up next to him.

He strokes his hand down my back. “It’s beautiful, like you.”

Now I’m not the kind of girl to get stars in her eyes, but I swear my blue eyes have to be twinkling. He pulls me off the bed. “Come on, I still have to feed you.”

I look at him and run a hand down the smooth skin of his chest. “What do you say we order in?”

His lips fight back a smile and his arms wrap around my waist. “As long as we can eat in your room,” he says seductively.

“Only if you we can pull the bedspread back,” I say, and we both laugh.

Sunlight filters through the honeycomb shades in my room and I curse myself for choosing ambiance over practicality. I throw my hand over my eyes and then suddenly smile when I hear the faint noise of someone sleeping next to me.

We ordered pizza last night and ate in my bed—I never eat in my room. While we talked, I picked the pepperoni off my slice and fed it to him. As he licked the grease from my fingers one thing led to another. And two orgasms later, I felt like I was on top of the world. I actually still do. There was never a question about him sleeping over, and once we settled against each other for the night, our topic of discussion turned to sex. It started in a way that actually made me laugh. He apologized for being quick to climax. I hadn’t thought that at all. He told me he hadn’t had sex in a while—not since his breakup in the fall. I pushed aside the twinge of jealousy I felt toward the other woman.

And then I told him everything—including how Levi had taken my virginity in a lie. I even told him I had never experienced anything like I had with him. That put a huge smug smile on his face. And before we fell asleep, we both agreed that practice makes perfect.

Now I’m awake before him and I have to resist the urge to skim my fingers down his chest and over the ridges of his ribs. His dark hair is sticking up everywhere, and there is more stubble on his jaw than usual. He’s utterly beautiful and I want to pinch myself to make sure this is real. An eye cracks open and a smile splays across his full lips. “Good morning,” he says groggily.

“Good morning,” I say back with a grin.

In a blink he’s on top of me and when our eyes pin each other, he returns my grin—but his is sly, and full of promise. I like it—a lot. Rolling to his side, he skims my naked flesh with his fingertips and the ache between my legs is back. But this time I know it will be eased in the best way possible. My hands are on him as his soft lips find mine. I have to confess, although I’ve spent the night with men, I’ve never had sex in the morning. The thought of two mouths connecting without brushed teeth and two unshowered bodies covered in the smell of sex from the previous night had been a complete turnoff. But right now, I couldn’t be more turned on.

I run my palms down his back and back up. Then finally my hands roam between his thighs—he is already hard. My lips trail down the taut flesh of his chest and a green blinking light catches my attention. I want to ignore it, but suddenly I sit up in horror. My alarm clock is flashing. The power must have gone out. The early morning light should have alerted me, but I’m not thinking straight. Crap. I missed my training session—I owe my trainer a huge apology.

“Hey, where are you going?” he asks grabbing my wrist as I jump out of bed.

“I didn’t realize the time. I’m going to be late for work!”

He glances toward the clock and down to the tent his cock is making in the sheet. “If I drive you, does that give you an extra ten minutes?”

Throwing caution to the wind, I nod and decide to start my day in a way I never have.

It’s a cloudy, colder than normal, winter day in California. But the blah day isn’t bothering me. Even though the sun stays hidden behind the clouds, I have a ray of sunshine sitting beside me. I know he can barely contain his excitement that I’m finally sitting in his car. Today I’m getting a chauffeured ride, not only to work, but also home.

He drives fast, really fast, and I really like it. I can see why he chose this car—it handles a lot like him. He parts his full lips to ask me a question as we discuss his career and his time in Paris, when thoughts of kissing them overtake me. He stops at a light and that’s just what I do. Honking behind us warns us the light has turned and I pull away, touching my fingers to my lips to still feel his.

A sneaky grin crosses his mouth.

“So do you have a runway walk?”

He lowers the sunglasses he doesn’t need to be wearing and looks over to me. Raising an eyebrow he asks, “Do I look like I walk with runway swagger?”

I giggle. Okay the giggling needs to get checked.

“I’ll tell you the funniest advice I ever got about male runway walks,” he says. “I was doing a show and Vera Wang’s assistant showed up. She was a friendly older woman and she treated us like we were eighth-grade boys and girls. She gathered us all together and introduced us to modeling 101.” He smirks at the thought. “If that was my first show, I’d have gotten a hard-on that Vera Wang’s assistant was giving me pointers, but I’d been doing shows for two years by then.” His voice goes low and my guess is that he’s doing his best impersonation of the woman as he says, “ ‘Look at where the cameras are while you walk. Don’t cut the walls. Come out center. And please don’t forget to make a clean turn.’ ” He pauses. “We were all restless and when us guys practiced walking, it was with a normal, nothing walk. But the girls, they brought it. Their elbows were up, they leaned back, and clomped down the runway. She brought us back together after and said,” his voice goes low again, “ ‘Now men, stop walking like you were caught thinking about the vanilla sex you had last night.’ ”

Jagger’s depiction of the woman and the story itself has me in stitches as he pulls up to my office building. I think to myself there’s nothing vanilla about him as I lean over and grab his face to kiss him goodbye. I don’t even care that my lipstick is smearing. I want him to think about me today the way I know I’ll be thinking about him.

“Stay there,” he says taking my umbrella from my hand.

Getting out of the car, he pops my umbrella, and proceeds to walk me to the door.

“You can’t just leave your car there.”

“I think it will be fine,” he winks. “And besides, I’m right here, what’s going to happen?”

The look on his face melts me and what else can I do but get up on my toes and wrap my arms around him. I want to give him another unforgettable kiss. But when his hands clutch my hips and his body aligns with mine, I get lost in his hypnotic stare. But he doesn’t falter like me. His lips touch mine and a thrill runs down my spine. He uses his tongue to part my lips and I open my mouth with greed. Our tongues dance and when he pulls back—we are both breathless.

“Wow,” I say lost in the moment, left completely dazed.

He give me a breathtaking smile and turns back toward the car and I remember I wanted to be the one to leave him with a kiss to remember all day. With my heart pounding, I step inside and pause a moment near the glass to watch him as he heads back to the car. I’m looking for any sign of runway swagger. The thought of him getting paid in “trade” for his runway gigs intrigues me. A free sweater, sneakers, jeans, credit at a trendy store—payments that have all lent to his amazing wardrobe. I told him how much I would love that. He laughed and said the clothes were cool, but it was hard to pay the rent with a wool coat. Then I told him that I really liked that coat and he just grinned at me.

I hit the elevator button just as he nears his illegally parked car, and notice a woman using her purse as a shield over her head is approaching him. He stiffens, as they seem to have an animated conversation. I wonder if she’s yelling at him for parking there. A few moments later, she scurries through the rain and in the door. The elevator arrives and just as I hit my floor, the same tall, slender woman who looks about my age yells, “Hold the elevator, please.”

I catch a glimpse of her through the closing door. Her hair is an understated red—a cross between a copper and a strawberry blonde. It’s curled in loose waves, she has high cheekbones, and piercing blue eyes. I quickly press the open button. As the doors begin to reopen, I see my reflection in them. I’m off my game today, but I don’t care. My makeup is in my bag and so are my heels, I didn’t want the calfskin to get wet from the rain. I straighten my gray pencil skirt as the woman enters.

I look at her, intrigued. She has one of those haunting faces that look like it should be gracing magazine covers. She’s wearing black lace-up pants, a completely sheer blouse, and a killer raspberry leather jacket with raindrops dripping from it. The raspberry color of her coat accentuates the red highlights in her blonde hair. I feel like I’ve seen her before, but can’t place where. A pang of jealousy hits as I glance down at my corporate attire. She exits the elevator on the ninth floor and I stay put riding to the tenth.

As I exit the elevator, Shelly rushes up behind me. “Ms. Daniels, Mr. Wolf is waiting for you in the conference room.”