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Mr. Fuckability Ch. 01

By: Savanna7



I'm sitting at a corner table in new swanky bar downtown watching people make their way into the pub, cross over the billiards section, and arrive at the main liquor trough. The whole time I am wondering how I got here. No, not the bar, I took the L for that. What I'm trying to figure out is how I have arrived at this place in my life.

The place where I think it is a good idea, a healthy one even, to be hanging out with a bunch of girls who are about to call into question my moral code. Enthusiastically, call into question, I might add.

It's a thing with us, the Mr. Fuckability contest. We hit a new bar every third Saturday of the month, preferable one that none of us have been to before, less likelihood of meeting a former contestant that way.

A few basic rules to the game: everyone has to agree on the target. One girl is selected by way of drawing straws. The last girl to play holds the straws for the next round thereby making her exempt from the night's activities. And there is a prize for all this. Drum roll, please... The last player gets to pick what the new player has to do.

We always meet up the next day for a full debriefing; pun intended, at Monuts, the local coffee shop owned by, you guessed it, a guy named Mo with a passion for dough. Or at least that's what the slogan says.

I've been lucky in the past, only drawing the short straw once, so my hands always start to sweat a little when the lineup comes.

Jess, my best frenemy, lines up the straws in her well-manicured fingers. She is exempt from this round, her price for freedom: doggy style by the pool in the freshman college dorm. Evidently, there had been quite an audience. The swim team had an early practice and rumor had it the head coach may never recover.

Jess keeps glancing up at me, and then shuffling the straws. Glance. Shuffle. Glance. Shuffle. I can practically smell the brimstone in the smug look she is giving me, mentally willing me to get the short straw. I shiver. God only knew what her freak-a-deeky little mind is thinking up. Out of all of us, Jess is by far the most sexually liberated. I am the polar opposite. If there is a sexual spectrum than she is the east and I am the west. I am the most reserved girl in our group, hell, probably the whole bar.

So why am I here? Well, my life is so boring that I, on occasion, hang out with my neighbor's dog just to have somebody to talk to. Yes, I know how pathetic that sounds. Now you understand why someone who spent their high school years with her nose stuck in the Bronte sister's books would be out doing what we are about to do.

"Come on girls gather round, you know what time it is." Jess cackles. She sounds frightening like the crazy witch from Harry Potter and a sense of foreboding chases goose bumps up my arm. She holds up her glass; we all clink, then tilt them up and drain them.

"Jess has been bragging all week that she's going to rock somebody's world. I can't wait to see what she has us doing now!" Georgia giggles leaning up on her arms making Groucho Marx eyebrows at me across the table.

Georgia is precisely what her sweet, deeply southern accent promises. Short, curvy, cute face, and pigtails that no one over twelve should be able to get away with, but she has a baby doll face, so it works for her.

Natalie, our final participant in the Mr. Fuckability Contest leans back sipping a water to chase the liqueur she has just downed. She has a smile on her lips, her eyes trolling the bar alight with possibilities. She's always the first to point out a potential target. If I come along for the company and excitement, then she comes along for the sheer joy of ring mastering this insanity.

Jess is the sexual conductor, Natalie the spotter, Georgia the cheerleader, and I...am clearly out of my mind for being here. Still that doesn't stop me from sticking my hand on the end of one of the available straws when they are offered. Peer pressure is a bitch.

Jess counts to three and everyone pulls. I don't have to look at the other two girls to know that I have the shortest straw. It falls out of my hand rolling ominously on the table like Edgar Allan Poe's tell tale heart.

BA dump, Ba dump, BA dump, Ba dump.

It should not have had that much natural momentum.

BA dump, Ba dump. BA dump, Ba dump.

Jess howls in distinct joy. I cringe, the sound making me even more worried about my impending future.

Georgia just giggles and says something that I can't make out, but the encouraging tone and cheerful smile tell me it would be something to the effect of "Oh it's going to be fun," or "You only live once." The stupid things your friends tell you right before they convince you to do something that will get you arrested or worse, on You Tube.

Jess gives me a once over and I see a familiar instigating glint creep back into her dark, heavily lined eyes. Jess knows me the best out of everyone. We are probably the closest of all the girls. unfortunately, because she knows me so well, she also knows how shy I can and considers it her personal mission in life to push me beyond my boundaries. Actually, Jess will try to push past reason in general if given the opportunity, but she holds a special place in her heart, and there by, her evil little plans for me. I think it's because she knows I wouldn't be nearly as outgoing as I have become with out her constant badgering to "just go do it already". I both loved her and hated her for the same reason, however, when she get's this gleam in her eyes she flat out scares the shit out of me. She smiles up fluttering her lashes and bearing more teeth than Jaws. Yep, this is definitely going to be one of the times our love/hate relationship is going to falls on the hate side. She leans up on her elbows and practically purrs as she waves us forward to hear my sentence.

"You have got to take one of these poor bastards home, tie him up, go all dominatrix on his ass, fuck him senseless, and leave him in the lurch. This one is perfect for you Danni, if anyone needs a little bad girl in them, honey, it's you." She cocked her pierced eyebrow at me.

I can't see myself, but I know that I have turned a very humiliating shade of red. The heat in my cheeks gives it away.

"I can't do that. I'm not even sure that's legal. Besides it's not exactly like I carry rope or handcuffs around with me."

The truth is I'm about the least dominant female at the table. I don't have an authoritative bone in my body. I can't even make the neighbor's dog sit on command. Something in Jess' smug grin tells me she is thinking the same thing and has no intention of letting me slide. I watch as she leans down to grab her purse. I realize I have clearly underestimated Jess when she pulls a pair of handcuffs from her purse. She carefully lays them on the table, biting her bottom lip as she slides me the key.

"Don't lose this. It's the only one I have."

I look down at the cuffs and know that they were not bought for tonight. Eww. Maybe I can wash them off in the bathroom or something?

She sits back crossing her arms over her chest. A smug curl to her lips says she is enjoying every minute of this. She probably rigged the straws.

"Cuff him, fuck him, drop the key in his hand, and walk out. Are you up for this?"

Oh, Jesus was I up for this? Hell no, I wasn't up for this. When is anybody ever up for this? I am starting to panic, and we haven't even picked a target yet.

"I don't think she has enough balls to do it." Jess looks at Natalie for encouragement, who shakes her head in agreement clearly egging me on.

"Sure she will. Come on Danielle, who knows you might actually like it. They always say it's the quiet ones that end up being the most surprising." Georgia reaches over to squeeze my hand reassuringly. It doesn't help.

"Oh, Oh, how about him." Natalie points to a pair of combat boots ripped up jeans, and a leather jacket.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, maybe for Jess." I say sitting back with a huff.

"He has a nice ass," Georgia says.

"He probably is an ass." I mutter back under my breath. Bad boys just aren't my type. Give me a stiff collared nice guy any day.

"Na, she's right. It would work for me, but she's too uptight for him." Jess says.

I bristle at the unintended insult but still breathe a sigh of relief because insulting or not; I don't want to try to tie up Leather Jacket. Somehow I just don't see him as the one ending up in the cuffs. That thought makes my inner control freak go spastic, and my right eye twitch.

I wave down the waitress for something stronger than the chardonnay I am currently drinking. I am going to need some liquor to make it through tonight, if I'm really lucky I will black out completely and not remember a thing, then nun's my conscience will not have to be horrified in the morning. Maybe if I wake up early I can make it to church before Monuts? Go ahead and schedule an appointment to repent for the sins I am about to commit.

"Holy shit, Hel-Lo Mr. Fuckability." Natalie sits up straighter, the movement jarring me from my thoughts.

I look up to see a wicked twinkle in her eyes. It isn't until Jess's mouth falls open in a dead pan stare that I know this is something different. My nerves explode into nuclear meltdown status as I follow their line of vision.

"Holy shit." I hear myself agree in a breathy voice.

The first thing I notice is the way he scans the room, his gaze sharp, unwavering. Almost analytical in the intense way he moves his head from left to right and back, like he hasn't missed a single detail in the whole room with that brief glance.

His eyes round back to settle on mine.

I stare back, agape, unable to stop myself. His eyes stay on mine just a moment past proper.

Dark, angular brows pull down low over the greenest eyes I have ever seen. They sparkle like razor cut emeralds; sharp and perfect. He is wearing a dark suit that stretches across wide shoulders, the white of his shirt stark against the dark pattern of the tie. His cuff links wink at his wrist as he crosses to the bar. His shoes are un-scuffed, and glossy.

He reeks of money and class. The way he strolls through the crowd all rolling shoulders and swagger of hips leaves me with a strange sense of his carefully contained animalistic power. This is not a man born to wealth. He has a lean, hungry look about him that says he has earned every penny for himself.

Just the sight of him has me squirming in my seat. No way can I pick up a guy like him. I'm not in the same solar system as this guy, let alone the same league.

I try to look away, but my eyes are non responsive.

My brain is to busy drooling.

"I think we have a winner." Georgia claps her hands together like an excited child.

She has been watching me while I have been watching Him. I feel that awful scarlet tinged heat creep up from my throat and all the way to my cheeks and curse my pale skin for being so obvious.

"What happens if he's not interested?" I drop my eyes to my drink and concentrate on taking a sip because I don't want them to see the panic in my eyes. I can do nothing about the tremble in my hands.

Natalie waits until the waitress has brought me another drink before she leans forward on the table and shakes her head at me.

"Honey you don't give yourself enough credit. You look like a Catholic girl version of Cameron Diaz. I'm sure he will be interested. Guys love that sweet and innocent look. Just go up and give it a try."

That's the problem; it really isn't a look; it is more of a lifestyle. I have never tried to pick up a guy before and the thought of doing it now in front of all of my friends and especially Him has me wishing I am at home snuggled up on the bed watching TV with my Teddy Bear, Ed, as my pillow.

Still, this is why I am here. Left to my own devices I would be at home with Ed as my only companion. These girls push me outside my boundaries, and even though I might not like it now, I know they mean well. This is the age I should be out making bad decisions and trying new things, after all, I'm twenty-three not sixty-three as Jess so often reminds me.

"And what if I go up there and make a complete idiot of myself?" I hiss back at Natalie.

"Then we all have a good laugh and you try again. This is supposed to be fun."

This was so not what I thought of as a fun. In fact, at this moment, I am pretty sure it qualifies as a form of torture. Did I really want to hang out with these people that badly? I thought of Ed again, soft, fuzzy, and invitingly lonely on my bed. I sigh; yes of course I want to hang out with them. They are my best friends, my only friends, hell they are the closest thing to family I have left. I notice I'm worrying the pendant on my necklace again, dragging it from side to side, and mentally roll my eyes. I remind myself for the bazillionth time since leaving work Friday to stop doing it. It's a bad habit, like biting your finger nails. When I get nervous I run the pendant on my necklace back and forth like a jackrabbit on speed. Zip-Zip. Zip-Zip.

The pendant never fails to make me think of Mom. The papery way her frail hands felt squeezing mine when she handed me the box; it had been her last present to me. I hadn't realized it at the time, but it hadn't been far from the end. Her were eyes almost wild as they looked into mine, her voice a soft rasp.

"Promise me you will do something adventurous, something wild, and young, Honey. I don't want you to shut yourself away when I'm gone. I want you to start living your life and stop worrying so much over what is practical." Her frail voice echoes through all of my turbulent nerves like a sonar pulse. I had found these friends on that promise, now it was time to see how much further it could take me.

I drain half of my drink in one swallow as I scoot back from the table, taking a deep breath, and stand up to start walking towards the bar. I can do this. I can totally do this. Who cares if he laughs in my face? I've lived through worse, much worse.

Despite my courageous words, I can still hear my heart beat drumming through my ears at the volume of a punk rock band as I walk towards him. The constant Ba-Bump getting louder and quicker the closer I step to the bar. I am half way across the billiards area when I feel his eyes land on me. I make the mistake of looking up.

The moment his eyes meet mine, I feel a jolt of electricity run through me. His eyes don't slide over mine as I had expected them to, casually dismissing me. Instead his eyes slide to mine, start to slide past, and then slam right back into mine and hold there.

My breath catches. I feel my sure footsteps come to a stuttering halt. He is better looking up close, wide lips, strong jaw, dark hair, razor blade cheekbones. His green eyes are turbulent with some kind of emotion that I can't quite figure out.

The pool cue comes out of nowhere knocking me hard in the cheek under my right eye. My vision blurs. My natural instinct is to cup the affected area. So that's what I do, forgetting the glass in my hand.

The ice and what is left of my Blue Hawaii go flying, dousing the man who has just clubbed me in the face. I start to apologize but don't get the chance as one of the ice cubes bounces off his face, falling into my shirt. It starts a slow, extraordinarily cold stream down my chest, into my bra, coming to a halt right between the girls.

I scream swatting at the ice. It doesn't work. I turn away from the heavy handed table jockey, yank down my top and reach inside.

I don't notice Mr. Fuckability or the nice view down the front of my shirt I am giving him until the ice is firmly in my hand and on its way out.

His face is completely readable now and it is stuck somewhere between gut wrenching humor and horrid fascination. I understand the sentiment; I am the train wreck you can't help but stop to watch.

Great.

I feel myself go hot all over despite the ice path still dripping between my breasts. It isn't the good kind of hot, the kind you get when a nice looking guy checks you out. It is the bad kind of hot. The kind of hot that you get when you think it might ACTUALLY BE POSSIBLE to die of embarrassment. In fact, you begin to pray for it.

I wave away the guy who is wearing the rest of my drink as he tries to apologize for mistaking my face for the cue ball. All I want to do is get the hell out of here and the bathroom is the closest escape. I dive for it.

The bathroom is blissfully empty as I make my way to the mirrors above the sink. I survey my appearance for damage control. It's like looking in the mirror to discover Goth me. A small section of my blond hair has a blue tint from the drink and I have a big red circle that looks tattooed onto the side of my face from the pool stick.

Perfect, cause only my nights would end up like this.

The red circle I can't do anything about so I grab a towel and begin to blot my hair. When I am satisfied with it I touch gingerly at the red dot. It wasn't swelling. Maybe it wouldn't even be bruised?

Wish I could say the same for my ego, I thought, remembering the way those green eyes had bugged out of Mr. Fuckability's eye sockets at the site of me flashing him. No way in hell I can go out there and pick up anyone in this bar. Not after I have made such a complete and total ass of myself.

I eyeball the window near the ceiling to my right. It is too tall for me to reach without climbing on the sink. It is also too small for me to fit through without worrying about getting stuck and wouldn't that just add insult to injury.

I can just see myself stuck in the window as they call the police to get me out. My legs wiggling in desperation, ass stuck at face height because my hips were too wide to make it through. Damn my chunky thighs.

This is why skinny chicks don't end up on you tube. They can fit through the god damn windows.

I turn back to study my reflection in the mirror. Maybe I can just walk back out, slide along the wall, and slip into a chair at the table unnoticed?

Yea right.

The way those green eyes had scanned the room, not to mention my cleavage, let me know he didn't miss much. I brace my hands on either side of the sink, hang my head, close my eyes, and take three deep breaths. I can do this. I just need to gather my whits and go back out there like I haven't just been reamed in the face by a pool stick and flashed the best looking guy in the bar.

Ugh.

Three more breaths.

"There's no place like home. There's no place like home." I moan clicking my heels together.

"I don't think that works out side of Oz."

I jump, squealing at the low voice over my shoulder. I whirl around only to be stopped short by a pair of incredibly green eyes.

"What are you doing in here?" I gasp, fully prepared to be offended. He looks perplexed for a moment then his eyes lit up like California in fire season. He clears his throat when I continue to just stare at him.

"I...um...need to use a urinal." He slides his hands into his pockets, rocks back on his heels and looks me up and down as if taking my measure and finding it significantly amusing.

He laughs, an appealingly low, gruff sound that rattles my nerves to tight wire status. It is a very sexy sound. Then my brain catches up to what he has just said.

Holy Hell!

My eyes go incredibly wide as I swing my head around taking in my surroundings for the first time. My mouth drops open as I try to formulate a response. The only thing I can think is how did I miss the damn urinals? My mouth, unsure what to do when left to its own devices trots obligingly behind my train of thought.

"Urinals?" I squeak well into the Betty Boop range now.

This time he looses the battle with the grin he has been fighting. It spreads wide across his face, taking an already handsome face well into the devastatingly gorgeous range. Jesus, what a smile.


Mr. Fuckability Ch. 01



"Yea," He says tongue literally in cheek. "They are pretty common in the Men's Room."

"Shit!" I close my eyes, trying to shut out the humiliation. I need out of here. Like now! I open my eyes, take a shaky breath, then bolt past him without looking back. If I am really quick I can make it to the table before anyone else notices me. I know the instant I opened the door that my hopes are futile.

The entire bar begins to applaud as I walk out.

Hell. I am in hell. It is the only explanation for how this can be happening to me. I do the only think I can think to do when surrounded with applause... I bow. The bow earns me cat calls along with a now standing ovation to escort me back to my table.

"Oh my God!" Jess squeals patting my back as I make my way past her to sit down.

"Are you okay?" Georgia asks leaning over to get a good look at my red dot.

"Get me out of here." I hiss through gritted teeth and a plastered on smile.

"Oh no. You still have a Challenge to complete." Jess laughs and has the nerve to smile at me. It is at this moment that I realized the extent of her heartless bitchdom.

I glared back at her. "There is no way I'm doing that now."

The conviction behind my words must have came through loud and clear because everyone at the table suddenly grew silent.

"What challenge?"

I close my eyes and pray for death for the second time in less than a half an hour. I was NEVER coming to this bar again. Like EVER.

I swing around to the now familiar voice, once again over my shoulder. This guy is like my own personal humiliation fairy; always looking over my shoulder at the worst, most embarrassing moment possible.

"You again?" I practically purr plastering my fake smile back on to hide the gnashing of my teeth.

"Ah, yea. You forgot your purse." He passes me my handbag and I try not to let the stinging behind my eyes turn into even further embarrassment. Why him? Why did it have to be this guy that I make a fool of myself in front of? Why not the snotty guy at Starbucks that always got my order wrong? Did I kill a kitten in a former life and this was my karmic penitence?

"What challenge?" He asks again, softer this time as he looks down into my face. The corner of his lips twitch again and I know he is fighting not to smile. I roll my eyes and waiting for him to get it under control.

To his credit he does, his lips returning to the firm line of concentration they were when I had first seen him.

"What challenge? He repeats eyes staring directly into mine.

"None of your business." I say at the same time Jess offers up the bounty.

"She has to what?" He balks, those dark sleek brows shot up dangerously close to his chestnut hair line. His eyes flashing from her to me.

"Tie me up?" He repeats, humor and shock warring for control of those sexy lips.

I look from him, back to my friends, then decide my shoes are probably the safest place to look right now.

"She is supposed to take you home, tie you up, make sa'weet love to you, and then ditch and run. You in?" Jess sits up on her elbows, smiles her shark's grin, and raises an eyebrow at him in challenge.

Natalie shoots her a look that say she is clearly about to throw a flag on the play. We have never told anyone about the game before, especially not the guys that we're playing with.

I'm not waiting around for the referee's decision. This is too much. Promise or no promise I can't do this. If these girls hate me for bailing on them then I will find new friends.

I didn't move. Mom would understand. I still didn't move. Damn it. I like these friends. It took six month for them to even invite me out with them another two before they told me about the game. They were the only friends I had and they had carried me through a really rough time. Besides, Mom would have told me to suck it up.

I shift my shoes to get a better look at the other side. They really are cute shoes. High heeled Mary Janes in soft pink suede the same color as my shirt; and most likely my face.

I search my brain for something to say, and find nothing. I have to do something I can't just stand here and stare at my shoes all night. I clutch my handbag tighter, took a deep breath, reach deep inside myself for courage and - nope, nothing.

I step past a pair of large black oxfords, moving fast towards the door when they step back into my way.

"Not so fast." His fingers curl around my upper arms pulling me to a stop. He tugs me gently backwards until I am standing directly in front of him. I grit my teeth and continue to study my shoes.

When I refuse to look him in the eyes, he hooks a finger under my chin and raises my vision to his.

"Why did you pick me?"

I expected the amusement I saw last time, but it isn't there.

His eyes are fueled by an almost visceral anger; heavy in accusation or suspicion. I can't decide. The curiosity of his response temporarily short circuits my embarrassment.

"You wer...were the one I agree to." I stammer.

"Why?" He barks leaning down closer into my face.

I jump slightly then pull away from him. He is seriously angry.

"Because I thought you were hot." I snap back somehow absorbing some of his anger through osmosis or maybe I'd just had enough humiliation for one night.

"You don't have to be all pissed about it. It's not like it's going to happen now." I spin on my heels and march towards the door, hand diving into my purse to drag my keys out. Then, I curse the Gods above that I didn't had the insight to drive myself tonight.

"Hey, Wait. Stop." His fingers are long, strong, and warm as they curl around my upper arm pulling me around to face him.

I decide to spin at the same time he decides to pull harder and I end up spinning right into his chest. His arms clamp around me in a bear hug as I start to careen off of him. It effectively stops me but inadvertently plasters my body against his in the process.

He doesn't let go.

I look up at him, he is already looking down and it puts our lips only a few inches apart.

"You can let me go now." My voice comes out breathy and provocative and I want to kick myself for responding to him so intensely. His eyes slide down my face and I feel my lips begin to tingle as his intense gaze settles on them. I wet my lips nervously and became wide eyed when I feel his body jerk in response.

"I'm sorry." He murmurs, eyes still on my mouth as I watch his tongue dart out to moisten his own lips.

My stomach muscles clench and I find myself holding my breath. "It's okay, just let me go."

"No not for that, for earlier. For being so...anyway, you really don't know who I am do you?"

He drops his arms slowly as if he really doesn't want to, and takes a step back giving me some space.

I hold up my hand. "No introductions please. I'm trying to forget this night."

His lips curl in an almost smile. His gaze traveling from pink shoe to red dot and back again. A concentrating frown wrinkles his brow as he studies me. I don't even want to think about what he was seeing.

"Okay, what am I supposed to call you then?"

"If you're really a nice guy you'll wait till I'm gone before you call me anything."

That earns me another of those sexy laughs and I curse fate again for having me meet this guy tonight of all nights. Why can't it be on a night when we are just out for drinks and I haven't just humiliated myself in front of the whole bar? This night is meant to go nowhere and damn it I like this guy.

"Don't leave. Let me buy you a drink."

"After all this? Are you sure you want to be seen with me?" I wave a hand from the slightly blue tinted hair to the red dot I can still feel is there.

His smile is both immediate and genuine. "Are you kidding? This has been one of the most entertaining evenings I've had in a long time." He winks at me. It is probably the only thing that keeps me from stomping out the door. He is one sexy winker.



Mr. Fuckability Ch. 02



I glance towards the bar where he is sitting. The two men I have dubbed his business partners are watching us.

"I should let you get back to your friends. They look like they're waiting on you."

His eyes follow mine.

"They aren't my friends. I'll have them give us some space."  When I continue to hesitate, his fingers weave around mine, and he pulls me just a little bit closer. He gives the men watching us a hand signal, and they quickly move to a table at the back of the bar.

"Wow, they listen really well."

"They work for me." As soon as the words are spoken I know he hasn't meant to say them. It is in the way his whole frame stiffens, and he clears his throat. It's the first time I have seen a crack in his ultra-confident demeanor.

I smile suddenly feeling like I should make him feel better for a change. It makes me more comfortable to know he isn't so perfect and just might understand what it's like to have a night like mine.

"It's okay we don't have to talk about it." I smile up at him. I can feel his eyes on me that intensity, as he searches my face for something. What is the something?

"Does that mean you'll stay for that drink?" 

He is still looking at me suspiciously; convinced there is something I'm not telling him. I'm not sure what the best answer to the question is.   "Do you really want me to stay or are you just being nice?" I cock my head to the side and try to do a mental snapshot of that fabulous smile. It is worth recalling later.

"I'm never just being nice."

He leans in close taking his time, giving me a chance to back away, when I don't, he leans in even closer until he is whispering in my ear. "Besides don't you have a challenge to complete?"

His voice is low enough for only me to understand, which makes the suggestive words feel almost statically charged as his breath brushes against my ear.My eyes flicker nervously over his shoulder, back to the table where my friends sit. Georgia is smiling at me; Natalie is biting her thumbnail, and Jess is sitting back, trying to discreetly give me both thumbs up. If it's even possible to discreetly give someone the thumbs up, these girls aren't capable of it. I bit my lip to stifle a laugh. 

It is probably that look more than the suggestive words that convince me I am in. Can I pull it off? My eyes are drawn back to him with a near magnetic force. He tilts his head ever so slightly in the direction of the bar that charming, panty dropping smile still on his face.

Oh hell, who cares, I'm sure going to give it a try. This man might not be willing to let me tie him up, but it's apparent he isn't exactly ready to let me go yet either. This can be good, or it can be bad. The old me would have turned and bailed by now. I would have had the excuse of a sick mother to attend to at home, a ton of medical bills to sort through. The new me has none of those excuses. The new me has a promise to keep and friends to cheer me on. Isn't this moment exactly why motto's like "live life to the fullest" has been invented?

The small squeeze to my right hand let me know he was still awaiting my answer. I blew out a frustrated breath and smiled weakly.

"Okay, but if one more disastrous thing happens to me tonight I am totally blaming you." 

He shakes his head assertively; those firm lips flipping up at the edges as he fights not to smile. One corner of his mouth wins and the other side loses leaving a boyish, crooked smile on his face. The openness of it leaves me a little breathless, and I'm not sure why but I feel like I've just seen a side of him that he doesn't show to most people. It warms me up in so many ways and strangely bolsters my courage. 

I move towards the bar, but he draws me up short by our connected hands. He tilts his head in a manner indicating I should walk back to him. I do, and when I get there he turns me back around smoothly sliding an arm over my shoulder.

He smells divine, like a mixture of expensive, exotic spices with a hint of unshakable confidence. His fingers are warm, solid where they rest against the skin of my shoulder, and he begins to maneuver us towards the bar. 

"If I'm going to be held responsible then I had better keep you close enough I can watch out for you." 

I look at him confused for a second and then remember my claim to hold him responsible for any future calamities. I blush despite my mental command not to. 

He notices, grin widening and I feel my knees go weak. My God he is so...so...smooth? Confident? Debonair? I can't even find the right word for how hot he is. I don't think there is a word for him.

"You don't seem like the type to tie someone up." He says pulling out a chair for me at the bar.

The blush deepens but I answer anyway. "I guess that's kind of the point. To do something that you wouldn't usually do." 

"Something or someone?" He sits down beside me, then turn the wooden stool to wave down the bartender. I'm thankful that he's not looking at me when he asks. It gives me a moment to formulate my response and stare at his profile at the same time.When he turns back around he hands me a glass of wine.

"In my case both probably." I say thinking about my nonexistent dating history. I take a sip of wine. It's the same Chardonnay I had been drinking earlier, and it gives me pause. My eyes shoot to his. He grins unabashedly. Holy Hell. Had he been checking me out? 

"So you wouldn't normally approach me but you're making an exception because of your friend's challenge?"

I shook my head. "I wouldn't usually approach a guy." 

His eyebrows shoot to his hairline again, and it's so comical I giggle.

"So you're..." He trails off.

I scramble, trying to play back the conversation in my head to where it went wrong. My eyes widen as I realize it. 

"Oh, shit. Oh no, I mean I'm not gay... I like guys." 

I smack my hand to my face. I am beyond an idiot. I take a deep breath, remove my hand and smile like I am in pain.

"What I meant to say is I don't usually try to pick up anyone. I'm usually the lurk in the shadows type. Not like a stalker or anything, I'm just..."

If I don't stop babbling soon I'm going to hurl myself across the nearest table in the hopes of breaking my own jaw. Maybe that will stop the words from falling out? Maybe.

He is out and out laughing now, so I just stop talking mid-sentence. It is a good laugh. One that makes me want to join in, even at my own expense, especially at my own expense and I start to laugh too. It is kind of funny.

I wipe at the tears that are forming at the corners of my eyes. "I'm not very good at this." I smile, shaking my head at myself. 

"That's what makes you great at it." He stops laughing. His eyes take on the look that heats my blood in its intensity. He reaches out to take a strand of my hair, letting it slide through his fingers until the back of his hand brushes against my cheek; his thumb resting against my jaw.

The smile is slow to form, and nothing about it is sweet. It is dark, carnal, and hungry sending a nearly electric hum through my body that registers both alarm and anticipation. The anticipation is expected; the alarm is something new. His thumb brushes slowly down my jawline. He watches me shiver at his touch. I move to turn my head away, but his hand clamps around my jaw like a steel vice, drawing my face back to him. I feel a sudden uncertainty begin to creep up my spine. 

He must have registered my internal shift. He drops his hand, stepping back to lean casually against the bar.

"So tell me about this challenge and how I was drug into it." 

His demeanor leaves me spinning. One minute so intimate I can hardly breathe, the next as casual as talking to a friend. It makes me wonder again what he does for a living I bet it is something that requires a keen ability to read people and an exceptional poker face because he has both. 

"Well..." I'm not sure how much to tell him or where to start.

"How long have you been doing it?" 

"About three months." 

"And how many times have you personally done it." 

I look away, survey the bar in the mirror behind the bartender, and take a sip of wine. "Twice." 

"What did you have to do for your first time?" 

I take a deep breath and force the words out in a rush. "Elevator." I gulp another sip of wine still avoiding his eyes. 

"And the second?" I feel him lean closer, brushing his shoulder against mine. 

"This would have been my second time." I don't like the way my voice always comes out breathy when he touches me.

"Will be." 

"What?" I look back at him not comprehending. 

"Will be your second time." He corrects. His smile is sensual, only one side rising while the other dips, which seems to make it more potent. "That is, if you still want to and I can get a few questions answered." His smile is docile, friendly even, but I know a business proposition when I hear one. 

"Are we negotiating Mr. Green Eyes?" I bat my eyes and try to look seductive. It must have failed because he nearly chokes on his drink.

"Mr. Green Eyes?" He managed still coughing.

I shrug "I have to call you something." His grin does that half up and half down thing again.

"You could call me by my name."

I shake my head taking another sip. "No names it's again the rules." 

"Who's rules?" 

"The Mr. Fu..."I stop myself just in time. "The rules of the Challenge."

He chews on a piece of ice, watching me as he mulls over my answer. I wonder again what he does for a living. I bet it has to be something that requires meticulous details.

There is something in the intensity of those green eyes that let you know you are being analyzed, every comment picked apart; every motion weighed, then re-weighed.

"What were you going to say?" 

"Nothing..."

"You've named it. This..." He waves his hand around in a circle "Challenge thing that you guys do. Go on, I want to hear it." 

I cross my arms, leaning back in my chair. I can be stubborn. "No." 

His eyes twinkle in apparent delight at my refusal and I get the distinct impression that he doesn't hear that word very often. It isn't hard to tell, by the way he sits up, taking a greater interest in me, that this man likes a challenge. 

The arrogant glint in his eyes as they swept up and down my body sizing me up says he is used to winning them.

"Why don't you want to tell me?" He asks over the rim of his glass, eyes still fixed on me.

  I roll my eyes at him. It's a juvenile question, so I give him a juvenile response. "Because I don't want to." He doesn't budge, just stares at me obviously waiting for a real answer.

"Because you'll laugh and make fun of me." 

He shakes his head serious in his demeanor and tone, but the corners of his mouth are jumping again.

"Well, I can't promise not to laugh, but I won't make fun of you, I can promise that." 

He holds his pinky out to me, and I smack it away picking up my drink instead. 

"It's the Mr. Fuckability Contest." 

His instant roar of laughter has me smiling when I want to be mad.

"Now you see why I didn't want to tell you." I stomp my foot, but it is too late the last of my words roll out on a giggle.

"How did you come up with that?"

"Georgia, the girl with the southern drawl came up with it. It was before my time in the group so you will have to ask them for the rest of the explanation."

"How do you play?"

I gave him the short run down of the rules as I understand them.

"So this is actually Jess' idea that you try to pick me up?"

"Yes and no." I take another drink and have just started to relax when I realize I have finished it. He noticed about the same time and flags the bartender. I catch his arm and pull it down. 

"I appreciate it, but I need to be able to get home." 

His eyes take on a darker ember as they rake over my face and all the way down to the pink Mary Jane's and back.

"I'll make sure you get there safe." 

The electrifying tingle that registers somewhere between run for your life and strip down and spread 'em is back. I am already having trouble keeping a clear head and the hormonal overload his look gives me is nothing short of life changing regret maker. 

Then he smiles, and I forget all about the meaning of the word. Is he actually flirting back with me? I had pretty much chalked the drink up to trying to make me feel better, and a good laugh, but that last line is a bon-a-fide come on. Isn't it?

He hands me another glass of wine, and I take a drink deciding I have time to stick around and find out. 

"So tell me about yourself Sprite." 

I give him an incredulous look.

"I have to call you something." He shrugs laughing as I glare at him. 

"Don't like it?" 

"Don't fit it." 

He stands up from the chair to move behind me. His hands wrap around the back of my chair brushing my shoulders and he leans in slowly until he is looking over my shoulder at my reflection in the mirror.

"Oh, I think it fits. You're petite; you're cute, and you have big blue eyes a man can lose himself in, not to mention you always seem to be into trouble up to your ass." 

I watch him lean back enough to allow his eyes to drop down to check out my ass. They take their time inspecting, then crawl back up to capture those of my reflection. He is wearing a seductive, self-confident smirk that makes my insides lose their gravitational pull. 

"Nice ass too by the way." 

I'm not sure which comment has a worse effect. The remark on my ass or the reminder of my evening. How can I be embarrassed and completely turned on at the same time? I watch him lean towards me in the mirror the bar reflected behind us, but every thing fades as I watch his image lean closer, further over my shoulder until I can feel his breath tickling my neck.

His chest brushes against my back. I can feel the heat of his skin through his shirt. 

"I like the way you blush." 

He is close enough that I can feel his deep voice rumble from his chest. My lip's part as I try to draw in more air, but my breaths become shorter, faster, and harder to pull in.

Our eyes meet and hold, green fusing into blue as he gathers my hair in his hand to pull it over my shoulder. He leans forward slowly, watching me in the mirror until he is close enough to kiss my neck, but he doesn't. Instead, he leans his head down and my breath catches as he runs his nose along the column of my throat inhaling my scent. 

When he looks back up his stare is darkly intense, his eyes feverish, nostrils slightly flaring as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. My own expression is pure sex, and I am startled to find I can even make a face like that. I was so busy watching him I hadn't thought to watch myself.

He must have noticed because he laughs, but it's not a joyous sound like the last, this laugh is short, choppy with disbelief, dark with something hungry. "You've never watched yourself have you." He stays perched just over my shoulder like the dark angel he is.

I shake my head, and his grin softens, "You have a tongue, Sprite. Use it."

"No." My voice comes out as wobbly and uncertain as I'm feeling. This man can melt me with words and the smallest touch, what can he do with me naked? I close my eyes so I don't have to see the erotic thought reflecting back at me, but not before he sees it. I hear him suck in a harsh breath. His answer is a low and guttural growl. I feel it in my back as it rolls up his chest and out his mouth in a gust of hot breath across the sensitive skin of my neck.

"Get your things. I have the tab." 

He doesn't give me a chance to respond; instead he turns me, still stunned, towards my friends, nudging me in their direction with a forceful smack on my ass.

"Go."

I am breathless and gitty as I say my farewells to the girls with the typical snarky remarks ensuing and a few excited squeals. He approaches the table, throws an arm over my shoulders and turns me towards the door. 

"Good night ladies." He says looking back as he leads me away from them.

I can't hear their response. Their voices are all tangled together. I notice the two gentlemen who had so obligingly left him earlier are now gathering their things at a discreet distance.

What are they his attendants or something?

"Are your friend's coming with us?"

He gives me a non comprehending expression. I jab a thumb in the direction of the back of the bar. His eyes follow and his lips smack shut into that no nonsense straight line.

"No. They have their own ride." 



Mr. Fuckability Ch. 03



*chapter 3 in a 7 chapter novella. A special thank you to the people who have left comments and messaged me about this story. This one is for you guys. :) Hope you Enjoy. 

*

We have just stepped into the elevator of one of the newly renovated warehouses down town. The city has been doing a lot of renovations to the old buildings to create plush, new condominiums in an attempt to modernize a section of the city that was once considered practically abandoned. 

I had seen pictures of a few of the renovated buildings since one of the clients I handle is a major contracting firm for the city. They came with a very nice price tag on them, my eyes wonder over his profile, whatever he did for a living he would have to be super successful to live here. 

The doors close without a word between us. Just like the car ride, and my nerves are walking a tightrope. I roam my mind frantically searching for something to say to break the silence. His eyes keep sliding over to me, then back to the closed door until I can't stand the tension anymore 

"What are you thinking?" I blurt out before I can stop myself, regretting the words as soon as I say them. His eyes cut to me and hold. His gaze analytical, measuring, weighing. Perhaps searching through his vast repertoire of undoubtedly witty responses. He moves so unexpectedly that I don't register it until he has me captured between his body and the elevator wall. The act so domineering that it startles a gasp from me and has small lightning bolts of alarm shooting through me. I can tell by the heat rising into his eyes that the sound and my response turns him on.

"I was just wishing I had been around for the first time." He says, eyes falling slowly to stop on my lips. I feel my whole body tingle in response.

"The first time for what?" My brain is shutting down from hormonal overload and deep thought is beyond me.

His arm slides around the small of my back, pulling me firmly against the length of his body. His right hand comes to rest beside my ear on the wall.

"The first challenge." He murmurs. His voice dropping to a melodic purr. "The one that had you fucking in an elevator." 

My throat feels like I am trying to swallow dried bread crumps.

"Did you like it?"

"I was to...to nervous." I whisper having no idea why I have just admitted that. 

"Scared of getting caught?" 

I nod my head up and down not looking at him, my breath hitching in my throat. 

"Why do you always do that? You shake your head but never answer."

I shrug. He chuckles.

"You'll speak by the end of the night." He promises his grin looks like something the big bad wolf might wear.

Just when I think he is finally going to kiss me he doesn't. Instead he brushes his lips softly, carefully down my jaw line until he reaches my ear. I can feel his lips move against my skin as he speaks. 

"If I had been the one fucking you in the elevator you wouldn't have noticed if we got caught until I was done with you." 

His breath is hot against my ear, his words tingle inside my brain shooting hot flames of desire down every available nerve ending. 

"You have no idea the things I can do to you, with you, inside of you." 

I feel his hand flex against my lower back as if he wants to pounce on me and is doing his best to hold himself back. He isn't a large guy, built trim at five foot nine or maybe ten, but he is still a lot bigger than me. The thought of all the things he can make me do against my will make my insides catch fire. 

"What would you do?" I gasp at my own response. I can't believe I just said that, sure I was thinking it, but saying it out loud. What the hell? This man has me so off kilter that I don't seem to know what to expect out of myself anymore.

I can tell my question takes him just as much by surprise. He steps back to look down into my face, a frown of concentration wrinkling his brow. Almost as if he is gauging how much I can really take. 

A slow predatory smile crawls onto his face and his brilliant green eyes darken, intensify, as they weigh me, my reactions, my responses, my quickened breath. 

He nodes his head ever so slightly in acceptance of the challenge. That's what I have done, issued a challenge to a man that thrives upon them. I am egging him on! Who is this person that has taken over my mouth?

"Come here." He whispers holding his hand out to me.

I gulp, making a funny little squeaky toy sound. I am expecting a story not a demonstration. 

"Um...I can't... that's not what I'm supposed to do to tonight." I fidget stepping from foot to foot, while willing myself not to wring my hands.

"You know it is possible to do both." His full lips cock to one side in a rakish grin.

"I..um.." My tongue is sticking to the roof of my mouth and those bread crumps are back in my throat again.

"Duly noted." He nodes, reaching forward to take my hand and pull me towards him.

I pull back, resisting, and his grin broadens into a full heart stopping smile. 

"Just words." He promises reclaiming the space between us. He turns me around tucking my back against his chest. He stands behind me as we face the elevator door. His palms circle the bones of my hips and squeeze. He leans in until I can feel his breath stirring my hair. I am already breathing hard and he hasn't even said anything overly sexual yet. 

"You smell phenomenal. Sweet, like something I would eat the last bite of and immediately know I wanted more." 

I bit my lip to keep from moaning. Lord help me, this man is going to make me melt clean out of my pencil skirt and sensible heels. 

His left hand begins to move slowly up the curve of my hip, over my waist to center on my stomach; fingers splaying. His right hand synchronizes the same movement; his fingertips digging into the center of my upper back.

"First, I would lean you forward, like this." He says gently pushing me forward with one hand while steadying me with the other. Not so far that I am off balance, but just far enough to place my backside in direct contact with every part of the front of him. There is no mistaking the fact he liked me in this position. His voice is low, back to that husky timbre that rattles my nerves. His breath is choppy, quick, confirming that he is every bit as turned on as I am.

Once he is sure I am stable, he removes his hand to squeeze my shoulders before he slowly glides his rough fingers down my arms. I shiver. He is taking his time as his fingers slide around each of my wrists, encasing them. He squeezes hard enough for me to gasp and he moans softly in my ear at the sound. He uses his hold on me to force me a little further forward placing my hands in front of me, until I am bent at the waist using both hands on the elevator wall to keep me upright.

He mimicked my movements until his body encompasses mine. His hands land beside mine on the wall with a solid thud. 

I feel the tempo of his breathing increase, his chest rising and falling against my back as his body becomes impossible harder, longer behind me. He is tall enough to still be able to lean down and put his mouth close to my ear, even in this position.

"If it had been me, I would have told you every time you moved your hands from this wall I would spank that sexy little ass of yours."

I have to snap my mouth shut to avoid moaning at the thought of it. I have never had any spanking fantasies but this guy makes me want to give it a try just to have his hands on me somewhere.

"Then I would have trailed my hands up your legs, slowly pushing that skirt up till it hung around your hips." One hand falls from the wall to start a slow trail up the outside of my thigh. 

"I would have stroked you through your panties until you were hot and wet for me." He reaches the hem of my skirt. His thumb hooks underneath it. 

"You would moan for me and wiggle against me as I slipped one finger inside of you." His thumb begins to slowly inch one side of my skirt upwards. 

His breath is as erratic as my own and I can feel it caressing the sensitive skin of my neck. He kisses the part that connected neck to shoulder at the same time his thumb finds the edge of my silk and lace panties. 

My breath freezes and I jump. I feel his smile against my skin, but he says nothing. Instead, he just toys with the lace edges. 

"Then when I was sure you were wet enough for me, I would add another finger, stretching you until you couldn't keep from crying out. You won't be silent then, Sprite. You'll be begging for me."

He bites my neck right under my ear and my whole body jerks as I moan. He laughs, a soft, lyrical sound against my wet skin. "I can't wait to find out what sweet sounds you make when you come for me." His lips whisper against my skin as they move to the back of my neck causing my nipples to tighten painfully and the small hairs on the back of my neck to go electric.

His thumb slides inside the edge of my panties and I suck in air as if it will be my last. I don't doubt he is right. I am practically ready to beg him now and he hasn't even started yet.

His thumb pauses infinitesimally then switches directions tracing the lace edging up my hip to hook into the top edge of the black silk and slowly starts to pull them down.

"I want to know what it feels like to push myself inside you one slow inch at a time. Grinding into you until it feels so good you start to buck your hips against me, silently begging me to push deeper, harder in to you." 

His hands slide down, over my hips, onto my thighs, taking my black silk panties with him as I feel him lower to his knees behind me. His breath is hot on the back of my thighs. The vulnerability of the position makes my pulse race in my ears. 

I start to protest, my natural shyness resurfacing. I turn over my shoulder hesitantly, my hands start to slip from the elevator wall. He stops me; both hands tightening down on my hips.

"Remember what I said about those hands." I can hear the teasing playfulness in his voice, but I have no doubt he will do exactly as he has said or that he will find a way for me to enjoy it as much as he obviously will.

I am supposed to be the one doing the seducing but I am a novice compared to this man. I don't quite manage to stifle my moan as I feel him lift my skirt to bare my ass to his view. He bits me. I jump and he laughs. 

My left butt cheek begins to burn. I can just imagine the red bite mark he has left there.

"I like leaving my mark on you. It's such a turn on." His words vibrate against the skin he has just offended. His hands trail from my hip onto my bare behind, soothing his mark on me. 

"You have such soft skin."

His hands fall lower, sliding down my thighs onto my calves, circling first one ankle then the other guiding me to step forward. I feel him rise back to his feet, hands circling my hips and pulling me against him.

"I am so fucking hard." He pushes his hips into me, pressing his hard length into the cleavage of my ass, making sure I can feel every thick inch of him through the soft slacks he's wearing.

The elevator gives a sudden unsteady jolt and begins to rise. I stumble to catch my balance. He curses, reaching for the wall to steady us both. 

"Stand up." He says, mouth close to my ear as he straightens my skirt back into place. 

About the time the elevator door begins to open, I realize that I don't know where my underwear have gone! 

I turn, looking at the floor, then up at him in just enough time to see him slip a scrap of black silk and lace into his pocket. My eyes flash from him back to the pocket they are disappearing into and straight back to him.

"Souvenir to remember you by." He smiles that fabulous smile that brings out his laugh lines. It is probably a good thing he has my underwear, because that smile is designed to make them fall clean off me.

I don't get a chance to protest. He moves to the back of the elevator, pulling me close to stand in front of him as the other passengers are making their way on. I can feel the flush still in my cheeks, both of them, as I return the casual greetings of the elderly couple that step in to join us. 

"Tell me your name." He whispers.

"No." I whisper back.

"I'll find out eventually."

"You think so?" I am surprised by the smirk I am wearing. It's not like me, but something about him emboldens me.

His hands tighten on my hips and I don't have to turn around to know he has probably just given me that arrogant nod or that his eyes have taken on that dangerous darkness. 

I already like this guy too much. I can't tell him my name. It will add a layer of intimacy to what we are about to do that I just can't handle. I didn't tell the previous guy. Of course he didn't ask either.

Mr. Green Eyes slides a hand slowly across my belly, splaying his fingers, pulling back ever so slightly as he moves closer behind me to nuzzle his erection against me. The couple next to us gives us a friendly smile.

"Nice night isn't it?" Mr. Green Eyes brakes the silence.

The old couple quickly agree in the way that perfect stranger will just to have something to ward off the uncomfortable silence of being closed in a small space. Surely there can't be that many floors in the building? The elevator ride seems to be taking a historically long time to arrive at his suite even if it is on the top floor. I try to remember which number he pushed and can't seem to recall it. 

"Have you two been together long?" The elderly woman smiles at me, her smile is kind and patient, the smile of a grandmother. I start to answer her, but Mr. Green Eyes does it for me.

"No not too long, but it looks promising." His fingertips flex into my stomach. I glance over my shoulder, his eyes catch mine and his grin widens.

"And you are?" He holds his free hand out to the older gentleman. 

"Mr. and Mrs. Grand. This is our 50th anniversary. We are heading out on the town to celebrate." 

We congratulate them, speaking at the same time. All of us laughing the small chuckles of the nervously polite.

"I'm here on business and this little lady is here to keep me tied up in my spare time." Mr. Green Eyes says completely straight faced.

I try not to gape at the answer but fail, only managing to smack my lips together as they turn their attention back to me. I smile my "I'm in pain" smile, agreeing vehemently, all the while hoping like hell I'm not scarlet red.

"I didn't catch your names." Mr. Grand says looking from him to me. Mr. Green Eyes turns to stare at me with them, patiently awaiting my answer.

I never saw the trap coming, and with this guy I should have.

I smile and hold out my hand. "Everyone calls me Sprite. I've been called that so long I don't even remember my real name." 

My eyes slid carefully over my shoulder to Mr. Green Eyes who is doing his best not to laugh, the corners of his mouth dancing as he fights for control. He steps away from me, out of their line of vision, to nod his head in concession.

This round goes to me. This guy has a thing or two coming if he doesn't think I know how to be quick on my feet. I am an accountant in an established firm by day and handling trouble clients is my specialty. I have dealt with men slicker than him; not as attractive, but definitely more weasel-like. 

The thought of work brings back the nervousness I know I will face Monday. One of the reasons I have been so eager to hang out with the girls is so that I will stop thinking about Monday. It is something to do to keep my mind off the huge account I am supposed to be winning. The board has chosen to meet with a new client, an individual, which is impressive since we normally handle corporations and the board never meets as a whole with any client that couldn't boast a cool 25 Mill in their bank account.

It's a surprising step up for me. Before the announcement, I didn't think my boss even knew who I was. At least it will be a major step up, providing I can snag that account. "Be aggressive. He will try to bully you. This guy is a real control freak." My boss had said, knowing full well of my natural shyness and reluctance to speak up at meetings. 

"And you are?" The elderly gentleman turns a curious gaze back on Mr. Green Eyes drawing me out of my thoughts.

He smiles down at me, while extending his hand to the older gentleman.

"John Smith." I have to put my hand to my face to cover the instant smile. I can't think of a more generic name, evidently neither could Mr. Grand.

"That's a pretty common name. You sure that's you real name? You aren't sneaking around with this pretty young filly behind your wife's back are ya?" The older man winks at me good naturedly, clearly teasing, but I go perfectly still.

Oh God, I hadn't thought of that. I could be an adulteress as well as a slut. Great. Just what my self-esteem needs.

"Nope. No wife." Mr. Green Eyes (aka John Smith) answers his question but his eyes are on me. I blow out an audible sigh of relief, and then smile reassuringly at the older woman who is now staring at me with both eyebrows raised.

"Well you two kids have fun and be careful." Mrs. Grand says moving towards the doors as they open. She never takes her eyes off of me. I can't decide if she is trying to figure me out or afraid I will attack from behind.

The doors to the elevator close and that is it. No rise, no fall, just stationary. That's when I know something is up. We are on the second floor. Wouldn't we have passed this floor already? I turn a half dumb struck, half astounded look over my shoulder at the man behind me. "You didn't push the button." 

"In my defense I was considerably distracted." He pulls out my panties from his pocket, twirling them casually around his index finger. He immediately slide them back into his pocket when I make a grab for them. 

"You rat." I say turning to face him. "Give them back." 

"You wound me." He grins grasping at his chest. He looks anything but wounded.

I cross my arms over my chest and give him my best bitch look, which consists of one raised eyebrow, pursed lips, and slightly sucked in cheeks.

When he doesn't budge I stomp one foot and hold out my hand.

He shakes his head slowly in the negative.

"Why on earth do you want them anyway?" I ask having a sudden horrifying image of him passing them to his friends as he recounts our evening.

"It's something to remember you by. Let's face it, no one's going to believe me if I tell them about tonight. Hell, without these I might not believe me tomorrow. Don't worry they are for my enjoyment only." He grins pulling just the corners of my undies from his pocket.

"Besides you won't give me your name so I deserve something in return."

I make another grab for them and fall right into his trap.

Instead of backing away he uses my momentum to pull me into him. One arms slides around my back, the other winds into my upswept hair.

"You need to learn to let your hair down and put those claws away once in a while kitten." He purrs, his lips grazing mine, but he still doesn't kiss me.

Instead his strong fingers weave into my hair, working the bobby pins he finds there until I can feel my blond curls fall loose around my shoulders and trail down my back. 

I close my eyes as he rubs my scalp and the feeling is both pleasant and sensual. The soft tinkling sound of the pins as they hit the floor in combination with our heavy breathing is erotically hypnotizing. He brushes his thumb against my bottom lip and my eyes fly open. He grins at me, leaning slowly, deliberately past me to push the button that would deliver us to the pent house floor, the whole time maintaining eye contact. 

I raise an eyebrow at him trying not to smile at his smug, smoky eyed look. "Do you even live here?" I ask right before he kisses me. I can feel the smile tug at the corners of his mouth as he nibbles gently my lower lip. His tongue flicking along the edge before he quickly pulls away.




Mr. Fuckability Ch. 03



"I guess we'll find out when the door opens. Now shut up." He say and kisses me for real.

His mouth captures mine, taking control of the kiss, forcing my lips wider till his tongue is moving sensually against my own. His lips firm, commanding in all the best ways. He moans into my mouth, pushing his whole body against mine.

I forget everything but the feel of his lips. His strong heat pressing against my own. So much so that when he finally brakes the kiss to step around me I can't figure out what he's doing. Then I realize that he is just exiting the elevator. 

I lean one hand against the elevator wall for support as I remember his seductive guarantee. "If it had been me fucking you in the elevator you wouldn't have noticed we were caught until I was done with you." Fireworks go off below my waist line. Holy Hell, he is right about that.



Mr. Fuckability Ch. 04



A special thank you to BlueMonteCarlo for all the work editing this piece. You're are fantastic. To everyone who has read, commented, and continues to read this story, Thank you!

*

I shake my head to try to get my brain back in the game. I step off the elevator to find him waiting for me. His eyes twinkle mischievously, and I wonder if he's thinking about the same line I am.

If I had been the one fucking you in the elevator, you wouldn't have noticed if we got caught until I was done with you.

One side of those amazing lips hitch up to show those adorable laugh lines. He holds out his hand to me. "Thinking about something?" He smirks, the confident gleam in his eyes confirming my suspicions.

He is arrogant, but he manages to make it hot. Most guys would make me want to roll my eyes, but this man only makes me wish I had spare underwear.

I take his hand letting him lead me through the overly bright hall way to the only doorway on the floor. I watch my shoes so I don't have to acknowledge the questioning look from the husky man sitting in a chair near the front of Mr. Green Eyes' room. He's dressed in casual clothes, but I can see the butt of a gun at his waist. Mr. Green eyes nods to the man who nods in return and goes back to reading a newspaper. When he closes the door to the suite I lean forward to place a hand on his back so as not to lose track of him in the dark.

"Why do you have a security guard? Are you on parole or something?" He doesn't answer just turns on the lights.

His place is spectacular. The far wall is darkened glass that shows the city scene below us. The floors stretch endlessly with white marble buffed to a high gloss shine. The dark wood tables look like they were once owned by a king of England, silver chandeliers hang in the living room and a matching one over the dining room table, to the right is a built in bar. The living room is broken up by a couch that can sit fourteen. My eyes can't seem to keep from scrolling back and forth over all of the splendor.

"Holy Smokes." I croak.

When I manage to recover what little cool I still have left, I clear my throat and turn to him.

"I take it you are on parole for bank robbery. Let me guess, they got you but not the money?"

He laughs and walks towards a fully stocked bar. "No, and no again, although it's good to know you think so highly of me. It also makes me wonder what kind of people you usually hang out with." He reaches up to take down two shot glasses, pouring an amber colored liquid into them, and offers one to me.

I take it and join him, leaning against the bar. "No parole then?"

"The business pays for it when I'm traveling."

"Oh so you're just passing through?" I'm not sure if I should be happy or sad at not having to see this man again, my lower half is definitely sad, but the upper half is sending off warning bells that say icebergs ahead proceed with caution and here I am a woman without brakes.

I swirl my glass, sniffing it cautiously. I can't discern the exact flavor of the poison, but I'm guessing it carries a much larger alcohol per volume content than the wine I'm used to.

I take a sip and immediately feel the canon ball go off in my chest. Evidently someone has lit the damn thing before launching it, because my throat quickly goes up in flames, as well.

I wheeze and cough, fanning myself as the man beside me laughs out loud.

"What in God's name is that?"

I think briefly about running my tongue along the expensive looking rug to help smother the fire, but I have embarrassed myself enough in front of this man.

"It's twenty year old scotch." He takes a sip, letting it swirl over his palette before swallowing as I look on in abject horror.

"Some would say it's one of the best liquors made."

"Some must be the name of a hobo you know, right? Let me guess the one on the corner of Fifth and Kline. He's my favorite, too." I hand him his glass back and walk toward the nearly complete skyline of the city below us that completes the east wall of his suite. I stop long enough to pick up the handcuffs from my purse slipping them subtly on my wrist like a bangle bracelet stashing the key in my bra. I put my other hand to my mouth to try to hold back another cough as I step up to the windows to look down upon the city bustling below us.

It's not long before I can feel him step up behind me. He is so close I can feel the heat of his body against my back. His cologne is a subtle, seductive, musk that combines with his heat to raise the hair on the back of my neck and shoot my hormones straight into Hustler territory.

I turn to face him as he steps forward, pressing the length of his body into me. His lips come down, warm and strong on my own. His tongue demands entrance, sliding along the seams of my lips. I open for him; his fingers curl around my face, tilting my head to allow him deeper access to the kiss. My hands curl into his soft, silky, hair and yank his head back as I try to climb his body. His hands cup my ass beneath my skirt, lifting me and holding me in place, as I wrap my legs around his waist.

"Oh, fuck yes." The words are all run together on a long hiss of air as he slams my back up against the glass wall. His kiss is devouring, all teeth, tongue, and sliding hips.

God, he feels so good. I can feel him thick and hard through the soft fabric of his slacks. I claw at the shoulders of his jacket, and he obliges by shrugging out of it, groaning as I wiggle my hips to stroke him.

"Jesus I haven't been this hard for someone since I was fourteen." He kisses my answer away, devouring my lips and any last ounce of reservation I might have about how this night will end.

I reach for his tie, and I'm not surprised to find that it's the real thing. I haven't learned how to tie a tie, or in this case untie one. I have no father and no brothers, so there is no reason to have learned. After several failed attempts with it, he curses, knocks my hands away impatiently, and pulls us away from the wall. I gasp at the unexpected movement; my arms automatically curling around his neck as he takes my weight.

"Hold on." he murmurs against my lips. When I comply, his hands lock securely around the cheeks of my ass, nearly bruising in his strength. He turns us, carrying me into the bedroom, kicking the door open, and tossing me onto the bed as he moves to the end. I take the opportunity to slip the handcuffs and key under the pillows as he makes short work of the tie and moves on to the buttons of his shirt.

The skin that peeks through as each button is opened is nothing short of mesmerizing. Tan skin that is strung taut over muscles that ripple with his every movement; green eye bright like a back lit emerald. His dark hair is wild, standing on end from my fingers, with one beguiling lock falling forward to caress his cheek.

My breath catches in my throat and my lungs decompress as his shirt falls open revealing a six inch swath of tightly defined muscle. I couldn't turn away from this man if someone were standing beside me screaming FIRE. He is beautifully stunning in his perfection and a small voice in the back of my mind whispers that I may be in over my head.

"Take off your shirt." He voice is deeper, strained as he begins undoing the cufflinks at his wrist, tossing them onto the bedside table. They land with a tinkling sound that should have come from a magic wand in a Disney movie. I am be spelled by him as I reach the hem of my shirt and slowly peel it up over my head, tossing it to the side leaving me lying in a black lace bra and grey pencil skirt.

"Now the skirt." His nods his head at me, rolling his shoulders to shrug free of his white shirt as his fingers move to the button on his slacks, opening it, then pausing. His eyes following my hands as they slide to my skirt, and I shimmy the fabric slowly over my stomach, down my hips, letting it slide to my calves. When it reaches my toes, I kick it in an arch to fall at his feet.

His mouth leisurely coils into a devilish smirk as his eyes move from my skirt back up to my face.

"That's so fucking hot." He laughs softly, shaking his head at me.

I smile back, loving the way each time I move, his eyes darken, and the intense way he is always watching makes me shiver. His chest is rising and falling on harsh breaths, his abdomen clenching into defined muscle, then relaxing in an erotic rhythm.

I reach behind my neck, tracing my color bone then moving my hands back to unfasten my necklace.

"Leave it. I like it."

I drop my hands, suddenly unsure what I should do next.

"Lay back."

I can only imagine the picture I present laid out in front of him on his white satin comforter, blond hair flowing out around me in nothing but a black lace bra, red fingernail polish, bare from the waist down since the matching panties are still in his pocket.

To my surprise I'm not embarrassed, but emboldened by the image. The way he looks at me makes me feel sexy, as if everything I do turns him on. I have an erotic kind of confidence with him that makes me so much more than I usually am.

His smile forms slowly, green eyes growing dark with the sultry slant of heavy eyelids and full black lashes encasing a look meant to steal souls.

He toys with his boxers, holding the band out to let them inch down his hips. His grin grows just a little bit wider. I am practically salivating at the sight of him. My rapid breaths are harsh even to my own ears. It's not just the muscle toned body that has me panting for the first time in a very long time. It is the almost animalistic way he watches every move with an unabashed hunger causing all kinds of bells and whistles to go off in my body.

His face becomes serious, the smirk melting away at an alarming speed as he springs free from his boxers, looking angry and swollen, straining to get to me. He wraps a hand around his cock rubbing it up and down, up and down, slowly pumping. When I can finally tear my eyes away from the play of his hand, I look up to find him studying me intently.

"Spread your legs. I want to see you." He whispers. His is voice horse, thick with passion, yet there is no mistaking the command in them.

My legs fall open of their own will without so much as a thought on my part. He steps forward to lean over the bed, one hand exploring down the center of my body stopping to roll one of my aching nipples between his finger and thumb, the sensation both pleasure and pain. His fingers tickle across my stomach, and I gasp, moaning in need, as they sweep across my lips pushing inside my folds to find me already wet for him, embarrassingly wet for him.

He groans letting his hand drop from my body. His head falls back onto his shoulders. "Sweet Jesus Woman." he murmurs his voice a sensual rasp that brings my nerve endings to high alert. He rolls his eyes towards the ceiling and closes them for a moment.

His hand continues its slow, mesmerizing tug, up and down his shaft. I have never seen a man handle himself before, and it has never occurred to me how sexy it could be. I eagerly admire him stroke the length of himself, his chest glistening with a fine sweat, his legs slightly bent, eyes shut, and face lifted towards the ceiling as if in silent prayer.

Just watching him as he strokes his hard length has my thighs wet with my own need and my sex swollen, aching, and he has barely touched me. Dear Jesus, I may not survive this, but I am going to die a very happy woman.

I can't hold back the moan as I slip my fingers down to stroke myself. His eyes open slowly and grow ever so much wider as he notices where my hand is.

"My God, you are going to be so much trouble for me." He growls shaking his head in disbelief.

I arch my back off the white comforter in invitation, lips curling as I try for a sexy smile. It must have worked because his eyes darken into that intense, all-encompassing stare as he crawls up the bed to lie beside me. I gasp in surprise as he grabs me rolling us over, lowering his body onto mine. I savor the feel of his weight and heat, loving the way his heavy, muscled body pins mine to the bed. I'm not sure what possesses me or where the sudden recklessness comes from, but my hand slips beneath the pillow to find cold metal. I'm going to blame the latent reckless streak on my father. He is the impulsive one who took off one day and never came back.

Green Eyes makes a grab for one wrist pinning it above my head and moves to do the same to the other when the click of cold steel around his wrist stops him. He freezes. Those intense, emerald eyes flash to mine and hold.

"What are you doing?" His voice is calm, nearly chilling in its monotone delivery, but the heat in his eye and the strengthening of his grip belies his cool demeanor.

I wet my lips suddenly unsure. The old familiar shyness is returning. Damn it! I don't want to be that girl anymore and definitely not with him. This man is raw, sensual, wild, all the things I wish I could have more of.

I take a long slow pull of air, bolstering my courage on the fact that I will never see him again. "The challenge of course." I do my best Betty Davis eyes and Greta Garbo sex purr.

He almost smiles, like he wants to, even would have, but the wariness I had seen earlier in the evening returns washing over my self-confidence like a bucket of cold water. He tries to move back, but I have a hold on the other end of the chain dragging him to a stop.

"I'm not used to being the one in the cuffs, Sprite."

Our eyes met like fire and ice, and I can feel pieces of my resolve splintering under the pressure.

"Then it will be something different for both of us."

I want this man, not because of some stupid challenge, but simply because I want him, and I haven't wanted something, anything in so very, very long.

I think momentarily about abandoning the challenge altogether, but then again I really want to stand out in his mind like I know he will always stand out in mine. This guy is worth every fantasy I will undoubtedly have about him, and I can tell he is used to getting his way.

The unnerving intensity is back in his eyes; he studies me for a long moment, making my body writhe with want while still trembling because I can see him deciding my fate. He is either going to give in or throw me out. I'm not sure which, and he's giving me no clues which, idea he prefers.

"Forget the challenge. You can tell your friend's anything you like tomorrow, but tonight is all mine." He closes the other cuff around my wrist locking us together; his body pinning me beneath him.

There is nothing gentle about his kiss. It is an invasion, a conquer and destroy mission. His tongue thrusting into my mouth, taking advantage of the gasp of surprise that never makes it past my lips. This is not a kiss of passion, but of control; hot, slick mastery that tears a responding moan from my body even as my brain protests.

He answers with a low, throaty growl, pushing his hips into mine, holding me pinned with ease as he languidly thrust his erection into the softness of my lower belly. I arch against him unable to resist the sweet pressure of him, wiggling desperately trying to get him closer to where I want him the most.

His response is wild and instantaneous. He pushes up, away from me. My bra explodes from my body, shredding into two wisps that fly through the air. I flinch away from him out of reaction even though he is back to being perfectly still again; watching me, weighing my reactions.

Jesus, I hadn't expected that! The display of power and speed has tingles starting at the back of my neck that are not of the warm and fuzzy variety. My heart thunders like war drums in my ears. A bullet train of fear takes the express route through my lust soaked brain arriving at survival central to drop off the information that my dumb ass has handcuffed herself, naked, to a perfect stranger.

He's using the strength of his arms to keep his upper body above me as he watches my face. He shuffle his weight to reach for me again, but I instinctively move away from him only to be stopped by the chain linking us. His hand falls back to the bed, those black brows slamming down at a slant. His eyes fly to mine, ominous, intense, hot with dark promises.

"I've scared you. How?"

"I never...it happened so fast. I guess I wasn't expecting it." One curt nod is his answer.

"Have I done or said anything to you that would give you the impression that you would be anything, but safe?" He rolls his body to the side freeing me to pull my legs away.

We both know that he hasn't, but there is just this undercurrent about him that make my skin tingle and the hair at the back of my neck stand on edge. I can't put my finger on it but somewhere in the depths of those green eyes lives something that could be dangerous.

He pulls gently on the chain that connects us to get my attention back on him. His other hand moves slowly towards me, giving me plenty of time to move away or stop him. When I do neither, he smiles, running the tips of his fingers down my cheek.

"Come closer."

I wonder briefly if this is what Little Red Riding hood felt like, but I still move closer to him.

He leans forward to capture my lips in a gentle, beseeching kiss. His tongue traces my bottom lip, seeking permission to enter. When I don't give it right away, I feel the edges of his lips curl up into a smile, causing my own to join.

He pinches one nipple, twisting it inbetween his thumb and finger until I gasp.

"I should have called you Vixen." He growls, pulling me closer, claiming my mouth again; always invading but never too much, just enough to make my blood pump wildly, and my hormones take up NASCAR. He is distracting to say the least. He moves his body against the length of mine rubbing all that delicious hardness against me as he mimics his unwavering desire against my tongue.

I slip my free hand beneath the pillow searching for the cold metal key I have stashed there for safe keeping. It's the clicking of the handcuffs around his other wrist that brings him up from the punishing kiss.

He's breathing hard, and the flavor of the scotch is much more intoxicating on him than it ever was in the glass. I lick the taste of him from my lips. He moves away from me to sits back on his legs looking down at his cuffed wrists in surprise. He is clearly displeased with my actions. It's the wrinkle that forms between those sleek, black brows that give him away. The inverted slashes falling intimidating and low over brackish, green eyes.

No, he isn't happy, but the way his eyes follow the path of my tongue as it slips across my bottom lip, tasting him, makes me more confident that I might just get what I want.

Okay, this is either going to be the hottest night of my life or the most humiliating. I think as I watch irritation war with need on his classically handsome features. Please God; don't let him toss me naked from his bed and into the hall for his parole officer to deal with. I may never recover.

I hold my breath as I watch those impossible-to-read green eyes. He sits very still, trying to control his breathing. Apparently I'm not the only one afraid of what he might do if he gets his hands on me right now. I begin worrying my bottom lip.

I think it's the lip biting that wins me the battle. He shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and drops his shoulders; all the tension leaving his body as he starts to laugh. The sound is a deep rich vibrato that makes me want to crawl closer to him and lick my way up his body.

"I guess we are both full of surprises tonight." His eyes are bright and shining and the smile he gives me is nothing short of dazzling.

I let go of the breath I am holding in a loud, rushing, sound of relief.




Mr. Fuckability Ch. 04



"What now, Sprite?"

Oh God, I haven't gotten that far in my master plan yet! It must show on my face because he throws his head back and laughs even harder. I want to laugh too, but I'm distracted by all the corded muscles in his throat and chest his laugh displays. Jesus he is beautiful. Why doesn't he have a girlfriend or a wife or something?

When he looks back up at me, his eyes are darker, his look more wicked. "I'll make you a deal. I'll go along with this if you tell me your name."

"Why is it so valuable to you?" I cross my arms over my chest but only manage to plump my cleavage. He notices.

"Because I know how this is supposed to end, and I want to know how to find you tomorrow." His voice is like that fine scotch. It goes down smooth but sets me on fire.

"Why?"

He grins even wider. "You're interesting. Besides, I have a feeling you're going to be an amazing fuck, and I'm not sure I want to let that go just yet."

What an arrogant answer. It has me smirking back at him on principle. "And what if you're not?"

The smile melts from his face. "Come over here and find out for yourself."

Oh. My. God. Those words combined with the intense, hungry stare make the muscles in my stomach clinch with a need that nears pain.

I crawl across the bed until I'm directly in front of him. He raises his hands, and the links of the chain from the handcuffs fall cool and solid around my lower back as his hands clasp behind me. He uses them to drag me up his body, until I sit with my knees on either side of him.

"Gotcha." He grins then bends to capture my lips in a slow, deliberate, serenade of senses. Each touch of his tongue meant to melt me, his hands sliding down to the cheeks of my ass, squeezing, and then pulling me roughly against him. His erection nuzzles the wet lips of my pussy and I moan into his kiss. He feels hot, hard, and perfect as he grinds himself against me, sliding easily through my damp folds as he tilts his head to gain further access into my mouth.

His hands splay across my ass, squeezing, and I moan as I feel the hot hard length of him separate me, pulsing where our heat connects. The loud slap and sting of his hand coming down on my flesh makes me jump. I feel the corners of his mouth start to smile as he caresses away the burn. I start to smile back but gasp instead when he moves forward causing me to fall back on the bed. He follows me down; his body engulfing mine.

It takes a couple of blinks to realize he has my wrist in his grasp again. He moves very well for a man who's cuffed. He either has had a lot of practice or I'm missing something again. I notice that the hand holding my wrist still has the cuffs attached, but one of them is hanging loose and missing the wrist that should have been there. My mouth drops open, but nothing comes out.

He grins down at me. "Name?"

I grin, bite my lip, and shake my head. He leans down to take a nip at my neck. I gasp, and wiggle, squealing playfully but we both freeze when I manage to adjust him into the perfect entry position. I feel him take a long slow pull of air vying for control as the thick head of him nudges at my entrance. I flex my hips instinctively, feeling him widen me just a little; I push towards him loving the hot, hard, brush of him against me, and I can't hold back the soft, needy moan.

His eyes hold all that dark, dangerous, intensity that I both love and fear for no reason. "Tell me your name or we do this now. Here. Like this." He growls through gnashed teeth.

He pushes his hips just a little further, just shy of entering me, wetting the crown of himself in me, circling my entrance with the rotation of his hips. I gasp, arching to get a better feel of him, and he pulls back out of reach, cursing.

"Tell me now." He adjusts his hips slightly to slide up and through my sex.

The slick, hot, thrust of him as he hits the sweet spot of my clit is almost too much. I moan throwing my head back, arching into his body. He bends taking my nipple into the wet, hot, heat of his mouth causing me to buck against his imprisoning weight. He switches both wrists into one hand, adjusting the weight of his body slightly then his finger shimmy down my side, across my hip bone and through the soft curls of my mound. He slips one finger all the way inside me in one swift push that has stars launching into my vision and soft noises falling from my lips.

"Oh god, you are so wet and hot. Tell me you want me inside of you."

"Yes." I plead, but I am already lost to his words, awash on the reckless feelings he produces with every thrust in and out of my body. He adds a second finger, causing a delicious stretch inside of me, and I buck wildly against the invasion. My insides are quiver, hot with need. He keeps a steady, relentlessly, pressure as he pushes his fingers in and out of my body. Murmuring hot, dirty things into my ear. I hear his words, but I'm past understanding and I don't care. I am nothing but need, hot, wet, pulsing need and he is the only thing that can cure it.

I whimper when he stops moving his fingers, pulling free of me to lean forward to lay a light, brush of a kiss against my lips. "Tell me your name. This is your last chance to have it the way you want. I won't stop again. I'm not sure I can."

He lets go of my wrists and rolls to his side, sitting up on the edge of the bed to discarding the handcuffs then rolls back towards me in one fluid movement.

I raise up on my elbows, quirking a brow at him. He grins and shows me the key. He must have picked it up while we were rolling around.

"I've never let anyone tie me up before." He says placing the key on the table. "If you want to be the first, you will have to give me something for it and I want your name." He is leaning up on one elbow looking down at me, and I can feel his eyes traveling over my face.

I want him badly, but it's the idea of being his first anything that breaks me. "Danielle." I whisper softly. He studies me for a moment, and I think as first he doesn't hear me because he waits so long before answering, his face memorizing my features before dropping lower to caress my body with the same intense scrutiny. My nipples tighten under his gaze, and he licks his lips, his hand fists the covers between us before dropping his eyes lower to rest between my legs.

"Your full name, Danielle?"

"Those weren't the terms you stated in your original offer." I let my legs fell open, my fingers slowly run down my abdomen, over the soft hair, to slide between my lips, parting me to his view. I was pretty good at negotiation in business, and now would be a good time to remind him of what I could offer in compromise.

I circle my clit a few times, the pulse of pleasure at my touch is nothing compared to the heat created by watching his eyes follow every movement; the needy set of his features, the harsh breath as he watches my finger slowly disappear inside myself. It is almost too much, and my eyes fly wide as my already primed body responses with a flood of pleasure that has me teetering on orgasm already.

He closes his eye, swearing violently, then his hand is on mine stopping my movement. We stare at each other for a long moment; the only sound in the room is our breath.

"Tell me what you're thinking?" I whisper almost afraid to break the stillness he has set into.

"I want to be the one who makes you come. I want to be inside you when I do it." He says the words quietly but there is a strain to his voice. He leans forward slowly to capture my lips is a soft kiss, then leans back. He blows a deep breath out, shaking his head slowly as if he can't quite believe this is happening. "I'll do it. I'll wear the damn handcuffs, but we do what I say." He runs a hand down his face and across his jaw. When he looks back up all the heat from before is gone, and his stare is cold, calculating, and detached. "That's my deal. Take it or leave here."

It makes me leery that he can put such cold distance into his voice as he sits naked, his legs still entwined with mine. It makes my skin crawl with that Oh fuck undercurrent that you get when watching a scary movie and the idiot girl runs up the stairs. You know she's going to get it, but you keep watching anyway.

His eyes are back on me, and so is the dark, disturbing intensity that always puts me on edge. I feel a little like a bunny being licked by a lion. I'm not sure if it's affection or just a sample taste.

"What are you thinking?" He mimics my words curling one side of his mouth into that lopsided smile; the one meant to disarm, but the eyes give him away, they haven't changed. It's still the predator looking out, wearing a cute boy's smile.

What should I tell him? Oh hell, it was already coming out... "Sometime when you look at me, it feels like you want to eat me or something. It kind of makes me nervous." I laugh, trying to make light of my own reaction.

He doesn't smile. His eyes settled on my lips. "I do." He whispers, his throat muscles working visibly as he swallows. "I want to taste every part of you."

His eyes travel the length of my body and back up to settle on my face in an unnerving stare. "I'm still waiting on your answer."

"Um...yeah...right...okay." I'm not sure this isn't the answer that will get me up on a missing persons list somewhere.

"Okay, what?" He breathes, always so careful not to give away too much. I know he wants me, but I'm never sure how much or if it's enough to barter with.

"Okay, if you let me tie you up, I will do what you want."

"Whatever I want?" His tone is carefully neutral. His eyes darkened to near black. The look has me wanting to rub myself while looking for a good weapon. What the hell is it with this guy?

"Anything within reason."

"And what is within reason?" I give him a curious look. I had solved mergers on fewer conditions than this. "How about I let you know. You can ask anything, but I reserve the right to opt out."

"No opt out. A change of pace, yes, but no opt out." He corrects. "Once we start, we finish." When he realizes I am clearly hesitating, he flashes that perfect laugh-lined smile. A dazzler that makes me want to believe everything he says and so much more.

"I will keep it within reason. Tame even." He finally concedes, nodding his head in a tilt that suggests I should get closer.

"I'll get the chair from the kitchen. You can cuff me to that."

He is off the bed and striding, naked, unabashed male out the door and to the kitchen. I shake my head and try to figure out the mental commands to force down the wave of nervousness that is rising to high tide in my stomach.

I pick the cuffs up off the floor, opening them and then shutting them again as I pace the room. It is a nervous gesture, but I need something to do with my hands.

This is so not how I had planned my night turning out. I didn't really have a clear plan of what it should have been, but I was sure it wouldn't have involved negotiating sexual demands.

What the hell is going on here? I should probably leave. This guy could be Jeffery Dalhmer's second cousin for all I know.

What would they say at my funeral? Well, what did she expect going home with strange men? He seemed so normal in the bar ranks low on my good excuses odometer.



Mr. Fuckability Ch. 05



Chapter 5 of 7.

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this story as it continues to unfold. I appreciate all of your comments, PM's, and ratings. . Your feedback shamelessly drives my motivation. I'm working hard to improve my writing to provide better stories. Grammar is still a persnickety bitch ...I'm working my way through that maze, although I have done the best I can with it. J Hope you all enjoy.

Chapter 5

I didn't hear his approach. I see him only when I turn to complete my nervous circuit around his bedroom. I wonder how long he has been standing there watching me pace and then I get a good look at him, and my footsteps trail to a stuttering halt.

Sweet Mother of Jesus.

In one hand, he holds a wire backed chair. The other hand, he is using to lean casually against the door jam. He's watching me, naked as the day he was born, and looking like a wet dream come to life. His dark hair brushes against wide shoulders, tan skin, rippling muscle, long legs crossed elegantly at the ankles. Satan couldn't have looked this good when he offered Eve the apple. I try to swallow and find even that simple of a movement I am incapable of completing. He smiles that lopsided grin that says I'm amusing him again.

"So which one are you going to listen to?"

"What?" I blink to life.

"Which one are you going to listen to, the good angel or the bad one? I can see the argument going on, but I'm not getting the audio." He takes a step closer to me, putting the chair down in front of the bed before he looks back up. "I know which one I'm rooting for."

He stands up reaching his hands out to brush my sides, sliding his hands down to curl his palms around my hip bones, not pulling, lying still in invitation, fingertips curling possessively into my flesh urging me to step closer. When I do not, he ducks down to catch my eyes, holding his wrist out, twisting it palm up in offering; his eyes alit with mischief, his dazzling smile in place.

I blow out a loud breath and smile back. I can't help myself. He's everything that brings out the crazy in me, and I am already in love with the sensation if not the man.

"Apparently the bad one." I laugh locking one cuff around his wrist.

His smile widens, but he sits down in the chair, putting his arms obligingly behind his back. Then he turns to look at me, watching me, waiting expectantly, and one eyebrow raises in challenge.

I step forward, shaking my head at his smug expression, and bend down to secure his wrists to the chair. His breath is hot against me where he has turned his face into my neck.

"Tell me your last name, Danielle." The warm air that carries his whispered words tickle the hair at my neck.

"Not a chance."

I turn my head to capture his lips in a quick, teasing brush of lips. My hand falls to brush a soft, feathery caress against the warm, hard skin of his erection.

His whole body jerks at my touch. He chokes in air violently, gritting his teeth together as his head falls back.

"Tell me what you want?" I tease, emboldened by his response.

He looks up at me, straight into my eyes.

"I want you."

He speaks the words husky and slow, leaving me breathless, but smiling like an idiot. His face shows the naked truth of his statement; it's there in the intense, dark hunger I see in his eyes, the clenching jaw, the hard line of his lips, and the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

"Not yet." I whisper, drunk off the powerful sensation of having this man under my control.

"Jesus, I don't know how long I'm going to last." He moans like he's in agony. "Take me in your hand."

I move between his legs leaning forward to blow hot air down the length of him. His cock jumps at the touch, and he moans louder.

I wrap my hand around all that hard, smooth skin, fisting my hand around his erection and start to pump him slowly; the way I had watched him do earlier.

His head begins to move from side to side restlessly as I feel his body tense under my hand. I lean forward, drunk on my own power over him, and lick my tongue slowly, provocatively up his shaft, swirling my tongue around the head of him.

The whole chair jumps with the spasm and a violent curse as his head snaps up.

His eyes are almost completely black; the green now only eclipsing the edges as he watches me. His breath is choppy, harsh, heaving the muscles on his chest, tightening the muscles on his abdomen. My eyes are drawn, fascinated by all that play of rippling skin. I can't seem to look away.

"Get on top of me and take me inside you." He commands gruffly. His voice is a low ominous growl.

"Not yet."

I am not ready to part with the revelry of knowing I can drive him this mad with lust. It is a heady feeling, an addictive one, to have someone of such physical power vulnerable to my touch. Just the sight of him, erect, chest heaving, and eyes dark, unabashedly staring at me with raw, nearly primitive hunger is enough to have me melting for him.

I lean forward, taking the length of him, slowly, fully into my mouth, sucking him. My hand reaches tentatively between his legs to cup the soft weight of him. His legs begin to shake, and I hear the metal of the chair groan as he tests the strength of it.

I move up and down him, sliding my tongue along the seams I find, tasting the length of him, circling the crown before slide down to swallow him again.

An inarticulate growl rises in his chest, and his hips begin to buck against my grip forcing the rest of him into my mouth. I swallow to accommodate the sensation of his rubbing against the back of my throat.

He moans the sound ripping from his chest. I hear the chains of the cuffs snap tightly and the chair shift to absorb the power of his motion. If he keeps this up, he will probably break the chair. The idea excites me; to know I can drive him to that length has me increasing my pace. I pump his cock harder, faster, into my mouth, swallowing his length. I only stop when he cries out, eyes going wild as his hips rise off the chair to force himself all the way down my throat before every muscle in him freezes into perfect stillness.

"No more..." He gasps the words between heavy breaths; he collapses, his head rolling back on his shoulders as his body vibrates beneath my grip.

I release him slowly, rising from my knees. He mumbles something, but I can't quite hear it between the harsh breaths and the tilt of his head. He stays like that for a moment, catching his breath and regaining his control.

He raises his head languidly, capturing me within that dark, intense stare.

"I need to taste some part of you." There is no mistaking his words now. Clear, direct, more command than a request.

"Come here."

I do, positioning his legs between mine, capturing his length between us. I hang onto the back of the chair so I can arch, giving him access to my breast. He leans forward to capture my nipple in his mouth. I'm not sure which one of us likes it more since his moan is the same fevered pitch as my own.

As I move closer, he takes more of me into his mouth, sucking, pulling my nipple into the hot, wet, maddening, sensations of his mouth. He pulls back to swirl his tongue around the flesh of my breast, then nips the soft under skin with his teeth. Sometimes he is soft and the next, hard enough to cause me to cry out for him to stop. He always seems to know just when I am about to protest, and he lets go to suckle away the pain leaving only heavy, aching, need behind.

I can't wait any longer. I am so wet, swollen and ready for him. I feel his cock hard and pulsing against my upper thigh, jerking with need every time I move my hips to brush against him. I rise from the chair until the crest of him align with my entrance, almost entering me. My knees begin to buckle, and I curl my legs to the side of his, crawling onto his lap as the tip of him slides home.

I lose all capacity of breathing as I lower myself onto him in one long, satisfying stoke, taking him fully, deeply into my body until I sit impaled to the hilt by him. There is a full, stretching, tension that accompanies each time he slides over ever perfect spot inside of me. I can't draw enough air to make a sound as I look down into his face.

His eyes go wide, black, and then he squeezes them shut. A look somewhere between absolute bliss and total agony crosses his face. The air leaving his body is a sound between a moan and a curse.

"Wait. Oh God. Wait." He says even as his hips start to buck into me. "I have a condom. It's in the top drawer by the bed."

He pulls his hips back down slowly, almost exiting me before he looses the battle with his self control and slamming back into me as hard as the restraints will let him.

It is my turn to lose touch with reality. The feel of him stretching me, sliding along sensitive nerves, has me fighting to catch my breath. I feel him pulse inside me, and the urge to move becomes unbearable. He pulls slowly from my body. I love the hard, slide of him inside me and the aching loss of the emptiness he leaves behind.

I want nothing more than to slide back down him and ride us both into oblivion, but he is right, and I never do this unprotected. The sheer fact that I have never even thought of it attests to how much he affects me and exactly how scrambled I am by him.

He curses softly as he springs free of me, his head falling back against the chair, he takes two long, slow pulls of air.

"Over there." He tilts his head directing me to the appropriate draw.

I reach in and pull out a silver packet returning to hold it out in front on me. Only then do I realize I have him restrained, which means I will have to put it on him.

Uh oh. Houston, we have a problem.

I look from the foil packet up to him and back in utter bewilderment.

"You have got to be kidding me. Never?" His laughter is more of a harsh bray than true amusement. His expression is disbelief tangled with surprise and male possession.

I shake my head looking away from him. I can feel my cheeks burning. "Give me a little direction here. You're the first guy I've had to restrain to do this."

His laugh is genuine this time. "I bet. I can't believe I'm doing this." He says shaking his head. "Okay, opening it and take it out. Watch your nails you don't want to tear it. "

I do as he says, cautiously taking the condom out of the packet, holding it carefully in my fingers and lower to my knees between his legs. I sit back onto my feet, looking up at him, awaiting further instruction. His breathing begins to change; deepen. His chest is noticeably rising and falling, and the muscles in his abdomen are jumping again. The look he's wearing is intense, and hot, smoldering. He likes looking at me between his legs and I like being there. I want to give him something to watch. I smile and lean forward slowly, never loosing eye contact and lick from the base of his shaft all the way to the top of his crown, opening my mouth taking him into the heat of my mouth and dancing my tongue back and forth against the soft flesh under the heard of him.

His whole body tightens and his breath hisses violently from his chest, the chair, jumps forward as he bucks his hips, even as his lips curl back, and he growls.

"Damn-it Woman, I can only take so much. I don't want to come before I get the fucking condom on."

I lean back, popping him from my mouth, and he groans like I have hurt him.

"Okay?" I ask hesitantly.

"Okay? Fucking wonderful." He groans.

I run my hand along the soft folds of his balls, his body jerking again, his breathing erratic, and his sounds guttural as I stoke up from the soft sacks and up along his shaft, holding him in my hand, and pushing the condom to the end of him.

"What now." I whisper licking my lips and tasting him on them. His eyes are nearly black.

"This may be the first time I have ever been scared to put a condom on." His lips curl into a playful smirk.

I look at him blankly still waiting instruction.

"Okay." He takes a long, slow, steadying breath. "Pinch the end to get the air out with your fingertips and roll it all the way up my dick to the base, make sure the roll is on the outside."

I pinch the end of the condom and start to roll it slowly, carefully over his erection until I am at the end of him, and his length is held tightly in my grasp. He has stopped breathing, holding his breath, and his cock twitching in my palm.

"Like that?"

"Yep. That will do just fine." He says in a much higher pitch than normal, and I giggle as he blows out the breath he has been holding.

"I want to fuck you now. No more waiting."

I let go of him slowly, crawling my way up his body, kissing his thighs, his hip, licking the soft hair that formed the treasure trail up from his abdomen to his chest, then I lick his nipple, flicking my tongue across it. The long breath he had been taking in starts to sound shrill in the end.

"Damn-it Danielle"

The chains snap tightly. The chair groans in protest under the pressure he is putting on it as he tries, in vain, to reach for me. I lean back far enough to smile at him. He moves forward to capture my lips but I back away out of his reach.

"Not good with patience, are we?" I purr loving the way he responds to my touch.

"You will pay for that," he breaths. "Fuck me. Now."

I can't wait anymore either. I'm drenching my own thighs, and the slick skin rubbing together is driving me crazy. I want to feel him inside me. I remember the feel of him earlier and shiver as I spread my legs over his, curling my legs to the side of him and feeling him jerk into position, the head of him catching at my opening, and that was, apparently, all the control I was going to get from him.

His hips jut up, driving his full, thick, length into me almost picking me up with the force of his impatience to be inside me. I scream, throwing my head back as I feel him hit the end of me, expecting the pain, but not the pleasure that quickly accompanies it. My hands fly to his shoulders to steady myself, nails digging into the skin at the back of his neck, holding on to him as he begins to buck wildly, driving into me as I fight to breathe around all the sensations. It's pleasure, and pain, both seizing and rejuvenating, and above all else an all-consuming, shattering, pulsing, need to never-stop-doing-this.

My vision clears as I bring my head forward, and I focus on his face for the first time. He has been watching me. Our eyes lock as our hips meet, and I hiss at the tight hot pleasure of him embedded inside of me. I hold nothing back and let him see how much I love the way he's fucking me. The only sound in the room is our ragged breath and the wet, slapping of our flesh where we ar joined over and over.

"Fuck, you feel good."

His words are guttural. His stare is raw, primal, hunger. His eyes squinting slightly; brows drawn low, lips pulling back to reveal his teeth as he slams into me, stretching me, filling me until I have no room for air or even thought, only sensation. I am glorious sensations: pulling, stretching, pushing me in delicious ways. I'm so wet he slides in and out easily quickening the pressure I feel starting to build in my abdomen, my legs start to shake and my body clenches down on him. He moans, and jerks within me, changing positions, driving at a different angle, and it takes my breath. He pulls free, sliding out of me only to slam back in, pushing harder, faster, racing me towards what I know will be an earth-shattering orgasm.

I hear the groaning protest of metal, the clank of chains, the inarticulate, almost inhuman sounds he makes as he pumps his hips, pushing himself inside of me, as if I am the very thing that keeps him alive and I match him thrust for thrust. I am so close that everything seems to be happening in a haze. My body is clamping down on his, trying to hold onto him even as he fights to slide within me.

"Come for me, Danielle." He snarls.

His breath is hot on my ear, cooling the skin of my neck. My world clears instantly as if his command is the permission I have been waiting for, and I do. I come screaming on top of him; my body pulsing, milking his entire length, as I convulse with pleasure. My world goes Technicolor.

"Oh Christ."

It's the last thing I hear him say as he bucks into me one final time, pushing as far inside me as he can get. He throws his head back as his body arches into mine; his hot seed pulsing as I loose my last thread on reality and go momentarily deaf.

My head falls slowly against his shoulder as my muscles give way. My body turning to putty as every muscle that was strung tight now liquefies under the intensity of the pleasure.

It takes a few moments for me to take in enough air to regain mobility. We sit gasping with our foreheads pressing together, eyes closed. I'm the first to move rising in slow, awkward movements as I try to pry my shaking legs from the side of the chair. He moans softly, and I echo the sentiment as I feel him slipping free of my body. My body echoes the loss with a clenching squeeze that sends tingles down all four limbs.

I slide to my knees, and he watches me through heavy lidded eyes as I slowly peel the condom off of him. He says nothing but his whole body shivers at my touch. When I am sure my legs will hold me, I walk to the dresser, tossing the condom in the trash and pick up the key.

Now that our time is over, I understand exactly how much I wish it wasn't. What good does wishing do? He is from out of town, and I don't even know his name. Not exactly things to base a relationship on. Still, I am drawn to him, even knowing that he will probably be bad for me in large doses. I walk back over to him, reveling in the way his eyes still darkened at the sight of me undressed and approach him.

"Unlock me." He whisperers as I stand over him, his eyes on my breast hanging only inches from his mouth. I smile mischievously as I watch the movement on his thigh. He is already starting to get hard again. Too bad I have to go. I haven't been with a man that recovers that fast before.

"No deal."

He goes very still.

"I'm supposed to hand you the key and leave, remember?" He growls at me, but I laugh. "You knew this beforehand."

"Tell me your last name and I'll let you go." He says from the chained chair.

I laugh even harder. This man is a study in arrogance.

"I don't think you're in a position to negotiate." I set the key in his palm, close his hand around it, and pat, winking at him.

His eyes slant into dangerous slits then he quickly changes to that dazzling smile. "I'm always in a position to negotiate."

I snort at him as I slip into my shirt and pencil skirt, commando-style thanks to Green Eyes of the Chained Chair. I take my time straightening my hair and smoothing my clothes. The whole time, his eyes follow me, recording my every move, studying every nuance.

When I am satisfied with my appearance, I come back to stand in front of him. This beautiful, fully-erect, muscle-strewn marvel has made me realize how many possibilities I could have if I step outside of the little box I have been living in.

I will remember him, not just for his amazing fuckability, but because of what he has brought out in me. I feel changed, as if suddenly I am more able to take on the world. For some crazy reason, it has a lot to do with how wild this man can make me. The way he watches me like I am something amazing that has popped out of the bottle instead of a plain Jane girl he has picked up in a bar. It is a heady feeling, and I intend to make it last as long as possible. I bend down to kiss him, a soft, sweet, caress of gratitude against his lips. I smile as I hear the metal groan again.

"You were amazing. I really needed that."

I walk to the table in the living room to get my purse, determined not to look back as I leave. It has been a perfect night. I don't want to look back and see anything that will change that perfect last picture of him looking up at me that cocky smirk on his face, and those green eyes bright with mischief. I take a long, satisfying breath and let it out on a sigh. I will be a little sore from our escapades. I reach for the door, hesitating only a moment before I reach for the handle.




Mr. Fuckability Ch. 05



A hand slams down on it, closing it, just as I begin to pull it open. I scream and turned to bolt away in fright only to be caught up short by a pair of arms like steel bands sliding around my rib cage, forcing the air from my chest in a violent squeeze that lifts me off my feet.

"Where do you think you're going?"

A hand slides over my mouth, silencing my scream. The voice behind me is cold, distant, and frightening. There is no way he could get himself un-cuffed and across the room to me that fast. It just isn't possible. I can't breathe; jolts of real fear are running like white hot fire down my spine and I kick out at him.

"Easy." He says loosening his hold on me to allow air to flow back into my lungs. He lowers me back to my feet but didn't remove the hand over my mouth. "I'm going to let go of your mouth now. I don't want you to wake up everyone in the whole damn hotel." His hand slips from my face and I get my first good hit of oxygen in a while. There are little black sparkles in my line of vision.

"How did you do that?" I cough.

"What? Get out of the handcuffs? "He shrugs. "I used the key like anybody else. You gave me plenty of time while you were primping in the mirror, although the temptation to take you while I was still in the chair was hard to resist." He's wearing that boyish smile, "You looked pretty smug."

"You're too fast." I shake my head still trying to regulate my airflow. The hair on the back of my neck rises in warning as he steps forward, leaving me only a few inches between his chest and the door.

"What's too fast? Us, or me in general?" His mouth twists into a wry half smile as he oh-so-un-casually places a hand near my head on the door and leans in. His eyes flash to mine then down to my lips.

"Tell me your name." He purrs sex in audio.

"I already told you it's Danielle."

He leans just a little bit closer to me, his other hand resting on the door by my side. He is putting me in the same place I asked of him. I might not be in chains, but I am just as trapped from moving.

"Not the answer I'm looking for."

His voice is low, so controlled that it sends a shiver down my spine. His arm snakes around my waist as he leans into me taking my weight and pinning me against the door as his other hand ventures under my skirt to find bare wet flesh, one finger sliding inside me.

"I love the feel of you here, slick and hot, tight and pulsing around me when you come."

He breathes into my ear, his finger using the wetness of my previous orgasm as lubricant to stroke over me, circling my clit then sliding down to bury deep inside of me again. He continues to push in and out of me, leaving me just shy of orgasm, until all I can do is shake and make little strangled, mewling sounds. I thrash and each time I get close to coming, he stops and asks me again.

"Tell me your name. I can make you feel exquisite. All you have to do is say it."

Thrust. Pull. Circle. I brake.

"Please. Oh god. Please."

I moan my head thrashing from side to side.

"Do you want to come for me, Danielle?" He whispers, thrusting his finger harder, deep inside of me until I bit my lip to contain the scream.

"Oh, god yes, please yes."

"Then tell me your name."

He stops moving his fingers, not withdrawing, just stops in mid stroke. He pulls me tighter, using a foot to kick my feet wider when I try to move my hips to fuck his finger without him. I scream in aggravation. Every cell in my body is begging for release, and he will not give it to me. The aggravation morphs into anger.

"Damn it. Damn you. Put me down."

I try to kick and push against him. Nothing works. He doesn't budge. The only thing I have managed to do is get myself even wetter as his finger inside me automatically flexes to steady me as I squirm.

"God, it turns me on when you move like that."

He chuckles his finger starting its slow pace again. I scream in frustration and try harder to jerk and move, to loosen his grip so that I can somehow move freely. His laugh turns fuller, darker, but the pace of his finger stays the same.

Thrust. Slide. Circle.

Again and again until I can feel myself soaking his hand, still he slows, stopping just when I know I am about to die from either the pleasure or the pain of wanting him. He leans in close to my ear.

"Tell me your name. I'll make it all stop. I'll make you feel so fucking good."

He slides a second finger inside me to join the first, stretching me until I can see stars. Just a brush of my skin in the right direction will hurdle me into blissful oblivion.

"Tell me, Sprite. I can find out anyway. I just want to hear you say it. I want to hear you scream it for me."

Oh God, I am so close, so damn close, I am going to...my body quivers, and I go utterly still. So does his hand, and I scream, near tears with a basting, agonizing need that is clenching muscles I don't even know I had until this moment.

"I want to feel you come." He whispers softly, sweetly, "Just say your name. Just once and I will make you shatter into a million pieces for me. God, you're so wet, I could slide all the way into you in one hard stroke." He pumps himself against the curve of my hip, but the fingers inside of me remain still.

"Give me what I want and I'll give you what you need. I want to give you what you need. What we both need."

His fingers pull out of me excruciatingly slow. He moves them just the littlest bit into and out of me. "I can fuck you like this all night, Sprite. I love watching your eyes go dark, your lips part, and your body writhing." His chuckle is dark, almost sinister. "How much longer do you think you're going to last?"

I hold my breath. I let it out. I close my eyes. Nothing stops the relentless assault of his fingers on my body. I arch violently against him, moving him just a little bit, but not nearly enough. "Tell me." He pushes me back in place, slamming his fingers into me, almost undoing me.

"Oh, God! Rodgers. Danielle Rodgers." I scream.

"Damn it Danielle." He hisses, closing his eyes to lean his forehead against mine. He catches his breath for a moment. "Are trying to kill us both?" He growls.

Before I have time to answer, he has already picked me up by the back of my legs, sliding my skirt into a bunch at my hips, and hauls me against him. We move to the dinning room table; he lays me down on it, pushing my skirt up on my hips, then slides his hands along the outside of my legs until he reaches the top of my knees.

His hands pause there as his eyes rise to capture mine. His smile is slow and sexy, growing in proportion to the width his hands are spreading my legs.

"I've been wondering what you would taste like since I laid eyes on you at the bar." His fingers grip into the skin above my knees and I watch breathlessly as he leans his head between my thighs. His tongue parts me, then slids down to slip inside of me.

I buck against him, eyes wide, hands clawing the air, I need air but can't breath and then I felt his mouth latch on to my clit, pulling the meat of me into his mouth to suckle me and for a moment everything goes dark and all I can see are explosive colors of light, my nerves shattering with the intensity of the pleasure that erupts in me. My body is writhing so violently that I feel him reach up to lay an arm over my stomach to keep me on the table.

I'm not sure what words slip free of my lips as my body shatters, whether it is a benediction or a curse, maybe a little of both. I'm dazed by sensation, but he doesn't give me time to recover as his fingers grasp my ankles, twisting me over and dragging me down the table towards him until my ass is bent over the side, and my face is laid against the cool surface of the table.

"You're breathtaking when you come, and it's driving me insane."

He breathes into my ear as his body envelopes mine his arms winding around my shoulders to gain leverage as he drives into me from behind. Thrusting, pulling, rocking his hips into me as if he hopes to come out the other side, making grunting, growling noises like a wild beast, and I answer each like his mate. I am shameless; abandoned in the feel of him pushing, stretching into me as his fingers curl into my hair, pulling my face back to accept his mouth.

"Oh shit, Sprite, you feel too damn good. I'm not going to last." He says on edgy breaths, then groans low in his throat before biting into my shoulder as he comes, exploding inside of me dragging me with him over the edge. My body is shivering with the wild pulsing throbs of pleasure.

He falls on top of me, his chest heaving before he manages to push himself up on shaky arms. He begins pulling out of me slowly, his movements choppy. He must be as weak as I feel. I'm not even sure I can trust myself to stand.

I close my eyes to rest against the table, grateful for the coolness beneath my sweaty forehead. He rises off of me, but I still don't move. I'm had; I've used every ounce of energy I own letting this man extract pleasure from my body. I have none left, not even enough to get down off the table.

The arm that had slipped free of me suddenly wraps tighter to take more of my weight as I try and fail to stand free of the table.

"It must have been a good orgasm if you can't walk." He says, clearly pleased.

I smile but don't answer as I push my skirt back down and straighten my clothes. He throws an arm around my waist taking some of my weight as we half walk, half stumble towards the couch. We both laugh as he smacks his leg on the coffee table, then curse when it nearly topples us. He manages to straighten up in the nick of time, but it's too late. I've been beset by a case of the giggles.

He rolls his eyes, but he's smiling as he pushes me meaningfully on the shoulder, and I let myself fall down on the soft beige couch. He leans down, and I scoot forward so he can slip onto the couch behind me. When we are settled in, he reaching up to pull an expensive-looking fur throw over us.

He curls his body around mine, draping one hand lazily across my waist, nestling closer, causing the fur to rub sensually against my legs and arms. We say nothing, each of us lost in our own thoughts, but I can feel a tension building in the man behind me.

The tension leaks into the air until the silence is no longer agreeable. He pulls in a long breath, and I feel the heat of his chest touch my back through the material of my blouse.

"I didn't use anything. It was stupid, and I should have asked. Are you on the pill?" He asks quietly from behind me.

"Yes." I answer just as quietly.

He releases an unsteady breath, his hands rubbing along my curves, pulling my blouse free from my skirt to sneak his hand under it laying it against my belly.

"I shouldn't have...um... I don't usually ...." He clears his throat. I smile because I can tell he's nervous, and it's cute on him.

"I'm clean...I guess I just got caught up in the moment, and I was far from thinking clearly."

"It's okay, me too. I'm clean I mean. I have never done, well, any of this before." I giggle, and I sense his smile against my shoulder.

"Good."

We don't say anything for a long time. I snuggle closer to the warm, hard planes of his body, his arm tightening around me, pulling me just a little under him as he throws his leg over mine.

"Tell me about yourself, Danielle." He murmurs voice husky like someone who is almost asleep.

"Not much to tell." I say my own voice quiet, placid, despite the disturbing orbit his index finger is making around my belly button. "Besides, you're not even supposed to know my name. It's against the rules."

He nips playfully at my shoulder, "Fuck the rules, Sprite. Be daring. Tell me anyway."

"Okay...I'm an accountant by trade. I have a huge meeting on Monday, and I should probably be getting home."

I sense his whole body go still. It's like feeling a man turn to stone. As if I have said something terribly inappropriate or surprising.

"What's wrong?" I ask leaning up to look over my shoulder at him. That intense, dark, studying look is back like he is weighing the validity of every word I have just said.

"I'm listening. Continue."

His voice is stern. When I don't, he smiles, just the corners of his lips curling up.

"Please, continue."

I smile back. He is obviously a man used to issuing a command and people immediately obeying them. The 'please' has been added for my benefit. I can feel him start to relax as I speak about how nervous I am about screwing up this chance. He tries to console me, but as usual with me, it doesn't work.

"It's a huge deal and the entire board is going to be there. It's got me going crazy, but I think I'm more nervous of speaking in front of the board than the client. I'm good with clients. I really am, but I am not good in crowds."

"Most people are afraid of public speaking. I'm sure you will do fine."

He is completely relaxed now as he leans forward to kiss my shoulder. I feel him hesitate with his lips against me as if he has thought of something but doesn't want to say it.

"What?"

"I know something that will probably help, but I'm not sure you're going to like it."

His lips whisper against the soft material of my shirt, and my body is thinking he could say anything right now, and we would like it.

"Okay?"

"Give me the presentation now. Naked."

He's grinning, challenge turning his eyes a bright green.

"Wait. Before you protest, let me state my case." He says as I immediately balk at the idea. "If you can give me the presentation now, naked, from memory, then you can do it anywhere for anyone."

His statement gives me pause because there is a certain logic to it. I have my phone in my purse, so I could access the power point presentation on it, and I had an app that would allow me to project it to a computer screen. It couldn't hurt to practice, but it's ridiculous. Who would do that?

"Come on, I want to hear it and trust me, it will help more than you think. Plus, if it makes you more comfortable I'll stay naked, too."

"Is this a ploy to get me to have sex with you again?"

"No, but just out of curiosity, would it work?"

I elbow him, and I'm rewarded with a satisfying grunt and huff of air. He pulls me closer.

"I'm serious, do you have the stuff to do it?"

"I can do it from my phone."

"Then show me your presentation. There's a screen in the dining room. We'll do it there."

"This is ridiculous." I protest, my natural shyness returning despite my best efforts to keep it at bay.

"Why?" his voice isn't condemning, only curious.

I mull it over. Why would it be so bad? Oh yea, I have just had sex on that table. Then again, I could always use the practice, but naked, really?

"You won't be concentrating on what I'm saying if I'm naked. It wouldn't be a proper critique."

"I can be good. I'll keep my hands to myself, and I'll pay very close attention to everything." He says sitting and pulling me alongside him.

"I don't recall agreeing to this." I say letting him pull me to stand.

"You think it over while you go get your phone, and I'll set up the connections. Meet me in the dining room"

"I still haven't agreed to this." I say not moving.

He pulls my chin up to look at him; his eyes are a deep forest green as he is staring at me. He rubs his thumb gently down my chin then kisses me softly.

"You can do this. Trust me, if you can make it through this naked, with me, now, then you can do it anywhere. People are naturally flustered when they're naked. It provides the same level of distraction as stage fright, or fear of speaking in crowds. This will give you practice for handling that level of tension while still maintaining a steady pace throughout the presentation. Now tell me about what you're trying to do."

He pulls out a chair and motions me into it then walks around the table to pull out the one across from me. He leans forward leveling me with that weighing, calculating, stare.

When he says it like that, it sounds practically scientific. I clear my throat and begin to talk about how the company has been approached by a wealthy client to check into diversifying funds. I explain how I was approached by my boss to prepare a presentation on how to handle large funds in today's financial market and how it's the first time the board has approached me.

"I really want to make a good impression, but I just know I'm going to do something to screw it up."

I begin twisting my fingers together in my lap, and he holds up his hand to stop me.

"Don't do that. Don't psych yourself out. Always keep your thoughts in the game. You have no room for doubts in any negotiation."

His eyes travel over my face, then lower, taking their time making their way back up.

You need to know up front, going in, how far you're willing to go to get what you want."

I sense a double entendre in his words but can't see it beyond the obvious; I am sitting in front of him about to be naked, and I haven't failed to notice the rather blatant sign that he is enjoying the idea. He doesn't strike me as a man that would waste time pointing out the obvious.

"Start your presentation." He waves long fingers in an eloquent gesture towards my phone. I pick it up and hit play on the presentation as his hand comes down on mine, halting me.

"Your still wearing clothes" He smiles beguilingly.

I feel just a little like a scolded child, but I pull my shoulders back, lift my chin and remove my shirt one button at a time. It falls to the floor, and I don't bother to pick it up; instead I toss my skirt on top of it and reach for my bra. I take a deep, courage-bolstering breath, and try not to notice how his eyes darken every time I feel my breasts bounce.

It is unnerving, and I understood the point. It is about as unnerving as having to speak at a meeting in front of the board. So much undivided attention focused directly on me. Yippee.

He sighs, shaking his head, "You're doing it again. I can see it all over your face. Control your thoughts, your doubts, you can do this."

He pushes my phone closer to me.

I open the app, flip to the document, and open the first screen to show the numbers I spent the last week calculating over and over to insure their accuracy.

I try not to notice the way my hands shake or the way my arm brushes my breast, causing my nipples to tighten as I lean across the table to point at the chart that has just shown up on the screen. His eyes are on mine, but I find them sliding down more than once. I keep talking. He holds up his hand again.

"Are you planning on giving this presentation sitting down?"

"Of course not."

"Then why are you sitting now? Give me the presentation as you intent to on Monday. "

I freeze, faltering for a moment as I imagine all the bouncy parts that will be displayed; then I take a deep breath, put both hands on the dining room table, and rise to unsteady feet. I can feel his eyes sliding slow over my body as I stand before him.

He licks his lips and his chest begins to rise and fall with noticeable tension. "Continue...Please."

I feel the nervous, skin-crawling tension begin to build, but I swallow it back down and raise my chin a little higher.

"That's right." He murmurs one side of his lips curling into a sexy, approving grin. He folds his hands on the table and imparts his undivided, devastatingly intense, attention on just me.

I swallow, clearing my throat, then begin where I had left off. I stutter and stumble at first, unable to get past the screaming thought of; "Your-naked. Oh-my-God -your-totally-naked" blaring through my head.

He listens patiently, and when it's clear I am not going to pull it together he raises his hand again. "Take a deep breath; it gives you a minute to think through your words. Don't let your nerves get the best of you. Concentrate on what you know."




Mr. Fuckability Ch. 05



I take his advice, blow out a frustrated breath, and try again. I tell him about the financial market today and the best way I thought to stabilize large income accounts. I point to all the charts in the appropriate places and finish the presentation with hardly a blunder.

He stops me a few times for pointers here and there, and I am surprised to find that they are incredible helpful.

I sit down at the table amazed. I've done it. It really worked. I actually do feel better. The board members can't possibly be as intimidating as standing before this man naked.



Mr. Fuckability Ch. 06



He is so still he looks frozen, not a single muscle moving, watching me like a tiger might watch a particularly plump gazelle. I have spent the last thirty-five minutes pranced around in front of him buck-ass naked trying to entice him into portfolio changes. What the hell is wrong with me? I feel the ridiculous grin that spreads full across my face, but I am utterly unable to stop it.

"Feel better?" He asks as I exhale loudly and plop back, relieved, into the chair opposite of him.

"Yes, actually I do." I beam.

"Good. Now come over here."

"Why?" I smile lasciviously. I have my suspicions.

"Because, watching you walk around here in nothing but that necklace is driving me mad."

I raise the pendant from my skin to get a closer look at it. The tarnished gold makes it appear ancient even if it's not. The medallion is shaped like an old battle shield with a Celtic knot worked into the edges encasing a strange hobbit-ish creature that carried an emerald in its paws. The same emerald chips are positioned to make up the eyes.

"What is your attraction to my necklace?" I tease, but I still go to him.

"Do you know what it is?"

"Yeah, it's a necklace." I smile knowing that's not what he means, "My mother gave it to me as a gift, and I thought it looked cool. What is it?"

"It's a family crest so to speak. In the old days, influential families had family crest. They would use the crest to acknowledge their territory or as a summons to aid in battle, even to mark a relation to each other. I like it on you. It looks good and fits you well."

"I think you know more than you're telling me." I narrow my eyes at him.

"Perhaps." He smirks. The way he crossed his arms, leaning back arrogantly in his chair to look down his nose at me told me I would only know as much as he was willing to tell me. He grins that cocky, I-can't-lose-grin and part of me wants to smack him for it.

"Do you always get your way?" I coo playfully, batting at his hand when he reaches for me. The grin fades and is replaced by a seriousness that has my red flags waving like parade day.

"Yes." He draws the word out on a hiss as he reaches for me, catching my wrist and pulling me the remaining few feet to stand between his legs. He lets go of my wrist to stand.

Our bodies are less than an inch apart, and he's looking down into my face like I'm something fascinating that he can't quite figure out. It's a heady feeling, and I like being his new found mystery much more than I should.

"Come to the bedroom with me."

"Maybe I shouldn't it is getting kind of late or um, early. I should probably go."

I nod towards the light that has started to creep through the east side window. He looks, following my gaze, and then rounds back to me. A devious smile in place that tells me he has no intentions of letting me leave until he's good and ready.

His hands gather my face, palms resting on either side of my cheeks, his eyes turning darker as his pupils dilate. He pauses for just a moment, just enough to build the anticipation inside me, before his mouth finds mine.

I gave in to the seductive request, opening for him. He tilts my head, deepening the kiss, holding me tighter as his lips cover mine, his tongue seeking, caressing, retreating to draw me in, and then invading all over again.

"It sure sounded like you've been having a good time so far. Why are you in such a hurry to leave?" He whispers breaking the kiss to hold us forehead to forehead. "I'll make sure you wake up for where ever you need to be."

There is a quiet resistance between us, and he lets go of my face to reach down and take my hand, pulling it up to lay against the hard muscle of his bare chest, covering my hand with his own. He leans into me slowly, beguiling, as he brushes his lips sensually against mine. He pulls back only far enough to speak, his lips brushing mine with each word.

"Touch me. Let me touch you."

I move both hands down the contours of his chest and stomach intoxicated by the way his skin ripples against my fingertips.

There is no resisting his sexual appeal; the soft brush of dark hair that divides his pecs, the ridges of his abdomen, even the soft intake of breath he makes every time my hand drops lower across his stomach. There is nothing about this man that doesn't excite me.

He catches my hands as I reach to take his now fully erect cock in my hand. He entwines our fingers and uses the connection to tug me in the direction he wants. He stops only once we are inside the bedroom; pulling me to him, lifting my chin, taking my lips into a slow, enticing, seducing kiss. A kiss that is meant to draw someone in, to make them feel things that go so far beyond just amazing sexual chemistry.

His hands are reverent in their exploration of my body; slow, exquisite touches, soft breathes, feather light kisses, a titillating trace of fingers and tongue. I pull back from him needing to see his face, needing to see his response. His eyes are filled with a craving that borders on obsession tinged with a strange combination of astonished awe.

It's a peculiar expression. As if watching someone at the moment they fall in love with you, not in love, but still falling. That indefinable split second before they hit bottom and realize what has happened and that it's all too late to change it. It causes my breath to catch in my throat, my pulse to pound loudly in my ears, and a growing fear to resonate through me of what he is seeing mirrored back at him within my expression.

Then he smiles at me, just the smallest bit, just the corners of his mouth turning up. He was beautiful before, but now he is beyond my capacity for speech, and I choke on the misguided attempts of my tongue. There are not enough letters in the English language or ways to string them together that will do him justice. I can't seem to do anything but stare up at him.

He takes his time steering me backward until my legs hit the side of the bed.

"Lay down for me." He smooth's a piece of hair away from my face as he pushes ever so slightly on my shoulders in the direction he desires. I lean back, and he manages to keep the few inches of distance between us as his body follows mine onto the bed, positioning himself between my legs. I find his eyes as they rise up from looking down our bodies. I smile tentatively and brush a sweet, soft kiss along the corners of his lips.

"Jesus, Danielle, tell me you feel this." he whispers as he slowly pushes into me, his eyes never leaving mine.

Each movement, each thrust and retreat, each breath, each sound, each word, they all build to make me crazy with lust yet strangely leaves me feeling cared for. I feel like I am something precious, someone he adores. I don't know him yet I feel like I have for a lifetime, and I know these are feelings he is questioning and not the physical act.

"Yes." I breath shutting my eyes while trying to get some distance from the all the crazy things he is making me feel both sensually and emotionally. These feelings are dangerous. He is a slippery slope, and I know this even as I revel in him. People spend their whole lives waiting to feel like this. This man is a stranger to me. I don't know him, and it scares the hell out of me that someone I know so little about can make me feel so much; strong and reckless one moment and crushingly tender the next.

He adorns kisses down my neck, whispering sweet things, hot things, in my ear as his pace and control begins to falter.

I cling to him, clawing at his shoulders, screaming curses and begging in whispers as he pushes both of our bodies forward with the force of his thrust. Both of us lost, abandoned to the sensation of being tangled up in each other, him inside me, me surrounding him.

His breath is hot on my neck. His words are dirty and exhilarating; spoken in that scotch soaked heat that makes my body capitulate with the mastery in the way he fucks me; pumping relentlessly in and out of me, building a maddening pressure with every movement through me.

He is all heat, and friction, pressure, and release, almost too much, but not enough at the same time. I whimper, and squirm, trying to get closer, or further away, I don't know which nor do I care. All I know is this, I need something, anything that would be enough to push me over the edge with him.

I feel his whole body tighten, his rhythm stuttering, his hand snaking into my hair, pulling my head back, as he growls, thrusting home, and he sinks his teeth into my shoulder.

I open my mouth to cry out, but the sting of his teeth is just enough to overload the balance and send me into a cataclysm of sensation that has my body arching, trying to fuse every bit of me into every curve of him. My release is so violent, the pleasure so great it nears pain, and still I cling to him unwilling or perhaps unable to release him.

Reality returns to me in sparkling patches. His weight is almost crushing on top of me. I feel like I can't breathe, but I don't want to move him either. I manage to flop a hand across his shoulder, week and nearly uncontrollable. I rub gently down his back where I have previously clawed and come away with a smear of blood.

Instantly, I became more alert.

"Oh, my God, you're bleeding." I stare at the streak of red across my fingers.

"Oh God. I'm so sorry. I had no idea." I try to sit up, but his weight keeps me trapped beneath him.

He rolls to his side freeing me in the most unbalanced movement I have seen from him. He tries to lean up on one elbow, it wobbles, then fails to hold him, and he rolls to his back looking at me grinning sheepishly.

"Wow, I think you may have actually worn me out."

For some stupid reason, it makes me grin back, as I try not to laugh at his woe begotten expression. I use one finger of my unmarred hand to brush his wet hair from his sweaty forehead. Warm fuzzies launch in my stomach and float on a dreamy breeze around my chest even as my rational self walks around my subconscious stomping them out and muttering about stupid girls that fall for good looking guys to fast.

His eyes finally focus taking in the blood on my fingers.

"I don't mind your marks on my back. In fact, I think it might have been what threw me over the edge there in the end. I wasn't expecting it."

He brushes a stray curl out of my face and smiles his crooked, cute boy smile, this time the eyes match, and the effect is devastating. I feel additional soft fuzzies take flight, which is really bad.

"Your beautiful all mussed up. Sexy." He murmurs kissing me gently, then he pulls back from me to run his thumb along my lower lip.

A blush creeps up but I fight to tamp it down.

"I need to freshen up."

I slip from the bed and run to the bathroom hoping a good strong cross wind will clear up all the stupid romantic thoughts going through my head.

The girl in the mirror doesn't look like the image I am used to. My lips are swollen and red from his kisses. A patch of red runs along my jaw line from his whiskers. I have a definable bite mark where my neck meets my shoulder and my blond curls are wild, tasseled from his touch. I look like a woman this man would want and it surprises me. I had never seen her inside of me. How had he?

I splash some cold water on my flushed cheeks and comb my fingers through my hair; taking a minute to collect myself, unsure of what to expect next from him. Should I leave? Will he let me? The last statement should have scared the hell out of me, but it doesn't, maybe because I don't seriously feel threatened. Instead, it brings a wry smile to my face.

"Do you have to be somewhere in the morning." He asked, as I exit the bathroom. He is still lying in bed, arms folded casually behind him, the picture of ease, but those emerald eyes hold challenge. I smile despite my resolve not to because, as expected, we are back to volleying again.

"Yeah. I have to be there early, so I had better head out."

"I can set the alarm for twenty minutes till early." He counters. His gaze is back to that analytical look, weighing odds, calculating the best way to get what he wants. I can practically see him running the numbers in his head.

"You will have plenty of time to get home, change, and be where ever you need to be."

I smile, even though I tell myself that I should not be pleased that he wants me to stay and sleep with him. This guy is not my future, and I will do good to remember that.

"It's really late, and I'm tired so maybe I should just go now, and then I will already be where I need to be in the morning." It's a half-hearted attempt at best.

"I think you're already where you need to be in the morning." He pulls out his best simmering look from his arsenal, "Besides, you shouldn't be driving if you're tired. It would be safer for you to stay."

I named off all the reasons this would not be a good idea, and there were a lot of them. Seven to be precise, there were probably more than that, but that's how many I covered in the time it took for me to cross the room to get to him.

He pats the bed beside him in invitation. I lie down, sliding under the covers beside him with a giggle.

"What time should I set it for? " He asks reaching for the alarm.

I tell him and he programs it in then clicks a switch that leaves us in total darkness.

I hear his hand sliding towards me under the covers before I actually feel his touch. Just the sound of the soft whisper of his hand reaching for me has a grin dancing on my lips. I bite my lip to contain it as I snuggle closer.

His hand drapes over my stomach as he rolls to his side; his arm tightening around me, pulling me back against him to align our bodies.

His big, warm frame curls around mine as his arm slides under my head. His breath a pleasant warmth on my neck in the darkness.

I have no intention of staying, just of snuggling for a while; just until he falls asleep then I will get up and leave. It's hard keeping to that plan with his warmth soaking into my body, relaxing my muscles, lolling me with the soft rhythmic waves of his breath.

I must have dozed for a while because I startled awake. I can make out the interior of the room without the lights on. I glance at the clock. I still have an hour before it's set to go off. Perfect!

I wait, holding still, measuring the depth of his breathing against my back, when I am sure he is sleeping soundly I pull slowly, carefully away from him. His fingers reach for me, flexing out as if trying to catch me even in his sleep, but I am already past him.

I creep cautiously throughout the main room gathering my clothes, pulling them on, and stop to pick up the shoes I have left by the table. I was still wearing everything, but the shoes when he'd laid me across it. My eyes slide to the piece of furniture, my fingers gliding over the cool surface remembering the feel of him behind me. Damn, who would have thought I was capable of such things, or that he could make me feel so audacious.

I revel at myself for a moment. I like the way I am around him. Not the quiet girl who sits in the corner, the one everybody else knows me to be, I am a girl who fucked his brains out on the table, nearly an elevator, and definitely on a chair. I giggle, and then cup my hand over my mouth, so I don't wake him.

I feel reckless, but in a good way, in a young way that I have never had the chance to be. I'm not sure I can say Mom would be proud, but for some strange reason, I am. I shake my head at the revelation then quietly cross the tile entryway.

I open the door and just as I am slipping out I hear his deep voice whisper.

"Till I see you again, Danielle."

His voice is soft, almost a lilting caress, but it still makes me jump. I didn't realize he was awake. It isn't light enough for me to see him in the clear path from the front to bedroom, but I can feel his eyes on me.

"Good night." I whisper back, stupid smile on my face while my mind plays over his strange departing words. Everything is a veiled challenge with this man, even his salutations.

I walk out giving a quick nod to the man stationed in the overly bright hallway, he smiles kindly. It takes me until the elevator ride down to realize I'm not the least bit embarrass at being caught all night in his room. In fact, I feel just the opposite. I'm actually ecstatic about being caught in his room all night. It has defiantly been an experience, one I would like to repeat. I exit the elevator with a remorseful sigh that this night is the only one I will get to feel this way with him, but them's the breaks when playing the game.



Mr. Fuckability Ch. 07



A special Thanks to SecretHotMama for her editing services! Her time and efforts are much appreciated. Any mistakes you may find, although I tried to fix all of them, are all on me. To everyone reading: Thanks for reading the last installment of Mr. Fuckability. I wouldn't be this far without you.



Chapter 7



I'm not going to meet the girls at Monuts as originally planned. I phoned them instead making the excuse that I was too tired since it was nearly six in the morning by the time I'd found my way home. I promised to meet them for lunch on Wednesday and fill them in on all the highlights of my night. Being exhausted isn't the real reason I'm not going; I found myself curiously not ready to tell them about him.

You would think I would want to brag from the mountain, and I did, but I also wanted to keep every savory detail as if sharing it with the others would take some precious bit away. He had been amazing, sometimes frightening, always clever, and by far the hottest guy I had ever slept with or probably ever would. Well, that thought was just depressing even if most likely accurate. In the end though, things had turned somehow different, and I didn't know how to explain them to myself let alone someone else.

After sleeping half the morning away, I turn on the TV to watch a few old sappy movies and eat high calorie snacks. I'm still in my PJ's , which consist of a large T-shirt and cotton panties. In general, I'm mooning about as if I've broken up my boyfriend; which is stupid, because I know that I never had a chance of having him for keeps in the first place. Some men are like cosmic events. They shoot through your life, light up the heavens, but are destined to fade from your view just as quickly into the night sky.

It still doesn't stop me from day dreaming about him at random times throughout the afternoon or remembering the wild things we did. My breath catches in my throat every time I remember the reckless, powerfully seductive way he made me feel. I think idly about practicing my speech again, but the thought just makes me remember more about our time together.

Besides, as much as I hate to admit it, Mr. Green Eyes had been right about rehearsing the speech naked. It may have been a ploy to get me to prance around without my skivvies on in front of him, but it had also succeeded in giving me the confidence to know I was going to be able to say it in front of the board. I could recite it by memory at this point. 

Somewhere between the ice cream sundae and the Twizzler's affair I had an epiphany. I didn't need this man around to be the confident, sexy, woman I had been with him. 

I know sometimes it takes me a minute.

All I really need is to bolster the self-confidence that he had brought out in me. Sure it would be nicer to have the man around who had made me feel that way, but that wasn't practical.

I could still run over to the penthouse and try to chase him down. I knew which one, there was a chance that he was still there. But I wouldn't. 

I've had enough hurt in the last five years keeping up with Mom. What I need is some normalcy, some slow and steady for a while. I'm not ready to add the crazy mix of a guy into my life, even if he is smoking hot. Sometimes you just have to draw a line and stick to it, but damn, why did it have to be him? He was so...so...I let it go with a deep sighing of resignation. He is probably gone anyway. I head up to take a shower and get an early start on Monday; moping around isn't solving anything.

I wake up still a little sore between my legs, a smile on my face and the memory of his taste on my lips. I can tell this is going to be a reoccurring dream for a long time to come. I almost wish I'd stolen his underwear just so I would have something to remember him by. That thought brings a grin to my face as I remember what he'd said; if he didn't have something to show for it he might not believe it himself. Now, I had a much better understanding of what he had meant by that. 

I sigh dreamily doing a quick survey of bodily damages. All in all, I feel really good. I stretch and crawl out of bed aware of every muscle I have abused. I have a few bruises in odd places that make me smile and a nice purple ring that looks like a perfect bite mark on my shoulder that makes me shiver. At least the red dot I acquired from the bar has faded without a mark, so that is a plus.

I hit the radio as I head into the shower and turn it to a classic rock station that sings about a woman who has a man on his knees, and a girl named Sue that can't stick around. I have an extra bounce in my step this morning, and an air of confidence that is new, shiny, and begging for a test drive. I take extra time putting myself together. 

I head to the closet pulling out a black dress and short jacket, add in my favorite Vera Wang heels, toss with my teardrop diamond studs and voila. Done.

I roll my hair into the normal, neat bun out of habit. I get a look at myself in the mirror and rip it out. I don't want to be that girl anymore. Now that I have tasted the dark side of my personality I have no intention of going back. 

I let my lips curl up in that half smile I learned from him. Not a bad impersonation if I do say so myself. My hair falls in golden curls that run down my back. I toss my head to loosen them. Better. Much better. Now I look more like the girl that isn't afraid to talk trash to a man she barely knows in an elevator.

I choose the dark red lipstick I haven't used since last Halloween over my normal neutral gloss. The color brings out the blue in my eyes and shapes my lips in provocative way. I look pretty good, but there is still something missing. I grab the black eyeliner and darken my eyes adding a touch of mascara.

I try out my new half smile and feel an odd thrill run up my spine. It isn't fear, and it isn't embarrassment, the two emotions I know best, this is something new. As if somewhere down deep within myself I've crossed over a line that night, a knowledge of myself that I can't undo even if I wanted to. 

Mr. Fuckability gave me permission to be myself without any repercussions. The dirtiest bad girl I could muster up and I have risen to the challenge. It was our experience that gave me the new knowledge I have of myself. He has done a lot to encourage the change, but in the end it's me that has made the decision to not go back. It's me that will have to find the courage to choose to free myself from what I thought I should be into whom I want to be now. 

I look at the sultry blonde in the mirror and thought, Why didn't I meet you before? "You got this in the sack, kid." I tell the stranger in the mirror as I watch her dark red lips curl to form the words. The black eyeliner showcases eyes a crystalline blue. She is a woman that I do not recognize, and I like that.



I am still on my post coital epiphany when I reach the office ten minutes early. My boss looks like Mr. Magee but goes by Alfred. He worries his hands a lot so seeing him in this condition doesn't really alarm me. As I get closer he practically leapfrogs in my direction, and that does. 

"Mr. Del'Acortay, he's here. They want to start the meeting as soon as possible. He says he will wait but you can tell this guy isn't good with patience." 

I check my watch it's five to eight. The meeting had been scheduled for two. What the hell? The board members don't even come in till nine. I feel a cold sweat begin to break out on my upper lip and lower back. My nervousness suddenly ratchets up to code red and the cool exterior I have spent all morning building begins to sway under the strain. I take a deep breath needing a moment to think and then realize this is nothing. This is not a big deal. I've given this presentation naked for God sakes. I can totally do this early.

"Well," I begin, smiling calmly at Alfred. "Have one of the secretaries call all of the members and notify them of the change and see how fast we can get everyone here. Then go in there and offer him coffee. I'm going to download this power point and get it ready."

I stroll past him expecting him to rush off like usual, but he doesn't. He just stands there looking like a man who has been poleaxed; then he squints his eyes at me and stares at me as if trying to figure out a complex math problem on my forehead.

"Did you do something different with your hair?" He asks. 

I try not to smile. I'd done something different with a whole lot of me, but I wasn't about to tell him that.

"Coffee." I chirp over my shoulder as I make the turn into my office.

By the time Alfred makes it back to notify me that the last of the board members have arrived, I have the presentation up, running, and already emailed to every board member, Alfred, and Mr. Del'Acortay. In short, I am ready to rock this thing.

I meet the small crowd at my door, take my tablet, and lead the group to the board room. Last week I would have quivered at the thought of leading this group, today I have a small thrill running through me as I watch them all fall into step behind me. 

I toss my hair over my shoulder, take a deep breath, and opened the door to the conference room with my professional smile already in place. My eyes flow over the three people waiting on us. There is a man, woman, and HOLY FUCK; that is when I almost loose my strawberry Pop Tarts all over the white Berber carpet of the conference room.

Mr. Fuckability is sitting calmly, no emotion showing, between an overweight gray suite and a woman whose face looks like it has been put on too tight. My step falters as soon as I see him. Alfred smacks into my back; everything speeds up as he pushes me unexpectedly forward. I stumbled on my too high heels, and Mr. Fuckability is on his feet and standing in front of me just as I yelp and lose my fight with gravity. I huff out a gust of air as I collided with his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around me in an attempt to steady me against him.

He looks down into my eyes, a crooked smile curving his lips. It's an expression that I had last seen on him while naked. My blood boils up to the exact temperature of cat-in-heat, and I can't seem to find enough oxygen to formulate words.

"Hi." His grin widens.

My bottom jaw falls open to resemble the hollow-eyed, gaping-mouthed mask from the movie Scream. I am almost afraid I will lean in the inch that separates our lips and kiss him in front of everyone and more afraid he will let me.

I push away from him before I can give into temptation, but he is not ready to let me go, and I end up doing a horrible see-saw effect that leaves me banging my head against his chin. His arms fall away with a grunt just as I push back from him.

Unfortunately, Alfred is standing behind me again, and I am wearing heels so when I step on his soft moccasins, it is sort of like spearing him. I can't really blame him for jumping back, grabbing his foot, and howling like a wild beast or the dirty looks he shoots my way. I will, however, take no blame in the fact that he chooses to jump backwards into the line of board members trying to enter, causing a fallout scene nothing short of a three stooge's reenactment.

Mr. Fuckability curses under his breath and reaches out to take me. Once again, pulling me back to him and out of the way just as Alfred veers forward pushed by the momentum of the people behind him. I end up in an up close, and personal embrace with a potential client and Alfred ends up on the floor. It takes a good ten minutes to give everyone a chance to, successfully, walk through the door, apologize to Mr. F, shoot me a dirty look, and find their seats. I think Alfred should have to share some of the blame in the calamity, after all he is the one who ran into everyone else, not me, but as I sit at the table looking at the faces of my peers I understand that this is not the case. Shit.

That shell of confidence I have spent all morning building lays shattered into sharp splinters at my feet as I stare at my folded hands on the mahogany table. Mr. Fuckab...Mr. Del'Acortay sits directly across from me wearing an unwrinkled, perfectly cut, classic black Armani suite and bright red silk tie. As always, he looks unruffled and mouth-wateringly fabulous, which is the reason why I am still looking at my hands. Fuck, could this get any worse?

I know I need to start the meeting. I have a presentation to give and my company expects me to salvage this deal. It's not like I haven't negotiated with this man before. I try to reassure myself. The problem is I'm not sure what the ethics committee will do to me if they ever find out. A sound somewhat like that of a strangled squirrel escapes my mouth as I notice a red ring around his wrist where his skin is chafed. I watch, enthralled, as long fingers subtly reach out to tug down his shirt cuff as he clears his throat. I close my eyes and try not to think about all the things that we did to put those red marks there or how good he had looked while doing it. There is a long uncomfortable silence building in the room and I try to rein in my wayward thoughts.

He holds his hand out into my line of vision. I look up at him. "Marco Del'Acortay, and you are?" I can't keep the smirk off my face. He did warn me he always got what he wanted.

"Danielle Rodrigues." I take the offered hand and shake it politely.

It's just a half second stutter, but it's enough for me to know that he caught it. One moment he is moving, a sudden pause, then back to moving.

I am the only person in the room that catches it, but that's probably because I'm looking for it. I know I am in trouble when his lips form that thin hard line and his emerald eyes flare. It is the exact moment he realizes that I had given him a false last name that night.

"Gentleman." His voice cracks like thunder, sharp and booming through the room. Every head in the room turns to him, everyone but mine. My hands are very fascinating. You would stare at them too if given similar circumstances.

"I have some additional business to attend to. It will only be a moment, and I apologize for the inconvenience, but I'm going to have to insist on commandeering your board room for a moment. Would you mind stepping out?" He frames his request as a question, but it is a command and everyone in the room knows it. Chairs immediately begin hissing against the carpet and bodies moving towards the door. My heart is pounding in a low and nauseating beat as it slowly sinks from my chest into the pit of my guts. I close my eyes wanting nothing more than to melt into the seat I am still sitting in. There is no way out of this for me. I am going to have to remove myself from this deal. What will I tell the board? Oh, I'm sorry. I can't be involved in this transaction because twenty-four hours ago I was negotiating sexual positions with your future client. Shit! Double Shit! 

I want to beat my head against the table screaming WHY ME but it's a luxury that I can't afford right now. Most of the people in the room, both his and mine, have already made their way to the exit. I push myself gingerly to my feet hoping like hell my knees will hold me. I'll think of something. There has to be a reasonable explanation I can come up with that will appease the curiosity of the board for why I can no longer lead this deal. What ever it is, I need it fast because I'm only going to have a few moments before we are all called back in here.

"Not you, Ms. Rodrigues. You stay." His voice is deep and commanding giving nothing away, but I still cringe. He knows I lied to him, and he strikes me as a man that doesn't take that well. This is going to be massively unpleasant. Everyone has left the boardroom, but the sense of privacy is nonexistent since the walls are made of glass. 

He waits until everyone is out and walks over to shut the door before returning to his seat in front of me. He leans back in a leather chair, sexy smirk in place, acting like he owns this joint. I look around at all the empty chairs. I've never seen this place clear so fast. I guess he does have justification for his arrogance.

"Aren't you going to deliver your presentation?" He asks voice like an arctic draft. "Apparently I already have." I say miserably, falling back down into the chair across from him. His eyes rake over my face, dark, intense, searching. His smile is slow to form.

"I'm sure I would have liked it much better the first time anyway." He wipes his hand across his mouth lasciviously as if remembering the taste of something sweet.

My cheeks catch fire at the memory of the taste, my taste, that he could be referring to. The heat turns nuclear as I remember prancing around his dining room table, bare assed, pointing at charts and rattling off numbers as the first light of morning passes through the east side windows. 

He's remembering it too; I can see it all over his face, but the memory doesn't have the same effect on him. He isn't embarrassed at all. His eyes darken, his lips part on a heavy intake of breath. His hands, which have been lying relaxed on the table, twitch as if he wants to reach for me but thinks better of it.

"Rodrigues?" He raised a dark brow at me, lips forming a tight hard line. I nodded in affirmation looking down. Oh boy, here we go..."I swear I didn't know who you were." I say still looking at the table.

"I know you didn't." He sighs. "I want to be furious with you for giving me the wrong name, but the truth is. I have kept something from you too."

That brings my head up.

"I knew who you were the whole time." His eyes held mine.

I felt my mouth drop open. Again with the Scream mask. "How?"

"I was researching the firm for business reasons. Your picture and bio are listed." 

"You were preparing for the meeting and found me. Of course!" I smack my hand to my head. Jesus I wonder if the last guy had to. Of course, he wasn't a potential client so probably not.

Oh Jesus, What had I been thinking? Of course my picture is on the company web site. Why had I not thought of that before?

He shakes his head slowly, watching me, waiting for me to recover, then licks his lips. 

"No." He says drawing out the word in a way that makes me uneasy.

"I found your picture before Saturday; months before, actually. The bar was a lucky fluke. I was planning on using the contract as an excuse to take you out to dinner."

"Wait, if you knew me already then why did you keep asking me for my name?"

"Because, I wanted you to break the rules for me. I wanted you to tell me yourself." He leans his elbows on the table, using his fingers to form a temple, then bringing them to his lips, studying me for a moment. "You see Danielle, I've been trying to think of how to get you into bed for months. Now that I've had you there I'm not prepared to give that up."

It takes me a minute to get my mouth to close and realign my brain into thinking position. "Why me?" I couldn't fathom why a man like him would even take notice of me. It's not that I don't think I have my good points, but this man was on the cover of Forbes for God sakes.

"I imagine most women must throw themselves at you trying to gain your attention." I say picking at my sleeve. "I can't image my bio would compare."

That almost-smile toys at the edges of his lips and his eyes flash like backlit emeralds. "Then why don't you want to be with me?"

I open my mouth, find it empty of retort, and snap it shut again. Why didn't I want to be with him again? He sighs wearily and sits back in his seat.

"Most people want something from me more than they actually want me. You don't. I like you." His smile grows considerably more pronounced, the corners jumping in that enduring, near familiar way. "You make me laugh and you definitely keep things interesting." 




Mr. Fuckability Ch. 07



I roll my eyes. "You're trying not to laugh at me aren't you?" 

The smile blooms into the full-fledged dazzler, laugh lines making long dimples in his cheeks.

"Why you?" He leans forward placing his elbows on the table, going in for the kill. "Because you are amazing in bed, sexy as hell, and yes, I'm trying not to laugh at US, not just you, Sprite."

I lean in too. "You didn't get that from reading my bio months ago." 

His eyes flash but his facial features remain that pleasant aloofness. I have surprised him.

"What was it about my picture that made you notice me and become curious enough to request me at the meeting?"

His eyes flash again, but I can't discern the meaning this time. "You're very quick, Danielle."

"I have my moments and you're avoiding the question."

"Very well." He pursed his lips, fingers forming a temple to rest against them. I know he is choosing his words carefully.

"You look very well put together, everything in its place, but the wild blue eyes give you away. Your stare is direct and challenging, but your dress and actions are demure. You're an intriguing contradiction. I suspected this girl." He motioned eloquently towards my new face and hair. "Was inside and it made me curious as to why you would hide her." 

"Got all that from a picture did ya?" I cross my arms and lean back.

"I'm good at reading people, their stances, facial features, tones. All of these thing are telling for what the real person is like. Everyone gives things away." He pauses as his eyes fall to my necklace. I am beginning to understand his reference to tells as I remember his fascination with it. 

His hands create that perfect temple at his lips again as if they could filter out the right word to say. His features are even more controlled than normal as if he is weighting out the best probable outcome for whatever it is he's about to say. "It is also your necklace. I noticed it in the picture."

His gaze lowers to the piece of jewelry again, and he pauses.

"Go on." I encourage.

"This part is going to be a little hard to swallow, but I don't know any other way except to just tell you the truth."

He reaches across the table to catch the pendant in between his finger and thumb rubbing it.

"It's my family crest. That's the part I wasn't telling you that night. I am part of an old sect that goes way back in Irish history. The hobgoblin has been our family crest for almost three hundred years. The emerald he holds and those in his eyes are the colors of the army of the lowland tribes of Ireland." He pauses, taking in my shocked expression with a calm, assuring node. "I promise you I am not making this up." He releases my necklace to lean back studying me. "You can look it up yourself. It does get more interesting. Seven years ago a jewelry company came to my father interested in doing replicas of the necklace that has been a legend in our family for generations. My father agreed. There were only 1000 reproductions made to be sold throughout the world."

"Why is it legendary?"

"The original was lost by my great, great grandfather when he gave it to the woman he loved." 

"How was it lost if your great, great, grandmother had it?"

"Because he gave it to the woman he loved not the one he married." He taps his fingers on the table, his eyes falling from my gaze to study them. It's a nervous gesture.

"The legend in my family says that he promised her that he would find her again in another lifetime."

"And you think that's what's happening now?" I raise my eyebrows at him.

He shrugged casually, too casually. "I'm not saying that, but I do think it's interesting that I found a picture of a beautiful girl wearing it on the company bio of a business I was already researching. Don't you?" His fingers are tapping quicker now.

"There's something else you're not telling me." I say, watching him watch his hand.

His fingers freeze mid tap and his eyes look up to bore into mine. "I don't think that is a reproduction you're wearing. I think it's the real one. The letters that are carved onto the back of that pendant were not put on the reproductions. We never told the jeweller about them."

I twirl the medallion in my fingers, running them over the deeply carved initials on the back as I considering everything he has told me. My mother had given it to me, the last present she had ever given to me. She had found it at an estate sale mixed in with other antique jewelry and knew of my flair for the unique. She had jokingly told me to keep it close, and it would bring me happiness. Had she known about the legend behind it? Is that why she had said that? I had no knowledge of its history other than where she had picked it up from. I hadn't given much thought to where it had originated, but I would be Googling it the first chance I got.

"Besides, you're fun." He smiles that dazzling smile, laugh lines forming long dimples in his cheeks. His gaze drops to my lips making his thoughts obvious before rising back to meet mine. "You always seem to be up to your elbows in trouble and I like sticking around to see how it plays out." He shrugs making light of the awkward pause his revelation caused.

"The rewards are phenomenal." His eyes lit with humor and heat. 

I wave him away unable to contain my chuckle, or delight. "You're awful."

"It didn't sound like it last time, Sweetheart." His voice drops to a sexy, teasing purr. 

His gaze rises from me to some unknown spot behind me. "Damn glass." He mutters under his breath and points to the tablet I have laid between us.

I blinked at him a few times, not quite understanding. 

"Show me one of your charts."

I am still reeling from everything he has told me, so it takes me a bit to understand what he is saying.

I slide one of the diagramed charts I had spent hours perfecting onto the screen in front of us. He doesn't even look at it; instead he stared at something over my left shoulder.

I turn to see my boss walking past, his hands in his pockets as he glances nervously at us. I turn back around and point to a section of the chart. My hands go through the motions I have memorized without thought as my mouth ventures into new territory.

"So what now, Mr. Del'Acortay?" 

"Marco."

"Okay. Marco, would you like to set up a meeting with another staff member to discuss your account? It wouldn't be professional of me to handle anything for you since we have...former knowledge of each other." I say, trying to get things back on track. 

Maybe I could still save this?

"You mean we fucked like rabbits." He says leaning back in his chair, crossing one leg casually over the other, and resting one hand on his knee.

Maybe not.

I wet my lips. "It still doesn't change the situation..."


"You had the account last night, Danielle. I might have been considerably distracted, but your numbers are good. I accept your proposal on the condition that you remain part of the team." His eyes rake down my body and when they return the frustration is replaced by something hot, hungry, and almost predatory.

My breath catches in my throat as I remember in vivid details all the things we did when he last wore that look. 

"Let me take you to dinner."

"It's nine o'clock in the morning." That dazzling smile is back on his face. He knows exactly when to turn it on. I need to remember that. 

"How many woman have you done this to?"

"None."

His charming smile falls crashing and burning, his dark brows slashing down over hard, electric green eyes. I've pissed him off.

"I always go after what I want. It's a trademark for me; it's one of the things that has made me successful. To date, however, a woman has never hit that list." His jaw clenches.

"That is until now, apparently." He looks away. If I didn't know better, I would say he looks embarrassed at his admission. It's probably an expression he has cultured for effect, but it is still charming.

"Don't you have a slew of supermodels to drag to some social function? I'm sure they would be a much better fit for you than me. Why don't you go stalk one of them." I raise one eyebrow like Jess always does and lean back into my chair crossing my arms. 

I will not be charmed by this man. I have been hurt enough in the last five years, and this man has a heart ache written all over his expensive suit and gold cufflinks.

"Why do you do that? Why do you put yourself down?"

"I'm not putting myself down. I'm being realistic."

"You're being judgmental and hostile."

I open my mouth then snap it shut. He does have a point. I straighten my shoulders and lean forward to fold my hands carefully on the table.

"Are we done here?"

"Not even close. Show me the next chart."

"Fine." I snarl and whip another diagram onto the screen. I don't see the point. Neither of us is looking at it. The way we were glaring at each other is probably a good indication we aren't discussing the account or if we are then it isn't going good.

"Why won't you go to dinner with me? All I'm asking for is a shot to see where this goes." He says pretending to examine it.

"It's just not practical. Going out with you is like postponing the inevitable. We are from two very different worlds. It won't work."

"Maybe you should just live your life instead of worrying over what's practical." He slams his hand down on the table, and I jump. 

His words send chills running down my back. Not just because of the tone he has used, but because it is almost exactly word for word what my mother had said. "I want you to go out and live your life, stopping worrying so much over what's practical." My heart, which had frozen in my throat, now beats frantically to catch up. The ba bump echoing through my ears like old whispers.

"Okay." The word slips out before I even realize I am saying it.

"When?"

"Tonight. I'll meet you here."

"What time to do you get off? I'll pick you up."

I look down at the business dress I am wearing. Not my choice of date clothes but it could be worse.

We both jump as a knock sounds on the door.

The CFO pokes his head into the room; bushy eyebrows raised. "Everything okay in here?"

His eyes are on me as he asks.

"Beautiful." Marco turned to smile at him, and I watched the CFO fall under his spell. "You've got one tough negotiator on your hands. Mr. Ripley. Send the contract to my office. I'll have it signed and returned by tomorrow. You will have to excuse my bad manners. I prefer to discuss business in less crowded conditions. Ms. Rodrigues has a very obvious knowledge of these accounts that I was able to pick up on. I'm very impressed with your company, Mr. Simmons."

"Oh, fabulous. Yes, Sir, anything we can do to accommodate our clients. We are very lucky to have Ms. Rodrigues as part of our team." He beams at me then turns a relieved glance back to Marco. 

I smile back and nod slightly in return. 

When he shuts the door, Marco rounds on me. "Time?."

"Five." I say, gathering up my things and standing to shake his hand. His palm is warm and his grip slightly too tight. His hand flexes on mine, pulling me just a little closer like someone considering not letting go. 

His eyes darkened as they skim all the way down my body and up again. I am hit with a sudden memory of how his hands feel when they are doing the same thing and my breath starts coming in quick staccatos. 

It has taken only thirty minutes for him to take me from horrified to horny. That has got to be a new record for the books.

I should probably be worried about that, but I'm not. He is a beautiful, dark musician, and I am the instrument that is enthralled with the way he can play me. It may be wrong, but the music is beautiful.

He bends low over my hand, brushing his lips over my knuckles.

"Till I see you again." He nods his head, that arrogant smirk curling the corner of his mouth as he rises to walk out of the room. 

"Wait, why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Clear the room."

"Ah..." He nodes, thoughtfully. "You would have been great at the presentation, I know that, but my presence here was an unexpected burden. I didn't think it was fair for you to have to shoulder that alone." He winks and walks out the door.

"Till I see you again." I murmur to his already retreating form. 

When he is gone, I slump back into my chair with an audible sound of relief.

I close my eyes trying to calm down my erratic pulse and whirling thoughts.

This man will probably break my heart, and definitely change my world. There is also a remote possibility he could be dangerous, although I can't put my finger on exactly why. Oh well, every girl needs at least one bad boy in their life. Right? 

I would have time to figure that out later. Right now, I need to figure out what I am going to tell the board.

In the past, I would have slunk from this room, embarrassed and slightly dazed, probably stuttering as I tried to give a report of what happened to the others. Then I would have ducked out at lunch and never came back. 

I stare at the blurry reflection of myself in the glossy board room table, it is still the same image looking back as the one in the mirror this morning. Then I turn behind me to see the board members and Alfred start to gather in the hall. They are waiting on me.

I turn back to the table, the image isn't clear but I can still make out the red of my lips and the gold of my curls. I take a deep breath laying two shaking hands against the cool surface of the table and replay my morning in my head. 

A slow smile starts to make its way tentatively across my face. It hasn't been so bad.

Sure, I have almost fallen on my face with a little help from Alfred, but I had got the account in the end.

And the guy.

Yeah, okay, the method is a little unorthodox but the end result is good. No one can complain about that, I had just landed a multimillion dollar contract.

The smile grew wider.

I am still the girl who can talk shit in elevators and drive men crazy on wire backed chairs.

I could totally do this. I push away from the desk with both hands and start rehearsing the opening lines of the story I am about tell as I make my way to the door and towards the restless crowd beyond it. This will be a walk in the park after my weekend. After all, it's not like I'm doing it naked.

Grin.



Author Note: I have left the relationship between Danielle and Marco open to continue outside of the reader's direct line of vision. It is my thoughts that you will see their relationship again in the future through other stories. I am considering doing a spin off series where each girl in the group (the girls you see in the first chapter of Mr. F) will have her turn at the Mr. Fuckability contest. If done well, you will not only see the adventure of each girl, but updates to the progression of the relationship between Marco and Danielle. As always, thanks for reading.

-S