Wallbanger Read online

  My lips purred as I slipped his length inside my mouth. His head dropped back as my tongue caressed him, taking him in deeper. The pure pleasure of this, the absolute pleasure of feeling his reaction to me was enough to make my head split in two. I drew him back out, letting my teeth just barely graze his sensitive skin as I saw him grip the edge of counter even harder. I ran my nails up the inside of his legs, pushing his jeans farther down for more access to his warm skin. Pressing kisses across the tip of him, I let my hands come up to grasp him, stroking and massaging. He was perfect, all smooth and taut as I took him in again, and again, and again. I felt crazed, drunk on his scent and the feel of him inside me.

  He moaned my name over and over again, his words drifting down like molten chocolate sexy times, pouring inside my brain and dedicating every sense I had to him, only to him. On and on I went, making him crazy, making me crazy, licking, sucking, tasting, teasing, luxuriating in the madness that was this luscious act. To have him here, in this way, was the very definition of luxury.

  He stiffened further, and his hands finally came back to me, trying to make me pull back.

  “Caroline, oh, Caroline, I’m…you…first…you…oh, God…you,” he stuttered. Luckily, I was able to interpret. He wanted me to have something as well. What he didn’t realize is that this total abandon he was giving me was all I needed. I released him only for a moment, to place his hands once more on the counter.

  “No, Simon. You,” I replied, taking him in deeply once more, feeling him hit the back of my throat as my hands tended to the rest of him that my mouth could not. His hips moved once, then again, and with a shudder and the most scrumptious groan I’ve ever heard, Simon came. Threw his head back, closed his eyes, and let go.

  It was wonderful.

  Moments later, crumpled into me on the floor of the kitchen, he sighed contentedly. “Good Lord, Caroline. That was…unexpected.”

  I giggled, bending down to kiss his forehead. “I couldn’t control myself. You just looked way too good, and I…well…I got carried away.”

  “I’ll say. Although I don’t think it’s fair that I’m somewhat exposed here, and you’re still fully clothed. We could remedy that pretty quickly, though.” He pulled at the drawstring on my pants.

  I stopped him. “First of all, you aren’t somewhat exposed, you are hanging free on the kitchen floor, and I quite like it. And this wasn’t about me, although I admit I enjoyed it immensely.”

  “Silly girl, now I want to enjoy you immensely,” he persisted, running his fingers along the edge of my pants, dancing across the skin there.

  Nerves began to dance the flamenco, demanding more time—more time! Not ready! LC kicked some things. “No, no, not tonight. I want to make you a nice dinner. Let me take care of you a little bit. Can’t I just do that?” I removed his devil hands and kissed them.

  He smiled up at me, his hair messy and a goofy grin still adorning his face. He sighed in defeat and nodded. I started to climb off the floor when he caught me around the waist, pulling me back down.

  “A word, please, before you leave me—what did you say? Hanging free on the kitchen floor?”

  “Yes, dear?” I asked, earning a raised eyebrow.

  “So, using the base-rounding point of reference we’ve applied to this week, I’d say we just skipped ahead a few dates, yes?”

  “I should say so.” I laughed, patting him lightly on the head.

  “Then I think it’s only fair to warn you…Tomorrow night? Your last night in Spain?” he said, his eyes blazing through the twilight.

  “Yes?” I whispered.

  “I’m gonna try to steal home.”

  I smiled. “Silly Simon, it’s not stealing if I wave you in,” I purred, kissing him solidly on the lips.

  Later that night, as I lay wrapped thickly in Simon, LC began to prepare. And Brain and Backbone began to chant…O…O…O. Wang? Well, we knew where he was, pressed rather closely against Backbone.

  Heart continued to float above, but was circling ever closer to home. However, an additional entity began to assert herself once again, trying to influence the others. She tinted my dreams with her quiet whispering.

  Hello, Nerves.

  My sleep was most decidedly…flaily.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “DID YOU ALWAYS KNOW you wanted to take pictures for a living?”

  “What? Where did that come from?” Simon laughed, sitting back in his chair and looking at me over the rim of his coffee cup.

  We were enjoying a lazy breakfast on my last day in Spain. Dark coffee, tiny little lemon cakes, freshly cut berries and cream, and a side of sunny coastline. Clad in Simon’s shirt and a smile, I was in heaven. Nerves seemed very far away this morning.

  “I mean it,” I insisted. “Did you always want to do this? You seem, well, you’re very intense when you’re working. You seem like you really love it.”

  “I do love it. I mean, it’s a job so it has its tedious moments, but yeah, I love it. It wasn’t something I always planned, though. In fact, there was a different plan altogether,” he replied, a dark look passing over his face.

  “What does that mean?”

  “For a long time I planned on following my father into his business.” He sighed, a rueful smile slipping into place.

  My hand was in his before I even realized I’d offered it. He squeezed, and then took another sip of his coffee.

  “Did you know Benjamin worked for my father?” he asked. “Dad hired him right out of school, mentored him, taught him everything. When Benjamin wanted to go out on his own, you’d think Dad would’ve been pissed, but he was so proud of him.”

  “He’s the best.” I grinned.

  “Don’t think I don’t know about the crush you girls have on him. I’m aware.” He gave me a stern look.

  “I’d hope so. We’re not exactly subtle in our admiration.”

  “Parker Financial Services was getting big, really big, and Dad wanted me to come onboard as soon as I was done with college. I honestly never thought I’d leave Philadelphia. It would have been a great life: working with my dad, country club, big house in the ’burbs. Who wouldn’t want that?”

  “Well…” I murmured. It was an idyllic life, for sure, but I couldn’t picture Simon there.

  “I worked on our high school newspaper, taking pictures. I took the class as an easy A. You know, good for my transcript? But even though I got assignments like covering the women’s field hockey tryouts, I really liked it. Like, really liked it. I just figured it would always be a nice hobby. Never really thought about it as a career. My parents supported me, though, and my mom even got me a camera for Christmas that year—the year that…well…” He paused, clearing his throat a bit.

  “Anyway, after everything happened with Mom and Dad, Benjamin came out to Philadelphia for the, um, for the funeral. He stayed for a while, got things in order, you know. He was the executor of my parents’ will. And since he was living out on the West Coast, well, the idea of staying behind in Philadelphia didn’t sound so great. So, long story short, Stanford accepted me, I started studying photojournalism, I got really lucky with some internships, and then right-place-right-time, and bam! That’s how I got into this gig,” he finished, dunking his cake and taking a bite.

  “And you love it.” I smiled.

  “And I love it,” he agreed.

  “So what happened to your dad’s company? Parker Financial?” I asked, spooning up a bite of berries.

  “Benjamin took over some of the clients for a while, and over time he quietly closed up shop. The assets were transferred to me, per the will, and he manages it for me.”

  “Assets?”

  “Yep. Didn’t I tell you that, Caroline? I’m loaded.” He winced, looking out to sea.

  “I knew there was a reason I was hanging out with you.” I topped off his coffee.

  “Seriously. Loaded.”

  “Okay, now you’re just being an ass,” I said, trying to lift the tension tha
t had settled over the table.

  “Well, people get weird about money. You never know,” he said.

  “When we get home you’re buying our building and installing a hot tub on the landing, that’s all,” I joked, which earned me a small smile.

  We sat and looked at each other, deep in our own thoughts. He’d done so much alone. No wonder he always seemed a little lost to me. Living out of a suitcase, not allowing himself to be tethered to anyone, no real sense of belonging—could it really be that simple? Wallbanger had haremed because he couldn’t stand to lose anyone else? Paging Dr. Freud…

  Freudian or no, it made sense. He was attracted to me, had been attracted to me since the beginning. But what was different this time? Clearly he’d been attracted to all the other women as well. Wow, no pressure at all…With a toss of my head, I tried to change the subject.

  “I can’t believe I’m leaving tomorrow. I feel like we just got here.” I leaned forward on my elbows. He smiled, likely noticing my not-so-subtle way of changing the subject. But he seemed grateful.

  “So stay. Stay with me. We can spend a few more days here, and then who knows? Where else do you want to go?”

  “Pfft. You’ll recall that I’m leaving before you because it’s the only flight I could get. Besides, I have to be back at work, organized, and in the right time zone on Monday. You know how many jobs Jillian has lined up for me?”

  “She’ll understand. She’s a sucker for a good romance. Come on. Stay with me. I’ll stash you in the overhead bin for the flight home.” His eyes twinkled over his coffee mug.

  “Overhead bin, my foot. And is this what this is? A romance? Shouldn’t you be embracing me on the beach? And ripping my bodice?” I placed my bare legs in his lap, and he took full advantage of this, massaging between his warm hands.

  “Lucky for you, I’m a bodice-ripper from way back. I could probably even throw together a pirate costume, if that’s what you’re into,” he replied, the sapphires beginning to smoke.

  “It has been quite a romantic tale, hasn’t it? If someone would’ve told me this story, I doubt I’d have believed it,” I mused, groaning as I finished my last bite.

  “Why not? It’s not that strange how we met, is it?”

  “How many women do you know who would voluntarily go to Europe with a man who’d been banging the plaster right off her walls for weeks?”

  “True, but you could also spin me as the guy who played you all those great records through the wall, and the guy who gave you, and I quote, ‘the best meatball ever’?”

  “I suppose you did begin to wear me down with the Glen Miller. That got me.” I sunk into my chair as his hands did delicious things to the bottoms of my socked feet. Socks I had also appropriated from his side of the room.

  “I got you, huh?” He smirked, leaning closer.

  “Oh, shut it, you.” I pushed his face away, smiling big as I contemplated what he said. Did he have me? Yeah. He totally had me. And would have me, sometime later that night.

  At that thought, a whoosh of nerves hit my tummy, and I felt my smile falter a bit. Nerves had set up shop big time, and no matter where Brain went, eventually Nerves invaded every thought, every idea I had about where the night would go. I was ready, Lord knows I was ready, but I was damn nervous. O would come back, right? I knew she would. Did I mention I was nervous?

  “So, are you almost done with your work? Do you still have a lot to do tomorrow?” I asked, changing the subject once again. As was always the case when he talked about his work, Simon’s eyes lit up. He described the shots he still needed of the Roman-style aqueduct in town.

  “I wish we had time to go scuba diving. I hate that we ran out of time.” I frowned.

  “Again, something that would be solved if you stayed here with me.” He frowned back, making a big deal of mimicking my eyebrows.

  “Again, some of us have nine-to-five jobs. I have to get home!”

  “Home, right. You know there’s gonna be a firing squad to face when we get home. Everyone is going to want to know what happened here between us,” he said seriously.

  “I know. We’ll handle it.” I cringed at the grilling I’d receive from the girls, to say nothing of Jillian. I wonder if a kitchen blowjob was what she had in mind when she said take care of him in Spain.

  “We?”

  “What? We what?” I asked.

  “I could we with you.” He smiled.

  “Aren’t we already we-ing?”

  “Yeah, we’re we-ing on vacation. It’s quite a different thing to be we-ing back home, in the real world. I travel all the time, and that takes its toll on the we unit,” he said, his brow knit together.

  It took all my power, all of it, not to make a joke about the we(e) unit.

  “Simon, chill. I know you travel. I’m well aware. Keep bringing me pretty things from faraway places, and this girl has no problem with your we, okay?” I patted his hand.

  “Pretty things I can do. Guaranteed.”

  “Speaking of, where are you off to next?”

  “I’ll be home for a few weeks, and then I’m headed down south for a bit.”

  “Down south? As in LA?”

  “No, a bit more south.”

  “San Diego?”

  “Souther.”

  “Stanford educated, right? Where are you going?”

  “Promise you won’t be mad?”

  “Spit it out, Simon.”

  “Peru. The Andes. More specifically, Machu Picchu.”

  “What? Oh, man, that’s it. I officially hate you. I’ll be in San Francisco, planning rich people’s Christmas trees, and you get to go there?”

  “I’ll send you a postcard?” He looked like a kid trying to get out of trouble. “Besides, I don’t know what you’re so pissy about. You love your job, Caroline. Don’t even try to tell me you don’t.”

  “Yeah, I love my job, but right now I wish I was headed south.” I huffed, snatching my feet away.

  “Well, if you want to head south, I can think of something—”

  I placed my hand in front of his mouth. “No way, buddy. I’m not machuuing your pichu now. Huh-uh,” I stated firmly, not wavering one bit when he began pressing open mouth kisses against my palm. Not one little bit…

  “Caroline,” he whispered against my hand.

  “Yes?”

  “One day,” he began, removing my hand and leaving tiny kisses up the inside of my arm. “One day…” Kiss. “I promise…” Kiss kiss. “To bring you…” Kiss. “And my woo…” Kiss kiss. “To Peru,” he finished, now kneeling in front of me and dragging his mouth across my shoulder, peeling the fabric away to linger along my collarbone, his lips making me hot and shivery.

  “You wanna woo me in Peru?” I asked, my voice high and stupid and not fooling him for a second. He knew exactly how he was affecting me.

  “True.” His fingers tangled in my hair and brought my mouth to his. I tried for a second to come up with something that rhymed with true, but I gave up and kissed him back with all I had. And so, I let him make out with me on the terrace, overlooking the ocean. Which was…blue. Ahem.

  All week long, we’d been seeing signs of a festival coming together around town. It started tonight, as if celebrating my departure, and we were headed out to dinner, to somewhere considerably more fancy than the places we’d been eating all week. I’d discovered Simon and I were very similar in many of our tastes. I was all for getting dressed up from time to time, but I much preferred smaller, casual places, as did he. So tonight, getting dressed up and going out someplace a little fancy, and then maybe hitting the festival, had a special feel to it. I was definitely looking forward to this evening, in more ways than one.

  They say when a soldier loses a leg in battle, sometimes, late at night, he can still feel twinges of that leg—phantom pain, they call it. I lost my O in battle, the battle of Cory Weinstein—that machine-gun fucker—and I was still feeling the aftershocks. And by aftershocks I mean nothing at all. But t
here was an end in sight. I’d been feeling twinges of the phantom O all week long, and I was very much looking forward to her return later this evening. The Return of the O. Of course I would see it as a title of some kind of action film in my head—but truly, if she was returning, I would capitalize anything. Any Thing.

  Because tonight, sports fans, I was gonna get me some. Not to put too fine a point on it, I was ready for some serious Simon Wang.

  I ran my fingers through my hair once more, noticing how the strong sun had brought out the natural honey tones. I smoothed the front of my dress, white linen with a little swing to the skirt. I paired it with some turquoise jewelry I’d bought in town and little snakeskin sandals. I was the most dressed up I’d been all week, and—undercurrent of nerves aside—feeling pretty good. I took one last look at myself in the mirror, noticing that my cheeks were pretty pink, and I hadn’t even added blush tonight.

  I went to the kitchen to pour myself a quick glass of wine and wait for Simon. As I poured the Cava, I saw him on the terrace, facing the ocean. I smirked when I saw he was wearing a white linen shirt. We’d be quite matchy-matchy tonight. Khakis completed his look, and he turned just as I was walking out to meet him. My heels clicked across the stone as I sipped my bubbly wine, and he leaned back on his arms across the wrought iron railing. As a photographer, he was innately aware of the kind of imagery he was creating, I felt certain. Anytime he leaned, he oozed sex. I just hoped I didn’t fall in my heels…sex ooze could be slippery.

  I offered my wine to him, and he let me bring the glass to his lips. Slowly, he sipped, his eyes on mine. When I removed the glass, he quickly wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me to him, kissing me deeply, the taste of wine heavy on his tongue.

  “You look…good,” he breathed, pulling away from my lips to press his mouth against the skin just below my ear, his scruff tickling me in the most fantastic way.

  “Good?” I asked, tilting my head back to encourage everything he was doing.

  “Good. Good enough to eat,” he whispered, grazing my neck with his teeth, just enough to make me aware of them.