Desire Inc.. Zoe Zarani
Everything inside me trembled. I looked for the waiter. My Cosmo hadn’t arrived. ‘Oh, thanks for last night’s champagne. I should have said something this morning.’
‘If you’re waiting for your second drink, it’s not coming.’
‘Oh? Why is that?’
‘I can make you a Cosmopolitan at my place.’
‘And the waiter knew that?’
‘Walter? He did.’
Walter? So the Tribeca Grand was a hangout of his. One drink and off to his place. Why did that annoy me? How many of Thorne’s women had Walter waited on?
Cool it, Nicole. This is just a one-nighter.
‘Here he is with your credit card and the bill.’ To my immense surprise Thorne wasn’t annoyed. And here I thought I had figured this man out. If a warning bell went off I didn’t hear it.
I overtipped Walter to show off and signed the slip. Thorne got on his feet, slipped on his leather vest and held out his hand for me. As I stood up he brushed his lips against my cheek. ‘Thanks for the drink,’ he murmured in that soft smoky voice that gave me the shivers. ‘I guess now I have to deliver.’
I looked at him, my eyes sucking him in. Yes, you do, Archer Thorne. You’re going to deliver me to the stars and I’ll do the same to you.
The elevator door started to close and Thorne’s hand slid up my jersey, cupped one breast. I gasped, instantly wanting more. Jumped away when the door started to open again and a cute labradoodle wiggled in followed by a perky size-2 Barbie-doll type in running shoes, black tights and one of those Eileen Fisher cover-all-sins tops, although I suspected she didn’t have any sins to cover up. She gave me a quick dismissive look and turned her attention to Thorne. ‘Why, Archer, I didn’t expect to see you!’
‘Why not? We live in the same building.’ I was pleased to see he was scowling at her. He didn’t like her. On second thought, maybe he just didn’t like her timing. OK. No reason to get jealous.
‘Oh, but it’s been ages. How’ve you been? Look, Dolly’s missed you.’ The dog was sitting on its hind legs, looking up at someone he obviously knew well.
Thorne patted his pockets. ‘Empty. Sorry, Dolly.’
I decided it was time to assert myself. I wrapped my arm around Thorne’s waist, leaned against him and smiled at her. ‘You forgot to push your floor.’
She tugged at her dog, turned her back to us and pushed eight. Thorne lived in the penthouse. She and Dolly walked out without saying goodbye.
‘It’s not what you think,’ Thorne said the minute the door closed.
‘I don’t care.’ I took his hand and placed it back on my breast. ‘I’m not here to think.’
‘Good.’ He took his hand back. He stared at the elevator panel, at the lights jumping from floor to floor. I’d seen kids do that, counting out loud. At least he kept silent.
I stepped away, readjusted my jersey. OK, Mr Thorne. It’s the waiting game now. Two can play at that.
‘What’s your pleasure?’ Thorne asked as he ushered me into his home. ‘Cosmo or champagne?’
‘Whatever’s faster.’ The size and looks of the place took my answering ‘Sex’ right out of my mouth.
He walked to the bar and I stared. Thorne’s loft covered the entire floor. The room I was in had to be four times the size of my place. Very modern. Lots of glass and steel, oversized tobacco-brown leather sofas and armchairs, ash-grey wood floors. No rugs or pillows. Not a flower, plant or any other soft touch in sight. It should have been a cold room but wasn’t. The low orange lighting gave it warmth. Or maybe the heat was coming from me, thinking of what was waiting for me. Whatever it was, the place was stunning. Geoffrey and Giles would have swooned.
‘Go out on the terrace. The view’s nice.’ As I passed he threw me his vest. Halfway to the terrace he grabbed me with both arms. I tried to turn around to kiss him. He tightened his hold.
‘Don’t move. I like the feel of your ass against me. Your round, tight, gorgeous ass.’
I arched against him. I was wet. My nipples hurt from wanting his fingers, his tongue, his teeth. I took his hand, pushed it under my jersey, pressed it against one breast. ‘Do you like that too?’ I wanted him so badly I was ready to beg. Throw me down on the floor and take me, bite me, eat me. Stuff me up to my throat with you.
Except I don’t beg. Ever.
Thorne turned me around, peered at me with those beautiful golden eyes now filled with lust. ‘I like the whole package, every inch of Miss Desire, Inc.’
Thorne wanting me made me even wetter. I took his head in my hands, pulled his face to meet mine. I ran my tongue over his lips. I bit them gently. I clasped my mouth over both of them and sucked hard. I pressed my hips against his and felt his rock-hard penis. He made a mewling sound.
Oh yes, big man, you like this. So do I. Do I ever.
I kept sucking, giving him a taste of what his penis had in store. A taste of what I wanted him to do between my legs. I kissed him, my tongue dancing with his.
‘My turn,’ he mumbled in the kiss and tugged at my pants.
I stepped back. He’d made me wait this long. Now he was going to be the one to beg. ‘I’ll take that drink you promised out on the terrace. I love looking at nice views.’ Off I went towards the terrace. I expected him to follow, grab me again, push me down on the nearest sofa.
He didn’t. I guess Masters of the Universe know when to hold off.
I stepped out onto a long, wide terrace. It faced south and the view was indeed nice. I could see the One World Trade Centre covered in lights and looking like it was going to shoot for the moon, a bright bloated moon just shy of full. I wasn’t after the moon, just Thorne. For tonight. All night. Fuck him out of my system.
I looked around, saw two leather chaise-longues, big fluffy pillows, a large area sisal rug. A tall hedge of different plants cut off the view of the surrounding buildings. It was a very private terrace. Nice.
I kicked off my shoes, threw off my jersey top. Had to work a little harder to get my skin-tight pants off. Kept my lace thong. I spread my arms wide. The cool air felt great on my overheated body, but I slipped his leather vest on anyway. The vest held his wonderful musky scent, a heady mixture of aftershave and sweat that sent shivers down my spine.
Soft jazzy music wafted onto the terrace. Thorne was taking for ever with that drink. Maybe he was changing. Or punishing me for walking away. I arranged a few pillows on the rug, lay down on them, and waited for my drink.
‘La maja almost desnuda.’ Thorne stood over me, holding two flutes filled with champagne.
‘That sounds dirty.’
‘It’s a famous painting of a nude that caused quite a bit of scandal back in the eighteenth century.’ He handed me the drink. ‘She was almost as beautiful as you.’ He kept standing over me, sipping his drink, gulping me down with his eyes. He had changed into a blue silk bathrobe that did nothing to hide his swollen penis. His feet were bare. I was sure the rest of him was too.
I shifted my weight, letting his vest fall open. I ran my hands over my breasts, pushing them up, offering him my nipples. I patted the pillow next to me. He didn’t budge.
I reached up and pulled at the bathrobe’s belt, yanked the robe open. He threw it off and stood above me in all his glory. My breath caught. He was gorgeous, his skin tanned all over. I knelt up and ran my hands over his chest, nipples, his ribs, his flat stomach. Smooth, smooth skin I was going to lick like candy. While I explored, Thorne ran his fingers through my hair and sipped his drink. He was used to being admired, wanted. That should have been a turnoff, but