All I Ask Page 6

  Pulling his head up, he looked into her eyes long enough for her to flush, and then she had to look away from their intensity. This was dirty sex, and there was no place in it for emotional intimacy.

  His mouth came down on hers once more and he murmured against her lips. “You ready, Whip?”

  She nodded, wanting nothing more, and then he entered her in one deep thrust. His low groan vibrated against her cheek, and she nearly died from the pleasure, because his body was made like no man she’d ever been with. The width of his shoulders, the weight of his hard chest pushing her down, and the tautness of his ass where she held on for dear life.

  “Shit, you’re . . . so tight . . . warm,” he whispered against her lips. Their eyes met again, and although she wanted to look away, she couldn’t. Two long and slow strokes in and out of her body. Between the look on his face, and the gentleness of his movements, she was beginning to feel . . . too much.

  “Damn, you feel so good.”

  That was it. She needed to put some shields up quick, bring this coupling back to fantasyland where it belonged. Pushing her embarrassment aside, she forced her needs out of her mouth.

  “Please give it to me hard.” His increased pace, and the way his hands gripped her hair, let her know that he liked her whispered comment. That emboldened her, and it was so arousing to know that she could affect this man with words. “You feel so big. So deep. Please . . .”

  She heard her own whimpering voice, lust-filled and desperate, but she didn’t care. He muttered something that sounded like “slow down” but her body was incensed. She was so close to release.

  “Harder, Reeve. Fuck my pussy hard.” Oh God . . . she’d said that out loud . . . and it felt . . . freeing.

  “Holy . . . goddamn.” His groan was nearly animal as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. And then Emily felt him give the slightest jerk. “Shit . . . Oh, ffffuuuuccck . . .”

  The tone of his words was pure frustration mixed with ecstasy and then just like that he was suddenly slowing down. Reeve’s forehead rested against her, his breath puffing against her lips in warm bursts. What the hell had happened?

  “Did you just . . .”

  “Yes! Damn it,” he bit out. Followed with a sigh and a curse. “What do you expect when you start throwing out words like big and . . . pussy?”

  Emily couldn’t help herself. She let out a strangled laugh. Not because this was funny. But because it was so damn typical. Not even five minutes ago, she was primed and ready to go off with the next stroke of his tongue. Now reality came crashing down.

  “This isn’t funny, Whip.” His voice was muffled because he’d smashed his face into her neck.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. Um . . . do you mind?” Tapping the side of his butt, she signaled for him to get off her.

  He obeyed, rolling to one side. He quickly dealt with the condom and then turned back to her, holding her captive with one large arm. “We’re not done here.” His hand trailed down her torso, fingertips tracing the line of her waist down to her hip. “I’m not done until you are.”

  “Your flaccid member begs to defer,” Emily said, frustrated. The stunned look on his face made her suddenly feel like the ultimate bitch and she quickly covered her hand with his. “Reeve, I’m sorry. It’s fine. Really.”

  “No, it’s not fine.” He brushed her hand away easily and found her center and stroked her gently. “You’re not leaving my bed unsatisfied and that’s all there is to it. Look at me.”

  They went quiet, the mood in the room shifting. There would be no naughty words coming from her lips now. And she definitely could not look into his eyes. It was bad enough that he was placing soft kisses on her neck just below her ear.

  “Tell me your name,” he whispered. His fingers found just the right tempo on her clit, and Emily pointed her toes.

  She shook her head in response to his question, her eyelids closed tight. Her right hand went grasping for something to grab onto and encountered his inner thigh. She squeezed the muscle there and he shifted his legs to lock her hand between his strong limbs. The move felt possessive and oddly intimate, especially with the back of her arm pressed against his dick.

  “Come for me . . .” he whispered.

  Things had changed. They were no longer engaging in carnal, wicked sex. He’d let her down and he knew it. His response was to instantly make it up to her. That in and of itself was a complete turn-on. This was all about him pleasing her, and it was too much.

  “Oh God . . . Reeve.”

  “That’s it, babe. Let go. Let go and look at me.”

  For the briefest moment, she turned her head toward him and their eyes met. He was tilted up, resting on his elbow, watching her with the most intent, heated expression. And she still couldn’t go there, so she turned away as her body went over the edge.

  She’d come here tonight looking for something she’d never experienced before and never again would. And that’s exactly what had happened.

  * * *

  Emily walked across the tarmac of the Manhattan Regional Airport, wind whipping through her skirt around her legs. Her pilot, Dave, greeted her with a smile as she ascended the small staircase into the plane.

  “That wind is insane,” she said, pulling a hair from her lipstick. “Will we have any trouble?”

  Dave gave her a long look and she replied with a wink. She’d been flying with the now silver-haired man since she was a little girl. In fact, there were few people she trusted more.

  When Emily inherited the title of CEO of LAM Theaters—short for Little Apple Moviehouse—she’d immediately considered selling the small jet. Such a frivolous expense had seemed like an obvious place to cut costs. But her grandfather’s attorney—and her only true adviser at the time—had urged her to hold out for a bit. That, mixed with her sentimentality toward the aircraft and Dave, had given her pause.

  She could still remember summers with her grandfather after her mother had married the general and they’d moved to the East Coast. He’d either stop and get her, or send Dave to pick her up. The scent of the leather, the soothing sound of Dave’s voice, and just the pure relief of knowing she was going back home to Manhattan had been enough to make everything better.

  Keeping the jet had proven a wise decision, and it was especially convenient for days like today, when Emily could invite Amanda and her mother, Pam, to tag along so they could pick up Amanda’s wedding dress at the bridal shop in downtown Kansas City. As for her, she had a meeting with some of her general managers about the rolling out of a new marketing campaign for the summer.

  If her grandfather had still been alive he might tell her that she was too hands-on in running the company he’d gifted her in his will. In many cases, he might have been correct, but Emily had absolutely no doubt that her approach was the only reason she’d been successful in taking the struggling theater company and turning into a small but mighty force in the industry.

  George Phillips had been old-school. At one time his beliefs and tactics had built a small midwestern empire comprising 112 theaters in eleven states. It had afforded him a gorgeous home in Manhattan, Kansas, where the company was headquartered, a vacation home in Galveston, Texas, and the small private jet she was sitting on. It had even fed and put Emily in an apartment through her years at Stanford. But he’d failed to see that the industry was changing in the new millennium. While other theater companies were adding on reclining chairs, restaurants, and 3-D viewings, he was holding on to the small-town feel of his theaters. Unfortunately, those small-town folks were willing to drive to the major cities to experience a movie on a massive screen while they drank a handcrafted draft beer with their nachos. Digital streaming hadn’t helped, either.

  She’d tried talking to him about it repeatedly, and although he’d given her the benefit of listening, he’d been adamant. While she’d respected the genius he was and the businessman he’d once been, she’d had no qualms about bringing LAM Theaters up to scratch the minute she to
ok over.

  Fresh out of college, she’d gotten a job in the marketing department of a regional convenience store chain in Sacramento. Quickly she’d worked her way to the head position, effectively helping them turn their business right-side up with her campaigns and ideas.

  When she’d moved back to Manhattan to take over her grandfather’s theater company, she’d set out to do the same thing only on a bigger scale. And it had been even more exciting and fulfilling because it was her family’s business.

  Her overhaul had started with restructuring: She’d closed over twenty moviehouses that no longer made sense and invested in the ones that served multiple communities. Over the past four years she’d rebranded, hired a new marketing team, installed new seats and screens, and revamped the menu. LAM Theaters had become her life, and she was proud of the fact that she’d turned it back into a highly profitable company. If only her grandfather were here to see it.

  Sitting down in her seat, Emily pulled out her phone and read the text that had just buzzed through. It was Amanda. We’re parking! Don’t leave us!

  Emily smiled as she typed back a reply. I own this plane, remember? We take off when I say so.

  Ten minutes later Emily heard her friend’s voice as she made her way toward the small stepladder outside the door. Always the gentleman, Dave went down the steps to help the women.

  “Mom, hurry, but watch your step,” Amanda said. “We don’t want any bruises or casts in the wedding photos.”

  Emily walked to the doorway in time to see Dave board with a bright floral bag. She laughed and held out her hands. “Here, I’ll take this.”

  He handed off the bag and passed her on his way to the small cockpit. “We good to go once they’re on board, Ms. Phillips?”

  “Yes. Thank you, Dave.” She’d invited him to call her Emily for the past six years, but he never did. Not even Miss Emily, like he used to. But she admired Dave’s devotion to tradition.

  Emily smiled and held out her arms to Amanda, who was buzzing with excitement.

  “Look at this. Mother, do you see this?” Amanda asked as she hugged Emily.

  “I do, sweetie.”

  Amanda pulled back. “I still can’t believe my best friend owns a private jet. And it’s about time I get to ride in it. We should have flown this baby to Vegas for my bachelorette party.”

  Emily shook her head. “I’m sure Dave would have loved that. And this isn’t such a big deal. Many companies have planes.”

  “Yeah, except my best friend owns this company. Where do I sit?”

  There were four main seats and one small side chair. Emily held an arm out. “Whichever one you choose.”

  “It’s lovely in here. Leather seats and everything,” Pam, Amanda’s mother, said as she looked around. “A bit cramped, though. Hope I don’t get a touch of claustrophobia.”

  “It’s definitely not like the planes you’re used to, that is true.” Emily smiled.

  “Is there no toilet?” Pam asked, her face panicked.

  Emily motioned to the small seat by the door. “It’s more of an emergency-only kind of setup.”

  Pam’s look of uncertainty remained.

  “It’s only a twenty-minute flight, Pam,” Emily assured her. “But if you need to run into the airport we will certainly wait for you.”

  “Maybe I should at least try. I had a Diet Coke on the way here.”

  “Be careful on that ladder, Mom.” Amanda rolled her eyes and Emily sat down in the seat across from her.

  “So, have you called him?” Amanda asked. No context was required because Amanda had texted or called Emily with the same question at least twice a day for the past four days. The fact that this was the first time they were having the conversation face-to-face wasn’t going to change Emily’s response.

  “No, I have not called him, and I have no intention of doing so, either.”

  Amanda shook her head. “You may not intend to, but you want to. I know it.”

  “No I don’t. The guy served his purpose. I’m over it. Done. Finished.”

  “I still can’t believe you walked home alone. You know you should have called me. With that dress and those heels, you’re lucky you didn’t get picked up for solicitation.”

  “Well, since I wasn’t soliciting there wasn’t a chance of that.”

  “You could have been mugged or raped.”

  “No, it’s Manhattan, Kansas. Even the frat boys are passed out by four thirty in the morning. Besides, he lived less than fifteen minutes from my house.” Emily would never admit it, but she had been a little freaked out when she’d sneaked out of Reeve’s house and trekked home at the crack of dawn. Talk about walk of shame.

  “Did you take a photo of him before you sneaked out of his place?”

  “What? No! It would have been creepy to take a photo of him sleeping. Plus, I was too busy frantically dressing in silence.”

  “Hm. Then I guess you’re not interested in the photo I took of him at the bar.”

  “What? When?”

  Amanda laughed. “Gotcha! I can see the excitement on your face, lady. Don’t try to tell me you don’t think about calling this guy.”

  Emily rolled her eyes. “So did you take a photo or not?”

  “Of course I did. You were about to leave with a strange man with big muscles who you clearly didn’t trust enough to tell your name. I definitely needed a way to identify him in a lineup.” Clearly Amanda needed to cut back on her television viewing.

  “It was never about trust, Manda. You know I would never have left with someone had I not felt I could trust him.”

  “Okay, so you wanted anonymous sex. Fine. I get it. You deserve an escape from your awful, demanding, life.” Amanda’s voice was thick with sarcasm as she raised a hand up to envelop Emily’s expensive suit and private jet. But Emily knew her friend well enough to catch the teasing tone. “Seriously, though, you do deserve it. But I just want more for you than a one-night stand.”

  “I used to want that, too.” Feeling twitchy, Emily got up and retrieved a couple of bottles of water from a small refrigerator behind the seats. She passed one to Amanda. “But so far it has been my experience that men can’t handle my job. They always start off thinking it’s great. Then inevitably they start butting in. Asking questions, giving advice. I don’t need a man looking over my shoulder, thinking he knows best.”

  “You know some of that is just part of being a couple. I know Devon and I don’t have nearly as big a job as this, but we talk things over all the time. Share work troubles, ask each other for advice.”

  Emily shrugged. “Maybe it’s just the men I’ve been dating.”

  “Or maybe you don’t like giving up control. You know that asking for help with something is not a sign of weakness.”

  “Of course I know that.”

  Amanda lifted one perfectly groomed eyebrow but kept quiet as her mother boarded the plane once again.

  “It’s a good thing I did that.” Pam was breathless from her rushed trip into the little regional airport. “I might have been using the emergency toilet seat.”

  They all laughed as they got seat-belted in. Within five minutes Dave was taxiing them down the runway and into the sky. Emily leaned her head back and closed her eyes. As often as she flew, and as smooth a pilot as Dave was, she never liked takeoffs or landings. She squeezed her armrest and breathed deeply until she felt the small plane begin to level out.

  Then she remembered what her friend had said not ten minutes before. Emily’s eyes flew open and landed on Amanda, who was staring out the window at the farm-dotted plains below.

  “Manda, dear,” Emily said sweetly.

  “Huh.” Amanda didn’t take her eyes off the view.

  “You were going to send me that link you wanted to show me. Remember?” Emily certainly wasn’t going to revisit the conversation about Reeve and the One-Night Stand in front of Pam. She adored Pam, who had in many ways been a second mother to her, but there were some things eve
n a grown woman didn’t want to discuss with her best friend’s mom and casual sexcapades was one of them. Although she had a feeling Pam would love every minute of the conversation.

  “Huh? What link was I supposed to send you?” Amanda looked confused. Emily gave her a look and nodded at her phone. “Ah, oh yes. The one you were dying to see again.”

  With a cocky grin Amanda poked at the buttons on her phone, and within seconds Emily’s phone buzzed. Holding her breath, she opened the text, and her heart nearly stopped.

  Despite what a busy week it had been at LAM, she’d thought of little besides this man. The way he’d kissed her, the scent of his sheets, and the feel of his leather jacket hugging her body. And although the sex hadn’t gone quite as planned, it had still shot to the top of her list for best sex ever. She wasn’t sure what that said about her experience but she didn’t care.

  The truth was, she did want to see him again. His number had been burning a hole in her phone. She’d pulled up the text she’d sent to Amanda with his number and address several times. She had all his information. And now she had a reminder of how sexy his face was. Amanda had obviously sneaked it while she was standing at the table giving him the third degree. He was looking over at Emily, a sly grin on his face. His profile was so masculine, so handsome. She should delete it from her phone because the best thing she could do was forget that night. They’d had their fun and it was over.

  Hesitating for a long moment, her fingers hovering over the screen, Emily finally pushed the little trash can icon and approved the deletion of the hottest thing that had ever happened to her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  When the last of the mulch was loaded onto the flatbed hooked to Reeve’s work truck, he slammed the tailgate and let out a sigh. He glanced around for the owner of Little Apple Dirt and Mulch so he could sign his invoice and get out of there. He was ready to finish up for the day and get home to a hot shower.