Man Crush Monday Read online

  I hear a soft chuckle and look over to see he’s grinning behind me.

  “Not exactly the sexiest bedding I’ve ever seen, but we’ll make it work.”

  I groan with realisation. “I didn’t think you’d be staying over.”

  He saunters over to me, his fingers already working on his shirt buttons and cufflinks as we both look over at the Game of Thrones Not Today duvet set on my bed.

  When our eyes meet again, his darken, his lids drooping sultrily. “Take off your jumper and skirt. I’ll do the rest.”

  My eyes widen at the command.

  Hot. Demanding. Masterful. Fuck.

  I immediately comply, eagerly tugging off my clothes. I stand in my underwear as his eyes skim over me in such a way that it makes my mouth water.

  “Amy, you look so perfectly fuckable.” His voice is almost a growl, and I feel the thrill of his words from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

  Perfectly fuckable. That was probably the weirdest yet sexiest compliment I’ve ever had in my life.

  From his trouser pocket, he takes out his phone and wallet, setting them on my bedside cabinet next to his cufflinks, before undressing himself. His eyes don’t leave mine for more than a second as he removes his clothes, carefully folding them and setting them in a neat pile on my chair.

  I greedily drink him in, my gaze ravaging every inch of exposed skin to the point of indecency, my insides squirming with desire. When he pulls off his boxer shorts—I notice he even folds those too—the sound that comes out of me is a cross between a grunt and a whimper. He is beautiful.

  One side of his mouth kicks up into a knowing smile as he advances on me. I step back, my knees hitting the bed, because I’m not sure I’m ready for this. The heat I can see in his eyes promises something earth-shattering, and I need a couple of seconds to prepare myself for it.

  My breathing hitches as he stops in front of me, hooking his finger under my chin, tilting my head up until my eyes meet his. The heat of his naked body against mine is so erotic that I feel a little shiver tickle down my spine. With his eyes on mine, he reaches around me, expertly unclasping my bra, sliding it off my shoulders and down my arms so slowly that it causes my skin to break out in goosebumps. I gulp as air hits my nipples. This is too much.

  His gaze glides down my body as his bottom lip rolls up into his mouth, his eyebrows pinching together, and a sexy little groan of appreciation rumbles from his throat. I gasp, and my eyes widen as his hands roam my body, brushing against my hypersensitive skin, catching the elastic of my underwear and sensuously sliding them down over my hips.

  As they drop to the floor, he kisses me. I melt against him, my arms looping around his neck as he guides me back onto the bed and settles himself on top of me. I feel his thickening arousal pressing against my thigh, and my core gives a needy clench.

  He moves, kissing down my neck and across my collarbone before his mouth closes over my nipple, his teeth scraping lightly.

  “You’re going to kill me,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes closed.

  He chuckles, his hot breath teasing my stomach as his tongue draws a line around my belly button before heading lower.

  I try to prepare myself for it—I really do—but when his mouth gets to its desired destination, I let out a hissed curse, and my hips buck up. My hands fist into his hair as his arms wrap around my thighs, holding me in place as I start to wriggle, wanting to be away, wanting to be closer, just wanting.

  Waves of pleasure roll over me as he expertly works his tongue, playing my body to perfection. I’m in heaven, and I writhe under him as it builds and builds. My back arches in ecstasy when he adds his fingers, pushing them inside me, adding to the tortuous, beautiful pleasure he’s creating. When he curls his fingers, rubbing my inner walls, I’m at the point where I’m about to lose my damn mind. My breath comes out in short, sharp pants. My moans grow obscene, but still, he doesn’t let up. He pins me there, lavishing attention on my body until I come so hard that I feel my whole body tense and my thighs shake around his head—exactly as he wanted.

  When he pulls back, he grins as he sucks on his fingers and then wipes his mouth. I can’t speak. I’m done. I’m lost. He has officially killed me. My brain is mush.

  When people don’t see me for a couple of days, they’ll be all, Hey, where’s that pink-haired chick who doesn’t stop talking? and then they’ll come to my flat, investigate, and find me dead, sprawled on the bed, a look of sheer and utter satisfaction on my face. What a way to go.

  He pulls himself back up the bed, hovering over me as his mouth claims mine in a kiss that’s so hot that I feel the effects of it ripple through my spent body. The tangy taste of myself on his tongue as it strokes mine makes it even more erotic, and I moan into his mouth, clutching his body to mine, loving the heavy weight of him pinning me to the bed.

  When he eases away and smirks down at me, obviously proud of himself, I feel my face flush. His eyes sparkle with both amusement and desire as he leans to the side and reaches for his wallet. I shake my head and raise one eyebrow. After what he just did to me, he deserves to lose his cool a bit too. I want to wipe that smug look from his face.

  I wrap my arms around him and guide him onto his back, rolling on top of him and sitting up on his stomach, my hands on his chest. I can feel the hardness of him under me, and I can’t resist a quick grind on top of it. His smile grows as he slips one arm under his head, the picture of ease as he watches me, his other hand gently kneading my still-quivering thigh.

  I look down at him as my fingers follow the lines of muscle on his stomach and the V line at his hips, and my nails rake through the spattering of hair beneath his navel. He is so sexy; it should be illegal. When I replace my hands with my mouth, peppering little kisses across his chest and stomach as I shimmy down his body, I feel his cool demeanour begin to slip. His muscles bunch as I head lower.

  When I get to his impressive length, I wrap my hand around it and revel in the grunt he lets out as I stroke him. I lick my lips, looking it over, my mouth watering. When I flick my eyes up to his face, I see he’s watching me, his lips parted, his eyes tense, waiting to see what I’ll do. I smile seductively before leaning over, teasing the tip with my tongue. The muscles in his lower abdomen tense, and I grin in triumph.

  Ah, not so relaxed now, Jared Stone!

  When I take him into my mouth and suck gently, he hisses through his teeth and groans my name. The way he breathes my name is like another wave of pleasure for me too. I love it. So, I take that as encouragement and go to town, sucking on his hard length, stroking and squeezing my hand around the base at the same time. I lose myself in the act, trying different things, different pressures, my hands exploring, my tongue lavishing attention on him.

  He’s propped himself up on his elbows, watching me, a look of sheer pleasure on his face. When he reaches down and scoops up my hair into a makeshift ponytail, holding it in his fist so he can get a better view, I push down as far as I can, gagging as he hits the back of my throat and closing my eyes, which just makes him groan louder.

  “Oh shit. You should stop. I’m not going to last five minutes with your mouth on me like that,” he growls, reaching for my hand.

  But I don’t stop. I want to see him lose control too, as he made me. So, I push his hand away and suck harder, hollowing out my cheeks, pushing down deeper each time. His head drops back onto his shoulders, and his breathing quickens as I take him to the edge of the cliff. I feel so powerful at that moment, so desired. It’s incredibly hot.

  After a few minutes, one of his hands goes to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair, and he looks down at me through heavily lidded eyes. “Amy … I’m gonna …”

  He tries to ease me away, but I don’t allow him to. Instead, I push down and close my eyes, gagging and repeating until he finally comes. I force myself to swallow and finally pull back, gasping for breath, my heart racing in my chest, my whole face tingling and flushed.

 
; I push myself up to sitting and wipe my watery eyes as I look over at him.

  He’s flopped back against the pillows, watching me in a state of shocked euphoria.

  “Fucking hell. Best blow job I’ve ever had. Christ.” He’s breathing heavy, and his voice comes out as a ragged rasp that makes the hair on the back of my neck prickle.

  He’s looking at me in awe, and I grin proudly.

  “Honestly, I’m not kidding. I think my soul left my body there for a few seconds.”

  I burst out laughing and crawl up his body, settling myself against him. His arm slips around me, his thumb drawing lazy patterns on my back as he cuddles me. He smells amazing, raw, sexual, and I press my face into his neck, snuggling into him as he pulls the sheets up around us.

  I’m so relaxed and satiated that my brain is already turning off.

  “So, what are you like then? What kind of sleeper are you?” he asks, turning his head and planting a soft kiss on my forehead.

  “Stage five clinger,” I joke.

  He laughs, a deep rumble that I feel against my body. He stretches one arm over the side of the bed, and I think he’s about to turn off the light, but instead, he picks up his phone.

  I watch as he goes into his Clock app and sets an alarm for five thirty.

  “So early,” I grumble. “Who schedules meetings for six thirty?”

  “My days are long sometimes. It’s chaos at the moment with this merger. I promise I’ll try not to wake you when I get up.”

  He turns his head and kisses me. I sigh contentedly when I pull away and nuzzle into his neck, my eyes fluttering closed.

  Seconds later, I hear the click of a camera. I groan and try to cover my face, but he’s already got what he wanted. He shows me the screen, and I simper when I look at the photo he took. It’s him, grinning up at the camera and me snuggled into his neck. You can’t really make out my face, but you can see a small, satisfied smile on my mouth. It’s tasteful, and it doesn’t show anything inappropriate other than my naked back and his naked chest. It’s so intimate that I feel my face flush.

  “New screen saver. That’ll get me through some long workdays.”

  He pushes his phone onto the bedside table and switches off the light before turning towards me, pulling my body closer to his as he tangles our legs. It’s so comfortable that I already know I’ll hate sleeping alone from now on. His naked skin on mine is all I can think about as I descend into sleep, wrapped securely in his arms.

  seven

  I wake before the alarm even has a chance to go off. Somehow, I know I’m alone. I roll onto my back, stretching so hard that my legs shake. A satiated grin slips onto my face. My muscles ache in a delightful way they haven’t in a long, long time. I can smell him on the bedclothes and on me. I smile wider.

  Best. Night’s. Sleep. Ever.

  Rolling, I check the time to see it’s still ten minutes before my alarm is due. A piece of folded paper next to my lamp catches my eye. It has my name written on the front.

  I reach for it and sit up, clutching the sheets against my naked chest. Jared’s handwriting is a small, neat print.

  Amy,

  I didn’t want to wake you.

  Call me when you get up.

  Jared x

  I grin and flop back against the pillow, letting out a little squeal of delight as my teeth sink into my bottom lip. Last night was everything I’d dreamed it would be and more.

  I clutch the note to my chest as events from last night play out in my head—his taste, his touch, his smell. Excitement bubbles in my tummy at the thought of speaking to him. Swinging my legs out of the bed, I grab my dressing gown from the chair and pull it on, knowing I need to start my morning routine before I call. As usual, I have just over an hour to get ready before I have to leave for work, and after last night, my hair is sure to be a wild sex knot at the back of my head, so I need to allow extra time for that.

  After a quick stop in the bathroom to pee, I head to the kitchen and pick up the kettle, filling it and turning it on.

  I can’t wait any longer. I need to speak to him.

  I dial his number and lean against the counter, chewing on my lip, hoping he’ll suggest another date because if he blows me off after last night, I’m going to be devastated.

  He answers on the second ring. There’s a heated discussion going on in the background as he says, “Good morning, Amy. Would you hold one moment, please?”

  His voice is professional and curt, and I don’t know why, but it turns me on even more. I feel a shiver tickle down my spine as I remember that voice purring dirty things to me last night.

  “Sure.”

  “Gentlemen, would you excuse me, please? I have to step out and take this,” Jared says off the phone.

  I wince when I realise he’s still in his morning meeting he mentioned. Awkward.

  There are muffled voices and murmurs of agreement and then sounds of a door closing.

  Then, he’s back on the line. “Hi. Sorry about that.”

  “You’re still in your meeting? Sorry. I should have texted instead of calling. I got your note, so …”

  “No problem. I was waiting for your call anyway. Did I wake you when I did my walk of shame this morning?”

  I chuckle. “No, I sleep like the dead.”

  “That’s good. I tried to be as quiet as I could. Though, I must admit, I was kind of hoping you would wake up. Do you have any idea how hard that was for me, leaving you naked and unravaged in the bed like that?”

  I close my eyes at his seductive tone and grin. “How hard?” I flirt.

  “Rock hard.” He blows out a big breath that crackles on the line. “I had a great time last night.” His voice drops an octave, and I can tell he’s thinking back to our naughty exploits.

  I swallow and feel the blush heat my cheeks. “Me too,” I admit, reaching up to grab a mug as the kettle starts to boil.

  As I pluck out a mug, I notice the plates in my kitchen cupboard have been reorganised, stacked neatly according to size—smallest to largest. I frown and then notice that my kitchen looks different from how I left it last night. The plates and glasses we used for dinner are gone from the sink. My gaze flicks back to the cupboard, and there they are—washed, dried, and put away in an orderly little stack. Even the empty pizza box is missing from the side.

  “Jared, did you tidy my kitchen?” I glance around, seeing he even wiped the sides and folded my tea towel, hanging it from one of the drawer handles.

  He clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. I just washed up the stuff we used last night. I didn’t want you to have to wake up to it.”

  I blanch, my scalp prickling from the sweetness of that gesture. My hand tightens on the handle of the kettle as I pour hot water over my tea bag. “That’s super cute,” I gush, grinning.

  He just laughs, and I can imagine the twinkle of his eye and shrug of his shoulders.

  “How’s your meeting going?” I ask.

  He groans. “Not good. I think we’ll be here a while.”

  “Ah, hopefully not a day like yesterday where you don’t have time to eat,” I reply, straining the tea bag on the side of my mug and stepping on the pedal of the bin.

  As the lid lifts and I’m half a second from dropping my tea bag, I notice there’s no bag inside the bin. My heart clenches. He even emptied my bin and took it and the used pizza box out for me.

  Sweet!

  “So, can I see you tonight?” he asks just as I’m about to gush some more about how adorable he is.

  My heart is instantly screaming, YES, but my brain—the more rational part of me—lets me down with a bump.

  “I can’t,” I sigh. “Heather is coming over tonight for some girl time. Thursdays are always BFF days.”

  “Every Thursday?”

  I nod. “Yep, Tequila Thursday. It’s a tradition Heather and I have. It started when we first moved out together. We were totally skint, and our local pub used to do a happy hour on a Thursday—two shots of t
equila for the price of one. We’ve been doing Tequila Thursday for years, though it’s evolved a bit now.”

  “Evolved?”

  “Yeah. Did you know the main ingredient of a margarita is tequila?”

  He chuckles. “Right, got ya.”

  “Sorry. Rules are, you can’t cancel a Tequila Thursday unless you’re out of the country or dead. Since I’m neither, I’m afraid I’m busy tonight.”

  He laughs, and I head to my bedroom, carrying my cup of tea. I set it on my dressing table before heading to the bathroom and turning on the shower to warm up.

  “I’m free Friday night though,” I add. Even I can hear the hopeful tone to my voice.

  Jared groans. “I can’t on Friday. We have these extremely important clients over this week from Japan. I’ve been roped into taking them out on Friday for dinner and drinks on the company,” he explains. “What about Saturday? We could meet for lunch and spend the afternoon together, go bowling or something? Maybe you’ll invite me to stay over again; you never know,” he flirts.

  I blush from my neck to my hairline as my skin tingles with excitement. “Whoa, you’re jumping the gun a bit there, Jared Stone. I’d need to see your bowling skills before I can decide if you’re worthy of third-date sex,” I joke. And it is definitely a joke. He is so being invited to stay the night!

  “Amy, I don’t think I was worthy of second-date sex, so I’m just taking each day as it comes,” he replies.

  “Literally,” I joke.

  He laughs, and the sound makes my tummy flutter. “Yeah, literally,” he confirms.

  “Saturday then,” I agree.

  “Great. I should really go back in my meeting and see if I need to break up any fights,” he sighs.

  “Okay. Well, I hope your day improves.”

  “My day started on a high. Can’t get better than waking up in bed with a gorgeous girl, so it was always only ever going to go downhill from there.”

  I grin. “Well played.”

  “Thanks. See you Saturday then.”

  “Bye.” When he hangs up, I grin at my phone and bounce on the balls of my feet.