Undersold (8 page)

“I want you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

He leaned in and kissed me again, hard, and I felt myself beginning to melt. I was dizzy with confusion and emotion, and his body so close to mind wasn’t helping at all.

“I want you too,” he said as he pulled away. I leaned in after him and wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders and kissed him again. All I could feel or think about were his muscles underneath my hands and his mouth moving against mine, and the sound of his breath. I felt like I was losing myself in him, and it felt good.

We broke apart and he looked me deep in the eyes.

“Let’s try this again,” he said.

“I’m up for that.” My words came out in a whisper.

“Alright then. Tonight at my place. I’ll cook you dinner and we’ll have a proper, private date.”

“That would be perfect.”

“I’ll send my car for you at seven. Does that work?”

“That absolutely works.” I couldn’t manage a more complex sentence.

I couldn’t believe this man truly wanted me the same way that I wanted him. I couldn’t believe that I was the only one. My mind was a buzz of desire and disbelief.

“What about your rules?” I asked.

He smiled. “I’ll tell you about those tonight.”

I had no idea what they could be, but I nodded. I could feel excitement building in my chest.

“Tonight then. For now, let’s pretend we just had a productive business meeting, shall we?” He gave me that grin again, and I laughed.

“Well, we did have a productive business meeting. Up until the unproductive part, at least.”

“Those are always my favorite parts,” he said, teasing.

“Oh, I prefer the business,” I said, teasing right back.

He laughed. “Alright then, Miss Woodall.” He rocked back onto his heels, stood up, and walked back to his desk. I took a moment to gather myself, and my things, before standing.

“Have a good day, Mr. Green,” I said.

See you tonight
, he mouthed to me.

I pushed open his door, and then closed it behind me. Janice smiled as I came out.

“How’d it go?” she asked.

“Oh, same as always,” I replied. Inwardly, I was doing cartwheels. I could feel something in my life shift dramatically. I’d be going to Shane Green’s house that night. Janice smiled and nodded, then went back to work like nothing huge had just happened.

T
he car showed up promptly at seven. I knew Shane had worked late from the text he sent me:
Stuck in the office still. Thinking of what I want to do to you later.
I had a pretty good idea what that was, and it sent my body into thrills trying to imagine it.

I got into the back and the car started out. He wasn’t there waiting for me, but that made sense; we were meeting at his place, after all. We moved south toward Center City, but stayed on the East side of Broad Street. After a bit we crossed over into the Old City area. This was one of the most expensive parts of Philadelphia: old, historic brownstones, beautiful townhouses and cobblestone streets. It was called Old City because it was the historic district, and it was where the founding fathers lived. I had walked through this area, and even been in one or two of the older houses on tours, but I’d never been in a modern house anywhere near here. It was known as the rich section of the city, and for good reason. It was quiet and idyllic, and every house looked expensively manicured.

The car pulled over in front of a cute but simple row home at the end of a small side street. Every house here looked well maintained and beautiful, but his wasn’t any different from the others, which surprised me. I halfway expected some ultra modern construction, something new and sleek to go with his tech company vibe. Instead, it was unassuming and simple, and I absolutely loved it.

“Go on up, ma’am. He’s expecting you,” the driver said.

“Thank you,” I replied, and got out.

I walked up the stoop and rang the bell. It was the only modern part of the house: silver and metallic with a small camera. As soon as I hit the button, the door buzzed, and I let myself in.

The main hall was cramped but lovely. All hardwood floors, dark and smooth, freshly waxed, plus period-appropriate early American furniture—or at least what I guessed was early American. I had no idea, but whoever did the decorating nailed the feel. It was all wood and more wood, with old brooms, bottles, and other objects I couldn’t identify.

“I’m in the kitchen,” I heard Shane call out. “Straight ahead, and to your right.”

I walked down the hall, passed paintings of landscapes and boats, all yellowing and slightly worn. I didn’t recognize any of it, but it was beautiful. I appreciated that Shane wanted to keep his house in the spirit of the area, and cultivated a very appropriate feel. I turned right and the hallway opened up into a large, ultramodern kitchen, all clean lines and stainless steel. It was a bit of a contrast to the more antique feel of the front of the house, but it still somehow seemed natural. Standing in front of the stove was Shane in a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, dark wash jeans, and an apron. He smiled huge as I walked in.

“You look amazing,” he said, and moved toward me.

“You look better. That apron really brings out your eyes,” I said with a small laugh.

“Oh this old thing?” He closed the distance between us, grabbed my hips, pulled me close, and kissed me. I melted into his embrace and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He tasted like himself plus something spicy, and it was pleasant as he rolled his tongue against mine.

We pulled apart after a few moments. I felt like his lips left a trace on mine.

“Hope you’re hungry,” he said.

“Just a little bit,” I said, mind swarming with hunger for something that wasn’t food.

He laughed. “I’ve been slaving over a hot stove all day.”

He moved away and for a second I almost reached out to pull him back, but stopped myself. He stirred something on the stove that smelled incredible, rich and savory, maybe a hint of garlic and spice. I sat down at the kitchen island and watched him work.

“Should be done soon. I hope you like pasta,” he said.

After fifteen minutes of chatting and cooking, dinner was ready. He took off his apron when he came over to join me. We ate at the kitchen island, and his food impressed me. The pasta was perfectly done, and it was clear he had made the sauce himself from scratch. I was starting to think maybe his comment about being stuck in the office was a little white lie, but I wasn’t going to call him on it. This had clearly taken more time than he said it had.

Things were easy and pleasant between us. We talked about work, but not too much. We ranged between movies and TV shows we’ve watched, and he told me more about his life in Philadelphia. Apparently, his family was from the city, a ‘classic South Philly clan’ was how he put it. I told him about being from the suburbs and Levittown. We finished eating and lingered over our plates, both unwilling to end such an easy and nice part of the night.

“You have a beautiful house,” I said.

“Thank you. George Washington used to live here for a little bit.”

I was stunned. “Is that true?”

“Nope, not at all. But I still tell people it is,” he said, grinning.

I smacked him lightly on the arm. “I didn’t expect this, honestly.”

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. Something more modern. Expensive-looking.”

“You should have realized that I’m not into being flashy. This place is pretty much as original as possible. Most of the furniture is colonial as well, I think. I’m not totally sure. I hired someone to decorate.”

I laughed. “That’s what I guessed. Whoever it was did a great job.”

He leaned in close to me with a mischievous look on his face. “Want the tour?”

I smiled. “I’d love that.”

He stood up and cleared our dishes. Once they were in the sink, he pulled off his apron, and put his hand out for me. “Right this way.”

––––––––

W
e went back out into the hall and he pointed out some of the paintings. They were all early American, and he said some of them were actually by important artists, though I didn’t recognize any names. He led me further down the hall, back to the foyer, and up a staircase. My heart began to flutter; it was pretty obvious what his game was, but I still felt nervous and excited.

At the top of the stairs, he turned left, and took me into a large, open bedroom space that must have been half the upper floor. A huge bed in the middle dominated the room. A chair and a couch took up one wall, and the others were covered in bookshelves, with a large wooden desk on the last wall. There were small antiques everywhere and more paintings lined the walls. It looked more like a library than a bedroom.

“Is this your office or where you sleep?” I asked.

He grinned at me. “A bit of both, honestly. I like books; I’ve always been a huge reader. So it’s comforting to have them around.”

I walked over to a shelf and ran my fingers over their spines. Titles I recognized and titles I didn’t, hundreds of them in all directions. I was a pretty big reader, too, but didn’t have nearly as many books as he did. I guessed only the public library did, or maybe the local universities.

He came up behind me as I was looking through them and wrapped his arms around me. I felt his soft lips graze my neck and his hand tilt my head to the side. His lips moved up to the base of my jaw, and he kissed me from behind. I almost dropped the book I was holding as the excitement hit me deep. I was in Shane Green’s bedroom, holding his book, being kissed by his perfect lips, being touched by his sculpted body. I managed to fumble the book shut and push it back onto the shelf as he continued to kiss me. I turned around and fully met his lips with mine, and I could feel my hunger for him growing as our lips parted and our tongues met. He pulled away and wrapped his arms around me then kissed my neck.

“This was an excuse to get you up here,” he whispered in my ear. His hot breath sent a tingle down my back.

“I figured that out,” I said back.

He ran his hand up my inner thigh, passed the hem of my dress, and gently touched my soaking wet mound.

“Do you want to know my rules,” he whispered as he started to gently rub. My knees nearly buckled, and I had to grab onto his strong frame to keep myself standing.

“Yes,” I whispered back, voice thick with pleasure.

He skillfully worked my body, and smelled my neck. “Rule number one. You can tell nobody, not another living soul, that we are together.” I felt my body convulse with pleasure as he slid his hand underneath my panties. His calloused fingers ran themselves over my soaked clit, and my knees shook with the effort to remain upright.

“Yes,” I whispered, enraptured.

“Rule number two,” he said into my ear. “You cannot see another man while you are with me. You are mine and only mine.”

“Yes,” I moaned back.

“Good girl. Rule number three,” he replied, and slid a finger inside of me. I let out a little gasp of pleasure. “You will come only when I say you can, and never before. You must always have my permission.”

I let out a deep moan as he slid his finger back toward my moist clit.

“Yes, Mr. Green,” I said. I could feel his smile against my neck.

“Very good. Those are your three rules. Now, I think you owe me something.”

I took a deep gasp of pleasure then I pushed him gently away, and started to undo his belt buckle. I pulled it loose, undid his pants, and slipped my hand inside to feel his large hard cock. I was surprised at the stiffness of it already, pressing against his underwear, and he grunted his pleasure as I stroked it through the fabric.

We kissed again, and I kept stroking him until I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t need to, because he already felt like granite in my hand, but I wanted to make him as hard as I could. I started to pull his pants down, and he unbuttoned his shirt buttons. I crouched in front of him, pulled his underwear down, and took his rock hard shaft in my hand. He looked down at me, eyes full of lust, as I ran my tongue along its length, root to tip.

“That’s right,” he growled quietly as I took the tip into my mouth and ran my tongue along its bottom. I could feel myself grow even wetter as I tasted his juice, and I slid my lips down deeper along his length. I looked up at him and our eyes met, his burning with pleasure and desire. I took him as far as I could and moved back up, running my hand around the length as my lips moved. He groaned his pleasure, and pulled his shirt off. I reached up with my right hand, my left hand wrapped around him still, and ran my fingers over his chiseled abs. His muscles rippled, perfectly sculpted and shaped.

His cock was rock hard in my mouth as I moved up and down along it. His hands ran through my hair gently, but didn’t press me down. He let me do the work, as I sucked and ran my hand along him.

“Come here,” he grunted, and pulled me up to meet him. Our lips came together and his tongue pressed hard into my mouth. He moved me toward the bed, turned me, and bent me over its edge. I let out a small
ah
as he lifted the hem of my dress and pulled my panties down, and unzipped the back of my dress. I could feel his fingers cover my mound and find my swollen spot, and waves of pleasure rolled down my body as he rubbed my clit and ran his other hand through my hair. I reached out over the grey sheets and grabbed tight as I felt myself aching for him.

As he continued to work me with one hand, I heard the other open a drawer. Then an absence of him, and the noise of him ripping something open. I looked back, and raked my eyes down his perfect bare chest. He finished rolling, and leaned himself over my length. I could feel the pressure of his strong frame, and smell his body, the aching in it.

“Remember what you said you wanted?” he whispered in my ear. It was all I could think about. I moved my hands from above my head and crossed my wrists behind my back.

“God, yes,” I whispered back. I felt his strong hand take my wrists firmly. I relished the pain of his grasp as I felt the tip of his cock against my soaking cleft. He pressed himself deep inside of me. I arched my back and neck and let out a loud moan as pleasure and pain mingled itself inside me. He filled me completely, in a way I’d never felt before, and he rocked his hips slowly at first. I moved my own hips against his, and he rocked back and forth, thrusting into me slowly. The pressure of his hand against mine, and his other hand on my hips, made me groan. He pulled on my hands and pressed deeper, again and again, fulfilling my fantasy and filling my body in a way I had needed since I first saw him.