Hooked!: A Contemporary, Multicultural Romance (5 page)

Chapter
8

Kammille
relaxed in the comfort of the leather of the large, first-class seat. She
wanted to have a cocktail, but didn’t because of her upcoming meeting. Even
though it was hours away and one drink wouldn’t affect her, she wanted all of
her faculties to be crystal clear for this meeting. As Liza had pointed out,
this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and she wanted to put her best foot
forward.

Strangely
enough, Kammille wasn’t worried. Even though the waters of entrepreneurship
were rocky at times, she’d surprised herself by realizing that she was a
natural at it. She thrived on the everyday challenges and loved having the
ability to make rational, sound decisions. She knew that if she could just get
in front of the elusive Mr. Lennox, she’d be able to get the hotel chain’s
business. Her gut told her that.

She
wished she had that kind of confidence and decision-making skills in her
personal life. Kammille still couldn’t believe Landon had played her like that.
She felt like a fool.

At
least she never had to see him again. Even though -- thanks to the days of
Google and the internet -- she knew she could easily locate him, she wouldn’t
dare look for him. She had no desire and she should have just stuck with her
initial gut feeling she continued to chide herself. Men like him were nothing
but trouble. But what was done was done. And there was no sense in wallowing in
woulda, could, shoulda’s.

One
day, her prince would come along. In the meantime, she would hold on to how
nice it had been to give herself like to someone like that. Landon had sparked
something different in her. She had all the same parts, but he’d pushed a
different button that had elicited a response so much more profound. She’d
never made love to Omar like she did with Landon. And now she knew she could
never settle for anything less. Her heart, her mind, her body would always
remember … and compare. No -- anything less would ever suffice. She wanted that
kind of connection again. She wanted that feeling for all time. And maybe that
was the lesson after all.

Kammille
decided to try and get some shut-eye. She was emotionally, as well as physically,
drained from the night before. A power nap was just what she needed.

###

"Take
me again, Landon," Kammille pleaded.

Landon
took advantage of the eager spreading of her thighs, pushing two fingers gently
inside, twisting them slightly as he slid into the moist cove of her body. He
quickly found that one single spot -- the elusive spot that no other man had
ever found -- that made her hips jerk upward in spasmic pleasure.

"Oh
God. That's so good," she purred. "Don't stop. Oh please don't
stop," Kammille pleaded, her head thrashing from side to side. She sucked
her bottom lip -- hard -- to keep from screaming out.

Landon
teased the top part of the slit at the top of her thighs with his warm,
pleasure-giving tongue, idly stroking the throbbing bud there before suctioning
his lips around it, rolling it back and forth. The hard suction along with the
soft rolling motion sent Kammille's hips into a wide rollercoaster of up and
down jerking motions. She grabbed the back of his head and rammed it into her
as he continued his delicious pillaging of her.

"Fuck
me, Landon. Fuck me now," she commanded, practically dragging him from
between her legs to mount her.

He
needed no further instructions, entering her with a sated groan, pushing deep
and hard into the warm casing of her.

Kammille's
perfect little orbs jiggled every time he pounded into her, reveling in the
largeness of him and how snugly he fit within her.

He
pulled out of her. Her eyes snapped open. "No, please don’t stop."

"Oh
baby, I'm not. We're far from done. He grabbed her by the arms. "Turn
around," he said, as she stood on the side of the bed.

Kammille
smiled and dutifully obeyed. He bent over her, sliding one finger inside her
wetness, kissing her back as he eased his steel-hard shaft back into her. He
whispered in her hear. "Take it baby. Take all of me."

"Yes.
Oh yes," Kammille agreed as he slowly glided in and out of her. The pad of
his thumb ran cross one nipple as he continued his oh-so-slow entrance in and
out of her. The growing intensity drove her crazy. Kammille slammed back
against him, urging him to go faster.

Landon
chuckled. "You want more, do you?"

"Yes,"
Kammille said, not sure if he was asking a rhetorical question or not.

"Please
Landon. Please."

She
ground back into him, reaching back to spread her walls a little more for him.

"If
you keep doing that," he said as she twisted her wetness back towards him
to receive his him again and again, "I'm not going to be responsible for
my actions Kammille." It was so hard for him to control himself with her.

She
kept doing it, reveling in the power she knew she had over him.

His
hands grabbed her on each side of her hips, slamming her into the relentless
pressure of his swollen rod. Kammille bucked away from him; his strokes went so
deep.

"Oh
no you don't. Don't run from me now sweetheart," he said, holding her
tightly as he ground into her. His strokes became frantic and primitive.
Kammille dug her nails into the down coverlet of the bed, giving herself over
to the madness of the pleasure/pain as he drove into her time and again.

She
looked between her legs, and shattered in orgasm as she saw his huge member
penetrate her one last time.

Kammille
heard his groans as his manhood pulsed inside her. He bent over, planting a
garden of kisses on her back and breathed into her ear, "I'm sorry if I
hurt you."

"You
didn't," she said, a little untruthfully. A few of his strokes had been
uncommonly deep, but worth the feeling. Pleasure/pain. That was the only way
she knew to describe it.

"Good.
I'll try to control myself better next time."

"Next
time?" she teased. "That's three times tonight. I'm too sore to do
anything else."

"Have
you again ... and again ... and again. I simply must. But I'll take it slow. I
promise I do know how to take it slow," he said, pulling out of her and
pulling her down onto the bed beside him. He just had to figure out how, he
thought to himself. It's like she possessed some kind of magical power over
him. Three times tonight they'd made love, and three times she'd made him lose
control. No woman had ever made him do that ... at least not every single time
he touched her.

"Are
you okay?" she said, looking up at him from the crook of his arm.

"Yes.
Why do you ask?"

"Because
you have the thinking man's look on your face. Don't worry," she said,
putting up a hand, "I'm not one of those women who asks, 'What are you thinking?'
after sex. I know guys hate that."

"Yes,
we do, because most of us are incapable of rational thought after sex ...
especially the kind of sex we just had."

"Obviously,
women aren't. We could ask and answer a million questions before, during and
after."

"Is
there something you want to talk about Kammille?" he asked, not wanting to
seem like a jerk. She was right; women did generally like to talk after. He
wanted to give her that if that's what she wanted. Another out-of-character
thing for him.

"No.
I meant it when I said I'm not up for the big Q&A after. I'm exhausted. All
I want right now is some sleep."

"Then
turn that fine little body of yours over and close those inquiring eyes,
because otherwise, you're going to be in for round four," he teased.

"In
that case, consider me sleep already," Kammille replied quickly, snuggling
into him. It seemed like the most natural action in the world.

###

Kammille
awoke to a hand shaking her. “Miss, we’re preparing for landing,” the flight
attendant said. “Can you please put your seat up?”

“Oh
yes. Of course. Sorry. I must have dozed off.”

The
flight attendant smiled at her and continued down the aisle, making sure all
passengers were in compliance with safety landing rules.

Kammille
looked out the window at the familiar sights of the city she’d come to love.
Her flight to Miami had been spent thinking about business and how it had all
started.

This
flight back to Atlanta could haven’t been more opposite. It had nothing to do with
business, and everything to do with the owner of a stormy pair of grey eyes –
eyes she hoped never to see again. Landon had invaded her dreams. It was not
going to be easy to dismiss what she’d experienced with him.

Now
she understood why sex was so powerful. It was indeed a drug; one you could
easily become hooked on.

Chapter
9

Landon
went to the reception desk. He inquired about Kammille, asking if she’d checked
out. The young woman confirmed that indeed, Ms. Howard had checked out.

He
knew he’d fucked up. He should have left a voice mail or a note or something.
But he’d gotten hung up on that west coast call. When he finished, the first
thing he did was run down to her room.

He’d
knocked, but no answer, and then he’d gone back to his room to call hers. No
answer. That’s when he’d sprinted downstairs just in time to see the cab driver
load her bag in the car and pull off.

If
only the staircase in the lobby hadn’t been so darned long, he could have made
it. If only she’d looked back. But she never had.

Landon
knew it was more than that though. He hadn’t rightly decided if he should see
Kammille again. She was exactly the kind of woman he usually steered away from
because she was relationship material – and a relationship was the last thing
he wanted in his life right now.

That’s
why he’d left her room without so much as a note. But he did plan to make that
clear. He wasn’t the type to just disappear. But he didn’t get the chance. He
hadn’t wanted to wake her because they didn’t get much sleep that night; so
hadn’t called her room the next morning in case she was sleeping. After all,
he’d see her for breakfast, he rationalized.

Then
the emergency conference call had come in; a sticky contract negotiation. It had
started at a little after 7:00 – in plenty enough time to finish before their
8:00 am breakfast date – or so he thought. But it had run on and on and on. By
the time he got off the phone, everything had changed. He found that he
couldn’t wait to see her and spend the day with her.

And
now it was too late.

He
slammed his left fist into the palm of his right hand. The only thing that
calmed him in stressful situations like this was a workout. He changed and hit
the gym, then the beach.

###

Even
a four-hour workout hadn’t helped his sour mood. That was now three things he
could attribute to her – and only her – that was out of the norm for him: a
good workout didn’t snap him out of his funk; his willingness to have a
full-fledged conversation after sex; and he couldn’t even control his fucking
dick when he was with her.

Maybe
it was just as well that things had transpired this way, he thought as he sat
at the same table they’d occupied the evening before. If that was what caring
for someone meant – and he cared, in spite of the fact that he denied it with
every fiber of his being - then who the hell needed it?  He didn’t want
that type of distraction in his life – not when he could have practically any
woman he wanted, in any city he landed in, at any time. What man would want to
give that up?

You
do
,
a surely insane part of him answered.

Landon
signaled over the same perky red-head who’d waited on him and Kammille the
night before.

“Will
your companion be joining you this evening, sir?” she inquired, holding out two
menus.

“No,
it’s just me this evening,” he retorted, somewhat shortly. He softened his
tone, smiling at the friendly server. “I’d like to start with a gin and tonic –
make it a double please,” he instructed.

“Yes
sir,” she replied.

“By
the time you come back with that, I’ll know what I want to order.”

The
server nodded in a ‘very well’ manner, and headed off. Relationship drama, she
said to herself. Although, she couldn’t possibly imagine what someone who
looked like him could do to piss a girl off. He was dreamy!