Find Me Alastar(48)

I smile softly. Why does everything he say sound so dreamy?

He holds out his hand for me on the table and I put my palm against his. Alastar O’Shea wrote the book on kick ass dates. He has been funny, attentive, and he now has me swooning all over the damn table.

“What happened today when you went back to the office with your receptionist friend?” he asks.

I shrug as I raise my eyebrows. “She’s stalking me.”

He smiles into his glass of red wine and raises a brow. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I think her and Mark are a thing.”

He sits forward, suddenly interested. “Does that bother you?”

I shrug. “It probably should. I mean, he was talking to me for twelve months online.”

His eyes drop to the table in thought.

“But I don’t want him, so… no. It doesn’t bother me at all. Kind of relieved really.”

“Are you going to tell him about us?”

“No.” I sip my wine. “I wasn’t going to.”

“I want you to.” He replies.

I frown. “Alastar, we’re casual. Casual is code for secret.”

“Since when?” He frowns.

“Since now.”

He shakes his head in annoyance and a little thrill runs through me. This jealousy thing is holy hot.

“I have no problem telling him.” His eyes dare me to defy him.

I smirk.

“And I will if he pushes it.” He sits back in annoyance.

“How will he push it?” I ask.

“If you don’t set him straight in the next few days… I will.”

I smile with my hand under my chin. “Is that so?”

“What are you going to say to him, Em?”

I blow out a breath. “That I’m not interested in him that way.”

He narrows his eyes as he thinks. “Didn’t you already tell him that?”

I shake my head. “Not in so many words.”

His angry eyes hold mine. “So, what you’re saying is that he still thinks he’s in with a chance?”

I smile and pick up his hand, placing his two middle fingers into my mouth to start sucking them. I rub my tongue back and forth over the end of his fingers and his arousal starts to blaze in his eyes.

“Are you going to distract me with that tongue every time I get angry?”

“Is this distracting?” I whisper through a smile. I suck his fingers hard and his eyes close.

“Lets go home,” he whispers. “My place.” Hmm, I haven’t quiet worked out this casual thing yet. If we go to his house, do I get up and leave in the middle of the night? What happens in this situation?

“Can we go to my house?” I ask.

He frowns. “I would rather go to my house. We have privacy there.”

I smile. “We can go to your place next time. We can be quiet, can’t we?”

He smirks as if I just set him the ultimate challenge. He picks up my hand and fiddles with my ring. “I love this ring.”

My eyes glance down at my precious piece of jewelry. “I know. I had to have it.” He raises a brow in question.

“I saw it in the shop, and, well, you know what happened next.”

“It’s sentimental to me.” He smirks.

“Why?”

“Because you were buying that ring when we met.”

I rest my chin on my hand and practically melt into the table. He is so freaking dreamy.

“Are you a romantic, Alastar?” I whisper.

He kisses my ring and then the back of my hand, his eyes dancing with affection.

“For you, my love… Always.”



* * *



We tiptoe into my apartment like mice. Hank is asleep and Vanessa is still at work.

“Shh.” I put my finger up to Mr. Orgasmic to try and quieten him.

He smiles and gropes my behind, making me giggle as I swat his hand away. We walk into my room. I turn on the lamp and he quietly closes the door, flicks the lock, and then turns and tries to grab me.

“Ah ah.” I hold my hand up in a stop sign.

He frowns.

“I’m undressing you tonight.”

He raises a brow in question.

I have been dying to see his body. I can hardly even remember it. Last time I was so overcome with arousal; I couldn’t think straight.

He smiles sexily and tilts his head. My eyes scan the fine specimen in front of me. It’s like getting to play with my very own Ken doll. My last boyfriend was lovely, sure, but he was nowhere near being in Alastar’s league. I take off his jacket, hang it in my wardrobe, and then I slowly unbutton his white shirt. With each button I unhook, I kiss the skin underneath it. When I make it to his chest I take his erect nipple in my mouth. He tenderly puts his hand on the back of my head and kisses my temple.

I finally get to the last button and I pull his shirt off over his shoulders. My eyes scan the perfect man in front of me. All of my Christmases have come at once. How could I have ever doubted my decision to do this with him? He is naturally broad and athletic, his arms and chest are muscular. His skin is dark and olive, and he has a scattering of dark chest hair that trails delicately to his navel before it disappears into his pants. I hold my breath, unable to breathe though my constricted chest.