Page 6 of Curvy Librarian

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“Oh nice,” Brett says and pulls her in for a cheek kiss. “How great is this place?”

My fists ball at my sides. I’ve never been a jealous person, but him touching her makes me see red. When Mimi pulls away, she tugs a strand of her dark brown hair behind her ear. God she’s fucking gorgeous!

“It’s pretty hip,” she says.

“Do you mind if I borrow him for a minute, I really want to introduce him to the folks from the park?” He turns his attention to me. “They’re thinking of a multi-million dollar remodel next summer and I’ll be damned if we aren’t the ones doing it.” I look to Mimi whose eyes have gone wide. “Seriously, it’ll just take a second.”

“Brett, look, I know I’m here for work but—“

“Go,” Mimi says, her lips pressed into a thin smile. “I’ll be fine. I have to use the girl’s room anyway.” I don’t know her well enough to read her expressions, yet. But with my partner already tugging me in the opposite direction, and a potential gigantic project on the line I reluctantly agree. Time blurs.

I get stopped by a few members of my team. Brett pulls me over to the park people, who insist on buying me a drink and will not take no for an answer. I keep looking for Mimi, but can’t find her anywhere, and unfortunately I can’t break away. By the time I’m back, it’s a half an hour later, and Mimi is nowhere to be found.

6

Mimi

Going out was a mistake. Relief washes over me as I step into my softest pair of pajamas. The best thing I did all night was put myself in a car when Raiden basically ghosted me for his work in the middle of my own personal hell. I won’t pretend there weren’t a few tears in the Lyft, but I can’t tell if they were from release or disappointment at this date taking a total left turn. Maybe both?

I throw my hair into a bun and head to the fridge, too tired to take off my makeup. Good thing I left a little white wine from the other night, because right now it’s exactly what I need. I pour myself a glass and head to the sofa. With my roommates out—as always, they actually enjoy the chaos of Saturday nights—I cuddle up on the sofa with the Smart TV. Life rights itself and for the first time tonight, I am calm and I feel like myself.

Until the doorbell buzzes.

My spine straightens. I didn’t order any food, no one’s home, and I’m pretty sure it’s too late for a UPS delivery—although, my hopes soar for a second in case it’s that used, out of print paperback I ordered. My wine glass clinks on the coffee table as I rush to meet whoever is here. I hit the talk button on the out of date intercom.

“Hello?” The old button sticks beneath my fingertip.

“Mimi, can I come up.” I recognize the voice instantly, low and gravelly. Dammit if it doesn’t send a wave of desire all the way up to my rock hard nipples. He’s here. He came for me. The buzzer sounds in place of an answer, and the downstairs door clicks open.

The shallowest part of me breathes a sigh of relief at not having taken my makeup off. The strongest part of me wonders why I’m even letting him up in the first place after his little vanishing act at the club. The deepest part of me, the one possessing an itch that I know only Raiden can scratch, wants nothing more than for him to come up here and ravage me silly until I come and come and come, something I’m damn aware he’s capable of.

When he knocks, I don’t answer straight away. After a deep breath and a quick glance in the mirror my hand reaches for the doorknob. My breasts jiggle in the process and in the midst of my existential crisis, I realize I forgot to run and put on a bra. Too late now.

I open the door and cross my arms over my chest, more for coverage than indignation. My will dribbles away the second I see him. Those piercing blue eyes filled with regret, his jacket slung over his shoulder. In his hands, a bottle of wine. Red, but right now I won’t split hairs.

“Mimi, I’m sorry.” The first words out of his mouth. I feel like I’ve dreamed this scenario up. Never in my life would I imagine a man that looks like him would be groveling at my doorstep. A wild overstatement, but who cares?

“I thought we were going out for drinks. Just you and me?”

“Yeah, I fucked up.”

We stand there, staring at each other. Finally I break, widening the door; an invitation. Raiden steps inside and I allow myself another breath of him; My panties instantly dampen. I want to chew his ass out, but I also want to hear what he has to say. Things like this don’t happen to girls like me. The struggle is real.

He holds the bottle out, a peace offering. His sleeves are rolled up and for the first time I see the decorative tattoos lining his forearms. My fingers long to stroke the soft skin of his inner arms, to touch the ink and ask him about each and every one of them. Instead, I take the bottle.

“I’d like to explain.”

“I’d like that, too.” I say, unable to believe how calm I’m remaining. Maybe it’s the quick glances he’s casting at my aching swollen nipples that are poking through my silk pajama top, or that he’s unable to hide his erection pressing rock hard up against his jeans. I gesture to the sofa and Raiden sits as I pour us two glasses of wine. Once I settle in next to him, it’s impossible to ignore how gargantuan his body appears on my dainty loveseat.

“My work is my life.” He sips his wine. “And part of my work is being social.” I nod my head, not wanting to interrupt. “If you’re not being seen, you’re not in the scene. The majority of my success was built on my ability to be out and about. It’s how I meet people who know people, and so on.”

“But you’re obviously successful, now. Do you have to continue to play that game?” I’m not sure if my choice of words were the right ones.

Raiden runs a hand through his impossibly thick hair, causing loose strands to fall around his sharp cheekbones. Be still my heart. “I’ve been doing it so long; It’s almost impossible for me to slow down.”

“Why?”

“What if I miss an opportunity because I stayed in?”


Tags: Flora Madison Curves in the City Erotic