Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

TREY

I wake in the morning to Gemma in my arms. I never want to wake up without her again, but I’ve come on very strong. Toning it down a drop might be a good idea. I don’t want to completely freak her out…more than I already have.

I pull her close and pepper kisses all over her bare back. She coos, “Hmm. I could get used to this.”

I run my hand down her body and over her hips and legs, enjoying her sexy curves. “Me too. You have a gorgeous body. I’m obsessed with it.”

My mind flashes to the way she felt when we went at it several times throughout the night. I’m insatiable for her. The only thing standing in our way now is the truth about who I am. I need to figure out a way to tell her, but she went into a whole thing last night about being lied to. I’m nervous, though I suppose it’s now or never.

I’m about to break down the final barrier between us when her cell phone begins ringing. She sleepily reaches over and mindlessly accepts the call. I hear an older woman’s voice. “Gemma Morgan, I can’t see your pretty face.”

Gemma pops up, the sheet falling to her waist, exposing her gorgeous tits. “Shit.”

I ask, “Who’s that?”

She covers my mouth with her hand but it’s too late.

The voice on the phone asks, “Gemma, is that a man I hear? Let me see his face. Let me see both your faces.”

Gemma falls back and lets out a breath. After pulling the blanket up to make sure our naked bodies are covered, she turns the phone until a much older woman comes into view. “Good morning, Grammy Jane. This is Trey. Trey, this is Grammy Jane, my grandmother.”

She smiles at me, and I do the same to her. “Gemma has your beautiful eyes, Grammy Jane. Can I call you that?”

“You can call me anything you want, sugar lips. Are you responsible for that big smile on Gemma’s face?”

I can’t help but grin. “I sure hope so.”

“I’m guessing that you’re the plumber, right?”

I wince. Ugh. More people who believe the lie. “I’m the lucky man your granddaughter is spending time with.”

Grammy Jane rubs her hands together in excitement. “I’m so glad you finally unclogged her pipes. Trust me, she needed it. And she’s been crushing on you for weeks.”

Through gritted teeth, Gemma scolds, “Grammy Jane, not now.”

I chuckle. “I’ve been crushing on her since the second I laid eyes on her, but tell me more about her crush.”

Gemma interrupts, “I’ll have you committed to a nursing home if you say one more word, old lady.”

Her grandmother laughs before picking up her glasses, placing them on her face, and looking more closely at the phone. “You look familiar, Trey. Have we met before?”

Now, with her grandmother on the phone, isn’t the time for the big reveal. I try to divert the conversation. “I’d remember a beautiful woman like you, Grammy Jane. ”

She giggles in glee. Gemma leans over and kisses my shoulder while rubbing my back appreciatively.

I squirm as I start to harden at her touch. Gemma notices through the blanket and attempts to discreetly hide it from the camera.

Grammy Jane, who seemingly misses nothing, says, “Oh, pft. There’s nothing I haven’t seen before. If he doesn’t have to fix his matrimonial peacemaker when you touch him, the chemistry isn’t there.”

Gemma lets out a loud laugh. “Matrimonial peacemaker? Classic. I’m using that in a book. Grammy Jane, why don’t I call you later today?”

“I understand. If I had that hunk in my bed, I wouldn’t be on the phone either.”

I wave at the camera. “It was nice to meet you, Grammy Jane. Next time I’ll wear a shirt,” I mumble, “and pants.”

“I’d prefer you didn’t.”

Gemma rolls her eyes. “Goodbye, crazy old lady.”

“I need to talk to you. Be sure to call back.” She gives Gemma a knowing look as something passes between them.

She ends the call and sinks her head into my chest. “Ugh. That was embarrassing. She’s going to be relentless with the questions when I call her back.”

“You two are obviously close.”

“She’s my best friend. I know that’s weird because she’s my grandmother, but she’s been there for me in ways no one else ever has.”

I lift her chin. “I think it’s sweet. I can’t wait to meet her. She lives in Florida, right?”

“Yes. I’m going down there for a week over Christmas. Her friends are a hoot. I get a kick out of all of them. They give me a ton of material for my books.”

“What? Old people give you book material?”

She smiles. “Older communities are a secret hotbed of sexual behavior. Did you know that they have higher than average STD rates in those communities?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep. And they all know what I write because my grandmother brags about it. They want their salacious stories in my books. I swear, half of them go out of their way to have crazy sex just so they can report it to me. Being down there is a riot.”

“That’s amazing. I’m coming with you this year. I want to meet your grandmother and her friends.”

She sighs toward the ceiling as she pulls away from me. “Trey, let’s take a step back. I’m not even sure what we are.”

“I think I’ve made my intentions clear, Gemma. I’m almost thirty. I’m not interested in immature games or nonsense. I want to be with you.”

“No games, Trey? What do you call signing up for my book-boyfriend service just to get into my pants? Don’t bullshit me. You've been playing a game this whole time. At least have the dignity to own it.”

She’s not wrong. In my mind I’ve been focused on her, but I can’t deny the truth in her words.

She tosses the blanket toward me and gets out of bed. “I need to shower and get to work. I’m already late.”

I grab her arm. “Gemma—”

She pulls away. “I like you. I really do, but my boyfriend when I was in law school was a bullshitter. He was the I see a future with you guy while he was sleeping with someone else. I agree, we’re both too old for games. I’m not the one playing them. Our entire relationship has been a fake one. You’ve been faking everything . It’s some weird variation on the fake dating trope I use in my books.”

“I’m not faking my feelings. Everything I said to you yesterday was honest. I want to be with you. Whatever it takes.”

“Actions speak louder than words. I want to build things the right way, slowly, based on trust and honesty, not invite you to my grandmother’s house for Christmas before we’ve even gone on a real date.”

Now definitely isn’t the best time to tell her I’m not a plumber and I don’t even live in Philadelphia.

“Fine. When can I take you out on a date?”

“I’ve got a busy week at work. I’m sure you’re busy too. How about this weekend? Saturday night?”

My shoulders fall. “That’s, like, four days from now. Why not Friday?”

“I have plans with my friends Val and CJ on Friday.”

I sigh.

She lifts her eyebrows. “Yes or no for Saturday?”

I furrow my brow. “You’re standing there naked. I can’t focus.”

She grabs my shirt from the floor and slings it around her body.

“Now you’re standing in my shirt. It’s so hot.”

She blows out a breath and crosses her arms. She’s so damn cute when she pouts.

With a protruding lip that matches hers, I mumble, “Fine. Four days.”

I’m in the Cougars’ batting cages practicing with Cheetah and Layton. Cheetah is sitting with me while Layton is swinging at pitches. “How’s it going with Tami Maida?”

Layton stops and wiggles his eyebrows up and down. “He didn’t come home last night. I’m guessing it’s going very well.”

I shake my head. “I’m not talking about that stuff with you guys. She’s going to be my wife and the mother of my children. Off-limits.”

Cheetah makes a puking noise. “Ahh. Tone it down, dude. You’re treading into dangerous over-possessive stalker-trope territory. Tami won’t like you if you act all crazy. Isn’t she supposed to be training you to be a good book boyfriend? This isn’t book-boyfriend behavior. This is psycho behavior, though I suppose some women get off on that too.”

“I know who I want and I’m going after her. It’s hard to put into words what it feels like. I know in my gut that she’s the one for me. And her name is Gemma, not Tami. It’s going well. She knows I was a fake client and that I’m interested in her.”

“Does she know you’re a fake plumber?”

I lean my head back in despair. “No. I was going to tell her this morning, but we got interrupted. She’s very hung up on the fact that I lied to her about being a client. I wimped out on telling her the rest. I’m not sure she can handle it yet.”

He slaps his forehead. “This is such a classic romance novel story barreling headfirst toward a third-act breakup because you didn’t tell her the truth of your identity.”

“What the fuck is a third-act breakup?”

“Romance novels are split into three acts. The first act has them meeting or re-meeting. There’s attraction plus a bunch of drama and a general foundation to the story. Sometimes there’s a misunderstanding or some other obstacle in their way. It’s usually exciting and builds up anticipation. The second act has a ton of sex. Whatever has been building between the lead characters explodes. Things are good. Authors drop hints that some other shit might go down, but us romance readers are optimistic. We pray it’s all a red herring and that nothing bad happens. Unfortunately, it always does. You can’t be happy for two straight acts. That goes against romance novel formulas. Then we get to the third act. Some big fucking dramatic event happens. In most books, they break up because of it. Not all, but most. Sometimes they face obstacles together. I enjoy that change of pace from time to time. But usually, they break up.”

I run my fingers through my hair, feeling panicked. “Fuck. I don’t want to break up. They always get back together, right?”

He shrugs. “Most of the time. Sometimes it’s heartbreaking and painful. I’ve read a few that don’t have happily ever afters. I’m in bed for days, crying my eyes out when I read those.”

“What’s an example of something that causes a third-act breakup?”

He deadpans. “Lying. Miscommunication. Anything deceitful. Does any of this ring a bell? I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but you’re definitely headed for a third-act breakup.”

My shoulders fall. “Shit. How do I avoid it?”

He twists his lips. “Well, the worst thing is for her to find out the truth from someone else, not you. That makes it harder. You have to be the one to tell her. It’s your best shot at no third-act breakup.”

Layton walks out of the cage. “Maybe she won’t be upset. Dating a baseball player is a turn-on for a lot of women.” He smirks. “I would know.”

He and Cheetah high-five, but then I get a whiff of a nasty smell. “Lancaster, your batting glove stinks.”

Cheetah chuckles. “If his hand smells from sweating, how do you think his dick feels right about now in this hot as fuck room?”

I smile. These guys are too funny sometimes.

I don’t know what to do to avoid our third-act breakup. I’m thinking maybe I need her to fall madly in love with me so she’ll never want to break up. If she’s in love and then I gently slip in that I’m a professional baseball player worth millions of dollars, perhaps it won’t be as bad as Cheetah thinks. After all, those are romance novels. They necessitate drama. This is real life. We don’t need a dramatic event.

Incidentally, I’m also thinking that I need all the second-act sex I can get.

GEMMA

It’s late morning and I’m fruitlessly working on a contract. I can’t get my evening with Trey out of my mind. The highlights keep replaying like a movie trailer. The hottest sex of my life. Where do I go from here?

The way he touched me. The way he worshiped me. The way he made me come…over and over again.

I fan my face. Is it getting hot in here?

I slowly run my fingers over my desk. Darian and Jackson always have sex in her office. I’ve never even considered it for myself. I almost laugh at the notion of Aiden and I having sex on my desk. He’d be all uptight about the papers and files.

Two years with Aiden, and I never wanted him half as much as I wanted Trey. Still want Trey.

How did I let myself go twenty-nine years without the type of passion I shared with him in one single night? As a romance author, I’m disappointed in myself.

I begin imagining what a romance book scene would be like in my office with Trey. I would kill to have him take me right here. To bend me over all my files and fuck me senseless while the papers fly all over the place and neither of us gives a shit. I make a mental note to write an office sex scene tonight while the fantasy is fresh in my mind.

I’m running through all the small details of what it would look like when my cell phone buzzes. I pick it up to see that it’s our Perverts group.

Libby: What’s the best lube on the market? JoJo and Ava need not answer. I know Gemma probably has them ranked somewhere.

JoJo: Not me with a bowl of popcorn waiting for the answer from Gemma.

Ava: Yep. This is going to be epic. Gemma, you were born to answer this question.

Me: Well, if you must know… I prefer überlube. It works well and is easier to wash off afterward than other, more popular lubes like Astroglide. It also doesn’t stain your sheets. Beginners often like Intimate Earth Ease because it also relaxes the anal opening, but I don’t care for it.

Libby: Because your anus is plenty relaxed.

Me: Don’t knock fifth base ’til you try it, Lubey Libby. If you don’t like actual oil, you can use SUTIL. It’s water-based, but it doesn’t work as well.

Libby: überlube for the win.

Me: And it’s on Amazon. You can have it in hours in case of emergency…so I’ve heard.

JoJo: Emergency anal. That’s a new one.

Me: When you want it, you want it.

Our silly texts are interrupted by Andrew buzzing me from the front desk. “Ms. Fairchild, there’s someone here to see you.”

In a brief moment of panic, I glance at my calendar, fearing I have a meeting that I forgot about. As I thought, I don’t have any appointments scheduled. I press the intercom button. “Who is it?”

“He said to tell you it’s the piercing police.”

I can’t help the smile that forms and the thrill that shoots through me. “I’ll be right there.”

After taking a quick glance at myself in my compact mirror, I open my office door and practically sprint toward the reception area. Trey comes into view wearing nice black slacks and a blue button-down shirt. The sleeves are rolled up. His forearms are so damn muscular. I suppose it’s not surprising given what he does for a living, but they’re just so big and sexy. He’s simply…yummy.

My mind flashes to what the rest of his body looks like under those clothes. Complete and total perfection.

As I approach, Andrew discreetly hangs his tongue out and pants like a dog. He mouths to me, “Holy fuck.”

I ignore him and look at the sex god standing in my office. “Trey? What are you doing here?”

He lifts what appears to be a takeout bag. “Since you got a late start today, I thought you might be skipping lunch. I brought you food.”

“That was thoughtful.” I motion for him to follow me. “Let’s eat in my office.”

Not caring that my coworkers can see us, he immediately takes my hand in his and kisses my cheek before saying, “You look gorgeous.”

I take in my royal-blue cascaded wrap dress. “Thank you. You look nice too. You don’t wear those clothes to work, do you?”

“I…umm…just had some busy work in the office today.”

The second we walk through my office door, he drops the food on the ground, closes the door, and pins me against it. I let out a small yelp in surprise before his lips meet mine for a deep kiss.

I feel every hard ridge of his body pressed against me. His hands ride up the backs of my thighs, and then he lifts me and pulls my legs around him. My dress is naturally lifted to my waist. His hardness is pushing against my center, igniting me immediately.

He nibbles and bites down my neck. “You smell so good. I can’t stop thinking about you. About us. ”

I grab onto his thick hair and grind myself against his erection. I breathe, “What happened to four days and a real date?”

“I’ll give you whatever you want. Just one more time to hold me over. I can’t get enough of you.” He pulls my thong to the side from behind me and slips a finger inside me. “You’re soaking wet for me.”

“You make me this way.”

“I need to be back inside you.”

My pussy contracts around his finger. I’m sore from last night yet aching for more of the best sex of my life.

I let out a small moan. “I’ve been thinking about you all morning.” I glance over to my desk, wanting the full fantasy that’s been running through my mind. “Bend me over and fuck me across my desk.”

I both hear and feel a deep rumble in his chest as he pulls away from the door and moves us toward my desk. He’s already tearing a condom wrapper open with his teeth.

I look up at him. “Don’t be gentle.”

After setting me down, he roughly turns me around and shoves my front over my desk, just as I imagined it. He pushes my dress further up my waist and rips my thong away before slamming his giant cock inside me.

Yes, just what I wanted.

It feels amazing but not as good as it did without the condom. Wanting the scene I imagined to be epic, I turn my head back. “Take it off. Fuck me bare again.”

Yes, my brain isn’t functioning. Have I mentioned that the sexiest man alive, who happens to have an enormous, pierced cock, is inside my body right now?

Within seconds, he’s withdrawn, I see the condom flying across the room, and then he slams back into me.

I let out a loud moan. “Fuck, yes. So good.”

He grabs my hips with bruising strength and begins his long, deep, hard thrusts. “You like me bare inside you, baby? ”

“Y-yes.” I don’t know if his cock was sent from heaven or hell, but either way, I’m going along for this ride.

That fucking piercing has got my mind spinning. I can’t see straight. I’m so incredibly turned on.

“Your pussy is greedy. She’s squeezing me.” He slaps my ass. “Such a good pussy.”

I grab onto the far edge of my desk so I have some leverage to push back onto him.

The sounds of my wetness and his body slapping hard against mine are loud. My desk slides an inch or two with every hard thrust.

He’s giving my body a pounding that I never want to stop.

He leans over, first biting and then sucking hard on my shoulder. I let out a scream.

“That’s right. Show everyone in this office what I’m doing to you. Who you belong to.”

What real-life man talks like that? And, damn, I’m loving it.

My climax is already churning through me. My toes are numb. This is romance book hot. I can’t believe it’s my reality.

His fingers dig hard into my hips again. I look back at his body. Somehow his muscles ripple through his shirt. I didn’t know that was possible. His jaw is tense, completely absorbed in this. I love how into the moment he is.

He notices my turned head and grabs me by the hair. Hard. His skillful tongue plunders into my mouth while his cock ravages my body in a way I’ve never known before.

I tear my eyes away to see files and papers flying everywhere. Holy shit. I think I manifested this whole scene.

I’ve got one more aspect of the scene I had in mind that needs to happen. I breathe, “My ass. Put your fingers in my ass.”

He lets out a loud groan before I hear him suck on his fingers, then he circles my back entrance and slips them in.

“Fuck, yes. I like it deep.”

He pushes his fingers all the way in while continuing to ram into me hard with his cock .

My orgasm builds and builds until I can’t possibly hold it back. As if sensing it, he leans over and seals his mouth over mine. I yell into him as the freight train of an orgasm crashes and then ripples through my entire body, completely shattering me.

“You want me to fill you with my come? Mark you as mine?”

“Yes!”

He growls, “Oh fuck,” as he pushes in deep and fills me with his warm seed.

Collapsing on top of me, he gently kisses my shoulder. We’re both breathing heavily. He pants, “I like your office. It’s nice.”

I giggle. “What color is my carpeting?”

I feel him smile on my shoulder. “I have no idea. You’re completely bare.”

I let out a laugh. “Not that carpeting.”

He pulls everything out and turns me around. I see his handsome, smiling face.

He runs his thumb over my sensitive lips. “You’re all I see, Gemma.”

Leaning forward, he sucks my lower lip into his mouth. My nipples harden. I’m about to deepen the kiss when I feel his come trickling down the inside of my thigh.

I pull away and look down. He notices my line of sight and runs his finger through our joint fluids before holding it up to my mouth. I wrap my lips around his finger and suck it clean, all without breaking eye contact.

His jaw slackens and he immediately hardens again. I can’t deny that I get off on the effect I have on him.

I reach down to touch him, but he grabs my wrist. “Later. Let me take care of you.”

He pulls up his pants and walks into my private bathroom, returning a few moments later with a dampened hand towel. Propping me on the desk and spreading my legs, he runs the warm towel through me until I’m thoroughly cleaned, with a tenderness that’s more dangerous for me than anything he’s said or done .

I can’t help but run my fingertips through his stubble. “I fantasized about this very scene.”

He nods as he pulls my dress back down over my legs. “I know. It was in your fourth book.”

“No, that scene was fade to black. I mean minutes before you arrived, I was thinking about it. I wanted you to throw me over my desk and have your wicked way with me. I’ve never done it, and I was sitting here imagining it when the receptionist buzzed me.”

He pinches his eyebrows together. “You haven’t had office sex before?”

I shake my head. “I haven’t done most of the things I’ve written about.”

“It’s time to change that. You said there are hundreds of tropes. Give me some that might interest you in reality.”

I smile at this fun little game. “Let me think. The professor-student trope is hot as hell.” I channel my inner sex goddess and breathe, “I want to be a naughty student.”

His pupils dilate and he adjusts himself. He’s so sexual.

He croaks out, “What else?”

I bite my lip. “I wouldn’t mind a little primal play.”

“What’s that?”

“It can be kind of broad because it generally means letting go of societal norms, but I mean it more predatory. I want to be hunted. Stalked. Like I said, half the tropes are felonies. It doesn’t mean they can’t be hot as hell.”

His cock is fully straining against his black pants. He takes a few deep breaths before retrieving the bag of food. “I have to feed you. You’ll need your energy for the things I have planned for you this weekend.”

I can’t help but smile as we lay out the food in my sitting area and sit down to enjoy the meal.

I open the boxes and find it’s tacos. My face lights up. “Tacos? You know the way to a woman’s heart. ”

He mock flips his hair and in a girly voice, says, “It’s Tuesday. You have to eat tacos on Tuesdays. It’s practically the law.”

I giggle at him referencing a direct line from one of my books. He really did read them. Does it get more perfect than Trey?

“I can’t deny the truth of that statement. Taco Tuesdays should be a national holiday.”

He smiles.

“Tell me more about your sister.”

His smile widens. It’s obvious that they’re close.

“Her name is Diana. She and her wife, Sherrece, own a restaurant. Diana went to culinary school and she’s an amazing chef, but she’s taken a step back since having kids. Sherrece manages the restaurant. She’s originally from New Zealand.”

“Does she speak Kiwi?”

“She does. Her accent is still heavy even though she’s been here for fifteen years.”

“When she says the word six , does it sound like sex ?”

He chuckles. “It does. How do you know that?”

“I dated a rugby player from New Zealand years ago. It always made me giggle. Tell me more about them.”

“Their kids are Maggie and Leo. They’re amazing. I go up when I can but FaceTime with them a lot. Since you’re ditching me until Saturday, I might head up for a night or two tomorrow.”

“I’m not ditching you. I said we’d get together over the weekend. That’s reasonable.”

“Hmm.”

“Will you spend Christmas with them?”

He nods. “Yes. I think my mother is coming in too. I know you’re going down to Florida. Does anyone else in your family go too?”

“My mother was supposed to come, but she and Byron are heading overseas for the holiday. It’s all for the best. She and my grandmother have a love-hate relationship.”

“Are you more like your mom or grandmother? ”

“I suppose I have my mother’s sense of style, but I hope I’m more like my grandmother in every other way. She has this love of life. This try-anything-and-everything attitude. I wouldn’t be writing if not for her. My mother is embarrassed by it. She thinks writing romance novels is beneath me. My grandmother loves that I put myself out there like that. She sees how happy it makes me.”

“You should always do what makes you happy.”

“I try. I let you fuck me without a condom again. I was happy in that moment even though I should be committed for doing it.”

He lets out a laugh. “I love how brash you are. And sex with you makes me extremely happy.”

“What else makes you happy?”

“The fact that I met you.”

“Such a charmer. You’re too perfect. Tell me something imperfect about you.”

He twists his lips. “Hmm. I’ll tell you something, but you have to promise not to tell anyone. Ever.”

I rub my hands together. “Ooh. A big secret. This just got good. Not a word. I promise.”

“Trey isn’t my real name. My real first name is,” he whispers, “DeMontré. My sister calls me Demon Trey.”

I burst out laughing. “Are you serious?”

“Sadly, yes. It’s French, and my mother was obsessed with European royalty.”

“She’d get along with my mother. She thinks she’s actual European royalty.”

“That’s why my sister is Diana. She got a normal royal name, and I got a snooty, ridiculous name.”

“Oh my god, you’re the least snooty person I’ve ever met. No one snooty fucks like you.”

He smiles. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was intended as one, Demon Trey.”

“I’m going to spank you every time you call me that.”

“Spanking is one of my favorite tropes, Demon Trey. ”

He narrows his eyes at me. “I’m not kidding.”

I giggle as I look at him and mouth, “Demon Trey.”

He grabs my body and pulls me over his lap.

Spank.

I giggle and shout, “Demon Trey.”

Spank.

And that’s what leads to another round of office sex, this time with him sitting in my chair.