Pleasurable Reading

KPOV

Not much had been inspiring me lately. You'd think that having a girlfriend that was hotter than any other by a factor of ten would get juices of all types flowing. Not to say that our sex life wasn't good—it was fucking fantastic—but there was something that felt…not right with us. Sure, Pippa could do something as simple as lick something off her finger and it would take me less than a blink of an eye to mount her. But we were off somehow, which is why I'd often find myself doing things on my own. Watching

television, going out, showering.

Barnes & Noble was my home base. It helped me with everything. When I was a kid, I'd spend hours perusing different fiction novels. As I grew older, non-fiction books with equally captivating titles fascinated me. All I'd want for Christmas were books on languages and cultures. I was fluent in Greek and Spanish—as well as English

and Hindi—by the time I was fifteen.

In more recent days, I'd go for the thrill and nostalgia of something familiar. The store was also a great place to sort out what has been going on in these past few months. Moved out west, wrote a hit song, made a music video, met two girls—one of whom is a walking advertisement for pain medication and protective sports gear. I shuddered at the memory of our last encounter in the studio. Just the thought of her made me want to break something. Although, with that, simultaneously came the feeling of sheer…desire? Right, if I'm filled with lust for her, then she really is a porn star. It would be just my

luck if she—Fuck. Me.

And there she was, almost exactly as I had imagined her. Her top was black spaghetti strap with tons of sparkles. The bottom of it made a "V" that—purposefully or not—pointed toward the most fun region of any woman's body. And, if I was honest with myself—which I hardly ever am—I'd admit to the fact that said region may have crossed

my mind once. Or twice. Or several times. Per day.

My eyes nearly rolled out of my head when I saw her skirt. Nothing said "come and fuck me" like denim. What made it worse—or better—was the way she was sitting. Shoes still on the floor, her legs were curled up on the chair she was sitting on, making her ass far easier to see than usual. All she needed was a messy bun and a pair of horn-

rimmed glasses and I'd be hard as a book cover.

You'd think that a girl like Gemma, given her unwillingness to let go of her asswipe boyfriend, would be more aware of her surroundings. Clearly, one can be wrong at times. Today was definitely one of them. Almost soundlessly, my footsteps led the rest of my body to her chair where I snatched the book out of her hands. "Whatcha got there? The Guardian. Sounds bad." She looked up, utterly shocked and with her hands in the same book-holding position, before she recognized me; her facial expression morphed

into a grimace.

"Actually, it's very interesting. It's about obsession and true love; plus there's a doggy." Her smile reminded me of that of a child. The mention of a dog and her face lit

up; she was young again.

"True love, huh? Is that why you read so much? Or why you 'accidentally' run into me everywhere?" I couldn't help the smirk on my face. Her reactions to me were too

good to pass up.

"Please," she scoffed, "like I'd want to run into you. True love isn't the only

reason why I read these books." Ah, yes. Another perfect set-up.

"Oh really? Does it fill that particular…" I darted my eyes around for emphasis, "void I've offered to help you with?" My devious smile infuriated her even more. I loved

pissing her off.

"These books are not meant for that, you pig. They help me take my mind off things, let me escape from my now," her glare was positively humorous, "disgusting

reality."

"'Disgusting reality'? Why? Is your boyfriend around?" I almost wished he were

here, because I had a feeling things were going to turn interesting. And fast.

"I was talking about you, numb nuts."

"Me? Whatever for?"

"You have been sexually harassing me ever since I first met you. You have been saying crap about my boyfriend who you don't even know." Her finger jabbed to my chest and became more frequent and violent with each step backward that I took until I

was flat against a bookshelf. Romance, lovely. "And you've been a total prick."

"Babe, relax. It's all in good fun. Speaking of which, I knew there was a reason why they call it reading for pleasure. Up against this bookshelf, your reading would definitely be pleasurable." I winked, which made her fume before a strange calm set over

her.

"You want to see how pleasurable reading can be?"

"Oh, babe, like you even have to ask."

She leaned in closer to me, like she wanted to be. She whispered, "How bad do

you want it?"

This, more than anything, has a great chance of blowing up in my face with any

answer I give. So, which is the lesser of two evils? "So, so badly."

"Do you mind doing me one quick favor?" she murmured against my lips before

lightly sucking one of the pulse points in my neck.

Oh, Goddamn. "Anything."

Her lips moved to my ear. "Would you mind holding my book for me so I can

work some of my magic?"

I smiled in spite of myself. "Magic, huh?"

She knew she had me. It was in her grin; arrogant and sexy as any Playboy blonde. "Yeah. It works its way from the bottom," her eyes darted to my waist, "to the top," and were on my lips once again. If she wasn't a siren, then hell was made of ice. I had to bite my cheek to keep myself from lunging at her—not that there was room to

lunge, given her close proximity.

"Really?" She nodded and bit her lip; I gulped. "And how does that work?"

"Well, first you need to hold this." I took the book from her. "And then I'll work

my way up."

With a breath that I wished was firmer, I whispered, "Okay."

Without any kind of warning, her hands dove for the button on my jeans and I instantly hardened. She too slowly descended to her knees, taking the denim with her. Holy fucking shit! She's going to do it! I was only being an ass before when I asked her to blow me. Now look at her on her knees, hot and willing. A million different fantasies of a million different things I wanted her to do to me raced through my head. They were so fleeting that I couldn't focus on any of them. Her gasp broke up my thoughts. She was

eye-fucking my boxers and I smirked, smug and proud as hell.

"Like what you see?"

GPOV

God yes, I like what I see. I like it. A lot. No room for complaints is right. But I

couldn't say that to him, and especially not to Simon.

Simon. He'd been acting so strange over the last few months. Always going to business meetings and boys' nights. He'd come home so exhausted that I couldn't bear to

do anything but let him sleep—even if Kartik was right; I was "nearly screaming."

Navy blue against his skin quite literally took my breath away; well, that and the fact that he was very well endowed. He was beautiful—even if I didn't want to admit it. The urge to jump him bombarded my senses. I could imagine what it would be like to see his face and hear him grunting my name as I touched him. All I have to do is pull these

down…No. I can't. I can't let him win this. Not again.

"I need to take care of something really quickly," I told him. "I'll be back in a second." Safely outside, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed a friend's

number. She picked up on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Ann. It's Gemma."

"Hi, Gemma. How are you?"

"I'm actually kind of in a situation. And I was wondering if you could help me."

"What's wrong?" Her voice was full of worry and I almost felt bad about asking

for the favor, but I had to do it.

"I know that you're closely tied with the paparazzi, so I was wondering if you

wouldn't mind sending them my way right now."

"You want the paparazzi following you?"

"It's not that I want them, it's just that I'm kind of in this battle of the sexes

debacle with that musician whose music video I was in a while back."

"You mean that really cute one you've said is a total asshole?" I sighed. Now

really wasn't the time for interrogations.

"Yes, that one. Now will you help me?"

"I don't see how the paparazzi are going to—"

"Ann! Send. Them. Now," I barked.

It took me five minutes to calm Ann down and another three after that for guys with cameras to arrive. I stopped them before they went inside, telling them what my plan

was and not to start shooting until after I gave the signal.

And there he was, his jeans still at his ankles, reading my book. He'd taken off his leather jacket, which was in a pile on the floor next to him. He almost looked cute that way. I had to fight the need to press him up against the bookshelf, self-control be damned. Recollecting myself was more difficult than I thought it would be, and I found that it took several minutes to regain my composure as I watched the way his biceps

flexed when he turned a page. Damn it, Gemma! You have a boyfriend.

"Hey," I said. Kartik snapped the book shut and turned his head in my direction. "Ready?" He nodded, starting to walk toward me but I stopped him. I couldn't help the wicked smile that spread across my face. I'm sure that I looked insane, because Kartik seemed to be confused. Then I called, "Now!" Kartik's eyes went wide when he saw six men with cameras snapping away. He started looking everywhere—left, right, in front, behind—for a means of escape. When he glanced down, an all-too-familiar smile lit up

his face.

"Want to come get your book?"

I know it's a trap; I can feel it. Every ounce of me knew what could happen if I walked over to him. I wanted to run out, to go to him, to feel him, to slap him. I didn't trust him at all or myself at the moment. But I could keep myself together and make sure I stayed on top. "Yes." A warmth hit my hand when our fingers touched; it shocked me more than I'd care to admit. Within half a second of releasing my book, Kartik had his

hands down my skirt, fingernails digging into the flesh of my bottom. It excited me.

"Couldn't stay away, could you?" He gently sucked the spot where I had on him earlier—on the pulse point right below my jaw—and a cry of pleasure involuntarily betrayed me. You bastard. I shoved against him, breaking us apart, when he gave my

bottom one last squeeze before releasing me. "Have a nice day." Jackass.

Fueled by blind rage, my hand forcefully made its way to his boxers. His brown eyes grew impossibly dark, turning feral as my grip tightened. "I intend to." The growl that sounded from his throat was more animalistic than anything I'd ever heard. It

stopped the blood in my veins and created a coiled spring in the pit of my stomach.

Suddenly, maniacally, he plunged his tongue into my mouth. I instantly moaned, anchoring my hands into his hair. I was only vaguely aware of the cameras going off like crazy; I was too involved now. His next plunge was deeper, which earned him another

moan and a tug of his hair. He grabbed my hips and shoved them against his in response.

It was all too much, too fast, too perfect. Never in my life would I have even dreamt of a kiss as erotic as this one. The coiled spring in my stomach was soon met with an ache between my legs that longed to be alleviated. Just a few more slides against him

and I'd soar over the edge. Then I felt something vibrate. Is he…? Oh shit! My phone!

In a millisecond, we separated by five feet. Quickly reaching inside my pocket, I

grabbed my phone and answered it without looking to see who was calling me. "Hello?"

"Hey, baby, what's going on?"

"Simon, hi!" I panted. "Nothing much. Just at Barnes and Noble." A nervous laugh escaped as I watched Kartik pull his jeans back up, grab his jacket, and fold his

arms—waiting.

"You sound out of breath. Are you okay?"

Shit! "Yeah, it's just that these paparazzi are following me again. You know how

much I hate them."

"Why are the paparazzi at Barnes and Noble? Is something going on?" His tone oozed anger and suspicion. I had to wonder if he was mad that I was being followed or

suspicious of what could've happened that made me pant at a bookstore.

"No, babe. Nothing is going on." Kartik's smirk pissed me off. "You know what, let me call you back later, okay? Love you, bye." I hung up before Simon had the chance to say anything else. Phone safely back in my pocket, I glared at Kartik. "Do you enjoy

tormenting me every day?"

"I do, actually," he smiled. "Thanks for asking."

"This isn't over."

Kartik glanced over at the paparazzi and back to me, the smirk back on his

agonizingly handsome face. Agonizingly handsome? "Looks like it to me."

"Just wait until Simon sees these pictures. He'll kick your ass so hard, you won't

be able to sit on it." And he fucking laughed. I fumed.

"I'm not worried about your little boyfriend."

"You should be."

"Oh yeah? And why's that?"

"One, his dad is a lawyer and I can easily place what you just did under sexual

harassment."

He looked unimpressed. "And two?"

"With all these pictures, people will see you as the sex-crazed little boy that you

really are." Kartik paused, seemingly thinking over what I just told him.

"Let me tell you how I see this: one, you saw for yourself that I'm not a 'little boy.'" His smirk flashed briefly before he continued. "Two, the tabloids can do whatever the hell they want. I know what's the truth and what's bullshit. And three, if you could see Simon from anyone else's perspective, you'd think twice before lashing out empty

threats."

Speechlessness, utter speechlessness, overpowered me. No words of retort could form in my voice box. Business meetings. Boys' nights. Anger and suspicion. Comes

home tired. We never have sex.

"Listen, baby, I got to go. But, remember, you can call me. For anything." He licked his lips for emphasis, and I grew angry with him all over again. He was irritating as hell—always trying to get a rise out of me. His crude comments were more than disgusting. He called me a porn star. How could he know something about my own

boyfriend? He didn't even know him.

Why must he vex me so? Why can't he just leave me alone? Why…why am I getting all worked up about this?

A/N: What did you think? Let me know in a review!