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The wind pulls dark strands of her hair out of her ponytail and they get trapped in the gloss on her lips. With long, delicate fingers, she tucks it behind her ears. As she enjoys her food, my mind is racing for anything else I can offer her that she might enjoy because it gives me a thrill to bring her any kind of pleasure. Usually the only kind of pleasure I know how to give a woman is sex. This is all new to me. Her happiness is like air to me. I need it. I want her so bad right now. I ache for her.
“You’re staring,” she says.
I blink several times to break the spell she has me under. “Was I? Sorry, I was spacing out.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“You, in that dance studio, on that stage. I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind.”
She looks down, hiding her shy smile. “I didn’t take you for a fan of the arts. You seem a bit rugged for that.”
“I’m not a fan of the arts normally. But you …”
You’re different, you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met and I can’t get you out of my mind, I want to tell her, but I hold my tongue, afraid anything I say might scare her off again.
“You’re very talented and I enjoyed watching you dance,” I say instead.
“Thanks. I’ve been dancing since I was little. It’s been my passion for as long as I can remember. It never really went anywhere, though. Not until now.”
“Until now?” I say, confused.
Her smile beams. “They called me this evening. I got the job.”
I’m up and out of my chair before I realize what I’m doing. I’m lifting her out of her chair, her arms wrap around my neck, and she lets out an adorable happy squeal as I spin her around.
“Congratulations. I knew someone would appreciate your dance as much as I did. How couldn’t they?” I say.
She leans back and looks at me, the smile gone from her face. Her eyes bore into mine and there’s a need there that’s familiar. She crushes her lips against mine. When I lift her off the ground again, her legs wrap around my waist and I carry her inside. I know my way around my house well enough that I can kiss her and carry her to my room without looking up. I lay her down on my bed. She keeps her legs around me. When I push my hips into her, she arches her back and moans into my mouth.
Her lips are warm and delicious. Whenever I stop kissing her, she pulls me back in. We kiss until my lips are raw. I open my eyes to watch her face. I want to see her reaction when I reach for the hem of her dress to make sure there’s no hesitation this time. There isn’t. Only pure, unadulterated passion. She sits up and I pull her dress off in one swift motion.
She’s a vision in a black lace bra and panties, but I don’t have much time to take it all in before she’s pulling me back to her, her tongue finding its way back to mine. Eager little thing, I think with a smile.
She pushes up to grind against me. “Wait, wait,” she says, breathless. She stops grinding, and I feel the loss of her heat instantly. “I don’t want to come yet.”
Her words send the blood in my head straight down to my cock.
She peels my shirt off. I take off her bra. She takes off my shorts, and we keep removing each other’s clothes until we’re both naked. As soon as my dick springs free from my boxers, Cadie gasps. Her eyes go wide, and she tentatively reaches out as if she might touch it, but pulls her hand back.
I laugh. “You can touch it. It won’t bite.”
She smiles, embarrassed. “It’s intimidating.”
I cock my head. Maybe this guy she’s trying to forget about isn’t some well-hung Thor-type after all. I swallow back the jealousy that creeps into my thoughts and force the image of her with another guy out of my head.
“Not as intimidating as it is to be with someone like you.”
She looks surprised. “Please, I’m sure you’ve been with plenty of women more beautiful than me.”
I shake my head vehemently. “Never. I’ve never met anyone like you in my life.”
I kiss her before I say something stupid, before I unfurl all these new feelings I have for her. She doesn’t want to hear that. It will just ruin the mood.
Burying my face in her neck, I lick and suck at her beating pulse. She pulls in a breath and whimpers. I make my way to her breast and flick the hard nipple with my tongue. A surprised sound escapes her lips. Then I take the whole thing in my mouth, rolling my tongue around the soft mound of flesh. When I’ve given it thorough attention, I do the same with the other.
Cadie reaches between our bodies and cups the shaft of my cock in her hand, and I lose focus for a moment, overwhelmed by the amazing sensation of being in her grasp. Seeing my pleasure, she starts to stroke. My breathing quickens, and I too stand on the edge of coming. I quickly pull out of her grip and she lets out a small laugh, knowing the effect she’s having on me.
“Looks like we’re both on the edge,” she says.
“It’s a good thing we have all night to do it over and over again,” I tell her.
I didn’t get the reputation as the Bed Shaker by shooting and leaving. I can get off and five minutes later, I’m ready to go again. Normally it takes me a lot longer to come the first time, but I’m so turned on by Cadie that I have a feeling I’m about to be a two-pump-chump. There’s a first time for everything, I suppose.
“I want you inside me,” she breathes.
How can I say no to that?
Since I don’t bring women to my house, I don’t have condoms lying around my bedside table. I have to fish through the pocket of my jeans and grab one out of my wallet. I slip it on and hover above her, resting on my elbows. She looks at me with a hint of nervousness. I soothe her by touching her cheek and gently kissing her lips.
“I won’t hurt you,” I promise her.
“You might,” she says.
My brow furrows. “No. If you feel any pain at all, I’ll stop.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
I’m confused and she knows it. When I start to ask questions, she silences me with a kiss. “No more talking,” she says when she pulls away. But I can’t get her words out of my head.
If she wasn’t talking about me hurting her during sex, what did she mean? Could she be feeling something for me too? I don’t want to get my hopes up, but it might be too late for that.
I watch her expression as the head of my cock meets her slippery warm opening. I can feel the heat of her radiating through me.
As I start to push into her, her mouth parts and her breath shivers out. Her eyes grow big. I slow down. “No, don’t stop,” she says.
I do as I’m instructed and she makes all kinds of delectable noises until I’m fully enveloped inside of her. Her muscles clinch around me, and I let out a moan of my own. She fits me like a glove, hot and wet. I pull out and push my way back in. She claws at the sheets. I do it again and she growls at me to go harder. My lips turn up in a smirk, and I push hard into her. Each time I drive into her, I push harder than I did the time before until she’s screaming for it, begging me not to stop.
I lift her legs, nearly folding her in half. I’m able go deeper in this position. She screams louder and her eyes roll back in her head. “God, yes, right there. Please don’t stop,” she begs.
I wouldn’t dream of it.
I fuck the breath from her lungs. She’s gasping, begging. By some crazy miracle, I’m able to hold on. I’m on the verge of climax, but with sheer determination, I’m able to keep it in. Then suddenly her body bucks and she’s holding her breath, making choking sounds. Her legs are rigid, her toes curled. Her tight muscles clamp down so forceful on my cock that I’m trapped inside of her, unable to move. My gaze shifts between her tortured face and the junction between her legs where I watch her muscles moving around my cock that’s still buried to the hilt inside of her. I don’t know which sight turns me on the most. I don’t think I can choose between the two. I want to bend down and take her hard little clit in my mouth, but I’m still stuck between her thighs.
My own orgasm rushes toward me, curling up in my balls before bursting through the length of my dick. I bite my lips and close my eyes as I’m rendered temporarily brain dead.
We lay there, taut and unmoving for nearly a minute before her body starts to relax and she releases me from her cushy prison. But I don’t want to leave her warmth yet. It’s like my dick has Stockholm syndrome and wants to be trapped inside her forever.
I open my eyes and look down at her serene expression. She’s sweaty and flushed, and if I thought she was beautiful before, she’s truly radiant now.
10
Cadie
Ram touches my cheek and looks down at me with such tenderness it makes me want to cry. How embarrassing would that be? I’m able to control myself. Maybe it’s because I just had the best orgasm of my life, or maybe it’s because he’s being so gentle with me after, that I feel heartbroken knowing that he’s going to have this same experience with someone else. I’m so jealous right now that I could punch someone.
I close my eyes and fight back my agony. I tell myself at least I have him now. I’ll enjoy him while it lasts.
I kiss him like we’re in love, like he’s mine and only mine and it will always be that way. He kisses me back and I allow myself to pretend that all of the attention he’s giving me is not to boost his own sexual experience, but to bring us closer together. He whispers in my ear, and tells me I’m beautiful. I close my eyes and I’m so lost in make-believe that I hear the words, “I’m falling for you,” come out of his mouth.
I must have a crazy-good imagination because it almost sounds real. I open my eyes and he’s watching me expectantly. I pull him into a passionate kiss. He’s already hard again. He sits up and peels off the used condom, wrestles with his wallet before finding another. He slips it on.
I push him onto his back and squat over the top of him, lowering myself down on him until my ass is firmly against his groin. Then I start to bounce on top of him, feeling him bottom out inside of me. Tendrils of pleasure laced with pain roll through me.
He has the most gorgeous sex face of any man I’ve ever seen. He doesn’t make any of those weird twisted expressions that make a girl want to close her eyes and pretend he’s someone else. I just want to keep watching him. I’ve never kept eye contact with a man while he’s been inside of me. It’s usually awkward. But not with Ram. His eyes are trained on mine as if he’s silently communicating to me. I’m silently communicating with him too, telling him how much I want him, how much he turns me on. Through my gaze I tell him that I want more than just a fling. I want him in my bed, in my arms, in my life. I want him to be mine and me to be his. I long for that with him. His eyes tell me something similar, but I know our language is different. He can’t be telling me those things. Men like Ram don’t settle down with one woman. They have no reason to. Gina was right, and if I don’t heed her warnings, I’m going to get hurt.
I close my eyes and fuck him like my life depends on it until I’m coming. He grabs my hips and jackhammers into me. I scream his name as the world explodes around me and my second orgasm turns me into a pile of useless skin and bones. I collapse on his chest, our sweaty bodies sticking together. His big, muscular arms wrap around me, holding me tight.
We fall asleep like that, him clutching me like a child’s teddy bear and still inside of me. The sun is just starting to rise when I wake up. How did I sleep like this? Comfortably, I should add. My pussy aches from the pounding he gave me. I wriggle out of his arms and let his flaccid cock slip out of me. Even limp he’s bigger than anyone I’ve ever been with. My body is definitely feeling the difference.
Quietly, I get dressed. I hate to sneak out, but I don’t want our special night together to be ruined by awkward exchanges when he wakes up. I just want to remember him with that longing expression in his eyes and the way he held me after.
Once I’m dressed, I kiss his forehead and leave.
11
Cadie
I’m standing with other dancers backstage, waiting to find out which part I landed. I know I’m part of the dance troupe, but I don’t know if I’ll be in the background somewhere. I have a good feeling about it, though. Or maybe that good feeling is just that I’ve been spending a lot of time with Ram. It’s been several weeks since we first had sex. He called me the next morning and we ended up talking on the phone for hours. I’ve seen him every night. We surf and have sex and spend time getting to know each another. I’m getting better—at surfing, that is, I was always pretty good at the sex thing. Being with him has been the perfect distraction—at least it started out as a distraction. I’d desperately wanted to get my mind off of Evan, but then it turned into more …
I don’t know what all of this means for him. I know what it means for me. I’m falling for him. I can’t help it. He’s not the kind of guy a girl can just walk away from and never look back. I’m not saying I’m in love or anything. We’re not even dating. But spending time with him and having the best sex of my life makes me happy. That happiness has transferred into other aspects of my life and now I feel ready for this part in the dance—whichever part I get.
My name is called. It’s my turn to audition for the lead roll. The spotlight blinds me. I can feel the eyes of the other dancers weighing me down, judging, speculating, willing me to fail. But as soon as the music starts, the world disappears and I rise. I’m an ocean breeze; I’m a dolphin gliding through the water; I’m light itself. Everything Ram has taught me about surfing, I use in this dance. I’m free.
As soon as the dance is over, the real world comes back in a rush and again I’m heavy and weighed down, but I know I’ve nailed this audition. I have no regrets, no nagging inner jabs telling me there’s something I could’ve done better. I left everything on the stage and now I’m just an empty husk.
My stomach rolls as the names of the dancers and their roles are called. I pick at my nails, roll my ankles, transfer my weight from foot to foot. And then my name is called, followed by one word: Penelope. I got it. I got the lead. I fight back the roar of laughter and happy squeals that hit me like a tsunami. I did it. I really did it!
Of all the people I could call and share my good news, my first thought is Ram. It’s concerning. But I’m too excited to read more into it. I’ll worry about that later. Right now I just want to celebrate with someone who believes in me. If it weren’t for his encouragement, I don’t think I would’ve believed in myself enough to even audition for this particular part in the dance. I would’ve sat back and let someone else have it and told myself I was meant to be somewhere in the background. It’s the best of the best and I didn’t think I was worthy. Ram did, though. He made me believe it too, and now here I am.
I text Ram and wait for him to respond. While I wait, I look at his Instagram pictures. There are a few of us surfing together. I try not to think too much about the fact that he has me mixed up in his photos since he has his other students on there as well, but it feels good to see it. I’m not someone he’s trying to keep secret, at least. We look good together. Everything about us fits so well. His blond hair complements my auburn waves. Our bodies are evenly matched with both of us having athletic builds. We look like companion dolls. My Barbie to his Ken.
The voice over my shoulder startles me. I put down the phone as if being caught watching something inappropriate. I turn and see a beautiful woman standing there. Short and compact with the perfect dancer’s body, cropped blond hair in a pixie cut. A pink little cupid’s bow for a mouth. She’s one of the girls who auditioned for the same part as me. She ended up getting the part of Penelope’s sister. We’ll be working together now.
My face lights up. “Hi, I’m Cadie,” I say, introducing myself. If we’re going to be spending a lot of time together, it’s best to make friends.
She gives me a friendly, yet assessing, smile. “Mara. Congratulations on making the cut. I didn’t see that coming.”
My smile falters a little, but I manage to keep it there. I don’t k
now if she intentionally meant that to be underhanded, but it sure as hell sounded like it. I decide to give her the benefit of the doubt, though. Last thing I want is to work closely with someone I hate. I need to make this work.
“Thank you,” I say graciously.
“I don’t mean to pry,” she says, though the tone of her voice tells me that’s exactly what she’s aiming for. “But I couldn’t help but see the photos of the guy you were looking at. Do you know him?”
Apprehensive, I nod my head. “His name is Ram.”
“Is that his name?” she says all innocence and smiles. “I’ve only known him as the Bed Shaker. Isn’t it wonderful what he does for women? I mean, no one has ever made me come the way he has. I can’t wait to see him again.”
My throat tightens. I struggle to swallow down the sickness rising up from my stomach. Ram has been with this little troll? Of course he has. She’s beautiful. That seems to be the only prerequisite for the women he sleeps with according to Gina. How can I work with this woman knowing she’s been with the man I’m sleeping with?
Mara acts like she doesn’t see my distress, but I know she does, and she takes that knife and twists it in. Her face goes slack with concern, her voice condescending. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry. If it makes you feel better, he doesn’t respond to my personal messages, but he obviously does yours. Maybe you’re special?” She shrugs as if she doubts it, then walks away, bouncing on her toes as she does.
I’m going to be sick. I hold my stomach, afraid I’ll puke right here in front of everyone. My head is filled with images of Ram fucking that dumb bitch, and I’m pissed. I close my eyes, trying to block it out, but it makes it worse. How many people has he had sex with since me? Probably a lot. I should’ve known better, but somehow the thought never even occurred to me. How could I be so stupid? I can’t be with him anymore. I don’t know if I can take this job either.
