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“I’m thirty-seven, way too old to pick up a twenty-one-year-old.” His eyes gleam as he pulls off my shirt and takes in the black sheer bra hiding just enough to taunt but shows enough to please.
My nipples are hard and tight, aching against the confines of the cups. He likes my breasts. All men like my breasts. It’s reassuring he isn’t different than any other man. A bitter laugh bubbles up. “I’ve had older.”
He goes still at my words, and I wonder what he sees that makes him go so still. For a moment it’s hard to tell if he’s even breathing. Then he exhales, steps back from me, and begins to take off his suit jacket.
“How come you haven’t asked me any questions about being clean, and sexual partners?” He tosses the jacket over the only piece of furniture besides my bed in the small, cramped studio apartment, a big chair with an ottoman, for me to read in.
“Please.” I laugh. “I knew it all the moment I looked at you. From your suit cut just to fit you, to the two-hundred-dollar haircut, and down to your five-thousand-dollar hand-stitched shoes, you are very clean. You go to the doctor every year for a checkup, and even though you shrug off a cold, if it hurts bad enough you know enough not to be stupid and go into the doctor. For someone like you, an opening happens to be available the same day. The only question I would have is if you’re married, but no ring, and it was clear it was a family gathering you were at. You wouldn’t have made a move in front of everyone if you were married.”
“So the only boxes a man needs to check to be with you are ‘not married’ and ‘they can go all night’?” He slides the knot of his tie down and then over his head.
Ambivalence rises up inside me at his question. I need my orgasm badly, and my body needs it from him but all the questions are pissing me off. What does it matter to him? Why can’t he just give me what I need without the questions? Fighting the urge to yell at him, I step toward him and begin to unbutton his shirt. He catches my hands in his and stops me. Stung, I hit back at him, hard. “It’s actually a far cry from my standards in my teenage years. Basically, if you pulled out your dick and asked for it, I’d suck you till you came or pull off my panties for you. I once had five guys at once. It went on for hours. I was covered in come when they were done. I’ve had men and women. I wasn’t selective in the slightest.”
He’ll leave now. Someone like him won’t want something as used as I am.
Chapter Two
His reaction is the last thing I expect. He takes a step forward and kisses me on my forehead, then a flutter of kisses run along the side of my face, inching slowly to my mouth. His lips are soft and full, and I remember wondering how they would feel on my body when he was beside me in the pub. I know now I didn’t even come close. A brush of them across my own has me opening to him with a gasp. The taste of him is more intoxicating than the shots I had at the bar. Greedily, I open wider for him and seek to take the kiss deeper, he won’t allow it. His hands slip up to hold my cheeks. Need has me clenching my pussy, and I can feel myself leaking down my inner thighs. Once again he’s in control. He’s gentle and tender, it makes me catch my breath, and my chest is clenching from an emotion I haven’t felt before.
Terror has me pushing him away. “No, I don’t want kissing and holding hands. I want your cock inside me. Now, are you going to fuck me or not?”
His jaw clenches, and I’m holding my breath until he motions to my queen-sized bed. “Lie down.”
Moving around him, I lie down and then remember. Sitting up, I open the second drawer of my nightstand and pull out the magnums he’ll need. After setting them on the table, I begin to unfasten my bra.
“No, I undress you. Lie down,” he orders, and finally begins to unbutton his shirt. I wasn’t wrong: his body is a work of art, muscle and sinew flexing below golden skin. “What put an end to your open-pussy policy?”
With a sigh, I close my eyes. That’s it. I’m done. I don’t want to keep talking to him. He isn’t playing by the rules. I open my eyes to tell him to leave and find him in black silk boxers, my mouth goes dry. Okay, fine, whatever it takes to have his straining cock inside me. “I wou
nd up pregnant, which, considering how lax I was with birth control, wasn’t a surprise. I had a miscarriage at four months and it was hard. Everyone else around me was relieved. It shocked me out of what I was doing.”
Coming down on the edge of the bed, he annoyingly still hasn’t taken off his boxers, and I’m dying to see him. A large hand captures my ankle, and the other unfastens the four-inch fuck-me heels I’m wearing. His hands are on me again, and his touch has me moaning. His skin is so hot and smooth against mine. He undoes my other shoe and rolls me over until he finds the zipper on my skirt and pulls it down. His hands linger over my skin as he slides my skirt it off. Finally, is all I can think, as a finger lingers over the thin string over my hips to my matching sheer black thong. He’s faster about skimming the thong off me, and I’m thankful. Seeing me, his smile is one of surprise and fascination. I know the style is to be bare there, I’m not. I keep it neat and tidy, and there is no hair covering the lips of my pussy, but my mound has a fine, thin patch of hair.
Fingers, thick and nimble, stroke and play there then slowly edge their way along the seam of me. I’m so wet his fingers glide easily along me, toying with me. His voice is so light I barely hear him. “Who molested you?”
Ice spills over me and I shiver. How could he know? Why does he care?
“Your father, a mother’s boyfriend, or some other relative—a brother or uncle? Who hurt you?” His voice is soft yet demanding.
No, I can’t do this. I try to roll away from him, but his hands move fast to my hips and hold me tight. There is no give. I close my eyes. I want this to all end, now. “Why are you doing this? Why are you asking these questions? Why can’t you just give me what I need?”
“Who?” Hot air along my ear sends heat running through me all over again.
Confusion is flooding me. How can I still want him when it feels like he’s tearing away my skin to see inside me? A soft kiss is pressed against my neck, his tongue slides out to taste me, and then strong teeth nip before he soothes the skin with another soft kiss. A moan slides out of me, and he asks again, and I can only answer without thinking, “My mother’s boyfriend.”
A hand slides into my hair, and his grip is firm as he pulls me up to look at him. I’m trapped and can’t look away. I don’t dare. “How old were you?”
“From the time I was ten until I was twelve years old.”
Closing his eyes, the shudder is visible. I’m tense, wondering if now is the moment he’ll pull away. The hand in my hair is still tense, but the hand at my hip releases me and then slides around to stroke the skin of my ass. My body responds to his touch, and knowing he still wants me allows me to relax. When he opens his eyes, I can see the fury seething through him. I’m surprised his voice is so soft. “How did it end?”
“My mom took me to the doctor to put me on the pill. Her explanation for why was crazy and convoluted, and the doctor saw through it. The doctor had her leave and asked me what was going on, and I told him. I never saw her again. I was put in foster care the same day. They were both arrested. He pled out and got fifteen years and she got ten years. Why does any of it matter to you?”
Releasing my hair, he opens the catch of my bra, and a thumb rolls over a painfully tight nipple. “Everything that has to do with you matters to me.”
It scares me the way he says it, as if I should know already. “No, this is just one night. That’s it, that’s all I want from you.”
A smile plays on his lips, and my breath catches in my chest. “There’s a difference between want and need, my sweet. Now, you haven’t even asked me my name, did you know that? It’s Trey. Say it.”
