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“Actually, that’s when my therapist got me a vibrator. I couldn’t believe it when she handed it to me, with a bottle of lube. She told me men and boys were off limits until I could figure out there were other things to life than an orgasm. I thought she was the crazy one. The problem was I rarely came, if ever. I was trying too hard, except I didn’t realize it until years later.”
“So a therapist is where you picked up your toy love. Whatever works. What you went through doesn’t get fixed in a few therapy sessions. Are you still tender? Because I’m dying to taste you again,” he asks the question against my lips, and I shake my head and whisper, “Please, again.”
His mouth is everywhere sucking, his tongue sliding over my skin to clean me of the
wetness he spread over the both of us. Long, slow licks, combined with hard sucking, are driving me to a boiling point, and he isn’t even close to my pussy. “Ask me for it. Beg me for it. Tell me what you, Kate.”
“I need your mouth on my pussy, I need your tongue inside me. Please, Trey.”
“Whatever you want, Kate. It’s yours.”
His mouth is ravenous. He doesn’t use just his tongue, his teeth tug and chew over every inch. It’s as if he’s consuming me from the inside out. The pain is fiercely raw, and I want to beg him to stop, yet I can’t. As painful as it is, there’s a sweetness to the pain, and I can’t speak, let alone ask him to stop. He’s keeping me on the edge, not letting me get closer to my climax. I don’t know I’m crying until he moves up to wipe the tears away. His touch is fluttering.
“You can take it, sweetheart, yes. A little more. I can’t get enough of you, and I need you to come on my tongue so I can taste all of you.”
Kissing me deep, I taste myself on him, and once again I long to know what he tastes like. I want to feel him in my mouth, down my throat, taste his come in my mouth. Then I want to know what we taste like together, to clean his cock after he’s come inside me without a condom. No man has been inside me without a condom in years, but I want to feel him skin to skin, buried deep, and I want to feel him filling me full of the essence of him. This night will never happen again, I can’t let it, but I want him to leave a part of himself behind, the way he will take a part of me. It won’t be long, but I’ll have the memory, it will have to be enough.
The scream is pulled from me as his teeth finally toy with my clitoris, and he’s still not gentle, and I’m coming hard. Tugging hard against the restraint of the tie, I feel like I’m exploding from the inside out, breaking apart and terrified I won’t be put back together. Then his arms are around me, pulling me tightly against him, a strong hand running down my back, soothing me. He’s putting me back together. In his arms I’m whole again. I want to ask him something, but my mind is fuzzy and I slip into sleep without another clear thought.
I wake slowly to the feel of him entering me. I’m in his arms and we’re face to face. I’m pretty sure he didn’t let me sleep long, the shadows in the room are a dark purple, so my guess is it’s around four in morning now. With a welcome sigh, I move to allow him deeper access, only he doesn’t seem to want it. He’s only a few inches inside me, and his rhythm is slow and gentle, as if he has all the time in the world. Moaning at the pleasure of it, I nuzzle into his chest, and his hand continues the light up-and-down motion along my spine.
“What do you want, Kate? Tell me why you’re thinking when all you should be doing is feeling.”
Startled at his perception, I move to look him in the eye. His eyes are intent, yet he doesn’t stop moving for even a second. “I want to feel you inside me. I want you to come inside me, no condom.”
Now he stops moving, and it feels like he can see into my soul. I want to look away but don’t dare. Inching out of me, he reaches down and rolls off the condom. Tossing it away, his eyes are back on me, and he begins to move back into me. The feeling is better than I imagined. His cock is shockingly hot, his skin so soft, and I can’t keep my eyes open. I don’t want to forget this moment, this feeling. His teeth nip at my bottom lip and he rocks into me. Only a few inches is all he allows, and I can feel his pre-come leaking into me. It isn’t needed to ease his way in, though, I’m so wet I can feel myself leaking again. Our eyes lock and don’t let go during the long, slow movement. For minutes too long to count, it’s only those first few inches, and as I plead for more, his name the only thing I can whimper out, he goes deeper. Still, he’s not all the way inside. Rocking gently doesn’t soothe the need he’s building inside me. More, I beg, but he only kisses me lightly, not breaking eye contact.
I tug against the tie, which is still keeping me from touching him. The need to touch him is stronger than ever. Before this ends, I want to feel every inch of his skin. I don’t dare say it, but I know he reads me. Shaking his head, he slips deeper inside, and finally he’s there, all the way inside me, and I’m trembling from the feeling alone. His hand goes to my hip to stop me from moving, and for endless minutes neither of us move. We are both savoring the feel of him inside me without anything between us. Slowly, he begins to move again, he’s so slow I’m shaking from need. My pussy clenches around his cock, and the moment I do he slaps my ass, hard. The sting has me hissing, I’m also clenching around him from the desire it fires inside me.
“You liked that, baby?” Another smack, hard, and I know my ass is red. I moan as I grip him tighter inside. “Well, hell, how am I going to keep you from pushing me to come inside you too fast if you liked that smack so much?”
“Trey, you could just come inside me and put us both out of our misery.”
“I could do that.” Another smack, and after the other smacks the burning feels brighter, more intense. I’m frantic now for my climax; over and over I’m squeezing his cock, demanding my orgasm.
His pace is faster now, he’s still in complete control of my body, of my will. Deeper he moves, fucking up into me, and I’m trying but I can’t keep my eyes open, and I spin off the edge of the world. I never hit the ground. I’m in Trey’s arms, and when he groans my name into my neck and I feel him spill into me, I milk him for everything he has.
***
This time I wake on my own and I’m alone. The smell of sex is strong, and I feel as if it has seeped into my pores. He had pulled a sheet over me, and I bring it up to my neck. I can feel him still inside me, and I don’t want to move. I want to keep him inside me for as long as I can. A note is on my cell phone, and I’m not surprised at the message: I put my number into your phone and you will call me. No signature, no need. Sadly I crumple the note and toss it into the trash. I won’t call him. I can’t call him. One night, that’s the deal. Anything else is more than I’m capable of dealing with. Rolling over, I pull his pillow close and smell the scent of him. There is sadness, though. I never got to learn the feel of his skin the way he did mine. He didn’t fuck my ass like he taunted, none of those things can change my mind. It isn’t that we come from different worlds in terms of him having money and me not. It’s the fact I’m a fucked-up mess who doesn’t, can’t do a relationship. Trey deserves better than me.
Chapter Five
Two weeks, it’s been two weeks since that night, and I still can’t get him out of my head. For what has to be the hundredth time since that night, I bring up his number but only trace the letters of his name. I can’t hit send. One night is all I can handle from him. He wants too much. I don’t have it to give him. Tomorrow, the memories will start to fade. I promise myself, as I have for days, tomorrow I will forget him. Eventually he will fade until I can’t remember what he looked like, smelled like, felt like against me. It’s supposed to be reassuring. Instead, there’s a tightness in my chest at the thought.
I have other things I should be worrying about. The promotion I have been promised for years is finally happening. Lorraine, the manager of the store, was terminated last week and I was made manager, now they are asking me to consider opening the new store in Barrington Hills in a month. The idea holds absolutely no appeal, but I promised I would consider it. It would be less expensive in the suburbs, except I love living in the city. There’s still a bit of shock attached to the promotion.
It feels like overnight everything has changed, in a good way, only I’m not used to easy acceptance of good things. My salary went up by forty percent, and when it was found out I was taking business courses online. I was told to hand over the receipts for the last four years Worried they didn’t believe me, I had been reassured of course they believed me, it was so I could be reimbursed. As an assistant manager, I shouldn’t have been paying for my courses, and Lorraine knew it. The check for the school reimbursement came yesterday, and I looked at it for hours, not quite believing it was real.
I’d known this was coming for weeks, however th
ey wanted to wait until the owner’s son came in and took over. Edward Ramsey was replacing Alan Ramsey, and Alan would be going to New York and heading the corporate office. Rumor has it neither Alan or Edward were happy about it, but it was the owner’s call. I hadn’t heard much about Edward Ramsey, as corporate rarely made appearances at the stores. I expected at least a meet-and-greet this week. So far though there was nothing. Jenny, the new assistant manager I picked, is sure the guy will come around and he was just probably getting his bearings in the city.
Still, it’s nerve-racking. I want it over sooner than later. Alan Ramsey was a nice guy, a little young and very much the pampered East Coast son of a billionaire. He tried to walk the walk and talk the talk, but it was almost a pantomime. If he was being moved to the corporate office in New York, then what was coming to Chicago?
Ramsey’s is the go-to for ready-to-wear high-class fashion, and has been for over a hundred years. Their first store was in New York, their second in Chicago on Michigan Avenue, and they have stores in Miami and Beverly Hills. They cling to their stores by sheer tenacity and wisdom. Even though the clothes are labeled ready to wear, there’s an on-site tailoring shop. Three seamstresses and two assistants who have their hands full constantly.
The stores all take customer service to a whole new level. A customer wants a vintage Valentino—what size and color? The dress an Oscar winner wore three years ago, delivered to their home or the store for a fitting? Champagne is always available for the women while shopping, and two types of scotch worth over two hundred dollars a bottle for the men who came to pay.
