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Normally I need a little stimulation to get off like this, but something about having the power right now is so hot, and the angle of his cock is just right, and in a few minutes of watching his sweating face contort with alternating amazement and lust, I’m clenching and sweating as my own orgasm breaks. We spend the next twenty minutes teasing one another before we finally rest.
During that time, he pours me a glass of wine and hands it to me, raising his own glass. “To the best fucking orgasms we’ve ever had,” he says confidently.
I laugh and start to take a sip, but maybe it’s gone bad because the smell of it nearly turns my stomach. It’s insane to me that he can tip his glass up and drink this swill at all, but maybe being rich doesn’t mean you have a palate. Still, I don’t want to be entirely rude, so I take a tiny sip and then put the glass down. “The best orgasms we’ve ever had?” I ask, one eyebrow up. “That’s bold.”
“You’re saying it isn’t?” he asks me, sinking onto the couch with that feral, hungry grin of his, eyes sparkling at the thought of a challenge.
“I decline to comment,” I tell him, but I’m already having a hard time suppressing a delighted giggle as he nuzzles around my thighs with the promise that if it’s not the best yet, it soon will be.
“You know, I think we fit together pretty well,” Jake says, his lips grazing my bare thigh.
“We’re not a bad pair, I suppose.” I stroke his hair. What’s he saying, exactly?
“We look good together, too,” he says.
It sounds like a familiar line.
“Is that so?” The humor is out of my voice, and Jake can hear it. He sits up, looking sheepish as hell, and I can tell it’s to cover up something else.
He sighs, and looks me over. We’re both naked, so I do the same. Why can’t he just be pretty and fuck my brains out and let that be enough?
“What would be wrong with people knowing we’re… you know, involved?” he asks softly.
“We’re having sex,” I tell him. “Which is a degree of being involved, but not the sort of thing I care to air out in public.”
“Sure, yeah,” he says, as if it’s a given; so obvious it doesn’t need to be said. Apparently. I can tell he’s either guilty or hurt, one or the other.
As always, I look for the good. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I didn’t mean it like that, I mean… I’m just not really sure what we have…”
“That’s fair… just…” It’s odd to see Jake Ferry squirming, but that’s definitely what he’s doing.
“Spit it out, Jake,” I tell him.
“Look, if… if it seemed like we were a couple—like a real couple—and we
let people think whatever they want, you have to admit it wouldn’t be bad for Red Hall. For that matter I might have a shot at—”
“Stop,” I tell him. Whatever heat was in me is gone now. Ice courses through my veins and now I think I really may be sick. “Just stop.”
“Janie, I didn’t—”
“I cannot believe this.” Ice melts, starts to boil. I think I am going to be sick. “This whole… Jesus Christ, you’re a fucking impressively dedicated bastard, you know that? I cannot believe I fell for your bullshit…” The world spins around me. It’s hard to breathe.
“Listen to me, Janie,” Jake says, and reaches for me.
But I’m up and out of his reach before he can lay some more of his alligator charms on me, getting dressed. The guilt on his face is plain, but it’s not enough. “All this time, and I actually thought you just wanted… fuck, I don’t even know what I thought.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, standing.
“Put some clothes on,” I snap.
“Sure, yeah,” he says. “I’ll... ah… I’ll drive you back.”
I laugh, already headed for the door. “No, no, no. You can hang out here and fuck yourself. I’ll get a cab.”
He’s coming at me like he wants to prevent me from leaving, but stops when I round on him. “Jake, I swear to God if you take another step toward me you’ll regret it. We. Are. Done. Fuck you, fuck your father, don’t ever fucking talk to me again.”
I slam the door on my way out. Luckily I’m still too furious to cry. I have no fucking clue how to get home. Thank God for Uber. By the time I make it to the road to wait, I’m not exactly calm so much as numb.
