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To the left, I see a living room with leather couches facing the windows with a monster television to the side. I can just imagine what the rest of the place looks like.
"What do you think?" Thomas asks, coming up behind me. I spin around.
"I don’t even know what to think," I say, honestly. "This is nothing like what I expected. I mean, I knew you had money. The restaurants and the carriage ride and everything told me that. But this?"
I look around again, unable to find the words. When I look at Thomas again his eyes are on me. They're deep and dark and full of mischief.
"Do you want me to show you the rest of the apartment?" he asks. "I can give you the exclusive tour."
"An exclusive tour?" I ask. "Sounds serious."
He steps closer to me and puts his hand behind my neck. His forehead presses against mine, and he looks down at my lips.
"It is," he says. I know exactly what he wants, and in a snap, my body reacts as if the elevator had never happened. Whatever Thomas had done to me, it was good. I'm now insatiable.
I knew there was no way he was going to let me get away with bringing him to the brink like that in the elevator. In some ways I think he likes when I take control, but he also hates it, because it makes him feel weak. I absolutely love making him love control; it turns me on so much because I’ve always looked at him as a powerful man.
Being in his apartment I'm certain that he’s even more powerful than I anticipated. This is like something you see on television. I’ve lived in New York my entire life and never seen an apartment that looks anything as extravagant as this. I was worried he lived in a slum when he was so apprehensive about showing me his place.
Talking to Lisa made me worry a bit, thinking he might be hiding some things from me, but more important, he might be hiding them for a reason. I assumed he had money because of his car and the restaurants, but this is New York City, sometimes people rent a shack in the Bronx to look rich in Manhattan.
Either way, I figured he wasn’t poor, but I had no idea he was dripping in wealth. I don’t think I’ve seen him as nervous as he was walking in here since he was constantly on edge before I gave him my virginity, always afraid I was going to kick him out.
He still makes fun of me for that, but I didn’t know how to tell him. I guess we both have our secrets a bit, and I doubt his can be much bigger than mine. At the end of the day, I trust Thomas, so I can’t imagine him keeping something from me that would make me view him in a whole different light.
I feel a way that he thought I might change the way I felt about him because he had money. I’m not a gold digger or after his money, but then again, like I said, this is New York City, so his apprehensions are definitely warranted. I bet women all over this country would throw themselves at his feet – he’s handsome, rich, sexy, confident, and hung.
I’ve been shocked that I could keep his attention for so long, but he’s assured me that I’m all he can handle, and from the elevator I guess I can see why. He’s turned me into this super freak, doing and saying things I could’ve never imagined, but turning him on is my vice and I’m completely hooked on him.
Lisa calls it sprung, the way I talk about him all the time, but I don’t care. He’s special to me and so I want to treat him that way. I like talking about him all the time, missing him the moment he leaves, and pining over him whenever we’re in the same space. Besides, it isn’t like I’m alone in this obsession; he can’t keep his hands off of me either. It’s most definitely a two-way street.
We’ve never talked much about his past. I guess I’m just getting around to asking him questions tonight. While I’m sure he has had women before me, I don’t think it's been many, because if that was the case I doubt he would put them all on hold for little ole me. He’s my perfect man, although he seemed a little uncomfortable when I said that earlier. I can imagine not wanting the bar set that high, but I can’t help myself.
My feelings for Thomas seem to grow by the second, and regardless of what Lisa thinks I know it's deeper than some physical attraction or infatuation. The sex is merely icing on the cake; I was sprung before I ever felt his glorious cock.
Walking through his apartment, as he leads me through the immaculately decorated home that looks like it could be right out of an interior design magazine, I feel like I’m in a dream. Thomas may not like me calling him perfect, but he’s been nothing short of a fairy
tale since he came into my life. I’ll be sure not to tell him, but he’s undoubtedly my prince charming.
"How can I miss you when you’re right in front of me?" He wraps his arms around my from behind. I know exactly how he feels, because I do the same thing often.
We’ll be at dinner together and I’ll dread going home before our appetizers have even arrived. Trying to focus on the present, I’ve forced myself to limit the amount of time I focus on the future and what’s to come or what I want to come from us.
Thomas is obviously a busy and successful man, he’s got a lot going on and the fact that he wants to spend so much of his time together with me should be enough, at least that’s what I try to tell myself. There’s never been a time when I wanted him and he rejected me or told me he was too busy, so I think I’m as high of a priority to him as he is to me.
"You’re talking to the girl who asks you for more while you’re still inside of me," I remind him and his eyes grow dark, as I glance at him over my shoulder.
"I could never get enough of you," he whispers in my ear and I felt my heart skip a beat.
Who says things like that? I may not have the experience level of Lisa, but I know romance, and I know New York men, or American men in general, are lacking in that department altogether and Thomas isn’t at all. He is kind, he showers me with gifts and attention, the man pays more attention to my body and what it likes than I do, and he says things that leave me speechless, before doing things that leave my breathless.
"You’re such a romantic," I beam, turning around to drape my arms over his shoulders, holding my chin up to off him my lips, which he takes slowly and gently, to my surprise.
I never know what I’m going to get with Thomas; he has such a repertoire with sex. Sometimes he’s soft and smooth, really sensual and slow. Other times, he’s rough and aggressive, just tearing me apart. While I like them both, I enjoy the versatility more than anything. With just one of those options I imagine I would be bored by now.
"Would you like something to drink?" he asks, pulling on a wooden cabinet that turns out to be his refrigerator.
"I’ll just have some water, if you have a glass," I motion towards his kitchen sink and he furrows his brows together before reaching into the refrigerator, returning with a clear bottle of Fiji water.
