by Nella Tyler
“A bachelor.” I looked at Brady. “Let me give you some advice, Brady—one man to another.” I glanced in Natalie’s direction and saw the amusement on her face. “It really isn’t all that stylish to be a single man. Find yourself a woman to love as young as you can and treat her right so you don’t lose her.”
“Okay,” Brady said, looking at me in confusion. He turned to look askance at his mother.
“It’ll make sense when you get older,” Natalie informed her son, trying not to laugh. We kept eating, and I alternated between talking to Natalie about (kid safe) adult topics and asking Brady about his friends, his toys, his family members other than his mother. I cleaned my plate—and Brady cleaned his—before I helped Natalie clear the table, thinking to myself that it was the least that I could do after she went to the trouble of inviting me over. Brady ran into the living room once more once his particular chore of taking his plate and cup to the sink was finished, but Natalie and I stayed in the kitchen. She insisted on washing the dishes, and I stood there ready to dry them and put them away for her.
It was a weirdly comfortable and comforting thing, doing the dishes together. I watched Natalie wipe down the table with the kind of movements that told me she did it every night, and watched her wash the dishes as if there was something about doing the chore that she actually enjoyed. “You look like you’re actually having a good time cleaning,” I said, taking a dish from her hands to dry it with a towel.
“It’s one of the few times a day when I can just sort of let my mind wander,” she told me. “Brady always keeps himself busy in the living room—without the possibility of injuring himself, generally—and I just stand here and wash dishes, and think about the day.”
“That sounds weirdly peaceful,” I told her. She laughed.
“Well before Alex and I split up, I was basically a housewife,” she pointed out. “He wanted me to devote all the time to keeping the house and taking care of Brady, and so I sort of got used to doing it. Made it a lot easier to keep things tidy now that I’m single.”
“It’s good to see you’re already training Brady to do his part,” I said. Natalie grinned and shrugged, handing me another item.
“I want to eventually teach him to do the dishes, but he’s definitely too small right now—especially since there are knives to wash.”
“Oof, yeah that makes sense,” I agreed. “He’s too young to handle anything that sharp.”
“But getting him used to clearing his plate off the table seemed like a good step,” she said with a shrug. “I’m catching him when he can’t even really question why he needs to do it.” She snickered, and I put away the bowl she had handed me to dry.
“Make it an automatic thing and he’ll just keep doing it,” I said, nodding. I glanced at her. “You know, you probably don’t care all that much about my opinion—I’m not a real date or anything—but you’re an amazing mom.” Natalie nearly dropped the cup in her hands and looked at me sharply.
“Thank you,” she said after a moment. “I actually appreciate that a lot. There are tons of people out there who want to tell women how they should parent their children—and some of them are even in my family!”
“You’re doing an amazing job,” I told her again. “Brady is healthy, happy, bright, and kind.”
“All the things I hoped I could either have built into him or developed in him over time,” she said with a smile.
We went into the living room when the cleanup was finished and found Brady pretending to shoot at the car I had given him with the water gun that his mom had bought for our date in the dark together—fortunately the water gun was empty. Natalie checked the time and told Brady that he had thirty minutes before it was his bedtime. I expected to hear Brady whine and work himself up to a tantrum at the news.
Instead, he was perfectly calm. “Bedtime story?” he looked from me to Natalie.
“Of course,” Natalie replied. “We always have bedtime stories.”
“With Mr. Zeke?” Brady looked at me again.
“Do you want to be a part of bedtime stories?” Natalie raised an eyebrow and I knew that she wanted me to say yes. I would have said yes anyway, but the interest—the almost-fear—in her eyes at the prospect of me just leaving without helping put Brady to bed made my heart even warmer. She might actually like me, I thought. Not just as a client, but as a person. She might actually… I pushed the thought out of my head and decided to see how things played out.
“I like a good bedtime story,” I said, nodding.
I waited for Natalie to give Brady a quick bath and get him into his pajamas; even as personal as we’d gotten, I didn’t think that it would be right for me to be part of that aspect of getting the toddler ready for bed—at least, not yet. I was surprised at the fact that Brady made no fuss whatsoever about the going to bed process. Natalie told me quietly as Brady brushed his teeth that it was because they’d always done it that way, and after about a week of tantrums, Brady had learned that it wasn’t going to avail him to throw a fit.
The story of choice for that evening was The Poky Little Puppy, and Natalie and I took turns reading it, while Brady’s gaze switched from one to the other of us, his eyelids drooping as he got sleepier and sleepier. “All right, bub,” Natalie said quietly as we both stood. “You’ve got your water, you’ve had your story, and now it’s time for dreamland, right?” He nodded drowsily.
“Night-night,” he mumbled.
“Sleep tight,” Natalie replied, and I fought back the urge to smile at what was obviously a ritual between the two of them. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite,”
“Sweet dream,” he continued.
“See you in the morning,” she finished. She crept out of the room and I followed her, watching as she closed the door almost all the way.
In the living room, I sat down on the couch and Natalie followed suit, briefly looking lost. Obviously, she had a normal post-bedtime routine, and I was interrupting it just by being there. “Should I go?” I started to stand up.
“No!” She looked sharply in the direction of Brady’s room, blushing slightly at the tone of her voice. “No, you don’t have to leave.”
Chapter Thirty Nine
Natalie
When I told Zeke that he didn’t have to leave, I was already nervous. I’d been nervous ever since he’d sat down to eat dinner with Brady and me. If I was really honest with myself, I was nervous as soon as he came into the apartment: flustered, worried, waiting for Brady to act up or for Zeke to make a move or for an awkward question to come up.
But when Zeke sat back down, I felt some of my nervousness starting to lift. I swallowed against the dry feeling in my throat and took a deep breath. “I really just… I guess I wanted company,” I said, smiling awkwardly.
“I’m happy to provide it,” Zeke told me. For a moment, I had no idea what to do or say; all I could do was look at him. Then, he began to lean in, and I had a second where I knew I had to make a choice—let him kiss me, or tell him not to. The second passed, and Zeke’s lips brushed against mine, almost tentative. I reached out blindly, closing my eyes and wrapping my arms around his shoulders, and he took the signal to deepen the kiss between us. I knew that I had let another boundary be crossed—I could have stopped him—but I couldn’t make myself do the right thing. He kissed me hungrily, his hands wandering slowly over my body, barely grazing my breasts, drifting down to my hips, tickling my waist. My heart beat faster in my chest in a way that had nothing to do with being nervous, and I leaned into Zeke’s touches, already starting to get turned on, already hungry for more—just like I had been when he’d driven me home after the attack a few days before.
Somehow we slid down onto the couch together, kissing each other and groping at each other like horny teenagers, and I felt my body heating up. I could remember exactly how good Zeke had been the first time we’d had sex together—it was right at the front of my mind in fact. I pressed my body up against his, feeling the heat of him, feeli
ng the muscles under his tee shirt and jeans, and thinking of just how good he’d looked naked weeks before, how good he’d felt inside of me. I knew that there was no going back at all; I couldn’t do anything other than move forward, even if I knew it was professionally wrong.
I broke away from Zeke’s lips and looked up into his eyes. “Do you want to stop? Because I don’t,” I said in a whisper. He chuckled lowly and guided my hand down to the front of his jeans.
“Does this feel like I want to stop?” I felt the rock-hard ridge of his erection and giggled as quietly as I could.
I slithered out from underneath him and held out my hand, my heart pounding in my chest at what I knew I would be doing next. “We have to be quiet—remember?” I led him back down the hall to my bedroom and closed the door behind us. As added insurance, I took my phone out of my pocket and set it up on a speaker, choosing music at random—not loud enough to wake Brady up or keep him awake, but hopefully enough to cover the noises that Zeke and I wouldn’t be able to keep from making.
As soon as the music began to play, Zeke stepped closer to me once more, ducking down to kiss me once again. I wrapped my arms around him and melted against his body, tingling all over already, kissing him back as if I wanted to devour him whole. My hands slid over his back, feeling the ridges and lines of his shoulders, the bumps of his spine, the heat of him. He caressed me all over, cupping my breasts in his hands, squeezing them carefully through the fabric of my clothes, making me moan. I completely forgot about the music, about Brady, about everything but the feeling of his body and the taste of his lips.
We pulled and tugged at each other’s clothes as things got hotter and hotter; I managed to get his tee shirt up to his shoulders, but he was in the midst of taking off my shirt and our arms got tangled, forcing us to pull back from the kiss to laugh and then finish what we were doing. Bit by bit, our clothes came off, and Zeke’s mouth left mine to dip down to the tops of my breasts, to my collarbones, his hands exploring, bringing my breasts up to his mouth one after the other for him to kiss and lick and suck until I was trembling from how turned on I was, until I couldn’t even think anymore.
I worshipped his body with my mouth and hands, touching and tasting and kissing and licking and nibbling. We were both down to our underwear in a matter of moments and he pressed me back onto the bed, covering my body with his own, bringing his lips up to mine to kiss me until I was almost breathless. I twisted and writhed underneath him, dragging my lips along the column of Zeke’s throat, arching into his touches as he caressed me. I could feel I was already absolutely soaking wet; I could feel my muscles tightening in little spasms as Zeke rocked his hips against mine to tease me.
He kissed a path down my body slowly, lingering at my breasts, taking the time to lavish attention on every inch of each breast, to worship one nipple and then the other, before moving down to my ribs, to my abdomen. I shivered, grabbing at his head and shoulders, writhing underneath him as Zeke came to my hips and hooked his fingers in the waistband of my panties.
“Oh God,” he murmured, looking up at me with gleaming, glittering eyes. “I can already tell you’re so hot and wet…” He pressed a kiss against my labia through the thin lace of my panties and chuckled. I lifted my hips up off of the bed and he tugged my panties down, almost ripping them—but I didn’t care.
Before I could prepare myself, Zeke buried his face against my soaking wet pussy, his tongue sliding up and down along my labia. I brought my hand up to cover my mouth as I felt a cry of pleasure working up from somewhere in the pit of my stomach; he spread my legs wider, nuzzled against me, and began to suck and lick, lapping up my fluids and teasing me with the tip of his tongue. I shook and trembled, my hips bucking as he worshipped me with his mouth, pressing deeper along my inner labia, bringing the tip of his tongue up to my clit and then sliding down again. I tangled my fingers in his hair, twisting and writhing, struggling to keep from being too loud as he brought me closer and closer to orgasm.
He brought me to the edge of orgasm again and again, flicking his tongue against my clit until it was difficult for me to muffle the sounds of my pleasure, no matter how much I covered my mouth with my hands or my arm. “God—Jesus—you’re good at that,” I muttered, my hips twisting to get better contact between Zeke’s tongue and my clit as he dipped down to my inner labia. He murmured against my skin, and I could feel him smiling as he brought one hand down between my legs. He rubbed his fingertips against my inner labia and brought his tongue up to my clit once more, and as he slid one finger inside of me, he sucked my pleasure center between his lips and began to flick his tongue against it faster than ever. I grabbed for a pillow and covered my face with it, crying out in pleasure as wave after wave of sensation coursed through my veins and crackled through my nerves.
He kept going, sucking and licking, sliding his fingers inside of me as my orgasm intensified. I moaned out again and again into the pillow, pressing it against my mouth as pleasure overwhelmed me. I twisted and writhed and squirmed, arching up off of the bed, pushing my hips down, panting through the fabric of my pillowcase until I almost couldn’t breathe anymore. I shoved the pillow away from my face and gasped for air, trembling as he finally began to slow down and then stop, pulling back and pressing a sloppy kiss against my inner thigh.
I panted and gasped for breath as he kissed a path up from my hips to my mouth, pressing his body against mine, rocking his hips to let me feel the hard ridge of his cock rubbing along my hip, my thigh. I was completely out of it—still so turned on that I couldn’t think of anything but how much I wanted more, in spite of the fact that I had only just climaxed. I reached down and slipped my fingers underneath the waistband of his briefs and tugged them down over his hips, struggling to get them past his thighs.
He chuckled. “I would have thought you’d want to go slow,” he murmured, kissing me lightly on the lips.
“Screw that right now,” I told him, still panting slightly from the moments before. “Brady could wake up at any moment and this would be over.” Zeke shook against me, laughing, his face buried against my neck to muffle the noise.
“Okay,” he murmured against my ear. He slithered and kicked and shifted on top of me, and all at once he was fully naked, his knees sliding up under my legs, his hard, hot cock rubbing against my soaking wet labia slowly. “How can you be so patient during a session and so impatient right now?” I rolled my eyes and rubbed myself against him.
“You feeling patient right now?” His breath hitched in his throat and he chuckled.
“Now that you mention it…” He shifted against me and I felt his fingers brush against my slick folds as he lined himself up. I wrapped my legs around his waist tightly, and pushed my hips down into his as he thrust into me slowly, filling me up inch by inch. I buried my face against his neck and wrapped my arms around his shoulders as we began to move together. He felt so good—so thick, hot, and perfect inside of me—that I almost came right away. Zeke moaned against my neck and then dragged his lips up to mine to kiss me hungrily.
We began moving faster and faster, and the friction between us was so good—it was enough to drive me crazy. I kissed him over and over again, and let my hands trail all over his body. “God, this feels perfect… You feel perfect…” I nipped at his earlobe, and he chuckled lowly in my ear, pressing a kiss to my neck as he started thrusting harder and faster. I writhed underneath him, pushing my hips down, taking him deeper and deeper inside me. I tried to hold back—I wanted to savor the moment for as long as possible—but every second, I felt myself getting closer and closer to orgasm.
All at once, the very last of my self-control dissolved. I felt the tension deep down between my hips breaking, and wave after wave of pleasure washed through me once again. Zeke kissed me hungrily, pounding into me, and I felt his cock twitching inside of me right before he moaned out long and low against my shoulder. He shuddered and my climax intensified as he came, thrusting hard and fast inside of me until he finish
ed.
Every nerve in my body tingled as we both shook in the aftermath of coming, panting and gasping for breath. I drifted off a bit, able to hear the music once more, warm, sweet electricity humming in my veins. “That—that was amazing,” I said as he slid off of me and collapsed on the bed by my side.
“Better than the first time,” he agreed. I nodded breathlessly, twisting around and turning onto my side. I could feel the slick stickiness between my legs, feel the heat of him deep inside of me.
All at once, the enormity of what I’d done flashed through my brain like lightning. I had had sex with Zeke—again. I had invited him over to my house on a personal visit, and I had slept with him. I couldn’t even pretend to myself that I was objective anymore, that I was professional and detached. “Zeke,” I said quietly.
“Hm? Something wrong?” He turned to face me in the bed, his face tight with concern. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No—no, you didn’t,” I said, smiling slightly to reassure him. “There’s just a problem.” I took a deep breath. I knew I had to make up my mind. I had to do what was right: I had to find out if Zeke was willing to be with me—to really be with me—and then I had to do what I had to do. I would either gain a boyfriend or lose a client. Either way, I might lose my career.
“What’s the problem? Maybe I can help.” I laughed, burying my face against the pillow for a moment.
“The problem is that I’m in love with you.”
Chapter Forty
Zeke
I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I’d stared at Natalie for a full minute after she told me she loved me. In spite of the fact that I’d started to believe that she might have feelings for me, I hadn’t expected her to confess them—certainly not that strongly or that openly. “You’re in love with me?” I pulled myself up to look down at her. “Are you sure?”