by Amy Hatvany
“You won’t want to, though,” he’d added.
“Cocky, much?” I replied, but I was smiling.
“You fucking love it.”
He was right, even though part of me wished I wasn’t so drawn to that side of him. I was used to taking the lead, and I was curious to find out if Andrew would try to wrangle it from me.
Thirty minutes later, I pulled up in front of his house—a modern, sleek, three-story structure with tall, rectangular windows and a large roof deck that I imagined had views of Lake Washington, even parts of downtown Seattle. The yard was well-manicured, and lined with bountiful, silver-edged, variegated dogwoods. It was a large house for one man, but I knew from my online research about Andrew’s company that it was extraordinarily successful.
After texting Jake to let him know I’d arrived, I locked my car and knocked on the front door. I took a couple of deep breaths as I waited. I heard the patter of bare feet, and then, there he was, standing before me, wearing only a soft-looking pair of black, drawstring pajama pants, and nothing else.
“Hey,” he said, in a low voice. “Come on in.” He moved to the side, and I entered through the threshold, marveling at the vaulted ceilings of the entryway and the lavish, but still contemporary, crystal chandelier hanging above us.
I set my purse down on the glass-topped table next to the door, and then turned around to take him in. He was as handsome as I remembered from our brief in-person meeting—his black hair was wet and tousled. His skin was olive-toned and his eyes were as dark as coal, burning with an intensity that matched what I felt inside my own body.
“Hi,” I said. I took a step toward him and rested a single hand on his bare chest. He was warm to the touch, and his cologne smelled of something spicy and sweet. I looked up at his face, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and I suspected I wasn’t the only one dealing with a case of nerves.
“You look amazing,” he said, as his eyes traveled over my face. He reached up and let the backside of his fingers trail down the side of my cheek, giving me chills. “I can’t tell you how many times I imagined doing this.”
I moved to kiss him, but he leaned back to avoid it.
“Not so fast,” he said. He took my hand and led me toward the staircase at the other end of the hallway. As we ascended, my heartbeat pounded inside my chest. I wasn’t accustomed to having a lover move so slowly when I arrived; typically, they would ravish me the minute I entered their home, their desperate desire exciting me all the more. Their need of me, the immediacy with which we began, helped set the mood and reinforced the idea that my being there was about sex, pure and simple. There was no small talk, no discussion of the other person’s day. But Andrew took his time leading me to his bedroom—a huge master that took up the entirety of the third floor. The bed was enormous and covered in stacks of fluffy pillows and a lush, white down comforter, while the rest of the furniture—two long, low burled wood dressers and a simple gray couch—was straight-lined and spare, reflecting a quiet, architectural elegance.
Andrew and I stood in the middle of the room as I took it all in. “Your house is beautiful,” I said. My voice trembled.
“Are you here to discuss real estate?” he asked, with a small, playful smile. “Or are you here to fuck me?”
A burst of arousal shot through me. Texting with him had been different. I’d had time to think about and formulate a properly intelligent, flirtatious and sexy response. Standing in front of him, now, hearing him speak the words instead of just reading them on my phone, I felt overwhelmed, and a little vulnerable. I wasn’t entirely sure that I liked it.
But I didn’t have much time to think, or respond to his question, because Andrew moved, taking a few steps so that he was standing behind me. He moved my hair out of the way and put his lips against my ear. “Stay still,” he murmured. “Don’t make a sound.”
I sucked in a breath, conflicted over doing as he asked, or responding the way I normally would—by taking control of the situation. Watching a man squirm because of how I touched him or how I spoke was my default; I rarely allowed myself to let anyone have that same kind of control over me.
“Wait,” I said, as I started to turn around to face him. But he surprised me by grabbing my wrists and pinning them together, firmly, at the small of my back. I couldn’t see his face.
“I said, stay still.” His fingers were strong, almost pinching my skin. I could have easily broken free, if I’d wanted to. Instead, I did as he asked; I stopped moving. My entire body trembled.
“Good,” he said, releasing his grasp. He tangled the fingers of his right hand in my curls, at the base of my neck, and pulled backward as he placed the palm of his left over my larynx. “You’re so powerful, aren’t you, Jessica? Strong and sensual and in control. It’s sexy as hell.” He gave my throat a gentle squeeze, and I panicked for a moment, wondering if doing this without Jake here was the stupidest decision I’d ever made. What if Andrew was violent? If he decided to hurt me, there was no way I could fight him off.
But then he removed his hand and yanked my hair, just hard enough to cause the fire between my legs to throb. “Fuck,” I muttered, and he spun me around and clamped his hand over my mouth.
“No sounds,” he said, locking his dark eyes on mine. There was a hint of a smile in them, so I sensed that this was all part of the fun he wanted us to have together.
I nodded, indicating my compliance, and then he removed his hand. The tip of his tongue darted out and licked his upper lip as he moved his gaze around my face. “So beautiful,” he said. He stepped back and slowly lowered his pants, revealing his erection. He was larger than any of the other men I’d been with—larger than Jake—and I was anxious to feel him inside me. I wanted to strip off my clothes and push him onto the bed. I wanted to stroke and suck him, taking him to the edge, and then back him down again, making him wait. But another part of me was curious to experience what it would be like to let him call the shots. So I forced myself to remain still as he walked around me, letting his fingers drift over my still-covered breasts, waist, and ass.
When he stopped, he stood in front of me again, and finally leaned in to kiss me. His lips touched mine and I began to quiver, fighting to keep from dropping to my knees. The kiss was both tender and intense, and it seemed to go on forever. I wanted to touch him, too, but I kept my hands at my sides, my fingers curling into fists. And then it was him who dropped to his knees in front of me. He pushed up my dress and nuzzled his face between my legs, using the tip of his tongue to tease me over my black lace panties.
I moaned, trying not to buck my hips and grab the back of his head in order to press his mouth harder against me. I felt him smile, and then pull back. He looked up at me. “You think you need all this fancy lingerie to be sexy?” he asked. “You don’t. Sexy is how you looked at me when we met for coffee. Sexy is the spark in your pretty gray eyes and the way that you laugh. The way you’ve been texting with me, letting my words crawl inside your head to fuck your mind before I came anywhere close to your body.” He stood up then, and kept talking. “Such a successful, strong woman. No one would guess what a slut you are, would they?”
The word was said with clear admiration—I loved it.
He undid my garters, then, and pulled my stockings down, slowly, removing them, along with my heels. “I want the real Jessica,” he said. “Not the Playboy, male fantasy version. I want the only girl who used to be nice to me when I worked the bar.” He stood up again, and looked me in the eye. “Give me that Jessica.”
I hesitated, unsure exactly what he wanted me to do. But then he stepped back, and I decided to take off my dress, and then my corset. I undid the hooks one-by-one, with deliberation, never breaking eye contact with him. Lingerie was my armor, a uniform I wore to enhance the role I played. I rarely got totally nude with any of the other men I’d been with. But here, now, in front of Andrew, I stood naked, my slightly sagging breasts and pudgy belly exposed. My body quaked, waiting for hi
s expression to shift—for the lust he felt for me to fade away—but instead, his eyes skimmed over my skin appreciatively, and then I watched as he walked into the bathroom, returning with a dampened washcloth, which he used to gently wipe off my lipstick, my blush, and some of my eye makeup.
“There she is,” he said, when he stepped back.
“I’m not that girl anymore,” I said, deciding to break his insistence that I remain silent. “Any more than you’re a geek.”
He gave me a slow, knowing smile. “Oh, I’m still a geek,” he said. “I’m just a few other things, too.”
“Have you really thought about doing this with me, all of these years?” His texts had hinted at fantasizing about me when we worked together, but I wasn’t sure if it was true, or if he was saying it only to add to the excitement of our foreplay. I’d changed over the years, for sure, but if he’d had a crush on me, wouldn’t he have recognized me right away when we met for coffee?
“Yes,” he said, and in that instant, I saw a flash of the boy he used to be in his face—the sweet, funny, vulnerable nerd—instead of the confident, in-control, erotic man who stood in front of me, now. For a moment, I worried that he might be in love with me—that living out this fantasy with him was too dangerous a game. But then he spoke again. “I knew you were married, and I was insecure, so I never told you how I felt. Not that you would have let me, but I didn’t have it in me back then to simply fuck you and not fall in love with you, too.” He must have seen the panic in my eyes, because he smirked. “Don’t worry, Jessica. I’m not that insecure boy anymore. I want your mind and I want your body. Your husband can keep the rest.”
He could not have given me a more perfect answer. I took a step toward him, pressing my entire body against his, feeling his flesh melt into mine. We kissed, and this time I slipped my fingers into the hair at the back of his head and gave it a tug. His cock twitched on my thigh and we stumbled backward, onto his bed, limbs entangled.
I couldn’t get enough of him. His mouth moved over my skin, his fingers teased, and then sunk inside me with intent. I used both hands on him, stroking, feeling the tension between my legs ramp up and up and up as he increased the pressure of his touch, and then I was coming, my eyes squeezed shut. Waves of pleasure shot through me, and before they ended, I pushed him over onto his back.
“Condom,” I said, using my own fingers between my legs, making sure he could see what I was doing.
He rolled over, opened the drawer of his nightstand, and pulled out a square foil package, which he quickly opened and put on.
I climbed on top of him again, but instead of doing what he expected, I moved upward, and straddled his face. He grabbed my ass and pushed me onto his mouth. My head snapped backward when his tongue found the right spot. He sucked and licked and used his hands to shift my hips back and forth, working me up again, quickly.
“Fuck, yes, don’t stop,” I said, and suddenly, my body began to spasm, setting off shooting stars behind my eyelids. I went a little limp, but recovered enough to shift downward, across his hips, then, and slipped him inside me. He felt bigger than anyone else I’d been with—I groaned from the pleasure of it. I set my palms flat on his smooth chest and rode him, rolling my hips, eyes closed, focusing every sensation. His hands grasped my breasts, helping to hold me up.
“That’s right,” he said. “Make me come.”
I moved more intently then, with purpose, unable to control how loudly I moaned as he filled me again and again.
“Look at me, Jessica,” Andrew demanded. “Open your eyes.”
I didn’t even hesitate. Our gazes locked and as he watched me. I felt wild, a little feral, like he could see right through to the very core of me, the place where I had no secrets, where I was about to come undone.
Finally, Andrew’s back arched and my own body went stiff, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. I didn’t think about anything or anyone.
Not even Jake.
Nineteen
Afterward, Andrew and I lay on our backs on his bed, each of us trying to catch our breath. My mind whirled as I thought about what had just happened. With my other lovers, the sex was always satisfying, but there was still a wall between us—it was one of the ways that sex with Jake felt different. But with Andrew, with so much mental foreplay between us before I stepped into his house, he was right—he was already inside my mind, making our connection more intense and intimate than if I had only allowed him access to my body.
“Well,” I said, “you’re definitely more than a geek.”
“Told you,” he said, laughing.
I gave him a half-hearted smack. “Careful, now. We’ve discussed this. There’s a fine line between cocky and confident.”
“Here’s the line,” he said, extending his right arm and marking an imaginary spot in the air, “and there’s me.” He used his left hand to point to the other side of the room.
“I’m not sure that’s something you should advertise.” I rolled over onto my side, tucked a pillow under my head, and looked at him. “I have a question.”
He rolled over to face me, as well. His brown eyes twinkled. “I have an answer.”
“You said you have some experience with this kind of thing, but we never really talked about it.”
“That’s more of a statement than a question.”
“I was leading up to it. Be patient.”
“Oh, sorry,” he said. His closed-lipped smile turned into a ridiculously charming grin that caused a flutter inside my chest. “Please, continue.”
“How many women have you done this with?”
He raised his dark eyebrows. “How many have I had sex with?”
“No,” I said, drawing out the word. “How many married women have you had sex with? Where their husband knew what they were doing?”
“Oh,” he said. “None, actually.”
“So you lied?” A jolt of concern shot through me.
“Not at all. My ex and I had an open relationship. We could sleep with other people as long as we were safe, and didn’t tell each other about it. Don’t ask, don’t tell. Some of the women I slept with were married, but their husband definitely didn’t know about it.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling slightly uncomfortable with his cavalier attitude toward being with a woman betraying her husband. Still, I wanted to know more. “That must have been hard with your ex,” I continued. “Not knowing if when she was going out with the girls if she might really be with another guy.”
He made a noncommittal noise. “Or girl. She was bi. And it was what we agreed to, so it worked for us for a long time. But then she met someone she wanted to be with more than me, so that was that.”
“Ouch,” I said, cringing. “When did that happen?”
“About a year ago. I took some time alone, and then thought it might be kind of fun to try something different.”
“And you saw our ad.”
“Yep. Which, I have to say, is kismet. A previously geeky, now somewhat okay-to-look-at successful dude getting to live out his fantasy with the hot girl he had a crush on? Come on! They make movies about that shit.” I laughed, and he reached over to push a strand of hair out of my face. “How long have you and your husband been doing this?”
I gave him a shortened version of how we met Will, and eventually Tim, and Vincent.
“Ever run into anyone else you know?” he asked.
“Sort of,” I said. “This married guy who lives near us in Queens Ridge answered one of our ads a couple of years ago. Which was awkward as hell, because his son plays baseball with mine. Every time Jake and I see him, it’s like, ‘Okay, buddy. I guess we know what you’re into. But your wife probably doesn’t.’” I paused, again, panic-stricken, because I’d never mentioned to any of my other lovers the name of our community, or the fact that Jake and I had kids. But with Andrew, these details simply tumbled out. I worried I’d said too much.
“You didn’t out him?”
“Of course not
!” I said. “We didn’t even respond to his email. We did joke about what would happen if we put it up on the Neighbors app, anonymously, just because it kind of sucks that he’s cheating on his wife, but we weren’t actually serious about doing it.”
“The what app?”
“Neighbors.” I took a minute to describe what the social media platform consisted of. “You probably have one for your neighborhood, too.”
“Let’s see!” he said, grabbing his phone from the nightstand. He did a quick search, tapped on the screen for a minute or so, and then looked at me. “Success! I have just submitted my request to become a part of the North Rose Hill, Neighbors online community!” He set his cell back down.
“Careful there, buddy. Your geekiness is showing.”
“Um, hashtag geeky-and-proud!”
We lay in companionable silence for a bit, and I told myself that I should leave. I’d already talked with him more than I should; normally, I’d be gone by now. Maybe he’ll want to have more sex, I thought. Or maybe, I’m just enjoying myself too much to want the night to end.
“So,” Andrew said, interrupting my thoughts. “Have you told your husband that we used to work together?”
I shook my head, and felt a flash of regret.
“But you’re still here.” Andrew fixed his eyes on mine, and for a long moment, neither of us spoke. “I hope I was worth it,” he finally said.
“You were adequate,” I said, teasingly. I didn’t want to think too much about the fact that I was keeping things from Jake.
“Is that so?” He grabbed me and pulled me against him, already hard, again. “Do you normally come like that when a guy is only adequate?” He kissed me, passionately, moving one hand to my breasts and the other, between my legs.
“It was actually pretty terrible,” I murmured against his lips. “You’d better do it again, immediately. See if you can improve.”