by Vivian Wood
The voice that replies is snide and cold. Yes, it did.
Not like that. I was just a boy. I didn’t know any better.
Oh, yeah? And now?
I slide my hand down to the cleft in Ciara’s sex and find she’s slick and warm. Heat pulses through me as she gasps into my neck, and I bury my face in her soft curls and breathe in deeply. The past doesn’t matter now. Ciara wriggles in my arms but I clench her more tightly.
“Stay here,” I mumble into her hair, and she giggles.
She squirms down along my body and a moment later I feel her mouth close around my stiffened cock.
“Jezus Kristus, ljubica.”
Her tongue laves me slowly and I let my head fall back onto the pillows as she sucks me with long, languorous movements. She looks so perfect with her pretty lips wrapped around my cock. I pile her long hair on top of her head and hold it there, watching her. God, she’s good at that. Not only because her technique is good, but because she’s so loving with her mouth. I feel like she’s enjoying this as much as me. Almost as much as me.
I feel my balls start to tighten but I don’t want to come yet. I reach down and pull her up to me until her thighs are straddling my face and I can lick her pussy. She braces her hands against the wall and as my tongue meets her clit she cries out, her knees tensing around my shoulders.
“Are you sure you can breathe down there?” she asks between gasps.
It doesn’t matter. I’d happily die this way. I knead the flesh of her behind with my hands as I lick her with long strokes. This is a better way to start the morning. But it’s still not enough. I grab a condom, carry her over to the sofa, bend her over the armrest and take her by the hips. I went slow last night. Now I want her fast and very deep, and when I’ve rolled the condom down over myself my cock seeks her entrance quickly and impales her.
“Misha,” she gasps, and reaches back and pushes on my hips: Too much. I capture her wrist in my hand, holding her arched like that, her ass pressed against me. She can’t stop me going as hard as I like now. But I don’t. I want to show her that I can feel exactly how much she needs. Slowly, by increments as I fuck her, she eases up around me and soon she’s taking my whole length without tensing. Her cries have heightened with pleasure rather than pain. I nudge her feet wider with mine and take her other wrist as I fuck her hard and fast. She’s so beautiful in the morning light, the lines of her body arching and flexing in pleasure.
“Misha, oh god, I’m going to—” But her words are lost in a strangled cry.
I pound her hard through the contractions of her muscles, enjoying this ferocity, and I come a moment later, wild and abandoned, the last of my nightmare dissolving.
When I let her go she sinks down over the sofa, panting and making little mm noises that have me smiling. I pull off the condom with a snap, tie it off and throw it toward the wastepaper bin.
I coax her up, and with her back flush against my chest, I hold her tightly.
“More sleep. It’s too early,” I mumble into the nape of her neck, and I half walk, half carry her over to the bed. We lie down, and my eyes are so heavy that I can feel myself sinking into unconsciousness almost immediately. Too many sleepless nights lately.
As I’m drifting off I feel Ciara ease herself out of my arms. My last thought before I sink into unconsciousness is that I miss her body against mine.
When I wake again I sit up and look around for Ciara. She’s got the closet open and is sorting through my clothes. My gaze is drawn to the fabric of her mini-skirt drawn tight across her ass. God, she’s a sexy girl. I wonder if I can get her back in bed again.
“What are you up to?” I mutter, rubbing my hands over my face. I feel so groggy and disheveled while she’s neat and showered and her blonde hair is in a bun.
She smiles over her shoulder at me. “Morning, sleepyhead. Where are your loafers and your linen shirt?”
I scratch the hair on my chest and frown. My mind is taking a while to catch up with this conversation. “My what?”
She laughs, bending down to paw through my suitcase, but there’s nothing in there but a suit bag. “You know, your holiday clothes. It’s Saturday and the sun is shining. You can’t go sightseeing in a business shirt and dress shoes.”
Sightseeing? I only packed for meetings, as I always do. “Oh, well. No sightseeing then. Better come here.” I want to drag her back to bed and mess up all her neatness.
But she laughs and shakes her head. “There are stores downstairs in the lobby. I’m going to go and buy you some weekend clothes.” With her phone she takes photographs of the labels in my shirt, trousers and shoes for the sizes, and then blows me a kiss on the way out.
“Charge it to the room,” I call after her.
“Yes, Misha!” she says, her voice slipping away down the hall, and I can’t help smiling to myself. She sounds so sweet and cheerful. Out of habit, I want to go straight to my laptop and start answering emails, but no. It’s Saturday, and I’m going to enjoy sightseeing with Ciara. She’s smiling and I want it to stay that way.
I get into the shower and soap myself under the hot water, becoming lost in the memory of her body spread beneath mine last night. The sight of her over the arm of the couch this morning. Talking to me over dinner last night. This, I suppose, is why men take sugar babies. I understand now the pleasures of a beautiful young woman who is always beautifully turned out, listens to you over dinner and flatters you with their attention. Whom you get to take to bed and devour. Either Ciara is a natural at this or…
It’s tempting to believe she really does like me. That she feels as much for me as I do for her, and that I’m as likeable as the thirty thousand pounds a month I’m giving her. If anyone else was asking me their opinion I would tell them they’re a fucking idiot, of course they want to believe that a beautiful young woman thinks they’re handsome and fascinating, but there’s no way in hell she’s not pretending.
Ciara’s not a professional sugar baby, though. She’s muddling her way through this, like I am. I know that any of my business associates would be howling with laughter if I told them I thought she really does like me, but what the fuck do they know? They haven’t felt her come, or enjoyed the way she nestles close to me in her sleep.
She comes back twenty minutes later with several carry bags and presents me with a pair of stone-colored trousers, a cream linen shirt and a pair of brown leather loafers. There’s a towel wrapped around my hips and I take them from her, pretending to be skeptical. “I don’t know. Maybe I should wear a black suit.”
Her fingers trail down my bare chest, chasing water droplets. “Please, Misha. For me?”
I gaze into her blue eyes. I can choose to believe that every word, every look she gives me is sincere. If it’s a fantasy then I’ll live in a fantasy world for the next year, and it will be the most wonderful year of my life.
“Anything for you,” I say, and plant a kiss on her lips.
I get dressed and everything fits and feels comfortable. I’m rolling the sleeves of the shirt up past my elbows when I look up and notice Ciara staring at me, a strange expression in her eyes and a lopsided grin on her face.
“What is it, ljubica?”
“You’re smiling to yourself. I’ve never seen you do that. You look so happy.” She runs her nails down the black hairs on my forearms and takes my hands. “I like making you happy.”
My heart squeezes strangely in my chest. I am happy, now I think of it. I don’t remember the last time someone cared about making me happy.
Downstairs, we step out into the clear, cool morning air, and Ciara slips her hand into mine. She looks up at me, hesitant, as if she’s not sure how I’ll react to this. It feels strange, holding a woman’s hand, but I like it. No, I love it. I grasp her hand tightly and smile down at her, liking her exactly where she is. Loving her close to me.
Though she doesn’t know it, we walk in the opposite direction to the hotel development I’m here to oversee and head into th
e old part of town, walking the maze of old streets, the buildings topped with bright terracotta roofs. I can feel months of London gloom being blasted from my bones. We eat in a sun-drenched square at lunchtime, walk some more, and then stop at dusk to drink white wine and eat fish in the harbor.
Under a starry sky, we stroll hand-in-hand back to the hotel, the sea path lit by sporadic pools of lamplight, passing plenty of other tourists and locals along the way. It is a night to be enjoyed, the moon full and high in the sky.
In the elevator I press the floor for my room and Ciara smiles and kisses me. She could go back to hers if she wants to, if she needs space, but there’s not even a millimeter between us as we rise through the floors.
Dusty and relaxed, Ciara heads for the shower in my room, stripping herself naked as she goes. In the doorway she turns and looks at me over her shoulder. “Coming?”
In the shower we kiss under the cascading water, and Ciara takes my length in her hand, caressing me up and down, bringing me close to coming and then stopping again. Getting her revenge for what I did to her the previous night. I don’t care. I can take a lot of teasing. When she reaches for the taps to get out of the shower I turn her round and pull her back against me. I part her pussy with my fingers and get at her clit. Playing her own game with her. Edging her viciously, my eyes closed, feeling each orgasm rising up in her and stopping before it can expand through her. When she grasps my hand and pushes my fingers into her slippery core I turn the water off.
“Goddamn it,” she whispers, as I throw a towel to her, grinning.
“You started it.”
We dry each other and make our arousal-drunken way back to the bed, and I kiss her body with mouth that’s hungry for more than just the taste of her.
I’m hungry to know. “Tell me what you like.”
Her smile is delighted and embarrassed at the same time. “I like…you. I like having sex with you.”
Mischief glimmers in her eyes, as if she’s waiting for me to draw her out. “Now, now,” I say, kissing down her belly. “You can do better than that.”
“I haven’t had enough sex to really know—I mean,” she corrects herself quickly, “I like lots of things.”
I run my tongue along the blade of her hipbone. “I already know you’re new to this, remember?”
She laughs and puts her hands over her face. “Oh, yeah.”
“Well, then,” I murmur, moving down further and seeking out her clit with my tongue. “Do you like that?”
“Yes,” she says, a hitch in her voice as her neck arches in pleasure. “You know I like that.”
She settles her thighs wider for me, and I lap her tenderly, looking up every now and then at the sensations flickering over her face. “What positions do you like?”
“Um. The ones we’ve done. When you had me bent over the couch this morning. That was, um, hot.”
I laugh softly. “Shy girl.” I keep licking, enjoying teasing out these words from her.
“I am,” she agrees, tightening her legs around my shoulders. “I’m so shy, Misha.”
“I thought you were,” I purr, stroking my fingers through her folds and then sliding one into her pussy. She gives a little moan of pleasure as I keep licking in slow circles.
Eyes tightly closed, she whispers, “I like that. I like feeling you, thick and hot in my hands. How you surround me. The way you smell. The way you kiss me. The sight of your cock plunging into me, over and over.”
Oh, fuck yes. I love that sight, too, so much so that it’s tempting to sit up and drive myself into her now. But I’m curious to hear what else she’s got to say to me.
“I like watching you as I feel my peak approaching, knowing you can see it in my face. Saying your name right before I do. Feeling those extra hard thrusts as you come.”
“And now?” I ask. “What would you like to try now?”
She thinks for a moment, and then whispers in the semi-dark, “I’d like to try being on top. Like yesterday, but longer.”
Oh, yes. Perfect. I ease away from her and roll onto my back, holding out my hands for her. Half nervous, half eager, she slips her knee over me and straddles my hips, my cock tucked against the curve of her ass. Her breasts press against my chest as she leans forward to kiss me, delicate and tender. God, this is heaven. I smooth my hands over her hips and lower back, fingers splayed across her warm flesh. Her forefinger plays over my jaw, and she smiles at me.
“Hi,” she whispers, her breath warm on my lips, taking a moment to look into my eyes.
“Hi, ljubka.” Cute one. It suits her. Our lovemaking is oddly cute, too. I watch her tentative movements as she finds a condom and rips it open with her brightly colored fingernails. When she shimmies back to straddle my legs my cock drags against her thighs. Okay, not so cute anymore, especially not as she rolls the latex down my length and then poises over me, her hand wrapped around the base of my dick.
I reach up and trace a forefinger over her cheekbone, and then her lips. They part, and she takes my finger into her mouth, sucking it slowly.
My eyes narrow with heat. Oh, sweet girl. Very nice.
She keeps sucking, and slowly slides her pussy down the length of my cock. I don’t know how to deal with all the sensations rolling through me and I just watch her, breathing hard. My beautiful sunshine girl, bare to me, taking the lead. Her hair tumbles around her shoulders as she moves her body up and down on me. The pleasure makes her lips part in a gasp and she lets go of my hand, and she arches back as she continues the motions of her hips. I can see her winding up to her peak, her breath coming harder and her cheeks flushing as her nails scratch down my chest. She comes, her neck elongating like a swan as she cries out, her body one long, elegant line as she pulses around me.
Once she comes through it she looks down at me with a sex-drunk smile. Good. But we can do better than that.
I grasp her hips and begin thrusting upwards into her. She tips forward and her hands land on my chest, her eyes opening wide in surprise. I let her take control of her last orgasm, but I’m in charge of this one.
I keep up a swift, firm rhythm, watching her face closely. Her brows tilt up with pleasure in the inner corners and her tongue runs over her lips. Her body yielding to mine, held by my hands and pounded by my cock. Her hair’s damp from the shower and reach up and take a fierce handful of it, close to her scalp. Pulling just enough so she knows I’ve got her just where I want her and I’m not going to let her go.
“That’s my ljubica, you’re going to come for me again, aren’t you?” I whisper harshly.
Ciara nods rapidly, her eyes closed as her hands fist on my chest, each of her nails digging into me, goading me onwards. I can feel my own crest rising and I hold it back as long as I can, watching her. She cries out roughly and tightens her core around me, and I burst inside her, rocking her with my hips as the orgasm rolls through me.
I pull her down against my chest so I can breathe in the scent of her hair. She lies gasping atop me, my cock still lodged inside her.
Slowly, woozily, she slides off me and I get rid of the condom. We lie curled around each other in a tangle of limbs, our breathing slowing. Ciara traces lazy patterns on my chest. Not my scar, but my chest, as if it doesn’t even bear the ugly white knot of tissue. I thought by now she would have asked me more about it but it’s like it’s not there for her.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” She jumps up and hurries over to her suitcase. When she comes back I see that she’s holding a small box, and she flops down beside me with a huge smile. “This is for you.”
She presses the box into my hands and I see that it’s giftwrapped and done up with a ribbon. I’m reminded of birthdays when I was a child, a pile of little jewel-bright packages, just for me. I undo the ribbon and paper, and find an embossed box with a blue tie inside.
“The blue is the same as your eyes,” she whispers, as I run the silky fabric through my fingers. “It’s not much, but I wanted to get you something that I knew yo
u would use. To say thank you, for everything you’re doing for me.”
I caress her cheek, smiling at her. “Thank you, ljubica. You didn’t need to do that.”
She shrugs one shoulder, her cheeks turning a little pink. “I know. But I wanted to.”
I drape the tie across the bedside table and Ciara puts her head down on my thigh and wraps an arm around my belly. The long, hot day’s walking seems to have tired her out and she closes her eyes. I stay sitting up, not in the least sleepy, and watch the sway of lights from the boats moored outside the hotel.
A few minutes later Ciara falls asleep, and I stroke her long curls through my fingers, the motions repetitive and soothing. The warm sea breathes in and out on the shore beyond our open bedroom windows. Crickets chirp in the flowerbeds. Ciara is a warm weight against me. I gently curl a tress of her hair behind her ear.
The minutes and hours tick by as I sit in quiet peace, watching Ciara sleep and enjoying our seclusion from the world together. Picturing what this might be like if it never ended.
Feeling my heart unfurling with tenderness for her, as if awakening after a long, hard winter.
Chapter Fourteen
Ciara
The flight home is as quiet as the flight to Dubrovnik, but it’s a different sort of quiet. I snuggle deep into the cream leather seat and my hand is in Misha’s as I gaze out the window at the snowy mountains far below. He’s drinking coffee and reading the news on his tablet and rubs my palm absent-mindedly with his thumb every so often. His laptop hasn’t been switched on since Friday and he’s barely glanced at emails on his phone. He even looks relaxed, wearing one of his crisp white shirts with the stone trousers and loafers I bought him. His black curls are tousled and his neat beard is longer than usual, but I like it that way. I like him this way.
On Saturday we walked all over Dubrovnik with no map to guide us. We looked at the sights and wandered wherever we felt like it. I loved being with him in the sunshine and holding his hand. His strong, warm grip was grounding, and if we were separated for a moment his hand immediately sought mine again.