I feel like I'm bouncing the entire way on the subway. Bouncing with nervous energy, with excitement, and with hope. If I'm very, very lucky, I might be pregnant. I could become a mother in nine months. No matter how many times I tell myself not to get my hopes up, I can feel that it's absolutely not working.
I want this to happen.
The apartment building I approach is even nicer than my Google search made it out to be. There's a doorman, and when I tell him my name and which apartment I'm going to, he waves me right to the elevator.
The hallway I step into is plush, with deep green walls and a lovely golden carpet. The apartment is at the end and I have to fight down the butterflies I feel in my stomach as I approached the door.
Just like we agreed, the handle turns when I try the door. And then I step into luxury. The apartment is sleek and modern, decorated in shades of white and silver. All the lights are on, and it seems warm and inviting. I glance into a couple of doorways and see a kitchen that's absolutely to die for with marble and stainless steel and an island big enough to prepare a feast on. There's also a living room that looks cozy and comfortable despite the modern decor. But I don't see my mystery man, not yet.
"Hello?"
"Hello."
My stomach drops. Not because I'm about to meet a stranger to sleep with, but because his voice sounds so much like a voice I know. The voice comes from behind me, and I turn, and when I do the floor falls out from underneath me.
Christian.
It's Christian.
Christian is here in this apartment, standing right in front of me.
A million things go through my head at once. There's a spark of joy, seeing him. And then anger. But the thing that rings out in my brain above all the rest is why on earth is he here? "What the hell is this?"
The little smirk that crosses Christian’s face is both a welcome sight and one that makes me burn with fury. "If I'm not mistaken, we're both here to try to get you pregnant."
"I'm not here to do that with you."
"Sure you are."
I have to walk away from him. I stalk into the kitchen, looking for a glass. I need some water. "You're telling me, that you knew it was me all along, and you chose not to tell me that?"
Christian stays in the doorway of the kitchen leaning against it and looking so fucking attractive I find myself even more angry. "I didn't message you first," he says. "You messaged me. So I guess it must be fate."
I roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts. "After everything, I can't believe that you would do this. You of all people know how much I want a child. The fact that you would play with that—"
“Why do you think I'm here? It's not so that I could lure you to an apartment that I rented and then not get you pregnant."
I don't say anything. What I should really be doing is walking out the door right now. But I find a pitcher of water in the fridge, and pour myself a glass. Then I go to the living room and kick off my shoes and curl up in a corner of the couch. I haven't decided what I'm going to do yet, so I'm going to sit here until I do.
Christian follows me, sitting on a chair across the room. "You still want a baby right?"
"Of course I do, asshole."
"Then nothing has really changed."
"Of course it has, Christian."
"How?"
I try to think of an answer that's good enough, and I come up short. If I were being absolutely literal, then no, nothing has changed. He still has the ability to get me pregnant. But I don't know if I'm able to overcome our history together.
When I don't say anything, Christian stands. He comes over to the couch and sits near me. My body perks up in spite of myself. Christian and I never lacked chemistry, and I know just how talented he is in the bedroom. Just being next to him has my body aching for the way he used to touch me.
"Audrey, let's think this through."
I do my best not to laugh in his face. "Please, enlighten me with your thoughts."
To his credit, he ignores the poison in my words. "I know that you don't like me, but —"
"I don't not like you," I say. "I hate you."
"But what I did back then was a mistake."
I sit up, putting my water glass down on the coffee table. "A mistake? I asked you to consider children and marriage after three years of dating, which caused you to go get plastered and tell a bar full of people that you didn't in fact want any of those things with me. That you couldn’t believe that I had even asked. Then I never heard from you again. That's a mistake? No, Christian. That's not a mistake. That's taking a three-year relationship and dropping a nuclear bomb on it."
Christian grows quiet. He doesn't say anything for a few minutes, but then, slowly, he reaches for my hand. He doesn't take it, simply runs his fingers over the back of my hand. The way he does it, so gently, reminds me of the person I used to think he was. I hate that the simple touch of his hand has my nipples hard and my skin growing goosebumps. I hate that after this long I still want him with every fiber of my being. That, more than anything, means I should walk away. But I don't know if I can.
Finally, Christian says, "I'm sorry I couldn't give you what you wanted. But I don't think you should throw this chance away just because you hate me. You know me, you can trust me in this."
"Why should I trust you at all?"
"Because whether or not you hate me, I'm a man of my word." I open my mouth to protest and he cuts me off. “Say what you will about my behavior, but I never broke any promises to you."
As much as I want to argue in rage against that fact, it's true. He never agreed to marry me or give me children, he never let us get that far.
Christian continues to stroke my hand, and I don't like that it's working. My body is relaxing, my mind growing into the idea of sleeping with him. The part of my brain that's trying to rationalize this is whispering 'just this one time.'
He leans in, pressing his lips against my ear. It makes me shiver. "Let me help you."
"We shouldn't."
"Because you hate me? Or because you don't?"
I shake my head. "Because it's complicated.”
"It's not," he says. "I know you. I know what you like. I know what you don't like. I know how to fuck you to make you scream. And we both know an orgasm helps you get pregnant.”
"That's not a proven theory."
“Does it matter? It could help. And there's one thing I can guarantee, none of the other anonymous men on that app already know how to make you come."
I hate that he's right, and I hate that I'm considering this. However, as angry as I am, this is better than being with a stranger. "Fine," I say
Without hesitation, Christian reaches out and cups the back of my neck to pull me in for a kiss. It's rough, with enough power to have my body going liquid. God, Christian can kiss. He's always been able to kiss, and it's one of the things I always loved about him. But kissing him takes me back to when we were happy, and I can't afford to forget where we really are.
It kills me, but I pull away. “If we're going to do this," I say, "you don't get to kiss me."
Christian looks surprised. "So I can fuck you but I can't kiss you?"
"Businesslike, remember? We're not a couple. And as much fun as this may turn out to be, it's not meant to be romantic."
"Fair enough," he says, but he doesn't look happy about it.
"Give me five minutes," I say, and I walk into the bedroom.
6
The bedroom in this apartment is just as gorgeous as the rest of it. There's a giant a bed with a white bedspread and swirling silver chandelier that casts a low glow over the whole room. I left my shoes in the living room, but the rest of the clothes have to go.
As I undress, I find that I'm shaking. I'm not sure whether it's with excitement or nerves or both. There is a nagging part of me that says that this is a bad idea. That jumping into bed with Christian is only going to hurt me in the long run. But he's here, and I want him more than I will ever admit.
>
I sit on the bed once I'm fully naked, waiting for him. It seems like I wait forever even though I only told him to wait five minutes. He freezes at the door, startled by the site of me naked. I can't ignore the way my body reacts to his gaze, the way my pussy grows damp and my nipples harden and my heart rate speeds up.
Now it's his turn, and I find myself mesmerized as I watch him unbutton his shirt and shrug it off. I don't know how I didn't recognize his body in his pictures. There was a time when I had every inch of his body memorized, and I had learned it with my lips and my tongue and my fingers. Christian's shirt falls to the floor, exposing his perfect chest and abs. I want to reach out and touch them, feel the solidity of his body and remind myself of the way things used to be. Instead I slide my hands under my thighs making sure they don't move.
He kicks off his shoes, and undoes his belt with casual efficiency. And then his pants are gone and I can see just how hard he is through his boxer briefs. He drops them to the floor too, and I can't stop looking at him. I've missed looking at him. I allow my gaze to run the length of his body, dark brown hair, piercing blue eyes that see through me more than I want them to. Chest and abs that could be the model for a marble statue, and an erect cock that almost makes me forget my actual purpose here.
Christian approaches the bed, and pushes me back on it. His mouth falls on my skin, and I make a sound in protest. As if he already knows what I'm going to say, Christian lifts his head so that his eyes meet mine. "You said I couldn't kiss you," he says. "You didn't say where I couldn't kiss you. So I am choosing to interpret that as I can’t kiss your lips."
I glare at him, but I can't argue with his assessment.
He moves down my body with his lips, teasing my nipples until they’re hard as rocks before moving down, licking my stomach and teasing me. "I like that your body remembers me," he says. "Your nipples always did like my tongue."
"It's just been a while since I've had sex," I say.
Christian laughs against my skin. “If you say so." He continues to suck on my skin, until he reaches the apex of my thighs. "Let's see if your pussy remembers me too," he says.
He starts to push my legs apart but I hold them together. "What are you doing?”
Raising his head, he gives me a look. "What do you think?"
"This is a business transaction," I say. "You give me your sperm, and I get a baby. How is oral sex going to help me have a baby?"
Christian climbs up my body until we’re face-to-face. He's so close that I could kiss him, and even though I told him not to, it's all I can think about right now. His eyes are sharp. "You told me you wanted to go through with this plan, and I'm going to go through with the plan. My job is to get you pregnant, and I'm going to do it. If you’re more relaxed, that's going to help. Remember, I know you. You always need at least one orgasm to loosen up." He grins. "So I'm going to lick that tasty little clit of yours until you come on my tongue, and then we'll get around to the fucking."
He hasn't changed a bit in two years, and there's a gush of wetness from my pussy at his words. He always did know exactly what to say to turn me on.
"And while we’re on the subject," he says, "we both agree that it's my job to get you pregnant?”
"Yeah," I say.
He nods. "Good. Then if it's my job to get you pregnant, then when we're together, you're going to do what I say."
My mouth drops open. "What did you just say?"
"I'm going to fuck you until there's a baby in your belly, and you're going to do what I tell you. Position, time, place."
"Remember when I said that we’re not a couple? I'm not going to just drop everything for you."
He gets as close to my lips as he can without kissing me, and I can feel his breath on my skin. "No, you're not going to drop everything for me. You're going to drop everything for your baby."
Shit. There is no argument against that and he knows it. And besides, I don't feel properly equipped to debate him about this when I'm naked underneath him. "Okay."
"Good girl."
"Call me a good girl again," I say, "and I don't care if you get me pregnant or not, I will knee you in the balls."
He's laughing as he slides down my body again, and still laughing as he pushes my legs apart.
I have a sudden burst of anxiety. Will he like me the same? Will we be as compatible as we once were? I shouldn't really be worrying about that right now, but I am.
He blows on my pussy. I'm so wet that it makes me shiver. "I think it does remember me," he says.
"Fuck you," I mutter.
Christian chuckles again as he puts his mouth on me and, oh. My. God.
I'd forgotten what that felt like. Like pleasure and heaven and everything that's good in the world wrapped up in one sensation. Christian has a talented tongue, and it slides across my skin swirling around my clit, moving down to dip inside before tracing shapes over my pussy and moving back up. I could probably come right this second, but like hell I’m going to tell Christian that. Not that I have to. I'm soaking wet and I'm guessing that he already knows.
"Mmm. You taste just like I remember," he says. He licks into me again, and I gasp. I don't know how to feel. Pleasure is running through me, and yet I'm conflicted about it.
He slides his tongue down again, slipping it into my pussy. Deeper, and deeper, curling it up back until it just barely brushes my G spot. Christian has a long tongue, and God am I grateful for that. He strokes inside me, licking and lifting and fucking me with his tongue. Every motion makes my hips rise against his mouth, my body begging for more. I can't control it, it's too good, and I want it. I want all of it.
"They should serve you on a plate," he says. "The best dessert there is." And then he seals his mouth over my clit and sucks me deep. I can't stop the sound that comes out of my throat, low and guttural and filled with need. Christian homes against my clit and it just makes it all worse, or better, I don't know which.
He swirls his tongue across me over and over setting up a dangerous rhythm that's taking me higher and closer to orgasm with every second. He grabs my hips, holding me still so I can't squirm. That tiny bit of restraint only adds to the pleasure. I have no outlet for my sensation and am forced to feel it, waves of pleasure rising from my core higher, and higher. I'm going to drown in it.
I'm overcome with memory. Déjà vu. Christian wanted to prove to me that his oral skills were better than any man that I'd ever had, so he set a goal for himself to make me scream so loud that the neighbors would complain.
He kept his promise too, hours and hours with his head between my thighs until I was dizzy and drowning in pleasure and far enough gone that the barest touch of his tongue would make me moan. He never got tired, and he never stopped. All night, until I came so loudly there was a bang on the door. The woman from downstairs, frustrated and angry that she couldn't sleep, and probably that her husband wasn't doing the same to her. He walked around with a self-satisfied grin on his face for a week.
I don't know if it's because it's been so long since we've been together or if he's just that good, but it feels like that. Round and round and round his tongue goes on my clit, sending streaks of pure pleasure through my gut and into my nerves. I can't see anything, and it feels like I can't breathe. Nothing but the sheer pleasure of his mouth on me. I'm at the edge, about to go over, but I'm not quite there. And damn him, Christian knows me too well. He knows how to keep me in on this precipice for as long as he pleases.
When we were together he was like this too, strong and unyielding in bed. Even when his single goal was to pleasure me, he always liked to make me beg. Not this time.
He slows down his rhythm, licking me gently, almost casually. My orgasm pulls back, and I feel spent even though I didn't come. "You're infuriating," I say.
"You know what I'm waiting for," he says. The vibration of his voice on my skin nearly drives me mad.
"I am not going to beg you."
"Why not? I'm doing you a favor."
/> I lean upon my elbows. “I said no oral and you're doing it anyway. Because you think it will help. Now I'm supposed to beg you for my orgasm?"
He grins, sucking my clit between his lips and pulling, the visual making me grow wet under his tongue. "I'll make you a deal," he says. "You can beg me for your orgasm now, and whenever my tongue is in your pussy, or you can thank me for every orgasm I give you. And believe me, I intend on giving you a lot."
Red rushes to my face and I collapse back on the bed. A rush of embarrassment and pure arousal floods my system. There's a reason he's doing this. He knows that I like that tiny touch of dominance, that it makes it better for me. He also knows that I'm in no position to refuse, unless I want to go fuck a stranger. Particularly with his mouth on me, that situation is seeming less and less appealing. "Please," I say softly.
“What was that?"
"Please, Christian, make me come."
His dark chuckle shivers across my skin and I get goosebumps. "Your wish is my command."
Sealing his mouth over my clit again he sucks hard using his tongue to tease me steadily until I'm back on the edge. I'm so close, and I don't want him to stop again, so I beg. "Please make me come. Please, please, please." My words become more strangled and desperate the closer I get to climax, and suddenly it's right there.
He grazes my clit with his teeth and the world turns white. I can't see, I can't breathe, and floating in a world of pleasure that I've never known before. It's icy, and scorching, and it doesn't feel like it will ever end. Even in this place I can still feel his mouth on me, slow, steady licks drawing me down through the pleasure and back to earth where my body is shaking.
I come back to myself with a gasp, and Christian gives my clit one final suck before pulling away. The smug look on his face makes me want to slap him, but given how hard I just came I can't really blame him.
"I'd say you're ready now."
"Ready for what?"
Getting Her Back Page 3