“But I don’t want it to be a secret.” Her face falls. “I’m tired of secrets.” Tears come to her eyes. “If you have too many of them, they start to erode you from the inside.”
“Okay. Well, what do you want to do?” To my dismay, my voice sounds harsher than necessary.
“I told you. I’m going to go home, and then—I’ll be back later, I guess. For Michael’s therapy. At four p.m., like usual.”
“Okay. But we will talk about this, Shai.”
She picks up her coat. “I’ll see you later.”
I move and give her a kiss on the lips before she can go, and she likes it, because she melts into me. She’s confused, but so am I. We can figure this out. It’s worth it. I kiss her for a long time, a good kiss, before pulling back. I touch her face. “Have a good day.”
She smiles at me. “You too.”
And she’s gone.
We didn’t talk about it, but I stayed for dinner after Robotics again. For food and laughter, and then a night of incredible sex in Gabriel’s arms, his body hard and lean, his mouth hot and demanding, his voice low. Teasing. Demanding. His hands, skillful and talented, bringing me to ecstasy over and over again. His naked form glinting in the light of his bedroom fireplace, perfect, like a Greek sculpture. His fingertips gliding down my belly, over my nipples. His mouth between my legs. His perfect cock pushing my thighs apart, and me, opening for him. Again. Again. Again.
It’s our secret, even though I didn’t want secrets. It’s nice to have a secret that’s giddy and glittery and full of passion; it’s a change from the kind that are corrosive and snarled up, so I enjoy it for what it is, trying to live in the moment.
I can’t tell Allison my secret, but I confide in Kelsie, and she’s happy for me, even as I see the concern in her eyes. But she doesn’t push.
The joy I feel is so monumental that I fly around all day, on top of the world, letting everyone into traffic, giving dollars to each homeless person I see, and smiling at all of the people I encounter, because life is beautiful. All of it. Even the black, exhaust-crusted snow is beautiful, worn into strange whorls by fumes and wind and melt. Modern industrial art, shaped by our industrial progress. I even love boring things like the Industrial Revolution when I think of them, because cars, because Gabriel changing my battery, because Gabriel’s hands on my thighs, his lips on my neck.
Tonight I want to focus on Gabriel. Michael is asleep, and we’re in Gabriel’s bed. I run my hand down his body and rest it on his hardening length. “Is this for me?” I tease, stroking, rubbing, the way he likes it.
“Sure is,” he growls, biting my neck and pulling me in close. “All of it.”
“Oh, good. Because I don’t know how I’d make it work with half.” I giggle and grab him halfway up and squeeze. “Like if you could only put it in up to here. Sorry, Son, no deep end for you today.” I mimic a lifeguard at the pool. “Shallow end only.”
He laughs and flips me over. “Better watch out or I’ll fill your shallow end, babe.” He throws a leg over one of mine and reaches under to grab one nipple, squeezes it gently while running a finger down the cleft of my ass, resting at a very specific spot. “You ready for me to get wet?”
I scream and push back at him, laughing, aroused, excited and anxious at once.
“I have lube,” he promises, running the same finger up and down my body, coming to rest in that same spot. “And you’ve got moisture from another area. We can just share the wealth. See?”
He runs his hand between my thighs and pushes his index finger up into my warmth of my pussy. I’m already wet, and I moan at his touch. “Look at this,” he whispers. “More than enough.” He touches me over and over until I’m making little incoherent sounds, spreading my legs wider to allow him better access, lifting my hips up to his hand to try to entice him to touch deeper, harder. Closer to my clit. More.
He laughs. “Not yet,” he teases, then he runs his soaked fingers back up to my ass and pushes between my cheeks. “This will feel good,” he promises.
“Okay,” I manage to get out, and then his finger presses into me. I love it.
“Relax,” he murmurs into my neck, but I already am, as much as I can. I realize my muscles are clenched; unclench them. “Yeah,” he encourages me, sliding his finger in and out, pushing, swirling. “You like this?”
“Mmm hmm.” It’s incredible. And he has no shame doing it, so I feel none in accepting it. “But can you also touch, you know?” I move my hips up again.
“Where? Your back?”
“No! Gabriel.”
“You know I like to hear you ask the right way, babe. You only get it if you say it. Otherwise I might have to consider punishing you.” His warning only makes the whole thing hotter. I know he never would, and he knows that I practically gush my arousal to hear those words on his lips.
“My clit. Can you touch my clit, too? While you do… the other thing?”
“Words, Shai.” He gives me a light slap on the ass cheek, and I moan in enjoyment.
“My asshole. While you touch it.”
“Flip over.” He removes his hands to move me, and I make a sound of disappointment, but then his hand is back, and the other one, and it’s glorious. He inserts his finger back between my ass cheeks, and uses the other hand to stroke my clit and fuck my vagina all at once. I’m full with his fingers and it feels—God, it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced. He’s playing me like an instrument, and in a minute I’m ready to explode.
“Gabriel!” My voice is tense. “It feels so good.”
“Wait.” His voice is firm, and it only gets me hotter.
“I can’t wait!”
“You can, and you will. Get on your back again, babe.”
When I comply, he bends over my body and licks a nipple. “Because I’m not done playing, Shai.” He licks the other one, swirling his tongue around, then bites down enough to make me cry out, all the while working me with both hands. “Lie still.” That, as I try to wiggle down to get his fingers closer to my clit.
In reply, I make some kind of unintelligible noise, grab his head, and pull him to my mouth. “Kiss me,” I whisper, and he does, although he takes his hands from my body and places them on either side of the pillow, bracing himself while we kiss. But I want his full weight on me so I grab at his back, his shoulders, pull him onto me so I feel his entire length, his solid sexy body on top of me.
I wrap my legs around his and shift up so his cock rests between my thighs. He’s hot and pulsing and I squeeze his hard ass into my hips. “You like that?” I whisper.
“Fuck, yeah.” He thrusts against me, letting his cock glide up and down my body, not entering, but rubbing close, the friction making me insane with need.
I put my legs back down and the angle is different; not better or worse, but different, and I like the sensation. Then I wrap my legs again around his to get his cock closer. It’s a game. Closer, further, and it’s making us both pant.
He pushes off my torso and slides down the bed. “Spread your legs.” He’s talking into my belly, and he licks a path down my mound, and once I spread, he continues the journey to my clit. I cry out and jerk my hips: It’s like an electric spark; good and too much at once.
He laughs, then grabs my thighs and tosses them over his shoulders. “Stay open for me.”
I have to, the way he’s positioned me—unless I tell him no, or pull away, I’m trapped here, bared to his mouth. And I want to be bare for him. When he puts his tongue back, I shout out, clench my muscles, and then relax into his ministrations, my body accepting the touch. He get into a rhythm, learning my cues; he licks one side of my clit, then the other; he swirls his tongue into my opening and wiggles it, then does a sudden lick right over the top of my clit. It doesn’t take long before I’m trembling, because the orgasm is coming, but it’s a long, slow arrival. The buildup to pleasure is excruciatingly slow, and each minute that goes by it grows and grows, but it’s still far off, and the sensation is
enough to make me completely fucking insane. I’m sweating and tossing my fists next to my head, eyes squeezed shut, focused entirely on the sensation between my legs, and the man putting it there.
Finally when it starts to crest I sob out his name. “Gabriel!” And he knows what I mean, and he doesn’t change a thing; he keeps licking and stroking just the way he’s been doing, and in another few seconds it crashes over me, so huge, so overwhelming, that I scream out and keep making the cries, as the sensation explodes behind my eyelids and into my body, liquid lightning flowing through every vein and artery, lighting me up like neon, like the sun, over and over.
Even when it’s done it’s not done; afterbursts pop and glow, and he licks me still, letting me push into his face, moaning and crying out, yes, yes, God, yes, right there, with each aftershock. Finally I let out a huge, shuddering sigh and pull away from his lips, squeeze my thighs together, and eke out one last brilliant surge before it’s all gone. Then I lie, limp and sweaty, purring in contentment.
He rests one hand on my belly. “Good one?”
“Yeah.” My voice is dreamy. “Exceptionally good.”
After a minute, I rouse myself. “I think you need a turn, too.” He’s rock hard, solid, waiting. As soon as I speak, he pounces, grabs me. “How do you want it?” I make my voice sultry. “You want my mouth first, or my pussy?”
“Mouth.” He lies back and his cock juts up, solid and thick.
“Your wish is my command.” I get onto hands and knees and take him into my mouth, lick the tip of his cock, taste the salty pre-cum. He throbs in my mouth. Was it hard waiting for me to finish? He’s like steel. He reaches out, winds his fingers in my hair, and pushes my head. “Like that.”
I learn the rhythm he likes, and learn what he wants from my tongue by responding to his voice. “Yeah, fuck, God, yeah, like that.” I lick up and down the shaft, swirling my tongue. I suck, release, suck again, keeping my teeth away. Graze him lightly, on purpose. Then lick. Suck his balls, gently, lick along the perineum, then take him into my mouth and push my head down until he’s in my throat and I can’t breathe. Hold him there a second, until he groans, then come up for air. Do it again.
Soon he’s clenching his thighs and breathing hard and I know he’s close. But just when he’s about to come, he moves away. “In you,” he demands, “this time. On your hands and knees, Shai.”
I position myself so my legs are spread, my breasts resting on the mattress, my arms stretched out to touch the pillow. “Like this?”
“Yeah.” Then he thrusts into me and I’m still so wet that he slides in easily, although he fills me. Tight. Hot. He grabs my hips and pumps me, and while he does it he touches my ass cheeks, my asshole, lightly, with his finger.
This inspires me, so I try out some dirty words: “Gabriel, maybe someday I’ll let you fuck my ass. Would you like that? Think how nice and tight it would be.”
He pumps harder, groans. “Fuck, Shai.”
I smile into the mattress, my breath hot and moist in my face, and turn my head to the side so I can breathe. “Although you might have to put a butt plug in me first, to open me up a bit. You think you’d like that, too?”
“Jesus, Shai, yes.” His voice is tense and he pulls my hips hard into him. “If I do it right, I’ll have you screaming my name because you come so good, Shai. I’ll make you love it.”
I don’t doubt that he could. Anything and everything he does turns me on. Just looking at him turns me on, and the thought of him taking me that way is so erotic and forbidden that it makes me excited.
“But your pussy is the best,” he groans. “Love it. So hot. Wet. Tight.”
I feel the beginnings of another orgasm unfurl deep inside my body. He’s not hitting my clit the way he’s thrusting, but the feeling comes from somewhere deeper, not my g-spot either, some other magical piece of me that’s responding to his cock.
I wiggle around as he moves, pushing back up onto him, from side to side, fucking him while he’s fucking me, and I can tell he likes this a lot because his motions get more frenzied and his breathing rough. Then he says, “You ready, Shai? You going to come on my cock?”
And that is all it takes to push me over the edge again. In reply I just cry out his name and push back into him as hard as I can, and he thrusts forward and stiffens, releasing into my body, and our bodies pulse together with our shared bliss. “I love you,” I blurt out, at the pinnacle of our passion. And as I crash down into the intensity of the power of our bodies, I nearly don’t notice that he doesn’t say it back.
Lying in his arms, I trace his jaw, rest my hand on his neck. “That was amazing.” I don’t bring up the I love you thing. It was too soon; I know that. We’re barely getting to know each other. Still, I know it’s true, deep in my heart. I’ve fallen for this man. I know his essence is beautiful and good; I know he’s what I want. I feel his heart and his kindness, even under his distance and his anger. I sense the joy waiting to break out of him. What I don’t know, though? If he feels the same way for me.
“Mmm hmm.” He kisses my lips, but a minute later he sighs, looks into the distance. I wonder what he sees.
“What are you thinking about?” I venture.
I’m afraid to hear the answer. What if it’s “my wife”? Or worse, “Arielle”? Not that he’d tell me about those daydreams, I’m sure. It’s just that I don’t feel secure enough in our relationship—whatever it is—to trust that what’s on his mind is not my failings, my inability to stack up to his previous relationships. I can’t even be sure that it’s safe to tell him about Mani, and how I had to have a serious operation when I was just twelve. About how she died, and how it wrecked me.
“Work.” His reply is terse, and I don’t believe it. I know him well enough by now to read his tells. When he’s thinking about meetings or difficult colleagues, his eyebrows furl and he taps his fingers. When he’s thinking about investments, he gets a distant look, purses his lips, and goes still. I don’t know this body language says. What it does tell me, though, is that he’s still a cipher. He’s not mine, yet. I don’t have the decoder ring, and he won’t tell me the pattern.
I shrug and pull up the sheet. “Okay.” My tone says it’s not entirely okay.
I slide my hand over and stroke his hip. “You know, Gabriel? Maybe it’s time for us to not be a secret anymore.” I take a breath. “Maybe… I don’t know, but I’ve been thinking, we should be honest about it? I mean, if we’re serious about this. We should let Michael know there’s something here. He deserves to know.”
He doesn’t respond. When he looks at me, his face is serious. “I don’t know, Shai.”
My heart drops. “You don’t know… what?”
“This.” He gestures. “Us. Whether it’s a good idea to go public. What exactly would we say?” He blinks. He’s not smiling. His shoulders are tense and his eyes are dark, hooded, a mystery. He’s closed off to me, and I know in this second that it’s because of what I said. It terrified him, I think, and now he’s pulling away.
I sit up and cross my arms. “Well, that we’re seeing each other. Dating. Right?” My voice trails off. “That you’re my… boyfriend?” The pleading tone startles and disgusts me.
He stands up and grabs at his clothes. “Is that what we are?” His voice is flat.
“Isn’t it?” I yank the sheet up and re-cross my arms over it.
He steps into his pants, pulls on his shirt, then sits on his edge of the bed and looks at me. “We’re sleeping together,” he says. “And we’re friends. I don’t know what to call it.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Shai, I don’t—I care about you, a lot. But. I’m not ready for a big commitment.” His body is taut. He touches my thigh, a plea in his eyes, but I can’t relax.
“Well, neither am I. That’s not what I said. I mean, if we’re friends, and we’re have sex, I mean, doesn’t that make us….?” I shake my head. “Gabriel?”
“We just need to be careful not to pretend it’s somethi
ng it’s not. Especially to Michael.”
The words cut me, even though his tone is more lost than sharp. “I’m not talking about pretending, Gabriel. I’m talking about stopping the pretense that we’re just amicable platonic friends.” My voice is sharp, as sharp as his made me feel. “It’s the opposite.”
“I just don’t think it’s the right time.” His voice holds finality, and he gets up, adjusting the way his shirt sits inside the waist of his pants, smoothing his hair. “We should wait.” He glances at the clock.
My stomach lurches. “It’s because of what I said before.”
“No.” He cuts me off. “It’s just how I feel.” He doesn’t look at me as he puts on his watch, his shoes. “I need to do some work.”
“But it’s midnight.” My voice sounds as lost as I feel.
“The financial world doesn’t shut down. I have colleagues working right now in Japan and Germany. Important projects to deal with.”
“Oh—okay.”
“So we won’t say anything to Michael, or Allison, about this. About… us.” His voice is dominant and demanding, and it’s not as fun now, when we’re not in bed having outstanding sex.
His gaze is cool, assessing me, and the lack of warmth makes me angry. No, more than angry. I’m irate, furious, incandescent with rage that won’t be shuttered. I put myself out there. I gave him my soul, no armor, open and unprotected, and he declined it.
I jump up and grab my clothes. “You know what?” I snap. “I won’t say anything, because there’s nothing to say. You think we’re moving too fast? Fine. Let’s slow down. Way down. Back down to nothing, like we were before. If there’s nothing to say, there’s nothing behind it, either. Is that what you want? Fuck.”
“Shai, no.” He puts out a hand, and his face is anguished. “That’s not what I meant!” He steps toward me, arrests his motion when I spin away.
I shove my feet into my shoes and find my purse. “Let’s go back to being colleagues, like your friends in Japan and Germany. We’ll talk about work and business and Michael and nothing else.”
A Handful of Fire Page 17