We had met for coffee twice, lunch once, and then went on our first date. After the date, he sucked my pussy until I collapsed on the floor. Afterward, he was enough of a gentleman not to try and fuck my stupid drunken self. In fact, I never got a chance to suck his cock on that night, and I didn’t get a chance to see him naked. At least not yet. In the week that followed our first date, we had met for coffee twice in the middle of his workday.
It was a good question. Maybe I simply wanted more than what I was entitled to. I certainly didn’t want to make him angry and give him reason to end something that had barely started. I clenched the empty glass in my hand, stared down at him, and realized I was being nothing short of a bitch.
“I’m sorry, I think I just missed seeing you last night.”
“You didn’t answer the question.” He pointed to the couch cushion beside him. “Sit down. I don’t like people looming over me.”
I sat down. He was right. I hadn’t answered the question.
He drank the rest of his mimosa and reached for my glass. “So, what do you want this to be? If you got to pick?”
I blurted out my response without hesitation. “A relationship.”
He took my glass and disappeared without responding. In a few minutes, he returned with two fresh drinks. He handed me one of them. “Here, drink this.” He chuckled. “Maybe it’ll calm your nerves.”
I wondered if he heard me. Maybe, I guessed, he did hear me, but he just chose not to respond. It was quite possible that he didn’t want a relationship. I took a sip of the drink and wondered if I had made him angry with my theatrics.
“What’s a relationship to you?” he asked.
Hallelujah!
I carefully formulated my response in my head before speaking. After half the mimosa and what seemed like all of eternity to decide exactly what to say, I responded. “It’s two people agreeing that they’re attached in a particular way. It could be a polygamous relationship. A monogamous one. Open. Committed. Whatever.”
“And what type of relationship do you want? Again, if you got to pick?”
“Uhhm. Well, I’d say one where we would commit to each other that we’re not going to see other people, and then we just see what happens. You know, the no big deal kind. Nobody’s in love, we’re not saying that, we’d just be saying we’re going to see how well we, you know, how well we fit together. See if things work out between us. It’s just tough to know for sure if two people aren’t committed to each other. If they’re seeing other people, it isn’t fair to the relationship.”
He stood up. “You want the no big deal kind of relationship?”
It sounded ridiculous hearing him say it. I took another sip of my drink. “Uh-huh.”
He motioned toward me with his glass. “Well, stand up.”
I scrunched my nose. “Stand up?”
“Yes, Terra. Stand up. Get off the couch and stand on your feet.”
He placed his drink on the coffee table. I stood and did the same. I turned to face him, slightly confused on what was going on, but relieved we were at least talking about a relationship, even if it was slightly one-sided.
The corner of one side of his mouth curled up. “How good are you at walking backward?”
I wrinkled my nose. “What?”
“The opposite of frontward. Backward. Are you talented enough to walk backward?”
“I suppose so.”
He rushed into me, pressing his body fully against mine. While I stumbled to keep my footing, he raised his hand to my neck and continued to push me backward until I slammed into the far wall. Confused, disoriented and wondering just what the fuck was going on, I opened my mouth to voice my complaint. He clenched my jaw in his hand, held it firmly, and gazed into my eyes. After a slight hesitation, he came in for the kiss.
Our lips met, and a wave of emotion rushed through me.
He kissed me fully, passionately and without reservation. Eagerly, I returned the kiss, my tongue dancing with his in the space our combined mouths created. His free hand seemed to be touching me everywhere while his other held my face firmly, providing me with an odd reassurance that he was in control of much more than the kiss.
His entire body became entangled with mine, grinding against me almost as if we were making love. I had been kissed many times, but I had never experienced anything quite as passionate as what he was doing to me. It was so much more than a kiss.
It was an experience.
A sexual experience.
Our lips parted. I opened my eyes and returned his gaze. His eyes seemed more gray than normal. I sighed and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
I inhaled a quick breath. “Holy shit. What was that about?”
“I damned sure wasn’t going to commit to be in a relationship with you if I hadn’t kissed you.” He released his grip on my face. “I really like kissing, and you might not have kissed worth a fuck.”
I swallowed heavily. “So, what did you think?”
He met my gaze, leaned forward, and bit my bottom lip between his teeth. With his eyes locked on mine, he clenched my lip in his teeth and seemed to stare into my soul for some time. It was painful, but in a good way. I didn’t want him to stop.
Not really.
He released my lip and kept his eyes locked on mine. “I think I’m in a no big deal relationship with you. That’s what I think.”
Oh my God.
“So, we’re not going to see other people?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“And we’re going to see if we can make this work and just see what happens?”
“That is correct.”
My back was still against the wall, and his eyes remained fixed on mine. His height made me feel small, protected and very much like a lady. I tried not to act too excited, but I was quite sure hiding anything from him completely would be impossible.
I shrugged, trying to act like it was no big deal, although to me it was. “I guess we’ll just see how it goes and go from there.”
He cocked an eyebrow and grabbed my wrist. Holding it firmly in the palm of his hand, he pressed my hand against his crotch.
My eyes shot wide.
He broke my gaze and pressed his lips to my ear. “Get ahold of it. Squeeze it.”
I did. It was rigid and as thick as my wrist. My face went flush and I swallowed heavily. “Okay,” I squeaked.
“That, Terra, is seeing how it goes. That right there. Your cock-filled hand. That eliminates all doubt. I can say whatever I want, but a stiff cock never lies. My cock likes you. There’s your fucking proof,” he whispered into my ear.
When he pulled away, I almost collapsed onto the floor.
My pussy was soaked, my head was spinning, and my lip was swollen. To sum it up, I was in heaven.
He turned around and began walking toward the hallway. I wanted more, but I didn’t dare ask. It was apparent he was in charge, and I actually preferred it that way.
“You ever want to know how our relationship’s progressing? Grab my cock, it’ll remove all doubt.”
“Where, uhhm. Where are you going?”
“To finish my workout. I’m frustrated,” he said over his shoulder.
He disappeared down the hallway.
“Frustrated,” I said, skipping across the wooden floor to catch up with him. “Why?”
He stepped into his exercise room. “Because I want to fuck, and I can’t. I have a thirty-day rule, and I never break my rules.”
I followed him into the room. “What’s a thirty-day rule?”
He tore off his shirt and tossed it over the weight bench. “I’ll never have sex before thirty days is up. You know, no penetration.”
I gawked at the magnificence of his body’s muscular structure. It was a
s symmetrical as his living room, only I found it far more inviting. “Ever?” I asked.
He reached up to the chin-up bar, gripping it firmly in his hands. “Nope.”
Oh fuck.
It seemed ridiculous. It was ridiculous. I needed to understand why, but was quite sure I never would. For the sake of entertainment, I asked. “Why not?”
“It’s a discipline thing.”
“What’s a discipline thing?”
“The thirty-day rule.”
I was right. It made no sense. “You’re doing it just to do it? Or not doing it?”
“I need to remind myself that sex isn’t important. I need to remain disciplined to do so.”
I hated to be the bearer of bad news, but sex was important. “Sex is important.”
“If I’m still interested after thirty days, I know my interest is coming from the right place.”
“What day are we on?” I asked.
He pulled himself toward the horizontal bar, his arms and chest flaring as his body raised each inch of height until his chin cleared the bar. After he exhaled, he lowered himself until his arms were locked straight. “Twenty.”
I studied his shirtless torso. His body was incredible. Covered in muscles and rippled with proof of his devotion. It was difficult not to drool as I admired him. The promise of sex tossed out the window didn’t matter, I was still soaked. I couldn’t help it.
The whirlwind of having him pin me against the wall and kiss me had me instantly aroused. Wrapping my delicate hand around his huge cock sent me over the edge. Sex or no sex, I felt I needed some relief.
Somehow.
“Ten days, huh?” I asked, studying him for imperfections, and finding only one large scar on his left bicep.
He pulled himself up to the bar again. “Yep.”
“Well,” I said. “I guess I’m frustrated too.”
He hoisted himself up to the bar again. “Join in. Exercise helps with frustration. I know that much.”
“Are blow jobs considered sex?” I asked.
“Depends,” he said dryly.
“On?”
“Who’s offering.”
It seemed pretty obvious. “Me?”
“Yes, it’d be sex.”
“Why?”
“Because I want it.”
“The discipline thing again?”
Still hoisted high in the bar, he nodded.
I forced a sigh, then pulled my shirt over my head. He lowered himself until his arms were locked. I removed my bra and tossed it on the floor beside my shirt. With his eyes still glued to me, he dangled from the bar.
I kicked off my flats, unbuttoned my pants, and pushed them down my thighs. He stared. I pulled them past my feet and tossed them into the pile. He hung from the bar, still staring in my direction. I slowly removed my panties.
His eyes went wide.
I lowered my right hand between my legs. The crotch of his sweats began to rise. I slid my finger in my pussy, closed my eyes, and moaned out into the room.
I opened my eyes.
He hung from the bar, the fabric of his sweats stretched to its limit.
I acted uninterested, turned away, and got on the treadmill. A few strides into what I expected would be a five-mile naked run, and I tilted my head toward him.
Still hanging from the bar with his cock poking straight out, he looked frustrated.
I hope you choke on your thirty-day rule, mister.
“Yeah, I think you’re right. Exercise makes it all better,” I lied.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
He released his grip from the bar, dropped to the floor and pressed against his stiff dick with the heel of his palm.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
With his face clearly showing his discomfort, he tossed his head toward the door. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Where you going?”
“I’ve got something I need to take care of.”
I continued my naked sprint. “Okay.”
With both hands pressing into the crotch of his sweats, he turned away. In a few steps, he disappeared down the hallway.
My mouth curled into a smile.
If I couldn’t have sex for ten more days, at least I could have fun.
Chapter Eight
Michael
We were six days away from having sex, and both of us seemed to be enjoying teasing the other about the limitations of my self-imposed thirty-day restriction. Initially, I thought it would be easy for me. After all, I had gone years without sex. In a relationship with Terra, however, things were different.
It was difficult.
My desire to be with her sexually was greater than my desire to do anything else. I attributed the longing to have sex with her to my knowing I couldn’t. Naturally, I wanted what I couldn’t have. At least that’s what I told myself.
Standing on the retail side of the entrance to the dressing rooms staring at her, I began to believe my yearning was more a result of her natural beauty.
She pressed the balls of her feet to the floor, lifted her heels, and spun in a circle. “What do you think?”
The little black dress. A staple in every girl’s wardrobe. Sleeveless with a neckline that exposed the cleavage of her shapely breasts, the dress she chose was revealing enough to provoke tremendous temptation. The knee-high length made it almost elegant.
She did the rest.
I wiped my sweaty palms against the thighs of my jeans. “I love it.”
“Love it, or just kind of like it?”
I shook my head in disbelief at what stood before me. “Love, love, love it. You look stunning.”
She cocked her hip. “Should I get it?”
“If you don’t, I will.”
“Oh, I’d love to see you in this.”
“Not for me, you weirdo. For you. It’s perfect.”
Her eyes dropped to my feet and slowly raised until she met my gaze. She pressed her biceps against the sides of her boobs, forcing more of them to burst out of the plunging neck of the dress. “Okay, I’ll get it.”
I felt my dick go stiff until the denim fabric of my jeans prevented any further progression.
“Uhhm.” She cocked her hip, pressed her elbow to her side, and wagged her index finger toward me. “Your uhhm. You’ve got that stiff cock thing going on again.”
I glanced over my shoulder before pressing the heel of my palm against it. “I’m well aware.”
With her eyes glued to my crotch, she raised one of her perfectly arched eyebrows. “Shame.”
I checked over my shoulder again, did what I could to adjust myself, and pointed toward the long row of dressing rooms. “Go change.”
Obviously making a conscious effort to destroy my sexual reservations, she turned and sashayed toward her dressing room. Watching the cheeks of her perfectly shaped ass rise and fall with each exaggerated step without acting on my desires was sheer torture. With a perfect combination of beauty, charm and elegance, she made her way to the doorway at the end of the corridor.
Thirty seconds later, and she was calling out to me for help.
“Michael, can you come here for a minute?”
Being at Saks Fifth Avenue on a Wednesday night was a far different shopping experience than what I was used to. In complete contrast to my midday runs to the hardware store for duct tape or makeshift firearms parts, it was actually enjoyable. Not only was there a lack of patrons in the store, there seemed to be far fewer employees, which made me feel much less guilty about walking to her dressing room and seeing exactly what it was she thought she needed.
“What?” I asked, the tone of my voice expressing a nonexistent annoyance.
“I need help.”
“With what?”
“It’s stuck?”
“What’s stuck?”
“Just open the door.”
“Shoppers, Saks Fifth Avenue will be closing in fifteen minutes. At this time, we ask that you bring your selected items directly to the closest sales associate, and make your purchase. Thank you for shopping with Saks.”
“You heard that, right? They close in a few minutes. What do you want?”
“Just open the door, Michael.”
I turned and peered down the forty-foot-long corridor I had just walked down. With the exception of hers, none of the dressing rooms were occupied. The one she had chosen was at the end of the string of identical rooms.
“What’s the problem?”
“It’s stuck. Just come help me.”
A quick glance over my shoulder confirmed what I already suspected.
The hallway remained empty.
I pushed the door ajar just enough to speak through the opening. “What’s stuck?”
“Just open it.”
I opened the door slightly.
Bent over the small bench in the corner of the room, Terra stood with the little black dress bunched up around her waist. With her bare ass pointed directly at me, and her equally bare pussy free for the taking, she shifted her weight from side to side, causing the muscles in her long lean legs to flare each time she did so.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I whispered. I stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind me. “You little fucker, nothing’s stuck.”
“It’s my mind,” she said over her shoulder. “It’s stuck on you.”
She was adorable. There was no denying it. But. She was equally mischievous.
“Cover that thing up,” I whispered.
Bent over the bench with her back arched and her head buried in the corner of the small dressing room, she turned and peered over her shoulder. “What? My tight little pussy?”
My throbbing hard-on reminded me of the six days I had yet to wait. I waved my hand toward her and fought to adjust myself. “Get dressed, you little shit.”
“Did you call me a slut? I love it. I want to be your little slut. Fuck me in here. Get that big dick of yours out and fuck me.”
The Gun Runner (Mafia Made) Page 6