Train Wreck

by T Gephart

  “You still with me?” Josh slowly slid his fingers out of me, bringing them to his mouth and sucked. “You tasted exactly how I thought you would, sweet.”

  “That was amazing.” I still couldn’t move, my spine feeling like a shuffled deck of cards as I lay exactly where he’d placed me. “I don’t think I can move.”

  “So don’t move, I like the view.” He grinned, easing back onto his knees so he could get a better look.

  I should have been embarrassed but I was too relaxed to care, endorphins ricocheting through my body responsible for my blissed out mood. He could have robbed me at that point, and I would have probably thanked him for the privilege.

  “It’s not fair that you got to see me, and I didn’t get to see you.” I pointed to the pants he was still wearing and the hard-on that was still extremely evident. He might have taken care of me, but it was going to take a hand or two to get that monster down.

  “If I took off my pants, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from being inside of you. It was a judgment call.”

  “And now?” I glanced at the anaconda—no seriously, how big had it gotten—in his pants and wondered if he still stood behind his judgment call.

  “I still want to be inside of you.” He didn’t hesitate, his voice gravel, as he looked me up and down.

  “Take them off, Josh. I want to see you.”

  He toed off his boots, pulling off his socks before his hands moved to his waistband. The belt had previously been loosened—by yours truly—as had the button, so his jeans hung low on his hips. He slowly rose to his feet, towering above me as he slid his jeans down, letting them drop to floor. The thin cotton of his boxer briefs, the only thing restraining him.

  “Everything, take everything off.” I nodded to his underwear, smirking, as his fingers looped around the elastic and hesitated.

  “You sure about this?” He waited, watching for my nod before he slowly eased them down. “I meant what I said about not sleeping with you tonight.”

  “I know, but there is a whole bunch of gray area we could explore.”

  I sucked in a breath. “Wow.”

  It was the second time I had said it, this time more enthusiastic than the first. His long hard cock jutted out from his hips, framed by strong muscular thighs, every inch of him a paragon of man. I had imagined it, dreamed and even fantasized about it, but his body was insane. Insane. Lines and hard edges defined every muscle with pops of color traveling up and down his torso and down his arms. I’d seen thousands of documented examples of the perfect male form, and none of them had come close to him. I could stare at him for days.

  “Now what?” he asked causally like he wasn’t standing in front of me naked with the biggest erection I’d ever seen.

  “I want to make you come.” My thighs pulled together as my feet lowered to the floor. My legs accepted my weight as I came to stand. “I mean, I’m going to make you come.”

  “Really, and how are you going to do that?” He arched his brow, smile curving on his lips as he watched me with interest.

  “Well, there is a combination of things actually.” My fingers reached out and wrapped around his girth. It was a struggle, my hand not able to close fully.

  “Tell me more. I’m intrigued.” His jaw tightened as I slowly stroked his shaft.

  “I’d rather show you.” I sunk to my knees in front of him, an audible hiss escaping from his lips the minute I took him into my mouth.

  “Fuck.”

  His eyes dropped to me, watching him as I hollowed out my cheeks, sucking him while my hand worked his length.

  He was so hard, his ab muscles tensing as I drew him in further, smacking my lips as I pulled him all the way out with a wet pop.

  “Feels so good.” The words rushed out on a breath. His hands fisted my hair as I moved to licking him, my tongue twisting up the side of his cock and circling the head, my hands picking up the tempo as I pumped.

  I didn’t stop, moving slowly and then faster, alternating the rhythm with my hands and my mouth.

  I loved feeling his grip on my hair, sensing his desperation as I watched him. It was a power play and I wasn’t sure who was in control. And at that moment, I didn’t care—so turned on I almost came again.

  “Eve.”

  I wasn’t sure if it was a warning or a plea, but I loved the way it sounded, reedy and unhinged.

  His body tensed, and I could feel he was close as I continued, wanting to make him feel as good as he made me feel.

  “Eve.”

  His hand tightened in my hair as I felt the rush, his beautiful toned abs rigid as I watched him come undone. My mouth continued to suck as my hands gripped him tight and I swallowed hard.

  “God, your mouth is magic.” He pulled his cock from my lips, his thumb replacing it as I sucked. “So freaking good.”

  “Likewise.” I grinned, lifting off my knees and rising to my feet. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

  “Yeah, me too.” He chuckled, pressing my chest against his. “I’m not going to lie, I’ve thought about going down on you way too many times to be normal. And just thinking about my dick in your mouth gets me hard.”

  “I really like that.” My flat palms traveled up the wide expanse of his chest, feeling the ripples under my fingertips.

  “What?” He lowered his head, meeting my eyes. “That I think about you so much, or that you can get me hard?”

  “Both.”

  It should have been a whole heap of awkward. I was standing in my living room, naked, with my boss essentially. But oddly enough, it didn’t feel so weird at all. And the fact that it wasn’t, should have been the tip off. God, please don’t let me screw this up.

  “We should get dressed.” I bent down and collected my clothes from the floor. “I actually did want to show you something other than my stellar blowjob skills and I don’t think I can do that while you’re naked.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably a good call.” He grabbed his jeans, boxer briefs and T-shirt. “I’m already second-guessing my decision not to take you to bed.”

  “I’ll be right back.” I held my pile of clothes in my arms, deciding to go into my bedroom to change. “There’s a bathroom down the hall if you want to freshen up.”

  “Thanks.” He glanced down the hall in question. “I might do that.”

  I didn’t run or hide my body as I scampered away. Instead, I turned calmly, giving him one final look before striding to my bedroom.

  I couldn’t stop the massive grin from spreading across my face as I closed the door. Today had been most unexpectedly awesome.

  While the weekend had been fruitful creatively, the only orgasms I’d received were the ones I had given myself. Mostly with the image of Josh in my mind and sometimes—okay, mostly—with the multiple renderings I had done myself. It was like I had created my own porn.

  Draw him.

  Think about him.

  Touch myself.

  It wasn’t an efficient method but an enjoyable one nonetheless.

  I had no way of knowing that the new day would have forced the confrontation, which inevitably revealed my true deviant feelings. Feelings where I thought about Josh in every sexual position known to man.

  Come to find out the reality was hotter than the fantasy, blowing my mind the minute he got me naked, without even the use of his impressive cock. And make no mistake, it was impressive.

  I giggled like an idiot as I freshened up with a washcloth and changed into clean panties—the ones I had been wearing destroyed—and a slip dress. And oops, I just happened to choose a dress that unfortunately didn’t allow for the wearing of a bra. Completely coincidental that it also hugged my body and sat halfway up my thigh as well. A dress was a dress, right?

  It had been a deliberate effort not allowing him into my room. Not because I didn’t want him there—because I did—but because I wanted to show him what I had ultimately brought him home to see. The artwork he had unintentionally helped to insp
ire. And the bed would have proven too much of a temptation. No, I needed a buffer. At least until I said what needed to be said, because clearly I couldn’t be trusted keeping my hands to myself.

  I didn’t bother with shoes, strolling back into the living room where he had also redressed and was sitting on the couch.

  “I thought we were going to talk?” His eyes narrowed when he saw the dress. “That doesn’t look like an outfit conducive to chatting, Eve.”

  “What, this?” I ran my hand coyly over the fabric. “It was the first thing that fell out of my closet.”

  “Yeah, I believe that.” He laughed, turning his attention back to my drawings strewn all over the table. “These are really, really good.”

  “Thank you.” I went and sat down beside him, the praise feeling well earned. “And this time it’s my own work, but this is what I really wanted to show you.”

  In a folder by themselves I had a series of watercolors. While they had the traditional markings of the style—the blurred line and blended color—I amplified the pigment in the paint so they were brighter, more vibrant. And to mix it up a bit, I added a focal point on the page that was crisp and clear—a paradox.

  “It’s like a dream.” He squinted his eyes looking at the next.

  “Exactly, it got me thinking when you said it about the Monet. How it felt like I captured a memory? And I thought about what that might look like.” I moved closer, feeling excitement prickle my skin. “And the thing about memories are, there is usually a point that is clear, focused and precise. You remember everything about it. What you were wearing, what it smelled like, how it tasted—all of your senses are razor sharp in that moment. But the other things, in the periphery, they aren’t as clear, blurred into that memory.”

  “Eve, these are really freaking amazing.” He looked at each of my prints, each focal point positioned differently so that when the prints lined up together, they formed a wave. “Each one is the same, but different.”

  “That’s what I was hoping for. That by looking at them, you see my moment, the one that I have provided. But in the edges, you bring your own baggage. You feel your own sadness, or happiness, or emptiness. You have your own interpretation of each piece, so no one person will have the same experience.”

  It had been late when I’d come up with the concept. I had drawn one of the many Joshes and accidentally spilled my drink on the page. I was able to soak up the water before it seeped too much into his face and I assumed the picture was done for. It was only in the morning after the paper had dried that I saw his eyes had remained as I’d drawn them, but the aperture had changed. The fuzziness on the lines of his face and his hair made it seem like he was under water, and just part of him had broken the surface. It made me think of summer, of happiness, of swimming in cool water, the ripples of the waves kissing your skin as you moved through its resistance. And if I could feel all that, then maybe someone else would feel it too.

  “Eve, this is what you should be working on.” His attention turned to the picture that started it all, Swimming Josh, my heart thumping as he looked at it. “This is what your next exhibit should be.”

  “It’s too soon to even think about another exhibit.” I shuffled the pages in some kind of order. His idea had been one I’d tossed around as a possibility, but couldn’t even dare to think it so soon. “It would take months to prepare enough pieces and then to apply for a space. Assuming they would even take my application, some people have long memories.”

  From the corner of my eye I could see him, his smile dropping a little as his attention moved from my pictures to me. “Sounds like an excuse, and I thought you were done with those. I didn’t take you for a coward, you trying to prove me wrong? Because if that’s what you are doing, sure keep making excuses and hide away like the talentless hack they accused you of. ”

  I winced, his words a little hard to hear and not what I was expecting. “Wow, tell me how you really feel.” I didn’t bother trying to make it sound polite.

  “Come on, Eve.” He shook his head, blowing out a breath. “Why did you even come to me in the first place? I’m not going to sugarcoat it and you know that. So if you are looking for someone to tell you to play it safe, I’m not him.”

  In an instant, the air had changed.

  Gone was the euphoria, the excitement, both from the sex and about the future. Instead, anger was edging into the room, making me feel like showing him any of it had been a huge mistake.

  “I’m not asking you to sugarcoat it, but you could maybe be a little nicer.” Heat prickled my neck as agitation bit into my voice. “Jesus, Josh, it’s just been a couple of weeks.”

  “You’re mad at me?” he asked, actually surprised his criticism hadn’t been welcomed with open arms.

  “Noooo.” The word dripped in sarcasm, my face not able to hide how I really felt. “What gave you that idea?”

  God, I’d been an idiot.

  I’d gone from one bad decision to the next. Sure he was good looking, and sexy and extremely talented with his hands—both on me and in his craft—but I had no idea who this guy was. So what did I do? I’d thrown myself at him, told him to train me like some padawan. And what was even worse, I was totally going to sleep with him. Thank God, I’d dodged that bullet.

  “Okay, so you’re mad. That’s cool.” He turned, facing me, a smile on his lips. “It’s healthy to fight in relationships.”

  “Fight in relationships? Healthy? We aren’t even dating. And considering it’s been twice today you’ve pissed me off, I’m pretty sure that it is never going to happen.”

  God, the nerve of this guy.

  Maybe I should throw him out too, it seemed to be a theme for me of late. Tossing men out of my apartment after they proved what douche canoes they were. I was going to stop inviting men home.

  “Let me ask you something?” His finger stroked his chin, unperturbed by the change in my mood. “How many times did you fight with Oliver?”

  “Oliver? Why are you bringing him up?”

  Was he seriously trying to piss me off? Because I couldn’t think of one good reason why he would bring him up, unless it was to illustrate all men were pigs.

  “In case you forgot.” I lamented my lack of ability to shoot lasers from my eyes. It sure would have come in handy right about now. “We had a pretty big fight when I threw him out on his ass for cheating on me.”

  “Oh, I remember. I’m talking before that.” His chin tipped, rolling his hand to demonstrate. “You guys obviously dated for a while, lived together.” His arm waved to the living room, which had previously housed things that belonged to Oliver. “How many times did you argue? Disagree?”

  “We didn’t,” I snapped, agitated. “We always got along, and if he hadn’t put his dick where it hadn’t belonged, he would have been the perfect boyfriend.”

  Take that, asshat. Bet he didn’t think that was going to be my answer.

  “Because he told you what you wanted to hear?” The stupid grin still plastered across his face. “Or because he didn’t care enough or wasn’t invested enough in the relationship to challenge you, even if you were wrong?”

  “I wasn’t ever wrong.”

  “Well, considering the shit you hung for the world to see, I’d say there were a few occasions where you were.” His words felt like a slap in the face, a wound that had just started to scab over was ripped open so he could pour salt on it. “And yeah, it’s harsh. But that stuff you displayed, after seeing this, we both know it was shit. And if he was half a man or cared half as much as he should have, he would have told you that too. I sure as hell would have.”

  My mouth slammed shut, my brain getting stuck in idle as Josh’s words soaked in. I knew I hadn’t loved Oliver and that he hadn’t loved me. Hell, I even knew that our “wonderful relationship” had really just been friends with a side of sex. So it’s not like Josh dug up some deep hurt that Oliver wasn’t the soul mate I’d wanted him to be. No, that wasn’t what shocked me into
silence. It was the words “I sure as hell would have.”

  That was what stumped me. What did that even mean.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It means, Eve. For whatever reason, our paths crossed.” His hand touched my arm, his fingers moving across my skin giving me goosebumps. My brain too confused to know if I even wanted to be touched. “Maybe it’s just so you can yell at me and tell me to fuck off. So you can go on to succeed in spite of me, in spite of everyone. Or maybe I get to stick around for a while. I don’t have a crystal ball so I can’t tell you which it is.” His eyes softened, his lips spreading into a smile. “But I do know that you’re smart and you’re talented and it’s a fucking tragedy if you waste a minute of that on a half-assed effort. Whether it’s on a page or on a person. You’re not looking for someone to enable you and you knew you wouldn’t get that with me. And as crazy as it sounds, I care. So let me serve my purpose.”

  Mouth open.

  Mouth closed.

  Words missing.

  I couldn’t even think in complete sentences, let alone speak them.

  “How do you do that?” My eyes widened with genuine wonder.

  “Do what?” he asked earnestly, his fingers still feathering over my skin.

  “Know what to say?” A nervous laugh bubbled up my throat. “It’s like you’re a psychiatrist or something. I don’t know whether I should be laying down on a couch and paying you, or begging you to be my friend forever.”

  Every time I thought I had him worked out, he pulled something else out of his bag of tricks, just like Mary Poppins. And every single time it warmed my heart, the heat radiating through my body in a way I hadn’t felt before. It was insanity that my mood could swing so fast in opposite directions, and that with a few words he could change my whole outlook.

  “I’m not a doctor.” He chuckled, those eyes slaying me. “Although if I was, I’d say that the impulse to pay men is a problem.”

  “Low blow, asshat.” I grabbed a pillow from beside me and whacked him across the chest. That beautiful, sexy chest that I would hopefully have the chance to lick soon, and which happened to belong to one of the smartest people I knew.