Reverie

by Rico, Lauren

Oh, my dear good God. I’m not expecting the thrill that shoots through me at the mere suggestion of it.

  “I just don’t know if I can keep my hands off you…” I say noncommittally.

  In an instant he’s off of the bed, and me, rummaging around in my dresser. When he turns around he’s holding a pair of my tights and there is a triumphant smile on his face.

  “Well, well, Miss Julia James. I think you need to be taught a little lesson in… restraint.”

  And, before I can react he’s upon me. He’s got my left wrist stretched as far as it will go and is securing to the bed frame with one leg of my tights. I don’t fight him, just watch in fascination.

  “Have you done this before?” I ask curiously.

  He ignores my question as he pulls the other leg of the stockings across the headboard, and wraps it around my right wrist. And then he stops.

  “What?”

  He rubs the skin on my upper arm.

  Oh. I know what.

  “Are these scars, Julia?” he asks, the huskiness totally gone from his voice now.

  He’s rubbing his thumb on them. One, two, three…

  “Julia?” he’s looking at me, waiting for an explanation for the four perfectly cylindrical scars.

  “They’re burns,” I say simply.

  He leans in to have a closer look.

  “But they’re so perfect. They almost look like a car cigarette lighter,” he says to himself.

  Of course that’s what they are. He can see that plainly. But now comes the part I dread. The part where I can see the wheels turning in his head. He’s trying to figure out how I could accidentally burn myself four times with a car lighter. I couldn’t. And now that realization is dawning across his face. He looks from the scars to me, and back again.

  “Who…” he licks his lips and starts again. “Who did this to you?”

  The eyes look more brown than green today, and I notice tiny specks of gold in them that I didn’t see before. They’re boring into me, demanding an answer.

  “My father.”

  His face is uncomprehending.

  “Your father did this to you? He burned you?”

  I nod.

  “But why would he do such a thing?”

  Oh, you sweet boy, you have no idea the things people will do to one another.

  “He did it because I dropped his six pack on the ground. I broke four bottles, one burn for each bottle. He wanted to make sure I never did that again.”

  “Holy shit,” he says under his breath. “But…”

  “You know, Jeremy, if you really want to have this conversation then I think maybe you should untie me.”

  “Oh! Of course!” he says, quickly releasing me from the headboard.

  So much for my foray into bondage. It was pretty hot while it lasted, though. I sit up and pull the sheet up over my bare breasts then I hug my knees.

  “My father beat me. When I was eight, a teacher realized what was going on and I was removed from his custody. That’s when I went into the foster system, and when I met Matthew.”

  I can see he’s still processing this information, so I wait until he seems ready to hear more.

  “What happened to him?”

  “My father? He got about nine months in jail. When he got out he stopped by the family courthouse on his way out of town to sign over his parental rights. I never saw him again.”

  “But your mother. Surely she must have…”

  “She left us when I was five. That’s when he started to hit me. I never heard from her again either.”

  “Oh my God. How did you survive that? How is it possible that you can live a normal life after that?”

  I shrug.

  “I was lucky. But still, now you can see why I’m not the most outgoing person you’ve ever met. I really don’t have any friends, other than Matthew, because I don’t trust many people.”

  He’s nodding his understanding. I can see he’s tempted to scoop me up into his arms, but isn’t quite sure how I’ll react.

  “You know what?” I say, swinging my feet out of bed once again. “I’m starving. Can you cook? Because, I can’t. Maybe we can forage for something in the kitchen. And then I have to go work on that Rachmaninoff that you were so helpful with last night.”

  “Julia, we can talk about this more if you want…”

  “We will, I’m sure. But seriously, do you know how to make French toast?”

  16

  He does, in fact, know how to make French toast. And pretty damned well at that. After I’ve done everything short of lick the plate clean, I sip the outstanding cup of coffee he’s made for me. Handsome, great in bed, an amazing musician and he cooks? I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.

  After some light conversation over breakfast, I think I have successfully brought him back from the recesses of my deep, dark past. Bad enough I have to live there. No reason he should too.

  “What would you like to do today?” I ask him.

  “Well, I had my day planned out but it took a little detour back there in the bedroom,” he says ruefully.

  “Tell me about it,” I say with a slightly dramatic sigh of disappointment.

  I see his left eyebrow shoot up. Hmmm. Maybe I can get this train back on the rails after all.

  Jeremy takes my breakfast plate from in front of me and sets it in the sink with his own.

  “Now I’m thinking I’ll just lay around in my underwear, scratching myself, drinking beer and watching baseball,” he says.

  “Uh… I think it’s a little late in the year for baseball. Football. That’s the sport you’re looking for,” I offer helpfully, taking another sip.

  “Are you correcting me, Julia James?” he says, with an exaggerated frown.

  Oh, yeah. I see where this is going, and I like it.

  “Maybe,” I say. “I mean, you obviously need a little guidance on the seasonal timetable of sports. But, no need to be embarrassed about that. Lots of men need guidance from time to time.” I throw that last part in as the cherry on my sexual-fantasy sundae.

  What’s happened to me? In less than twelve hours this guy has not only managed to rid me of my inhibitions, but he’s got me practically begging him for more. Now he’s left the small kitchen and walked around to my side of the breakfast bar. I can feel his breath on my neck as he stands directly behind me.

  “You’d best watch yourself, Miss James,” he says in a menacing whisper that sends delicious chills down my spine.

  “Or what?” I ask, as I take a disinterested sip from my coffee cup.

  He puts his left hand on my shoulder and reaches around me with his right to take the cup from my grasp. He sets it down on the counter and then guides me off the stool, so that I’m facing the opposite direction.

  “Get into the bedroom.”

  He says this quietly, but with a firmness that implies I’d better not disobey him.

  This is hot. I’m all in.

  I start to walk to my bedroom, looking over my shoulder to see if he’s going to follow me.

  “Face forward,” he growls from right behind me. I feel another naughty little chill run through me.

  Inside the bedroom, I stop in front of the bed, listening as he closes the door behind him and locks it. Who does he think is going to come in? Probably for effect more than anything else.

  And then his hands are on my shoulders, spinning me around to face him. He has lost his pants somewhere between here and the kitchen, and now I have an eyeful of gorgeous in broad daylight.

  “You like that, do you?” he says, watching me intently as my eyes land on his nether regions.

  I nod.

  “I asked you a question,” he says, his voice icy.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then suck it.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me, get on your knees and suck my cock.”

  Never in my life did I think I could be aroused by those words. Now I know better. I drop to my knees and look up a
t him expectantly. He puts one hand behind my head and guides it gently to his penis, which he’s holding in his other hand. I’m tentative at first. I have done this before, but I don’t especially like it. Though at this moment I’m not so much concerned about that as I am about doing a bad job. I’m certain he must have had hundreds of blowjobs by women a lot more experienced and efficient than me.

  Still, I take him in my mouth and slowly start to circle with my tongue. I hear him suck his breath in as I just brush his testicles with the tips of my fingers. His hand encourages me further forward and I allow him deeper into my mouth. He groans and I glance up to see his eyes closed and his head lolling back.

  Now I have a better idea of what last night was about. It’s not just about giving pleasure to someone. It’s about the power, the feeling of control you have while you’re giving it to them. I could stop right now, and his reverie would be over in a heartbeat. But I want to keep going. I want to see just how excited I can get this incredibly sexy boy.

  Did I say boy? At the moment he’s all man.

  I use my teeth, ever so gently, and then pull him out so I can run my tongue along the tip of the head. I can hear his breath grow raspy from above me. I take him again quickly and suck in hard.

  “Oh, Jesus. Julia, my God…”

  Hah! So much for that dominant thing he had going on. Who’s controlling whom now?

  I hold the base of his shaft firmly in one hand, and devote all of my attention to the head of his penis, lightly licking, nibbling and sucking until he’s thrusting himself into my mouth and grabbing my hair by the handful. From there it is only a matter of seconds until I feel the tightening and quivering that is taking hold of him. He holds my head still with his hands and gives one final thrust that puts him over the edge.

  What an ego trip. I had no idea it could be this satisfying. But if I thought it would be snuggle time now, I was mistaken. Still breathing heavily, he reclaims his dominance as I look up at him from the floor. I wait silently until he tells me what to do next.

  “Are you wet?” he asks me.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  “I- I don’t know,” I reply, truly flustered by the question. “I guess so…”

  He grabs me by the elbow and hoists me up. It’s a little rougher than I might like but then again, rough seems to be the word of the day. Next, he pushes me forward over the foot of the bed so I’m face down in the mattress. I feel him tug at my panties until they are sliding down my legs and to the floor. He taps my ankle and I lift it, then the other to step out of them. Once the panties have been dispensed with he leans over me on the bed so that his chest is flush against my back. I feel his breath close to my ear at the same moment I feel his finger exploring me.

  “Well, well Miss James, it would seem you enjoy servicing me.”

  Oh, my. I wonder what he has in store for me next. It doesn’t take long to find out as his hand smacks my posterior with a loud ‘THWAP.’

  “Ouch!” I howl into the sheets.

  “Be quiet or I’m going to have to gag you,” he says in my ear, his voice a soft, menacing whisper.

  What? Seriously? Did he just say he was going to gag me? I guess I’m more into this than I want to admit because I just can’t keep my mouth shut now. When he spanks me again, I yell louder and throw in a little profanity for good measure.

  “Damn, Jeremy, that really hurts!”

  And that, as they say, is that. Before I can blink he’s hauling me up by my waist and flipping me over onto my back, pushing towards the head of the bed once more.

  “Don’t you dare move,” he cautions me. I nod submissively and watch as he finds the previously discarded tights from within the sheets. Then, he hops up to grab something from my dresser drawer. A silk scarf. Uh-oh. Okay, now I might be in a little over my head.

  He sidles up to the bedside and sits next to me on the edge. In an instant he repeats his earlier machinations, securing each wrist to the headboard. There is no mention of scars this time. He nonchalantly crawls over me as he works. And then he’s sitting astride me, totally naked. He looks as if he’s drinking in my every feature.

  “You’re really, really beautiful, Jules,” he whispers.

  Even under these circumstances, I can’t help but smile up at him adoringly. I’m so falling for this guy and that’s a very dangerous place to be. But, before I can ponder that thought, he’s dangling the scarf over me, brushing the silky fabric over my nipples.

  “Do I need this? Or can you keep quiet, Miss James?”

  Hmm. Decisions, decisions.

  “I think I can be quiet,” I say finally in my most demure tone.

  He seems satisfied with my answer but makes certain I’m watching as he holds up the scarf and sets it on the nightstand next to me. Where on earth does this guy get the stamina? Well, I’m not going to complain about it, that’s for sure. He gets up and goes to the foot of the bed where he pulls my legs apart and climbs up to kneel between them. In what seems like one swift movement, my knees are practically pressed up on either side of my chest and his face is hovering only inches from mine.

  “What say we do a little fucking?”

  Before I can reply he slams himself into me with a force that takes my breath away. Instinctively I pull hard against my restraints but they do not give. Almost immediately he pulls out and repeats the maneuver with equal ferocity. And then a third time, and a fourth until he feels me start to move underneath him and then he stops. What? No! I pull again, uselessly, and he smiles at me with a wicked glint.

  “What’s the matter, Jules? Did you need me to do something for you?” his voice is all syrupy insincerity.

  I will not give him the satisfaction; I can wait it out as long as he can.

  Oh so slowly, he pulls out until I feel just the tip of him in me. I’m holding my breath. After what feels like an eternity he leans down and starts to suck one of my nipples and I let out a soft moan. He’s inching his way back in slowly.

  Okay, maybe I can’t wait it out.

  “Please,” I say and he looks up from my breast.

  “Did I tell you that you could speak?”

  “Please,” I repeat, the need apparent in my voice.

  He softens a little.

  “Ask me nicely.”

  “Please, Jeremy. Please. I need you. Now,” I say with breathless desperation.

  That does the trick. In a second flat he’s thrusting so hard that the top of my head hits the headboard. It is rough and fast. So, so fast. As my climax approaches my wrists pull wildly against their binding, making everything even more intense. Harder and faster, harder and faster. In an instant, we are both engulfed by the same wave of ecstasy.

  17

  He’s carrying his horn case in his right hand, and my cello case in his left.

  “You really don’t have to do that,” I insist for the fifth time.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “But why? I’ve been hauling that thing around for thirteen years. I think I’ve got the hang of it by now.”

  He stops in the middle of the hallway and turns to look at me.

  “You’re not getting this, are you, Jules?”

  I put my palms up towards the ceiling in a shrug.

  “What? What am I not getting?”

  “It’s like I’m sending a message. I’m walking into the rehearsal with you. I’m carrying your cello. I’m kissing you right smack in the middle of the hallway, so everyone will know you’re mine.”

  “Wait a minute, back that up, please. First of all, I’m not anyone’s. Second of all, you’re not kissing…”

  Before I can even finish the sentence he has dropped both cases to the floor and sweeps me up in his arms. I don’t have a moment to protest before his mouth is on mine. I’m totally lost in the moment. Maybe I am his.

  And then I’m spinning. Jeremy has actually picked me up by the waist and is spinning me around slowly, his lips never losing contact with mine. B
y the time he puts me down again, I am giddy... and more than a little dizzy.

  “See what I mean?” he asks, tilting his head to where several people have stopped to watch us with interest. A couple of violinists are actually whispering and pointing.

  “No one’s ever seen me do that with a girl,” he says proudly.

  “Your point being what, Mr. Corrigan?”

  “My point being, Miss James, that I’m planning on sticking around to see where this goes. As far as I’m concerned there are no other women in the orchestra, or anywhere else for that matter.”

  I can’t help myself. I have to reach up and touch his face with my hand. I spent the rest of the weekend expecting him to vanish, certain he wouldn’t be at the apartment when I finished practicing. Sure I’d wake up this morning and he’d be gone.

  “Don’t be late, Julia,” Mila says snidely as she walks past us and down the hall.

  “Someone’s jealous,” Jeremy observes.

  “Maybe so, but she’s not wrong. We’re going to be late. Come on,” I say, grabbing up the music folder that I have dropped during my little spin cycle. He takes the instruments again and we enter the rehearsal hall together.

  “Good weekend, then?” Mila asks once I’m settled in my seat and we’ve tuned.

  It’s obviously a rhetorical question, but I decide to answer it anyway.

  “Yeah, actually, it was a great weekend, Mila. Thanks for asking.”

  She’s glaring at me petulantly. I just pull out the music we’re working on today and start to rosin my bow. If she’s waiting for something else, like an apology or an explanation, she’s going to be waiting for a long time.

  “Oh, fine!” she says finally, with an exasperated sigh. “Fine. You and Jeremy, I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.” She leans a little closer to me and drops her voice. “Can I just ask you something?”

  I raise an eyebrow. It’s all the encouragement she needs.

  “Do you think maybe you could fix me up with his brother, Brett?”

  I shake my head and laugh.

  “I’ll see what I can do, Mila.”

  ****

  As it turns out, Mila isn’t the only one who has issues with my new relationship status. When I get to my orchestration class, Cal Burridge is waiting in the hallway.