The rustle of cloth as he takes off his shirt tells me everything I need to know about what's coming next, and I can hardly bear waiting. I can see his strong arms and gorgeous, toned shoulders in my mind's eye, and I want desperately to take off this damned blindfold and gaze upon his perfect body again.
...then I hear the metallic clink of belt buckle unfastening and I completely lose it.
Beads of sweat form on my forehead and blood rushes through my veins as I imagine his muscular legs and sculpted ass. I reach out blindly for him, finding his chest and running my fingertips down his smooth skin as dizzying excitement clouds my mind.
"Enjoying what you're feeling?" asks Terrence, and I can imagine his pleased smile as he catches my hand and presses it firmly against his rock-hard stomach. His body is absolutely perfect, and I'm missing out on it because of this stupid fucking blindfold. I'm developing one hell of a love-hate relationship with this thing.
He slowly guides my hand down his body, down... down... and then he places my hand against him, giving me one brief moment to feel his excitement for myself and for tantalizing images to build up in my mind before pinning me down on the bed again.
"Do you like the blindfold, Irene?" he asks as he holds me down against the mattress. My body reacts instantly, and before I even realize what I'm doing, my legs wrap around his waist and pull him in close to me. He slowly rolls his hips forward and my body ignites as I feel him move against me through the thin material of my underwear.
"I want to see you," I gasp, writhing and arching my back as he rolls his hips against me, subjecting me to the most heavenly torture I've ever imagined. "Let me take the mask off and see you."
"Not yet," he growls. "Leave it on."
"Please," I beg him as images of his perfect, naked body burn in my mind. I want to see him. I want to see him with me, making love to me, pushing into me and taking me for himself. I can't stand this blindfold!
"You want to know when you can take it off?" he whispers, releasing my hands from his powerful grip and trailing his fingers down through my hair to the sensitive nape of my neck.
"God, yes!"
"You can take it off when you're so frantic, so desperate to fuck me that you can't control yourself," he says, his voice low, primal and almost dripping with sex. "You can take it off when your body demands it and won't take no for an answer."
Before I can say anything else, he leans in and kisses me again, stifling my thrilled moans as he traces my curves with his fingertips. I gasp for air as he releases me from his kiss, and then his lips move slowly down my body, kissing my neck, between my breasts, and all the way down to the left string tie of my underwear.
He halts his trail of kisses for one impossibly long moment, leaving me to tremble in antiremay dcipation, and then I shiver at the touch of his tongue against my skin. His mouth closes around the left bow and my brain folds under the pressure and checks out for a smoke break. He's undressing me with his teeth and it's the sexiest thing I've ever felt in my life.
The left tie of my underwear comes undone and hangs free against my skin. Feeling the loose ends lying against me and trailing down my leg is the strangest turn-on, and I'm breathing so quickly now that I'm seeing stars. I may very well hyperventilate if Terrence keeps going with his delicious, thrilling torture.
He ignores the other bow, seeming content to leave it to torment me for now, and he instead resumes his exploratory kisses down my body. He kisses along my hip where the string used to be and then downward until he reaches the lace band of my stocking.
"Your skin is so soft, Irene," he whispers as his fingers dip beneath the band of my stocking and slowly roll it down my leg. "I could touch you like this all night long."
God, I hope he doesn't do that. I love every second of it, but I don't think I can handle much more of this. My entire body burns with passion, and all I want is for him to set me free and take me already! He slowly removes my second stocking, maybe even more slowly than the first, and he kisses my inside thigh with each deliberate roll of his fingers.
I hear the stockings land softly somewhere across the room as I lie beneath Terrence with my legs bared to the cool night air. Cold weather or not, I can feel the sheen of sweat on my skin as he runs his hands back up my legs, exploring them, all but worshipping my body until he reaches the one final bow upholding my modesty.
My underwear falls loosely against my skin with one quick pluck at the bow, and then he pulls them down and away from me. It feels so delightfully dirty to be lying here like this, completely bare except for my bra and a blindfold. In an inexplicable sort of way, it somehow feels even sexier than being entirely naked with him.
Terrence's fingers flit down my body, down between my legs as he moves in close to me, and then I cry out in pleasure and arch my back as he finds me. Without my underwear muting his touch, the sensation is so powerful that it ignites every nerve in my body on its way up to my overwhelmed brain.
He lifts my legs and moves in close, slowly rolling his hips against me, teasing me by how close he is to taking me, and I instinctively wrap my legs around him and pull him in even closer so that I can feel every inch of him against me. His broad, muscular chest pushes me down into the mattress, almost suffocating me in the most amazing and wonderful way imaginable. The combination of his cologne and a manly, almost primal scent intoxicates me and clouds what little of my rational mind is still functioning.
I can't bear another second of not being able to see him. His trim, muscular body glows in my mind as he toys with me, and the images of him drive me wild almost as much as he does in real life. Is this how it is for him all the time? Is this how he feels making love to me—frustrated that he can't see me and desperately wishing he could take off his impossible blindfold?
I can't wait anymore. I have to have him right now.
The moment I rip off my blindfold, Terrence kisses me with unmatched, animal passion, inhaling my scream of ecstasy as he enters me. I catch one brief glimpse of his muscular body shining with sweat just like mine, and then the powerful sensations build up inside me and overwhelm my senses. My eyelids flutter shut as he takes me higher aes lar nd higher, building me up with strong strokes until I'm right on the edge, and I scream his name over and over the entire way there.
Without missing a stroke, he suddenly rolls me over so that I'm on top of him. He grabs me roughly by the hips and guides my movements, and I whimper in delight as he pushes deep into me again and again. My body tenses as the wondrous feeling soars upward toward its apex and burns white-hot in my mind. It's so close now that my cries of pleasure pile up inside me, quickly building into a powerful scream that just can't seem to escape my chest.
With one last strong thrust, my climax teeters over the edge and crashes down on me. I tremble uncontrollably as wave after wave of glorious feelings arc like electricity through my body, and still Terrence doesn't stop. He's stretching out the heavenly sensations for as long as he can, drawing every last scream of pleasure out of me until I'm completely satisfied. By the time he finally reaches his own climax, I'm totally and utterly spent in the best way imaginable, and my body feels as heavy as lead as I crash down from my dizzying climax. I couldn't ask for another thing in the world but to cling to him in a state of almost euphoric exhaustion as he kisses me.
He lets out a soft groan as his own climax builds and then overpowers him, and his thrusts slow to a languid pace and then stop entirely. God, he felt incredible. I gasp for air as I collapse on the bed. When was the last time I breathed? I can't actually remember...
Terrence cuddles up beside me and holds me in his arms as he presses his chest gently against my back. He pulls the comfor
ter up and around us like our own personal cocoon, and I have no words to describe how I feel as he kisses me lovingly on the back of the neck.
"You're unbelievable, Irene," he whispers breathlessly into my ear. "I hope you had as amazing a night as I just did."
I really should
answer him. I should tell him how incredible everything felt and what a mind-blowing night I had, but I'm so tired that all I can do sigh contentedly. I'm so completely exhausted and satisfied that it's all I can do to stay awake right now, let alone formulate sentences.
I lean back against Terrence and inhale his strong, comforting scent, and suddenly even staying awake is beyond me now. My body feels so wonderfully heavy and my eyes keep rolling back in my head despite my efforts to stay awake.
My consciousness crumbles away, and without a single word, I fall into a deep, satisfied sleep with Terrence by my side.
wi
wi
wi
Chapter XXIII
I’m sixteen and Isaac is seventeen...
I haven't gone outside for two days now. I don't want to.
My mother is outside and so are her boyfriends. All my classmates—those horrible, evil people who hate me for nothing—are outside too. I don't want to see them anymore. I don't want to go back to that school again.
Isaac's somewhere out there, too. He's probably at school laughing at how he betrayed me. He's probably the talk of the class right now after how he set me up at his party.
Things are terrible outside, but in my room, the blankets are warm and comforting.
The door opens in the living room and a man's voice drifts to my ears through the thin wall. Mom's "date" is here, and she giggles as she greets him. This one's an out-call and she's heading over to his hotel for the evening.
The sofa slams against the wall with a loud thud and my mother squeals in fake delight. At least I thought it was an out-call. That's what Mom told me this morning. She didn't ask why I wasn't at school or even wonder if I was sick. All she said was that she had a customer, that she'd be going back to his place and that I should stay out of her hair for the day.
I stayed in bed. I hope that was good enough for her.
I try to go back to sleep again, but it's no use. The afternoon sun blinds me as it streams in the window, and I have so much pent-up restless energy that there's no way I'm getting back to sleep, even if I want to. I don't have to worry about going back to school when I'm asleep. I don't have to remember how badly Isaac hurt me. It feels as if there's a gaping hole in my chest where something important ought to be but isn't.
I need to get some fresh air. I need to think.
Mom keeps on doing whomever it is she's doing as I quietly climb out of bed and get dressed. I pull on my only pair of jeans—a slightly too tight pair from when I was fourteen—and a purple hoodie I snatched up on sale at Goodwill last year, and then I head for the window. The roof doesn't count as outside because nobody can hurt me up there.
The rusty hinges groan and complain as I crank open the window, and I roll my eyes as Mom cries out again in the next room. Her customer is certainly getting his money's worth today. Mom's next squeal sounds painful, as if her customer's getting a little too rough with her, and I cringe on her behalf.
Give us this day our daily dose, I think bitterly as I wriggle out through the open window. Nothing keeps a girl off heroin quite like having an addicted mother. I can't count how many times I tried to convince her to get help, but she always refuses. Short of calling the cops on her, I don't know what else to do anymore.
I have to get away of this house. I don't know how to escape, but I know I have to leave or I'll end up just like her.
The rickety metal fire escape creaks as I land on it, and the second I stand up and brush myself off, I see the car parked out front. Isaac's black Mercedes practically glistens, basking in its superiority over all my neighbors' vehicles as it sits at the curb. Isaac stares up at me over the steering wheel, his green eyes almost glowing with intensity as he watches me.
I turn away and climb up to the roof. Fuck him. I was an idiot to think he liked me.
"Nina! I need to talk to you!"
His voice cuts through the rush of the wind as I climb toward the ridge of the roof, but I don't bother answering. I want to shout something back at him, but I know that I can't control my anger the way I want to. I've buried it for so long now that I start crying and shaking when I get upset, and that doesn't help at all.
Just ignore him and he'll go away, I think, and I close my eyes and pretend I can't hear him. The wind rustles through my hair and cools the strange heat rising in my cheeks as Isaac shouts my name again.
"Please talk to me," he begs, getting out of his car now and walking toward my house. "I had nothing to do with the party! I'm so sorry!"
Sorry isn't going to cut it. After what he did to me—after having his mother throw me out in front of everyone from school—I almost want to spit in his face for thinking he can fool me again.
"Go to hell, asshole," I yell back to him, and the anger inside me dissipates for one brief moment. Crying into my pillow all yesterday transformed my voice into a low, ragged growl, and it perfectly fits how I feel right now.
"I'm coming up," he calls out from the bottom of the fire escape, and then I hear the creak of metal as he begins his ascent.
"Good—you can throw yourself off when you get up here," I fire back at him, scrambling further up the roof away from him. Pure bitterness is all that's keeping me going right now, and even though he can’t possibly hurt me anymore than he already has, I still don't want to talk to him.
The rusty fire escape whines and squeals beneath Isaac's weight as his blond haystack appears over the edge of the rain gutter, followed by his piercing eyes and then the rest of his trim, muscular form. I look away and pretend I can't see him.
Go away go away go away go away, I scream over and over in my mind like a twisted mantra, as if I could wish him away if only I say the words enough times. I curl up against the roof and wrap my arms around myself as the wind suddenly blows cold against my skin. I don't know if I'm trying to stay warm or to hold in what little's left of my self-esteem. Maybe both.
Isaac is scrambling up the roof on his hands and knees when I glance back over my shoulder, but he stops and sits down a full arm's length away. Good—I might have shoved him off the roof if he came any closer.
"Talk to me, Nina," he whispers, his voice sounding almost as upset as I feel, and suddenly all the retorts I'd planned are gone. All the hateful, cruel words I wanted to say to him vanish as my fire goes out, and a bitter cold slowly seeps into its place.
Talk to me. I hadn't expected that. I don't know why, but somehow it wasn't what I thought he'd say. I was ready for a flurry of excuses, stories to convince me that he wasn't a fucking asshole like all the rest of them, but instead... talk to me.
As I turn to face him, I can feel tears working their way up beneath my eyelids. They're hot with shame and anger, and I start to shake as fury suddenly builds up inside me again. Emotional defenses are illusory at best and mine are particularly weak. I want to slap him as hard as I can, to claw at his face and scream at him, but instead all I can do is stare into his gentle, caring eyes and feel the sobs start to build up inside me.
I hate him. No, I don't... I hate something, but whatever it is, it isn't Isaac.
"I don’t even know where to start." I nearly choke on the words as I try not to start crying again.
"I'll wait," he whispers, sitting patiently while I try to pull together what little fury I can muster.
"How could you do this to me?" I finally ask, and as the words leave my lips, more questions queue up to take their shot at him. "How could you hurt me like that, lie to me for so long and then set me up like that?"
I start to rock back and forth, trembling as tears stream down my face, but Isaac remains silent.
"Say something," I whisper, but he still doesn't say anything. The fire bursts to life inside me again and I lash out, leaning out and slapping Isaac hard across the face.
"Answer me!" I half-screech and half-blubber. "How could you do this to me?"
He sighs, climbs higher up the roof and then sits down beside medow"Answer .
"My father's name is
Gregory," he whispers after what feels like an eternity of silence. "You didn't see him at the party, did you?"
I shake my head, and Isaac takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.
"He and my mother separated four years ago," he says, lowering his voice as if ashamed to tell me. "She caught him having an affair with one of our maids."
"So what?" I fire back bitterly. This isn't about his mother's affair—it's about him humiliating me and using her to hurt me.
"Her name was Maritza," he answers. "I don't remember her last name, but she was eighteen and lived with us on a work visa from Panama."
Gregory put you up to this, didn't he? Isaac's mother howls at me inside my head. He just can't let go, can he?
Chasing Wishes Page 21