by Sarah Bailey
His brow furrowed, and he was about to say something, but I raised my hand to stop him. “Just hear me out,” I said. I felt awkward getting into this so soon. We were, after all, on only our first date, but the discussion had already gotten so deep, and so intense, so soon. I decided I may as well get another piece of my baggage out of the closet. “Like I told you last night at the bar, my dad, he swept my mom off her feet. But there was a price to pay, as there always is. She gave up her career. Her art. And spent the better part of her prime years looking after my dad, then me, until he finally left her for a younger woman.”
Julian’s eyes softened. “I promise you, with me there will never be a price. I’ll never rob you of your identity. Never make you live in my shadow.”
I suddenly felt embarrassed. “Like you said last night. We shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves.”
He took a bite of his soup, then met my eyes again. “Do you feel awkward having such an intimate conversation?”
I considered for a moment, then smiled and shook my head. “Oddly enough, I don’t. Somehow I feel so comfortable with you. I don’t know, in some ways it feels like I’ve known you for years.”
He nodded, and took another bit of his soup. “I feel the same way.” Something about the way he was looking at me over the table, his expression both ravenous and reverent, made me want to lunge at him. I flicked my eyes away, grabbed my wine glass, and swallowed a huge gulp.
“Take it easy,” he said.
I gave him a challenging look. “I thought it was clear from our negotiations that I will only take orders in bed, and not anywhere else.” I took another long swig, draining my glass. It was a waste of good wine to drink it so quickly, but I needed it desperately to calm my nerves. I reached for the bottle, intent on pouring myself another glass, but Julian reached over and stilled my hand.
“I need you to take it easy,” he repeated, his eyes humorless. “I intend to take you to my bed tonight, and I want you sober.”
“If I’m drunk, it will make it easier for me to let go,” I said.
Julian pinned me with another deadly serious gaze. “I don’t want you to let go because of the booze. I want you to let go because it’s me that pushes you over the edge.”
I felt another surge of arousal, another intense fluttering in my stomach, and decided that there was no way I was going to survive this man if I didn’t have another drink. “You’re killing me, Julian,” I said, outrageously turned on and frustrated. “I want you right now. So badly, it’s killing me. I’m so revved up that I feel like I’m going to explode. If I have to sit here another minute I’ll be pouncing on you, giving the whole restaurant a show. So do the humane thing and let this girl have a drink. It’s the only thing that will help me endure this exquisite, mind-blowing torture.”
Julian looked triumphant, grinning at me roguishly across the table. He released his grip on the bottle, and seeing my opportunity, I grabbed it and poured myself another glass. Just then the server arrived with our Coq au vin. “I’m so sorry,” Julian said to the server, “but please let Bill know there’s been a change of plans. Something rather important has come up that we need to attend to immediately. Could you please package our mains for take-out?”
I felt my mouth drop open. Holy hell. This was it. I took another long swig of my wine, and Julian gave me a warning look across the table. “One more sip of that wine, and there will be hell to pay,” he said sternly.
I stared at him with mock horror. “Well we can’t just leave it unfinished. That would be a tragic waste.”
Julian picked up the bottle and examined it. There was a third of it left. Just then Bill appeared, looking concerned. “Is everything all right, Mr. McGregor?”
“Yes,” he said. “Everything was just perfect. But something rather urgent has come up,” he added, giving me a smoldering look across the table. “Perhaps I could interest the wait staff on break in a touch of your finest Gaffeliere?”
The corners of Bill’s mouth turned up, and his gave Julian a small wink. Clearly the two of them were on very friendly terms. “I’m sure they’d be very interested. Thank you kindly, sir.” He bowed slightly, then added, “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“Just the bill,” Julian said.
“Very well, sir. It was a pleasure, as always, to serve you.” Then he turned to me and added, “And you as well Madame.” I flashed him a smile, and he beamed at me, then disappeared.
Julian took care of the bill, grabbed the take out package, and quickly got to his feet. “Come,” he said, pulling my chair out for me and holding out his hand.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“For a wild ride in the canyons.”
***
Julian wasn’t kidding. As soon as he had me safely in the Ferrari, he revved the engine, and took off racing down the street. He let the windows down, and the humid Los Angeles heat filled the car. My hair started whipping in the wind created by the speed of the car, and I could smell that seductive mint and honey scent of eucalyptus in the air. A gang of motorcyclists raced past the Ferrari, all of them clad in black leather, and one rider with a red helmet and a goatee flipped Julian the bird and grinned wickedly before leaving us in the dust. I saw a glint of competition flare in Julian’s eyes. “I could make those guys eat my dirt,” he said. “But there are ladies present. I must retain a sense of decorum.”
I threw my head back laughing. “I think a sense of decorum went out the window the moment you told me what you wanted to do to me with your cock.”
I crossed my legs, and the high slit of my dress exposed most of my thigh. The flash of skin caught Julian’s eye, and he groaned. “That dress is going to make me crash the car,” he said.
“Do you want me to cover up?” I asked, my tone slightly coy.
“No,” he said sharply, then reached over and ran his fingers along my exposed skin. My sex clenched hard, and my skin turned to goose bumps. Pleased by my physical response, he lifted his hand back to the gear shift. I closed my eyes for a few long moments, enjoying the feel of the warm air caressing my face. When I opened them again, the blaring lights and noise of the city were far behind us. We were starting to climb up into the canyons. As Julian drove the car up, up, up, twisting and turning his way along the steep and narrow road, I breathed deeply, savoring the smell of wild sage permeating the thick, steamy night air. Finally, when we were almost as high as we could go, Julian pulled off to the side of the road. “Come on,” he said. “The view up here is incredible.”
When I emerged from the car, my eyes adjusted to the dark, and I saw a thick railing in front of us, and, beyond it, a breathtaking view of Los Angeles. The sky was dark, and starless, but down below I could see the glittering city; a million specks of pulsing white light, throbbing and vibrant. At the edge of the horizon, I could just make out the ocean, an undulating black mass in the distance. From somewhere not too far off, I heard the cry of a lone coyote, and then it’s echo through the canyons.
Julian wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and pulled me close. “Nice view,” I said, smiling up at him. His eyes were soft.
“This is my favorite place to come when I need to clear my head,” he said. His eyes focused off somewhere in the distance. “Whenever my head gets too cluttered with work, I come up her for a change in perspective. It’s a reminder that my problems are so small in the greater scheme of things.”
I nodded, then wrapped my arm around his waist. “I have a place like that, too,” I said. “Whenever life becomes too overwhelming, I escape to the Santa Monica pier and spend literally hours staring out at the ocean.”
A brief glint of curiosity sparked in Julian’s eyes. “The pier?” he said. “That’s not too far from my beach house. I bike to the Santa Monica pier most mornings. Sometimes at night as well.”
“We may have passed each other without even knowing it,” I said.
Julian’s eyes flashed with something I couldn’t place. “There’s no
way that happened,” he said. “I would have noticed you. And probably followed you home.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “That’s called stalking, Julian, and it’s illegal.”
“Illegal is hitting you over the head with a bat, and then dragging you to my home. I would have just insisted that you give me your number.”
The air was deadly still, and I could suddenly make out the sound of the crashing waves. Julian turned around to face me, and tilted up my chin. Desire snapped into his eyes, and he slid his hand along my leg, up to the slit of my dress. The feel of his warm, strong hand against my bare leg, so close to my clenching sex, made me tremble with need. My arms slid to his waist, and I pulled him close. Up against him, I could feel his cock straining for me through his suit pants. He let out a low groan. “I’ve been craving that hot mouth of yours all night, and now I’m going to take it,” he said. The next instant he swooped down for my mouth, gently taking my lower lip between his teeth. Then his mouth was fully on mine, crushing my lips, and I felt his fingers slide up my leg, and skirt against the edge of my lace panties. His tongue dipped in my mouth, teasing me, savoring me, and coaxing the spark of my desire into full flame. I slid my mouth down along his jaw line, feeling the pleasant burn of his slight stubble against my cheek. I kissed his strong, muscular neck, and felt the vibration of his moan from deep inside his throat.
And then his finger slid under the fabric of my panties, and pushed inside me. “God, Sarah, you’re so wet,” he said, stroking me leisurely. I gasped, and arched my back at his touch. Pleasure gleamed in his eyes, and he held me steady, his free hand cupping my buttocks. He pulled his finger out, and expertly parted my folds until he was pressing gently against my clit, massaging it in circles, then in strokes. I moaned again, and started writhing in his arms. He held me steady, close, so that I could feel the heat coming off his body, and see the look of victory in his eyes. He had me right where he wanted me. And I wanted to be nowhere else. I was ready for him. I slid my hand over the bulge in his pants, and then frantically tried to unzip him. He pulled his finger out of me, and stilled my hand. “No, Sarah. This is about you right now.”
I shook my head, frantic, feeling suddenly deprived of that expert finger between my folds. “I want you, now,” I said. “I don’t want to wait anymore. I want you inside me.”
His eyes twinkling gleefully, he picked me up, carried me over to the car, and sprawled me out on the hood. It was still warm. Then he slid over me, looking down at me with a predatory gaze. He roughly pulled down the top of my dress, and freed my breasts. As he tugged gently on my nipples, then worked them over expertly with his tongue, I felt waves of pleasure crash through me. I thrust my hips shamelessly against him, then pulling his crotch down against mine. “Take me,” I managed to say, my voice hoarse with desire.
“Not yet,” he said, hiking up my dress. With on one swift jerk, he ripped my panties right off of me. Suddenly I was lying on the hood of his car, completely exposed, my stomach flexing with anticipation. He slid his mouth down my belly, and inhaled deeply as his face hovered above my pussy. I was panting, breathless, and so so needy.
“Please, Julian,” I said, squirming slightly. He stilled my hips with his hands, then separated my folds with his tongue. His tongue leisurely stroked my clit, then fluttered over it, then stroked it again, building me up almost to the breaking point, and then taking me down again. He continued to tease me relentlessly, taking me right to the brink, but not letting me go over the edge. I was panting, quivering, aching for a release. “Please, Julian,” I whimpered again.
I could feel him smiling. “What is it that you want, Sarah? What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to make me come!” I screamed, then started squirming again. He held me tight, then plunged back between my folds, sucking and licking and flicking furiously with his tongue until a jolt of euphoria shot through me, and I cried out. As I pumped my hips, Julian held onto my buttocks and kept working my clit with his tongue until another orgasm roiled through me. Wave after wave of ecstasy pounded through my blood, until I was a whimpering, quivering mess, lying utterly spent in Julian’s arms, on the roof of his car. As my breathing slowed down, I heard another shrill cry of a coyote, and became aware of the crash of the waves far below. Julian pulled down my dress, and shifted back up to me, placing long, lingering kisses in the dip above my collarbone.
“I love this part of your body,” he said, tracing the delicate bones with his finger. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you here all night. There’s something so sensuous and elegant about it. It was driving me crazy at the restaurant.”
I cupped his face between my hands and gave him a slow, lingering kiss. He smiled at me, looking very pleased with himself. “Come on,” he said, reaching out for my hand. “We’re going back to my place. It’s late, and we haven’t had dinner yet. You must be starving.”
“Hey,” I said, pulling him back. I reached for the waist of his trousers, and gave him a sultry look. “It’s your turn.” I slid my hand lower, and could feel that the bulge was still there. His eyes darkened, and his hissed his breath in through his teeth, then grabbed my hand and pulled it away. “Not yet.”
I let out a long sigh. “I’m not going to go home leaving you unsatisfied, Julian. A relationship is two-way. Give and take.”
“Who said anything about you going home?” he asked, rubbing his finger along my hand. “You’re coming to my place, and you’re staying the night.”
I shook my head. “I’ll come for dinner. And hopefully more sex after dinner. But then I’m going home.”
His expression darkened. “I want you in my bed. For the whole night.” He reached over and stroked my cheek. “We’re not fuck buddies, Sarah. We’re getting into a relationship. And people in a relationship sleep over.”
I suddenly felt very uncomfortable. This night so far had been incredible. There was no question that Julian drove me wild, and he knew exactly how to push my buttons. But this night had also been almost too intense. I’d already shared so much of myself with Julian, and my instinct now was to pull back. Get some breathing space and mull everything over.
“I’m not letting you leave,” Julian repeated. “Because if you leave, you’ll have too much time to think, and then you’ll run scared.”
I looked at him in shock. He’d known me for such a short time, and already he could read me perfectly. “I’m just going to be needing a bit of space, Julian.”
“Space for what?”
“To sort things through.”
“You can sort things through curled up in my arms.”
I decided to change tactics. “We both have to work tomorrow, and I can’t go to work in this dress.”
“No problem,” he said. “We’ll get up early, and I’ll drive you home so you can shower and change.”
“But– ”
“No buts,” he said, putting his finger on my lip. “You’re sleeping over. Now come.”
***
“We’re here,” Julian said, pulling his car into a driveway at the back of a towering Modernist house. “We’ll enter through the front,” he said, taking my hand and leading me through an alleyway to Ocean Front Walk. As soon as we emerged from the alley, I was hit with the powerful smell of brine in the air, an expanse of beach stretching out before me, and the waves crashing loudly less than a hundred feet away. “Welcome to Venice Beach,” he said, taking my hand and leading me up a series of winding steps to a rectangular shaped house made mostly of glass and steel. His neighbors’ houses also had an avant garde design. On the left there was a long and narrow purple stucco house with circular windows and a Romeo and Juliet balcony, and on the right, a white multilayered structure with blue windows.
As soon as I entered Julian’s house, I was totally blown away. The interior had very high ceilings, giving the house an airy feel, with mahogany beams to add warmth, and a series of skylights to let in the sun in the morning. One entire wall of the living room was made of
blue tinted glass, and provided a breathtaking view of the ocean. Centered in the living room was a large designer glass table with legs made of thick eucalyptus logs, which sat right in front of a long sectional couch made of soft, brown leather. 1950s Oriental pottery gave the room a splash of color, and a Louis XV mirror added a classy touch. Off the living room was a set of winding stairs that Julian told me led to the bedrooms and library.
“Now, let’s eat,” he said, taking my hand and leading me to the kitchen. The countertops were made of Italian marble, and the stove and all of the appliances were the best money can buy. A Deco rosewood table sat off to the side, right in front of sliding glass panel doors that led to a private outdoor courtyard.
I raised an eyebrow at Julian, and gestured to the stove. “Fancy digs, Mr. McGregor. But do you get any use out of all this splendor? Or do you just use the elements to boil your eggs in the morning?”