by Karen Ferry
“Spread them,” he commands. I obey at once. “Good,” he praises me softly, and I trill at the the appraising gaze I find in his eyes. In the way his strong hands linger on my hips, gripping onto me tight for a short moment. He reaches down to grip onto his T-shirt and removes it quickly, making my mouth water from seeing his bare chest.
Fuck, I want to taste his skin.
He proceeds to unbutton my shirt and takes it off, leaving me in my lilac bra, tube skirt and pumps.
“Gorgeous.” Garrett pulls my skirt up until it bunches at my waist and then he peers down at my pussy. A new surge of arousal hits me in my core as he trails his index finger along the lace barely covering me, and I moan at the warmth.
“Fuck,” he mutters and falls to his knees before me. Achingly slow, he pulls down my thong, baring me before him. I lift my feet one at a time, and when he leans forward to inhale my scent, I think I come a little.
This is beyond erotic. It’s intoxicating.
Garrett lifts his head and when his eyes meet mine, I gasp at the intensity I find there.
“Turn around and bend down,” he orders me, and I do as he asks. “Hold onto the couch, waif. I’m going to devour you. Are you ready?”
“Yes, Sir,” I pant.
I’m beyond ready.
I can feel his hands on my arse, spreading the cheeks, and I bite down on my lip as he blows on my clit. I’m aching for him, and he knows it. When he licks my pussy from my clit all the way up to my puckered hole, a small shriek leaves my lips.
“Oh, god.” I’m burning up from the inside.
He slaps my arse, and my core clenches from the sting, only heightening my pleasure.
“No talking,” he berates me.
I bend my head, covering my mouth on my shoulder to prevent any further sounds from escaping me. I close my eyes as he starts to suck on my clit, and my legs shake from the strain of holding back. The yearning to roll my hips, to press my arse back to get more of his clever tongue is overwhelming. But like the good pupil that I am, I resist.
Garrett’s mouth leaves me only to be replaced by a finger. I’m so wet I think I’m going to come any second now; the loud rumble that escapes him is as sweet as music to my ears.
“Your cunt is greedy, waif,” he growls. I just nod, keeping my silence. “Fuck, I love the reaction I get from eating you out. You’re completely enthralled, overtaken by pleasure. It’s such a high, knowing that I’m the one responsible for stealing such a response from you.”
He puts another finger inside me, but only for a short time, and at last I feel his tongue on my clit again. His other hand keeps massaging my arse, and then another slap to it falls down. Tears form in my eyes, but I barely notice them.
Garrett’s right: I’m utterly enthralled, consumed by his hunger for me.
I tense up slightly when he starts to circle my arse with a thumb.
His mouth leaves my clit briefly. “Shh,” he croons. “Just relax. Let me in.”
I’m no stranger to backdoor play, but it takes a certain amount of trust for me to fully enjoy it.
But for Garrett, I’ll try…
I breathe deeply, relaxing further, and am rewarded with another twirl of his fingers inside my pussy.
“Good girl,” he praises me and spits on my arse, rubbing the moisture around the hole. I can’t keep my long moan inside when I feel his mouth sucking and licking on my clit again.
This time, he doesn’t berate me for being unable to remain silent.
This time, his thumb presses down on my arse, slipping inside me easily, and I’m overcome with pleasure as he simultaneously finger fucks my arse and laps up the juices from my pussy.
“Garrett – Sir…I’m going to…” Head thrashing, I push my hips back, the tingling in my spine intensifying at a rapid pace.
“Come, waif,” he orders me. When he scrapes his teeth against my clit, I topple over the teetering cliff he’s kept me on for so long.
I fly – higher and higher, screaming his name. My shaking knees buckle underneath me, and if it weren’t for Garrett holding onto my hips, I’d melt into a puddle on the floor. I breathe deeply, taking comfort in his soft caresses on my back and his mouth placing a lingering kiss on my spine.
His action surprises me, as it’s the first time he’s come even close to something resembling affection towards me. I daren’t mention it for fear of his rejection, and clear my throat.
“I have no words.” My words are garbled, hoarse, almost incomprehensible. He chuckles behind me, pressing his hips against my ass. “I just need a minute.”
More like twenty.
“Don’t worry, Suzy. Remember what I told you? I won’t fuck you until we’ve both had something to eat.”
“How is it you’re even able to wait? You must be close to bursting by now.”
A small niggle of self-doubt enters my mind. What if he isn’t as eager to fuck me as I thought?
“Don’t ever doubt how lust crazed you make me, Suzy.” He leans down, covering my back, and the touch of his sweaty chest makes me shiver. His breath tickles my ear and I tilt my head back so I can peer into his eyes. I take in the sweat on his brow, his flushed cheeks and swollen lips before returning my gaze to his.
“Does this look like a man who’s not aching to fuck you?” he asks me, and I shake my head.
“No. But why –?”
“Because you need to eat, or you’ll faint on me. We can’t have that, now can we?”
I frown and begin to straighten up now that I’ve got my wits about me again.
“I don’t know if I should be slightly offended that you’re not going to violate me right now, or touched by your keen efforts to make sure I eat regularly.” I grin at him and tuck down my skirt, wanting to unzip it.
As it falls to my feet, Garrett stops me from picking up my thong, snatching it up just as the tips of my fingers touch it. I straighten up and frown when he tucks them in his back pocket, a wolfish smile in place.
“I’ll keep these for now.”
Curiosity peaked, I turn to walk to the walk-in closet to find another pair, but his arm circling my waist from behind stops me in my tracks.
He bites down on my shoulder, and I jump a little, my cheeks heating up again. He flicks the clasp on my bra, and removes the straps from my arms. His other arm comes up to cover my torso, embracing me from behind, and his mouth leaves a trail of kisses – starting at my shoulder, up the curve of my neck, until he tilts my head closer to his. His mouth slams down on mine, and his fingers play with my nipples as his tongue sweeps inside to take what he craves.
The kiss ends as quickly as he started it, and I’m left panting with lust again, my clit throbbing with need.
“I want you to sit naked at the bar while we eat,” Garrett instructs. “And trust me, waif – once your hunger for food has vanished, I’ll ravish you in all sorts of wicked ways. Understood?”
I blink once and then whisper back, “Understood, Sir.”
AFTER GARRETT DID INDEED devour me in all kinds of delicious ways on the kitchen counter, he ended up calling the restaurant, telling his sous-chef that he wouldn’t come in after all. While I don’t want him to feel that he has to stay home with me, I can’t deny that I’m thrilled that’s what he chose to do.
He did tell me about the unwelcome visit, and I was a bit alarmed when he told me that the two men were NYPD cops. That’s definitely not something you see everyday; but it also sounded as if he wasn’t too worried about it.
I don’t believe him entirely, but maybe he’s right. Maybe there’s no need for it. Yet.
We’re sitting on the couch at opposite ends, Rufus snoring away between us, and watching TV. Garrett made us popcorn and opened a bottle of white wine for us to share. Even though I’m beyond sleepy, I’m enjoying the easy camaraderie that seems to have settled between us. It feels like what a normal couple would do on any given day during the week.
We’re not a couple. I keep repeating this si
lently, reminding me of our arrangement, but it’s hard to not fall under the spell that there might one day be more than that.
Garrett seems to like watching old reruns of “Lost”, but I’ve never been that keen on it.
“I don’t get these shows,” I say as I munch loudly on popcorn.
Garrett sighs, his stare fixed on the screen. “Why?”
“Because they’re all stranded on an island for months, right?”
I wait for him to acknowledge my point.
“Right.” His voice holds a note of impatience, but I won’t let him intimidate me.
“So how come you never see the people’s body hair growing over these months? I mean, last I checked, women’s armpits still needed to be shaved every once in a while.”
Garrett turns his head, eyes bewildered, and his mouth hanging open.
I shrug. “And the hair on this guy, Sawyer? It doesn’t grow. At. All.” I grab my wine glass and take a large sip, my focus on the TV once more.
“I mean, that’s why I don’t understand them. They’re completely unrealistic because the appearance of the cast never really changes despite the situation they’re supposed to be in. Sure, they might get filthy and hurt, covered up in blood, and all that, but what about that woman who dyed her hair in the very first episode? How come you never see the blonde roots? So. Freaking. Weird.”
I look back at Garrett and frown when I find him smiling back at me now, eyes dancing, and his upper body visibly shaking. I roll my eyes at him.
“What? You know, for an old guy who’s supposed to be so much smarter than me, you’ve clearly lost it.”
He collapses beside me, howling with laughter, his hands covering his face. Shaking my head, I try to prevent my beaming smile from breaking free, but I don’t succeed. Instead, I grab another handful of popcorn and throw a few of them at him before stuffing my face with the rest, simply taking in the transformation of the man beside me.
He seems so young and carefree as he laughs at my odd observations, and I have to admit that I like it a whole lot.
Damn it.
There goes my heart, falling at his feet at last. I’m elated but frightened at the same time. Overwhelmed with the realisation that I have done the very thing I ordered myself not to do, I force it away, locking it up in my mind.
Garrett’s laughter dies down and he leans back on a deep sigh. He shifts in his seat to face me, and from the calculating gleam in his eyes, I get the sense that he’s about to say something that I won’t like. He takes the remote from the coffee table and turns off the TV.
“What happened between you and your mother, Suzy?”
I scowl at him and wipe my sticky hands on a paper towel.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “Why not? I told you something from my past last night. It’s only fair that you reveal something about yourself.”
I raise my chin. “My favourite colour is purple.”
He shakes his head. “Cute – but I’m not letting you off the hook.” He puts his elbow on the edge of the couch and rests his head on his hand.
I blow out a breath but keep my silence. I don’t want to give in.
“Look, Suzy, contrary to what you might think, I actually prefer to know a little bit about the women I sleep with.”
I narrow my eyes at him and cross my arms. He frowns back at me.
“Okay – I know I come off as cold and…stand-offish,” he admits, now avoiding my eyes. “And I admit that when we first met, I thought I wouldn’t have any kind of desire to get to know you, but…”
I hold my breath, waiting for him to continue, to reveal another side to him.
He raises his head, frown still in place. “But for some odd reason, I want to know you, waif. Not just sexually.”
He stops, a stubborn set to his chin, and I know that I’ll tell him what he wants to know.
I huff and put the bowl of popcorn down on the floor before turning to lean back in my seat. I reach for my wine glass and end the contents in large gulps.
I need some liquid courage in order to reveal this part of me to him.
“Well, I don’t quite know where to start, I guess.” I look down and draw up my knees to my chest, fiddling with a loose thread on my yoga pants.
“Is your mother the reason why you came to New York?”
I nod. “Sort of. I mean, I’ve always wanted to travel, especially to this city, but the last conversation we had with each other kind of made me just go for it.” I stop to gather my thoughts.
I look out the window, taking in the coloured lights from the building across from ours, and wet my lips.
“My mother is a very…formal kind of woman. She likes things to be neat, in order. She likes to be in control. She’s never worked a day in her life, seemingly content to lead the life of high society. She likes to feel that her throwing parties for my father, appearing as the perfect Stepford kind of wife contributes to his political career.” Bitterness coats my words, and I can’t hide it from Garrett.
“It doesn’t sound like a warm relationship you had with her growing up?” His low voice seems hypnotising.
“It wasn’t. But it was okay. I’m not going to bore you with all the details, Garrett, and I didn’t have a bad childhood. You learn to accept it when you’re a child, and at least I wasn’t left with a nanny that often. I was pretty close to my dad, actually. That is, at least until recently.”
“What happened?”
I take a deep breath. “I came out to my mother. I felt it was time that she and dad knew about the fact that I’m bisexual – that there was a chance that the love of my life would one day turn out to be a woman instead of a man. God, the look on her face…”
Tears flow down my cheeks as I think back on that day – on the look of shock followed by disgust in my mother’s eyes. The way she stepped back from me, putting distance between us.
“Garrett, has anyone ever looked at you as if you’re worse than filth?” I ask him and try to blink the tears away so that I can see him clearly. “As if you’re dirtier than dirt?”
He grimaces and looks down. “Yeah. It’s…unpleasant.”
I snort and wipe my running nose on my sleeve.
“Yeah, you can say that again. Anyway – Is there more wine?”
Without a sound, Garrett gets up and walks to the fridge. I need more if I’m to get through the rest of my story, and I also need more time to settle down instead of coming off as a hysterical woman. I take him in as he opens the bottle and returns to me. I never thought a man wearing nothing but sweatpants and an old, threadbare T-shirt could make my mouth water, but there he is – utterly delicious. His hair hangs down his back, and for the millionth time, I wish he’d shave his beard down to a scruff so that I can see his features better.
The beard may feel wonderful on my body, but it bothers me that there’s a part of him – maybe even the most important part – that is unreadable to me.
He stops in front of me and pours a hefty amount in my glass before he puts the bottle on the coffee table.
“Finish it,” he orders, handing me the glass. I do as I’m told. The buzz coursing through me from the wine makes the rest seem easier to handle.
He goes back to his seat opposite me, pushing Rufus gently to give me room to stretch out my legs, and I smile when the dog puts his head on my knees. I run my hand through his soft fur, marvelling at the loud hum from his throat as he leans into my caresses.
“You really have the most wonderful dog, Garrett,” I whisper, kind of sad that I can’t call him my own.
“I know,” he answers gruffly. “Now, get the rest out, Suzy. What happened next?”
I start talking again.
“Well, as you can imagine, I was so hurt when she told me that she’d pretend I’d never confessed such an abominable thing, and that we’d never speak of it again, either. Obviously, I shouted at her, tried to make her understand that it’s not just somet
hing I can switch off – as if it’s my own decision to be born the way I am.”
I hiccup as a new round of tears begins to fall. The small part of my brain that’s not drunk warns me that I’m going to have a massive headache if I drink anymore, but I don’t care.
I want to fall asleep, to become lost in a haze of oblivion, and to avoid seeing the inevitable pity in Garrett’s eyes when I tell him the rest of it.
“So: harsh words were exchanged from both of us, and I do regret some of the things I called her, but regrets are for the weak and lonely people. I refuse to be that again.”
I reach for the bottle and pour the rest of the wine in my glass, my hand shaking. I sit back, blinking to keep my eyes focused on my glass. I don’t want to spill any on his fine leather couch.
Garrett takes my glass that’s halfway to my mouth and I frown at him, annoyed by his interruption.
“You’ll have a massive headache in the morning if you don’t stop now,” he states as he sets is aside on the table, out of my reach.
“You’re so annoying,” I slur.
He chuckles.
“Oh, really?”
“Mmm…” I slide down the couch, placing my head on the armrest and close my eyes. “And bossy.”
“You love that about me,” he mumbles.
I’m not that far gone that I admit he’s right. When I feel his hand shaking my foot lightly, I squint at him.
“I need to know the rest, waif.” The stubborn set to his mouth tells me that it doesn’t matter if I refuse; he’ll wait me out.
I groan in defeat. “Fine. Our fight ended with her shouting that she wished that my father hadn’t had a sordid little affair with an office clerk when they were young, because that would mean that I’d never been born. So, basically, it turns out that if daddy dearest had kept his cock in his pants, I wouldn’t exist.”
Garrett curses under his breath, and I chuckle darkly.
“Yeah. Apparently, my parents couldn’t conceive a child, so when daddy’s indiscretion came to him, asking for money to help with my upbringing, he gave her a counter-offer.”
“I don’t like the sound of this,” Garrett mutters.