Finally, Carson asked, “Can I stay and make you a cocktail? If I’m totally honest, I don’t want to leave you yet.”
She bought herself a few seconds by stepping away and turning on the lights, shining a glow on the rest of her own personal safe house. “Yes.” It was all Sienna could get out. It appeared “yes” was the only answer she knew when it came to Carson.
“Why don’t you sit down and tell me what you want, where you keep it, and let me do the work.” He gently nudged her toward the navy sofa, right next to the chair Petal had occupied earlier in the day, which somehow felt like a lifetime ago.
“Umm, just a club soda with a splash of cranberry for me. Everything is in the fridge. If you want something stronger, I have a little bar behind that table,” she said, pointing to the far end of the room as though she had male company over all the time.
Sienna sank a little deeper into the couch and closed her eyes, willing herself not to obsess over the kiss while Carson poured the drinks. She still had her eyes shut when she felt the couch dip as he sat down next to her. She would have known he was near even if the couch didn’t dip, because tiny electric sparks were set off in her body whenever he got close.
Logically, she knew this was a bad idea. Lila had a plan. The same Lila who never had been fully kissed, hadn’t once had a man’s mouth make love to her, but oh she wanted that more than a little bit. She actually craved that and more like a hot shower after a long day.
Lila wanted it all…fun, sex, bedroom talking, hand-holding, kissing, and she was already starting to push down the barriers set up around Sienna.
She felt like she had a split personality, as if her life were one big role. She played Sienna, adult dancer, stripper, the face of the Las Vegas underground, all the time. Yet Lila was simmering just below the surface, bubbling to come out a little bit. Lila wanted a full, sweet, good life. Sienna accepted what she had—a few friends, house, car, business—and made the best of it.
The Lila who had run away from an awful existence, looking for safety, security, and just a little bit of sweetness, needed to be tucked away, protected, and not be let out. For her own good.
But can I have just a tiny bit of fun?
Sienna took her drink from Carson and sipped slowly. She decided to take it down a notch and try for some conversation. “Cheers,” she said as she clinked glasses with Carson. He’d poured himself a scotch, which amused her. That was what Asher drank when he popped over.
Carson gave a little nod, concurring with the sentiment, and knocked back his whole drink.
“You’re welcome to have another one.”
“No thanks. I just needed a little something to cool me down after that kiss,” he replied as he pushed a few stray hairs behind her ear, caressing her cheek when he was finished.
“I don’t drink much. Being lucid is better for my occupation, so my body isn’t used to it. But it doesn’t bother me if you do.”
“I’m good. Are you good? Is this okay? Because I want to kiss you again.” His eyes darkened, waiting for her reaction.
Sienna looked down. “It’s all good. I’ve been honest so far, so I should tell you that I’ve never had a kiss like that before.” She ran circles on her thigh with her free hand, staring at her action as though it was fascinating. She looked up at him when he started talking again.
“Let me be honest, too. I haven’t either,” Carson said, right before he went in for the kill. Or the kiss, depending on how one looked at it.
This time, he didn’t start slow. The kiss was demanding, seeking, and punishing in a good, marvelously good way. Carson slid his hands down Sienna’s back and up again, massaging her muscles, finally sliding one hand to her side. He caressed the side of her breast with his thumb, gentle strokes up and down, round and round, then more up and down while holding her tight against him with his other arm still curved around her back.
Sienna felt a carnal need she had no idea even existed within her. She was flush with want and wet between her legs, yet had no idea what to do next. Did she want to encourage Carson to move faster? Slow down? She had no idea.
Natural instinct propelled her to push her hands through the hair at the nape of Carson’s neck, pulling him closer, indulging further in the kissing, and letting him lead the way.
Carson pulled away and took her drink, which was somewhat precariously resting against her leg on the couch, and set it on the coffee table. Then he gently nudged Sienna back into the couch, sliding next to her, not quite on top of her, but as near as they could get to each other. He lay down on his side, propped up on his elbow, bicep bulging and beckoning her to touch or lick, and ran his hand gloriously along her body, his assault continuing on her back, side, and breasts. He touched her lightly all over, setting little burning fires along the way.
His hand didn’t stop at Sienna’s breast on his latest lap over her body. Instead it dipped down farther, gliding over her stomach, settling right between her legs. Sienna was still fully clothed, but just feeling his hand on top of her heat through her pants nearly set her off.
Set her off for what? She didn’t know. She’d never had an orgasm with a man, but she was pretty sure she was about to have one from a little heavy petting.
Sienna gave a tiny moan, something else she’d never experienced before. It escaped without warning. Immediately, she clapped her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the sound.
Weren’t girls supposed to play hard to get? Here she was giving away all her secrets, letting Carson know precisely how excited she was by his touch, his presence, his kiss.
As if he knew she was becoming uncomfortable, Carson stopped and locked eyes with Sienna. He moved his hand back up, leaving her cold and lonely.
“I don’t want to go too fast, but I really want to touch you all over at the same time. My heart is pounding and my mind is racing, and all I want to do is please you.”
Confused, Sienna said, “But you were touching me.”
“No, touch you. Touch you underneath this. I want to please you, let this be all about you,” he said while stroking her on top of her layers of clothing.
In a moment of sheer and utter weakness, Sienna said, “I’ve never had that, had someone do that to me.” There had never been a man wanting only to please her, feel her inside out, and make her scream with passion.
“Can I?”
Embarrassed, she nodded her head, but kept her eyes lowered, not wanting him to see the heat in them.
Carson didn’t wait for her to reconsider. His hand was back roaming her body, this time against her bare skin. He dipped under her tank, and as he was fervently kissing Sienna, nibbling on her neck and ear, and pushing his hardness into her side, she was electrified.
It was like a little sparkler crackling in the wind and setting off sparks. A firefly zooming in the dark and lighting up the sky. A wire cut loose and sparking from each and every touch.
His hand slid deeper inside her yoga pants, brushing past her totally bald mound, right to where she was throbbing and pulsating with energy.
Oh God, his thumb was softly teasing her most sensitive spot, at the front of her core while his other finger slipped deep inside her. She’d never felt anything like this, and she was pretty sure she was going to combust. At the very least, she was going to have an orgasm within two minutes of him touching her, and that was flat-out sad.
She couldn’t let him know how desperate she was for his touch.
Sienna did her best to control her reactions. She kept her eyes closed, partly shy about what was happening, but mostly afraid to wake up from this dream.
“Open your eyes so I can see how beautiful you look when you come,” was all Carson had to say, and Sienna obliged him on both accounts.
It was as though he could sense she was holding back, so he kept plunging forward, taking her pleasure higher, strumming her inside, playing her nub, taking her to the brink, and then Sienna exploded. She let out a moan while her body shivered hot and cold ever
ywhere. An unknown yet intimate feeling rushed through her spine, seeping out into her whole body, leaving little tingles everywhere it touched.
From just his hand. She thought she wouldn’t be able to have real sex with Carson, or she’d pass out.
Should I touch him now?
Sienna’s thoughts were all over the place when Carson moved back up to gently kiss her. “Nothing more beautiful than watching you do that for me, and know you never did it for anyone else.” He flashed the most panty-melting smile.
Was it that obvious?
Sienna had no idea how to respond. Shouldn’t she return the favor? Pleasure him with her hand or mouth? She was thankful when Carson kept talking.
“Let’s get you tucked in. I’ve got an early morning, and as much as I don’t want to leave, I have to. Otherwise, I won’t be a gentleman for too much longer.” This time, his smile was a touch more devilish.
“Oh. Are you sure? Did I do something wrong?” Sienna wasn’t sure whether to be appreciative with his sudden gentlemanly departure, or sadly disappointed.
“No, honey. Nothing wrong. I’m having a hard time cooling my jets, and I don’t want to rush this. Or you.” Carson’s smile softened, and he brushed a lock of hair out of her face.
“Okay. I’m going to lock up after you go and get ready for bed,” she said, still wondering if this was normal or unusual, although it wasn’t like he’d fucked her and left.
Was he being kind, or does he really not want to get involved with such an inexperienced woman? He didn’t even get any pleasure himself. What the hell do I know?
Reading her mind, he said, “Sienna, don’t think I didn’t enjoy tonight, a little too much. I want to go before I can’t, before my desires get the best of me.”
Sienna decided to act nonchalant when she was anything but that. She lowered her lashes and said, “Good night. Have a safe trip back east and a good work week.”
Carson lifted her chin, and the electricity running between the two of them was like lightning in the sky. Staring straight into each other’s faces, there was absolutely nothing nonchalant about it. Instead there was an intensity and attraction that Sienna had never experienced before. She’d heard about it, but never believed it existed.
“Can I call you?” he asked. “Keep you up-to-date on when I’ll be back?”
With a small breath of relief, she answered, “Yes,” for the millionth time that evening.
Yes, Carson. Lead me to my death.
What was she agreeing to? A convenient hookup, bragging rights to have slept with Sienna Flower, or something more? No. The powerful pull between them was palpable, alive, moving at its own speed. It was nothing close to convenient.
“Good night, then,” she said again, trying to avoid her thoughts while walking toward the door. Carson swept her hair behind her neck one more time and landed a bonus kiss on her lips. Not open-mouthed, but just as decadent.
This time, Sienna held on to Carson’s shirt as he romanced her with his lips, afraid to let him go. She knew this was her one and only chance at intimacy. He might or might not call, but this was it.
She had to protect Lila. With that thought in mind, she felt Carson kiss her forehead, whisper good night, and walk out the door.
SIENNA FELT chilled and lonely as soon as Carson left. Knowing sleep wouldn’t be a reality, she made hot tea and slipped into the tub. Her tub was her biggest pleasure. At least it was until she’d met Carson, and he’d made her feel something indescribable. A feeling she had no right to experience.
She had to get back to a place where she appreciated the little things, like her tub, and wasn’t chasing dreams. Dreams that weren’t hers to have and hold.
When she’d first moved out of the seedy extended-stay motel she found when she’d first arrived in Vegas, she thought Asher’s carriage house was a palace. It still was her very own palace. It might be small and cozy compared to the rest of the upscale neighborhood, but it was the best she’d ever had. It was so distinctly different from the house she grew up in, and the small apartment she’d shared with her husband, Elon, but it suited her perfectly.
Her family lived in a tiny brownstone, a walk-up in Brooklyn. That was where she grew up. Not knowing anything different, she loved it. Her dad worked hard to be able to afford the small house. Her three brothers shared a bedroom, her parents had one to themselves, and Lila slept in the sitting room on a daybed. Her room was small, but had a large window where she would sit for hours and watch the bustling neighborhood. She had always been a people-watcher.
Her mom would come in to sew in the corner of the room, and a couple of days a month, her mom would sleep on the trundle from the daybed with Lila. As a young girl, this made her feel close to her mom. She once thought they’d always share that closeness.
It wasn’t until she became a woman herself that she fully understood why her mother didn’t stay with her father when she was “unclean,” or having her period. Most religious couples had twin beds to facilitate this, but her parents were always a little more extreme.
Not as extreme as my husband.
Back then, Lila accepted this separation as part of life, although she didn’t know it would be a sentence to a cold, distant life with her own husband. She was taught as a young girl that when she married, following this custom would be expected of her, but had no idea what it really meant when she was promised to Elon.
With Elon, there were no relations when she was unclean, but there was also no touching, embracing, or caressing when she was. Well, no touching unless Elon was putting his strong and violent hands all over her.
Sex was no different with Elon. It was mechanical, rough, and devoid of anything intimate. He’d take her without any preparation, slamming into her with force, tearing and squeezing her dry skin. He never took her shirt or bra off to worship her beauty. He just lifted her skirt, pushed her underwear to the side, and entered at his own whim. It was all about him.
She had no idea how it was enjoyable for Elon, but he obviously was turned on by roughness.
Lila’s father, on the other hand, wasn’t a violent and cruel man. Austere, old-fashioned, caught up in customs that bore no meaning in the modern day, but he wasn’t mean. Her parents shared occasional soft looks and warm hugs. At least, she thought so from her childhood memories, but the life they subscribed her to wasn’t indicative of caring people.
Lila tried to accept she was doomed to live a life without a gentle, caring, or sensitive touch, but after some time of being battered and beaten, she’d decided she wouldn’t accept it. So she ran and never looked back. It was easier swallowing a fate to live alone over staying in a loveless marriage ruled by a heavy hand.
It took her months to craft her escape while still enduring the mess of her home life, all the while hoping and praying she didn’t get pregnant. Siphoning off a little money here and there by skimping at the butcher’s or the bakery permitted her to pick up a few real-world clothes for her journey when she was supposedly running errands for the house. As a young woman, she babysat a number of the neighborhood kids, and she had kept a good bit of the money in a change purse over the years. Betrothed to Elon straight from her family home, she’d never needed it. This was how she afforded her bus tickets west and the hole-in-the-wall motel. Other than that, her journey to freedom was the biggest gamble she ever took.
It was all behind her now. She hoped she’d won that bet.
When Sienna let herself think about her family, she missed them. Especially her brothers, so she tried hard not to go there. Thinking of the three of them always made her heart heavy with loneliness and regret. She hoped they were all still happily married, and that they were kind to their wives. If she could reach out to them, she would in a heartbeat, but she knew they’d tell her parents, and she couldn’t risk that.
Her mom and dad were good people, but firm believers that Lila was in a match that was meant to be. A match, ironically enough, that was very good for their standing in the
community, yet devastating for her.
Elon, a boy from a rich and pious family, one with resources and a good reputation in their Brooklyn neighborhood, was a son-in-law her parents were thrilled to call their own. There was nothing that Lila could say to persuade them differently. Once, right after being married, Lila tried to mention Elon’s temper to her parents over tea. Neither of them would hear anything about it. They were in love with the idea of their new in-laws, who owned a large publishing house and were among the wealthiest in their community. Her in-laws donated large sums of money to many of the religious causes in their neighborhood, which only increased their stature.
Her parents couldn’t even begin to believe Elon was anything but righteous and good like his family, but Lila knew differently. Elon wasn’t good, kind, gentle, or pious. He was mean to the core. He’d been spoiled by his parents, never told he was wrong, and given the family business to run without ever finding his own way. He wanted Lila to fall in line with his ideas, no matter what he had to do in order to exact results.
Lila always wondered what his childhood was like, or if his dad had a temper like Elon. Elon’s mother didn’t work. She took care of the house, her husband, and children, and was always docile. Lila questioned whether her obedience was her natural temperament, or if it had been beaten into her.
While growing up, Lila had always wanted to work at the school library. She loved kids and reading. Elon made it clear that wasn’t going to happen. She was going to stay home, keep a perfect house, prepare food for every holiday, and make him babies. If she dared read at story time or go visit the school to volunteer in the little library, Elon lost it. Eventually, she stopped trying to sneak over there.
Thank God or whoever might be in charge, the baby thing didn’t happen, which only angered Elon further. So once a month not only would she bleed from her period, but as a result of Elon’s heavy fist.
Elon never struck her face, but everywhere else on her body was fair game. In her culture, women didn’t show skin other than their hands or faces, so her clothing and heavy tights covered every inch of her. They also covered the bruises. When she went to religious services, no one could tell what a hell she was living in at home. Elon would be full of himself, praying like he had a direct line to God, when in fact he was nothing more than the devil.
Electrified Page 15