by Ryan Parker
I looked up and saw his eyes trained down the hallway. He took my hand and led me to my bedroom.
Once across the threshold, I turned to face him. He started unbuttoning my shirt from the bottom up. He stopped when something caught his eye. I knew by the direction he was looking that he’d seen my full-length mirror.
“Over here,” he said, leading me by the hand. He guided me between him and the mirror, turning me so that I had my back to him and we were both looking at our reflections.
“I want you to look at yourself,” he said, “and watch how I touch you.”
My stomach fluttered as a wave of the good kind of nervousness rocked into me.
Finn finished unbuttoning my shirt, lowered it down over my arms, then tossed it to the side.
With his hands behind me, he unzipped my skirt, letting it fall to the floor before kicking it aside.
Finn ran his hands from my hips, up my back, and to my shoulders where he bent down to place a kiss.
Into my ear, he whispered, “Do you remember an email in which you called yourself ‘average’?”
I did remember it, because it’s truly how I thought of myself. And I was grateful for it. I could blend in and virtually disappear when I wanted to. Sometimes, though, like the night I typed that word into the email, I was engaging in negative self-talk about my looks. It was times like this that I wished I were beautiful.
Finn said, “I’ll take that silence as a yes.”
I nodded.
He unclasped my bra and gently slid it off my arms.
“You were so wrong,” he said. “So wrong it’s almost as if you were lying to me.”
His fingers hooked into the elastic of my panties. In that moment, I wished he would have torn them off of me. I wanted him to. He was turning me on with his words and actions, more so than I could have imagined.
“You weren’t lying to me, though,” he said, tugging my panties down over my hips, down my thighs, until they fell to the floor. “You were lying to yourself.”
I was standing there naked, fully exposed to him, while he hadn’t removed a stitch of clothing. It was as though he was testing my trust for him. That, or he got off on making me feel vulnerable.
I didn’t know if he wanted me to say anything in response. I hoped not because I was lost in what he was doing, and thought maybe he had rendered me speechless. It didn’t matter, though. He was clearly directing this his way, and I let him continue.
“You aren’t just average.”
His hands slid up my sides, cupping each breast. His thumbs and forefingers closed around my nipples and he lightly pinched and pulled on them. They responded by tightening. Finn flicked his fingers across the tips. My entire body shuddered at the sensation, blood coursing through my veins at a million miles an hour as my heart hammered in my chest. I was getting lost in the physical feeling so deeply that I almost missed his next words.
“Beautifully average.”
His hands retreated from my chest, sliding down my stomach. His knee pushed its way between my legs, parting them. I watched as I became even more exposed to him.
“Irresistibly average.”
His hands teased my skin just inside my hips, reaching down to the top of my thighs. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. Off of him. Off of us.
I felt his lips close around my earlobe.
I was on the verge of begging him to touch me, but he knew what he was doing to me, and despite my urgency he could have dragged this out for an hour or three and I wouldn’t have minded. Unless I fainted first.
His middle finger was almost on my clit. He circled it, again and again, before finally touching it.
My knees almost gave out. I reached back and my fists clenched onto his jacket, with a white-knuckle grip. I knew he wouldn’t have let me fall, but it was reflexive.
Just as quickly as he had touched my clit, he pulled his hand away. I watched in the mirror as he raised it higher, slowly. All the way to his mouth, where he sucked on the tip of his finger.
Our gazes locked.
“Deliciously average,” he said, and I thought if he kept tasting me like that and I kept watching him do it, I just might come right then and there. Somehow.
We stared at each other in the mirror for a long, silent moment. My stomach was in a tight knot, not from nervousness, but from eager anticipation.
“Those are all contradictions,” Finn said. “There’s nothing average about you.”
He stepped aside and told me to sit down on the bed, his voice a rough whisper in my ear.
I sat.
Finn stood before me. He was tall to begin with but here, in this situation, with me literally nakedly vulnerable, he towered over me.
He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out three condoms, all still attached at the perforated edges. He tossed them on the bed beside me. I watched them fly by, and when I looked back at him he had removed his coat.
I watched as he started to unbutton his shirt, exposing his tight chest and stomach. My hands took on a mind of their own and reached for him. His skin was warm and smooth, taut over the muscled lines of his torso. His hips formed into a V-shape, leading down the front of his pants. A thin line of fine hair trailed down from his chest and continued past the waistline of his pants.
His hands were on his belt, unfastening it, then to the button and the zipper…
It had been so long since I had let any man get close to me like this. And in that moment, it was as if I were doing it for the first time. Finn wasn’t into the shed-clothes-and-fuck type of sex; he was enjoying pulling me out of my comfort zone, and I was ready for him to take it as far as he wanted.
My hands slid down the sides of his body and into the elastic of his boxers.
I looked up and our eyes met, his gaze intense. Still fiery. Wanting me. Needing me.
He was waiting to see what I would do. Testing me? Seeing if I really wanted it?
I pulled on his boxers, lowering them, and his cock sprang free. Fully erect, rigid. For me.
I was sure he expected me to take it in my mouth, and I was ready.
He gripped his cock at the base and ran the head across my lips. I opened my mouth, tasting him for the first time, expecting him to slide into my mouth, but he kept moving it back and forth across my lips. I closed my eyes and moved my head slightly forward to take him in, but there was nothing. I opened my eyes and saw him holding his cock to the side, just far enough away that I couldn’t reach it with my mouth. My gaze drifted up his body. He was grinning, his stare burning a hole through me.
“Tease,” I said, closing my mouth and he touched the tip to my lips again.
“Such a beautiful visual,” he said. “But I want to fuck you right now. Lie back, Rachel.” There was something about him including my name in his demand that made it even hotter and made me want to do whatever he said. That’s what my brain registered. My body didn’t need to process his words—it just responded as if by reflex.
He was on me again. His tongue traced a line from my navel up to my chest, sweeping along the underside of the swell of my breast.
Finn took a nipple into his mouth, sucking, pulling on it between his lips. When I felt his teeth lightly graze across it, I let out a deep sigh. I closed my eyes, my back arching into him, pressing against his face, wanting him to lick and suck harder.
And he did for a long moment, drawing it out, moving from one nipple to the other, moaning deep in this throat as he did so.
As he moved his way up my body, licking along the way, I felt the weight of his cock, first on my thigh and then notching between my legs as he nipped at my lips and tongue.
He moved his hips, letting his erection glide along my wetness.
I wouldn’t be able to take this much longer. I needed him inside me. I also needed to remember to keep breathing.
“Do it,” I said, pulling away from his mouth.
“You don’t want to rush this, do you?”
Through my shaky brea
thing I managed to say, “No.”
“Should I make you beg for it?” he asked.
“Please don’t,” I said immediately.
His mouth curled into a smile and he groaned. “That’s almost begging in itself.”
There was silence for several seconds as he teased me by continuing to slide his cock against me.
He kissed me again and I felt the grin on his face. “I have a lot of self-control, but my cock doesn’t. We can always do it fast and hard, then go again, you know.”
“Do it… Now you’re making me beg,” I said.
He reached beside us, grabbed the condoms, tore one off. With ease, he opened the package and reached down. I felt him rolling the condom on.
Finn knelt between my legs, pushing them open wide.
I closed my eyes, preparing.
“Open your eyes, Rachel. I want to see your eyes the first time I’m inside you.”
A hot wave of desire rolled through my body in response to his words. In all the fantasies I’d had about him, I’d never come up with lines like that.
He loved control. Loved the power.
And I was more than willingly giving it to him.
Our faces were millimeters apart, noses almost touching.
We locked gazes and before I could process anything else, Finn pushed inside me. A long, slow, even thrust.
My breath stalled. I struggled to keep my eyes open so he could see them. He didn’t blink as he watched my reaction to him sliding inside of me.
My mouth involuntarily formed the shape of an O, and I gasped in a deep breath.
Finn started slow and deep, then faster, kneeling again, leaning over and taking a nipple into his mouth once more.
My hands were on his head, fingers deep into his thick hair. I held onto him that way as his movement became more powerful, bucking my hips and making them rise off the bed.
The sheer power of this man….
From his kneeling position, his hands engulfed my hips, turning me, and before I knew it I was on my stomach.
Finn had pulled out of me and was moving away. I looked over my shoulder and saw him reaching to the floor.
He picked up whatever he had reached for and returned behind me.
Without saying anything, he stretched my arms straight over my head. I raised my eyes to try to follow what he was doing and saw black fabric.
My panties.
Finn was wrapping them around my wrists, securing me.
“I want to play with you,” he said, his breath hot on my shoulder and his hand cupped my thigh and parted my legs. “You’re going to be my toy for now. And soon, I will be yours.”
He pushed into me again. From this position he immediately hit the spot, sending a spike of adrenaline coursing through my blood, causing me to cry out to him.
“Finn…yes…”
“Come for me, Rachel.” The words were so evenly measured, the command so natural to him.
He knelt once again. I raised my hips to meet his thrusts. His palm was flat on my back, then moving, his finger made a trail down the center of it, across my ass, around my hip, and down to where he was fucking me.
His fingertip rested on my clit. He wasn’t moving it around. No circles. Nothing like that. Just his finger applying pressure. Literally pushing a button.
Making me get closer, closer, until I cried out his name again and my orgasm crashed into me, making my hips rise off the bed to meet the rhythm of his movement.
I felt his other hand on the side of my face, turning me gently so he could see my expression.
Finn kept his finger in place as I continued coming. I was growing more and more sensitive. I wanted him to remove it, but I also wanted him to keep it there and make me feel even more things I’d never felt before.
As quickly as he’d put me on my stomach, he turned me over once again onto my back. He reached above my head and held onto my tied wrists.
“You’re so tight,” he said, driving harder into me. “And you’re still coming. I can feel it.”
My muscles were clenching around him, milking him.
His thick cock swelled inside me as his face turned a different shade of red. He pushed into me even deeper one more time, holding that position. He threw his head back. I could no longer see his face, I could only hear the heavy exhale.
I felt his cock twitch and surge inside me as he came.
We were silent for a few moments. My vision was fuzzy on the periphery, and I thought, So this is what they mean by “fucked blind.”
Chapter Sixteen (Finn)
Rachel had fallen asleep after our second round, which was slower, lasting longer, and exhausting in the best way. We’d done it hard and fast, fucking furiously the first time, so it was time to slow things down a little on the second.
There would be more times—many more times—for testing her limits. And I already had several ideas in mind.
It was a few minutes past ten, and I lay there listening to her even breathing. She was on her side, and I was behind her. She was so at ease with me, her body so perfectly tucked into mine that you would have thought we had done this hundreds of times.
She stirred when I ran my fingertips along her arm from her elbow up to her shoulder. Damn, these shoulders. It was an odd attraction for me. Until Rachel, I was always focused on the parts most men assess first: tits, legs, and ass. Rachel had all of that going on, but there was something enticingly artistic about the contour of her shoulders.
Maybe it was just another facet of my seeing her in a wholly different light than I’d seen any woman before.
I wondered when she’d last been touched like this by a man. It was something she had never volunteered in our emails, and something I’d never asked.
I wondered when she’d last slept so easily with a man in the room. Clearly, there was something in her past that kept her away from men. I just didn’t know how horrible it could be. Whatever it was, though, it didn’t seem to affect her desire for sexual contact.
When it was clear that she was in a deep sleep and I had no hope of getting even a second of sleep myself, I gently got out of bed without disturbing her.
Her bedroom was almost completely dark, illuminated only by the screen-saver on her computer. It was a slideshow of pictures from various tropical beaches around the world. They looked to be stock photos, not ones she’d taken herself, and she’d never mentioned having traveled much in her life.
In fact, she’d never mentioned much of anything about her life prior to age 18. If I hadn’t been so guarded myself, I might have thought it odd.
As the photos faded in and out, the room lightened and darkened alternately. I watched Rachel’s sleeping form for a moment, as I pulled on my jeans and left her room.
When we arrived here, I didn’t get a chance to look around. Didn’t try. Didn’t care. All I wanted was her naked, beneath me, finally fulfilling my promise of giving her the fucking of a lifetime. I took her deep sleep as confirmation that I’d delivered.
I was thirsty so I found a glass, filled it with water from the tap, and guzzled it down before refilling it again. Sex always did that to me. I don’t know if it would be considered technically dehydration by a doctor, but it had to be something close.
She had a small kitchen, not much counter space, certainly less than I could deal with, but typical for a small one-bedroom apartment. She had a coffee machine with about a half-inch of room temperature stale coffee still in the carafe.
I opened her freezer to get some ice and saw that it was packed with low-calorie, low-fat microwaveable dinners.
I wanted something to eat, so I opened her refrigerator and found that it contained a half a dozen bottles of different kinds of salad dressings, a bag of romaine lettuce, two carrots and an avocado. No meat. Nothing hearty that would stick to my ribs.
I wasn’t in the mood for vegetables, but I found a container of fresh blueberries. I grabbed a handful and closed the door.
I went into her de
n. Going through her refrigerator was as nosey as I was going to get. My knack for finding interesting things in people’s houses had always served me well, but it’s never out of curiosity, it’s always out of necessity.
But those were surveillance and investigation related. I was doing no such thing with Rachel.
I was curious about her, but had no intention of invading her privacy. Her purse was on the kitchen counter. I could have rummaged through it and found out anything I wanted—her last name, who she banked with, and maybe some indication of where she worked.
Same with the small stack of incoming mail she had placed on the edge of a round table next to the small kitchen window that looked out over the parking lot. Any of those pieces of mail would have had her name on the outside, and who knows what kind of information inside?
I resisted.
I couldn’t stop myself from looking at her bookshelves, though, and the enormous collection of titles she’d amassed over the years. Thousands of them, arranged alphabetically by genre, just like a bookstore. It didn’t appear that she had anything rare, but what an eclectic collection it was. Hardbacks with all the dust jackets, paperbacks with most of the spines cracked. I wondered if she’d read them all or if she’d bought some of them used.
One shelf held a collection of contemporary erotic romance novels. I didn’t have any of them in the bookshop, but being an avid reader I recognized the titles from browsing online book retailers.
She had a modest collection of literature from abroad: French, Russian, and at least one from Greece.
I spotted a couple of travelogues. They weren’t something I was interested in, but for a fiction lover who loves to get lost in stories, those are about the closest you get to being whisked away to somewhere you’ve never been and encountering stories from people you would never meet. Based on what she told me about her love of reading, those made perfect sense in her collection.
She had one of almost everything, but I noticed there were no children’s or young adult books. Odd. Lots of adults were reading young adult these days. I had even picked up a few myself and found them surprisingly appealing.