by M. Never
“You were gone way too long.” He licks my neck.
“I’m sorry. I was getting ready. I wanted to look nice for you.” I sigh as his hot skin presses against mine. “A vain attempt.”
“It was,” he agrees, brushing my hair back with both hands then cupping my face. “But I couldn’t resist. I was thinking about that time you let me watch you touch yourself in the outside shower and wanted to relive the moment.”
“Is that why you dragged me in here? So I can masturbate in front of you?”
“And come,” he adds.
“You like that, don’t you?”
“Like what?” He smiles audaciously.
“Me coming.”
“Just about as much as I like to come. Now, show me.” CJ steps back giving me ample room. If it’s a show he wants, I’ll give him one. I step under the running water and let it rain over my hair and body. I then, slowly, seductively, drag my index finger down the center of my chest and abdomen until I reach the apex of my legs. CJ’s eyes dilate as I spread my wet folds and expose the pink pierced flesh to him. Methodically, I circle my middle finger around my clit purposely avoiding playing with it, knowing my piercing is a panic button. One tiny touch and this performance will be over before it begins. I work myself up to an achy peak, massaging one breast and teasing a nipple, keeping a bearable pace around my inflamed nub.
CJ stands a foot away from me, hungry as a rabid dog, feverishly stroking his cock as I touch myself. The way he’s looking at me makes me feel like the sexiest, most desired woman on the planet. It feeds my building need all the more, like gasoline on a wildfire. CJ takes a step closer to me, evaporating the distance between us. He pins me up against the wall, trapping my hand on my pussy. He’s breathing erratically, the feel of his jerking fist stroking my bare belly.
“Do it,” he commands with a clenched jaw. “Do it, now,” he repeats as if he’s dying.
Half dangling already, I move my fingers to the most sensitive part of my body. To the reactive little bull’s-eye that kicks me straight over the edge. As soon as I touch the engorged, throbbing flesh, I expel an incoherent moan as I unleash the orgasm I was holding at bay.
While lost in the black abyss of ecstasy, I faintly sense CJ tense and feel warm spurts of cum coat my stomach.
“It’s official.” CJ heaves in my ear.
“What is?” I ask with hazy thoughts.
“Our arrangement. I marked you so you officially belong to me.” He nips at my earlobe.
I laugh lightly, still drained from my climax.
“This deal is nothing to laugh about,” he growls. “I’m going to fuck you in every inch of this hotel room. I’m going to make you come on every piece of furniture. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the neighbors are going to think I’m the second fucking coming. So be prepared.”
I pop my eyes open and look at him. His expression is fierce, and I feel the conviction in each word reach the deepest most depraved parts of me.
“I am prepared, and I’m looking forward to it.”
One side of CJ’s mouth curves up.
“Tell me a secret, Tara.” He traps my face between one palm and his lips.
I smile to myself.
“Next time, I want to watch,” I divulge.
“Little firecracker,” he whispers, tickling the shell of my ear with his hot breath.
He steals a quick kiss then drags me under the spray of the water, washing away the remnants of his orgasm from my stomach.
After my second shower of the day, CJ and I proceed to get dressed. How we are actually able to put clothes on without ripping them right back off is a miracle. I swear the sexual attraction passing between us is thick enough to choke a horse.
Since I refuse to spend another hour curling my hair, I resign to just throwing it all up into a bun, exhaling disappointedly as I secure it in place.
“What’s wrong, shortcake?” CJ asks as he fixes his own hair next to me in the bathroom mirror. It’s shorter now than it was in Hawaii, the waves much more tame and manageable. The haircut makes him look older, more mature, but still delicious. CJ in New York seems more refined compared to the CJ on Maui, especially when he’s wearing a tight black sweater that outlines his biceps and snug stonewashed jeans.
“Nothing.” I pin the last piece of hair in place. “I just wanted to wear my hair down today.”
“I sort of ruined that, huh?”
“Sort of.” I smirk playfully.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better …” CJ slips his hands around my waist from behind me and rests his chin on my shoulder. “I happen to like your hair up. It gives me easier access to your neck.” He tickles me with kisses.
“Quit it.” I giggle and squirm.
“Not a chance. Now that I have you, I’m going to take advantage of every second.”
“Does that mean we’re going back to bed?” I glare at him in the mirror.
He returns my expression. “As much as I want to say yes, I don’t want to get blamed for ruining your hair a second time.”
“You are so considerate,” I jest.
“Aren’t I?” he returns.
I roll my eyes, unable to wipe the smile from my face.
“I’m a gentleman, believe it or not, and I would like to take you out.”
“Out where?”
“I was thinking a museum. Then a late lunch. Then after that, a show and then dinner.”
“Sounds like a good time.”
“I promise it will be.” Something salacious flashes in his dark brown eyes.
“Let’s go then,” I suggest. “We’re burning daylight standing around here.”
He releases me. “Wait here.”
I stand alone in the bathroom with my wet clothes hanging on the towel rack. I really wanted to wear that outfit. My entire ‘be sexy’ plan has gone right out the window. At least I still have my boots.
“Okay, turn around and look at me,” CJ requests.
When I turn, I see he’s holding a plastic plumeria flower. A lump actually forms in my throat.
“You kept it.”
He nods as he clips it in my hair. “There. Perfect.”
I glance in the mirror to see he placed it right next to my bun; the same place I wore it when I pulled my hair up. I don’t know how to respond honestly. It’s such a small gesture but says so much.
“Ready?” CJ takes my hand.
“I am.” I clear my throat and rein in my emotions. This is temporary, I remind myself. Temporary.
I pull my boots on by the door before CJ helps me into my coat. As soon as the door closes behind us, CJ curses under his breath as he feels around the breast of his jacket.
“Hang on.” He goes back inside and then returns a few seconds later holding his pocket watch. “You’d think after twenty some odd years, I would stop forgetting it.” He slips the silver watch into the inside pocket of his coat.
“You’d think.” I laugh. “What’s the deal with it, anyway? You don’t come across many men who sport pocket watches these days.”
CJ shrugs as we walk toward the elevator. “Sentimental value. My grandfather gave it to me when I was a kid.” He hits the button. “He basically raised me.” The elevator door dings open, and we step inside.
“Oh?”
“My parents divorced when I was seven. It was pretty nasty. My father left us with essentially nothing. My mother was devastated.” CJ looks down and rubs his jaw. “We went to live with my grandfather after that. He was ex-military, very rigid, but an amazing man. I idolized him growing up.”
“Is that how you ended up in the military?” I ask intrigued.
“Yes.” CJ pulls me into his arms. “He was a very big influence in my life. He gave me the pocket watch shortly after I moved in. The transition was really hard. Especially seeing what my mother was going through. He explained certain things to me, like why I was upset and angry all at the same time. It felt like one minute, I wanted to punch something,
and the next, I wanted to cry.”
“Too many grown-up emotions for one little boy.”
“It was exactly that. And I was constantly asking if he was going to leave us, too.”
My heart nearly breaks.
“What did he say?”
CJ smiles. “He told me grandpas don’t leave. Then he gave me the watch. It was like a security blanket. His promise to always be there. He told me his grandfather gave it to him, and now, it was my turn to have it.”
The elevator doors open to the lobby. CJ takes my hand without skipping a beat and keeps talking.
“I bring it everywhere, and yet, I manage to forget about it half the time.”
“Quite the predicament.”
“It is.” We walk out into the brisk December air and wait on the sidewalk for several seconds before a black Town Car pulls up and we are ushered inside. Talk about service.
CJ gives the address to the driver, and he pulls out right into the middle of midday traffic. A horn blows but none of us pay any mind.
“Your grandfather sounds like a wonderful man.”
“He was.” CJ relaxes into the leather seat.
“Was?” I frown.
“He passed. A few years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” He halfheartedly smiles. “Tis life.”
“Sometimes life sucks.”
“Sometimes it doesn’t.” He nestles me up against him. I feel like I’m sixteen years old crushing on the hot college guy giving me attention. We kiss like crazy adolescents in the backseat the whole way. The driver actually has to clear his throat to get our attention when we arrive.
I wasn’t really paying attention to the address CJ gave the driver, so when I step out of the car on Fifth Avenue, I look around confused.
“I thought we were going to a museum?”
“We are.” CJ slams the car door shut then spins me around. I gaze across the street.
“The Museum of Sex?” I raise my eyebrows and read the metal sign. Above it, in a large window, reads KINK in hot pink letters.
“The Met seemed too stuffy.” He snatches my hand and drags me across the street.
Only CJ. What did I tell you? Twelve-year-old in a man’s body.
“Can you hang out for a second?” he asks once we are inside. “I need to use the bathroom.”
I raise an eyebrow speculatively at him.
“I need to pee,” he clarifies immediately. “Unless you want to come with me and watch?” he suggests. “I believe it’s your turn.”
“No, thanks. As enticing as that sounds, I’d rather let the anticipation build.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll be right back.” He disappears into a doorway that says bathrooms overhead.
CJ returns a few minutes later with his phone to his ear. “Yeah, whatever. Just make it fast …” is all I hear before he hangs up.
“Everything okay?”
“Perfect. Let’s go.” Again, he takes my hand. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to take advantage of every second. His bathroom break was the farthest we’ve been apart since the shower.
As soon as we enter the museum, there’s a large sign that reads Please do not touch, lick, stroke, or mount the exhibits. I cast a sideways glance over at CJ.
“I promise to behave.” He jiggles my hand and leads the way.
This is going to be an … experience.
Inside, there is everything from a vibrator collection to the history of the condom to Sex and the Moving Image, which is basically just porn. Interesting stuff and surprisingly not as distasteful or seedy as I was expecting. CJ reads the descriptions of each exhibit aloud, exaggerating words. He’s being serious and goofy all at the same time, causing me to laugh like an entertained child. The animal exhibit is the most intriguing and unexpectedly educational. I now know what a duck penis looks like. Want a visual? Think lower intestines.
CJ tilts his head as we inspect a replica of a deer threesome. Yes, you read that right. One deer mounted on top of the other.
“You suppose that’s three males or female/male/male?” he actually asks this seriously.
“I’m assuming female/male/male.” I mimic his head tilt. “Since the one on the bottom has no antlers.”
CJ leans over to inspect their heads. “Good call, shortcake. I didn’t even think to look at that.” He laughs highly amused.
Toward the end of our visit, we come upon the BDSM area of the museum. An entire room filled with sex toys and bondage furniture, complete with leather-clad hooded Dom and collared submissive. I examine the two wax people in fascination, the woman much more than the man.
“Submission not your thing?” CJ asks, clearly reading my facial expression.
“I can’t say that it is, although I’ve never actually tried it. I don’t mind a little dominance, but like hell someone is going to slap a collar around my neck and call me pet.”
CJ snorts. “Your sister doesn’t seem to mind it.”
I whip my head over to look at him.
“Oh, come on, Tara. You didn’t know? It’s so freakin’ obvious.”
I stare at CJ, mulling over my response. “I had an idea. I mean she wears that choker everywhere. Even to bed. It’s strange, and I have wondered, but I never asked. That’s her business. It does bug me how possessive Kayne is sometimes. It’s like she went and married a clone of our father.”
“Kayne can be a total hothead sometimes and a bit possessive, but I can tell you, it’s your sister who calls the shots in that relationship.”
“Sometimes I wonder.”
“Don’t. She may wear the collar, but she also holds the leash.”
I smile. CJ divulging that actually makes me feel better. I love Kayne, don’t get me wrong, and I don’t see anything wrong with the lifestyle. I just don’t want my sister to lose herself because of her controlling husband.
“Can I tell you a secret?” CJ asks.
“I love secrets.” I look up at him and bat my eyelashes.
He leans into me and speaks low. “I’m not so much into the submissive thing either, but the collar sort of turns me on.”
“Oh, yeah?” I arch an eyebrow. “I think you would look adorable in rhinestones.” I ruffle the lapel of his pea coat and then walk away.
Onto the next exhibit!
Our last stop is the gift shop. It’s chock-full of sex toys, a million different condoms, and everyday items that have been randomly sexualized—socks, pillows, and hand sanitizer to name a few. My personal favorite, the dishtowel that doubles as a cum rag.
I see CJ looking through a shiny gold bag across the room. It must have something he wants because I also watch him buy it.
“Souvenir?” I ask as we meet each other in the middle of the store.
“An interactive one.” He smiles so brightly it actually makes me nervous. I can’t even begin to imagine what’s in that bag.
“Do I even want to know?” I ask.
“I’ll show you later, if, and only if, you’re a very good girl.”
I stare up at him. I both love and hate the way that sounds.
“Hungry?” He grabs my hand. “I have been dying for a good slice of pizza all day. You don’t realize how much you miss it until you can’t get it.”
“I would rather know what’s in the bag.”
“All in good time, shortcake. All in good time.”
We find a tiny pizza place a few blocks down. We order at the counter, and then grab a seat in the corner. The place literally has five tables.
“What else is on the agenda for today?” I ask as our pizza is dropped in front of us.
“I thought we would go back to the hotel, hang out for a while, then catch a show and a late dinner. What do you think?” CJ takes a bite of the steaming hot slice and nearly burns his mouth.
“I think you need to blow on your food before you eat it.” I giggle.
“Nah. I like it hot.” He takes another bite, sucking in air as he does
. A suggestive look in his eyes.
Don’t I know it …
I’M FEELING BOTH TIRED AND wired once we get back to CJ’s hotel room. I lean back against him in the crowded elevator, and he expels a moan only I can hear, pressing his semi-hard erection into my back. Our little excursion must have affected him. I know it affected me. I blame the porn and the fact I am hard up for him every single second. I swear I’m like a bitch in heat.
Once inside the room, I try to pull it together and distract myself by looking out the window in the living room and not directly at CJ. The view really is incredible at any given time of the day.
“Tara!” CJ calls from the bedroom.
Oh shit, here we go. I walk into the other room fully prepared to be pounced on, but I find a surprise instead. On the bed are three large silver boxes stacked together with a gold bow tied around them. I glance over at CJ confused.
“They’re for you,” he confirms with a conniving grin.
“For me? You didn’t have to buy me anything.”
“I know. I also know that I own you this weekend, and I can do whatever I damn well please. That was the arrangement, correct?”
“It was,” I confirm.
“Good. Now, accept my gifts graciously.” He saunters up beside me, snakes one arm around my waist, and grabs my chin gingerly with his hand.
“Thank you,” I utter softly, my face tilted up.
“You’re welcome.” He drops a kiss on my lips. “You might make a halfway decent submissive after all.”
I glare at him.
“You know, if I was into that stuff,” he tacks on before he releases me so I can open the boxes. I feel a little guilty and a little giddy. He really doesn’t need to buy me anything. I know he’s wealthy, and he never let me pay for a thing when we were together in Hawaii, but still, it’s a pride thing I guess. I tear open the first box and find a mound of tissue paper stuffed inside. After rummaging through it all, I pull out a black cape coat with gray fur lining.
“Is this real?” I run my hand over the softest fuzz I have ever felt.
“It is but don’t tell. We don’t want to piss PITA off.” He winks.
“I can’t accept this.” I push the coat toward him.
“You can, and you will.” He grabs my wrists. “Come on, Tara. Let me spoil you.”