by JA Essen
Sure hasn’t put a damper on her ability to torture the hell out of me sexually.
“You’re very welcome. It has been my pleasure.”
“Zander!” I hear Rachel squeal from my right side. She’s still on crutches for support, and is totally adorable as she hobbles down the hallway.
“Hey ‘hop-along’,” I greet her as she makes it to us. “You seem a little out of breath.”
“Zip it ‘bacon’,” she counters back. “Now get me out of here. I need some air.”
Her mom looks at us like we’re crazy, then closes her eyes and shakes her head. “You two have fun. Keep an eye on her, Zander. You’re going to have your hands full!” Rachel cuts her eyes and sticks her tongue out at her mom. Mrs. Upton just chuckles as she closes the door behind us.
“Oh thank God! They’ve been so damn protective the past two days since I was released.” After opening the passenger door, I grab the crutches from her as she holds onto the seat. Tossing them into the bed, she’s already trying to get up into the cab alone, even with the boot still on her right foot.
“Wait!” I bark out a little more aggressively than I intend. “Wait, let me help.”
“I can do it, Zander.” She huffs.
“I’m sure you can.” I roll the tip of my tongue along my bottom lip as I slide my arms under her legs and behind her back, “but I’ve waited nearly two and a half months to feel your body against mine and it’s been pure torture.” I purr the words into her ear as I close my eyes and run my nose through her hair, smelling the sweet scents of lavender and honey.
Settling her into the seat, I reach for the belt and buckle her in, letting my fingers dance across the small amount of skin showing out from the bottom of her top.
Fuck.
Crossing back in front of the truck, I reach down and adjust the erection upwards that is currently jutting painfully sideways. Opening my door, her eyes are sparkling. “Problems?” She smirks at me.
“You have no clue.” The words come out slowly, and dripping with desire as I climb up and in.
“I bet I have some idea,” she whispers as she leans into my ear and runs her nails up the leg of my jeans.
Taking her jaw between my thumb and fingers, I turn her face to mine and with our mouths just inches apart, I growl, “Fucking you in my truck in your parents’ driveway is not the first-impression I want to make, but if you don’t stop, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”
Rachel digs her nails into my leg and then moves her mouth against mine, taking my bottom lip in between her teeth and tugging, letting her teeth drag along until it pops free. “Okay,” she says, cocking her eyebrow and the left side of her mouth, daring me.
I can’t believe she’s calling my bluff.
“Fuck!” I shift the truck into drive. Gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, I make haste out of her subdivision.
“So, where are we going?” Rachel inquires as she rolls her window down, letting the cool air rush in.
“Just wait, you’ll see.”
“Mm, mysterious much?”
I catch her hand sliding across the seat between us before she can reach my leg and torture me any further. Lacing her fingers through mine, I respond simply, “Trust me, you’ll enjoy it. I’ve done my homework.”
Rolling through the city on the 101, I take the exit for State Street and keep driving straight until we hit Stearns Wharf, pulling up in front of Deep Sea Tasting Room.
A huge smile spreads over Rachel’s face. “You really have done your homework, haven’t you?”
Hopping down, I hurry to Rachel’s side and help her out of the truck. She slides herself down my body as she exits the vehicle.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re playing at, Miss Upton.” I smack her across the ass, causing her to jump slightly.
Looking back over her shoulder as I shut the door, her eyes are cut and dark. “Good. I sure would hate to think I’m putting forth all this effort and not going to get rewarded for it.”
I hand her the crutches, then closing my eyes, I grit my teeth and let a clipped breath slide out through my lips.
Oh we’re gonna fuck. We’re gonna fuck, HARD. Just not today.
“Come on ‘bacon’,” breaks me from my trance. She’s waiting for me at the front door. Hustling up, I grab the door for her and we head in.
“Two for Brooks. I have the patio reserved,” I tell the concierge at the front.
Sliding his finger down the guest list he finds us. “Yes sir, right this way.” Once we settle in to our table, he hands us menus and lets us know he’ll be back shortly.
Upon returning, the order I had placed with a local chef to be served is delivered to our table. An assortment of cheeses, fruits, and fresh baked bread samples are spread along a two foot long, silver serving dish in the shape of a sailfish. Stunning presentation.
“Have you two determined what sampling you would like to partake in this afternoon?”
“Up to you, Rachel, but I was thinking the Red-series would be a great choice.”
“Perfect,” she smiles, knowing that I know what I’m doing here.
“Excellent choice, sir. I’ll put it in and deliver your first selection shortly.”
Conversation flows all afternoon. She fills me in on her family and how her dad’s a big time architect up in San Francisco, having designed several of the larger high rise condominiums and maintains a percentage on each and every unit in them, providing long term income for their family. Her mother travels doing public relations for the company, and landing new deals.
Rachel spends most of her time at the beach, shopping, or hanging out with Macy. She’ll never have to put in an honest day’s work, and that bothers me. Her lack of knowledge of the ‘real world’ and all that that entails honestly worries me, and causes me to wonder if this is really a smart choice or not.
When the banter turns to me, I’m cautious as to just how much of my history I fill her in on at this point. Mom’s death, my psycho-ex, and everything that I left behind in Montana is more than I want to divulge. I keep it to the basics. Moved here four years ago. Needed a new climate and more opportunity for advancement. Been busting my ass to move up to detective, unsuccessfully thus far. Just trying to live my life for me.
Before long, it dawns on us both that we’ve been at it for nearly four hours and the sun has already set over the bay. The boats dotting the harbor have their lights on and the ocean waters look like a second night sky; tiny blinking lights reflecting, imitating the stars overhead.
I spend the last hour sipping glasses of water and talking about her recovery and the fact that she was supposed to have spent the summer abroad in Europe. Three weeks touring Europe…I can only imagine the cost. Probably more than I make in a year.
Walking back through the store, I grab a bottle of our favorite wine from the afternoon and notice that all the other tables are already empty and reset for the next day. The owner of the establishment came by earlier and introduced himself; he smiles at Rachel and I as we make our way to the front door. “Thank you for joining us today.”
I shake his hand as we leave and thank him for his employees incredible service, letting him know we will definitely return.
The drive back to Rachel’s home is fairly quiet, the wine still circulating through her system no doubt. Helping her to the front door, and taking in the grandeur of ‘everything-Upton’, once again sends niggling thoughts into my head. Even after all the chase I’ve put into this, as great as today was, I’m not certain that this will, or even needs, to go any further.
Arriving back home, I place my blazer on the hook near the front door, then head to the bedroom to settle in for the night. Depositing the contents of my pockets on the bedside table, I strip down, toss on a pair of boxers, flop down onto the king size bed, and flip on Sports Center. I rub my face with both hands, trying to weigh the pros and cons of more time with Rachel. While it’s all circulating through my head, I g
et a notification ding on my phone. It’s from Rachel and says ‘Image Attached’ followed by “Had a great time today. Hope I wasn’t too boring. Since you didn’t follow through (yet), I guess I’ll have to take care of myself tonight.”
The image is of her, soaking in a candle lit bathtub; she has one leg bent in the water and the other is placed up on the edge. With the water level as low as it is, I can clearly make out her cleanly shaven pussy that she is toying with a decent sized dildo and it is captioned: “Wishing IT was you!”
Well, I guess the PROS win-out.
Four
Rachel
It’s been two weeks, and three more afternoon dates. I can’t figure out what he’s waiting for. Chivalry can go to hell and die. I need to get laid.
Zander is picking me up shortly, and I’m pulling out all the stops tonight. I might not be able to pull off stilettos with the boot still on my right leg, but I’m willing to bet that this little black dress with its plunge-drape neck will do the job all on its own. I match the booted leg with a knee-high black leather boot that may scream ‘hooker’, but that’s what I need it to do.
Looking myself over in the mirror, I apply light makeup and lip gloss, keeping with a fairly natural look, allowing the dress to do all the talking for me. Smacking my lips together, I point into the mirror, “Medical boot be damned. You’re getting fucked tonight!”
No way in hell am I going to let my mother see me dressed like this, so I sneak quietly, or as quietly as is possible with this plastic and metal monstrosity that I still have to wear for another month, down the hallway and out the front door. Sending Zander a text, I find out that he’s only a quarter mile away so I use the app and open the gates for him. It only takes another two minutes before he is pulling up the drive.
“Whew baby, you sure know how to get a guy riled up.” His eyes rake over me from the top of my braided blonde hair all the way down to my thigh high black leather boot. “Hooker boots, I mean boot, huh?” He smirks at me, “I can work with that.”
“So,” I shuffle to the door he is holding open for me, “where are we going tonight?” I say a little prayer that it’s somewhere private so that I can get him out of that skin tight Nirvana-throwback T-shirt and ripped jeans.
“By the looks of you, we should be going to a club,” he hoists me up into the truck, “but I thought I’d keep you all to myself tonight if that’s alright?”
Oh my God! Prayers answered.
“I’m good with that,” I murmur as I trace my hand over the bulging bicep of his right arm.
I buckle up as he saunters around to his side, then I start pillaging through the bag on the floorboard. There are marshmallows, strawberries, graham crackers, bananas and bars of dark chocolate.
“Well this bag looks yummy,” I say as I pull a fresh strawberry from a basket and pop it halfway into my mouth.
“Rachel, those haven’t even been washed yet.” He chastises me with a look of ‘unbelievable’ on his face.
“I’ll risk it.” I bite through the small red fruit and the sweetness is immediately satisfying. Another bite and the juice dribbles out of the corner of my mouth.
“Here,” Zander leans in, “let me take care of that for you.” His lips suck at the corner of my mouth, sending a chill through my body and heating me all at the same time. When the tip of his tongue grabs the last dribble that is on the edge of my jawline, I nearly combust.
“Oooh,” I whisper under my breath. My head is spinning with the proximity of his body and the heat of his mouth so close to mine.
“Maybe you should wait until we get to my place before eating any more. Looks like that’s going to be a juicy bunch.” His smile is contagious as he puts the big, manly truck into drive and we exit the property.
If it meant you would continue to use your mouth on me, I would crush that whole carton of strawberries all over my body.
Our drive takes about ten minutes, and when we pull in, I think he must be kidding. I mean there’s assigned parking spots and everything, but the building looks like an old, rundown warehouse or something. He pulls into his spot and puts it in park.
If you think I’m going in there you’re out of your mind is written all over my face when he opens my door. “Trust me.” That’s all he says and I can tell by the look in his eyes, that it’s all I need to hear.
I slide out of the Ram as gracefully as possible to avoid giving any prying eyes a free show, and straighten the skimpy dress when both my feet are firmly on the ground. I love standing next to Zander. Most guys are generally only a couple of inches taller than me, and when I wear heels, I can look them eye-to-eye. Not Zander, though. I bet even in heels he would still have me by three inches. He takes my hand, and we move carefully to the, what, front doors? There aren’t any really defining characteristics, just a set of double doors with a keypad access.
Stepping inside is like stepping into another world. The floors are white and gray polished marble, and the walls are done in an acid wash or something. It’s very modern, and not at all what I was expecting. We walk hand-in-hand to the elevators and he presses the call button.
“I hope I’m not too presumptuous, but I’m guessing you don’t feel like taking the stairs.”
I kick his shin with my therapy boot. “Smart ass!”
“Damn that thing packs a wallop! Watch it.” Zander rubs his shin with his right foot.
“Don’t be a shit-head then,” I giggle. Just then, the wide door pulls back on the elevator and we hop on. He presses the ‘four’ on the all-digital selection screen. “Top floor, huh? Yeah, sure as hell not taking the stairs anytime soon.”
When we step out, I notice that there are only three doors. One in front, and one to each side. He turns to the left as we move off the elevator and swipes a small card hanging from his keychain in front of the reader on his door. As it opens, I’m dumbfounded.
“Holy shit!” I cover my mouth at the outburst.
“It’s not much, but it’s mine.” He walks past me and toward the kitchen, setting the bag on the counter.
The place isn’t huge by any standards, but the view is amazing. My eyes wander from the floor up the exposed beams to the rafters in the ceiling which must be at least fifteen feet high. It’s all very modern and industrial, but as I glance out the full length windows, I can see the harbor and all the sparkling lights on the boats, bobbing in the water.
“I bought the place when I moved to town and I’ve slowly been furnishing it over the years. I literally started with just a couch and a TV. No bed, no chairs, no dresser. Nothing else, just those two necessities.” Zander is shuffling around in the kitchen as I make my way to him and settle in at the bar. He’s already started the chocolate melting in the fondue pot, and is slicing the fruit. When he turns around for the bag of marshmallows, I snitch a piece of strawberry and a slice of banana, popping them in my mouth, but keep still so he doesn’t notice.
When he goes for the graham cracker box, I chew quickly and swallow, then reach for a marshmallow, but I’m busted when he turns back suddenly. They’re the jumbo marshmallows and I’m trying to fit the entire piece in my mouth, unsuccessfully.
“So, Miss Upton, you like having your mouth stuffed full, do you?” He swirls the melting chocolate with his finger and then dips it into his mouth, sucking it off, all the while holding my stare with his. “Yep, just the right temperature. Shall we?”
I nod my head.
“After you,” he motions to the living room where the couch and a large coffee table are situated.
Going first, I look back over my shoulder. “You just want to watch my ass sway.”
“Guilty as charged,” he growls, eyes full of desire.
Not one to displease, I move my hips with extra emphasis for his viewing delight. Hoping to move things along, I plop down on the couch most-unladylike, allowing the hem of the dress to slide up my legs, leaving nearly nothing to the imagination.
Placing the delicious spread on the ta
ble in front of us, he snaps his fingers. “Knew I was forgetting something. I’ll be right back.” Shuffling quickly to the kitchen, Zander procures two large wine glasses from the rack hanging over the commercial cooktop, and then reaching into the fridge, presents the bottle of wine he picked up two weeks ago on our first date on the wharf.
“Now everything is perfect.” He settles in beside me, pouring both our glasses half full, and handing mine to me. “To,” he pauses, letting his eyes wander over me for a split second, “the evening.” We clink and I take a long swig of the sweet red wine.
Placing his carefully on the table, he skewers a strawberry chunk and banana slice, dips them in the dark, rich, melty goodness, taps the prong on the edge, and brings it to my mouth, accidentally dropping a glob of chocolate on my leg in the process. It isn’t hot, but I can definitely feel its presence.
Looking me dead in the eyes, Zander moves himself off the couch and onto his knees in front of me. “Let me take care of that for you.” Placing a hand on the inside of each thigh, he presses them apart slightly, causing the chocolate to begin to run down the inside of my leg. Still not breaking eye contact, he darts the full length of this tongue out and presses it to the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.
Explosions go off in my head, and I think I see stars as I feel him dragging the roughness of his stubbled cheek up my leg along with the heat of his tongue and mouth. When he makes it to the glob on top, I’m no longer looking at him, but instead, my head is thrown back on the couch cushion, and I can feel his mouth suckling on me, making sure every last drop of chocolate is accounted for.
“There, that’s better.” He breaks me from my trance, my eyes popping open and noticing him still between my legs.
“Stay there,” I command. I reach forward, pressing my chest into his face as I reach for a marshmallow and dip it halfway into the chocolate fondue pot. Bringing it out, I make him arch his neck backwards and hold it for him to bite, pulling it away at the last second.