by L. Duarte
When he finally reaches my buttocks, I’m grinding my teeth. My hands are closed into tight fists. My chest presses on the mattress, rubbing my sensitive nipples on the sheet, seeking release.
“I need to taste your sweet pussy again,” Seth says.
Tears gather in my eyes again. I need him. Not his tongue.
“No matter what, don’t scream. You can only make a sound when you come. And you don’t have my permission to come just yet,” he says, caressing my ass.
His mouth closes around my clit. He sucks. Tears flow out of my eyes. My body strains like the taught string of a pulled bow. I fear I will break.
I’m on the edge of no return when Seth stops the onslaught of his mouth.
He rearranges himself in my entrance and grips my hips firmly on either side. “You have permission to scream and come.” The words stumble out of his mouth choked. With one long and sturdy thrust, he rams deep inside me.
My cry is so loud and raw that I fear it will damage my vocal cords.
Relentlessly, Seth continues his thrusts. Each time, he withdraws his erection to the tip and drives it back to the hilt. My nipples rub against the sheet each time. The impact of every collision shifts the knots on the rope binding me. The constant massage cajoles me to scream and cry out Seth’s name. The combination of stimuli dizzies me.
I arch my back, imploring for more. Begging for more. Desperate for more.
Seth’s right hand lets go of my hip only to slap my ass. “Come for me, baby,” he commands, his hand flying back to my hip so he can continue the thrusts.
Every fiber of my body tightens. It reaches the point of no return. A cosmic explosion. A burst of energy. Everything goes black. My body, defying gravity, levitates. Then I fall in a spiral of pleasure and weightlessness.
In my descent, I hear Seth’s own cry as he follows me to climax. He calls my name. His body shakes with mine. He goes still, his erection twitching inside me. He collapses on top of me and rolls us to our sides.
The position is awkward, but my limp body doesn’t complain.
After a minute, Seth releases the tie on my back and sits me on the bed. My body is unrecognizable to me. He massages my hands and arms. “Are you okay?” His voice is worried.
I try to speak, but my lips don’t move. I nod my head.
He removes the blindfold. My lids blink rapidly as I adjust to the soft light of dozens of candles flickering around the room.
My gaze finds Seth. His eyes are strangely shy and expectant.
“How was it?” he asks in a murmur.
I run my tongue on my lips. “God, Seth . . .” My voice trails off.
“Good God, Seth that was awful, or Seth, you’re a god?” He jokes, but his voice is charged with insecurity.
“Don’t make me talk, or think. It was . . . I can’t speak. There are no words to describe . . .” I try to raise my hand to caress his vulnerable face. But my limb doesn’t obey me. “Kiss me, Seth.”
He gathers me into his lap and kisses me. And during the kiss, I can’t imagine anything that he can say that will have the power to separate us. Seth has just seared through my soul and rooted in the most hidden place of my heart. A secret place we reserve for the unique soul that belongs to us.
He rocks me and whispers words that soothe me.
There on his lap, without realizing, I dive into the land of dreams.
Seth
I RECLINE ON THE pillows, bringing Lottie with me. Both my arms and legs surround her body, securing her to me. That’s when I know for a fact that I can never let her go.
I learned the Japanese rope bondage technique back when I first became an escort. Throughout the years, I’ve performed the technique hundreds of times.
For the past decade, I have acquired full knowledge of an unlimited variety of sexual techniques. I’ve catered to every taste. BSDM, fetishes, kinky sex, role-play. I conduct a woman’s senses with the same precision a maestro conducts the symphony of a magnificent orchestra. It’s what I do, and I’m damn good at it.
My clients dreamed it, and I turned it into reality. However, to attain full control of my profession, I forwent my own needs. I settled for second-hand emotions.
For a decade, my primary goal during sex has been strictly to the complete pleasure of a client. Now, I clearly see how one-sided it has become. In order to preserve my soul, I relinquished pieces of me.
Not that I haven’t enjoyed myself. I have. Tremendously. However, the satisfaction I ripped was just as fleeting as the average four-second duration of a male’s orgasm.
My life remained shallow and superficial. Perhaps that’s part of what made me excel. Each time I had sex I wanted to do it again, better my performance. I chased a nirvana that always eluded me, mocked me. The need for more was always there, gawking at the edges of my soul.
All the while, my confused mind perceived it as a healthy sexual appetite. It wasn’t. How massively deceived I was. I was unsatisfied.
I wonder how I managed to satisfy my clients when I, in turn, was so empty. Again, they bought sex. They expected nothing more. And I delivered carnal pleasure, each and every time.
Tonight, unknowingly, Lottie gifted me something I had lost. A piece of myself I had stored away, like a used shirt that no longer fits but you like it so much you stuff it in the back of a drawer. Eventually forgetting it’s there.
Tonight changes everything. Regardless of Lottie’s decision, I can’t go back to shallow sex. My life as a male escort is a closed chapter in my life now. Time to move on.
Lottie jolted my soul to life, rekindling a dormant need to connect with a partner. I will no longer settle for just sex.
My mind shifts to the problem at hand.
How am I going to reveal who I am to her? Not only will she never accept this part of my past, but she will also despise me. And the notion of her hating me feels like barbed wire squeezing my heart.
I carefully settle Lottie’s body on the mattress, propping pillows under her head.
I go to the bathroom and find a washcloth. I soak it in warm water and return to the room. Carefully, I wipe Lottie clean.
She murmurs my name but doesn’t wake up. I take a quick shower and slide into the bed with her. My body remains alert, aware of every breath Lottie takes, of every twitch of her body, of every sigh she exhales.
Sleep deserts me.
Before dawn, I peel Lottie’s arm and leg from me and get up.
A dark purple tints the dawning sky. The muted light filters through the curtains and casts a dreamy hue on Lottie’s bare skin.
God, she is beautiful and pure. The very essence of perfection. How am I supposed to let her go?
After a bathroom visit, I head to the kitchen.
I prepare a pot of coffee and lean on the counter, waiting for it to brew.
I fill two mugs and head back to the room.
I sit on the edge of the bed, debating if I should wake up Lottie.
Before I come to a decision, her eyes flutter open ending my dilemma.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” I say with a shit-eating grin. Being with Lottie has transformed me from a fully in control Casanova to a cheesy bastard.
“Morning to you,” she replies with a hoarse voice. She stretches her limbs. A grimace mars her perfect features.
“What’s the matter, baby?” I quickly deposit the cups on the nightstand, and my hands fly to her. “Are you hurt?”
“Sore,” she says with a shy smile, her cheeks turning pink.
“There’s a Jacuzzi by the pool. We can soak later.” I smile. “And luckily for you, your husband holds a license in massage therapy.” I wiggle my fingers. “These hands are known for making miracles.”
“Well, I’ll hold you to it. But first give me that liquid love.” She sits, resting her back on the bed board.
“I didn’t even notice this last night,” she says, running her fingers over the mosquito net surrounding the bed.
“Understandabl
e, you were otherwise engaged.” I hand her the coffee.
Her eyes lower to the cup and she drinks from it. When she raises her gaze to me, it’s clouded with desire.
“Wait here,” I say, diffusing the sexual tension. I need to put some space between us before I sink inside those orbs and can’t find my way back out. Each moment I spend with Lottie makes it harder to confess the truth to her.
I check the medicine cabinet and find a bottle of aspirin. After making sure they’re not expired, I pop two pills out.
“Take these.” I offer her the pills accompanied by a glass of water.
“Thank you.”
“You want to go for a swim?” I ask.
“I don’t think I have a bathing suit.”
“Lucky for us, we don’t need one,” I say, wiggling my brows.
“You want to swim . . . in the nude?” Her eyes widen, and she puts emphasis on the last word.
“Why not?” I offer my hand and coax her from the bed.
“But, uh, but, what about Fabricio? Isn’t he coming back with food?”
I shrug. “The sun isn’t even up yet. I doubt he’s coming this early. Besides, if we hear him, we can run for cover.”
Before she has the chance to come up with more excuses, I bend down, grab her by the waist, and haul her over my shoulder.
She lets out a squeak and says, “Hey, put me down!” She taps my back.
“Hush,” I say with what I hope is a deep, dominant caveman voice and smack her ass. “Man bathe woman.”
Her laughter trails behind us as I run to the ocean.
I enter the water and the cold temperature shocks my system. Since the sun isn’t up yet the water feels colder than usual. I trudge through the waves until the water is at my waist, and then I toss Lottie in. Her arms and legs flail before her back hits the water.
When she surfaces for air, I gather her in my arms and kiss her something fierce. I break the kiss just enough for her to gasp for air. Then, my lips seal over hers again. This time, I take my time languidly exploring her mouth.
Her arms hook behind my neck and her legs snake around my hips. I’m instantly hard. But I won’t take her again until there is no deceit wedged between us. Not until she finally knows the truth.
I free her mouth. Her teeth clatter. “It’s cold,” she says.
“C’mon, don’t you live in the East Coast or what? Don’t you kids do the Polar Plunge?”
“No. Mm-Mm. Not me.”
“Let’s swim to warm you up a bit.” I release her. Disappointment crosses her face.
I have to summon all my will to resist the desire to make love to her as the sun rises from beneath the water.
We swim for an hour until I hear the distant rumble of a motor boat.
“Let’s go back in. It must be Fabricio with food.”
While Lottie takes a shower, I greet Fabricio, collect the food, and set a pickup time for the following day.
When I’m finishing preparing breakfast, Lottie enters the kitchen. “Have a seat, I’ll pour you some coffee,” I say, keeping my back to her.
I serve her avoiding eye contact. “I’m famished,” I say, sitting in front of her.
“You’re resourceful in the kitchen. Your momma must have done a great job raising you.”
“My mom was a crack whore. She never taught me shit.” Where did that come from? Even my voice sounds angry.
“Sorry,” Lottie says, fixing her eyes on her plate of bacon, eggs, and toast.
“No. I apologize. I shouldn’t have said that. I mean it’s true. About my mother. But it came out all wrong.” I run my hand through my hair. My appetite vanishes.
“Did you teach yourself to cook?” she asks, trying to lighten the conversation.
“My cousin. She taught me to cook.”
“Oh.” Her eyes, full of curiosity, meet mine. “Is she the one you lost touch with? You don’t know where she is?”
“No. We haven’t talked in over ten years. Listen, can we not talk about it?” I come across harsher than I wanted.
“Sorry,” she says, toying with her food. I guess I wasn’t the only one to lose their appetite.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” I ask, giving up on eating. My nerves won’t allow me to stomach any food.
“I think we better,” she says, rising from her chair.
She knows it’s time.
We walk down the stone steps leading to the beach. The sun, already high in the cloudless sky, warms my bare back.
In companionable silence we stroll along the shore, the waves lapping at our feet. The water is much warmer than earlier.
How do I tell her everything? I ponder.
“Want to sit for a moment?” I point to the trunk of a fallen coconut tree, lying on the sand.
We remain silent. Both our gazes lost to the horizon.
I inhale a big breath and square my shoulders.
“Baby, look at me.” I hold her chin and examine her face. Her features are crumpled with fear and anxiety. Oh, what I would do to dissipate that expression.
“No matter what happens, or what I tell you today, I want you to know one thing. These past days I spent with you were the best of my life. And I’ll treasure them until the day I die.”
“You’re scaring me, Seth,” she says with a nervous laugh.
I release her chin. My gaze returns to the horizon. “I grew up in a dysfunctional family. My dad was a piece of shit of excuse for a man. My mom was a junkie. He died when I was twelve. She died when I was sixteen.”
I gather a handful of sand and watch it run through my fingers. “Prior to my mother’s death, I had made a terrible mistake that ruined my cousin’s life.” Images of Luna with a broken heart flood my mind. I shake my head slightly. That’s another story for another day. If there is another day.
“After Mom died, I had the chance to make it right with my cousin. I took it. To do so I had to sever our relationship. Losing her is the only regret I have in my life.” I shrug. “Even though she’s better off without me.” I scoop another handful of sand. “That’s when I moved to Vegas. Alone. Broke. Homeless.”
“Oh, Seth.” Lottie reaches for my free hand and squeezes it.
“Please don’t pity me. I deserved every bit of it. I had screwed up royally and almost ruined my cousin’s life.
“My early days in Vegas were rough. I shoplifted from tourists, dug in dumpsters for food, slept in dark allies. There was no way I would go to a shelter. They checked IDs. I was a minor and had no intention of going into the system.”
“Seth, I’m sorry.” She squeezes my hand again. “You sure you want to tell me all of this?” she asks me with a pained voice.
I look at her. “I need to tell you this so you can understand why I did what I did. Why I am who I am.” I fix my eyes on the horizon again, before my courage to continue our conversation waives. “One lucky day, I jumped Zack.” I laugh mirthlessly. “I was so hungry. It was unusually chilly for Vegas. Even my bones were frigid after spending the night on the cold pavement. All I wanted was to buy a warm meal. I was careless and got caught snatching Zach’s wallet.” I’m silent again, remembering that day. “Zach has a tragic background, too. But that’s his tale to tell. Anyway, he was just a few years older than I was and had been in a similar situation when he arrived in Vegas. He took pity on me and bought me a hot meal. One thing led to another. And for whatever reason, he helped me. Fate is a bitch, you know? But also, fate can line up good things along the way. Zach was one of the two good things that happened to me. My cousin was the other. He took me to his house and offered to help me get on my feet. Soon after, I discovered what he did for a living, and I convinced him to hook me up with a job.”
I swallow hard. “Zach was a gigolo.” I’m silent for a moment, allowing the implication of what I just revealed to sink in.
Lottie was the first to speak. “What are you saying, Seth?” she asks, her voice wavering.
“I’m a male escort, Lott
ie. Chloe hired me for a night of pleasure for your twenty-first birthday.”
Let the chips fall where they may.
“No. No, no, no.” Lottie leaps from the log as if it had electrocuted her. She trots to the shore. Her back is to me.
I wait for her to say something. But she is as silent and still as a statue.
I approach her slowly. I put my hand on her shoulder. Lottie winces, shrinking away. “Don’t touch me!” she says.
“How much?”
“Lott—”
“How. Much.”
“Eight grand for the night,” I say it so quietly I wonder if she even heard me.
“I knew it.” A manic laughter blares over the crashing waves. “When would a guy like you take a second look at a girl like me?” She sweeps a finger under one eye then the other, laughing again. “When he got paid for it. That’s when.”
Her pain throttles my throat.
“Lottie, you have to let me explain.”
“What’s to explain? Did you charge extra for marrying me? How about meeting my family? Of course, Chloe can afford you. Money is of no consequence to her. Perhaps you gave her an exclusive. An all-inclusive deal. Like . . . like an all you can eat buffet.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Lottie, let me talk.”
“God, I’m so stupid. How didn’t I see this one coming?”
“Stop it.” My fingers clasp around her elbows, forcing her to face me.
“Was last night included in the package?”
“I’m falling in love with you . . . ,” I whisper.
“No. You don’t get to play your sick games with me anymore.” She shakes her head. Her tear-stained face crumpled with pain.
“It’s not a game. Lottie, you must believe me. I didn’t know it was you.” My voice breaks with emotion. “When I saw you under the Ursa Major constellation the world faded away. It was just you and me. I swear I didn’t even know you . . . Please, Lottie, you need to believe me.” A salty taste permeates my mouth. First, I think is the taste of the ocean, but I realize a solitary tear rolls down my face.