by Ash Harlow
“This is certainly better.” As he speaks he unbuttons my blouse and pushes it off my shoulders. “You’re wearing too many clothes.” My bra follows my shirt to the floor.
“Speak for yourself,” I say, whipping his belt open and lowering his zipper. I lift my hips and his lift too, so that I can push his jeans down his thighs behind me. I crawl backwards, stopping when my head is above his hard cock. “Is this all for me?”
“Yes, it is. Take off your clothes.”
“What’s the rush?” I dip down and run my tongue along the length of his erection, making him say my name in the sexiest way. Then I take him deep into my mouth and make him groan.
“Steffi. I’m not going to last long if you keep doing that.”
I let his dick pop out of my mouth, stroking his balls and that intensely sensitive spot right behind them. “Control, Noah. You tell me when you’re close to coming, and I’ll stop and let you calm down.”
“I don’t think so,” he growls.
“Come on, play fair. That’s what you like making me do.”
“Yeah, but you needed the practice. Fuck!”
The cursing is because I’m licking the length of him and the tip of my tongue found the magic spot beneath the head of his dick that he should never have told me about. His hand grabs my head and lifts me off. I’m laughing. I love the power of taking away his self-control.
“Pants off, now,” he orders.
I stand and do a slow strip for him. Jeans sliding down my legs, a twirl, a twerk that earns a pleasantly stinging slap to my ass cheek, before I finally inch my panties to my ankles.
Noah’s got his hand around his cock, stroking slowly. He’s kicked off his jeans and is still on his back on the floor, watching me.
“What’s your stripper name?” he asks.
“Candy,” I purr, and giggle.
“Well, Candy, any chance of a lap dance?”
“Sorry, I only do pole dancing.”
“Even better. I’ve got this hard pole...”
He doesn’t finish before we’re both cracking up laughing, but we don’t laugh long.
“Come here,” he says, and the way his eyes rake over my body all but makes me melt. I straddle him again, my pussy covering his dick. It throbs. I can feel the beat of him against my swollen flesh.
He presses the head of his cock against my entrance and slips his other hand around my throat, easing my body low towards his. “You and me, Steffi. No matter what happens, nobody will fuck with us. Slide down on my cock.”
I circle my hips, keeping his cock right at my entrance where every nerve ending is jagged and ready. Noah takes hold of my hips with a determined grip, pushing me down.
“Aaahhh, that’s it. Your cunt is wet and perfect. Are you like this all day?”
“Only when I’m around you. Or when I’m thinking of you. Or when I imagine your voice in my ear, saying dirty things, telling me how you’re going to fuck me.”
“Fuck. Can you feel what you do to me?”
He raises me and pushes me down on him again, further this time, right down to the root. Every broad inch of his cock stretching me, making me his.
“Ride me, Steff.” His hand snakes between my legs, playing with my clit. I ride him hard, my hands braced on his shoulders, exactly the way we both like it. The wind howls louder, rain pelts the windows like thrown pebbles, and I think the panes will shatter. I feel as though I might shatter, too.
“Come to me,” he says, taking my hands over his shoulders and claiming my mouth.
We says words to each other as we kiss. Wet mouths, slick tongues, the slap of our flesh urging us on.
“This never ends,” he says. “Say it.”
“This never ends,” I say.
He kisses me harder.
“I love you,” I say, quietly against the fierce bite of his teeth.
“Don’t think I didn’t hear that. I love you, too.” His voice rumbles through me leaving behind it a rockfall of sensation and emotions. Little pieces crumbling and falling. Exposed.
“I’m going to come, please may I come?”
“Of course. Do you like this?”
He pinches my clit, squeezing, drawing every sensation to the surface. One more thrust and we cry out together. I shatter, my pussy spasming over Noah’s pulsing cock. Every time is better than the last. I collapse on top of him as he plies me with kisses filled with words of love over my face and neck.
He never fails to stun me, and a crazy surge of fear hits me as I realize I don’t know how I could be in this world without him.
***
“This bathroom is amazing.” We’ve just had shower sex and Noah is drying every inch of my body. He washed every inch, too. From the shower you can look up Mount Isaiah and pretend you own the world.
“Kata’s a craftswoman. We need to get her married off to someone in town so that she stays in Queenstown and we can hire her for future building. The detailing and finish are superb.”
“Maybe we can marry her off to Cam,” I tease. “She can pull his head out of his ass with her common sense, or lever it out with one of those special tiling tools she uses.”
“I think Cam wants to find an heiress.”
“Cam doesn’t know what’s good for him. I wonder if he needs any work done on his house. Or, maybe we can have everyone who worked on this place up for a Sunday lunch soon, and we’ll invite Cam along, too.”
We have a late breakfast then, sadly, we have to leave Isaiah and head back into town. Noah is quiet on the drive, but it’s not a comfortable silence.
“Is something on your mind?” I ask.
“No, I’m good. I have a few things to sort out this afternoon.”
That’s not the sort of answer I wanted. He’s tense. Of course I start running through everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours. Maybe he’s regretting his declaration of love last night. I shut down that line of thought immediately. Noah doesn’t seem like the sort of person to casually throw words of love around.
Perhaps it’s Cam. Or the contract. Or nothing more than the work he has to do this afternoon.
He carries my bag into the apartment for me, gives me a kiss and tells me he’ll see me in a couple of hours. I shouldn’t be concerned, but the change in his mood is setting off alarm bells. I don’t want to be the girl who second guesses, and if he says he’s good, then I’ll have to accept it.
I can hear him moving about upstairs. Then it’s quiet.
I consider logging on to O-Zone and giving Doctor O and the ’gasm-girls an update, but I signed off weeks ago and promised myself I wouldn’t go back. Maybe I’ll tell Noah about O-Zone when he comes back to the apartment. It’ll probably give him a good laugh.
20 ~ Noah
Why is it easier to tell Steffi I love her than tell her about my writing, and about O-Zone?
I don’t have to think too hard about that. There wasn’t much risk of driving her away by declaring my love. O-Zone has been a secret I’ve put to one side and ignored. I should have been straight with her from the start. But I wasn’t, so that sort of thinking is pointless.
I log on but remain incognito. I’m not in the mood for chatting right now, but I want to make a shortlist of users who might like to act in administration and mediator roles if I’m not going to be around much. If I can’t find any suitable members, I’ll have to shut O-Zone down. I don’t want to do that. It serves a useful purpose and there aren’t a lot of places online these days that are predator and troll free.
After an hour, I’ve made up a shortlist and drafted a document with guidelines on how I expect O-Zone to run. Obviously, there are things going on behind the scenes that users aren’t aware of, and now I’m trying to cover every scenario I can think of. And always in the back of my mind is the thought that I have to get back downstairs and tell Steffi about the part of my life I’ve kept hidden from her. Even though, anonymously, she’s been part of it, too.
Steffi’s going to be furious.
/> Zer-O.
My chest tightens when the little indicator beside her name turns from red to green. Shit. Why is she online? She hasn’t logged in since that little farewell note from weeks ago. I can’t give her the opportunity to write anything because it will only amplify the way she’s bound to feel betrayed. I quickly open the admin panel, find her details and disable her account.
I log off, and take the stairs two at a time to her apartment.
Steffi’s on the sofa when I barge in, cross-legged, laptop open. She looks up at me, a frown crossing her face. “If you’ve come down to check on the wifi, mine has dropped, too,” she says.
“I logged you off.”
“Off the wifi? How did you manage to do that?”
“Off O-Zone.”
My heart batters at my chest wall as the color drains from Steffi’s face.
“I don’t understand—”
“I know. Let me explain. Fuck. There’s no way to soften this. I’m Doctor O. I own O-Zone.”
Her eyes grow larger. “And, you write those books.” It’s a realization rather than a question.
“Yeah.”
Seconds pass in silence. I’m trying to imagine what’s running through her head right now, but it’s impossible to tell from the stunned look on her face.
“Steffi, I’m going to explain—”
She holds up a finger to stop me. “You let me humiliate myself. I thought I was chatting to a stranger.”
“You were. I didn’t know it was you.”
I hate watching what I’m doing to her. Steffi’s face screws up and I think that for the first time in my life, I’m about to see her cry. I want to comfort her, tell her it’s fine. Nobody else knows. She’s safe. I step towards me but she raises her hands.
“Stop. Stop there. I don’t want you near me.”
“Come on, Steffi. It’s a shock. I know that. I was shocked, too, when I worked out you were Zer-O.”
There’s a shift to anger. “Who else knows?”
“Nobody. It’s a private, safe space.”
She makes a sound of disbelief. “How long have you known I was Zer-O?”
“Since the morning after the first night I stayed in your apartment. You gave me your kindle to read and it opened on one of my books. I know you had no idea I wrote those stories. When I logged into O-Zone later that morning, I discovered Zer-O had written a message to say she was signing off O-Zone because she’d found her Stroke Master. I was happy for her … you, as it turned out. Then you got back from your ride that afternoon and you called me your Stroke Master, and everything began to fall into place. I didn’t say anything immediately because I wasn’t completely certain.”
She stands and walks past me to the door. “So, you were just going to keep it a secret. I guess you thought it was hilarious—”
“I didn’t think that, ever.”
“You probably thought you could carry on with your dirty talk in O-Zone and I’d never find out.” She pulls the door open. “I’d like you to leave now, please. I need time to think.”
Fuck that. I’m not leaving her alone to think when she has only her shock and a smattering of facts to draw conclusions on. I turn my back on her and walk to one of the armchairs and sit down. “I’m not going anywhere, Steffi, until we’ve talked this through.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“Fine, but you can listen. I’m not defending myself. This is a completely bizarre coincidence, or fate, or whatever. I want you to understand the evolution of O-Zone.”
She stands beside the window, her body language tight and closed off.
“I started writing those stories to pay my student debt. They’re super-sexy, some might say illicit, but there’s nothing illegal in publishing erotica. They sold well. Really well. And I managed to clear the student debt I’d racked up, and never went into debt again. Do you have any idea how freeing that is? I watched talented medical students break down under financial stress. Others left before they graduated, unable to afford to carry on. That’s the reality.”
Steffi nods. She’s not cutting me off so I keep going.
“I began getting a lot of mail from readers which I couldn’t keep up with.” My phone buzzes with the one sound I really don’t want to hear right now. “I started a Facebook group where we could all hang out, and to reduce the amount of mail I was getting, but somebody reported it for inappropriate content and it was closed down.” My phone buzzes again. “My roommate’s brother was this techie guy and he set up O-Zone for me. It was better than any public platform. It was private, safer. There were rules I could enforce. People were free to talk about issues surrounding their sexuality, without fear of judgment, or being preyed upon.” My phone buzzes for a third time and I pull it out of my pocket. “I’m sorry, Steffi, I have to check this.”
They need me at the medical center immediately. The small emergency department at the hospital is stretched after a string of accidents and they’ve asked us to take the less urgent cases at the clinic. It’s how small towns work.
“Emergency?” Steffi asks.
“Yeah. Listen. We’re going to be fine. I promise you, Steffi, there might have been a lot of joking around in O-Zone, but everyone was kind and supportive. We’ll keep talking about this.”
She shakes her head. “Why? So you can convince me I’ve no reason to feel betrayed and humiliated? This is tantamount to lying to me, Noah. I have deep trust issues around relationships with men. That last boyfriend I had talked about me all around town. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been for me to hold my head up and pretend I didn’t care when they called me frigid, the ice maiden?”
Her eyes are bright with tears, and my phone pings again.
“Go,” she says, flicking her hand at me. “They need you.”
She turns her back and leaves the room. I want to follow her and make sure she’s okay, but my phone won’t shut up. Fuck it. Being called away at the critical point of a discussion is what makes relationships so difficult. Sick and injured people need me, but Steffi’s hurting, badly, and I want to fix her before anything else.
Do no harm.
Those three words I use as my moral compass are supposed to stop me from becoming my father. I grew up thinking there was something monstrous inside me that allowed my mother to leave and not take me with her. That abandoned child still lives inside me, and as a teenager I decided she must have seen the same thing in me that she hated in my father.
From another room I hear Steffi blowing her nose. We’re not done, Steffi Paxton. My phone buzzes once more. I pull it out.
— On my way—
I switch to doctor mode and force my personal problems out of my mind. I need to turn up at the center with my A game, and then I need to return to Steffi and make sure she knows that I will never again hurt her.
21 ~ Steffi
I can’t even think beyond my initial reaction to finding out Noah is Doctor O. I’m hurt, and humiliated, and I feel betrayed. Was he ever going to tell me, or was he going to continue with the chat room and writing erotica behind my back?
The medical center board members will have a blue fit if they find out. And what a delicious scandal for the media on a slow day. Write a clickbait headline for the story of the doctor who writes porn and runs an online forum where women talk explicitly about their sex lives, and the story will be granted eternal life, showing up on websites forever.
Can I trust him now?
Will he always look upon me as Zer-O?
My heart is breaking for our relationship because it feels doomed. And what the hell was Noah thinking? How could he be so careless with his career?
I want to phone Terra and talk it through with her because I can’t think straight. But I’ve never told her about O-Zone, so I guess I’m as guilty of keeping secrets as Noah is. I could explain everything to Terra, now, but what if she told someone? That person would tell one more person and soon everyone would kn
ow.
It would eventually get out. All that talk about me being frigid would start up again except I wouldn’t be the ice maiden any more, I’d be Zer-O. Noah would lose his job. Even if our relationship is finished, I’m not putting Noah’s career on the line. He’s an amazing doctor and this world needs more people like him.
My apartment is spotless, but I start cleaning anyway. Whenever I think about O-Zone a rush of shame makes my stomach churn. In the finish I decide on a bike ride. At least I’ll be able to burn off this stress.
Although it’s cold outside I dress lightly. Just a thermal layer and a thin shell jacket because I’ve got a fury to burn that will warm me in minutes. I don’t feel like running into anyone I know, or hikers who want to talk about the scenery, so I head for a rugged back-country trail where I can be alone.
This is hard. The track is steep, but it’s always like that. My legs feel strong, but what makes it difficult is I can’t control my breathing. I can’t find that loose rhythm where I’m pushing myself, demanding more air, and my body responds with long, deep, gratifying breaths. I’m forced to focus on my breathing when I want it to simply happen. And it’s ragged, all over the place. Deep, sharp, short, none of it working properly for the demands I’m making on my legs.
My physical fitness and my lean, toned body are my barrier to the world. Men are attracted to the way I look. You see it in their eyes, you feel it in the way they check you out when you pass them in a bar or on the street. That was enough for me until Noah showed me what I was missing. A deeper emotional connection that made me whole.
And that same emotional connection is breaking me into pieces.
I push harder up a steep incline, over a small branch that’s lying across the track. There’s a lot of debris from last night’s storm strewn about, and the wind sneaks up valleys, surprising me with a sudden gust and vanishing just as quickly. Either can cause a fall.
Balance.
Counter-balance.
Focus.
Read the terrain.
The first part of the climb is over and the terrain flattens for a while, giving me a chance to catch my breath. I’ve yet to reach any sort of conclusion about the way I’m feeling. Throughout the entire climb, my mind has gone in circles, always finishing with why?