by Amelia Betts
“Yes,” I whispered.
He ran the tip of his finger up and down my sex. “God, you’re wet. Jesus Christ.”
“Lick me, please,” I said, surprising myself. With Bradley, I had drawn the line at cunnilingus, the very thought of which had made me shudder with embarrassment. I had been so self-conscious that I couldn’t even have sex with the lights on. Yet here I was with Liam—by far the most attractive man I’d ever laid eyes on—in a lit room, dying for him to lick me, kiss me, consume every inch of my body. He had disarmed the little voice inside my head that made me hate my fluff and second-guess the way I talked, walked, dressed, smelled. His attraction was so genuinely animalistic that the only thing for me to do was give in to it.
And give in I did. The euphoria that overcame me in the next few minutes is hard to describe. It was like the happy buzz from every thrilling moment of my life had returned, this time condensed and coursing through my veins as if I’d shot up. The slick, sweet warmth of Liam’s tongue poking inside me, then carrying my wetness back up to my clitoris, circling around and around, then back down, was the most maddeningly beautiful thing I’d ever felt. I held out as long as I could, savoring the electrical charge that had lit up my entire body like a light. The passage of time had become completely irrelevant—it could have been minutes or seconds that went by before I finally lost control. All I knew was that he was humming when I finally gasped for breath and felt the most incredible orgasm pulse through my body. I screamed in ecstasy, and Liam stayed, his face still buried between my legs, until I’d experienced every last thrilling twitch. I glanced down at him just as he looked up. “Your pussy tastes like cotton candy,” he said.
“Mmmm… cotton candy,” I repeated. My mind drifted to food, but only for a brief second before I snapped myself back into the present.
Liam crawled on top of me, kissing up my body and neck. I reached for his shoulders, hoisting him up so that I could kiss his lips and wrap my legs around his waist. His erection felt massive against my waist. I had to reach down and take it in both my hands to really believe it. “You’re very big right now.”
“That’s how much I want you, little Mischa.”
I grinned. Little Mischa. No one had ever called me that before, not by a long shot, and I liked it. Liam propped himself on his hands and looked past me at one of the showers.
“Hey. Let’s get clean.”
Still dazed from the orgasm, I allowed him to lead me by the hand to one of the showers, a large, marbled affair with eight different showerheads. I would have let him lead me anywhere. As the water came on and pulsed hot over our bodies, I took the opportunity to put my hands on his chest and drag them down his chiseled abs. He was like a statue that had come to life, every inch of him defined, deliberate. He took my head in his hands and tilted it back under a water stream to wet my hair, and I did the same to his.
We were something different now, something purer. Liam had let me behind the curtain, telling me about his mother and his own battles with depression, and I had let him in too. It hardly made sense, but when I looked at him, I felt like I was seeing a completely different person than the one who had followed me home the other night. Overwhelmed by the need to feel him inside me again, I dropped to my knees and took him in my mouth, his warm, wet skin tasting pleasant, salty. Water poured over my head and streamed down my body as I took more and more of him in, allowing the tip of his erection to penetrate the back of my throat as I moved my head back and forth. Liam rested his palm gently on the top of my head, slinking his fingers through my wet hair.
Every once in a while, he encouraged me with a little groan, or “that’s it,” or “keep going,” as I sucked in time with the movement of his hips. I had only done this a few times. Usually I would have been self-conscious about my lack of experience, if not stifled by the fear that I was doing it wrong. But none of that even crossed my mind. We were both lost in the moment, enjoying ourselves with absolute abandon. When he warned me that he was going to come, I didn’t want it to end. I kept him inside my mouth and swallowed greedily. Another first.
Sore from kneeling on the marble tile, I stood up slowly and greeted a wobbly Liam with a smile. His face was ruddy. We were both happily spent. “That was all right,” he said with a wink. I poked at him playfully, and he kissed my forehead. I closed my eyes, silently wishing this would never end, as he began to lather me up with soap. We spent another five minutes in the heavenly water stream, steam enveloping us in our own little clouded atmosphere as we giggled and washed each other.
The whole thing had been so out of left field, I had no time to wonder what was happening or what any of it meant. I was simply caught up in the excitement of Liam, who was acting like a fantasy version of himself I hadn’t even dared to daydream about—vulnerable, patient, adoring. Once we had dressed and made our way to the elevator, reality started to knock on the door of my consciousness, threatening to burst my bubble, but I wasn’t ready for it yet.
“You know, I’ve never done it in an elevator,” I said, glancing around mischievously as the doors closed and we began our descent.
“Really?” Liam smirked.
“Yeah, really.” I leaned back against the railing and hiked my dress up to the waist, daring him to make a move. Liam, who was standing across from me, came over, but instead of taking me in his arms like I wanted him to, he leaned against the railing beside me and let out a long sigh.
“Mischa, we can’t.”
“Oh.” Humiliated, I let my skirt drop back down and straightened up, turning to face the doors.
“Hey”—he caressed my shoulder from behind—“it’s not that I don’t want to.”
I shook my head as the elevator arrived at the ground floor and we made our way out in silence. In seconds, I had gone from seductress to reject. I felt like running and hiding, but there was no escaping the situation—Liam needed a ride back.
In the parking lot, I led him to the Dumpster where we threw the towels we’d taken from the spa into the trash. I noticed his face had gone blank and felt a bitterness seeping into me as I remembered the scene after the first time we’d had sex when Liam had driven me back to Julien’s without uttering a word.
“You know, my friend Gracie has this term for that blank look certain guys get after sex.” I broke the silence as we made our way back to my car. “She calls it ‘serial killer face.’ You’ve got it now.” I pointed at him, trying to sound like I was making a joke even though my heart was in the process of shattering.
“That’s not true. I’m not some stupid frat boy who can’t look a girl in the eye after I’ve fucked her.”
I stopped walking. “Then look me in the eye!” I turned to face him and noticed the cloud of shame and guilt that seemed to envelop him.
Liam kicked at the ground, his hands finding the pockets of his chef’s coat. He glanced at me only briefly. “I don’t know what to say, Mischa. You know it’s complicated with me.”
“It wasn’t different, was it?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“Different from what?”
“You said back there that this—you and me—was different! I don’t know why I believed you. It’s what I wanted to hear, I guess. I should have known better than to think somebody like you—”
“Somebody like me what? Was a good guy? Was worth more than a quick fuck?” He finally held eye contact with me for more than a second, and I could see his guilt turning to anger.
“No. That someone like you would actually want someone like me.” I sounded pitiful but it couldn’t be helped. The best I could do was hold in my tears.
“I do want you. But I’m fucked up.” Liam groaned.
“Well so am I. I thought that’s what we liked about each other.” I threw my hands up as Liam kicked at the ground again. The more pitiful I became, the more angry he seemed to get.
“It’s not the same. I wish I was like you. I wish my only vice was food, or booze, or drugs. But no, I have to turn myself of
f—shut down like a robot—so that I don’t keep trying to fuck you all night, or somebody else. If I didn’t control it, I’d be on the prowl constantly. I wouldn’t stop. Do you know how hard that is?” He finally looked at me, his eyes squinted in exasperation.
I shook my head, no longer able to fight back the tears that traveled down my cheeks. “No. I couldn’t possibly understand. I’m just a sweet chubby girl from Iowa, right?”
“Mischa, that’s not fair.”
“I know, but none of this is fair. I can’t be mad at you, but I am,” I cried. “You shouldn’t have had sex with me, but you did. We were gonna keep each other out of trouble, but we didn’t. Obviously this can’t happen again,” I said, finally voicing the thing I knew I should voice but without really meaning it. What I wanted was for him to argue the other side, to beg to be my friend or something more. But by the time Liam came up with a response, I had already opened my car door and stolen into the driver’s seat, knowing he wasn’t going to say anything that I wanted to hear. He couldn’t.
“You’re right.” He shook his head, getting into the passenger seat. “I’m sorry.” Liam turned to me, studying the side of my face. Now I was the one who wouldn’t look at him.
“I’m sorry too,” I answered, not sure to which of us I was apologizing as I started the car.
“Obviously this can’t happen again.” Liam’s voice was warm but the message was impossibly cold as he repeated my words back to me verbatim.
“Fine,” I said as icily as possible, realizing that this was a breakup, even though we’d never even been together. It felt just as painful as the only other breakup I’d ever gone through when Bradley had called me over to his dorm room early one morning after avoiding me for two weeks. In a way this was worse, because at least with Bradley I had seen it coming.
The ride back with Liam was as silent and somber as a funeral procession. We didn’t even look at each other when we muttered our goodbyes and he slipped out of the car. Driving away, I let more of my pent-up tears fall and by the time I’d reached the street, they had begun to obstruct my view. I wiped at my wet cheeks furiously as I contemplated the heartbreak I’d stupidly invited into my life by involving myself with this man. You should have known better, I heard my know-it-all inner voice saying. It was true. I had known his story from day one: sex addict, dangerous, impulsive, in a losing battle with his recovery. That I’d decided to even fantasize about someone like Liam actually made me the crazy one, not him.
The only person who could possibly sympathize with me now was Gracie, even if she was still mad at me from our conversation that morning. I set my phone to speaker and dialed her, and to my relief, she answered on the third ring.
“Gracie?”
“What are you doing?” She sounded groggy.
“Shit, did I wake you up?”
“No… it’s just two in the morning and I have work tomorrow. Why would I be sleeping?”
“I’m sorry.” My voice shook. “I didn’t realize how late it was.”
“You sound like a mess, Mischa. What’s going on?” There was a rustle of sheets on the other line. She coughed to clear her throat.
“It’s Liam…” As I said his name, a fresh wave of tears hit me and I had to gasp for breath.
“You mean the sex-addict-rock-star-slash-restaurateur?”
“Slash asshole, yes.”
“Oh no. What’d he do?”
I inhaled deeply in an effort to calm down. “We had sex again, but he doesn’t want anything to do with me. But it was the best sex of my life.”
“Not saying much. I’m sure Bradley wasn’t exactly a master.”
“Gracie, please don’t do that right now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, it’s just… What do I do?”
“Sweetie, I don’t know what to tell you. I’m in the same boat.” She sighed into the receiver.
“Really?” My composure came back slightly as I shifted my focus onto Gracie’s problems and off of my own. “With that guy? Richard?”
“Yeah. We had sex finally. In a public bathroom. At a club. I’ll put it this way—it was not what I had envisioned.”
“Oh no.”
“He had serial killer face. Like during the act.”
“Oh shit. Liam had it tonight. I mean, not during, but close enough. God! What was I thinking?”
“Just try not to beat yourself up, okay?”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I don’t know. The thing is, I think I’m falling for this guy. I’m just hoping it was a bad first time and something will change.”
“You never know,” I said. “I mean, unless he tells you he can’t have sex like a normal person because he’s addicted to it.”
“Yeah, right. In this town that’s more likely than not. But seriously, you sound terrible, my dear. Do I need to put you on Taco Bell watch?”
“Too late, I’ve been eating Mexican pizzas on the daily. That and everything else.” I heard Gracie laugh on the other end and managed a smile.
“Well, we should focus on the good stuff,” she said. “Tell me about the best sex of your life!”
I thought about everything that had happened that night, but it was already tainted in my memory. “I don’t think I can talk about it.”
“Fair enough.” Gracie was either groaning or yawning, it was a toss-up.
“You’re sleepy,” I said.
“Yeah, you know, two in the morning and all.”
I pulled onto Julien’s street and turned my headlights off as I drove up to his curb. “I’m sorry I woke you up, friend. I just needed to hear your voice. I hope you can get back to sleep.”
“Yep.”
“I love you for picking up the phone… and I’m sorry about earlier,” I said tentatively.
“Me too.”
Her quick response made me tear up for a whole new reason. “I love you, Gracie.”
“Love you back, you crazy person,” she said.
We hung up just as I put the car into park and fumbled for the key to Julien’s side gate that I kept in the small pocket of my purse. It was a strangely large, heavily rusted iron key that I refused to keep on my key ring, but I couldn’t find it in its usual place. Then I remembered that I’d removed it to go for a walk earlier that day and must not have put it back.
“Shit!” This meant I would have to go into Julien’s house and sneak through the first floor without waking anybody up, which was a long shot given my proclivity for stumbling in the dark. I’d worried that this could happen at some point, and now it was happening exactly when I least wanted to be seen, my face and eyes puffy from crying, my sanity hanging on by a thread.
Left with no other choice, I unlocked the front door and pulled it toward me gently, hoping to stifle the slight creaking noise it made. Inside the foyer, I noticed a blue flickering light coming from the living room. I figured Cecile had fallen asleep in front of the TV and headed down the hall to turn it off. As I got closer, I detected voices speaking a foreign language and thought it odd that this was her programming of choice. Just outside the living room, I accidentally kicked a doorstop and inadvertently announced my presence to the TV watcher—who happened to be Julien, not Cecile—sitting on the couch wide awake. His back to me, he turned around and looked up.
“Sorry to interrupt. I left my key to the gate,” I said in a half whisper.
“That’s okay.” He sat up and paused the television. “Everything okay?”
I had to think for a second before I could find the words to answer. Part of me wanted to keep up the pity party I’d started with Gracie, but then I remembered what Julien had said about Liam just that morning and felt too sheepish to reveal anything about my heartbreak. Plus, he was my boss, not my confidant. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, the timbre of my voice sounding decidedly not fine.
Julien propped his arm on the back of the couch and rested his head on his hand. “Cecile couldn’t sleep. She woke me u
p to watch TV. Now I’m the one who can’t sleep. I got sucked into this Spanish movie about a prison guard who’s planning an elaborate suicide. Wanna watch? It’s actually good.”
I glanced at the TV, unsure how to answer. On the one hand, I was emotionally spent and should probably be facedown on a pillow right now. But on the other, Julien’s presence was always comforting, and the idea of being alone with my thoughts right now definitely wasn’t. “Sure, why not?” I said with an exhausted sigh. I made my way around the couch and plopped down beside him.
As he leaned forward to unpause the movie, I registered that he was wearing a T-shirt and athletic shorts. I hadn’t seen him so dressed down since the day I’d moved in. “You want me to fill you in?” he whispered as the subtitles hit the screen.
“No thanks.” I sank back into the soft pillow behind me, remembering how I’d coped with the Bradley breakup by watching endless hours of reality shows on the TV Gracie had smuggled into her dorm room. Just the blue glow of the screen had already coaxed me into a semi-catatonic state.
The film was dark and sad, not the kind of thing I gravitated toward on a bad day, but it was sufficiently distracting. About ten minutes in, I let my eyes close, allowing the inscrutable Spanish dialogue to mix with the steady sound of Julien’s inhales and exhales to create a soothing chorus that nearly lulled me to sleep.
“Hey, wake up, he’s about to do it!” Julien poked my shoulder, and I opened my eyes wide.
“I wasn’t falling asleep,” I said with a guilty smile.
On-screen, the lonely prison guard was rigging a rifle to a trip wire that connected to a doorknob.
“He’s Christian. He thinks if someone else opens the door and triggers the gunshot, he won’t go to hell.”
“Oh. So he’s just gonna sit there until someone opens the door?”
“Yeah, he’s in his office. Another guard comes to relieve him at the end of his shift.”
I glanced at Julien sideways, amused at how riveted he was. “Do you think he’s gonna die?”