by Penny Reid
@BroderickAdams to @LucyFitz Human head + horse body = centaur. Horse head + human body = WTF. So, the first one, obvs.
@RonanFitz to @BroderickAdams @LucyFitz No more acid tabs for either of you.
*Lucy*
Oh, man. Oh, wow.
I couldn’t tell if it was down to me being such a good teacher or Sean having so much untapped potential, but our first sex lesson was going swimmingly. I lay back on the mattress, completely spent as I tried to catch my breath. Then a light¸ disbelieving chuckle escaped me. This situation was just beyond weird. Anyone might think I was getting far more out of the arrangement than him. I mean, he had given me two pretty fantastic oral sessions, even if he’d come prematurely during sex . . .
He was currently sprawled out beside me on the bed, his head turned to the side as he surveyed my post-orgasmic bliss with barely concealed fascination. He’d laid a claiming hand on my stomach; it was so large it splayed from my ribs to my hipbone.
“What’s so funny?” he murmured tenderly.
I shook my head, unable to answer, words catching in my throat.
Looking at him now, his eyelids lowered and his voice heavy with wonder and longing, a force of uncomfortable and unanticipated emotion gripped me. Maybe it was the stellar and surprising double orgasm, or perhaps I was just tired from the trip, but seeing him now, how he watched me made me feel greedy for him. And the greed felt foolish and unsafe.
I sat up and pulled the bathrobe closed, turning away and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. Taking several deep breaths, my gaze then snagged on my suitcase.
“Lucy?” His hand was on my back, rubbing a circle at the base of my spine.
I closed my eyes, needing to swallow before I could respond. “You’re a very fast learner.”
Now he chuckled, a sexy, low rumble. It hit me like a wave crashing over my skin.
“Thank you. You’re an exceptional teacher.” He sounded pleased.
“Ah, well . . .” I forced amusement into my voice and stood, moving purposefully away from him and his warmth. I crouched in front of my bag and pulled out a pair of clean yoga pants, underwear, and a baggy T-shirt.
“You’re getting dressed?” By the distance and direction of his voice, I could tell he was still on the bed.
“Yes.” I plastered a carefree smile on my face and, gripping my clothes to my chest, turned to face him as I walked backward into the bathroom. “Unfortunately, I will not be able to stay for steak and sex. I have places to be and pictures to take.”
His scowl was immediate. His eyes sharpened and felt like piercing icicles as he studied me. I held my breath. I thought he was going to argue.
Scratch that.
Idiot me hoped he would argue. I hoped he would ask me to stay, or flex his newly found flirting muscle and coax me into staying. I didn’t understand this desire, but there it was: weird and alarming and completely unwelcomed.
For a split second, I thought I would get my wish because he opened his mouth as though to contradict me.
But he didn’t.
“Fine,” he said, his lips curving into a quick grimace of a smile, his expression growing distant. Sean lay back on the bed, moving his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. “But I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”
Crappers! I felt like a total bitch. He’d just given me the elusive double orgasm and I was leaving him hanging.
“Yes. Absolutely.” I tried for cheerful, but didn’t quite manage it. “And tomorrow we’ll focus on you. Sorry to leave you hard up.”
Sean shook his head, his voice sounding distant in a way that made my heart ache. “I’ve told you before, you should never apologize for not wanting to have sex with someone.”
My steps faltered on the threshold to the bathroom and I hesitated, wanting to correct him. I did want to have sex with him. I wanted to have more than sex with him. And that was the problem.
Instead I said, “Tomorrow afternoon should be fine, but I’ll only be able to stay for an hour.” I didn’t have to leave after an hour, but I needed to set some boundaries for myself.
“Fine.” He nodded, then grabbed a pillow, pulled it to his chest and turned his back to me. “Turn off the lights, would you? I think I’ll take a nap.”
***
Nothing like a long bath, an hour of quiet yoga alone in my apartment, and marathon episodes of Blackadder to pull me out of my weird sentimental funk. Well, that and a good, stern self-talking-to.
Also a big help, doing a Google Image search for “Sean Cassidy Girlfriend” and being positively dumbfounded by the sheer number of Sean +1 bimbo images. The most recent one was from a few weeks ago and the woman had taken a selfie with Sean while he slept . . .
While. He. Slept.
Bloody weirdo.
But I couldn’t help but notice that the only woman he’d appeared with more than once was Brona O’Shea. Now I knew his involvement with Brona had been a deception, I was no longer surprised that Sean was so terrible between the sheets.
No woman had stuck around long enough to tell him he was rubbish, or that premature ejaculation was the sex equivalent to jumping the shark.
Feeling considerably more centered, this last thought gave me an idea.
I could repay Sean for his oral kindness while at the same time teaching him some self-restraint. And I could provide instruction without allowing myself to get tangled up in fanciful ideas again.
Therefore, armed with a plan, I knocked on his suite door exactly five minutes after noon.
“Lucy,” he said, both frowning and smiling at me, his eyes alight with confusion. “Why didn’t you use your key?”
Instead of answering, I stepped into the suite, dropped my bag by the front door, and lightly pushed him backward with a hand on his chest.
“You need to lay on the bed and take your pants off.”
Sean’s eyebrows jumped, but he moved where I led him and his hands were already unfastening his belt. “Why?”
“So I can give you a blow job,” I answered simply.
He let out a choked laugh, his gorgeous blues darting over my face, a warm, interested smile on his. “Far be it from me to be uncooperative.”
Toeing off his shoes as we entered the bedroom, Sean dropped his pants along with his red—yes, red—boxer briefs, and stepped out of them. I stood in front of him with my hands on my hips as though surveying his progress, though I itched to tug his shirt over his head.
Thankfully, he removed his shirt all on his own. I had to close my mouth before I drooled on the plush carpet. Obligingly, he lay back on the bed, his eyes never leaving my face.
“Don’t get excited just yet,” I tut-tutted, my eyes trailing down his body to find his erection already at full mast.
Crickets! Was this guy ever not hard?
My thighs clenched instinctively at the idea of putting his beautiful, perfect cock in my mouth . . . um, what was I saying again? Oh right, I was about to tell him about the catch. “You’re not allowed to come for ten whole minutes.”
The room grew very quiet. All warmth and amusement fled his expression.
Finally, he asked, “Pardon?”
I ignored his incredulous expression, which really just said it all. Ten minutes was nothing. Still, I kept my voice soft and sultry when I asked, “Tell me something. When you have sex with a woman, how long do you usually last?”
He looked toward the window and shrugged. “I don’t know. Am I supposed to time that shit with a stopwatch or something?”
“Don’t be clever. You know what I mean. In general, how long, Sean?”
He wouldn’t look at me as he answered, “A few minutes, maybe.”
I raised my eyebrows as his attention refocused on me. His expression was irritated, though you’d never know it to look at his cock.
His cock looked happy.
“Oh, come on, it’s not my fault. I’m usually drunk. Drunk sex is quick and sloppy.”
“Well, you’re n
ot drunk now.”
“You’re being unreasonable,” he huffed.
I climbed on top of him and his hands gripped my thighs. I was wearing leggings and a shift dress. I pulled off the dress, leaving me in a black lace bra. His eyes went instinctively to my breasts.
“The next time you’re inside me, don’t you want it to last a little longer? Don’t you want to savor it with me, Sean?” I whispered huskily, and all he could do was nod and swallow. He seemed almost entranced by my body. “Good, then let’s try this. When I put you in my mouth, I want you to close your eyes and think of something bland. Something that doesn’t excite you in any way.”
Leaning forward, I planted a quick kiss to his chest and he sucked in a harsh breath.
“Like what?” he rasped.
“Like doing your taxes.”
“My accountant does those for me.”
“Vacuuming your living room, then.”
“I have a cleaning lady for that,” he said disdainfully, like the very idea was insulting. I tried not to judge him for it, because I knew the kind of family he came from, and talk like that was par for the course, learned from childhood. He didn’t realize how spoiled he sounded.
“Isn’t there any menial task you don’t enjoy doing?”
He thought on it for a moment. “I’m not the biggest fan of leg day.”
Of course it would be something to do with sport. “Okay, well, imagine you’ve just been told to do two hundred squats.”
He scoffed. “You don’t just do two hundred squats, Lucy. You do sets.”
I cocked an eyebrow and pointed a finger into his chest. “Do you want this blow job or not?”
“Fine,” he replied huskily and it really was quite sexy. Goosebumps danced along my skin. “I’m doing two hundred squats. Preposterous, but I’m doing them. Now what?”
“Close your eyes and really visualize it,” I whispered, leaning back down to press my mouth to the defined V at his hipbone. His stomach muscles jumped at the touch and I smiled, enjoying how reactive he was.
Continuing to kiss my way down his body, I paused when I reached his cock. He groaned when I kissed it, featherlight. Then I licked him, this time with more force, before taking him fully into my mouth. He swore profusely.
“Really hard to keep thinking about those squats right now,” he grunted, hands fisting the sheets.
I moved down the entire length of him and back up, and a spurt of salty pre-cum filled my mouth. Man, he was never going to last ten minutes. I glanced at the clock.
12:07.
Sean reached down and pulled the tie from the end of my braid. He ran his fingers through my hair, freeing all the strands as I sucked him off. His warm palms cupped my face for a second, almost reverently, before clutching my hair in a tight fist. I looked up and our gazes locked. He cursed. My attention flicked to the clock again for the barest second.
12.09
“Jesus,” Sean grunt-gasped, his brow furrowing like he was concentrating really hard. I wanted to tell him to close his eyes like I’d instructed, but I was too foggy-headed with arousal and I couldn’t seem to manage it.
I let his cock fall from my mouth then licked up its length, cupping his balls. He groaned, the sensation rumbling up out of his chest.
“I can’t do this, Lucy. Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”
“Close your eyes. Think about those two hundred squats,” I told him shakily, because hearing him call me beautiful in that sexy gravelly voice had my knees going a little weak.
“I don’t want to close my eyes when I could be looking at you,” he whispered.
I took him in my mouth again, this time moving faster. His thighs tensed and his eyes flared, owning me with a single look.
God, I was done for. So completely done for.
He was beautiful. Despite all my plans and boundaries, my heart was clenching again with feelings I was too afraid to explore.
This was madness. I was mad. I tried remembering the face of that woman who’d taken a picture of herself with Sean while he slept. I reminded myself that he’d never had a girlfriend.
Sean Cassidy didn’t do relationships.
And even if he did, even if he wanted something more than lessons with me, there would never be an us. I was being ridiculous.
I blamed his body. His body made me want the impossible.
It was definitely his body and not the haunting vulnerability of him. It wasn’t his quick, witty rejoinders, or the way he’d discovered my darkest secret and hadn’t responded with judgment, but instead understanding, comradery, and concern.
Definitely not any of that.
A second later he came, filling my mouth as he held my cheeks in his palms again, his expression fierce as he drank me in. Sean’s head fell back into the pillows and I discreetly wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
I sat there for a moment, trying to gather my senses. Something was happening. Something I’d thought was a fluke yesterday. Something unplanned and inconvenient.
His hand felt hot when it stroked along my back, lazily seeking my attention. I turned to face him and mustered a small smile. The clock read 12:13. He’d lasted almost six minutes.
“Come here,” he whispered and my insides melted. I hesitated, wanting to go to him but afraid, too.
I was saved from having to make a decision when my phone rang loudly in my bag. Jumping away, I went to get it.
It was my friend, Mackenzie. Her name flashing on the screen pulled me back to reality.
“Hey girl,” she chirped as soon as I answered, her voice a welcome relief. “Facebook’s ‘not creepy at all’ location tracker was kind enough to inform me that you’re back in the city. How was New Hampshire?”
I forced a snicker at her trademark snarky attitude. “It was wonderful. Rick and I had a great time,” I replied as I felt two strong arms coil around my waist. Sean’s nose nuzzled into my neck before he sucked my earlobe into his mouth. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to moan. He was already hard again. I could feel his erection pressing into my backside.
“So, I know you probably don’t want to dive straight back into work, but if what I’ve heard on the grapevine is true, Carly Stevens and Dean Newman are going to be dining at Le Cirque in an hour. It could make for some great pics for the blo-og,” she said, finishing in a singsong voice.
I batted away the encroaching fog of lust inspired by Sean’s seductive movements and focused on my excitement at the opportunity for some new content. The Socialmedialite site had been wanting for articles in the last few weeks since I’d been home visiting and then at the retreat. Mackenzie was a photographer for Cosmopolitan, which, if you knew her, was just hilarious. She was the least Cosmo girl I’d ever met.
Sean continued to lavish my earlobe with attention as I considered my options. Stay here for the next forty-five minutes and enjoy fleeting but sweaty hotel sex with Adonis himself—falling deeper into this pit of irrational whatever it was—or venture out into the stress of the city and get some work done.
I encouraged myself to embrace my guilt. Annie would be really disappointed if she knew I’d turned down the chance to picture Carly and Dean, so, with this thought in mind I knew what I had to do.
“Sounds great. I’ll see you there,” I told Mackenzie before hanging up.
Sean let out a slow breath. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” he said as I turned in his arms to look up at him.
“I’m sorry, duty calls,” I answered regretfully. The obvious disappointment on his face had me blurting, “Do you want to come?”
His brow arched. “To photograph celebrities?”
I felt suddenly unsure, probably because the idea of Sean Cassidy crossing over into my everyday life felt way too relationship-y. “Uh, yeah.”
He shrugged. “Okay, well, just let me grab a quick shower first.”
He went into the bathroom and I put on my dress. My hair was a mess so I threw it up into a haphazard bun. Unfortunatel
y, my camera was back at Annie’s apartment, where I’d been living for the last few months, and we wouldn’t have time to go there and get it. The one on my iPhone would just have to do.
About five minutes later, Sean emerged completely naked, droplets of water coating his fine, fine skin. I swallowed, feeling suddenly shy, and busied myself with checking my Twitter notifications. Meanwhile, he seemed oblivious to my ogling, which was so entirely frustrating. When I looked up again he was dressed.
“You ready?” he asked. I nodded and before I knew it we were outside the hotel, flagging down a yellow taxi.
“East 58th Street, please,” I told the driver as I pulled up the restaurant’s address on Google.
Sean sat next to me, his legs spaced in what was the quintessential definition of man-spreading. Though being as large as he was, I imagined he couldn’t really help it. He stared out the window, watching the city go by (albeit slowly since it was rush hour in Manhattan). My eyes traced the strong, masculine line of his jaw and how his dark blond hair was sexily tousled on top but shaved tight at the back.
I noticed his mouth start to curve in a smile before his eyes flicked down and to the side.
“Enjoying the view?” he asked, his voice quiet, intimate, and edged with a deeper question.
“You must know how beautiful you are,” I murmured.
His lips firmed and it took a second for him to reply. When he did he cast his hooded gaze on me, taking my hand and smoothing his fingers over my knuckles. “I’m too big and imposing to be beautiful.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” His eyes searched mine. “Most beautiful things are delicate, so fragile that even to look at them feels like they might break.” He whispered this last part and I found myself catching my breath. It felt like he was trying to tell me something; that I was the delicate, fragile thing he described. My heart beat fast like the wings of a butterfly.
“That’s not true. Beauty comes in many forms, and the strong, powerful kind is the most admirable. It’s easy to be weak; you simply do nothing, but strength takes courage and effort.”
His eyes blazed as he lifted my hand, bringing it to his mouth and pressing his lips to the inside of my wrist. I shivered. “You have this incredible way of showing me new ways to look at things, do you know that, Lucy Fitzpatrick?” he asked, and my tummy flipped over on itself.