Unraveled_Undone

by Jennifer Dawson

  “How’s that?” Brandon asks. “You’re friends with Layla and Jillian and I know for a fact they aren’t shy. And this is the twenty-first century. You’re a grown, modern woman, surely the mention of sex isn’t enough to give you an attack of the vapors.”

  I wave my hand, mild defensiveness stirring in my chest. “I blushed a little. I hardly had a heart attack. Besides, you weren’t talking about sex.”

  He grins, shrugging. “What’s a little spanking among friends?”

  I can’t help it, the laugh spurts forth, and I shake my head. “You’re the worst.”

  “I know, everyone says so.” Brandon raises a brow at Chad. “What do you think? Do you believe her?”

  “Yes.” Chad’s gaze narrows on mine and I resist the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. “And no.”

  I swat at his arm. “It’s true.”

  Brandon takes a sip of his drink. “You know, Ruby, I’m sure Chad, myself, or both of us together would be happy to give you a little taste. Safely, of course, without any actual S-E-X involved. Don’t you agree, Chad?”

  The squirming instinct gets the best of me, and I shift in my seat, eyeing the door for my escape. I risk a glance at Chad whose attention is intent on mine.

  Slowly, he says, “Definitely.”

  Now they are making me nervous. Very nervous. Oddly, the image that flashes through my mind is of Chad, not Brandon. His big, tanned hands skimming along my pale, white skin.

  I blush even harder and want to bury my face and hide. But I manage to remain composed, despite the heat crawling up my neck. I hold up my hands. “Very nice of you, but I can assure you, that’s not necessary.”

  Brandon grins. “We wouldn’t even have to touch you.”

  “We’d just direct you,” Chad adds.

  I experience a mixture of terror and arousal. My nipples pull tight and I’m thankful I’m wearing black. I clear my throat. “That’s very thoughtful of you, but I’ll have to pass. Besides, we’re friends and everyone knows what happens when you mix friendship with…” I trail off and look back and forth between them. “Whatever it is you're offering.”

  Brandon starts to speak, but then his phone goes off, and he picks it up from the table and sighs. “I have to take care of something. But you guys feel free to stay here and chill.”

  He gets up and strolls out of the room, leaving an awkward tension in his wake.

  I take a sip of my brandy, and it burns down my throat, hitting my stomach and warming me all over. I stare into the glass, watching the play of light ripple along the amber surface.

  “I think you’re lying,” Chad says and my head jerks up.

  I blink. “About what?”

  He slides his arm along the back of the couch, watching me in that intent way he has. His body is relaxed, his muscles loose, but it’s his eyes that tell the story behind the affable, charming good guy. “I think you’re more than curious. And I think eventually that curiosity is going to get the better of you.”

  I should deny this, but as my heart skips a beat, I ask, “Why do you think that?”

  He leans forward. “Because you try very hard, but you can’t quite hide the longing.”

  “That’s absurd. I am not longing for anything.” My voice is shaky and I point to the door, to remind him of our conversation before. “What about what you said out there in the bar? About how you’re not going to try and convince me.”

  “All true. I’m not. And I don’t know if it makes your cunt wet.”

  I gasp at the blunt words. A nervous laugh escapes my lips. “I can assure you it doesn’t.”

  He takes a sip of his drink, still peering at me. “Maybe, maybe not. But I see you wondering if it might.”

  “Any wondering you sense on my part is merely confusion why anyone would even want such a thing.” I’m stating a truth. That is absolutely what I believe.

  He shrugs. “Time will tell, but I’ll tell you one thing of which I am certain. I’ve seen the boys you date, and I’ve paid attention. I can assure you they don’t fuck you properly.”

  Surprise rolls through me and I rear back, gaping at him. I mean to skewer him, but that’s not what flies out of my mouth. “Why would you think that?”

  “Instinct. Observation.” He leans close, and I suck in a breath, taking in his clean, spicy scent. “You date boys masquerading as men. Boys playing at being cool and in control, but aren’t. Boys that play games and create drama and want you to chase them in order to validate their self worth.”

  I can only sit here, frozen. Because clearly he’s been paying far too close attention. That’s exactly who I date. Exactly the type I fall for, letting them wrap me up in an angsty game that I’ll be the one they change for, all the while knowing they’ll never give me what I desire. Never give me the kind of love and devotion Michael and Leo give their women.

  That Chad sees this so clearly unnerves me. I have to deny. “That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it?” He takes a leisurely sip of his drink.

  I shake my head.

  “Liar.” He meets my gaze, dead-on and unflinching. “Guys like that tend to be too ego driven to know how to make a woman come hard.”

  “I come.” My voice is ripe with indignation. Why am I even entertaining this discussion?

  He raises a brow. “With a man?”

  Shock bursts through me, vibrating like a clap of thunder. I sputter in a harsh, whispery tone, “I’m not going to dignify that with an answer.”

  My throat goes dry with fear and a weird panic beats wildly in my chest. He can’t possibly know that. It’s a guess. That’s all it is. A stab-in-the-dark guess.

  That also happens to be a fact.

  I have never been able to have an orgasm with a guy. I can have them by myself. But orgasms and men have always eluded me. I don’t know why. No matter how into the guy I am, I don’t know how to lose myself. The second we start fooling around I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience, like I’m watching a movie instead of participating. And not even a good movie sex scene, but an awkward one. When I’m with someone, I can never forget that I’m having sex. That he’s watching me. That I have to put on a good performance and be the woman he wants me to be. Experience and age had only made the problem worse, instead of becoming more comfortable, I crawl deeper and deeper into my head.

  I remember back in the old days when I shared an apartment with Layla and I’d hear her screaming through the walls as John did god knew what to her. I’d always sit there, stunned, trying to figure out what he could possibly be doing to her that would make her lose control like that.

  I’ve never even had the urge to groan. I mean, I do, because it’s expected, but it’s timed and choreographed for when he licks my nipples, or plays with my clit, not because I can’t contain myself. I’ve certainly never experienced the hazy, dazed lust I have seen on both Layla’s and Jillian’s faces.

  I’m excellent at faking orgasms though.

  I fake orgasms like I’m Meryl Streep up for her twentieth Oscar nomination.

  Nobody has ever figured it out—not one guy I’ve slept with has ever even suspected. So how has Chad? A man that’s never touched me? That I didn’t think even paid the least bit of attention to me.

  It’s a guess, Ruby. It’s only a guess.

  His blue eyes pin me to the spot and suddenly he doesn’t seem so harmless. “I’m right.”

  I shake my head.

  His gaze rakes over me. “Ruby, you’ve never been fucked well in your life.”

  “Why would you say that to me?” My words are as choked and strained as I feel.

  His attention falls first to my lips, and then raises to meet what I’m sure are stunned eyes. “Because you deserve to be.”

  I should be rejecting every single thing he says. I should be furious. I should rage at him. Slap him. Tell him to mind his own fucking business. Those are all the things a sane person would do, but what scares the hell out of me, what terrifies me, is w
hat I want to do.

  I want to confess.

  I want to tell him the truth.

  I want to break down and cry on his shoulder.

  I want him to hold me close as I tell him my deepest, darkest secrets.

  That there’s something wrong with me.

  That I fear I’m defective and that I’ll never get sex the way everyone else does.

  That I’ve been pretending all this time and I’m so tired.

  That I’m scared. Scared I’ll go my whole life never feeling the way everyone else takes for granted.

  Why do I want to talk to him about things I’ve never told anyone? That I don’t even let myself think about late at night, staring up at my ceiling.

  I am wrong about Chad Fellows. He is not harmless. Somehow he’s managed to see something I’ve kept hidden from everyone, including my best friends, and every lover I’ve had. Without ever touching me. Or really knowing me.

  He’s dangerous.

  I stand up, tugging my skirt down because I suddenly feel naked. I clear my throat. “I should go.”

  “Ruby,” he says, standing and grasping my arm. “Wait.”

  I need to get out of here. I pull away. “I… Um… I need to go. I, um, forgot someplace I need to be.”

  “Ruby,” he says again.

  But I’m already on my way out the door and I don’t intend to stop for anyone.

  Jillian

  Leo pulls away, hand on my breast, his breath as harsh and panting as my own. He bites my lower lip and the sting is like a lightning bolt straight between my legs. “If we’re not going to play out your thousand-eyes-upon-you fantasy, we’ll have to think of something else. I can’t take you to a sex party and just fuck you.”

  I groan. “But why?” I shift, trying to get closer, my body already restless and aching. I lick into his mouth before whispering against his lips, “You’ve been denying me all day.”

  His hand slips between my legs and squeezes my inner thigh. “I think I can make you more greedy.” His fingers stroke over my clit, and I’m once again swollen and wet. “I want you mindless and begging.” He kisses me. “Unable to form a coherent sentence.”

  I clutch at his shoulders. “Leo.”

  He puts his hands on my waist. “Up you go, girl.”

  “But…” I start to protest, but he gives a sharp look and I go quiet, standing on wobbly legs.

  He rises and looks down at me. “Good girl.”

  I shiver with lust and let out a little moan.

  He laughs. “God, I was such an idiot.”

  I grin up at him. “About what?”

  He tugs at a lock of my hair. “All those years we wasted while I was convinced you were a nice, vanilla girl instead of the little submissive slut you are.”

  “Just think.” I lick his lower lip, loving the harsh intake of his breath. “If you’d let me walk away, neither of us would have known. And wouldn’t that have been a shame?” I trail my lips over his. “I could have gone my whole life and not had any idea.”

  There was a time when being called a slut would have filled me with terror, but after a year with Leo my line has changed dramatically. He wants me to be a little slut. For him and only him. And, god, am I.

  “That would have been a travesty.” He squeezes me tight.

  He leads me back to the table and sits me on top of it. When I’m situated he walks behind me and starts in on the laces at my waist. I crane my neck and grin back at him. “I’m glad we waited. Even though I wanted to kill you at the time.”

  He works his finger under the crisscrossing straps and pulls. “Why’s that?”

  For a second I don’t answer, I just watch him, the concentration in the set of his mouth. The furrow of his brow as he works me out of the corset. His dark, handsome features I know now as well as I know my own. He’s a part of me. His life is so entwined in mine we’re impossible to separate. “Because as much as I chased you, back then I wouldn’t have been ready for you.”

  He glances up at me. “And now?”

  I lean back and kiss him. “And now I am.”

  “Good.” He returns to his task.

  “Will you sing for me at our wedding?”

  He laughs. “Yes.”

  I beam. Before I came along Leo hadn’t sung since the day they buried his twin brother in the ground. “Nana and your mom will be so happy.”

  “What do you want me to sing?”

  “I’ll let you choose.”

  He raises a brow. “I’ll surprise you.”

  “I love surprises.”

  He grins and it’s pure evil. “I know. Let’s see what we can do about that, shall we?”

  The dress pools at my waist. Excitement thrums through my blood. “Yes, please.”

  He slides his hands under my dress and up my thighs. “Lift.”

  I do and he pulls the dress free, dropping it to the floor. “Stay.”

  I give a little salute. “Yes, sir.”

  Then he sinks down, and licks my clit, and I jump in surprise and then let out a low moan. My head falls back as my fingers tangle in his hair and I arch my hips.

  Leo is so talented with his tongue my eyes practically roll into the back of my head.

  His lips suck on my swollen flesh as he traces slow circles over the bundle of nerves, driving me mad.

  I gasp and my hips become an insistent roll. “Oh, god, yes.”

  My body quickens.

  He bites, gently tugging my skin and I cry out, digging my hands into his hair to push him closer.

  My muscles tighten.

  The orgasm swells within me.

  And then he’s gone.

  I want to curse him. Want to push his head back down, but I know better than that.

  He rises to his feet and I only pant at him in silence.

  He points a finger at me. “Stay.”

  This time, I don’t speak.

  He walks over and turns off the soft light, and it plunges me into darkness, then the bright spotlight once again turns on. I blink against the bright light, searching for him until he steps into focus.

  His lips brush mine and I can taste myself on him, smell the scent of my arousal filling the air. “Just because I’m the only one here, doesn’t mean you can’t give me a show. Now does it?”

  Excited anticipation dances through me. “What does that mean?”

  He gives me that sly smirk that says he knows he’s got me. I know that look. My stomach dips to my feet. “There’s more than one way to be on display.”

  My heart flips over. “Please no.”

  “Oh yes, you’re going to dance for me.” He takes out his phone and starts sliding his thumb over the screen before he raises a brow. “And, Jillian, make it good.”

  Then the sounds of Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me” fills the room, the base pumping through me. I bury my face in my hand and scream. Why, why, why do I have these exhibitionist tendencies? “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

  “Nope,” he says, that evil grin still in place.

  I throw up my hands. “How are you even hooked up to Brandon’s sound system?”

  “You know I never leave anything to chance, I came last week and got the rundown.” He laughs, and tucks my hair behind my ears. “How did you think I knew how to work all the lights?”

  “Electronic genius?”

  He gives me his stern-eyed look. “Flattery will only get you another song. So I suggest you get to it.”

  Oh, God, help me. “I don’t want to, it’s embarrassing. I’m naked.”

  “There isn’t an inch of your body I haven’t seen in every single possible position and angle.” He twines his fingers through my hair. “You don’t have to, of course. You always have choices. So let me lay them out for you. Choice number one, you give me the show you’ve been begging for all night, get your pussy smacked, your brains fucked out and multiple orgasms. Choice two, we go home, put on some sweatpants and watch a movie. Orgasms not included. Your cho
ice, girl.”

  I blink at him, staring at him as the song thumps through the speakers before I say, “You are the meanest man in the world.”

  The sad thing is, this is exactly the kind of thing I love to hate. The twisting of the knife, it’s the most evil, delicious, wonderful thing in the entire world.

  “I know.” His tone is entirely too satisfied.

  “You won’t be able to resist me,” I challenge. The surge of adrenaline making my blood pump hard and my brain turn stupid.

  “I won’t have to. I’ll jerk off and come all over you.” He laughs and chucks me under the chin. “Unlike you, I can have as many orgasms as I want.”

  I hate him.

  I love him.

  Because under all the stress of having to put on a sexy, naked dance for my fiancé, I’m so damned turned on I could scream in frustration. The man knows me far, far, far too well.

  He licks my lower lip. “It won’t be as good as coming in that hot, wet cunt of yours, but it will do until you give me what I want.”

  The song flips over to “99 Problems” by Hugo. He raises a brow. “What’s it going to be?”

  I won’t be able to break him. Not in this. Because he knows how that secret part of me gets off on this.

  I nod.

  “Good girl.” His fingers tighten in my hair. “Go back and remember what it was like when you were desperate to seduce me. Don’t tell me you never danced for me, and only me before.”

  I swallow. A memory of us at a party. The music a slow beat, Leo’s eyes hot and hungry on me. I’d worked it.

  He’d resisted me then.

  He won’t resist me now.

  Back then I’d been wearing a slinky black dress and tonight I’m wearing nothing but high heels. I give him a pout. “But there’s no stripper pole.”

  “You can use me instead.” He pulls me off the table and sits on it. “Seduce me and see where it gets you.”

  I can feel it. That thing I’ve been searching for since I stepped into this room. Where the rest of the world melts away and it’s all about what Leo wants.

  He pulls out his phone, taps on the screen until “Pour Some Sugar on Me” comes back on.

  I arch my brow. “Really? The most clichéd song in the world?”