by Willow, Jo
She stood patiently, allowing my perusal. From her long wet hair, my gaze dropped to her well proportioned breasts. Then I felt my heated blush as my eyes fell to her hips and what lay between. By the time I’d made my way back to her eyes, she had a knowing smile on her face and I was doomed.
I started talking and she stepped from the shower, reaching for the towel she’d placed on the counter behind me. Ayla surprised me with her lack of shyness. My presence should have been a surprise. Instead, she acted as if we’d been in this situation before and on a regular basis. At a loss of what to do next, I watched her dry herself and then held the robe open for her. She smiled at me over her shoulder as she slipped her arms into the warm garment I held. My fingers brushed her shoulders as she slid inside and I felt my body tighten. This wasn’t good. This, was a disaster.
I cleared my throat and spun her slowly to face me.
“Ayla, we have to talk.”
“Of course Sir. Whatever you wish.”
Did I say disaster? This was me digging my own grave. I felt my chest puff out at her words and it occurred to me that all that was left was my hand coming up to thump said chest in a show of territorial ownership. Realization hit me and I released my breath. I didn’t own her. I didn’t want to own her. I wanted to set her straight. How dare she confuse me with rhetoric and titles?
I turned quickly and stormed into the bedroom, Ayla following close behind. I pointed to the bed.
“Sit.”
She obeyed and folded her hands in her lap. My robe swallowed her and she looked young, small, and more than a little afraid. Damn. I hadn’t meant to scare her.
I sat down next to her and blew out a breath before I looked at her.
“Ayla, why are your things in my closet? Why have you invaded my dresser?”
I saw a hint of a smile and I narrowed my eyes.
“Pierce, I’d hardly call it an invasion. You have more than enough room. All I did was move some things over a smidge.”
“The point remains that you are not where I put you.”
She cocked her head while she thought about my words.
“Where you put me? I’m not an object to be placed Sir.”
“Ayla...”
“Please don’t be angry with me.”
She began to fidget with the tie of the robe and I felt off kilter by her reaction to my frustration.
“I’m not angry with you Ayla, I’m confused. Was the guestroom not to your liking? I have several more you can choose from. All you had to do was speak up.”
She placed her hand over mine and I stilled. I hadn’t realized how nervous I was until she touched me. My mind settled and my body relaxed. This confounding little woman had an affect on me that was unheard of in my years of experience.
I turned my hand over and she entwined her fingers with mine. I stared at our hands as she spoke.
“The guestroom was fine.”
I found my voice grew softer with my newfound peacefulness.
“Then why are you ensconced in here?”
“I feel safer with you.”
I looked up at her and saw that she was being completely honest. Her face was open and her eyes held the truth. She simply wanted to be near me.
“Ayla, I’m flattered. But you have to understand that I’ve never slept with anyone before.”
She gasped and her eyes grew huge.
“You’re a... virgin?”
My head fell back and I looked at the ceiling while I took my free hand and ran it down my face. Nothing should be this difficult.
“No Ayla. I am most definitely not a virgin. I don’t bring my dates to my home and I share my bed with no one. My bed is for sleeping only.”
She seemed happy with that answer and stood. I watched as she opened a dresser drawer and pulled out one of my t-shirts and a pair of my boxers. What in the hell was she doing?
Then she took off the robe and dropped it on the bed. She looked at me strangely and it was then that I realized that I’d moaned out loud. If she’d touched me then, all bets would have been off. I’d been through a rather lengthy dry spell as far as female companionship was concerned and just the sight of her made my mouth water.
I watched as she pulled my t-shirt over her head and then stepped into my boxers. They were obviously too large for her, but her rounded hips were just enough to keep my boxers in place. I wanted to slap myself, but stayed still instead.
She retrieved the robe and stepped into the bathroom, then hung it on a hook behind the door.
I waited for my opportunity to continue my argument, formulating my reasons why it would not be a good idea for us to share a room. I could have been waiting for the invention of time travel. The moment never came.
She walked back into the bedroom, and approached me as I watched. When she was standing between my legs, she began to loosen my tie. I said nothing. She took the tie and hung it in the closet with my others then returned to me.
Her hands were soft and warm as she began to unbutton my shirt. She expertly removed my cufflinks and placed them on the dresser. Then she divested me of my shirt. Tossing it onto the chair in the corner, she stepped closer and ran her hands from my shoulder to my neck. I closed my eyes.
Her lips were soft and she applied just enough pressure to guarantee a response. My hands went to her hips and I pulled her into my embrace as her tongue traced the seam of my lips. I opened for her and the real kiss began.
It was a slow, sweet seduction and I knew from the moment it began who was in control. I was merely a willing participant. When she whimpered, I pulled her closer and began to fall back onto the bed, keeping her on top of my body. My arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly and she moved her hands to the sides of my face. She held me in place as her mouth moved frantically against mine. I rolled and pinned her beneath me, as I began to plunder and claim what I’d suddenly decided was mine.
My hands moved restlessly over her body, but it wasn’t until she reached for my belt that I regained my senses. What in the world was I doing? She was in a vulnerable state, I’d promised my protection, and I was preparing to spend the rest of the night showing her exactly who had the control in this relationship.
I leapt from the bed as if she’d suddenly caught fire. Her breathing was labored and I watched her chest rise and fall while I tried to pull myself together. When she finally came to her senses, she opened her eyes and I saw the one thing I didn’t expect to see. I’d hurt her feelings. This night kept getting better and better.
“Look Ayla...”
She straightened the clothing I’d pawed from strategic areas and scooted further up the bed, refusing to make eye contact.
“Pierce, I’m sorry. I should never have thrown myself at you. You’re obviously not interested in me that way and I don’t know what came over me. All I can say in my defense is, I’ve never done anything like that before in my life. I am not that girl, I swear it. Please forgive me.”
Not interested in her? Was she for real?
“Ayla, you’ve got it all wrong. It’s not that I’m not interested in you. I am. My fear is that we’re rushing this because of the circumstances. If you weren’t here due to reasons beyond your control, I’m not sure we’d be in this situation. I don’t want to take advantage of you. That’s all.”
Her eyes found mine and she searched for something while I waited for her to find it. My explanation must have satisfied her because she nodded once and exhaled.
“Which side of the bed do you sleep on?”
I was back to confused.
“Excuse me?”
“The bed Pierce. Which side do you sleep on?”
“The left. Why?”
She moved to the right and turned off the light on that nightstand. She wiggled under the covers and turned on her side, away from me.
“Ayla, what are you doing?”
“Getting ready to go to sleep. You said that your bed was used for sleeping. I’m respecting that Sir. I’m go
ing to sleep. Goodnight.”
Again with the Sir.
I was exhausted. The night had been a clusterfuck from the dinner party, to the bar, to the discovery of my new roommate. I decided to table the conversation and revisit it over breakfast. For now, sleep was calling me and I was powerless to resist.
I took off my trousers and laid them on the chair on top of my shirt. That left me in nothing but my boxers. I usually slept nude, but that would not be happening on this night. I climbed into bed and extinguished the light.
The last thought I had before losing consciousness was, “Damn she smells good”.
Chapter Three
You know the term, “Dazed and Confused”? Yeah. That. I always woke ready to face the day, I rarely needed an alarm. Snooze alarm? What was that? I refused to relinquish control of my day to a damned alarm. It seemed a ridiculous notion. It was late when I finally got to sleep, but this morning was no different.
Except it was. Drastically different.
I woke up tangled in limbs, sheets, and heat. I dared not move until I figured out what was what. I opened my eyes and the morning light was dim. Good. That much was normal. I estimated the time to be sometime before seven a.m.. Since it was Saturday morning, time played no importance in the equation, but I liked to know how late it was anyway.
I judged the position of my body based on the one that was in close proximity. Memories came back slowly in full HD technicolor, the rest fell into place.
The woman I had my arm tightly around was Ayla. Her head was on my naked chest and I could feel her warm breath as she exhaled softly in her sleep. Her hand rested on my lower abdomen and that was causing it’s own problem, but it was one I could deal with. My arm was over her shoulder and around her body, my hand resting possessively on her waist. She’d thrown her leg over mine and seemed to be laying half on and half off my body. All in all we were both comfortable and I couldn’t speak for her, but I’d slept better than I’d slept in ages. It appeared that she could second that, as she continued to sleep soundly.
Just about the time I was working on a plan to slip out from beneath her in order to use the bathroom, she started kissing my chest. It was barely noticeable at first, but she quickly became more brazen and determined. When her hand began to drift southward, I cleared my throat.
“Ayla?”
Nothing. The kissing continued and she murmured my name once or twice, doing nothing for my state of arousal. In about three minutes at the current rate of exploration, Ayla was going to become intimately familiar with what was quite possibly, my favorite body part.
Her lips reached my neck and I groaned. My neck had always been a trigger point for me and for her to innocently stumble upon it, made me uncomfortable and close to my breaking point.
My hand went to the back of her head and I turned to kiss her forehead in an attempt to slow her down and wake her up.
“Ayla? Sweetheart?”
Sky blue eyes slowly came into view and a smile that lit them from within followed suit. While her eyes focused on mine and her brain slowly engaged, her hand latched on to little Pierce who had woken up bright, early, and ready to play.
“Ayla!”
Her eyes became catlike and then horror filled, in that order. She gave one final squeeze and then jumped away from me as if I’d changed into a centaur right in front of her. She was clutching the front of her t-shirt, rather MY t-shirt as she stood hopping foot to foot next to her side of the bed.
I sat up and swung my legs over before standing and heading to the bathroom. Neither one of us had spoken and quite frankly, I wasn’t sure what to say. I could’ve said something that would have embarrassed her, but why? There was nothing I could’ve said that would have caused her more distress than the distress she was causing herself. We knew what happened, we were both there. That seemed to be enough.
I relieved myself and strolled back into the bedroom. Ayla was nowhere to be seen. I grabbed a pair of sweatpants from a dresser drawer and slid into them. As I made my way towards the kitchen, I heard the water running and knew she was making coffee. I smiled and my day was improving with every second.
I’ve never had anyone in my life with any kind of permanence, other than my family of course. Add to that Dorothy and Melody, and my dance card remained relatively full most of the time. I know it’s not the same, but I’m illustrating a point. A half naked woman climbed out of my bed this morning and was now standing in my kitchen making coffee.
A beautiful half naked woman.
One that would be living in my condo with me for god knows how long, and appears to understand, accept and on some level, wants to participate in, a particular fetish that she knows I’m into. A sexual fetish. That implies sex. Her and me. Are you following me here? Am I smiling? Wouldn’t you be?
When the kitchen came into view, I could see her multi-tasking and once again I smiled. Not only was she beautiful, organized, and clever, but the woman could cook. Or let me put it differently. She wasn’t afraid to give it a try. In my experience, when most people are crap at something, they don’t make it public. They don’t want to open themselves up to scrutiny on any level. So I’m assuming that Ayla is at least a confident cook. And boys and girls, that works for me. I eat too many meals out because, I’ll admit it, I’m a lousy cook.
I watched her chop bacon and ham chunks, placing them in separate piles. Then she chopped tomato, onion, green peppers, and mushrooms. Lastly, she shredded some cheddar cheese from a block she found in my fridge. I looked on the cutting board when she was finished. Several colorful little piles sat there, waiting to be called into service. Then she started scrambling eggs. She added a splash of milk, a pinch of salt and white pepper and stirred a little longer.
When she put the bowl down, she turned the flame on under the skillet and added a pat of butter. Every movement was efficient and well practiced and I almost forgot that she did it while wearing nothing but my t-shirt and a pair of my boxers.
Satisfied that the butter had melted and was bubbling in the pan, she added the egg mixture, then looked at me with a smile on her face.
“What do you like in your omelette Sir?”
I smiled for so many reasons and then caught myself. We’d agreed on nothing the night before, nothing had been signed (I demanded an NDA before any type of relationship began), and I was still in the decision making phase of our, “relationship”.
“I’ll take a little of everything Ayla. Thank-you. You don’t have to do this you know, we could’ve gone out for breakfast...”
She tossed items from each pile liberally into the egg mixture, then folded the egg over onto itself, the ingredients nestled inside. She sprinkled more cheese over the top and a few seconds later, slid it neatly onto a plate. She placed the plate, a smaller plate containing toast, a small glass of juice, and a cup of coffee in front of me. The grin on my face told her everything she needed to know.
“Pierce, are you comfortable?”
I took a bite of the omelette and closed my eyes. It was perfect in every way.
“Comfortable how?”
“Sitting here in your own home, wearing your jammies and eating your breakfast. Isn’t this better than having to get dressed and going our early on a Saturday morning?”
“Hell yes. This is quite possibly the best breakfast I’ve enjoyed in ages. Why?”
She’d begun to build her own omelette and while it was cooking, she buttered her toast and poured her juice.”
“Because I’m enjoying it too. I always cook for Austin and myself and I’d miss it if I weren’t allowed to do it. Is it okay if I take over kitchen duty?”
It was all I could do to stifle the laughter that bubbled to the surface. Okay? Is it okay if I stand up now and do a happy dance while singing some sappy show tune? I could eat at home? Like this? All the time? No expectations of a perfect appearance or controlled appearance?
I waited for the other shoe to drop. There had to be a caveat. Something like, �
�You can have this all the time... but you have to marry me.” Something like that. I waited, but it never came.
I had to ask. It was my experience that if it was too good to be true, then it was too good to be true.
I forked another bite of egg into my mouth.
“What’s the catch?”
She sat down next to me at the breakfast bar. Our thighs touched, but it seemed perfectly natural. Right, in some odd way, like this was how we always started our morning.
She took a bite of egg and smiled. Yeah. It really was that good.
“What catch? I like to cook and I’m good at it. I did all of it while Austin and I were growing up. He worked all the time and I took care of the house, the cooking, and went to school. He and I made it work so social services wouldn’t get involved and split us up.”
That stopped my fork in midair. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of what she just told me, even though it revealed more than I ever knew. I didn’t want to push for details or ignore it completely though. I had to acknowledge it, and I thought I knew the perfect way.
“Well I can’t cook to save myself. I can heat up cans and that’s about it. That’s why I eat out so much and accept dinner invitations.”
She nodded her head in understanding and took a sip of juice.
“Then we have an agreement. I have to pull my weight around here Pierce or I won’t feel right living here. I’m assuming you have a housekeeper? The place is too clean for a bachelor living on his own.”
I did laugh then. I could add observant to her list of favorable character traits.
“I do. Ruby comes three days a week, four if I’m hosting an event, which is practically never. She does general cleaning and dusting.”