“Blakely…”
“I want this, Nicholas,” she persists. “I write about sex all day. My characters get more action than I do. It’s ridiculous,” she laughs coyly. “I just want to feel a little bit of that. I just want to experience all the things I write about.”
“Wait – so you want to practice…your sex scenes…with me? You want to use me as your guinea pig?”
Her face goes red. “Oh my god,” she whispers, “don’t say it like that. You make it sound so dirty. But, that’s the gist of it.”
I’ve never heard a more tempting offer but I can’t accept it. She deserves so much more than a guy like me. I have too many rough edges she could hurt herself on. “I’m sorry, Blakely. I can’t.” I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if she woke up tomorrow or the day after and regretted this decision. I can’t allow myself to take advantage of her vulnerability.
She looks away from me, cheeks red, eyes downcast. I think she might be embarrassed. There's nothing to be ashamed of. I need her to know that.
With a crooked finger, I lift her face to mine. "You’re not the problem, Blakely. It’s me," I whisper. “You’re absolutely perfect. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.”
Her bottom lip trembles and tears rise to her eyes, the pain of my rejection broadcast plain as day on her face.
“Shit,” I mutter, shoving my fingers through my hair. I have to make her understand that I’m saying ‘no’ to be a good guy, not because I don’t want her.
“Blakely, you’re fucking gorgeous and I’m so attracted to you. But you probably already know that. It’s just that, I’m not the guy you need.”
She pushes away from the table like she’s about to stand up. “I’m sorry. I just thought you wanted…” Her shaky words trail off.
I reach out and touch her lips. “I do. You’re insanely beautiful. But me…I – I…” How do I explain this to her without telling her how broken I am? I’ve got Asperger’s, dammit. I could never be the type of guy she needs. I could never give her the type of connection she’s looking for.
I’ve never really been in a relationship. All the girls that I’ve fucked have eventually come to the conclusion that I’m an insensitive, anti-social, unemotional jackass who doesn’t give a damn. It’s not that I didn’t want to be good to them. I just didn’t know how. Romance doesn’t come natural to me. Reading a woman’s mind is a game I don’t even try to embark on. As an aspie, expressing my emotions and understanding other people’s emotions is hard. Figuring out social cues and dating rules is next to impossible.
“Honey, do I look fat in this?” Girl – if you look fat, I’m gonna tell you that you look fat. That doesn’t mean I love you any less.
“Babe, why didn’t you get me flowers for our anniversary?” Please explain to me why giving you a handful of dead plants is somehow a socially-acceptable way of expressing how crazy I am about you.
“Sweetheart, you say that you love me but you don’t have any pictures of me in your house.” I don’t need pictures of you in my house. I’ve already memorized every spot, every wrinkle, every line on your face. I know the exact shade of your skin, the texture of your hair, the shape of your eyes. I have a detailed recollection of the slope of your breasts, the curve of your hip, the jiggle of your freaking thighs. So why exactly do I need pictures, too?
You can see how my way of approaching relationships could be problematic…
It’s not that I’m trying to be an asshole. I just don’t understand all the social constructs that are expected to show someone that you really care about them.
And Blakely’s a romance writer, for crying out loud. Her expectations are going to be way high and I won’t be able to meet them. Plus, she thinks in metaphors and similes and figures of speech. Me, my brain is wired for literal input only. Sarcasm usually goes straight over my head.
So, as much as I’m attracted to Blakely, pursuing anything with her will only lead to her getting her heart broken.
“I don’t need you to be my boyfriend. I don’t need you to fall in love with me. I just need you to take my virginity, teach me about sex...There’s so much I don’t know.”
I should say ‘no’, flat out but my resolve isn’t strong enough to resist her. I’ve never wanted anyone so badly. And, she’s determined to do this. “But, why me? We hardly even know each other. Just a few days ago, you refused to even be in the same room as me for more than a few seconds.”
Her face can’t possibly get any redder. “Oh god. I feel really stupid right now." She gets up, tripping over her chair. "Forget we ever had this conversation. Please."
"Blakely,” I say gently. “Sit.”
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles retreating toward the exit. “Forget I said anything.”
“Blakely!” I growl her name in a commanding tone and she looks up at me with alarm in her eyes. “Sit!”
Slowly, she sinks into the chair and her eyes stay fixed on her lap.
“Now, tell me – why are you choosing me for this?” I demand.
Her eyes finally blink up at me. “Because, when you kissed me the other night…” Her fingers feather her lips. “I’d never felt anything like that.”
“It was just a kiss…”
“And then, you touched me…And I came so hard I couldn’t even remember how to breathe...I need you to go all the way.”
I can’t fight off the smile coming to my lips. This woman is determined. She knows what she wants. Even though she doesn’t know what she’s getting into.
Her eyes blink shyly at me. Her cheeks grow redder. I can tell it’s taking every morsel of her inner strength to have this conversation.
“So, you’re curious?” I ask with a half-smile.
She pulls in a steely breath and nods.
I can’t let her off that easy. I need to hear the words falling past her innocent, little lips. “Say it. Tell me what you want.”
She swallows hard and her lips tremble. “I want you to touch me.”
"Mmm, Blakely. I want to touch you. I want to take you to my bed and touch you all over. And I want you to touch me, too. I want to discover all of your body's little secrets. I want to make you feel good...and I want you to write all about it."
She gasps, her breasts heaving.
I grow painfully hard at the idea of having this beautiful, lush body all to myself. Excitement takes over. I don’t want to wait one more minute.
I stand, taking her hands in mine. A look of shock covers her face as I pull her to her feet and press her body against mine. My hands slide under the hem of her shirt and glide up her smooth skin. She’s so soft and warm. My fingers slip under the lacy side band of her bra and I pull it down until her perfect breasts pop out of the top. She groans, curving her spine as I cradle her breasts in my palms, teasing her pebbled nipples with my touch.
My lips touch the lobe of her ear. "Go into your bedroom." I reach down and cup the fleshy globes of her ass, spreading the cheeks apart. "And get on the bed. Take off your clothes." A wicked sensation seizes my chest. "Let's see if we can find a creative solution to your writer's block."
She looks up at me, her green irises almost completely eaten up by the darkness of her lust. She swallows hard and moves past me taking a shaky journey down the hall. My eyes stay fixed on that ass and a thrill rolls through me as I visualize all the filthy things I'm going to do to that curvy, plump, virgin body.
I’m going to defile the fuck out of her. And despite the voice in my head telling me to back away, I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.
Chapter 16
Blakely
I don't know what the hell has gotten into me.
All I know is that my panties are soaking and I'm lying in my bed waiting for my roommate to come in and have his way with me. That sounds fucking crazy.
Nicholas brings something out in me. A hunger I had only read about in my favorite smutty books. I'd always assumed that it was exaggeration. That those authors were just spinning ta
les to make money, embellishing their stories to sell their readers a fantasy. But now here I am, horny to the point of delirium. If Nicholas walks through that door and tells me to get down on all fours and crawl to him, I'd do it.
With a smile on my face.
After an eternity, the door opens and Nicholas steps inside. My heart beats hard and my sweaty palms clench my comforter. I watch him and he watches me. Anticipation pulses in the air. His domineering presence fills the tiny, shadowy room making me feel small and fragile before him.
“Good. You’re naked for me.” My belly sizzles from the heat in his tone and my pussy spasms hard.
Panic sets in immediately when he flicks on the light. His eyes travel along my body and I turn red from self-consciousness. “No, please. Turn that off.”
“Why would I do that?” Confusion covers his face.
I want to hide beneath the comforter. “I – I…” I’m fat. I don’t feel beautiful. My muffin top and cellulite are all I can think about.
His eyes go narrow. “Don’t you dare tell me that you don’t love your body. Because that would be ridiculous.”
“There are just some things about it that I don’t feel comfortable with,” I say in a voice so small it’s barely audible.
He pauses for a moment and studies my face. Then, he sticks a hand out to me. “Come here.”
I hesitate, but he insists. We have a standoff for a while, eyeing each other down. Eventually, I cave. I get up from the bed and plod over to him, fully nude. Oh my god.
He pulls me in front of the mirror and stands just behind me. "Look at yourself, Blakely.”
I don’t even recognize myself right now. Who is this audacious (and somewhat pudgy) woman standing naked in front of the mirror with a man? Sort of looks like Timid Blakely Hamilton but no fucking way it is.
Nicholas heaps on the praise and it actually sounds genuine. “Look how beautiful you are. Look at that wild red hair." He spins a curly lock around his finger. "Look at those gemstone green eyes. I've been fantasizing about the way you'd look at me as I bury my cock in your sweet little pussy. And those lips, soft and pink. The first time I saw your lips, I knew I had to kiss you. I didn't know anything about you or about your life. But I knew I had to taste those lips."
My arousal liquifies, streaming down my thighs like a river of desire. "Nicholas..."
I feel his erection lengthening against my spine when I whisper his name that way, all throaty and desperate. "And don't get me started about this body, Princess. Don't get me talking about these breasts..." His palms slide over my heavy globes, weighing and squeezing them.
My nipples tighten into little nubs in his hands. I hiss low on my breath, my eyelids heavy from the sensation.
"I love how soft you are," he groans as his hands move down. My body seizes as I grow self-conscious over my plump belly and the chub that no amount of vinyasa yoga seems able to rid me of. "It's so feminine, so fucking inviting, Blakely. You have no idea."
His arm circles around my waist, his fingers slipping between my thighs. My flesh sizzles where his fingers trace a slow path across my flesh. Patience and self-restraint play on his face. Meanwhile, I'm melting right there in his arms.
A hiss bursts past my lips as his fingers work back and forth, strumming my clit. My eyes flutter shut because it feels so good, too good. "Open your eyes, gorgeous. Look how beautiful you are."
I don’t know the woman in the mirror staring back at me. She isn't shy or self-conscious, she isn't insecure about her body. She's carefree. She has completely abandoned herself to the man who is pleasuring her with so much skill it's almost as if he’s known her forever, he's been touching her forever. It isn’t long before I’m coming, soaring high with pleasure, moaning his name.
I collapse against his chest, completely spent and insanely content. I've never felt this free and uninhibited before.
"That was so good," I whisper, my eyes locking on his in the mirror.
He grins. “We’re just getting started, Princess,” he says, “…but I think we’re gonna need a plan.”
Chapter 17
Nicholas
I got carried away with Blakely that morning in the kitchen.
In my eagerness to pleasure her body, I nearly took her virginity right there on the kitchen table. But that’s not how it’s supposed to happen. When a woman offers a man her virginity, it’s his responsibility to make sure that the occasion is special, something she’ll remember with fond memories.
At least that’s what the internet forums I’m reading say.
So, now that I’ve had a few days to come to terms with the idea that this beautiful woman is willing to let me deflower her body, it’s time to approach the situation with a level head. It’s time to make a plan just like I would if I were building an app or launching a startup. There are things she wants to learn and it’s my mission to teach them to her.
Even if I’m yet to learn them first myself.
Yes, I’ve had sex with different women but I never really cared enough about what the experience was like for them. I never made notes about what it took to get them off or what they really enjoyed. As long as I got to shoot my load, that was always enough for me. And the women never complained so I guess they were satisfied. Who knows?
I want things to be different with Blakely. I want to give her the thrill of a lifetime. So, I’ve immersed myself in extensive research. I was up into the wee hours of the morning studying the female body and what it takes to get it to a satisfying climax. Yes, yes – a lot of that involved watching hours of porn, but I also perused women’s internet forums and read scholarly articles. I complied pages and pages of notes and ideas. If there’s one thing that aspies are good at, it’s research, collecting data. We’re known to become a bit obsessed when we find a subject that interests us. And the subject of becoming Blakely Hamilton’s Sex Hero interests me very, very much.
When she gets home from work, I’m sitting at the kitchen table, armed with pen and paper.
“Hey…” she says as she comes in and sets her keys on the table.
“Hey…”
Shyness covers her eyes as usual, but this time, there’s something more when she looks at me. A glint of desire and curiosity and eagerness. It makes me my chest tighten.
I make a conscious effort to keep my expression neutral even though my lust for her is boiling in my veins. “Do you have a minute to talk?”
She shrugs her jacket off of her shoulders and sits in the chair opposite me. “Yeh. Sure.”
“Before we…y’know...” I tilt my head suggestively.
“Have sex?” she giggles.
I feel a little silly for dancing around the word. “Yes, have sex.” Let me try this again. “Before we have sex, there are a few things I think we need to discuss.”
Her brows knit with scepticism. “Things like what?” she asks. She glances at the notepad in front of me and giggles. I love the sound. I don’t hear it often enough. Up until this point, she’s been so shy with me, so reserved. I love seeing her open up. “Wait – are you about to interview me?”
I give a short laugh. “I guess.” I tap my pen against the table, blatantly staring at her lips. I can’t wait to get my cock between those lips. “Nothing too formal. I just want to understand where you’re coming from, establish your expectations.”
She holds out a hand defensively. “I told you – I don’t expect you to be my boyfriend or anything,” she blurts out, “I’m not looking for a relationship.”
That’s technically the right answer – I couldn’t give her a relationship even if that’s what she wanted – still, my chest twinges a little bit hearing her say it.
“Good.” I nod in agreement. “I don’t want a relationship, either.”
She continues, “I just want to have sex. When I write my stories, I want to be speaking from experience, not just imagination. And most of all, I want to get rid of my freakin’ hymen!”
I throw my head back a
nd laugh loud. She’s so cute. A curious, little girl who wants to experiment. "So you're giving up your virginity in the name of art?"
She blushes. “I guess…That’s part of the reason.”
I pull the notepad closer and scribble down the title at the top of the page. Mission: Corrupt Blakely’s Body.
She peers over at my notes and laughs. “Seriously?”
“This project deserves a name that’s worthy of it.”
She giggles again and it’s thoroughly satisfying, being the reason she’s laughing. I expected her to be anxious about this. But she’s taking it in stride and it’s getting me to lighten up, too.
Dirty Lover (The Dirty Suburbs Book 5) Page 8