“Not sure if it’s serious yet?” She leaned her backside against the sink and took a sip from her mug.
“It’s not.” Frankly, I was surprised that she would think I’d ever be serious. She knew I was anti-relationships. I’d always thought she understood that, but there were the Ben comments she made earlier and now this.
Obviously I needed to remind her of my position on the matter. “He’s not a boyfriend. He’s an…arrangement.”
“Tell me more.” Despite her skeptical frown, she seemed genuinely interested.
“We’re meeting up on Wednesday nights to spend time together.” I blushed at the thought of the last time we’d spent together.
Norma put her mug down, her eyes bright. “I’m guessing that’s code for ‘have wild monkey sex all night long?’”
She seemed like a teenager in that moment. Enthusiastic and ready for details and not my thirty-five-year-old surrogate mother.
For some reason, it embarrassed me more. “Something like that,” I said, playing the whole thing down. “That means you’ll have to watch Law and Order without me.” It was her show anyway. I was more than happy to miss it.
“Fine. I’ll DVR it for you. But I’m not done asking about JC.” God, she was practically giddy for me. “I’m all fine with sex for sex’s sake, but you don’t think that something more could happen between you?”
The idea felt like a spider crawling on my skin. I shook it off with a visible shiver. “No. Oh, no. I’m not looking for that. You know that.”
She shrugged and her tone suddenly got serious. “No one’s ever looking for it when it hits them.”
“Well, if it hits me, I’ll hit it right back. Whatever it is.” I shivered again and not just for dramatic effect. The notion was that disturbing.
“Whatever it is?” Norma’s whole demeanor seemed offended. “It’s love, Gwen. Don’t you want to fall in love?”
“What’s that?” I wasn’t harsh, but I was resolute. “No, seriously. Fall in love? There’s no falling that I know of. I love you, Norma. I love Ben. I love what I remember of Mom. In some weird obligated-by-blood way I love Dad, even. That’s about all the love I need. It’s about all I can handle too.”
“Gwen…” She looked at me with what seemed like pity. Then she sighed and I knew it was pity. “The more you love and the more you are loved, the more strength you have to handle everything else. You know that, right?”
“Eh. I’m not so sure the proportion of pain to reward works out in love’s favor.”
“Oh, honey. You’re going to end up alone with that attitude.”
“Never. I have you, sissy.” I put my arms around her waist and clutched onto her dramatically. This was easier than a real hug—it gave the pretense of being insincere, yet it was still a way to get the reassurance I craved.
She ran her hand through my hair, soothingly, like she used to do when I was sick. “You can’t always rely on me to be your companion, Gwen. I want more than this. I need more than just sitting around watching shows together.”
I had two choices—I could be hurt by her words, or I could accept that she wanted different things from life than I did and realize it had nothing to do with me.
At another time, I might have played the offended card. Right now, our family still felt too fragile. So I said the thing I knew she wanted to hear. “I know. And you’ll have it.” Maybe not with Hudson Pierce, like she wanted it, but she’d find someone.
When I thought about that, it scared me. Partly because I didn’t want to disrupt the status quo. Didn’t want to be without her in my daily life. But also because after the last few days, the idea of a guy in my life didn’t seem quite as unappealing as it once did.
And I had no business thinking those kinds of thoughts. Especially when I’d promised JC I wouldn’t get attached.
It’s just sex, I reminded myself. Sex stirs hormones, hormones think they’re emotions. That’s all. It wasn’t like the real emotions I had for my siblings. That I had for Norma.
I couldn’t shake the feeling, however, that things were changing between us. Couldn’t shake the feeling that at least one of us was slipping away toward something else.
***
I barely slept on Wednesday, too nervous about seeing JC again. He’d pushed me at our last encounter, and I had a feeling that was only the tip of the iceberg. While I kept thinking that we were only going to be about getting off, he seemed to be serious about the notion that he could help me loosen up. And so far, he’d been right. Orgasms in general were relaxing, but the methods he’d used to administrate my last one had left me relaxed well beyond when the hormonal effect had worn off.
Besides being anxious, I was eager. I had to force myself to not speed through my shower. Thankfully, the acts of regular feminine upkeep delayed me a bit. Still, I arrived at the hotel a whole hour earlier than I was expected, and I debated about hanging out in the bar or going straight up to his room.
I settled on the bar, but after killing thirty minutes and a glass of Merlot to ease my jitters, I changed my mind and headed up.
The apartment was silent when I went in, and dark, so I knew I was alone. I took off my coat and turned to hang it in the closet. There was a note on the door.
Gwen,
Make yourself comfortable. In other words, get undressed.
JC
I laughed out loud, a response that was as much a sign of nerves as it was a reaction based on humor. Get undressed. It was a subtle command and such a naughty way to expect to be greeted. My hand trembled at the hem of my sweater. The idea of being naked in his hotel room, even without him there yet, brought on a new flurry of jitters. I left my clothing on.
Not that I wouldn’t do it. Just…I needed a moment to warm up to it.
Since I still had time before I was supposed to arrive, I took a few minutes to check out the rest of the suite. I’d been in the bathroom on my last visit but not beyond that. After our session on the couch, he’d had to leave to catch another flight to L.A. and the bedroom was left for another occasion.
I went in there now finding nothing remarkable. A king-size bed. Two nightstands. A dresser. An armchair. I peeked in a closet and found it full of clothes—his clothes. An unexpected giddiness came across me, and I had a strange desire to bury my face in them, see if they smelled of him. But that was creepy, so I quickly shut the door.
I wondered briefly if women’s clothing had ever hung there. Wondered, if I searched his drawers, would I find traces of past lovers? How would I feel if I did? Surely it didn’t matter who he’d hooked up with before if I was the one he was hooking up with now.
But thinking about it gave me a different kind of anxiety. It brought on a feeling of possessiveness that I was unaccustomed to. I didn’t like it.
I wasn’t a snoop, anyway. His stuff was his stuff. Whatever secrets his belongings held about him, they were theirs to keep. Just like how we didn’t tell each other our full names. How we didn’t share our ages or our personal history. It was all information and details that, when shared, bound people together. And that wasn’t what either of us were looking for.
So I made my way back to the living room without looking any further.
JC walked in about three seconds after I returned. My pulse kicked up immediately, and my breathing hitched. As if I were Pavlov’s dog. Just his presence made me excited and aroused.
And happy. There was that too. And there were very few times in my life that I let myself feel that. Here, with him, I didn’t even think about giving myself permission. I just did. I just was. Happy.
He already had his coat off, and he hung it in the closet while he eyed me with a narrowed stare. “You’re still dressed.”
“I just got here.” Even in my defensiveness, I grinned.
The look he gave me made me think he knew I was fibbing. It still wasn’t seven, so he had no reason to think I’d be here so early. Had he seen me come up? Had he been in the lobby somewhere, watching f
or me to arrive and then waiting the amount of time he thought it would take for me to follow the instructions he’d left?
The thought gave me an unexpected jolt. I liked that he might have been as anxious for me to arrive as I was. I didn’t like that I liked it.
If he really doubted me, he didn’t contradict me. “Then I’ll cut you a break and let you remove your clothes yourself.”
I stifled a nervous giggle. “As opposed to?”
“Me ripping them off.”
Another comment that was so naughty and unexpected. Was it strange that I almost preferred that than undressing willingly?
A satisfied smirk played on JC’s face. “Don’t worry, my plan will still be good. Strip.”
I couldn’t argue with the soothing authority in his voice. I bent to unzip a boot when he stopped me. “Not there. Over by the window.”
I didn’t move immediately. I was not an exhibitionist in any way, and parading naked in front of others was never something I’d feel comfortable with. No matter how freeing it might feel.
Except, I trusted JC. Strange, since I didn’t know him enough to trust him. Strange, since I never trusted anyone. But, I realized now, that trust was essential in any arrangement I expected to have with him. To give him my control, I had to trust. There also seemed to be a correlation in trusting and relaxing. Letting down my guard went a long way toward relieving tension I didn’t even know I carried.
I walked to the window to look out. We were forty-nine floors up, the sun was going down, and the park was across the street. The likelihood of anyone seeing me was slim to none.
“It’s pretty private.” Goddamn, JC could always read my thoughts. Was I that transparent? “But it doesn’t feel private. It feels exposed. Doesn’t it?”
I nodded.
“Even if someone happens to look up and think they see a body at the window, they won’t be able to tell it’s naked. They certainly won’t be able to tell it’s you.”
I wasn’t so sure. But, trust.
JC removed his suit jacket and laid it on the back of the couch. “Now. Undress.”
There would be no more thinking about it. I handed him the reins, then. I did as he said, first taking off my boots. Then, with shaking hands, I removed my sweater, followed by my jeans.
When I was only in my lingerie, JC inhaled sharply.
I paused my undressing to bask in his appreciation. Silently, I thanked Norma. I didn’t own a garter belt, but I did have thigh highs, and the sexy way she’d looked the other morning wearing hers had inspired me to wear my own under my pants. I’d debated it at first, unsure if my thoughtful preparation would give the wrong message. I still hadn’t been sure when I’d left the apartment with them on.
JC’s reaction now made me glad I’d chosen as I had, even if he only saw me in them for a second. The rising and falling of my chest grew more pronounced as my excitement—and my confidence—flourished. It was exhilarating to be able to arouse someone else so easily, in turn, inciting me.
I took off my bra next, watching his eyes spark as my breasts tumbled free. Then I removed my panties. When I got to my stockings, I paused. “Should I leave these?”
His yes was more of a hiss than an actual word.
I was very glad for my decision indeed. Naked now, except for the hose, I stood proudly for him, my back exposed to the city behind me.
JC loosened his tie. Slowly, but with more assurance than I’d had, he began unbuttoning his shirt. God, it was erotic to watch him undress. To watch him peel away the layers that the rest of the world saw, revealing the parts of him he only showed to me. Provocative on so many levels.
I pressed my thighs together to try and relieve the growing ache.
His smile told me he knew the effect he had on me. He removed his shirt and laid it on the couch and began working on his belt buckle, his eyes never leaving me. “You’re so turned on,” he said with not an ounce of question. It was fact. He knew I was turned on. “Touch yourself.”
I hesitated, waffling between giving him complete control and letting him know what I wanted. He’d been adamant that I tell him before. And I wanted to be quick to learn his lessons, unlike the insipid heroines of Norma’s bodice ripper novels she thought she read in secret.
So I spoke up. “JC, I don’t want to do that this time.” I would do it again. It had been amazing, and if he squashed down my request, I’d give in willingly. But I needed to let him know what I was thinking first.
His eyes widened, and with his belt now in his hand, a bolt of paralyzing fear ran through me. After years of having one slapped across my back, a man with a belt would always cause a stirring of trepidation. This moment was worse, especially since I’d just been contrary. And I was naked, which made me feel more vulnerable than usual.
He seemed to sense my fear. “Hey, Gwen. Relax.” He dropped the belt, and his eyes followed mine as I watched where it landed on the floor. His brow wrinkled in confusion, and then, as if he understood, he kicked it away from him.
I was afraid he’d ask, but he didn’t, and I was grateful.
“Thank you, for telling me what you want. Or don’t want.” He toed his shoes off as he spoke. Then bent to pull off his socks. “You don’t have anything to worry about. I won’t hurt you and this won’t be like last week. You’ll still get off. But this time, I’m going to be inside you when it happens.”
Whatever fear there had been in me a moment before vanished at his sensual promise.
He unzipped his pants and pushed them to the floor. “So I suggest you touch yourself. You need to get yourself wet because I’m not planning on staying in control this time. Once my hands are on you, you better be ready to fuck.”
Moisture pooled between my legs at his words. I was ready to fuck now. I had been since the minute he walked in the door and cast his possessive gaze over my body. So when I pinched a nipple between my fingers and ran my other hand between my legs, I wasn’t priming myself for him.
I was showing him that I was already primed.
JC groaned. He rubbed his hand over his crotch, and I watched as his semi hardened. “You really are breathtaking, Gwen. You have no idea, do you?”
I shook my head. I hadn’t ever cared to be breathtaking until I was with him. Now, not only did I want him to be turned on by me, I also felt that he was turned on by me. Felt like I was that exciting. Felt like I was that beautiful.
“It’s part of what makes you so amazing to look at. Because you’re so unaware.” He stripped off his boxer briefs, and my mouth instantly watered at his impressive erection. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. It was big and thick and exquisite in a way I never thought a penis could be.
Not a penis—a cock. Penis was a term that turned me off and made me cringe. But nothing about JC’s cock did that to me. It made me feel just the opposite. Turned me on ferociously. Made me want to open up and invite it in.
It drew me so magnetically that I started to step toward him.
Then JC directed me otherwise. “Turn around, Gwen. Press your body against the glass and let the city see how beautiful you are.”
My fascination with his cock faded as my unease with the window returned. Like he’d said before, probably no one would see me, but it felt like they could. And now that it was about to happen, the idea of being watched was actually more thrilling than I’d first thought.
I spun in and pressed up against the window, the cold glass a stark contrast to my heated skin. I continued to touch myself, playing with my clit in earnest. I spread my legs, wanting him to have a better view of what I was doing.
Was that unlike me? Yes. Was it dirty and naughty and completely empowering? Yes, yes, and yes. I reveled in the naughtiness. I reveled in the power.
“Tell me, Gwen.” JC’s voice was tight and I pictured him stroking himself behind me as he spoke. “Did you wear those stockings for me?”
I bit my lip as I considered. I’d thought I’d worn them for me. They were part of my confid
ence-building undergarment ensemble to make me feel more seductive than I was.
But now, when he asked, I knew that I had worn them just as much for him.
I didn’t answer fast enough, and he asked again. “Did you dress this evening with me in mind? Did you put each stocking on, thinking about how I’d later roll them down your thighs? They seem quite versatile. The things I could do with those—tie you up. Bind you. Would you like that? Tell me the truth.”
I’d had a boyfriend once who’d tried to tie my hands. With a belt. I hadn’t liked it at all, but now I thought it was perhaps the material he’d used, because my answer in this moment was entirely different. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
The satisfaction in his tone and the fact that I was facing away from him made it easier for me to admit more. “Yes, all of it.” My sentences broke as I pushed to speak through the growing tension in my belly brought on by the ministrations of my hand. “Yes…I’d like it. Yes, I wore them…for you…so you’d look at me like you’re looking at me now.”
I could still feel his gaze on me. Then I realized, if I looked up at the window, I could see him in the reflection. See him looking at me. I met his eyes there. “I wore them because I wanted you to think I was sexy.”
He didn’t tell me that he was coming for me, but I saw him as he did. And, as he’d promised, the minute he put his hands on me—one gripped my hip, the other one snaked around to grab my breast—he also put his cock inside me.
He thrust in me with such force, I cried out. I cried out again as he pulled back slowly, letting me feel every inch of his length as he drew back to his tip.
“You’re the most goddamned sexy thing I’ve seen in years, Gwen,” he said at my ear. “With or without the stockings. But, fuck…” He jabbed in again then held himself still. “You don’t know what it does to me to hear that you thought about me while you were dressing. It makes me so hard. Can you feel how hard it makes me?”
His cock twitched inside me, and I swear it grew thicker, pushing against my walls even though he was motionless.
“I do feel you,” I gasped. “You’re so hard.”
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