by KB Winters
Megan pulled her hands away from mine and stashed the phone in her pocket. “Sorry.” She bit her lip and stared up at me.
I shrugged. “Well, we should get back to this anyways,” I said, my voice tight and edgy. I wanted to ask her if they were seeing each other, if that was why she’d been embarrassed about the dream. I wanted to know if he was the reason she was trying to put so much distance between us. The memory of Logan saying he was “with Megan” pushed all of my buttons at once. I wanted to ask, to make her explain herself to me—but ultimately—I knew that wouldn’t get me anywhere. I cleared my throat. I knew if we didn’t change the subject, I’d go crazy.
Megan’s eyes locked onto my fists, and I realized I was clenching and unclenching, my hands itching for a fight at the thought of him touching her, kissing her, or, even worse, fucking her…“Grant, are you okay?”
Before I could turn anything into words, the phone in her pocket buzzed again. Megan pulled it out, flicked a switch to silence it, and stuffed it back into her pocket.
I stared at her for another moment, every cell begging for me to ask her about him—forcing myself to shift my energy into the project. I rolled my shoulders back, and then leaned across the table to retrieve one of the pages. “This is our best selling women’s watch. What I’d like to do is keep the functionality, but put that brain into a sleeker, sportier body to make it fit with the Shock Watches look. I know we have some designs already, but I want to start from scratch and see what we can come up with.”
Megan hesitated for a moment and I could feel her eyes searching me, but I refused to make contact as I held out the page for her inspection. Eventually, she dropped her gaze to the page and she gently took it from my hand. “Okay.”
And with that one, whispered word, it was like a silent understanding passed between us, and we transitioned to work and spent the next two hours pouring over the pages, discussing ideas, verbally weighing pros and cons, and letting ourselves get lost in the creative process as Megan sketched, bringing all our ideas and thoughts to life in black and white. By the time we came up for air, we had three new sketches, that were even more impressive and sharp than what I could remember from the last time we’d sat down together for the same purpose.
After we congratulated ourselves, and each other, a silence settled between us. We both scanned the cluttered table, as though somewhere the right words were written down. The words that could pick us up from our tense awkwardness.
“What do ya say? Call it a night?” Megan said, pushing back from the table.
I sat back and looked at the spread of pages in front of her, each one displaying a new prototype for the line. The sheer volume of work we’d accomplished was shocking to me, but then I remembered the last time we had worked together like this, it had been another late night, all alone in my office. My pulse quickened at the memory of what had happened after that…
“Fair enough. Sounds like you have a date,” I said.
Megan scoffed. “Really, Grant?”
She gave me a sharp look and I shrugged. “Am I wrong?”
“You are, actually. Not that it’s any of your business.” She stood and gathered her hair into a ponytail.
“So, where are you going?” I asked, watching her as she worked her fingers through her long, raven hair, smoothing back each flyaway and imperfection until it was all tied back in a sleek knot on the top of her head. I preferred it down, but she was alluring either way.
She hesitated, as though mentally debating whether or not to tell me the truth. Finally, she sighed. “I’m staying in a hotel, if you must know. So, I’ll probably go grab something cheap and easy for dinner and spend the rest of the night racking up an impressive bill cracking out on movies. Alone.”
“Well that sounds pretty miserable.” I stretched back in the chair, smiling up at her as her eyes roamed my arms and chest as my crisp white shirt pulled tight across my muscled torso.
She snapped her eyes away, but I laughed. She knew she’d been caught. “As if your night is going to be so much more interesting. You’re probably gonna do the same thing, just on the next level up. Or, several levels up, I guess. Fancy organic gourmet dinner, dropped off at your door so that you can stay home, alone, and what? Watch a basketball game or something?”
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
She rolled her eyes and slung her Army green bag across her chest. “Well, enjoy. I’ll be back in the morning, after class, I guess.”
I stood and sauntered over to where she was standing, seemingly frozen to the floor. “Or, you could come with me. Tonight.”
Chapter Twelve — Megan
I couldn’t figure out the part of my brain that had gone temporarily insane and agreed to go to dinner with Grant. All I knew was that as soon as I figured it out, I’d be scheduling a lobotomy to get it removed. I ducked into the ladies room while Grant was wrapping up some emails, and stared at myself in the mirror. On the outside, I looked completely normal, confident even, but inside was a completely different story. My stomach was flipping and twisting like it was stuck on a renegade roller coaster, my palms were coated with sweat, and my chest was blotchy with little red patches that only made an appearance when I was insanely nervous.
This is such a bad idea.
I spun away from the mirror and leaned up against the cool granite counter, telling myself to get it together. Moments later, I fished the phone out of my pocket to check my messages. I’d kept it on silent ever since it interrupted the weird moment with Grant. What had that even been about? I shook my head. No time to figure it out now. He’d be expecting me soon. As predicted, Logan had called three times, and sent a handful of text messages. I scanned through the messages and it looked like he’d been trying to set up a second date. I slid my eyes to the restroom door, some twinge of paranoia in the back of my mind that Grant would come barging in after me. I needed a minute, to think, to breath, to get myself the hell back together again.
What the hell is wrong with me? I asked, looking back towards the mirror. It was a question I found myself asking with an alarming frequency ever since meeting Grant at the symposium.
Grant.
Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with need for him, almost like I missed him even though it had only been minutes since we were sitting inches away from each other. There had been walls and barriers up and it left me feeling desperate for him. I pushed aside the questions and worries and left the bathroom without another glance back.
“There you are,” Grant said as I nearly crashed into him in the hallway. I’d been looking over my shoulder and hadn’t heard him come down the hall.
“Yeesh! What? Were you a ninja in another life?” I asked, laughing as he smiled down at me.
“Something like that.” He stopped to brush a stray hair out of my face and time stood still, freezing us together in the small, but intimate gesture. “Megan, I have to have you. I can’t have you in front of me all day and not want you. Hell, even when you’re not in front of me, I want you.”
The smell of his expensive cologne and the heat from his body surrounded me, wrapping me in his warmth. He was both safety and risk. Tension and relief. My question and my answer. He was inescapable and I couldn’t deny a word of what he’d said, because it all resonated perfectly with my own tangled thoughts since the last time I’d been with him.
“We’re going to my place,” he said.
And that was that.
* * * *
When we walked into Grant’s condo, I trembled. It wasn’t the first time I’d walked through those doors—but for some reason—it felt like it. The first time I’d slept with Grant it had been such a rush, a whirlwind that had left me feeling like I’d been dazed or mesmerized. This time, I was making a choice, I was choosing Grant. Against all arguments for sanity and safety. I was there, choosing his particular breed of madness.
“Are you cold?” Grant asked, sensing my small shiver.
I shook my head.
Grant
took me to the kitchen and poured two large glasses of wine. He carried both of the glasses to the bedroom and I followed behind him, my mind whirling with possibilities. I remembered the last time. He’d tied my hands and blindfolded me. I had been powerless and yet felt so powerful as the object of his desire. He’d been rough but not overly so. I hadn’t been with many guys, but Grant was far beyond anything I’d ever experienced, and I knew there had to be so many things he hadn’t shown me yet.
Grant handed me a glass and we both took long sips, studying one another. He set his glass down and crossed the room to tap something onto a control panel that adjusted the lights and filtered in a rhythmic music that had some kind of binaural beats in the background.
“What, is that your sex setting?” I asked, a smile tugging at my lips.
“You do remember how I like it, right?” Grant asked, ignoring my attempt at a joke. He was in a different mode, and I sobered immediately as he stripped off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt.
“Come with me.” He said and turned to walk toward his bedroom.
“What? No play room?”
“Play room?” he asked. “What do you mean?”
“Yeah, play room. You know… fifty shades? I saw the movie. He had a play room.”
His eyes seemed to harden a little as he peeled his white linen shirt back to reveal his model perfect body. I bit my lip and only then did a hint of a smile flicker across his face. “Do you want to…play?” he asked.
He removed his shirt and set it aside before stripping away his suit pants, leaving him down to nothing but his tight boxer briefs.
My mouth went dry and I swallowed hard as he moved across the room, the shadows playing over his perfect, sculpted body that was even better than I’d remembered it in my daydreams and fantasies. His skin was sun kissed and flawless, not a blemish or hair out of place. His meticulous nature showed in every detail. My eyes scanned down his flat stomach, roving over ever perfectly segmented abdominal muscle, and over the smooth v-lines that dipped below the waist of the boxer briefs that were clinging to every inch, barely containing the massive hard on he was concealing.
For now…
“You mean the blindfold and stuff?” I said.
Grant nodded and sank down to the edge of the bed. “There’s more to it than just that, Megan. I thrive on control—it excites me and takes me to a new level of pleasure. A place I’d like to take you as well.” He stroked his fingers up the outside of my thigh.
“I trust you,” I said. My body was humming, waiting for him to take me. I probably would have agreed to anything if it meant his hands and lips all over me.
Grant smiled and I knew I’d said the right thing. “Excellent. Let’s begin. Start with your jacket dress, take it off, slowly.”
I stood in front of him and he spread his legs apart, the bulge firm and at attention. I reached for the hem of my dress and pulled it up over my body.
“Slower,” he corrected sharply.
I moved as slowly as I could, my body tightening and trembling as it was revealed to him. I hadn’t worn a bra and my panties were a size too small and left little to the imagination. I hadn’t expected to be going home to anyone, least of all Grant. Once the dress was over my head, I let it slide from my fingertips, landing softly on the thick carpet. Grant didn’t make a move to touch me, but let his eyes linger and devour every inch of flesh.
After a minute of consideration, he grabbed the waist of the thin panties with both of his hands and tore them right off my body. I yelped, startled by the tear and the fact that I was suddenly completely naked. Grant threw the shreds of fabric to the ground. “Those were old and too small for you.”
I looked down, an edge of embarrassment creeping over me. Grant raised my chin and forced me to look at him. “Megan, a body like yours deserves the best, the most beautiful lingerie that money can buy. Besides, I wanted to see your perfect little pussy.” He trailed his fingers over the soft skin between my thighs, just a flicker of heat, and I jolted, like a wire that suddenly had electricity coursing through it again.
I blushed at his hint of dirty talk. “They were old,” I conceded.
Grant didn’t comment further on the matter, seemingly content to let his eyes do the talking as he stared at me. He watched me for such a long time that I was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong, if he’d found some glaring flaw to concentrate on. I looked down, wondering what it was, what he was thinking, but he pulled my hand to drag me to him and ran his warm hands up the backs of my thighs, over my bare ass, and let them rest on the curve of my lower back.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, holding my breath until he answered.
“Not at all. You’re gorgeous, Megan. There isn’t one thing I would change.” He stood and brought me to him, our faces just inches away but he didn’t kiss me. I could feel the firm rod in his underwear pressing against me and my knees buckled, eagerly waiting for Grant to make the next move.
I released the breath and relaxed under his touch as he traced a finger over my cheekbone, down my face, and along the side of my neck. He kissed me, the warmth of his tongue and lips setting me on fire. I clung to him tightly, letting our bodies press together, every inch melding into one form. Abruptly he released me from his lips and spun me around to face the bed. “Stay here.”
I heard him cross the room and retrieve something from a zippered case.
“I bought these just waiting for you to come back to my bed,” Grant announced, holding up a pair of maroon colored silk scarves. “They reminded me of your lips.”
I smiled, thinking of the tube of maroon lipstick that was a makeup bag staple. Even on my worst days, you could bet I’d be wearing my lipstick. “It’s a great color.”
“When I bought them, I was thinking of all the fun we could have with them,” he continued. His voice was low, and sent vibrations through me. “I want you to get on the bed, on all fours.”
I shivered and followed his instructions, climbing up into the huge bed and braced myself on all fours, my ass in the air. It felt like an hour passed before Grant gave his next instruction. “Spread your legs, wider. Show me your wet pussy. Let me see how much you want me.”
I eased my knees further apart, leaving no doubt about my excitement and readiness for Grant to fuck me.
Grant teased my bare back with the silk scarves, trailing the edges down my spine, over my ass, brushing against the sensitive skin between my thighs, until every inch quivered, waiting for him to make the next move. The air crackled with anticipation. I arched my back on the verge of desperation. I was dripping wet and he hadn’t touched me yet.
“Put your hands on the frame, here,” Grant showed me where to grip the iron bed frame and I wrapped my fingers around the cold metal, my hands inches apart from each other. He tied me with the scarves with careful, firm knots that secured me to the bed frame.
I tugged at the restraints, wondering which would excite me more—being able to tug them loose, or finding myself bound tight, completely under Grant’s control. My wrists were immobilized and I shuddered with pleasure.
“Hold still,” Grant said, his voice clipped and commanding.
I nodded and bit my lip.
He was moving behind me but I didn’t dare look back to see what he was doing. Something told me it was part of his game for me to stay completely still and listen to his commands. I heard him removing his boxer briefs, and I shivered, practically panting for him to enter me.
His fingertips trailed up the back of my thighs and I shivered. My pussy clenched and my back arched, ready for him. “Grant, please,” I begged.
“Please what? Megan, tell me you want me,” he said.
I nearly came at the words. “Fuck me, Grant. Please! I want you to fuck me so hard,” I moaned and squirmed, doing everything to coax him. He answered by sliding a finger between my lips, slipping through the hot, wetness that had gathered. My body shook from the sensations that flooded me.
; Moments later, his fingers were replaced by his tongue and my entire body trembled as his tongue went from top to bottom, lapping up my juices. He reached the end, and then went further, running his tongue around my asshole and then slid a fingertip inside.
Starbursts fired off behind my closed eyes. “Shit!” I gasped. I’d never experienced anything like it. He fingered my ass and I was shocked by how quickly the pressure mounted within me before bursting into an orgasm that made my entire body feel like jelly.
Once my body stopped shuddering, he finally slid his thick cock inside me and I sucked in a sharp breath, having forgotten how full he made me feel. Once he was all the way inside me, I relaxed, and let myself enjoy the fullness. He fit me so perfectly, like our bodies had been constructed to be a perfect lock and key. My walls gripped tight as he began to thrust in and out of me, gaining speed and power with each one. I moaned and gripped the bed so tight that my knuckles whitened.
On the third stroke, he thrust into me so hard I was forced to brace my body weight against my wrists and hands that were tied to the solid frame. I cried out with each stroke after that, panting Grant’s name and begging him to keep fucking me. He groaned and continued pounding into me until I saw stars. He thickened inside me and I could tell he was close. My own pleasure reached dizzying heights and moments later I came, so hard that it shook my entire body. I fell against the bed and Grant gave one final pulse before he released inside me with a final jerk.
Grant went still after the pulsing ebbed away, leaving us connected but motionless, as we both recovered, our breaths and heartbeats came down from the heights of ecstasy. He slid from me and without a word, set about untying the maroon scarves that had bound my hands to the frame of the bed. My wrists were ringed with red, but it faded quickly and I didn’t expect it to bruise. Grant inspected the marks and planted a soft kiss on the inside of each wrist before laying me down in the bed. He disappeared for a few minutes, and when he returned, he got into the bed next to me.