by Logan Chance
“You just left? No bye, nothing?”
I sigh. “Yeah, I was just overwhelmed. I didn’t even say thanks.” I’m so selfish. He almost gave me an earth shattering orgasm and I gave him nothing except the view of my back on the way out.
“I don’t think you’ll need those sessions anyways.” She points to my computer screen. “Pru will flip out when she reads these scenes.”
“Yeah, maybe she’ll hire me to ghostwrite for her.”
This makes Julie laugh, but I may be serious.
I worry no one will buy my book, but at the same time, I wonder if I even want people to read it. It’s a scary business, one where you put your heart into something only to have people either love it like you do, or tear it to shreds in their reviews. So, you have to constantly debate over every word choice, every action of the characters. But last night was different. I felt it. Really felt the words. And honestly, I think my tame sex scenes are cured. We leave tomorrow, and I’m not sure if I can handle being alone with him after last night.
“You and him stuck in a car for about three hours should be fun.” Julie fans herself. “I’ll pray for you, girl.”
I laugh, but I need all the prayers I can get. If I were smart, I’d end this. But now that I know what it feels like to truly desire someone all the way into your bones, I want more.
14
Declan
"Wherever the art of Medicine is loved, there is also a love of Humanity. ”
― Hippocrates
Sunday morning, bright and early I show up at Rose’s apartment, knocking on her front door. I’m not really sure what to say to her when I see her, but before I can really even think about it she flings the door open, “Thanks for the almost orgasm.”
My eyebrows shoot up in shock. “You’re welcome.”
She lets out a sigh. “Sorry, I didn’t want you to think I was rude because I just rushed out.” She closes her eyes for a moment. “It’s awkward now, isn’t it?”
I chuckle. “Let’s just take it for what it was, ok?”
Her blue eyes peer up at me. “What was it?”
“It was me helping you out.”
She nods. “Right. And I have to say, I think I’m cured.”
“That so?” She’s not cured. No way. I know I’m good, but come on, no one is that good. And even if she is cured, maybe I need one more shot with her to make sure she is.
“Yeah. It’s a miracle.”
She disappears inside for a moment to grab her bag and then steps back out to lock the door. My eyes do a quick travel down her body. She’s casual again today— dark skinny jeans, red loose fitting blouse, black flats—and looks phenomenal. I should probably make jeans mandatory at work. Or maybe not. Maybe she should wear a tarp.
I take her bag from her and we walk to the car, silent. I’m not even going to touch the subject of how she thinks our sessions are over before they even started. Because not on my watch. Not after last night.
“Ready?” I ask, once we’re settled in the car.
She holds up her phone with earbuds attached, and nods. “I am.”
And then she pops the buds into her ears and turns to look out the window. Well if I thought we would be talking on the car ride, I guess I’m wrong.
I pull out of her driveway, heading straight out of town. If she doesn’t want to talk, fine.
Two can play this game.
I turn up the radio and continue onto the interstate toward Santa Maria.
About an hour into the drive, Rose turns to face me, finally taking the buds out of her ears. “Are you hungry?”
“Very.” Hungry for her pussy but food will have to do. I spot an exit coming up with a diner on the sign and nod toward it. “Diner sound good?”
She smiles. “Yes.”
Thank god. I need out of this confined space. The entire time we’ve been driving, I’d love to say I’ve been thinking about the convention, or my speech I’m supposed to give to my peers in the medical industry, but I haven’t. I’ve been thinking about Rose grinding on my hand. The way she moaned. The way she looked. It’s probably the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. I’ve been with my share of women and never felt the animalistic pull I did last night with Rose.
I turn into the parking lot of Mae’s Diner, find a space, and shut the engine off. Time to ease the tension.
“Are you going to be quiet the whole trip?” I ask.
“Quite possibly.” She opens her door and exits my car.
That went well. Maybe she just needs some time to process. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel while she stretches beside the window. Her shirt rises a bit, exposing a delectable sliver of skin. I’ve lost my fucking mind. You’d think I’ve been locked away in a monastery the way I’m acting.
When the semi subsides, I get out and follow her into the diner. We take a seat in a red, vinyl booth near the back. I try again, because she’s like an itch that won’t go away. “You can’t be quiet forever.”
Her cheeks flame, and it’s adorable. “I guess I’m just embarrassed.”
“For what? Almost giving you an…”
“Stop,” she cuts me off. “Don’t say it.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” And it isn’t. It’s a beautiful thing.
My friend, Booker, says, it’s the closest you get to Heaven itself. Or in my case, Hell...because that’s exactly where I’ll be if I keep picturing Rose when I come.
“You’re helping me, but you’re also my boss.” The server drops off two steaming cups of coffee, and once she’s gone, Rose leans in. “I’m having a hard time discussing it with you. Maybe we could call it something else?”
She’s right; I am her boss. I need to remain professional here. It’s hard enough to get respect as a sex therapist in a community where sex is still a taboo topic to discuss, and now I’ve gone and crossed major lines with my assistant.
I need to get back on course.
I need to fucking focus.
I should fire her. Because having an assistant who drives you crazy is never helpful.
“Like what?” I sip my coffee, black, and stare right at Rose who is avoiding all eye contact by endlessly stirring cream into her cup. “The gift?”
She finally looks up at me, smiling. “Yes, that’s perfect.”
Fuck me. This girl sets my heart on fire. When I agreed to help her, I didn’t really intend on being the one to touch her, but damn if I’m not ready to do it again.
The waitress arrives to take our order and it’s nice to know Rose isn’t one of those women reluctant to eat in front of a man. She orders French toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, home fries, and a side of fruit. “Got to be healthy,” she says with a wink.
It’s cute, and the fact I think it’s cute is reason to be worried. To get my head back in the game, I change the subject to business, and the next fifteen minutes we discuss the seminar. Rose morphs back into super assistant mode, citing my schedule from memory. Things feel almost normal again until the server slides our plates on the table. By the time we’re done eating, I kind of wish Rose were one of those women who nibble like a rabbit. It’s a sensual experience watching her lips close around the fork tines, watching the way the tip of her tongue peeks out to lick the corner of her mouth. I’ve never fixated on these things and wished I was a piece of bacon. This really has to stop.
We finish up and get back on the road. Before her ear buds go back in, I get an explanation. “Listening to an audio book.”
“Ah, which one.”
“The Crux.”
“Great book.”
She looks a little shocked by my answer. “You read?”
I laugh a little. “Of course, I read. You think I’m no fun and illiterate?”
“Well I didn’t mean it like that.” She hesitates before continuing, “You’re always so focused on work. I imagine you reading medical journals. Just always working. Even at home.”
“Is that a bad thing? Work is important.”
/> “If you’re passionate about it, it’s not a bad thing. Are you?”
“It pays well.”
“Ah.” I glance over and the way she’s studying me makes me feel like she can see right inside my skin to where all the important things are hidden. It’s a little unnerving.
“What does ‘ah’ mean?” I can’t help but ask.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t say yes.”
She pops her earbuds back in and her questions seep into my psyche. I don’t hate what I do. Do I get a thrill going in every day? No. But does anyone? Well Jonah seems to. And Chelsea. And Booker and Ethan. Ok, maybe some people do. When I chose to be in an office every day instead of an emergency room, money was the determining factor. Nothing wrong with that. When you’re mapping out your life, you usually pick the road that leads to success, not happiness. Right? Honestly, helping Rose is the biggest thrill I’ve gotten from all my sex knowledge. It’s not that I don’t care about my patients, it just doesn’t give me that high my friends seem to exude about their jobs. Or the high from the clinic. Maybe it’s best Rose doesn’t talk to me, because now she has me rethinking my life choices.
We spend the rest of the drive in relative silence and finally pull into the Four Seasons. After checking in, we cross the marble lobby and take the elevator to the third floor where our rooms are next to each other.
She stops at her door, gripping her suitcase handle. “We’re going to have another session, right? You have a plan?”
I should say no. But I don’t. “Yes, see you in an hour for dinner,” I tell her, heading into my room. Heading right to the shower to get ready for tonight. And yes, that means jerking the fuck off. No way can I do this tonight and have my dick raring to go.
I turn the water on, letting the steam fill the bathroom, fogging up the mirrors. My clothes are gone in an instant, and I step into the shower. The hot water soothes the tense muscles in my neck and shoulders from traveling with Rose. It feels good, and my cock is already hard just at the thought of making her come.
I’d love to be able to get off at the exact moment she does. Even if things were different, and we didn’t work together, it’s not an easy task. Most women fake it, after the guy comes, just to end the sex. Cause let’s face it, the sex is over for most guys once they come. But, I don’t like that idea. Why can’t sex keep going?
That’s why I like to get the woman I’m with off a few times before I finally orgasm. Some men look at it as a chore. Like ‘Ok, to get mine, I have to give the girl hers first, so ugh, let’s go.’
Not me. I enjoy making a girl come so hard she can’t fucking think straight.
I’ve talked to many men who say they don’t know what a woman wants. They don’t know how to make her feel good.
And here’s where I’m going to let you in on the biggest secret ever. Turning a woman on isn’t about where you touch her, or if you’re even doing it right. The thing that turns on both male and females is one basic thing: being wanted.
Yes, it’s that easy.
A woman wants to feel sexy. She wants to know she's the only woman making your dick hard. She wants to be the only woman who makes you groan the way you are when you touch her for the first time. A woman wants to know that she has your full undivided attention, and that there isn’t any other woman on the planet that is making you as hard as she does.
She wants to be the one to make you cry out. She wants to be the one to make you come harder than you ever have. And she wants to be the one whose name you’re whispering when you kiss below her ear.
And you know what...it’s the same fucking thing for men. We want to make our woman scream our names when she’s coming so hard her nails are drawing blood from our skin.
So, when I say these things, this is what I mean: if your girl turns you on so much you can’t breathe properly, then you’ll want to be the one to put a big ol’ smile on her face. Not only will you want to, you’ll enjoy all the ways how to.
That’s my philosophy.
And I live by it.
I soap my body, working the suds over each muscle and joint. My cock jerks, waiting for me to take it in my hands. I want this orgasm. I need it.
So I grab my dick, wrapping my fingers around tightly, running my thumb over the tip. And then I get to work, thinking of Rose on her knees before me, her red lips slightly parted, her blue eyes gazing up at me like I own the world. I’d conquer all I could for one taste of her sweet ruby lips. I’d wage war on anyone who’d ever try to come in the way of her lips wrapping around the head of my cock.
God, I can picture it. It’s so fucking real. I can’t even remember the last time I jerked off to such a vivid image.
Water cascades over my head as I continue pumping my dick.
Why can’t these images be real? Why can’t this really happen between me and her? Fuck, my chest heaves as I picture her sucking me off.
She’s got all the makings of being a pro in the bedroom. I bet she gives just as good as she gets.
My cock grows harder and harder as I keep pumping, keep fucking my hand until my orgasm explodes. Fuck me. I place my hand against the tile to catch my breath.
Now it’s time to get my game face on and get ready. I dress in black jeans and a black Polo and head down to the hotel restaurant where I spot Rose already seated and ordering a drink.
She’s the color of sin in a short red dress. I’m going to keep it simple. Help her, and that’s it. Because I know one thing’s for certain—as much as I want Rose, I can’t have her.
15
Rose
“Plot is people. Human emotions and desires founded on the realities of life, working at cross purposes, getting hotter and fiercer as they strike against each other until finally there’s an explosion—that’s Plot.”
—Leigh Brackett
He has a plan. Does he have a plan to kill the butterflies swarming in my belly? Does he have a plan to stop me from blushing every time he stares in my direction?
I should just be happy with my almost climax and call this off. But, more than ever, I want to follow my dream. I saw the look on Declan’s face when I asked about his job, and it makes me wonder what he’d rather be doing? So, I’m going to see this through.
But, then again, maybe I don’t need it. I mean, Stephen King doesn’t need to go around killing people to get ideas for his next novel. Maybe it’s all in my head.
Maybe it’s time to admit I kind of want Declan to get me off. I mean, I’m sure he’s really really good at it. Speak of the devil. Like a very sexy bad omen, he approaches my table looking like a dark angel. His light brown hair is carelessly perfect and I want nothing more than to run my fingers through it.
Have you ever heard the expression ‘takes my breath away’? Those types of lines are all things I avoid when I’m writing. Sure, it sounds romantic, but how do you stop breathing at the mere sight of someone? Thought it was used by people being over dramatic about spotting a handsome guy from across the room. I get it now, because I can’t freaking breathe. He’s too good-looking. It just isn’t fair to other men. I mean, we live in LA, the land of the beautiful, and I still haven’t seen anyone who compares.
“Been waiting long?” he asks, taking a seat.
I shake my head. “Not at all.” Twenty minutes isn’t long, is it? I’m already under the Sincock effect, because I’m ready to tell him I’d wait a million years.
And I do not like waiting. I’ll go to every check out aisle in the grocery store, measuring up how many items they have, wasting time just to save time. What’s wrong with me? I never act like this toward men. I’d never let a man’s looks cloud my judgement toward him.
I have to remember Declan is my boss. The boss who sends me on ridiculous errands and makes me murder muffins before noon on weekdays.
“Red looks good on you,” he surprises me by saying.
A warmth settles low in my belly at his compliment. I’ll be honest, they say women dress for other
women, but tonight, I wore this dress for him. “Thank you. Jeans look good on you.”
He smirks and I’m fully expecting an ‘I know,’ but the server immediately arrives to take his drink order.
Once he’s ordered a beer, his eyes stay pinned on me. I’m nervous as hell. My heart is beating so wildly I don’t think even a Fitbit could track it. I chew on the bottom of my lip, waiting for his plan.
“Tomorrow we have to be in the convention center by eight,” he finally says.
I nod. “Right. Everything is prepared.” The minor detail that we are actually here for something besides me keeps slipping my mind.
“Tonight, I figured we could do some exercises after dinner?”
Ah, exercises is what he’s calling it. Hopefully, he’s not referring to the gym in the hotel. “Ok.”
“Maybe get to know each other more. I know I’ve already, well…”
He can’t even say the words, and I can’t even think them. “Yes, the gift.”
“But, if this is going to work, we need to familiarize ourselves. I need to know what turns you on.”
This is going to be harder than I thought, because I don’t even know what turns me on. He pulls a pair of black frames from his pocket to read the menu and I realize, glasses turn me on. It really turns me on.
“What?” he asks over the top of his menu.
“Nothing.” I tear my eyes from him to my menu, staring at the picture of fresh lump crab cakes instead of him.
He laughs, setting down his menu. “Come on, do I look like an idiot?” He points to the sexy black-rimmed glasses perched atop his nose.
“No,” I answer, honestly. “Quite the opposite, really.”
The server arrives to take our order and gives me a wink and a ‘My favorite. I knew I liked you.’ when I go with the crab cakes. He’s a cute guy—brown hair, baby blues, and a smile that probably gets him really good tips—but he doesn’t make my panties wet. That’s my new standard. So far, only the man across from me meets it.