The Starfish Method

by JB Heller

  She arches into me. “Then what are you waiting for?”

  My hands glide up her smooth thighs under the skirt of her dress. I lick and suck the column of her throat, thanking God for back seat dividers, as I move her panties aside and dip two fingers into her pussy. She squirms in my lap, riding my fingers as I pump them in and out. I grip her ass with my free hand, squeezing the plump cheek.

  “Yes,” she moans, reaching to stroke me through my trousers.

  “Give me your mouth,” I demand. I need her tongue on mine. She dips her head, grazing her lips over my jaw then dragging her mouth along my throat. “I said, give. Me. Your. Mouth.”

  Her head pops up, lust burning in her eyes as I slam my lips over hers, devouring her. She sighs into the kiss, and I slide my fingers out of her dripping pussy to fumble with my belt. I can’t wait any longer to be inside her. She reaches out, helping me free my cock, wrapping her little hand over my length as I pull a condom from my wallet.

  “Hurry,” she whimpers. “I need you.”

  Fuck yes.

  I roll the rubber over my shaft. Hannah hovers above me as I align us, then she drives down hard and fast. My head tips back against the headrest as she rides me, pleasure sweeping through every nerve ending in my body. I tug at the top of her dress, her perfect breasts falling free, and I suck one of her rosy nipples into my mouth.

  She shudders hard, sending shock waves through my dick as her body clenches around me. “Fuck, Hannah,” I groan. “You feel so good, baby.”

  “Play with my tits, Sam. Keep touching me. I’m so close.”

  My hands snake around her torso, and I graze my fingertips over her ribcage then cup her breasts in my palms. “Like this, baby?” I ask, pinching her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers.

  “Harder,” she pants. “Harder, Sam! More . . .”

  I drop my head and lightly trace my tongue around her nipple, not quite touching it, then bite it. Her body quakes, her pussy clenching around my cock like a vise as her back arches and I suck away the sting of my bite.

  My dick throbs inside her, needing its own release. But she’s spent now, her body slack, so I grip her waist and take what I need. I drive into her over and over until her core tightens around me again. I drop a hand between us and circle her clit, building her up.

  “Sam, oh God, Sam,” she cries.

  The pad of my thumb finally presses on her little nub, sending her over the edge again and me along with her.

  I pour us a nightcap while Hannah wanders around my apartment, taking everything in. A little crease forms between her brows, and the urge to wipe it away has me moving toward her. “What’s wrong?”

  Her eyes sweep over the open-plan living and dining areas. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just not what I expected.”

  My brows shoot up. “What were you expecting?”

  “A little more life? I mean, the fish tank is cool. But the rest of this place is so . . . sterile.” She shrugs.

  I look around, trying to see it from her perspective. Crisp white walls, sleek black furniture, a few framed black-and-white landscape photographs adorning the walls, and an ultra-modern kitchen. “I guess it is a little sparse . . .”

  She accepts the drink I offer then takes a seat on the couch and frowns again.

  I chuckle. “What now? You don’t like my couch?”

  “It’s awful. This is the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever sat on.”

  Dropping beside her, it’s like sitting on concrete. “Jesus, you’re right.”

  She looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Did you not test it out before you bought it?”

  I strum my fingers on my knee. “I did not. Actually, I didn’t pick any of the furniture in here.”

  Hannah chokes on her port. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “An interior designer decked the place out before I moved in,” I explain.

  She cringes. “You mean you paid someone to make your place this boring? You’re a sucker, Sam. You got ripped off.” Turning on the couch, she lifts her legs, placing her feet in my lap. “How long have you lived here?”

  Throwing an arm over the backrest, I shift to face her. She looks so beautiful, her cheeks still flush from the quickie in the back of the car. Satisfaction pulses through my veins as my eyes skate over her now. She is so unlike any woman I’ve ever been with.

  “Hello, Earth to Sammy boy . . .” She waves a hand in my face.

  “Sorry, what was the question?”

  She laughs lightly, and the sound hits me in the gut, just like it has every other time I’ve heard it. “How long have you lived in this monstrosity?”

  I roll my eyes. “It’s not that bad. I’ve been here for about five years.”

  Her eyes widen. “And it’s looked like this the whole time? How can you stand it? This place is begging for some color.”

  “You brighten it up quite nicely.”

  She blushes and takes another sip of her port.

  Taking one of her feet in my hands, I remove the delicate red heel then the other before running my thumb along her instep.

  “Oh God, don’t ever stop,” she moans.

  I laugh then do it again. She sighs happily and slouches into the corner. “This would be even better on a decent couch. Seriously, we need to do something about this thing.” She pats the cushion beside her ass. “How, in five years, have you not noticed how hard it is?”

  Shrugging, I continue to rub the soles of her feet. “I don’t really sit on it. I mean, it gets used but not in the traditional sense.”

  Her eyes light with mischief. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? You bone on this couch but don’t sit on it?”

  I nod. “Pretty much. It’s a good height to bend a woman over the back of. Or to spread her out while I kneel on the carpet and eat her sweet pussy.”

  “Aha.” Hannah squirms. “And how many other women have complained about the couch?” she asks in a breathy voice that shoots straight to my dick.

  “None,” I shoot back. “They were too busy coming to notice.”

  She arches a brow and tilts her head. “I’m trying to decide if I should be offended by the fact that you’re taking the time to talk to me while we sit on this God-awful thing. Or if I should be pleased you actually want to talk to me.”

  My hands work their way over her calves as I continue to rub soothing circles into her muscles. “It’s up to you how you want to take it.” I grin. “But know that tonight is the first time I haven’t been physically able to keep my hands to myself until I got home.”

  “So, I am special?” she muses.

  “Very special,” I murmur, my hands rising higher along her creamy flesh. “My recovery time is somewhat more impressive with you, too, even if I do say so myself.”

  Her dirty little smirk has me abandoning her legs, taking her drink from her and placing it on the coffee table. I offer her my hand, and she takes it, coming to stand before me, her fingers intertwined with mine.

  “Want to be the first woman I fuck in my bed, Hannah?”

  She licks her lips. “You don’t do it in your bed with other women?”

  I shake my head. “I have a spare room if I feel the need to use a bed. I don’t like sharing my personal space. But I want you in my bed, tangled in my sheets. I want your scent to torment me for days after I’ve had you.”

  Hannah curls her hands behind my neck and jumps, wrapping her legs around my waist. “Then what are you waiting for?” she says and slides her tongue along my throat to my ear where she nips the lobe between her sharp teeth then sucks it into her hot little mouth.

  I am rock-fucking-solid now. She has me so tightly wound I could fuck her where I stand. But I want her in my bed. Grabbing her ass cheeks in my palms, I stride down the hall to my bedroom.

  This guy is good for my ego. What he said about his recovery time isn’t wrong. I’ve never been with someone who can rock it more than twice in a night. But Sam . . . we had sex at least four times that
first night we spent together.

  I continue to tongue his ear, loving how the hairs on the back of his neck stand up whenever I do it.

  Once we’re inside his room, he lowers me to my feet then takes a step away from me.

  “Where are you going?” I ask, confused.

  He walks backwards until he drops into a black leather wingback chair in the corner of the room. “Take off your dress for me, Hannah. I want to watch you.”

  Holy shit, he has some good ideas. I’m so turned on right now I could burst.

  I undo the clasp of my little red-bow belt and drop it to the ground. Then, I turn my back to him, reach behind me, and slowly drag the zipper down my spine. I let the material pool at my feet and step out then spin to face Sam in nothing but my black-and-red lace thong.

  He bites his fist, eyes riveted to my body.

  “Like this?” I ask, stepping toward him.

  He holds out a hand, halting me. “Take those off, too,” he says, pointing at my panties.

  Sliding my hands over my breasts, I take another step closer then drag them down my stomach. Sam’s jaw clenches as I glide them around my hips before hooking my thumbs in the sides of my thong and, ever so slowly, shimmy them over my thighs. I drop them when I reach my knees.

  “Better?” I smirk.

  Sam’s throat bobs as he swallows. “So much better.” He stands before stalking toward me and curling his hand in my ponytail, yanking my head back. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he growls in my face.

  “I have a fair idea,” I tell him, reaching out to cup his hard length through his trousers. “Your turn,” I say, stepping back, out of his reach.

  His hand drops from my hair, a smirk spreading across his face as I turn my back on him and strut to his king-size bed. I climb onto it on all fours, my ass swinging in the air as I go, then I roll over on my side, waiting for the show.

  “This isn’t going to be fancy, just so you know.”

  I shrug. “You won’t hear me complaining about a sexy beast getting naked for me.”

  His hand glides over the front of his dress shirt, undoing buttons as he goes, exposing inch after inch of gloriously sculpted skin. When he reaches the bottom, he shrugs it off his broad shoulders to the floor. My mouth waters, and my pulse thunders as he unbuckles his belt while raising his gaze to mine, then tugs it free of his pants.

  Instead of dropping the belt like I expect him to, he places it on the edge of the bed. I raise a brow in question. Sam simply grins. Then, he’s tugging at his zipper, revealing black boxer briefs. Heat coils low in my belly as he dips his hand beneath the waistband and strokes himself.

  I rub my thighs together then slide my hand between them, and he notices. “Uh-uh. You tortured me; now it’s my turn. You don’t get to touch yourself until I say so.”

  “But—” I start.

  His hand stills inside his trousers. “Do we have a problem?”

  I shake my head. “No,” I pant. What is it about him being a bossy-ass that turns me on so much?

  He smirks. “Good.” His hand goes back to stroking his cock, but I want to see what he’s doing.

  “Take off your damn pants, Sam.”

  His eyes burn at my command. But he does as I say, dropping his trousers and boxers to the ground.

  My fingers itch to touch—him or me, I don’t care. I just need to ease this insistent hunger inside of me.

  “You like watching me rub my dick for you, don’t you, Hannah?

  I nod vigorously. “Very much.”

  His head tips back as his fist squeezes his cock hard, and he groans. “As good as your eyes feel on me, your pussy feels better.” Then, he’s at the side of the bed, yanking open his top drawer and pulling out a box of condoms.

  “Yo, Sammy—” The bedroom door flies open, smacking against the wall with a thud, leaving a slack-jawed Tom standing in the entrance.

  I screech and roll to cover myself, but the bed linens are tucked in so damn tight I struggle to yank them free. Oh-my-God! Oh-my-God! My-boss-is-staring-at-my-ass! I give up on the blankets and fling myself off the side of the bed before peeking my head back to see what’s going on.

  Tom bursts out laughing, and I die of embarrassment, pressing my forehead to the side of the bed.

  “What the hell?!” Sam yells at him.

  Tom buckles over and slaps his knee as he wheezes through his amusement. “Oh my—” He gasps. “This is the best thing ever!”

  I glare at him, and Sam stalks toward his cousin, still bare-ass naked. His penis slaps against his stomach with every step, then he shoves Tom out of the room. “What are you doing here?” Sam demands.

  “I don’t even remember why I came over.” Tom chuckles.

  The following morning, I’m eating breakfast when Tom drops into his seat across from me at our table in Zenith’s restaurant.

  “Are you bringing Hannah to your birthday soirée next weekend?” he asks.

  “I’d like to, but I don’t know how that would play. I told you about her run-in with Camille at Alejandro’s and the cold reception she got when we walked through the doors.”

  He sips his coffee then shrugs. “At least she’ll make it interesting.”

  That’s for sure. “As true as that is, I don’t want to put her in a position where she’s going to be ridiculed by a pack of spoiled, jealous bitches.”

  “Well, I’ve asked Amy. You’re going to look like an asshole if you don’t ask Hannah now,” Tom states, smirking.

  I glare at him. That fucker is going to screw this up for me; I just know it. “Why did you ask Amy? You two aren’t even that serious.”

  He scoffs. “Says you—the man who’s dating a woman for no-strings sex for a couple of months.”

  My fists clench on the table. I’m tempted to haul him over it and beat the shit out of him for talking about my relationship with Hannah like that. But it’s true, isn’t it? She and I agreed we’d only do this for a few months, then we would go our separate ways. The problem is, I’m enjoying my time with her more than I ever expected.

  Now, we’re nearing the two-month mark, and I can feel our time together slipping away the way money slips through Tom’s fingers. But it’s not what I want anymore.

  Before Hannah, all I wanted was a woman who would be happy to see the back of me. Now, I just want her. Fuck.

  My fingers strum the tabletop, and my jaw clenches. I don’t know how to make her stay. How to convince her we can be this good for the rest of our lives. We’re fucking electric when we’re together. Surely she feels that too?

  Tom kicks me under the table. “Loosen up. You look like you’re going to burst a blood vessel all over my amazing suit.”

  I finally take note of the suit he’s wearing. It’s dark-emerald green. “Another gem from Bobby’s collection, I assume?”

  He sips his coffee before answering me. “You know it. I’ve been saving this one. Amy said we might start exploring butt stuff tonight.” He waggles his brows, and I laugh.

  “And you think that suit is going to seal the deal for you?”

  “Bobby said the green really makes my eyes pop.”

  I shake my head and pick the newspaper up, effectively ending this conversation with Tom as his breakfast is served. Not that I can concentrate on the words on the page in front of me. All I can think about is Hannah and what I can do to keep her in my life.

  Maybe I should bring her to my birthday. It’s the perfect opportunity to show her I want to make this a serious arrangement, and I don’t give a fuck what high society has to say about it or her.

  Sitting on the side of the tank, on the dive platform, with my legs dangling in the cool depths, I admire Tina gliding with effortless grace through the water. She’s so beautiful my heart swells just watching her. How could people feel anything but awe when seeing such a magnificent creature? This is my happy place, my thinking place, my peace.

  “Hey, what’s got you looking so melancholy?” Vi asks, plo
pping beside me.

  “Just admiring my girl and wondering how anyone could want to hurt her,” I say, hoping to throw her off the trail of what’s really bothering me.

  Vi nods, then her shoulder bumps mine. “But what’s really on your mind? You usually come here when something’s up.”

  My head falls back, and I stare at the ceiling. Why is she so perceptive?

  “Come on, Han. We’ve worked together a long time. I know your tells.” She chuckles and wraps an arm around my neck, tugging me into her side. “You wanna talk about it?”

  I shake my head. “Not really. It’s just something I need to do, and I don’t think I want to.” I sigh. “But I have to.”

  “Way to be cryptic, dude,” Vi says, rolling her eyes.

  “Sorry,” I mumble. “It’s complicated.”

  “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say it’s a guy thing, yeah?”

  I nod, and she squeezes me closer. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. You came to the right place to think, though. I chill out here, too, when something’s bothering me. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

  “Thanks, Vi. But there’s nothing to talk about.”

  My feelings for Sam are getting out of control. It’s time to pull back. Time to engage The Starfish Method.

  When I finally get home, it’s after seven, and Sam will be here soon. I flop onto my couch and heave a dramatic sigh as I tap out a text to Amy.

  ME ~I need to implement my Starfish Method sooner than later this time around.~

  Her reply is immediate and not at all surprising.

  AMY ~I don’t think you should do this. I know you like him. Like, more than any of the other guys you’ve dated in . . . well ever.~

  She’s such a romantic. She can’t help it. I know this, but it still annoys me that she doesn’t understand why I have to do it. If I leave it any longer, he’s going to own my whole damn heart, then he’ll break it—just like every other man before him. I really need Amy’s support right now, but I have a feeling I’m not going to get it this time.