The Trade

by Quinn, Meghan

  Tears stream down my face into my pillow.

  I’m so naïve.

  So stupid for thinking that there could be something between us.

  Every time I thought he wanted me, I was wrong, so very wrong.

  The bathroom door opens and I still my breath, my heart ricocheting against my ribs as it stutters to a stop. I don’t want him to hear me cry, to know the pathetic effect his rejection has caused me. But as snot drips from my nose, I can’t stop the involuntary sniffle, nor can I stop the second one that comes a few seconds after.

  Eyes closed, I try to detect his every movement, understand what he’s doing, and when I hear him turn down the sheets to the other bed, I nearly lose it. I squeeze my eyes even tighter as a tight ball of humiliation forms in my throat.

  I wish I could take back the last half hour, or however long it was. I wish I could go back to the night with Nicholas where instead of staying with Cory, I changed into something more comfortable and went back to a man who wanted to be around me. A man who pursued me. Thought me worth ditching work for. How stupid am I?

  What was this? Some game to Cory? He saw another guy interested so he decided to throw me a bone? Why even bother if we leave tomorrow?

  I’m so confused, so upset that I don’t feel Cory standing next to me until he’s gently pulling the covers off my naked body and squatting in front of me.

  “Natalie,” he says, his voice sounding distressed. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” I quickly say, wiping my nose with the back of my hand and then turning my back toward him. I try to pull the covers up and over me again but he stops me.

  “You’re not fine.”

  “Just leave me alone, Cory.”

  He stills above me, not getting up and going to the other bed, but not reaching out to me either. I can practically hear the questions in his head.

  I upset my friend’s sister. Should I believe that she’s fine or should I ask her one more time?

  Just to make it easier, so he doesn’t think too hard on it, I say, “Everything is fine. What we did was fine. Let’s just go to sleep.”

  That’s when I feel him still behind me, his hand falling to my hip, pulling me so I’m forced to my back and looking up at him.

  He presses his palm to my stomach, holding me in place and damn my body, because it lights up from his touch.

  “Bullshit. That wasn’t just fine,” he growls, his voice so deep and sharp. His fingers curl around my hip. “That was more than fucking fine.”

  “Was it?” I ask. “Because it seems like you had more fun in the shower by yourself.” I can’t hide the bite in my voice nor the tears that stream down my face.

  “Christ,” he mumbles to himself before standing up.

  Yup, walkaway again.

  But before I can give him my back, he squats down, fits both his arms under me, and lifts me off the bed.

  “W-what are you doing?” I ask, feeling like a weightless feather in his strong arms.

  “Moving you to the other bed. We’re not sleeping on the damn couch again.”

  “We?”

  “Yeah, we,” he says a little more gently. “Think I want to sleep in a bed without you, after what we just did? Fuck no.”

  “But . . .”

  He sets me down on the mattress and pulls the blankets over us, then he slips his body against mine. Warm and hard, his arm quickly drapes over my stomach, just below my breasts as his head tucks into the spot where my shoulder meets my neck. He clings to me, like I’m a lifeline, this larger-than-life man.

  Still hurt and confused, I try to turn in his arms but he holds me still. “Don’t move away,” he says.

  “Cory, I’m . . . what’s going on? Why did you go to the bathroom?”

  Sighing, his breath blowing the wisps of my hair, he says, “I wanted you to feel.”

  “I wanted the same for you.”

  I shift again and this time he allows me to turn in his arms so we’re still pressed against each other, but now I’m looking up at him. “Why didn’t you let me touch you?”

  He lifts his hand and strokes my cheek. His eyes soft, the lightest of smiles on his face, and I feel . . . cherished. It’s as if he believes he’s allowed to touch me now. Kiss me. Stroke my cheek. How did that change?

  “It was about you, Natalie. I wanted it to be all about you.” He leans forward and presses a warm kiss to my temple, his lips lingering longer than normal before he rests his head back on the pillow. “Get some sleep, beautiful.”

  He pulls me in tighter and rests his forehead against my temple. His hold on me is incredibly intimate. I feel like I’m melting into his strength, which makes me believe there could be so much more beyond these walls, that he isn’t the guy who fucks me and leaves.

  Of course, he’s not. He’s so sweet, so considerate, and he’s been nothing but kind and caring to me this entire trip.

  Guilt washes over me as I consider the awful things I thought about him in my head. I might not understand his reasoning or be able to comprehend what happened between us tonight, but what I do know is if he didn’t find me attractive, if he was playing pity on me, he would not be holding me so tight. He would not be clinging to me as if I’m his only source of air.

  Maybe . . . just maybe, he’s not entirely out of my league. Maybe I’m at the very opening and he’s looking my way.

  And that’s something I can hold on to.

  * * *

  “Mmm . . . good morning,” Cory says, shifting against me, his head nuzzling my side.

  My eyes flutter open, blurry and confused. I lightly shift to feel Cory pressed against me like he was last night, and me sleeping on my back, unmoved from our position.

  Neither of us broke apart, neither of us even attempted to move, and not once did I wake up. I slept like the dead last night and that never happens. I’m usually tossing and turning at some point.

  Even when I was with Ansel and we were happy, we always broke apart at some point in the night. Getting him to hold me toward what I now know was the end of our relationship was next to impossible, especially when he’d fall asleep without giving me a kiss goodnight. At least I know why now. At least I know not to be sad, but to be angry that he broke our vows.

  And that wasn’t on me.

  It was . . . all him.

  This spooning, this tight hold Cory has on me, it feels new and different and something I want to bask in all morning . . . which I know we don’t have.

  “Good morning,” I say, feeling my cheeks blush when his lips press against my temple again.

  “You’re so fucking warm.” His hand floats across my bare stomach and that’s when I remember . . . I am completely naked.

  His fingers splay across my abdomen and his thumb lightly strokes my skin. It’s a breeze of a touch, but it wakes up a wave of lust, and just like that, I want him again, but I want all of him.

  “Touch me,” I whisper, hoping he doesn’t mind how demanding that sounds.

  “Fuck,” he whispers into my ear, sending chills down my spine. “You know I want to, so fucking bad.” His fingers drag over my pubic bone, causing my legs to spread wide, connecting with his morning erection. “But we have to be down in the lobby in forty-five minutes.”

  Not listening to him, I reach down and connect with the tip of his cock.

  “Natalie,” he warns, shifting his body slightly back. “We have to get ready.”

  I hear him, but I also know how long it will take me to pack and shower. I can be really quick when I want to be.

  “Okay,” I say, flipping the covers off both of us. He groans from the loss of heat, and I sit up on my knees only to stare down at his large bulge. Oh God, how big is he? From how he felt last night while I was riding him, I know he’s really large. It’s intimidating, especially since I’d only been with a mediocre penis before now. Cory looks like he’s extraordinary.

  He must sense my staring because when I go to reach for him, he stops my hand and sits up as
well. “We need to pack, Natalie.”

  I look over my shoulder and catch him staring at my ass before lifting his eyes. I smile lightly and say, “But you’re hard.”

  “I’ve been hard this entire fucking vacation. I’ll survive another forty-five minutes.”

  I nibble on the side of my mouth. “You have been?”

  He sighs and scoots closer, letting his hand fall to my back where he runs his fingers up my spine to the nape of my neck and then back down. “Your skin is so soft.” He drags his hands back up it again.

  “You’re not answering the question.”

  “I know.”

  He lifts from the bed and stretches his hands above his head. Like a shameless voyeur, I take in his powerful chest, watch when he twists, and how his muscles bunch and retract. Corded strength wrap around his ribs, his arms, his stomach. No doubt, the sexiest body I’ve ever seen, especially when my eyes dip past the small trail of hair that leads to his waistline, straight to the semi-hard erection in his briefs. From the press of the tight fabric of his boxer briefs, I can see the crown of his cock and it drives me forward, making me want to take him into his mouth.

  While he’s still stretching, I reach out and pass my thumb over the crown.

  “Ah, fuck, Natalie.” He releases his stretch and takes a step away. “You’re going to make it worse.”

  “Then let me make it better.”

  Lips pressed tightly together, he shakes head. “We can’t be late.”

  Why is he being so stubborn? Does he have a dick disease or something? Is that why he doesn’t want me touching his cock? No, that can’t be true, because he almost let me ride him bare last night when he gruffly spoke into my ear, telling me to use him.

  Well, if he won’t let me touch him, maybe I’ll make this worse, because there is something he’s not telling me and it’s driving me crazy. Wouldn’t any other man be inside me by now? Especially if I reached down to touch his cock, naked and in bed. Am I doing something wrong?

  Then I look back and see it. Cory is guarding himself, being picky about who touches who and I have no idea why. I try to read him, but all I see in those soulful blue eyes of his is want. So why is he holding back?

  Standing tall, I stretch as well and peek at him as his eyes float up and down my body, his cock growing even bigger. That’s what I thought.

  Turning around, knowing I have a good asset behind me, I bend over the bed and start fluffing the comforter, giving him a direct view of my backside. My very naked backside.

  “You’re right, we should get ready.” I glance over my shoulder, and his eyes are trained on my ass, his hand passes over his open mouth. He wants me, right there, in that very early morning look, I can see that he wants me, so I spread my legs apart a little more. “Do you want to shower first?”

  He doesn’t answer. I don’t even think he’s listening. So I take that moment to dip my upper half down onto the bed, sticking my ass straight in the air. He stutters forward, his hand reaching out, his mind undecisive. He pulls back and then pulls on the back of his head. I very lightly twerk my ass, causing another growl to rumble up his chest and this time, when he reaches out, his hand connects with my ass and he steps up behind me.

  “God, your hand is so large. I love how it feels sliding across my body.”

  “Natalie,” he says on a choked gasp. “We need to pack.” He says this while bringing his other hand to my backside as well, and then one of them floats up and down my spine.

  The touch, my position, his strained effort to hold back, all it does is turn me on even more and I know for a fact if he reached between my legs, I’d be ready for him, for anything he wanted to do to me.

  “How can I pack when I’m desperately wet right now?”

  “Are . . . you?” he asks, his hand floating down over the globe of my ass to my hip and then around to the front where he runs one finger along my slit. That little touch puts fire in my veins and ignites a wave of need I’ve never experienced before. My skin ignites and my hips grind into his finger while a moan falls past my lips. “Shit, you’re so goddamn wet.”

  “Please don’t leave me like this, Cory. Please let me feel you.”

  I don’t have to look behind me to know he’s shaking his head, I can feel it. “No penetration.”

  I want to ask why. I want to demand him to take his boxers off and let me feel him inside me, but from how restrained he’s been, I don’t want to ruin my chances of feeling indescribable pleasure again now. “Then rub against me, through your briefs. I want to feel your hard cock, Cory.”

  “Fucking hell,” he mutters, moving his hand back to my hip. “The mouth on you.”

  “I know what I want and I want to feel that cock of yours. Please, Cory.” I never spoke to Ansel like this. Never. Cory brings this side of me out.

  Grunting, his fingers curl into my hips and he steps in even closer until his covered length presses against me.

  “God, yes,” I moan, taking the initiative to rub myself up and down his length. His fingers grow tighter but he doesn’t stop me. Just like last night, I repeat his words back to him. “Use me,” I say. “Use my warmth to get off.”

  “Never,” he says, still letting me rub up against him. “I’ll never use you, Natalie.” And I know it’s a comment not meant for this moment but meant for something more serious from the tone of his voice and the way desperation laces it. I want to dive deeper, ask him what he means by that, but with every pass of his cock over me, I feel my body build closer to orgasm.

  “Feels so good,” I say, moving faster. “Does it feel good for you?”

  “Fucking incredible,” he answers on a grunt, taking charge now and moving my hips up and down. “So fucking good. So wet. So incredible.”

  “I want to know what it feels like to have you like this, but deep inside me, your hands on my tits, twisting my nipples like you did last night.”

  “You liked that?” he asks, picking up his pace.

  “The way you touched me last night? It made me more aroused than I ever have been, like I couldn’t handle the intense pleasure that was ripping through me.”

  “But you did. Fuck, watching you come on my tongue”—he drives into me harder now, the pressure building—“it was . . . so . . . fucking . . . hot.” My knees are barely staying on the mattress now as he rubs against me. “Jesus Christ, Natalie, I can feel your wet pussy through my briefs.”

  “You made me like this . . .” I take a deep breath. “Aroused, horny, needy. You make me wet.”

  “Fuck . . .”

  “I’ve masturbated while we were here,” I say, loving how out of control he feels behind me, loving how I can feel my orgasm looming, the build between my legs getting so heavy that getting there is going to happen in seconds. “I wished it was your hand, not mine.”

  And that’s all it takes.

  He growls so loud, I feel like it shakes the walls. The beastly sound vibrates up my spine only to float back down and straight to my core.

  One thrust.

  “Fuck . . . me,” he grunts louder.

  Another thrust.

  My legs shake, my breath escapes me, my hands grip the sheets.

  One more . . .

  “Oh Cory,” I yell, as pleasure rips through me, starting at the bundle of nerves in my core and then shooting out like a million rockets all through my veins. My voice cries out in the distance while Cory’s grunts overtake the sound in the room, his ruthless slaps of his body against mine filling the void until he moans out a long and tortured, “Fuck.” He stills his hips, releasing me, his body falling forward, his chest against my backside while his arms prop him up.

  “Christ,” he mutters, placing a kiss against my lower back. “Fuck, Natalie, I’m sorry.”

  Sorry? Why on earth is he sorry?

  Even though my legs are shaky and I can barely orient myself, I twist under him so I’m facing him. His face is tortured, his hair sweaty at his brow, and he’s breathing so fast that I�
�m nervous he’s about to have a panic attack.

  “Cory.” I lift my hand to his face and cup his cheek. “Don’t be sorry. I wanted that. I needed that.”

  Sighing heavily, he glances up at me, and admits, “Me too.”

  I lift up and press a small kiss at the corner of his mouth. “Then don’t be sorry.”

  He gives me a small smile and then straightens. He clears his throat. “We should get moving; we don’t want to be late.”

  And just like that, aloof man is back. The man I’ve seen many times during this trip, where he turns off a part of his personality and falls into robot mode. I don’t understand it, and I know it’s going to take a lot of talking to figure out if I’m going to want to pursue something with this man.

  Hell . . . if he wants to pursue something with me.

  * * *

  “You’re home. Finally,” Monica says over the phone as the car Jason had set up drives me through the busy streets of Chicago. “Tell me everything.”

  I try to smile from hearing the sound of my friend’s voice, but it feels impossible given the disheartened and broken mental state I’m trying to fight off.

  After Cory lifted away from me, he quickly went to the bathroom where he took what seemed like a two-minute shower and then offered me the bathroom. We packed and got ready in silence, the tension between us eventually incredibility uncomfortable. When we were ready to leave, like the gentleman that he is, Cory rolled my suitcase for me along with his down to the lobby where we met up with everyone. I tried to act normal, as if Cory’s silence wasn’t dislodging my confidence one second at a time, and hung out with Dottie and Jason, reliving our “magical” vacation. On the flight home, Cory’s eyes never left the window, even when I “accidentally” knocked his foot.

  Avoidance was his number-one priority and he accomplished it very well, especially when we landed. He gave everyone a quick wave and then took off, mumbling about needing to get back home to some pressing matters.

  I think I was the only one who saw right through him, because I knew the kind of morning we shared. Blissfully amazing and then awkward and heartbreakingly uncomfortable.