The three other bottles sat on the nightstand, and after a few minutes of gentle thrusting, I opened a second one and poured more on. As I was replacing the bottle, I noticed that Vince’s cock was now rock hard, so I dumped a handful of lube into my palm and greased him up before entering his ass again.
The vibrator never stopped during any of it, which slowed down my actions—the constant pulsing diverting my concentration. I shoved the dildo all the way in, hugged his back, and reached around to his throbbing cock. My brain was everywhere, my hips thrusting, my hand stroking, my clit taking a heavy assault of gratification, all the while the pressure in my forehead and temple continued to build.
I felt like a shaken champagne bottle about to explode.
The pressure became too much for me to continue with my hand, so I latched on to his hips, losing myself in a sea of sensation. The cork blew. A surge raced straight to my head, and I could feel the veins popping out of my skin, the intensity so powerful I lost my breath for a few seconds as my body went rigid.
I fell onto Vince’s back, whimpering, gasping, utterly consumed by the orgasm. Panting into Vince, I could hear him grunting while his body shook, then he erupted in orgasm, coming on the sheets.
Our bodies convulsed into each other’s, the aftershocks fusing our skin as the waves rolled on and on, lessening in the minutes that passed. Quickly reaching down, I turned off the vibrator, its attack now too much for the sensitive area. I gently pulled out and collapsed on my back, finding my breath.
“It’s never been like that before,” I said after a minute or so. “It was all in my head, and so—so intense.”
“It was good then?” he asked, lying beside me. His ragged breathing made him sound as if he’d never catch his breath.
I rolled over and kissed him as passionately as I could, trying to show my gratitude. Through all our fantasies and all our talks, I had never felt more connected to Vince than right then, lying on his chest. Could two people grow any closer? It didn’t seem possible. If any doubts lingered after Vince showed up at the bakery at 9:22 yesterday morning, they had vanished now, his commitment unquestionable.
“How’s your prostate?” I asked after a few minutes.
He gave a small laugh, and then smiled. “They weren’t lying when they said it’d feel good. It rubbed it perfectly, and the small vibrations from the bullet massaged it. It was a completely different orgasm for me, too.” There was a certain satisfaction written on his face that eased my nerves about how he’d feel afterward.
I freed myself of the corset and harness, wobbling next to the bed. “I feel like I could sleep for days.”
“Do you want me to change the sheets?”
I shook my head. “It’s just semen.” I closed my eyes and they rolled back into my head. The world became warm and heavy, and I curled up in the comforter that was suddenly on top of me. Seconds later, in the distance, I heard the shower turn on, and I fell asleep to the steady sound.
21
FAULTY WIRES
Vince was horribly sore Sunday and Monday. He didn’t work at all either day. By Tuesday, he was feeling more like himself.
“So what are you making?” I asked him Tuesday night. I sat at the island as he prepared dinner.
“Steaks,” he replied, leading me out to the east terrace. He opened the hood of the grill. Two big steaks coated in a black rub cooked over the blue flames. Two cobs of corn also cooked on the upper rack. A shell of aluminum foil sat between the steaks. “With some veggies, and I’ll whip some potatoes in the mixer.”
“Smells wonderful,” I said, taking in a big whiff. I gazed out over the terrace. We hadn’t spent much time on the east wing, mostly basking and relaxing on the western side, near the bedroom. I hadn’t even touched the life-sized chess pieces. I walked over to the giant board that was the tiled floor. “Care to play a game?” I had never been into chess, but playing with pieces that came up to my knees seemed like it might be fun.
“Actually, I had a different type of activity in mind,” he said, his eyes burning with lust.
“Oh?” I leaned against the king with my ass facing him. I turned my head and batted my eyes.
“Well, technically speaking, we had sex outside when we crossed off sex on the beach, but I don’t think two for one is the point of the list, do you?”
I pretended to consider the question. “I suppose not. Are you saying you want to fuck me on the chessboard?”
He turned the knobs of the grill to their lowest setting. “Right now.”
“Right now?” I said, nervous. “It’s still daylight.”
“The walls are high enough,” he said, with a smooth, coaxing voice. “If anyone sees . . . well, they’ll get a good show.” He unbuttoned his pants as he walked over to the chessboard.
He was right about the walls: they were much higher in the corner, even taller than me. But the hill to the north gave the taller buildings a good view. In the end, I figured someone would really have to be looking, probably with binoculars, to see the action.
My tight jeans proved difficult to pull down, but eventually Vince wiggled them off. He pushed me back against the king, and then turned me toward the knight, sliding down my panties before nudging me down. I sat on the horse’s head, its curve a perfect seat. His arms held half of my weight, my legs too far forward to hold me completely.
Vince kissed up my thigh, teased my clit, then down the other thigh. It was one of his favorite foreplay moves. He made a few more passes before his tongue began its rotation, massaging my clit in short circles. After a minute though, he switched it up, pressing his nose hard against me, shaking his head side to side. The motion drove my clit wild. I rocked my hips into his face. “Fuck, I love your nose,” I said. He replied by shaking faster.
When I was dripping wet, he stood up, pulling me off the chess piece before I tumbled over. My legs were weak and trembling. I knelt on the tile and yanked down his pants, releasing his erection. I tasted the saltiness at his tip, then swirled my tongue around the head. Running my tongue down his shaft, I licked his balls, staring up into his yearning eyes. “Baby, that feels good,” he breathed. He had never called me “baby” before, but I liked it, and I began twirling my tongue faster and faster in response.
His arms reached back and found the bishop behind him, leaning, shifting his weight. His cock stuck out, hard and throbbing, so I swallowed it up, all the way to the back of my throat. I had gotten much better at not gagging, and it almost never happened anymore unless Vince thrust too wildly. My hand usually stopped that, pumping away, limiting how far back his shaft went.
I returned to his balls. “Suck on them. Yeah, like that. Ooh.” He started breathing hard as if he were about to come, so I retreated, giving him some air. He nearly fell over, but caught his balance before he did, gasping.
“Take off those shoes and pants,” I said, “and fuck me doggy style.” I leaned over the queen, which was about the right height, angling my hips for deep penetration. He tore off his clothes, now completely naked, and gripped his cock, sliding it along my wet lips before ramming inside.
I gasped from the suddenness. Vince grabbed my shoulder with his right hand, palming my ass with his left, thrusting hard from the start. I closed my eyes and let the red deepen as the pressure built in my neck. His hand cruised from my shoulder down my spine, adding a tingle that pimpled my skin for a second.
His grunts grew louder, about to climax. “I want it—want it in my mouth.” He pulled out in a hurry, and I spun around, dropping to my knees, taking his head in my mouth, stroking his shaft like he’d showed me how to do. My mouth filled with one hot shot after another, and I swallowed as it came.
I peered up at him, but his head was back, his mouth open in orgasm. When he finally looked down, I was swirling my tongue around his now sensitive cock. He inhaled deeply. “That was hot,” he said in a husky voice. “Really hot—and unexpected.”
I smiled at him, licking my lips. “I just wante
d it all of a sudden.”
He pulled me up to his mouth for a deep kiss. “How did you taste?”
“Sweeter, until you came,” I said. “I liked it enough to do it again.”
He kissed me again. Checking on the steaks after we’d dressed, we found them nice and charred—just the way I wanted them.
I ALMOST MADE IT to work on time on Thursday. No matter how hard I tried, I never made it there before 4:46. It just wasn’t possible. The morning went by with a crowd of people, unusual for a Thursday, but not unwelcomed. Bridgett and I were relatively back to normal, talking like we used to. She was once again telling me about her nightly escapades at various bars.
Both of us were excited about Saturday and Danielle’s bachelorette party. The night on the town would be one to remember—that I didn’t doubt. After the lunch rush, I took a break in the office, playing with the marble like I often did, while I contemplated the future.
Despite all the sex and all the cuddling, and how close Vince and I had gotten over the months, we still hadn’t talked about where this relationship was heading. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing since I had no interest in rushing things. Yet, there was a part of me that wanted to know . . . I wanted to have the talk.
Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was 1:23 and laughed. Still not a day went by without seeing twenty-three somewhere. I decided that this was as good a time as any to end my break, when Joey, a line cook, burst into the office. “FIRE!” he screamed. “FIRE! THERE’S A FIRE!” I pocketed the marble, running out of the office, following Joey to the main kitchen. People scrambled to exit the restaurant. Blocking my view was a man wearing a tattered jean jacket. When we reached the kitchen, the second stove was a column of fire. Bridgett was there, along with Tabitha, using the fire extinguishers to no avail. The smoke detector blared like a siren. It was so loud, it made me cringe.
Observing the flames as they shot for the ceiling, it was clear there was no stopping it. “EVERYONE OUT!” I yelled. “OUT NOW!”
Joey and Tabitha rushed out, but Bridgett, as stubborn as I was, wouldn’t leave until the third extinguisher was empty. “WE HAVE TO GO—NOW!” I clawed at Bridgett’s arm and yanked her out of the kitchen. I had never seen so much smoke in such a small place. My eyes burned and watered, and I could barely see.
The fire had spread to the upper level, and parts of the ceiling split apart, crashing to the floor. My first thought was to save the computers in the office, but Bridgett had the sense to drag me out of the exit, the flames licking at our heels. The heat threatened to stop us from reaching the door, but we darted around the burning counter. It spread insanely fast, as if it had started in multiple locations.
Tabitha sprinted up to us as we bolted out the door. “The fire department is on its way,” she said, panting, wiping her eyes.
I nodded, coughing. “Good—good job.”
Luckily, the nearest fire station was only six blocks away on Thirty-ninth. I scanned the area for the jean jacket I’d seen, but it was lost in the chaos, if it had ever been there at all. By the time the fire department arrived, half the building was on fire, the flames reaching for the clouds.
A few firefighters pushed back the crowd while others battled the inferno. The hoses sprayed jets of water, but the building continued to burn, my dreams dying before my eyes. What the firefighters were able to save amounted to a black shell: half of the building gone, and the center of the second story collapsed. All of our equipment was damaged beyond repair or recognition.
The terrible awe the sight instilled didn’t compare to the utter heartbreak tearing my insides apart. Bridgett gave me a tight hug. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay,” she cried. “The insurance—they’ll pay—it’ll be all right.”
We cried in each other’s arms, the overwhelming shock racking our nerves.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, the insurance company won’t pay?” Vince asked, his voice harsh like a growl. Bridgett, Ashley, Danielle, and I were sitting in the living room. He paced the small room. “I thought it was arson?”
I was too shaken to respond. Friday morning had been as dismal as the night before, and now the afternoon was shaping up to be more of the same, with bad news on top of bad news.
Bridgett spoke up with her clear, powerful voice, “The Fire Inspector didn’t find any evidence that it was arson.”
“But Maci saw Luke there.”
“She saw a jean jacket,” Bridgett said, “and she was the only one who saw a guy in a jean jacket. If someone did start the fire, they made it look like we did it.”
“Still, why won’t the insurance company pay?” Vince was the only one of us not in shock. Even Ashley seemed out of it and not her usual collected self.
“They’re saying the wiring wasn’t up to code,” Bridgett answered after glancing at me. “I guess the Inspection Engineer who cleared us before was busted for not doing his job right, had his license taken away, and had to pay a heavy fine . . . but still, the insurance company says it was our fault . . . the old wiring should’ve been updated for all of the old kitchen outlets. I guess the stove was plugged into one of those and not one of the new ones.”
“So we get nothing,” I chimed in, trying to hold in all the anger and tears.
Vince stared at us, his face red, his eyes dark and dangerous. He looked like he was about to set out on a warpath. “Can’t you sue the inspector who cleared you?”
“We’ve talked about that with the owners at The Herb Shoppe, and they’re in,” I told him, “and they think a few others who were screwed over would more than likely join in, but that won’t help us right now.”
“It might take years to get any money,” Bridgett added.
Vince started rubbing his knuckles, which I’d never seen him do. “This is ridiculous, just fucking ridiculous.”
“I’ll say,” Danielle jumped in. “Can you have them evaluate the place again, to make sure they didn’t miss anything?”
“They were pretty clear that the verdict was final,” Bridgett sighed. “We’re just fucked.”
A few minutes later, the group broke up, and Vince and I went out for a walk to get some warm, fresh air in the beautiful May weather. We hadn’t made it two blocks before Vince brought up his money. “What if I were to invest the startup costs for a new place?”
“Your money isn’t a cure-all, Vince,” I said, a tad more harshly than I had intended.
“You let me invest before. Why not now?”
“Because it’s a lot more this time.”
He sighed in exasperation, his mouth twitching. “What’s the point of having all this money if I can’t share it?”
“It’s not my money, Vince. And the things you’re talking about are too big, too grand. We’re not talking about a pair of shoes here. We’re talking about hundreds of thousands.”
“No, we’re not talking about shoes. We’re talking about a business,” he said pointedly. “I have the money . . . let me do this, Maci, for you.”
“And what if things don’t work between us? What then?”
A twinge of surprise threw him back. “What does that mean?”
“It means I can’t take your money just because we’re dating,” I replied, stopping on the sidewalk.
“What if I loaned it to you? You could pay me back—”
“Loans are worse than gifts,” I cut in. “Or ‘investments’ as you call them.” I shook my head. “I’m not going to take your handouts, Vince.”
The mood grew dreary as silence swept in for the remainder of the walk. “I have some money,” I said, standing outside the apartment door. “I’ll be okay until I find another job.”
“But what about your dream?” He folded his arms, leaning against the frame.
“I succeeded for a while.” I shrugged with indifference. “I guess that will have to do for now.”
Unsatisfied by my answer, he stared at me, wanting more—more than what I had to say. My dreams crushed, without answers and without a plan, I was
lost, endlessly swimming, trying to find something to stay afloat on. Vince thought it was his money, but all I really wanted was him. He didn’t get that.
Staring off into space, I laughed unexpectedly.
“What’s so funny?”
“Two fires in as many months,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “I must be cursed or something.”
“You’re not cursed,” Vince said. “A string of bad luck, that’s all it is. But I can help.”
“I think I’m going to go for a long run.” My words were abrupt. “You know, to clear my head a little.” I kissed him softly, quickly. “I’ll call you later.”
He stood there, motionless, speechless, his contorted face split between certainty and doubt. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then thought better of it.
I left him there with his ambivalence.
I HAD DECIDED TO spend the night alone, collecting my thoughts after a phone call from the company that backed up our files. The one positive note throughout the tragedy was that all of our information stored on the network was backed up on a cloud system. It was a small win, but at that point, we took it with big smiles.
Vince wanted to make me breakfast—a sweet gesture. He was finally figuring out that I needed him and not his bankrolls. As I turned onto Osage below the Envoy, Eddie started to sputter like never before, smoke climbing into the air from under the hood. “No, no, no!” I shouted, banging the steering wheel. I maneuvered him in front of someone’s garage, where he suddenly died, and I jumped out, half expecting him to erupt in an inferno.
I stared at the smoking hood for a long while before I called Vince. As I waited, I paced in front of Eddie, hoping his problem was fixable. Vince arrived a minute later, panting, as if he had sprinted here. He popped the hood. Smoke rushed his face and he coughed in a fit. “You have no oil,” he said, taking out the oil dipstick.
Chasing The O Page 30
