“But you won’t allow me ever to be dominant with you sexually?”
“No. We already went over that.”
“And what if that is a sticking point for me?” I had to ask.
“Then this isn’t going to fucking work.” He sat up suddenly, zipping up his shorts.
I propped myself up on my elbow, watching him. “Wow, bringing that up really pisses you off, doesn’t it?” I had never seen this side of him.
He cursed softly and then asked, “Why do you want that?”
“Maybe I want to be spontaneous and take you in my mouth without permission some morning.”
He muttered another curse, and his body tensed. “I can honestly say I have no problem with that. It isn’t all about ruining the spontaneity. But I need you to respect the fact that I’m in charge in the bedroom.”
“Okay.”
He searched my eyes, most likely not knowing what I meant by that and kissed me one last time before leaving.
CHAPTER NINE
The next day had been busy between the wedding shower and a planned shopping excursion for the women while the men spent most of their day golfing.
At dinner that evening, all the guests enjoyed a beach cookout and trivia. It was a lot of fun, especially with the cast of characters in attendance. A number of outgoing personalities in the crowd made it easy to be one of the quiet ones without anyone noticing.
After the parents retired, things got even more entertaining while the alcohol flowed. Brian was in his element with his friends, and it was easy to see the history between him, Mark, Josh, and Colby. We all heard lots of stories from college that made us laugh.
While most of the men had gone out towards the beach to smoke cigars, the women gathered around the seated bar area. I stepped up towards the bartender to order another round of red wine for myself and Catherine when unfortunately the dreaded sister-in-law, Rebecca, came up to my left side.
She turned her attention to me, narrowing her eyes. “You’re Sasha, right?”
I braced myself, thankful I’d been forewarned about the type of person she was. “Yes, and I’m sorry. Your name?” I pretended not to know.
“I’m Rebecca. Benjamin’s wife and Brian’s sister-in-law.”
“Ah, yes. Nice to meet you.”
Haylee walked up and smiled toward the both of us.
“The shower today was nice,” Rebecca complimented.
Haylee nodded. “It was a really great surprise. Josh’s mom went all out with the boat.”
I received the two glasses of red wine from the bar and was about to return to my table when I witnessed the next comment out of Rebecca’s mouth.
“It’s too bad we couldn’t have combined the wedding and baby shower, but I guess you want to keep up the pretense that one isn’t because of the other,” Rebecca sneered.
Haylee’s smile faltered. She looked at me, turning pink with embarrassment.
Haylee had confided in both Catherine and I last week that they were expecting. It hadn’t been easy to share the private news as she’d been worried about perception. But Josh had spoken with Catherine and made it clear that although it wasn’t planned, it was definitely welcome. The fact that Rebecca was implying that Haylee had trapped a man that so clearly loved her, brought out my protective side. Before I could stop myself, my entire glass of Pinot Noir was splashed on Rebecca’s beige dress. “Oops.”
She gasped. “You—you did that on purpose,” she accused, looking at the damage.
“Why would I ever do something so mean-spirited on purpose?” I feigned innocence.
My eyes met Haylee’s while I waited for permission to either let Rebecca have it or wait for Haylee to do so. I was delighted when she was more than happy to stand up for herself.
“You know, Rebecca, if you can’t get that stain out in your room, I’d be happy to talk to my fiancé about getting you an earlier flight home. But if you think you can possibly be more careful next time, maybe there’s hope you can stay for the wedding, after all.”
The message was clear, and when Rebecca huffed, stomping away towards her room, Haylee and I both burst into giggles.
Catherine joined us, looking toward the retreating woman. “What did I miss?”
Haylee looked between us both and grinned. “You missed a waste of a good glass of red wine.” She filled her in, and then we all started laughing.
I’d never been so grateful for female friends who built one another up instead of cutting others down.
It was past midnight when the last of the partygoers headed back to their rooms. I’d barely made it in my own door when my desk phone started ringing.
“Hello,” I answered.
“Hey, you sound out of breath.” Brian’s voice came from the other end of the line.
“I just got to my room.” Taking a seat on the bed, I slipped off my shoes.
“Sorry. I’m impatient.”
“Did you want to come over?” I was anxious to have him all to myself after a day of only being able to watch him.
“Uh. Probably not the best idea. We’ve both been drinking, and I don’t trust myself around you at the moment.”
I sighed heavily. “That’s too bad.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I know we haven’t officially started our arrangement, but I do want to ask some questions about your history.” I slipped off my bra from under my dress and lay on the bed, now feeling more comfortable.
“All right. You can have six questions. But then remember I get the same number.”
That sounded reasonable. “How many relationships have you had like this?”
I heard him sigh and realized talking about this wasn’t something he was entirely comfortable doing.
“None like this, Sasha. But if you’re talking about arrangements in which there were some type of rules, then I’ve done four others.”
“Okay, and how long did they last?”
“Is this question two?”
Crap, my curiosity was eating at me. “Yes.”
“The longest was five months. Most were, uh, month-to-month type things.”
“How did you discover you, uh, like to be in control in the bedroom?”
“Question three?”
“Okay, yes, why not? Question three.” To hell with it, I needed to know some things.
“I met a woman who wanted me to be, uh, dominant with her. At first I thought it was only to turn her on, but then I realized it came naturally to me and I enjoyed it.”
“But you’re not dominant outside of the bedroom.” This was the part I was having a hard time fully understanding. Brian was the fun-loving, jokester who could always get along with everyone because he wasn’t interested in pissing matches. What he was describing was the exact opposite of that type of personality, the laid-back easy-to-get-along-with guy.
“We’ve been through this, Sasha.”
Yes, we had. “You go while I think of my final three.”
“Okay, question one is how often do you masturbate?”
I definitely wasn’t a prude by any stretch, but no one had posed this question before. “Uh, when necessary.”
“Specifics and honesty,” he reminded.
I blew out a breath. “Probably, once a month.”
“With your hands or vibrator?”
I never thought I’d see the day where I’d be shocked at something Brian asked me. “Battery operated.”
He chuckled, most likely because I was stuttering with my answers. “Do you come easily from it?”
“Are we doing phone sex?” Because all of a sudden I was feeling pretty hot and bothered.
“Honey, if you ever need to ask that question, then the answer is no. Now, do you orgasm with your battery-operated device?”
“Most of the time, yes.”
“And are the orgasms better with the vibrator or the men you’ve been with?”
“Question four?”
“Yes. Are you going to answer?
”
Considering my best orgasms had been with him, I didn’t say anything specific. “Definitely a man over the device.”
“What did he do?” His voice was low, and I was wishing I had brought said device with me.
“He, uh, used his hand.” I wasn’t ready to admit it was him, doing it over my clothing and against the couch in his basement. Then it would be obvious how pathetic my previous sex life had been.
“We’ll have to work on your dirty talk, honey. What about when he went down on you?”
Jesus, now I’d need a cold shower. “No, he, uh—We didn’t do oral.”
“His loss. Please tell me it wasn’t the ex-boyfriend from high school who you saw when you went home?”
“We went over this last night. High school boys don’t give girls orgasms, let alone the best one of their lives.”
He laughed. “Good point. Are you ready to say yes to me?”
“It’s not like I want to say no. And even if I did say yes tonight, you still won’t come up here. Either way you’re making me wait.”
“So you’re delaying your response because I’m postponing when we’d start?” There was a slight edge to his voice.
“No, but if I’m being honest, I’m not sure it’s in my personality to be submissive.”
“I’m not asking you to be submissive as much as I’m asking for you to give up control sexually and give yourself over to me. There isn’t anything I would do that you wouldn’t enjoy.”
Simply thinking about it had me aroused. “Okay, my final three questions. You mentioned tying me up in previous conversations. Tied up how?” I’d never been bound before, and it made me a little nervous.
“Hands together or feet to the bed.”
Hm, that didn’t sound too bad. “And no pain? I mean no whips or that kind of stuff?”
“No whips or pain. I’m not into it. You’ll have to decide if you like the soft stuff like spanking.”
“Okay, and the last question is: Would we use condoms or what?” There. I’d put it out there.
“Are you on the pill?”
“Yes, the shot. But, uh, are you clean?”
“Of course I am.” He sounded irritated.
“Hey, don’t get annoyed. You’re the one having sex with women who are clearly a little more adventurous than I am.”
“Fair enough, but I’ve never not worn a condom. I’d like to not use them with you. I’m clean.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously you’re shocked I’m clean, or are you surprised you’re the only woman I trust not to wear one with?”
“You know I meant about never having worn them before. Is it my inability to get kids to like me that enables you trust me?”
His tone turned serious. “We’re friends and colleagues, Sash, and I know you’re not trying to trap a man to take care of you.”
I scoffed at the very notion.
He laughed. “See, the very idea doesn’t compute. If you want to swap medical records, we can.”
“I trust you more than anyone else I know. If you say you’re good, I believe you.”
“I trust you, too. I guess that’s what makes this strange going into it. We aren’t trying to get to know one another. We’re more nervous about losing what we already have.”
“You weren’t worried before. You are now?”
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not exactly flexible when it comes to forgiving people. I’d be lying if I told you that I didn’t think at some point I would screw something up. I can only hope that we can give each other a learning curve.”
I tried not to take it personally. He wasn’t wrong. Exhibit A: I was still holding a grudge against my sister. Ironic, considering I wasn’t the type of girl who made a good first impression, which meant I needed second chances myself. “You know that I’ll most likely mess it up first.”
“Doubtful. Do you think you can maybe learn to be a little more, uh, flexible?”
“Is that a double entendre?”
“Without even trying,” he deadpanned. He laughed, and then I did too. “What you need to do is learn to be a little more relaxed. Take off the pencil skirt and let your hair down, so to speak.”
“Considering I’m at a wedding for my boss’s boss with my supervisor and other people I respect, it’s sorta hard to do that.” Yes, I was kind of reserved. So what?
“Mm hm. Nice excuse. We could be anywhere, with strangers, friends, wherever, and you’d never do anything out of your safe zone.”
“I went speed dating with Catherine. That was way outside the perimeter of my comfort zone.”
“I can only imagine, but I’m talking about doing something on a whim. Like getting up and singing karaoke or skinny-dipping. I bet you’ve never done either of those activities.”
“You’re right. I haven’t,” I conceded. With my history, the very thought of putting myself out there on purpose for people to judge petrified me.
“Promise me if you ever decide to do something crazy, that I’ll be around for it. It would be a sight to behold to watch you let your hair down.”
Somehow, I was suddenly inspired, with the wine and vodka fueling my adrenaline and overriding the conservative part of my brain that was protesting. “It’s your lucky night, then, because I’m about to do one of those things. And here’s a hint: it isn’t singing.”
***
By the time I made it down to the shoreline and looked around, I’d completely chickened out. Someone could see me, there could be sharks, I’d have to shower afterwards, and last, but not least, my excuse was something along the lines of how ridiculous it was to do something like this without anyone else daring you. Wasn’t that the whole point of doing stupid things? Good grief. Then I turned and saw Brian standing there smirking.
“You talked yourself out of it, didn’t you?” he teased.
I took a deep breath and, before I could lose my nerve, kicked off my sandals and pulled my knit dress over my head. It was amazing what a little competitiveness and challenge could do to trump my feelings of anxiety. As my therapist had pointed out, I liked to bulldoze through some obstacles to prove I could.
I heard his muttered curse and tossed him a triumphant smile. “I figured it wouldn’t count unless someone could see proof.” I hadn’t bothered to put my bra back on, and observed his eyes go wide at the vision of me topless. Stepping out of my thong, I heard his breath hiss. I laughed, running into the water so that that he wasn’t afforded too much of a view.
Thankfully, the water was warm and the bottom was sandy. I waded in to my waist and crouched down to my shoulders, enjoying the fact that I’d actually done it.
When I glanced up toward the shore, I saw Brian whipping off his shorts and shirt and, finally, his boxers. I wished I was closer to get a better look. Rolling my eyes internally, I reminded myself that in fact I was an adult woman who had seen a penis before, not some adolescent girl hoping to catch a peek.
He splashed in and stopped a foot away from of me. “How does it feel to be a rebel?”
“If you ever tell anyone about this, I will find a way to—”
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I solemnly swear that what happens on this beach stays on this beach.”
I giggled.
He raised a brow. “Did you, Sasha-B-Fierce, just giggle?”
I was in a fit of them and nodded, enjoying his playful grin in return. When he moved closer, it felt natural and comfortable. That lasted five seconds because when his mouth met mine, my entire body ignited with desire.
His hands roamed my nude body, sliding over my breasts and down to my hips. His tongue explored my mouth expertly. He pulled away reluctantly. “This wasn’t a good idea. Especially now that I’ve had a glimpse of that Brazilian wax you’re sporting.”
I wasn’t listening. My body ached for his touch and craved release. With him naked and touching me I couldn’t help but wrap my legs around him.
“Chri
st,” he muttered, gripping my ass and grinding against me. His mouth took mine again. We were both desperate for the skin on skin contact we’d been denying ourselves over the last few days.
I rocked my hips into him and gasped when his fingers worked their way inside of me. Our eyes locked, and I lifted myself up slightly, setting down on the head of his erection.
“I—” he started to protest.
I didn’t let him finish, instead kissing him with everything I had. All of the pent-up frustration, desire, and attraction from the past few days poured into it.
He shifted me slightly and then drove home. “Sash—”
I arched back, stretching with his full length, loving the sound of my name on his lips. We were frantic with our hands and mouths. There was something about taking Brian out of his control zone that fueled me.
He withdrew a fraction, but then slammed back into me, holding my hips in place while he thrust, setting a frenzied rhythm. His lips traveled down the curve of my neck, and my nails raked over his back. When his hand slipped between us and rubbed my clit, he sent me completely over the edge within minutes. His pace increased, and, on one last thrust, I could feel his scorching hot release deep into my core.
As we fought to get our breathing regulated, I sensed the moment Brian withdrew, both literally and figuratively. He set me down on my feet abruptly and waded up toward the beach, leaving me stunned and a little unsure what to make of it. Was he angry?
He dressed quickly on the shoreline and looked surprised I didn’t follow. He picked up my clothes, shook them free of sand, and waited.
After walking up out of the water, I snagged my dress from his outstretched hands and put it on quickly without my panties. I slipped on my sandals, and regarded him with his tense jaw and gritted teeth. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on with you?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “You had to—what? Prove that you could take control?”
I was stunned. First, I’d never seen Brian this angry. Second, if anyone were to freak out after the first time we’d had sex, my money would have been on me. But instead I was the calm one? “You can’t be serious. I didn’t take control. We both lost it.”
Ask Me Something (The Something Series Book 2) Page 11
