by Rowena
Christ, he’s feverish—he’s breathing hard and the scary animal I got a glimpse of previously is rearing its head again.
Panic starts rising in me but I remind myself I’m still in control; I can handle him.
“Touch me here,” I say as he starts to unbuckle his belt, indicating between my legs.
I notice the massive erection poking through his pants and start second-guessing myself again, but my mind blanks when he slides his hand under my dress and touches my naked core, sending an electric tingle zapping through me.
He skillfully traces the outlines of my lower lips, teasing me and working me up a bit more, and then his finger slides to my slick entrance, making me whimper a little.
“God, Candace—you’re so wet,” he growls, the tone of his voice sending me into a panic again but raging desire is stronger.
He fingers me into a frenzy, leaving me moaning and needy, and when I can muster up the words, I say, “Please lick me.”
He is happy to oblige, pushing my dress up to expose my feminine mound.
My cheeks flush even more—no one’s seen me this up close and personal since childhood; my goodies have not been exposed to a man before.
And now here’s Liam getting an eyeful, his greedy eyes roaming my most intimate parts.
Just when I’m about to beg him to stop looking at me, his head dives for my throbbing mound, the feel of his mouth locking on my lower lips making me buck and cry out loudly in shock and pleasure.
This is insane! What is this feeling?
My mind’s a mess—not to mention my body.
All kinds of sensations dart through me, taking over my entire being.
Can I stop things before they go too far?
“Oh, god, Liam!” I can’t even control the volume of my wanton cries.
Liam is inflicting torturous pleasure on my most sensitive parts.
His lips and tongue eagerly explore my peaks and valleys, pulling and tugging and wagging and licking.
He moves his head briefly to tease my clit with his tongue then his finger, driving me madder, and when he returns to munching my lips, he gently slides a finger into my tight, soaked entrance.
He starts moving the finger in and out of me while sucking on my feminine flesh, and it becomes way too much for my virgin cleft to handle.
Next thing I know, something tightens sharply inside me, my body beginning to contract in parts on its path to climax.
My eyes shut tight as I let out a loud orgasmic moan while coming powerfully on Liam’s skillful finger, crying out again when he works the button of my clit before pulling away from my pulsing body.
Waves of orgasmic pleasure wash over me while I lie in place, zapped and drunk with ecstasy.
I start floating back to reality in time to see Liam furiously working at his pants, about to pull his cock out.
“No!” I say with my hand out. “I’ve changed my mind.”
Liam stops and stares at me, his eyes going through several emotions, it seems.
His pants are unbuttoned and his zipper is already down, his hands at the waistband of his underwear, poised to let his dick out.
“What do you mean you’ve changed your mind?” he says in a voice that indicates great effort at control.
“I mean… I’m not ready for more. I can’t go any further with you tonight, Liam,” I say as I pull my dress down.
He continues staring at me, his expression hard to read.
I start getting frightened again, wondering if I pushed him too far.
He suddenly releases his cock with one motion, tugging his underwear down a little, and I gasp and turn away, but not before catching a glimpse of the turgid monster bouncing a little in its new freedom.
I’m breathing hard again, and curiosity soon overrides everything else and makes me glance at it again.
Oh, boy, I shouldn’t have done that—the sight of it will haunt me for days. It’s quite beautiful, from the long, thick shaft to the smooth mushroom tip.
I better get out of here before I let him try to stuff that monster inside me, and I’ll need to figure out how to keep my mind off of it lest I invite him over sometime in desperation to take a look at it again. And more.
“Do you see this?” he says, grabbing his dick. “You did this to me.”
“I know, and I’m sorry,” I say, turning away again. “But I can’t…”
“You’ve made me so hard, Kiki,” he interrupts, his hand moving up and down his engorged shaft. “I need…”
“You’re not getting it from me!” I say as I go for the door handle. “I’m sure your palm can handle things from here.”
“Kiki…”
“You shouldn’t have pushed me, Liam; you shouldn’t have broken the rules!”
Then I remember something, but he beats me to grabbing my panties and fixes me with a challenging glare.
I shrug and open the door, fearing he’ll yank me back in and show me who’s really in charge, seducing me until I’m practically begging for his cock. But to my relief he lets me escape, and I practically run all the way to my place.
Once I’m safely inside, I can’t help but smile, panting hard—not just out of residual sexual satisfaction, but because I succeeded in punishing him.
It was my plan all along to leave him hanging after getting me off orally.
Serves him right.
Thursday
I need to vent.
I kind of want to tell Angel what happened, but I’m not ready for her reaction, however she reacts.
She’ll either find the whole thing screamingly funny, or she’ll send off vibes of disapproval over me tricking Liam and sending him away to get blue balls or whatever.
Maybe I should clarify my stance beforehand so she understands away why I did it and doesn’t blame me one bit, and only gets a kick out of the whole thing.
But I’m also not one hundred percent sure I can trust her with real secrets yet, the kind that could cause ripples through your life should they get out and possibly change or affect your reputation forever.
Angel and I are good friends, and we get along really well, but I’ve only known her for about a year.
And I know even friends you’ve known since kindergarten can betray you, so time isn’t necessarily a factor when it comes to trust, but with my new public life, I have to be extremely careful.
Of course, I can’t control Liam, but who’s he gonna tell he got left hanging? Guys wouldn’t want to share such an embarrassing swerve, right? So he’ll probably keep his mouth shut about failing to ‘seal the deal.’
Our next date isn’t until tomorrow, which I’m super happy about in a way—I have time to think, strategize. Put distance between us again.
On the other hand, part of me is throwing a fit about not seeing him again for so long, and not even just the part between my legs.
I already feel myself getting addicted to seeing him, and I need to figure out how to stop that shit and quit him cold turkey when the time comes; after all, dates three and four are back to back, no forty-eight hour waiting period next time.
I only have two more times to swerve any advances, and then I’ll be in the clear. Home free. Four-date obligation fulfilled, and a huge chunk of money for my charity, with my maidenhead and dignity intact.
I find myself restless all day, and it makes me even more nervous that this time, Liam hasn’t been texting me.
I try not to think of what he did after leaving me last night. Did he call up a fuck buddy to help him out?
The jealousy that wells up in me almost chokes me.
But it’s not like I can expect him not to sleep with anyone, right? Especially when I’m not planning on giving it up to him?
None of my rules included anything about exclusivity.
I told the man he can’t kiss me, hold my hand, and definitely not fuck me.
I made it clear this was a chaste arrangement—no sexual activities to be allowed.
We are only rea
cquainting ourselves as friends, mending and cleaning up old wounds—nothing more.
So why am I even thinking about what he might have done last night or might be doing today?
I groan, guilt flooding me.
Why did I let things get to where they did last night? Just because I was mad?
That was such a huge mistake, one I hope Liam bought my innocent act for.
After almost calling Angel a few times, I contact my mom instead.
It’s just a two-hour drive to see her, so I head over once she lets me know she’ll be home for a while.
My mom’s objectively youthful looking. She only now looks like she’s in her thirties even though she’s in her mid-forties.
Those eyes though—it’s like she’s looking through the centuries at you.
“How are things going with that Cox boy?” she asks after we’ve gotten the mild stuff out of the way.
I try to keep a straight face and hope the woman who has known me all my life doesn’t notice I’m hiding so much I want to say.
“Not bad,” I say lightly. “I’m really glad we crossed paths again, actually. He finally apologized for that whole thing way back then, and it’s nice to see where he is now. He’s filthy rich, apparently. And happy.”
My mom’s wise eyes are on me, and I realize I’ve been trying to avoid them.
“Is that so? What does he really want with you then?”
“Well, he explicitly said he wanted me to know how sorry he was about what he did. That he seriously regretted it. And since we’d gotten sort of close back then, he’d always wondered what happened to me and hoped I was all right. He needed to see for himself how I was doing and catch up. Like old friends.”
“Is that so?” she repeats in a lower tone.
Yeah, she isn’t buying a lick of it, even though it’s the truth as he told it to me.
Like me, she probably suspects he’s just circling back for another notch on his belt.
“And you believe him? The guy who not only stood you up but showed up with some cheerleader or something and had a grand old time at this event he got you all excited about without you?”
I was about to nod my head and continue playing it cool and light, but I end up shaking my head instead.
“Nope,” I say. “I don’t believe his story at all. I’m sure he saw that interview and wants a piece. The first piece, specifically, like most pursuers I suddenly have.”
My mom laughs.
Then she says, “And how are you feeling? Still…keeping your distance?”
“I’m trying to, mom, but it’s hard,” I admit.
“I told you it wasn’t a good idea to see him.”
“I don’t regret it—I just don’t want him to hurt me again. And I know I opened that door, but…” I shake my head again.
Don’t say it—it sounds dumb. Juvenile.
“But what?” my mom asks after a few seconds.
I can’t say it loud, but I still feel like Liam and I belong together!
I ignore my mom’s query. “It’s just two more days then we go our separate ways. I have no reason to believe I won’t emerge intact—in more ways than one.”
One of her eyebrows lift but she says nothing.
“Do you actually know who my dad is?” I ask suddenly, and it’s clear I took my mom completely by surprise.
The last time I brought him up was in my teens.
She stumbles a bit before finding the words.
“I… yes. Yes, I do.”
It seems we both decided to go with total honesty today. Well, almost.
“Is he actually still alive?”
“Yes.”
“And how do you know? Have you been keeping up with him? That’s not who you’re going on a date with tonight, is it?”
That makes her laugh again.
“No. The guy tonight—I think I’m falling in love with him; there could be something real there. So you might end up with a stepdaddy soon! As for your father…” She seems to be rethinking whether she should tell me, but then she continues, “…he’s actually fairly well-known.”
I groan, thinking she’s about to feed me yet another wild story.
“No, seriously, baby. I met him and his band at a concert when I was nineteen. He became a successful solo artist for a while, but he’s not so big now. He eventually settled down, got married.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell him about me?”
“I did actually try at first, but it’s pretty hard to get people to take you seriously when you say you need to talk to a star. Plus, there was one other potential candidate at the time, and I was too embarrassed to deal with the whole thing properly. I eventually figured it wasn’t worth the bother or even the potential child support.”
She lets out a heavy breath then turns fully to me. “If you want to know who he is, I’ll be happy to tell you. You have a lot of connections with your career now—your people can probably just call up his people or however it works.” She shrugs and smiles weakly.
“Let’s come back to that,” I say after a few seconds. “I want to hear more about this new man of yours you think you might be in love with.”
Her smile widens and she begins her tale—from how and where they met to his quirks.
I feel a lot better while driving the two hours back to my apartment.
8
Liam
My dear Kiki made a grave mistake.
All bets are off now and anything goes—she broke her own rules. Egregiously.
I really did try to play nice but that’s over now, and she won’t know what hit her.
She’s a smart girl—not street smart, but she tends to read people pretty well when she’s not emotionally compromised. And from what I’ve observed, she is definitely compromised.
But while she’s pretty good at reading people, she’s still a bit naive. Sheltering herself for so long didn’t do her any favors—she’s missing some relationship savvy.
And unfortunately for her, despite what I’ve done to her in the past and because I’ve behaved for the most part in the present, she now trusts me to some degree. Not a whole lot, but enough for my purposes.
I get to work plotting our next dates.
Kiara actually specifically requested a movie (at a movie theatre) for date number three, laughable in its transparent attempt to limit the potential for interaction.
I was a bit surprised when she proposed it, though the reasons why were obvious.
“Aren’t you worried about being recognized?” I asked. “A fancy restaurant and an opera are one thing, but a regular movie theatre is quite another.”
“I’m not sure I’m ‘white-famous’ yet,” she said, “and the location we’re headed…let’s just say I have a pretty good chance of flying under the radar.”
So we’ll sit for two hours, armrests between us and maybe even disgusting concessions items in our laps.
We’ll be quiet, forced to pay attention to the large screen in front of us.
I’ll follow all her rules to a tee throughout the date—no touching at all, not a single attempt to hold her hand or kiss her or even get her to look at me.
I’ll keep my distance and be a perfect gentleman all the way back to my car and even on the drive—to the second location.
By the time she realizes what I’m up to, it’ll be too late.
Friday
Kiara really should have driven herself this evening.
I almost feel sorry for her, even though she seems a bit smug—either about having thwarted me the other night or with her mundane plan tonight. Or both.
She has no idea she’s a lamb on the way to the slaughter and I look forward to fattening her up before the kill.
She’s dressed casually—jeans and an unremarkable shirt. She’s wearing light makeup, and her hair is pulled back into a ponytail.
I know it’s just the movies, but I can’t help thinking she tried to dress down as much as possible in order not to lead me in
to temptation.
Haha!
It doesn’t quite work that way, Kiki.
My goodness, I’ve seen and tasted your sweet pussy!
Silly rabbit.
I’m dressed pretty casually myself—jeans and a high-end blue dress shirt.
I’m wearing the cologne that makes her eyes a bit hooded when she gets a whiff.
I’ve tried out a few on her so far, and I noticed this one affecting her more than the others.
My hair is freshly cut and styled, my left wrist adorned with an expensive watch.
Basically, I’ve sprinkled subtle reminders of my wealth in my getup.
No matter who they are or their financial standing, most women seem to respond to it, whether they claim not to care about it or not.
I watch Kiki the whole time she heads toward the stretch car, but once she enters the back of it and greets me, I say “hey” back while concentrating on pouring myself a drink.
I brought along a financial magazine to read while I sip my drink and leave her to her thoughts in the silence.
“It’s weird taking a limo to the movie theatre,” she says suddenly. “Couldn’t you have just rented a regular car instead?”
Her body language is closed off—folded arms and such.
She is back to being defensive, trying to block potential compromising energy.
“I’m afraid there are creature comforts I’ve gotten used to in here—from the minibar to the generous legroom. Just think of this as an Uber or something, one that happens to be at my beck and call. If it truly bothers you, you can volunteer to drive next time.”
She shakes her head, her lips quirking up a little. “Nah.”
The rest of the drive is quiet.
Again, I leave her alone with her thoughts while I mentally run through my plans.
I can’t wait to see her face when she realizes what I’m up to, but for now, she has no idea what I’m thinking—unlike her, I’m pretty good at hiding my true feelings when I want to.
Even now, despite her initial forced closed-off body language, her non-verbal communication is telling me a helluva lot.
