His To Have

by Devon Birchley

  He laughs. “Which have their place, I’m sure. But I think you’re going to like this a lot.” I take it out of the box and examine it dubiously.

  “It’s fairly small. It won’t hurt you. And I think we can have a lot of fun with it. Let me show you. Get on your hands and knees.”

  I do as he says, back arched and knees apart, without needing to be told. Something soft and wet touches my asshole. I cringe and then realize it’s his tongue. At first I’m tense, worried he’s going to hate it, but as he makes sounds of enjoyment, I begin to relax. Ahhh…this feels good. He makes feather-light circles, and then his tongue becomes a stiff point and he pushes inside, gently at first, then in little jabs. This feels great, and I push my ass toward him, wanting more. He withdraws, fiddles around behind me, and then something else touches my asshole, something with a wet, slippery tip. I feel my hole yielding, and the plug slides in a little. Wow. My eyes glaze over. It’s intensely pleasurable. My nerve endings are incredibly sensitized. Adler keeps inserting it, and my ass opens more and more as the plug gets wider. When I’m starting to feel like I can’t handle any more, there’s a kind of pop, and it goes all the way in.

  Adler lets go and lays down beside me. “How does that feel?”

  “Weird. Amazing,” I manage to say. And very dirty. It’s holding my ass open and stimulating me at the same time. A fresh burst of arousal has taken hold of me, making my clit throb.

  “There’s so many sexy things I can make you do while you’re wearing it,” he says. As I stay on all fours, he gets undressed, and I feast my eyes on him greedily as his gorgeous body is revealed to me. Those perfect pecs with caramel brown nipples, that flawless belly, those scorching hip grooves. I’m practically salivating as he pulls his white, stretchy undershorts down. He takes a condom from the nightstand and rolls it on casually, a dirty smile tugging at his lips. He likes the way I’m staying in position, passively awaiting his desires.

  He climbs onto the bed behind me and presses on the end of the butt plug. I cry out as it goes in deeper. He works it back and forth a little. My ass is so sensitive that every tiny movement feels mind-blowingly intense. And then he slides his cock into me, and I swear I almost hit the ceiling.

  “Fuck!” I yell, way louder than intended. This is insane, ridiculous. My eyes tear up, and my insides throb. Everywhere. Until I’m a huge, pulsing ball of ecstasy. He pulls almost the whole way out, then slams into me again. His cock is molten heat, drawing rainbows and stardust with it. I’m moaning and muttering all kinds of nonsense while he sets my insides on fire.

  “I knew you’d like it, little one,” he says, and he begins to screw me in earnest, long, precise strokes, his fingers biting into my hips, and his pelvic bone pushing against the plug. I come again and again, so many times that I don’t know when one orgasm ends and another one begins.

  “You’re so tight.” There’s surprise in his voice as I clench around him in fast spasms. He comes hard with an anguished sound, leaning over me, his damp torso pressing against my back.

  He slides out of me, and I try to turn onto my side, take the weight off my trembling arms, but he holds me still. “Let’s take this out.” He pulls gently on the plug. “Just relax.”

  Of course I tense up. It’s an awkward sensation, but it comes out clean and easy.

  He takes it to the bathroom, washes it, then puts it back in its box. “For you. To use any time you want. And every time I tell you to.” I stiffen, imagining the scenarios where I might find myself forced to wear it.

  “Will you be sleeping with me tonight, Reagan?” He’s reclining on the pillows, immaculate as a Greek God.

  “Is that a hint that you want to get rid of me?”

  His face immediately softens, and he reaches for me, drawing me into his arms. “Of course not. I’m very happy for you to stay.”

  “It’s kind of late to go home now, so I guess I’ll crash here,” I say flippantly, but I feel a little injured.

  “Good.” He’s already climbing between the sheets and getting into sleeping mode. Okay then. I take my bag into the bathroom and clean my teeth and remove my make-up. When I return, the room is dark, and I climb into my side of the bed. A minute later, I feel him move, and then he’s right next to me, his lips soft and moist at the corner of my mouth. “Goodnight, Reagan. Sweet dreams.”

  “Goodnight.”

  9

  “I have to leave in a moment. Need a ride to work?” Adler asks as I come out of the bathroom. A ride. In an actual car. Instead of squishing myself into the metro, sweltering under my winter layers. With him. Of course I do!

  “My car’s in the parking garage. I can drive you.” My heart does a little flip. He’s in a dark gray suit and a button-down white shirt. I’m wearing my emergency outfit which usually lives at the office—tight black pants and a dark gray cable-knit sweater.

  He pulls his phone out, glances at the display. “We may have time to stop by my favorite breakfast spot.”

  “Excellent. I’m starving!”

  As we walk out of the hotel, a valet is pulling up in a sleek, black BMW. I fight to stop my jaw from dropping. “No Cadillac today? I’m a little disappointed.”

  “I have to run a few errands in town so I needed something a little nippier.”

  “Of course,” I say. “Being stuck in traffic in that Cadillac would’ve been a nightmare.”

  I’ve never been in such a sleek, sporty car before, and it feels so luxurious. The leather seats are heated and super soft. He drives fast with a touch of recklessness, weaving expertly through the rush-hour traffic. He feels like a different person from the Adler of last night. Far more playful and laid back. Virtually everything about him is different—his mannerisms, his voice. Even the language he uses. It only strikes me now that both times we had sex, he was speaking in a very formal, precise way. I kind of liked it. It was commanding and a little cold.

  Before long, we’re pulling into a drive-thru diner halfway to my office.

  “It looks scruffy, but they do the best egg muffins on the planet,” he says. We get the house specials and two Americanos, and he parks up while we eat them. He’s right. They’re amazing. They’d be the best hangover food ever.

  “This is awesome,” I say with a laugh.

  “What is?”

  “Sitting in this beautiful car, eating greasy muffins.”

  “I guess I’m a fan of contradictions.” He shrugs carelessly, which makes him look extra sexy. He looks fresh in the morning light, which isn’t surprising really considering how deeply he sleeps. Every time I woke up during the night, which was about ten times, he wasn’t snoring, but he was breathing super heavy, dead to the world.

  “I like quality things, but I don’t like to make a big deal about them.”

  I ponder that for a moment, resisting the urge to talk with my mouth full. He has the carelessness of someone who’s always had plenty of money and doesn’t need to guard their possessions closely. But then he has this other side too. This need to control and dominate. It’s intriguing, and annoyingly sexy.

  “Busy day today?” he asks.

  “Yeah, working on a brand-new brief for the Sexpo guy.”

  “He’s chosen to work with you again?”

  “Yup.”

  “That’s awesome. Well done,” he says with warmth in his voice.

  “Thanks. And you?”

  “Yeah. I have a few meetings, all across town.”

  I look at him sideways, wondering if I can ask him about his job. This is a weird situation to be in, where I can’t just say what’s on my mind. I’ve noticed that I’m way less chatty around him than I am with most people, and I don’t like it.

  A glint comes into his eye. “What are you thinking?” he demands.

  “What do you really do for work?”

  He laughs loudly, throwing his head back. “I can’t believe you’re only just asking me that.”

  My cheeks warm. “I don’t know. I felt like I wasn’t
supposed to know about you. About your real life, I mean.”

  “Of course you can ask about my life. I’m an antiques dealer.”

  “Cool.” I’m not sure what else to say. I have zero experience with antiques.

  “I enjoy it. It means I get to travel a lot, meet interesting people. My grandmother got me interested in it when I was small. She used to take me to yard sales and pick up things that didn’t look like they were worth anything. Then she’d fix them up and sell them for a hundred times what she paid for them. She had a real good eye, and she taught me a lot. I managed to pay my way through college just through buying and selling pieces. I graduated with virtually no debt.”

  “That’s awesome. I wish I had that kind of smarts.”

  “It was all down to her. There’s no way I would’ve thought of it by myself.” His voice has become soft, wistful, and he gazes out of the windshield.

  “She sounds like a cool person.”

  “She was. The best.”

  “Did you spend a lot of time together?”

  “Yeah, as much as possible. She was kind of a surrogate parent to me—” He breaks off and does a kind of double take on me. “Oh, wait.”

  “What is it?”

  He brushes the corner of my lips with his thumb. “A renegade muffin crumb.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” I giggle as I grab a napkin and wipe my lips.

  “It’s okay. It was kind of cute.” He leans forward and kisses me softly. Affectionately, almost. Then he lays a hand on my shoulder and pulls me in deeper, his mouth warm and his tongue searching. It takes my breath away, and when he releases me, I stare at him, wondering what just passed between us.

  “I wish we had more time this morning,” he says.

  “Why?” I ask. It’s a genuine question. I have a fleeting sense that he needs me.

  “I’d take you back to the hotel, spend the day in bed with you.”

  “That would be so great,” I say, immediately imagining the two of us in bed together on a rainy day, snuggling and eating ice cream while he tells me more about his grandma. “It’s a shame we have to be grown-ups.”

  “It sure is.” He starts up the car again, and before he puts it into drive, he gives me a long look that makes my heart flutter.

  Too soon, we arrive at Koln & Mathers. I catch sight of a couple of my colleagues entering the building, and I get a ridiculous burst of pride at being in this man’s car. This man who fucked me senseless last night, who has a way of making me feel like a princess, and whose hand has left my ass burning many hours later.

  “Thanks for the ride. And the muffin.” I turn to him, wanting to kiss him goodbye, but scared that he’ll reject me.

  He touches my jaw, gives me a peck on the cheek. “Thank you for spending the evening with me. I’ll be in touch.”

  I climb out of the car and close the door, and just like that, my balloon bursts. There was no warmth in his voice, no hint of the moment that we just shared. He could’ve been dismissing a business contact. Or a call girl.

  I trudge up the emergency stairs at the back of the building, desperate for a moment to myself. He’s not my boyfriend. I was stupid to let myself enjoy his company this morning, to warm to him. I let him do all those things to me, and I’m nothing to him.

  Last night was incredibly hot. So hot that I’m still tingling at the recollection of it. I’ve never done things like that before with anyone, let alone a stranger. And they’ve left me feeling so goddamn vulnerable. Like my darkest urges have been dragged up to the surface and exposed for everyone to see. I hated the way I felt last night, alone in the bed, needing to be held, knowing that there was no way I could shuffle over to the person I’d just had sex with and lie in his arms.

  I like him. I like him more every time I see him, and it scares me a lot. I never get involved with guys so quickly. It usually takes weeks of dating before I see them as any more than sexy friends. And I know exactly why I feel differently toward Adler— because he has power over me.

  He’s not an asshole or a jerk. He’s kind. But in some ways, that makes it worse. He presents an image of a perfect boyfriend and dangles it just out of reach.

  I’m pretty sure I know how this story ends—me falling hard, him being shocked that I thought he was interested in me romantically. Then he’ll walk off into the sunset with the kind of woman who looks good cruising with him in his Cadillac. I’ll be left with a broken heart. And I’ll only have myself to blame.

  I’m almost in tears by the time I get to my floor. I hate feeling like this. I’m not that kind of girl.

  I work hard on a brief all morning, but I’m intermittently distracted by thoughts of Adler. Then, just before lunch, my phone beeps with a message from Hugo, asking what the plan is for tomorrow evening. Shit. I’ve been so preoccupied with Adler that I forgot he’s coming this weekend. I haven’t even asked Dom if it’s okay if he stays at our place. I’m sure it is though. She always has people crashing on the couch. I send her a message, then I grin stupidly as I reply to Hugo, discussing when and where to meet. It’ll be so good to spend the weekend with someone I know well, who knows me well. Hell, I’m even looking forward to helping him find an apartment.

  Then Dominique replies:

  Of course it’s ok, girl. You don’t have to ask!! I was just about to text you actually to say that my sister is coming for her birthday weekend with a couple of friends, so the apartment is going to be a little lively! I have a blow-up bed though so that’s all ok. And you all are welcome to enjoy the celebrations!

  Okay, so the couch is out. Awesome. That means one thing. Hugo is going to have to share my bed. That’s no big deal. We’re just friends now. I have a spare comforter, so we won’t actually be in bed together. We’ll go out for beers too, so we’ll just get home and pass out. No big deal.

  My mood lifts a little in the afternoon, but when I get home, a wave of exhaustion hits me. I go to bed early, and I’m dozing to Netflix when Adler messages me: Saturday night? I have something special planned.

  I groan and put the phone down. I can’t do Saturday, and actually, I don’t think I can do any day ever. By the time the TV show has finished, I haven’t made up my mind what to reply to him, and somehow I end up falling asleep instead.

  The next morning I send a reply saying that I have a friend staying all weekend, and I don’t suggest anything. He doesn’t reply all day, and I’m kind of relieved, happy to put him out of my mind. I finish up the brief I’ve been working on and send it to Jenny for approval. Then I spend the rest of the afternoon researching places to take Hugo, my stomach fluttering with excitement.

  Hugo pulls up outside my apartment just as I arrive home, and my eyes tear up when he climbs out of his car, flashing his good-natured, American-boy grin. He looks good, his dark hair cut in a short, simple style and his bright blue eyes sparkling as usual. He flings his arms around me and hugs me like one of the guys, and I hug him back until I can hardly breathe.

  “It’s so good to see you, Reagan!” he says, holding me at arms’ length. Then his forehead gets that big crease in it that always makes him look like a studious puppy dog. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

  “Never better.” I wipe my eyes. “Just got a little overexcited to see a familiar face.”

  “Okay. I’ll bring my stuff in, then you’re going to show me around, right?”

  “Course!”

  We go to an Irish bar first, all dark wood and funny slogans, that Hugo loves as much as I expected. I could’ve stayed there all night, but he’s keen to see the town, so we go on a mini-crawl with the help of a handy app. Halfway through the night, we stop for a burger, then onto a sports bar where I get talked into shooting pool. Hugo is very gentle with me, as always, but I still lose badly, and I happily retreat to a bar stool.

  “Is everything okay, Rea? You seem a little… I don’t know…subdued?” Hugo lays his arm on my shoulder, his deep blue eyes boring into my own.

  “Oh, I’m good,” I say
, waving my hand. “Too much work, but what’s new?”

  “But you’re happy, right? You’re living your dream. This is what you wanted all along.” I bite my lip, hesitating. It feels like a betrayal to him to tell him that my dream of life in the big city—the reason why I left him behind in Springfield—isn’t working out as planned.

  He takes my hand. “Come on, Rea. You used to say you felt like you could tell me anything.” He calls to the bartender, and then there’s a shot of Tuaca beside me. I down the shot, and it all comes out—how tough work is, how lonely I feel. Of course, I avoid mentioning Adler, who I’m now very aware is at the epicenter of that loneliness.

  Hugo looks at me kindly. “You know what I think?”

  “What?”

  “I think you need to cheer up. This town is amazing. It’s a hundred times better than Springfield. When I think of people back home, everyone seems so bored. Drinking at the same old bars, year after year. Celebrating birthdays at Sorrento’s. Watching the same lame New Year’s Eve celebration. Every single year. Look at what you’ve got here. You could go to a different bar every night. Go see a big-name gig most weekends probably. And the sports. Man, I think that’s what decided it for me.”

  I grin. “Bars, gigs, and sports. I love your priorities.”

  He clips me on the back of the head. “It’s all the important stuff for being happy, when you’re our age anyway. Ten years’ time, you’ll probably be going crazy for the latest lawnmower on the market and seeing if you can suffocate yourself with an even bigger mortgage than the one you’ve already got. But now, it’s all about having fun, right?”

  “I guess.”

  “Rea, I know you’ve always been so ambitious that you’ve never stopped to think about these things, and I know your new job is hard. But, come on. You’ve arrived, you’ve got what you wanted. Now try to be happy with it.”