by Leddy Harper
But he didn’t stop there.
Every time his tongue flicked my clit, a shivering ache attacked my skin. Every time his lips wrapped around the aching ball of nerves, my body temperature smoldered, like I was burning from the inside out. But what pulled me over the edge with the force of concrete blocks tied around me, was when his teeth pinched the overly sensitive flesh, shooting sharp, pleasurable pain throughout my entire nervous system.
His name ripped through my throat and echoed around us, my legs and arms trembling as if I were naked in the middle of a snowstorm, stuck in an avalanche. I needed something to hold on to while I waited for the room to quit spinning, so I clenched his head between my thighs.
But he didn’t allow me to fully come down from my high before he pulled me from the desktop. I barely had enough strength in my legs to stand when he turned me around, facing the desk, my hands splayed over the wood. My heart thrummed in my ears, making other sounds appear far off, but it didn’t prevent me from hearing the clank of his belt or the shrill sound of his zipper.
My breaths heaved in and out, adding a soundtrack to the noise caused by foil being ripped open. And then humid air floated over my back, accompanied by a heavy exhale at the exact moment I became completely filled with him.
It wasn’t that I hadn’t been ready—he’d worked me over so much I had more natural lubrication than I needed. And it wasn’t his size, because without even seeing him, I could just tell he’d been made for me.
But for whatever reason, the moment he sank fully into me, I became disconnected.
He stilled with his entire length buried in me, his lips barely settled over my arched spine, and his fingers dug painfully into my hipbones. Each pant blew across my bare skin, and I could feel the thin layer of sweat form over every inch of my body.
I wanted to ask him to take me to his room, wishing we were comfortable on his bed, but before I could form the question, he began to move. Slow at first, leisurely pulling his length out before torturously rolling his hips and pushing back in. By the third stroke, his movements sped up, eliciting the inevitable build-up inside me. And by the time his thrusts became harsher, demanding my orgasm, the air in my lungs had grown stale, my throat burning and reminding me of my need for oxygen.
I opened my mouth and pulled in a lungful of air, prepared to hold it long enough to chase the release, but then he pulled my body upright, holding my back against his chest. The change in position forced my breath to escape and my head to lean against his shoulder. The edge of satisfaction disappeared in the distance.
Curse words followed by my name settled over my exposed neck as Nolan’s hands angrily roamed my body. His palm found my breast and roughly manipulated it until my nipple became a hardened ball, desperately seeking his attention. His other hand settled between my legs, letting the heat from his palm infiltrate my sex while his hips continued his thrusting motion.
The angle of my body made each push and pull come in direct contact with the swollen nerves deep in my core, which brought the edge of release within reach. And once his fingers began to play my clit like a stringed instrument, I barreled closer to my climax. His throaty and gruff pleas, begging me to come, filled me with yearning and a painful desire.
But every time I took two steps in that direction, I fell back one.
My inability to let go had nothing to do with his attention to my body. Every move, every touch, every word that came from him went beyond perfect and worthy of extracting a very satisfying orgasm. However, I couldn’t seem to quiet my thoughts long enough to stay in the moment with him.
The passion was there.
The desire was present.
His movements were on point.
But none of it mattered when all I could think about was where we were, the position we were in, and how what we were doing could only be classified as fucking. After confessing our feelings to one another, admitting to the deep connection we shared, I guess I thought our first time together would be more… I don’t know.
But not this.
Not against a desk like horny co-workers.
Not with him at my back.
Not with my only visual being a window.
I wanted to see him, gaze into his eyes. I yearned to touch him, feel his skin beneath my fingertips. Hold his shoulders as he moved over me. And watch his face as he gave into me. I wanted his eyes, his mouth, his expression of pleasure to be what I saw when I came—not a wall or crooked blinds. I wanted to experience his breath across my face, not against my back. It only served as a constant reminder of our position—a position which lacked intimacy. And because of lack of romance, my mind wouldn’t relax enough to allow my body the pleasure it so desperately sought.
“Novah, please… You feel so good, it’s hard to hold on. I need you to come for me…please.” His voice was strained, proving to me just how close he was to losing control. He grew rigid behind me, his hands stiff on my body, his arms coiled around me. He hugged me as tightly as he held on to his orgasm, and I knew I had to do something.
I relaxed against him, throwing my head back into his shoulder. My jaw dropped open as I pushed short, frantic pants out. I clenched my core around his girth and dug my fingernails into the flesh on his forearms, making every effort I could to convince him of my dramatic orgasm.
“That’s it…come on my cock.” His speed picked up, turning his swift thrusts into rigid, stiff lunges as he chased his orgasm. Then his chest vibrated along my back with each hearty grunt until his movements slowed.
He leaned forward, which forced me to brace myself over the desktop, stinging my palms with the harsh slap on the wood. His body covered mine, his ragged breathing filtered over my shoulder, and his chest heaved, swaying my body with the momentum.
And then, without warning, he pulled away and released himself from my core. I turned my head enough to catch a glimpse of him zipping his pants. Nothing seemed right. Everything felt off like I’d been thrown into another dimension, one where our profound confessions never took place and we were nothing but two desperate people caught up in a meaningless hook up.
I turned around and leaned against the edge of the desk. Tears threatened to break free, and then I watched as he righted his clothes before heading toward the door.
“I’m going to throw the condom away and grab a wet cloth for you. I’ll be right back.” The way he withdrew himself from me left me empty and confused, but his tone was of a caring man. It held no malice or ill intent. Like he had no idea the state he’d left me in.
My back scraped the unforgiving handles of the drawers when I fell to the carpet. But I didn’t care. I’d become so desensitized, the pain never registered.
He hadn’t left me for long, but it was enough time to run through everything in my mind. How we’d gone from bearing our souls, exposing our hearts, to fucking like animals in a darkened room. And although it wasn’t what I’d imagined it to be—soft and loving—it still made sense in a way. It was needy, impulsive, and in the moment. It had proved his inability to wait, his desperation to be with me, and I couldn’t fault him for that. Nor could I hold it against him.
When he came back in the room, he held out his hand and helped me off the floor. Then he proceeded to wipe the cold, wet cloth over my sensitive sex, cleaning and soothing me. His fierce attention never left me, quietly studying me. The way he gazed at me with such love burning bright in his dark eyes inhibited me from holding onto the frustrations over his actions. I began to relax and lose my grip on the melancholy filling me moments ago.
“Are you ready to eat yet?” He picked up my discarded clothes and slowly helped me back in them—with the exception of my shirt, which remained in the kitchen.
“I don’t know. Are we talking about food this time?” The teasing smile burning my cheeks stole my expression, so I gave in and enjoyed the lighter mood.
He kissed me, hard, and then he led me back toward the kitchen by my hand, showing just how attentive he was.
> Eleven
After cleaning up the kitchen and putting away the last dried plate, Nolan came to stand behind me. He pressed his lips to my neck with his fingers tenderly holding my waist.
“That was amazing lasagna, Novah. Probably the best I’ve ever had.”
I swatted at him while an airy giggle escaped me. “It was cold. And I didn’t even get to make the garlic bread. Someone kept me occupied.”
His deep chuckle reverberated against my neck just before he gave my ass a gentle slap. “You won’t get an apology from me if you’re looking for one. Best sex I’ve ever had…best lasagna I ever had. I’d say it was a winning night.”
I hung the damp dishtowel on the hook and turned to catch his eyes. “So what now?”
His gaze fell to the floor, his hands went to his pockets, and he pivoted back on his feet. His demeanor changed faster than coastal weather in the summer. “It’s getting late, so probably a shower and then bed.”
Hoping for an intimate moment with him, I asked, “Is there room for two in your shower? Maybe a movie in bed?”
His head shook uncomfortably while he continued to avert his gaze. “I don’t think so. I’m exhausted and will probably fall asleep the second my head hits the pillow.”
I couldn’t stand to hear another rejection from him, so I nodded—despite him not looking my way—and headed for the door. Words wouldn’t work through my clogged throat enough to even utter a goodbye, so I didn’t bother to say anything.
My flip-flops were by the front door, making my swift escape even easier. I slipped them on and walked out. I raced to the elevator with the conflicting thoughts and emotions suffocating me. His actions—and reactions—were those of a caring person. His words were meant to swoon over and fall for. Yet the way he took me, the way he dismissed me, was the exact opposite, like he only wanted one thing, and now that he’d gotten it, he no longer had a use for me. And I hated that feeling—the feeling of being used, dumped, discarded like a one-night stand after a night of drinking.
I’d had it before, but didn’t expect it from him.
Nothing made sense. He seemed so contradictory, and I didn’t have a clue as to which one was the real Nolan. I cursed to myself, hating the way I so easily ate up everything he’d told me like my favorite cake on my birthday. I’d never been this gullible when it came to a guy before—ever since my last intimate moment with Nolan in high school. I’d stoned myself and guarded my heart when it came to men like him, and I’d prided myself on always spotting their behavior. But for whatever reason, Nolan had a way of blinding me to the facts, and manipulating me until I no longer knew which way was up anymore.
“Novah!” His deep, booming voice echoed in the empty hallway, catching my attention as the doors on the elevator opened.
I glanced from his stormy expression to the empty cart in front of me, then back to him as he steadily paced my way with a bundle of flowers in his hand.
“Why did you leave like that?” He finally made his way to me, standing only a few feet away. He kept his gaze on the opened elevator until the doors closed soundly. Then he turned his attention back to me, studying me with knitted brows as he waited for my answer.
“You said you were tired.”
“And you took that as meaning I’m too tired to say goodbye or walk you out?” He closed in the gap between us and took my hand, forcing me to lock gazes with him. “Talk to me, Novah. I can tell you’ve got something on your mind. Don’t walk away from me like this. Please.”
My shoulders pulled up in a dramatic shrug, hoping silence would keep the tears away. But the harder I fought against it, the more it came anyway. And the burning behind my eyes intensified the anger inside until I couldn’t hide from it any longer.
I pressed my palm against his chest and took a step back, sensing the cold doors of the elevator behind me. “I’m not doing this anymore, Nolan. You have this gift of saying the right words and getting me to open up to you. For whatever reason, you make me want to give myself to you. But this was the last time.”
He grabbed my wrist and removed my hand from his chest, locking my arm over my breasts as he shoved me harder into the closed doors of the elevator. “Don’t say that,” he begged helplessly into the crook of my neck, his words thick with agony. “Please, Novah…don’t say that. I–I need you.”
My head screamed, telling me this was nothing but another tactic to weaken me to his will, and reminding me I should remain strong and push him away. But my heart said something completely different. It believed his desperation, his pleading cries, and told me to hold him closer, to never give up on him.
“If you need me so much, then why would you treat me this way? Why would you get your way with me, with my body, and then kick me out like yesterday’s trash?” My questions were quiet, yet firm and steady, and I’d take that over frantic and tear-filled any day.
“N–no…no, Novah.” He pulled back just enough to hold his face right in front of mine, leaving me with only his eyes to see. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
This time, my voice was strong, harsh, without wavering on a single syllable. “You tell me everything I want to hear, make me yours in every way. And then once you’re done…you’re done. It’s obvious you don’t care that I’m not ready to end the night, or how sending me on my way leaves me feeling used and unwanted.”
“You have it all wrong, Novah.”
“Then tell me!” I shoved him, pushing him away from me about a foot. “You tell me to stop shutting you out, yet you’re doing the same to me. Trust me, I get it’s hard for you to open up to someone—especially me—but if you don’t, I have nothing else to go on except silence and the brick wall you’ve built around you.”
He dropped his chin to his chest and took a deep breath, his back arching like a bow. At his side, a bouquet of flowers hung loosely in his grip, like he was seconds away from losing hope.
“I am willing to go at your pace.” My voice softened back to a comforting level. I worried he’d shut down even further if I didn’t ease up some. “I know this isn’t easy for you, but it’s not easy for me, either, Nolan. I’m not used to this any more than you are. And if you want to hold me at arm’s length, then fine. I’ll be as close or as far as you need me to be, but you can’t pull me closer only to push me away all the time. And you can’t let me in only to close me off soon after. I’m a person with feelings—not a kite or a yo-yo.”
“I’m so sorry. That’s not what I meant to do, and certainly not how I want you to see things. Trust me, I want you to stay the night. I want to wake up to you in the morning. I don’t want to fear what’ll happen after the sun comes up, or give you a chance to change your mind. But I’m not there yet.”
“You’re not where?”
“I can’t shower with my leg on. I can’t sleep with it on. But I’m not ready yet for you to see me that way. Hell, I don’t even like to see myself that way—disfigured, broken, half a man.” His finger trailed down my cheek to the corner of my mouth. “I’m not pushing you away, Novah. I never want you to go anywhere…but I need time before I can let you see that side of me.”
My resolve softened as I relaxed against the cold metal of the elevator door. So many conflicting emotions warred inside me over what to do and what to think about everything. I understood him, and never wanted to force him to do anything he wasn’t ready for, but the selfish side of me wanted to make him see it was all in his head.
“Okay.” I nodded and offered a sliver of a grin at his shocked silence. “We’ve only just begun, and like everything else, we shouldn’t rush it. But I think we should set some rules to avoid situations like this from happening again. I don’t like this uncertainty and the back-and-forth emotions, and I’m sure you don’t enjoy making me suffer like this. I understand your reasons for asking me to leave, but from now on, I need you to be honest with me from the beginning. I can’t read your mind, nor do I have any idea what it’s like for you. So please, in the future, if
you become uncomfortable, talk to me about it. Don’t just say you’re tired and ready for bed.”
“I think I can do that,” he whispered and nodded. “Can I see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I would like that.”
He held up the flowers, suddenly looking like a shy boy on a first date, and it made my heart speed up. “I got these for you, but then I got sidetracked and forgot them by the door.”
I took them from him, buried my face in the different-colored blooms, and pulled in a deep inhalation to smell the soft fragrance. “Thank you. They’re gorgeous.”
“You’re gorgeous.” He kissed my cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I had three missed calls, five texts, and a voicemail waiting for me by the time I made it home. All of which were from Shari. I didn’t bother to scan or listen to the messages, and decided to call her back instead.
“I know you’re upset with me for talking to Nolan behind your back and setting up that stupid photo shoot, but how much longer do you plan to punish me?” Her high-pitched voice came through the line in lieu of a hello.
“I’m not punishing you. I’ve been busy.”
“Busy? With what? You haven’t been with me, and you only worked half the day today. So what exactly have you been busy with?” She gasped loudly into my ear. “Oh! You’ve met someone!”
“I was with Nolan.”
“Nolan? As in the biggest bag of douche known to mankind? As in the asshat you despise? Why the hell would you be with him?”
“I think we may have hated him for no reason.”
“No reason?”
I never understood why, but when Shari was shocked at something I’d say, she’d repeat my words but in the form of a question, adding a lilt to the end and a sarcastic tone.
“I’m sorry, Novah…but do you not remember what he did to you? The humiliation he caused you? The years of torment you had to endure because of him? I’d say we had plenty of reasons to hate him.”
