I nod and concoct a half smile. He knew this conversation was brewing.
He lifts his chin and begins. “Just for you, I’ll explain: in my position, I’m invited to at least three functions a week: Award Ceremonies, Movie Premiers, Book launches, Charity functions and so on. To keep up appearances, I have a list of people - women - who I get my secretary to call, so they can accompany me to these events. I buy the dress, we smile for the cameras and Lester takes them home.”
“And that’s it, with every one?”
He interjects. “I didn’t say that, not ... every one. I’m not made of stone.” He smiles at his own attempt at a joke but, for some reason, I don’t find it amusing.
“So you’ve slept with ...”
“Slept with, no - fucked yes, there’s a difference.”
I feel myself becoming agitated. Have I opened an exploding can of worms? “So, you’ve fucked how many?”
“I don’t know. I don’t keep score.” He starts to laugh but I’m not sure it’s appropriate.
“More than 20.”
He nods yes.
“Less than 100?” Does he actually have to think about the question?
“Less than 100.” He is primed and waiting for my next question. He knows what I’m getting at but he’s making me work for it.
“Fifty?”
“Look Beth, I don’t know. Does it matter?” He’s becoming a little defensive.
“It matters to me.” I assert with too much humility.
“Why?”
“Because ...”
He waits for the rest of the sentence. “Because ...”
“Just because.”
“That’s not a reason Beth, besides, I could ask you the same thing.”
At that precise moment, I feel the room folding inwards. I should have got out before he turned the question on me. I look down at my hands before taking a sip of wine.
“How many guys have charmed their way into your panties, missy?”
I don’t like where this is going. I won’t look at him.
“More than ten?”
I shake my head: no.
“Eight … six … four?”
I can stand it no longer. “What is this? A bloody rocket launch?”
He laughs, but soon that happy face is replaced by a serious frown. He takes me by the shoulders and lowers me back so he is lying on top of me on the sofa. He has me pinned with no means of escape. “You started this Beth. You’re asking me some really personal questions here.” He brushes my cheek with his thumb. “Two?”
“No.”
He withdraws and supports his body weight with his hands. “Don’t tell me you were a virgin, not after this morning.” He looks horrified.
I try to sit up. “No, I’m not, I wasn’t a virgin, not really.”
He’s astounded. “Not really ... what does that mean?”
I’m blushing. “I’ve been with someone, of course I have but ...”
“Yes ...”
“But not properly, not like this morning.”
He rocks back and his right hand reaches for his neck. “Fuck!”
He’s finding this so difficult to accept, why didn’t I keep my big mouth shut? “Please don’t do the neck thing.” I reach out my hand to touch him.
“The what?” He has no idea what I’m talking about.
“You always rub your neck when you’re anxious or stressed about something.”
“And why would I feel anxious or stressed?” Sarcasm oozes from his lips like butter melting on a crumpet. “I could have hurt you Beth, I mean really hurt you.”
“But you didn’t Ayden, you didn’t. I enjoyed it. Shit! I want you to do it again.” The words ricochet out of my mouth, but he’s not listening.
“Thank God I held back.”
I cannot hide my surprise. “You held back!”
Christ! That’s holding back!
“I didn’t want to, but you were so fucking tight, I got scared that I might tear you. I felt like I was breaking you in.”
I launch an indignant look in his direction. “That’s not very nice.”
“You know what I mean? Christ Beth, you’ve got to be straight with me. If something isn’t right tell me.” He lifts up my chin and plants a tender kiss on my lips. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I know. I’ll tell you if something’s bothering me.” I pull his face to me and take his tongue in my mouth, briefly. He’s eager to continue but I push him off. “That leads me to my second question.”
“Buttons.”
I reach down and undo another button so that my push up bra is clearly visible. “Have you any idea how ridiculous you sound, trading answers for buttons, Ayden?” I raise my voice. “Ayden! Eyes, up here.”
He takes one last look at my heaving breasts and returns his attention to my face.
Oh dear!
Those wicked, dark pool of desire betray his every thought. We share a straight smile which stretches the width of our faces. He leans right, folds his elbow and rests his head on his upturned palm. I take a lingering look at him.
My God you are exquisite.
Momentarily, I lose track and the question goes out of my head. He’s doing it on purpose. He needs reprimanding. “Stop trying to distract me, don’t look at me like that.” I shake my head to ease the fog and clear my throat. “I got a little scared when you said you were going to stretch me, is that because I was so tight?”
He rubs our noses. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but I could tell you were inexperienced this morning so I wanted you to get used to feeling me, that’s all.” He laughs quietly. “If I’m honest, it’s a massive turn-on. I mean, every guy wants to think they are the first to bust their girl’s cherry: it’s a guy thing.”
I dismiss it as a nonsensical idea. “I thought that was an urban myth?”
“It ain’t baby. Us guys still think with our dicks most of the time. Can’t you tell?” He leans into me with an imminent erection. He starts to laugh and it’s a rude kind of giggle that has me heating up all over.
He sees my brain working. “Tick, tock, tick, tock. What now?”
“Back to my first question.”
“Buttons.” He leans back anticipating a full strip-tease.
“No, it’s the same question and therefore doesn’t constitute the undoing of any more buttons.” I slap his hand. “What did you mean when you said you’d just fucked, what about foreplay? So many women; so many bodies to practise on.”
“I don’t know why you do this to yourself Beth.” He manoeuvres me so he can lay me flat; he sits at my side, as if he’s perched on a hospital bed. With his right hand he’s stroking my hair like I’m some kind of treasured possession.
“Outside these four walls, I’m a different person. I have ...” He rethinks his words and alters the tense. “I had no other reason to exist other than to make money. I employ around four thousand people worldwide and that’s a massive responsibility. I get up, I get dressed, I work. I come home I get dressed and, when the mood takes me, I get laid. And that’s it. It’s old news Beth, I’ve fucked beautiful woman who have been only too pleased to be fucked by me. I’ve not had much occasion to indulge in foreplay. I haven’t needed to.” He faces me squarely, assuming he’s drawing a line under the matter.
“Then how come you’re so good at it?” I venture to ask.
“I can read. And I can watch.”
“Oh!”
“Oh. That’s it? Oh?” He kisses my forehead and grins. “You make me smile, Beth Parker. You really want the truth?”
“Yes, of course.”
Here it comes…
“I’ve not met anyone as …” I wait with baited breath. “As inexperienced as you. I want to be the one to introduce you to a more erotic, sexy kind of relationship. Besides, just the thought of you gets me in the mood for sex.”
“Really?” Wow!
“Really.” He tips up his chin, pondering what my next question will be.
A tiny shiver of satisfaction ripples through my body; how is it possible I have this effect on him? Just the thought of me?
I accept the accolade with modesty and prepare to launch an offensive strike. “Have you been in love with any of them; the women you’ve fucked?” I ask timidly.
He nods no. Takes hold of my hand and languidly sucks on each finger, beginning at the smallest. Just watching is causing me to tingle all over.
“Look. I’m not sure what’s going on between us. I don’t have all the answers.” He sandwiches my hand between his until it becomes an invisible slice of something hot and moist. “All I know is that it’s not about who’s done what, how often and with whom. It’s about being connected and, I think, it’s blatantly obvious that we are. Don’t you?”
I give him a wide eyed stare and nod in agreement.
He kisses me softly. “So, stop looking for hurdles to climb over. There are none. I’m not making comparisons. I have no benchmark for this, for us …”
“Me neither.”
“Well then.” He leans into my face so close I can hear him breathing. “Maybe, we should intensify that connection right now?” He tips his head to the side and scrutinises my face, holding me in place with what looks a lot like adoration. “Any more questions?”
“No.”
“Are we done?”
I nod yes.
He brushes my bottom lip with his thumb, the way he always does when our conversation is at an end. “Good. Let’s go to bed.” He sets me on my feet, plants a kiss on my forehead and leads me into my bedroom. I have no more questions - for now.
The bedroom is crowded with shadows, only the light from the kitchen and from outside manages to inch its way into the room. Ayden moves to the window and draws the curtains, before gently sitting me down onto the bed. This has been an eventful weekend for all kinds of reasons, not least of all because of the way he has confided in me: he’s opening up. The more I hear, the more I want to rescue him; from what exactly, I don’t know. The one indisputable fact is that he has changed. The man I met less than a week ago no longer exists, not within these four walls. He is my Mr. P for Perfect.
“I’m going to make love to you Beth and it won’t be like this morning,” he utters in the half light. “Stand up.” His voice is like a hypnotic drug, everything about him is potent and charismatic.
When I stand I can feel his hands moving upwards from my waist, he’s undoing the remaining buttons on my shirt. This takes me back to our first night together, how relaxed and passive he was. I know that feeling, now I’m his for the taking.
His beautiful face is partly in shadow and the light from the kitchen circles his head like a halo. My first thought is to undress him, but I shelve it. I want him to undress me, to enjoy me the way I have enjoyed him: to take pleasure not only from physical intimacy but from total surrender, my surrender.
“Beth,” he whispers with so much tenderness, it’s like a passing breeze caressing my face. He peels off my shirt and lets it fall to the floor, his eyes never leave mine. “I don’t want you to do anything, let me take care of you.”
He pulls off his grey T-shirt and throws it across the room, missing the chair. I reach for him but he lowers my hands and places them next to my hips. I’m not sure I can do this without actually touching him. He unfastens my jeans and pushes them down to my knees, following their journey to the floor with a moist tongue. As he does so, his mouth grazes my navel and then my panties, feather light kisses tickling my skin. My heart is starting to race, he’s doing so little yet I’m drunk and euphoric. I step out of my jeans and wait for his sizzling touch.
Nose to nose he raises his right hand and tips my head to the left; he traces the line of my jaw, paving the way for his lips. I moan when he finds that spot beneath my ear that connects directly with my insides. It’s heavenly.
He skims over my mouth and repeats the process and I oblige him by tipping my head to the right to give him access. I close my eyes and savour the sensation. No-one has ever made me feel so cherished.
His journey of discovery continues downwards to my breasts; he’s tracing the edge of my bra with his fingertips. “You have a perfect body. It’s getting so I can’t get through the day without thinking about being inside it.”
Christ!
He’s lowering my bra straps and I help by reaching behind and undoing the clip. He catches my bra before it hits the floor.
“Good reflexes.” I smile, pulling my lips together to stifle sound before it becomes a giggle.
“You have no idea.” He grins mischievously and I realise I have my arms across my breasts. I turn my hands around and place my palms onto his chest, feeling muscles flexing and stirring beneath my fingers. With dexterous hands he cups my breasts, rubbing his thumbs across my tender nipples until they are hard to the touch, ripe for tasting. I hold his head to me and weave my fingers through his hair. I feel the heat coming off him; he’s melting any cold spots inside me, fanning the flames in my groin.
With me well and truly tasted his attention shifts; he senses my need for close contact and offers me his mouth. I fist his hair and feel the dampness at its roots as he holds my face in his vice like grip and devours me with such ferocity I think I will need reviving. I lower my arms, reach for his jeans but he takes hold of my hands and wraps them around my back.
“No, Beth.” Instantly, he releases them and pushes me slowly backwards onto the bed. I feel his heart beating against mine and his hands removing my lace panties. It’s all happening like a dream, like an out of body experience. I can hardly catch my breath.
I’m laying naked beneath him, breathless and so turned-on he could talk me into an orgasm, but I want him. I need him inside me, this angel of mine.
He leans up and draws an invisible line down my body with his right forefinger, from cheek to breast to hip to groin. His masculine hand cups me and I am shamelessly exposed.
“You’re perfect Beth, in every way.”
His fingers scissor out to spread me and I hold onto the bedding and push upwards into his hand. I know his stare is burning into me and searching out my intimate places, and I turn instinctively and cover my face with my right forearm: it’s too much.
His hand is on my wrist, pulling my arm from my face. “Don’t hide Beth, you don’t need to hide. Look at me.” I open my eyes and he’s inches away from my face. “If you want me to stop, tell me.”
I nod, so desperate to be less self-aware and more accepting of his attention. I want this. I do.
“I want to make love to you, but you have to want me.”
I take hold of his despairing face. “I want you Ayden. I want to give myself to you, but, this is so intimate. I’ve never experienced anything like it before.”
He puts his forehead to mine. “Me neither.” His hand caresses my face. “We’re both virgins when it comes to this.” He lifts me off the bed and pulls back the sheets so I can slip under them. Whilst I crawl inside he takes off his jeans and his boxers and then positions himself next to me. We’re eye to eye.
My hair folds over his hand and he starts to speak. “I can’t tell you how much I enjoy being with you, Beth.”
I don’t believe what I’m hearing. These heartfelt words coming at a time like this?
“And, you know what makes this even more special?” I nod no, in reply. “You don’t want anything from me. Nothing.” He kisses me and it’s a long, drawn-out kiss that leaves a sticky residue on our lips, gluing us together. But it’s only the beginning.
He launches himself at me and his kiss is so savage I think my lips might bruise. His full weight presses me into the mattress and I am enveloped in his dark shadow. I feel for features, muscle and slide my hands down his lean torso; he’s tacky and damp against my palms and the smell of virile perspiration and cologne makes me light-headed.
I’m parting my legs, to accommodate his waxy body as he travels southward sucking, nuzzling and ravishing me. I’m clenching and tu
gging at the sheets, lost in a myriad of sensations. I don’t recognise my own voice; I’m hoarse and lusting for his touch, his penetration.
When his head dips below my navel, everything stops and is captured in a freeze frame. Every muscle inside me knots in anticipation of his tongue. I want to give myself to him, without reservations, without fear.
With infinite gentleness he spreads my folds and prepares to lick my sensitive skin. “I’m going to use my mouth on you, I want to taste you.”
I’m so aroused by that thought, I forget to respond. He takes my wordless answer as consent and dips into me. The tip of his tongue finds my clitoris and I call out involuntarily, while his hands grip my hips, holding me in place. His breathing is fast and hot on my skin, his moaning a powerful aural aphrodisiac, taking me to a place of unspeakable joy and ecstasy.
I lurch into him and let go: every fear, every bashful moment, every scrap of self-doubt is banished. I tip back my head and take everything he can give me as he leads me to the point of orgasm.
When his tongue finds its way inside, I call out his name. “Ay-den” But it’s lost in the deep, guttural roar of primal hunger coming from him.
“You taste so sweet,” he growls.
With frenzied hands, I pull his head to my clitoris and start to writhe and groan. “I have to come …”
The tip of his tongue strokes me over and over and I feel a warmth rushing through me like an electric current: a wave of indescribable pleasure surges and builds. I climax hard. So shocking is my orgasm that it scares me. I’m trembling and in a state of shock.
He wraps himself around me and I nuzzle into his neck, while he rocks me. “Oh Beth.”
When I come down to earth, I can barely speak.
He’s looking at me with awe. “Welcome back.”
I manage a shaky smile. “Hi.” I pull him to me and hold on tight.
“Feeling better?”
“Yes.” I flatten my body against his and pin him to the mattress, covering his face with kisses, sucking on his ears, listening to the guttural sounds he makes when he’s aroused. I take his face in my hands and look down at him. “I’m so glad you’ve found me Ayden.”
Story of Us trilogy 01: TouchStone for Play Page 16
