by Zoey Oliver
“All right,” I confirm. “That's done.”
“Excellent,” I hear him sigh. The sound of his relief is obvious. “You can stay there until I get home in the morning, all right? The keypad engages titanium barrel locks in the door. Perfectly safe, I promise.”
“Really? Okay.”
I turn around, still holding the phone to my ear and look around his room. In the dark, it seems much different than it did earlier today when I was just snooping around like a little kid.
“Kita?” he asks me in a gentler voice. “Everything's fine, I promise you. Lizzie's just created a situation she's not sure how to manage. She is desperate and lashing out. I have plans for her, don't worry.”
“You have plans for her? What does that mean?”
I can almost hear him scowl on the other end of the line.
“Really, it is not something you need to worry about. The main thing is just to make sure you feel safe. Do you feel safe?” I look around for a few more seconds. Being here, surrounded by his things and his scent, hearing the cool confidence in his voice on the other end of the phone, I do feel safe.
Knowing the door is bolted behind me and probably couldn't even let a whole fraternity worth of lacrosse players through doesn't hurt either.
“Yes, I do feel safe. Thank you.”
“You can sleep in my bed,” he says carefully. The words clang around in my head.
“I'm sorry, what?” I say, and realize I just want to hear him say it again.
“Kita,” he says slowly, his voice a demanding growl in my ear, “I want you to sleep in my bed. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“I want you to go there now.”
I stare at the bed across the room, already imagining what it will be like to sleep where he sleeps.
“Are you doing it?”
“Yes,” I answer.
I walk across the charcoal carpeting and draw back the comforter, breathing deeply as the scent of his cologne and body washes over me. I can hear his breath on the other end of the line, and it's almost like he's here with me.
“Go on, get under the covers.”
“Okay,” I breathe, my voice shaky. I don't know why, but I'm trembling everywhere. Sliding in between the cool sheets almost feels like sliding into his arms. I shudder as the soles of my feet push against the thick fabric and curl up on his pillow with the phone pressed under my ear.
“You’re perfectly safe there, Kita. You know that?”
I yawn, immediately so tired it feels like I am made out of melting taffy.
“I know,” I agree softly. “Though I would feel safer if you were here with me.”
“Oh… Yes, well. You sound so tired. You go to sleep now, okay? We will talk about this in the morning.”
“Okay, Daddy,” I sigh dreamily, then immediately half sit up, shocked and embarrassed. “I mean, Dan. Daniel. Is what I meant!”
I am babbling, pressing my fingers to my lips.
Oh my God, did I just call him Daddy again? That's insane!
But he doesn't react the way that I think he's going to. His breathing is slow, and I hear him sigh deeply, maybe making a humming noise that sounds like he didn't mind. Or maybe he liked it? Could that really be possible?
“Good night, Kita,” he finally says, sighing and smiling. I can hear it in his voice.
“Good night,” I repeat, almost saying it but not saying it. But still, the word is right there on the tip of my tongue.
Daddy.
Chapter 12
Daniel
It’s a short flight, and we touch down just as the sun is rising. I rush back through the airport and to my Mercedes with almost a sense of tunnel vision. I've got a single mission: get home and assess the situation.
Kita's late-night phone call upset me more than I want to admit. Who does Lizzie think she is, coming to my home? Trying to upset Kita? This is a whole new level of behavior, and I'm not going to stand for it.
Ever since my conversation with Candace I've been turning the implications over in my mind. If Lizzie has been involved in surveillance without authorization, she could be looking at a felony. She could be looking at jail time. We need to have a serious conversation very soon.
The miles go by without even registering on my brain. I'm completely on autopilot as I guide the Mercedes back home. After parking it in the garage, I jog around the front of the warehouse, looking for signs of intruders. Some of the plantings have been trampled, and the doormat is askew. I'm guessing two people, maybe three.
That's fine, ladies. You will be named as accomplices.
But even as I think it, I get a twinge of guilt. The plain fact is, there's only going to be one or two of them who are really responsible for what's going on. The rest just kind of go with the flow, letting Lizzie Whitmore boss them around, implicate them, maybe even form a shield for her. She is quite sophisticated that way. Kind of makes me wonder where she learned it.
Then again, I don't care. She's crossed a line, and there are going to be consequences.
After the garage door closes, I punch in the second code that double locks the door. The space is reinforced with extra security measures. Every window has roll-down screens. Every door has hidden bolts and panels. It's two layers of brick and one layer cinderblock, basically an aboveground bomb shelter if it needs to be.
I like to feel safe. There are a lot of bad people in the world.
But then again, there are a few good ones too. I dash up the stairs, taking them two at a time and pushing aside the framed photograph next to my bedroom door to reveal the security panel. After punching in the code, I hear the door unlock and open it carefully.
Even though I was prepared for it, the sight still sort of takes my breath away. There, in the middle of my oversized bed, I can just barely make out the curve of Kita's blonde hair, fanning over the pillow. I can hear her breathing slowly, calmly. I advance a few steps, careful not to wake her. Her hands are curled under her chin and she sleeps with her lips slightly parted, completely peaceful.
It's a relief. She shows no signs of distress and I'm glad that she followed my instructions and chose to sleep here. I felt a million times better knowing that there were safeguards in place for her.
Just as I'm about to back away, her eyelids flutter. She raises her chin and looks directly at me, as though she fully expected me to be there. Her lips broaden into a sleepy smile and she raises one hand, catching mine in her warm, supple fingers. I automatically squeeze back.
“I didn't mean to wake you,” I whisper. “I just got home. I just wanted to check on you.”
“Thank you. Good morning,” she murmurs sleepily.
“Okay I'll just let you be…”
I move to back away, but she tugs at my hand.
“No… stay. You must be so tired.”
She half rolls over, patting the wide expanse of the bed next to her. She is so tiny, she barely makes a dent.
“Well, I guess I am tired,” I admit.
Doubt creeps into my mind, but I kick it away with a vengeance. I walk around to the far side of the bed and fold the blankets back, slipping underneath but keeping a safe distance of about two feet. As soon as my head hits the pillow, I feel myself sink gratefully into the mattress. It is nice. It's warm in here. Comfortable.
And she rolls over under the blankets, moving closer to me, edging up and putting her head on my shoulder. To my surprise, she rests her palm against my sternum and tips her chin up to look at me, blinking.
“This is all right?” she asks me.
I'm sure she can feel how quickly my heart is pounding. It is all right. It's more than all right.
“Thank you so much for taking care of me last night,” she whispers, then wriggles up, moving to plant a sweet, delicate kiss on my cheek. When her lips brush against my skin, my body comes alive. I can feel every outline of her alongside me, from the pressure of her wrist against my chest to the curve of her belly against my wai
st.
“Kita, all I care about is your safety,” I mumble, realizing it's a half-truth. I actually care quite a bit more than that.
She pulls away so she can meet my eyes, smiling sweetly at me. “I love it when you say stuff like that.”
Then she leans forward again, brushing her lips close to mine. Her upper lip slides across mine gently, filling my mouth with the sweetness of her breath.
All those thoughts I've been trying to prevent crash through me all at once. I feel her body against mine, taste her on my lips, and hunger overwhelms me. My arms fold around her and I pull her to me, taking her mouth in mine, pressing against her lips as softly as I'm able, but it's all too much.
She kisses me back with light flicks of her tongue, exploring my mouth as I explore hers, sucking the breath out of me. As soon as I taste her, I want more. I want to taste all of her, want to consume her, to absorb all of her scents and flavors.
My hands roam down her sides, her ass, squeezing handfuls of flesh against my palm, trying to touch her all at once. She drapes her thigh across my middle and my cock jumps painfully.
I want to come so fast that it wouldn’t be fair. It isn’t right. I want to wait.
“Let me taste you,” I groan urgently into her mouth. Her eyes fly wide, blinking.
“Please?” I ask and wait. She bites her lips together and then nods.
Tearing the sheets back from our bodies, I expose her on the bed. She's wearing just a long T-shirt, with pink cotton panties underneath. As slowly as I'm able, I hook my thumbs under the sides and drag the panties over her smooth thighs then fling them to the floor. She presses her knees together tightly, suddenly shy.
“It's all right, Kita. Open up for me,” I ask her firmly.
Her hands drift up to her face, and she takes her knuckle between her teeth as she slowly lets her legs fall apart. I don't want to pressure her, I want her to want this. When she does open her thighs, I gasp at the loveliness. She's completely bare, her skin smooth and creamy, opening into a pale pink furrow of sweetness. I can see just the rose-petal colored opening, glistening with moisture.
One hand slips easily under her, lifting up from the small of her back. As her thighs slide over my shoulders, pushing her knees father part, I watch the petals unfurl, revealing the darker hidden lips.
At the first swipe of my tongue, her taste fills my mouth. Salty and decadent, yet sweeter than anything I've ever tasted before. I hear her moaning as I cover her sex with my mouth, flicking lightly at her clit with my tongue, teasing her and teasing her until she begins to rock against me.
The smooth skin slides back and forth over my hungry mouth, and I lap at her channel until she shudders, crying out against the back of her fist. Her legs clamp over my ears and I gulp the deluge of honey that she releases into my eager mouth.
When her trembling subsides, I lean over and take her into my arms, pulling her tightly to my chest. Her breath comes out in shallow, animal pants and I hold her to me as close I can.
“That was beautiful,” I sigh into her hair, kissing the top of her head. “Did you like that, baby?”
She nods urgently, pushing back so she can meet my eyes. Her gaze is slightly glassy. The tip of her nose is pink and she is still slightly breathless.
“Was it… okay?” she asks me timidly.
I chuckle, knowing there's no way she could possibly know how amazing that was. How could I even explain it to her?
“The most delicious thing in the world,” I tell her, and it's true. “Now just put your head down and rest a little bit, okay? Let's just lay here together for a little while.”
Obediently, she falls against me and I just hold her, waiting for the moment her breathing slows and I can feel her drift off against me. I wonder if I've ever been quite this happy. It's such a simple thing, to connect with her. It's effortless.
Chapter 13
Kita
I should be studying, but I can't. What happened between me and Daniel was… well, it completely blew my mind. I’ve never felt anything like that before. Of course I touch myself, of course I’ve had orgasms but… his tongue is so soft. So warm. Something about having him licking me there was like…
Oh my God. It was amazing.
What else have I been missing?
That same map of Southeast Asia swims in front of my eyes again. I swear, I'm never going to get this thing memorized. Instead, I find myself picturing him over and over again, the way his eyes were half-closed, the vibrations he made deep inside me as he groaned against me. He seemed so hungry, so excited to be doing what he was doing that I got over my shyness very quickly. Obviously, he was having a pretty good time. But not as good as I was.
No, I have to memorize this map. Where was Formosa again?
The little orange shape shimmers on the map. Beautiful girl. Surrounded by water, a place empires fought over. Eventually Formosa came to be known as Taiwan, and no longer considered independent. The people who live there still consider themselves a sovereign nation, but China disagrees.
I scowl at the map until it goes foggy again. Foggy like early morning light through the sheer curtains in Daniel’s room, the morning I walked in on him masturbating. It took me a moment to really see him through the glare. His beautiful, heaving body. That thick erection in his fist, the rough way that he handled it. I always thought that they were delicate things, the way guys are always trying to protect themselves from getting kicked in the nuts all the time. But that was something else. Aggressive. Masculine. It makes some dark part of me sit up and pay attention. Some deep need swells and twinges.
And it also makes me wonder, how would I go about giving him the same kind of pleasure? I mean, people do it all the time, right? It can't be that hard.
I think he is gone for the night, so I switch over to YouTube to see if I can find an instructional video or something.
What. I'm doing research.
This is important. It's a life skill, like looking up home repair or a recipe or something, right?
But this first video looks... impossible. A young couple position themselves in front of the camera. He drags a pair of sweatpants off, and his erection springs out. The look on his face is sort of annoying, not smooth and masculine like Daniel, at all. The girl licks her lips suggestively and kneels in front of him on the floor, pushing his knees apart with a flirty coo.
I am not sure this video is the one for me. First of all, that penis looks like a soup can or something. How is she even going to be able to…
Yep. She gets it in there. First she opens her mouth, letting her tongue come far out. She swirls it around his swollen tip until it glistens. Then she licks the shaft from the tip all the way to the bottom, sometimes, flicking back and forth.
After a little while of this, he places his hand on the back of her head. I guess this is her cue to try to fit the soup can in there. She shifts her weight, lifting her chin. Her cheeks puff out, then suck in. She bobs up and down slowly as he guides her. He moans almost constantly, sometimes panting, sometimes muttering commands or encouragement.
I can hear her breath coming roughly out of her nostrils, so that's a trick. I wondered how people kept breathing. And she seems to be using a lot of spit. Like a lot. It's kind of dribbling down her chin.
But, could I do this? I don't know… looking at the pictures seems sort of different than being there in real life. I mean, you never see sex from this angle, right?
But still, it seems possible. I mean I could try it, right? And I'm happy to see that in this video and the next one, the men are not too shy or tender. They don’t flinch or look like it hurts at all. The girls sometimes touch their balls, and sometimes don't. Sometimes they take the whole thing in their mouth, but sometimes just the tip while holding the shaft in their hands. That's good. I don’t think I’m going to be able to fit a whole one in my mouth.
The next morning, I wake up thinking about it again. I'm back in my bed and Daniel is just down the hall. He is pro
bably still asleep, relaxed and beautiful. A mountain of masculine energy.
No. I should go take shower. I should get to class.
I get up and grab a dark pink, a-line dress from a hanger. I pull a fresh pair of panties off the stack in my drawer, and a clean cotton bra. It fits nicely in my shower caddy, folded between the shampoo and conditioner. I’m all set. I should definitely get ready to go to class.
But standing in the hallway, I notice that he has left his door open a crack. That's different. He usually doesn't do that.
I wonder if he's asleep. Maybe I woke him while moving around and getting ready. I should probably check.
I push his door open slightly with my fingertips and stand there, almost holding my breath. He is still asleep, his forearm over his head, one knee lifted. He's wearing boxer shorts — charcoal gray, of course — and no shirt. I watch his abdomen rise and fall slowly, staring at the light dusting of hair that spreads out over is thick pecs. His jaw is almost blue with beard stubble and I want to touch it, to run my fingers against the rough texture. Instead I gnaw on my thumb knuckle, glad to have something hard in my mouth.
He definitely looks different than the guys in the videos. Those guys are practically hairless, and they seem somehow smaller in every way. Even the guy with the soup can.
Their muscles are tight and sort of different. Daniel’s muscles look thick, solid. I guess there's a difference between young men muscles and older men muscles. This is the sort of body I could lay on top of without worrying that I would crush him. This is the sort of person who would stand in front of me if something bad ever happened. I could climb him like a tree.
As he is breathing, I notice the way his jockey shorts tent out at the center and remember that men get erections in the morning sometimes. Totally normal physical response. But it has me overwhelmingly curious.
Padding over to the bed, I bite my lip hard. I can't stop looking at it. With each slow breath, his cock strains against the cotton fabric of his jockey shorts. Taking a chance, I drag my fingers along the waistband of his shorts, just slipping my fingertips below the fabric. It's so warm there, and his skin is so soft, yet firm.
