The Revelation

by Lauren Rowe

  I hold my breath and close my eyes, letting the dual sensations of Josh’s climax and my own wretched embarrassment about Henn stumbling upon us undulate simultaneously through me.

  I hear the sound of the elevator doors closing followed by nothing but Josh panting in my ear. I open one eye and cautiously peek at Josh. He’s staring at me, his face beaded with sweat, his eyes smoldering. I glance over his shoulder toward the elevator, my heart racing, my clit rippling with an aftershock. The elevator doors are closed. Josh and I are alone in the hallway. Henn’s nowhere to be found.

  I look at Josh again, my cheeks blazing with a strange mixture of embarrassment and arousal, my heart racing. We stare at each other for a long, silent beat, our chests heaving in synchronicity. After a moment, one side of Josh’s mouth hitches up, ever so slightly, into a smirk.

  “Well, that was embarrassing,” he says.

  And that’s all it takes—we both burst into hysterical laughter.

  Chapter 5

  Kat

  “I’d love to rinse off real quick,” I mumble, pulling up my G-string. “Jeez, Josh. That was a lot.”

  He laughs. “Sorry, not sorry.” He pulls out his phone. “Lemme just text Henn and tell him we’ll be down in a few. I’m sure he came up here wanting to take your passport photo.”

  “I’m so embarrassed.”

  Josh scoffs. “Eh, he’ll get over it.” He looks at his phone. “Oh, I’ve actually got a text from ol’ Henny. Imagine that.”

  I wince. “What does it say?”

  “It says, ‘Where the fuck are you guys? Text me where to find you.’” Josh snickers. “Well, I guess he got his answer, huh?”

  Josh taps out a reply, laughing to himself as he does.

  “What are you saying to him?”

  “Just that we’ll be down in a few.”

  “Oh, good. I was worried you were—”

  “And, that I missed his text because you and I were busy taking ol’ one-eye to the optometrist.”

  “You did not!”

  He shows me his phone. He did. In those exact words.

  “Josh!”

  He laughs. “Hey, nothing smooths out an awkward situation better than humor. Trust me, I should know. I’ve been smoothing out awkward situations my whole fucking life.”

  “Ugh. Josh.” I put my hands over my face.

  “Kat, the man saw me fucking the shit out of you. I don’t think my text will come as a huge surprise.” When I don’t join Josh’s laughter, he nuzzles his nose into my ear. “Aw, don’t worry, babe. He’ll recover. Henn’s got a whopper of a crush on you, for sure, but he’s a big boy.” He moves my hair behind my shoulder and kisses my neck. “Maybe seeing us together will help Henn move past his little crush.” Josh’s phone pings in his hand and he looks at it. “Henn says, ‘Meet me in an hour. An eye exam should never be rushed.’” Josh laughs heartily. “See? What did I tell you? Little Henny’s already bounced back.”

  “You’re not embarrassed Henn saw us screwing the crap out of each other?”

  “Well, yeah, of course, I’m embarrassed. Fucking in front of Henn isn’t high on my list of things to do. But I’m not gonna lose any sleep over it. At least I was fucking an insanely gorgeous woman and not a goat. Well, not this time, anyway.”

  “Ha, ha. Don’t make bestiality jokes, Josh—I still haven’t read your perverted application. Speaking of which, how have I still not read your perverted application?”

  “Hey, I gave it to you. I’ve met my obligation. If you haven’t read it by now that’s on you.”

  “How do you keep distracting me? Are you some sort of evil genius?”

  “Yes, I am—the world’s dumbest evil genius.”

  “I just realized something,” I say, having a genuine epiphany. “You’ve been diabolically controlling me this whole time, haven’t you? Controlling me while letting me think I’m controlling you.”

  He shrugs. “I’m wise and powerful, babe; I warned you right from the start.” He shoots me a megawatt smile. “What’s the rush on reading that damned thing, anyway? You said you emailed it to yourself, right?—so now you can read it whenever.”

  I smile. I can’t believe how relaxed and easygoing Josh has become about his application—what a turnaround since we first started sparring over it.

  Josh looks at his watch. “Jonas and Sarah should be landing in D.C. in about an hour—Jonas said they’d be landing around seven Washington time. So let’s take a nice, long shower, let you rinse out your cooch and maybe scrub off some of that batshit-crazy you’ve got all over you—and then we’ll meet Henn for the photo thing. By then it’ll be time to touch base with Jonas and Sarah to see if they have any news about today’s meeting with the feds.” He pulls me to him close. “And then we’ll grab a few hours of sleep together in my room, just me and you.” He kisses my neck. “Sound good, my crazy little Party Girl with a Hyphen?”

  I think my heart’s gonna burst right out of my chest. “That all sounds perfect, Playboy.”

  Chapter 6

  Kat

  Up ’til now, all of my naked interactions with Josh have been fast and furious. But now, in this steaming hot, post-hallway-fuckery shower, I’m finally getting the chance to slowly touch and appreciate every inch of Josh’s muscled, tattooed body. And appreciate it, I do. Holy hot damn. He’s gorgeous.

  I squirt shower gel into my palm and eagerly run my hand over his “Grace” tattoo on his chest and then down the ruts and ridges of his abs and across his pelvis, skimming my palm between the “V” cuts in his waist and over the word “OVERCOME.”

  And, glory be, as I touch Josh, he returns the favor, slowly exploring every curve and crevice of my wet body with his palms and fingertips.

  “You’re beautiful,” Josh says softly in my ear, kissing my neck. “Gorgeous.”

  My fingertips slide to the tattoo on the right side of his torso, behind his ribcage. Before now, I haven’t paid much attention to this one. But now that I’m studying it, I’m noticing it’s an intricate scene of a fish swimming in a river, shaded by an overhanging tree on a nearby riverbank.

  “What’s the story on this one?” I ask, touching the fish with my fingertip.

  He runs his hand across my right nipple and down my side, over the curve of my hip, and down my ass cheek. “I’ll give you my standard answer first,” he says softly, his lips grazing my ear. “And then, I’ll tell you the whole truth.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, just before his lips find mine.

  We kiss for a long time, letting the hot water pelt us as we do, our hands exploring each other as our lips and tongues intertwine.

  Finally, Josh pulls away from my mouth and licks my jawline.

  I shudder with pleasure. Oh, God, I can’t get enough of him. I’m absolutely intoxicated with him.

  “Your tattoo?” I breathe.

  “Sorry, I got distracted,” he says. He smiles and his eyes sparkle. “My standard answer is it’s a fish because I’m a Pisces,” he says, his hands skimming over my ass. “Which is true.”

  “You’re a Pisces?” I say, pulling away from him in surprise.

  “What? Is that bad?”

  “Oh, no. It’s just... ” I trail off. There’s no way I’m gonna explain that Pisces is the astrological sign most compatible with Scorpio. “You just seem like such a classic Pisces, that’s all,” I say smoothly.

  “Yeah? What are the characteristics of a classic Pisces?”

  I think briefly. “Compassionate, adaptable, accepting, devoted, and imaginative.”

  He puts his forehead on mine. “Wow, I rock.”

  I laugh. “Don’t get too enamored with yourself. That was just the good Pisces stuff. You’re also indecisive, self-pitying, lazy, and escapist.”

  “Oh shit.” He grins. “I suck.”

  We both laugh.

  He kisses me again.

  “What about you, Miss Scorpio? What’s the rap on you?”

  “I’m loyal, passionat
e, resourceful, and dynamic.”

  He laughs and pinches my ass. “Dead-on accurate.” His hands migrate up my back. “Now what’s the shitty Scorpio stuff?”

  I frown. “Well, supposedly, I’m obsessive, suspicious, manipulative, unyielding, and... jealous. But I think that’s all a load of crap.”

  We both burst out laughing.

  “Oh my God, that’s hilarious,” he says. “Maybe there’s something to this astrology stuff, after all.”

  “It’s amazing how spot-on it can be.”

  “So you’re pretty into it?” he asks.

  I shrug. “I don’t manage my life based on astrology—I told you, I’m not one to think everything’s fated—I’m a firm believer in kicking ass—but I do think it’s crazy how accurate astrology can be regarding people’s personalities and compatibility.”

  “When’s your birthday?” he asks.

  “November sixteenth. When’s yours?”

  “March ninth—and Jonas’, too, obviously.”

  “Aw, that’s right. I forgot Jonas is a Pisces, too. Sarah’s also a Pisces.” I smile wistfully. “They’re Pisces-Pisces-sittin’-in-a-tree. That’s so sweet.”

  “Two Pisces is good?”

  “It’s amazing. Pisces-Pisces is one of the top love compatibilities on the Zodiac. When two Pisces join together, it’s a deep spiritual connection. They’re both water signs, so two Pisces meld together completely, intertwining and becoming inseparable. They bring out the spiritual side in each other.”

  “What about Pisces-Scorpio?”

  I can’t believe Josh just asked me about our astrological love compatibility. My heart is racing. “Pisces and Scorpio are highly compatible, too—also both water signs,” I say, my skin pricking with goose bumps even under the pounding hot water. “But a Scorpio-Pisces union is especially notable for its intensity and off-the-charts passion. When Pisces and Scorpio get together, it’s like ka-boom.”

  His eyes flicker. “Hmm. I think maybe I’m becoming a believer in astrology.”

  He presses himself into me and I feel the unmistakable sensation of a hard-on jutting into my hip. I look down. Oh, hello. Josh has apparently fully recovered from our tryst in the hallway and he’s ready to go again. Holy hell, Joshua William Faraday is a virile motherfucker.

  Josh smirks and slides his fingers between my legs. “I think I’m officially addicted to making you come,” he says softly. “You’re my new favorite game.”

  I never thought I’d see the day, but I actually think I’ve had my limit of body-twisting orgasms for one day. But, damn, this man’s definitely got a gigantic boner. Looks like there’s only one thing for a girl to do: without saying a word, I kneel and take Josh’s hard-on into my mouth.

  I rarely give head, actually—a guy’s gotta be pretty damned special to me to exert that kind of effort—but when I do give it, then by God, I do it right. And this time is no exception.

  Technically, I already gave Josh a blowjob while I rode the Sybian, but if I’m being honest, that really wasn’t my best work—I certainly didn’t deliver the Katherine Morgan Ultimate Blowjob Experience the way I’d normally do, that’s for sure. Of course, under the circumstances, my lackluster oral performance couldn’t be helped—I defy any woman to supply a mind-blowing blowjob while having an orgasm-induced seizure on a jet engine—but now, suddenly, I feel an urgent desire to show Josh exactly what my mouth can do.

  Why? Because I want him. I want him bad. And in my experience, there’s no weapon more lethal in a woman’s arsenal than giving a man the best blowjob of his life. If she can do this, she can have anything or anyone she desires. Harsh, perhaps, to state the fact so starkly. But true nonetheless.

  I begin licking and sucking on Josh’s shaft, and he immediately makes it clear he’s an ardent fan of my work. But I’m just getting started. Because a blowjob worthy of being called a Katherine Morgan Ultimate Blowjob Experience can’t be good. It can’t even be great. No, a blowjob worthy of this lofty title must be nothing short of mind-blowing.

  Of course, every mind-blowing blowjob starts at its inception with a can-do attitude—a girl’s really gotta want to suck that dick—or else she truly shouldn’t even bother.

  To get myself in the right frame of mind to deliver oral epicness, I engage in a little role-play, if you will, a little mental trick that turns me on and inspires me to reach for greatness every time: I simply imagine I’m a high-priced call girl who charges a million bucks per blowjob and my only mission is to make my client say, “You’re worth every fucking penny, baby.” Oh man, it gets me going every time. (And if I’m turned on, I’m motivated to turn him on, too.)

  But while a good attitude is an essential ingredient to giving a man the most intense oral experience of his life, it can only take a girl so far if she doesn’t also have fantastic technique.

  Through trial and tribulation, I’ve surmised that the most effective oral techniques ascend a “ladder of pleasure,” if you will, that goes a little something like this:

  Rung One. If a girl aims to give a man at least a pleasurable blowjob (which should be a baseline goal, or else why is she putting a cock into her mouth, for crying out loud?), then she’s gotta lick and suck that guy’s dick like she’s got heatstroke and it’s a popsicle on a summer day.

  Rung Two. If a girl wants to give a man a pleasurable and highly memorable blowjob (which, again, should be every girl’s goal—because sucking a man’s dick and then being forgotten is definitely not something to aspire to in life), then she’s gotta lick and suck that man’s dick plus his balls and she’s gotta do it all like she’s been bitten by a rattlesnake and his dick and balls contain the antidote to the venom.

  Based on conversations with friends and articles I’ve read in Cosmo, I’d venture to guess that’s where most girls stop climbing the ladder of pleasure—at Rung Two.

  But I’m not most girls. In fact, I’m exactly what Josh accused me of being: I’m a frickin’ terrorist. If I’m gonna give head, then by God, I’m gonna make the owner of that dick and balls fall head over heels in love with me.

  Which brings me to Rung Three. At rung three, a girl’s gotta do all of the above, plus fondle every freakin’ inch of his jewels and back forty and taint, including massaging his asshole (and fingering it if he seems into it); plus she’s gotta grip his shaft like it’s a life preserver and she’s a woman-overboard in stormy seas. But she can’t stop there. Hell no. She’s also gotta suck on his tip like it’s liquid chocolate. Take his balls into her mouth while pumping his shaft and swirling her tongue on his tip and licking and sucking his little hole like she’s high on meth and she thinks that hole is spurting more juice.

  I’ve just reached the third rung of the ladder on Josh.

  He moans like a dying buffalo.

  Clearly, he’s thoroughly enjoying his Katherine Morgan Ultimate Blowjob Experience.

  And, holy hell, so am I. Oh my, yes. So am I. In fact, I’m getting off on doing this for Josh almost as much as if he were doing the same for me between my legs. This is new. I’ve never felt quite this turned on before while giving head. Oh my God. I think I’m gonna come.

  Oh my hell. I think it’s time to identify a fourth rung on the ladder of pleasure: doing all of the above things in a hot, steamy shower with the sexiest man alive, Joshua William Faraday.

  Josh releases into my mouth with a grizzly bear growl and I’m surprised to realize I’m coming too, right along with him. Wow, that’s a first. A truly delectable first.

  When I’m done, and Josh’s hard-on has stopped jerking and rippling in my mouth, I stand up and get a long mouthful of hot water from the showerhead, loosen my jaw, and turn back to him.

  His eyes are on fire. He kisses me greedily, shaking with an aftershock. “Oh my God, Kat. That was... Thank you.” He kisses my nipple and begins to kneel, obviously intending to return the favor.

  “Hang on,” I say, touching his shoulder. “I’m good.”

  He looks up at m
e, surprised.

  “We’ve got to get downstairs to meet Henn,” I say.

  “But I wanna get you off, too,” he says, grinning. “It’s only fair.”

  “Oh, I came. Like a freight train. While I was swallowing.”

  His face ignites. “Are you serious?”

  I smile and nod.

  “Oh my God. You’re amazing.” He straightens up. “You’re a unicorn, Kat. You’re... oh my God.” He’s in a frenzy. “What planet are you from? You’re amazing.”

  “Hey, I’ll certainly take a rain check, though,” I say. “When we have more time, maybe you can try to beat me at my own game.” I wink. “A little competition never hurt anyone.”

  He smiles lasciviously. “Oh, Party Girl. You’re on. I look forward to it.”

  Chapter 7

  Kat

  Josh turns off the water and we step out of the shower together.

  “So what’s the second half of the story of your fish tattoo?” I ask.

  He hands me a towel and I begin drying myself.

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I got distracted. Again.” He laughs and towels himself off. “You seem to have that effect on me.” He takes a deep breath. “The tattoo represents something my mom always used to say to Jonas and me.” He grabs his pants off the floor of the bathroom and begins dressing. “I don’t actually have a ton of coherent memories about my mom—we were pretty little when she died—but one thing I remember really clearly is she always called Jonas and me her ‘little fishies’—because, you know, we’re Pisces.” He flashes me a huge smile. “My dad said she loved astrology. Just like you.”

  My heart leaps. “Oh, cool,” I say, but on the inside, I’m kind of freaking out to share this similarity with his mother.

  “Yeah, so my mom always said, ‘Everybody’s a genius, but if you judge a fishy by its ability to climb a tree, it’ll live its whole life believing it’s stupid.’”