by Virna DePaul
“Can I, um … can I help you?”
I start to inch back towards the door in case she hurls something, but she looks up at me and moans: “Please help me, Lee.”
I suck in a relieved breath before pushing up my sleeves and moving to wash my hands in the sink.
“Do you have any champagne?”
“I don’t need champagne. I need crepes.”
“Well, if we’re going to make crepes together, based on the mess you’ve managed to make so far, I’m going to need champagne.”
I peek over my shoulder and Jenna seems to weigh my words before nodding and walking over to the fridge.
“You’re in luck, my friend,” she says, smiling as she spins around with a bottle.
She pours us each a mimosa as I quickly remedy the batter she destroyed. I’m not going to tell her crepes aren’t that hard to make. I like my balls attached to my body. This is actually working to my advantage. I’ll feed her some scrumptious crepes, earn some brownie points from that. She’ll be rocking a nice little buzz, as will I, from the mimosas. And then I’ll just ease in with my plan.
“Sorry for losing it there a little bit,” she says after I’m done cooking. She looks up at me sheepishly from over her loaded plate of crepes. We’re sitting cross-legged on the carpet in her living room. She has a little smear of Nutella on the tip of her nose.
“It’s just I wanted to try something new and I crashed and burned.”
Something new. I feel a flash of pride inside at the thought that maybe my words last night are partially the reason for this foray into cooking new foods.
“You didn’t crash and burn, Jenna.”
“I sort of did.”
I laugh. “Okay, maybe a little bit. But you’ll do better next time, now that you know. What recipe did you use, by the way?”
She pushes a strawberry across her plate. I wait for her to answer, but oddly, she just pretends she hasn’t heard and continues to push around that same strawberry.
“Jenna?”
“Yes?”
I laugh when she looks up, pretending to be surprised. “What recipe did you use?”
“I, well, I…”
The rest of what she says I can’t hear, since she mumbled it quietly.
I lean forward. “What?”
She mumbles again, maybe a tiny bit louder.
“I can’t hear you.”
I’m stretched over the plates and champagne glasses, my face right up against hers. Up so close I lick the Nutella off the tip of her nose and smile at her blushing cheeks.
“Jenna Harrison, what crepe recipe did you use?”
I finally hear what I suspected was the answer.
“I didn’t use one,” she admits.
I kiss the tip of her nose and sit back down. I shake my head as she watches me.
“What?” she says.
“I’m just… well, I’m rather stunned. What brought this new, daring Jenna about?” I ask her.
She shrugs and acts nonchalantly. “Just wanted to try something new, I guess.”
I watch her eat the strawberry, and I know she isn’t trying to do it seductively, but damn. Just hot damn.
She catches me looking at her, and her eyes grow hooded. “Do you want to know something else ‘new’ I’d like to try. If you’re up for it?”
I came here to tell her something, something important, but the look in her eyes when she picks up the bottle of champagne and plate of strawberries has my mind going blank. She stands and looks over her shoulder at me as she walks toward her bedroom.
“You coming?” she asks playfully. “Or am I doing this by myself?”
I nearly break her plates as I toss them into a hasty stack and sprint with them into the kitchen. They clatter against the sink as I drop them into the soapy water. I make sure the stove is off, because, well, it’s Jenna and then I walk as slowly as my racing heart will let me toward her bedroom door. It’s cracked open and I ease it back.
“Damn,” I whisper.
Jenna has stripped off her dirty t-shirt and sweatpants and stands in front of her bed completely naked for me. Her hair, falling out of her messy bun, skims her exposed collarbone. My eyes trace the line of her shoulder down to her perfect fingers. I can see her breasts rise and fall with her breathing, which I can tell she’s struggling to keep even and calm. There’s nothing to hide behind. Nothing to duck in cover under. I know this is a step for her. I know she did this for me. She lifts her eyes shyly and smiles. In her hands she fidgets with a tie. A tie I realize is mine.
“You forgot this the other night.” She blushes and I see her toes curl into the plush rug. “I found it under my bed.”
Her hips sway as she takes a step closer to me and I so want to reach out to touch those smooth curves. But I let her come to me.
“It’s pretty much ruined, I think,” she continues, studying the silk tie that glides between her fingers. “I don’t think you can wear it again, if I’m being honest.”
I can see the mixed emotions on her face. There’s a hesitation, a hint of fear. There’s that flash in her eyes, the quiver of her jaw, the quick bite of her lip that means she wants to run. She wants to dart back to her sweatpants and shirt, throw them on, and make some biting joke to push me away. She wants to hide from me. And not just her body. Her mind. Her soul. Her heart.
But there’s something else there when she glances nervously up at me. Though her jaw quivers, it is set firm. Though she bites at her lip, her mouth is also pulled up into a dangerous smile. The flash in her eye isn’t just from fear, but from determination. She’s afraid, but whatever she is going to do, she’s decided to do it. I know that streak in Jenna. It’s her middle finger to the fucking world. It’s her ‘get out of the way or get run over’ face. It’s her bold side that makes me shiver.
“I think it may be able to serve another function though,” she says.
I remain silent and wait. Her feet step between mine and her nipples graze my chest. She looks up at me with wide, vulnerable, dark, bold eyes. Her voice shakes when she speaks, but there is no doubt in her words.
“I want you to tie my wrists to the bed frame.”
I can tell for her this isn’t just some kink. It’s her letting go. It’s her giving up that control she clung to like a security blanket. It’s a risk, a leap, a blind step. She’s trusting me to catch her if she falls.
“Lay down on the bed,” I say, my voice soft, but commanding.
There’s a moment of hesitation, but she does as I say. My tie pools on her stomach beneath her heaving breasts, nipples hard. Leaning against her pillow, she watches me as I tug my t-shirt up and over my head. I hear her breath catch as I pull down both my pants and my underwear. My cock twitches at the sight of her before me twisting my tie between her fingers.
Those fingers will soon be stretching for something, anything to hold onto. Those hands will soon be above her head, shaking. Those wrists will soon be bound and she’ll be tugging against my tie to free herself so she can touch me, move me where she wants me, take control. But my tie won’t give.
I walk around the bed and her eyes follow me as I stroke my dick. She wants this. She asked for it. This was little Jenna Harrison’s idea. Thinking about that is all it takes to get me fully hard.
“Put your hands above your head,” I say. “Yeah, hold them right there. Good, just like that.”
Her eyes follow mine as I reach for my tie. I snake the end over her nipple and she squirms and bites her lips, but keeps her hands where they are against the arch of the white metal frame.
“Good,” I whisper as I slide the tie behind the frame. I twist it between her wrists and then around them both. “Good.”
She shifts so she can get a look at her wrists bound to her bed as I add one more knot.
“Give it a test.”
The muscles in her arms strain as she pulls and the tie holds firmly. Her eyes flash in excitement and I lean over to kiss that skin behind her ear that
I’ve found is oh, so sensitive.
“Good,” I whisper and she shivers.
I want to tell her that she can trust me, that I’ll protect her, that I’ll always protect her, but the thought of saying that out loud scares the shit out of me so I brush my hand across her cheek with as gentle a touch as I can. Her arms tremble in anticipation already and I want to tell her that I’m here, that I’ve always been here, that I never, never want to leave, but that’s too damn real and so I kiss a line along the inside of her arm up to her wrists and in turn kiss the tip of each of her fingers.
I sit back, positioned between her legs, and admire her beauty. I count her breaths and trace lines between every freckle on her stomach and study the curve of her waist into her hip and memorize the way one strand of hair slips over her eye. I tuck it behind her ear as I push slowly inside of her. I see her arms tug slightly at the tie, but I still myself when I’m completely engulfed and she, too, stills.
Even though she’s the one tied up, she has all the control. She’s undone me in ways I never imagined were possible. I’m naked before her, exposed and vulnerable, and everything is in her hands. I’ve given too much, and I know it, but it’s too late. She owns me and I am utterly helpless. I want to tell her all of this, but the idea of hearing those words fall from my lips scares the hell out of me. So, instead, I lean over and press my lips to hers.
I demand nothing from her even as I’m buried inside of her. I let her lips take the lead. I relent when her head lifts up to press against mine. Her tongue explores mine, hot and needy, and I merely follow. She moans into my lips and at that sweet, sweet sound I can no longer stay still.
Our chests rub together as I pull out and thrust into her with the full strength of my body. Sweat soon gathers between us and everything is wet and hot and needy: my cock in her tight walls, our lips and tongue and saliva, her nipples as my chest ruts against them. We’ve never fucked this close together. I can feel her everywhere. Everywhere.
She nips at my bottom lip as I feel myself getting close. We haven’t said a word but I can feel it all building to something that is different from before and it scares me. I feel a connection to her that goes past my skin against hers. And I want to tell her, but I don’t. I can’t.
So I fuck her and she screams against my lips when she comes and as her walls tighten around me and her arms quiver in her bonds and her legs wrap around me to squeeze my ass I scream against hers.
I pull out of her and reach up for the knots of my tie holding up her hands. I ease her arms down gently. The second I roll over and lay down next to her she curls up tight next to me, reconnecting my body with hers. She seems to fit into my side as if a puzzle piece. I wrap my arm around her hot shoulders and breathe in the scent of her hair and close my eyes.
I didn’t need confirmation of how I feel about her. About what I want from her.
I want all of her. Everything.
And to get that, I’m going to have to take a risk. I have to do it. I have to.
“Hey, Jenna?”
She stirs against my chest and lifts her head to smile at me with sleepy, contented eyes.
“Yeah?”
“I wanted to tell you about my plan.”
“Your plan?” she asks, raising an eyebrow suggestively. “Are we robbing a bank, Lee?”
I’d do anything with you. I almost said it. I almost did.
“My plan for how to get my investors back on board.”
She perks ups, and I see her throw on her badass Jenna-lawyer face. Yes, it’s slightly frightening. But I can do this. “I’ve already discussed it with them actually,” I say.
“Yeah?”
“Yes, I told them about it and we went through some ideas and plans and they really like what we decided on.”
She claps her hands and squirms out of the cocoon of my arm to sit up and face me. I miss the heat of her skin, but I like when she lays stomach down on my chest and taps her fingers along my pecs. I knot my fingers together at the small of her back and remind myself not to get distracted by her breasts pressed against me and her ass wiggling in the air. I tell myself to focus as she continues, “Wow, Lee. Well, that’s great. So, they’re going to still fund you? They’re back on board even after the blog?”
“Yep, they’re back in if the plan goes well.”
“Lee, I’m so happy for you.” She smiles at me and I almost lose all my resolve.
“Yeah, it’s great,” I agree nervously.
“So…” she says.
Here we go. The hammer is about to drop.
“What’s this great, fantastic, day-saving plan?”
“We, I mean me and the investors, plan to invite the blogger to a redo dinner.”
I’m ready for her to tell me it’s a horrible, stupid idea and throw something at me. Then, when I ask why she’s so upset, she’ll have to reveal herself. I’m also ready for her to admit she was behind the blog and start crying. I’m ready for anything, but Jenna just nods.
Not what I expected.
“We’ll build up hype for it on social media to get some good press,” I manage to get out.
She keeps nodding.
I keep waiting for her to crack. To tell me the blogger is her.
I thought I’d cornered her. I’d pushed her out from behind that screen. I’d torn off the mask she holds onto so tightly. But she just keeps listening intently and calmly, playing with the hair on my chest casually, as I outline the plan.
“I’m kind of surprised,” I say.
Her mask reveals nothing but nonchalant chill. It’s infuriating.
“Why’s that?” she asks.
“Well, yesterday when I mentioned the idea you immediately shot it down.”
“So?”
“You said it was a terrible idea.”
“Yeah.”
“You said it wouldn’t work.”
“Emhmm.”
“And now, what, you think it’s good?”
“I know it seems impossible to you, Lee. But I can be wrong every once in a while.”
I squint my eyes at her. She laughs.
“Hey, if your investors are on board, that’s all that matters. Who cares what I think?”
She isn’t going to crack. Well, I’m not going to crack, either. I just need more leverage. I’m going to push this as far as I need to to get Jenna to admit she is the blogger, and, more importantly, that she feels something for me.
She can play this game, and so can I.
I’m going through with the plan to invite the blogger for a redo dinner. I’m going to blast it over social media to the point where the blogger can’t say no. To the point where Jenna can’t say no. I’ll build up so much hype around it that she’ll just have to come.
I smile at her. “Well, then great,” I say. “That’s what we’ll do then.”
“Great,” she says.
“Great.”
Jenna reaches across to her bed side table where the bottle of champagne sits.
“To your most excellent plan,” she says and takes a sip from the bottle before handing it to me.
I take it from her. Oh, it’s on, Jenna Harrison. It’s on. “To my most excellent plan.”
Chapter 15
Jenna
* * *
If the CIA ever needs another covert operative, I now have two extensive weeks of living a double life on the internet to put down as experience for my resume.
No matter. It all ends tonight.
Tonight is the night of the dinner Lee set up with the blogger. He's supposed to get back into good standing with his investors and meet the woman who opened up to him, shared with him, revealed more to him, than I ever could.
Tonight is the night.
And yet, here I am, sitting on my couch in my apartment wearing nothing but a towel and fresh out of a shower. I’ve got sweatpants laid out on one side of the coffee table and a dress laid out on the other side. My makeup bag is set up on my right, with a bag of Cheetos ready to
go on the left side.
A thousand times, I’ve told myself I'm going to go. I've also told myself a thousand times there’s no fucking way in hell I’m going. I've picked up the mascara and thrown it back down. curled my hair and then dragged my fingers through it and messed it up and then fixed it again and then laid out on the floor and moaned.
It's 6:30 now. The dinner is set for 8:00.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Ever since Lee told me his idea to invite the blogger to a redo dinner, everything in my life has gone on the back burner in favor of dealing with this.
Any day now, I expect to get fired from the law firm. My boss says I'm 'distracted' and 'unfocused’, which isn't true at all. Well, unless he means 'distracted' and 'unfocused' on court cases and briefs and gathering affidavits. Oh, that's probably what he means, isn't it?
Shit.
I've gotten myself into quite the spot, if I'm being honest.
When Lee told me his plan, my heart dropped, but I wasn't really in a position to tell him it was a bad idea. Especially after he told me that he spoke to his investors and they were back on board because of it. How could I disagree with that?
I'm also weirdly thrilled. Lee didn't deserve the fallout with his investors because of one drunken girl’s midnight postings. I had to make things right even if I didn't have the nerve to tell him myself, especially after things grew ... complicated. Having a solution to a problem I created is a load off my shoulders.
It's just the specifics of that solution that keep me up at night.
Why couldn't it have been something else, anything else?
I would have spent weeks working endlessly on market analysis, sales numbers, or competitor studies. I would have killed a whole forest of trees to put together binder after binder of pages. All so I didn’t have to deal with this … public exposure.
It's 7:00 now. We're nearing critical time. If I'm going to be brave and leap and go, I need to start getting ready now. Between the hair and the make up and the clothes and the shoes and ordering the cab and the drive, I need to start.
