“Sure, stretching out would be nice right now,” I say, adding to the direction I hope he’s going in.
“It might get a little hot in here,” he smiles, lifting his shirt up over his head.
Those muscles, though…
“Denver, you’re like really sexy,” I say. Tara, shut it! I’ve had four glasses of chardonnay too many.
“This is just what I do to keep sane,” he says. “I have a lot of energy pent up.” With a body as chiseled as his, he must spend hours and hours working on it.
“How long did it take you to get that sexy?” I ask, kind of joking but in all reality wanting to know because I’m self-conscious about my lack of definition.
He laughs at the joke and says, “This took about ten years. I’ve been doing business for about that long. I get lonely and listen to audio books while working out. It helps keep me sane, and the adrenaline also keeps my body alleviated of tension.”
“So who was the last woman you had in this purple room?” I ask. “Or was it a different color then? Dark pink? Blue like your eyes?”
Yep, Tara, I think, you’re definitely tipsy right now.
“I’m glad to hear that you’re letting go,” he says. “I hope that it doesn’t require a little wine every time. I want to know the real you, Tara.”
“The real me?” I repeat. “The real me is I don’t know. The real me is whatever. The real me wasn’t even sure until I saw you, and even then I almost lost control.”
“Are you losing control now?” he asks, setting me down next to him on the dark purple comforter. It’s smooth, velvet.
“I want to lose control and I want you to take it,” I say. “I want you to take control. But I’m confused. Because all of this has me tripping. Your money has me tripping. You think this is normal? This isn’t normal. And maybe your money has made you lose sight of what’s normal.”
I think I’m trying to be profound but I know that my tipsy tongue is probably slurring itself stupid. With the velvet comforter beneath my palm and fingertips, I feel him place his hand on top of mine. It is gentle, reassuring.
The sun tries to break through the royal purple curtains, but only leaves a misty beam in the room, resonating on our skin. “I don’t know if you realize this,” he coos, “but you’re the only woman I’ve been with for years. I know it is probably counter intuitive, but I actually don’t prioritize my sex life or my love life. It’s something that has slipped through the cracks over the years.”
“And what about now? Are you going to let me slip through the cracks?” I ask.
“Never,” he says, leaning forward, leading with his lips. I meet him in the middle and press my open mouth to his. Our tongues slide against each other in a rush of panic, desperately needing to tie into one another. We lick and lick until he slowly pins me back, and we just kiss as time passes transparently. Every so often our eyes open and we gaze into each other, caressing one another’s skin with our fingertips gently. I feel so young right now, kissing this man, like it’s forbidden, or new, or like I’ve never kissed before in my life. Usually I just want to jump the gun and get right to it but with his stubble brushing against my face I could tickle his back for hours.
He puts his hand under my shirt and navigates every corner of my torso—the areas below and above my naval, my hips, my breasts, my collar bones, my shoulders, my nipples, and the thigh bones protruding upward as I pump my hips toward him. “Tara, tell me how you feel about me,” he says. “Don’t hold back. I know that we barely know each other, but just tell me, stream of conscious style.”
Stream of conscious? What is this, beat poetry?
I laugh and answer, “I think you’re a fucking dream come true,” I moan, his tickles sending little bumps all over the surface of my skin. “I think that I never thought I could be with a man like you. And to be honest I never thought I’d be with a white man. Or a man with money. Damnit, Denver, this is crazy. Why do you want to know all this?”
“Because I need to figure out where I stand in your eyes.”
His tone is serious, his blue eyes locking into me. “It’s not stupid,” he says. “Society makes us think ridiculous things. Why can’t I love you if I want to love you? Why can’t I take you in my arms and dance with you in public? Why can’t I make love to you until the sun comes down, and if I walk out of my bedroom naked, don’t have to feel weird if one of my employees knows you’re inside?”
“Denny, I can’t be your employee and your woman,” I say. “I told you this last night. I just can’t.”
He exhales hard, aiming it at my neck. Nibbling on my right ear lobe, he undoes the button of my pants. “You’ve got me between a rock and a hard place,” he says.
“That’s exactly how I felt when I was standing out in Malibu with the ocean on one side, a cliff on the other, and your stupid Benz right in front of me. Are you trying to make this all as theatrical as possible?”
I’m trying to invite him into me and get some answers at the same time. A woman’s got a do what a woman’s got to do.
“I’m not trying to be theatrical,” he says, successfully exposing my hips to the cool bedroom air. “It might seem theatrical, but in all drama and comedy their lies truth. ‘The world is a stage’, to paraphrase Shakespeare.”
“I know it’s Shakespeare,” I say. “I’m not dumb.”
He shakes his head, more at himself than at me. “I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s my ego and my programming. Every day I run a corporation and I need to tell people what to do and how to be and what to think. I’m trying to break the habit.”
“Try harder,” I demand. And I’m not joking. While I admire his intellect I don’t want someone who makes me feel like I’m stupid.
“How did you get here, Denver, and why?” I say, impersonating one of the southern actress servers from Harvest Bar. “The garden walls are high and hard to climb—they’re fatal, if you should be the one to climb them and anyone find me afterward.”
He doesn’t respond—again, neglecting to respect my intellect.
“To paraphrase Shakespeare,” I said. It was the only part of Romeo & Juliet that I remembered from my college English class.
“I know that it’s Juliet,” he says, hopping over my legs so that he can yank my pants down to my knees, down to my ankles, and off my feet. “I’m sorry, okay?” he says, kissing my anklebone. His lips trace my leg up to my knee and into my inner thigh—which is when I start to shiver.
“Denver, just give it to me slow, baby,” I plead, “let me feel you, okay? I missed you.” I feel like last night was years ago. I realize that I’m wearing the same panties as last night—practically the same outfit—but he can’t blame me. It’s his fault that I’m in this stupid predicament.
“I want to take you in slowly, Tara,” he says. “I haven’t been able to get you off my mind for hours. You have no idea.” His hand cups the entirety of the folds between my legs—he does not yet penetrate me, but he holds me softly.
“There is one thing I need to know,” he says. “If I didn’t have money would you still feel this way about me?”
I release myself from the warmth of his hand and lean towards him so that we’re eye to eye. “First of all, I’d want to fuck you as you are, money or no money. Secondly, you’ve been good to me. That’s all that matters. Keep being good to me and I’m yours, and when I’m yours I’ll stick to you like glue.”
“That’s what I want,” he says. “I want you to stick to me. I want you by my side. I want this to be real. I want to be the kind of man you need.”
“Then don’t want to be it,” I say, running my fingers through his thin, pillowy hair. “Just be it. That’s all. And then you have me. For as long as you want.”
“I want what I had last night and more. I want you in every way imaginable. I want you in every city. I want you in every hotel. Every day.”
“I don’t know if I can keep up.”
“Then we’ll hire a chef and say fuck the world
,” he scoops me up and my legs swerve around him, taking him in a strong hold. Now I’m the one fidgeting with the button of his pants. His hot skin is against me, I feel the muscles through my shirt.
“Take everything off, Denver,” I say. “Get me naked. Get you naked. Do this. Right now.”
I can’t wait, and I hate that I get so impatient.
“What happened to slow?” Denver jokes. He’s got me there. I can never put my money where my mouth is.
“Okay, do it slow, but do it fast, and take me all in, but now at once, at least at first,” I say, my words all astir and my muscles trembling everywhere. I can’t even think straight, it’s like my fingers won’t listen to my brain. All I can do is breathe in his skin and feel him against me, scraping my bare legs against his once his jeans are all the way down.
“Take off your underwear, Denver,” I say.
“I’m not wearing any,” he smiles, and he takes his hand, hooks my underwear with his finger, and shoves his hard cock into me, causing my eyes roll back and a giddy squeal to escape.
“Denver, no you didn’t!” I scream. The shaft in me pulses and all I can do is moan awkwardly, flailing my hands everywhere, trying to hold onto to his muscular back. Yes, yes, yes.
Even though I wasn’t ready for him to enter me yet, I wanted it so badly. But I still have questions.
“Denver, I need to talk to you, baby,” I whimper.
“If you want to talk, let’s talk,” he sings.
“Jill said that she knew I was with you. How would she know?”
With his dick all the way inside me, he holds it still, his bangs hanging in my eyes. It feels so good to be stuffed to the brim. “How did she know, Denver? Did she really know or was she just playing me?”
He keeps thrusting but doesn’t answer, and although I like to be fucked, I don’t like to be fucked with, so I whip my hips around until he’s ejected. “Talk to me, Denver, right now.” I’m starting to get emotional. This happens any time a man enters me.
“There is a possibility that Jill might have proof,” he says.
“And what was with Gloria pulling out a black light to look at the sheets? That was like, gross. Is that going to happen here, too? Tomorrow I’m going to wake up in this purple room only to find you missing, and then have to return the same day and act like I wasn’t here?”
I don’t’ know if I’m making sense or not because Denver’s face is askew. “No, Tara,” he says. “It won’t happen again.”
“Even if there’s an emergency with Paerotech? Then what?”
“I’ll make sure everyone knows that we are together so that you don’t have to hide. That’s the last thing I want. I’m proud to be with you, Tara.”
That’s exactly what I wanted to hear, and with that, I used what strength I have to lift him by his chest muscles and turn him on his back. I flick my panties off and, now that he’s totally bare, I pop him into my mouth and take out my final frustrations by sucking hard.
And I mean hard. I take the head between my teeth and inhale, then open my mouth letting the drool slide down his rod.
“Tara, my angel,” he says. “Give it to me, oh my, this is unbelievable.”
I take him out and say, “You don’t have to tell me,” I say. “I know my shit’s the bomb.” In this moment I have to prove my power and show him that no matter how much money or power he has, I will be the one in control from now on.
I slide up his white chest and put my lips around his pink nipples before continuing on up to kiss him. Running my wet pussy along his chest, I bring it up to his neck and chin until I’m sitting on his mouth.
“Here’s your dessert, Denny,” I say, pushing my clit on his mouth. “Make sure you get a really good taste.”
Below, his eyes are wide with bliss and he shoves his tongue deep into me, curving it slightly upward. With my hips lightly dancing around his face, he uses his hands to cup my butt and guide me. I don’t want to crush him, but I want that tongue to get as deep as it will go. His brown hair, his blue eyes, his white skin—it’s so amazing to see my dark pelvis grinding against him.
“I’m in control here, Denver,” I say. “Do you understand?”
He nods hard and rubs the edge of my clit in the process.
“Now before I let you in me again you better beg for permission,” I laugh.
He nods again, and when he realizes that hitting my clit drives me wild he focuses all of his energy there. Swirling his tongue in circles, his long, ripped arm stretches up to me and holds my neck and shoulders. The other hand pats my bottom playfully, and I start bunny hopping with my fingers twisting my nipples, letting myself find the verge of orgasm.
“No, baby, you can’t have this yet,” I moan, rolling off of him. The truth is that when I orgasm I want to fall asleep, and right now I’m teetering on whether or not I can handle two. Instead, I turn over so that I’m facing the opposite direction, bend forward, and put his dick in my mouth. I’ve never sixty-nined before, and from this angle his balls are so trimmed proper I can’t help but open my mouth as wide as it will go so that my lips are covered with his skin. Wobbling my ass with one hand, Denver’s other thumb is in my pussy, diving in, diving out, his tongue making figure eights around my clit. I open wide and take the dick as far in my mouth as it will go, which is really far, and I let my tongue jive on it for a minute so he knows that I’m enjoying the flavor.
I begin to twerk it for him so that he can free his other hand, and when he does, he chooses to go for my breast. He knows I like my nipples tweaked, and right now he’s working me everywhere. I’ve never been filled in every spot like this before.
Well, almost every spot. I don’t know if Denver’s ready. I’ll let him guide me once I’m done getting the flavor. I pop him out of my mouth and whisper, “You’d better not bust,” half joking, but really serious. Even though I want to swallow his load, I won’t risk him going limp. I need him to hit it, and I need it now.
He nods in response, and starts tapping my butt fast, as if to say, Then you’d better stop sucking because I’m about to!
I take him out and raise my pussy away from his mouth, as I do his head comes up, trying to keep it on his lips. I like that he’s already starting to acquire my taste. I feel like being spontaneous so I get off of the bed and walk around. With the curtains drawn, all I need to do is make sure the bedroom door is locked before I get really freaky. I haven’t shown him anything yet.
“Denver, this is going to sound crazy,” I say. “But I’m about to fuck your shit up. Like, if you bust, you’re in trouble.” I go to the door and turn the lock. “I’m locking this door because I trust you, but I don’t fully trust you. Do you know what I mean?” Walking back toward him I let my breasts sway, and I pose myself in the sexiest way I can imagine.
“You’re speaking my language,” he says. “I want you to trust me. Do whatever you have to do.”
“I’m just warning you,” I say. “This pussy ain’t about to be like anything you’ve ever had. And once I start working it, I’m going to start letting myself love you, and once I start letting myself love you, you are going to get addicted to this pussy. You may have to change your whole lifestyle in order to compensate for the fact that you need to dive in, fuck, lick, taste, and share it with me. Now who is the one making the demands?”
I have him at a standstill, here. His eyebrows sit high on his face, his eyelids wide as well. The smile is something I want to remember forever, like what I just said is what he’s needed to hear, what he’s wanted his entire life and never got until this second.
*****
“That’s what I need, Tara,” he demands, readying himself for me on the bed. “You’re safe here. Nobody knows we’re here. Everything is fine.”
“We’re safe here? The car is in the street. What if someone finds you?”
“They won’t know which house to look in, and it’s fine because the car is registered to me and so is the house. If one of my employees wanted
to find me, they could if they wanted to, but all of them are contractually obligated to not come and find me under the current circumstances.”
“Whenever you or the girls talk about the contract my eyes start to glaze over and I pretend I’m watching an old movie.” I’m not lying.
“Well, you’d better stop pretending,” he says, sitting up on his knees, clenching his muscles, and stroking his shaft. “Because that contract is going to become more important to you than you can imagine. It could save you. Protect you. You can have the biggest shield imaginable. Do you want to know what it feels like to start over? Do you want to feel protected? Do you want to know that someone in the police department works for you?”
“Is this what’s getting you off? Because if so I’m getting dressed.” I let my posture slouch.
“No, I just can’t resist looking at you, Tara,” and he’s telling the truth because even in silence he keeps beating it.
“Well, stop,” I bark. “That cock is mine. And it’s going to wait for me. If I see you touching it again, I’m out. Put that in your damn contract.” I sound so sassy that I can’t help but smile at my own dumb attitude.
“Okay, I’m yours,” he says, taking his hands away. I don’t actually care, I just wanted to see if he’d listen. And he’d did. So now I’m about to reward him.
“Okay, you’re mine,” I mock. I stare at him, scanning, contemplating what to do first. I first try to count all of his muscles, more for my enjoyment and to keep his anticipation growing. “Why don’t you get off the bed right now until I tell you to return.”
He gets down on the other side and takes a step away, giving me enough room, whichever side of the bed I decide to enter from. I climb up to the bed and get on my hands and knees. I want to make sure I’m comfortable so I take a few of the pillows and put them under my belly so that my backside is nice and perked up in the air for him. I want him to be able to come in and hit it from a downward angle, that’s my favorite way to begin. I put my hands forward so that my fingertips are against the bedpost, my back stretched out, taught, and I give my butt a jiggle for good measure.
In Time to Love Page 115
