Twisted Desire

by M. Mabie

  She was enjoying this? For real?

  I reached into the bucket next to my chair and snuck a piece of ice into my mouth. I slowly used both of my hands to spread her ass, then my mouth met her hot skin. My tongue reached forward to lick her clit, and she lifted herself just the slightest bit I needed to make it happen.

  “Oh,” she panted, shocked by the contact and the cold.

  I kissed her pussy like it was her mouth. First dancing around her seams, and then, with my thumbs, I opened her just enough to slip the ice chip through my lips into her. With both hands, I palmed her ass and shoved her higher so I could stroke her clit, precisely how she liked. Firm pressure, to her right, and her leg began to quiver. The icy water slid out of her, ran across my cheek, and down her leg. I didn’t want to waste a drop of her and stopped to lick it off her inner thigh.

  Her back bowed, and she whimpered.

  I ran my hand over my cock and decided the pants had to go. Even if I wasn’t going to give it to her yet, I couldn’t bear the restriction. I stood behind her, unzipped and let them fall to the ground. Then, pulled my dick out over the top of the elastic on my briefs and held it in my hand. The sight of her pussy and my cock that close was tempting.

  A sound rumbled from my chest, but I couldn’t control it.

  I leaned in and ran my cock through her wet lips twice, and, for the thrill of seeing how she’d react, I pressed it right against her asshole. She stilled, and I pulled away.

  Instinctually, she shifted side-to-side, searching for me.

  Not yet, Nora. You don’t want it bad enough yet. You don’t want it as bad as I do.

  Pulling my boxer briefs the rest of the way down, I forced myself to sit, got rid of my shirts, and kicked my clothes to the side.

  I needed a minute—or rather, I needed to give her a minute. Let that settle. Give her time to think about it. Miss it.

  I focused on regulating my breath, the anticipation was getting to me, too. I ran my dick through my hand and enjoyed the view. At any moment, she could get up and leave. At any moment, she could tell me to stop. She could do whatever she wanted.

  But, with every minute she stayed there, something swelled inside of me. It was a power like I’d never known, and I was both greedy and grateful.

  After I couldn’t take it anymore, and she began to look restless from neglect, I stood. I ran my hand through her again to make sure she was still wet, and she sure as hell was. Exquisitely so.

  Then to taste her again, I licked my hand before taking my dick in it and guiding my head to her opening. I wouldn’t give her all of it. I’d give her enough to beg.

  I selfishly wanted to hear it.

  She’d told me she wanted me to fuck her plenty of times. She’d initiated sex, and, unusual as it was for me, I loved it each time. But this? This time, she gave me the reigns and let me lead completely. I wanted her to tell me she wanted more of this.

  I just hoped I could hold out until she did it.

  My head pulsated barely inside of her, and I already felt my balls tightening, but I didn’t move. If it weren’t for my hand holding her where she was, she would have pressed herself back on me. Taking all of me. Like she’d done plenty of times before.

  Not this time. She was enjoying it my way, and I wasn’t about to let her rob herself of really experiencing it.

  “If you press against me, I’ll pull out. This is all you get for now.”

  “But I want you,” she declared. “I want more.”

  I could have come right then. It was a moment I wouldn’t soon forget.

  Finally, when I felt her relax against the bed, I rubbed her back in appreciation. I’d been mere seconds from plunging into her, balls deep. I wanted more, too, and when we finally got more, it would be worth it.

  For both of us.

  I ran my fingers over her ribs and leaned forward to reach between her legs and began to lightly rub her with the pads of my fingers. It was something, but it would never be enough.

  We’d never played like that before. It was the most she’d ever listened to me. Ever. Then the thought crossed my mind, maybe it was an opportunity for her to actually hear me. More than just my requests, maybe she’d hear what I always tried to tell her.

  If I could only say it.

  I swallowed again, then spoke. “I know you want to come, and you will. I’ll make you come harder than you ever have if you let me do it my way. If you wait.”

  She leaned up on her hands and pressed her back against my chest, but she didn’t push back against my cock. The smell of her neck nearly crippled me, and I raged against my will to push into her.

  Suddenly, a ringing roared to life in my ears, and my vision blurred. My stomach felt empty and twisted, and a rush of words flew by in my mind. I watched them, losing the war with my focus.

  You’ll never be enough.

  You’ll never make her happy.

  She doesn’t need you.

  And I subtly shook my head to clear them away.

  Ten.

  No. Not fucking now.

  “Why couldn’t you ever just trust me?” I asked. The ache of knowing she never did, never would, overwhelmed me.

  She looked over her shoulder and her glassy eyes met mine. “It wasn’t you who I didn’t trust,” she confessed. She blinked lazily. “Is that what you think?”

  We didn’t have many moments like that anymore. Honest and quiet. Defenses down. Usually, it only led to a fight.

  This felt different. We’d both already lost. There was no more fucking fighting.

  I clawed my way out of my head.

  Don’t do this now. You can’t keep her.

  I moved my fingertip in a circle, and her eyelids fluttered.

  See, Reggie. This. This is what you have left. Take your scraps and be thankful.

  I wasn’t going to let the last iota of pleasure I may ever have get swept away in a tide of anxiety.

  “Never mind, it doesn’t matter anymore anyway.”

  Then, I pushed my way inside her.

  EIGHT

  PRESENT

  NORA—September 18, 2010

  He filled me, and for a moment, I lost my bearings. My head gave way to the sensation, and I slowly sagged as a sigh tumbled through my lonely lips. He wasn’t rough or gentle, but still, it was all Reagan.

  Always somewhere in between.

  He was somewhere shy of owning me, and I miles from owning him in return. Yet, I hadn’t been expecting any of it.

  My head was a slurry of different thoughts.

  His question.

  What he’d said.

  How fucking hard he was.

  How I never forgot the way he laughs like a Clydesdale gallops. A perfect, bold cadence.

  The silly Pavlovian way I wiggle my toe when my phone rings.

  The way he made me feel, like giving me this much pleasure was all he ever wanted all along. That fact made my insides condensate, boil, and vaporize back into air.

  He growled and said through clenched teeth, “God, you fucking love this.” It was ever present, the way he read my body so well, he still didn’t need any sort of reassurance.

  He knew how wet I was.

  He felt the tightening in my belly, the tremble in my legs.

  He heard my moans.

  He thrived on them. Each cue only spurred him on. It was no mystery, he’d always pleased me, just not like this.

  It was spiritual. When Reagan Warren fucked you, it felt like a full-body blessing. He hadn’t even moved, still buried to the hilt. It was like I could feel every twitch of him, every heart beat conveyed through his body into mine. His groin pressed against my ass.

  Masterful hands kneaded me.

  I had always been a hair trigger. He made me come like he’d designed me himself. It’s not much of a curse. I assure you, and I’m aware of how lucky I am. And like a freight train, I could feel the low rumble of it already approaching the rail of my spine.

  Hold it in for him. He said
wait.

  Can you never just please him?

  It had felt like there was something more he wasn’t saying, but I suspected that was usually the case.

  I tried to reach out for that line of thought, but it rushed past me. The sensations of his hands on my body, his cock inside me, and his heavy breath at the nape of my neck screamed for my full attention.

  He ran his tongue up the side of my neck to my ear, and I bucked. His hand quick to halt my movements, a large paw on my hip before I could locate my wherewithal from his fingers teasing my sex.

  I panted, my climax stalled. I wanted him to fuck away the ache inside me so badly. I wanted him to push through the years of strife and take them. Wreck them. And while he was at it, find my fears and make each one submit.

  Take all of me. Even the ugly parts that don’t deserve you.

  We both shivered, and he pulled me up on my knees with a hand on my shoulder. I leaned back against his chest, and his hand came around the front of my body and held onto me between my neck and clavicle. My face fell to the side where his head was.

  I was drugged.

  I wasn’t thinking clearly. Endorphins flooded me even though I hadn’t even come.

  “Do you feel that, Nora?” I felt his voice spread through my chest.

  Yes, I feel all of it.

  He ran his palm up my neck to under my chin, and I gladly tipped my eyes to the sight above me. His face was upside down, and my back bent even more to allow a better view of him behind me.

  “Do you feel how it’s still all the same? And how each new time it’s more.” He pushed against me but gained no ground already buried like he was. I felt fragile and strong, beautiful and, then again, it was like he was looking my ugliness in the eyes. There was nothing left of me to give or hold back.

  “I trusted you,” I professed in earnest.

  Those were the passwords. He let go of my neck, and I fell forward catching my body with my palms on top of the mattress. His fingers burrowed into my hips, and he started a pace that almost leaned to one side for a few measures before he switched angles. He fucked me all the way to paradise.

  One of my hands went to his on my hip where I laced our fingers, and then he pulled away.

  “No,” he objected. “You don’t want that. We’re both getting what we want this time. I get this, and you don’t have to care back. Compromise.”

  I would have rather been battered, it would have hurt less. Wounded, I struck back.

  “You don’t always know everything.”

  “And you don’t know when to shut your mouth,” he replied quickly like he’d predicted what I’d said. His movements slowed. “So help me God. If you argue with me right now, then I’m done.”

  So fast we moved from compromise to ultimatum.

  Oh, Hyde.

  That was my problem. Sometimes I couldn’t stand Hyde, but I couldn’t bear to hurt Jekyll. What did that leave for me?

  Couldn’t we even fuck without fighting?

  I looked behind myself, our sex familiarly paused to argue. I didn’t want that. Not for tonight.

  He told me once to be direct. Well, he’d get straight as an arrow, and I hope it hit him hard. “It hurts that you won’t hold my hand.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Hurts?” he asked.

  “Yes, Reagan. It hurts. It hurts my pride because I thought I was worth more than that. More than this.”

  He pulled out of me. Coincidentally, I felt dirtier not fucking.

  His hands flew into the air as I rolled over.

  “Woman, what do you want from me?”

  My hands pawed at the blanket to pull it over myself. “I fucking told you earlier. I don’t want a damn thing from you.”

  I’m too ungrateful for the things you’ve already given me, what would I do with more?

  He’d always been a brooding sort of man, but he’d always been kind. Did he not know how much I suffered, too?

  He was turned away leaning against the wall. The muscles rippled through his back with every ragged breath.

  I didn’t know if it was the emotional cocktail having sex with him shot through my veins or the typical burst of adrenaline from a fight with him, but I braced myself for war.

  “Then why did you show up, Nora? Tell me. What did you want to get out of this?”

  How could he ask me that question? There were many ways I benefitted just by being in the same room as him, but where did he get off asking me a question like that?

  It was too deep. Too far inside to wind out.

  Furthermore, he’d never answer it himself. The prick.

  I fired back. “What do you get out of letting me in? Answering your phone? Replying? You can’t stop either.”

  He pulled at his hair and spun around. “You don’t get it, do you? You never fucking get it. I don’t want it to stop! Fuck!”

  He was still naked. As was I, but he was less a blanket. That didn’t seem like a fair fight, and since I rooted for the underdog, his nakedness was an advantage.

  “Put on a fucking robe if you’re going to fight with me instead of fuck me. I’m not going to argue while your dick is in my face and still wet.” I crawled further up the bed and leaned against the headboard.

  In search of the hotel robe, he stalked off to the bathroom looking so much larger because he was worked up. Maybe he only appeared bigger since I felt so small.

  How he wore the robe was sexy—with all his signature intensity—and it was absolutely him, as he marched out of the bathroom, tying the terrycloth belt in the front. His skin a beautiful olive, never fading, natural tan and his hair freshly cut, even though they never even tried to tame the thick, black top that much. If possible, his cowlicks were more stubborn than he was.

  True to our history, our fires raged as fast as they turned to dust, and my temper quieted.

  He sat at the end of the bed, but the same old expansive space and distance remained between us. Nothing ever changed.

  Many flavors of disappointment lingered on my tongue.

  I hated how the moment had been spoiled—it had been among many other good ones that ended the same way. I’d been harsh with him. He’d been rude with me. But what happens in a lover’s quarrel when you have no arms left to swing with? No legs left to stand on?

  You fall.

  I’d fallen. Truthfully, it had been a while since I was up.

  It was manic being in a relationship with him. In? That didn’t feel like the right word. Around? Near? Within reach? Even those were too optimistic.

  I wanted to go back to the days when it didn’t seem so far-fetched. When he still had a plan and still looked for ways we could work, before all we had was two calendar’s worth of regrets. Twenty-four months of failure.

  We sat there for a long time not saying anything. It felt foreign, but still like home because I was with him.

  NINE

  PAST

  REAGAN—Saturday, February 16, 2008

  I could have gone home. I should have gone home. That had been the most expensive cab ride of my entire fucking life. It was a bold move, admittedly, but I was daring her to feel what I had. Daring her to give me a sign, something—anything—that what I was feeling wasn’t just anxiety.

  I thought that she’d probably been staying at the Harbor, so I sat in a place where I could watch the elevators in the reflection on the glass windows at the front of the building.

  It didn’t take long before I saw her, and the time let me mull things over.

  She was there with two people?

  I could compete with another man, but a couple? I’d never experienced a situation like that. Not that I was at all confident I had a chance, but I craved more of her.

  Sitting there gave me the luxury of organizing my thoughts. It was merely by chance that she walked by. Good chances, but still.

  Of course, I couldn’t just share a cab.

  No.

  I had to control it. I paid the extra for time. In the end, I’d only
made myself look more eccentric than I had at the party.

  There wasn’t anything I could do about that, though. What was done was done.

  She had my business card. Maybe she’d contact me if she moved to the city, but the chances weren’t promising. She’d been pissed. I’d felt the tension roll off her, witnessed the deliberate contention she hurled with her eyes.

  But for weeks, she never left my mind.

  Always there, sitting quietly in the back with that half grin.

  THINGS PROGRESSED WITH my new condo, and I was moved in quickly. I didn’t have a lot of things, and one of the perks of living in a city where everything is right at your fingertips: whatever I didn’t have, I swiftly purchased and had delivered.

  Since I was under contract before the unit was ready, I had the luxury of upgrading last minute finishes, fixtures, and appliances to suit my personal tastes.

  Weeks went by, and I didn’t hear anything from her, which wasn’t a surprise.

  I wondered if she’d gotten the job?

  I spent a lot of time in the building’s new gym. There was a pool, a sauna, and state of the art equipment. Moving and work hadn’t left me with much spare time, but what extra I had was spent there. I’d never been a vain man, but I could see changes happening the more time I invested. Like with work, results motivated me.

  Dating stalled with the move, so I focused on getting settled, and I took advantage of the facilities while the building was still mostly empty. The larger units, ones like mine, had been sold. Mostly to people who only spent time in Chicago on a part-time basis. Many of the other condos were being leased, but the building wasn’t cheap, and the board was selective.

  As luck would have it, there was one thing that made the decision to volunteer on the board exponentially worth it. While the person who was in charge of the lease applications was out of the country, I was receiving the forwarded email and sending appropriate potential applications through to the next person after a thorough vetting.

  It didn’t take much time. An hour or so in the evening, and it got me a considerable discount on my yearly fees. Most prospects were filtered through a real-estate agency, but others applied directly with the Lunar.