Arousal

by Simone Sowood

  I keep my glass in my hand and say, “Still waiting on the explanation.”

  “Like I told you downstairs, I had to make sure I still wanted you in the morning.”

  “Oh, right, the Champagne goggles thing. How I could I forget?”

  He shakes his head. “It’s not like that.”

  “Well, did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  “Still want me in the morning?” I try not to care what the answer is. I can’t care, I have no intention of seeing him again.

  “You’re here, aren’t you?”

  “I’m sure lots of girls have been here.”

  “Not true. You’re the first one.”

  “You always go back to their place?”

  “I have a small place down on the fifth floor.”

  “What, like a fuck pad?” Unbelievable. The guy keeps a multi-million-dollar apartment to fuck women in.

  He shrugs, “Pretty much.”

  The butler-waiter man, or whoever he is, appears with two plates and he sets one down in front of each of us.

  “I never figured you for a salad man.”

  “I’m not. I decided on the menu for you, not me.”

  “How very selfless of you.”

  “I try.” His winks at me and the candlelight flickers in his eyes.

  “Are you going to tell me why you don’t bring people here? I mean, it’s not like you don’t have the room for them.”

  “I don’t want anyone seeing how I live.”

  “You make it sound like you live like a hermit.”

  “No, I’m just private.”

  “Hermit.”

  “People are assholes, I can’t trust just anyone.”

  “Can you trust me?”

  “That’s why you’re here.”

  “Am I supposed to be flattered? I’ve made it directly past the fuck pad and straight into the palace?”

  We descend into silence, turning our attention to our salads. Juice from pomegranate seeds hidden in the leaves surprises me, and refresh me.

  The butler-waiter man reappears. My eyes follow him as he takes our plates and disappears into the shrubbery. I want to follow him to see his secret path.

  “Do you trust him?”

  “Who?”

  “The guy bringing us the food.”

  “Not really.”

  “And the doorman, I take it you don’t trust him either.”

  “Nope. How could you tell?”

  “He called you Mr Jones. And we both know Jones isn’t your last name.” The light-hearted smile disappears from his face, and Liam motions with his hands for me to lower my voice.

  “Please, don’t let Jasper hear you.”

  “Sorry. I don’t want to blow your cover. Is that what it is? Are you a spy? Am I sitting with the real Jason Bourne?”

  The smile reappears on his face right as Jasper appears with our main courses.

  “Thanks, Jasper. That’s everything for tonight.”

  “What? No dessert?” I ask.

  “I can handle that myself,” he says with a playful smile.

  “Don’t get too sure of yourself.” I have to remind myself that I’m not here to get sucked into his vortex. As nice as it would be to have him suck on me, I won’t. I am only here to have the night he denied me on Saturday. I glance down to make sure my cleavage is still looking its best.

  “How’s your chicken?”

  “Nice.”

  “You haven’t tried it yet.”

  In exaggeration, I make a show of cutting off a piece and chewing.

  I swallow and say, “It’s nice.”

  He watches me eat a few more bites. Chicken is always so meh, but this is the tastiest piece of chicken I’ve eaten in a long time.

  “Not hungry?” I ask. He’s holding his knife and fork, but has only eaten a few bites.

  “Just waiting for the best time to give you your explanation.”

  “What happened to Champagne goggles being the reason?”

  “Champagne goggles was never the reason.”

  I set my knife and fork down. “Okay, what’s the real reason?”

  “I wanted you to know the truth about me before progressing our relationship.” I reel at his mention of the word relationship. I don’t do relationships.

  “Uh-huh,” I mutter noncommittally.

  “I needed to make sure I’m serious about you. Because I suspected I was. I am. I had to know for sure.” Serious. That means relationship, and I don’t do that.

  “You had to find out by not sleeping with me?”

  “Yes. It’s a sort of metric I set for myself. I’ve only tested it out on one other woman, and she failed.”

  “Let me guess, I passed and that’s why I got to skip the fifth floor.” I fold my arms across me, just under my breasts.

  “When you put it like that…”

  “Do I get a prize?”

  “Am I not a good-enough prize?” My eyes shift over his body, wanting to unwrap the tux like a candy wrapper and expose his muscles underneath.

  “I’ve had worse.”

  “Worse men?”

  “No. Prizes. Crackerjack ones always used to disappoint me. And don’t even get me started on Lucky Charms.” He roars with laughter, that same smooth tone as before drifts around me like a giant hug.

  “I want to enter this relationship with you knowing everything about me. I don’t want to found this on a lie.” Again with the relationship talk.

  “Liam,” I say, weighted with guilt.

  “Let me finish. I keep my identity a secret because I have a lot of money.”

  “I can tell.”

  I feel like the biggest piece of shit on the planet right now. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have come tonight. Kirsten talked me into seeing him again, and for a small moment I believed I could. But as much as I want him to pull me over this table and into his lap, all this feels too much like a relationship. It scares the hell out of me. I can’t do this.

  Not Again (Liam)

  Darcy bites her lip and I all want to do is kiss her.

  “Only a few people know who I am. I’m trusting you. I believe I can.” I reach my hand into my pocket and pull out my wallet.

  “What are you doing?” she asks, her brow creased.

  I flick open the leather wallet and pull out my driver’s license. “Showing you my last name. My real last name.”

  She holds up her hands in front of her, refusing the card. She closes her eyes and says, “I’m really flattered you’ve opened up to me. And that you want to tell me your real name. I feel so privileged.” She’s rambling, I don’t like where this is going. I lean back in my chair, taking my license with me. She opens her eyes but avoids making eye contact with me. “I don’t know how to say this.” She pauses, but I continue to hold her eye contact.

  “What, Darcy? What don’t you know how to say?”

  “I don’t do second dates.” Her shoulders drop as she says it. So does my stomach.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Exactly what I said. I don’t go on second dates.”

  “Do you do third dates?”

  “No, not second. Not third. Not fourth.”

  “Does that mean you don’t have sex either?”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “You don’t strike me as the sort of girl who sleeps with someone on the first date.”

  “Well, you’re wrong. Did you forget Austin already?”

  “Hmm. I guess I did.” I don’t believe she doesn’t feel whatever is between us. She’s denying herself.

  “Besides, that wasn’t even a first date.”

  “I see. Is that how you get around your no-second-date rule?”

  “No!”

  “Someone’s protesting too much. But, since it matters to you, this is not a date. This is me apologizing for something.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes. And when you come out with me next weekend, it will be you fulfilling
your end of a deal and being my plus one at an event.”

  “You don’t have an event next weekend.”

  “I’ll find one.”

  “That doesn’t count.”

  “Of course it counts. We made a deal.” Frustrated, I tug one end of my bow tie, leaving the ends to hand around my neck, and undo my top button. I stick my finger in the collar of my shirt to pull it away from my skin.

  “Will it be black tie?” she asks, her eyes stuck on my collar. I laugh.

  “If you want it to be.” Her eyes move to mine and I hold them in mine.

  “I don’t want it to be anything. Remember, I haven’t decided if I’m going or not.”

  “Oh yes, how could I forget I made a deal with someone who won’t hold up their end of the bargain? May I remind you how horrible it was to be at that wedding?”

  “That wedding was even more awful for me.”

  “Then why did we go?”

  Darcy doesn’t say anything, instead she stares at me, her breathing rapid. I can’t stop watching her cleavage as it rises and falls with her breath. It’s mesmerizing. I want to bury my face in it but content myself with imagining cupping her perfect tits in my hands.

  She breaks her silence and says, “I was fulfilling my end of the deal.”

  The comment blindsides me. For whatever reason, I’d been naive enough to believe she needed to go to the wedding.

  “I have to go. I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” She stands and, as fast as her tight dress allows, walks across the terrace. I move fast to catch up to her. Without touching her, I bring myself as close to her as I’m able.

  “We haven’t had dessert yet.”

  “I’m full.”

  “You’ve barely touched your chicken.”

  “The salad was very filling.”

  We reach the door and I hold it shut to say, “I made the chocolate truffles myself.”

  “You made truffles?”

  “What can I say? I like working with chocolate.”

  “Is that what you do with all the time you spend by yourself?”

  I open the door and allow her to pass.

  “Essentially. Let me give you some, to take with you.”

  We’ve reached the top of the stairs and she looks at me, her bottom lip squeezed between her teeth.

  “Fine.”

  We descend the stairs in silence. At the bottom, I take her hand and guide her to the kitchen. Darcy doesn’t resist my touch and I hold her hand tighter.

  “Wow, this kitchen is incredible.”

  “This area over here is my chocolate zone. You need a marble work surface to work with it properly.” I lead her to the large work area.

  “And those other areas? I’d expect there to be a two-hundred-seat restaurant attached to a kitchen like this.”

  I scan my kitchen, trying to see what she sees. I’ve had it for so many years that I can’t see anything other than an ordinary kitchen.

  “Those areas are for my cook. I hate cooking.” I gesture to the other side of the island workstation.

  “All that space to cook for one person?”

  “And the meals for my staff.”

  “Staff,” she laughs. “How many of them do you have?”

  “Enough to keep my life in order.”

  “And I suppose you all sit down to eat together and share stories about your days.”

  I ignore the comment and pull a tray of truffles from a cupboard and set them on the marble counter in front of Darcy. They’re in rows of dark, milk and white chocolate. Most of them are balls but some are triangles and others diamonds. I can’t help but feel pleased with my own work.

  “Wow, you really made these? They look so professional.”

  “Taste one.”

  “What flavors are they?”

  “What do you like? A creamy center or something hard that you have to suck on?”

  “That’s a tough one. Normally I’d choose hard every time, but tonight I think I’ll go with the creamy center.”

  “Sweet or salty?”

  “Salty?” she asks, her brow raised.

  I pick up a whipped salted pecan dark chocolate truffle for her. Ignoring her hands, I bring it to her lips.

  “Open,” I command.

  She relaxes her jaw and I gently push the truffle into her mouth, letting my finger linger against the fullness of her lips as long as possible.

  Darcy moans loudly, causing her cheeks to redden and her hand to shoot to her mouth.

  “That good?” I ask, the left side of my mouth turned up. If she moans like that with chocolate, I can’t wait to hear what she sounds like in my bed.

  “Oh my God. That’s the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

  “I’m sure I can find something you’ll like more.” I brush my fingers over her cheek as I tuck a stray hair behind her ear.

  Her big blue eyes turn up to mine, so filled with sorrow they may as well have the word regret written across the whites of her eyes. We’re close, and I can smell the chocolate on her breath. I rub my thumb over her lips to wipe away the chocolate.

  Darcy steps backwards, finding herself against the counter.

  “I’m sorry,” she says as she sidesteps along it.

  Moving fast, I put my arm in front of her, grasping the cold marble countertop in my hand. With the other hand, I cage her in.

  “I’m not letting you run from me again.”

  Sweetened Up (Darcy)

  I can’t bring myself to look at Liam, and my eyes fix on the hand that’s trapping me against the large marble-topped island workstation.

  “Stop denying yourself, sweetheart,” His rich voice wraps around me and I struggle to remember why I’m resisting him.

  “I can’t,” I say, my voice uncharacteristically weak.

  His closeness envelopes me with the scent of his expensive cologne as well as his magnetism. His confidence is like nothing I’ve encountered in all my years in business. My heart pounds in my chest, and I close my eyes to search for the pain of the past. If I can remember that now, then I’ll be able to resist him. Except, no matter how hard I search, I can’t find it.

  “Did you forget Austin already? Forget how good I made you feel? Because that was nothing compared to how I’m going to make you feel.”

  I whimper at the thought. Though my mind is searching for the memory of the pain, all I can remember is Liam’s touch and how I quivered in his arms.

  He hooks his finger under my chin, and tilts my face to his. With heat pooling between my legs, I drag my eyes up to his. The second our eyes connect, I feel the same jolt down my spine as before.

  Liam crushes his lips against mine. I’m powerless to resist him, and I melt under his touch faster than the chocolate melted in my mouth.

  All night, I’ve been torn, fighting myself between wanting to run and wanting to be in his arms. And now, here I am, pinned against the counter, his mouth frantic against mine. All thoughts of running are fast dissolving.

  My body flames with heat, and for a second I worry he’s going to pull his lips away and let me leave. Instead, his mouth presses harder against mine, hungrier. Tingles rush over my skin, straight to my pussy.

  Liam lets go of the counter to pull me tight against his strong body, and I think my panties have dissolved. His cock is rock hard, and straining at his tuxedo pants. A moan escapes my throat, and I shamelessly press my body tight against his.

  Still kissing me, he unzips my dress and slips it off my shoulders. I do nothing to resist. It falls in a puddle around my feet. I’m left standing in only my heels and panties.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, a little voice screams be careful, don’t get hurt again, but I muffle it with a moan.

  I squeeze my hands between us, and work at undoing Liam’s buttons — the point at which he pushed me away at the hotel room. This time, he does nothing to stop me. Instead, he shrugs his tux jacket onto the floor behind him.

  When the buttons are undone, I pul
l his shirt open, exposing his bare skin to mine.

  Our mouths are still connected, and I can’t look at him, but my fingers run over his torso. His chest is sculpted, and his abs run in ridges under my searching fingers. It feels like perfection, something so good I have to see it to believe it.

  Tugging my mouth away, I tilt my head down, getting as good a look of Liam as I can with my body so close to his.

  I’m shocked when I see the tattoos covering his glorious left pec, and extend around his side and all the way to his waist. Tribal designs that twist and twirl and interact with each other over his muscular body.

  The discovery immediately makes my pussy both flood and clench at the anticipation.

  Liam then pushes me away, my body, my lips. Pushes me right back against the counter again. His big hands clamp onto my waist, and he lifts me onto the counter in a swift easy movement. The marble is cold through my thin panties, but at this stage I don’t care.

  I still can’t drag my eyes off his tattoo-covered body. I’d expected to find an amazing body under his suit, but I wasn’t prepared for the tattoos. I wonder how many people know about them, or if they’re as big a secret as his name.

  He trails kisses down my neck and chest, cupping each of my breasts and using his tongue to toy with my nipples.

  His hands skim over my sides, running up and down the curve of my waist.

  “God, your soft curves are perfect,” he says, squeezing the flesh of my hip.

  Unsure what to say, I grasp at his shirt, wanting him to take it off. Liam flicks his eyes up to me and laughs before pulling it off.

  His arms are as strong as his chest and abs, and my eyes trace over his hard biceps. There are no tattoos there, and I realize there aren’t any anywhere that wouldn’t be hidden by a t-shirt.

  I lean forward, wanting to touch his amazing body, to run my hands and tongue over every inch of it. But he puts a hand on my shoulder and stops me.

  “I’m going to have fun with you tonight,” he says with a devilish smile.

  “Oh?”

  “Have another truffle,” Liam says with authority.

  He quickly grabs one and pushes it into my mouth. As I bite, he pulls it away, and the liquid chocolate center drips down my chin and trickles onto my breasts.