Sapphire Beautiful
Page 6
I glance over at the clock on my dresser. It’s almost ten. It seems a little late for someone to be calling.
Dante climbs out of bed and heads into the hallway to talk, but he doesn’t close the door.
I can still make out nearly everything he’s saying. “I told you I’m staying at my girlfriend’s place.”
I cringe. Whoever he’s talking to thinks I’m Dante’s girlfriend. Is that what Dante thinks as well? Or is it just a term he’s using because he doesn’t want to tell the person about our arrangement?
He continues. “I know. Tomorrow at eleven thirty. You’ve told me several times...I’ll be there...Okay...See you tomorrow.”
As he hurries back into the bedroom he doesn’t look happy. His expression is usually neutral, but right now he looks furious. It actually scares me a little bit.
He tosses the phone on the nightstand then climbs back into bed. His energy has definitely shifted. After we had sex he seemed relaxed and contented, maybe even happy. Although it’s hard to tell if Dante is ever really happy.
Now he seems like a ball of raw nerves. Even though he called me his girlfriend I don’t actually feel like one. I’m still not sure if it’s okay to ask him any questions.
But he does seem extremely agitated. “Is everything okay?”
He nods, but he doesn’t look at me. He’s lying on his back staring straight at the ceiling, his face a stone mask.
He seemed to be in much better spirits when he was still in his post-coital bliss. I decide to try something that I’ve never done before. To be assertive sexually.
Claudia did advise me to be generous and Dante is paying me a lot of money. He’s supposed to feel good when he’s with me.
Ever so carefully I reach over and place my hand on his chest.
That gets his attention. He glances over at me. “What are you doing?”
I give him a sexy smile. “Trying to put you in a better mood.”
“Good luck.” He still sounds extremely upset. I’d love to know who it was who caused such an emotional reaction, but I feel uncomfortable asking. If he wants me to know he’ll tell me.
He doesn’t seem to realize it, but I think my chances of putting him in a better mood are pretty high.
I slowly move my hand down his chest with what I hope is a feather light touch. When he shivers in response I know I’m on the right track. I work my way down to his abdomen and stomach. Then spend a few moments circling the spot right below his bellybutton.
By the time my hand reaches his cock he’s fully erect. That didn’t take much effort. I still take my time stroking the length of it, giving it all the attention it deserves, until he feels like he’s ready to explode.
“Stop,” he whispers.
When I peer up at him he says, “I need to be inside of you.”
“Okay,” I agree as I straddle him.
His cock feels huge as I climb on cowgirl style. His face already looks a lot calmer and more relaxed, but I’m determined to take away that last bit of tension from his furrowed brow.
My mind flashes to Doug, all the times he whispered to me that he wanted me to ride him like a cowgirl. I used to think it was sexy as hell. Now all I can think about are all the twenty-year old students who no doubt rode him like a cowgirl too.
I place my hands on Dante’s chest and ride him. Slowly at first until I establish a rhythm then increasing my pace, harder and faster.
“Oh, God,” he exclaims as he grabs my hips and thrusts deep inside of me coming hard.
He stares at me for a few long moments, searching my face. “That was intense.”
I place a hand on his chin. “Do you feel better now?”
When my gesture elicits a genuine smile in return it makes my heart quiver a bit.
“Can I just stay inside of you forever?” He sounds so sincere it makes me smile too.
“I’m not sure that would work.”
He raises an eyebrow. “We could try it.”
I place a quick kiss on his lips. “I need to get cleaned up.”
“Don’t go.”
“I can’t stay on top of you all night.”
He taps his chest. “It’s just like a pillow. You can lay your head right here. I’ll be your bed.”
Even though I roll my eyes at him I think he’s being half serious.
“I’ll be right back,” I promise.
I take a few moments in the bathroom to use the toilet and get cleaned up. And I do a quick brush of my teeth again.
When I rejoin Dante in bed he’s completely calm and relaxed again. Mission accomplished.
He immediately wraps me in his arms and pulls me tight.
“You asked me about my tattoo,” he says. “Why I selected Cerberus?”
I nod.
“It’s how I feel about myself. How I think my family members see me.”
“Like a dog from hell?” I don’t know Dante very well yet, but he certainly doesn’t seem to have a mean bone in his body. He seems a bit socially awkward, and inexperienced, but he also seems to really care about other people. He’s quite intent on pleasing me, when he really doesn’t have to. How could his family think so little of him?
It doesn’t take long before I hear his light snore and I drift off to sleep.
Five
When I wipe the sleep from my eyes I’m surprised to see that Dante is out of bed and getting dressed. I have a brief moment of panic thinking that maybe he’s leaving because I did something wrong.
“You’re up early for a Saturday,” I say as playfully as I can muster. My voice cracks anyway.
He sits down on the edge of the bed next to me and places a kiss on my cheek. “I wish I could stay in bed with you all day. My parents are having a brunch and they’ve summoned me back home.”
The sharp edge to his voice when he mentions his parents makes me wonder if that’s who he was speaking to last night.
“They want to meet you.”
I choke. “What?”
“My parents would like to meet you,” he repeats.
“Why?” I hope I don’t sound as panicked as I feel.
“They won’t come right out and say it, but I don’t think they believe I have a girlfriend.”
“Am I your girlfriend?” The question pops out of my mouth before I can stop it. The word seems to have a much different meaning to him than it does to me.
Even though he nods I can see by the expression on his face there’s something wrong.
“Are you mad at me for some reason?”
“Even though I’m paying to be with you I still want to think of you as my girlfriend.”
“Okay,” I tell him, but he still looks conflicted.
“What time should I come by later?” he asks. “To go to your sister’s house.”
My stomach knots when think about telling my sister he’s my boyfriend. I’m not sure I’ll be able to make the word come out of my mouth. While it’s true that we’re having sex with each other—a lot—we still don’t really know each other that well. I’d been dating Doug almost a year before I finally felt comfortable calling him my boyfriend.
But what else am I supposed to call Dante? And what is he supposed to call me? His mistress? His whore? The older woman he’s paying to fuck?
I’m sure his parents would love that. Especially if they already think he’s some kind of monster.
“Do you still want me to go with you to your sister’s?” he asks.
I never actually said I wanted him to go, he kind of invited himself along. I don’t want to cause any trouble between us so I just let it go. “I don’t have a car. If we take the L it could take an hour to get there.”
It’s not a direct route on the elevated trains, or L for short.
“I’ve got a car. I’ll drive us there. We don’t have to take the L.”
“How about four thirty?” I suggest. “And you can dress casually. Jeans and a Polo shirt. We’ll probably be playing on the floor with the kids.”
“What color?” he asks.
I’m taken aback by the question. “What color what?”
“What color Polo shirt?”
I shrug. “Whatever you have.”
He looks at me awkwardly for several seconds. Then he asks, “What color do you like?”
“You have dark hair and dark eyes. You’d probably look good in white.”
He nods. “I’ll be back at four.”
***
I’ve changed for what seems like the fiftieth time. I’ve been told more times than I can count that I think too much. But isn’t that what professors are paid to do? Of course it’s not just Medieval Studies that I’m constantly thinking about. My mind is filled with thoughts about almost everything from the mundane to the philosophical.
Right now I’m trying to find a balance between wearing something that’s somewhat sexy to appeal to Dante, but not too sexy that my sister will become suspicious. And of course it has to an outfit in which I feel comfortable getting down on the floor and playing with the kids.
I finally decide on a pair of dress jeans, a pink sweater with pearl buttons and some white flats. Casual, but still feminine with just a hint of sexiness.
When I hear a cellphone buzz it doesn’t sound like my own. It takes me a few seconds to remember the phone that Dante had delivered to me. We hadn’t really discussed him using it to reach me, but it occurs to me that he might not have my private number.
The cell he gave me is on my dresser. When I grab it I notice there’s a text message.
Dante: I’m a little early. Are you ready?
It’s about twenty minutes until four. For once I’m actually not running late.
Me: I’m ready.
I wait for another text, but I hear knocking on the front door instead.
I hurry downstairs and open the door. I can’t help but smile when I see that he’s actually wearing something from the twenty-first century. Jeans and a white Polo shirt. Exactly what I suggested. And they look brand new. Like he just purchased them and put them on right before he came over.
Even the sneakers he’s wearing don’t have a single scuff on them. They look like they just came out of the box.
“You look good,” I tell him.
He grins. “Thanks. So do you. Pink is a great color on you.”
We stare at each other for a few moments. Then he says, “Since we have some extra time maybe we can take a scenic route. The weather is beautiful today and I’ve got the top down.”
“You have a convertible?” I can’t help the surprise in my voice. Dante doesn’t seem like the convertible type. He seems like someone who would drive a more practical car, like a Toyota Prius.
He nods.
“Let me get my purse.”
He follows me as I hurry into the kitchen to retrieve my bag from the counter. When I turn back around he’s practically standing on top of me.
He pulls me into his arms and kisses me. “I had to do that,” he whispers. “I couldn’t resist.”
I look him up and down, taking him in. He really does look good dressed in clothes that someone in their twenties might wear. With a proper haircut, he might even be somewhat hot.
“We’d better go,” he suggests. “If I kiss you again I’ll want to take you upstairs and I don’t want to be late.”
There’s no parking allowed on the street directly outside my house. There are small lots on both ends of the block where the residents park. Because I don’t own a car I’ve never given the concept much thought, but now I’m curious as to where Dante parked.
“Where’s your car?” I ask.
He points to south end of the block. “I parked in the lot down there. It’s a little strange that you don’t have parking anywhere near your house.”
“Most of my neighbors use public transportation like I do.” I almost slip and tell him that many of us walk to work because we’re employed by the university.
When he grabs my hand I flinch. We’re out in public and there’s now no way to hide that we’re together. If I run into anyone I know this will definitely take some explaining.
And I have absolutely no idea what I would say.
Being paid to be someone’s mistress behind closed doors is one thing. Being paid to be someone’s girlfriend in public is something entirely different. I thought our arrangement would consist only of the former. It’s becoming increasingly more obvious that Dante wants both.
The parking area is nearly empty except for an old pick-up truck and an extremely flashy silver sports car that looks like it cost a fortune.
“I’m guessing you don’t drive a pick-up,” I tease.
He’s actually turning a little red with embarrassment as we approach his convertible. “Ridiculous, isn’t it?” He opens the passenger side door for me. “My dad’s idea. He gets a discount when he buys in bulk. So all of us drive Aston Martin DB9 Volante convertibles.”
“Us?” The question slips out before I have a chance to filter myself. “Sorry.”
As I climb into the passenger side of the car he lets himself into the driver’s side.
“Why are you sorry?”
“I wasn’t sure it was okay to ask you questions.”
He frowns. “Why would you think that?”
I don’t want to hurt his feelings so I respond as delicately as I can. “You’re a little reserved. You don’t say very much. I wasn’t sure how much you wanted to share with me. This is kind of an unusual situation.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. Then he starts the car and we take off.
I guess I didn’t succeed in not making him feel bad. You could cut the tension in the air between us with a knife. I don’t want to dig myself into a deeper hole so I just keep my trap shut.
“I wasn’t sure you wanted to hear anything about me,” he says when we’re stopped at a traffic light. “Most people don’t. I’ve learned to just keep things to myself.”
His confession tugs at my heartstrings. As Dante lets his armor down, and I get to know him a little better, I feel a profound sadness deep inside of him. I get the sense that he’s pretty lonely. “I want to hear about you,” I tell him.
“Really?” he sounds genuinely surprised and this makes me sad for him.
“I do,” I assure him. “Really.”
“You can ask me anything.”
When I notice a few passing pedestrians point at the car it makes me wonder exactly how expensive it is. “How many of these cars did your dad buy?”
“Five. One for each person in our family. Him, my mom, my older brother, my older sister and me.”
“How much was that?”
“He got each one for two hundred.”
“Two hundred thousand dollars?” I croak. It never occurred to me that a car could cost that much. And his dad purchased five of them?
“Like I said. Ridiculous. But it does have a nice ride.”
The car is absolutely gorgeous, but now that he’s told me how much it’s worth I’m actually afraid to accidently scratch the interior.
“So where are we going? Where does your sister live?”
I give him quick directions and he heads toward the northwest suburbs.
“Honestly I thought maybe you’d be driving a Prius.”
He actually laughs. “Why would you say that?”
“You just seem practical. Like material things don’t matter all that much to you.”
“It’s true, but I’m curious to hear what led you to that conclusion.”
I swallow. Once again I find myself in the position where I don’t want to lie, but I also don’t want to hurt his fee
lings. So I try to be as tactful as I can. “You don’t seem to spend a lot of money on the latest fashions. Your clothes are a bit dated, and I don’t get the impression you’re trying to be some kind of ironic hipster.”
He shakes his head. “Definitely not. I have no hipster inside of me whatsoever.” When he gives me a quick glance he looks anxious. “Do you like the jeans and Polo shirt?”
“Yes, you look great. But this is the first time I’ve seen you wear something that’s—um—stylish.”
“I don’t enjoy shopping,” he admits. “Especially for clothes. I’m never sure what to buy and I can’t really tell what goes together. You told me what I should wear today so I bought it.”
“That’s a sweet gesture.”
“You know when I told you to ask me anything my clothing wasn’t even in the top hundred questions I thought you might ask.”
“It’s a little unusual for a twenty-two-year old to dress like he’s sixty-two.”
“Is it really that bad?” The sincerity in his question is heartbreaking.
“Kind of,” I reply, trying desperately not to hurt his feelings any more than I already have.
After another long and awkward silence he says, “My clothes were all given to me by my maternal grandfather. He actually gave me everything he owned when he died. I was the only person named in his will. And that was pretty significant. My siblings wouldn’t speak to me for almost a year. Not that they have ever really spoken to me about anything of any significance, but they gave me the silent treatment. In a way, it was nice. It took the pressure off. We didn’t have to pretend to have things to say to each other.”
“You don’t get along with them?” My sister and I are so close I can’t image what it would be like not to be close to your siblings.
He shakes his head. “I’m the black sheep of the family. Literally and figuratively. Everyone else in my family is blond. And very wealthy.”
“You’re wealthy,” I remind him.
“I have money. A lot of money. I was born into money. I inherited money. But I’m not like the rest of my family. Wealthy isn’t just what they are; it’s who they are. Everything in their world revolves around money. Everyone and everything is a means to an end: getting more money. And everyone is judged by how many digits are in their bank account.” He looks into my eyes. “I’m definitely the outcast. You’ll see what I mean when you meet them.”