Annihilate Me

by Christina Ross

  His eyes flicked up to meet mine, and then he crouched down and unbuckled it with ease. He massaged my foot before I extended my other one. “And this?”

  “My pleasure, Ms. Kent.”

  He released my foot from it. Then, unexpectedly, he started to kiss each of my toes, then he popped my little toe into his mouth and swung his tongue around it as he gently sucked it. The sensation was undeniably erotic. I pressed back against the sofa and let him do whatever he wanted to do to me. As he worshiped my feet with his mouth, his right hand roamed up my right thigh until it disappeared beneath the fabric of my skirt. His hand went deeper, he tugged at my panties, and his finger slipped just beneath them. Then, looking at me, I knew he’d felt my wetness. He pulled back and smoothed his hand back down the length of my leg to my foot.

  I was almost breathless when I said, “Take off your shirt.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  “Then you’ll be waiting for this much longer than you planned. Stand up and take off your shirt.”

  “Who’s in control now?” he asked as he stood.

  “We both are. We’re equals here.”

  “Somebody has to be in charge.”

  “Did you just arrive from the fifties? I may be a virgin, but I know what I want. In fact, because I’ve waited this long, I probably know more about what I want than most women.”

  “Good point.” He paused. “I may need help with my jacket,” he said.

  “I’d rather watch.”

  “But if you helped, I could get out of it quicker.”

  “I’m in no hurry. And you’re the one who sent that photo of yourself. I can’t get it out of my head. It’s cruel what you did to me. It’s my right to see you shirtless in person.”

  “What about that photo you sent of yourself? That wasn’t cruel?”

  “That was payback.”

  He had an amused look on his face when he shrugged off this jacket. He tossed it onto a chair, released his cuff links, put them on the table, and said, “Are you sure about this?”

  “I want to see you.”

  And with that, slowly—too slowly for my taste—he pulled off his tie, tossed it aside, unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. He let it drop to the floor and stood bare-chested in front of me. I thought he looked masculine, muscular and magnificent. My gaze roamed over his broad chest, his taut nipples, and his ripped torso. What I saw was enough to linger over. I just soaked it in.

  “Happy?” he asked.

  “Almost.”

  “What would make you happier?”

  “This.”

  Before he could react, I stood and cupped my hands over his chest. His skin was smooth and his chest was lightly hairy. I could feel his heart begin to pound against my hands, and then I lowered my head, put my mouth over one of his nipples, and nipped and tugged on it with my teeth until he couldn’t bear it any longer. He reached behind me and pulled me away from him by the back of my hair with just enough force that it was a little rough, which I decided I rather liked because I felt safe with him.

  “You’re in a mood,” he said.

  “Don’t read too much into it.”

  He let go of my hair. “Take off your shirt,” he said.

  “No.”

  “It’s a fair request.”

  “Why don’t you have a sip of your martini instead?”

  “Maybe I will when you take off your shirt.”

  I would never bare my breasts to him—at least not yet—but really, if I did take off my shirt, I wouldn’t be baring anything more than if I were in a bikini. That seemed safe enough, not to mention sexy—and I was nothing if not turned on right now.

  “How much do you want it?” I asked.

  His voice was almost a growl when he said, “I think you know much I want it.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question, Alex.”

  “I want it as much as I want you. I want it because I deserve to see you, just as you’ve seen me. Now, please, take off your shirt.”

  I sat him down on the sofa, handed him his martini, and tossed my hair over my head when I stood up. “You think you can handle it?”

  He made a low noise in his throat as he looked up at me.

  I nodded at his cocktail. “Drink up, stud. You’re going to need it.”

  Whatever awkwardness I’d felt earlier when I tried to position myself on the sofa was gone. I knew it was in his nature to be in control, but he was allowing me to be in control, which was disarming because I’d never done anything like this before. For whatever reason, I still wanted the control. I liked the control. I liked the effect it had on him, and also on me. In a strange way, all of this felt natural to me. He was bringing out a side of me that I didn’t recognize, but that I wanted to explore.

  I unbuttoned the top of my shirt to reveal the lacy red bra I wore beneath. He kept his eyes on me the entire time, only sipping his drink once as I completed the task. I untucked the shirt from my skirt and stood before him with my midsection bared to him. “Do you want to take it off me, Mr. Wenn? Or are you just going to sit there and just stare at me?”

  “I could look at you all day.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “If you need assistance—”

  “Assistance would be nice.”

  When he stood, I could see his arousal in his pants. It looked impossibly large to me, which at once thrilled me and terrified me, particularly when he came up behind me and pressed it against my ass. I hadn’t seen that part of him yet, but I was no fool. Alex obviously was well endowed.

  How am I ever going to take that thing?

  He pressed his hands against my flat stomach and held me for a moment, the stubble on his chin igniting my body as he kissed my neck and continued to slowly grind into me.

  “Do you like that?” he asked.

  I tried to keep my voice even, but it took an effort. “I thought you were here to help me take off my shirt?”

  He smoothed his hands up my body, stopped to caress my breasts, which felt unusually full and heavy to me, and then nibbled very lightly on my ear. I could feel his hot breath against my skin when he told me how beautiful I was. I wanted to turn to him and kiss him, but I didn’t. I wanted it like this. I wanted to deprive myself, and in the end, I also wanted to deprive him. This is how it was going to build, even if it was becoming more and more difficult to deny what I was feeling. The wetness between my legs only became more pronounced as he pressed his bulge squarely between the cleft in my buttocks where he rubbed it up and down. He was in no hurry to remove my shirt, so much so that I wondered who was in control now. Him or me?

  Me.

  I turned to him and kissed him on the cheek. “That was nice,” I said. “But you’ve lost your chance.”

  He looked confused as I started to button up my shirt.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Getting dressed.”

  “But you said I could remove your shirt.”

  “You took too long.”

  Gently, he took my hands in his own and I could tell by the fire in his eyes that this wasn’t ending now. Not that I wanted it to. “Hold your hands behind your back, Jennifer.”

  I did as I was told, and he unbuttoned the two buttons I’d fastened before he stopped me. When he removed my shirt, he tossed it behind me onto the sofa and took a step back to admire me. Or at least that’s what it felt like. I’d never seen such passion on his face.

  “Shouldn’t we go to my bedroom?” he asked.

  “I don’t think that should happen at all. Not yet. Too soon.”

  “You didn’t come here just for a martini, Jennifer.”

  “True. I came here to see you.”

  “Without a shirt on?”

  “The idea might have crossed my mind.”

  “I told you once that there are things I can do to you without barely touching you. Do you remember that?”

  I felt my heart quicken. How much more of this could I take an
d still hold back from being with him? “I remember.”

  “I can do that now if you’d like.”

  “I think we should wait.”

  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “We’re practically naked, Alex. What’s stopping you?”

  He smiled at that, and then he became serious. Almost hesitant. “You don’t have to answer this, but I’m curious. Have you ever had an orgasm?”

  I didn’t flinch. “No,” I said. “I haven’t.”

  He furrowed his brow. “You’ve never masturbated?”

  “Haven’t done that, either.”

  This seemed to perplex him. “Why?”

  “Because a long time ago, I told myself that I would wait for the right man. A whole host of reasons have held me back, but much of it comes down to the way my father treated my mother and me. I wanted more than that. I knew I deserved more than that.” I shrugged. “I know I have trust issues because of my father. So, I’ve waited and will continue to wait until I know that I can fully trust the right man, whomever he might be.”

  “Are you working out trust issues with me?”

  “Alex, I work them out with anyone who comes to mean something to me. So, yes, I am, but it’s not just you. It’s anyone who enters my life. Please understand that it’s not personal. But I will say this. My emotions are skating to the edge of the cliff with you. I’ve never put my trust in someone the way I’ve put it in you. Not even with Lisa, because this is intimate in ways that she and I will never will be intimate. This is a whole new level for me.”

  “I’m glad you’re trying.”

  “I have to. At some point, I need to take a chance and trust. I feel my best bet is with you.”

  His face was tense during the exchange, but lives aren’t scripted, and conversations sometimes don’t go down the wanted path. There was a silence between us now that I wanted to get past. I cocked my head at him. “I’m not perfect,” I said.

  “To me, you are.”

  He took a breath as if to settle his nerves. A moment ago, we were slammed against the hot asphalt of raw emotion, but then the trust issue thing came up and threw water on all of it. But I wasn’t going to lie to him. I came into this relationship with baggage, just as I sensed that he did because of the death of his wife. In some ways, both of us were fully capable, adjusted human beings. In other ways, we were broken by past events.

  “Can I ask you another question?” he asked.

  “You can ask me a dozen questions.”

  “Do you think I’m the right man?”

  “You’ve done things to me that no man has ever been allowed to do.”

  “Have you enjoyed them?”

  “You know I have.”

  “Then nothing more is happening tonight. Your first time will be special. It will be everything you’ve wanted it to be. If it’s with me, I’ll make certain of that. But if we continued doing what we were doing a moment ago, I could go too far and bring you to climax. You deserve better.”

  “You sound awfully sure of yourself.”

  “That’s because I am. I could whisper in your ear and make you come right now. No touching, nothing. Just my voice. And it would happen, Jennifer. You would come.”

  The thought of it almost made me want to do it.

  “Here,” he said, brushing past me to the sofa where my shirt was laying. “Put this back on before you drive me crazier than you already have.” He stood behind me and held out the shirt so I could put my arms through the sleeves. When I had, he stepped in front of me and kissed me on the mouth while he buttoned my shirt. Then the kiss deepened, and soon he was pressing against me again. I closed my eyes and felt myself quiver before he finally broke away.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “What for?”

  He didn’t respond. Instead, he finished buttoning my shirt.

  “May I do the same for you?” I asked.

  “You can do whatever you want.”

  I picked up his shirt from the floor, but then stopped. “You probably don’t want to put this back on. It’s stiff with starch and it won’t be very comfortable.”

  He went over to the sofa and leaned back against it. “I don’t need a shirt.” He patted the cushion next to him and said, “Come and sit with me. Let’s talk about the day.”

  I went over and sat next to him. We talked about the penthouse on Fifth, and he told me about the party he had been to earlier. Eventually, my head was resting on his stomach, my hand was just above his groin, and after a while, we lapsed into silence. He stroked my hair, and I smoothed my hand over his velvety skin. It was a comfortable silence. It was the best kind of silence. It was the sort of silence that underscored the power of our bond and how unnecessary words could be between two people. Because even in this silence, we were talking to each other. Energy passed between us, and the evening took a different shape. I listened to the steady rhythm of his heart, I held him closer to me, and then I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

  CHAPTER TEN

  When I woke the next morning, it was with a start, and for a moment, I was discombobulated.

  There was a thin blanket over me. My head was resting on a pillow. I wasn’t sure where I was, but as I sat up, it came flooding back to me. Last night, when I was resting my head on Alex’s stomach, I must have dozed off. Still, I had to wonder. I was a light sleeper and had been since I was a child. It was a protective measure against my father, who would storm into my room drunk at any hour of the night shouting at me, punching me and threatening me with my life for no reason other than to terrorize me. How had Alex got up without waking me? Had I been that tired?

  Or was I just that comfortable with him?

  I looked around for him, and when I did, I saw a glass of orange juice on the coffee table in front of me. My mouth was dry so I sipped it. It was tart and freshly squeezed.

  Then, from the kitchen, Alex spoke. “Someone’s up.”

  “That would be me,” I said.

  “Come and have breakfast,” he said. “It’s still very early. Not even six yet. We’ve got plenty of time together before I have to jump into the shower and get ready for the day.”

  I took my glass of juice and went into the kitchen, unprepared to find Alex shirtless and in just a pair of pale blue boxer shorts. The sight was disarming, not that I was going to ask him to do anything about it. He looked hot. He was sitting at the bar with the Times in front of him. I went over to him, put my arms around his broad shoulders, then dropped them around his tight waist, and held him before I sat next to him. I kissed him on his stubbly cheek, then on his lips.

  “Coffee?” he asked.

  “That would be nice.”

  He stood. “You got it.”

  “How long have you been up?” I asked, watching him walk away from me. He had a deep cleft in his back, which I thought was beyond sexy. And then there was his butt, which was about as perfect as they came.

  And people talk about my ass. They should see his.

  “Just about an hour or so.”

  “Do you always get up early?”

  “I do, but I have a process. I need coffee, quiet, the paper, silence. After the first cup or two, I’m ready to go.”

  “Are you my twin?”

  “You’re the same way?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Then I’ll be quiet and make coffee.”

  I put my elbows on the bar and put my chin in my hands as I watched him use a coffee press. Was that another trick he learned from his childhood cook, Michelle? Not many knew how to do it right, but I did, and from watching him, it looked as if did he. When he was finished, he added the exact amount of cream and sugar that I liked. He must have watched me prepare my own coffee two mornings ago when he made eggs for me.

  This man doesn’t miss a trick.

  The coffee and its heady aroma were enough to clear my head. For breakfast, we had chilled pineapple chunks to start, which were delicious, then the lightest of scrambled e
ggs served with a fresh croissant that was warm and buttered. Neither of us talked until my second cup of coffee arrived and the plates were carefully removed so as not to make too much noise. He was nothing if not a gentleman.

  “Satisfied?” he finally asked.

  “Completely,” I said. “You’re such a good cook.”

  “It’s all Michelle.”

  “She was your escape when you were a child?”

  I saw a brooding look come over his face, but he masked it. “She was. I think I told you that.”

  Which meant that’s as far as he was going to go.

  “Look,” he said. “You’re just waking up. Why trouble you with my past now?”

  That was mysterious. I knew from Blackwell that he hadn’t been close to his mother, but never once had she mentioned his father. Alex had, though. When we first met at the interview, he suggested that he never wanted to take over Wenn, but he had because his father wrote it into his will. Then, the other day, he mentioned how Michelle also kept him clear of his father. So, the family didn’t get along. I wondered why? And then it occurred to me that we had more in common than I realized, especially if I considered his issues with his father. I respected boundaries, so I let it pass. When he wanted to talk to me about it, he would. I certainly wasn’t going to press. Of all people, I knew what it was like to not want to discuss your private life or your past.

  I moved forward. “Sorry I fell asleep on you. Actually, literally on top of you.”

  “I’m not. Because of that, I get to have you here this morning.”

  “I have to say that your abs, as solid as they are, made for a nice place to lay my head last night.”

  “You don’t say?”

  “I do say.”

  I could tell that made him happy because he winked at me.

  “What does your day look like?”

  “The same. Back-to-back meetings, then an event tonight. But I’ll be able to pick you up at the restaurant this time.”

  “I’d like that. I know this sounds silly, but the reason I came here last night is because I felt lonely when you weren’t there to meet me after work last night. I came here on impulse. I wanted to see you. I just didn’t think I’d be spending the night with you.”