by Ines Johnson
He popped a hot potato in his mouth.
“These are good,” he said as he tried to talk and blow and chew at the same time. “You write. You cook. You have amazing orgasms. Is there nothing you can’t do?”
The spoon clattered to the linoleum and heat rose up my neck.
Christopher bent down and picked up the spoon. He looked at me with a grimace on his face. “Did I go too far? Sometimes I have trouble with boundaries. If you knew my family you’d understand.”
I thought back to his mother who’d smiled proudly at me after her son gave me an orgasm. She’d been congratulating other men and women on their orgasms as they left the meditation class. Yeah, I could see how boundaries might be a problem in his household.
“We’ll yes,” I said. “It was too far; talking about a woman’s orgasms. But I do want to talk with you about it.” I swallowed and concentrated on the floor. “Orgasms, I mean. I know what they feel like for a woman -thanks to you. But I don’t know how to describe them from the male point of view.”
“You want me to describe my orgasms to you?” His lips curled up, and he waggled his eyebrows.
My toes curled and something waggled in my core.
This was not the plan. The plan was to approach this in a businesslike manner. I was supposed to propose that he be my consultant for the research on my manuscript. That was the plan. What came out of my mouth next, I could only blame on the lacy underwear that was a size too small and biting into my skin and cutting off circulation.
“I’ll pay you,” I said.
Christopher’s face fell. The ever-present devil in his eyes was replaced by a wounded cherub. “I’m not a prostitute.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I’d be taking up your time; time you could be spending elsewhere… with others.”
“I don’t mind spending time with you,” he said. “I like you. What you do fascinates me. You fascinate me.”
It was definitely the circulation-cutting, lacy underwear muddling my brain. My breasts felt like they were swelling in the too small underwire.
“So what happens next in the story?” he asked.
Chapter Ten
Christopher had two servings. He also had decent table manners. I’m not sure why that surprised me. Maybe because I kept expecting him to show his true colors and lunge across the table at me, rip my clothes off, and have his way with me.
He didn’t do any of that. All of his concentration was on the food before him. He took a mouthful of the chicken. Then used his utensils to slice a potato. Once the spud was in two, he abandoned it to try one of the roasted vegetables. Then he came back to the potato, paired it with a slice of meat, topped it with a vegetable, and took it all in in one bite.
My food sat untouched. Instead, I watched Christopher eat. I watched his tongue test the drippings of my roast. I watched his eyes close as he chewed. I listened to his groans of satisfaction as he swallowed. He licked his fingers after his second helping of everything. With his plate cleaned and his fingers sucked dry, he turned his attention to me.
Particularly, my breasts.
Instead of crossing my arms over my chest, my back arched and my nipples hardened in memory of the last time I had all of his attention on that area of my body.
“So, you’re Catholic?” His eyes dipped to my rosary. The cross rested in the valley between my breasts. “That’s why you’re waiting?”
“No. I mean, yes.” My hand went to the cross that rested on my heart. “My family is Catholic, but we’re not very good Catholics. The rosary was my grandmother’s.”
“A rosary,” he rolled the words around his tongue. “It reminds me of my auntie’s mala beads. Buddhists use them to help focus during meditation. She gave me some when I was a kid, to help me sit still.”
“Did they work?”
He grinned, but didn’t answer.
“That’s not why I’m waiting for… you know.” God, Mary Katherine. If you can’t say it, how can you expect to have a conversation about it. “I’m waiting to have sex after marriage because I want a lifelong commitment with a man. In sickness, health, rich, poor, better or worse. I’m the type of woman who goes all in.”
He nodded sagely. “You’re looking for your soul mate.”
“Yes.” I held in a breath and then let it go in a whoosh. “You believe in soul mates?”
“I should. I was raised by two of them. My parents knew they would spend the rest of their lives together when they were kids. They’ve been together for over forty years now. I know that type of love exists. It’s just rare.”
My fingers traced the beads of the rosary as I focused my entire being on him. “You don’t think you’ll find it?”
“I’m not out looking for it. I told you, I have a short attention-span.” His eyes held on my chest. I watched the movement of his pupils as I fingered the beads. “Tell me what you need help with? You have more sex questions?”
I felt the flush creep up my chest. Looking down at my chest, I saw the blood shade my skin red.
“Don’t be embarrassed, MK. It’s not like you’re talking to a stranger. We’re friends.”
“This is only the second time I’ve met you.”
His nodded, his grin full of boyish delight. “Weird, isn’t it? I feel like I’ve known you longer. You want to know about male orgasms?”
I nodded. “My editor loved what I wrote already. But she wants me to tell the story from both the heroine and the hero’s point of view. Which means I need to understand what an orgasm feels like for a guy.”
His grin was slow. “You want me to orgasm and tell you about it?” His hand roamed down his chest towards his belly. “Do you want me to take care of it? Or did you want to try?”
He must’ve seen my hesitancy because then he said, “Same rules, MK. ‘No’ means no. ‘Stop’ means immediately. Nothing you don’t want to happen will happen.”
That was the problem. I wanted things to happen. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted to touch him.
Without words, we rose and moved from the dining area to the living room couch. We sat and his hands reached the divide where his shirt was tucked into his pants. He tugged the tail free, pulled a few buttons loose, and then dragged the shirt over his head.
I had to clutch my rosary, otherwise I may have reached out and grabbed him. Christopher was perfection. He put every single male, romance cover model to shame with the sculpture that was his abs.
“You wanna feel?” he asked. “You know, to describe it better.”
My palms sweat. I reached my hands out to him. His skin trembled at the first whisper of my touch. I looked up, startled. His grin was lazy.
“Your fingers are so fucking soft,” he said. “Makes my skin feel thin with your fingers on it. You feel me trembling, princess? It’s because I’m excited. You know what else excites me? The sound of a zipper being pulled down. Do you want to do it?”
I looked at his zipper like it was a toothy monster.
“You can say ‘no’.”
“You keep saying that,” I said.
“And I mean it. If you said 'no' I’d be disappointed. I’ve been thinking about touching you again. I’ve been dreaming about you touching me. But if you stopped right now, we’d still be cool.”
“This doesn’t sound like any friendship I’ve ever had.”
His grin turned sultry. “I’m very close with my friends.”
A gong went off in my head. I knew he heard it. The reverb brought to mind the twins from the sex shop. Had they come over that night? Had he had sex with them? Who else had he had sex with in the last week? What the hell was I thinking getting involved with this guy?
Christopher watched me, but he didn’t do anything. He didn’t say anything to deter my thoughts. He just waited for me to make a decision.
I wanted to be close to this man. I wanted more than his friendship. I presented him with boundary after boundary. He’d simply hold out his hand and ask if I wanted to cross the l
ine. But along with the offer of his hand, he’d warn me that I wasn’t the only one who’s hand he’d hold.
I had to stop pretending this was anything but what it was. I opened my eyes to reality. I needed this encounter for my research, so I could do my job and keep my livelihood.
“My favorite part is the anticipation,” he said. “That’s what a zipper sounds like to me; a countdown. I’m throbbing right now and twitching. Do you want to see a visual, MK? You can say ‘no’.”
“No. I mean… Yes. Can I see?”
He hefted himself out. I’d seen men’s penises in artwork, on television, on the Internet. But Christopher’s penis was a thing of beauty. It wasn’t just a single color. The base of it was a dark shade of pink. The length of it was tan, and the tip was bright pink. For some reason my mind focused on the colors and not the fact that I was staring at a man’s penis.
“Do you want to touch it?” It jerked towards me. Christopher chuckled as he took it in hand, like pulling on the leash of a dog. “It has a mind of its own. But I’m not the type of man who’s led by his dick. I’ll only do what you want. I know your boundaries. I won’t cross them. I promise.”
He didn’t need to cross them. I was the one hopping over every line I drew.
He continued to stroke himself as he waited for my answer. His eyes roamed my body as his fingers gripped his length. The tip of his penis seemed to become engorged and turned even pinker.
“It looks like a lollipop,” I said.
He groaned and closed his eyes. “Fuck, Mary Katherine, this is the sexiest dirty talk I’ve ever heard.”
I swallowed, my throat filled with an abundance of saliva. I hadn’t been trying to talk dirty. I hadn’t meant to say anything at all.
“Please, keep going.” His fingers played with the tip, playing peek-a-boo with that single eye at the center while the long, thick stick of him continued to jerk.
“No,” I said. “You’re supposed to be the one talking. I don’t know what this feels like.”
His eyes, which had become hooded, focused on me. “Will you help me?” He let go of himself and reached out his hand.
Like a puppet I gave him mine.
He shook his head. “Spit in it first.”
I frowned.
He grinned, waiting for me to comply.
I did as he told me. He took my hand, like a greedy kid snatching the last piece of candy in the dish. He wrapped my fingers around his shaft. He held my hand there with his strong grip.
“What does it feel like?” he asked.
“Warm, throbbing. It’s softer than I expected.”
“Your touch is too light. It’s driving me crazy. Hold me tighter.”
I did as he asked. “I can feel your veins.” I ran my index finger along one of the vessels.
Christopher closed his eyes and sighed.
“I feel your pulse,” I said. “You are trembling.”
“Because you’re about to make me come.”
My mouth went slack and so did my grip. But he didn’t let me pull away. His eyes opened. He stared at me. A question on his brow.
Was I telling him no, the brow asked.
I firmed my grip. His eyes shuttered closed, and he moaned.
“Tell me what it feels like?” I asked.
He grinned. It reminded me of a cat rolling onto its back and offering its belly for a scratch.
“I feel this tingling sensation,” he said. “I can’t pinpoint where it begins, just somewhere deep inside. It’s moving to my balls. It’s heavy… like a fullness.”
“Like you have to pee?”
“Hmm.”
That was exactly what I felt when he made me come.
“It’s building, and you know on the other side is relief. You start running towards it.” He thrust his hips up into our joined hands. “What’s about to happen… is my body is going to start clenching. Like my whole body, not just my dick and my balls. I’m going to thrust mindlessly and then, for like about thirty seconds, everything is going to seem so clear. I’ll feel like I could solve world peace. But it only lasts for a minute and then it’ll feel like I got hit by a fucking car.”
With his free hand, he pulled me to him. He buried his face in the valley of my breasts.
“Can I put one in my mouth?” He nuzzled aside the rosary to get at my breasts.
I arched into him mindlessly. His tongue dove beneath the fabric of the top of my dress and licked at my right breast. Something tightened in my core.
“I want you to come with me, MK.”
“Simultaneously?”
He let go of my breast and laughed. “Yeah,” he licked at my left breast. “We’ll do it together. Hold me tighter and I’ll get you off.”
I held him tighter. He nudged aside the fabric of my top until all that bordered us was the lace of the bra. It was no real barrier to the magic of his tongue and lips.
We were in a tight clench. I was half on top of him. Our hands between us. There was a bit of action near my pubic bone. If he’d suggested it, would I have let him cross that final boundary? I didn’t get a chance to wonder because my body was clenching and so was his.
It was just like he said. The tension built, and this time, instead of trying to get away from it, I ran to it. Head first. On some level it was like running into a brick wall. My orgasm was not gentle. It slammed into me. It rocked me from my head to my feet.
I gasped. Then I screamed as my core clenched so hard it caved in on itself. The contractions shook me so thoroughly that I fell backwards.
Christopher caught me. He caught me and he brought me into his arms, against his chest.
He held me to him as we caught our breath. After long moments, he shifted his hips, and we came face to face. He had a cheeky grin.
I leaned into his face, aiming my lips for that grin. He halted me. I saw the surprise on his face. My entire body flushed, but not in the good way.
“Oh my God.” I scrambled off him. “I’m such an idiot.”
“MK…?”
“That didn’t mean anything to you, did it?” I pulled my top up. “I’m just another twin to you, only there’s just one of me.”
Christopher halted my hands. His grip was not a vice, but it was firm enough to get my attention. “MK, wait-”
“You were just using me. You just wanted to get off.”
“Hey, hey.” He ducked and bobbed his head until he caught my eyes. “Yes, I wanted to get off. And I wanted to get you off, too. That’s what we both wanted.”
I looked away from him. I wanted more than that. I’d tried to mark a clear line in my head, but I’d lost track of the border the moment his tongue struck my nipple. I wanted the fairytale to be real.
“No, MK don’t do that. Remember what I told you? I’m not a prince. The things you want, marriage, fidelity, monogamy, I’m not interested in those things.”
“You’re just interested in my breasts because I can get off like that. You’ll kiss them but you won’t kiss my lips because…”
“Because what?”
Because I couldn’t compare physically to Pancake and Soda Bottle.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t want him to answer. When he did, his answer was not what I expected.
“Kissing is a boundary for me,” he said. “Just like you’re not ready for any man to stick his penis in your vagina, I’m not ready for a woman to stick her tongue down my throat. May sound strange, but kissing is a level of intimacy I’m not prepared to offer.”
What we did, his penis in my hand, that wasn’t intimate?
“This is my fault,” he said. “I should’ve known better. I went too far. I wanted another taste of you and I saw a way to get it. It was selfish and I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me, but I’ll understand if you can’t. Or won’t.”
He stood and turned away from me as he tucked himself back in his pants and pulled his shirt on. When he turned back around all signs of mischief were gone. He looked solemn and sad.
He leaned in and kissed me on my cheek. “I’m sorry I’ve upset you. I’m going to go now. Call me if you need me, okay?”
He didn’t give me a chance to answer. He opened the door and then he was gone.
Chapter Eleven
“You lost the magic.”
My hands sweat as I held the phone to my face and listened to Moira discuss the latest submission of my next few chapters.
“It starts off great. I don’t usually like masturbation scenes, but this one was hot.”
After Christopher left three nights ago, I wrote like mad. The hot scene she referred to was pretty simple to write. It flowed through my fingers as smoothly as I’d stroked Christopher’s hard, thick, veiny cock.
“But after the masturbation scene, everything goes south,” Moira said. “In the male POV, this doesn’t sound like any guy I know. You have him pledging his love at only a quarter of the way into the book. No real guy would do that.”
Not unless they lived in my head. I’d thrown myself at a guy who I’d known less than a week. And like he’d promised, he’d caught me and set me back in my place on the sofa. But in my book, he swept my heroine off her feet and pledged to her his soul.
“It’s completely unrealistic, Mary Kate. Plus, there’s no tension. She gets everything she wants. The story is basically over as soon as it begins. There needs to be conflict, you know that.”
God, I was so sick of conflict. Why couldn’t a book just be girl meets boy, they fall in love, and live happily-ever-after? No cheating to prove his manhood. No working late nights leaving her alone to tend the children. No hurdles, or twins, to jump over.
“Plus, this penetration sex scene is so cold,” Moira continued. “It reads like insert tab A into slot B. You wrote a beautiful first kiss, a scorching hot masturbation scene. But then what happened?”
