She was completely drained after she came down from her climax. I held her in my arms as she continued to shiver, her heart throbbing fast. Her breathing slowly became steady again, and she managed to utter. “Thank you!”
“Why are you thanking me?
“Because, I received this incredible pleasure while you didn’t get anything…”
“Believe me Emma. It was my pleasure too. Watching you climax is a beautiful view.” I confessed, smiling blissfully.
Her cheeks blushed completely red. She sat on the bed, looked softly into my eyes, then reached for the buttons of my shirt. “Aren’t you a bid overdressed?” She asked friskily, and started unbuttoning my shirt. She grazed her hands over my chest, threading her fingers through my chest hair. She smoothened the hair with her palm, and leaned in to kiss me.
When her lips touched and swirled around my nipples, I felt a jolt going up through my body and down my legs. Her hands trailed lightly around my abs, placing soft kisses, and she pulled down the zipper of my pants. Her hand caressing me over my pants was torture. Her eyes feral, she licked her lips and looked at me tantalizingly. Not a second too late, she freed me of my pants and boxers. Her slender fingers skillfully brushed against my hardness. And oh, so unexpectedly, she took me into her mouth. Continuing with her soft but claiming touch, she stroked me gently as she licked my tip and then sucked hard. Her soft wet lips were my undoing. I knew I wasn’t going to last any longer if she continued her sweet torture, and I didn’t want that to happen. “Oh, God, Emma! Please stop…”
“But … why?” She asked innocently, looking confused. “You didn’t like it?”
“Hell no! I love it. But I wanted to be in you when I come. If you kept that up, I wasn’t going to last long.” I confessed, and “wait here a second,” I added.
I opened the side drawer and pulled a condom out. I ripped it open quickly and was about to put it on myself when she said, “Let me do it!” She rolled to condom on me slowly as if she was daring me to be patient.
“God, Emma, you’re killing me,” I managed to say through my clenched teeth.
I kneeled between her legs. I stroked her with my fingers just to be sure she was still wet before I eased myself into her, slowly, one inch at a time. And Oh! My! God! She felt so good. She was so tight but also so wet. She wrapped her legs around me; her green eyes on me, watching me carefully.
“I’m going to move now, Emma. Tell me how you like it.”
I started to move, stroked her gently, trying to assess her reaction and waiting for her to respond. She moaned, but shook her head, turning her eyes away from me like a shy girl. I was waiting for that blunt girl that didn’t mind speaking her mind to declare what she liked in bed.
“Tell me Emma,” I whispered in her ear. I circled her nipples with my thumb and my lips under her ear, sucking her lobe. “Slow or fast…” I asked, as I continued slowly.
“Goddamnit, Dylan! I want it hard and I want it fast!” She finally declared.
And with that, I slammed into her hard and she jolted with pleasure. She bit her lips and smiled at me enticingly. I drew back a little before I thrust my hips steadily inside her. She met my thrust with same excitement and with each thrust I was climbing the ladder of passion like never before. “Oh, God! This feels so good.” I screamed.
“Oh, please Dylan. Faster!” She demanded. The intensity of her voice matched the intensity in her eyes. Her hands were on my back… on my shoulder. Everywhere… digging into my skin. Hard! Her fingers tightened on my hips and a delicious sensation passed through me.
I lifted her legs up to my shoulder to penetrate her deeper. With each stroke, she squirmed more in pleasure. I kissed her ankles as I kept going. Going in hard and fast but easing out slow. I could see she was getting close, so I had to hold up a bit longer. After couple more deep strokes, she almost gave in. Her hands clenched into my waist, and her fingers dug deep into my flesh as she climbed higher. I eased in and out, and soon enough she bit her lips, her eyes grew wide and she cried out with pleasure. And only a few seconds later, “Oh. Fuck! Yes!” I screamed out loud and collapsed on to her as I found my release and shuddered with overwhelming sensation.
That was mind blowing sex. The best sex of my life, indeed…
CHAPTER 7
EMMA
My heart was throbbing fast, about to come out of its cage. Dylan caressed my cheeks with the tip of his fingers, buried his face between my hair and my neck, and gave me small kisses. I didn’t remember feeling this great. Ever! Did sex always feel this good? Or was it this amazing, mind blowing and wonderful all because of Dylan?
Truth be told, I didn’t have much to compare it to. I had had two serious relationships before; my high school sweetheart, Justin, and Kyle, my charismatic teaching assistant at Columbia, whom I dated for three years and I broke up with after I caught him cheating two years ago. I broke off our engagement, moved out of our apartment in Manhattan and moved into my grandparent’s old house in Brooklyn. It took over a year to put my heart back together after Kyle recklessly ripped it apart. Why did I fall for an attending? I still had to see him every day, either at the hospital or at the school which made me feel so uncomfortable. Sydney assured me many times that he was just an asshole and not all men were as despicable as him, but I didn’t allow myself to be close to anyone after him. It was my choice. A wise decision that worked just fine for the last two years. But not today.
Today, I met Dylan and everything suddenly changed. He was a fascinating person with the soul of a romantic hidden under his rich and arrogant businessman look. I bet he didn’t let many people see that side of him, the side that enthralled me so much that all my walls fell to the ground with one kiss. My defense mechanism became functionless. Even now, lying next to me, I couldn’t stop staring into his deep blue eyes. His unwavering, intense gaze was making me drift far away from reality. Being in his big arms was so enticing but also very relaxing. How was it possible to feel like I was in a safe haven and turbulent stormy seas at the same time? I felt confused, scared, but happy.
“Penny for your thoughts.” He said, breaking our comfortable silence.
“Oh, it’s nothing…” I lied. I didn’t want to share my mixed feelings.
“You look so beautiful.” He said and twirled a strand of my hair around his finger. “You glow like a diamond. So precious.”
I couldn’t hide my blush. “Well, then… how about you prove your talent now, and draw me as you promised earlier. Let’s see if you can capture my glow with your pencil.”
“You mean you want me to draw you now, like this?”
“Yes.” I smirked and squinted at him.
“You would like me to draw you nude.” He repeated with a bewildered face, still not believing what I was asking for.
“Yes, Dylan,” I replied with a big laugh. “You don’t trust yourself that you could do it?”
“No! Not at all. I just…” He stuttered. “Let me think. I suppose I can try. Just remember I am a bit rusty and believe me, it won’t be easy to draw you when you are so gracefully lying there, enticing me to do other things.”
“I will look away and try not to entice you…” I smiled, and said playfully. “Now, tell me where you want me and what kind of pose.”
He stifled a laugh, and was about to make a comment when I interrupted him. “Dylan, come on. No more joking. Are you going to do this or not? I’ll give up on my offer if you are not going to be serious.”
With my last comment his gaze changed, with the solemn expression on his face he gave me a chaste kiss, put on his boxer briefs quickly and got out of the bed. A minute later, he came back with a brown leather folder. He pulled out a clean white piece of paper, placed a pencil behind his ear and pushed the swivel leather chair in front of the bed. “Yes… I am ready,” he said with a crooked smile. He placed the paper and the folder on the chair, scooted next to me, pushing the soft white linens aside.
“Hmm,” he mumbled. “Let’s
tuck your right arm under your head and put the left on your belly without blocking your beautiful breasts. Then cross your legs, but bring your fine ass a bit forward.” He ordered, helping me with my pose. His faint touches gave me chills each time, but I swallowed a deep breath and tried hard not to show my arousal. I wanted him to draw me, not do other things that he was so good at.
He studied me a long minute before his pencil moved slowly. His face was serious and his eyes were intense. His gaze moved back and forth between my body and the paper. He bit his chiseled lips every so often as he scrawled. His hand was moving on the paper eloquently as if it was dancing. I enjoyed watching him draw with a grave look on his face, as much as I enjoyed posing for him. I felt as if I was Dora Maar for a second. I wondered how she felt when she posed for Picasso for so many of his paintings. How did it feel to be his lover and his model at the same time? Did she feel as excited as I was feeling every time Dylan lowered his gaze to my breast, my navel and between my legs?
God, what has gotten into me? In less than twelve hours, I changed from a disgruntled and peevish girl into this hippie-like soul. The unusual feelings that Dylan resonated in me scared the hell out of me. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have let any of it happen…It would have been better if I ignored him when he came out of that door and let him go his way.’ I thought, but my heart told me to enjoy this one night and this wonderful man sitting across from me with the most handsome face.
I was lost in my thoughts when Dylan announced, “I think I am done.”
“Really, you were quick. I thought it would take longer.”
“It has been almost thirty minutes, Emma. I could not make it as a street artist with this speed.”
“Oh, really? I didn’t notice. Can I see it?” I asked.
He nodded and brought the paper with him to the bed and handed it to me.
“Wow! Unbelievable Dylan!” I exclaimed, the second I saw the drawing. “This is great. You are so talented. It is a shame that you’re not painting or drawing. You are wasting your talent! Mr. Picasso.”
“Ah-ha! To be called after the most talented artist of the last century. What an honor!” He bowed. “But I don’t think it’s my talent, my model was so inspiring that it couldn’t have been less than spectacular.” He teased me and then put his head next to mine, stretching his arms above his head. His eyes were on the ceiling. It seemed like he was in deep thoughts, drifting away, when suddenly he said. “Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth.”
“Hmm…” I mumbled wondering. “What do you mean?”
“It is a quote from Picasso. He was a man of towering ego, almost a lunatic individualist but he was right about his assessment regarding art.”
I looked at him quizzically, trying to understand what he meant.
“An artist does not necessarily create what he sees. It is a reflection of his view of life, shrouded with his emotions. In a way, it is not the reality that he puts on his canvas; what comes out of it is an illusion. Some might even call it a lie, same goes for me. It’s my emotions that control what I scrawl on paper. If you think about it, I draw what I feel. Once the painting is done, I look back, and I see the truth.”
I looked at his creation in my hand, trying to decipher what he implied. On the clean white paper, he accurately drew my body, my pose, linens half covering my legs, but soon I realized something was off. The girl in the picture was too perfect; she had an angel like stance. She was too serene, gracefully lying on the bed with a tranquil smile. Actually, the girl he drew was not me. It was a lie, but I wondered about the truth he was insinuating, that it revealed. I asked hesitatingly. “Then, what truth do you see when you look at this drawing?”
“That I am in love.”
“What?” I cried out loud in shock, not believing my ears.
“I am in love with you Emma.” Dylan repeated again.
“How can you be in love with someone you’ve met only twelve hours ago?”
“I don’t think you need a grace period to fall in love. It just happens. It happened for me the moment I kissed you.”
I couldn’t say anything. How was I supposed to break him the news that I couldn’t love him back? My life was difficult enough. I didn’t have time for love. Love always hurt. It was inevitable and I couldn’t risk getting hurt again. This was a one-day distraction, a fairy tale that was going to end in the morning. I looked at his penetrating eyes and saw my reflection in his irises. Instantly, I realized I couldn’t tell him any of that. I didn’t want to ruin the magic of our night. Instead, I put my head on his chest and brushed my fingers over his tattoos.
In comfortable silence in his arms, I studied the intricate design of his tattoo weaved around a very noticeable image. It was an image of a little girl and a boy, holding hands at the edge of a precipice by a lone tree in black ink. Striking words: ‘always together, two free souls forever’ were underneath it. “Your tattoo…What does it mean?” I asked curiously, touched by the dramatic scene, depicting the solitude of two people.
“It is Rachel and I; I got that tattoo years ago,” he said. His gaze was pensive. There was an agony in his deep voice.
“Rachel?”
“My sister.”
“Such a dramatic image.” I whispered, wondering the afflictive situation that caused him to get him such a tattoo.
“Rachel ...” his voice cracked. “She used to be a gymnast. She fell from the cross bars during practice, six years ago, when she was twelve. She severed her spinal cord. She can’t walk anymore. The days following her accident were so devastating. We thought she wasn’t going to make it.” He explained. His pain was visible in his eyes.
“I am sorry Dylan. I can only imagine how hard it must have been.” I said.
“It was very difficult for her to accept her situation. I was terrified of losing her. It was the worst year of my life, the same year my father left. I don’t care about what he did to me but I can never forgive him for abandoning Rachel like that.”
There it was. The edginess and anguish in his voice whenever the subject of his father came up. I wished I had the power to eradicate his pain and make him feel lighter. I kissed him softly. His blue eyes were dark. They darted up and met mine.
“She pulled through. She is starting college this year.” He said, sounding more relaxed.
“She is lucky to have a brother like you,” I mumbled.
“You think so?”
“Yes, I certainly do.” I said firmly, assuring him. Then, I snuggled his arm tighter, inhaling his manly scent. He played with my hair and sleep came almost instantly. I felt his soft lips, brushing mine. I vaguely heard him utter, “Goodnight Emma…” but I couldn’t reply. I fell into sleep.
It was still dark, except for the moonlight seeping through the half closed curtains when I opened my eyes to the sound coming from my back-pack. My phone was vibrating in the front pocket. I wondered who was calling me at this hour. I chose to ignore it, not wanting to leave the warmth of Dylan’s body surrounding me. He was sleeping peacefully. His lips were closed but I saw a glimmer of a smile on his face. Was it possible for anyone to look happy when sleeping? Dylan did. I touched the contours of his lips with my fingers, adoring his perfect face. I closed my eyes, hoping I could fall asleep again, however, when I heard my phone ring for the second time, I knew I couldn’t. Wide awake now, I had to get my phone. I carefully untangled my legs first and my body without waking him up. I got out of the bed slowly and grinned when I spotted my panties and bra lying on the floor. My first time sleeping naked. I had never slept without changing into my pajamas before. Then again, I’d never slept with someone I had just met either. Dylan was my first for many things.
I put on my panties and clasped my bra quickly. Then, I opened the front pocket of my backpack and took the phone out. I saw that I had four missed calls in ten minutes, although I only heard the last two... While I was trying to apprehend why someone back home was calling me, I saw ‘new voice mail’ message popped up on
the screen. ‘You have one unheard message’ said the mechanical voice.
“Emma, it is me. I don’t have much time to talk. I am in trouble. I know you are in Amsterdam but I don’t know who else to call… I had a bad accident. I hit a curb on the highway. I didn’t hit anyone but I trashed my car. Police, ambulance, fire truck, every God-damn vehicle with a siren came to the scene and they pulled me out of the car. I was conscious but hurt pretty badly. They took me to the nearest hospital. Oh sis, I don’t know how to tell you this. They checked me for things. You know... alcohol, drugs. I just had a couple of beers and a roll of weed. That’s it. I wasn’t doing anything major Ems. I swear... God, Ems! I’ve been arrested for DUI. They are not letting me go this time, not even with bail. As soon as I am released from the hospital, they will put me in jail. Please do something. Please …”
I collapsed on the floor when I finished listening to his message. With one phone call, my brother managed to ruin my day again.
Steve always had issues, even during his childhood. I never blamed him for being a difficult child. He was only three years old when our mother died and father left. Not having parents around was a perfect excuse for him to act out and he exploited our love and sympathy to get away with everything. Aunt Helen and Uncle George were too understanding, regardless of his never ending problems. My father’s approach to solve all of Steve’s issues with money didn’t help either. He was rebellious and wild, however, since he started college, he had gotten more out of control. He drank excessively. I found prescription drugs in his car, although he swore that they weren’t his. After his first DUI, my father used all his leverage with the district attorney to drop the case, however this time, I wasn’t sure if he would get away that easy. But jail time… was too much. There was no way Steve would survive in jail. I had to do something. I had to go back to New York and talk to Aunt Helen and my father. We had to get him into rehab, but first we had to save him from going to prison.
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