* * *
I was awakened by Brad’s mouth on my neck doing incredibly delicious things to my body. I was wet before I even opened my eyes. The sunlight was streaming in through a crack in the curtains—the gorgeous room glowed a soft yellow. The blanket tented over our bodies, Brad on top of me, his legs on either side of mine, his weight supported by his knees and one arm. He paused, his mouth leaving me, moving to my ear, whispering in it. “This isn’t about sex, I promise you.” His words tickled my ear, and I squirmed against him, giggling softly. His hand roamed, skimming the top of my bra, over my small cleavage, traveling down my stomach. When it reached the top of my panties, it tugged down, softly swiping fingers over my pubic area, teasing the bit of hair there.
“If this isn’t about sex, what are you doing?” I said softly, biting back a groan of pleasure.
He moved above me, shifting his body, the brush of his skin against mine sinful. “It’s about proving you wrong...and pleasing you.”
His fingers continued their sweep of my pelvis, running up and down my mound. I moaned with desire and responded immediately, pulling my long legs free and wrapping them around his waist. I leaned my head back, opening my neck even more and arching my back, pressing my breasts into him. He took advantage of my arched back to move his free hand underneath, grabbing my butt firmly, squeezing it hard, almost to the point of pain. I gasped in surprise, grinding against him, loving the feel of his strength. He instantly moved his hand, taking it up and grabbing the back of my hair, drawing my head back so I was staring up into his deviously playful eyes.
Swiftly, I leaned up and kissed him until he responded, pushing down with his head, pinning mine to the bed. We kissed long and hard, as he moved his arm so that it matched the other, his weight resting on both elbows on either side of me, his body lying softly on mine. I could feel his dick—ridiculously hard and ridiculously big—so much that I second-guessed whether it was him. Maybe it was his cell phone, or some other object? Then it twitched, and I had no doubt in my mind. Good God.
I pushed on his shoulders, trying to roll him over so I could assume my normal dominant position on top, but he didn’t budge. He continued teasing my mouth with his tongue and grinding into me. I wrapped my legs tighter, digging my heels into his ass. I touched his muscular back with one hand and reached down with the other, trying to feel his hardness. He sat back on his knees, taking his mouth off mine, and grabbed both of my hands, pinning them together and holding them down with one hand above my head. He swiveled out of my legs and lay to the side of me, my body now stretched out beside him with my hands captured. I bucked off the bed, glaring at him, hating the restriction of my hands. He leaned over and kissed me gently, with a bit of tongue, softening my anger slightly. Then he pulled back again.
His eyes took a greedy and unapologetic tour of my body, his free hand leading the way. He pulled down the tops of my bra, allowing my breasts to be free and exposed, my nipples erect in the morning air. He ran his hand down and over the top of my panties this time, feeling the wet silk at my opening. His grin grew and he teased my pussy through my panties, running his hand from my clit to my ass, back and forth. Then he slipped a finger past the fabric and inside me. His eyes changed at the feeling of my tight wetness, growing darker and losing a bit of their control.
“Oh my God, Julia,” he breathed. “What am I going to do with you?” Wonder and desire filled his voice and eyes, and I stared at him, wanting his mouth on me again. I arched my back, pressing my sex into his hand, wanting some kind of release for my overwhelming desire. Is this what it’s like? The men I torment with my teasing. Is this what they go through? This blatant need for release? I had never experienced it before, and suddenly understood the desperate look in their eyes. I was sure I had it in mine. I’m going to have to change my teasing ways. This is pure torture. The realization sent a blaze of anger through me and I ripped my hands free, catching Brad off guard. My eyes flashed with what must have been a combination of lust, anger and a hunger for the power balance to be restored. I needed to see in his eyes what I had in mine. I tried to roll on top of his body, but he held me at bay, his strong arms too powerful. I tried to reach for his cock, but he moved my hands away and resumed his previous position on top of my body.
“I want to suck your dick,” I breathed, injecting desire and longing into my voice. This would cause a normal all-American man to immediately roll over and unzip, but Brad shook his head at me and clicked his tongue.
“This is about you. I want to please you.”
“What will please me is having your big dick in my mouth!” I shouted back. What man turns down head? At 9:00 a.m., no less.
“You said you can’t come.”
“Yeah, so?”
“I’m going to make you.”
“You can’t. It’s been tried.”
His expression turned scornful. “By who? Nineteen-year-old frat boys whose version of foreplay is having you give them a blow job?”
I silenced. He did have a point. Damn him. “Seriously, let’s just drop it. I’ve accepted it. You need to do the same.”
“Do I look like a man who gives in easily?” He looked like a man who was too damn gorgeous for words. His bare torso was that of a Roman gladiator’s, knotted with muscles that flexed and popped when he moved. His waist was thick and strong, and my hands couldn’t seem to stay away from his massive arms. He pushed me back on the bed and moved, sliding down my body until his face was at my stomach.
My mind realized what he was about to do before my mouth did. “Waaa... Stop!”
My shrill voice caused him to raise his head and look at me. “What?”
“What are you doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing?”
“I...er...don’t do that.” As a matter of fact, no one had ever done “that” to me. I had always been self-conscious about the thought that a man would be placing his mouth on my most private part. What if it smelled, or tasted bad? What if I didn’t like what he did? Would he be offended if I told him to stop? It just seemed easier to skip the act altogether. And I had never gotten any pushback about it. Truth be told, I think college guys were as scared of the act as I was.
“Don’t do that, or haven’t done that?”
“Both.”
“Julia. Trust me.” I looked down at his eyes and saw a hint of it—the pleading look. He really wanted to do it—wanted it the way I had needed the earlier release. It wasn’t the power trip that I had been looking for, but it was as close as I would get. I nodded mutely, closed my eyes and steeled myself for disaster.
Brad slowly rolled down my panties until they reached my knees, and then pulled them off. He spread my legs and paused, breathing in the scent of me and letting me feel his hot breath. I felt so incredibly exposed, my legs open, and him staring at me, my lips, that close up.... I’d looked at myself in a hand mirror once and had been scared to death at what I saw—all the different colors and shapes....
I tried to breathe normally but felt as if I was about to hyperventilate. I glanced down. He was focused, not looking up at me. The sight of his muscular, manly body in between my legs was erotic, and I felt my moistness grow. He leaned down and I braced myself.
The first feel of his mouth on my sex startled me. I had been expecting it, my body in nervous anticipation, but it still surprised me. I expected to feel a tongue pushing and protruding. Instead, he placed his whole mouth on me, a blanket of wet hotness. I tried to figure out how he was making the sensations I was feeling, but all thought left my head the moment he started moving his tongue. I lost all sense of feeling except between my legs. It was as if every sensory receptor on my body immediately fled their posts and converged there. A sensation similar to an itch started to grow between my legs, with pressure building behind it.
I wrapped my legs tight around Brad’s head and grabbed h
is hair with my hands. From some other plane I heard my voice saying “oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck” over and over, but I had no consciousness of speech or of how to get myself to stop. My shyness had fled, and I knew nothing but undeniable pleasure. He continued whatever ridiculously delicious thing he was doing with his mouth and the itch grew stronger, my body twitching to keep it under control. A wave of intense sensation grew, swelling. I was unable to control it. I tucked my pelvis up, grinding my sex into his face and hearing my voice grow louder.
Holy shit, it’s actually happening. I’m about to have an—
My body exploded. I arched my back, spread my toes, and felt the earth, stars and moon collide. The core of my body shattered in a feeling I can only describe as the most incredible experience of my entire life. The itch was satisfied in the purest form of pleasure, so pure that I felt almost pain at the intensity of it. Waves, sweet and incredible, radiated out from my sex. “OH FUUUCCCCKKKKKKKK!” I screamed so loud that I’m sure people four rooms over could hear, but I couldn’t spare any possible brain power to tell myself to quiet down—all my senses were overwhelmed by the ecstasy of the orgasm.
It lasted almost too long, my body at the verge of breaking, then faded, some delicious tendrils hanging around a little longer than others. My body was shaking uncontrollably, sensual waves of pleasure still gently washing over me, gradually disappearing by the time Brad took his mouth off my body. I lay back on the bed, delirious and twitching with aftershocks. My eyes were closed, and I kind of heard him moving around. I didn’t have the energy to open my eyes. I was spent, naked and lying there, legs spread, exposed, and I didn’t give a damn. The man had drained all reasonable thought and feeling from my body. It took a good two minutes before I felt that I could move again.
I tested my legs, moving them one at a time, and then lazily rolled over, propping myself up on one arm.
Brad was leaning back in a soft chair, his legs sprawled out in front of him, one hand playing with his mouth. He watched me, a small smile on his lips.
I looked at him through drugged eyes. “Pretty proud of yourself, aren’t you?”
He spread his hands, palms up, shrugged his shoulders in a “hey, what can I say?” gesture.
“I faked that.”
His outburst of laughter surprised both of us, and I joined in, giggling and rolling over on the bed. He stood and ambled over, dropping down next to me. The whole bed shook with the extra weight.
I glanced at the clock: 9:18 a.m. “How long did it take me?”
“About four minutes.”
“Damn.”
He was amused. “You wanted it to take longer?”
“No! I didn’t want to give you any more fodder for your big ego.” I snorted. “Not that I accomplished that.”
He reached over and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “Do you regret it?” he said softly.
I flopped onto my back. “Are you kidding? That was the single best moment of my entire life! I’ve never been so happy to be wrong.” I rolled over again, my face inches from his, and looked at him with seriousness. “Thank you. I owe you one.”
He leaned forward and gently kissed my lips. “Don’t mention it.”
Sixteen
My limbs felt ridiculously loose and lazy, and I wandered, still mostly naked, to the bathroom. I closed the door, stripped off my bra and dropped it onto the floor. I reached into the shower and turned every jet to full force. Steam quickly filled the bathroom, and I gingerly stepped into the hot spray. It felt like a thousand little fingers massaging me, and I stood still for a good five minutes, letting the spray warm and awaken my body. Finally, I stopped being lazy and grabbed the small shower gel bottle, squeezing a generous amount into my palm and running my hands over my body. I heard the door click open and, through the fogged glass door, saw Brad’s head lean into the bathroom.
“Julia, I’m ordering in breakfast. What would you like?”
“Umm...two scrambled eggs and fruit please.”
His head disappeared and I heard the door shut. I used the shampoo and worked my hair into a lather, loving the warm water hitting me from all directions. This is the life.
Five minutes later, I reluctantly turned off the shower and stepped out onto the plush white bath mat. The bathroom was a steamy sauna, and I wrapped my hair in a fluffy towel and walked to the closet. I remembered seeing bathrobes there, and I snagged one off the hanger and pulled it on. I washed my face at the sink, then reached for my toothbrush. I blushed, thinking of our deep kiss just a half hour earlier, wondering how bad my morning breath had been. I brushed extra long and hard, hoping to make up for any stinkiness I had exhibited earlier.
When I was finally satisfied with my teeth, I unwound my hair and tried to towel dry it as best I could. I got it somewhat unwet, fluffed it and walked back into the suite.
Brad was sitting at the dining table, a phone to his ear. He was facing away from me, looking at the Strip. His legs stretched out, one hand spinning a water bottle on the table, he looked every bit the powerful man he was. He wore a baby-blue polo, faded jeans and new white-and-silver Nike runners.
“Tell her to stay in the house, change the locks and don’t answer if he knocks. If he pesters her, call security. The dues they pay in that gated community should more than cover a security guard intelligent and experienced enough to write a decent police report. First thing Monday we’ll file an emergency injunction against him. Tell her to relax. Anything he does right now will only help our case. And for God’s sake, keep her away from the pool boy! I want us surveilling her day and night—for her protection—but also to keep an eye out for other P.I.s. I have a feeling they’re trying to catch her in something, and I want to have a head start on them....
“Exactly....
“If you need a good guy, call Romanelli. He owes me one....
“You, too, brother.”
He hung up the call and turned to stand, pausing when he saw me in the room. A smile broke out on his face. “Have a nice shower?”
“Amazing. I want to pack that shower up and take it home with me.”
“Tomorrow you should try the bath.” His voice had turned slightly sexual, and I fought back a blush.
There was a polite knock at the door. Brad pulled out the leather dining chair to the right of his seat, and indicated I should sit. He strode to the door and swung it open. A petite Asian woman with a large room-service cart entered, wheeling it toward the table. I started to rise, and she shook her head and hands.
“No, no. You sit.” Her broken English was accompanied by a sweet smile, and she scurried around the cart, unloading the dishes. Brad returned to his seat, pausing on the way to kiss the top of my head. The damn man was an enigma. The server made quick work of the loaded cart, and before long the table was filled with small plates of breakfast items. She left a small vase of yellow flowers in front of us, made a slight bow and left.
My requested eggs and fruit were present, along with yogurt, orange juice and milk. Brad had ordered a full breakfast for himself, and heaped bacon, hash browns and a waffle onto the large plate already containing an omelet.
We ate in silence for a few minutes, then Brad said, “We have dinner reservations at Prime tonight, and tickets to a Cirque du Soleil show at 10:00 p.m. That leaves the day pretty much up to you. I’ll leave Philipe’s number for you. He’s my host. He can arrange anything you’re interested in.”
I blinked, halfway through a biscuit that I had snagged from one of his gabillion plates. “You’re leaving me?”
He laughed. “Oh, how many times I’ve heard that one.”
“Ha. Ha.” I glowered at him and took another huge bite of biscuit.
“I have stuff to do. Mainly gambling. Stuff you won’t be interested in. I’ll regroup with you at dinner. Trust me, you’ll have a fine time without me.”
He winked and went back to eating, apparently done with the conversation.
I felt the happy bubble that had enveloped me since my first orgasm begin to deflate. I don’t know what I had envisioned, but his leaving me in the room while he handled his “stuff” all day wasn’t it. What was the point of a trip to “get to know each other” if we spent the whole time apart? I grumbled to myself and jerked open the lid to the yogurt with unnecessary vigor. He eyed me carefully, sensing my irritability. It wasn’t that hard to sense—I was practically beating him over the head with it.
“You’re not going to start crying again, are you?”
This thought struck me as so absurd that I burst out laughing. I laughed until tears threatened and milk started to drip from my nose. I grabbed a napkin and shook my head, still shaking slightly. “That was a onetime thing, I swear. I’m typically not a crier. I don’t know what came over me.” Plus, now I don’t have to debate about having sex with you. I know what I want. I could feel the bright red color of my face and I studiously avoided his eyes, focusing really hard on finding the perfect scoop of Dannon strawberry yogurt.
“Any guesses?”
I set down the yogurt and met his eyes. “If I want a shrink, I’ll use the ridiculously long day stretching before me and ask ‘Philipe’ to send me one. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go to my room to start my sentence!” Knowing full well how juvenile I was acting, I tossed down my yogurt and stomped off, heading toward the other room. Brad caught my arm as I passed his chair, and he stood, spinning me around and holding me by the shoulders. He kissed me, firm and hard, and then released me.