That’s when his arms go around me tightly and hang on. “You must think I’m the biggest weirdo you’ve ever met in your life,” he mumbles into my shoulder.
I laugh. “Are you kidding me? I live on a hippie commune. Do you have any idea of the weirdos I’ve come into contact with in my lifetime? You’re seriously small potatoes in comparison, believe me.”
He laughs a little. “I’d like to hear more about that, actually. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so bad about bringing you in here and showing you my horribly depressing home movies.”
I pull away and put my hands on either side of his face, staring up at him. “I would be happy to tell you all about my upbringing, because I guarantee you, it will cheer you up and make you feel completely normal. But why don’t we go into the other room where it’s not so dark and depressing and do something else for a little while first?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug, searching for an idea that’s a lot less heavy than telling each other all of our dark secrets. “Do you have any board games or cards?”
He searches my eyes for a few long seconds and then takes me by the hand and leads me out of the movie room. “I have something that you might enjoy. Better than a board game.”
I follow him through his penthouse wondering if we’re going to be playing strip poker, glad I’m wearing my brand-new, never-worn-before matching bra and panty set.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I follow Ty through the apartment, and he brings me into his family room. He flicks on the television and messes around with something in a nearby cabinet and then comes back over to hand me a small black box.
“Go ahead and have a seat,” he says.
I look down at what’s in my hands. “Are we going to play video games?”
“Yeah. Do you like ’em?” He presses some buttons on his controller as he aims it at the TV. Several screens flash by.
“I’ve never played one before.”
He pauses. “You’re not serious.” He’s looking at me and smiling like a little kid.
“No, I am serious. I almost never watch TV either.”
He walks over and flips a switch on the wall, leaving just the dim glow from the television to light the room. “I’ll try to take it easy on you, since this is your first time.”
“I am a video game virgin.” The words come out before I think too hard about what they could mean for us.
He smiles devilishly. “Is that so?”
“Can we forget I just said that?”
“Not on your life.” He takes me by the elbow and guides me over to the couch. “Sit. I’m going to give you a quick primer and then I’m going to school you.”
I’m enjoying his sense of competitiveness. He’s much more cheerful now that he’s imagining winning than he was a few minutes ago reliving his past. It makes me want to be good at this . . . whatever it is.
He presses a button to start the game, and we’re presented with a scary scene of a bombed-out or abandoned city. “This is called Apocalypsis,” he says. “It’s set in a post-apocalyptic world and you have to survive against your enemies.”
I settle into my seat and point my controller at the screen. “Oh, I’m gonna be totally good at this. I live on a farm. If the whole world comes to an end, you should come to my house. We’ll live like kings.”
He starts showing me the buttons on the controller and pointing to things on the screen. I’m not sure I totally understand everything, but it’s fun having him sit here by me and lean over and give me a chance to sniff him without him knowing what I’m doing. He smells amazing—like a boy, which isn’t something I get to experience much at my house . . . the place otherwise known as Estrogen Central.
“Okay, so you’re that character there—Bryn. She’s a girl and she’s really tough, so I figured you’d like being her.”
“What makes you think I’d like it so much?” I look at him, enjoying the blue glow from the TV that makes him seem otherworldly.
“Because she reminds me of you.” He turns to face the screen and points at it with his controller. “I’m her buddy, Bodo. He’s a foreign exchange student from Germany who got stuck in the US after the war. I’m about to start the game . . . Get ready.”
Our two characters are walking around a devastated city. It’s pretty depressing, but when zombies come out and try to get us, I instantly get carried away with the game. Sometimes Ty nudges me to try to distract me from my strategy, but I’m getting the hang of it quickly.
“No fair,” I say after he shoves me sideways on the couch. I keep pressing buttons even though I’m on my side, delivering a karate chop and a roundhouse to a zombie whose head falls off, effectively earning me fifty points and some more ammunition.
He does it again.
“No fair! You can’t cheat just because you’re losing.”
He laughs. “I’m not losing. Check out the score.” He points at the screen with his controller. As soon as I realize he’s distracted, I shove him and then grab several more points with some really cool karate moves and a grenade I had handy.
“Hey. Now you’re cheating,” he says.
I shrug. “What can I say? I learned from the best.”
He grabs my controller out of my hand and quickly gathers some points for himself.
I go after him, trying to get my controller from his outstretched hand. “Hey, give it back! This is out of bounds. This is worse than cheating. You’re using your manliness to take advantage of me.” I’m straining over him, trying to get it, and then suddenly his lips are on mine.
I pull back, a lot of my excitement over the game gone, quickly replaced by sexual attraction to my zombie-fighting partner. “Hey. That’s cheating too.”
“My manliness? What does that even mean?” He’s laughing.
“Your long arms, dummy.” My face is burning.
He puts his controller and mine down on the coffee table and places his hands on either side of my head. He stares at me for a couple seconds and then leans in, kissing me softly.
I vaguely hear the sounds of our battle continuing on the screen to my left, but I’m done with that silly game. Screw killing zombies; I want to do more of what we’re doing right now instead.
Our tongues tangle together, and our breathing speeds up. He pushes against me and I lean to my left, my back pressing against the soft cushions. He’s on top of me, raising himself up on one arm to keep from crushing me.
My mind is racing. What exactly are we doing? Is this a good idea? Should I stop things from going too far? I know the right answers to my questions; I should stop kissing him and get up and leave right now. These are the smart things to do, but I’m not always smart.
He moans, his hand enveloping my right breast and squeezing it. I can’t believe how good it feels to have him touching me like this. Ty’s body sinks down more fully against mine. He’s hard and I want to touch him between his legs, but I also don’t want to lead him on. I’m still not sure this is a great idea, even though everything in me wants to keep going—everything but that one tiny part of my brain that’s trying to remind me how this is going to play out in the days to come.
His kisses leave my mouth and travel down my neck to my chest, leaving a trail of heat everywhere they touch. I’m on fire, and my hips surge up involuntarily, trying to bring my body closer to his. Ty’s hand slides down and grabs my rear end. He presses his body onto me more completely, sinking his hard parts into my soft ones. I moan. I can’t help it; the sensations are too much. They’re blocking out all my common sense.
He’s kissing my chest again, unbuttoning my shirt. He draws the edge of my bra to the side and pulls out my nipple, gently sucking on it. I moan loudly. I’ve never been so turned on in my life.
“Ty,” I say, breathless.
“Yeah?” He slides his scratchy chin across my skin and pulls the other side of my bra over, releasing my other breast.
“Are you sure this is a
good idea?” My eyes are closed and I’m straining up toward him, begging for the touch of his mouth on me. My body is not okay with me questioning what’s going on.
“No,” he says, sending a shock through me. Why does doing the wrong thing feel so right sometimes?
I bury my fingers in his hair, kneading his scalp as his tongue and lips make electric shocks flow through my body from my breasts. My nipples are so hard, and thankfully, he knows exactly what he’s doing.
He puts his hand between my legs, rubbing against me, his finger sliding up and down, drawing more heat from inside my body. He’s doing something at his waist and then his hand is on mine. He draws me down to his hardened cock that he’s released from his pants, silently begging me to touch it.
Of course I do. How could I not? All I can think about is having sex with this man. Who cares if it’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever had in my life? Right now I’m the one with the problem and he’s the one with the solution. I need to feel him inside me.
I stroke his hard length up and down, loving when he moans and presses against me; it makes me feel powerful and in control.
That sensation is just an illusion, though. I’m no more in control of this than I am of the weather. Lightning flashes outside the window, causing me to pause. The faint sound of thunder follows and drops of rain streak across the large windows behind the couch. Ty strains against me, his swollen hardness pushing through my hand. I stroke it again, forgetting about the storm raging outside and instead focusing on the one raging in here.
“You want to go into my bedroom?” he whispers, sucking on my neck.
“No.” There’s a silly, naïve piece of me that thinks if we don’t go into the bedroom, I’m going to be okay . . . I’m not going to go through with this. But I’m a fool, because I know better.
I help him pull his shirt off and then we take mine off too. My bra is not far behind. Within minutes, we’re fully naked and he’s lying on top of me on his couch. I squirm around, barely able to contain myself. My instincts are screaming—get him inside!
He pushes up and grabs his pants off the floor, pulling something from a pocket. I hear a ripping sound and realize that he’s putting on a condom. Thank God one of us has a functioning brain.
He looks down at me, the glow from the television and then a lightning strike nearby lighting up his face. He is so gorgeous, and he looks hotter than ever with his giant erection standing out in front of him.
“You sure you want to do this?” He comes down over me, his hands on either side of me. I can feel the tip of him pressing against me.
“I think it’s a terrible idea, but I don’t want you to stop.”
He reaches down to position himself and then slowly pushes inside me.
I pull him against me at his hip, helping him sink all the way in by opening my legs and lifting my feet off the couch. I cry out from both pleasure and pain.
He waits a moment until I settle down and then slowly begins to move again. It’s like he’s pouring liquid fire into me. Every stroke sends another wave of it through my body from between my legs. He kisses me and rolls my nipple between two fingers. Everything is connected and I can’t get enough. He really knows what he’s doing. Every other sexual encounter I’ve had before this one was amateur hour in comparison.
He picks up the speed of his strokes and I join him. Our bodies move together perfectly. He seems to know exactly what I need, changing his approach and his rhythm to suit my needs. Something is building in me that I’ve never felt before. I’ve always enjoyed sex, but not like this.
“Ty?”
“Yeah, babe.”
The word babe makes me want to cry with happiness. “Something’s happening.”
“Yeah, okay . . .” He grunts. “Oh, shit . . . I’m going to come.”
“I think I am too,” I gasp.
Hearing me say that does something to him. All the muscles in his body go rock hard and he starts moving really fast. I have to hang on because I worry if I let go, I’ll fall to the floor at the side of his couch and lose all these delicious feelings that are coming at me from every angle.
Things are quickly getting out of control. I hear strange sounds and moments later realize they’re coming from my own mouth. “Ty!” At this point I’m hanging on to him for dear life. This is crazy. What are we doing? He’s inside me and he’s filling me, pushing me over the edge into a very dark place. It’s like I’m falling into the damn video game where there are zombies waiting to get me.
He’s sweating, droplets falling down onto my face and chest. He’s grunting now and yelling. His body stiffens and jerks several times.
It triggers something inside me, something primal. I scream and grab ahold of him, scoring his skin with my fingernails.
His back arches for several long seconds as he yells like a caveman. Then he drops on top of me, still stroking in and out, holding me in both arms and squeezing tight. I cling to him, fearing what will happen if I let go.
And then suddenly I’m overly sensitive down there, and I feel something being pulled from me. I’m riding waves of sensation coming from the place where we’re still connected. I yell and then I cry. And then I have to stop moving because my body can’t take it anymore. Tears run down my face into my ears.
We both go quiet. All we can do is breathe and sweat. I can feel my pulse in my neck and his heartbeat against my breasts. We’re covered in slippery wetness.
Ty lifts his head after a while and starts kissing me all over my face—my forehead, my temples, my eyelids, my nose, and my cheeks. He finally stops at my lips. And then he smiles against me.
“What are you looking at?” I say, my words slurred from fatigue and the mind-blowing sex we just had. Our lips are softly touching, his breath tickling me.
“You.”
“I can’t believe we just did that.” My smile is lazy. My mouth doesn’t want to work anymore.
He pulls back a little. “Are you kidding? I’ve wanted to do this with you all day today.”
I can’t stop smiling. “Really?”
“Yeah, really.” He kisses me on the lips one time and then leans to the side, pulling out. He messes around with the condom, leaning over me and dropping it somewhere on the floor. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m cool.” He reaches up and moves some hair off my forehead. The air on my overheated skin feels great.
“I could really use a glass of water, though,” I say.
“Me too.” He does a push-up over me and jumps off the couch, standing up in all his naked glory. “I’ll go get us some.”
I watch him walk away, his butt hard and round, his legs and back thick with muscle. He has more tattoos than I realized. They cover his back and arms and part of his chest. I hope I’ll get the chance to see them in better lighting one day. The idea makes me go warm all over again.
Maybe I should feel embarrassed, lying here stark naked on his couch with our clothing discarded all around us, but I don’t. Being naked for me is a very natural thing. What’s not natural is me being here in this apartment carrying on a sexual relationship with a man I’m about to start working with. I hope this doesn’t overcomplicate things. I’m pretty sure that’s about as naïve a wish as they come.
When he comes back with the water I sit up next to him and we look at each other over our glasses.
“So . . . where do we go from here?” he asks.
I shrug. “Beats me.”
“Do you want to stay the night?”
I think about it for a few seconds and then shake my head. “No. I have to go to work tomorrow. I’d better get back to my hotel and try to get some sleep.” I know if I stay here there will be no chance of either of us getting any rest.
“Are you coming to the studio tomorrow?”
I hadn’t even thought of my first day, but the studio sounds like as good a place as any to get started. “I probably should. Just to sa
y hi to everybody and maybe find out how we’re going to get things going.”
“Want me to pick you up?”
I nod. “Yeah. That would be nice.” Especially since I have no idea where this studio is. I feel happiness glowing inside me, knowing that I’m going to see him in the morning.
I put my glass down and start gathering my things, slowly getting dressed as I locate different items. He pulls his jeans on and zips them up. Standing next to me, he reaches over and lifts a chunk of my hair, holding it up so that his fingers draw through it before his hand drops away.
“Why do you look so sad?” I ask.
“No reason.” His expression is shuttered now.
I don’t want to ruin the moment by forcing him to talk about something he’s not ready to talk about yet. But one of these days, I’ll figure out his mood swings and the way his mind works to turn a fun moment into a sad one. In the next two weeks, I’ll make it happen. I’ll get to the bottom of Ty Stanz, and then we’ll see where we can go from there, if anywhere at all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
This is my first time in a recording studio. Before arriving, I had only a vague idea of what to expect. This one, being in Manhattan, is pretty small, though, I think. There’s a booth with a large window at the end of the long, narrow room. It has a collection of things inside it, mostly instruments and microphone stands with headphones hanging next to them.
Outside the booth on one side of the room are couches, chairs, and small tables, plus a few mini fridges, and on the other side, across from the furniture, are various mixing boards and computer screens with two seats in front of them. There are windows above the furniture, making it possible to look out at other brick buildings in this more industrial area of the city.
Ty and I walk in together, but we’re not holding hands. That would be totally weird. The car ride over here was strange enough. There’s nothing like that awkward day after unplanned sex together when you can’t really talk because somebody else is with you. Ty’s driver is nicer than mine. He was happy to chat about the weather and what he had for breakfast, at least.