“Who are you then, Jack? What are your impossible choices?”
In an instant, his smile erased itself, as if it had been bleached away. He said nothing for one moment that stretched into many moments, and felt far too long. The expression in his beautiful eyes looked pained, haunted even. In that span of silence, she sensed all the reasons why he’d come to see her in the first place. Self-loathing, maybe even guilt was written in his eyes. She wanted to ask him more, to try to help ease his burden. She was tempted, even as he swallowed and looked away.
“I don’t know how to talk about them,” he said in a ragged whisper.
Her heart staggered to him. “It can be hard to give voice to certain things.”
When he turned back to her, he parted his lips to speak more.
But she wasn’t ready. Wasn’t ready for knowing why she’d seen guilt edging in on him. She wasn’t his shrink and she wasn’t his girlfriend, and the more she knew of his inner truths, the more she put her own heart at risk.
Her heart was too fragile. It was made of glass, and could shatter if dropped.
Something else held her back too. She didn’t want to press him to share too much, too soon. Whatever he had to say, he’d say when the time was right for him. She leaned in to him, brushed her lips against his, using closeness as a way to absolve him from speaking. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “We don’t have to go there. Besides. I need to leave. I have some early appointments.”
“Okay,” he said, as if it had ten syllables, and they all tumbled awkwardly over his tongue. Then he ran his hand through her hair, and the gesture, maybe even the movement, felt sad. But she tried not to read too much into it; she had to be careful on that account.
The matter was helped by him spinning her around, so her back was flush against the edge of his counter. Like a door closing, and another one opening, he’d erased that momentary anguish, that brief hint of pain. He replaced it with raw heat as his eyes blazed at her.
“I need to give you something for the road. Stay like that,” he said harshly. He walked across his hardwood floors to the bedroom she’d come to know so well in such a short amount of time. He returned with a mischievous grin on his face and his fist closed.
“Another toy surprise?”
He nodded, and uncurled his palm, revealing a small blue vibrator. Slim, with a wide head, this was the kind of vibrator that sent you off into a good night’s sleep. “It’s called The Dream. I want to watch you come one more time before you go,” he said, his eyes dark, his tone that commanding one that thrilled her. Heat scorched a path through her body.
“Do everything I say,” he said, his rough voice hot on her skin.
“I will.”
“Lift your skirt,” he told her, and she did, tugging it up to her hips.
“Pull down your panties,” he said, and she pushed them down to her knees.
“Run your finger through your pussy and let me suck your finger,” he said, and she gasped, but did as instructed, sliding her finger across her wet lips, then bringing it to his mouth. He drew her finger in deeply and sucked hard, making the most satisfied sound. His eyes floated closed as he moaned, like a chef tasting his favorite dish.
“Now spread that delicious pussy open for me,” he said as he opened his eyes, and she lowered her fingers between her legs again, gliding through the slick evidence of her desire for him, her unabated desire that had no end in sight. It was ceaseless.
“Like that?” she asked, opening herself wide for him.
He nodded. “Leave them there,” he said, and she kept her hand in place as he pressed his thumb against the on-switch for the toy. He lowered the vibrator to her already aching clit, and rubbed gently at first. She cried out in pleasure.
“This will serve as a reminder that if you’d stay I could do this to you in the middle of the night or the morning or whenever you fucking wanted,” he said as her breathing turned erratic, and she trembled from his touch. The vibrations worked quickly, and she felt herself turning loose and hot, and close to the edge.
“Tell me what you pictured the morning after I fucked you for the first time. When you masturbated to me alone in your bed.”
Her back bowed, and her lips fell open. “I thought about sucking your dick.”
“Were you on your knees?”
She shook her head. “No. You straddled my face. You fucked my mouth like that,” she said breathlessly, as she rubbed herself against the toy.
He hissed in his breath. His teeth pressed into his lips, his eyes dark and wild. “Did you come like that?”
“Yes,” she said on a pant. “I called out your name. I came tasting you.”
His chest rose and fell, as if he were exercising every ounce of self-restraint right now to concentrate on her orgasm. “I jacked off to you that morning too. To making you come. Do you want to know how I made you come?”
“Yes.”
“Rock into this and I’ll show you,” he whispered harshly, and she moved with him, riding the vibrator as he dropped his other hand between her legs, sliding his fingers across her, then thrusting one into her, and another he slowly pushed into her rear.
She cried out, first in shock, then in pleasure, as the twin—no, the triple—sensations shot through her. A burn, like the first taste of whiskey, then pure, unabashed ecstasy from the vibrator on her clit, and then his fingers playing her insides like a fucking pro, her whole body beholden to the sheer prowess of his hands as he drew another shattering orgasm out of her.