11
TURNING THE TABLES
By the time Roth returned to the bedroom, some fifteen minutes later, I was calm once more.
I knew I had to hold on to how I felt. I didn’t think Roth was ready for that kind of thing yet, because although he was the one who’d sent for me, watched me, was the one in control, my instincts told me that true, deep emotions were unfathomable to him. He wanted me; he wanted to own me, to have me. He enjoyed me. Appreciated me. Yes, he used words like “baby,” “darling,” and “love,” but those were casual terms of endearment, not protestations of love or anything like that.
I pushed away those thoughts and sat up as he set a tray down on the bed. He was still naked, and I couldn’t take my eyes off his body, couldn’t look away from his cock, which was still impressive, even flaccid. I wanted to make him hard again just for the pleasure of watching and feeling him grow in my hands, but my stomach rumbled when the scent of our leftover dinner hit my nose, quashing even my ravenous desire for Roth’s body.
“I don’t remember you bringing this home,” I said, grabbing a fork from the tray and digging in.
Roth sat cross-legged on the other side of the tray from me, taking the other fork and shoveling a huge bite of chicken Parmesan into his mouth. “I didn’t,” he said after he’d chewed a few times. “I was so focused on getting us back here and getting you naked that I forgot it. That message I sent earlier was to Marco. I asked him to have our leftovers brought here.” He took another bite, and then poured wine into a glass. There was only one glass, though, and he filled it nearly to the brim. “Marco would kill me for mistreating the wine like this, but I don’t care. Wine etiquette is for when you’re in public.”
After a healthy gulp, he passed the glass to me. We were sharing a glass of wine. Something about that made me giddy. “Well, you already know I don’t give much of a shit about wine etiquette,” I said. “I mean, if I’m out with you, I’ll try to follow your lead so I don’t embarrass you, but I clearly wasn’t raised with the kind of manners you were.”
He shrugged. “Just be yourself, Kyrie. I don’t care if you know how to appreciate fine wines. That can be learned. The beauty of your soul, however, cannot be taught, and that is what I appreciate most about you.”
“God, Roth. That’s so sweet. Thank you.” I gazed at him, letting some of what I felt for him flow through me and melt into my expression. “I feel the same about you. I mean, yeah, you’re the most handsome, sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my fucking life, but the more I learn about who you are, the more I appreciate you.”
Roth set his fork down very carefully, tilting his head to one side. His expression was inscrutable. “You…appreciate me?” He sounded stunned. “You don’t…resent me for claiming you the way I have?”
I shook my head. “Nope.” I endeavored to sound casual, so I paused to take a bite of lasagna, chewing and swallowing before I continued. “Look, I’m pretty in tune with my emotions, okay? When I figure out how I feel, I don’t waffle around about it. Once I know I like something, I’m all in. And I don’t fight feeling something just because it should be impossible or whatever. I know I should be insulted by the way you brought me here and told me you owned me, and I was at first. But…once I gave in to playing your game your way, I realized I liked it. Giving in, obeying your commands, is…freeing. It’s hot. I’ll never be a quiet, submissive little thing. Obeying doesn’t come naturally to me. It never has, and it never will. I’m strong, and I’m independent. But when you take charge and I let myself give in, I have fun.”
“Well. I’m glad for that.” He picked up his fork, but I could tell he was still deep in thought. “But that doesn’t explain you appreciating me.”
“No? Think about it, Roth. Think about me. Would I have gone this far with you, given in and obeyed and let you do all the things to me that you have if I didn’t trust you? If I didn’t enjoy it and enjoy you?”
He shook his head. “No. Of course not.”
“Then you get it.” A few more bites, a swallow of wine, and then I continued. “I like sex. I like it a lot. But I don’t do random, meaningless sex. I’ve been with a few guys, as I’m sure you know, but I’ve never felt a…connection…of some sort to any of them. I know that’s not a great thing to say, or to think about after what we just did together, but that’s exactly the point. All that? Everything that I’ve done before, all the guys I’ve been with before…none of them could even remotely compete with you. Not on any level. That” —I gestured at the bed— “was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It meant something. I don’t know what, exactly, but it did, and I know it, and I think you do, too.” But there was a lie in there. That I did know.
“You’re right, of course.” Roth said. Then he took a long swallow of wine before passing the last of it to me. “I think we both have a lot to think about.”
Roth and I had polished off a startling amount of food in a short time, all of the leftovers now gone, the wine finished, too. I was sated in every way: my stomach full, sexually glutted, a little buzzed, heart and mind full of powerful emotions kept secret for the moment.
Roth took the tray and set it on the floor outside the bedroom, then went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. His bathroom was even more incredible than mine. The shower was a cavernous space of dark marble and clean glass. There was a bench in the middle, with a six-foot-long rainfall showerhead embedded in the ceiling above it, and jets along the wall also angled toward the bench. There was a more traditional long-necked showerhead on one wall, located above the controls for the water flow.
I watched Roth from the bed, enjoying the play of his muscles beneath his firm skin, watching his ass tighten and relax with every step, his dangling cock swinging, balls heavy, thighs thick and powerful, arms long and hard and bulging with muscle. He turned one lever in the shower and the overhead shower kicked on, sending a stream of water down onto the bench. He turned another lever, and the jets sputtered and started, and then he adjusted a third lever, for the temperature, I assumed. He pushed a button on a panel outside the shower-room; the bathroom dimmed, and a set of soft multicolored lights set into the floor and walls of the shower came on, playing into the streams of water, making one jet crimson, another azure, a third hunter green. Muted amber shone down from the overhead stream, and purple was aimed across the floor.
Roth came back into the bedroom and scooped me up in his arms.
As he carried me into the bathroom, I said, “You really have a thing for pimped-out showers, don’t you?”
He nodded. “Yes, I suppose I do. A long, hot shower can be a magical thing, don’t you agree?” He set me down on the bench and closed the door to the shower. “If you think the showers in this place are something, you should see the one in my place on Turks and Caicos.”
“You have a place in Turks and Caicos?” I asked.
The water was just this side of too hot, the stream from above beating down with incredible force, the jets spraying me from all sides. Roth reached down between his feet and pulled out bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and shower gel, as well as a scrubbing poof, all of which were hidden in some kind of compartment built into the bench itself.
“Yes,” he said, reaching for me and pulling me to sit sideways on his lap. “Besides this place, I have homes in Turks and Caicos, London, Paris, and another in a tiny village on the Mediterranean coast of Italy. I spend most of my time here, as my business is centered in New York, so I rent those other homes out most of the year. I always take three months out of the year to travel, however, so I keep my other homes open and ready for me from September through November.”
He threaded his fingers into my hair and began massaging my scalp, bunching handfuls of my hair under the stream of water. The bench was placed so that, depending on which way you leaned, you could get the stream on your head or on your back and not on your face. I leaned against him, closed my eyes, and let the hot water beat down on my spine, listened to his heart pulsing, enjoyed the attention of his hands on me.
He worked shampoo into my hair, scrubbing my scalp and lathering my hair thoroughly down to the tips, and then he leaned us forward so the water sluiced the shampoo away. He backed away again, and the water streamed onto my back, allowing Roth to work conditioner into my hair. While the conditioner set, he squeezed the poof out in the jets of water and applied some shower gel, and began scrubbing: my back, over my shoulders and down my arms, everywhere he could reach without moving me.
“All right, stand up for me.” He shifted forward, and I reluctantly stood up.
Roth washed me all over, getting me clean, and then began to run the poof over my body in a more leisurely fashion, paying attention to my breasts first, lifting them and sliding the poof beneath them, then over my nipples. I leaned my head back into the water, and moaned in enjoyment as the hot water ran over my face and down my back, Roth’s hands wandering down my belly and between my legs. He’d already washed there, but I widened my stance anyway and let him run the soft yet scratchy poof over my sensitive skin.
While he roamed my body, I grabbed the bottle of shampoo and lathered his short, thick blond hair, tangling my fingers in it until the suds foamed up and rinsed away under the stream. I repeated the process with the conditioner, and then took the poof from him, reapplied the gel, and scrubbed him clean from head to toe, clinically at first. Then, once he was clean, I did as he had, slowly and gently exploring his body.
I started at his shoulders, scrubbing with the poof in one hand, sliding my other hand over his slick, wet skin afterward. I couldn’t resist kissing his flesh where the water had rinsed the soap away, making a train of touches, scrub first, smooth away with my hand, then kiss. Down his arms, one and then the other. His chest, over his pecs, tracing their outlines, then down between them to his abs, kneeling on the marble and scrubbing and kissing my way down each side of his sharp V-cut. He tensed, but I intentionally ignored his cock and balls, choosing instead to make my way down one thigh, holding the back of his knee as I kissed his shin and the side of his calf and his foot, then the opposite ankle and back up. His knee. His thigh. His hip. I pressed my tits against him as I reached around to cup his firm, taut ass, scrubbing each cheek and then between. I gazed up at him, abandoning the pretense of washing him now as I held onto his ass.
I stared up at him, breathing deeply, communicating a silent request with my eyes.
“I’m at your mercy, sweet Kyrie.” He gazed down at me, frowning slightly, brows drawn, eyes rife with intensity and emotions I couldn’t read.
I smiled up at him, a slow unfurling curl of my lips. “Anything?”
“Anything.”
My tongue flicked out to lick the groove of his abs, my fingers digging into the hard muscle of his backside. He rested his hands on my shoulders, breathing deeply, watching me. I sank down so my heels dug into my ass, my eyes on his cock. He was still at rest, hanging down and curving to one side a bit. With my hands still gripping the delightful bubble of his butt, I bent and kissed his sac. A kiss at first, just a touch of my lips, but then when his fingers tightened on my shoulders, I opened my mouth and extended my tongue to lick his taint and up his balls, then took his sac fully into my mouth and sucked gently. He hissed, and I felt his cock, lying across my cheek, harden. I tilted my head so the length of his hardening dick rested on my face while I suckled his balls.
“Shit, Kyrie. What—what the hell are you doing?” I’d never heard him sound so…out of control before, and I relished the feeling.
“Anything I want,” I said, then took his sac into my mouth again, sucked once, and backed away. “Does that feel good?”
“Yes. So good.”
“Want me to do it again?” I wanted to see how long he’d let this reversal of roles last.
“Please. Yes.”
So I did it again, and with every touch of my lips and tongue, his sac tightened and his cock hardened. All the while, my hands were holding tight to his ass, both for balance and because I loved the way his butt felt in my hands. And also, I had plans for his ass. Dirty plans that would probably surprise him.
When I felt his cock harden to a semi-erection, I moved my mouth to his shaft. A long lick lifted his cock, and the mushroom head was in my mouth. I took him in, gave him one gentle suck, and then backed away. He moaned when I did this, so I did it once more, licking from balls to tip, pausing at the end to suck as much of his length as I could fit into my mouth. The harder and thicker he got, the less I could take, and he was nearly at full erection, his beautiful penis standing straight up now, veined and straining, skin stretched, his head gleaming with my saliva, balls tight against his body.
I stared up at him. “I’m going to suck you dry, Valentine. I’m going to take your big hard cock into my mouth and suck you until you come so hard you can’t stand up straight. And then I’m going to keep sucking.”
He growled in his chest, eyes narrowed, jaw set.
I turned my head sideways and wrapped my lips around his girth, licking him with my tongue as I slid my mouth down to the root, then back up, taking him in my mouth until his tip hit the back of my throat. I lifted up onto my knees, twisted my body sideways to his, and bent over him, opening my throat and taking him deeper still. He rumbled and moaned, gasped as I backed away and then licked down the other side, sinking back down so my heels touched my butt, then bending further so I could take his taut sac into my mouth again. He hissed this time, and the hiss turned into a drawn-out moan when I slid my fingers into the crease of his ass. A single gentle suckle of his balls, and then I moved back up to wrap my lips around his head. At the same moment that I sucked on him hard, I slid my fingers over his asshole, all ten fingers brushing the tight knot of muscle and back up.
“Kyrie?” It was harsh sound, a questioning demand.
I spat him out just enough to allow speech. “You said anything. I want to touch you there.” I touched him with my middle finger, pressed in. “I like it. You might, too.”
“Shit.” He sucked in a deep breath, then let it out. “Go on, then.”
I felt giddy, excited. It was a big, huge, insanely enormous deal for him to let me do this, I knew. “Just relax. Hold onto my hair. Pull it if you want.”
He buried his hands in my wet hair, gripping it near the roots. One of my hands was cupped on the half-moon globe of his ass, and the other was on the crease near his thigh, my middle finger pressed against his asshole. I buried his cock in my mouth, tonguing him, backed away and licked the tip, then swirled my tongue around the head. When I took him deep again, he cursed under his breath and tightened his grip on my hair. He was so thick now that he stretched my lips, and I felt every pulse of his blood in the veins of his cock, and I knew that I had him close. He was still, his body rock-hard, tensed, forcing himself to stay still.
I looked up at him, watching his reaction as I worked my finger harder against his asshole. His jaw clenched tighter, his shoulders tensed, and his eyes flicked down to lock on mine. “You can move, Valentine. Move your hips. Fuck my mouth. I can take it.”
His expression darkened, his chest swelling as he took a deep breath. I returned my attention to his dick, spent a fleeting moment just staring at it, tall and proud and begging for my mouth. I licked the tip, and he twitched. Then I slid him between my lips, and this time he shifted his hips, pushing into my down-thrust. I backed away before he touched my throat, and he immediately pulled back. Again I lowered my mouth on him, and he matched my motion, pulling back when I did. I started bobbing, and he moved with me, shallow thrusts to match mine, and as I set a rhythm, I started pulsing my finger against his asshole. Groans left him, one after another, and then my fingertip slid in just a tiny bit, and he hissed, cursing.
“Jesus Christ, Kyrie.” His voice was a ragged whisper.
He took my hair in two handfuls and gripped hard, sucking in a rasping breath and groaning it back out. I bent his cock away from his body so I was thrusting my face toward his body, allowing me to open my throat more and take him deeper. I pushed my finger in a little more, and he couldn’t hold back then, pulling me by the hair onto his cock. I moaned, more for his benefit than mine; the vibrations made him growl and thrust again.
I backed away, sensing that he was close, and kept my lips sealed around the groove beneath the head, sucking and pulsing my finger in and out, just the first knuckle of my middle finger barely moving, but it was enough for him to lose all control, thrusting at me. I let him move as hard as he wanted, but I pulled away from his thrusts until he groaned in protest. And then I downed him, pulling him away from his torso and taking him into my throat until his balls touched my lower lip. I felt a moment of triumph that I’d taken that much of him.
And then he tugged on my hair twice. “I’m coming, Kyrie.” I backed away and suckled the sponge-springy head of his dick, giving him shallow bobs to thrust into. “I want to come on your tits.”
“Mmmm-mmm.” I kept bobbing on him, holding his ass and letting my finger go still inside him.
He growled in frustration, but then I felt his sac tighten and his cock throb, and then I felt his cock jerk. He came with a burst of hot, salty, musky come on my tongue. I sucked and swallowed the first gush, and then spat him out. He reached down and squeezed my tits together, and I slid my fist down his length, stroking him to milk the second stream from his cock. I watched as a jet of white seed spurted onto the slope of my boobs and slid down between them, washed away by the water still sluicing down from above, hot but going warm now. I moved against him, crushed his cock between my tits, and he thrust up, into my waiting mouth, shooting a third jet of come onto my lips and tongue. I wiggled my finger deeper into his asshole, and he cursed, throwing his head back, arching his spine, taking my middle digit past the first knuckle. He rocked his hips, thrusting his cock into my mouth, and I felt another spurt of come jerk from him, and then again, less this time, and then he was arching his spine and fluttering his hips in small quick thrusts. I sucked at each little spasm of his cock, holding him still against me with one hand on his butt cheek. I flicked his pulsing head with my tongue and milked him with my mouth until I knew he was done, and then kept sucking, bobbing my head and creating as much suction as I could.
Finally, he stumbled backward, wrenching himself from my grip. I let him go and stood up, watching him as he sagged back against the wall of the shower. I felt powerful. This was a man always perfectly composed, a man who prided himself on his self-control and restraint, and I’d just reduced him to a panting, boneless mess. Calmly, I squeezed a tiny bit of gel onto the poof and washed my hands, my face, and my tits, then approached him and ever so gently scrubbed his crotch.
The water was going cool now. Roth stared at me for a long moment, then let out a long breath and moved past me to shut off the water. Thick towels were stacked in a cubby built into the wall just outside the shower, and Roth pulled one free and wrapped it around me, brows furrowed, expression unknowable, his emotional walls back in place. He wiped me dry from head to toe, gently and thoroughly, and then himself. Both of us dry, he scooped me up in his arms, hesitated as if to bolster his strength, and then carried me into the bedroom.
“I could have walked, you know.” I watched him, unsure of his emotional state, of his thoughts, of what he’d felt regarding my little display of control.
I was kind of impressed with myself. I’d never done any of that before. I mean, sure, I’d given plenty of blowjobs before, a de rigueur part of sex and dating. But I’d never taken a guy that deep before, never spent so much time and effort on making sure he came as hard as possible. And I’d certainly never fingered a guy’s asshole before. I really couldn’t believe he’d let me do that. But he had. And he’d seemed to enjoy it, giving in to it.
Giving oral sex had always just been part of the process, something to do as part of sex. If a guy asked, and I liked him, I’d do it. If I was really feeling good about him, I’d do it voluntarily sometimes. But I’d never truly enjoyed it. I mean, does any woman really like having a giant cock shoved down her throat? Probably not. Not most, at least. But what I’d just done to Roth…I’d really, really liked it. I loved the sense of power, the knowledge that I could make him come apart and lose control. I’d loved making him feel good, giving him that pleasure.
After setting me on the bed, Roth tightened the towel around his waist. “Wait here.” He ran his hand through his hair in an agitated gesture, then left the room without a backward glance. I wondered then if I’d gone too far. I’d taken control and had been pretty open about my feelings for him—even though I hadn’t told him everything. But had I been too clear? Had I pushed him away, scared him off?
Only a few moment’s passed before Roth came back, carrying a six-pack of Stella Artois, a bottle opener, a gargantuan slice of cheesecake drizzled with chocolate, and one fork. As he entered the room, I slid off the bed, combed my fingers through my hair, and tossed my towel to the floor.
“I come bearing gifts,” he said with a smile.
“Tasty gifts, too.” I sat cross-legged on the bed next to him, angled toward him.
He popped the tops off two beers, handed me one, and took a long swig from his. I matched him, drinking deeply from the neck of the bottle. When I lowered the beer, he held the fork out to me, bearing a bite of cheesecake.
“Holy shit, that’s good,” I said.
I’d tried to stop swearing, but bad words just kept slipping out. Fortunately, Roth didn’t seem to mind it. If he did, he’d never said anything to me about it.
“Mmmmhmm.” He bobbed his head in agreement, and then swallowed his bite. “Yeah. It’s Eliza’s. Some secret recipe.”
“That woman is a miracle worker.”
“That she is,” he said, feeding me another bite.
Silence settled between us then, long and comfortable. Roth fed me in between long swallows of delicious beer, and when I finished mine, he popped open another before I’d even set the bottle down.
We finished the cheesecake and were near the bottom of our second beers when Roth finally met my gaze. “What you did in the shower…it was…amazing. Letting you have your way, though…that was extremely challenging for me.” He glanced away. “Letting you touch me as you did, that was even harder. I’ve not ever let anyone do that before. You…challenge me, Kyrie. On every level.”
“Why’d you let me, then?”
“You’ve shown so much courage, so much willingness—eagerness, even—for everything I’ve demanded of you. I don’t know, and don’t really want to know about everything you’ve done before…or why you haven’t. I told you, I only watched you to protect you, to watch over you. I was never voyeuristic about it, so I’m not familiar with the details of your sexual history. And I don’t care to go into it now, neither yours nor mine. I just want you to know that I’m very much aware of what I ask of you, and the fact that you’ve never denied me anything means a lot to me. Giving you your way in the shower…that was…I knew I had to give control back to you, because I couldn’t demand something of you I couldn’t give back.”
I grinned at him. “Well, if you’ve got to give me control, I certainly chose a fun way of exercising it on you, right?”
He chuckled. “Fun? That’s a hell of an understatement. That wasn’t just a blowjob, that was…something else. Something far more.”
“You liked it, then?”
“Liked it?” He stared at me. “Kyrie…you totally blew my mind. I didn’t know I could feel that way, or come that hard.”
I shivered with pleasure. “Good. That was what I wanted to do. I can’t guarantee it’ll be like that every time I blow you, though.”
“Every time?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I mean…there will be a next time, right?”
He didn’t answer right away. “That’s up to you. I’ll take what I want from you, when I want.” His gaze went hot, hooked on mine. “I’ll wake up in the middle of the night with my cock inside you. I’ll take you up against the wall in the garage, and on every one of my cars. I’ll take you on the island in my kitchen and on my desk in my office, and in the bathroom at a concert with your dress up around your hips and your heels around my waist. But what I won’t take from you is oral sex. I’ll leave that for you to give.”
“I’m on board with that,” I said, finishing my second beer and accepting a third.
He smiled. “Good.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Which part, though?”
I shrugged. “All of it. The sex everywhere, especially. I’ve never made love anywhere but in a bed. Well, that’s not true. In a car once, and it was awkward and uncomfortable. So just know that you can take me anywhere, anytime, just…not in front of people. I’m not an exhibitionist.”
Roth frowned at me in surprise. “And I am?”
I laughed. “No, obviously not. I’m just…clarifying.”
“No worries on that score, Kyrie. I might fuck you in a public place, but never in such a way that you’d be embarrassed. Just enough to make it…risky, and thus all the more exciting.”
The subtext of this conversation wasn’t lost on me. We were discussing, via our plans for sexual conquest, a future relationship. I wasn’t sure what that would entail emotionally, for me or for him, but it was still an exciting prospect. I’d take what I could get from Roth, for as long as he’d give it to me. We were still on our first full night of sex together, and it was already life-alteringly fantastic, out-of-this-world incredible.
“Change of subject,” Roth said. “How about a movie?”
“Naked movie time?” I suggested.
He laughed. “As if I’d let you put on clothes?”
I stood up. “Let’s go, then!”
He shook his head. “Get back here.” He set the plate and fork on a bedside table, then pulled out an electronic tablet.
He tapped the screen to wake it up, and then touched a series of buttons. A screen rolled down on the wall opposite his bed, hidden in a recess in the ceiling. I glanced up and saw that the projector was also hidden, the only hint of it a small screen angling down from the ceiling. Roth touched another button, and the tablet’s screen switched to show a Netflix account, and he quickly typed in a movie title, selected it, and set it to play. By the time he’d finished this, the projector was warmed up, and within seconds the movie began. He’d picked a romantic comedy, something fun and light. I propped the pillows up against the headboard and settled in to watch. Roth left the room without explanation while the opening credits rolled, returning a few moments later with another six-pack. I was already a little tipsy, but I took a fourth beer and drank it slowly, cuddling in with Roth as the movie started.
Halfway through the movie, I felt myself drifting, dizzy, warm, and happy, and sleepy and pleasantly drunk. Roth took my empty bottle from me, set it aside, and scooted down on the bed, holding me against his chest.
“I should’ve warned you I almost never finish movies,” I mumbled. “I always fall asleep.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “That’s why I put it on. Just relax.”
“But…naked movie time.” I wasn’t making sense, falling under the spell of sleep.
He laughed, a rumbling chuckle I felt more than heard. “Expect to be woken up bright and early, then.”
“Oh, goody. Cock-a-doodle-doo.”
“Are you drunk?” He sounded amused.
I nodded sloppily. “I’m kind of a lightweight.”
“Good to know.”
“Get me drunk while I’m awake next time. I get crazy horny when I’m wasted. Especially if you give me tequila. One tequila, two tequila, three tequila floor, except naked. Tequila makes her clothes fall off….” I fumbled at the towel around his waist, slipped my hand under the edge, found his warm skin. “Lookie what I found.”
He pulled my hand away, placed it on his chest. “You are ridiculous.”
I nodded, and felt the heady mixture of tipsiness, sleepiness, and Roth’s hard body and clean scent pulling me under. I went willingly.
My last thought, before I slept, was, I could fall in love with this man. I hoped I hadn’t said it out loud, but it was true.