“TARA?” I FEEL CJ NUDGE me. “Tara, wake up,” he hums in my ear. I crack my eyes open to his gorgeous face and warm brown eyes. He may be ten years older than I am, but he’s still just as attractive as any twenty-year-old guy I know. “I ordered breakfast. Are you hungry?” He nods at a hotel cart. On it is a room service plate covered by a silver tin.
“I am now that you woke me up.”
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t watch you sleep anymore.” His voice is heavy with desire.
“What time is it?” I rub my eyes and try to sit up.
“Eleven.” He urges me back down. “Don’t get up. I like seeing you in my bed.”
I like being in your bed.
CJ sits on the edge of the mattress and pulls the sheets away from my body. “One night wasn’t enough, Tara.” He caresses my bare stomach. I slept with no clothes on, so I am completely naked. “I have a proposition for you.”
“Proposition?” I crease my eyebrows, and he touches the little dimple between them.
“Yes. I want to steal you away the rest of the weekend. I want you all to myself.”
“Steal how? Like tie me to the bed?”
“That could be one option.” He leers at me.
“I’m listening.” He definitely has my attention.
“I fly out tomorrow night. And I want to spend every second I have left in New York with you. No interruptions. No friends, or family, or electronic devices . . . Unless they vibrate,” he stipulates lewdly. “Just you and me and our wildest fantasies.”
“You’re being serious?”
“Completely.” He moves his hand up my torso and cups one of my breasts. “I want this body at my complete disposal for the next thirty-six hours.” I close my eyes and sigh under his touch. “What do you say?”
I run through all the things I have to do this weekend and weigh the costs for falling off the face of the earth for almost two days. I have been dreaming about CJ since I left Hawaii, and now, he’s here propositioning me. Making an offer extremely hard to refuse.
“Tara?” He repeats my name. “What do you say?” There’s an air of anxiety in his voice.
I pop my eyes open and smile. Consequences be damned. “I say . . . what’s for breakfast?”
CJ beams, pulling off the metal top of the plate, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Chocolate cake?”
“Mmm hmm.” He swipes some frosting with his index finger and brings it to my mouth, and I suck the sweetness directly off it. Yum. That has to be some of the best icing I have ever tasted.
“So you’re all mine, then?” He steals some more frosting.
I nod.
“That’s not a good enough answer.” He feeds me his sugary finger.
“You’re going to make me fat.” I toy with him instead of telling him what he wants to hear.
CJ goes for another dollop of chocolate, but this time instead of bringing it to my mouth, he urges my legs apart and swirls it around my clit.
“Don’t worry.” He wets his lips. “We’ll just fuck the extra calories off. Life’s too short not to have sex or eat chocolate cake.” With that, he leans down and buries his face between my thighs.
“Oh!” I tense as he eats me alive. His tongue lashing through my folds and flicking my pierced clit.
“Oh, god!” I grab his hair and rock my hips as he licks me in all the right places. In all my most sensitive spots. He’s searched them out and explored them all and is now using his knowledge against me.
I’m panting uncontrollably, so close to the edge when he lifts his head.
“Please don’t stop.” My voice is a pleading whisper.
“You never gave me an answer, Tara.” He reaches over and opens the nightstand drawer.
“Answer?” My head is in the clouds right now, and my body is shouting for release. I watch as he removes a condom, pulls his gym shorts down, and covers his straining length.
“Yes, an answer.” He hovers over me. “Can I steal you away?” He nudges the head of his erection against my entrance. “Can I own you for thirty-six hours?” He pushes into me, and I willingly spread my legs.
With CJ deep inside me, I forget how to think. I only hear his echoing questions and feel the euphoric pleasure as he stretches me wide and takes total control.
“Yes,” I hear myself say. “You can have me.” I gasp as he thrusts. “You can have me anytime, anywhere, any way you want.” My muscles clench around his cock as it easily slides in and out, conjuring sensations that are indescribable.
“Say it again.” His voice is rough.
“You can have me. Anytime, anywhere, any way you want.”
“Good, because I plan to do exactly that.” We both quiver as we succumb to the building pressure.
I bury my face in his neck as I start to go under, his pelvis grazing my clit ring with every stroke. It heightens everything. Even the slightest caress.
“Oh fuck,” I tear up. This is way more intense than the rough fuck last night. This is close and intimate and magnified tenfold.
“Talk to me, Tara. Tell me what you feel.”
I learned fairly quickly that CJ likes it when I’m vocal. He likes me to tell him what feels good and what doesn’t. He likes to know all my little ins and outs.
“That feels good.” I force myself to speak, as he circles his hips. “Just like that.” His pelvis grazes across my clit again and again, and I nearly see stars. “I’m going to come.” My voice rises, and my breathing speeds up. “Oh shit . . . I’m so close.” He does it once more, and I explode from the inside out. Screaming and crying, my orgasm rocks me to the very core. Every square inch of my body tingles and prickles and throbs until it gives out.
“Holy shit, Tara.” CJ’s quivering voice pulls me back. His hand is clutching my throat, and he’s kissing me languidly.
Holy shit is right.
I slowly open my eyes—it’s the only part of my body I’m able to move—and drowsily kiss him back, pinned under his full weight completely content.
“Tell me you’re all mine.” His brown eyes flash with possessiveness.
My chest feels heavy as I hesitate.
“Tara?” CJ whispers, nuzzling my neck.
“I’m all yours. Today and tomorrow, I’m all yours.” I hug him, suppressing the pang of guilt in my chest. I know what this weekend means. It’s purely physical, just like the few days in Hawaii were. We lead two very different lives on opposite sides of the country. He has a career; I’m just finishing grad school. There’s no real future for us. We may have magnificent chemistry, but it doesn’t mean what CJ and I share is going to be long term. He doesn’t need to know all my secrets, only the ones I choose to share with him. Monday he’ll be gone, and life will go back to normal.
“Tell me a secret.” He kisses me softly, and I smile coyly.
“I’m still hungry.”
I THROW MY WEEKEND BAG over my shoulder. CJ wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to steal me away. He didn’t want to let me out of his sight, but I insisted that if he was abducting me for the next thirty-six hours, I at least needed some clean underwear and a change of clothes. His response? You can just walk around naked. As appealing as that sounds, he also informed me he wanted to take me out. Like on a real date. In a restaurant. We never did that in Hawaii. A real date. Sure, we shared meals—in bed—but we were keeping our little affair hush-hush, so public displays of affection were a no go. And a nice fancy dinner that consisted of just the two of us was definitely out of the question. Kayne saw us kissing after the wedding and made no qualms about telling CJ what he thought about it. I heard the whole conversation since I was hiding in his bathroom during the verbal smackdown. Right then and there, we both agreed it would be in our best interest to keep our relationship to ourselves. Kayne wasn’t the only obstacle. Once my father got wind we were spending time together, I received a verbal smackdown of my own. He’s too old . . . he’s Kayne’s business partner . . . if things go south, it could make problems all the way around . . .
I get it.
CJ and I are not ideal. But we are both adults and we are both undeniably attracted to each other. I love my father and I adore Kayne, but please, butt the fuck out.
I’ll get off my soapbox now.
I unplug my phone from the charger and send a quick text to my mom. Someone needs to know where I am. She knew all about CJ and me. She was really the only supportive one besides Ellie. Yes, she agreed the age difference was a bit of a problem, but she saw past that, just as I did. CJ has a big heart and is a good person. Isn’t that what really matters?
I hail a cab outside my building and direct it to CJ’s hotel. Since I am still in school, I rent a tiny ass apartment in the city. Like, it’s literally a closet with a bathroom, but it’s all mine and that is rare when you are a broke college student trying to make ends meet in New York. Student loans—that I will be paying off into my next lifetime—and my tips at Jo Jo’s barely cover all my expenses, but I manage to get by. My parents try to throw me a bone every now and again, but I hate taking money from them. They barely scrape by themselves. I learned quickly that I needed to be creative when running low on extra cash.
I use the swipe key CJ gave me to enter his suite. This place really is amazing. It isn’t huge, but it’s definitely a comfortable size. It has a bedroom, a living room, and an office area. But the most spectacular part is the location. Right in the heart of midtown where high rises and apartment buildings are a breath away. Below the panoramic window is a bird’s-eye view of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Standing here, it makes you feel so unbelievably small but in such a marvelous way.
“CJ?” I drop my bag in the living room and remove my thigh-high boots. CJ said he liked them, so I put together several outfits to match them.
I walk into the bedroom and hear the shower going. I stroll into the bathroom casually.
“CJ?”
“In here!” I spy him soaping up his hair through the foggy glass. Mmm . . . If I didn’t already have my hair and makeup done, I’d join him.
“I’ll be in the living room. I just wanted to let you know I’m back.” I raise my voice so he can hear me over the spray.
“Hey, wait a sec! Come here.”
He rubs the soap out of his hair as I walk over to the shower. The bathroom is all black and white marble with silver accents, and wonderfully large. I have been eyeing the claw-foot soaking tub since this morning. We definitely need to spend some time in there before the weekend is up.
I stand next to the shower door. “What’s up? You need a towel?” I cross my arms and appreciate his chiseled silhouette through the tempered glass.
“Not exactly.” He opens the door and snatches my wrist. “I need you,” he says pulling me inside.
I don’t even have time to react as he drags me under the water. “CJ!” I squeal as he draws me into his arms and soaks me from head to toe. The hair and makeup I spent an hour perfecting ruined.
“You’re not funny!” I scold him as he kisses me.
“I couldn’t help it. I like you wet.”
“I’ll get as wet as you want, just let me take my clothes off first.”
“Great idea.” He starts stripping me naked. Pulling my sweater over my head and peeling off my drenched jeans. He tosses my wet clothes onto the floor in the corner, and then proceeds to explore my body with his hands and his tongue.
“You were gone way too long.” He licks my neck.
“I’m sorry. I was getting ready. I wanted to look nice for you.” I sigh as his hot skin presses against mine. “A vain attempt.”
“It was,” he agrees, brushing my hair back with both hands then cupping my face. “But I couldn’t resist. I was thinking about that time you let me watch you touch yourself in the outside shower and wanted to relive the moment.”
“Is that why you dragged me in here? So I can masturbate in front of you?”
“And come,” he adds.
“You like that, don’t you?”
“Like what?” He smiles audaciously.
“Me coming.”
“Just about as much as I like to come. Now, show me.” CJ steps back giving me ample room. If it’s a show he wants, I’ll give him one. I step under the running water and let it rain over my hair and body. I then, slowly, seductively, drag my index finger down the center of my chest and abdomen until I reach the apex of my legs. CJ’s eyes dilate as I spread my wet folds and expose the pink pierced flesh to him. Methodically, I circle my middle finger around my clit purposely avoiding playing with it, knowing my piercing is a panic button. One tiny touch and this performance will be over before it begins. I work myself up to an achy peak, massaging one breast and teasing a nipple, keeping a bearable pace around my inflamed nub.
CJ stands a foot away from me, hungry as a rabid dog, feverishly stroking his cock as I touch myself. The way he’s looking at me makes me feel like the sexiest, most desired woman on the planet. It feeds my building need all the more, like gasoline on a wildfire. CJ takes a step closer to me, evaporating the distance between us. He pins me up against the wall, trapping my hand on my pussy. He’s breathing erratically, the feel of his jerking fist stroking my bare belly.
“Do it,” he commands with a clenched jaw. “Do it, now,” he repeats as if he’s dying.
Half dangling already, I move my fingers to the most sensitive part of my body. To the reactive little bull’s-eye that kicks me straight over the edge. As soon as I touch the engorged, throbbing flesh, I expel an incoherent moan as I unleash the orgasm I was holding at bay.
While lost in the black abyss of ecstasy, I faintly sense CJ tense and feel warm spurts of cum coat my stomach.
“It’s official.” CJ heaves in my ear.
“What is?” I ask with hazy thoughts.
“Our arrangement. I marked you so you officially belong to me.” He nips at my earlobe.
I laugh lightly, still drained from my climax.
“This deal is nothing to laugh about,” he growls. “I’m going to fuck you in every inch of this hotel room. I’m going to make you come on every piece of furniture. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the neighbors are going to think I’m the second fucking coming. So be prepared.”
I pop my eyes open and look at him. His expression is fierce, and I feel the conviction in each word reach the deepest most depraved parts of me.
“I am prepared, and I’m looking forward to it.”
One side of CJ’s mouth curves up.
“Tell me a secret, Tara.” He traps my face between one palm and his lips.
I smile to myself.
“Next time, I want to watch,” I divulge.
“Little firecracker,” he whispers, tickling the shell of my ear with his hot breath.
He steals a quick kiss then drags me under the spray of the water, washing away the remnants of his orgasm from my stomach.
After my second shower of the day, CJ and I proceed to get dressed. How we are actually able to put clothes on without ripping them right back off is a miracle. I swear the sexual attraction passing between us is thick enough to choke a horse.
Since I refuse to spend another hour curling my hair, I resign to just throwing it all up into a bun, exhaling disappointedly as I secure it in place.
“What’s wrong, shortcake?” CJ asks as he fixes his own hair next to me in the bathroom mirror. It’s shorter now than it was in Hawaii, the waves much more tame and manageable. The haircut makes him look older, more mature, but still delicious. CJ in New York seems more refined compared to the CJ on Maui, especially when he’s wearing a tight black sweater that outlines his biceps and snug stonewashed jeans.
“Nothing.” I pin the last piece of hair in place. “I just wanted to wear my hair down today.”
“I sort of ruined that, huh?”
“Sort of.” I smirk playfully.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better . . .” CJ slips his hands around my waist from behind me and rests his chin on my shoulder. “I happen to like your hair up. It gives me easier access to your neck.” He tickles me with kisses.
“Quit it.” I giggle and squirm.
“Not a chance. Now that I have you, I’m going to take advantage of every second.”
“Does that mean we’re going back to bed?” I glare at him in the mirror.
He returns my expression. “As much as I want to say yes, I don’t want to get blamed for ruining your hair a second time.”
“You are so considerate,” I jest.
“Aren’t I?” he returns.
I roll my eyes, unable to wipe the smile from my face.
“I’m a gentleman, believe it or not, and I would like to take you out.”
“Out where?”
“I was thinking a museum. Then a late lunch. Then after that, a show and then dinner.”
“Sounds like a good time.”
“I promise it will be.” Something salacious flashes in his dark brown eyes.
“Let’s go then,” I suggest. “We’re burning daylight standing around here.”
He releases me. “Wait here.”
I stand alone in the bathroom with my wet clothes hanging on the towel rack. I really wanted to wear that outfit. My entire ‘be sexy’ plan has gone right out the window. At least I still have my boots.
“Okay, turn around and look at me,” CJ requests.
When I turn, I see he’s holding a plastic plumeria flower. A lump actually forms in my throat.
“You kept it.”
He nods as he clips it in my hair. “There. Perfect.”
I glance in the mirror to see he placed it right next to my bun; the same place I wore it when I pulled my hair up. I don’t know how to respond honestly. It’s such a small gesture but says so much.
“Ready?” CJ takes my hand.
“I am.” I clear my throat and rein in my emotions. This is temporary, I remind myself. Temporary.
I pull my boots on by the door before CJ helps me into my coat. As soon as the door closes behind us, CJ curses under his breath as he feels around the breast of his jacket.
“Hang on.” He goes back inside and then returns a few seconds later holding his pocket watch. “You’d think after twenty some odd years, I would stop forgetting it.” He slips the silver watch into the inside pocket of his coat.
“You’d think.” I laugh. “What’s the deal with it, anyway? You don’t come across many men who sport pocket watches these days.”
CJ shrugs as we walk toward the elevator. “Sentimental value. My grandfather gave it to me when I was a kid.” He hits the button. “He basically raised me.” The elevator door dings open, and we step inside.
“Oh?”
“My parents divorced when I was seven. It was pretty nasty. My father left us with essentially nothing. My mother was devastated.” CJ looks down and rubs his jaw. “We went to live with my grandfather after that. He was ex-military, very rigid, but an amazing man. I idolized him growing up.”
“Is that how you ended up in the military?” I ask intrigued.
“Yes.” CJ pulls me into his arms. “He was a very big influence in my life. He gave me the pocket watch shortly after I moved in. The transition was really hard. Especially seeing what my mother was going through. He explained certain things to me, like why I was upset and angry all at the same time. It felt like one minute, I wanted to punch something, and the next, I wanted to cry.”
“Too many grown-up emotions for one little boy.”
“It was exactly that. And I was constantly asking if he was going to leave us, too.”
My heart nearly breaks.
“What did he say?”
CJ smiles. “He told me grandpas don’t leave. Then he gave me the watch. It was like a security blanket. His promise to always be there. He told me his grandfather gave it to him, and now, it was my turn to have it.”
The elevator doors open to the lobby. CJ takes my hand without skipping a beat and keeps talking.
“I bring it everywhere, and yet, I manage to forget about it half the time.”
“Quite the predicament.”
“It is.” We walk out into the brisk December air and wait on the sidewalk for several seconds before a black Town Car pulls up and we are ushered inside. Talk about service.
CJ gives the address to the driver, and he pulls out right into the middle of midday traffic. A horn blows but none of us pay any mind.
“Your grandfather sounds like a wonderful man.”
“He was.” CJ relaxes into the leather seat.
“Was?” I frown.
“He passed. A few years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” He halfheartedly smiles. “Tis life.”
“Sometimes life sucks.”
“Sometimes it doesn’t.” He nestles me up against him. I feel like I’m sixteen years old crushing on the hot college guy giving me attention. We kiss like crazy adolescents in the backseat the whole way. The driver actually has to clear his throat to get our attention when we arrive.
I wasn’t really paying attention to the address CJ gave the driver, so when I step out of the car on Fifth Avenue, I look around confused.
“I thought we were going to a museum?”
“We are.” CJ slams the car door shut then spins me around. I gaze across the street.
“The Museum of Sex?” I raise my eyebrows and read the metal sign. Above it, in a large window, reads KINK in hot pink letters.
“The Met seemed too stuffy.” He snatches my hand and drags me across the street.
Only CJ. What did I tell you? Twelve-year-old in a man’s body.
“Can you hang out for a second?” he asks once we are inside. “I need to use the bathroom.”
I raise an eyebrow speculatively at him.
“I need to pee,” he clarifies immediately. “Unless you want to come with me and watch?” he suggests. “I believe it’s your turn.”
“No, thanks. As enticing as that sounds, I’d rather let the anticipation build.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll be right back.” He disappears into a doorway that says bathrooms overhead.
CJ returns a few minutes later with his phone to his ear. “Yeah, whatever. Just make it fast . . .” is all I hear before he hangs up.
“Everything okay?”
“Perfect. Let’s go.” Again, he takes my hand. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to take advantage of every second. His bathroom break was the farthest we’ve been apart since the shower.
As soon as we enter the museum, there’s a large sign that reads Please do not touch, lick, stroke, or mount the exhibits. I cast a sideways glance over at CJ.
“I promise to behave.” He jiggles my hand and leads the way.
This is going to be an . . . experience.
Inside, there is everything from a vibrator collection to the history of the condom to Sex and the Moving Image, which is basically just porn. Interesting stuff and surprisingly not as distasteful or seedy as I was expecting. CJ reads the descriptions of each exhibit aloud, exaggerating words. He’s being serious and goofy all at the same time, causing me to laugh like an entertained child. The animal exhibit is the most intriguing and unexpectedly educational. I now know what a duck penis looks like. Want a visual? Think lower intestines.
CJ tilts his head as we inspect a replica of a deer threesome. Yes, you read that right. One deer mounted on top of the other.
“You suppose that’s three males or female/male/male?” he actually asks this seriously.
“I’m assuming female/male/male.” I mimic his head tilt. “Since the one on the bottom has no antlers.”
CJ leans over to inspect their heads. “Good call, shortcake. I didn’t even think to look at that.” He laughs highly amused.
Toward the end of our visit, we come upon the BDSM area of the museum. An entire room filled with sex toys and bondage furniture, complete with leather-clad hooded Dom and collared submissive. I examine the two wax people in fascination, the woman much more than the man.
“Submission not your thing?” CJ asks, clearly reading my facial expression.
“I can’t say that it is, although I’ve never actually tried it. I don’t mind a little dominance, but like hell someone is going to slap a collar around my neck and call me pet.”
CJ snorts. “Your sister doesn’t seem to mind it.”
I whip my head over to look at him.
“Oh, come on, Tara. You didn’t know? It’s so freakin’ obvious.”
I stare at CJ, mulling over my response. “I had an idea. I mean she wears that choker everywhere. Even to bed. It’s strange, and I have wondered, but I never asked. That’s her business. It does bug me how possessive Kayne is sometimes. It’s like she went and married a clone of our father.”
“Kayne can be a total hothead sometimes and a bit possessive, but I can tell you, it’s your sister who calls the shots in that relationship.”
“Sometimes I wonder.”
“Don’t. She may wear the collar, but she also holds the leash.”
I smile. CJ divulging that actually makes me feel better. I love Kayne, don’t get me wrong, and I don’t see anything wrong with the lifestyle. I just don’t want my sister to lose herself because of her controlling husband.
“Can I tell you a secret?” CJ asks.
“I love secrets.” I look up at him and bat my eyelashes.
He leans into me and speaks low. “I’m not so much into the submissive thing either, but the collar sort of turns me on.”
“Oh, yeah?” I arch an eyebrow. “I think you would look adorable in rhinestones.” I ruffle the lapel of his pea coat and then walk away.
Onto the next exhibit!
Our last stop is the gift shop. It’s chock-full of sex toys, a million different condoms, and everyday items that have been randomly sexualized—socks, pillows, and hand sanitizer to name a few. My personal favorite, the dishtowel that doubles as a cum rag.
I see CJ looking through a shiny gold bag across the room. It must have something he wants because I also watch him buy it.
“Souvenir?” I ask as we meet each other in the middle of the store.
“An interactive one.” He smiles so brightly it actually makes me nervous. I can’t even begin to imagine what’s in that bag.
“Do I even want to know?” I ask.
“I’ll show you later, if, and only if, you’re a very good girl.”
I stare up at him. I both love and hate the way that sounds.
“Hungry?” He grabs my hand. “I have been dying for a good slice of pizza all day. You don’t realize how much you miss it until you can’t get it.”
“I would rather know what’s in the bag.”
“All in good time, shortcake. All in good time.”
We find a tiny pizza place a few blocks down. We order at the counter, and then grab a seat in the corner. The place literally has five tables.
“What else is on the agenda for today?” I ask as our pizza is dropped in front of us.
“I thought we would go back to the hotel, hang out for a while, then catch a show and a late dinner. What do you think?” CJ takes a bite of the steaming hot slice and nearly burns his mouth.
“I think you need to blow on your food before you eat it.” I giggle.
“Nah. I like it hot.” He takes another bite, sucking in air as he does. A suggestive look in his eyes.
Don’t I know it . . .
I’M FEELING BOTH TIRED AND wired once we get back to CJ’s hotel room. I lean back against him in the crowded elevator, and he expels a moan only I can hear, pressing his semi-hard erection into my back. Our little excursion must have affected him. I know it affected me. I blame the porn and the fact I am hard up for him every single second. I swear I’m like a bitch in heat.
Once inside the room, I try to pull it together and distract myself by looking out the window in the living room and not directly at CJ. The view really is incredible at any given time of the day.
“Tara!” CJ calls from the bedroom.
Oh shit, here we go. I walk into the other room fully prepared to be pounced on, but I find a surprise instead. On the bed are three large silver boxes stacked together with a gold bow tied around them. I glance over at CJ confused.
“They’re for you,” he confirms with a conniving grin.
“For me? You didn’t have to buy me anything.”
“I know. I also know that I own you this weekend, and I can do whatever I damn well please. That was the arrangement, correct?”
“It was,” I confirm.
“Good. Now, accept my gifts graciously.” He saunters up beside me, snakes one arm around my waist, and grabs my chin gingerly with his hand.
“Thank you,” I utter softly, my face tilted up.
“You’re welcome.” He drops a kiss on my lips. “You might make a halfway decent submissive after all.”
I glare at him.
“You know, if I was into that stuff,” he tacks on before he releases me so I can open the boxes. I feel a little guilty and a little giddy. He really doesn’t need to buy me anything. I know he’s wealthy, and he never let me pay for a thing when we were together in Hawaii, but still, it’s a pride thing I guess. I tear open the first box and find a mound of tissue paper stuffed inside. After rummaging through it all, I pull out a black cape coat with gray fur lining.
“Is this real?” I run my hand over the softest fuzz I have ever felt.
“It is but don’t tell. We don’t want to piss PETA off.” He winks.
“I can’t accept this.” I push the coat toward him.
“You can, and you will.” He grabs my wrists. “Come on, Tara. Let me spoil you.”
“I don’t need to be spoiled,” I argue.
“Every woman needs to be spoiled,” he contests. “And I have never wanted to spoil anyone until you.”
I freeze. Actually, we both do, together realizing the depth of his statement.
“Please,” he implores, pulling me closer. “Let’s not get caught up in rights and wrongs and propers and impropers. Let’s just let it be what it is.”
“A fantasy,” I answer him.
CJ nods.
I can do that. Because that’s really all this weekend is. A fantasy.
Two people pretending.
Pretending they can be together.
Pretending they aren’t ages apart or have oceans between them. I lean forward and kiss him, letting go of all of my reservations. He wants this and so do I.
I continue on to the second box; again, a sea of tissue paper conceals the contents. I pull out a cream sweater dress very similar to the one I wore last night, except this one is way nicer and much softer.
“Is this cashmere?” I almost rub the material all over my face, but I refrain only because I don’t want to get makeup on it.
“I believe so.” CJ rubs a piece of the sleeve between his fingers.
“I could come.” I moan, reveling in the softness.
“I would advise against it. You may ruin the material,” he jokes. “Besides, that is reserved solely for me.” He stands behind me and pulls the last box directly in front of me. It’s rectangular and much larger than the other two. I pull off the top to reveal a pair of cognac leather boots with a red sole. Holy shit, they’re Christian Louboutin’s.
“These are my favorite.” CJ removes one, and I run my hand over the buttery leather.
“I guess my outfit made an impression.” I turn my head and look at him through the corner of my eye.
“It sure as hell did.” He leans in closer and lowers his voice to an indulgent rumble. “And I plan to fuck you in these the same way I fucked you in the other ones.”
I actually clench my thighs as the lust in his tone vibrates straight to my core.
“Anytime, anywhere, any way,” I reiterate.
“I would say right fucking now,” he growls, “but I really want to take you out.” I can feel his struggle pressing into my backside. “So I’m going to walk out of here before I bend you over and ruin all our plans.”
“Would that be so bad?” I tempt him.
He groans. “Yes. Get changed.” With a swat on my butt, he leaves the bedroom. As soon as he’s gone, I jog in place like a giddy teenager. I just got spoiled big time, and even though I won’t admit it out loud, I love it.
I change quickly, slipping into the dress, and then touch up my makeup, making it a bit more dramatic for an evening look. When I emerge from the bathroom, I find CJ has changed into a dark red dress shirt and black blazer. It’s such a stark difference to his wardrobe in Hawaii, which consisted mostly of Hawaiian shirts and khaki shorts. I can’t decide which version I like better.
He doesn’t waste a second putting his hands all over me, caressing the soft material hugging my curves. “Fuck, you look hot.”
“I’m glad you approve. You outfitted me.”
“I do approve. And I only sort of outfitted you.” He winces cutely. “I don’t know anything about women’s fashion except what I like.”
“So where did the clothes come from?”
“I called Jett.”
“Is that who you were talking to in the bathroom?”
“Guilty. I sort of felt bad soaking your clothes in the shower this morning. I knew if anyone could help me out with fashion, he could.”
“He did a great job on such short notice. If I didn’t know he was married, I’d swear he was gay.”
“He’s definitely not gay. Jett loves pussy just as much as the next guy,” CJ says bluntly.
“You have a very naughty mouth.” I press my body against his.
“I know.” He slides one hand down to my ass and squeezes. “I also know you love it, especially when I’m whispering sweet naughty nothings in your ear while I fuck you.” He doesn’t allow me a response as he plunges his tongue between my lips. The kiss is so hot I’m surprised it doesn’t set off the fire alarm. By the time we separate, I’m panting and wet.
“Let’s go.” CJ adjusts himself before he grabs my new coat off the bed. “Before we never make it out of the bedroom.”
“You’re very disciplined.” I giggle.
“I am.” CJ leers back at me. “And by the end of the night, you will be, too.”
“What does that mean?” I ask as he helps me into my coat and leads me out of the room.
“You’ll see.” He grabs his jacket off the arm of the couch before ushering me to the door. Do I even want to know what he means by that? As soon as the door slams behind us, he curses.
“Hang on.” Back inside he goes. I think I know what he forgot. My suspicions are confirmed when he returns holding his silver pocket watch. I take a closer look as he turns it over in his hand as if he’s playing with a coin. It looks antique, like a piece straight out of the roaring twenties.
“Maybe you should try keeping it in the same place so you don’t forget it.”
“Maybe.” He sighs, placing it in his inside pocket. “Maybe I’m just doomed to always forget it.” He rolls his eyes and starts for the elevator. Just like before, we are whisked downstairs and then outside to a waiting car.
Once out of the cold and inside the warm backseat, I snuggle up next to him.
“What show are we going to see?”
“It’s a surprise.” The car pulls out without CJ telling him an address.
“I’ve seen a lot of plays,” I inform him.
“I’m pretty sure not this one.”
“You know, you are very secretive.”
CJ shoots me a knowing smile. “It’s in my nature.” He draws small circles on my inner thigh as we drive, slowly moving higher and higher.
“Are you teasing me on purpose?”
“Yes. By the time this date is over, you’re going to be begging me to make you come.”
Oh, really? I place my hand on his cock and squeeze. CJ groans. Two can play at this game. “I may not be the only one begging.”
Before things get too heated, the car stops.
“Arrived, sir,” the driver announces. Up until a second ago, I’d completely forgotten about him and am now wondering if he heard our whole exchange.
Whoops.
We step out of the car, and for the second time today, I’m left confused on the sidewalk.
“Is it an off-Broadway play?” I ask since we are definitely nowhere near Times Square.
“Sort of.” CJ assumes his customary position with his fingers laced through mine and leads me down the sidewalk to an unnoticeable black steel door. He opens it to a stairwell lit with red lights. “Is there going to be a crushed velvet couch and one-way mirror during this show?”
CJ laughs animatedly. Glad he finds my inquiry so amusing.
“Not this time, shortcake, but close,” he enlightens me as we climb the stairs. At the top of the landing, a pretty, young blonde is sitting behind a hostess stand.
“Tickets?” she asks sweetly.
“Carmichael. I’m on the list.”
She checks a sheet of paper in front of her in the dim light.
“Christopher John?” she asks.
CJ sighs annoyed, rolling his eyes. “Yes, I asked them to make the reservations under CJ though. Only my mother calls me that.”
Is it bad I had no idea what CJ stood for until now? I have been with this man twenty-seven different ways from Sunday, but if you’d asked me his real name, I wouldn’t have had a clue.
My gut tells me the less I know about CJ, the better. It’s safer for my heart that way. But my curiosity and desire are outweighing my good sense, and I find myself more invested in him than I should be. I have no business getting emotionally involved. This is a temporary thing. A fantasy weekend that will end when the clock strikes twelve and turns me back into the pumpkin I am.
I resign to worry about that when the time comes. I’ve walked away from CJ once; I’ll just have to be strong enough to do it again. I don’t have a choice in the matter, really. My life is more complicated than I let on. But that’s my cross to bear, and a worry for another day. Right now, I’m just going to dance at the ball with my naughty prince.
“Coats?” The hostess offers sweetly, and both CJ and I shrug ours off and hand them to her. When she returns, she hands CJ a ticket and shows us to our seat. It’s a small round table only big enough for two. The entire room is set with various sized tables draped with white tablecloths and decorated with tealight candles. Both the walls and ceiling are a deep crimson with crystal chandeliers hanging directly overhead. The whole place has a vintage 1920’s feel. Directly in front of us sits a stage with a blood-red curtain pulled closed. By the looks of it, we have the best seats in the house. A waitress in a skimpy, black rhinestone two-piece takes our drink orders as the rest of the tables fill up. By the time she’s back with my Manhattan and CJ’s scotch, every seat is taken. When the lights dim, CJ pulls me close. So close I can feel the warmth of his body through his clothes and smell the sweetness of the alcohol on his breath.
Music suddenly kicks up and the curtains fly open. I gasp as strobe lights flash and several scantily clad women flaunt it across the stage.
“Burlesque!” I announce excitedly, immediately noticing the name of the show - FANTASY - glowing in purple over the dancing women’s heads.
“Something different,” CJ admits, speaking in my ear. “The name caught my eye while I was searching online.”
“It’s perfect,” I beam as I try to catch every movement on stage. The performers are amazing. So vibrant and sexy and alive.
“Have you ever seen a burlesque show before?”
“Does the movie count?” I ask glancing over at him.
“I don’t think it compares to the real thing.”
“Definitely not,” I respond, mesmerized by the flashy display unfolding directly in front of me.
CJ keeps his arm around my shoulders during the whole show as one beautiful woman after another graces the stage. Some are group performances, others are solo acts. The solo dancers performing tasteful strip teases on beds or chairs. I love every erotic, enticing second of it. CJ does too; he’s begun to grope me under the table and tickle my neck with kisses.
“Quit that.” I giggle.
“You can’t tell me what to do. You’re mine.” He slides his hand up the inside of my thigh and tickles my piercing.
“CJ!” I jump, the sensation setting off sparks.
“Easy.” He tightens his arm around me and lays off my clit, sinking a finger into me instead.
“CJ,” I murmur, tormented as he begins to tease me.
“Quiet, Tara. Watch the show.” He chastises while lazily moving his finger in and out. He said he was going to have me begging by the time this night was over. Right now, I’m close. I try to concentrate on the dancers, but CJ’s measured strokes have my vision going blurry. I breathe steadily trying not to draw attention, but there’s too much stimulation clouding around me. The man I can’t get enough of touching me while watching the most provocative performance of the night in front of me. A couple on stage, the man putting his hands all over a woman who’s chained to a pole. He pulls her clothing off a piece at a time. She pretends to hate it at first, then reluctantly embraces it as if he’s stripping away her reservations little by little to reveal her true self. Her true need. The barer she becomes, the more aggressive he becomes. My heart pounds harder and harder as the heat elevates on stage and between my legs.
“CJ,” I heave, as he continues to deliberately assault me, leading me blindly to the edge.
“Shhhh, shortcake.” He hums seductively in my ear.
I grab his wrist, but that doesn’t dissuade him.
“Watch,” he orders.
I fight to turn my full attention back to the stage, where the woman is nearly naked now. Only a black thong and nipple tassels left on her body. She’s beautiful—blonde and curvy with an air of innocence.
A virgin sacrifice? Possibly.
Maybe she’s just a woman with dark desires that she’s afraid to set loose. Or afraid to embrace because, to some, they’d be deemed wrong. She’d be judged. I really can’t decipher. The only thing I do know is the man is stripping away her inhibitions the same way CJ is stripping away mine. My whole body starts to tighten and my pussy twinges with a delicious pain.
Oh, fuck.
I watch the theatrics on stage as the scene comes to a crescendo. The male performer drops to his knees and buries his face right between the tethered woman’s thighs, draping one leg over his shoulder. The lights flash as bright as daylight and the music hits a high note as she seemingly screams with pleasure. I almost come right along with her but crash and burn instead as CJ removes his finger.
I suck in air to avoid passing out.
As stealthy as a cat, he takes the finger that was just submerged inside me, dips it into his glass left only with a tiny bit of scotch, and then sucks it into his mouth.
“Mmm . . .” He savors as the lights go up. “My two favorite flavors. Macallan and you.”
I just sit there frozen in my chair, a wet achy mess.
“Are you ready to beg yet, shortcake?” He taunts me.
Yes, relentlessly. But I won’t tell him that. Instead, I grin and lean into him. “Not even close. Is that all you got?”
CJ’s big brown eyes sharpen.
“The night is just beginning,” he assures me darkly. “Time to eat.” He stands up and holds out his hand. I notice the way he conceals the bulge in his pants with his sports jacket.
“You going to be able to handle that all night?” I stand as well, pressing myself against him deliberately to rub against his stiff cock.
“You have no clue what I can handle.” He nips at me inconspicuously then spins me around, walking close behind me as we retrieve our coats and leave the building.
It’s freezing outside, the wind whipping up between the buildings as we hurry to the car. If I didn’t love Christmas time in New York so much, I would consider moving to Hawaii with Ellie. I could do without winter.
Once inside the car and shielded from the elements, I decide it’s time for a little revenge. That stunt CJ pulled during the burlesque show left a lingering effect. Just as he intended. But I’m not one to let things slide—in these kinds of instances anyway. I cuddle up next to him, lightly kissing his neck and caressing his chest, subtle with the affection.
He moans softly and palms my ass with one hand.
“I enjoyed the show. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He closes his eyes and tips his head back giving me full access to his neck. I don’t apply any more pressure or move my hand from his chest, only continuing with the sweet ministrations.
“What was your favorite part?” I ask.
“The black widow,” CJ responds with a devious smile. He’s referring to an act where one of the performers stripped down to this spider web looking outfit. Black leather crisscrossed all over her body, barely covering her most private parts. It was definitely erogenous, and the woman knew how to work up a crowd. She was so raw and carnal she had me questioning my own sexuality for a moment.
“We should get you an outfit like that,” CJ muses.
“Oh, yeah?” That is exactly the opening I need. “I would definitely strip for you.” I slide my hand down into his pants, going straight for the kill.
“Tara!” CJ twitches as I jerk his cock.
“What?” I go after his mouth, pumping harder.
He expels a low feral growl as he hardens again under my touch.
“Thinking about me taking my clothes off?” I ask between starving kisses.
“I’m thinking about me ripping your clothes off.” He grabs my neck and plunges his tongue into my mouth.
“We still have to go to dinner,” I playfully remind him as I slow down my wrist action.
“I know.” He pants. “Dessert will be totally worth it.” He attacks me again, pressing his hand over mine as he flexes his hips. He lets out a muted whimper as if restraining himself from coming. I know he wants to. I know if his pride wasn’t in the way, he would fuck me right here in the backseat, driver watching and all. And I’d totally let him.
“Sir.” The driver suddenly clears his throat. “Arrived.”
We both inhale a collective breath as we hurry to put ourselves back together.
“When we get back to the hotel.” CJ locks me against his body right before the driver opens the door. “I am going to break you.”
I widen my eyes. I think that is the most arousing threat I have ever received in my life. My clit actually cramps with need because I know without a doubt, he means it.
The restaurant is small, cozy, and dim inside. It’s all dark wood, extravagant furnishings, and candlelight. We’re seated in a semi-private booth in a corner of the room.
“Do you bring all your weekend flings here?” I toy with CJ as I look over the menu.
“Definitely not. Only my fantasy girl.”
I flick my eyes up. I didn’t miss the fact girl was not plural. I know I shouldn’t pursue it. I should just leave it alone. But I can’t help myself.
“And how many fantasy girls do you have?”
CJ smiles shrewdly, looking straight into my eyes. “Only one,” he discloses.
I try not to let the answer go to my head. But I’ll admit it just scored him a thousand bonus points.
I conceal my elation and draw my attention back to the menu. Everything looks outstanding. The waiter comes and goes, taking our drink orders and providing in detail the specials tonight—risotto with prosciutto and arugula, grilled octopus, and scallops sautéed in brown butter.
We opt to share some oysters as an appetizer. I’ve never had them before, so this should be interesting. I order the salmon as my main course, and CJ gets the veal saltimbocca.
“This is a little odd,” I admit as I take a sip of the red wine CJ suggested.
“What is?”
“Being out in public.”
“And not having to worry about someone trying to kill me?”
“Yes.” I laugh. “Something like that.”
“It is nice to share your company and know my balls are safe at the same time.”
“Yes, we both know how important your family jewels are.”
“Someone has to carry on the Carmichael name,” he jests.
“You don’t have any brothers or sisters?”
“I do. Two half-sisters from my mom’s second marriage.”
“Oh, well, you carry a heavy responsibility then. Do you want kids?”
CJ makes a conflicted expression. “I haven’t really given it much thought. My business,” he clears his throat, “keeps me pretty busy. I travel a lot and am involved in time-consuming transactions. I don’t know if that kind of lifestyle is conducive to a family.”
“It sounds like it would be a lot to juggle.”
He nods in agreement, taking a large swig of wine. Did that question make him uncomfortable? I was just making conversation. He told me I could ask him anything.
“I didn’t mean to get personal. I know . . .” I search for the right words. “I know this weekend—”
“It’s fine, Tara.” He puts his hand over mine. “I don’t have a problem with getting personal.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. It’s part of the reason I wanted to take you out. I enjoy your company as much as I enjoy your body. I just wasn’t prepared to jump into the subject of family right off the bat.” He chuckles, his warm brown eyes catching the light off the hurricane candle.
“Sorry. I guess the conversation just took a weird turn.”
“Don’t be sorry. Go ahead. Ask me anything you want. I’m an open book.”
As confidently as he says that, some little part of me is skeptical about how true that is. No one is an open book. We all have our secrets. Good, bad, and indifferent. But I take the opportunity for what it is and decide I want to get to know CJ better, even if it is just superficial information.
“What do you do when you’re not working or hiding from Kayne?”
“I guess that depends on where I am. You pretty much saw my life in Hawaii. Beach, surfing, hanging out. I ski when I have the opportunity, and I just got into rock climbing.”
“You’re an all-around jock.”
“I work in an office most of the time. I like to take advantage of the outdoors as much as I can.”
“I can understand that. I’ve always wanted to learn to snowboard.”
CJ stays silent, and I know exactly why that is. There are no promises of tomorrow at this dinner; it’s only the here and now. It makes my heart heavy, but I also know that’s just the way it is.
“My turn,” CJ says just as the oysters are placed on our table. I inspect them. They look appetizing and appalling all at the same time as they sit on a bed of ice and lettuce with lemon wedges and a dollop of horseradish.
“I don’t know if I can eat one of those.” I crinkle my nose.
“You definitely can. After you answer my question.” He takes a shell and places it on his plate. “I know you study music.” He picks up a small forkful of horseradish and dabs it on the oyster. “But what are you planning to do with it once you finish school?” He squeezes some lemon onto it next.
“Um,” I reply distracted as he picks up the oyster and brings it to his mouth. “Teach,” I say. “It’s not my passion, but it will pay the bills.”
“Sensible,” he answers right before he tips his head back and allows the oyster to slide into his mouth. “What is your passion?”
“Music is my passion. But there’s not many job opportunities that pay. So, I figured if I can at least teach, I will still be able to enjoy what I love.” I have loved music for as long as I can remember. It’s like I was born with it ingrained in me. My earliest memory is standing on my parents’ bed with an audience of stuffed animals belting out “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.”
“Makes sense.” CJ picks up another oyster and repeats the horseradish and lemon routine. “Your turn.” He holds it up to my lips, and I inhale a stinging whiff of the horseradish. I’m not sure I can do this. “Come on, Tara. Be as adventurous outside the bedroom as you are inside.”
Using my sexual prowess against me is so low.
I open my mouth.
“You know oysters are an aphrodisiac,” CJ enlightens me as he feeds me my first ever oyster. “Don’t chew, just swallow. I know you’re good at that.”
I could smack him, but I am experiencing strange textures and tastes in my mouth at the moment. It’s not horrible. It’s not great either. I swallow quickly and let my taste buds register the new flavors.
“Not so bad?”
“Not too bad,” I admit.
“Try another one?”
“You first.”
“You like to watch me use my mouth, huh?”
I roll my eyes. Maybe a little.
CJ alternates feeding himself and me until all eight oysters are gone. I enjoy the last one the most, now appreciating the appeal.
Dinner continues smoothly as we each allow a little more freedom for our personalities to come out. I find out how much CJ loves music and the theater and that he has two bachelor degrees, one in computer technology and another in business. Above all though, I realize how much he can make me laugh. I think it’s what drew me to him in the first place.
The first time we met had been under such dire circumstances. Ellie was lying in a hospital bed and no one knew if she was going to wake up. My dad was a mess, my mom was a rock, and I was just me, alone trying to figure out exactly what I should do with myself. I think CJ could sense my confusion, for lack of a better word. He was always hanging around the hospital, showing up at the strangest times to check on Kayne and my parents and me. I remember standing outside Ellie’s room completely out of sorts. My sister could die and there was nothing I could do to help. I felt worthless. That’s when CJ showed up. He just seemed to appear with his laid-back energy and inviting smile. He offered to buy me coffee. Suggested I take a walk and get some air. That day, our acquaintanceship grew. He became someone I could lean on. It was purely platonic. An older brother hanging out with his younger sister. It’s where the nickname shortcake came from. He preoccupied me, and I welcomed the distraction. It wasn’t until two years later at Ellie and Kayne’s wedding that our relationship changed. I don’t exactly know how it happened or when. It was just different the second time around. Maybe it was because I was older? Maybe it was because the circumstance that brought us back together was a joyous one. I don’t know. I can just tell you that when I got off the plane and he was there to pick my family and me up for the second time, the attraction was instant. Like two lost souls reconnecting in the dark of night.
“So . . .” The easy conversation continues. “If you could pursue your dream career instead of just settling, what would you do?” CJ asks as our dinners are placed in front of us.
“Be an international pop superstar.”
“Really?” CJ considers this. “I could see it. You have the hair for it.”
“At least I have that going for me.” I cut a piece of my salmon and take a taste. Holy crap, it’s delicious.
“You have more going for you than just your hair, and we both know it.”
“Maybe.” I shrug, trying to eat as ladylike as possible when all I really want to do is devour this fish like it’s my last meal.
“Can I hear you sing sometime?”
I pause with the fork by my mouth.
“You want to hear me sing?”
“Sure, why not? Maybe the song you have tattooed on your thigh?”
“I don’t think I would do it justice, but I’ll sing for you sometime.” I fiddle with the flower in my hair. I’ve sung in front of an audience plenty of times, but singing for CJ gives me riotous butterflies. “And I don’t really want to be an international pop superstar, but performing on Broadway might be fun.”
“Then why don’t you go for it?”
“A multitude of factors that play into the answer to that. You said having a family is a major commitment. So is being a Broadway performer. Rehearsal and shows would cut into my schooling. It’s not feasible for me right now.”
“What about when you finish school?” he asks simply.
“Possibly, but if I get a job right away, which I’m trying to do, Broadway will always be just a dream.”
CJ drops his fork, looks down at his plate, and frowns.
“Tara, I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but I don’t think you should cut yourself short on your dreams.”
“I’m not. I’m just trying to be mature and levelheaded.”
“I get that. But sometimes being mature and levelheaded leaves you with regrets in the future. I’m just saying, think about it. I would hate for you to look back at your life and wonder what if.”
“I don’t know if I am in a position to do that. But I will think about it.”
“It’s all I can ask. You know what I always say.”
“What’s that?”
“Life’s too short not to have sex or eat chocolate cake.” He winks.
I laugh.
I’m beginning to believe he’s right.
I PLAY “STARS” ON MY phone for CJ in the car on the way back to the hotel. He agrees about the soulfulness and understands why the music speaks to me. He gets me. He always has. Since our first conversation, we just clicked.
“Mr. Carmichael!” The concierge behind the front desk raises his voice to get our attention. “This was left for you.” He waves a white envelope. “The gentleman asked that I personally deliver it to you.”
“Thank you.” CJ takes it from him, almost warily. He glances around the lobby before taking my hand again and heading to the elevator.
“Something important?” I inquire.
CJ turns over the envelope inspecting it several times before opening it.
“Let’s hope not.”
It looks like an ordinary invitation to me.
I examine his face as he pulls it out and reads the white card inside. He scoffs but not in a bad way. In an amused way.
“What is it?” Now, I’m dying to know.
“An invitation to an event here in New York.”
“When?”
“Tuesday night.”
“Oh. You’ll be back in Hawaii by then.” I mask the disappointment in my tone.
“Yes, I will.” He places the card back in the envelope, and then in his pocket before he pulls me flush against him. “But I’m here now, and I plan to make the most of it.” He kisses me firmly and affectionately, waking the arousal that was dormant during dinner. Our tongues tangle until the elevator doors open and we stumble out into the hallway. We can barely keep our hands off each other. As soon as the door to CJ’s hotel room slams closed, he has me pinned against the wall, dragging his tongue up and down my neck, biting my skin until it hurts.
“What’s your fantasy, Tara?” he asks between fevered kisses. I nibble my lip as CJ sucks on my neck, awaiting my answer. Should I tell him my deepest, darkest fantasy? I have never shared it with anyone. The mere thought of it accelerates my arousal to hyper speed.
But it really is just that. A wicked fantasy that will never become a reality. It’s too wrong. Too preposterous unless I went looking for that kind of trouble.
“Well?” he urges. “You going to share, or do I have to torture it out of you?” He tickles my ribcage, knowing I’m the most sensitive there. I squirm, but he’s so much stronger and bigger; there are only two ways to stop him, tell him what he wants to know or kick him in the nuts.
“Okay!” I surrender, screaming with laughter. “I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you!”
He stops, letting me catch my breath.
“You’re so wrong.”
“I never claimed to be right. Now, tell me. I need to know.”
“Need?”
“Yes, need.” He tucks a strand of renegade hair behind my ear.
I hesitate, wondering if I should tell him the truth or lie to save face. But I figure fuck it; this whole weekend is about fantasy, right? Being autonomous and sexually liberated. I chew on my lip again as CJ waits impatiently for my answer.
“Tara.” He presses up against me again, his fingers resting on my ribs, threateningly.
“Okay! I want to be dominated.” I rush the words out. CJ’s eyes brighten. “I thought you weren’t into collars?”
“Not dominated like that.” My voice is barely a whisper. Oh god, am I actually admitting this out loud?
“I want to be taken by force.” CJ’s jaw drops. Not the answer he was expecting. Trust me, I can’t believe it’s my fantasy either, but the idea of being completely controlled is thrilling. I’m fucking soaked just thinking about it.
“Like a captive fantasy?”
I nod apprehensively.
“Damn, woman.” CJ grabs my hand and yanks me into the bedroom. He sits down on the bed and situates me between his legs. He grips my hips as I look down at him. “You are a fucking wildcat.”
“I like to call it sexually adventurous.”
“Adventurous? I’d use the word intrepid with fantasies like that.”
“Do I intimidate you?” I mess with him.
“It takes way more than a beautiful blonde with killer sexual desires to intimidate me. You turn me the fuck on like I’m a nuclear fucking reactor.” His fingertips bite into my sides. “And I may not be some fucking stranger who corners you in a dark alley, but I can still dominate the shit out of you. Now take your fucking clothes off. Slowly. You promised me a strip show, and I’m through waiting.”
“I don’t remember promising.” I pick up my foot and press it against him, digging the heel lightly into his chest. “Pull.”
CJ takes hold of the boot, and I gently slip my foot out of it, making sure the hem of my dress hikes up high enough to give him an opportunistic view. He licks his lips like a hungry predator, dropping the boot on the ground.
“I can’t wait to bury my face in that fucking pussy,” he says as I lift my other foot. I can’t wait, either, but he wants a strip show so that is what he is going to get.
Once my other boot is off, I inch the hem of my sweater dress up my thighs. Slowly, deliberately, only revealing as much as I want CJ to see.
“If that goddamn dress doesn’t come off in the next five seconds, I’m ripping it off your body.”
“I thought you wanted a show?” I ask innocently.
“I want you naked more.” He roughly pushes the cashmere material up. I drag the dress off the rest of the way then drop it next to the boots. I’m left standing in only my bra, no underwear.
“Off,” CJ commands as he attacks my bare navel. He wasn’t kidding about burying his face in my pussy because, by the time I slip my bra off, he has my clit trapped between his teeth. I tremble. If he’s not careful, this will be over faster than a New York minute. A second later, he lays off the death grip and licks me emphatically until I’m moaning and excessively wet. I grab his head and grind my hips until everything inside me is gravitating to the center of my legs, until my body is begging for it.
“Do you honestly think I’m going to make it that easy?”
He sucks hard on my clit one last time before he pulls away.
“I was hoping.” I pant, unfulfilled.
“I told you I have plans for you tonight, shortcake. And they start with you undressing me.” He yanks me down to my knees. “Get busy.” He motions to the buttons on his dress shirt. With a little smirk, I begin undoing each one, making sure to scrape my nails against his skin every chance I get. I push his shirt off his shoulders then move down to his pants. The bulge under his zipper is so protrusive; it’s nearly ripping the metal teeth in two.
Once his pants are gone, CJ takes advantage of my kneeling position, forcing my head down until I’m sucking his cock. I do it with pleasure, making sure to torture him the same way he tortured me. I swallow him until he’s panting and pre-cum is sliding down my throat. As I blow him, I feel CJ remove the flower clip from my hair then untwist the elastic holding my bun in place. My hair spills out all over his lap, and he moans openly, running his fingers through the long strands.
“I couldn’t imagine fucking you without this hair.” He tugs at the roots as I take him in deeper, so deep he shudders then rips my head away.
“I’m not going to make it that easy for me either.” He tilts my face up. At least he plays fair. “I said I have plans for you and I meant it. Get on the bed,” he orders, releasing the tight grip he has on my hair. I crawl onto the mattress as CJ stands and grabs the gold metallic bag from the sex museum off the nightstand and a sleeve of condoms from the drawer, dropping both items on the comforter next to me. I look back and forth between him and the gold bag inquisitively, my imagination running wild as to what could be in there.
He climbs on the bed like a provisioned hunter, his arm and stomach muscles rippling as he crawls toward me. I watch enamored as he splits open the bag and pulls out the first content. A small bottle of lubricant. The glint in his eye tells me he’s up to no good as he pops open the top. There’s a split second of hesitation before he douses me with the liquid.
“CJ!” I try to jump away, but he snatches my wrist and pulls me close, smearing the lube all over my body, breasts to torso then down to my pussy. The sticky substance is warmer than I expect, and his hands are purposeful. He knows exactly where and how to touch me.
“You don’t play fair,” I complain wantonly.
“Life’s not fair.” He massages me all over until my upper body is glistening.
Ain’t that the truth?
He reaches into the bag again, this time pulling out a ‘cum rag.’ He wipes the lube off his hands then reaches into the bag a third time, pulling out a chain with a metal clamp on each end. He said he had plans, and he wasn’t kidding. Holy shit.
CJ positions himself so he is leaning up against the wooden headboard then urges me into his lap. Once I’m straddling him, he teases me with one of the clamps, running it lightly up and down the center of my slick body and over each nipple repeatedly. The light sensation, the thin film of lubrication, and the excitement of the unknown does wild things to me. Tack on the fact he is holding equal amounts of pleasure and pain in just one hand, nearly has me walking on pins and needles.
My breathing is heavy and my need abundant by the time CJ reveals exactly what he has planned for the little clamps and me.
“I know you said you weren’t into collars.” He slips one end of the chain around my neck and uses the clamp to secure it. “But you belong to me tonight. So what I say goes. If I can’t use a real collar, I’ll improvise.”
Without any warning, he clasps the other end of the chain onto my clit, right over my piercing. I gasp out loud from the instant stab of pleasure and simultaneous bite of pain.
“Easy.” He calms me with his voice like a spooked horse. “Easy, baby.” He rubs my arms, soothing me. “You look so fucking hot.” His pupils are dilated, and his cock is rock hard between my legs as he fingers the chain, suddenly commanding my desire. This is going to be intense. I’ve barely moved a muscle and the clamp is already doing inexplicable things.
CJ tears a condom from the sleeve and hands it to me.
“You do it.”
With trembling fingers, I rip open the purple foil package and remove the condom. Carefully, I sheath him, all while trying to ignore the commotion beginning to storm inside me.
With our eyes glued to each other, CJ lifts my hips and slowly impales me onto his cock. I’m so sensitive by now, I feel every microscopic inch slide into me, stretch me, nearly destroy me. The chain pulls so tight; the tiniest movement feels catastrophic.
“Fucking ride me, Tara.” CJ grabs onto my ass grinding me against him. I let out a cry so foreign; I can’t even believe it came from my mouth. I’ve become an absolute mess within a few seconds. My movements are small and fragile, fearing I might break at any moment.
My fears become a sobering reality as CJ thrusts up into me. I swear I see stars as every fiber in my body expands and contracts.
“Oh, fuck.” I start to buckle, the overwhelming sensations grabbing hold.
“Not yet, Tara.” CJ tries to subdue my waist, but my body has completely taken over, chasing after the orgasm I’m convinced is going to annihilate me.
“Control it.” CJ wraps one arm around my waist and fuses our hips together, his cock buried completely inside my throbbing pussy.
“I can’t! It’s too much!” I nearly sob as we halt all movement. “It’s too much.”
“Try.”
But it’s too late, there’s no stopping the impending avalanche. I grab onto his hair and heave into his mouth as I come, no, not come, internally combust. I scream so loud I’m positive every single person in the hotel hears me being ripped open from the inside out. We barely performed a sexual act, and I just completely broke down.
“We need to work on your control.” CJ traps my limp body against him, my heart beating like a terrified rabbit. “This is just the beginning.” He breathes roughly.
“Beginning?” I repeat drained.
“Mmm hmm . . .” He tucks some hair behind my ear and shifts beneath me. My oversensitive core constricts. “After we’re done here, I’m going to flip you over and fuck you again.” He thrusts upwards, and I inhale. “I told you I was going to have you all over this hotel room.” CJ kisses me feverishly, and my body instinctively responds. The kindling aftereffects of my orgasm recharging.
Within several electromagnetic seconds, I’m riding CJ hard, the clamp aggravating the ache that has taken complete control of my entire lower body. My sighs pitch and my blood rushes through my veins as another gargantuan orgasm builds.
“Don’t stop.” CJ clutches onto my gyrating hips. “Fuck! Fuck!” He looks straight into my eyes and clenches his jaw as I impale myself on him over and over.
The way he’s looking at me is almost unrecognizable, like a new depraved layer of himself has been husked away.
I scream when he tugs on the chain, my clit and my orgasm catching fire at the same time, morphing me into nothing but a ball of extreme responsiveness. CJ stiffens beneath me, a pained growl tearing from his throat. I don’t know how long our climaxes last, but when I crack open my eyes, I am draped over his limp body and I can barely breathe. There is a sheen of sweat slick on our skin and the smell of sex is as potent as a bouquet of fresh flowers in the room.
“You’re out to destroy me,” I whimper, spent.
“Yup,” CJ responds with his eyes still closed and a sexy smirk on his face. He doesn’t even bother to deny it. “Twenty-four hours and counting.” He pops his eyes open to look at me; his gaze so iniquitous it makes his brown irises look black. It actually makes me shiver. Half with need and half with angst. No one has ever made me feel so sexually powerful and enslaved all at the same time. CJ exhales deeply as he runs his fingers lightly along the chain wrapped around my neck. I want to know what he’s thinking, but I don’t ask. Some secrets are better left unknown. If this were a different situation, if we were two different people, I would crack the quiet wide open. Instead, I shift off him so he can remove the condom.
I lie on my back on top of the plush white comforter itching to remove the pinching little clamp. I take a deep breath, and just before I detach it, CJ snatches my wrist.
“I never said you could touch that.”
I flick my eyes up at him, almost desperately. It’s so uncomfortable and physically taxing. Every time I move, it reminds me it’s there, literally tormenting me.
“I said I was going to flip you over and fuck you again.” He manhandles me, forcing me onto my stomach then draws my hips up. The chain pulls taut in this position, and I yelp as the clamp tugs on my clit. I’m puffing already, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.
“I know you can handle it, Tara,” CJ murmurs in my ear. “I know how much you like to come. I know how much you like to scream.” I feel him rub his semi-hard cock down the crack of my ass. He’s right; I do like to come, and I’ve just experienced two of the most intense orgasms of my life. I’m not sure I’m ready for more just yet. But I don’t think I have a choice. I hear the foil on the condom wrapper tear.
“You going to scream for me, shortcake?” He mounts me, turning my face to the side so he can kiss me roughly. The use of my nickname in such a lecherous manner sends me spinning. Simultaneously, my cheeks heat and so does my pussy from the bite of the clamp and the dull ache throbbing inside me.
“I want an answer.” CJ slams into me, and I screech.
“YES!”