CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - ISSY
There’s always a bunch of commotion after a seminar. People want to talk to me, get my opinions, tell me their story. And I want to listen. I usually do listen. But today… today I need to get out of here. I spy Finn in the open door of the staging room. He towers over most of the women. His eyes are searching for me, because I get lost in a crowd. And then his gaze finds mine and he smiles.
I smile back, even though I don’t feel much like smiling. Talking to people about their lives, the things that hold them back, and how to find hope for the future is an exhausting thing. And this time afterward is typically how I recharge the sadness I see on their faces as I talk.
But today it’s Finn’s smile that recharges me. I sign books, because that’s my job. And I listen to them, and smile, because I owe them that. We’re in this together, all of us, so I owe them that. And I’m grateful. Even though this life is over for me, it’s just starting for them.
The free online course will help them. I’ll try to answer emails for a while, but I’m leaving town today. I’m disappearing, turning into someone new tomorrow.
I look at Suzanne and she sighs, looking straight at me. She knows what’s coming, but she doesn’t know why. She has no details.
“What’s wrong?” she mouths from across the room.
“I need to get out of here,” I mouth back. Slowly, so she can read my lips.
She nods, then starts talking loudly, trying to get everyone’s attention.
I take one last look at Finn, who is caught in the crowd, trying to make his way towards me, and turn away.
There’s a door in the back of the room that leads to a more-or-less private hallway. And there’s a stairwell there. I know that much. So that’s where I end up.
“Issy!” Finn calls from behind me. “Wait!”
I want to run. Right now. Because I kinda like him. Even though I’ve known this man less than a day, it was kind of a fun day. The pleasure of panic. I guess it’s true. Danger, even just the perception of danger, brings people closer. It creates bonds that don’t evolve in any other situation.
But it wasn’t just the perception of danger, was it?
“Issy,” he says again when I disappear into the stairwell and let the door close behind me.
But he follows, and a few seconds later he’s jumping down the flight of stairs I’ve descended and blocking my way. “Where are you going?”
I sigh, shaking my head.
“You’re not giving up?” He says this like, You, of all people, giving up?
“I gotta leave, Finn. I’m sorry. I like you, and if things were different, we’d probably hit it off. Probably date. Maybe even last a while. But I’m not going to put myself in danger for the possibility of a relationship. You’re some kind of distraction, I think.”
“Issy,” he says, holding his hand up, palm towards me. “I swear—”
“I don’t think you’re in on it, Finn. But someone is fucking with me. And maybe you too.” I shrug. “Your partner, Declan. He’s dangerous. He’s got a position, and power, and a badge. And he was standing next to Caleb Kelly on TV this morning. A man… a very bad man, who should be in prison, but isn’t.” And I don’t want to say the rest, but it comes out anyway. Because it must be said. “He should be in prison, and isn’t. Just. Like. You.”
That hits him pretty hard. He deflates a little. But he’s not done trying. “Just…” he starts, but stops. And I get it. It’s hard to know what to say when you’re unsure of what’s happening. “Just hold that thought,” he says, taking my hand, leading me down the stairs. “Just hold that thought because we need to stop time for a little bit and just clear our heads.”
I let him lead me, because that’s where I was heading anyway. And when we burst through the doors on the ground floor, he looks both ways, like he’s undecided. Like he has no plan. And I just want to pull away. Leave this hotel, leave this town, get on the road and leave it all behind.
I can start again. I’ve done it before.
But then he goes right. He heads down the hallway. We enter the edge of the lobby, and he looks down at me and smiles a smile that says, Don’t underestimate me.
We get in line at the front desk. “What… what are you doing?” I ask.
But before he can answer, one of the reception people calls him forward to the counter.
“We’d like your best room, please,” Finn says. “We don’t have a reservation.”
“Let me check for you,” the man at the desk says, his fingers clicking over a keyboard. He lifts one eyebrow, looks up at Finn, then over at me. “The best?” he asks. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Finn says.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Stopping time,” he whispers back. He hands over his credit card and ID, and a few minutes later he’s leading me towards the elevators.
I exhale on the way up to the top floor, torn between leaving and staying. I’m totally on board with a timeout. But we can only run from reality for so long before—
“Stop,” Finn says. “Stop thinking about the future. We’re in the here and now, Issy. Be present.”
Normally that might rub me the wrong way. I’m always present.
Except for today. Today my world got upended and it’s been a very long time since I needed to concentrate on my own advice. The stuff I say on stage at seminars. The stuff I write in books. The stuff I tell other women to do.
So I need the reminder.
He flashes the key card at the door, it blinks green, and he opens it to reveal an entire wall of floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of both downtown Denver and the snow-capped mountains off in the distance.
The door closes with a heavy thunk, and then he’s leading me over towards the windows. He spins me around, drags my jacket over my shoulders, down my arms, and tosses it aside. His strong hands are immediately on my arms, caressing them as he leans in to kiss me. I melt as he pushes me up against the cool window, a chill tingling up my spine as my back connects to the glass.
“Take me,” I whisper. “Just take me.”
I know what he’s doing. Trying to take my mind off what’s happening. Using sex as a distraction. But it doesn’t matter. He smells like conviction and stability. And when my hands find his biceps, he feels like a rock. Like a wall. Like he was made to stand in front of me.
And even though I don’t want to admit it, I need a protector right now. Him. I need him right now. Because everything I’ve built is about to crash down on top of me. Pin me to the ground and leave me to suffocate under a pile of rocks and debris called Lies.
Lies I’ve told. Lies I’ve lived. Lies that are about to come yank me back into the life I left behind.
I didn’t run far enough. Not nearly far enough. Because my past has caught up and now it’s time to pay my debts. So if he wants to help me forget for a day, I’m not gonna stop him.
“Please,” I whisper. “Just take all of me. Right now.”
“No,” he says. “I’m not going to take you. I already did that yesterday at your house. Now I just want to worship you.”
He lowers himself, his hands on my breasts. Just briefly, just for a moment he squeezes them. And then his hands descend with him, pausing to unbutton my slacks. Drag my zipper down. Slip them, and my panties, over my hips until they fall to the floor at my feet. His eyes never leaving mine.
He smiles.
I smile back. I can’t help it.
And something leaves me in that smile. The fear. The tension. The frustration.
His hands are on my thighs now, his thumbs pressing into the long muscles, easing their way between my legs until he makes me want to open them for him.
No words are exchanged. They’re not necessary. Just a few gentle touches that say more than words ever could.
I close my eyes because his breath is tickling the soft skin as he breathes in my scent.
What do I smell like?
Fear. And loneliness. And anxiety.
Panic. I smell like panic.
His tongue is there, flicking against my clit just as these words form in my head.
And there it is. The pleasure of panic incarnate.
I grab his hair, then loosen my fingers, wanting to be gentle with him for some reason. I open my legs wider as he forces his chin between them, his unshaven jaw scratchy and perfect as he moves his mouth against my opening.
Worship me, he said.
Yeah… that’s how it feels.
My knees buckle, but he holds me up. My legs begin to tremble, but he keeps me steady. Licking me, sucking me, his hands reaching up now to squeeze my breasts. I want to melt. I want to succumb to the feeling of floating that’s threatening to overtake all my practical sensibilities. I want to give in and give up at the same time.
And just as that thought manifests, I slide my back down the cool, cool glass of the window, unable—or unwilling— to keep standing up.
He chuckles a little, readjusting his body for my new position, resting himself on the floor, face between my now wide-open legs, hands on my still-trembling thighs.
My breath is ragged and uneven, but it matches the irregular hard thumping of my heart inside my chest. And when he places his whole mouth over my pussy, his tongue flicking incessantly against my clit, I can’t hold it in anymore.
I can’t keep it together.
And he says, “Just let go,” his words vibrating into me, like he’s reading my mind.
So I do.
Because I have no choice. I can’t stop it, and I wouldn’t want to anyway.
He licks at the wetness spilling out of me, my body writhing from the climax, my spine stiff, then soft, then stiff again as the waves of pleasure wash through me.
And then he stands, leans down, picks me up, and carries me to the bed where he lays me down. Gently, like I am something precious. And begins to undress himself.
I watch. I watch every single moment of it. I memorize the way his fingers unbutton his shirt. I burn the image of his chest muscles, his abs, that cut line that disappears into his pants, into my memory. So I can think about it—dream about it—later.
He takes off his jacket, then his shirt, and he’s bare from the chest up. I’m still wearing my cami top, so I sit up a little and bring it over my head, then reach around to unfasten my bra as he unbuckles his belt, removes his pants, and stands in front of me. Hard. Long. Thick. His cock almost pulsing with anticipation. I look at it, crave it, then look up at him and find his attention on my mouth.
I know what he wants.
We want the very same thing.
Him inside me.
So I lick my lips, position myself on my knees, and reach out for his cock.
His hands are immediately on my head, urging me to take him. I don’t hesitate. I open my mouth and push forward until the tip of his swollen head hits the back of my throat and I have to stop and regain some control.
I breathe through my nose as I look up at his face. He’s lost now. Lost in the feeling of being inside me. Lost in the idea of what’s coming next.
And when my mouth is filled up with saliva, I flatten my tongue against his shaft and withdraw, until the tip of his cock is between my lips.
“Fuuuuck,” he moans softly.
And I like that moan. So I rub the head of his cock between my lips, kissing it, worshipping him the way he worshipped me.
“Do you want to come in my mouth?” I ask him.
He smiles. “I appreciate the offer. But no. No,” he says again, shaking his head. “I do want to come inside you, but not there.”
I lean back, my heels touching my bare butt. And then I scoot over, pat the bed, and say, “Come here, then. Because I want to ride you.”
God, just saying that out loud is enough to get my pussy throbbing. But watching him do it has me nearing the edge of climax again.
I close my eyes as he moves onto the bed and when I open them again, he’s lying back, head slightly elevated and resting against the headboard. Making sure he can see me when I make the next move.
If he minds sharing control, he doesn’t show it. So I go slow. I twist, bring one leg up and over his hips, positioning my pussy right over his upper thighs. His cock is long, reaching up to his belly button. It jumps when I take it my hand and begin to pump him, my hand immediately wet from my own saliva.
I lift my hips up, place him at my opening, then flick his head around before letting go and sitting down.
We both moan. It’s relief. And filled expectations of what’s to come.
His arms wrap around my body, completely encircling my back. My hands rest on his shoulders as I rock forward, then push backward, forcing him to fill me up. My nails dig into his skin and he lets out a long, low growl, immediately gripping my ass with the same intensity.
We stare into each other’s eyes. But we’re really seeing our souls as they consider the possibility of mixing together.
“Come here,” he says.
And I don’t know how I could possibly get any closer to him.
But I do.
My head bumps against his, our eyes so close our souls touch.