JESSIE
All day we’ve been playing a kind of weird game of conversational tennis that has me totally confused. On the way to the restaurant it had been all friction and debate. Then in the restaurant Ryan seemed to change. I don’t know why but as we get back to the house I feel like crying. I didn’t expect to like him. He’s gorgeous and wealthy but looks and money don’t make a man. There has to be something inside, a core of something good and respectable. Goodness and respectability don’t usually go hand in hand with the other qualities. It’s as if, when life comes too easy to a person, that the other things fall by the wayside.
Ryan’s not like that, though. Maybe because life hasn’t come easy to him. He’s clawed his way up, seen the unpleasant side of business and been forced to compromise himself in ways that made him uncomfortable. He’s also suffered the death of someone he loved. It’s sad that grief and hardship are what are required to round out a person but it’s often the case.
I find that I like him a lot. Maybe because my heart is still raw. Since Jackson died its felt swollen in my chest, like an overripe fruit that looks okay on the outside but is too tender to touch without damaging. Liking Ryan isn’t part of the plan. This is a one-month commitment and I know I need to keep my distance, because I’m not going to be capable of walking away and dealing with more heartbreak. As hard as it is, I need to keep some professional distance and remember that this is all just about temporary companionship in whatever form Ryan needs.
We enter the house the same way but this time, as we walk down the hallway, Ryan grabs my hand. I stop as he stares at me, pushing a loose curl behind my ear and stroking my cheek. I can’t look him in the eyes so I fix my gaze on his shoulder.
“Go and freshen up and meet me in my suite,” he says softly.
My pussy clenches involuntarily because his intentions are so obvious. Maybe this will help. If we move onto the mechanical parts of this arrangement, maybe I can maintain some emotional distance. It sounds stupid because sex has always been a very emotional thing for me, but the way Ryan was last night has me thinking he’s going to approach sex in a detached way. I hope that’s the case.
“Sure,” I say.
“Wear something white.” His face has gone back to the impassive expression he seems to wear when sex is the topic of discussion.
“Okay.”
He leaves me at the bottom of the stairs and I ascend quickly, conscious that he’s still standing and watching me. In my room I strip, throwing all my clothes in the basket and getting into the shower immediately. I don’t want to think about this. I know if I do I’m going to shake and I don’t want him to know I’m not in control. I soap myself gently, feeling the heavy heat of arousal between my legs. My nipples are hard even under the warm stream of water.
Sex seems like a distant memory. Something I used to do so regularly but that now feels like a completely new experience. I wonder what he’ll be like. The feel of him inside me, the smell of his skin. How will he touch me? More gently than Jackson or with more urgency?
Will I enjoy it? Will he care about giving me pleasure or simply take it for himself?
For a long time, it has seemed wrong for me to feel anything for another man. To take that step away from my husband and the life we had together. In a way I’ve been doing the same thing that Jackson did; putting off living my life until a later time that might never come.
I could never have imagined that I’d take this particular step, but for whatever reason, Ryan has chosen me.
Fate is a fickle bitch.
There is a drawer full of white bras and panties; lace, silk and satin in different designs. I find a pretty set that look very innocent. The fact he’s chosen this color makes me think he wants me to look that way. There is a matching garter that I slip up my thigh. The panties are tiny and press against my tender flesh, making me squirm. When he touches me he’s going to find me wet and I don’t think I like that. My body knows what it wants and it’s going to tell Ryan that without me uttering a word.
I draw on a silk robe so I can walk to his suite with some modesty.
My throat feels desert-dry so I clear it quietly before knocking.
“Come,” he says.
My heart thuds so fast and hard I can feel it in my temples. I open the door slowly and find him sitting in the same chair. His hair is damp from the shower and he’s dressed a little less formally but still impeccably.
I close the door gently and go to stand in the same place as I did last night, keeping my eyes lowered so I don’t have to see his response.
“Take off the robe, Jessie,” he says with the same gravelly tone as last night. I don’t hesitate even though my heart is pounding. I tell myself that this is what he’s really paying me for. The driving and lunch were all just precursors. The silky fabric slides from my shoulders so fast that the coolness of the room sends goosebumps rushing over my arms. “You looks so fucking beautiful,” he says and the rawness of his compliment sends my heart skittering.
I look up at him and there is arousal in his eyes. His hands rest on his thighs but the fingers tightly grip as though he’s trying to maintain some control. “What do you want?” I ask him softly.
He shakes his head as though I’m asking a stupid question. I suppose I am really, but nothing about Ryan is straight forward. I wait for him to tell me but it seems the time for talking is over. He stands and takes me by the hand, leading me over to the bed and sitting me on the edge. He’s so tall now that I’m seated. In the low light it’s almost as though he’s looming over me. I look up, expecting him to be in control, but he seems to be shaking. It’s just his arm on the right side, the arm that’s closest to me. He looks down at it as though he’s confused about what’s happening, then he drops to his knees in front of me.
“Are you wet?” he asks me.
I nod. Is he asking because it turns him on or does he want to check if I’m into what’s happening? I wish I knew what was going on in his head.
“Spread your legs, Jessie,” he orders and I do.
I know he’s right handed but he uses his left to stroke up the side of my calf. His touch is soft, reverent almost. It feels so good that I want to moan. I want to push my leg against his hand in the same way a cat nuzzles up against the ankles of its owner. The kiss outside the restaurant is still making my lips tingle. I want him to do it again even though I know it’s only going to complicate this.
“I want to touch you,” he says, his fingers skirting the edge of my panties along my thigh. It’s not a request so much as a statement of fact. Is he waiting for me to tell him it’s okay? My throat is so tight with arousal that I don’t think I can form the words. His lips graze my knee and my legs go slack. All I can think about is his mouth on my pussy; the roughness of his tongue grazing my clit and then pushing inside me until I cry out with pleasure. Is that what he wants to do?
His dark gray eyes meet mine. He blinks and for a moment I must look like a rabbit in headlights. Somehow I find the ability to move my head and I nod. It’s a tiny movement but it’s enough for Ryan. His hand goes to my belly and he presses me down so that I’m laying back on the bed. My legs hang, the balls of my feet pressing against the floor for stability. I stare up at the ceiling.
Waiting.
Waiting.
I can hear his breathing and feel his presence but he doesn’t touch me. It kills me to lay here expectantly. My mind rushes over the last time I felt a man’s tongue on my most intimate of places but I don’t want to go there. I want Ryan to get on with it. To drown out my internal thoughts with sensation that will make my toes curl and my mind quiet.
The first touch is his hands on my knees. The right one is still trembling a little and my heart skitters over the fact he’s obviously as frantic about this as me. I feel warmth through the lace of my panties as his breath gusts over my pussy. I hear him inhale deeply and wonder how the scent of me is making him feel. Does it make his head swim with arousal like I imagine it would? I want to get close enough to him to know how it feels to breathe him in too. I want to taste the salt on his skin and absorb his warmth into my own body.
I want to feel like a woman again, in the arms of a man strong enough and powerful enough to make me feel safe, and even though it will only be for a little while, I want to shed the feelings of loneliness that have settled into my heart for too long.
Ryan hooks his fingers over the lace at the sides of my panties and eases them slowly down my legs. It’s sweet torture, every inch taking me nearer to the touch that I crave. He pushes against the insides of my thighs, opening my legs gently. I feel like a flower going from bud to bloom and I hold my breath, digging my fingers into the comforter so I feel more in control. I want to know how close he is to me but I can’t bring myself to look. I keep my eyes scrunched shut and listen to the thud, thud, thud of my heart in my ears.
Then his tongue swipes over my clit and I can’t keep it in. I moan loudly and I don’t even care because he does it again and that’s what I want. I need him to keep doing exactly what he’s doing. I want him to make my legs shake and my hands tremble and my pussy clench so hard that I have to arch my back and cry out. I want to come so bad that I ache between my legs and in my heart.
My pleasure used to belong to Jackson. Now Ryan is going to take it for his own.
And he does. Oh god, he does.
He tastes me like I’m the sweetest thing, long slow licks that have my toes curing and gentle sucks and make me roll my hips. I cover my face with my arms when he reaches up to find the softness of my breasts. He loses rhythm just for a second as he explores, then he’s back to driving me insane. Too many times he takes me to the edge of an orgasm and then pulls back. I start to sweat from the anticipation. I draw my legs up so that my heels rest on the edge of the bed and I can force my pussy harder against his mouth.
“Please,” I gasp when I’m so close I can barely take anymore. “Please.”
I feel his lips curl against my pussy. He likes me to beg him. It’s only then that I feel pressure at my entrance. Three nudging presses against my g spot and I’m flying. The noises I make don’t sound human. My heart thumps in three huge beats before it skitters fast like I’ve been running. I’m so wet I can feel it trickling between the cheeks of my ass, down onto his bedding beneath. I just don’t ever want this feeling to stop and it doesn’t. He presses his tongue against my swollen clit and it just keeps on going. I’m dazed. Writhing. Desperate to stay in this state of pure ecstasy, and scared too. I’m so helpless like this and he’s in control. He pushes his fingers deep inside me and presses upwards and I arch my back again as pleasure soars. “Oh,” I pant. I can’t form the words that flash into my head for a second and then disappear. ‘Don’t stop’, ‘stop’, ‘it’s too much’, ‘please’, ‘harder’. They are all there, waring against each other and making me so frantic that I find myself reaching down and curing my fingers into his soft hair. Ryan goes still for a second. Doesn’t he like me touching him? I don’t move, waiting for him to respond and he does by pressing his teeth against my clit.
“Fuck,” I gasp as a short sharp burst of pleasure hits.
Then he’s pulling away.
I watch him walk away and disappears through a door. I stay where I am, frozen by my post-orgasmic trance, and confused because I don’t know what the hell he’s expecting of me. Minutes pass and feel ridiculous sprawled out of this bed wearing nothing from the waist down. I sit, looking over to the door, still expecting him to come back but he doesn’t. I find my panties on the floor and pull them up over my legs. My thighs are wet, my pussy swollen and I feel ravaged and bereft.
Is that what he wanted? To turn me into a helpless and writhing thing and then leave me?
Did he want to make me weak from pleasure, because that’s what he did. He stripped away my layer of self-protection and now I feel raw.
My robe is still where I left it in a heap. I slip that on too and take one last look at the door. Should I call out for him?
No.
If he wanted to still be in my company, then he wouldn’t have left.
I leave Ryan’s suite and head back to my own, knowing a little more about this stranger who wants to own a month of my life, but not understanding him at all.