Chapter Eight
Three days later, I was still thinking about my morning with JC. The memory clung to me like expensive cologne that loses its scent until a breeze stirs it up again. I’d forget that it happened. Then something would trigger me. An image or a phrase would float into my mind and suddenly I was hit with vivid flashbacks. The touch of his skin against mine. The effort written on his face as he held my control. The bold words he’d used. With every recollection¸ I became flushed again and dizzy. Even with the club to keep me occupied, I found myself counting the minutes until Wednesday when I’d see him again.
As I came home from work around six on Monday morning, though, it wasn’t JC I was thinking about, but Norma. She’d returned from L.A. the night before during my shift, and I was eager to see her before she went to the office. Not only because I wanted to hear every last detail about Ben but also because I was glad to have her back.
Maybe I’d even tell her about JC. I hadn’t decided yet.
“Morning, Kev.” I nodded to the doorman, and he let me in the lobby of our Uptown high-rise. He was my favorite of the doormen, older, probably nearing retirement, and despite my preference to remain anti-social, he always had a greeting that drew me out of my shell.
He tipped his hat as I walked by. “That’s two pretty Anders ladies in less than half an hour. It’s my lucky day.”
I stopped, puzzled, and turned back to him. “Norma was down here?” I tried to remember if we had milk and coffee. There wasn’t any other reason I could think of for her to venture out this early.
“She got here in a cab about five-thirty.”
“Huh.” If she’d gone for groceries, she would have walked to the corner store. I’d have to ask her about it.
I waved goodbye. Then, not wanting to wait for the elevator, I hurried up the three flights of stairs to our apartment. Norma wasn’t in the living room when I went in. I passed by the kitchen and smelled coffee brewing but didn’t find her, so next I headed for her bedroom.
Her room was empty when I got there, but I heard the shower going in the master bathroom. Anxious to see her, I sat on her bed and surfed the net on my phone until she finished.
“Good morning,” I said when she walked out ten minutes later in the silk bathrobe I’d given her for her last birthday.
She jumped. “Jesus, Gwen.”
Laughing, I hopped up to give her a hug. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I don’t know what was more surprising—seeing you when I didn’t expect to or the fact that you’re hugging me without me initiating it.”
Her comment made me try to wiggle away, but she managed to hold me an extra couple of seconds. “What can I say? I missed you.” I had missed her. I hadn’t realized how much until I saw her.
“Maybe I should go away more often.”
No, I didn’t want that. I liked having her around. But I already felt too gushy with the hug so I didn’t say anything. Instead, I climbed back onto her bed to watch her get ready for work.
As I curled my feet under me cross-legged style, I noticed something. “Your bed hasn’t been slept in.” Which wasn’t like Norma. She usually left that for the housekeeper. Had she not slept at home?
“Oh.” She paused, her back to me as she reached in her underwear drawer for a pair of panties. Then she turned to me and waved her hand dismissively. “You know, I was so tired last night, I fell asleep on top of all the covers.”
“Wow. You must not have moved at all. It still looks so freshly made.”
“I straightened it this morning.” Not looking at me, she stepped into her panties and pulled them up. Then abandoned her robe to put on her bra.
I might have made more of a deal about the bed, but now her underwear distracted me. While I’d never been big on spending money on frivolous things, I made sure to always have nice lingerie. If a woman feels good in her underthings, she’ll feel powerful in her world, and all that bullshit. Norma never needed those kinds of head tricks. She was powerful and confident wearing cotton whites.
So when had she splurged on silk?
“You did some shopping,” I said, as she fumbled with her bra clasp. “They look great.”
She met my eyes in the mirror above her dresser. “A few months ago. I ordered from Faire Frou Frou. Decided to see what all the fuss was about.”
“And?”
“They’re nice. I like them.” She spun to look at me directly when I gave her a skeptical frown. “What?”
“Nothing. I’m just glad you’re finally treating yourself to something nice.” Also, I was beginning to suspect there was something up. “Did you go out before I got here?”
“Today?” She pulled out some pieces from her jewelry box.
“Yeah. Kev said you came in soon after his shift started. Did you go someplace?”
Norma was never as easy to read as I was. Yet her expression seemed even more unreadable than usual. Like she was trying harder to remain aloof.
After a few seconds, irritation replaced her stoicism. “Geez, Gwen. I expected Twenty Questions when I got in but about Ben. Not me.”
“Sorry. I’m simply making conversation.” I stood to help her fasten her necklace.
She held her hair up for me. “Thank you.”
But I wasn’t letting her off the hook that easily. “Also, I was curious.”
She let her hair down and straightened the jewel on her neck. “I went for a run, okay?”
In the winter, Norma usually kept her workouts to the apartment gym. I didn’t mention that. “Then you got tired and took a cab back?”
“I guess the trip to L.A. wore me out more than I thought it had.” She was hiding something, and that irritated me.
But I could tell that if I pried any more, we’d argue, and I didn’t want to fight when she’d just gotten home. “I’m sure the whole thing was exhausting. Do you have any new information? About Ben?”
I’d talked to her every day so I doubted she had anything left to tell me, but she managed to give me a few details about my brother that I hadn’t yet heard. The facility she’d checked him into wasn’t in San Francisco but rather Marin County. It was voluntary and he could check out at any time. His care providers, however, would make recommendations about his continued stay. Ben had still refused to see Norma, but he agreed to let his progress be shared with her.
She sat on the bed next to me to put on her stockings. Thigh highs with a garter belt. I was about to make another remark about her suddenly awesome lingerie when she said, “I met Ben’s boyfriend.”
This threw me. “I didn’t realize he was seeing anyone.” It was the one thing Ben was usually open about—his sex life. He always told me who his latest bang was, usually someone he hooked up with on Grindr. Where I had shut myself off from sex, Ben had thrown himself into it, both of us for the same reason—no interest in interpersonal connection.
“I didn’t either. They hadn’t been together long, and I guess Ben tried to push him away before he took the pills. The guy—Eric—is sticking around, though. Says he’s here for the duration. I think he’s good people. I feel better about leaving Ben with someone who loves him.” Norma attached one garter and began on the other stocking.
I stretched my legs out behind me and propped my face up with my hands. “Hmm.”
“What’s that mean?”
“I don’t know. I’m just not sure that Ben will ever really settle down.” Just like I would never settle down. That notion had been beaten out of us. Love’s a fairytale, our father would tell us. You think you’re going to grow up and live happily ever after? That’s a fucking myth.
Sure, I’d learned that my dad didn’t have the secrets to anything, let alone how to live happily, but he’d certainly taught us well about love by his relationship with us. We’d loved him. He’d hurt us. He was right—love was a fairytale. One I knew that Ben did not believe in. “Hope this Eric guy doesn’t get burned.”
Norma stood up and scowled. “Right now Ben isn’t in any position to burn anyone, Gwen. And I think you’re wrong. I think Ben is very much ready to settle down, and that thought spooked him. That’s what I think led to his attempt.”
I didn’t agree. Also, it was surreal to be scolded by my sister when she looked like a pin-up doll.
And here we were again on the verge of an argument. “Maybe.”
But since I was never really good at making peace, I added, “Mostly it was Dad’s upcoming release.”
“That too,” she agreed. Kudos to Norma for being the bigger person.
She disappeared into her walk-in closet. While she was gone, I kicked myself for being so combative. It wasn’t very nice in general but especially under the circumstances. Norma had dealt with an emotional issue, returned home late on a Sunday, and was up at the crack of dawn for work. I needed to show her more compassion.
Besides, I had something I wanted to tell her. It was maybe not fitting considering our conversation topics so far that morning, yet I was suddenly very eager to share. I walked over to the closet door and leaned against the frame. “I took your advice.”
“About?” Norma tucked her sleeveless black blouse into her gray suit skirt.
“I loosened up. Or I’m trying to.” Except with the way I was nervously biting my lip, I probably didn’t look very loosened.
Her face wrinkled as she tried to figure out what I was talking about. Then her eyes widened when she remembered. “You got laid?”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”
“But I am surprised. You haven’t been interested in getting laid in years.” She was right but she didn’t have to remind me.
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the smile that played on my lips. “I guess I probably had everyone convinced I was secretly a nun.”
“Not a nun. Your mouth is too foul.” She grabbed her suit jacket from the hanger then started out of the closet. “Walk with me while I pour my coffee. Tell me all about him.”
“He’s just a guy. And it’s only happened once. Well, twice.” I tagged behind Norma, feeling very much like the little sister who was spilling her guts about her latest crush. While I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea about JC, I couldn’t not tell her about him now. And I still wanted to tell her. Wrong impression or not.
“What’s his name?” Norma set her jacket on the counter, pulled a travel mug down from the cupboard and poured half the pot in before asking, “Want some?”
“No, thanks. I’m about ready to go to bed. And his name’s JC.” I realized as I said it that she’d probably ask me what JC stood for next. Or what his last name was. Dammit, I hadn’t really thought this through. “But that’s all. I’m not telling you anything else about him.”
“Not sure if it’s serious yet?” She leaned her backside against the sink and took a sip from her mug.
“It’s not.” Frankly, I was surprised that she would think I’d ever be serious. She knew I was anti-relationships. I’d always thought she understood that, but there were the Ben comments she made earlier and now this.
Obviously I needed to remind her of my position on the matter. “He’s not a boyfriend. He’s an…arrangement.”
“Tell me more.” Despite her skeptical frown, she seemed genuinely interested.
“We’re meeting up on Wednesday nights to spend time together.” I blushed at the thought of the last time we’d spent together.
Norma put her mug down, her eyes bright. “I’m guessing that’s code for ‘have wild monkey sex all night long?’”
She seemed like a teenager in that moment. Enthusiastic and ready for details and not my thirty-five-year-old surrogate mother.
For some reason, it embarrassed me more. “Something like that,” I said, playing the whole thing down. “That means you’ll have to watch Law and Order without me.” It was her show anyway. I was more than happy to miss it.
“Fine. I’ll DVR it for you. But I’m not done asking about JC.” God, she was practically giddy for me. “I’m all fine with sex for sex’s sake, but you don’t think that something more could happen between you?”
The idea felt like a spider crawling on my skin. I shook it off with a visible shiver. “No. Oh, no. I’m not looking for that. You know that.”
She shrugged and her tone suddenly got serious. “No one’s ever looking for it when it hits them.”
“Well, if it hits me, I’ll hit it right back. Whatever it is.” I shivered again and not just for dramatic effect. The notion was that disturbing.
“Whatever it is?” Norma’s whole demeanor seemed offended. “It’s love, Gwen. Don’t you want to fall in love?”
“What’s that?” I wasn’t harsh, but I was resolute. “No, seriously. Fall in love? There’s no falling that I know of. I love you, Norma. I love Ben. I love what I remember of Mom. In some weird obligated-by-blood way I love Dad, even. That’s about all the love I need. It’s about all I can handle too.”
“Gwen…” She looked at me with what seemed like pity. Then she sighed and I knew it was pity. “The more you love and the more you are loved, the more strength you have to handle everything else. You know that, right?”
“Eh. I’m not so sure the proportion of pain to reward works out in love’s favor.”
“Oh, honey. You’re going to end up alone with that attitude.”
“Never. I have you, sissy.” I put my arms around her waist and clutched onto her dramatically. This was easier than a real hug—it gave the pretense of being insincere, yet it was still a way to get the reassurance I craved.
She ran her hand through my hair, soothingly, like she used to do when I was sick. “You can’t always rely on me to be your companion, Gwen. I want more than this. I need more than just sitting around watching shows together.”
I had two choices—I could be hurt by her words, or I could accept that she wanted different things from life than I did and realize it had nothing to do with me.
At another time, I might have played the offended card. Right now, our family still felt too fragile. So I said the thing I knew she wanted to hear. “I know. And you’ll have it.” Maybe not with Hudson Pierce, like she wanted it, but she’d find someone.
When I thought about that, it scared me. Partly because I didn’t want to disrupt the status quo. Didn’t want to be without her in my daily life. But also because after the last few days, the idea of a guy in my life didn’t seem quite as unappealing as it once did.
And I had no business thinking those kinds of thoughts. Especially when I’d promised JC I wouldn’t get attached.
It’s just sex, I reminded myself. Sex stirs hormones, hormones think they’re emotions. That’s all. It wasn’t like the real emotions I had for my siblings. That I had for Norma.
I couldn’t shake the feeling, however, that things were changing between us. Couldn’t shake the feeling that at least one of us was slipping away toward something else.
***
I barely slept on Wednesday, too nervous about seeing JC again. He’d pushed me at our last encounter, and I had a feeling that was only the tip of the iceberg. While I kept thinking that we were only going to be about getting off, he seemed to be serious about the notion that he could help me loosen up. And so far, he’d been right. Orgasms in general were relaxing, but the methods he’d used to administrate my last one had left me relaxed well beyond when the hormonal effect had worn off.
Besides being anxious, I was eager. I had to force myself to not speed through my shower. Thankfully, the acts of regular feminine upkeep delayed me a bit. Still, I arrived at the hotel a whole hour earlier than I was expected, and I debated about hanging out in the bar or going straight up to his room.
I settled on the bar, but after killing thirty minutes and a glass of Merlot to ease my jitters, I changed my mind and headed up.
The apartment was silent when I went in, and dark, so I knew I was alone. I took off my coat and turned to hang it in the closet. There was a note on the door.
Gwen,
Make yourself comfortable. In other words, get undressed.
JC
I laughed out loud, a response that was as much a sign of nerves as it was a reaction based on humor. Get undressed. It was a subtle command and such a naughty way to expect to be greeted. My hand trembled at the hem of my sweater. The idea of being naked in his hotel room, even without him there yet, brought on a new flurry of jitters. I left my clothing on.
Not that I wouldn’t do it. Just…I needed a moment to warm up to it.
Since I still had time before I was supposed to arrive, I took a few minutes to check out the rest of the suite. I’d been in the bathroom on my last visit but not beyond that. After our session on the couch, he’d had to leave to catch another flight to L.A. and the bedroom was left for another occasion.
I went in there now finding nothing remarkable. A king-size bed. Two nightstands. A dresser. An armchair. I peeked in a closet and found it full of clothes—his clothes. An unexpected giddiness came across me, and I had a strange desire to bury my face in them, see if they smelled of him. But that was creepy, so I quickly shut the door.
I wondered briefly if women’s clothing had ever hung there. Wondered, if I searched his drawers, would I find traces of past lovers? How would I feel if I did? Surely it didn’t matter who he’d hooked up with before if I was the one he was hooking up with now.
But thinking about it gave me a different kind of anxiety. It brought on a feeling of possessiveness that I was unaccustomed to. I didn’t like it.
I wasn’t a snoop, anyway. His stuff was his stuff. Whatever secrets his belongings held about him, they were theirs to keep. Just like how we didn’t tell each other our full names. How we didn’t share our ages or our personal history. It was all information and details that, when shared, bound people together. And that wasn’t what either of us were looking for.
So I made my way back to the living room without looking any further.
JC walked in about three seconds after I returned. My pulse kicked up immediately, and my breathing hitched. As if I were Pavlov’s dog. Just his presence made me excited and aroused.
And happy. There was that too. And there were very few times in my life that I let myself feel that. Here, with him, I didn’t even think about giving myself permission. I just did. I just was. Happy.
He already had his coat off, and he hung it in the closet while he eyed me with a narrowed stare. “You’re still dressed.”
“I just got here.” Even in my defensiveness, I grinned.
The look he gave me made me think he knew I was fibbing. It still wasn’t seven, so he had no reason to think I’d be here so early. Had he seen me come up? Had he been in the lobby somewhere, watching for me to arrive and then waiting the amount of time he thought it would take for me to follow the instructions he’d left?
The thought gave me an unexpected jolt. I liked that he might have been as anxious for me to arrive as I was. I didn’t like that I liked it.
If he really doubted me, he didn’t contradict me. “Then I’ll cut you a break and let you remove your clothes yourself.”
I stifled a nervous giggle. “As opposed to?”
“Me ripping them off.”
Another comment that was so naughty and unexpected. Was it strange that I almost preferred that than undressing willingly?
A satisfied smirk played on JC’s face. “Don’t worry, my plan will still be good. Strip.”
I couldn’t argue with the soothing authority in his voice. I bent to unzip a boot when he stopped me. “Not there. Over by the window.”
I didn’t move immediately. I was not an exhibitionist in any way, and parading naked in front of others was never something I’d feel comfortable with. No matter how freeing it might feel.
Except, I trusted JC. Strange, since I didn’t know him enough to trust him. Strange, since I never trusted anyone. But, I realized now, that trust was essential in any arrangement I expected to have with him. To give him my control, I had to trust. There also seemed to be a correlation in trusting and relaxing. Letting down my guard went a long way toward relieving tension I didn’t even know I carried.
I walked to the window to look out. We were forty-nine floors up, the sun was going down, and the park was across the street. The likelihood of anyone seeing me was slim to none.
“It’s pretty private.” Goddamn, JC could always read my thoughts. Was I that transparent? “But it doesn’t feel private. It feels exposed. Doesn’t it?”
I nodded.
“Even if someone happens to look up and think they see a body at the window, they won’t be able to tell it’s naked. They certainly won’t be able to tell it’s you.”
I wasn’t so sure. But, trust.
JC removed his suit jacket and laid it on the back of the couch. “Now. Undress.”
There would be no more thinking about it. I handed him the reins, then. I did as he said, first taking off my boots. Then, with shaking hands, I removed my sweater, followed by my jeans.
When I was only in my lingerie, JC inhaled sharply.
I paused my undressing to bask in his appreciation. Silently, I thanked Norma. I didn’t own a garter belt, but I did have thigh highs, and the sexy way she’d looked the other morning wearing hers had inspired me to wear my own under my pants. I’d debated it at first, unsure if my thoughtful preparation would give the wrong message. I still hadn’t been sure when I’d left the apartment with them on.
JC’s reaction now made me glad I’d chosen as I had, even if he only saw me in them for a second. The rising and falling of my chest grew more pronounced as my excitement—and my confidence—flourished. It was exhilarating to be able to arouse someone else so easily, in turn, inciting me.
I took off my bra next, watching his eyes spark as my breasts tumbled free. Then I removed my panties. When I got to my stockings, I paused. “Should I leave these?”
His yes was more of a hiss than an actual word.
I was very glad for my decision indeed. Naked now, except for the hose, I stood proudly for him, my back exposed to the city behind me.
JC loosened his tie. Slowly, but with more assurance than I’d had, he began unbuttoning his shirt. God, it was erotic to watch him undress. To watch him peel away the layers that the rest of the world saw, revealing the parts of him he only showed to me. Provocative on so many levels.
I pressed my thighs together to try and relieve the growing ache.
His smile told me he knew the effect he had on me. He removed his shirt and laid it on the couch and began working on his belt buckle, his eyes never leaving me. “You’re so turned on,” he said with not an ounce of question. It was fact. He knew I was turned on. “Touch yourself.”
I hesitated, waffling between giving him complete control and letting him know what I wanted. He’d been adamant that I tell him before. And I wanted to be quick to learn his lessons, unlike the insipid heroines of Norma’s bodice ripper novels she thought she read in secret.
So I spoke up. “JC, I don’t want to do that this time.” I would do it again. It had been amazing, and if he squashed down my request, I’d give in willingly. But I needed to let him know what I was thinking first.
His eyes widened, and with his belt now in his hand, a bolt of paralyzing fear ran through me. After years of having one slapped across my back, a man with a belt would always cause a stirring of trepidation. This moment was worse, especially since I’d just been contrary. And I was naked, which made me feel more vulnerable than usual.
He seemed to sense my fear. “Hey, Gwen. Relax.” He dropped the belt, and his eyes followed mine as I watched where it landed on the floor. His brow wrinkled in confusion, and then, as if he understood, he kicked it away from him.
I was afraid he’d ask, but he didn’t, and I was grateful.
“Thank you, for telling me what you want. Or don’t want.” He toed his shoes off as he spoke. Then bent to pull off his socks. “You don’t have anything to worry about. I won’t hurt you and this won’t be like last week. You’ll still get off. But this time, I’m going to be inside you when it happens.”
Whatever fear there had been in me a moment before vanished at his sensual promise.
He unzipped his pants and pushed them to the floor. “So I suggest you touch yourself. You need to get yourself wet because I’m not planning on staying in control this time. Once my hands are on you, you better be ready to fuck.”
Moisture pooled between my legs at his words. I was ready to fuck now. I had been since the minute he walked in the door and cast his possessive gaze over my body. So when I pinched a nipple between my fingers and ran my other hand between my legs, I wasn’t priming myself for him.
I was showing him that I was already primed.
JC groaned. He rubbed his hand over his crotch, and I watched as his semi hardened. “You really are breathtaking, Gwen. You have no idea, do you?”
I shook my head. I hadn’t ever cared to be breathtaking until I was with him. Now, not only did I want him to be turned on by me, I also felt that he was turned on by me. Felt like I was that exciting. Felt like I was that beautiful.
“It’s part of what makes you so amazing to look at. Because you’re so unaware.” He stripped off his boxer briefs, and my mouth instantly watered at his impressive erection. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. It was big and thick and exquisite in a way I never thought a penis could be.
Not a penis—a cock. Penis was a term that turned me off and made me cringe. But nothing about JC’s cock did that to me. It made me feel just the opposite. Turned me on ferociously. Made me want to open up and invite it in.
It drew me so magnetically that I started to step toward him.
Then JC directed me otherwise. “Turn around, Gwen. Press your body against the glass and let the city see how beautiful you are.”
My fascination with his cock faded as my unease with the window returned. Like he’d said before, probably no one would see me, but it felt like they could. And now that it was about to happen, the idea of being watched was actually more thrilling than I’d first thought.
I spun in and pressed up against the window, the cold glass a stark contrast to my heated skin. I continued to touch myself, playing with my clit in earnest. I spread my legs, wanting him to have a better view of what I was doing.
Was that unlike me? Yes. Was it dirty and naughty and completely empowering? Yes, yes, and yes. I reveled in the naughtiness. I reveled in the power.
“Tell me, Gwen.” JC’s voice was tight and I pictured him stroking himself behind me as he spoke. “Did you wear those stockings for me?”
I bit my lip as I considered. I’d thought I’d worn them for me. They were part of my confidence-building undergarment ensemble to make me feel more seductive than I was.
But now, when he asked, I knew that I had worn them just as much for him.
I didn’t answer fast enough, and he asked again. “Did you dress this evening with me in mind? Did you put each stocking on, thinking about how I’d later roll them down your thighs? They seem quite versatile. The things I could do with those—tie you up. Bind you. Would you like that? Tell me the truth.”
I’d had a boyfriend once who’d tried to tie my hands. With a belt. I hadn’t liked it at all, but now I thought it was perhaps the material he’d used, because my answer in this moment was entirely different. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
The satisfaction in his tone and the fact that I was facing away from him made it easier for me to admit more. “Yes, all of it.” My sentences broke as I pushed to speak through the growing tension in my belly brought on by the ministrations of my hand. “Yes…I’d like it. Yes, I wore them…for you…so you’d look at me like you’re looking at me now.”
I could still feel his gaze on me. Then I realized, if I looked up at the window, I could see him in the reflection. See him looking at me. I met his eyes there. “I wore them because I wanted you to think I was sexy.”
He didn’t tell me that he was coming for me, but I saw him as he did. And, as he’d promised, the minute he put his hands on me—one gripped my hip, the other one snaked around to grab my breast—he also put his cock inside me.
He thrust in me with such force, I cried out. I cried out again as he pulled back slowly, letting me feel every inch of his length as he drew back to his tip.
“You’re the most goddamned sexy thing I’ve seen in years, Gwen,” he said at my ear. “With or without the stockings. But, fuck…” He jabbed in again then held himself still. “You don’t know what it does to me to hear that you thought about me while you were dressing. It makes me so hard. Can you feel how hard it makes me?”
His cock twitched inside me, and I swear it grew thicker, pushing against my walls even though he was motionless.
“I do feel you,” I gasped. “You’re so hard.”
“I am,” he agreed. “So hard.”
He began to move then, in rhythm, but slowly. He leaned his forehead against the back of my head, and I could tell he was watching where we were joined. Watching his cock as he pushed in and out of my swollen pussy.
Knowing what he was looking at drove my excitement further. Combined with the feeling of being watched by the entirety of Central Park, I knew I wouldn’t last much longer. I braced one hand against the window and reached my other hand through my legs to graze his balls as he thrust inside of me.
“That’s good, Gwen. I like that.”
I continued my play, alternating my attention from my clit to his balls. Then his tempo picked up and he moved both his hands to grip my hips. I needed both mine on the window now to brace myself. Our bodies slapped together as he pounded into me.
“Tell me how you feel, Gwen.” When I couldn’t formulate words, he prompted me. “Do you feel good?”
“Yes.”
“Does my cock make you feel good?”
“Mmm…yes.”
He had to know how good he made me feel; I was clenching around him, my body ready to explode with pleasure. He liked to hear it—I’d learned that from him in our short time together—but also, as he questioned me this time, I heard something else hiding under his words. He didn’t just like it; he needed it. As though he, with all his command and confidence, needed reassurance. As if he longed for an intimate connection that transcended touch and entered into thought and feeling. As if what he really meant to ask wasn’t does my cock make you feel good, but do I make you feel good?
He did. He did make me feel good, and I suspected even as my orgasm gathered and grew, that the good he made me feel also went beyond the physical. So when my climax ripped through me, stiffening my limbs and stealing my breath, I answered him. Answered his true question, the one he couldn’t really ask. “Yes…Yes…Oh my God, yes.”
He shoved into me harder, deeper, lifting me to my toes as he chased his release. The lamplights in the now completely dark park below streaked across my vision as his invigorated efforts spurred another orgasm. JC followed right after, groaning as he spilled into me. He collapsed over my back, yet somehow his hands now wrapped around my waist were the only things keeping me from falling to the ground. I was wasted in bliss. My strength was gone, and all that existed was his strength in its place.
I was still blinded and panting when he spun me around to face him minutes later. He studied me as he stroked the hair from my face. Then, he kissed me. Sweetly. Luxuriously.
Yet, there was a hint of hesitation to this intimacy. A distinct taste of holding back. There were secrets on his tongue that went beyond his full name and birthdate.
For the first time it occurred to me that I wasn’t the only one of the two of us using sex as an escape. Only, what exactly it was that JC was escaping from, I had no idea.