Chapter 9
Gwen
“Heard you had lunch with Cassandra recently.”
Gwen continued to pick at her dinner while James dropped his napkin. He bent down to pick it up and toss it into the dirty linen basket in the center of the dining table. I bet his mother is appalled we have a dirty napkin basket right on our dinner table. When it was only the two of them eating at that table, what did it matter? Gwen’s family would throw those things right in the trash behind the table!
“First of all,” James said with a soft, even tone, “it wasn’t lunch. We had drinks at one of the lounges. Privately.” He spared his partner a stern look. “Where did you hear that? I had hoped nobody spied on us for the whole ten minutes we talked.”
“Oh, calm down.” Gwen picked up her wineglass, expertly paired with the roasted rosemary chicken and potatoes on her plate. “I know you’re not wooing her.”
“Wooing? God, you’re turning into my mother.”
James sniped a piece of chicken off his fork before letting it clatter to his plate. A fresh napkin touched his lips. Gwen caught herself staring at the flick of his tongue against his stubble. A tiny piece of rosemary lingered at the corner of his mouth. She took another drink.
“I heard it from Charlotte, who heard it from her mother, who heard it from Francesca Blake, who was at the lounge with her old-crone girlfriends talking about who Hyacinth Winchester will pick to inherit her vast fortunes when she eventually chokes.”
“It’s going to be Michael Winchester,” James said with certainty. “Boy’s been groomed since he was old enough to toddle.” He grabbed his wineglass and washed down his potatoes. His lackadaisical way of leaning back in his hand carved chair wearing a tight green T-shirt and freshly pressed gray sweatpants was going to destroy Gwen. She had been ovulating for the past two days, and every time she looked at her partner, she swore she was about to explode.
Too bad they had both been in a mood. When the chance came to have sex, one or both of them were either too tired or too put out to do anything about it.
“So, what were you and Cassandra talking about?”
“Our son, of course.”
Gwen continued to stare at her plate, glass of wine in her hand. Our son, he had said. Once the shock of fatherhood had died down, James was quick to embrace his new role as a father. Sometimes, Gwen worried, he was too quick. I knew he wanted kids, and yet I got mixed up in a relationship with him. Was it because Gwen never thought it would last this long?
It’s not that I hate the idea of having kids… Preferably kids that had already been born, though. Gwen had a lifelong fear of pregnancy and childbirth due to watching her aunt almost die with every child she had. Didn’t help that one of the more traumatic childbirths happened in Gwen’s living room when she was old enough to “help out” during the emergency. Sometimes I still see all that blood and the guts and it’s a miracle I don’t wretch. Of course, it hadn’t been real guts. But child-Gwen had no idea what else it could have been. Far as she was concerned, her aunt had been cut open and left to rot in a kiddie pool.
Aunt Rachel was still alive today, and had another kid after that, but some images could not be erased from impressionable minds.
“I take it Patrick’s on the mend,” Gwen said, desperate to stop thinking of afterbirth and raw umbilical cords. Gag. Why am I eating chicken? It was kinda the same color…
“He’s doing well. I’m supposed to go see him tomorrow.” James tapped his fingers against his glass before looking up at his partner. “Do you want to go with me?”
She didn’t hesitate. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
James drummed his knuckles on the table before getting up without another word.
Gwen tossed her napkin down with a sigh. When the chef popped out from the kitchen to see how dinner went over, she thanked him for another wonderful meal and asked that James’s leftovers be saved for breakfast.
She wasn’t in a hurry to chase James down. He was either in the den or in his office. Based on his mood, Gwen guessed he went to play video games and take his mind off real life. Me. Take his mind off me.
She should have gone in there and talked things out. She should have laid out her worries, her concerns, her love for him and what it would mean to change half of what they had ever known. She should have done a lot of things. Then again, so should have James.
Gwen wanted to talk. There were a million issues on her mind. Most of all, what the concept of “family” meant to them going forward.
But she had put up this front for so long that it seemed impossible to simply approach her partner and be heard. James would listen, of course. He’d make sure every word was processed in his brain, and every emotion his partner felt kept close to his heart. Then he would rebuttal with his own concerns and how they included Gwen. That was almost as hard to bear as the worries in Gwen’s own heart.
There’s a wall between us. Something needs to tear it down.
Two hours later, Gwen pulled herself away from the downstairs television and decided it was time to get ready for bed. Odds were good that James was already in bed or sharing the same thoughts. Indeed, Gwen stepped into the master chambers to the sound of running water in the bathroom. Steam filtered through the door, left ajar.
At least he was busy. Gwen could grab her toothbrush without saying a word.
She did not expect to walk into the bathroom to the sight of her partner indulging in certain activities in the shower.
All right, so she should have expected it. Chances weren’t that bad, especially if they hadn’t had sex already that day. (James clearly did not think he was getting any that night.) Gwen also had sex on the brain.
Raw, passionate, dirty sex. The kind they used to have before lovemaking became a parliamentary procedure.
“Wow.” She stood next to the shower door, where steam billowed out, and her partner made eye contact with her, his cock still in his fist. “Going for it, huh?”
The animalistic look in his eyes devoured her whole. Top to bottom, head to toe. In one heated gaze, James reminded Gwen that he was as much of a sexual being as she was.
“Why?” His husky voice was almost drowned out by the sounds of the shower. Water sprayed his chest. His black hair was slick against his scalp, bringing attention to his forehead and the tips of his ears, both usually concealed by his hair. None of this was helped by the shower water dripping down is stomach and to the erection in his hand. “You want to join?”
“Depends. What are you thinking about?”
“You really wanna know?”
No. “Yes.”
That was the same boyish grin he had the first time they met – the first time they had sex in the corner of some cramped, outdated office in the back of a bar. Gwen fell for it every single time, hard cock in front of her or no. “You.”
“Liar.”
His mouth curved into a salacious O. “What makes you think I don’t fantasize about you when I’m masturbating?”
“Because I’m not stupid. I’m also not here to police your thoughts.” Gwen reached her arm up the shower door. She was wearing a white T-shirt and nothing underneath. Countdown to when my tits stick out, 3… 2… “You wanna jack it thinking about the actress we saw in a movie yesterday, be my guest.”
“I only fantasize about you.”
“Oh, stop.”
“You want me to paint you a picture?” James turned around and leaned against the shower wall. His hand slowly moved up and down his shaft, enough to keep him hard, but nothing was going anywhere. Lord, is he waiting for me? Gwen glanced down. Oh, look. Nipples. “I was thinking about that time we rented a playroom in New York City. You wore that cute little black bunny mask.”
“And stockings. And boots the length of my legs.”
“Oooh, yes, you did.”
Gwen couldn’t help but smile. “You ripped my brand-new stockings.”
“They were in the way.”
“You were in the way of me enjoying how good I looked in those stockings. I’ve never found a pair half as flattering on these legs.” All her days in the gym meant she had some fairly meaty calves. They were hell to dress up in nice socks and tights. If the clothes didn’t oddly accentuate her hard-earned muscles, they burst open at the first sign of friction. James liked taking that to his advantage.
Why was that the kind of memory that warmed Gwen’s heart?
“Stick with me, kid,” James said, still holding his cock as if it were in danger of getting away from him, “and I’ll find you a new pair.”
“You’ve been saying that for years.”
He prowled through the shower steam, like a strong, cunning jaguar paying no mind to the jungle in its wake. Both are just as hot, right? Gwen leaned against the shower door when her partner arrived. He finally released his cock and tipped her chin up with wet fingers.
“I’ll say whatever you want me to say, if it means getting you in this shower with me.”
“Bet you’d like that.” Gwen cleared her throat before she gave her budding arousal away. Not fair for James to still be so hot after all these years. Not fair for him to know how to get to her like this. Cock of the head. A little smirk. His manhood on full display, ready for her to pounce upon as soon as she lost control of her actions. “You just want to call me a dirty girl.”
“Oh, Gwenny,” he said with a purr. “You’re far from dirty. You’re positively sparkling.”
“All right, that’s the hard-on talking.”
“No, if he were talking, it would sound like you hot, you pretty, you be naked now?”
“Yes, that does sound more like him.”
James was only a small reach away. His hand crawled up the shower door, putting everything, from the breadth of his naked chest to the Adonis belt of his pelvis on display. Gwen didn’t bother looking away. Why, when this was the greatest thing she had seen in days?
“Well?” James asked. “You coming in here or not?”
“If I don’t come in, what will you do?”
“Go right back to what I was doing before you interrupted me.”
“Interrupted? You sure that’s the word you want to use?”
“Oh, absolutely. I was edgin’, Gwen. Had this great image of you in those stockings and that sheer bunny mask with your ass up in the air and your pretty pink pussy begging for it.”
Gwen’s eyebrows may have gone up in amusement, but heat settled in her groin. Damn him for putting into words what I was already thinking. They had never been shy about sharing their sexual fantasies or being open with their predominant kinks. That was one of the biggest reasons Gwen readily got into a relationship with James after they started dating. He was easy to talk to. They didn’t always have much in common, but the communication lines were open, and James was one of the greatest listeners Gwen had ever met.
The fact he was so hot that she drooled every time he walked by in one of his tailored suits or – worse – sauntered in baggy sweatpants and not much else helped. Until a year ago, their sex life had been as vibrant as ever. Loving each other was akin to making that love over and over.
She wanted to make love now. She just didn’t know what kind of message that would send – to him, or to her own subconscious.
“What would happen if I joined you in this steamy shower?”
James bit his lip in anticipation. “I’ve got a lot of shit I want to tell you to do.”
“Oh! So it’s like that?” How typical. James would take his first opportunity to dominate her. He might as well have given her an ultimatum: let him tell her what to do, or walk away.
Wait… was it an ultimatum? If Gwen told him to try again some other day… would there be another day?
He was open. Raw. Inviting her back into his world with no questions asked. All she had to do was wrap her arms around him and feel that wave of erotic love all over again.
Remember how exhilarating it was the first time you two fooled around? Did she mean at the bar, or back at his place on their first real date? James had taken her to the planetarium and shared his reverent awe for astronomy. Photos of planets, interactive constellation creators, and even the cosmos-themed café, where they ate buttery popcorn and went over Gwen’s history as a bartender, had been full of laughs and the incredulous disbelief that they might be a normal couple one day.
We had sex all night long. Once James got wind that Gwen liked it a little rough, he went for it. Even threw in some brusque commands and suggested she one day give him her total submission. It had been tempting, of course. This was a man with a million dollars at his disposal and the wherewithal to know when he was too foolish to bear. But Gwen wasn’t the type to simply hand her boyfriend the keys to her most well-kept secrets, the ones she stored in the depths of her heart. She had said, “I’ll give you mine if you give me yours.” Most men would have balked. James? He had said, “I’ve been waiting all my life for a woman to say that.”
Gwen didn’t wield the whip as often as her partner did, but she didn’t want to. She simply wanted the security in knowing that she could. While most of their friends knew that they switched in the bedroom, none of them knew to what extent feisty Gwen could take her infatuated lover. Yeah, it had been months – maybe two years – since they went that far.
She placed her hand on his warm cheek and said, “I’ve got a lot of shit I wanna tell you to do, too.”
James grinned. “Wait your turn, honey.”
“You get to go first?” Her fingers slowly descended his chest, following the happy trail and ending up dangerously close to his erection. Not once did James flinch. He was that in control of his physical responses, although God only knew what went on in his head. More visions of me in torn stockings, begging him to fuck me. To be fair, that had actually happened. Although James forgot the handcuffs keeping her fists close to her heart. “That’s not fair.”
“It’s fair if I say it is.”
The bite in his voice was either desire or frustration. Didn’t those often go together, though? “You think you get to stand here in the shower and jack off without me around? That’s not fair.”
“Didn’t think you cared to visit.”
Gwen pushed him back into the shower. The hot water spray hit her, instantly turning her skin pink and flattening her white T-shirt against her breasts. She was lucky she was barefoot when she stepped into the shower.
“I always care to visit.”
The shower door shut behind her. Gwen didn’t give a shit that she still wore her shirt and shorts. All the better for her partner to see what she had beneath them while the water continued to dampen her hair and drip down her muscular calves.
James kissed her. Gwen threw herself into the moment, scrambling for a hold on his shoulders and insisting that he not redirect the hard cock digging into her abdomen. There was plenty of time to move. They could start by hitting the back wall and feeling each other up.
“Damn,” James growled, hands clutching her ass through her soaking wet cotton shorts. Not the only thing wet by now. “I forgot how needy you could get after it’s been a while.”
“Shut up and fuck me.”
“Nuh-uh.” James held her arms close to her torso. The raw power surging through his muscles made Gwen melt beneath the heat of the showerhead. “My turn first, remember? If you want it, you have to work for it.”
Bastard. Gwen hated it – as in, she loved it – when he turned into a bossy bastard full of bravado and machismo. It was perfect in the right situations. Like this one. Go ahead and make me remember what makes this worth it.
She fell in love with him all over again in that instance. The ardor in his eyes, the desire in his grip… they were both for her. Only her.
“What do you want, then?” It took no effort to soften her voice. She wanted him to hear that side of her, to witness the moment her eyes fluttered shut and she became his all over again.
James glanced down and then back into her eyes. “Been a while since you laid it on me.”
“Laid what?” Gwen ran her hands down his sides, delighting in the way his skin reacted to her touch. Perhaps it was the hot water making him shudder like that, but she desired to think it was her. “My love? My adoration? My mouth?”
“Yeah. All of those.”
Their grins instantly matched each other’s in strength. Good to know that they were on the same wavelength after so long.
“That’s right.” James could go from mischievous master to domineering alpha-lord in half a second. That was the kind of self-control that made women like Gwen really, really get down on their knees. The shower floor was not the kindest soul to assist Gwen’s comfort, but she was also no stranger to digging her knees near her partner’s feet and leaving a trail of tender kisses all over his pelvis. “Get your hair all wet for me.”
She couldn’t tell if that was a jest. With James, it almost always was. “You want me wet from top to bottom, is that it?”
“I have got the most fantastic view from up here. Seriously, from now on, I command you to shower with a white T-shirt on.”
Gwen grabbed the base of his cock, a hiss escaping his teeth. Lesser men would’ve finished right there, especially if they had been “busy” before Gwen got there. Not James. She knew how well he held himself back, how far he could push himself before pain overtook pleasure – Gwen had personally seen him to that edge and back many, many times.
In those years, Gwen had fellated his cock countless times. She was so familiar with his maximum size that she knew best how to run her tongue down the length of his shaft and relax her jaw to accommodate the girth coming into her mouth.
There had been a learning curve, long, long ago. Gwen was experienced at oral pleasures, but James was one of the biggest men she ever serviced. Even a woman like her had to sometimes take it easy and let her tongue do most of the work.
Growls loud enough to drown out the spray of shower water encouraged her to swallow as much of him as she could. By the time Gwen was overwhelmed by musk and the heat of his skin, she had forgotten everything that had bothered her over the past year.
What year? Hadn’t they always been this close, this reverent of each other’s bodies and the urges they cultivated? Gwen couldn’t remember a time when they didn’t embrace each other’s pleasure and make the most out of lovemaking. From the day he slammed her against the office wall and pounded her until he came, Gwen had been his.
The most blessed thing about it was that their possession of one another wasn’t vocalized until well into their relationship. It didn’t need to be. They simply felt it, and it was.
She worshipped this man. He idolized her. Together, they were in an endless loop of need and devotion, the perfect balance few couples ever achieved.
Gwen might as well worship the fuck out of him right now.
That was part of the game, after all, and they were always playing little games both in and out of the bedroom. As much as Gwen loved the dominant way James threw himself around his own house, she loved it even more when she could crack that façade and get a silly grin of disbelief out of him. Which he bestowed upon her when she sucked him so hard that he almost lost it right then and there.
She lived for those moments. The look into his softened heart. Many people knew how amicable James Merange could be, but they often didn’t see this side of him. Good. Because Gwen wanted it all for herself.
Wasn’t that what this past year had been about? Wanting to keep James for herself?
He was close to climax, and would soon reach a point that even he couldn’t prevent. James sensed it as well. He commanded her to stop, and she did so without hesitation, the shower water rinsing away anything lingering between her mouth and his cock.
James shut off the shower. Gwen reached for the hem of her shirt to rip it off, but when he asked her to keep it on, she didn’t question it. While she was still on her knees, waiting for him to tell her what to do next, James grabbed a towel and dried himself off, careful to not touch his erection. Gwen looked on in desperate need for her own relief. After all, she could no longer blame the shower for how hot she was.
The towel landed on the bathroom floor. James pulled Gwen up by the hands and took her into his arms, carrying her to their bed in the other room and dropping her, wet clothes and all, on top of the comforter.
The thrilling ride in his arms only made her more desperate.
Without a word, James ripped off the cotton shorts still clinging to her thighs. Her exposed pussy and the cold air hitting her heat made her sigh into the bedspread; him prying her legs apart and bringing her naked flesh to his all but guaranteed that this was about unfettered possession.
Gwen let out a cry of submission when he entered her.
The white T-shirt made sure the bed was damp beneath her. James’s hands smacking her ass and grabbing her breasts through the thin strip of cloth keeping them tucked against her chest made her relent to his whim and agree that she was his, now and forever.
He grabbed her slick hair. She spread her legs and enticed him to go deeper. Together, they were one.
James held out long enough for Gwen to scream into the bedspread, her body rolling and undulating in climax now that she had what she subconsciously wanted for so long. She sucked him in and ensured that he wouldn’t leave her when orgasm finally got him.
He didn’t pull out. If anything, he made sure she wouldn’t go anywhere when he pinned her down by the shoulders and grabbed her hip, immobilizing her thrashing body.
The heat came quick. Every burst of his cock and groan in his throat was an announcement to the world that she could never, ever belong to anyone else.
Five minutes later, when her mind was her own again, she made good on his promise to take turns. James wasn’t going anywhere until he knew that he would also never belong to any other woman.