Amelia
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I’m not proud of going down the hall I never use, to avoid going past Ethan’s office. It doesn’t help, Ethan is waiting for me. A cocked eyebrow at me is all it takes for me to feel like I’m five years old again.
“A strip club?”
All my regret and shame is stamped down by the need to strike first. “Karen has gone to strip clubs with clients, Roberta has as well. I went privately on my own time. I’m not going to apologize for what I do in my private life. There’s no need for it, I did nothing wrong or unethical, so it’s no one’s business.” I sit down on the sofa, while he’s leaning against the glass wall.
“Karen and Roberta both went with clients during the day. None of the partners have or would visit a club. You are a face of this firm, you know that.”
My stomach twists. He’s right. If it were anyone else, they’d be roasted slowly over an open fire. I hang my head. “Fine, yes, if I had it to do again, I wouldn’t. It’s just, Ethan, I had to.”
“What do you mean you had to? Did he pressure you to go?”
Ethan is pissed. “No, it was my idea. Five years, for over five years he’s only been with strippers. How can I compete with them? I wanted to ask for, you know, tips.”
Shaking his head, “Amelia, you don’t need to talk to strippers. He’ll teach you what he wants.”
“But I don’t want to disappoint him.”
“You won’t. Don’t overthink it. He’s more than happy to teach you how to please him. It’s a part of learning each other. If you start doing things you don’t want just to make him happy, it’s a recipe for disaster.”
I run my hand through my hair. As embarrassed as I am to have this conversation, with all of his experience and the way he’s always honest, I need to hear what he thinks. “I’m—I just don’t want to get this wrong. You’ve seen my track record with men. It’s even worse from where I was standing.”
“Because you let them have all the power, you never stood up to them until you couldn’t take anymore. You were too willing to give up to them completely, I had a long talk with Mary, she said you gave him a good fight. Don’t let things come to easy, he’ll appreciate it. He met you here, on your turf, where you don’t let anyone take you over. I can guarantee you it was a huge part of your appeal to him.
“You settled at three five; I would never have gone that high. We both know a lesser lawyer would have asked and gotten a million. I would have asked for three and settled at two five. It’s that backbone you have in the office that you need to keep when it comes men. You are beautiful, intelligent, and sweet when you want to be, with a smart mouth. Any man would be happy to have you, I’m not speaking as your brother either.
“A man who is strong and confident in who he is will not just be happy to have you, he’ll appreciate you and be proud of you. At work, you never accept less than you deserve and you never let anyone walk all over you. Chris recognized it, that’s who he wants. Be you, don’t worry about strippers and all that other shit.”
Taking a breath, I wonder if it could really be so easy. “He says I’m a pain in the ass.”
Ethan sighs. He grabs his neck, rolling his shoulders. “He hung up on me this morning.”
I fight not to smile. “I heard.”
“I deserved it.” My eyes widen to hear Ethan admit it. “If I’d been him I would have come through the phone. I wasn’t in the best mood.” He walks toward me, pulling the collar away from my neck. I can’t keep the blush from my cheeks as he sighs. “He’s still the best man I’ve ever met for you.”
He’s in the chair with another sigh as he runs a hand over his face. “Why do you say that?”
“Because he doesn’t care about your money, your connections, or how you can make him look good; all he wants is you. I’m not happy about his track record with women, but I’m not a hypocrite. It’s obvious he’s nuts about you. Give him some time, with a little patience you two will get there.”
Don’t cry, don’t cry. “Get where?”
“Wherever you want to go.”
Swallowing hard against the lump in my throat, I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“As a guy who’s been where he is, I do.”
“How long are you going to stay mad at Holly?”
He’s up, stalking my office. “I missed so much. I missed the wait for the stick to change and find out. I missed the first sonogram. I missed out on her morning sickness. She’s so far along when we go to the doctor we can find out if it’s a boy or a girl. Fuck, would she have kept me from that too?”
“She was just trying to protect you, to try and lessen the fear you have. Holly loves you; you guys are going to have a baby. Why can’t you focus on that?”
“I am, damn it. I’m still fucking scared shitless.”
I don’t even hesitate. I’m up, hugging him tight. Our hugs over the last few years have been quick, as we came and left each other. This time, I hug him tight around his middle. He stiffens at first, then he hugs me tight back. “There’s nothing I can say to make the fear go away. You can stay afraid; it won’t keep anything bad from happening. It will keep you from enjoying this moment. You missed some of the good stuff, but there’s still a lot left for you to be there for.”
Neither of us says anything for a while. We don’t let each other go, just give and take the comfort from one of the few people in our world who knows us the longest and the best. My phone buzzes, and Mary announces Lucky Adams is here and waiting. Ethan rubs my back. “Thanks. I’m going to talk to Karen then I’m going home. I talked with Karen about you quitting. Over the next week we’ll begin planning.”
“Okay.”
My lunch is a working one with a client. I got a text from Chris, telling me he knew about the lunch and he would see me when he came to pick me up at six thirty. I miss him, which is ridiculous, I just saw him a few hours ago. It doesn’t matter; as I sit across from my client. I can’t stop wishing it was Chris instead.
Later that evening, I’m ready to go with my coat on at the elevator for him. He smiles when he sees me as if he missed me too. “How does sushi sound for dinner? You can show me the place you love so much.”
“Sounds good.”
We planned to take it home but end up eating at the restaurant. It’s a relaxed dinner as he asks about my day. I tell him about Ethan, leaving out most of what he said about Chris except the admission he deserved to be hung up on. Chris just nods, letting the matter go. I breathe a sigh of relief.
The restaurant isn’t far from Chris’s place. I don’t even hesitate to try to make the walk. But only three blocks in, Chris stops and hails a cab. “Amelia, don’t do that again. If you’re in pain, you need to let me know.”
His censure is quiet, yet full of anger. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t fucking say you’re sorry.” I flinch at his fury. “Shit,” He pulls me into his arms, pressing a kiss to my temple. Barely a whisper, he sighs into my ear, “I’m sorry, sugar. I’m angry at myself for not thinking of you, for not taking better care of you. I should have, especially after how much pain you were in last night.”
I bite my lip until I taste blood. It’s not until we’re walking through his front door before I yank him down to me with his coat. Chris doesn’t even break the kiss; I’m in his arms and in the bedroom in what feels like seconds. I push his coat off, then try to undo his jeans. I’m pushed lightly toward the bed. He’s shaking his head. “No, you touch me and I go up in flames.”
“I want to taste you. Please, I’ve been dying to taste you since last night, it’s all I thought about today. You promised me, this morning.” I try to go on my knees, but in seconds he has me up. Pushing off my coat, he pulls off my dress, then guides me into a wingback chair in the corner of the room.
When he pushes his jeans down I can’t believe the way my body floods in a wet rush at the sight of him, not just there, but my mouth too. Holy crap, he’s as big as he felt. How did he fit inside me?
Taking his sweater off, Chris takes a step closer until he’s only inches away from me. I reach out to touch him, a finger teasing the weeping slit of him. Without thinking I lean in to taste him.
Cautiously, I run my tongue over the slit, curious about the tastes. Hmm...not bad. I try to remember what the women told me. Feeling a little braver, I grasp him in my hand. So soft, silky, and insanely hot and large, my hand doesn’t wrap around him entirely. Swirling my tongue, I suck him lightly into my mouth, and he groans above me. I look up; he looks like he’s in pain.
His hand goes into my hair, grasping it like he did this morning. It makes me as wet now as it did then. “Don’t stop. Your other hand, wrap your other hand around me too.” He sighs. “Good girl, now stroke me. Yes, just like that. Now put me back in your mouth.”
Eagerly, I suck him back inside. I’d wanted to scratch out the pretty Hispanic woman’s eyes as she talked me through giving Chris a blow job, as she’d done it several times before and I needed to know how to best please him, since he was too big to take more than a few inches of. Right now, I want to kiss her with thanks. I’m a little embarrassed at how wet my mouth has gotten, but it’s necessary to stroke him better. I lick down the length of him then carefully lick the heavy, full, silky pouch.
The hand tightens in my hair as he moans low. Slowly, gingerly, I suck one side into my mouth as I toy with the tip of him. He says something I can’t make out, then I release it before moving to the other. I press my thumb lightly under the tip of his cock as I squeeze him in time with the throbbing heartbeat I feel in my mouth. He swears, pulling me from his cock.
I don’t let his cock go. Hungrily, I take the head of him back into my mouth, sucking in a motion, to milk his come from him. A growl, loud and clear, is above me as his cock thickens before he comes. Holy crap. It’s not easy to take everything; in fact, it’s not possible. Swallowing is reflexive as I remember to continue to lightly stroke him. The taste isn’t as horrible as I heard. It’s not lobster bisque, but it’s not nearly as bad as I feared.
I also remember every single woman of the five who ended up chatting with me last night said men loved when a woman took everything they gave. Looking up at Chris, it’s clear he’s pleased, he wipes my chin as he pulls back. He kisses my forehead as he picks me up to carry me over to the bed.
I’m expecting him to finish undressing, so when he goes into the bathroom I’m surprised. I take the time to take off my bra, and my hands are on my hips as he comes back with a washcloth. Tenderly, he wipes my face, breasts and neck. With a moan, I cuddle into his hand as he cups my face. He presses hot kisses along my neck. “I have to warn you now, I liked that very much and am going to need you to do it often.”
I run my hands down his hard, muscular chest. God, it’s just so beautiful with the ridges of muscle and the vivid tattoos. “Well then, I guess it’s a good thing I liked it so much I’m dripping wet over it. I love the feel of you in my mouth, yes, please, everyday please.”
With a groan he kisses me hard, rough, until the world spins. “Such a sweet mouth, so dirty. I love it. Your pussy is wet for my cock, sugar?” I blush at the word as I nod. He laughs. “Tell me, Amelia. I love how you blush at the word. Tell me what I need to hear.”
God, he’s so dirty. I know the word littered the stories I read. I still had a hard time even thinking it. “Chris, please.”
“Please, what? I want to taste your pussy, to drown in the sweet sugar pouring out of you. Tell me what is wet and ready for me. I can smell you, tell me.”
“My pussy is so wet for you.” It’s so dirty, it’s so bad, and it feels so good, as if the chains around my neck are off. Sex isn’t bad, it’s not wrong, it’s not just to make babies, it’s to connect to the person you love, to give them everything you can’t say with words. “Taste the sugar I made for you.”
His hand comes up around my neck, circling it in a lazy grip. Then he smiles a half smile, a dimple on display, and sky blue glows bright down at me. “That’s my good girl, bad just for me.”
Nipping at my mouth, he slowly works his way down my body with soft, gentle kisses. His mouth is wicked as he sucks, nibbles, and plays with my breasts, bringing me to the point of pain before soothing me then starting all over again. My hands tangle in his hair as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge. With a last deep, suckling motion that pulls a moan from the depths of me, he kisses lower and lower.
My panties are still on, damn it. His tongue teases me through the lace. Through the lace he sucks on my outer lips, then licks me as he sucks harder and harder. I’m shaking before he finally pulls my panties off. He’s driving me crazy, deeper his tongue goes, licking, teasing, then his fingers slip inside. Only the release I was hoping for is nowhere in sight.
“Soon, sugar, soon.” The words are a whisper against my mound as he sucks the flesh while his fingers fuck into me.
Liar, I want to scream. I do when he teases me to the edge of an orgasm for the fourth fucking time before pulling back. His chuckle is evil as he presses his fingers into me, to that spot, then sucks my clit and thank fucking god I explode hard, so hard my body aches. I’m barely aware of being taken into his arms. He’s behind me. Then he’s sliding into me, yes, yes please. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to the first feeling of him pushing inside me, so thick, so full, so fucking good. I hate I’m not really able to move. We’re on our right side, his arm around my chest, under my breasts; his left hand is on my hip, holding me as he thrusts into me. I moan, trying to push back, he’s not as deep as he was the other night.
Rolling onto his back, he wraps both arms around me, impaling me on him. Yes, yes, he hits the spot again and again and I want to scream when he stops moving. One large hand is on my throat, his other hand down low on my pelvis as he leisurely fucks me onto his thick cock. My hand covers his, trying to push him further down, and he laughs. How do I love him so much when he’s such a fucker?
I give up and slide my own fingers inside. Oh it feels so good, his cock inside me, my fingers playing over my still swollen clit. Grabbing my wrists into one large hand, he fucks harder and harder into me. Yes, please. I’m coming, so good, it feels so good. I scream when he stops, and he laughs, rolling me over onto my stomach. His big body over me, my wrists out in front of me, my legs straight, he starts all over again. Holy fuck, I understand how people die during sex—he’s killing me. I swear I can’t take it, so good, oh yes. I fall from stars into an ocean of ecstasy, into him, the two of us melting into one. The feeling of him coming inside me sends little sparks along my body. He groans as he moves inside me slowly, as if he’s trying to make sure all of him stays inside me.
We don’t move for a while, and he whispers in my ear, “I’m so proud of you, Amelia Bishop. You sucked my cock like a good girl and demanded I eat your pussy like the bad girl you’ve been hiding deep inside. I told you, ask me for what you want and I’ll give it to you.”
From inside, my pussy clings to his cock, still so thick inside me. “I want you to keep your cock inside me until you’re ready to fill me up again. We need to make up for missing last night. How soon before you can fill me again?”
With a laugh he rolls onto his back, his arms around me. “Depends on how long it takes for you to scream again.”
***
Chris
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It’s almost midnight, and I’m still wide awake. I’m so fucked. I am in love with Amelia Bishop. I’m also pretty sure she’s in love with me. I should be fucking ecstatic; instead it’s hard not to run fast and far from her. At first glance we’re nothing alike. I’m a jock, she’s an intellectual, she’s money, I grew up poor, she’s concerned about what people think about her, I couldn’t give a fuck, and as always, she’s the good girl and I’m a bad boy.
Only once you look deeper, we have much more in common than people would expect. Even though she grew up with two parents and I grew up with one, we both had shitty childhoods and know what it is to carry scars. We both love to read, but that’s the part that’s keeping me from sleeping.
As I said this morning, I ducked into a book to escape, to learn something new, to laugh, for the moment. Amelia climbed into the books and lived through them, refusing to experience the world for herself. Through books she kept the real world at a distance.
Fuck, I get it. The constant picking away at who she was by her parents as they tried to mold her into something they deemed suitable while constantly comparing her to her brother sounds like hell on earth. She didn’t believe she was beautiful even though she wanted to, due to the years of her mother telling her she wasn’t. Her sexual partners hadn’t taken the time to fuck not just her body, but her mind, to make her feel desired, sexy. Instead they used her, taking what they wanted.
Twice now, I thought I’d found the woman I wanted to spend my life with. Now, comparing what I felt for them to what I feel for Amelia, it’s the difference between a summer day in Antarctica and a summer day in Texas. The thought of losing her, of her not being here with me in my bed tomorrow or twenty years from now, has me breaking into a cold sweat.
But, what if she isn’t prepared, ready, and willing to live life outside of books? What if we have trouble conceiving? I’ve watched marriages fall apart over it. I’m okay with adoption; would she be? Kids aren’t easy even if they’re healthy. What if one of our girls is born with some sort of defect, or autism or something that requires more effort? Will Amelia be able to be present every day, not just for our kid but for me too?
I’m completely willing and love taking care of Amelia, from making her breakfast, to making sure she knows she’s loved, but I need something back in return. I’ll take sex, for now, but I want her to show her love and affection in ways other than sex. While she loves making love, what about once the newness of having an orgasm wears off?
Growing up, I started reading because my home was littered with books—they were everywhere. My mom lay in bed or on the couch all day long and read. My grandfather bought her a duplex so she could live in one side and maintain an income from leasing out the other side, it was supposed to be a part of a deal for my mother to never see my father again, but it didn’t work.
Since my mom didn’t have to work, she didn’t. She just lay around the house reading, stumbling off to a bar at night when she didn’t have any good books to keep her company.
I was an afterthought. I had to depend on my aunt to get my mom to the grocery store for there to be food in the house. I don’t want to live that life again, no matter how much I love Amelia.
While I’m pretty sure she would never be as bad as my mom, the resemblance to the way they handle the real world when things get hard spooks me.