Authors: Elizabeth Finn
“Can I wear this, or do I need to change?” I’m suddenly feeling a bit underdressed.
“You can go naked so far as I care as long as I get my pizza … and a shower first.” He holds up his dirty hands. Then, letting his eyes rake over my body hidden beneath my baggy sweatshirt and yoga pants, he continues. “Perhaps your body first, and then a shower. Take your shirt off.”
I waste not even one second before pulling the sweatshirt over my head, already tingling in anticipation at his words, and once I’m standing in front of him in only my yoga pants, he asks me to turn around. I do slowly, and as I move, I hear him stand from the floor. He closes the space between our bodies in an instant, and suddenly his warm breath is on my neck where he places a small kiss.
“Do you know how incredible your ass looks in these pants?” His voice is husky in my ear as my body continues to respond.
I’m in too good a mood not to let my sarcasm play his game. “How incredible?”
Rather than words, I feel his mouth. First his lips graze my shoulders, but they quickly move down my back, trailing tickling kisses as they go. Once at the small of my back, he plants warm, sucking kisses on the skin just above my waistband, slipping his dirty fingers gingerly past the waistband and easing my underwear and pants down my hips to my thighs.
“Lean over the counter.” I bend at my waist as he watches. He sinks to his knees behind me and slowly and gently kisses, sucks, and trails his tongue along the round cheeks of my bottom. His touch is relaxing and soothing to my tense and aroused body. His mouth moves enticingly close to the cleft of my cheeks before moving to the exposed lips of my vagina as they reach the apex of my thighs. I shudder at the light teasing touch of his mouth, craving more.
When his mouth makes very deliberate contact with the sensitive lips of my sex, my stomach muscles clench and contract. He’s so close to my bottom, and the exposure has me quivering in nervousness and excitement. He runs his tongue between the slick folds of skin as my muscles continue to go crazy, but he abruptly stops, stands, tells me to stay still, and walks from the room. He returns moments later and tosses a condom on the counter by my hand and tells me to spread my legs farther apart. I do, waiting for him to undress and reach for the condom, but he doesn’t do either. He returns to the floor behind me, and his mouth latches to me quickly, licking, sucking, and laving every inch of my needy skin.
He torments my flesh until I come unglued, and my orgasm wobbles my knees and I slacken against the counter. Standing behind me once again, he leans to my ear and speaks as I fight to catch my breath. “My fingers are too dirty to touch you. Is this?” He’s touching the handle of the polished marble pestle sitting in the mortar directly in front of me. Holy shit! He can’t be serious, but of course he is, and as he grasps the handle and holds it in front of me waiting for my response, he speaks again. “I need to know because I’d hate to fuck your sweet little pussy with this if it isn’t clean. So tell me, is it clean?”
I could lie. I could say it isn’t. Save myself this little game he has in store for me, but I don’t. I don’t want to stop him, and as much as I want him inside of me, I want to give him what he wants. I nod, unable to find any words, and as I do, he pulls the pestle out of my line of sight and behind me, trailing the cold, hard tool down my back. It sends a shiver through my body as it runs its course over my bottom, landing at the warm, wet entry still begging to be touched. The cool, hard material soothes the warm, desperate need radiating from my body, and as he gently pushes the phallic instrument into my body, I tense. The invasion doesn’t compare to Jordan’s breadth and size, but it’s hard as steel and cold against my warm and wet skin.
Every slight and slow movement into my tight sheath spreads the cooling sensation deeper. He’s working it into my body slowly, withdrawing it after every small thrust, pushing deeper and deeper with every penetration. Once he’s reached my depth, my channel is cool and soothed from the foreign shaft. He thrusts with a gentle and controlled power as he moves his body to close the space beside me. His unoccupied arm rests easily on the counter next to me as his hand caresses and pinches my nipples. He’s watching the side of my face as I pant and writhe next to him, and leaning to my ear he speaks once more. “How does that feel?”
I have to fight to get the words out in my utter lack of composure. “Cold … hard.”
“Do you like it?” I nod quickly as he pinches my nipple and nearly sends my body into the throws of another orgasm, but he isn’t done with me yet. “I want to watch you fuck yourself. Reach between your legs.” I do, and as my hand meets his, still thrusting his gentle strokes, he moves the pestle to my hand, and I take the cool handle within my shaky hand. I push gently, feeling the ease with which it enters my aroused body, and as I continue his strokes he steps back behind me and kneels again.
His mouth moves to the cheeks of my bottom, once again kissing and sucking the muscles of my buttocks with his powerful lips. He sucks, grips, releases, and starts all over again as I continue to thrust. His breathing is quickening, and I can hear his arousal in the shuddering breath that escapes his lips, and when he orders me to come I fall apart in an instant, once again fighting to stay on my feet. Standing swiftly behind me, he grabs the condom packet, tears it open, drops his pants, and pulling my hand from the pestle lets it drop to the floor before pounding into my entry.
His heat fills me and his girth stretches me as his groin pins my weak body to the counter, and what was cool and hard becomes a tingling, thick warmth that invades me and distends me. He thrusts harshly one stroke after another, pausing only long enough to spin me around, lift me to the counter, and then drive another powerful stroke to my core. His lips attack mine as his tongue takes over my mouth, and he continues to claim my body. Coming with clenched jaw and a nearly pained look on his face, his strong body spasms and pulses within me. He finally drops his forehead to mine as his breathing slows.
“I’m going to take a shower.” He finds his voice after I’ve spent long moments listening to his body calm.
“Umm. The … uh … hot knob is cold and the … uh, cold is hot…” I’m humiliated, but he chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. “And … uh … you have to be quick or the tub will flood… drain’s not … working so well.” He pulls from my forehead, smiles gently, and leans to my mouth. His kisses are sweet, all the fervor and fury of his body released with his orgasm, and his lips are now gentle and soft.
He pulls his still-hard length from my body as he bends to grab his discarded pants from the floor. He pulls his wallet from his pants, pulls out a credit card, and after asking me to order whatever kind of pizza I want so long as it’s pizza, he kisses me one more time before he turns and walks from the room. I’m mesmerized by his figure and strength.
He intrigued me and aroused me the moment I first saw him in the bar nearly a month ago, and he’s more intriguing and arousing in this moment than I ever imagined he would be. I know him, and yet, I don’t. I feel close to him, but I can’t say I understand why. He doesn’t do “next times,” yet he keeps coming back for more.
I stayed with Adeline as long as I dared before leaving. I didn’t want to seem too desperate, though I without doubt am, and while I wanted to drag her off to my house to enjoy for the remainder of the evening, I willed my body to leave hers and left alone to suffer the loneliness I feel anytime I’m away from her. Amazing how quickly she’s taken over my thoughts and mind. I used to enjoy my freedom, the ease of my life, but it’s now more pathetic than desirable.
When I arrive at Foster’s the next morning, I seek her out before I even make it to my office. At least at Foster’s I have a valid reason to be close to her other than being obsessed with her. When I pop my head into her cubicle to see her chatting on the phone with someone, a quick pang of jealousy hits. I have no reason to think she’s talking to another man, but her ease and casualness with the other unknown person leaves me wanting her to have that same comfort with me. She’s close to whoever it is, and I want to be close to her too. She hangs up quickly, flashing a beautiful smile, and though I shouldn’t, I duck quickly into her cube and plant a gentle kiss on her warm, supple lips.
“Who were you talking to?” I hide the intense interest in my voice by standing nonchalantly by.
Her smile is gentle and unknowing as she responds. “My best friend. She wants to take me to lunch today.”
“We’re going to be at the site later. You should have her pick you up there.”
And introduce her to me
. I can’t help but wonder if she’s spoken about me to her best friend. She lost her virginity to me. Isn’t that something worthy of sharing with a best friend? I’m like a jealous boyfriend, and aren’t I? I want to mean something. She sure as hell means something to me; what that actually is, I have no idea, but it’s unnerving to say the least.
“Sure,” is the only response I get, but it’s enough. At the very least she’s not afraid for me to meet her best friend. I’ll take it.
* * * *
When Adeline’s friend calls her cell phone for directions while we’re reviewing inventory numbers for fixtures at the site, I’m nervous. It’s like I’m getting ready to be interviewed. It’s ridiculous, but I have this incredible fear her best friend could make or break Adeline’s opinion of me, and it terrifies me. As I walk Adeline to meet her, I pull her into a side hallway and into my arms. I can’t understand what it is that has me so frightened, but this is a part of her life I know nothing about. I want to know every part of her life. I want to be a part of everything in her life, and I have no control, no grasp over this particular relationship. It’s ridiculous! I may have learned a good deal about Adeline over the past many weeks, but I’ve barely scratched the surface. I want to be fully engrained in her life. I’m ready for that, and yet it terrifies me. That’s not me. It’s not how I live my life. But suddenly, it’s exactly what I want, everything I want, from her.
I capture her lips with mine. They’re warm, and though moments before her path was laid to the curb in front of the building, she’s easily derailed by my mouth. I claim her taste until I can’t legitimately make a case for kissing her any longer before finally letting her go and returning her to her path. I take her hand, and she stills for only a moment before walking on. As we exit the building, I glimpse what must be her best friend standing by a lovely yet boring-looking economy-type car. She smiles at the mere sight of Adeline, and I have a swift flash of appreciation for this woman whom I know nothing about. She obviously cares about Adeline; the expression on her face makes this clear, and I like her for it.
When we approach, and without missing a beat, the best friend holds her hand out to me and speaks. “You must be Jordan. I’m Kelli. It’s good to meet you.”
My ego trills in excitement at her words. She has indeed heard about me. Thank God. But looking to Adeline, her wide-open and embarrassed eyes regard the dear Kelli. But Kelli returns her gaze with her own cool, knowing expression. I’m struggling just to keep the shit-eating grin from my face.
When Kelli speaks next it takes every ounce of my will power not to respond in exactly the way I want to respond. “Would you like to join us for lunch, Jordan?”
“Maybe next time.” My eyes flash to Adeline’s just to catch her expression falter as she matches my heated eyes. “You ladies have a good lunch.” And then to Adeline I continue, “I’ll see you back here in a while. Have fun.” And then rather than humping her leg, I lean to her mouth while Kelli watches. It’s just one sweet kiss, but it serves its purpose. Adeline blushes, Kelli’s mouth drops open before a smile flashes across her expression, and I turn, walking away without a second look. I want to look. I want to stare. I want to take it all back and go with them, but I feign calm and cool. I’m neither.
Kell is relentless. She’ll give me no peace whatsoever on the Jordan front, and I do my best-friend duty and fill in the details. Every last detail, graphically explained. She can handle it; in fact, she’s eating it up. She thinks he’s gorgeous, just a bit terrifying, but smitten. I think she’s lost her mind, but I still like the idea of him being as passionate as me. I want him to desire me in the unrelenting pathetic way I do him, but it’s decidedly hard to imagine. I still struggle to dress myself in a way that falls in line with the dress of Foster’s. I live in a dilapidated, old apartment. My plumbing leaked on his precious, perfect feet, and his strong, beautiful hands dirtied themselves on the muck of my sink trap.
It’s hard to feel anything but inept with this man. And yet, though I’m not sure why or how, he wants me to be just as assured and confident as he. He relishes my success, and I love him for it. I can’t possibly love him after so little time together, and yet I do. He’s given strength and assurance at a time when I, by virtue of the newness of everything around me, had none. He fights for me, even though he doesn’t owe it to me, and I’ve given him no reason to think I deserve his attention, but it means the world to me.
When I return to the Market Street location, I’m surprised to find the drywall is going in on the model condo. It wasn’t expected until the next week, and being ahead of schedule is unusual in the industry, but who’s complaining? Jordan is already busy talking with the crew foreman who came to oversee the installation.
After fifteen minutes of feeling underfoot, I’m approached by Jordan, who has been speaking with the workmen. He never once looked out of place while I’ve been tripped over three times already. He takes my elbow and pulls me from the room and down the hallway to what will eventually become the bedroom. The room has been framed out, but only partially drywalled, and while we are alone in this part of the house, we certainly aren’t truly alone. At any moment one of the workmen could round the corner from the kitchen to the hallway and have a direct view of the majority of the bedroom’s interior.