Chance (The One More Night Series) (14 page)

Even though I hadn’t been aware of it last night, whatever change I was going through now had begun then.

“If what I said upset you, I’m sorry.”

“Actually, I want to thank you for saying that.”

“I don’t understand?”

“Let’s just say that I’ve just sorted a few things out.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

I don’t want to become my mother.

“It doesn’t matter.  But this does.  Give me your foot.”

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have asked for it if I wasn’t sure.”

He lifted his leg, and I reached for his foot and pressed it between my legs again.  I ground myself against it.  Then I looked at him.  “Get me off,” I said in a low voice.  “Right here in front of everyone.  I want to know what that feels like.”

“Abby….”

“It’s fine, Chance.” 
I’ve just had a little come-to-Jesus moment.
  “I want this.”

Although he looked perplexed, he nevertheless obliged. 

Despite the air conditioning, which was running at full blast, it wasn’t long before I started to become warm as his foot thrummed against me.  As time passed and the sensations increased, I looked around the room, and it was as if I was seeing it through a fish-eyed lens.  Figures were warped.  My breathing became quick and shallow.  I started to feel a little drunk, even though I’d yet to touch my martini.  I looked at him as he lifted his glass of Scotch to his lips, and wondered what his lips would feel like against me now. 

Each time he brushed himself against me, he made certain that he passed over my clit.  He played me as if he was playing an instrument, but he was no amateur.  He was a master at this.  With each delicious swipe of his foot, the room seemed to grow dimmer.  Sounds diminished to the point that all I could hear was the rapid beating of my own heart.  And then, with a certain kind of violence, he pushed his foot against me and twisted his toes so that they sank into me.  Before I knew what was happening, I was coming.

I thrust my hips toward him—and when I did, I gasped, even though I knew that I needed to contain myself.  I was in a public space, and what I was feeling was not meant for public consumption. 

As discreetly as I could, I grabbed onto the edge of the table in an effort to steady myself as I began to shudder beneath his touch.  I felt myself grow wetter.  I became overwhelmed as my orgasm gripped hold of me.  I brought one of my hands to my lips to cover what I was experiencing, but not before intentionally brushing that hand against one of my nipples, which was enough to do me in.  I had to stifle a moan while I crested through my climax and then faded away from it.

When it was over, I felt as if I’d just received a hall pass to the other side, where my aunt had lived most of her life.  In a haze, I just looked at Chance—and blinked.

“Drink your martini,” he said.  “We’ll order dinner—and then we’ll get out of here.  Are you all right?  Was that too much?  Not enough?  I’m saying it wasn’t enough.  You look as if you want more.  And don’t worry—right now there's no reason for you to speak.  Frankly, the look on your face says everything I need to know about you, Abby.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

When we left the restaurant, there was no cab waiting for us.  This time, it was a limousine.  Long, black, and shiny.  Dinner had been a blur spent in a kind of fevered silence.  I’d barely picked at my food, but I’d ordered another martini.  I’d sipped just enough of that until I felt relaxed enough to face what I’d just come to terms with, and what was coming later. 

 “A cab won’t do at this point,” Chance said as we walked toward the vehicle.  “We need privacy now.”

At what point had he called a car?  I had no idea. 

He held open a door for me, I got into the back seat, and he slid in beside me.  “Take us to The Plaza,” he said to the driver.  Without saying another word to the man, he pressed a button that lifted a partition, giving us the illusion of being alone.  When the car pulled away from the curb, Chance crushed his mouth against mine.  I could taste a hint of Scotch lingering on his tongue and lips, and then he pulled away from me and met my eyes with his own.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you right now, but it doesn’t matter.  Not now, at least.  You were beautiful back there.  I watched you let yourself go.  I watched you throw away the veil.”

Could he see through me that easily?  Was I that transparent?  Before I could respond, he parted my legs and knelt down between them.

“Take off your jeans,” he said in a thick voice.  “I want to taste you.  I want to taste what I missed earlier.”

I did as I was told, but apparently I wasn’t fast enough.  I was still in a state, and I fumbled with the button on my jeans for a moment before he deftly took control—removing my shoes, unbuttoning my jeans, sliding them off of me. 

He hooked his fingers on either side of the delicate red panties I wore, and pulled them off, but not before holding them to his nose, and breathing in my essence. Chance had no hang-ups about sex—I envied him for that.  He was free to embrace every part of it.  I wanted to be that free. 

When he put my panties aside, a slant of light from a streetlamp sliced through the tinted window to his right and fanned across his face.  Even though it was fleeting, when I saw his expression, I could tell that he was as inflamed as I was.

He started to stroke me with his tongue, and my breathing became irregular.  The stubble along his jawline brushed against the tender skin on the insides of my thighs and sent shivers of pleasure through me.  I reached down and moved my fingers through his dark hair and marveled at how soft it was.  How thick it was.

Just like him….

Even though I was warm, wet, and ready for him, I still covered my mouth with my hand when he plunged his fingers inside of me. 

To give him better access, I scooted down on the seat and parted my legs wider.  I felt ridiculously exposed to him at that moment, as if what we were doing was somehow illicit.  But there clearly was a tug of war going on within me, because what was happening thrilled me—and made me feel liberated.

If last night’s one-night stand had blown open a few doors for me, then tonight promised to blow apart my world—and how I saw myself within that world.  Who was I?  Was I really just finding out at the age of twenty-five?  Maybe I’d been this person all along, only hidden beneath the shadow of my mother’s personal beliefs and her beliefs about sex and religion.  More than anything, I wanted to continue to be the woman I was being right now, somebody who could let herself go and give all of herself without guilt or regrets.

The question was whether this was temporary, or permanent.

When he covered my clit with his thumb, and started to stroke it while his fingers continued to probe within me, I tried to stifle my moans, but I couldn’t any longer—and I didn’t want to any longer.  I wanted this to be permanent.  Why not unleash my pleasure?  Would my aunt have silenced what she was feeling?  No, she wouldn’t have.  She would have wanted to share with her lover how she was feeling.  So, again I let myself go.  I let my voice be heard, and when I did, I saw Chance glance up at me—and smile at me.  When he reached up through my tank, slipped his free hand beneath my bra, and tweaked one of my nipples, I arched my head back and began to writhe beneath his touch as the car rocked and swayed toward the hotel.

“I want to taste you,” I said to him.

“Not yet.”

“Sit down next to me.”

“No.”

“Why can’t I do the same to you?”

“You
will
do the same to me, just not here.  You’re going to come again, Abby.  And when you do, I’m going to make you you feel like you’re about to leave your body.  Because only after you’ve experienced this again and again, will you believe that you should never deny yourself of it.”

“Nothing’s going to hold me back again.  I want this.”

“You deserve this.”

I tugged at his T-shirt and pulled it over his head.  Though the car’s interior was dim, the city lights were enough for me to see the sweat glistening on his muscled torso.  I reached out to touch him, but he wouldn’t let me.  He withdrew his fingers, held my hands at my sides, and anchored me in place against the car’s back seat.

“This isn’t about me,” he said.

“But I want to—”

“This is about you.  Stop interfering.  You’ll have your chance soon enough.”

Again, he dipped his head between my legs.  Again, he brought me to the gray edges of climax, and then pulled back just before I did come.  I asked him to fuck me, but he didn’t.  I begged for him to do it, but he wouldn’t.  Instead, his tongue returned to my folds, licking them and fluttering against them in such a way that no man ever had.  He was so relentless in his pursuit of my climax that his own breathing started to quicken with desire as it warmed the area between my thighs.  Through it all, I cast every detail to memory so I could savor it tomorrow, next month, and for years to come.  This wouldn’t happen to me again—not like this.  How could another man top this?  Chance was so skilled, I couldn’t imagine that it was possible, and so I closed my eyes—and lived this moment as if it were my last.

When I gave myself over to another climax, my head twisted back against the seat as release slammed into me—and then burst out of me to the point that I screamed.  As I writhed beneath his touch, it occurred to me that this was the beginning of the end of us.  Tomorrow he’d leave for L.A.  Then it would be London.  Then Paris.

The very idea of it pulled me out of the moment.

*  *  *

When we arrived at The Plaza, we finished dressing in the car.  

As I put on my tank, all I could think was that this was the last time I’d be with Chance, and how important it was for me to protect my heart.  I already knew that I could fall for him, but I also knew that if that happened, it would only lead to heartbreak, which I didn’t want and couldn’t bear. 

His life was so big, it dwarfed both of us.  He was so busy.  He didn’t even know when he’d be back in New York, which was unacceptable to me.  Whatever happened between us over the next few hours—and whatever was said in the heat of passion—I needed to remember that tonight was just about sex.  The lesson that I needed to take away from everything that had happened and was about to happen, was that I could let go and enjoy sex without fear, guilt, or apology.

If I overlooked the truth of this situation for even a second, I knew that my heart would challenge my mind come morning, and that I might never untangle myself from this situation.

I checked my makeup in one of the limo’s mirrors, and saw that not only was my hair a mess, but that my lipstick had smeared across my right cheek during our lovemaking.  I opened my clutch, removed a compact and a brush, and fixed my face and hair so that I was at least somewhat presentable when I left the car.

Then I pulled out my cell.

“One minute,” I said to Chance.  “I promised the girls that I’d send a text so they wouldn’t worry about me.  I have to do this.”

“That’s fine,” he said.  “Send the text.”

I glimpsed the mark on his cheek, and smiled at him.  “First, let me get rid of this.”

“Get rid of what?”

I reached out a finger, rubbed the lipstick off his cheek, and held up my stained fingertip to him.  “That,” I said.  “We can’t have you going into The Plaza like that.”

“This doesn’t have to end tonight, Abby.”

And so it begins….

I kept my head lowered while I typed out the text.  “To be fair to each other, we both know it does.”

“Why?”

I sent the text and looked up at him, not in anger, but with a kind of loss I couldn’t keep from my expression.  I wanted our last moments together to be memorable.  Wonderful.  Something each of us would remember with great fondness.  I didn’t want the impossible to get in the way of that, so I spoke to him as gently as I could.  “Let’s go to your suite,” I said to him.  “We can talk about this in the morning if you’d like.  But not now.  Why ruin what time we have left?”

When he didn’t answer, I put my phone back in my clutch.

Chance knocked once on the glass partition, and I heard the driver’s side door open and click shut.  A moment later, my own door swung open. 

As I stepped out, not once did the driver look at me, but I still felt as if I was about to do my second walk of shame in two days.  He knew what had just taken place back here—of course he did.  He’d probably heard all of it.  But he was a professional, and he only wished us a pleasant evening as we moved toward The Plaza’s entrance.  We then entered the building, crossed the lobby, and stepped in silence into one of the elevators.

*  *  *

When we entered the suite’s foyer, Chance pressed me against a wall, stroked the length of my hair between his fingers, and then kissed me with a fierceness that was so aggressive, it suggested a trace of anger.  Or frustration.  Or maybe a mix of both—I wasn’t sure which, but the undercurrent was there. 

His mood had shifted.  I knew why, but I didn’t want to discuss any of it now.  What was the point?  Why ruin what time we had left?

For a long moment, he just held my face in his hands and looked at me as if he expected me to say something to him.  But what was there to say?  Did he want me to lie to him?  Did he want me to tell him that this would go on?  That I’d just wait for him here in New York while he traveled the world?  I refused to do that because it wasn’t true. 

When I didn’t speak, he looked disappointed and pulled away from me. 

“Get undressed,” he said.

“Shouldn’t we go to the bedroom first?”

“I asked you to get undressed.  Now.  This is our last night together.  Remember?  You’ve certainly said it often enough, Abby.  I’ve heard you loud and clear.  So, get undressed.”

“Are you angry with me?” I asked.

“I’m hungry,” he said.  “And you’re the last course, so let’s finish this if that’s what you want.  Don’t worry—you won’t be disappointed.  And you won’t soon forget what I’m about to do to you.”