Derailed II (5 page)

He removed Sparky from the box and handed me “the toy.” “Saarah, I want to see you play with yourself,” he said, his voice deep and sexy.

I was having a mini-panic attack. If I understood correctly, he wanted me to put the magic wand to my pussy.

“This will make it more fun for you.” He dug into a pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small plastic package that was marked “lubricating gel.” He tore it open with his teeth and squirted the contents on the head of Sparky. He flicked the “on” button of the toy, and it began to buzz.

“Let’s get you set up.” With an all-knowing devilish look, he straddled my left leg over the arm of the couch and then steepled the right one on the cushion. He guided my hand to my exposed, already wet sex, and I let out a little yelp as he helped me apply the surprisingly warm vibrator to my clit. Applying firm pressure, he moved it over and around it in small circles. I moaned. Oh my God! It was what his fingers could do to my button, multiplied many, many times.

He let go of the vibrator and let me take over. I played with the toy, gliding it up and down my moist folds and then, after I was done with exploring, back to my clit. My breathing became short heated pants, and I could feel myself getting hotter and wetter all over, especially right between my inner thighs.

Ari loomed over me, his arms folded across his taut chest. His gorgeous mouth was twisted into a diabolical smile, and I glimpsed a bulge between his legs. Holy shit! I was turning him on as I turned myself on.

The sensation I was feeling—an ultra-intense throbbing beyond anything I’d ever felt down there—became unbearable. Flinging back my head, I squeezed my eyes shut and whimpered. I wanted to stop but forced myself to continue. I was buzzing my way to ecstasy.

Ari’s sultry voice sounded in my ear. “Saarah, are you having fun?”

I was in no state to respond. I was peaking. Exploding with orgasmic pleasure. Shrieking with relief and delight.

“Now it’s my turn to play with you.”

Oh no, don’t take away my toy! I’ve been a good girl!

I was in no condition to fight him as he pried away the vibrator and rolled me over. I was on my tummy, my pelvic bones and elbows propping me up. In one smooth move, he spread my legs and bent them upward so that the soles of my feet faced the ceiling.

Sparky descended on my clit once again, and my back arched sharply as if I were doing an upward dog yoga pose. My neck was pressed back so tightly I thought it would snap off. My muscles clenched as I built toward another climax. Oh God! How much more stimulation could my clit take?

“Come for me, baby,” I had heard my playmate growl.

I was so close I could almost taste it. The throbbing was insufferable until finally my bubble burst again with such orgasmic force I shuddered. As I cried out in relief, I felt the weight of his body on mine. His knees, straddled, pressed into my hips and his palms pressed over the backs of my hands. I could not move.

He nuzzled my neck. “Playtime is not over yet,
my
sweet toy.” Removing the vibrator, he powered
his
magic wand inside me. Oh my God! He was so hard! So hot! So deep!

“Oh, Saarah,” he rasped as he drove his organ inside me with velocity and ferocity. “It’s so much fun to play with you.”

As my clit continued to pulse, his forceful fullness awoke every fiber of my being. Each time he withdrew and sunk his wand into me, I flexed my hips to meet his thrust, deepening the pleasure not only for me but also for him. Ari groaned loudly as I shrieked on the top of my lungs. I buried my face into the couch to muffle my sounds, fearful that if Mrs. Blumberg heard them she would think I was in danger and call 911. Which maybe wasn’t a bad idea because I honestly thought I was going to die from his ruthless assault.

“Now, baby!” he ordered as he whammed into my magic spot.

Accompanied by a feral grunt, his cock convulsed, spurting hotly into the depth of my core. As his spasms rocked my quivering walls, wave after wave of ecstasy swept through me with reckless abandon. They kept coming and coming. My whole body shook under the weight of his torso. I could hear myself moan as he collapsed on top of me.

Hoarsely, he whispered into my ear, “Oh, my Saarah.” He buried his head into me as his body, a dead weight, lay splayed atop mine.

Slowly, he pulled out of me and mustered the strength to stand up. Wasted, I forced myself to roll over and sit up. I drank in his face. He looked totally spent yet so breathtakingly sexy—his eyes, heavy hooded… his hair, a wild tousled mess… and his mouth, a parted vestibule for taking in air. He met my gaze, and we said it in unison: “Holy fuck.”

“I’ll be right back,” he managed.

He staggered to the kitchen and then returned with a moist dishtowel. My eyes stayed fixed on him as he cleaned himself up and slipped on his jeans. I just never got tired of looking at this gorgeous, godly man. My beautiful Trainman.

“Do you have a pen?” he asked as he zipped his fly over his engorged member. He had regained his strength and now once again was that powerful, intimidating Adonis.

My eyes searched the small living room and spotted one on the desk where I kept my old, ready-to-shut-down-forever computer. My knees weak, I retrieved it. Our hot melded juices rolled down my inner thighs.

Now fully dressed, Ari plucked the pen from me and dug his hand into a jeans pocket. My eyes grew wide. What he pulled out was a crisp hundred-dollar bill. Pasting it against the wall, he scribbled something on it.

Holding the bill in his hand, he gazed at me intensely with his piercing blue eyes. “I want you to have this. In case of an emergency. My cell phone number is written on it. If you ever need me, I want you to call me. But promise you won’t give out the number to anyone. I safeguard my privacy.”

I nodded and let him slip the hundred dollar bill into my hand.

“I have to go. Ben will be home soon. It’s a school night.” He strutted to the door and swung it open. My heart was a sinking ship, knowing that this was good-bye again.

He leaned against the doorway, holding the door open with his foot. “Come here, you,” he ordered.

Fighting back tears, I slowly trod over to him. He hooked his arm around my waist, yanking me next to him, chest against chest. He crushed his lush lips against mine and pulled away. His eyes met mine as his lips curled into that dazzling, dimpled smile. “Saarah, I must say you are definitely an expert when it comes to toys.” And with that, he jogged down the stairs.

I closed the door behind me and slid down against it into a crouching position. I stared at his hundred dollar bill, not knowing if I should be insulted by it or flattered. All at once, I felt like a spurned lover, an orphan, and a whore. What this man could do me—for better and for worse. The jumble of emotions was overwhelming. Spreading my legs, I buried my head between my knees and wept for everything that was uncertain in my complicated life.

3

I
WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING at the crack of dawn. Tuesday. Work. I didn’t need an alarm to get me up. The vibrations in my core from last night’s playdate with Ari were enough. I could actually hear the throbbing.

I went through the steps of my usual workday routine. Feed the cat. Coffee. My birth control pill. A quick jog around the neighborhood. Shower. Get dressed. I put on one of my boho uniforms, laced up my combat boots, and organized my messenger bag. At last minute, I slipped Ari’s one hundred dollar bill into my wallet though I still had very mixed feelings about it. Good to go, I grabbed my skateboard. Yes, that’s how I commuted back and forth to my office on Broadway and West Twenty-Third Street. My skateboard was a fast, economical, and reliable means of transportation.

Waiting for me at my office on my desk was an elegant vase filled with a dozen of the most perfect long-stemmed roses I’d ever seen. My heart skipped a beat. I knew whom they were from without having to open the card propped against the vase. How the hell did he know where I worked? Duh! Of course. I mentioned it to him and his family at Ben’s birthday dinner the other night.

“
Hay, caramba
,” cooed Fernando, my best friend at work, as he passed by my cubicle. As usual, he was wearing perfectly shredded tight black jeans and an even tighter black tee that exposed his perfect little ass and pumped up arms. “Señorita Sarah has a boyfriend.”

“Hardly,” I snapped back at him. While I adored Fernando, a gorgeous gay guy of Phillipino-Cubano descent who worked in the packaging division (those cool Ike’s Tikes’ birth certificate tags were totally his creation), he could often be annoying. Very annoying.

“Have lunch with me,
mí querida.”
He winked. “I want to hear everything.” He sashayed down the corridor toward his cubicle.

Sitting down at my desk, I opened the note. My hand was shaking.

Dear Sarah~

I enjoyed my long weekend with you. I trust you did too.

Yours
~
Ari

My heart fluttered, and I felt my face flush. I slipped the note into my top desk drawer, very aware of the vibrations between my upper inner thighs. I wondered when I would see him again. I got the feeling he was devoted to Ben during the week, something I understood and respected. Yet, I found myself hungering for him.

Forcing myself to focus on my work, I booted up my computer and checked my emails. The majority of them were from my boss, Catherine St. Clair, sent over the weekend. Ridiculous things to do like… picking up her dry cleaning, setting up her waxing appointment, and color-coding her files. Didn’t she have anything better to do over the holiday weekend than to come up with a crapload of chores for me to do?

As I started in on her files, Catherine showed up. Nine a.m. This was early for her. Her usual ETA was ten. She must have had a restful weekend after all. Good. Maybe I could persuade her to let me work extra hours to help me pay for my mother’s treatments.

“Good morning, Sarah,” she said icily. Her eyes lingered on my roses and mine on her outfit du jour.

As usual, with her gorgeous supermodel figure, she was a walking advertisement for Chanel. Today she was wearing a classic Chanel suit—a smart little black and white tweed number with fringed embellishments—and matching “CC” pumps. Layers of faux pearls were strung around her long neck and a bright red “CC” monogrammed headband held back her signature waist-length raven-black hair.

“Roses?” she said frostily as she passed my desk. “I must be paying you way too much for you to afford them.”

“Someone sent them to me.” My voice quivered.

She eyed me with contempt. “Really? That’s a surprise.”

God, she was a bitch. I’d been working for her for a little over a month, and I’d never heard a kind word out of her mouth. Not once.

“Well, I don’t want you to be smelling the roses all day. We have lots to do.” She dug her manicured hand into her Chanel black leather briefcase (God knows how much that cost) and pulled out a two-inch thick folder.

“These are last week’s expenses. I want them done by the end of the day.” She slapped the folder down on my desk and marched into her office, slamming the door behind her.

I opened the folder and scanned the receipts. Yowzer! This woman ate out at an expensive restaurant morning, noon, and night. Breakfast at the Four Seasons… Lunch at Le Cirque… Dinner at Nobu. And since when was a thirty dollar tube of Chanel lipstick (for which I had to schlep uptown to Bergdorf’s and buy on my lunch break) an “emergency business expense.” Given the number of receipts in the folder, it was going to take me hours to prepare her expense report. I needed to get going on the tedious job right away.

Before I could start arranging the receipts by day, the phone rang. “Boys’ toys,” I answered. Catherine never wanted me to give out her name unless it was really necessary.

“Saarah… do you like your flowers?”

That voice! I recognized it immediately. My heart raced, and the phone receiver shook in my hand. It was him! “Um, uh, they’re very pretty.” Who was I kidding? They were gorgeous, and their intoxicating scent was making me dizzy.

“Good. I have a meeting in the city today. I’ll collect you outside your office at six sharp for an early dinner. Ben has school tomorrow.” CLICK.

Shit! He didn’t even give me the chance to tell him that I might not be able to make dinner because of all the work my evil boss was piling on me. With my mother’s insurance crisis, I could not afford to lose my job.

I immediately got back to work on the expense report, but my mind kept drifting off to what was I going to wear on my date with Ari. My pathetic bohemian work uniform was not going to cut it. Sadly, I could not afford to buy a new outfit, and there was no time to scoot up to my apartment to change into one of his sundresses. As my heart pounded, moisture pooled between my legs in my cotton panties. Well, at least I knew what I was
not
going to wear.