Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Sarah
His touch is so delicious.
I didn’t know that wine and donuts was a thing. A date. A way to move forward that you could even ask for. Donuts are a breakfast.
Not a nightcap.
And yet here we are.
This entire date, hook-up, whatever – which isn’t even close to being over – feels like so much more. We aren’t at the beginning of something. This isn’t tentative.
It’s timeless and secure.
Which should scare me, but it doesn’t.
“Come here,” Case says as the elevator moves slowly, the whole building smelling like wood and lemongrass. Do they pipe it through the air ducts? Mirrored panels in the small car let me catch his eye as he holds the box of donuts now, his free arm wrapped around my waist, hand on my ass as he leans in and plants a perfect kiss on my collarbone.
“Mmm,” I moan, wondering if this is a prelude to elevator sex. There have to be cameras in here, right? A place this fancy must have them, including a full staff of security guards monitoring them live.
No way am I screwing Case in an elevator, on camera, for people to gawk at.
Plus, I’m really feening for a Blueberry Lemon donut.
“You are so divine. I feel like we’ve known each other forever,” he murmurs against my neck, then takes the tip of his tongue and oh, so lightly, runs it up from the hollow at my throat to my earlobe.
Can you come from that alone?
Dizzy, my core tightening like it does at the start of an orgasm, I find myself trembling and speechless, throat dry, my lungs forgetting how to breathe. Everything that I am is centered on how he touches me, and I’m instantly self-conscious.
And so close to climax I can’t move.
“Sarah?”
DING!
Frozen, I grip his arm and he leans in for a kiss, fierce and hard, his tongue crossing the boundary of my lips, his hand finding my breast, cupping as he lifts, the smash of his palm against my nipple what actually tips me over. Clutching his shoulder now, I come, my knee between his, moving against his thigh to find a sweet spot for the split second I need.
“Go with it,” he whispers against my mouth. “Come. Come now. I love seeing you feel this.”
Shaking, I hear him, the words making any restraint dissolve on the spot as his mouth claims mine again, until suddenly, the crackle of a public address system freaks me the hell out.
“Mr. Willingham?”
Case jumps a foot in the air as we look up to find the speaker.
“You’re about to drop the donuts, sir. Waste of good dessert.”
Shoving his foot in the open door, Case closes his eyes and pulls me close, wrapping around me as if shielding me from the camera’s eye.
“Thanks, Stella. Appreciate the donut intervention. Wouldn’t want to make a mess in here.”
“Oh, I can see you’ve got the cream filling part well under control.”
“Goodnight, Stella.”
“G’night, Mr. Willingham.”
We step quickly out of the elevator, but I have no legs. Mine are rubber bands. Case’s arm tightens around me, his strength shocking. It’s not the kind that comes from bulking up or endless bodybuilding hours.
It’s core strength, like an aerialist.
Which makes total sense.
“I’m only four doors down,” he says in a normal tone of voice, as if I hadn’t been coming all over his leg a minute ago. Expertly balancing the thin cardboard box, he waves his phone in front of a sensor on his door, which opens.
“Automated? Smart building?” I ask, my voice breathy and weird.
“Do you want to talk about new construction design, or do you want to spend endless hours in bed letting me explore you until we shatter your orgasm record?” he asks as I stare into his apartment, which suddenly floods with light.
“Hot monkey sex or engineering discussion. Such a dilemma. How can I possibly choose just one?”
“One per day, Sarah,” he says as he walks in and the lights come on in sequence, as if his very presence is calibrated to some unknown AI. Maybe it senses testosterone.
If so, the whole building should light up right now.
“So, we can talk engineering tonight and have sex in the morning?”
I’m instantly pressed against a support post, one that’s about ten feet inside his apartment. Built-in shelving is behind me, a gas fireplace on the lowest tier, a series of photos and sculptures filling the rest of the space. I only see it for a second before he is everywhere, kissing and touching, our clothes a formality, the donuts forgotten.
Not forgotten , but not a priority right now.
“You are captivating,” he whispers against my mouth as he crushes me to him with one arm, his other hand going to his neck, the tie off in seconds. I make some space between us and slide my hands under his suit jacket as he flings the tie across the room, his jacket off quickly, his erection enormous against my leg.
I kick off my shoes and he follows suit, trying to kiss the entire time.
“I’ve never had a date like this before,” I tell him, my lips bruised, my body warm and liquid from the orgasm in the elevator. “Never had a man like you before.”
“You are about to have more of me.”
“I’m not sure I can get enough, Case.”
The sound he makes in the back of his throat as he kisses me hard vibrates all the way down to my toes. A fire inside me ignites, the flames turning my blood hot, his breath against my cheek as we kiss like oxygen. I need to feel him, hear him, kiss him – inhale him.
Need like this has never driven me before. I think first, feel second.
Case makes me want to fuck first, think… whenever.
Yes, fuck. I want to have a wild, uninhibited night with him, mind firmly in place, body ready, willing, eager, and ablaze.
His hand cups my breast, thumb at the nipple, the sensation sending tingles down my torso, pooling between my legs. The boundaries of my skin and his dissolve as I slide my knee and press thigh to thigh against him, his other hand on my ass, my hand finding his cock hard as a rock.
There’s something so sexy about an erection you made straining against fine wool suit trousers.
“We’re overdressed,” he gasps, hooking one finger under my dress sash and rolling it across my waist with a finesse that feels unreal. I watch, mesmerized, breathing hard against his chest, his mouth on my breast as his hands peel me out of my beautiful outfit.
My beautiful obstacle.
Sudden clarity rips through me, or maybe it’s just lust, but my hands go to his belt and I unbuckle him like muscle memory and soon, he’s kicking his pants off, unrolling dress socks off his feet, and when his boxer briefs come off, I’m left breathless.
And hungry for all of what I see.
He strips me bare before I can take two breaths and pulls me in for an embrace, hand on my neck, tipping my face up so he can kiss me again, our mouths devouring each other, the lack of words so damn perfect.
“You taste like everything I want,” Case murmurs against the sweet spot between my breasts, his palms open and claiming, possessive and strong as they glide up from my ass to my shoulders. “You’re as enticing as you were yesterday. Even more so.”
All night, I’ve let myself make salacious jokes. Jumped right in when he drops a sexy hint. Gone toe-to-toe with him on any sensual comment. He’s freed me somehow, this wonderful One Night Stand Man, and the guy I jokingly nicknamed Mr. NM is anything but someone I want to stick in the never mind zone.
He owns my body.
He owns my mind.
And tonight, we own each other.
Bending at the knees, I reach for a throw pillow from the couch and toss it between my legs, dropping perfectly as I wrap my hand around his girth, mouth on his tip before he realizes what I’m doing. The deep vibration of his moan makes me smile as I fill my mouth with him, tongue going flat and wide, throat relaxing to take him in. His fingers thread through my hair and his hips move forward, drawn to me.
“Your mouth,” is all he says, over and over, until I’m cupping his balls, holding them with a tempered touch, taking his shaft in deep as his thighs tense. I came in the elevator, so fair is fair.
Except he stops me abruptly, hand on his cock as it makes a popping sound coming out of my mouth. Case staggers back, skin gleaming in the dim light, ass pressed against the edge of his couch. He’s breathing hard and giving me a look like he can’t believe what I’m doing to him. It’s a little evil, a lot intrigued, and it unleashes a part of me I didn’t know I had.
“I don’t want to come in your mouth, Sarah,” he says, the words broken up with a panting rush, as if he’d just run a 400-meter dash. “But you have a witchy mouth.”
“As in magic?”
“As in women who dance naked in the moonlight and ride poles for fun.”
My laughter starts deep in my belly, clenched and tight, every bit of me cued up for him to release me over and over. Case drops before me and kisses me, hard, hand sliding between us, finding me wet and ready.
“Why not?” I ask him, breaking the heat of our tongues.
He shakes his head slightly, dazed. “Why not what?”
“Why not come in my mouth?”
The flare of his eyes, the intensity of his gaze – it pinpoints, making me the sole object of his attention. He runs his hands over my shoulders, tilting his head as he studies my breasts, hands cupping them, surveying, memorizing. Finally, he looks at my eyes again and smiles.
“I have no good answer for that.”
“Finally.”
“What do you mean, finally?”
“I’ve rendered you speechless.”
“Oh, no. Not yet. But you can do that now.” Like a cat, he stretches on the floor, his long, muscled limbs turning with a yogic grace, all thighs and abs and dark hair where it should be. It’s so easy to breathe with him, to be so aroused with him, to hold this space together and be sexual – to be sex itself, with him.
He offers himself up, on the floor, and I prowl over him, my knees brushing the outsides of his thighs as I crawl up his body. Cocky and self-assured, his fingers are threaded behind his head, elbows out, smile a thousand hours long.
“We’re about to have so much fun,” he says with a throaty, deep laugh. That accent alone turns me on but the playfulness, the intensity, the switching between the two and the casual way he bares himself to me invites a different side of me to learn how to be.
How to be with Case.
A flash of our night together last night – that was just last night – blends with the present, and suddenly, it feels like the hours we exist throughout the day not together, not naked, are the aberration.
This is who we are.
This is who I am.
This is where I want to be.
“What on earth is going on in that beautiful mind of yours, Ms. Gorenta?” Case asks as he caresses my thigh, thumb grazing my clit. Slick doesn’t begin to describe the sensation, and soon I realize it’s not a passing touch. He watches me respond under his careful strokes, my breath shaky, the gasp turning to a long breath, one that takes over and fills me.
“This is supposed to be about you,” I say, reaching for his erection, but he moves his hips slightly away from me.
“Oh,” he says, watching me with a smoldering expression that captivates, his fingers making it hard to speak, much less think. “But this is about me, Sarah. Giving you pleasure is always about me. I’m a selfish bastard that way.”
“You – ” Words fly out of my head.
“When I know I’m the one doing this to you, it makes me king of the world. Watching you go to pieces is the greatest form of ecstasy I could ever have the privilege of experiencing. Now go ahead. Fall apart.”
“But – ”
He moves quickly, mouth on my clit before I can blink twice, the sensation so charged. I close my eyes and his hands guide me, one pressed against my navel, the other parting my legs more, a finger slipping inside me, moving slowly in rhythm with his tongue. The room is warm, his hands warmer, and I’m so starved for his touch, though I got plenty last night. Regret and need fill me – regret for trying to blow him off this morning when I woke up with him next to me, and need because nothing – and I mean nothing – is ever going to be good enough or just enough when it comes to Case.
His finger slips in and out as my swollen clit finds its own rhythm, too, the pressure perfect, Case’s mouth on me and following my every move. He hits a certain spot inside, the one I know from too many nights alone with my own hands and sex toys, but to have someone else know where to touch me exactly is a revelation.
“Come for me,” he says against my thigh.
I’m close, so close, but I take the lead and rotate under him, still keeping his mouth between my legs, but now his cock is in my face and I suck him whole into my mouth, on my side, the two of us forming a perfect oval.
“Good God,” he mutters, but this only heightens everything for me, my body going soft and hot at once, climax building, Case’s finger performing magic with his tongue. I deep throat him and he groans, moving his hips against me, his ass going tight as hot cum fills the back of my throat.
I told him I wanted him to come in my mouth, and he just did.
I explode, pushing hard against his tongue, the orgasm twisting me, shattered into a thousand pieces that spin and spin, clench and grind, my hands all over him, desperate for every inch of his skin. We’re milking every drop of glorious, raunchy, electrified orgasmic pleasure from each other, and it feels like a burst of heaven.
It feels like being free.
Somewhere in the ecstasy, I swallow, and as I come back to a semblance of my senses, I feel Case’s cheek against my inner thigh. He’s panting, like me, and when our eyes meet, he laughs.
“You surprise me.”
“How so?”
“I didn’t think anything could be better than last night.”
“Seriously?”
“Not that I didn’t expect,” he murmurs, kissing his way up my body, ending with the tip of my nose, “that sex would be anything but extraordinary. That you would be anything less than sublime. But that – you certainly turned things on their head.”
“It’s more like I gave you head.”
He slaps my ass. It excites me more than I’d expect, a rush of sensation turning my pussy wet again. “You deserve a major award for that, Sarah.”
“Like, a trophy?”
“How about,” he says, standing slowly, stretching a bit, then walking over to the small table by the kitchen, “a proper bed and a donut?”
“You spoil me, Case.”
Booming laughter comes from behind me as I roll up and start to rise.
“I might even give you two.” A glow from the kitchen makes it clear he’s in the fridge now.
“I think I earned the whole box.”
His dimples show when he smiles at me, his hand clutching a bottle of white wine. “Help me remember. A sommelier once gave me some fantastic advice. What pairs well with a 2020 Moscato? Is it Dunkie’s Blueberry Lemon or Dunkie’s Pumpkin Spice? Or perhaps it was Munchkins.”
“You’re on the right track. Moscatos pair well with earthy flavors. Stick to fruit and vegetables like that.”
He’s puzzled, dark eyebrows dropping as he opens the donut box and laughs. “Ah! If you consider whatever laboratory-invented flavorings they use to be ‘fruits and vegetables’, wow. Perhaps a nice merlot for the chocolate-based donuts?”
“That’s more of a vodka pairing.”
“I only have wine and beer.”
“Oh, no,” I fake-pout, walking to the table and grabbing a nice blueberry lemon. “We’ll have to suffer.” One bite in and I realize wine isn’t going to work for me. “Do you have water?”
“Sparkling or flat?”
“Sparkling would be great.”
This time, I’m facing the kitchen, a sparse, modern affair with absolutely nothing on the counters. You’d never guess the place was occupied. When he opens the fridge, neat rows of drinks – green sparkling water bottles, clear flat water bottles, and what appears to be an entire row of amber root beer bottles from a Maine bottling company -- and prepared meals in clear containers, all labeled and with different colored tops, greet me.
Case pulls two green glass bottles out and uncaps them. I drink greedily, not realizing how parched I am. His eyes are bright and engaged as he takes a sip, then surveys the pastries. Sure enough, he picks a Boston cream and takes a bite, chewing while smiling. Happiness fills me, the kind of joy that bursts your heart wide open.
Then he swallows, plants a big fat kiss on my lips, and declares:
“Nothing in that box tastes as good as you.”
I lick my lips and taste a smear of chocolate. “Your kisses are sweet.”
“That’s entirely because I have you still on my tongue.”
Instead of answering, I take my blueberry donut and bury myself in the flavor. Each sense is assaulted by so much newness. We’re naked, flushed with orgasms, drinking sparkling water and chowing down on donuts in Case’s pristine kitchen.
And it feels so normal.
His mouth twists slightly, lips pursed as he frowns. “Something’s missing.”
“An Uber driver?”
“Had enough of those tonight. No. Music.” It’s no stretch to say that watching him walk from the kitchen to the living room to find his phone and use it to turn on an integrated sound system ranks very high on my new list called Things I Enjoy Watching Case Do Naked.
I suspect it will be a long list.
No smooth jazz, no R&B comes pouring out of the speakers, which are so artfully hidden in the room’s design that I can’t see them. It’s as if the walls themselves have become music.
Teddy Swims’ voice, all grit and grind and sensual explosion, fills the air.
“What’s your favorite music?” he asks, opening the moscato, pouring half glasses for us. I reach for mine and take a sip.
It does not mix well with Dunkie’s, sadly.
“Country,” I say, mostly to watch his face. “Country and show tunes.”
“You mean Beyonce? And Hamilton ?”
“More like Kenny Rogers and Annie Get Your Gun .” I’m joking. Mostly, at least. I really do listen to Kenny Rogers when I’m home with Mom, and she did bring me to Boston on Broadway to see the show.
When I was twelve.
“I am not really familiar with either. I know what they are. Gambler and all that.”
“Kenny,” I reply, as if we’re on first name terms, “was so much more than 'The Gambler.'”
“He had a chain of chicken stores,” Case muses, sipping his wine as if we’re discussing Bitcoin and Taylor Swift.
“He did. How would you know? You’re English.”
“I’ve been here for nineteen years, Sarah. Plus, one of my cousins lives in Indiana.” He gets a vacant, dull look in his eye. “Did you know there’s a town with a 3,000-pound concrete egg that has become a tourist attraction? It’s one town over from my cousin.”
“I had no idea.”
“When I was seventeen my mother forced us on a car trip to Indiana. Stacey and I were so bored. We had iPods and books. Old-fashioned books. No cell phones. We thought that once we arrived in Indiana we’d be able to do something exciting. Our cousin took us to the egg in Mentone, expecting us to be… awed? Impressed? I don’t know. But we were stupid teenagers and we laughed ourselves in half and Mum took the iPods away as punishment. The rest of the trip was filled with days at a nearby lake, swimming, and our second cousins glaring at us while they double-thumbed texts to their friends on flip phones.”
“You were traumatized by a fake egg.”
He beats his chest once, over his heart, and pretends to suffer. “I still can’t eat an omelette to this day without flashbacks.” He laughs through his nose. “Our cousins later told us it was too bad we left when we did, because we missed the KokoMantis.”
“The what ?”
“KokoMantis.”
“What the hell is a KokoMantis?”
“A giant sculpture of a praying mantis in Kokomo, Indiana.”
“You’re really selling Indiana, Case.”
“That’s the point. I’m not. I’m really, really not.” His eyebrows go up and he peers at me. “Now, really. What kind of music do you like?”
“We jumped from Kenny Rogers to the Egg of Trauma back to me?”
“Yes. Quit avoiding.”
“I like everything.”
“Mongolian chant rock it is.”
“You like The Hu, too?”
“The Who? Of course. They’re English, you know – ”
“Not The Who. The Hu .”
“Sarah.”
“The H-U. The Hu.”
“Who are The Hu?”
“We’re starting to sound like owls,” I say, reaching for his phone. Case hands it over freely, which tells me something important about him. The guy has nothing to hide, which is another major green flag. It’s so hot when a guy just hands it over. Lots of men would flinch and make an excuse for why you can’t see their phone. Hiding a sneaky link, or some convo with a chick off Tinder.
Or a dude on Grindr, if he was into that.
Not Case.
I go into his browser and pull up The Hu performing at Hellfest. Case’s phone has a retractable stand on the back, so I set it up, freeing my hands. He takes the opportunity to wrap one of his around my waist, attention on the phone, his other hand used to drink his wine.
I take the opportunity to eat the rest of my donut and find another, plucking a nice one with white frosting and rainbow sprinkles. As the opening notes begin, mostly guttural growls combined with heavy metal, Case’s face transforms.
“You like this?” Marvel fills his tone, and I’m not in the least bit offended. Any other person could say those words and I’d shut down and go defensive, but I can tell he’s delighted. Sharing this with him makes me like him on a whole new level.
Which is good, considering we’re naked, smell like each other’s musk, and are about to have more sex.
To my surprise he really gets into the song, bouncing his head with the rhythm, finding little dance moves as we remain stationary. When the song winds down and the crowd erupts, Case’s hand moves from my hip to my ass, a gentle caress that is lovely and sensual at the same time.
“You intrigue me,” he whispers in my ear, breath sweet, a mix of wine and chocolate. “Heavy metal Mongolian music. Who knew it even existed? How did you find that?”
“Roommate in college. She played it hard. At first, I was annoyed because I couldn’t study. Then, I realized it actually helped me study, so I became a fan. Now I follow their Patreon, and I’m hoping to see them perform with Iron Maiden.”
“Iron Maiden?” His voice goes up with surprise. “You?”
“What’s wrong with Iron Maiden?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. I’d have pegged you for a Swiftie.”
I shrug and take another long sip of my wine. “I like her songs, too. Like I said – I like everything.”
“Open-minded. Non-judgmental.”
“Yes. Whatever moves me is good, you know? The label doesn’t matter.”
“From Kenny Rogers to Mongolian rock to Taylor Swift.”
“I can’t tell if you’re agreeing with me or mocking me.”
He pulls me into his arms and kisses me, his mouth wet and tasty as his tongue runs in long, strong strokes against my own, his lips sucking my lower one in, the kiss slow and sultry, less a demand and more a quest.
With each passing second I sink deeper into him, his cock rock hard again against my thigh. He takes his time kissing me, one hand sliding down my belly to find my clit, and then I’m walking backward, slow and halting, but upright.
“This time, a proper bed,” he whispers. “I want all the room in the world with you, on a nice mattress that bounces back while I’m in you, making you come.” His arm slides behind my knees and I whoop a shout of surprise, turning giggly then quiet as he carries me into his bedroom, kissing me until I stop laughing and start moaning.
In the bedroom the king bed begs for our attention, Case gently lowering me to it, then dipping his head to go straight between my legs. The tip of his finger strokes the love bite he left on my inner thigh last night.
Last night .
I’m tender, sensitive, but also aching for this, and my fingers thread in his hair as he licks, just enough to tease. One at a time, he takes my feet and puts them on his shoulders, the freedom of opening that wide to him turning my sigh to moans.
I can do anything with this man.
And he can do anything to me.
The tongue on my clit slows down, then stops, and Case stands up, my legs dropping abruptly. He leaves the room and I sit up on my elbows, dazed and confused. My heart beats faster as my flushed skin turns hot.
Did I do something wrong? Was there something he didn’t like?
But he returns carrying the bottle of wine and…
The Dunkin Donuts box.
“Oh, my God.”
“What?” His cheeky grin is extra special knowing the taste of me is all over his mouth. “We said we’d have a quintessentially Boston date. Here you go.”
“Donuts in bed?”
“You’ve never eaten a donut in bed?”
“Not with someone else in it.”
“I would love to watch you eat a donut while I slide inside you.”
“Isn’t that more like fifth date material? How about we separate the donuts from the sex.”
He takes a Boston cream donut and squeezes it, then licks the cream from the hole. I didn’t think I could get any wetter, but I do.
Then he takes the donut and dabs it lightly on my nipples, his dark hair so close as he leans forward.
Then he sucks the cream filling off my nipples. Never before has a guy done this with me in bed. It’s bizarre and fantastic, all at once, and my mind splits into two parts:
I’m fucking begging for him inside me
and
This is silly beyond belief
Case sets the donut on his nightstand and kisses me, hard and hot, pressing me into the bed with his body, mouth full of sugar, cream, me, and all the openness that promises boundless exploration. I spread my legs wide and wrap them around his hips, thighs settling about him so he’s close, so close, and all it takes is for him to move just so, just right, just like…
That.
There.
Ahhh.
“You feel incredible,” he says, hovering over me, eyes on mine, captivating. When he looks at me like this, I become more real. More true. More Sarah. Grounded by our vulnerability, his playfulness, our sensuality, he unlocks parts of me I didn’t know I was holding back.
They get a chance to feel and do and be and love.
Slow strokes, deliberate and intense, accompany my upward curl of my hips, his cock going deep, but not deep enough. I shift slightly, his mouth meeting mine for a hard kiss, the kind you want to pace yourself through, because if you don’t you might lose every fiber of your being in the other person and what if you don’t come back?
What if you just disappear into them?
Something in me speeds up, slows down, changes time itself, my skin against Case’s skin turning to magic, an illusion of separation, blending into one. He’s kissing me like his life depends on it and maybe it does. Maybe he feels the same way.
Maybe he’s about to disappear into me, too.
“Let’s go,” I whisper against his mouth and then he tightens, his whole body turning to muscle, clenching so hard I know he’s about to come, my body responding in kind, abs curling inward, the core tightening so hard I pull him in deep, as if we turn rigid to form boundaries so we don’t fade into nothing.
And then we explode together, his cries blending with mine, my hands roaming his back, one clawing at his fine, tense ass as if hanging on for dear life, his name a loop in my mind until it, too, disappears into nothingness, a place where pure pleasure is all I know, all I feel, all I think, all I am.
With him.