28. Lover, Taylor Swift
"Lover," Taylor Swift
Victoria
I resisted his path to the master bathroom shower, stopping him with a hand on his chest. Normally with a man in my bedroom, I kept the lights dim to mask my insecurities. But with Eric, I stood shamelessly naked, ready to play.
“What happened to ‘2 to 12 hours’? That was what, 20 minutes?” I couldn’t imagine cross-examining anybody else’s virility, but his eyes lit at the opportunity to spar. “Unless, wait, when did the clock start? From picking me up at the elevator? Arriving at the restaurant?” Confronting my duplicitous date?
“Sounds like your contract has a loophole. Rookie mistake, baby.”
Insulting my contract? Shots fired. “Or maybe it’s false advertising.”
“I didn’t see you faking anything.”
“He promises up to 12 hours,” I declared with the enthusiasm of an infomercial telemarketer. “But how much of that is sleeping off his orgasm?”
“Not sleeping if I’m making you come again in the shower.”
My core heated, but I didn’t want to shower. Showering felt like an ending … and since I only got one night, I would damn well make the most of it.
“I think you’re stalling. Pumping up your longevity metrics while we wait out your refractory period.”
“I think you’re stalling because you like my cum on your tits,” he said with a devilish smile. “You’re secretly a dirty girl who needs a break from that squeaky clean image.”
He grabbed my ass, changing his trajectory from the bathroom towards the bed. When the back of my legs hit the blanket and he lowered me down, I expected him to climb on top. But he stayed upright, walking over to my nightstand.
Alarmed, I propped up on my elbows. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting out my refractory period, like you said.”
He opened my top drawer. I held my breath, waiting for his reaction.
Spencer had been offended by my sex toys, insisting he was man enough to take care of me—then blaming me for lying there bored. Alexander ignored my collection, too tired to bother with foreplay.
But not Eric. He lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Is this the kind that syncs to music?” he held up a U-shaped toy.
My cheeks heated. “Yes, but it’s not charged.”
He looked disappointed putting it away, then lifted a long, black vibrating dildo and a bold red bullet. “Which one?”
I stilled. Those were for my private use, not for him. “I don’t—”
“No, you’re right, you don’t have to choose,” he said, dropping both on the bed and adding lube and condoms to the pile.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling your bluff,” he grinned. “You’re being a bratty bottom who won’t ask for what you want, so I’m bringing in backup. I need a few minutes, and watching you will bridge the gap.” He gestured to the pile of toys. “Show me.”
He wanted me to touch myself? while he watched? and he did … nothing?
“Isn’t that your job?”
“You calling me lazy, woman?”
“Cocky bastard.”
“Oooh, that helps.” He stroked himself, stiffening from looking at my naked body. “Do you think about how cocky I am when you touch yourself?”
When I didn’t move or speak, too self-conscious, he poured lube onto his fingers and stroked the dildo, his hand sliding over the black silicon at the same pace that he’d been stroking his cock.
“This isn’t emasculating to you?” I worried out loud.
“Are you kidding? Watching you come is hot, whether it’s on my hand, my face, my dick, your hand, your toys.”
When I didn’t reach for the dildo, he climbed onto the bed with his back on the headboard. He gestured me over between his spread legs, directing me to put my back against his chest. When I opened my legs wide, he groaned over my shoulder at the view. His cock twitched against my back as he lined the lubed dildo up at my entrance, and we both exhaled as he slid it smoothly inside my pussy.
I expected this to feel shameful—I’d always hidden my toys, believing I wouldn’t need them if I had a worthwhile man—but his breath on my neck, the rawness in his voice, his hands on my body, his hard cock against my back … I felt desired. Adored, even.
He pressed the button to turn on the vibrations, a quiet rumbling from deep inside me joining with his moans and my panting breath. My body pulsed in time with his gentle thrusts, reacting to his fingertips on my ribs, caressing my breast, scraping fingernails across my nipple. His lips explored my neck, finding a spot behind my ear that sent me reeling.
“What do you think about when you’re alone?” he asked, his mouth never lifting from my neck as he slowly slid the dildo inside me.
Unrelated mental images flashed across my mind’s eye: a head between my legs against the leather seat in the back of a towncar, a hand on my throat as I gasped for air, bent over my desk with my hands behind my back, my Prada heel on a tattooed chest.
But I couldn’t speak, choking on the words locked in my throat. I took a gasping breath as my body completely lost momentum.
“Hey, it’s ok. You don’t have to tell me anything,” he murmured directly into my ear, his warm breath on my neck, and my breath slowly steadied. “It would be hot if we think about the same things. Or maybe you have fantasies I haven’t thought of—though I doubt that—and I could help you enjoy them.”
His hand ran circles along my ribs. “Do you want me to guess your fantasies? Or to shut the fuck up?”
Telling him to shut up would make him laugh, but … “Guess.”
“It probably starts with a memory,” he sped the pace of his thrusts as I nodded. “That first night at the club. You pull me into the bathroom. I hike up your skirt. I slide my fingers inside this greedy pussy to make you come. Or in the cab, you put my hand on your thigh. I tease your clit while you tell the driver your address.” My moan echoed between his labored breaths. “Or later that night, instead of being alone in my bed, you demand I lick your pussy. God, I wanted you to climb on my face,” he confessed. I dropped my head onto his shoulder, hips bucking beneath his hands.
“Or maybe you think about the elevator,” he said into my ear, and I couldn’t stop my moan. “You let down your hair, you dared me to take off my shirt—”
“Truth,” I corrected breathlessly. “Tattoos.”
“What if the fire department hadn’t interrupted? Would you have dared me to take off my pants?” I couldn't hold back my whimper. “Dared me to fuck you?”
“Would you have?” I whispered.
“We didn’t have a condom,” he answered, confirmation that he’d considered it. “I’ve never had sex without one.”
“And in your fantasy?” I arched into his hand as it trailed down my stomach, wanting him lower. “Do you have a condom?”
“In my fantasy,” his perfect voice rumbled, “you tell me I don’t need one. You want me bare.”
I barely heard his low rumble over my panting. “How do you know—?”
“I have them too, Victoria. So many fantasies—all about you.”
He lifted my bullet vibrator, jolting me into the moment. “Wait. Hold on.”
He froze, dropping the bullet on the comforter, stopping the vibrations inside me, lifting his hands from my body. It took a moment to process just how quickly he reacted.
“I didn’t mean—” I said, trying to catch my breath. I picked up the red bullet, putting it back in his hand. “The gray one is better. More powerful.”
He huffed a relieved breath as his hard cock surged into my back. “You’re gonna kill me, Victoria.”
He leaned over to my nightstand and fumbled for the gray one, running his thumb over the smoother silicon before lifting it for my approval. “Better?”
“Better.” He turned back on my dildo then brought my bullet vibrator to my clit. I gasped at the sudden touch, my hips pulsing too hard.
“Holy shit that’s strong, sorry.” He shifted it to a less intense spot on the side of my clit. When I relaxed again, arching my back as my hips shifted, he asked, “Where were we?”
“Your fantasies."
“You want me to keep going?” he asked. I nodded so fast that he laughed.
“Legs over my shoulders on your couch while I eat you out. You beg me to bend you over the armrest. My bed, riding my face, holding me down so all I can see or taste or feel is you. You on top so your amazing tits bounce while you come.”
His words played out in my mind, cycling through every conceivable position in familiar settings.
Through his eyes, I saw myself as a goddamn goddess, demanding what I wanted. I always thought desperation was a flaw, but he was unabashedly desperate for me, and I loved it.
“Asking me to come on your tits was even better than my fantasy. So hot when you rubbed my cum all over your perfect pink nipples.”
Oh god, I was so close. I reached behind his head to grip his hair. He cursed, precum leaking onto my lower back as his hands and his words sped.
The dirtier he talked, the higher I spiraled.
“Feasting on you splayed out on your kitchen island. Bending you over those granite countertops.”
“I love a man in the kitchen.”
“The best kitchen in the building, wasted by microwaving all your food.”
Laughter exploded from my mouth. I didn’t know laughing was possible when I was this close to coming, but somehow it made every sensation stronger.
He shifted, propping pillows behind my back and moving between my feet, kneeling between my splayed thighs. He could see everything, and I felt an urge to snap my knees shut and hide. He licked his lips and looked up to meet my eyes. “Want to hear my go-to fantasy?”
Every fantasy pushed me closer, so if he had a favorite … “Tell me.”
“The first time I saw you,” he said, his voice a heady mix of arousal and nostalgia. “At self-defense class.”
I flew cross-country to drag Alexander back to work, found him with his arms around another woman, and pulled the plug. “You think about that?”
“You showed up out of nowhere like a conquering victor. You were out the door in two minutes.”
And then I remembered the muscular man who stepped forward, with a smile brighter than a lighthouse in a storm.
“But in my fantasy, instead of his name,” he said, tilting the dildo into my front wall, “you say mine.”
I fought breathlessness to strengthen my voice. “I’m here for Eric de la Cruz.”
“Fuck yes,” he moaned, his once-again erect cock leaking. “You order everybody else out. You drop the cord and say one word, just one.”
He rubbed the bullet against my clit and whispered, “Kneel.”
“Oh shit, Cruz, yes!” I yelled as my orgasm crashed into me.
Knowing he craved my reactions, I didn’t turn away and bury my rough cry into my pillow. Instead, I dropped my head back and screamed. The force overtook me and I realized how deeply I needed this release.
With my eyes closed, I didn’t realize he dropped his head until his loose hairs tickled my thighs, then his tongue licked my clit beside the vibrator. My feet pressed into the bed as I ground into his mouth, in complete bliss.
When I finally opened my eyes, he powered off the vibrators and slid them aside with a satisfied smirk. “What, no bratty commentary from that smart mouth?”
I shook my head.
Muscles I didn’t even know I had were relaxing. My eyes drifted closed from the sheer force of coming that hard. My brain began shutting down. I wanted him to pull me close so I could feel his strength while I nodded off.
His hands grazed my legs, gently stroking my hips, palming my thighs, caressing my knees, and drawing soothing patterns all over my legs, lulling me deeper into relaxation. I could fall asleep like this, starfished with him kneeling between my legs, too relaxed to be embarrassed about my naked body on display.
“Well listen, I’ve been thinking …” he said, jarring me from my nearly comatose recovery.
“Eric,” I croaked in mock scorn, throat aching from screaming, keeping my eyes closed and hoping he’d get the hint, “do you ever shut up?”
“About that song …” his fingertips trailed along the inside of my thighs to the crease of my leg. When they drifted even lower onto my butt cheek, heading inwards, my eyes snapped open. “Do you think this is what she meant when she said, ‘Open the back door?’”
“Congratulations, you’ve officially ruined the song.” I tried to snap my legs shut, but he laughed and kissed the inside of my knee.
“Oh right, good girls don’t let boys touch their assholes, do they?”
Of course they didn’t. It was an unspoken rule.,I’d never even considered it and nobody had ever asked.
He raised a pinkie, trilling in an elitist voice, “Assholes are for bleaching and transporting diamonds to avoid the excise taxes.”
“I’ve never bleached it. And I always pay my excise taxes.”
He lifted one of my legs. “Well look at that, you haven’t. And it’s still gorgeous.”
Oh my god. I couldn’t believe that he not only checked it out, but complimented it.
Trying to disguise my embarrassment, I lifted my chin. “That wasn’t on your fantasy list.”
“Of course it is, baby,” he said coyly, “but you interrupted to talk about your kitchen.”
I raised a brow, trying to conceal my surprise. “You want … that?”
“Yeah, because I think you’d really,” his fingertips grazed a little lower, “ really like it.”
Going there now was too much to even consider. “Not tonight.”
His fingertips reversed course as hope sprang in his eyes. “Another night?”
I inwardly preened that he’d break his rule for another night.
Fuck, I wanted another night. Or a week. What had I put in the contract? The night ends when one person leaves the premises? What if we didn’t leave? He was right that I’d left a loophole … how could I use that to extend this escape from reality?
Maybe me tying him to my bed was one of his fantasies …
“Maybe. But right now …” My gaze landed between his legs. “Looks like your refractory period is up.”
He feigned shock at the discovery that he was hard. “Well would you look at that, it is!”
This time I didn't even try to hide my laughter. I couldn’t stop enjoying him, no matter how hard I tried.
“Thanks for letting me know,” he said with an exaggerated hat tip. “Is there a reason you pointed it out? Something you want?”
I’d never had multiple orgasms with a partner or been with a man who could go more than once. For a moment, I regretted calling out his prowess. If I hadn’t challenged him, I would be showered and passed out by now.
But there he was, gorgeously aroused again. I was paying the price—and reaping the rewards—for inviting home a 26-year-old.
If I said I was too tired, he’d kiss me goodnight. And if I wanted him to stay, he would. I wouldn’t even need to ask, just nod to the other pillow. He’d know.
He leaned forward, hovering over my body while lightly biting my bottom lip. Giving me time to think, while showing me what I could have.
I decided to tap out. I’d come so hard my limbs might not function tomorrow. And he’d come too, apparently fulfilled a fantasy, so I wouldn’t leave him hanging. I’d invite him to stay so maybe we could go again in the morning …
Until he said the only thing that would spur me on.
“You’re not a quitter, are you?”
That bastard.
“No,” I glared, but I couldn’t hold it, my lips lifting to give me away. “No, I’m not a quitter.”
I reached for the pile beside my nightstand for the condom he’d tossed there earlier, mentally preparing me for where he wanted tonight to go, and flicked it at him.
He caught it and paused. “You sure?”
He knew my limbs were jelly and my mind was mush, which gave me the courage to confess, “I already came twice tonight—”
“Hard,” he added, though I wasn’t sure if he was giving me a pass or if he wanted to hear me say it. Maybe both.
“Harder than ever before with a partner,” I said to stroke his ego, and his cock stiffened. “I can't come again.”
“Victoria,” he said in his coach voice. “Can we still have fun, even if you don’t come?”
I blinked. Wasn’t that the goal?
He chuckled at my confused expression. “I’ll help you get there if I can, but I’m not handing out gold stars for your orgasms.”
My hesitation drained away with his permission not to come. To not force it, or fake it, but to just … say yes and see what happens.
“That being said,” he slid that calloused palm from my knee down the inside of my thigh, waking my desire again. “Don’t sell yourself short. You might be pleasantly surprised.”
Ugh, stop being in my head, Cruz.
He held up the condom again. “So … yes?”
Say yes, then figure it out.
I nodded. He tore the wrapper and slid it on, then squirted on more lube. He rose onto his knees, placed a pillow under my hips and lifted my foot onto his shoulder. He lined himself up against my entrance, then picked up the bullet vibrator. “You ready?”
Nervousness pulsed in my gut as he ran his crown along my folds, but I wouldn't let it derail me. He shared so many fantasies of me demanding what I wanted, so I channeled that bratty goddess energy. “Would you shut up and fuck me already?”
He laughed and pushed smoothly into my pussy, thrusting and pulsating, resting the bullet vibrator near my clit as he moved. Quickly, he found that perfect spot on my front wall—he’d discovered it with his fingers earlier, and now knew exactly how to shift his hips to scrape against it with every thrust. I couldn’t believe it, but within a minute or two, I was screaming and writhing again.
I was lost, eyelids dropping closed, seeing only colors and shapes, every cell vibrating.
Time stopped, or maybe sped, it had no meaning. My mind went blank for the first time in my life. No thoughts, no logic, only pleasure, pure pleasure.
Eventually I gasped, crash landing to reality …
“Welcome back,” he said warmly as I blinked rapidly, taking a moment to focus. His pace had slowed, and at some point he dropped the vibrator and tilted to hover over me, those muscular biceps propping him up.
“Shit,” I said, throat parched. “How long was I out of it?”
He glanced at my clock, that bright smile blazing. “Eleven hours and forty five minutes, give or take.”
I laughed then, abundantly and without restraint, each pulse tightening around him. He grinned at my reaction, but his brows furrowed in discomfort.
I’d come explosively…but he hadn’t. His hairline and chest were drenched with sweat. Shit, had I done something wrong?
I reached up to tuck his hair behind his ear. “What are you waiting for?”
“You,” he said. “I didn’t want to stop before …”
His biceps shook along the sides of my head. He may be on top, but he was letting me be in control … and that was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
“Cruz,” I mustered my last energy reserve to make my voice firm, “Come for me, now.”
Relief washed over his face as he thrust two times more, then a third. He grunted and pressed into me one final time. His head dropped to my shoulder, yet still he hovered until I wrapped my legs around his waist, wanting his weight over me and inside me.
He panted into my neck as I ran my fingertips lightly over his back, and his sensitive skin shivered under my touch. We laid like that for a moment …until my laughter broke the silence.
“What?” he murmured into my neck.
“You finally stopped talking.”
His laughter harmonized with mine as he slid out. “Don’t suppose I can convince you to shower now?”
I tossed back the covers and muttered into my pillow, “In the morning.”
Pressing up, he stumbled to the bathroom to take care of the condom and emerged with a washcloth.
“Hot as it is that you want to sleep with my cum on your tits …” he said, wiping the mess off my chest, “by morning you’ll be covered in cat fur.”
I flushed with embarrassment at long gray hairs sticking to my chest. Oh my god, he’d touched me like this? And I hadn’t noticed to clean myself off?
But before I could apologize, he teased, “Unless you’re into that …”
“You think I’m a furry?”
He lifted a shoulder as his washcloth moved down my body to wipe between my legs, which could have felt awkward, him touching there in a non-sexual way … but I just felt cared for. “It’s not my thing but if you’re into it, I’m open to discussion.”
My jaw dropped at his complete acceptance about … anything. “Sounds like we found something on my fantasy list that isn’t on yours.”
His eyes bulged, then I burst into laughter. His mouth lifted into that irresistible smile.
“Now get that fine ass into my bed, I’m tired,” I said as he slid under the sheets. I rolled to rest my head on his chest. “If you talk in your sleep, you’re banished to the couch.”
I passed out to the rumble of his laughter under my head.