Taina
EYES ON ME
It pains me to give a man credit, but I know when I’m being stubborn just for the sake of it.
From the moment we entered the house, I’ve been impressed. The dim lighting, the candles, more roses—these ones red—and music playing from somewhere within the house. We just finished a delicious dinner, and Emiliano led me to the sofa to “talk.”
“This is the kind of effort you put into a woman when you’re expecting pussy,” I tell him before taking a sip of the champagne he poured me.
He coughs, his champagne seemingly going down the wrong pipe.
“As long as you know that’s not what’s happening here,” I inform him as I tilt my glass toward him.
“Actually,” he starts, clearing his throat one last time, “I have something for you.”
He gets up, and I have to remind myself that he’s not going to kill me. He doesn’t want to harm me.
He’s the first man I’ve been alone with in quite some time.
Paloma’s recounting of him saving her from sex trafficking replays in my head, soothing my nerves until he enters the living room again. He holds a box in his hands, and I try not to stare at it.
“This is for you,” he announces as he holds it out. I set my glass down and take the plain brown box, unsure what the hell is inside. And when I pull at the tab on one side to open it, I’m hit with a familiar scent. “You don’t ever need to go to a dispensary ever again.”
I don’t even smoke as much anymore, having used it for years to put myself to sleep. But the thought behind it? Adorable.
“How’d you get this?” I ask, wondering if he’ll be truthful.
“My family supplies several dispensaries here,” he states, as if it’s that simple. “In fact, the joint you were smoking the other day was one of ours. I recognized it.”
“Well,” I say as I pull one out to examine it, “I appreciate the drug deal.”
He snorts out a laugh as he sits next to me on the couch.
“I enjoy spending time with you. But I figured I would.”
“Why?”
“Why am I enjoying myself or why did I think I would?”
“Both.”
“I’m enjoying myself because you talk to me in a way no one else does. Not my family—except maybe my brother—and no one talks like that to me at work. And I figured I would because I’ve already enjoyed the little moments we’ve had.”
Brother? First time mentioning one of those.
I put the joint back in the box, set the box on the coffee table, and pick up my champagne flute.
“Tell me about your brother,” I murmur over the edge of my lips before taking a sip.
“Well, I have two. I’m closest to my older brother,” he shares, placing his arm over the back of the couch, and his fingers flex, so close he’s nearly touching my shoulder.
“He’s most like our dad. Hard-working, tough, but fair.
My other brother is…I’m not sure how to explain the shift in our relationship. ”
I’m quiet as he tries to dissect his thoughts to piece together some semblance of an explanation, his lips parted and his eyes looking past me.
“He taught me a lot of things my father didn’t. Like how to have fun and act my age. Being the middle child, he sort of slipped under the radar. He wasn’t expected to fill the roll my oldest brother did, and he wasn’t doted on the way I was.” His brows furrow as he recollects.
“So you two aren’t close anymore?”
He shakes his head. “We’re civil, but he’s got his wife and whatever other hobbies he gets himself into. But any time my oldest brother has called, he’s shown up. So far, anyway.”
I don’t say anything as I digest the information, it’s cycling in my brain on a loop.
“I’m talking to you about things I’ve never shared before,” he admits, and I watch as he looks down before meeting my eyes again. “I don’t know why you don’t just let this happen.”
I shake my head as I roll my eyes.
“I’m not afraid of you, if that’s what you think,” I inform him.
“You’re afraid of something,” he insists. “Afraid you’ll fall in love with me?”
“No,” I tell him before I press my lips together. And then I say, “I’m afraid you’ll fall in love with me .”
Because that can’t happen. I don’t have room for love in my life right now. Or ever.
“I…” he starts, interrupting my thoughts, “I’d really like to touch you.”
I can tell. Those fingers have been fidgeting since he stretched his arm out in my direction.
“Are you asking for permission?” I duck my head in jest and peer at him through my lashes .
“I don’t want to scare you,” he murmurs, no humor in his tone.
“You don’t scare me,” I tell him, even though it’s only a half-truth. I don’t think he’s going to kill me, no. But that doesn’t mean he won’t hurt me. And at this point, I may be more worried about my feelings than I am about physical injury.
“I probably should.” His words are quiet as he stares at the space between my bare shoulder and his hand.
I pause, lifting a brow. “Is that a warning?”
His gaze travels from his hand to my shoulder and finally settles on my face.
“That I want to pull down your shirt and pinch your clit while I taste your nipples? That I’d spend the rest of the night on my knees, pleasuring you with my mouth and fingers until you tell me you can’t come anymore?
And then I’d make you give me one more, just to make sure you know you’re mine? Yes, that’s what the warning is for.”
With my lips pressed together, I try not to let my mind wander down that road. No one’s had me since my assault. I haven’t even masturbated since, so terrified to find that I’ve somehow lost the ability to feel sexual pleasure anymore.
But if the butterflies currently fluttering deep in my stomach have anything to say about it, they’d vehemently disagree.
This is what sexual attraction feels like? I’d nearly forgotten.
And now I’m curious to see how far I can take this pleasure path.
Silently, I set my glass down again. This time when I speak, I turn my body toward his and take the hand closest to me, stroking his thick fingers.
“Maybe you’ve picked up on the fact that I don’t let people touch me. And for the most part, I don’t like men. But I’d like to try something, if that’s okay with you.” A knot forms in my throat, and I try to push the fear and nervousness away.
“Whatever you want,” he reassures me, his thumb stroking the palm of my hand. He stares at me intently, not even blinking, like he’s hanging on my every word.
It’s a power I’ve never known before. I could become addicted to this.
“I haven’t experienced an orgasm in over two years,” I tell him, watching his eyes widen. I try not to let it deter me from speaking freely. “I’ve been celibate. I haven’t masturbated either,” I rush out, feeling like I’m cracking myself wide open in a way I haven’t in far too long.
I’ve spent years keeping myself away from nonessential human connection. Except the notion that it’s been nonessential is being obliterated by the man in front of me.
“So…this is going to test us both,” I nearly whisper, my statement soothing me more than it’s meant to enlighten him.
“How so?” Those two words sound gravely, almost animalistic.
“I’m going to masturbate, and you’re going to tell me what to do.” I stare at him a moment to gauge his reaction. Far too eager feels unsafe. Far too unaffected feels like a waste. “No touching. You’ll have to use your words, big boy.”
He tilts his head to the side and juts his chin out before murmuring, “Lay down, then.”
And I do. I lean back until my head meets the couch cushion that I’d moved earlier when I first sat down. It softens the arm of the sofa, and I can comfortably lie back while still being able to see Emiliano.
“Does this seem crazy?” I breathe out, my nerves making me second-guess as I spread my legs.
“Not to me. To me it seems like you’re letting something go.” He shrugs before pushing his upper body toward me. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. And if you change your mind at any point, it’s done. No questions asked. ”
I take a shuddering breath and close my eyes as I undo the button on my pants.
“I have a few rules of my own,” he informs me. It takes a second, but I allow my gaze to meet his, ready to hear what he has to say. “I want to see those pretty brown eyes, every step of the way. You break eye contact, I stop speaking. I stop speaking, you stop touching.”
I nod, looking at him as I snake my hands inside my pants and into my panties. I lick my lips when I feel the slickness there that I can only credit to the man watching me.
“Mmm, I bet she’s wet,” he murmurs, his gaze flitting to my hand under my faux leather pants. “Pinch your lips. Let me see what that pretty pussy likes.”
I do as he says, and my body jerks involuntarily.
It’s been so long, I forgot what a jolt of pleasure feels like when it wracks your body.
“That’s it. Take your hand out and put two fingers in your mouth. Yes, just like—aht.” He stops when I quickly shove them in my mouth and out. “Coat them, Taina. They’re going inside you, after all.”
I bring them back to my lips, swirling them inside my mouth. I stare at him as I slowly pull them out.
“Good girl. I’m so jealous of those fucking fingers,” he whispers, and I bite my lip as my gaze falls to his lap.
“I know I said to keep your eyes on me, but I’m okay with you noticing how I react to you.” His dick looks like it’s proportionate to his large size, and I have to look away before I’m too intimidated to continue. “That’s what thinking about how tight you must be does to me.”
I slide my fingers back inside my panties, pushing my damp index finger against my seam, and I gasp at just how good it feels. As his voice hums through me, I feel the stirrings of an impending orgasm.
“I can’t wait to taste her. To feed her my dick slowly, stretching her out and watching her take me like she was meant to. I can’t wait to tell you how good you look with my dick in your mouth, saliva dripping down your chin like you’ve been dying to taste it.”
My orgasm approaches even quicker and powerful in a way that makes me brace myself.
“Relax. Don’t tense up now or you’ll ruin the pleasure. Let it take over your body. Play with your clit, Taina.”
Not breaking eye contact, I find a rhythm that has my mouth ajar, rubbing as my back arches.
“Push one finger inside, Taina. Just one and use the heel of your palm to keep rubbing your clit. I can tell you’re already close.”
How? Fuck, he’s right, but how does he know?
It rolls in from deep within me like a storm picking up wind, and I lift off from the couch, my orgasm ripping me apart as I look him in his eyes. His own sparkle with triumph as I catch my breath, until I’m lying back and staring up at the ceiling.
What the fuck did I just do?
I pull my hand away and just as I’m about to sit up, he reaches out to grab my wrist. He brings his body to crouch on the floor next to me, and before I can stop him, my index finger is in his mouth.
I’m too shellshocked to fight him, and the way his tongue caresses my finger, I don’t think he’d let me if I wanted to.
“Next time you come, it’ll be on my tongue,” he warns me as he stands and adjusts his erection. After a moment of looking down at me, he caresses my cheek, and without thinking, I lean into his palm. We remain as we are for a few moments, the seconds ticking by doing nothing to urge us on.
Finally, he smiles down at me and reaches over for my near empty champagne glass.
“Let’s get you home,” is all he says before turning away.
I stare at the ceiling, unable to move.
I’m in danger.