16. Joey
16
Joey
B y the time the sun begins to set, I feel like I’m living in a fairy tale. I traveled in a plane for the first time, a private jet at that, and had my very first non-self-induced orgasm given by the perfect man. I got to drive a Maserati convertible to said man’s warm and inviting beach house that overlooks the ocean. And now I’m having a romantic dinner with him, the sound of the ocean as background music.
“Thank you for inviting me to come with you.” I smile at Brent. My hair is up in a loose bun because of the breeze coming in through the sliding doors, so I can’t hide my face. I’ve had a hard time meeting his gaze all day after what we did on the plane.
“Well, you certainly came, but not with me—not yet anyway.” He wiggles his eyebrows and grins.
I blush and stare at my plate. Like Cinderella approaching midnight, I’m getting nervous as night approaches. We’ve just finished the scrumptious feast delivered by Brent’s former chef. I’m tempted to drag it out longer by asking for an after-dinner drink. We didn’t even have wine with our meal, which might have helped me relax. Brent is probably right to steer me clear of alcohol tonight. I might have started drinking straight from the bottle about now.
Ignoring his teasing, I admit, “This is the closest I’ve come to any kind of vacation in a long time. My last real one was the week I met you guys.”
He rears back in his chair, his smile erased. “What? That was fifteen years ago! What about with Charlie?”
I shrug. “We’ve done an overnight every now and then, but within driving distance. Like Boston or Newport, Rhode Island. School, work, and lack of funds—all on my part—made it hard to do much more.”
Afraid it’s pity I’m seeing in his expression, I try to channel the confidence of a vixen and say, “I have a feeling this weekend will make up for it.” Of course, a real vixen would have said it more boldly, without looking down.
When he remains quiet, I peek up to find him smiling again.
“Let’s play a game.” He leans forward to put his elbows on the table and has a mischievous expression, which makes me nervous. “I used to play it with my buddies when we were immature and horny and had only sex on our minds.”
“Oh, so you still play it?” I quip.
He grins at me. “Well, I’m definitely horny and have only sex on my mind. It’s called ‘So To Speak.’ Whenever you say something that can be interpreted as sexual, even when we’re talking about regular stuff, I’ll say ‘so to speak.’ And vice versa.”
I laugh. “How is this a game?”
“It’s actually a drinking game, but I want you perfectly clearheaded tonight,” he says, confirming my assumption. “How can we make this a game…?” He stares up at the ceiling, eyes narrowed. “I know.” He snaps his fingers and grins at me. “Whoever says ‘so to speak’ gets a kiss from the other person.”
I’m skeptical, but I agree to play. I wouldn’t mind receiving kisses from Brent.
“In the meantime, let me show you the best part about being on the West Coast.” He rises from his chair and holds out his hand. I take it, his big palm making me feel feminine. It’s difficult to keep my thoughts away from how he had touched me earlier in the day. I get hot, anticipating him doing so again…in other places.
He leads me out through the sliding doors to the deck. I walk to the whitewashed railing and lean on it, tipping my face up to soak in the last of the golden rays of the setting sun. The strong ocean breeze cools my overheated skin.
“This is paradise. It’s so beautiful here.”
“Almost as beautiful as you.”
I blush and bite my lower lip, avoiding his gaze. Though I don’t believe his words completely, I drink in the compliment.
Changing the topic, I say, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this relaxed. I went to a few beaches at the Jersey Shore, but it’s so crazy there with all the boardwalks and arcades and shops along the piers. I’d much rather walk along the beach at night, sand between my toes, in the moonlight, with no one else around.” I turn to him. “It must be wonderful to do that here. Nothing but the sound of the waves and the wind.”
“We’ll do it tomorrow night. Since we’re right on the cliffs, it’s kind of risky to go to the beach from here at night. Quite hard, actually.” He pauses expectantly.
When I only stare back in confusion, he says, “No? Okay, then I’ll say it. So to speak.”
“What are you talking about?” I laugh as understanding dawns. “You didn’t say anything remotely suggestive!”
“Take it out of context and it is. ‘Quite hard’?”
“No way. That’s crazy!”
“You have to give me a kiss now.”
“That’s not the rule,” I remind him, my heart beginning to race. “You said the other person has to say it. You can’t say the innuendo and the catch phrase. That’s cheating.” Despite the nerves, I can’t remember ever having this much fun with a man.
“No, you’re trying to cheat. Kiss me.” He bends his head toward me and waits.
My breath catches at the prospect of taking the first step to kiss a man, something I’ve never done. I suppose I could give him a peck on the cheek, but that’s not what either of us wants.
His lips quirk when I stare at his mouth. Then I lift my gaze to meet his and am ensnared by the look of pure desire. Heart pounding, I close my eyes and raise my lips to press it against his and wait, but nothing happens. I pull back in confusion.
“ You have to kiss me , remember?” It’s his turn to remind me of the rules. “Show me what you got, baby.”
I bite my lip, then take a breath and try again. This time, when my mouth meets his, I touch his lower lip with the tip of my tongue. I move to the corner of his mouth and do it again. A sense of power goes through me when he groans and parts his lips. I feel sexy and desirable, giving me the courage to hold his broad shoulders and press my body against his as I explore farther.
Only then does Brent take over, cupping my head and ravishing my mouth with his. My heart thuds louder at his sudden intensity.
I slide my hands to the nape of his neck, where my fingers tangle in his hair. Our tongues battle, and when he sucks on mine, my toes literally curl.
Abruptly he pulls away and grabs my hand, leading me with long strides back into the house. He slides the door closed impatiently and guides me up the stairs and into his bedroom. In the next second, he has me pinned to the wall, his mouth on mine once again while his hands roam down my body, brushing the sides of my breasts and over my hips. One hand continues to my thigh and pulls it up to bracket his hip, and the other goes to my behind to pull me in against his growing bulge.
“Take off your shirt.” Brent’s breath is ragged, but he continues kissing me, moving his lips from my chin to my neck, where my pulse beats in a fast rhythm. He sucks on my skin lightly while undoing the buttons of my jeans.
I don’t comply with his command. I can’t. My rational thought is flickering back to life, and I’m losing my bravado from earlier.
“I need to see you, baby.” Impatient, he abandons my jeans and strips me of my scarf and T-shirt, holding my hands in one of his above my head and flinging the shirt away. Gazing at me with burning blue eyes, he must have noticed my anxiety because he cups my cheek with his free hand and whispers, “You’re so fucking beautiful. And you can stop this at any time.”
I try to smile in gratitude at his perception and tenderness but end up biting my lip. He leans in to lick the spot where my teeth were. Slowly he slides a hand down my neck, over my chest, brushing aside locks of my hair that escaped from my bun, to cup my breast. With my arms still held above me, my breasts are thrust out, my nipples tight and pointing right at him through my bra, begging to be touched. But he just holds one breast as if savoring the weight and fullness, how it fits perfectly into his large palm.
“Please.” I don’t recognize the husky voice that is actually asking— pleading —for a man to touch me in the one place I am most self-conscious about
“Touch me, Brent.” I want to feel the way I did when he worshipped my breasts on the plane.
My head thuds lightly against the wall when his thumb brushes across the tip, again and again, back and forth.
“Please, Brent.” I thrust my chest out, silently demanding more. Finally…Finally he bends his head to kiss my neck, making his way to my other breast that’s aching to be touched too. He takes his time, placing small kisses along the way until his lips brush over the distended nipple that is trying to push its way through my bra. I gasp when he lightly bites the tip of one breast and pinches the other. Lightning goes through my body, jolting me right between my legs.
When he pulls away suddenly, I’m dazed and disoriented. It’s a good thing the wall is holding me up or I might have fallen over when his weight against me is gone.
“Come on. Over to the bed while I can still walk, or I’m going to take you right here against the wall.” He grips my hand and walks toward his enormous custom bed, and my thoughts go wild.
Oh God. It’s actually happening. No, I can’t do it. But I have to. I can’t back out now. For God’s sake, I’m twenty-five years old! I have to lose my virginity at some point. It’s not as if I’m waiting for Mr. Right. Making love with Brent is a fantasy come true. Of course I have to go through with it.
No, I don’t have to—I want to. Desperately.