Chapter 11
On Friday evening just after seven, Cami knocked on Des’s front door.
Her nerves thrummed through her body in time with her heartbeat as she waited for him to answer.
She nervously bounced on the balls of her feet.
It felt like ages that she stood conspicuously on his stoop, and she was sure his neighbors were peering through their blinds at her.
No doubt they would know she was there for illicit purposes.
The door swung open, and Des appeared. He looked as frustratingly immaculate as always, even dressed down as he was.
He wore dark wash jeans that stretched taut over his thighs and a simple white button-up, untucked, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
It struck her then that she’d never seen his forearms in the light before.
A dusting of black hair played across russet brown skin.
As he tucked one hand into his front pocket, tantalizingly corded muscle shifted in his arm, and she was struck by the image of that forearm sliding between her thighs.
“I’m glad you found the place okay.” He stepped aside to allow her in. “Would you like a glass of wine? Or water?”
“One of each, please.”
He steered her into his living room, and she settled onto a warm brown leather sofa as he disappeared around the corner to his kitchen. She wasn’t a wine person, but she was hoping it would help her loosen up.
Ever since she abandoned Tristan that afternoon, she’d been fighting off nightmare scenarios of how this would play out.
Of course, the absolute best-case scenario ended in her first ever orgasm.
The far more likely scenario was that she wouldn’t come at all.
Worst case, Des was mortally offended, but she doubted he’d care.
No one she’d ever been with had so far. He’d shrug it off, say it was a sexy idea, but reality rarely lived up to fantasy anyhow, and they’d go their separate ways.
She’d never be able to look him in the eye again, and she could make Lenny tell him to start making appointments instead of just showing up at the store.
Oh God—This was a horrible idea. She was going to end up embarrassing herself.
Des returned with a tray of three drinks—who owned a drink tray?—and laid it on his coffee table, then passed her a glass of wine and placed a tumbler of water on a coaster in front of her. He took the other wine glass for himself and settled into the armchair to her right.
“So,” he said, his gaze tracking her movements as she took a long swallow of wine, “I think we should go over some ground rules and talk a little before we get into it.”
The wine spread through her, warming her from the inside out. She took a moment to let the heat relax her shoulder muscles before she nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankle over his opposite knee. His socks were argyle.
She’d never considered what kind of socks he might wear. Seeing them firsthand, and noting the little wiggle of his big toe as he got comfortable, made the situation feel intimate, affectionate in a way that made her smile in spite of her nerves.
“So, as we discussed at the store, this is about product review. We’ll test some toys out and see if we can find some that work for you, that you can use on your own. Does that sound like what you were expecting?”
“Yes,” she said. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, and she tried to wash away the feeling with more wine.
“I don’t want you to feel pressured to come.” He twirled the stem of his glass between his thumb and forefinger as he watched her. “Please know I won’t be offended. This needs to be a stress-free experience.”
“Right,” she agreed. She swallowed the rest of her wine in one go.
To her deep, all-consuming relief, he didn’t press the subject.
He did pause for a moment, gray eyes surveying her in a way that made her wonder if she was failing some kind of test. “I went back to Sex on the Beach yesterday and picked up a selection of things. We don’t have to try them all, especially anything you aren’t okay with. ”
“The whole point of this is to expand my horizons,” she finished. “I get it.”
“Right.” He leaned forward in his chair, his foot lowering to the carpet as he pushed his wine onto the table.
His face was open and sincere as he met her eyes.
“But it’s important to me that you’re comfortable with this.
I’ll keep my hands to myself. This isn’t me trying to get you into a compromising position so I can push your boundaries. ”
She let out a breath. “Oh, Des, I know.” She leaned forward too, and swapped her empty wine glass for the cup of water.
“I’m not— I didn’t—” She gestured to her empty glass.
“I’m not downing wine because I’m worried about you doing anything sketchy.
” She didn’t want him feeling like he’d guilted or manipulated her into anything she didn’t want to do, but the idea of telling him the truth about her nerves—that if even toys couldn’t her off, then she was well and truly broken—churned her stomach.
“It’s just… It’s been a while.” The lie felt dirty rolling off her tongue, like she’d licked an ashtray.
“I want to do this. I just get in my own head about this sort of thing.”
He’d been listening intently as she spoke, no signs of judgment on his face, and when she stopped, he nodded. “Tell me if that changes, okay? We agreed to just toys, no touching otherwise, and we’ll stick to that. How naked do you want me to get?”
She flushed. “You don’t have to get naked,” she said. “I mean, it’s up to you.”
“We’ll take it as it comes, then,” he replied with a soft smile.
She huffed a laugh and fidgeted in her spot.
Her anxiety had receded to negligible nerves, thanks to some combination of the wine and Des’s charming little smile, with the dimple winking in his left cheek.
This would go well. She was sure of it. She would come and Des would be the first ever man in her life to keep his word.
“Then should we get this show on the road?”
“One last time,” he said. “It’s not too late to back out. If you’re not comfortable. If you’re not sure.”
She took a slow sip from her water. Des added, “And we’ll stop as soon as you say so. You are in control here.”
She could never turn down an opportunity like this. It could be the answer to so many of her problems.
“I’m sure.”
To his credit, he took her at her word, and led her to the master bedroom.
His bedroom alone was about the size of her studio apartment.
It was decorated in warm neutrals. The lights were off except for one lamp on a nightstand.
A huge window showcased a breathtaking view of Santa Monica and its twinkling evening sky.
In her place, she’d have had to draw the curtains for what they were about to do.
Here, there were no nearby neighbors to peep at them.
The California king bed was situated in the middle of the room, topped with two gigantic pillows and a plush black comforter. Would she have her first orgasm on that bed?
She glanced over at Des, who was watching her. His eyes had darkened to charcoal.
“This is the part where I…”
He nodded. “Get undressed.”
Though they were several feet apart, he felt much closer. The air between them was thick with heat, but a beat passed then he faced the wall. He’d see her naked in a moment regardless, but she appreciated the gesture. She smiled as she set her glass aside and grasped the button on her jeans.
She stripped out of her pants and underwear, then her socks after a second of debate.
She folded and laid them on the floor near the foot of the bed.
He was still looking at the wall, his hands tucked into his pockets.
His decorum amused her enough to take the edge off her nervousness.
A hint of laughter tinted her voice when she asked, “Should I take off my shirt?”
The muscles in his neck twitched, as though he’d started to turn then remembered not to. “If you like.” She was gratified to hear his voice had grown thicker. “It’s not necessary, but it would make things more…” He hesitated. “Thorough.”
She opted to keep her top on. Orgasms aside, this encounter was going to leave her vulnerable enough without adding complete nakedness to the equation.
So, feeling a little ridiculous, she crawled onto his bed half-naked, positioning herself in the center of the mattress.
Now she just had to figure out how to sit without exposing herself.
“You can turn around.”
When his gaze landed on her, a hot blush filled her cheeks.
She’d managed to cross her legs in front of her in a way she hoped would block her important bits with her feet, her knees up in front of her chest. His eyes flickered over the sleeve of her tee, noting its presence, but he didn’t comment.
Instead, he crouched, reaching under the bed and returning with a small duffle.
Ah, yes. The supplies.
She watched with interest as he unzipped the bag.
Slowly and deliberately, he removed a selection of toys, laying them on the comforter near the edge of the bed.
She recognized the clitoral vibe she’d sold him.
The rest was stock from the store, but purchased when she wasn’t on shift.
There was a portable Hitachi wand and a medium-sized dildo, which was black.
At the end of the line were a graduating butt plug and a bottle of lube.
Together, the assortment comprised less than a fraction of what she sold on a daily basis, but it felt overwhelming. “What, that’s all?” She aimed for teasing but it came out strangled.
The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. Between her legs, she clenched. “A comprehensive education is important,” he teased. “I want to cover the bases, but I don’t want you to be sore afterward.” He paused. “Well, not too sore.”
God, she wanted him to leave her sore. Desperately.