Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ivy
Isuppose, in a way, it's strange to specify this framework for sex. Isn't it supposed to be two people getting what they want?
But we tend to see pleasure as something our partner gives us. Not something we take for ourselves.
We see that as a selfish action. A good lover is generous. A good lover puts their needs second.
But that's not true. A good lover is assertive. A good lover asks for what they crave. A good lover does what they enjoy.
That's the thing about pleasure. You can tell when someone is faking it. At least to some degree.
Even so, as I sit at Romeo's desk, sipping a gin and tonic in a cocktail dress, I can't help but wonder if he's really that good at faking it.
This isn't exactly a replay of the night we met, but it's the closest thing I could think of to normal. Some sort of normal.
He knocks on the door and steps inside. He's wearing a suit, again. A dark navy that brings out the flecks of honey in his eyes. He looks good at it, but I want the thing on the floor.
Sure, I could draw it out. I could take my sweet time. No. I will.
Once I have him naked.
I stand and greet him at the door.
He takes my hand and brings it to his lips. A gentlemanly hello.
I let him enjoy the moment, then I move closer, wrapping my arm around the back of his neck, bringing my lips to his.
I kiss him hard.
He murmurs in surprise, but he catches on quickly, groaning against my lips, pulling my body into his.
The surprise feels good. The reciprocation too. And the freedom to take what I want. Anything I want.
When his lips part, I slip my tongue into his mouth. I don't stop to think about it. I kiss him hard, my tongue dancing with his, my fingers curling into his skin.
When I pull back, I bring my hands to his tie and undo the knot.
He smiles at the gesture, but he makes no attempt to remove his clothing. Instead, he wraps his arms around me, and turns me around, so we're face to face with his mirror.
Oh.
A mirror.
It's placed in just the right spot, in front of the bedroom.
But, still, he doesn't make a move to remove our clothes. He looks at my reflection as he places his body behind mine.
His lips go to my neck.
His hands go to my thighs. Just under my dress. So, so far from where I need them, but in such a great spot too.
His fingers brush the hem of my dress. Then it's a little higher. Higher. Higher.
My back arches, my body already begging for more of his.
But he doesn't relent. He's cruel enough to whisper, "Not even close," into my ear. Then it's the scrape of his teeth against the lobe. Soft suction. Harder.
His lips against my neck.
One hand on my thigh. The other to my shoulder. He plays with the strap of my dress, tracing the line up and down and up and down again.
He's teasing me.
But I can tease him too. I want to tease him too. I need to tease him too.
I arch my back, grinding my ass against his hardening cock. It feels good. Too good. Everything I need and not nearly enough.
I rock against him until he groans into my neck. Then I bring my eyes to the mirror. What do I want to see?
What do I want to take?
I want to be naked, here, with him. I want to see our bodies tangled together with nothing in the way.
I start with myself. Because it's easier. Because it's fun. Because I want to see his eyes go wide as I strip for him.
I push my dress off my shoulders, down my torso, over my hips.
Then it's the hook of the bra.
He pushes the garment off my shoulders. He takes a long moment to savor the sight of me, then he cups me with both hands. That too, he savors, like he simply wants to feel my flesh as long as possible.
I want that too.
But I want this more.
I arch into him again.
He feels so good against me, hard and warm and mine. Not forever. Maybe not for long.
But now—
Now is perfect.
He toys with me as I roll against him.
He's good at this. He's already driving me out of my mind. And even though I can feel how much he wants me, I believe he can wait forever. I believe in his endless, impossible patience.
But I'm not having any of it.
I make eye contact in the mirror, and I push my panties off my hips. I don't give him a chance to touch me. Instead, I slip my hand between my legs, and stroke myself.
He watches with rapt attention. Like his fantasy from earlier, but closer, more intimate.
He toys with me, running his thumb over my nipples, sinking his teeth into my neck, but he gives me space to work. He lets me stroke myself as I arch against him again and again.
It feels too good.
I'm too close.
I want to come with him. But then I can. I can come again. And again.
So, I enjoy this. I savor this. The beautiful sight of his body behind mine. The strange feeling of him in clothes while I'm naked. I'm the one on display for him, but, somehow, I feel like I have all the power too.
I come fast. Too fast. My sex pulses with orgasm, my body shuddering, my groans bouncing around the room.
It's not enough. I need more. Need him.
But I'm taking that too.
Once I work myself through my orgasm, I turn around, and bring my lips to his. I kiss him softly, this time.
He matches my pace, swirling his tongue around mine, pulling by body into his.
Then, all of a sudden, he moves faster. Harder. He scrapes his teeth against my lower lip. He does away with his suit jacket.
Then the tie.
I fumble over the buttons of his shirt.
Struggle with his belt.
Button.
Zipper.
So close to where I want to be. And I need that. I do.
I press my lips to his chest then I lower myself to his knees.
His eyes go to the mirror. He watches as I wrap my lips around him. As I take him into my mouth.
I've never felt like a sex goddess. Not really. But with the way his eyes are glued to the mirror, I do.
Fuck.
It's been a long time since I've really enjoyed this. Since I've been in charge of someone's pleasure. Since I've really wanted to finish this way.
I want him everywhere.
But I want him here too.
I take him into my mouth again.
His hand goes to the back of my head. He doesn't push. He leaves it there, guiding me gently, letting me lead.
I tease him with a few flicks of my tongue. Hard and fast. Soft and slow. Clockwise. Counterclockwise.
I find the one that makes him groan, and I do it again.
His hand nudges at the back of my head.
I take him deeper.
I press my tongue against his base and do it again and again.
His eyelids flutter closed. His free hand goes to my breast. He toys with me as I toy with him. It's a perfect rhythm of pleasure.
Then when he's almost there, he opens his eyes. He looks to the mirror, watching the action as I take him again.
I follow his gaze.
There is something about the reflection. I'm naked, on my knees, but I'm the one with all the power. I'm the one in charge of his bliss. I'm the one bringing him to the edge.
Suddenly, I understand why people send sexts, take dirty videos, immortalize their acts.
I want to watch this again and again. To see the two of us dance together forever.
I take in our reflection for one more moment, then I look up at him, and I take him again.
Then he's there, pulsing in my mouth as he comes.
I wait until he spills every drop, then I swallow hard, and sit back on my heels. Ready and patient and proud and finished all at once.
He offers his hand.
I let him help me up.
He pulls me into a tight embrace and brings his lips to my ears. "I'm going to get you back for that."
"I'm counting on it."
He does.
The next morning, after another breakfast game—this time, Amara challenges the guys to use a certain mix of ingredients, like they're contestants on Iron Chef—and a long conversation with Cynthia on nothing in particular.
(I let her lead, and she steers the conversation to her favorite parts of San Diego, a place we both found exciting and foreign as kids, even though it's only an hour away).
We break to give Amara time to set up our afternoon activity.
And Romeo asks me to take a walk on the beach.
He teases me the entire walk with long, slow kisses in semi-private spots.
A cave in Pirate's Cove, the beach over the rocks, right off Newport Harbor.
An abandoned lifeguard tower. An alley between two shops.
Finally, he sneaks me into the empty backyard, convinces me to dive into the pool in my underwear, and gets me off right there, in the water.
He uses the damn jets.
The man is an evil genius.
After I sneak upstairs, shower, and dress, I do it. I set up my equipment, I call Meredith, and I record an episode right there.
Our second episode about Romeo.
The tale of the strange weekend getaway.
The story of the skilled sex worker.
The secrets I'm technically allowed to spill.
And I spill every one of them.