Denial (27 page)

I was horny when we started this but I’d be on fire anyway. One day, Isaac will meet the woman he marries and touch her like this, but he’s learning on me. I hope he thinks of me sometimes, after we’re apart. I want to make sure he does.

“Okay, that was lesson one, and you passed.” I break away from his kiss.

“No shit.”
Oh, a challenge.
I thread my fingers through his, knocking that arrogant look off of his face in a heartbeat. “Okay, what’s lesson two?”

“Well,” I mutter meekly, “Most girls, they won’t just
lay there. They’ll touch you back.”

“That will not be a new experience for me. I’ll be fine.”

“But you always get so distracted when I touch you,” I peep. His face is so close to mine, but he still tries to look away. “What?”

“You always ask so many questions.”

“You always look like you’re about to say something.”

He laughs, turning back to me, kissing the tip of my nose. “Let’s just try to get through lesson two before it gets too late. I’m still kicking your ass in the gym at eight.”

Another challenge?
It’s only been a few days, but I can already tell he needs more sleep than I do. And he’s going to be up late tonight.

“So I can touch you?”

“Yes,” he whispers, that arrogance evaporating suddenly, leaving his face childlike and vulnerable. “The way you did last night.”

The small kisses he plants on my fingertips send a shiver up my spine. Rising to my knees, I beckon him to mirror me with a curl of my fingers. His lips part, smiling, eyes growing wider until they’re above mine. He’s so tall, but he sinks back on his heels so were closer
to eye level.

One kiss and I’m swept up by whirlwind. His lips on my neck threaten to distract me, but with a twist beneath his chin I turn the tables on him. And
he lets me, because he wants me to. I can hear it in every breath. Why else would he have given me an advantage when he left his shirt off?

I take the bait, because I’ve been consumed by the desire to touch every square centimeter of his perfect skin with some part of me since the second I laid eyes on him standing in front of that house. Burning with a need to feel every peak and valley of his chest and that shockingly hard abdomen beneath my lips. Now I am. This belt of muscle on his hips. I’ve seen it tight from fucking me, covered in our sweat and that strange liquid that pours
out of me whenever he tells me what he wants.

I’m an animal. My tongue slides over every hollow chiseled out of his flesh below his navel and I’m squirming because I can’t keep going lower until I feel him in my mouth again.

“Maya,” he croaks, begging me to come up with a gentle tug in my hair. His lips crash down into mine before I get there, his tongue forcing mine to move with his. “I think I’m failing lesson two,” he breathes into my mouth. His fingers are winning the battle against my bra for my nipples before I’ve realized that his hand went under my shirt.

“You can do better than this.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to and neither do you. So spread your legs apart, hold still, and let me taste you,” he demands.  “I let you taste me.”

I’m almost positive I was wearing pants a few seconds ago. Not anymore. “No, stop it.” I can’t even convince myself. “We’re not supposed to do this.”

“It’s a timeout.”

“Isaac…”

“I want to make you come all night. Again. Just one more night.” He’s mumbling, almost trance like, sinking between my legs.

Shock waves of lust ripple through me when his mouth finds my
desire. I really should stop him. Say red. I’m supposed to stay horny for Luke, I’m learning something. But instead I’m taking my bra off so Isaac doesn’t have to reach under it anymore.

His fingers skim over my sore nipples as his tongue bullies my clit until I’m screaming. His eyes strain upwards so he can watch me without pulling his mouth away. It doesn’t stop when I do and I squirm, but he presses down with his wrists as he pinches my suddenly too tender nipples.

“Stop squirming,” he breathes heatedly against my clit. “Hold still.” He kisses the inside of my thigh. “Let go. I’ll catch you.”

I nod, forcing myself to relax. It’s uncomfortable in a good way until it just feels fantastic and I screech again for him. He’s still not done, and I’m guessing it’s going to be a while. It is. I never knew there were so many ways to make someone come. He’s an artist.

At some point I must have passed out because I wake up in his room. He must have carried me in here to sleep in the dry bed. I’m trapped against his body, his arms snaked around me with one of his hands between my legs. It’s so foggy, I must not have been sleeping very long. I want to slip back into the dark safe in his arms, but there’s this awful noise pulsing in my head.

Isaac’s weight is pressing me into the bed as he thrashes toward the nightstand. “We didn’t hear that.”

He flops down on his back, one of his arms still under my neck. I wake up enough to realize that it’s eight in the morning, we’re clearly sleeping through the morning workout, and I miss being closer to him. He mumbles something inaudible when I nuzzle into his shoulder as he pulls me closer. I want to watch him sleep. He looks so peaceful. But my breathing synchs with his and I drift away.

When we wake up again, Isaac has a hard time looking at me, unable to smile when I try to be playful. His face is so remorseful it’s bordering on offensive. Maybe I don’t hold up in the harsh morning light that floods into his room. I crawl to the edge of the bed slowly, starting my exit, when he kisses me.

“We need to stop, Maya. Or you have to leave.”

Apparently it isn’t up for debate because he bolts out of the room and into a shower that I’m not invited to. He’s quiet for the rest of the day, it’s particularly noticeable when we cook. I sleep alone, positive that I’ll be leaving in the morning but by the time it gets here, I’m so excited to see Isaac again that I can’t. The first thing he does is wrap me up in his arms and kiss me, then it’s back to pretending it all didn’t happen.

2
1

Watching Isaac do pull-ups is a great way to wake up in the morning.
Blurred Lines
thumps in the background. He couldn’t fit more innuendo in this playlist if he tried and there is no way he needs to have his pants slung that low. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“You’re supposed to be concentrating on your crunches, not objectifying me, Maya.”

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response, Sir.”

“Fair enough. Let’s stretch your hamstrings.”

I’m trying not to get excited, or at least keep it from showing on my face. What is it about the sight of my ankle on his shoulder? And I’m pretty sure an assisted hamstring stretch doesn’t normally involve an erection pushed the back of my thigh while we lock eyes and he flashes me that tilted smile.

“If you masturbate in that shower, I’ll be able to tell,” he reminds me as I’m headed down the hallway.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I shoot back.

“Strike one.”

“It was worth it, Sir.” If I come today, it’s because he breaks down, not me. But, holy shit, it’s pretty hard to resist and that cold water trick is a myth.

“Open your towel,” he snarls in this new Batman-like voice he’s been using lately. I think it’s the best he can do to sound serious and commanding at this point.

“Ok, Coach.”

Despite his best efforts, a smile grows wider on his face. “
Dammit.” He wasn’t exactly pleased when I told him that I was officially substituting ‘Coach’ for ‘Sir’ everywhere but the playroom and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. The agreement is if he can hear it and keep up the serious Dom face three times in a row, we’ll go back to the formal title. It cracks him up every time.

The frigid air hits my hot moist skin, making my nipples harden. I’m fresh out of my shower and even though it’s early, I’m already exhausted.  Like any aspiring high powered professional, I’ve been working out daily for years. It turns out professional sex masters work out a lot harder. Isaac is insane. Apparently I’ve been slacking off on strength training and we’re making up for lost time.

After a few seconds of inspection, he clamps his mouth down onto one of my nipples and grips the other between his fingers. I groan in frustration immediately, leaning back against the wall for support. I haven’t had an orgasm for two days, but he plays with me constantly. It’s agony, I’m so horny I’m going to explode, but I never do. At this point, he barely has to touch me and I start screaming.

“These are all healed,” he teases, switching to my other breast. The things that he can do with his tongue are probably illegal in some countries.

The only response I have for him is painful moaning, full of frustration. He sucks me harder as his hands press my shoulders against the wall, a few fingers sliding along my collarbone under my necklace. His scent is stronger than usual. It only makes me want him more. 

He knows me well now, the depth and cadence of my breathing, the strength of my animalistic howls, the way my writhing is frenzied at first before it ceases and my body becomes eager putty in his hands. He can get me so close that a heated breath on my clit or just one more gentle flick on my nipple will send m
e spiraling into oblivion. And that’s when he stops.
Every. Fucking. Time.

Which is where I am right now. Like always, he wraps his arms around me and holds me while I shudder and beg for release. At first he liked to see me like this, at least a little bit. He doesn’t seem to enjoy it at all anymore. His breathing is nearly as heavy as mine is, his grip pulling me tight against the carved muscles of his chest. I kiss the bite mark on his shoulder, making him groan. It’s a horrible mixture of purples and sickly yellows and greens, but the flesh around it isn’t swollen anymore.

“Well, Coach, what will it be?”

“Too informal, Rookie. Strike two.”

My heart sinks. “I’m sorry, Sir. What would you like me to…” Shit. Bad phrasing. “What should I wear?”

“Fuck!” he snaps, growing angry and turning away. “Whatever his favorite is, I guess. And look at your fucking pictures until I’m out of the shower or you remember why you fucking came here. Whichever comes first.”

“Okay, Coach,” I whisper, but he doesn’t hear me because he was walking away the whole time. And he doesn’t see the tear that’s running down my cheek, so I have to wipe it away myself.

The sexier, more revealing the get up, the less it appeals to him, like he’s desensitized to it.
Luke’s the opposite, so today I’ll basically be wearing the equivalent of bandaids on my nipples and dental floss between my ass cheeks.

But I can’t open that photo album. I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at it on the dresser. It should make me feel better. But ever since that first night in the scary sex chamber, I get dizzy when I try to pick it up.

*************

It’s windy on the other side of this window, but I can’t feel it. I wish it opened, but I suppose we are very
high up. This glass is sparkling. It’s my favorite chore because at least when I’m facing this way, it doesn’t feel like I’m trapped in a box, essentially agreeing to mindfuck myself.

It’s difficult not to think about it because everything I do is so mind-numbing. Isaac barks out a random chore that doesn’t really need to be done and for the next hour, that’s what I do. It’s about how long it takes me to realize that I’m going to have to face the fact that I can’t live like this. I’m no Betty Cocksucker after all. I just don’t have it in me.

But that’s when my sex coach cooking buddy usually dives on me, kissing my face and neck until I scream, which is usually his cue to pull my breasts free from the little dress or lingerie he picked out this morning, or manhandle my thighs apart so he can finger me. When I can’t take it anymore, his arms surround me while I curse and beg him. I stop wanting to leave because I know it’s only a matter of time until he touches me like that again.

“Hey, snap out of it, Rookie,” he says from behind me.

“Sorry.” I leave off the Coach.

“You have to keep moving your hands when you zone out.” I can’t answer him. “You aren’t allowed to pout, Maya.”

Dammit. I smile, just enough to look pleasant. If I do a dramatic beauty pageant smile it will bother him. Clean. Play house. Play inferior. And of course, look like a whore while you do it. This is not getting easier. This is getting insanely boring and just how insulting it is becomes clearer every day. My brain can’t handle this lack of stimulation and distractions. It keeps wandering to places that piss me off.

“Get off of that ladder right now,” he orders. Uh oh.

“Okay, Coach.” He didn’t laugh. Shit. I turn to face him, keeping my eyes on the ground. My heart thuds in my chest. He’s going to tease me.

“Strip. Everything but the shoes.”

My heart drops into my stomach as I resist the urge to look up at him. I’m not wearing much, so it doesn’t take long. Isaac is tapping his thumb against his thigh nervously. This doesn’t look good.