Succulence (Succulent Trilogy #1) (6 page)

“Hey stranger,” he replied.

Still not impressed. I tried to keep it cute but ended up sounding a little snide, betraying my cool persona. “Again, how can I help you?”

“Amy,
relaaaaaax
. I just wanted to hear your voice. See how you’re doing. I missed you,” he purred into the phone. His tone caused my stomach to flutter; he still gave me butterflies, no matter how hard I tried to deny it.

“I’m… good,” I replied, my tone softening along with my resolve. I wanted to cuss him out, hate him for what he had done to my heart. He didn’t deserve to have so much power over me.

“I was wondering if we could meet. Coffee or small nightcap. My treat?”

I didn’t know how to answer. He was always bold and aggressive, never shy about what he wanted. This always turned me on, but being that it was nearly midnight, my mind wasn’t interested in getting anything close to caffeine in my mouth.

Putting him in my mouth, though? That was a possibility. Replays of the times we shared together oozed into my thoughts, which, up until a moment ago, were solidly against anything this man had to say. He broke through my thoughts.

“Well?”

“...You want to meet…
now
?”

“No time like the present.”

I was tongue-tied. Part of me wanted to see him, but that was the naughty, “Amy after Dark” side of me. If she saw him, up close and personal, felt the heat in his touch and the masculine heat underneath his cologne, it was over. I could kiss all my self-control goodbye.

“Mamoun’s. 20 minutes. I’ll be in the corner. Bring your sexy ass or I’m coming to your house and causing a scene,” he said, hanging up.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Twenty minutes was not enough time to get ready, but I did the best I could. Because I wanted to look good, but not like I was trying too hard, I threw on a simple maxi dress, halter style, simple hoop earrings and a matching pendant.

My black eyeliner was slightly smudged from the long day, so I had to refresh my appearance. I used one of my oil-balancing makeup wipes to clean up the raccoon-like residue. The leftover effect preserved the eyeliner that was still present in my waterline, giving me a subtly and sexy defined eye. I grabbed some baby pink lip-gloss, spritzed on some Carven and told mom I’d be back in a bit. She handed me the keys to the car,

“Honey, if it’s not too much for you, can you grab my card and fill the tank back up? If you can’t find a safe area, don’t bother.”

“Sure, mom. See you in a bit.”

“I’m headed to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

*****

His scent was fresh, woodsy and warm. I couldn’t help but to inhale it when he pulled me close, wrapping me in his deep embrace. Heady from the musky testosterone, my heart fluttered and I felt weakened by his bold passion.

“Babe, you look amazing. And you smell delicious,” he moaned in my ear. His verbal delight cascaded against my ear, sending warm tingles that lit my lust ablaze.

“You’re silly,” I giggled as I stepped back, breaking our embrace to reclaim my senses. His touch lingered on my skin, inspiring spicy tingles of desire through my soul. It had been almost a year since we were face to face, yet his effects were still intense. He wielded a penetrating seductive power over me. It was crazy, as if I had never released him – or my love for him – when I left for Dallas.

Girl, keep your control. Remember, he dropped your ass where he was the minute you did what was important for you.

I looked over the menu, willing my heart to return to a normal pace. Exotic, spicy aromas filled the air in Mamoun’s. We had met here plenty of times in our relationship, usually for late night conversations after long days at work at the bookstore. Because this was the only place in New Haven that had cheap, delicious fare so late at night, he and I had bonded over various nibbles on the menu.

We both shared a love of exotic flavors, family, books, and of course, sex. All of these things and more made up the bulk of our conversations during the course of our relationship – well, with the exception of sex. We definitely acted on our sexual desires and urges together.

“So, as I said, I wanted to know how you’ve been, lovely?” he said, breaking my concentration on the menu. With the recent memories of lobster and shrimp in my belly, I wasn’t that hungry, but I could always go for their Turkish delight and mango juice.

I avoided eye contact. “Pretty good, and you?”

“Can’t complain,” he said, grasping my hand in his. “Except for the fact that I missed you.”

“Yeah… about that. I’m not so sure. You had a girlfriend pretty quickly after we were over.” I snipped at him for that. Pain and jealousy flickered momentarily through my soul like thunder and lightning. I don’t think I could ever forgive him for getting over me so quickly.

“She was nothing. She was my rebound,” he replied, curling his lip mild disgust. “I thought she could help me get over losing you, but she really only reminded me of how special you were.”

I pulled my hand away, crossing my arms against my chest. Was he fucking kidding me right now? My eyes narrowed in sheer irritation. “Lose me, Jared? You didn’t have to lose me. You chose to drop me – us – because you wanted to! You know we could have made this work. You simply wanted to cut me loose so you could satisfy your dick and get laid because you weren’t willing to try!”

“Lower your voice, Amy.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” I sneered. Yes, it was after midnight and we were just one of a handful of peeps in a restaurant, so yes, my emotions threatened to cause a bit of a scene. But I didn’t care! How dare he try to put his decision to end us as something that was out of his control? He didn’t lose me. He never lost me. He let me go.

Tensing his jaw, he ran his fingers through his thick, curly hair. He attempted to reach for my arm again, but was met with active bitch face. Sighing, he asked, “Can I explain?”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something bitchy and fucked up. It would ruin our time. I had spent a year away from this man, yet his spell over me was never broken. It was, however, deeply wounded by how easily he dropped everything just because things weren’t exactly what he wanted.

The waitress took our orders. I ordered the mango juice and Turkish delight I’d been craving. He ordered the baba ghanouj with falafels, lamb and lemonade, with baklava to go.

“Hungry, aren’t we?”

“Stop pouting, Amy. Let’s talk about this.”

I sighed, dejectedly. It was only right to temper my emotions and give him the opportunity to explain himself. “I’m listening.”

He explained that as much as he cared for me, and wanted the best for me, he couldn’t see himself trying to be cool with a long-distance situation. Having me over the phone and through texts weren’t the same when he couldn’t have me when he wanted, or at least within hours of when he decided he wanted it.

“I have a sexual appetite, Amy. You know this. I know this. That’s part of what made us so amazing together. I didn’t know if I could keep my cool between seeing you and wanting you, so I decided I needed to let it go,” he said, mildly shrugging. “As a man, if I can’t give you the attention, affection and loyalty you deserve, it’s my responsibility to step up and cut the cord. I couldn’t bear with the idea of hurting you because I wasn’t able to hold it together in your honor, so I let it go.”

Silence. He was not going to blame this on his dick. I wasn’t having that. I guess he sensed that I smelled bull, so he continued.

“Look Amy, being without you made me realize…”

I cocked my eyebrow as his voice trailed off. “Realize…?”

“I fucked up.”

“Humph,” I said.
About time you realized that.

“I don’t deserve another chance,” he sighed. “But I’m hoping that maybe, just maybe, you can let me… make it up to you.”

Swallowing hard, I asked
how
he planned to do this.

He leaned in, clasping my chin to force eye contact, and responding, as sincerely as possible: “Any way I can.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Spending time in New Haven with my family was refreshing. Even my time with Jared was good. Though I wasn’t completely sure how, or even where, he would fit in my new life, I was willing to consider where we stood.

“I know I hurt you. I know what I did was wrong. I should have held on to you tighter,” he said before we parted ways at Mamoun’s. “But I promise you, I’m different now.”

I slipped a little. The words coming from
his full lips, the genuine expression in his eyes and his captivating Green Irish Tweed and musk scent combined with a long day of travel, little sleep and weariness from life back in Dallas had me woozy. Without thinking about it, we almost ended up in bed. Well… we did end up in bed - but it’s not what you think. I promise.

As much as I wanted to, I didn’t have sex with him. We made out passionately at my car once we left Mamoun’s, and it led to me following him back to his place. That’s where he ended up laying me on top of the kitchen counter and giving me the most
amazing
head in my life.

Jared had this way of eating pussy that was just incredible. He took pride in satisfying me in bed, catering to my body’s needs. He would part my legs slowly, biting and nibbling at my thighs before nuzzling his nose against my mound, inhaling the scent of my “pretty pussy,” as he called it. 

As he sucked and licked on my most sensitive spot, he took me to heights of pleasure I had been craving and fantasizing about since the last time he had me. He knew when and where to apply gentle pressure, how to wet and pamper my clit with small concentrated circles using the tip of his tongue, and how to kiss my pussy until I was on fire.

He tasted me, devouring me like the last meal before the electric chair. I let him feast between my thighs without argument, feeding him as much of my nectar as he wanted. I didn’t reciprocate in any way, although I was tempted when he pulled out his package and began stroking it for his release. If he wanted to make it up to me, there’d be no reciprocation on my part. And this was a very nice jumpstart.

I can’t lie. I wanted the D. I was nearly in tears from the way his oral worship had me under his mercy. But I couldn’t let him in that easy!

Yes, I know, rejecting sex sounds pretty ironic coming from a whore, but the truth was I was an escort by profession, not DNA. I wasn’t doing escort work because I wanted to share my body with everyone. I was in a precarious situation financially, and I was doing what it took to gain control over it before I drowned under debt.

Plus, in a sick and strange way, I was becoming accustomed to the easy money that came with escorting. I now held a subconscious feeling that men needed to “compensate” me for my time and attention. It’s weird to explain, because I was never a gold digger; but my new reality commanded a new perspective on how to view men and how I spent my time with them.

****

Before escorting, a man simply had to be handsome, intelligent and ambitious. Jared was an aspiring entrepreneur who worked in finance when we met. His intelligent perspective on real estate and current events, coupled with his smoldering sensuality and fondness for sexual and culinary arts, made him an excellent match for my drive. When I was just simple girl slaving away at the campus bookstore, he saw my potential. He engaged me to push for the world to see it too. Unlike how others perceived me, I wasn’t just some pretty Barbie doll with huge tits and a vapid personality to him. I was gorgeous, sexy, sexual, intelligent and destined to do epic shit. The fact that the sex was awesome was simply the icing on the cake.

These days, it was nearly impossible to look at a man without wondering what his limit was, what kind of crazy kinks he had behind closed doors, and what crazy, nasty mess he’d pay an escort like me to do for him when nobody was watching. If I wasn’t looking at a man sideways wondering about his sexual kinks, I was focused on trying to figure out if he was married and cheating, like a great majority of my clients also.

Needless to say, so much about me had stayed the same since I had last seen Jared, but so many things had changed as well. While I was still sexual, in a way I was slightly hardened, jaded and a little less open and receptive to being fully made love to. It would take a much stronger, harder, sexually conscious man to rouse my passion.

I couldn’t see myself committed to a man riddled with the endless closeted desires, dark passions and kinks my most lucrative clients possessed. Yet the more I got to experience their lusts, the more common I saw they were and the more fearful I became that I could never find that sexually relaxed and responsive man who didn’t need the help of an escort to live out his wildest fantasies.

Sad to say, but as much as Jared had hurt me, I was sure I’d probably be the one doling out the hurt this time around.