Arousal Read online

  “I could easily fuck you right now,” he whispered into my ear, his breath hot on my skin. “I feel it too.” He put my hand on his hard cock. I stroked his length, obsessed with the thought of freeing him from the confines of his clothing.

  “You could,” I panted, opening my legs to the sound of his voice. “And you should.”

  “All I have to do is open my pants and lift you onto my cock,” he said, winded. “You have no panties on. You’re wearing a dress. It would be so easy.” His breathing was heavy, getting out of control.

  “Yes.” My body was writhing with need and desire, my hips pressing toward him. “Very easy.” I wanted him to do all that and more. I moved my hand over his pants, trying to get a better grasped of him.

  “I could give you all of it, all of me, right here and now.” He pushed his hand between my legs and jammed two fingers into me. “We are both physically ready. You’re so wet and I’m so hard. I could make you come again. And we don’t even have to move. I could raise your hips up high against the door and then slowly bring you down onto me. I just have to uncover myself and bury myself deep inside you, fill you. Right here. Against the door.”

  “So why are you not doing that, like right now.” My words came out on a slow pant. “What are you waiting for?”

  When he spoke his voice was hoarse. “Because I want you to love me when I make love to you,” he said, pressing his lips against my cheek as he pressed his hips closer to mine. He gyrated into me, my hand still atop his erection. “I don’t want this to be just a fuck to satiate your arousal. I don’t want you to lose interest and disappear.”

  Oh my God. How did he know about my pattern of dropping men after sex?

  “Okay, okay.” I sucked in some air and then rested my head on his shoulder for a moment so I could think. “I once read an interview with a famous sex therapist. She said it is spiritually wrong to cause a man’s erection and leave him hard without release. This is right up your alley of weird beliefs. She said that in the Talmud, in the Jewish tradition, it says when that part of the male anatomy is aroused and there’s an erection, the brain flies out if the erection has nowhere to go. You don’t want to lose your brain, do you?”

  I waited for his reaction before taking in air and exhaling.

  He had a crazed look, one I had never seen in his typically calm and take charge manner. His breathing was labored, his mouth blowing hot against me. I thought he’d lift me up and spear me. But, instead, he laughed. And so did I. It gave us a moment to regroup.

  “Let me make you feel better,” I whispered. “Please. Fuck me.”

  “I can’t,” he said, pulling his body off of mine. “Not like this. And I didn’t mean things to get out of hand. I’m so enamored with you. You’re so hard to resist, but I can’t lose control with you.”

  “It’s too late,” I pleaded, touching his cock from the outside of his pants. “All you have to do is press yourself against my leg and…”

  “You’re making me break the six day rule,” he said, unzipping his pants. “I did not intend for you to feel obligated to touch me back.”

  “I don’t feel obligated,” I said, kissing his cheek. I really didn’t. “Besides, rules are made to be broken.”

  “Not this one, but I may end up in the emergency room with an erection lasting more than four hours.” He smiled as he opened his pants and let them slide down his hip. I felt his hardness against my thigh. He took my hand and placed it on his naked sex flesh.

  Oh my God. Touching his body was like revealing a secret, or a mystery. I wanted to make that part of him mine for the day.

  “Whatever you do…” He pressed his body fully against mine and urged my hand tighter around him. “Don’t let me fuck you.”

  He kissed my lips, my cheeks and neck as I stroked him. His erection was like steel but the skin that encased it was so soft. He felt so good in my hand. I wanted to lie him down on the floor and straddle him. I want to rock into him and ride him. Instead, I followed his wishes to deny my baser instincts. I focused on his pleasure. Something strong within me wanted to make him feel good.

  It didn’t take long before he was sliding back and forth into my hand, his hips moving fiercely as need grew deeper. His hand tightened around mine as his pace quickened. He moved his mouth to mine and drove his tongue inside, breathing heavily, wildly. With his mouth still on mine, he groaned. The noise got louder, his breathing more erratic, and his pumping harder. And then, he released. His head fell to my shoulder, as if all the breath had left his body along with his semen. I didn’t even mind the way his body pinned mine against the door.

  My heart opened just a little bit more to see him so vulnerable.

  After a moment, he revived, and his hand slid between my legs. I didn’t realize how swollen and sensitive that part of my body had become again—until I felt him on me. His palm went to my clitoris as two fingers slid inside me. I pressed myself hard against them, hips rocking like crazy. When a loud groan escaped from me, he pressed his tongue into my mouth and kissed me as I came. It was my turn to slump against him as the release rolled through my belly and thighs.

  We were both sweating through our clothes, which were far more rumpled and creased since our earlier business meeting. Given his thing about female fluids, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when he took the two fingers that had been inside me and rubbed them along the spot on the center of my forehead, between my eyes, putting some of the fluid from down there, to up here. Or that he then pressed his lips on that spot and licked. For a moment, I felt dizzy, but he swooped me into his arms, and moved us both onto a nearby chair. I sat in his lap and rested my head against his.

  “Holy fuck,” I said with a long exhale.

  “Actually, holy hand job,” he said, cracking himself up. He reached over for a napkin and wiped his fluids off my hand. “This was not part of my plan for the evening. I’m afraid I’ve acted rudely. The last thing I wanted was to ejaculate on your leg and hand over dinner,” he said, smiling as his shook his head and looked heavenward, “but thank you.”

  I stood to get into my own chair but he pulled me back, bringing my face close to his.

  “I mean it, Allison,” he said, kissing my mouth. “I almost lost control. Thank you for not taking advantage of my weakened resolve.”

  I pulled away slightly to tease him. “Oh, what wicked things I could have done to you.”

  “I’ll hope to have the chance to find out in the not too distant future.” He ran his fingers through his hair and straightened his tie. “For now, I’m starving again. I think we need to finish dinner, just to keep our strength up.”

  We went to the buffet that had been left for us. He added some steak and pasta to his plate. I grabbed a plate of salad and sat back down in my chair. Crisp lettuce and tomatoes never tasted so good. We ate in silence. I loved that we smelled like sweat and sex.

  The notion that I didn’t even know Nicolai existed until yesterday suddenly seemed quite impossible. I looked at him across the table and felt a comfort, a familiarity. Once he was done eating, he took a sip of wine, and wiped his mouth with his napkin. His eyes held mine.

  “Have a dance with me, Ms. Monroe.” He stood and offered me a hand. I grasped onto him and rose from my chair.

  I hadn’t noticed the iPod and speakers set up on a shelf on the wall. He turned it on and “Make You Feel My Love” played. He looked tenderly at me as he pulled me close to him. I rested my head on his chest and listened to the message in the song, which was about one person who believed in love at first sight and another who had not yet made their mind up. He held me in his arms for a while, after the song had ended. I liked the way his body fit against mine and was hesitant to let go.

  “I’ll take you home now, my love,” he said, nuzzling his cheek against mine.

  I suddenly dreaded the idea of being parted from him. “I wish you could stay over.”

  “Soon.”

  “When is this sixth date?”
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  “Four more days.”

  “It’s seven hours later in Romania,” I said. “Can’t we speed things up a little?”

  “You’re quite adorable when you desire me,” he said, kissing my nose. “I think I will keep you this way for a while. Absence makes the heart—and related areas—grow fonder.”

  When we got into the limo, he didn’t bother giving the driver my address. He put the privacy window up. I rested in his arms as we drove to my apartment.

  Chapter Eleven

  The walk past the doorman was much as it was last night, and every night, where a smile and a pleasantry are exchanged.

  “Hi, Bill, how are you tonight?” I said, making my way to the elevator, Nicolai’s hand guiding my lower back.

  “Fine, Ms. Monroe, how about yourself?”

  “Doing great,” I waved. “See ya.”

  It was earlier than last night, so the elevators were slower, and there were more random neighbors in the lobby. Some sat on the matching gray couches off to the side. A few women were chatting near the large pieces of local art that lined the walls. It occurred to me that no one had ever seen me in the building with a man, especially one that looked like this guy. It also occurred to me that we looked like we had just partaken in sweaty activities. I felt curious eyes upon us.

  The moment the elevator came, I was on it, with Nicolai close behind. One of the women jumped on too. “Hi,” she said, smiling at me, and then looking over at Nicolai. I didn’t know her name. We’d never spoken before so it was awkward. “Nice night out, huh?”

  “Yep,” I said, anxious to reach my apartment and get back into my cocoon with Nicolai for a few moments before we parted.

  “Well, good night,” Nicolai said as we reached my floor, in a voice that probably made her panties wet too. “Enjoy your evening.” She watched him grab my hand and lead me out of the elevator.

  Alone, finally, Nicolai escorted me to my apartment, but this time, when he opened my door he stepped in. Then he closed the door, pressed me against it, and kissed me. I felt his erection through his pants, big and hard again.

  “I want you more than you could know.” He pressed himself against me, sounding like he was on the edge of control again. “But I can’t stay. I must be patient for that which is worth waiting for, and you are worth waiting for.”

  He lowered his head, planting tiny butterfly kisses across my neck, until he found a soft spot. His mouth came down, warm and inviting, and he began to lick me softly, teasingly. Then he sucked. Hard. Another hickey. And more “arousal” between my legs. I liked the way he made me feel with those bites.

  “You are a vampire.”

  “Ah, Ms. Monroe, if that is true, then you surely would not be able to resist me.”

  “I think we have established I’m unable to resist you.”

  “Perhaps on a day to day basis,” he said, in a whisper. “I am still hoping that you will want to keep me around for good. The jury is still out on that.”

  With that, he helped me straighten up and kissed me on the forehead.

  “My car will be here for you at eight a.m. tomorrow,” he said. “Dress casual.”

  “And just to clarify, is tomorrow with or without underwear?”

  “With. But no guarantees they will remain on your body at all times.”

  “We’re not going to your office?”

  “No. You’re coming to my home.”

  “I always thought dating was invitation based, like, ‘Hey, would you like to come to my place tomorrow?’” I was excited to see where he lived, and I hoped after the three orgasms between us tonight he might decide to lighten up about his ban on intercourse. “Remember, love doesn’t mean taking a hostage.”

  “How insensitive of me!” He laughed and tapped me affectionately on the nose. “Would you like to pretend you’re working but actually come to my house for a play date tomorrow?”

  “That would be lovely,” I said.

  He headed for the door and slipped out. “Tomorrow,” was the last thing he said.

  Slowly, I stripped off my clothes and took a shower. My lady parts were still on high alert. In fact, my whole body ached—ached!—with desire. I had two orgasms tonight. How could that be?

  I fell into bed and thought of Nicolai—and this situation that was developing between us. Left to my own devices, I would have gone for the sex and figured the relationship out later. Well, more likely, I would have gone for the sex and then ditched him. But it felt like the roles had reversed—in his approach he was reeling me in with the promise of sex to come if only I give him love. Maybe it was working because I was starting to feel a deepening connection to him. Maybe if we had fallen into bed the first night we wouldn’t have had the compelling dialogue of the past two days. I mean, who had conversations like that?

  With him out of my sight, I once again worried that sneaking around work in cars, restaurants, and his house would come back and bite me in the butt. He was still my client. I could lose my job.

  Finally, I drifted off and my dreams began. Nicolai was there in vivid color. In my dream, he was a Regency era hero, like Mr. Darcy. He reached his hand out to me, helped me out of the bed in the middle of the night, and asked if I trusted his sincerity. He slowly stripped me out of my nightshirt. He kneeled on the floor in front of me and kissed my belly, my thighs, and then he pressed the side of his head against the flat of my stomach and cried. I held him there, tenderly. “I ache for you, too,” he said. “I understand your fear and know I can help you heal.”

  In the dream, he gently lay me down on the bed and brought his naked body over mine. He was hard, and I was ready. He worked himself between my legs, his cock poised close to my center.

  “Yield to me,” he said, using his arms to hold himself over me. “I will be loving and gentle with your emotions.”

  “I trust you,” I heard myself say.

  He was about to have his way with me, but he paused. “I want to take you right now,” he said. “But protocol says I must keep you in a state of desire for six days. The erotic force must turn to love. May I have your permission to take charge?”

  “Yes,” I heard myself say again. “After tonight, I know you are sincere.”

  With that, he slid himself inside and possessed me. I saw my life flash before me with his first thrust. But it wasn’t just my actual life, it was images from the past, and the future, as if I had discovered a new cable channel in my mind.

  The dream seemed so real. I thought he was beside me, or inside me.

  Chapter Twelve

  Thursday: Day Three-Date Three

  When the alarm went off in the morning, my hips were gyrating into the air. And I was totally looking forward to date three.

  I spent extra time in the shower, letting the water caress my breasts, washing between my legs with extra care. Everything was on fire. The desire was still fresh.

  When I went out to the car, I found Nicolai’s driver with coffee in hand. He passed it to me after he helped me inside. I finally noticed he had an ID badge clipped to his suit jacket that read, Sam.

  “I will be taking you to a designated location to see Mr. Petre.”

  “Good morning, Sam,” I said, thanking him for the coffee. “I thought we were going to his house. “

  “Indeed, we are.” He was not much of a talker.

  “Where exactly is it?”

  He didn’t respond. I felt like I was in a political suspense thriller, being taken to an undisclosed location. Maybe it is a bunker in the countryside.

  We drove over a body of water and a bridge I didn’t quite recognize and into Westchester, passing beautiful, mansion-like abodes. We pulled up to a magnificent, one-level, contemporary wood home with large glass windows. It looked airy and fresh inside. The front lawn was beautifully landscaped and there appeared to be a large property out back.

  “This is his residence?” I asked. I was expecting a showy mansion or an elegant old house, not something that looked like th
e vampire house in the Twilight movie.

  “One of them,” said Sam. “The door is open. He says to go in.”

  I grabbed my purse and headed in, leaving my laptop on the back seat. I wasn’t quite sure how much actual work I would get done today but figured I could come out and get it if needed. The vestibule had two small statues of goddess-like women on either side, poised like guardians at the entryway. Inside, the ceilings were high and the walls were bright, with two large scale piece of art on either side. One looked like a Peter Max, with a red and pink heart entwined. The other was a contemporary painting of a classic statue of Cupid and Psyche. The place was super clean and clutter-free.

  Nicolai came toward me from another room. Instead of kissing my hand, his mouth came down on mine in a delicious morning greeting. Then he wrapped his arms around me.

  “Did you miss me?” he asked, pulling me in and pressing my head under his chin affectionately.

  “I did.” His kiss had reawakened all my sexually aching places.

  “Did you dream of me?” He looked excited, like a kid about to get a new toy, as he waited for my answer.

  “Yes.”

  “Did we make love in your dream?”

  “We did.” Recollection flooded back between my legs. “You said you understood my fears and could heal me.”

  He smiled and caressed my cheek with the back of one hand. I was growing quite fond of his touch. I was growing quite fond of him. How could he seem so familiar? I’d known him for less than seventy-two hours.

  “I’m glad you got the memo,” he said with a smile.

  “Memo?” Was he trying to intentionally get into my head while I slept? Jeez, as much as I was enjoying my dreams, that was a bit creepy.

  “Dreams are a source of information,” he pointed out. “Intuitives believe dreams are like memos from the subconscious, or even from those who are close enough to reach you in a dream state. Are your dreams showing you I’m here to cherish you?”