Hale
My encounter earlier with Brielle is still buzzing in my mind. What the fuck was I thinking? Marking her that way? She isn’t mine. Yet I fucked her tits, let go completely, and emptied myself right over her pounding heart. It was all I could do to clean up and flee that condo before I tied her to the bed and fucked her for hours.
All of this is going to come crashing down around me when we’re through. I know that, and yet I feel powerless to end it.
Later I find myself at the grocery store, wandering the aisles, absentmindedly throwing things into my basket. I make three loops around the store, forgetting the reason I’ve come, when I find myself staring blankly at a display of peaches. I can’t stop myself from thinking about Brielle’s soft, creamy skin, the eager way she blinked up at me, ready to please me, the pleasure I felt at taking her to new heights. Watching her open herself up to me is like witnessing a beautiful awakening. It’s fucking addictive. This isn’t her world, yet she’s so willing to go on this journey with me. For me.
I hated withholding her orgasm earlier, and not just because she’s so beautiful when she comes. I’ve never cared before, never felt the deep anguish that comes after, never felt so incomplete parting ways with a client before.
Orgasm denial is a pretty standard punishment. Yet using it with Brielle felt like part of me had died. That’s some sick shit right there. I’m certain if Reece heard all these inner thoughts, he’d fucking neuter me on the spot. I’m supposed to be the one teaching her, yet I feel as if I’m learning all kinds of new things about myself.
Picking up a ripe, plump peach, I bring it to my nose and inhale. The sweet, succulent fruit is nowhere near as fragrant as Brielle, but I add it to my basket all the same.
I’m grooming her for Kirby. I repeat that mantra in my head as I head to the checkout.
Later, I pay a surprise visit to Nana, who watches me with guarded eyes, proclaiming that there’s something different about me. She knows it, I know it, yet neither of us knows exactly what it is.
“Is there a woman in your life?” she asks as I’m putting on my jacket to leave for home.
I kiss her on the head and hand her a peach. “Good night, Nana.”
Chapter Fifteen
Brielle
Have you ever been near someone where the chemistry was so powerful you had to physically restrain yourself? I could easily get lost in Hale’s gaze, his sultry remarks, and masculine confidence. I could spend hours just staring into the depths of his dark eyes. I could turn over my heart, my body, and let him take the lead. But I know in doing so, I’d lose myself completely.
And after my midday meet-up with Hale, I’m more confused than ever. The things I feel when I’m with him go way beyond what a student-mentor relationship should.
Deciding I need some girl time to clear my head, as well as a large margarita, I dial Julie.
Soon we’re at The Lettuce Leaf, a favorite dinner spot of ours. They make the most insanely awesome organic peach margaritas, and Julie is grilling me about Hale. Of course, I haven’t told her his name; it doesn’t seem right sharing that tidbit of information.
“You’ve got to give me more than that,” she says, rolling her eyes at me.
“We had sex, okay?” I whisper. It felt like a lot more than just sex, but I don’t know how to put into words what I experienced last Saturday night. Or again today while at the model home. I’m learning so many things about myself, about sex. Sex itself is nice, but couple it with a powerful connection, and several intense orgasms, and it becomes life changing.
“And? How was it? Was he worth the money?”
I cringe. She makes it sound like I’ve hired a prostitute, which I basically have, but sheesh, it’s not something I want to be reminded of. He’s a sexual mentor; there’s a difference.
Julie’s expression turns sheepish as I glance around at the people seated near us. “Sorry.”
“It was…he was…” I chew on my lip.
He was amazing, but here’s the thing—of course he was. I hired him as a sexual guide and teacher, and he delivered. It’s as simple as that. He’s paid quite well to do what he does; it wasn’t due to some inexplicable connection we share.
“It was exactly as it should be, I guess. Eye-opening and worth every last penny.”
She smiles, satisfied. “That’s my girl.” She raises her margarita glass, clinking it to mine.
I don’t feel like anyone’s girl. I feel like drowning my sorrows in cheap liquor and decisions I’ll regret in the morning.
“What are we doing after this?” I say around a mouthful of guacamole. “I feel like dancing.”
Julie smiles. “That can be arranged. Let’s go to that new nightclub, Dazzle.”
After a stop at my apartment where we primp, reapply our makeup, and search my closet for the tiniest outfits we can find, we set off for Dazzle.
Three vodka-cranberry cocktails later and I’m on the dance floor, shaking what my mother blessed me with. I feel loose and carefree. Hale who?
Determined to force all thoughts of him and our arrangement from my mind, I bounce to the hip-hop beat, rocking my hips and shaking my ass in time to the music. Julie is chatting with an older guy at the bar, and wanting nothing to do with men tonight, I’ve ventured off alone in search of an ear-splitting beat that will obliterate all rational thought.
My phone vibrates against my hip, and I pull it out to see a text from Kirby. I left him hanging about this weekend. Oops. I guess I’ve been more distracted than I realized.