Attraction (15 page)

“Ah, that brings back fond memories,” Alexander said approvingly.

“Do you trust me, Alexander?” I asked him, almost certain that he would say yes and absolutely regret it later.

And with little hesitation, Alexander said, “I trust you wholeheartedly and with every ounce of my being.”

I couldn’t help but snicker knowing that had he been able to see what I had in my hand, he would not have answered the same way. But, all is fair in love and war! If he could tie me up and penetrate my never-before-touched ass, I in return should be allowed to reciprocate the experience. I released some lubricating oil onto my palm as Alexander reveled in the enjoyment of the vibrating cock ring. I caressed his shaft and berries with some oil, and he continued to drink in the heightened excitement until my fingers slid lower, massaging his perineum—which should not to be confused with
perennial
plants or flowers. When a man is near orgasm, massaging the space between his scrotum and anus—otherwise known as the perineum—heightens the experience and ultimately the orgasm. But my subtle massage caused Alexander to dull his moaning and tense a bit. He didn’t stop me, but he was suddenly paying attention to exactly what I was doing. I continued massaging him and with my other hand brought forward the small anal beads.

And when the beads brushed Alexander’s anus, he almost ripped the handcuffs off the bed frame. “Evangeline, what do you think you are doing?”

“I am showing you something new, just like you showed me. And though these beads are nowhere near the size of your cock…they will go in your ass,” I explained, noticing the hardened expression on Alexander’s face.

“Evangeline, no. Come on, don’t fuck around. I don’t like that shit.” Alexander sounded agitated and nervous, but then, so had I the first time he penetrated me anally.

“Alexander, you don’t know what it feels like, so don’t tell me you don’t like it. You really need to get over this feeling that anal play for men is only for homosexuals. You sound really ignorant. So unless another man is the one playing with your ass, there is nothing to be homophobic about. I’m not asking you to let me try this; I’m asking you to sit still and breathe through it. I promise that it will be nothing but enjoyable,” I urged Alexander sternly, but he remained quiet.

And then he let his head fall back, and his thighs relaxed—a little—giving me way to proceed.

The string of anal beads held six beads, but as a start I didn’t want to overdo it, so I planned on only inserting four of them. I lubricated the beads and massaged a bit of oil on and around his anus. Alexander’s breathing became more rapid as I drew closer to inserting the beads, and the color of his face was a mixture of pale white and flush red. It was hysterical to watch the fear wash over his excitement.

When I inserted the first bead, Alexander twitched. So to lessen his attention on my actions, I began licking his vibrating penis and took him into me deeper every time I inserted the bead. Surprisingly, Alexander began moaning hoarsely again in enjoyment, so I continued—until all six beads had been inserted.
He’s enjoying it, don’t stop!
I thought to myself as Alexander licked his lips and called my name in between exhaling of breaths and sensual groans. I raised myself up and again slid my legs under his thighs and straddled him backward so that he could penetrate me and I could have control of the beads. I took him into my sex, swallowing him whole and deep until he hit the wall of my vagina. The cock ring vibrated against my clit and inside me as I pressed into his groin, bringing me close to orgasm for the second time, but I wanted to release with Alexander. As I rode his cock harder and faster, and he began to pulsate inside me, and as I felt the first twitch of his orgasm, I pulled out the first bead, and then the second, and stopped.

Alexander’s yell echoed through the cabin, “
Fuuuuuuuuuck!
” He screamed, gasping for air. And as he reignited his orgasm, I pulled out the third and fourth beads, stopping his ejaculation and extending his orgasm yet again. “Fucking unreal. I’m going to die, I can’t—fuck, don’t stop. Do it again, go.”

Alexander’s body jolted from his continued and endless release, but there was still more—he wasn’t done yet. I yanked lightly at the fifth bead, making Alexander’s back come off the bed as his wrist cuffs clank on the bed frame. And before he could finish, I pressed into him, slapping my sex against his cock rapidly, and at the same time, I slowly pulled on the last bead so that its exit was prolonged—and so was his final release into me. Feeling the surge from inside me, I rode him until I could no longer stand it. Feeling lightheaded and euphoric, my orgasm burst out of me, soiling my thighs and the sheets beneath me.

My body fell lifelessly down across his chest. His heart beat against my cheek as the beads of sweat rolled down his pecs. I slid myself up to reach for the handcuffs, when Alexander stopped me.

“I wouldn’t untie me just yet. I haven’t decided whether I want to kill you for doing that or fuck you as a reward for making me do it,” he whispered through his exasperated breaths.

“Alexander, you don’t scare me. You don’t want to kill me, because you utterly enjoyed it. And you couldn’t fuck me if you tried right now. You look like you may need to sleep for a few days to recoup from this one,” I assured him, planting a soft kiss on his sweaty and swollen lips.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Alexander slept the rest of the flight to LA. We arrived late in the evening and quickly got into the town car that awaited us. The drive to the house in Beverly Hills was magnificent. Like a true tourist, I gawked at the Hollywood sign and glanced from window to window to admire my new surroundings. I had never been to Beverly Hills, but I had always been certain that it was very much like New York.
Well,
let me clarify—it is
nothing
like New York except for the traffic at all hours. Central LA, very similar, but Beverly Hills was like watching a TV show.

Everything that surrounded us was pristine and perfectly manicured. The cars, the homes, and of course the people looked like the cream of the crop all flew in to move into this neighborhood. But they all looked the same. Similar clothes, cars, and even dogs. This was the strangest thing to witness, having come from the melting pot that was my home.

The electronic gates that opened before us led to a two-story gated mansion with European style roofing and layout. It was exquisitely designed on the sprawling acres. The palatial entrance, even more dramatic as we entered the foyer to face a grand marble staircase and crystal chandeliers. The driver carried our suitcases to the master bedroom, and Alexander escorted me to the back of the house, where we found a woman preparing snacks and finger foods on decorated platters at the table.

“Mr. Mason, welcome home,” the woman said.

Alexander gave her a warm embrace. “Thank you, Ms. Gina. It’s nice to see you. Allow me to introduce you to Evangeline Chase. She captured my heart in New York, and I just couldn’t bear to come back here without her. She is the boss of the house, so please see to it that she never wants for anything.”

I stepped forward, embarrassed by Alexander’s introduction. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Gina. Please call me Eva, and don’t listen to a word to he says. I am self-sufficient; don’t go to any trouble for me.”

“You are very kind, miss, but I am pleased to serve you both. Mr. Mason tells me your background is Italian.
Parli Italiano
?” Ms. Gina asked sweetly.

“
Si,
my parents are first generation, so they raised me with very old-fashioned values. The fact that my parents allowed me to come to LA without contest or hesitation still baffles me. But I am thankful to have learned their ways. I love to cook and take care of my family, and I hope to one day pass those same values on to my children,” I responded.

“That is wonderful. We can enjoy some friendly Italian banter then.” Ms. Gina smiled and proceeded with her preps.

Alexander turned and brought my hands up to his lips, kissing them adoringly. “May I give you a tour of the house, or do you prefer to rest and wait till morning?”

“I think we should rest. I’d like to have some energy tomorrow to unpack and get things in order. Is that OK with you?” I asked, almost seeking permission. Though Alexander had explained this was my home, it wasn’t and wouldn’t feel that way just yet.

Alexander nodded and, after grabbing a few appetizing snacks, showed me the way to our bedroom. Had I not been so tired from the emotions, packing, and flight, I would have remained in awe at the doorway to the master bedroom, which was the size of my house as a whole.

I slipped into a long silk nightdress and slipped beside Alexander’s naked body in
our
bed.

“You look beautifully exhausted,” Alexander whispered as I lay my head on his warm chest.

“Is that a nice way of telling me that I look like crap?” I joked, nuzzling him.

“Your translation of what people say is by far the funniest I’ve ever heard. I meant that even when you are tired, you look beautiful!” he assured me and kissed the top of my head. “Now sleep before I get those anal beads out and get some retaliation.”

I giggled, “Mmmm, you liked the anal beads. Admit it.”

Alexander growled under his breath and squeezed me closer, wrapping his mighty arms completely around me, enveloping me into his world and my dreams.

I slept very little. The new bed, the new home, the distance from
my
home, and the thought of all the unpacking I had to do were keeping me from a long, quiet rest. I awoke around 4:00 a.m., as Alexander continued to bask in his restful sleep.

To avoid waking Alexander by tossing and turning, I gave myself a tour of the enormous house and grounds. Though it was almost winter, LA’s temperatures weren’t as brisk as those in New York at this time. So with a terry robe, I walked outside and enjoyed the smell of early morning dew and fresh cut grass.

The exterior yard had almost enough living space as the interior, with a covered dining area, fireplaces, Jacuzzi, and multiple pools in different sizes. The flowers and plants were groomed to exact measurements and forms. There wasn’t a thing flawed in this escape—except perhaps for me. I felt flawed in this dreamland of a home, but I carried with me a sense that I could perfect the imperfections so long as I was with Alexander.

As I made my way back to the house, I noticed a light shining through the kitchen window and turned to walk in that direction.

When I reached the French doors that led to the kitchen, I found myself staring at Alexander seated on a stool at the center island, looking confused and out of place.

I knocked on the glass.

Alexander’s head shot up toward the knock, and his saddened expression turned to relief as he ran to unlock the door and let me in. “What are you doing outside? I was so worried. I checked the whole house, called over the intercom, and looked through the front yard. I couldn’t figure out where you could have disappeared to.”

Alexander embraced me as the warmest of sensations surged through me. His worry for me and desire to know where I was gave me an angelic high. “I didn’t want to wake you, so I took a walk outside to explore your tiny backyard.”

Alexander laughed along with me as he continued hugging me. “You could get lost in
our
backyard. And I wouldn’t have minded had I awoken to you instead of an empty bed.”

“I’m sorry. Next time I will wake you up to tell you that I’m up, just so you can go back to sleep.” I giggled, squeezing my arms around his waist as I breathed deep into his chest.

Alexander moved me off of him so that he could capture my gaze as he assured me, “No one will be going to sleep if you awake me in bed, or anywhere else, for that matter. You are never safe from sex when you are around me.”

“And nor do I want to be,” I responded, raising myself on my tippy-toes to kiss him, taking a nibble on his lower lip as I released.

Alexander spent most of the morning making phone calls and working in his study. He urged me to wait for him or Ms. Gina before taking on the unpacking all by myself, but it pleased me to set up our temporary home.

I was in my glory. To say that we had our own walk-in closets was an understatement—they were suites. Though I loved to shop and owned a plethora of clothing for all occasions, I would have had to spend my entire year’s salary to fill a space that large. But it made unpacking that much easier. I organized my belongings quickly, knowing where I wanted to find things when I needed them. Alexander’s things, I took my time with. I pressed and folded each article with precision and heart. I wanted everything to be perfect for him, and I wanted to show him that I too could take care of him.

The desire to
take care of someone
had never occupied me before, so this was overwhelming and exciting all in one. I wanted to clean and cook and wash for him. I longed to serve him at the massive dining table that occupied the great room downstairs. I wanted to fulfill his desire to be everything for him. And unlike my usual self, I pushed aside my reservations and questions and swiftly but accurately prepared his dressing suite.

“What have you been up to…” Alexander became speechless at the doorway as he eyed all of his clothes, colognes, and shoes perfectly presented and stacked, waiting for him to select them as needed.

“I’m just organizing things,” I responded, pretending not to be elated by his surprise.

“That’s the understatement of a century. You did all this so fast. Why didn’t you wait for Ms. Gina? I didn’t bring you here as hired help. I want you to be taken care of here and not to spend your time taking care of me.” It was obvious he was in shock from all I had done in such little time this morning. Alexander had never really seen me in my caretaker mode. But at this moment all I wanted to do for him was to take care of him!

“I don’t mind, Alexander, I’m actually enjoying this,” I responded in a soft voice and proceeded to hang his dress shirts.

Leaving me to my enjoyment, Alexander returned to his e-mails and phone calls, and I continued to unpack us. But somehow when I was done and I returned to roaming the enormous house, I just didn’t feel like it was
homey
. I sat on the leather couch in the living area in front of the fireplace and just took in the room. The paintings on the walls, the sculptures on their stands, and the furnishings throughout, albeit beautiful, were nothing like I would have chosen for my own home. They were carefully and tastefully selected by a designer to set up a model home, and because of that it felt cold. I was afraid to wrinkle anything or move anything. And that is nothing like what a home—even a temporary one—should be.