Ceasefire (12 page)

“Don’t
say it,” I interrupted.  I didn’t want to hear about how our business
relationship was getting in the way of his decisions about me.  I didn’t want
to hear it.  I didn’t want to think about it.  All I wanted to do was convince
him that he was wrong.

I
dropped to my knees, looking up at his chiseled frame standing high above me,
letting him get a long look at the hunger in my eyes.  He smiled.  I leaned
forward, caressing those muscular thighs that could’ve been carved from stone,
and took him in my mouth.  I teased him with my tongue, wrapped my mouth around
his massive member, and went all the way to the base, feeling him growing as I licked
and sucked.

I
let him watch me, never breaking eye contact, slowing my rhythm and then
speeding up again.  He gently placed his hands on either side of my head and
guided me, controlling my motion, and I let him do it.  I let him have his way
with my mouth.

Roman
turned his head toward the ceiling and pushed me away, his cock glistening in
front of my face, wet with saliva.  “Not yet,” he said, reaching down, picking
me up from the floor.

He
took my hand and led me into his bedroom.

I
buried the rational thoughts in my mind; the ones that said this was trouble.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Roman’s
domain couldn’t have been more perfectly structured if a Hollywood set designer
had strolled in with a massive budget and no limit on her expenses.  Deep,
plush carpet that you could bury your toes in.  A high-rise bed that almost
required a ladder.  An aquarium, stretching the length of one side wall, gave
off a blue glow as the multi-colored fish inside swam around in their
meticulously decorated environment.  Two matching lamps sat on both sides of
the bed and a single, bedside clock rested on the nightstand.  Like his office,
it was spotless and compulsively ordered.

The
shades were open, overlooking the city below.  From the top floor, nothing
obstructed the view and only one word can describe it: magnificent.  Given the
opportunity, I would’ve been perfectly content to lounge on the bed and watch
the clouds roll across the pristine blue sky.

His
sheets were eggplant purple; soft, silky, and smooth, they felt glorious
against my bare skin as he slowly removed each piece of my clothing.  He kissed
my neck, between my breasts, and then all the way down across my belly button. 
I lifted my hips so he could slip off my panties.

I
arched my back and moaned as he buried his tongue inside me, working it in slow
thrusts and then moving upward to the most sensitive button he could’ve pushed. 

I
turned my head to the side, closed my eyes, and allowed the pleasure to
overtake my body.  I brought one hand up to trace a finger around a nipple,
pinching it hard to add the slightest hint of pain to the mounting sensations
underneath Roman’s tongue.  With my other hand, I grabbed the back of his head,
pulling him harder against me as I bit my bottom lip and tried to hold out as
long as I could.

When
I was seconds away from a climax, Roman eased himself away, allowing me a
moment to catch my breath. 

“You’re
amazing,” I said.

“I
know.”  Not cocky, but confident.  Self-assured.  And if it were possible, it
made me wetter.  “Roll over,” he said.  “Up onto your knees.”

I
obeyed.  I was so lost in the moment, so close to an orgasm, in a completely
uncontrolled state of mind that I would’ve done whatever he wanted.  I was
his.  I would’ve done anything for him. 

And
I did. 

Roman
kneeled behind me and I craned my head around to watch as he stroked himself.  He
bent over and licked slowly upward, all the way up to the forbidden spot
between my cheeks where he ran his tongue in languid circles.  No one had ever
done that to me, and the sensation was glorious.  Why had I never seriously
considered it before?  I’d had clients beg me to allow them the privilege, but
I’d always declined.  I
thought
they couldn’t pay me enough.

I
closed my eyes and inhaled, almost reaching my climax right then.

He
crawled to his knees, rubbing himself against my wetness.  The slippery
sensation of skin on skin left me throbbing, needing him.  I whimpered and
begged Roman to take me.

“No,
not there,” he said, his rumbling voice deep and heavy with lust.  “Here.”  He
rubbed the tip of his cock against the one place where I never intended
anything to enter.

Apprehensive
and hesitant, but completely under his spell, I said, “Do you want to?”

“I’m
not asking.”  I couldn’t see his face, yet I heard the grin.

I
waited a beat longer, feeling my heart racing and the pulsating between my legs
begging for release.  If I was going to do this, I had to claw for some
semblance of command.  I whipped my hair around, looking over my shoulder and
up at him.  “Take my picture off the site,” I demanded, “and you can put it
wherever you want.”

***

In
hindsight, no pun intended, fighting to maintain the tiniest bit of dominance
over the situation in that way, well, let’s just say that it wasn’t the wisest
decision.  I was filled with a tender sensation, somewhere between pain and
numbness as we relaxed together in the afterglow.  However, I have to admit
that it was one of the most mind-blowing orgasms I’d ever had.  Once I was able
to relax and take him, the flood of new feelings washed over me like waves
continually lapping against the shore. 

Truly,
he took
me
, in the most forbidden and newly intimate way I could think
of, and for once, my complete and total submission wasn’t worrisome.  I was
where I wanted to be.  He was a jerk one minute and a security blanket the
next.  Once I thought I understood the former, the latter was so much better.

I
checked the clock on the nightstand.  I had to get back.

“Roman,”
I said, nudging him with an elbow.

I
felt his warm breath on my neck as he mumbled, “Mmm?”

“I
have to go soon.”

“No,
stay.”  He tightened his gentle grip around me and snuggled up closer against
my backside.

“I
need to get home.”

“Five
more minutes.”  His lips were warm on my earlobe.

Relenting,
I whispered, “Okay,” and kissed his bicep, the one I’d been using for a
pillow.  I stared out the window, content and satiated, needing to go, but
never wanting to leave.

Again,
I wondered how I’d ended up there, and why did it feel so right after all the
posturing, challenging, and butting of heads that we’d been through?  It may
seem strange, but I thought about the geese again.  Not necessarily mates for
life, but more like a temporary alliance, an agreed upon ceasefire between two
equally competitive individuals. 

Had
we really become that, or was there room for something more?

Thoughts
raced around inside my head.  Alternatively, the minutes ticked past like sap
dripping down a tree trunk.

“Hey,”
I said, nudging him for a second time.

Roman
grunted and planted another soft kiss on my neck.

“Can
I ask you something?”  I felt his body tense.  I knew that, to a man, the
question was as bad as the other phrase they all hated to hear: “We need to
talk.”

“What’s
up?” he said, pulling his arm from underneath me.  I could tell that he was
trying
to sound casual.  It didn’t work.  The hint of dread was evident in the layers
of his voice.

I
rolled onto my back and looked up at him.  “What’re we doing?  Honestly.”

“Enjoying
each other.”  His lips on my right nipple.  The familiar tingle below my
waist. 

I
almost left it alone.  I almost kept my mouth shut.  I almost accepted his
answer.

But,
no, I had to keep talking, and that’s really the genesis of when the trouble
began.

“I
know that,” I replied, “and I think so, too, but…”

“But
what?”

“Do
you think you could ever love me?”  It was a risky question.  I wasn’t asking
if he
did
love me.  It was too soon and that would’ve been irrational
because we were a long way from that point.

It
wasn’t the childish question of a young woman, infatuated with the power,
money, and maturity of an older man.  It wasn’t any of that.  To me, it was a
calculated inquiry about our intent for the future—sort of like sitting across
from the CEO of some multi-billion dollar company and asking, “So, what do you
think?  Can we work out a deal here?”

I
wanted to love him…eventually.  He was sexy beyond anything I could imagine. 
Penetrating eyes that made me melt whenever I stared longingly into them.  A
body of a Greek god, carved from marble.  A huge—well, you know—that satisfied
me.  He was highly intelligent, a good match for my wits, with a bright, white
smile that conjured up images of other beautiful things like butterflies and
rainbows.  He was also challenging—a worthy opponent that kept me on my toes,
made me think before I acted.

I
asked because I could see myself with him years from now.  Maybe it would be a
rocky road getting there, but eventually, I could see us at our destination.

The
only remaining question was if he would be a good father figure to Joey.  I
thought back to how he’d said, “A child is never a mistake,” during our first
meeting.  Surely that was a sign.  Surely he’d be great with a little boy who he
could teach how to throw a football and how to start a campfire with sticks.

It
was a simple question, yet all of that clanged around in my mind in the split
second before he reacted.

What
I got in response shouldn’t have surprised me.  I should’ve learned by then.

“Are
you kidding me with this?” he said, practically flailing away from me, hopping
off the bed, then wrapping himself in a terrycloth robe that hung by the
bathroom door.  “Love you? 
Love
you?  You’re joking, right?”

I
didn’t know what to say.  I was thoroughly dumbfounded.  “But—you just—we
were…I don’t mean right now.  Like, a long time away.  Maybe.  Possibly.  I was
just asking, Roman.”

“What’re
you saying, Kim?”

“Jesus
Christ, what’s wrong with you?  I’m not saying I love you, like
love
love you.  I like you, Roman.  I enjoy your company, and I just want to know if
this is going anywhere.”

He
paced back and forth from the bedroom to the bathroom, over to the window,
running his hand across his shaved scalp.  “I don’t get it,” he said.

“Get
what?”

“How
in the hell someone as smart as you can be so dense!  Don’t you see what this
is?  We’re not a couple.  We’ll
never
be a couple.  I don’t have room in
my vocabulary for the word, ‘love.’”  He slammed a fist against his chest,
pounding it as he spoke.  “
This
, you and me, what just happened, that’s
called ‘
sex
,’ Kim, nothing more, and I allow it to keep happening
because you fuck like a goddamn animal.  It’s a perk to our business
relationship.”

I
fought to hold back the tears, waffling somewhere between outright rage and
embarrassment for having allowed myself to feel something for five minutes. 
“So, what, your cock is my bonus check?”

“Exactly.”

I
flung myself off the bed, snatching up my clothes, spitting verbal barbs at
him.  “Fuck you, Roman.  I’m done with this shit.  I quit.  I’m done with being
your dirty little whore.  I’m done with rolling around in cheese puffs and
getting my fingers pinched in nipple clamps.  I’m sick of pissing on perverted
old cowboys.”

He
reached for me.  “Wait—”

“Get
your goddamn hands off me.  I’m done, you hear me?  I’m done with this stupid
job.  I’m done with Midnight Fantasy.  I’m done with
you
.  I mean, fuck
me, what was I thinking, huh?  Don’t answer that.  I wasn’t.  And you know
what, from here on out, the ceasefire is over.”

I
stormed out of the bedroom, pulling my sweatshirt over my head, yanking my hair
back into a ponytail and snapping the band around it.  Behind me, the only
thing I heard was a confused, “Ceasefire?”

I
waited until the elevator doors closed before I collapsed into a heap of
tears.  I pulled my knees up to my chest and buried my face in my arms.  I
didn’t just cry, I sobbed.  My shoulders shook so violently that I got cramps
between my shoulder blades.  My ass throbbed from allowing him to penetrate me. 
My jaws hurt from clenching them, grinding them together. 

My
heart ached.

What
had I done?  I knew better.  I
should’ve
known better.

How
many times had I been through something like this with him already?

We
weren’t a couple of goddamn birds under a temporary truce.

We
were human beings with flawed emotions and psyches.

We
were like a cake without all the proper ingredients.  It may look pretty on the
outside, but once you’ve taken the first bite, you know it’s going to be
something awful.

I’d
done the right thing.  I think.  It was time to walk away from Roman and
Midnight Fantasy.  I was ready to leave, to get away from the sleazy, seedy
side of the industry.  All I wanted to do, all I’d ever been good at, were
business-type things.  I loved numbers and projections and possibilities.

I
didn’t love licking the eyeballs of the richest man in Wyoming when he came
into town every other Wednesday.

Could
I have taken the money I’d saved and started a normal company?  Of course.

But
would that have allowed me to get revenge on Roman for grinding my heart into
tiny pieces? 

Of
course not.