The Big Sister - Part One (4 page)

The elevator chimed open, and we stepped out into a luxurious expanse of space.

“Is this the right place?” I asked, dumbfounded at the embarrassment of gleaming marble surfaces and glass walls that showcased the twinkling lights of downtown Miami. “I thought you said you had a suite.”

“Yeah,” he said, as the elevator rolled shut behind us. I noticed him pocketing what had to be a special access card that I’d been too busy to notice before. “The penthouse suite.”

I gave a low whistle. “Very nice.”

Those damn butterflies were back, raising a racket beneath my ribcage. Why couldn’t I just stick with being comfortable with him and eager for an experience I’d never shared with anyone? It was so much easier.

I couldn’t deal with these conflicting feelings. They were going to give me whiplash. I wanted this. I wanted a payday, sure, but I also wanted Marcus. I’d had a great night with him, and we were obviously attracted to each other, so I wasn’t sure what my problem was.

“I think some champagne is in order,” he said, and I felt a rush of gratitude. The idea of liquid courage had never attracted me until this moment. But when he handed me my glass, all I had time for was a single bubbly sip before he took me in his big arms, knocking both of our glasses to the thick rug at our feet.

His kisses at the restaurant and club before had tasted of vodka and the sauce from our appetizers. Now, they tasted of dry, sweet champagne and of wanton lust.

This man wanted me, and I wanted him nearly as bad — if only I could reconcile my absolute lack of experience in this department with my desire.

“Don’t be nervous,” Marcus said softly, his hands tracing down the surface of my arms. He must have felt me tense up. It made me shudder in a pleasant way, raising the goose bumps over my skin.

“I’m not nervous,” I lied, easing my body back into his embrace. I couldn’t let my anxiety show. People had sex all the time — even if I wasn’t one of them. This was the payday Parker was telling me about. I could do this. I just had to relax, go with the swing of things.

“Your back is so tense,” he said, moving his hands across my shoulders before trailing downward. “Let me give you a massage.”

A massage? That sounded kind of nice. It might help me relax, let what we both wanted to happen take place. “All right.”

Marcus’ touch became firmer, his fingers targeting the muscles I’d hardened during my time as a dancer. With a long exhale, I melted under his touch, relaxing to the point of feeling like a limp noodle as he spanned my back, going over the same places again and again until my muscles were like putty.

“Lean forward,” he murmured, his voice soft against my ear. “Lie on the bed. Make yourself comfortable.”

And give those magic hands even more access to my body? Yes, please. I was more than eager to oblige his gentle instructions, sinking into the down comforter on the bed. Marcus played my body like an instrument he knew intimately, putting just the right amount of pressure on my muscles to make me moan. He worked over my neck, my shoulders, down my spine, in the small of my back.

Then, his fingertips grazed my rump.

“Is this okay?” he asked, not going any further.

I swallowed, my face pressed against the bed. His hands had felt so good everywhere else. Would they feel as good there? Even as I mulled over the thought, I felt a warmth between my legs that crept up and merged with the butterflies still going to war in my stomach. I slowly realized that I was becoming more excited than nervous — and more turned on than excited, even.

“Feels nice,” I mumbled, doing my best to bury my face in the comforter. A tiny moan slipped out from between my lips as Marcus’ fingers tickled me beneath the hem of my dress. A stickiness between my legs alerted me to the fact that my body was urging my mind to give the go ahead. We wanted this, didn’t we?

Yes, but I had to be perfectly honest.

“Marcus, wait.”

Acute disappointment flooded my body as my words made those hands still and move away. I pushed myself off the bed and sat beside him.

“I have something else to tell you,” I said.

He smiled kindly, and I could’ve kissed him for his patience with me. At every turn tonight, I’d pushed back at what he wanted. He was a prince among men. I know that other clients wouldn’t have been as nice.

“I’m all ears,” he said. “Ignore the erection.”

I laughed and blushed, covering my face with my hand even as I glanced at the bulge in his pants. Something in me wanted to free that portion of him, to give its need relief, but I needed to speak my piece first.

“This is really, really stupid,” I said. “But I just wanted you to know … before you … I mean, I’m sure you have expectations. It’s just that they’re probably false … well, I don’t know … I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” Marcus repeated. “I’m not sure I understand, Faith. I think only an idiot would be disappointed to pass the time with you.”

“I’m just not very experienced, um, in this aspect,” I said, finding it hard to continue to look into his gorgeous gaze but impossible to turn away.

“And what aspect would that be?”

I swallowed hard. Was he really going to make me spell it out for him?

“Um, the aspect that we seem to be about to engage in,” I said. “The, uh, sexual aspect that I find — well, I think we both find — growing between us right now.”

“I don’t think I can grow any harder than this,” Marcus said, his hand outlining the tent pole in his pants lightly. I burst into nervous giggles compounded by how visually … stimulating it was to see him palm his own manhood.

“I think you should know before going any further that I’ve never had sex with anyone before,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. “I’m a virgin, as stupid as that is.”

The shock on Marcus’ face made me cringe away, but he seized me by the shoulders, keeping me right where I was.

“There is nothing stupid about being a virgin,” he said, giving me a little shake.

“It’s just that I’ve never really taken the time to date before,” I said, aware that I was babbling, horrified that I was giving him such a thorough look behind the current I fought so hard to keep drawn around my very personal life. “I’ve never really cared enough about it. I’m always busy, especially when I’m not working. I don’t think I really know what to do, but I have a pretty good idea. If you’d just tell me what I should do with my hands — I never really understood what I would do with my hands if I was, well, having sex.”

“Faith, stop,” Marcus said, capturing my flailing hands and fluttering fingers. He kissed both of my palms gently before threading his fingers through mine. “We don’t have to do anything. I didn’t know that you were a virgin, and it’s not a big deal to me. The thing is, your first time should be with someone you care about. Your first time should be special. It shouldn’t be with me.”

“That’s the funniest thing,” I said, daring to extricate my hand from his to rub my fingers over his petal-soft lips. “I do want my first time to be with you.”

If possible, Marcus was even more shocked than when I’d admitted my virginity to him.

“Why?”

“I think you’re a good person,” I said. “No, I know you’re a good person. You’re kind, and you know what you want. You’ve made me feel good all night, and I want to return the favor. I can’t think of a better candidate for cherry popper than you.”

The last statement made both of our eyes bug out before we collapsed into laughter. When I got nervous, I just didn’t understand how to shut up — or control what tumbled out of my mouth.

“I am honored to be your chosen cherry popper,” Marcus managed to say with a straight face before dissolving into chortles again. He had such a nice laugh, contagious and joyful. Even as he continued to laugh, I leaned forward and captured his lips, slipping my tongue between them and sampling him as he’d sampled me earlier, in the elevator. The laughter faded, and the intensity sharpened. We were really going to do this, I realized, as he began to drag me into his lap. This was really going to happen.

“You — you’ll have to tell me what you want,” I stuttered. “How to make you feel good.”

“Faith.” Marcus seized one of my trembling hands and pressed it to his crotch. His cock was a rigid rod in his pants, and feeling it even through the expensive trousers made me flush. “All I’ve done so far is give you a backrub. I’m already feeling good just from touching you, from being in your presence.”

I took my time feeling that stiffness, really exploring it. Maybe I’d never had time to date, or explore my attraction toward men, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t ever thought about it, been curious about the shape of things and how it all worked. It was harder, thicker than I’d imagined. That was going to fit inside of me?

“Don’t be nervous,” he said again, perhaps reading whatever horrible expression was plastered across my face at the idea of the act of sex, the physics of it.

“Then make me not nervous,” I said, the corners of my mouth hitching up into a small smile as my hands left off their exploration of his erection and traveled down his thighs to his knees. “I leave myself in your capable hands.”

“Excellent choice.” Marcus embraced me, enveloping me in his arms completely. It wasn’t as if I’d never been hugged before. This was different, somehow, much more intimate but empowering at the same time. I felt like this was a safe space, like I could be myself as long as these arms were around me. I didn’t have to pretend to like Marcus; I actually really did. I could drop my masks and my acts, the ones I put on so eagerly for other customers. Something real was about to happen between us, and I wanted to be completely present in this moment.

The most surprising thing of all was that the thoughts of my payday had all but vanished from my mind. It was a rare moment indeed when something took precedence over me earning money for my family.

Marcus was rubbing his hands over my back again, encouraging my muscles to relax. I leaned into him, and he took the opportunity to work my dress over my hips, slipping it smoothly up and over my head.

Just like that, I was in my panties, bra, and cowboy boots in front of him. That was fine. Sometimes, I was in considerably less when I was dancing on stage at the club. At the same time, though, I knew this was different. Not even a private dance could hold a candle to the kind of intimacy that we were sharing right now.

“Can I ask you a favor?” Marcus’ intonation was soft. With a rush of affection for his gentle nature, for easing me into this next phase of my life, I realized I’d do any favor he asked. How did I get so lucky for my first time? So many of my coworkers at the club had horror stories for losing their virginities. Granted, some of them were hilarious — mostly the ones involving automobiles and parental interruptions — but they weren’t what I wanted for myself. Marcus was what I wanted, this ease of interaction between two people. There weren’t really any strings attached; there were zero expectations from either of us, besides the fact that we were going to make each other feel good.

Was there anything simpler or better than that?

“Definitely.”

“Can we leave the cowboy boots on?”

I laughed. It was seeming like Marcus liked my cowboy boots even better than I liked them.

“Of course,” I said. “I don’t mind one bit.”

“Perfect.”

Marcus tipped my head to the side to give himself better access to my neck, and kissed it softly. The feel of his lips there was somewhere between ticklish and stimulating, and I had to fight myself not to try to squirm away from his touch. It was right on the edge of pleasure and discomfort, a precarious balance.

The kisses traveled to my shoulder, and Marcus slipped my bra strap down and over my arm.

“Want me to take it off?” I asked, thinking about that same ticklish but pleasurable feeling of his lips against my nipples. Imagining it made me squeeze my legs together in anticipation.