Authors: Roxy Queen
“Come on, baby,” I say, empowered by his want.
With a series of grunts, I know he’s close. I scrape my nails over his sensitive nipples and he comes hard, hips pressing forward in release.
Normally, when Graham comes he
thrusts several times but not now. He pushes into me over and over again, long past the point of necessity. I clutch his biceps and he slows, hovering over me, breathing deep. I brush damp hair out of his eyes. He pulls out, and I feel hollow. Raw. A pleasant pain. For once, my body didn’t fight against him like a foreign intruder. I smile and he smiles back.
“Thank you,” I say, beckoning him toward me.
He relents and falls forward, crushing me with his weight. He kisses my cheek, rubs my belly, and whispers in my ear, checking to make sure I’m okay. I nod, pressing into the warmth of his side.
That’s when I understand what it really feels like to have sex.
Chapter
32
(
Graham)
That, of course, should have been the end of it
, the perfect ending to a well-executed experiment. Both of our needs had been met; mine academically, Audrey’s physically and emotionally.
That is not what happened. I t
ry to tell myself, as she smiles down from above me, riding easy and slow on my dick, that what we’re doing is okay; that we’re still in the bubble; that I’m helping her; that I’m exposing her. That this is about her and none of this, not one instant of it, is about me.
I’m a filthy liar.
With each passing encounter, Audrey proves she’s a goddess made up of flaming red hair and perfect tits. Every moment between us sparks with the magic of being her first. It’s infectious;
she’s
infectious, and when she asks, I succumb, unable to resist her hands, mouth and god-blessed, tight pussy.
This is the third time we’ve met since the experiment ended
, twice since we made love the first time. I call it that, making love, because I know the difference. I’m not sure she does, to her everything has a shiny glint of newness. She’s not jaded, not yet; and that’s another reason I can’t resist her.
Tonight the message came in late
, a simple text asking to meet me at the apartment. She’d barely entered the door when she reached for the button on my pants and released my cock. Her lips pressed to mine as if her life depended on it.
She is so fucking hot.
“I can’t help it,” she says, when we get to the bed. She climbs over my body, stopping only to run her fingers through the hair on my lower belly. My dick rises like a flag, alerting her to its presence. “I’m constantly horny. I think about sex from the minute that I wake up to the minute I go to sleep. Then I dream about it, about you,” she says, moving my hand between her legs. She’s sticky and wet. Ready. “It’s like this all the time. I’d call Dylan but it’s too soon. I want to surprise him. To make it special.”
She lowers herself on me carefully
. We’re still careful, making sure not to do anything too fast. Her vulnerability makes her even more desirable. I want to take care of her, to make every moment perfect. She rides me easily, her tits swaying to the tense rhythm, nipples puckered, eyes glazed. Her orgasm comes in swift jerks. I watch, fascinated, waiting for her lips to part and the narrow crease to appear between her eyes. This, I’ve learned, is my favorite part. The tiny tremors that shudder across her skin when she climaxes, the way her already tight pussy, clenches around me. When she’s finished, she peeks through heavy lids to watch my own climax, her nails digging into my chest. I grip her hips, wanting to feel the pressure of her on all parts of my body. What used to work against her now works for me. God, she’s tight.
“Was that okay?” she asks
afterwards, wiggling back into her shirt.
“Yes, very okay.”
“You’re sure? I want the first time with Dylan to be good, like epic good. He’s waited so long, you know? He stuck by me through all that crazy drama.”
I prop my elbow on the bed, still trying to catch my breath and
look at her. “He’ll be pleased. Trust me.”
She sighs and sits down, the mattress sinking under her weight.
“Graduation’s this weekend and my parents are coming up for the day. After that, everything will be Jessica-centric. She’s turned into such a freaking Bridezilla. The bridesmaids leave Thursday for the island, and Dylan can’t come down until Saturday morning. There’s a boat for the guests that leaves at 10 AM. I’m going to surprise him that night. I have it all planned.”
“He’s a lucky guy.”
“Thanks,” she says, linking her hand with mine. “For everything. You’ve been amazing. Because of you, I’ll be able to actually do this and not look like an awkward freak.”
I smile, one that covers any conflicting emotions I’m having at the moment
, because trust me, I’m having some. My mind constantly returns to the fantasy she told me about. How she wants to be taken hard. I know that’s not for me to do, but I want it. Badly.
“We’re both pretty amazing,” I say. “But you’re welcome.”
She kisses me on the lips and continues dressing. I stay on the bed watching her, thinking this may be the last time I see her. At least like this. In this space. In our bubble.
As though she reads my mind
, she says, “It’s going to be weird, you know, not seeing you all the time.”
She’s struggling with the clasp on her bra and I wave her over, cinching it for her. My hand lingers on her back, longer than necessary. “Give it a couple weeks
; it will be like this never happened.”
She shakes her head. “I’ll never forget you, Graham.”
“No,” I say. “I suppose I’ll never forget you, either.”
She finishes dressing and I keep my eyes on her, afraid she’ll disappear and I’ll miss it. I’m acting like an idiot. A pussy-whipped fool and it’s
ridiculous. Audrey’s sweet, but she’s not the kind of girl to play games with. She needs to get out of here before someone gets hurt.
“Good luck,” I call as she heads to the door. She stops a
nd waves, leaving the apartment, taking all the energy with her.
My phone blinks from the nightstand and I snatch it
up, reading the pile of messages left while we were fucking.
Missed Texts
Margaret (2)
Janelle (3)
I flop back on the pillows and realize that it’s time for both of us to get back to reality.
*
I’m organizing my notes when Dr. Markson walks in the apartment holding a stack of papers. “Audrey filled out her exit paperwork and had her final appointment. I thought you’d like to have them for reference.”
“Thanks,” I say, taking the thick bundle and placing it next to the laptop. Audrey had to fill out the same questionnaire as before, along with some additional information to measure her progress. “It will be interesting to see how she answers the questions now that the experiment is over.”
“I think you’ll be pleased.” She takes the seat opposite of mine, so I lower the laptop screen to look at her. “How are you feeling about the end results? You made a lot of personal sacrifices for this project.”
“I think the adjustments to my life were worth it
; change isn’t a bad thing.”
“Do you think you’ll go back to your former career?”
I try to measure her tone for disapproval. Dr. Markson has never implied that she doesn’t care for my job, but I’m never sure. Sure, my skill set worked for this experiment, but being an escort for hire isn’t exactly an upstanding job. “I have at least one obligation I need to fulfill. After that, I’ll have to see. It’s not like I have any other job experience.”
She peers over her glasses. “You’re a skilled laborer, right? Plumbing and carpentry?”
“Yes, basic stuff I learned growing up on the farm.”
“There is plenty of money to be made using your hands in productive ways, Graham
, not just in providing pleasure.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “You think I should stop escorting?”
“I think you have a promising career in psychology. I would hate for anything to impede that.”
I nod, unsure of how else to respond. It’s not as easy as she’s suggesting. There’s the money to consider and the women I work for. Margaret
and Janelle aren’t the only one’s calling me. Caroline and April have as well. We’re on the edge of summer; and typically, I find myself booked more than usual. Mid-week hook-ups at the lake or beach are common. Margaret books me a room at the hotel adjacent to their beach house and April’s family has a guest cottage at the lake. If I wanted I could have my pockets lined with money in a week and all my sexual needs met. All without hammering a nail or lying beneath a dirty sink.
“I’ll take it into consideration.”
“I’ll let you get back to work, but I wanted to ask how you think Audrey will fair post experiment?”
“Audrey’s very strong,”
I say. “I have no worries she’ll be okay.”
“You aren’t concerned about how close the two of you got?”
Our last three encounters were off the books. Dr. Markson has no idea we had sex other than the first and second time. “We became friendly, but nothing more. She’s very focused on getting back together with her ex.”
“Good. The emotional connection is the only real
wild card in this project. I’m glad to see you two navigated it well,” she says. “Audrey and I will have monthly follow-up sessions for the next six months, just to be sure everything sticks, but I think she’s definitely a success story.”
My eyes flick to the bed and the way she felt underneath me. The way I felt
inside
her. The only problem Audrey will have is dealing with a renewed sense of sexuality. Tapping into that may bring the men in this town to their knees.
“Do you have plans to stay in contact?” she asks.
“I think she’ll be busy with her new life.” Audrey isn’t mine to have any more than my other clients are. Our relationship was based on business, mutual needs, and wants. Dr. Markson seems satisfied with that answer and to move her off the subject, I say, “I’ll have the first draft to you next week.”
“Excellent. Thank you for your hard work.”
“My pleasure.”
Chapter
33
(Audrey)
Warm sun hits my face and I inhale the salty breeze. After a week of pure insanity
, I’m happy to have a few minutes alone to prepare myself for the next phase of
Jessica’s Wedding of the Century
. I peek over at my co-bridesmaids, each of them chatting happily with one another; their voices are drowned out by the wind. Reese catches my eye and squeezes down the tight passageway to sit next to me.
“Man, this thing is crazy, right? Jessica sure went all out for this wedding,” she says.
“Well, her mother did at least,” I laugh. “I don’t blame her. I think it’s going to be pretty amazing.”
“How could it not be?”
Her hands grip the painted railing. “So we’ve talked about graduation and your parents. We’ve been over our duties…tell me, how did things end with Graham? I mean other than the,
you totally did it,
part.
“
I haven’t seen him since last week,” I tell her, skipping over our last two
sessions
. I have no words to describe those nights. I’m afraid even to attempt to put them in words. “But I’ve completed my evaluation; and other than a couple follow-up appointments with Dr. Markson, basically, we’re done.”
“Wow,” she says, pushing her wind-whipped hair out of her face. “Is that weird?”
I shrug. “I guess I’m a little sad that he’s not part of my life anymore. He’s really great; and I think outside of all this, we would have been friends. But I don’t know; he knows me
so
well, it’s a little strange. Like, as much as I hate it, right now he knows me better than any other man does, and not just because of the sex.”
As
the boat steers in the direction of the island, I crane my neck trying to see the mansion up ahead. “Do you want to know what I think?” Reese asks.
“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“I think this whole thing has been very challenging and a huge life experience for you. A total game changer. I think you need to focus on having fun this weekend, drinking too much and embarrassing Jessica. When Dylan gets here, if you’re sober enough, fuck him. Five times. Six or eight. Get dirty and get it on. Then, after that, figure out what you want to do with your life.” She smiles devilishly. “You’ve got time to be serious and worried. You’ve been serious and worried for too long. Take a deep breath and let it go.”
I breathe in
and out, inhaling the warm air. It feels so good, and Reese is right. I have to relax and have fun. I can finally do that without all the hang-ups and worries. The boat comes to a stop and we spot Jessica standing on the dock.
I link my arm with Reese’s
, and say, “I promise you, right now, that I will have as much fun and sex, or more fun and sex, than you will this weekend.”
Reese’s eyes narrow and she holds out her hand. “Shake on it.”
Our hands clasp and we shake.
*
The Greyfield Inn stands beneath enormous trees with huge twisting branches, formed, so our guide tells us, from the constant breeze from the ocean.
“Wow, this place is…just wow,” Reese says, climbing the steps to the wrap
-around porch.
“JFK J
unior had his wedding here,” Bella says, as though we haven’t heard this a million times already. I’m pretty sure this is one of the reasons that Jessica’s mother chose this location. Regardless of her motive, it’s a beautiful inn, built in the early 1900s by the Carnegie family.
“You each have your own room,” Jessica says,
from her spot in one of the rocking chairs lining the porch. She motions for us to sit in the others. “Since the guys won’t be up until tomorrow night. Bart and his brothers are in Hilton Head playing golf. How lame is that?”
“Better than hookers and strip clubs.”
“God, can you imagine? His Southern Baptist father would freak out,” she laughs, rolling her eyes. “Dylan, he’s coming Saturday, right?”
I nod. “He had some work to finish up.”
“So you guys are back together?” Claire asks.
“We’re trying to figure things out, but I’m hopeful.”
“Well, I’m just glad you’re all here; my mother only allowed me to invite a handful of friends. You would think this was her wedding and not my own! It’s like she had to invite everyone she’s ever met. I doubt I’ll even know half the guests.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Reese says. “It’s going to be fantastic
; beautiful weather, the beach. Thank you for allowing us to be part of such a great day.”
Jessica smiles and begins listing all the things we have to do over the next twenty-four hours. Dinner tonight
is with her family. Tomorrow, Bart and his family arrive for the rehearsal dinner. We have final dress fittings, manicures, and pedicures. Jessica’s mother brought a full staff of technicians on the trip because the Island itself is so isolated. It’s insane. I can’t imagine ever having that sort of money; but it’s who Jessica is. And since Bart has his MBA and plans a similar career as her father, it’s who she will always be.
“There’s no cell service on the Island,” she says, spotting Claire attempting to check her
messages. “Part of the whole, environmental protection thing they have. You’ll get used to it.”
“Crazy
, isn’t it?” Reese says to me later, on the way to our rooms to shower and change for dinner.
“What?”
“All this luxury. Remember my tiny wedding at the chapel on campus? We were just trying to get married before Mark started his residency. We still haven’t had a honeymoon.”
“It’s a little intense
; but it’s fun to be a part of it, I guess.”
“Would you want something like this?”
“I don’t know,” I say, trying to envision my own wedding. So much has changed in my life lately; it’s hard to imagine. A year ago, I would have said yes. Now I think about holing up in a tiny one-bedroom apartment and making love for a week, surviving on sex and food in bed. I’d be satisfied with that. “I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.”
*
Every wedding party has to have a sloppy drunk; and if I’d put money on it before hand, I would have pegged Reese for the culprit, but not this time. It’s me. I’m the sloppy drunk.
The good news is
that I held out until dinner is over. The only sign is the way I suggestively lick chocolate mousse off the tines of my fork, trying to get a rise out of Reese and Sophie. Both of their eyes flash wide when I confess, “If only cum tasted sweet like this, then I’d happily swallow every time.”
“Oh
, lord,” says Reese, dragging me from the crowded dining area and upstairs to our rooms. The plan for the rest of the night is more drinks in Jessica’s suite. I change into soft, stretchy, yoga pants and cover my tank with a hoodie, before meeting the other girls in her room.
Our little after party clashes with the historic beauty of the house
; a plastic Solo cup filled with vodka, lemon, and bitters is a crazy drink Claire made up one night. A stash of Jessica’s favorite candy piles high in the middle of our makeshift sleeping pallets on the hardwood floor. Like there’s a chance, she’ll eat any of it. Not the day before getting into that designer, fit-to-perfection, gown.
Claire holds up her cup
, and says, “To Jessica, may Bart be the man of her dreams.”
“To
Jess,” we all cheer in unison, clinking our plastic cups.
“We should play a game,” Sophie declares.
She has the cutest short, blonde haircut; something she actually ran by Jessica to make sure it fit in with the wedding photos. To her credit, Jess didn’t care. Thank God, I’m not sure I could be friends with people like that.
“Ugh, a game?” Reese says, eyes flicking in my direction. She thinks I’ll get mad or run off. The other girls share a look and I can tell they think the same thing.
“Can I say something?” I ask, well slur. I’m that drunk. “Like, uh, I have something I want to share with you guys.”
Jessica frowns. “What is it, Audrey? Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Actually, I’m doing really great,” I explain. “I’ve just sort of been though something big and I wanted to share it with you.” Reese reaches across and takes my hand. I smile at her for the support; it’s never ending. She really is the best. “To start, I know you all think I’m a prude or whatever.”
“No, Aud,
we don’t,” Bella says, lamely. The other girls don’t make eye contact.
“It’s okay. I know my behavior has always been a little strange to you guys
because I’ve never really joined in on all the sex talk and everything, but there’s a reason behind it. I’ve spent the last couple of months dealing with it.” My heart hammers in my chest. I can’t believe I’m about to say all this, but I want to. It may be the alcohol; but ultimately, I want to free myself from the secrecy and shame of something that shouldn’t be such a big deal.
“I’ve been seeing a therapist about a sex disorder.” The girls are completely silent when I say this
. I feel a tight squeeze from Reese. “Reese helped me find her; and over the last three months, my whole life has changed.”
I spill the details, starting with the basics about my past, hitting rock bottom with Dylan
, and the treatment program. I leave out the small things; instead, focusing on the big picture. I explain that I took part in an experiment with the psychology department; and that overall, it’s considered a success.
“What do you mean
Exposure therapy
?” Sophie asks. She has a degree in social work.
“The therapy exposed me to a variety of sexual situations until I was comfortable.”
“And now you can have sex without the fear and anxiety?”
“Yeah,” I say, taking a gulp of my drink.
One too many, apparently.
Wrong move
, I think. My head spins and I shove my cup aside.
“So you and Dylan?”
“Not yet,” I say, with a smile. “This weekend.”
“Does he know?” Jessica interrupts. Her mascara
has smeared and she has raccoon marks around her eyes.
“Not specifically, but we’ve sort of planned this as our first big date since everything happened.”
“I’m sure he knows,” Reese interjects, with an eye roll. I stick out my tongue. “Audrey’s probably planning sunshine and rainbows and a unicorn to stroll by beforehand.”
“Shut up,” I tell her. She’s such a brat.
“Well, I’m glad you told us Audrey. It explains a lot; and I’m sorry if you ever felt uncomfortable,” Bella says.
“It’s not your fault. I’m just glad to have all that behind me now.” I struggle to stand, holding
onto the hundred year-old fireplace for stability. “I’ve gotta go lie down before I hurl everywhere and look like hell tomorrow.”
“Me
, too,” Jessica agrees. “My mother will kick my ass if I look like a weathered pile of dehydrated crap after all this planning.
We give each other hugs, each one tighter than the last. Reese helps me to my room and at the
door; she brushes my hair over my shoulder, and says, “I’m proud of you, kid.”
I kiss her on the cheek, stumble into my room and pass out.