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I wanted to ride this wave of ecstasy to the end. I wanted the swell of pressure inside of me to be released. But conversely, I wanted the tension to continue building forever, because it felt so unbelievably good.
He slid a finger inside of me. This time I managed to reclaim my mouth and screamed out loud. I looked up at the intensity in his gaze and buried my face in his chest. “Ryan...Ryan...Ryan,” I muttered. Then finally, I exploded, shuddering as I held onto him for dear life. I leaned into him, breathing heaving breaths, heard him say, “I’m sorry.”
I looked up and into his eyes to see that the expression on his face had transformed from one shadowed with lust to one covered in embarrassment, as if he hadn’t meant for things to go this far. Relief flooded me. I wanted him, but knew we were headed somewhere I wasn’t quite ready to go just yet. Not yet. Not with him or anyone else. But the relief didn’t temper the heat and desire that coated every part of my body.
I was sated and satisfied, thanks to him. I didn’t need him, but I damn sure wanted him.
“I-I’m sorry. This isn’t right. I shouldn’t have…I’m sorry,” he said.
I shook my head and began sliding down from the table. As he grabbed my hand to help me, I said, “It’s okay. I’ll…I’ll just go.”
He gave me a look that told me he wanted me to go almost as much as he wanted me to stay. “I really don’t want you to go,” he said, as he reached up and dragged his hand over his face. He looked downright confused, like he wasn’t quite sure what to say or how to feel.
“It’s all right, really. Rain check on the pizza?” I offered him a smile.
He nodded, said, “Okay,” and then walked me to my door. I made my way to my bedroom on weak legs and collapsed into bed, not giving a second thought to the fact that I’d had no dinner.
11
Something was seriously wrong with me.
It was like my mind was slipping away from me, and I couldn’t figure out how to get it back to normal. I just didn’t do shit like the stuff I’d been doing. Shit like, blasting music and putting my own mail in her mailbox. Crazy, stalker, high school, stupid-ass kid shit, but I needed to get her attention even if I had no idea why. The thing is, I was desperate that night I blasted the music. Hell, I didn’t even like the damn song. I had sat on my couch all night thinking about her, got turned on, and after I knew she was home, couldn’t think of anything but getting her to come over. My plan was to convince her to come in, but she was mad as hell and rightfully so. That, plus the fact that some of my common sense kicked in made me make up that story and let her go.
The mail thing? I don’t even know where that came from other than it was a convenient way to get her over to my place again, but that almost didn’t work, wouldn’t have worked if I hadn’t been watching for her. And once I got her right where I wanted her, my damn conscience, a part of me that I didn’t even know existed, started knocking me upside my head, telling me it was wrong to play with her. Well, actually, playing with her, or rather pleasing her, felt good and right. It was her reaction to it that messed my head up—the way she gasped, screamed, hid her face in my chest. It all turned me on, but it also told me she’d never been pleased like that before and that it would’ve been wrong to take things further under those pretenses. As much as it pained me to admit it, I fully realized that Angela Strickland wasn’t someone to be used. She deserved more. I wanted to give her more. I wanted to get to know her, court her. I wanted her to get to know me, too. And then, I could have her, really have her.
Shit, none of this made any sense and I had no idea where these thoughts and feelings were coming from.
I was seriously losing it.
I adjusted in my seat at the table as I recalled her sticky heat, how good my fingers felt inside of her. I was looking at the franchisee sitting across the table from me, but not focused on her words. This business lunch was being preempted by Angela Strickland, and she wasn’t even there in the flesh, but the sights, sounds, scents, and sensations associated with her were present in force, taking over the meeting.
“What do you think, Ryan?” the franchisee asked.
I stared at her for a second before saying, “Audrey, will you excuse me for a moment?”
She frowned slightly, nodded, and said, “Sure.”
I first headed to the restroom, then changed my mind and stepped outside the restaurant where I scrolled through my phone until I found her number.
“Hello?”
I held the phone for a second as my heart jumped at the sound of her voice. That never happened. What was she doing to me?
“Hello? Mr. Boyé?”
“You know you can call me Ryan. You did last night.”
Silence.
Shit, wrong approach.
“Um…yeah, I did, didn’t I?” she admitted.
“Yeah, look…I wanted to apologize again for the way I acted last night. I’m, uh, I like you.” I was losing more and more player points by the second!
“It’s all right, really. I…enjoyed it.”
There went my dick. Hard as a damn rock. “Did you?”
