Dirty Promise(6)

"Holy shit," I say, out of breath. I wipe the sweat from my forehead.

He leans forward and kisses me. "You're not finished, are you?" he asks.

"Not a chance."

He smiles and flips me onto my stomach. I wrap my arms around his  pillow, holding it as though I were holding him as he kisses the backs  of my knees, and up my legs, up to my ass cheeks. He squeezes them,  pinching, kissing, biting. He's definitely an ass man. Luckily, I have  plenty back there for him to play with.

He pulls my hips up so that I'm on my hands and knees, and enters me  from behind. Slowly, at first. Very slowly. He pulls my cheeks apart and  his finger slides across the cleft of my ass. He'd teasing me. I know  he's looking for a reaction from me, reading my body to see how I react  to his touch in that often-forbidden area. I react by reaching behind me  and pulling my cheeks further apart for him to explore, to do whatever  he wants. He lets out a sound of approval and uses his thumb to put  pressure on the entrance. He doesn't enter, though, just plays. It feels  amazing, and as I start to slip into the first stages of another  orgasm, I push harder against him. He moves faster, his pace picking up.  Then he gives me a quick slap on the ass that startles me. He then  soothes it with a gentle hand. I moan louder.         

     



 

He responds with another slap. This time I'm prepared for it. Each time  he does it, I get more and more turned on until I'm ready to burst. When  he slips the tip of his wet thumb into my ass, my orgasm unleashes like  a wild dog and I'm bucking against him. He growls and thrusts harder as  his own orgasm takes hold. I feel him moving inside of me, his load  pumping out in powerful bursts.

He collapses on top on my back. The weight of him drops me onto my  stomach and we lie there, panting and trying to catch our breath. My  mind is blown, my bones weak and useless and I'm out of breath. He is  too. He rolls over and I get up.

He clasps his hands over his stomach. Sweat drips down my body as well as the evidence from my orgasm.

"Shit, did the condom break?" he says, looking down to inspect the condom still strapped to him.

"No," I say.

"That's all you?" he says, looking at me, then at the giant wet pool on the bed. He looks intrigued.

It's kind of cute, that I caused that? look of accomplishment on his face.

I shrug. "You turn me on."

He watches me walk around the room, gathering my clothes. I can feel his  gaze on me, following, tracking my moves. I'm not used to this kind of  attention. Once my bra and panties are back on, I start to put my jeans  on.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"Um, home?"

Like last time, he doesn't seem eager for me to leave. In fact, he seems kind of disappointed when I tell him I'm going home.

"What about me reading to you in bed?"

I laugh, but when I look over at him, he's holding my copy of Pride and Prejudice in my hand. "You were serious about that?"

"You thought that was a pick-up line?"

I shrug. "Kind of."

"And it worked?" he says, sounding surprised.

Truth is, he didn't need a pick-up line to get me back into his bed. My  mind was already halfway there before he said a word, but instead of  telling him that, and inflating his already giant ego, I say, "It was  better than any line anyone has used on me before."

He chuckles. "You really need to step up your expectations and find a better caliber of men."

I gesture to him. "Obviously."

He laughs and leans forward, grabbing my arm and playfully yanking me  back into his bed. I curl up beside him, nuzzling into the crook of his  arm to get comfortable, breathing in the scent that is so uniquely him. A  scent I'm becoming addicted to.

He starts reading. "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a  single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife  … "

For the next two hours, he reads to me. When he's done, he says, "Well, what did you think?"

"All the women sound like stone-cold gold-diggers to me."

His smile sends a warm quiver through me. Like his scent, his smile is  also addictive. I wish I were funnier, more clever, like Elizabeth  Bennet so I could make him laugh and smile all the time.

"Yeah, I guess they were, but I promise you, it's one of the best love stories ever told," he says.

I prop myself up on my elbows, tempted to kiss his arm. But even though  he's reading a love story to me, and we just had sex, a gesture that  small feels too romantic, as though I'm asking for more than he might be  willing to give. I don't want to frighten him off. Even if this is just  a hook-up, I wouldn't mind it becoming a regular thing.

He looks at the clock. "I have a client in an hour. Want to grab lunch with me really quick?"

After that work out I could really use something to eat. "That sounds good."

We go to a bistro next to the tattoo shop. It's a cute Asian/American  fusion place. Everyone who works there knows his name and his regular  order. I order the Korean soup.

Once we get our food he says, "We should do that more often-read, I mean."

The way he says it, all hooded eyes and husky voice, makes me think he's not talking about reading.

"We should," I agree.

"I hear it's fundamental-reading, I mean."

I laugh and shake my head. He smiles and the flutter in my heart is back. Go away. I'm not supposed to fall for him.         

     



 

"I've heard that too," I say.

There's an awkward silence. He opens his mouth to say something, then  closes it. He does this a couple times before asking, "How's the soup?"  I'm fairly certain that isn't the question he wanted to ask, but for  some reason, he's holding back.

"Spicy."

Picking up his phone, he stares at the black screen. "We should probably  exchange numbers so you can text me when you want to do that again," he  says.

"Reading, you mean," I say.

He erupts into a smile. I caused that. Look people, look what I did. I made that happen. You're welcome.

We exchange numbers then share a strawberry tart for desert. He picks up  the bill, refusing to even let me see it. Paying for my meal feels a  lot like a date.

I walk him to work. As we walk, our fingers graze. I don't know if it  was done accidentally or if he meant to do that. My mind and heart are  tangled up, and whatever is happening between us gives me the same  feelings as a first crush. I'm giddy and afraid all at the same time.

We go through the alleyway to get to his building and stand at the back  door. He pushes my back against the wall and kisses me, his lips tasting  like strawberries. It's a sweet, tender kiss that makes me feel exposed  and vulnerable. Can he tell I'm falling for him?

When we part, he gifts me with another one of his perfect smiles. "Don't  be a stranger," he says before disappearing inside. I know I have a  ridiculous grin on my face and I don't care. There's no one around to  see it.





4





Once I'm home, I can't stop thinking about him. Did I thank him for  lunch? I'm pretty sure I did, but I should text him just in case. It's  an excuse to talk to him, I know, but when you want something bad enough  it's easy to talk yourself into doing it-like cheating on a diet or  buying shoes you know you can't afford. He's becoming that thing that I  want even though I know I shouldn't. I have the worst willpower.  Actually, I have no willpower, especially when it comes to Max.

As I'm going through my contacts to find his name, I see Kia's number  right there, and just seeing her name again makes my heart wrench. We  never went a day without texting each other or calling just to say hi.  Now I'll go days without getting a text from anyone. I never realized  just how much of my time was spent with her until she was gone. Life is a  whole lot lonelier without her.

I put the phone down, afraid I will lose it if I keep staring at her  name in my contacts. Her number has been disconnected by now. I can't  even call it anymore just to listen to her greeting on her voicemail.  There's no reason to keep her number on my phone but I can't bring  myself to delete it because it feels as though I'm trying to get rid of  her. I've even saved all of our texts just to remember how we were  together, the jokes, the general silliness of our indelible friendship.

I decide not to text Max after all. Suddenly I feel guilty. In all that  time I spent with Max, I wasn't thinking about how much I miss her. I  know that's what she would want for me. She wasn't the type of person to  expect someone to wallow in grief. More than once she told me all she  wanted was for me to be happy. She was so selfless, which is why I need  to be the same for her and finish her bucket list without distraction.  It was obviously important to her if she went out of her way to plan it  out so I got her envelopes after her death.

I grab Pride and Prejudice and for the rest of my day off, I read. I'm  so engrossed in the novel that the rest of the world disappears. I still  have several chapters left to go, but my eyes burn to the point where I  have to stop reading for a while. My mind starts to wander and I  picture myself as Elizabeth Bennet, and Kia as her sister, Jane. In this  fantasy of mine, we both find true love and get our happily ever  afters. Max definitely makes a hot Darcy. But I guess if Kia were still  alive, Max would be her Darcy. Even though it was her idea for me to  sleep with him, it still feels a little like I'm doing something  horrible behind her back. I mean, she was the one who wanted him; enough  for him to be on her bucket list.