“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head at her.
Her head tilted, watching me with her bright brown eyes, way too keen for my liking. “You got a man,” she accused.
“What? No! Don't be ridiculous.”
“Bullshit,” she said, moving to come behind my desk. Shay was the epitome of modern beauty standards. Thin waist, thick hips and thighs, a ample enough natural bust and seen-from-the-front buttage. Even in jeans and a simple white t-shirt, she was stunning. Not pretty. Or even beautiful, but stunning. That was the only correct word to use when describing her.
“I swear, Shay. I'm single as a twenty-nine year old gamer living in his mother's basement.”
She snorted, shaking her head. “Fine, don't tell me,” she huffed, getting up and moving to storm away. “I tell you about all my men,” she said, turning back.
Of that, I was all too aware.
“Shay, I swear... when I have a man to talk about, I will tell you anything you want to know.”
“Including dick size,” she said, firmly.
I laughed. “Yeah, Shay. Even that.”
“Fine,” she said, going back to her own desk.
I forced down half a pot of coffee (which I generally hate) which gave me the energy I wanted, with a heavy punch of, you guessed it, more nervousness. By the time I got home, I was just a mess. And with only two hours until I had my session, there was no hope of getting it together.
“Jesus,” Jake hissed as I walked through the door.
“What now?”
“You look like you haven't slept in a week.”
Four days. But he was close.
“Yeah, I know. I've been anxious.”
“Isn't the doctor supposed to be, like, helping with that?”
“Yup,” I said, slamming the bathroom door behind me and stripping, getting under the blessedly hot water and trying to let it run over me, smooth the frayed nerves. The water ran cold before I reluctantly stepped out, brushing my teeth, towel drying my hair, and taking a look in the mirror. I could put some effort into makeup, but honestly, I was so pale and tired-eyed that it wouldn't do any good. I traveled back to my room, digging out plain black panties and a matching bra. There was no use going all out when I was sure I would be out of them quickly. I slid into a pair of black leggings and a huge sand-colored sweater that I positively swam in and came down to about mid-thigh. I slipped into a pair of tan flats, grabbed my keys, and made my way out.
“Wow, seriously?” Jake asked, eyeing me over a Chinese take-away carton.
“Yup. Fuck off,” I growled, closing the door behind me.
I wasn't angry. Jake just brought that out of me.
I was worried. Freaked. Anxious. Beside myself.
And on top of all that, bone deep freaking exhausted.
I walked from the garage to the office with what felt like weighted feet. Each step closer felt harder, made my chest feel tighter. I grabbed the handle, going inside, and slamming back against it.
Chase's head shot up, surprised, looking way too rested and put together in a dark blue suit and crisp white shirt. “Ava...”
“Please, please,” I said, holding up one hand. “Please just tell me what this session is.”
His shoulders dropped, his head tilting to the side. “Oh, baby...” he murmured, closing the distance between us and quickly pulling me off the door, enclosing me in his arms. I heard the lock click and then his lips come down on the top of my head.
“Next time you're this anxious about needing to know something, you call me. I don't want you stressing over something I can easily fix. Actually,” he said, reaching for my hand and pulling out my cell, “I will give you my cell so that, no matter what time it is, you can call and I can talk you down. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said, numbly, closing my eyes and listening to his heartbeat, breathing in his scent. “You still haven't answered me.”
“I know,” he said, moving away and slipping his arm around me, guiding me through the waiting room, his office and into his other room. The door closed. I went to the stereo. He offered drinks, which I refused. The last thing I needed was alcohol to make me even more tired. I selected the same music as the night before and turned to him, and he was watching me. “Babe, how long has it been since you've slept?”
“For how long?”
He rolled his eyes slightly. “For more than an hour at a time.”
“Wednesday.”
He shook his head slightly, holding my phone out. “Next time, you call me,” he said, putting the phone down next to the stereo, and taking my hand. He led me over to the bed, slipping out of his shoes, discarding his jacket and belt. Then stopped. “Hop in,” he said. And I really didn't need to be told twice. I kicked off my shoes and crawled under the blankets.
He slid in beside me. Not touching me. Not reaching for me. Not asking or telling me to do anything. Just lying there. His arm went out across the back of my pillows.
In the end, it was me who moved.
Shocking myself, I think, more than him.
I scooted closer, reaching for the buttons on his shirt and opening them. Then I slid my head against his warm skin, and his arms finally went around me, holding tight.
“Tonight's session,” he started and I felt myself stiffen against him, but he only wrapped his arms tighter, “is about masturbation.”
Oh
good
god.
Seriously?
“What about it?” I heard myself asking, needing to know everything.
“Everything about it. We will talk about it. Then we will undress. And then we will do it.”
“Wait. What?” I said, my voice high and squeaky. Because... no way. No freaking way. Most women would never masturbate in front of their spouses. And neither would most men for that matter.
“Ava, calm down. I know it's an uncomfortable topic for a lot of people. Actually, this might be one of the hardest lessons. It's understandable that you feel awkward or embarrassed. That's totally normal.”
“Do you?”
“No, baby.”
Of course not. Because he had probably done it a hundred times before in front of someone. Meanwhile I rarely ever did it when I was alone. Not because I didn't like it or didn't know how, but because, inevitably, images of my failed sexual conquests would shoot into my mind and completely ruin it for me.
“But listen,” he went on at my silence, “there is nothing at all to feel embarrassed about. A woman making herself feel good is amazing. You making yourself feel good, that is going to be fucking beautiful. And I can't wait to see it.”
Oh, god.
My face felt hot it was so red and I brought my hands up to cover it.
“Are you more uncomfortable with watching me masturbate or having me watch you?”
“You watching me,” I said, the words muffled against my hands.
“Okay. Then I will start first,” he said easily. And then he was moving me off of him, going to the side of the bed and stripping out of his shirt. Then reaching for his zipper. “Don't be shy in front of me, baby.”
And I knew what that meant. I knew he wanted me to start taking off my clothes too. I took a deep breath, rolling my leggings down and off before reaching to discard my sweater.
“And the rest?” he asked, sounding husky as his pants fell to the floor.
I looked away from him, reaching around for my bra and tossing it aside, then slipping out of my panties. “Beautiful,” he murmured, getting into bed beside me. He didn't bother to pull the blanket up. Because we were beyond that now. “Come here,” he said, patting his chest and I practically flew at him.
His one arm went around my back, holding me with firm pressure. Then his other hand slowly moved down his body. His hands closed around his thick cock and his thumb brushed across the sensitive, wet head. Beneath me, his breath whooshed out of his mouth.
Suddenly I wasn't sleepy anymore. I was apt. I couldn't look away if I tried. My own desire ignited, strong, almost painful between my thighs. His hand started to move slowly up and down his cock, holding tightly.
“Are you watching?” he asked, his voice breathy.
“Yes,” I admitted.
“I want to watch you baby,” he said, his arm releasing me so I moved into the space beside him, his arm around my shoulders. “Please.”
Maybe it was the please.
Or maybe it was the pulsing, urgent longing for release, but my hand started to move slowly downward, pausing briefly. My legs opened just enough to slip my hand between and my fingers slid across my heat. A small, unexpected whimper escaped my lips and Chase's hand grabbed my shoulder hard.
“Don't stop, Ava,” he said, sounding tense. My eyes went up to his, heavy lidded and the most gorgeous shade of blue I had ever seen in my life. “Please don't stop,” he said, sending another jolt of desire. My finger moved upward, finding my clit and moving across it in slow circles. “There you go,” he praised. “Just like I said... fucking beautiful.”
My eyes slid from his, watching his hand moving across his length, the pace, I realized, the same as mine and I wondered if he did it deliberately. If he was trying to get used to my rhythms. Cataloging them for later. So he knew how I liked it when he touched me. When he was inside of me.
That was going to be so soon. If this was the third visit... then it went to follow that, well, he was going to be touching me at the next one. Touching me how, I wasn't sure. But touching me. And then I don't know for the next session. But the session after that... we would be having sex.