He passes it to me.
There is a tall jug of mojitos
waiting in the fridge.
Marcel
He looks at me, sexy smile on his face. ‘Well, what do you want to do first? Eat or fuck?’
If any other man had said that I’d have slapped him and called him a coarse jerk. But BJ, he’s the shining hero in the movie I’m directing, producing, and starring in.
And God! I want him.
‘Fuck,’ I say with half-closed, sultry eyes. Turning, I begin to walk away while undressing at the same time. The dark green top goes over my head and on the floor. My bra follows. I turn around and he is just behind me, staring at my breasts possessively. The desire to press my naked body against him is astonishingly strong, white-knuckle strong.
I lie on a long lilac couch and shimmy out of my skirt and panties. I am suddenly almost feverish with need. Daringly I open my legs wide. He gets down on his haunches and slides his hand up my leg, towards my distended, swollen clitoris. With precise, knowing strokes he rubs the flesh around it. His carnal expertise is irresistible.
I squirm and whimper.
It has never crossed my mind that I would ever be so wild for a man.
He brings his head closer and I prepare for his tongue. Instead a flow of warm air hits my exposed sex.
‘Ah,’ I cry at the exquisitely delicate sensation. Like a fine wine or the faint earthy flavor of truffle shavings on a plate of buttery pasta. My eyes close to fully savor it. When his silky tongue touches my clit it is unexpected and shockingly intense. My body arches like a bow. He licks the pulsing flesh like a kitten. He slides his fingers deeper inside me and pumps them furiously. My body heats up and sweat dampens my skin. I grasp his hair and curl my legs around his large body, the way he taught me to.
‘Please,’ I beg.
He lifts his head and unlocking my legs, opens me wide. He stands and looks down at me splayed and ready for him. With heavy-lidded eyes he starts to undress. He discards his pants and my gaze moves to the well-defined, hard bulge in his white briefs. The thick mushroom head is already poking out of the top of his underwear. He stops. My eyes move up to his and hot blood rushes up my throat to be caught looking at his erection so hungrily. I have never stared at a man like this. Not ever.
He fits a rubber on himself and, putting his hands on either side of me, mounts me. He pounds me hard a few times. There is something frenzied and electric about the urgency of his thrusts. I know then that he cannot wait any longer. I milk the cream of his body with my own and he explodes, his head thrown back and utterly silent.
For seconds his face is buried in my breasts. He might even have gently sucked my nipple, I am in a daze of contentment. Then he rouses himself and, looking into my eyes, brings me to climax.
‘You’re beautiful when you come,’ he whispers. His face is flushed and his eyes are the softest black.
Afterwards, we eat, but I find I have hardly any appetite. Every time his eyes rest on me, I feel my lack of underwear, how wet I am, and how much I long to have him back inside me.
Maddy’s call interrupts our total absorption with each other. She tells me my mother is looking for me. I didn’t hear my phone while we were having sex. I look up at BJ. His eyes are expressionless. He listens to me call my mother and lie about where I am and what I am doing since I am not with Maddy after all. It is easy to lie to Ma. She isn’t expecting me to. I end the call and face him.
‘I’ll get the mojitos,’ he says and walks away. Strange. He is the criminal and yet he is the more honorable of us.
TWENTY-ONE
BJ
When I come back with the drinks she has slipped into my t-shirt and is seated in a recess of one of the tall windows. Twelve feet of pale yellow glow from the wintry evening sun falls on her wonderful, thick hair and tinges it with a light that I have only seen in paintings from the great Dutch masters. Perhaps a Rembrandt.
A living spectacle.
She turns to look at me and smiles a smile that nearly knocks me backwards. I have been with countless women, all of them beautiful, vibrant and sexy. But she makes them all pale into insignificance. The thought is terrifying and beautiful. Never again will I be with a woman who can satisfy me the way she does.
I stand over her and hold out the drink. She takes it with both hands. She is the first woman who has persuaded me to drink a mojito. And now I fucking like it!
‘You promised me a tour,’ she says. There is a hint of laughter in her voice. I love that about her. Only children and the truly innocent have that. I don’t really want to show her my sex room, but she stands and holds out her hand. So we go through the entire house until we get to the sex room. I open the door and she goes in, flicks the switch, and the disco lights come on. She touches the switch beside it and Kanye West’s Gold Digger fills the room. For a few seconds she says nothing.