Marie Sexton - Coda 04 - Strawberries for Dessert (17 page)

I pushed him roughly back onto the bed and with one quick motion pulled my tie from around my neck. I climbed on top of him, using my weight to hold him down, and pulled one of his arms toward the headboard.

“A tie?” he asked, although his voice was thick and breathy. “Isn’t that rather cliché, love?”

I secured the knot around one wrist, looped the tie around one of the posts on the headboard. “It may be,” I told him, “but it’s very effective.” I grabbed his other hand and brought it toward the headboard. I knotted the other end around his wrist. There was about a foot of fabric between his hands, where it looped around the frame of the headboard, so he had some slack to move around in, but it would keep him from being able to rush me.

I stood up and got rid of the rest of my suit as quickly as I could. He watched me in silence, his eyes wide and apprehensive, but the bulge in his pants told me he was turned on as well. I pulled them off of him. It was incredibly arousing, looking down at him, knowing that he was restrained and that I could do whatever I wanted to him, within reason of course. The crazy thing was I didn’t want to do anything rough or domineering. I only wanted more time to touch him and to 136

kiss him. I wondered how many other people had to restrain their partners in order to have more foreplay.

I moved on top of him so I could look down into his wide eyes. “Now,” I said, my voice thick with arousal, “what should I do with you now that I have you tied down?”

He wrapped his legs around me, pulling me down against him. “Fuck me,” he whispered, and I laughed.

 

“You’re too impatient. That’s what got you into this, remember?” I teased.

 

“Please,” he said, grinding against me.

“Not yet.” I kissed his neck and his ear. I caressed his hip. I loved the way it seemed to fit against my palm so perfectly. I let my hand wander up his side and heard him catch his breath. I traced his ear with my tongue. I kept my touch light as I slowly moved my hand up to his nipples. I caressed them for just a moment—until he moaned a little, grinding himself against me—then I moved my fingers back down, back over his hip. I slid my hand underneath him. That was another part of him that felt perfect in my hands, and I pulled him tighter against me and heard him whimper a little in response. “Still no requests?” I asked him.

He opened his eyes and looked up at me, and I froze. What I saw there worried me. He looked afraid.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, suddenly serious.
“Yes,” he said, although his voice shook.
“Do you want me to untie you?”
He shook his head, just barely. “No.”

“I will,” I said, and started to reach for the tie, but he tightened his legs around me.

“No,” he whispered. “I want you to kiss me.” I hesitated, still wondering what had caused that look of trepidation in his eyes. “Please,” he said. “Like last time.”
137

For better or worse, I couldn’t find it in me to argue. I loved kissing him. Ever since that day on the floor of his living room, I couldn’t get enough of it. I did as he asked, slowly teasing each of his lips, alternately sucking on them and kissing him gently. Like before, I spent a long time doing only that while we ground against each other. The effect it had on him was undeniable. By the time I worked around his mouth, his lips were red and swollen, and he was arching against me, making sounds that were driving me wild. Just rubbing against him as I kissed him and hearing his breathless cries had me close to orgasm far too soon.

I started to move down, thinking I would use my mouth to bring him off, but he tightened his legs around me. “No,” he said. “Not that way.”

“Okay.” I leaned down to kiss his neck some more. “Do you want me to fuck you now?” I whispered in his ear.

 

“I don’t care,” he said, “as long as you’re here.” And by “here,” I knew he meant as long as I was in a position to keep kissing him.

I didn’t want to move on to anal sex. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy sex with him. I most definitely did. But with him, sex was generally just sex. It rarely felt intimate. I wanted this to be different. I reached into the drawer by the bed and found the lube. Unfortunately, that presented me with a bit of a problem. I didn’t want to break contact with him to do this. I felt like I would somehow lose something if I did. I wanted to keep him how he was now, allowing me to touch him and explore him, rather than pushing me right to sex. I did my best to keep kissing his neck and his lips as I used one hand on the tube. I was ridiculously grateful that it had a flip top and not a screw cap, and I finally managed to squeeze some out onto my fingers, although I somehow got it all over his hip in the process.

“What in the world are you doing?” he asked in breathless exasperation, and I laughed.

“Just wait,” I said. I went back to kissing him, nibbling on his lips. His moans were louder now, his legs tight around my hips as he ground harder against me. “Let go of me,” I said quietly, and he made a hissing sound.
138

“No.”
I kissed him again. “Yes.”

He moaned, and I couldn’t help but laugh at the mixture of arousal and frustration I could hear in that one small sound. But he let go.

“Good,” I whispered. I was still between his legs, but instead of having them around me, they were spread wide with his knees bent and his feet on the bed. I pushed one leg down so that it was flat on the bed and moved so that it was trapped between my legs. That was completely self-serving. It allowed me to grind my own aching erection against his thigh as I kissed him. Then, I put my slick fingers against his entrance and pushed gently.

He moaned, and his eyes drifted closed. I kissed his neck as I teased him, rubbing my finger in small circles around his rim. And then slowly, very slowly, I pushed into him. He gasped, arching against me. “Oh my God,” he moaned, and I pushed in a little further. He started panting hard, pulling against the tie that bound his wrists, pushing toward my hand. He was too far gone to kiss me anymore, and I went back to nibbling at his red, swollen lips.

“Like this,” I told him quietly as I pushed further, moving slowly in and out of him, massaging his tight shaft. “I want to make you come just like this.”

“Oh God, love, please hurry,” he panted breathlessly.

The urgency in his voice almost sent me over the top. I gave up on being slow or gentle. I wrapped my other arm tight around him. I bit down on his neck. I shoved my fingers in the rest of the way, found that spot inside of him, and pushed, grinding myself against him as I did. He cried out, loud enough that the neighbors probably heard him. Not that I cared. His body tightened around my fingers, and he cried out a second time, and I came hard, holding him tight against me as the waves washed over us both.

We were shaking, breathing hard, and for once, I got to just hold him. He usually pulled away from me so quickly, and I was content to be able to be able to spend more time touching him and smelling him. I 139

was so happy to have him there with me. Even still shaking from my orgasm, all I could think of was how glad I was that he had come back from New York. I started to kiss his neck, and he said shakily, almost laughing, “My wrists.”

I laughed too. I had completely forgotten that he was still tied up, and I reached up to undo the knots. I only got to untie one of them. As soon as he was free, he pushed me away, and I tried not to be too disappointed. That was his way—to put his walls back up now that the sex was over. He sat up quickly on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, hiding his expression from me. I wrapped my arms around him and was surprised that he let me. He was trembling, still breathing hard, and I kissed the side of his head.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

 

“Yes,” he said shakily. He laughed just a little, although it was a nervous sort of laugh. “I’m a mess.”

 

“I’ll get you a towel.” I went in the bathroom for one. I wiped myself off quickly and then handed it to him.

 

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice still shaky. But he didn’t look up at me.

I wanted so much to touch him more. I sat down next to him on the bed and took his other arm, the one that still had my tie knotted around it. I undid the knot. There was a red mark underneath it, and I lightly massaged his wrist and hand. “Was it too tight?” I asked him.

“No,” he whispered.

I leaned over to kiss his wrist, as if I could take away the pain, and heard his breath catch. It didn’t sound like arousal. I lifted my head to look at him, and he turned quickly away from me, pulling his hand free to cover his face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, suddenly alarmed. I had thought his quiet, shaky behavior was only a reaction to his orgasm, but now I wasn’t so sure. I was terrified that I had hurt him or pushed him further than he intended to go.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said, so soft I barely heard him. 140

 

Nothing could have surprised me more than that. “What do you mean?

He shook his head but still would not face me. “Don’t you see?” he asked, his voice torn. “Don’t you see how terribly dangerous this is?”

“Do you mean me tying you up? I won’t do it again if—” “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

I was baffled, and worried. I put my hand on his shoulder but he flinched away from me. “Then what—” and right then, at the absolute worst possible moment, my phone rang. “Shit!”

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “You’re here to work.”

 

“Are you all right? Did I hurt you?” It rang again. “Cole, I’m so sorry. Whatever I did to upset you—” Another ring.

He sat up straighter and wiped his eyes, but he still wouldn’t face me. “You didn’t,” he said, although it was obviously a lie. “Don’t worry, love, really.”
Ring, ring
. “Go do what you have to do. I’m fine.” His fingers found mine and squeezed for only a second, and then he stood up and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

I answered my phone. I hoped it would be something quick and simple, but it wasn’t. I was on the phone for more than thirty minutes, and I worried the entire time. I heard the shower running, and I heard when he came out. Although I was still on the phone, I went in the bedroom. I took his arm and gently turned him toward me. I had to carry on my conversation with my client, but I felt like if I could just see Cole’s eyes, I would know if we were all right. They were a little bit sad, but he smiled up at me reassuringly. I put my arm around his waist and he allowed me to pull him close. I buried my nose in his damp hair, breathed in that scent I loved so much. I wished I could say something to him, but my client was still talking.

He let me hold him for a moment, but then pushed me away. It was playful but firm, and I reluctantly let him go. He climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. By the time I managed to get off of the phone, he was sound asleep on his own side of the bed. 141

When we had first started seeing each other, I had been relieved at the fact that post-coital cuddling was not part of our arrangement. But more and more lately, I found myself wanting to bridge that gap— to reach across that expanse of crisp, clean sheets between us. I never did, though. I was sure that, as in all other things, he would push me away. Tonight, more than ever, I wished that I could hold him as I fell asleep.

He was still sleeping when I got up and went to the fitness room for my morning jog. He was in the kitchen when I got back. I took a quick shower and got dressed before finding him.

“I knew you had to leave early,” he said, “so I didn’t make breakfast.”

“That’s fine.” I was watching him, trying to find some clue as to what had happened last night. I stepped closer to him. “Cole, about what happened—”

“It’s fine, honey, really,” he said, and he sounded completely sincere. Looking into his eyes, I saw nothing but his usual mocking nature.

“I won’t do it again,” I told him. “I prom—” But he stepped forward suddenly and put his fingers against my lips.

“Don’t,” he said. “That’s not a promise I want you to make.” “Are you sure?”
He smiled up at me. “I enjoyed myself immensely, I assure you.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay.”

“Go,” he said. He hesitated for a second, and then he stood on his toes and kissed me. “I’ll see you tonight.”

 

It was the first time he had ever kissed me goodbye.

 

142

Date: February 20
From: Cole
To: Jared

I know that you are terribly upset with me, and I don’t blame you. I’ve been ignoring you and refusing to answer your questions. The truth is, I couldn’t decide what to tell you. I didn’t want to lie to you, Sweets. We’ve known each other too long, and you deserve better than that. But I didn’t want to tell you the truth either, because that would mean facing it myself. And I just wasn’t ready to do that.

Am I ready now? No, not really, but it must be done. I’m most of the way through a bottle of wine, and right or wrong, I must admit that it helps. It also helps that you’re hundreds of miles away. If I had to face you when I said these things, I wouldn’t be able to do it. If I had to look in your eyes right now, I would smile and tell you that you’re mistaken. I would tell you that Jonathan and I are casual lovers. I would tell you that he’s only an uptight accountant who’s good in bed, but nothing more. I would tell you that he means no more to me than any of the other men I share my bed with when I feel so inclined.

But the truth? The truth is, Sweets, somewhere along the line, it all went wrong. I started wanting to see him more. I started enjoying our time together out of bed as much as in. I let my guard down. Somewhere, somehow, I let myself start to love him.

I should never have let things go this far. I have learned the hard way that my lifestyle is not conducive to long-term relationships. I cannot stay in one place, Sweets. I just can’t, no matter how much I may want to. And the minute I give in and leave town again, it will be the beginning of the end. I know that.

As for Jonathan, he does not love me. He finds me entertaining, and possibly amusing, but not much more. The truth is, I’m glad. Because

 

143

 

it’s one thing for me to lie to myself. It’s another thing altogether for me to lie to him.