Never Understand Part One ( Johnthen Trent Adult Romance 1) (2 page)

BOOK: Never Understand Part One ( Johnthen Trent Adult Romance 1)
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He’s at the table with two more smartly dressed, attractive guys who must feel utterly outclassed, and two very lucky females, dressed up to the nines. Who can blame them? One attractive, somewhat hard-faced blonde woman is sitting by his side and seems to be monopolizing him. Or trying to. I doubt if this guy has ever been monopolized by a woman.

The brunette woman has given up the fight and is just hanging on his words. Not flirting, because he’s too dangerous to flirt with. You just wouldn’t. He’s that type of guy.

I try to keep a distance, even stopping myself from looking at him. Every time I come to the table he looks at me with a searing intensity, as if I’ve interrupted. Then he resumes dominating his table. At one stage I catch him talking with the brunette woman opposite him. I could see her chest heaving, going slightly pink around the throat. What on earth is he saying to her? The woman’s eyes are following his hand and its exquisite fingers, like he’s a hypnotist. Heaven knows what he’s saying to her, but she’ll do his bidding after this, I guarantee it. I can hear his voice all the while as I flit about the table doing my work. So deep and so rich. Mysterious and dangerous all at the same time.

I work the rest of the evening trying to shake myself from this trance, but maybe I have some kind of sexual glow about me, because it’s a bumper haul of tips, and that cheers me up a little. I can’t help thinking of his eyes and that voice.
Sure.
One word and it went right through my body, tingling my spine and my scalp, and made my mouth go dry.

Finally, Dark and Mysterious gets up from the table with half the restaurant looking at him, including me. I’m behind him, bringing the check to the table, as he languidly moves towards Massimo to thank him for an excellent dinner, peeling off from his clip of hundred dollar bills as he does so. I’m marvelling that such broad, powerful shoulders could go with that slim waist and hips. The whole package is making silky, sinuous movements under that black suit. Sex on legs. That suit is made of a dense, heavy, woven silk – understated and made to look like wool. No wonder it drapes over him so fantastically.

Abruptly I come to my senses. The hard-looking blonde woman is summoning me to pay the check. At first she looks so disgusted I think I’m going get a rant or a tirade over the service. But no. She offers her Amex card without speaking. I’m as bubbly as I can be with her, but waste no time in turning to go fetch the card machine for her to pay. I’d like to tell you that she was ugly, or was a botox victim or a fashion disaster. Sadly not. She’s pretty and attractive. It’s just that she looks at me like I’m a piece of crap.

Watching Mr Dark and Mysterious talking to Massimo, I find myself wondering what he’s doing with the two women at the table. If they work for him, he can’t be impressed by the brunette woman’s lack of decorum, shall we say. And the hard, blonde woman, though close to him, doesn’t seem like a wife or girlfriend. Business associates I guess.

I note the blonde woman’s name from her Amex card. Carmen Blacker. Carmen Blacker pays the lavish bill for the whole group and rises to leave. Maybe they’re an item and she took exception to his flirting with the brunette over there. She looks like she just swallowed a wasp at any rate.

I notice the man’s deep golden eyes glance over at me again, sending a frisson down my body. He joins the two women and the other guy from his party and walks calmly out with that suit of heavy black silk hanging from his powerful shoulders. Everyone is watching him. It feels like there should be a round of applause.


Che uomo perfetto!
’ says Massimo.
What a perfect man!
Massimo has some kind of man-crush going on here, though he is decidedly a non-gay Italian male.

‘You need to get in touch with your masculine side, Massimo,’ I say. ‘This guy’s a jerk. No class at all.’ I hear myself saying it, and wonder what got into me. Massimo looks at me very oddly. I explain, ‘He made a point of giving the tip to you and left no tip on the table at all.’

Massimo looks embarrassed. He fumbles around and tells me the tip will be shared with all the other tips. ‘What’s your problem?’

Massimo’s right of course. But it was a cheap, spiteful thing not to leave a tip, even if the Carmen Blacker woman put him up to it. He was saying I was beneath his notice. Jerk.

The one good thing I would say is that he stopped me thinking about Josh Lake.

 

So on the subway on the way home… why am I still thinking about Josh Lake?

Chapter 2: New York City Sunday 7 May

It’s obvious why I’m thinking about Josh Lake as I ride the subway home. Regret, insecurity, and sex. And the other reason would also be sex. Sex, of course. The unattainably hot, wealthy guy in La Serenissima has set me thinking about sex, and that got me thinking about the real sex I’d had with Josh. Josh is still a hot guy for all he’s a bad influence on Phoebe. I wonder how long she’ll last with him?

Mr Dark and Mysterious in the restaurant - his voice, his suit, the body beneath the suit. My God! Some women would kill for those genetics alone! The fact that I’m beneath his notice doesn’t stop me wondering if he’s been in la Serenissima before, or if he comes back, whether I’d get the chance to – to what? But then there’s Josh Lake in my mind, turning over and over like a bad penny as I shove in my earphones and try to chill out on the subway. Rihanna, Katie Perry, yadda yadda. Josh Lake.

I look across the subway car at my reflection and I curse my waitress clothes and flat shoes, feeling like some god-forsaken spinster. ‘To hell with Josh Lake,’ I say to myself, before I just give in and let my mind fill once again with the first time I had a “Sunday afternoon in” with him. Like Phoebe did this afternoon. I’m turned on just thinking about it.

Joshua is tall, blond, I guess you’d say, with a hot body. He knows it of course, and he knows women look at him. When he was mine, Phoebe used to look at Josh all the time - couldn’t keep her eyes off him. In the end, the second Josh and I broke up, she was in there. I can’t blame the girl, and you’re going to say I should have been more wary of her. Perhaps I shouldn’t have dropped into conversation what a skillful lover he was - but she’s an old girlfriend, and what are old girlfriends for, if not boasting about your new boyfriend? For those three months I was with Josh, I could have been run over by a truck and not noticed. I couldn’t think of anything else.

Josh ticked all the boxes for what a city girl might want in a lover. Looks, nice eyes, funny (at least when he wanted to be), good body. Good job down near Wall Street, and the classy suits to go with it. Josh is a real piece of Wall Street Ass, if you want to be crude.

And he knew what he wanted when it came to sex. There was no “is this OK, honey?” or “what are you in the mood for?” Josh was quite clear what he wanted and he knew how to get it. Maybe he studied books or something. He’s the kind of guy who would do that – a geek of sex. He probably recorded all my orgasms on a spreadsheet so he could remind himself how good he was the next day. Wouldn’t put it past him. But he was a hell of a lover.

The first time at his place, he planned out the music in advance, he mixed the perfect cocktail to loosen my inhibitions, and he smelled divine. He was dressed in jeans and a white dress shirt. He even used candles – I mean, how many guys do that? I was going to say he had me at the first kiss, but in truth he had me way before then. The kiss
was
melting though – nibbly and light and erotic with his teeth and lips. His smell and the candlelight did their thing, and he somehow let me drift towards him then took me, gently holding my head in his palm as he did it. Then he broke away a fraction before I wanted him to. My stomach turned a somersault. I could feel his hard body against me, those dreamy pec muscles against my palm. Then he did it again, letting my lips come to him, holding me firmly in his arms, his hand gently on the back of my head, kissing and letting go. Then cupping the back of my head with his hand, kissing deeply and urgently with his tongue, and letting go, making my lips come back for more.

I could feel him observing me, checking as my breathing became shallow, but that was OK. It was a turn-on for him to have me like this. He checked me out quickly, lustfully with his eyes. I began to realize I was with a real operator, with a Master’s degree in getting the female body to respond as he wished.

Josh had this thing where he would somehow make me drift out of my clothes with his music and the candlelight. One minute we’d be kissing and I’d be fully clothed. The next minute I’d standing there in my panties and high heels, hardly knowing what he’d done, but he made it so intimate somehow, so it felt natural. That first time in his apartment, my clothing somehow appeared miraculously folded over a chair, each item removed slowly, carefully, one by one. It was so freakin’ HOT to know I was with an expert. Then he’d slide his fingertips over my body once more, and it felt like he owned me. My breathing was shallow and full of desire, and between my legs I felt so wet.

Always he was fully clothed until he was ready to fuck me – at the most he’d remove his jacket at this stage - and he had this thing where I always felt I had to come up to the mark. I had to dress right, get the lingerie right and have the right earrings and so on. He’d often talk about all those immaculately turned out women at his office, and the way this girl wore the wrong blouse, or another girl’s skirt was just too short or just too long. So I always felt I had to dress right, including my undergarments, as if he was going to inspect me.

Not that I minded. I would spend all day thinking about what I was going to wear for him, so it was no wonder I was turned on when it came time for him to undress me.

For that matter, I also had to undress in the right way when he demanded it. Sometimes, instead of expertly sliding my clothes off me, he would whisper to me to remove one piece of clothing after the other. He’d be touching me and kissing me, then he’d pull back, breathing heavily, his eyes burning over my body, but I’d have to remove each item for him. By the time I’d taken off my top and my skirt, I was practically begging to take off the rest, just to feel his fingers on my tingling skin. I’d be aching for him. And when he finally instructed me to remove my panties, he had me stand in my heels and bend right over, and take the lacy undergarments off over my shoes with as much elegance as I could muster. It wasn’t easy with my rear in the air as I bent over. Given that I was quivering with desire it’s a wonder I didn’t fall in an undignified heap that first time. Once, he even sat down in his armchair, with his forearms placed down the arm of the chair, and he told me exactly what to do, item by item, move by move, while his eyes smoldered, examining me in the candlelight. It made me so damned hot. It arouses me even now, on this subway train, to think about it.

That was part of Joshua’s thing. He knew what a girl wanted, and he’d give it to her. But he liked to be in control, and having me naked in front of him was a big part of that. If I tried to undress him at the same time, he’d gently stop me. It was OK by me, so I went along for the ride. That first time, naked in the warm candlelight, I felt self-conscious, but I was so turned on. There was a heat from between my legs and my face was flushed and I’m damn sure my eyes were giving all the signs a guy could want. Josh was there fully clothed, with that smile of lust and satisfaction he used to have. My eyes, my whole body was saying “fuck me”. But I can hear him saying now, “Patience, Jana, patience.”

Joshua sat back in the armchair. He had me stand there for a few seconds while he sipped his drink, and looked me over once more, this time with his sexy eyes never leaving my naked body. At the time it made me feel wonderful – so beautiful, sexy and hot. The lustful glint in his eye as he surveyed his property was all part of the turn on and he knew it. He knew I’d seen the bulge in his dress trousers, and that red flush he got around his neck when he was aroused, but it was fine by him. He’d stand there and cup himself through his trousers to rearrange his erection in his pants to make himself comfortable. No fuss, no embarrassment, the arrogant bastard.

He was a skilled lover, Joshua, but he could be a cold bastard. The more I wanted him, the more he’d play on it, and make me wait and I’d admit it was very erotic, especially at first. He’d notice my nipples, puckered and erect, but he’d only touch me lightly on the sensitive sides of my breasts with the back of his finger. Sometimes he would stand behind me and kiss my neck while his fingers carefully teased over my belly and my hips, tantalizingly close to my clitoris. Finally he’d gently take my nipples in his thumb and forefinger and make me catch my breath. His cock would be jutting hard in my back through the fine wool worsted of his suit trousers. He didn’t mind waiting, Joshua. He just loved to spin it out.

I’ve sometimes wondered, before and since, how he had this power over me, how he got inside my head so much. Sure he had a great body, and those great eyes, but that wasn’t it. He was well-dressed and earned good money, but that wasn’t it. He had a lovely, good-sized cock, and I’d heard a couple of girls gossip about it. But it wasn’t that either (honestly!) It was two things with Joshua. It was the melting kiss that just lights all those fires and pops all those firecrackers in a girl’s brain.

And it was the way he fucked me. When he had me naked, he’d carry me to the bed and lie me down. I’d lie there checking out his toned body while he quickly, neatly undressed. Tie, shirt, slip off the shoes, pants, shorts. He wasn’t self-conscious or embarrassed of his body either. His sculpted butt, tanned chest and his steel-hot erection were no big deal to him. He made no effort either to flaunt or to hide.

Then he’d slide his hot, naked body onto the bed with me and take my wrists artfully in one hand above my head, and then carefully kissing and caressing my neck and breasts, and under my arms, he’d push my legs apart and slip inside me, infinitesimally slowly at first, pulling every atom of sensation from the experience. He’d slowly move his thick, heavy cock inside, like it was never going to stop growing inside me, opening up new realms of sensitivity. Finally, when he’d filled me completely, he’d fuck me slowly, like a craftsman going about his work. Expert, solid, relentless, controlled. He would even slip off his wristwatch and time himself so I didn’t come too soon. He’d build me up slowly. He would gradually keep me hanging on the edge of orgasm, and then, just when it was the right time, he would lunge deep within, deeper than ever, so deep it always made me gasp – every single time. I felt like I was falling backwards, my body tipping into a deep orgasm. Then he’d slowly, rhythmically fuck me so that he sensed where the next orgasm was and he’d make me come again, then again. I had absolutely no choice in the matter. God - he knew what he was doing.

BOOK: Never Understand Part One ( Johnthen Trent Adult Romance 1)
11.2Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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