Restoring Jordan (19 page)

“What are you doing here?”

“Playing hooky. Besides, Charles likes Bridget. It was the perfect way to nudge them together. They’re playing together with another group, and I told them I needed to catch up to a client at another job site and slipped out before we ever got started. So … I’m all yours for the afternoon, and I’m assuming it’s safe to touch you now without you acting like your body is radioactive.” He’s smirking, and I’m smiling. My body is warming with every word he speaks, and as his hand moves to my waist, clutching me and pulling me to his body, warmth and wetness flood to my core.

Pulling me over to an incredibly oversized mirror at least twelve feet tall and eight or so feet wide, he takes his place behind me and nibbles and kisses at my neck. The mirror is propped against the far wall of the room where the fabrics section is located. His mouth continues to work as his eyes hold mine. His body is held tight to mine, and his erection pushes into my back.

His hands move to my shoulders as they pull my gray cardigan down my shoulders and off my arms. He tosses it on a nearby couch before returning his hands to my shirt. Reaching around from his place behind me, he slowly works my buttons free of their buttonholes, and I watch his every move. His eyes remain fixed on mine, and his erection remains hard against my back. When he’s pulled my shirt from my body and tossed it away as well, he begins to unbutton the three buttons at the neck of his polo shirt, and I turn to help him. He drops his hands as mine take over, and he leans to my mouth again, plunging his tongue between my lips to my silken warmth. He touches and strokes my tongue with his own while my hands work at his neck and then pull his shirt off over his head.

I run my hand down his chest to his stomach and revel in his tightened and quivering stomach muscles as my hand passes over his skin and innervates his desire further. He’s wearing straight-front black pants that are far more casual than he generally wears, and the bulge of his erection is easy to see. When I reach for the button of his pants, a sigh passes his lips, and as I lower the zipper of his pants and reach within to the rigid, large length of him, his contented sigh turns to a loud and low groan that emanates from the depths of his gut. I stroke with gentle, slow movements as his head drops to my shoulder and his hands reach for my bottom. He strokes and kneads the skin of my cheeks through my pants, pulling my groin to his. His breathing is quickening, and as it does he stills my hand and turns my body to face the mirror once more.

He’s again watching my eyes in the reflection, and as my wetness builds and my body tingles, his hands move to the button of my pants. He undoes the button, lowers the zipper, and hooking his fingers under the waist of my pants and underwear, he pulls them down, sinking to his knees behind my body. He slips the cuff of my pants over my black heels, leaving me standing nearly naked in only my bra and my favorite pointy-toed black heels with ankle straps.

Before he stands behind me, he spends time rubbing and kissing the round cheeks of my bottom and then kissing trails over my back on his way back to standing. When he unhooks my bra and slides it down my arms, I comment, “You like a lady naked in heels, huh?”

“I like
you
naked, with or without heels … but the heels will give you some needed height right now.” He winks as I wonder, and then he continues. “Condoms are a fabulous fabulous thing, but you can’t imagine how much I’m looking forward to making love to you with nothing at all between our skin.” With that, he leaves me standing alone, my gaze trailing after him. He grabs a dark moss green velvet occasional chair that sits along a nearby wall, and returning to me, he sets the chair next to my hip. “Sit. Please.”

I do as he asks and am now sitting facing the gigantic mirror. He finishes undressing and moves to stand behind me, leaning to my ear. “Scoot your bottom to the edge of the seat and lean back. I comply as he pinches my nipples. He holds the pinch as the arousing pain builds in my body, and just as the pain builds to an intense ache he releases them both and rubs gently as the blood rushes into my breasts. “Spread your legs.” Now I’m nervous. I’m facing the largest mirror I’ve ever seen that plays out our actions in explicit detail. But however hesitant I may be, I do as he asks, shaking in nervousness.

His hand moves down my stomach to the lips of my vagina. He parts the lips of my sex, and whispers in my ear. “You are so beautiful. I know you’re nervous, but you don’t need to be.” His finger dips into my entry, testing my wetness before plunging in all the way. I gasp as his finger thrusts into me. He’s watching over my shoulder, and his parted lips and intense gaze reassure me he’s okay with seeing me so prone and vulnerable.

When he’s finished with his thrusting and my body is beyond ready, he stops and runs his lingering finger between my lips to trail a glistening path of wetness in its wake. Standing, he rounds my body, with a subtle smirk. I want to sit to touch him, but before I can move he lowers himself to the floor in front of me. He’s facing me, sitting somewhat cross-legged, lounging on one hand with his opposite knee up and his elbow rested casually on his knees. He’s studying my sex, and he caresses my folds and parts my skin as he takes in every inch of me. I have the most incredible view of his body from this vantage point, and it’s this image I study as his mouth moves to my body and starts laving and tormenting my most sensitive bundle of nerves.

His back is strong and muscular, the skin smooth and unblemished. He’s sitting, but his strong and round bottom is easily seen, and as my eyes follow the contour of his body, my body readies itself for release. His knee is up, and I can follow his entire line from his bottom up his strong thigh, over his knee and back down his calf to his foot. His body is beautiful—strong and lean and perfectly proportioned. His mouth continues to lick and suck at me, and as my gaze finally leaves his body and drops to his, he’s already looking at me. He pulls back from my sex with my wetness glistening on his lips and smiles a seductive and knowing smile. “Looking at something?” I let out a quick embarrassed laugh before his mouth latches to me again, and within moments I’m crying out in my orgasm. My stomach contracts and my body pulls in on itself as every muscle in my body tightens, and he watches.

When he stands in front of me, he lets me touch him and stroke him for a few moments before pulling my hand from his body and then pulling me to stand in front of him. Leaning to my ear, he lets me in on his plan. “We’re going to watch as we make love.” I freeze in his arms, and he must sense it as he continues. “Don’t be nervous. You’re beautiful and you have nothing to be ashamed of with me.” He looks to my eyes and I nod. I’m not really reassured, but I’m not going to stop him. I’ll do just about anything to get him inside of my body right now, and if that means playing his game, so be it.

He turns our bodies and sits in the chair as I stand in front of him. He’s stroking his length as he runs his other hand up the side of my leg, and leaning forward, he kisses my stomach and holds my waist with his hand before letting it trail over the cheek of my bottom. “Turn around and straddle me.” He’s looking to my eyes now, gauging my reaction and my fear. There’s plenty of it, but I’m also so desperate to have him inside of me that while my heart pounds in my chest, my body moves into position. I’m hovering over his groin, facing the mirror, and though I hate myself for doing it, I can’t help but look to my figure with judgment. Why should I be so self-critical when he obviously doesn’t criticize me?

He’s still stroking his length with his free hand at my waist, and the muscles of my thighs are strained as I hold myself awkwardly above him. He guides me with his hand at my waist to his rigid shaft, and he guides his cock to my entry and pulls my hips over the head of his penis. My entry distends around his breadth, and as I continue to take in the sight of us I sink to his groin, taking every last inch of his length into my body. The view is incredible. His breadth takes over the junction of my thighs, and the distention of my sex shows his girth incredibly. As I sit on his lap, he nuzzles my neck and gazes at the sight of our joined bodies over my shoulder. He’s still inside of me and holds our bodies tight together for many long moments, simply looking.

He rolls his hips forward, thrusting the remainder of the way to my depth. It’s painful and deep but intense, and as he relaxes his hips once more, he slides back out of my entry. His hands hold my hips, and he lifts slightly as he retreats farther from my body before pulling my groin back to his and rolling his hips forward once again to plunge deep to my core. I let out a strangled moan as the invasion bruises my insides. He continues our strokes in this way until I take over for his hands and lift and sink from his body on my own. He watches the penetration and retreat as closely as I do, and the sight of our unsheathed joining is powerfully intimate.

With his hands no longer necessary on my hips, one is on my breast and the other strokes my clitoris, and at his touch my most intimate muscles clamp down tight on him, and he releases a loud moan in my ear. He tortures and plucks both my nipple and my clitoris as my muscles clench and movements quicken. The moment I come, he lifts me with a hand under each thigh, leans back in his chair and starts pounding into me. He’s still watching our bodies in the mirror as he drives into me, and with one final, incredibly deep thrust, he releases himself inside of me. He’s grunting as he spasms within me, and I’m gasping for breath. He gently thrusts into my body as his relaxes, and as we both watch, his seed seeps around our joined sexes, and he groans quietly against my ear.

When our movements finally slow and still and our breathing has relaxed, he lifts my hips from his, and he helps me to my feet. His semen spills from my depths and runs down the inside of my naked thighs, and as I turn to face him he leans to my stomach and kisses trails across the soft skin as his hands caress. His fingers find the wetness that has trickled down my thighs, and he runs his fingers through it, returning them to my sex. He touches and strokes through his seed, plunging his fingers within me and trailing the cum out across my stomach and legs. When he finally stops playing in the mess he made of me, he stands and pulls my body into his, holding me in a tight embrace for many long minutes.

The phone rings for the first time since the entire company except for me departed, and as I hurry across the room to catch it, he watches me smiling. I talk to a client, telling them nothing our phone system couldn’t have told them—everyone is out for the afternoon—and when I hang up his hands are on my back. He wipes my skin clean with a warm washcloth I’m guessing Bridget will eventually discover is missing from the sample inventory. I turn, and watch him wipe every last ounce of his semen from my skin and his as well.

When we’re de-seeded—he ended up with as much on him as I did—and reclothed, I return to my project, and he sits across from me at the worktable, watching and occasionally commenting. He doesn’t leave my side until it’s time to leave for the day, and we stop for a quick dinner on the way to my place. He follows me in and stays for the rest of the evening and night, not leaving until early the next morning to go home and change.

“Well we’re going to be in town tomorrow night, and we just thought we’d like to take you to dinner.”

“I see. And how long are you staying?”

“Just one night. We’re on our way to Hawaii for vacation. You know, we’re just so busy, we never have any time to take for ourselves, and we just decided it was time.” Disgust hits my senses at her words. They’re so busy they have no time to do anything, and when they finally get around to doing something for “themselves” they decide to spend it in Hawaii rather than spending it with their son whom they haven’t seen in nearly two years. I suppose I should be grateful for the one evening they’re sparing for me, but I’m not. I’m just hurt. Not that I expected anything better from them.

In a momentary lapse of judgment, or perhaps it was a moment of clarity, I make a decision. “Mother, I’m bringing someone with me. I’ll meet you at the restaurant. Tell Father I said hello, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” I hang up with no further comment. I’m irritated, and I’m angry. I shouldn’t subject Adeline to their bullshit, but I also want her with me. She calms me, and she cares for me more than my parents ever have, and I need her beside me.

When I left her this morning to run home and shower before work, it was still dark. The ridiculousness of living apart from her when all I want is to be with her was profound as I exited her apartment to the darkness of early morning. I’m like some high school punk sneaking out of his girlfriend’s bedroom window. I shouldn’t have to abandon her like this. I should be able to wake with her, make love to her, shower with her, eat breakfast with her, drive to work with her, before starting my day with her. That’s the life I want—with
her
.

It’s now ten, and we’re meeting in the lobby to go furniture shopping for some last-minute pieces for the model unit. The project is wrapping up, and the final touches are ready to be put in place. The finish carpenters are working on the trim, and early next week the furniture will arrive. The fixtures we were asked to swap for cheaper ones are in, and while we both grumble and grown every time we see them, they don’t take away from her design. She did an amazing job, and my most favorite part of any day is watching her walk into our project and discover what new piece to the puzzle has arrived or been installed. Her face lights up as she sees her design come together, and my face lights up seeing her joy.

Monday will signify the start of her last two weeks at Foster’s, and I’ll have to have my performance appraisal of her work to her department head by the end of the week. Foster assigned it to me rather than Vera as Adeline has worked for me alone for the entirety of her time here, and I thank God for this favor. She’ll get glowing reviews from me and not just because I happen to be infatuated with her. She deserves the very best ratings I could give her, and my ethical conscience is at ease knowing she’s earned her way here at Foster’s.