The Brute (6 page)

I didn’t see James for three weeks after that. I had heard from my mother’s friend that he was doing well, and the cafe was thriving. Bursting with business, she had said. I was happy for him. I really was.

Now that the sting had disappeared and I’d had time to think about it, I wanted to see him and talk to him. Explain why I panicked that day on the porch steps. Before I did that, I had to make sure I was ready though.

Less and less people were looking at me strangely in town. Other news had replaced my fifteen horrible minutes of naked fame. I was glad of societies penchant for short attention spans.

He’d texted me a few times, saying he was sorry, that he was trying to help, didn’t mean anything by it. He said he wanted to see me again. I texted him back, saying ‘soon’. I still needed time to get my act together. Become strong again.

The following week I found a job. It was at a smaller firm of financial planners. It was just outside the city, so far enough that I didn’t risk bumping into James, but close enough, that if I had wanted to see him, it would be a short fifteen minute bus ride in. Or fourteen minutes and thirty seven seconds to be exact (that was the fastest I’d made it - on the fifth trip in, as the bus passed the front of his shop). Just to test the distance mind you, for when I was ready.

I was nearly ready.

I had settled into a small cottage on the outskirts of town about a week before I’d started the new job. It was pretty empty, and apart from a bed, a table and two chairs, I had no other furniture. Not that I minded. I was getting used to having my own company now. The longer you were away from people, the less they judged you. Not that many people remembered anymore, thank goodness.

My first week at work had been busy, and I was finding I was enjoying the financial planning industry more than the accounting one. I’d even started learning about stocks and bonds, something I’d only had a passing interest in before.

At the end of that first week, my new boss congratulated me on my good work. Told me I was an asset to the company. Hearing that, was the confidence booster I needed. The final piece that had restored my self worth. I was no longer a screw-up.

If I was whole again, then I was ready.

It was time to see James.

I always knew it wasn’t his fault that I’d got scared. He was only trying to help me out. It was just that he thought the sex was the issue in my situation with The Brute, when it wasn’t that at all. It was the control.
The manipulation. That was what I wanted to avoid. So it was time to tell him, and have him back in my life as a friend (to start with -
grin
).

It was Saturday morning and I stood outside the cafe, drooling at the food in the window, like I used to. There
was even more delectable sugary goodies than there used to be. James had been a busy little chef. I was going to walk in and surprise him, but he must have seen me pressing my nose up against the glass and drool sliding down the window (not really), because he came out.

“
Ang? What a surprise!”

“A pleasant one I hope?”

Instead of answering he put his hands on my shoulders, hesitating before pulling me in for a quick, awkward hug. “How are you? How are your parents? What are you doing here? Are you going to be in town long?” The questions rattled out like gunfire, he wasn’t pausing in between any of them long enough for me to answer.

I finally managed to blurt out that I was fine. He seemed genuinely pleased and made me sit down at one of the tables inside in the far corner. He fetched some coffee and the most heavenly biscuits you’ve ever had in your life. Why wasn’t he huge when he made food like this? He had an athlete’s body, not a chef’s. I’d be so fat if he made food like this for me all the time, if we were a couple.
A couple. I bit my bottom lip to stop thinking like that so soon.

I told him all about my new job and my new place, all the while staring at his lips. I know it sounds so sordid, doesn’t it? But god I wanted to kiss him again. I’d thought of nothing more since I decided to go see him.
His lips on mine. His fingers curling around mine. His breath on my neck. Oh yeah - I’d thought about that too.

We didn’t kiss that day, or the next day (and no, I did not spend the night with him if that’s what you are thinking, I went home and came back the next day, for coffee and cake again only).

He did, however, make a real date with me for Friday night.

I had to wait a whole week to see him again. It was excruciating.

My thoughts had played out every possible scenario on how the date would go. It always ended back at his apartment. My mind couldn’t seem to help itself.

So when he told me he was taking me out to dinner, at an actual restaurant, with people, I was a little disappointed he wasn’t going to cook for me at his place so we could be alone.

Don’t get me wrong, I was still excited that I was spending time with him, although a little nervous as well. Last time I’d been out to dinner, on a proper date, I was forced under the table. Well, not forced. But you’ve read my story - you know what happened.

The restaurant James took me to, was nothing as grand and fancy as the one I’d been to with The Brute. This one was far more charming. Small and intimate with soft yellow lighting and red brocade walls. The combination when said out loud sounds a little jarring, but it somehow all worked. Cosy and friendly. There was even a woman reading a book in a corner booth. She looked up and smiled at me, then went back to reading her novel.

The food was Italian, and divine. I had chicken
cacciatore that sent you into waves of pleasure as soon as it touched your tongue. I was careful not to slurp any onto my clothing.

James had ordered champagne, which of course I drank. If I was going to kiss him again (and there was no way I was going to let him out of this date with a peck on the cheek) then I wanted all of me to be buzzing.
But not too much - just enough.

He was charming and witty - the James I remembered, the James I was falling for. It was almost like no time had passed, no tension had pushed me away for a month.

After we’d finished, he paid and we linked arms, strolling back to my old apartment building.

“Want me to call you a cab?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I’m not ready to go home yet. Let’s talk more.”

His grip softened for a minute, and I was worried he’d change his mind, but he pulled out a key and opened the door, climbing the stairs to his apartment.

And it was
his
apartment. He’d taken the place across the hall, cutting the lease on my old one. Wise. He told me he’d stored all of my old furniture in a storage facility down town. He’d even kept my old favorite chair which I was most thrilled about.

Some girl with blonde hair was living where I used to. He didn’t know her name but she seemed friendly.

His apartment was sparse. He should have kept some of my furniture, and I told him as such, but he shook his head. “No I learnt my lesson last time not to take you for granted. I never want to make you mad again, I much prefer it when you dig me.”

“I dig you, do I?”

He smiled. “God, I hope so. Because I dig you so much.”

“Oh really.”
I said. “Prove it.”

He started to bend down on one knee. He must have seen the shocked look on my face, because he started laughing. “I’m kidding.” He stood up and pulled me to him, lifting my chin up with his hands, and without wasting a second longer, crushing his fine lips on mine.

I wanted to eat him up right there and then. And I probably would have, if he didn’t make sure I got into a cab (after we’d made out for a good half hour, drank some more, and talked for what seemed like mere minutes, but when I looked at my phone realized that four hours had past, and it was the middle of the night.)

“I want you to stay, so much you wouldn’t believe,” he said. “But I also don’t want to rush it. Let’s take it slow, Ang. Let’s make it work and do things the right way. I don’t want to risk losing you.”

On one hand I was happy he didn’t take me there and then. But on the other hand, god I wanted him. I wanted him so much it hurt.

On our second date James and I went to the astronomy centre, and watched the planets and stars whirl above our heads. It was nice, but there was no alcohol involved or any heavy petting.
Just one glorious kiss. But my body was starting to want more. Damn body.

Our third date was supposed to be a board game night, and he would cook dinner. I was going to help him since I didn’t want to spend a minute apart from him, and being in a hot steamy kitchen seemed just about perfect to me.

He was wearing a white t-shirt, which I thought was a huge mistake since he was making this delicious looking strawberry glaze that was going to be dripped over the tiny cup cakes he’d made. I thought I’d let him know that too, and I dipped my finger into the glaze ready to wipe on his shirt so that he’d have to take it off.

It was hot, and immediately I screamed as the pain seared my skin. He rushed over and placed my finger under the cold running tap. It was soothed, although after five minutes, still a little red.

“Why did you do that?” he asked. I told him and he laughed. “If you want me to take my shirt off, just ask.”

“Take your shirt off,” I said.

He raised his eyebrow to me and asked if I was sure. I nodded.

Before he peeled it off, he checked my finger. The redness and throbbing had gone down. He lifted me up onto the countertop, and then reached past me to open a nearby cupboard, never taking his eyes from mine. They were locked together as if nothing could break the spell.

He bought down a medical kit, and still without moving his gaze from mine, opened a white bandage and wrapped it around my finger. It was slow and I was breathing heavily, but not from my finger, which I couldn’t feel any pain from any more. I was breathing heavily because I wanted him so much.

When he was done, his gaze finally broke from mine, as he looked down, cut the end of the bandage with some scissors and taped it up so it was neat.

Before bringing his eyes back to mine, he peeled off his shirt.

His torso was even smoother than I remembered, but not only smooth - hard as well where evidence of a well maintained body was evident.
I must have murmured or gasped or something, because he laughed at me. “You like?”

I nodded, embarrassed, at how obvious I was being.

“Well it’s only fair,” he said pointing at my top.

He helped me remove my top, and I lifted my arms above my head as he glided the fabric up over my arms, and then placed it beside his on the floor. I was now wearing only a bra on top. His eyes skimmed my body, pausing at my breasts where my nipples had hardened (I told you my body had a mind of
its own sometimes), and then back to my face.

At the height I was sitting on the counter, we were face to face, eye to eye, and he leaned it to kiss me.

I nearly couldn’t control myself when his tongue slid into my mouth, and I wanted to take off my jeans and have him do the same as he expertly flicked his tongue around my mouth. I was already moaning with desire.

His hands slid down over my shoulders, and around to my back, unclasping my bra which he slid over my arms and it ended up on the floor with the rest of our now growing pile of clothes.

A sharp intake of breath came from him as he bent down, placing tiny kisses over my chest, and breasts, and then swirling his tongue over my pink aching nipples.

Tiny ripples of pleasure radiated out from my chest and down across my stomach. I could feel the throbbing of desire intensify below.

I used my hands to caress down over his stomach and toward the edge of his jeans, fumbling with the button. Eventually, I yanked hard enough that I was able to undo them, and pull the zipper down. He was wearing blue boxer shorts. God I loved men who wore boxer shorts. Under those shorts he was already hard, his hardness straining to be free of the jeans and thin cotton underwear that contained it.

He moved higher again, concentrating on my neck, which was both exhilarating and threatening to send me closer to orgasm before he’d even got further. I wasn’t going to let that happen though, and I pushed him away so I could jump to the floor, undo my own jeans and take them, and my underwear, off.

He groaned when he saw that I was now naked. “You are beautiful, Ang. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” Whether that was true or not wasn’t important right now, because he made me feel I was that beautiful woman, by the way he looked at me, by the desire in his eyes, and it wasn’t about just lust, but about more.

I helped him remove the rest of his clothes, letting my hand glide over his hard
manhood, it was the perfect size, just like the rest of him.

“Sit back up on the bench,” he said. I did.

He took his time, gliding his fingers over my skin, caressing every curve and stopping as he reached a freckle or mole. It was like he wanted to see me from every angle, remember what I looked like, and embed my image in his mind. I know that sounds kind of weird, but it was actually really nice, like he wanted to see me, all of me, rather than just rush in and slam his cock into me. Not that I would have minded, I was almost panting inside for him right now, but the way he was looking at me now, I didn’t want that to stop either.

When he’d finished admiring, he looked up and wrapped his hand around the back of my head and gently pulled me closer to him, kissing me deeply again.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, and his manhood slid right into me, like it was the perfect fit. No fumbling around placing it into the right spot, just move closer, slide in, exquisite pleasure.

He continued to kiss me, caressing his hands down my back as he moved inside me. He was making love to me. It was more than
sex, it was like he was pleasuring every part of me, not just the sex parts. He loved my heart, my head, and my soul. I know that sounds corny but that’s what it felt like. It was more than sex, if that makes sense.

Every essence in my body was alive, responding to his amazing touch. He knew exactly how soft or hard his hand should glide over my skin.
Knew the way to bring exquisite goose bumps that heightened everything to brilliant intensity. I was giddy with delirious pleasure as he nibbled on my ear then followed it with a slow kiss.

Grabbing his hair I pulled him closer, closer still, my legs still wrapped around his hips as he danced inside of me. I felt light as air. Everything else didn’t matter.

The way he touched me, and continued to touch me, was the most unbelievably amazing sensation I’ve ever experienced. Better than the sex I’d had with anyone else. Seriously, it was like I wasn’t even there, that I had been transported to nirvana or something.

I think it was because it was more than just sex. It was about him and me, about us loving each other.
I’d never had sex with someone I loved before. Didn’t think it would be different, but it was. It was so much better. So, so much.

And I did love him. I couldn’t help myself, I said it out loud. For a second he paused, and then continued to move inside me. He lifted his lips to my ear. “I love you too. I always have.
Ang, it’s always been you.”

I exploded at that moment. I had an orgasm right at the moment he said he loved me. Isn’t that
amazing?

We made love (not just sex - ha) for hours that night. Soon it was morning. I’m sure I didn’t get any sleep, just little cat naps in between another session where he made me feel the best I’ve ever felt. My whole body was still tingling and craving him as the sun streamed in through the curtains that we had forgotten to close last night.

I couldn’t get enough of him and he couldn’t get enough of me.

I didn’t want to leave. Not now. Not ever really. But I didn’t have spare clothes, and if I was going to stay here any longer, I’d need some new underwear. That was for sure.

There was a long lingering kiss at the doorway as I promised to return later that afternoon. I figured I needed new clothes, a shower and a nap. And maybe something to eat to make sure I had enough energy for another amazing night.

I had gotten to the bottom of the apartment and had just stepped outside ready to hail a cab when I heard a voice beside me.

“Hello, Princess,” said The Brute, as he grabbed my arm.