Chronicles of a Serial Dater - Book 2: A New Adult Romantic Comedy (4 page)

“That’s really shitty. I guess I’d never thought about what it’s like from your side of it.”

The first real silence of the evening fell over us. We’d had a few drinks and had reached the point in the night where we had to decide what was happening next. I sneaked a peek at him, his strong hands wiping the condensation off the glass mug, and decided to go for it. My core tightened at the thought of his thumb caressing parts of me.

“Do you, uh… should we go to…” I started without knowing how to finish the sentence.

He met my eyes, deciphering my meaning with one glance. He squirmed in his seat again, and this time both hands dropped out of sight under the table. “My place is only a couple blocks away,” he whispered, almost afraid that he might’ve misinterpreted me. “Unless you’d rather…”

I thought of trying to bring a guy back to the apartment with Anette and Zach hanging around. I nearly shouted “No!” but restrained myself. “I’d love to go back to yours.”

We held hands as we strolled along, the night warm but not oppressive. It was weird how normal it was to casually walk back to a place with someone, both knowing you were about to have sex for the first time. Plus, it’d been so long since I’d been with anyone, I could probably be re-certified as a virgin. And it’s not like Kevin was any god in the sack, either.

Forrest’s building was a lot newer than my eight story walk-up. It was modern, air conditioned, and even had a working elevator. I was surprised when he hit the button for the 30th floor. He didn’t give me any time to comment.

The doors shut and he consumed me in an instant, pressing me against the cold mirrors, his mouth hot against mine. After a moment to process, I kissed back with equal excitement, my fingers digging into the muscles on his strong back. If his kissing was any indication of how good he was going to be in bed, I knew I’d made the right decision. And if the hard bulge against my hip was a sign of things to come, bring it on!

We broke apart as we reached the floor, my heart racing as he led me to the door of his apartment. Compared my cramped two-bed, this place was palatial. We stepped into a sprawling open plan kitchen and living room, the recessed lighting flicking on overhead.

“Can I get you a drink?”

I nodded, trying not to gape at the apartment. “What did you say you do again?”

He laughed appreciatively. “Finance stuff. Boring but pays well,” he called out from the kitchen. I mean, come on. He had a separate room just for his kitchen. That alone bumps you up a few pegs in Manhattan. “I work so hard during the week, I want to enjoy myself during my free time.”

I turned and watched him walk towards me with a mix of trepidation and excitement. Paint a picture of a guy you’d want to take to bed and this was Forrest for me. Tall, handsome in an unconventional way, funny, and so sure of himself I felt like I could…

“Right, yeah, totally,” I coughed, taking the drink from him to stop my train of thought.

He gestured to the designer sofa. We sat close but not enough to touch, but the fire he’d kindled in the elevator still burned just under the surface. I watched his Adam’s apple bounce as he took a sip and set the glass on the table. We made idle chit-chat, neither of us really committing much to the verbal conversation. But holy hell, the things we were communicating with our bodies.

Forrest leaned forward and pushed his elbow up on the back of the sofa, holding his head at the temple as he listened to me intently. I caught myself twirling my hair as I spoke. Each movement and gesture screamed
FUCK ME,
but we clung to the control.

I realized this was part of the foreplay. This wasn’t drunken fumbling in a single-bed dorm. This wasn’t instant gratification. This was adult, mature, and so much better than what I’d had with Kevin. It actually left me feeling empowered and sexy, like I was a seductress.

His fingers grazed my bare knee. I pushed into his touch. He brushed my hair behind my ear and our eyes locked. He trailed down the side of my jaw and gently held my chin as he kissed me, softly this time. The hunger was there but leashed, restrained. The kiss built and built, the heat rising as our tongues danced. When I threaded my fingers through his hair at the back of his head, a groan rumbled in this throat.

Forrest grabbed me by the waist with both hands and hoisted me on top of his lap, my knees falling on either side of his hips. The way he looked at me… I’ve never felt so sexy in my entire life. He consumed me with the same passion and desire as he’d had in the elevator, his hands cupping my ass as his mouth explored my neck.

After a few moments, he let out another groan and flipped me on my back. I let out a little surprised squeal as I landed. He swiftly crawled on top of me, his body pressing me into the soft sofa. I released a moan of my own, wondering how long it’d been since I’d felt the weight of a man on me.

I couldn’t believe how right this felt. It was like I was floating above myself, watching the scene play out, amazed that it was happening at all. Talia sleeping with a guy she’d just met, a guy she’d met online no less. However bizarre it seemed was completely offset by the amazing things Forrest was making me feel.

His hardness pressed against my thigh, and holy shit was he hard! I hadn’t gotten a chance to steal a glance, but the damn bulge in his pants was big enough and hard enough to hurt a little! My body worked on its own, arching into the contact. He pulled the strap of my tank top down, kissing along my collarbone as he snaked his hand up the hem of my skirt along my thigh.

Just as I was about to completely lose my mind, he stopped, pulling back. I nearly dove for his mouth again, his lips parted slightly as he caught his breath. A grin spread across his face.

“I’m really glad I met you, Talia,” he breathed. “I…” He pushed up to sitting again, pulling me up along with him. “I don’t normally do this until I’ve gotten to know the person first, but… I’d like to show you something.”

I blinked a few times, trying to hide my confusion. My body was still
go, go, go
. Why was he putting on the brakes when I’d just given him the green light?

“Yeah, of course,” I replied, adjusting my clothes back into place.

With an expression of relief and excitement, Forrest threaded his fingers with mine and led me down a narrow hall. We passed two doors before stopping at the third. I could sense his nerves and for the first time, I wondered if I hadn’t made a huge mistake. As if sensing my unease, he lifted my knuckles to his lips, flaming the spark he’d lit deep in my core.

He pulled his keyring out, selected a pure black key, and slid it into the matching black doorknob.
Why does he have a locked door in his own apartment?
I wondered.

“There are things about me not many people know. But I feel like I can trust you. I’m not going to spout off some stuff about connections and all that,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck in a charming gesture. “There’s a strange need to share this with you.”

My heart was absolutely racing now. “Sure, yeah.” There was a weakness in my thighs that left me feeling wobbly.

Forrest rested his hand on the doorknob, took a big breath, and opened the door. The room was black and windowless. I hesitated at the threshold, waiting for him to flick on the lights before I entered.

Lights.

Camera.

Bondage.

I tried to be cool, I really did. I read
50 Shades,
I’ve seen the movie. But imagining a scene from a book while having a little private time with your shower head is completely different than being confronted with a room full of whips, chains, and restraints. There were things hanging from the walls I didn’t even recognize.

I felt Forrest’s intent gaze on me, watching. He reached down to the bulge in his pants and pressed the flat of his hand against it, making no effort to hide the motion. I took a few deep breaths and tried to temper my reaction, but I knew my expression was far from the one I wanted to convey. If I’m brutally honest, it was a little too much, too soon. But there was a part of me that thought,
I’ve come this far. I’m already doing something I don’t normally do… why not?

He wisely gave me a few moments to come around. When our eyes met, my stomach clenched in a strange mix of arousal and trepidation.

“You aren’t freaked out?” he asked with an arched brow.

I gave him a tight smile and I glanced at the walls again. “A little, but isn’t that the point?”

He held my gaze as he slowly licked his bottom lip. With a hand over his shoulder, he pulled his shirt up over his head and dropped it on the floor. The overhead lighting accentuated every ripple and crease of his muscles. With a smirk, he closed the distance between us but didn’t touch me.

“You’re happy to indulge my little… kink?” His voice was deep and sultry, a sparkle in his eye at the promise of pleasure. I didn’t trust my voice, so I only nodded, which seemed to be answer enough for him.

He took a deep breath that flared his nostrils before turning. I watched with wide eyes as he browsed the walls of the room, fingers slipping across the various surfaces of leather, plastic, wood, and latex. I was wandering into a dark world I’d never even entertained, but inside, I was psyching myself up.
You can do this. Lots of people do this. Maybe you’ll really enjoy it…

Forrest casually plucked a black collar off the wall, the two silver rings jingling in his hand. A second later, he paused in front of a collection of whips, choosing one with a thick handle and dozens of leather strips hanging from the end.

My eyes fell between his legs as he returned to me. Despite my trepidation, I was beyond turned on. I squeezed my thighs together in anticipation.

“Do you… you want me to wear that?” I asked, glancing at the collar.

He examined it as if reevaluating his choice. “No, actually, I have a better idea.”

He dropped the collar to the floor with a thud and reached down into his pants. The bulge between his legs moved, shifted, and as his hand came up… disappeared. In the low light, it took me a few moments to understand the majority of the bulge in his pants had actually been a bright red ball gag.

Lust and promise filled his gaze. Without a word, he handed me the whip. My mouth dropped open but before I could ask one of the hundred questions flying through my mind. He held the bright red ball into his mouth, moved to fasten the strap around his own neck, and fell to his knees in front of me. Before he fully tightened the device on his face, he pulled it away and spoke, sounding like he was already on the edge of orgasm.

“Talia. Make me your little bitch.”

Oh my God, oh my… holy shit… why was that down his pants? Holy shit. Did he have that down there the entire date?

“Um, what?” I stammered.

“I’ve been a horribly bad boy. You need to teach me a lesson,” he moaned.

I stared at the whip in my hand, the red ball hanging around his neck, and resisted the urge to check the corner of the room for cameras. “I… this…”

“I promise I’ll be a good boy from now on, but I understand you have to punish me.” He gave me a little wink before slipping the gag into his mouth and tightening the straps behind his head. He curled his lip as his teeth sank into the hard rubber, an erotic moan filling the silence. On his hands and knees, he crawled to the middle of the room where a variety of large foam cushions waited.

I was frozen in the doorway. The whip in my hand felt foreign, almost alien. Imagine a clown in a bowler hat at your front door handing you a trout covered in pink glitter with instructions on how to launch it into space. Bizarre, right? That’s what the whip felt like.

In a daze, almost as if I couldn’t believe I was doing it, I walked toward him. He was already writhing on the cushions, his hips bucking into the air, as if they were rising to meet me. As strange and unexpected as it was, there was a part of me strangely intrigued at how much of an effect this was having on him. His muscles tightened with every footfall of my heels on the hard floor.

I was playing a role now. This was so far out of my comfort zone, I might as well be on stage pretending to
be
that clown in a bowler hat. But I tried. I really did. Forrest, if you ever read this, try to understand I did my best.

“Get on your stomach.” I wanted to sound intimidating and intense. Instead, my voice came out high-pitched and squeaky. It didn’t seem to bother Forrest in the slightest, who immediately flipped over and whimpered.