Control (14 page)

We didn’t get past the entranceway before we picked up where we’d left off in the car. Dion pulled me into his arms and kissed me.

It was a hot and urgent kiss, all tongue. His hands roamed up and down my arms, over my back. I pressed my palms to his chest. Dug my fingertips into his flesh through his shirt.

His warmth consumed me. His kiss electrified me. I wanted to get naked and fuck.

Dion broke the kiss, only to take my hand and lead me to the nearby living room. There, he took his blazer off and set it on the leather sofa before once again drawing me into his arms.

As we necked, he pulled me down onto the sofa with him. This time, his hands ventured lower than my back, to my ass. He gently squeezed my flesh, groaning as
he did. The sound was like an aphrodisiac, making me dizzy with desire.

My body was on sensory overload. Every touch of his fingers against my skin sent a new rush of excitement through me. I hardly knew Dion, and yet I felt that I already knew him intimately. I wanted him to rip my clothes off and fuck me. Fuck me in a way that I hadn’t been fucked in years.

I thought of Robert then, and that put an immediate damper on my desire. I didn’t care that I’d only just left my husband. I was entitled to get laid. But I needed to be honest. To lay my cards on the table before we went any further.

I eased backward, breaking the smoldering kiss. Dion’s lips didn’t stop, however. They moved to my cheek, the underside of my jaw.

“Dion,” I said, breathless. “Dion, wait.”

He stopped then, cupped my cheek and stared into my eyes. There was a slight look of confusion on his face, as though he wondered if he’d been moving too fast for my liking.

“I just…I need to tell you something,” I said huskily.

“Okay.” His voice had a note of concern.

I didn’t know how to say it, but had to do so. “Dion, I’m married.”

His lips parted, forming an O. He lowered his hands from my face.

“I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that. But I wanted to—”

“Look, if you’re married, that changes everything.”

“I’m separated,” I clarified.

Dion’s look of confusion deepened.

I blew out a deep breath. “I just left my husband. It’s over. Absolutely. No going back. But I wanted you to know my circumstances. Before…” I left my statement unfinished. My body knew what I wanted, but verbalizing it was another matter.

“You say you just left him. When?”

“Last week.”

Dion’s eyes widened, registering his surprise. “And how long were you married?”

“Eight and a half years.”

His face grew serious. “That’s a long time. If you’re newly separated, it might not be over.”

“It was a long time coming,” I told him. “Even though I didn’t know it. My husband has always been controlling, but recently I discovered a lie. A big one. It’s one I can’t forgive.”

“Infidelity?”

“No. Something worse.”

Dion gave me a curious look. “What’s worse than infidelity?”

I chuckled mirthlessly. “How much time do you have?”

Two hours later, we were sitting side by side on the sofa, a second bottle of wine half-finished. I had recited a novel to Dion—retelling practically all the events that had taken place in my life since the moment I’d met Robert.

“And now here I am,” I concluded. And for the first
time since I’d started talking, I glanced at my watch. My eyes bulged. “Oh, my God. Is it actually twelve forty-five in the morning? Have I just talked for two hours straight?”

“Has it been two hours?”

“Yes, because it was almost eleven when you went to get that first bottle of wine.”

I had dominated the conversation for all that time, as if the floodgates had been opened and I’d had to get my story off my chest. I should have been surprised that I could share all that information with a man I barely knew. And yet I wasn’t. I felt a connection with Dion that was inexplicable.

I’d snuggled against him as I’d told my story, and he’d held my hand much of the time. He was quietly offering me the support I needed, and not judging me in the least.

“So if it’s two hours since you started talking,” Dion began, “that means it’s two hours since we last kissed.”

A frisson of heat coursed through my body. “Are you saying you want to kiss me again?”

He trailed his fingers along my neck. “I want to do more than kiss you.”

The heat went straight to my pussy this time, making me instantly wet.

You could call me reckless, or on the rebound, or whatever. But I wanted this.

I wanted Dion.

He lowered his lips to my neck. I arched my head
backward to allow him more access. Closed my eyes. But his lips didn’t touch my skin.

Instead, I felt the warmth of his breath on my neck. The brush of his fingertips.

“I have only one question for you,” he said softly.

I opened my eyes and met his gaze. “Okay.”

“From all you said, your marriage wasn’t exactly ideal. Your husband is significantly older. Many women in your situation would probably have a boy toy on call. You never mentioned one, so I’m wondering.”

“If I have a boy toy on speed dial?” I echoed, smiling coyly. “Or are you wondering if I’ve had many lovers since I’ve been married?”

He paused. “Have you?”

“Would it matter?” Dion shrugged.

“I’ve only just left my husband. When I was with him, I was faithful to him. So yes, you’re the first. But you’re not a boy toy.”

Dion arched an eyebrow. “I’m not?”

“Well,” I murmured, eyeing him flirtatiously, “not unless you want to be.”

“Oh, I want to be.”

He eased his body over mine, and I moaned. I think we both did. He caressed my face as if I were an exquisite piece of art. I loved that. Loved how he liked stroking my face and neck.

“I have my own admission,” he said softly.

“Please don’t let this be the moment you tell me
you’re
married.”

Dion chortled. “No. But I was involved with someone when I first met you.”

“Oh?” I felt an irrational spurt of jealousy.

“Yeah. I thought I was going to marry her.” He paused, and I didn’t breathe as I waited for him to continue. “But for some reason, I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“You’ll probably think I’m crazy, but the first time I saw you…I don’t know why, but I couldn’t forget you. My relationship with my girlfriend just wasn’t the same.”

“How long were you together?”

“Three years.”

“Three years!” I hadn’t expected that answer.

“Yeah.” Dion nodded. “It was a comfortable relationship. Nice. But not…I don’t know. And then I saw you.”

It felt as if something bigger was happening between us, even if I didn’t understand why. For Dion to echo the same things I’d been feeling since I’d first met him…it was overwhelming.

“There were many, many days I wanted to go back to your store and talk to you. A couple times, I walked by. That’s when I knew I needed to end my relationship. How could I continue to be with her when I couldn’t get another woman out of my mind?”

“Oh, my God.” I pressed a hand to my forehead.

“That bothers you?” Dion said.

I lowered my arm. “No. Not at all. In a way, it makes
a weird sort of sense. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, either.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

For a moment we stared at each other, and I saw my own amazement reflected in his eyes.

And then Dion kissed my lips, and when he did, it was as if our mutual need exploded, and I was grabbing at his clothes, he was pulling at mine. I heard a rip and knew I’d torn his shirt. But the ripping sound didn’t alarm me—it turned me on.

The shirt had torn near his shoulder, exposing his flesh there. As Dion buried his face in my neck and pressed his palms against my belly, I sank my teeth into his skin.

“Ooh, so you want it rough,” he rasped.

“Any way you want to give it to me…I just want it.”

Dion eased back and tried, unsuccessfully, to tug my dress down my arms. “How do you get this off?”

“You have to unzip me.” I lifted my left arm and dragged the zipper down. The fabric loosened. Dion pulled the top of my dress to my waist.

As his eyes feasted on my naked breasts, he made the kind of low, growling sound a lion makes. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed. He brought a hand to one nipple and fingered it gently. Instantly, the tip grew hard. “Absolutely beautiful.”

Already, this was so much better than my dreams. My entire body was thrumming, desire flowing through my veins like molten lava. I stared at him, watched him
taking in my nakedness. My clit was pulsing, a reaction not just to the touch of his fingers, but to way the he was regarding my breasts with such awe.

I couldn’t wait for him to put his wet, hot mouth on me.

He ran the tip of his finger over my other nipple, and I shuddered.

“You like that?”

“Yes.” My voice was barely a whisper.

“How much?” he asked, taking both of my breasts into his hands and running the pads of his thumbs over both nipples.

“
Very
much…”

“If I were to do this—” he guided one nipple into his mouth, suckled it a couple seconds, then grazed his teeth over it “—could you come? Could you come before I even touch your pussy?”

“I don’t know….”

He closed his mouth around my other nipple, and pleasure rippled through me. He suckled, and I watched, my pussy pulsing harder.

“I’m already wet, and my clit is throbbing.” A jolt of heat went through me at the sight of him circling his tongue around my nipple—before it disappeared into his closed mouth. “Oh, God, I think I could. I think…” I arched my back. My eyelids fluttered shut as he moved his warm mouth to my other breast and suckled there.

I was panting, my need fiery and all-consuming. But when Dion moved his mouth from my breast to my torso, I moaned in protest.

“It’s all right, baby. I’m not going to disappoint you.”

I said nothing, only whimpered.

“How long has it been?” Dion ran a hand up my thigh and cupped my pussy.

“How long since I had sex?” I asked, dazed from the pleasure. Confused by the question.

“Since you’ve come,” he clarified.

A beat passed. “I don’t understand.”

“If it’s been a while, then I want to extend your pleasure. Draw it out as much as possible.”

When was the last time I had come? If only he knew how many times I’d brought myself to orgasm thinking of him eating my pussy.

“Maybe I shouldn’t admit this, but I’ve been fantasizing about you for weeks. I’ve made myself come plenty of times…imagining you exactly where you are now. On your knees between my legs…”

“Is that so?” Dion asked, his voice perking up as he stroked my pussy through my panties.

“Yes.”

He pushed the bottom part of my dress up over my hips, so it was bunched around my waist. His eyes went to my center, and the sheer lace fabric covering my vagina. “Then I say it’s time you get to experience the real thing.”

The thought of him finally eating me in real life was such a turn-on, I couldn’t speak. I could only moan again.

He stroked my pussy through my thong, then used a hand to pull the fabric aside, exposing me. And he
stared. Drank in the sight of me. Once more, the expression in his eyes said he was regarding something exquisite. Priceless.

It was a look suggesting that just by gazing at me, he was enjoying immeasurable pleasure.

I drew in a sharp breath when he slowly ran a finger over my opening. And when he stroked my clitoris, I flinched.

“You’ve got a pretty pussy, baby.”

No one had ever told me that before.

“And you’re wet. Ohhh.”

He dipped a finger into my wet folds, then used that same finger to circle my clit. He was being gentle, treating me like fine china.

And then he brought his mouth down on my pussy, covering my clitoris with his hot tongue. He suckled me hungrily, buried his face in my pussy and ate me. He dipped his tongue into my folds, circled it around and around my clit. Suckled it again before grazing the sensitive flesh with his teeth. He was all over me, lapping up my essence, driving me delirious.

He paused to blow on my pussy, and oh, what a sensation. And when he drew my clit into his mouth yet again and suckled me gently, that’s when I let go. My body jerked as I came forcefully. I was whimpering, nearly crying, unable to contain myself as wave after dizzying wave of pleasure rocked through my body.

I heard the tearing of a condom wrapper as I lay breathing heavily, my body spent. With his tongue, he’d made me feel amazing, but when his hard cock filled me the delicious sensation was far more intense.
I wrapped my arms and legs around him and held on tight as his thick shaft moved inside me in a way I’d never experienced.

On my back. On my side. On my knees. On my back again. It went on and on, his erection never failing. The sensations were overwhelming, and though I tried to hold on, I came again, moaning wantonly. I gripped Dion’s legs, tightened my calves around his ass.

Moments later, he was coming, his body jerking, a pleasurable groan escaping his lips. I clung to his sweat-slicked body, never wanting to let him go.

His lips found mine, and as he ravaged my mouth the way he’d ravaged my pussy, I knew I would never tire of him.

Dion had fucked me the way I’d longed to be fucked. The way I had dreamed of him fucking me so many times.

Finally.

Dion and I made love half the night, and when morning rolled around, I knew I wouldn’t be able to make it into the shop bright and early.

At eight, I got up and called Spike.

“Good morning, doll-face,” he said, clearly having seen my number on the caller ID.

“Hey, Spike. I don’t have long. I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be late getting into the shop today.”

“So the night went well,” he said smugly.

“Very,” I admitted. “And I’m going to need another couple hours of sleep, at least.”

“You’d better tell me all the details later!”

I giggled. “I will.”

I put my phone back into my purse and crept to the bedroom. Dion was sleeping peacefully, his arm still outstretched where I’d been nestled.

As softly as I could, I got back into the bed. Snuggled against him. Closed my eyes, content.

We didn’t get up until ten-thirty. Dion planted slow, hot kisses along my jaw—the kind meant to arouse me again.

“That’s not fair, Dion,” I told him, sighing. “You’re off for the summer—you don’t have to go to work. But I do.”

“You own the store. Who’ll fire you if you don’t show up?”

I considered his words. Surely I could spend a couple more hours with him. Tabitha was also on the schedule, so Spike wouldn’t be alone. And it was a Tuesday, hardly the busiest day of the week.

Lord knew I wanted more of him.

“I guess I can spare another hour or so.”

“Mmmm.” Dion wrapped his arms around my naked body. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

“And I’m free tonight—if you want to see me again.”

“
If
I want to see you again?” Dion slipped his hands between my legs and began to massage my clitoris. “What do you think?”

“I think you put some sort of spell on me that first day I met you.” He slipped a finger into my vagina. “Because I can’t…get…enough… Oh, God.”

Dion slipped another finger inside me and drew my nipple into his mouth.

He suckled my breast as he fingered my pussy, tugged
at my nipple with his teeth. He was titillating every erotic zone in my body.

I had never felt more alive.

I came, squeezing my legs around his hand and crying his name. He didn’t move his hands or his mouth until he’d coaxed every last bit of my orgasm out of my body.

He kissed me then, and I stretched my naked form against his. I reached for his cock, still amazed at just how beautiful it was. How powerful.

“Not yet,” Dion said.

“Not yet?”

“I was thinking we could have a shower,” he whispered in my ear, his hot breath stimulating me again. “Have a little fun while we get cleaned up. Kill two birds with one stone….”

We got into Dion’s shower, which was comfortably big enough for two. As we both stood under the stream of warm water, Dion kissed me.

God, this man was incredible. Our instant connection was about more than the physical. He was the complete package—total sex appeal combined with that emotional bond I’d always craved.

Dion broke the kiss, eased back and grinned at me. Then he reached for the shower rack and took the shampoo bottle. He squirted shampoo into his hands and began to rub it into my hair. As he washed my hair, he kissed my forehead, my nose, my cheek. And then finally my lips again.

“Turn around,” he whispered.

I did, and he worked his hands through my hair to rinse the strands free of suds. I closed my eyes as water streamed down my face, and the next thing I felt were Dion’s soapy hands working over my back and my shoulders. It was all very functional, even as he lathered my behind—until a hand slipped into the crack of my ass.

He trailed his fingers lower until they met the back of my pussy. Then they moved forward and stroked my clitoris. I braced my hands on the shower wall and spread my legs, giving him more access.

With the water beating down on my back, Dion played with my pussy until I could barely stand it. Turning, I threw my arms around his neck and planted my mouth on his. Then I pushed him backward against the wall.

And I stared at him. Let my eyes feast on every inch of his gorgeous body.

His cock was even more beautiful than it had been in my dreams. Just like in my fantasies, it had no foreskin. It was large, the girth impressive, and it curved slightly to the right. I loved it.

Dion began to reach for me, but I said, “No, stay right there.” Then I took the soap, lathered it in my hands and spread it over Dion’s chest, his six-pack abs and his thighs. I got more soap and worked it over his cock. My body responded immediately. We had spent the night fucking and coming, and still I hadn’t had enough of him.

I lowered myself in front of his beautiful penis. I ran my thumb over the head, which the water had rinsed clean of soap. Then I curled my fingers around his cock
and guided it to my mouth. I suckled the tip, and was rewarded by Dion’s groan as he tangled his hands in my hair. Opening my mouth wider, I took him deep inside, sucking him hard. I ran my palms up and down his strong thighs as I worked my mouth over his amazing cock. When I used my teeth, he groaned harder.

Gripping my hair, Dion guided me back up to his mouth, then kissed me ferociously. I felt his penis throbbing against my pelvis. And I wanted him desperately, as if we were about to fuck for the first time.

Wrapping his arms around my waist, he lifted me and carried me out of the shower. We were both soaking wet when he placed me on the bed, but neither of us was concerned with the bedding. I played with my nipples as I watched him put on a condom. Then he lay down beside me and pulled me on top of him. I straddled his thighs as he held his cock and guided it into my warm, wet opening.

I rode him hard, the sensations beyond thrilling. He held my hips as he thrust his shaft upward, hitting my G-spot with every delicious stroke. I squeezed my vaginal walls around him, hoping to heighten his pleasure.

We came together, both of us swallowed whole by a giant wave of pleasure. I fell forward, my body quivering against his, Dion growling long and loud.

And it struck me anew that this was real. My fantasy lover in the flesh.

And it was better than anything I could have ever imagined.

Afterward, Dion slathered my body with lotion. I was totally at ease standing naked in front of him, letting his palms work over every inch of my body in the light of day. His hands stoked the embers of my desire, but we both knew we weren’t going to end up fucking again.

It was amazing how comfortable we were with each other. I wasn’t experienced in terms of having many lovers, but the ease with which we’d fucked, then fallen asleep together, not to mention being able to shower together the morning after, surely wasn’t the norm. Spike wasn’t a woman, and maybe his flings weren’t typical, but he said that most of the time he didn’t feel comfortable staying the night with a new lover.

I didn’t feel any shame over the way I’d shared my body with Dion. In fact, if I didn’t have to go to work, I would happily have spent the day with him, walking around stark naked the entire time.

Why put clothes on only to have to take them off again and again?

“There,” he said, rubbing the unscented lotion over my belly until it dissipated.

I took the bottle from him and squirted some into my palm. “My turn.”

I smoothed lotion over his hard chest, his broad shoulders, then moved lower, to his abdomen. My fingers traveled the length of a jagged scar, then my eyes followed. It was a scar I’d seen the night before in the heat of passion, but the timing hadn’t been right to ask him about it.

“What happened here?” I asked. It was about three
inches long, and thick where it had formed a keloid. The location of it—on his abdomen as opposed to an arm or a leg—was an odd place for such a scar.

Dion looked down at my hand on his body, taking a moment before answering. “I…I was stabbed,” he said.

“What?” I shrieked. “How? Who?”

“It was a long time ago. I’m thirty-six now, so…nineteen years? I can’t believe it’s been that long.”

I could see it now—the anger in the scar. It wasn’t neat, the way it might be after a surgical procedure. I slipped my arms around Dion’s waist, offering comfort for whatever he’d gone through. “You were seventeen.”

“Yeah.”

Whatever had happened, it was difficult for him to talk about. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“One of my mother’s boyfriends,” he said, putting his hands on my shoulders. “He used to knock her around. I got between them, trying to protect my mom, and…and I paid for it.”

“Oh, my God.”

“The knife punctured my small intestine, and I had to spend a week in hospital.”

“Dion!”

He tightened his arms around me. “But I was fine. And my mother’s boyfriend went to jail. He never hurt her again.”

“I’m so sorry. What an awful thing for you to have to go through.”

“I’d do it again,” Dion said with resolve. “Anything to protect my mother.”

So far, he hadn’t mentioned his father. I sensed there was a story there, that perhaps we had some common ground.

But I didn’t have time to ask him about it. I had to get to work.

My dress was wrinkled from the night before, but I had nothing else to put on. I couldn’t very well show up at my store dressed in one of Dion’s T-shirts and a pair of his shorts, which would be too large for me. Especially not wearing my heels from the night before.

My hair was a mess. I didn’t have my flat iron or any other accessory. I would have to pull it back into a ponytail.

“Can I get you some breakfast?” Dion asked.

“I wish I had the time, but I’d better get to the shop. I have a feeling that if I stay any longer, I won’t make it to work at all.”

“Are you sure? You haven’t eaten Cheerios until you’ve tried them Dion-style.”

“What do you do—something special with the milk?”

“I never reveal my culinary secrets.”

I chuckled. “I guess I’ll have to see for myself. But another time. I’ll get some coffee at work.”

We left his house, and a short while later, Dion was pulling up to the curb in front of my store. Given that I was wearing my dress from last night, I wished I didn’t have to exit his vehicle to get my car, but what choice
did I have? Hopefully, I could slip into my vehicle unnoticed and head back to Sharon’s place to change.

I put my hand on the door handle to open it, but Dion’s fingers went to my chin. He turned me to face him. “Tonight, right?”

“I’ll call you before I come by.”

A few seconds passed as we stared at each other. Dion was the first to break the silence. “I had a great time last night. And this morning,” he added with a grin.

“So did I.”

Leaning forward, he kissed me, and warmth spread through my body. Groaning, I pulled away.

“Tonight,” I told him as I got out of the vehicle.

I hoped to make it to my Mercedes without Spike seeing me, but no such luck. By the time I was opening my car door, I heard his voice on the street.

“Oh, no, doll-face. You’re not going anywhere.” He scurried toward me. “What on earth did you do in that dress? Wait, don’t answer that.”

“I know,” I whispered. “That’s why I’m trying to get home to change.”

“And girl, you need to fix that hair.”

“Shut up!”

“I’m just bugging you. Though you do have a very nice ‘just been fucked’ look.”

I quickly got into my car. “Spike, you know I love you, but I’ll talk to you when I get back to the store.”

“Okay, okay. But I thought you should know a package arrived for you today. From Robert. Chocolates. I think they came from—”

“Paris,” I finished for him, and felt my stomach sinking. My favorite chocolates in the world were from La Maison du Chocolat. I’d tried them the first time I’d gone to Paris with Robert, and he had them delivered for me on various special occasions. Normally, a box of the exquisite assorted chocolates would brighten my day. Not now.

“Spike, will you get the package for me?” I didn’t want to walk into my store in a wrinkled designer dress.

Spike disappeared there and returned less than a minute later.

I took the card from the package and opened it, though I didn’t want to.

As I read the card, my stomach lurched. In the past, when I’d longed for Robert’s attention, when business caused him to neglect me, he could buy me delectable chocolates, or a beautiful dress, and it would make me feel better. Make me believe that my husband was one hundred percent committed to our marriage.

How could he equate the magnitude of his lie to the
nights I’d had to spend at home alone without him? How could he think that an apology and a box of chocolates from Paris would make what he’d done okay?

“You can have the chocolates,” I said to Spike, tossing him the box. “I’ll see you later.”

Before he could say a word, I closed the door and started the engine. He stood on the sidewalk, watching as I drove away.

Robert’s gift shouldn’t have upset me. I should have known something like that would come. But still, it brought me back to the place I was trying to escape. A place I wished I didn’t have to go back to in order to move on.

But I did. I had to deal with the reality of ending my marriage.

When I was a few blocks from the store, I pulled into a parking lot and turned off my car. Except for when I’d called Spike this morning, my phone had been off the entire time I’d been with Dion. I hadn’t wanted any calls from Robert. I’d also avoided checking my voice mail over the past few days, not wanting to hear his voice. But the chocolates had made it clear I couldn’t avoid him forever.

All the messages were the same. “Elsie, I’m sorry.”

“Elsie, I miss you. Please call me.”

“Elsie, everyone missed you in church yesterday.”

“Elsie, I love you. Will you call me, please?”

Something about them got to me. A sense of regret, I guess. Robert truly sounded sorry in his messages—but what he’d done was inexcusable. There was no going back now.