Modern Wicked Fairy Tales: Complete Collection (24 page)

Matt interrupted her tirade. “So what did
your mother do?”

That took the wind out of her sails and Rose
collapsed into her chair, feeling incredibly small. “She fired
Cathy. And she divorced my father. In that order.”

“I’m so sorry, Rosie.” Matt’s voice was
soft, gentle, as if his words alone might comfort her. It was the
first time he’d used her nickname. “You lost your best friend and
your parents split up and your whole world turned upside down—just
at a time when you were coming to sexual maturity.”

“I guess so.” She avoided his gaze, watching
a dog run down the beach after a stick someone had thrown. “I
haven’t thought about
She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named
in
years.”

“Do you miss her?”

“I did, at first,” she admitted,
remembering. The house had felt so empty after Cathy left, she
could barely stand it. She’d stayed in her room a lot after that,
listening to her Walkman. “But I didn’t understand any of it. I
felt betrayed by Cathy, by my father. And—” Rose snorted at the
realization. “My poor mother. I blamed her for firing Cathy and
breaking up the family.”

“You were betrayed,” Matt assured her. “And
I can understand your feelings of anger at your mother. And your
confusion.”

She looked at him, speculative. She hadn’t
expected that response. “Cathy told me she loved my father. And I
could understand that. But she also told me…she said that men
weren’t worth it. That all they could ever offer you was pain. ‘It
might feel good for a while, Rosie, but in the end, it always ends
up like this.’”

The silence was deafening, stretching
between them, like a pent-up breath. She felt tears stinging her
eyes at the memory, could see Cathy’s young face, practically
snarling, the words choked out as if she was drowning in them.

“She said… ‘No man is worth the pleasure he
promises. I wish I’d known that ten years ago.’” Her father had
caused this, Rose understood. It wasn’t Cathy’s fault, not really.
It was his fault. He had betrayed her mother, betrayed their
marriage, and had hurt them all. Cathy’s pain had been too hard for
her twelve-year-old self to bear. “‘Don’t ever give yourself to a
man the way I did, Rosie. Don’t do it. Don’t ever do it.
Promise
me.
’”

Oh Cathy, I’m so sorry.
She wondered
where she was now, that poor woman. Ten years of her life wasted on
a man who didn’t really care about anyone but himself.

“And then what happened?” Matt asked
gently.

“I promised,” Rose admitted, meeting his
eyes.

“Are you still keeping that promise?”

“I think I am,” she whispered softly. The
realization left her breathless and she searched for some escape,
looking at the clock on his desk. “Our time’s up, Matt.”

“So it is.” It had been up ten minutes ago,
but he hadn’t said anything, and now she knew why. He tented his
fingers on the desk, looking at her thoughtfully. “Rose, I’d like
to talk to you about something… unconventional.”

She laughed. “This whole place is
unconventional.”

“Have you ever heard of a sexual surrogate?”
he asked. Rose shook her head as he continued. “We have a few on
staff. Basically, it’s someone who engages in intimate contact with
a client—always with a therapeutic goal in mind of course.”

She blinked at him. “Intimate contact…you
mean…sex?”

“It can include sexual intercourse, yes,” he
confirmed. “I think you might benefit from some one on one contact.
I don’t think we’re going to have a breakthrough with masturbation
alone. You need to learn to trust another person first.”

“But…” Rose frowned, trying to absorb just
what he was proposing. Therapeutic sex? How did that work, exactly?
And…did she really want to know? “But I don’t want to have sex with
a stranger.”

“Well, you still have two weeks left here at
the facility,” he explained. “That would give you some time to get
to know each other, to establish trust…”

“No.” Rose shook her head. “Matt, no. It
won’t work and you know it.”

“Why?”

She loved how he so often asked her to
explain herself. So few people in her life had ever given her that
opportunity. “I was with Sam for two years and I still couldn’t
trust him enough. Why do you think a few weeks with a stranger is
really going to make a difference?”

Matt sat thoughtfully for a moment—his turn
to look out the window. Then he sighed and turned to face her.
“You’ve made such good progress, Rose. I really want to see you
have a breakthrough.”

“Do you?” She leaned onto his desk,
searching his eyes, coming to another realization that startled
her. It probably should have been obvious, but somehow the thought,
the idea—the feeling—had snuck up on her.

“Yes.”

She reached across the desk and slid her
hand into his. No wedding rings, no attachments, no excuses. She
took a deep breath and said, “Then do it yourself.”

“…What?” His eyes widened, but he didn’t
reject her. In fact, his hand enveloped hers and she felt like the
heat of their skin together could have burned a hole through the
desk.

“I want
you,
” she whispered, watching
his face, gauging his reaction—and seeing exactly what she hoped
for flicker in his eyes. There was more than a spark between them.
“If I’m going to do this, I want
you
to be my sexual
surrogate.”

“Rose…” He turned her hand over, palm up,
and traced the lines there. “I’m not sure that’s ethical. Or
wise.”

“But it’s right,” she insisted. “And I think
you know it.”

He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her
palm, eyes closed. “Maybe.” Then he let her go.

Rose sat back, breathless. “So that’s not a
no?”

“It’s a maybe.” God, she loved the man’s
smile. “Let me run it by legal. Get some clearance so I don’t lose
my job in the process.”

In her haste, she hadn’t even considered
that. “I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

“With you, I think I’m already in trouble.”
He grinned. “Besides, I think your instincts may be right on.”

She stood, picking up her bag and slinging
it over her shoulder. “They usually are.”

“I’ll have an answer for you tomorrow after
group,” he called as she shut the door behind her.

Leaning against it, she took deep gulps of
air, her hands shaking, her belly trembling with excitement—and
fear.

What, exactly, had she just signed up
for?

* * * *

Rose was tired of waiting.

The moment Matt told her that they’d
received the green light for him to be her sexual surrogate, it was
like she couldn’t wait. She felt like a racehorse at the starting
gate, chomping at the bit. Matt, on the other hand, was the
opposite. He was taking things so slowly she thought he might
actually be part snail.

The first night they’d done nothing but hang
around one of the conference rooms talking about communication and
relationships and birth control (she had been on the pill since she
was a teenager). There wasn’t even a bed in there! She knew Matt
wanted her to understand that the sexual surrogate relationship was
temporary, that after the two weeks was up, their relationship
would have to end. But she knew that. She was prepared for it. She
told him so.

She thought, with that out of the way,
things would really start rolling—and the fact that they met in a
different room this time, this one with a big queen size bed,
helped bolster that idea—but even their second meeting had involved
very little touching. They’d talked a lot more and Matt had given
her a slow massage, which felt great, but none of her clothes had
come off.

At this rate, she reasoned, they wouldn’t
get to intercourse and orgasms until Christmas! The third and
fourth night had been a little better, she reasoned. At least it
involved more touching—and more nudity. He’d brought in a massage
table and some scented oils and oh god, his hands on her made her
feel as if her whole body was on fire. But the third night they
didn’t even kiss!

On the fourth, though—last night—things had
become much, much more intimate. First, he had stripped her naked,
and had even allowed her to take off his shirt. Then he’d given her
the all-over relaxing body massage (although it was funny how
non-relaxing it could be, since all she could think about was sex!)
and had made a suggestion. “I want to shave your pussy.”

Of course, she’d agreed. And although Matt
had touched her most intimate parts before, this had been very
different. He had lovingly—and carefully!—trimmed and shaved her
until she was completely smooth. He had asked if she wanted a bit
of hair left up top
—“A landing strip? A triangle? Maybe a
heart?”
—but she had laughed and said, “Shave it all off!” so he
had.

But the thing that really thrilled her was
that—finally!—he had kissed her. There hadn’t been any discussion
or questions, he had just leaned in and captured her mouth with his
like he couldn’t help himself. He had made some joke and she had
laughed, delighted, and he had kissed her, just like that. It had
taken her breath away, giving her tingles.

And then it had been over. He was helping
her get dressed, talking about their next meeting, and she had gone
back to her room to toss and turn on the sheets, looking for a cool
place and finding nothing but heat.

“Don’t forget your homework,” Matt had told
her before they parted and in the darkness ,Rose had touched
herself, remembering the press of his lips, the way he looked at
her completely shaved pussy, his eyes dark with lust. He wanted her
as much as she wanted him, she knew it was true, whatever they were
calling this strange little therapeutic dance.

“Sexual surrogate, my ass,” Rose muttered,
her fingers soaked with her own juices, her pussy throbbing for
release. But there was none. Instead, sleep finally found her and
she didn’t even have the benefit of remembering any dreams about
Matt.

Now, finally, she was tired of waiting. She
couldn’t stand it anymore. She knew they were supposed to stay
focused on her pleasure, her communication with him, telling him
what she liked, what she didn’t—but her longing for him went far
beyond the physical. She didn’t even understand it herself.

“Rose?” Matt gasped when he opened the door.
“How did you get in here?”

She didn’t answer, didn’t tell him that
Kennedy—who had done a lot of breaking and entering when he wasn’t
prostituting himself on the streets—had used his powers for good
this time, helping Rose with her nefarious plan. Instead she stayed
still, naked in the middle of the bed, her eyes closed,
concentrating on keeping her breath slow and even.

“Rose?” He put down his baggage, she could
hear it clatter and thud on the floor. She knew he was probably
carrying the portable massage table he had brought the other night
and a bag she knew was full of scented oils. She felt more than
heard him approach, and she knew exactly how she looked, because
there was a mirror on the ceiling and she had seen herself, long
blonde hair spread out like a golden field of wheat beneath her
shoulders, lips red and swollen and aching to be kissed, the pink
nubs of her nipples hard with excitement.

“Oh god,” he whispered and she felt his
weight shifting the bed, his knee pushing down on the mattress.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. His
hand moved through her hair, his fingers trailing over her cheek.
She felt the heat of his breath on her shoulder, felt the press of
his lips against her collarbone, her throat. A soft moan caught in
her throat, her eyelids fluttering, her stomach tight with
anticipation.
Please, oh Matt, please, please…

And then he was kissing her, his mouth soft
and open, exploring hers. This time she did moan, meeting his
growing urgency, her limbs tingling with feeling as she wrapped her
arms around his neck, pulling him fully onto the bed. She gasped
when he pressed the full weight of his clothed body against hers,
feeling the bite of his belt buckle against her navel. Thank god,
Matt had given up his white coats for these meetings, coming in
jeans and a button-down shirt.

“Oh Matt, please,” she whispered, giving
voice to her pleas. “I want you so much. I can’t stand it. Please,
please, please…” She punctuated each please with a kiss along his
throat, her hands already working the buttons of his shirt.

“How did you get in here?” he asked again as
she peeled off his shirt, delighting in the sight and feel of his
bare skin.

“Magic,” she whispered, giggling, working on
his belt—and he let her.
He let her!
Not only that, he
helped, unzipping his jeans and sliding them down his slim hips.
The feel of his cock against her hip—already so hard for her—was
all the reassurance she needed. “I want you, Matt. Every bit of
you.”

He groaned when her hand reached into the
flap of his boxers to caress his growing length, dropping his
forehead and resting it against her shoulder, letting her touch
him. She was already so wet, so ready. She’d skipped dinner and had
been here for hours, waiting, anticipating his arrival.

“I want your hands, your mouth, your cock.”
She slipped her tongue along the shell of his ear, feeling him
shiver.

Matt cleared his throat, looking at her.
“Well, I guess the communication lesson was effective.”

“Yes,” she agreed, slipping her hand lower,
cupping his balls. “I know exactly what I want.”

“Then tell me.” His eyes were bright, his
mouth curled into a soft smile.

She hesitated just a moment before asking
for her favorite thing, the only thing that had brought her
anywhere near a climax before.

“Your mouth.” She pressed her fingers to his
lips. “Lick me.”

He obliged, spending far too long kissing
and licking her nipples on the way down until she was writhing and
whimpering and truly begging him to lick her pussy. Matt settled
himself between her thighs, admiring his handiwork—he hadn’t been
kidding about the sensation increase, all day she’d felt exposed,
her pussy swollen and wet in her panties—before beginning his
tonguing exploration.