The Girl Who Wrote Erotica, Book One: The Method (Contemporary Romance) (5 page)

He chuckled. “And to becoming fast friends.” We put down the drinks quickly, and he gave me that look, the one I’d been waiting for.

“This place is a little lame,” he said.
“You want to get out of here, go somewhere a little less over-the-top?”

Translation:
I want you, and I’m hoping you’ll take me home.
If only he knew me better, he wouldn’t need to be so coy…

I nodded. “Yes, that would be great. This is
so
not my scene.” I sent a quick text to Sam on the way out, just a single word, “Score.”

I turned off my phone as we climbed into Jamie’s SUV, a generic something that resembled almost every other car on the road. But it was decked out, with heated seats and a thumping sound system.

“Nice ride,” I said, climbing into the passenger seat.

He smiled. “Thanks. I’d rather spend the money to deck it out than buy some overpriced, overrated new wheels.” I liked that, and I gave him directions to get back to my place, making assumptions I knew weren’t misplaced.

When he pulled up in the driveway, he just sat there for a minute, idling. I turned to him expectantly. “Well, are you coming in for a drink or not?”

He instantly killed the engine and stepped out. I opened the door and let us both in, kicking off my pumps and plodding barefoot to the kitchen.

“What’s your poison?” I asked, sensing his presence behind me.

“Whiskey, if you have it. On the rocks.”

I nodded and poured, handing him the drink across the island in my kitchen. I leaned on it and sipped my own glass for a moment, just watching him and waiting to see if he was going to make the first move or if I was going to have to play the aggressor. Sure, I’d had to invite him in, but the reaction always varied once they were in my domain.

“I take it you live alone,” he hedged, one hand in his pocket as he tried to sound casual.

I nodded. “I don’t want to have to answer to anyone when I make choices, so I’ve never had a roommate. It’s not like I can’t afford my own place. What about you?”

He nodded. “I was with a roommate, but things have been going well
for me at work, and I got a place about two months ago.” He laughed, looking almost embarrassed. “It’s kind of bare right now. I’m slowly furnishing it.” Finally, he sat down his glass, mostly empty, and moved around the end of the island until he stood beside me. This type of flirting could quickly turn awkward, but I knew what I was doing. I was totally comfortable, and I felt wholly in my element. I was interested in gauging how
he
felt. I continued to lean on the counter, playing the waiting game, waiting to see what he would do next.

He cleared his throat and I turned only my head to him, raising an eyebrow in question. His half-smile was definitely a turn on, but I kept a cool expression on my face. But his words, when they came, surprised me.

“Look,” he said, “I get it. I can totally play the game. I could grab you right now, press against you, and kiss you until you’re begging me for more.” It sounded like a good idea to me. “But I don’t work like that. I prefer to let things build up a bit. I’d rather come over here, push a strand of hair back behind your ear, letting my fingers linger on your skin for a few seconds…”

He trailed off and did exactly what he said, and I felt a quick rush of warmth at his touch, my nipples hardening into taut peaks. His smile grew. “Then, I can take your hand, turn you so you’re facing me…” he continued to mimic his words with his motions, and turned me towards him.

“…And
now
I can kiss you.”

With one hand on my cheek and the other at the small of my back, pressing me to him, he lowered his lips to mine, first brushing them ever so softly, like a teasing wind. I sighed against his mouth as he used gentle pressure to pry them open, his tongue instantly delving with short, slow, breathtaking strokes inside my mouth. I met his with mine, interweaving and dancing with each other.

He was right; his methods worked just as well if not better than the average guy’s, and I would have to remember through the fog of arousal now covering me exactly what he’d said so I could use it in my books. Now, though, I concentrated on the sensation within me, letting his attentions drive me to the point of being the aggressor. I’d been trying to avoid the tendency to lead the way for many years now, and it was still a struggle. I know guys liked girls to play the submissive, and I definitely liked that too – but still, I often found myself leaning toward the dominant side.

Something about the way Jamie approached the situation – without hesitation, but with gentlemanly courtesy that sparked a light in me – kept me off-balance and guessing, and I waited with anticipation to see what he would do next.

His hand tugged at the skirt of my dress, hiking it higher and higher on my leg until he could reach under and bury his hand in my pussy, which was flooded and burning with desire. He caressed gently on the outside of my panties, tickling in a maddening way. But before I could whimper and ask for more, he growled against my cheek, “May I touch you there?”

He pressed his hand hard against my pussy, and I froze, wanting to rock against it but holding back.

I nodded vigorously, and my voice came out like a frightened child. “Yes, please.” With my confirmation, he pushed my panties aside and stroked methodically over my clit and down to where he could tease at the opening so ready to take his fingers inside. Now, I couldn’t help but buck against his hand, rubbing myself shamelessly against him as he continued to kiss me and suck at my lips, bite at them with precision so it only heightened my growing arousal.

He smiled, and I could feel the upturn of his lips, the stretch of his cheeks on my mouth. “I take it you like my methods.”

I didn’t respond, but I reached up with my idle hands and fisted them in his hair and using the grip to force him into a closer, more ravenous kiss. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he groaned against me, seeming to take advantage of the opportunity to completely devour me, starting with my head and working all the way down my body.

This, I was okay with. In fact, this was
incredible.

I didn’t realize he’d moved his hands until they were curled around the back of my upper thighs and hiking me into the air. I gasped in surprise, but he was already planting me firmly on the countertop I’d been leaning on, and he stood directly between my thighs, spreading my legs wide and giving me an idea of the size of his cock as it thrust its erectness against my upper leg.
Holy shit,
I thought to myself. If Jamie kept this up, I knew he’d turn into one of the most convincing, unique characters I’d ever written.

If only he knew…

I’d become distracted with the thought of writing and somehow missed the removal of my panties as well as the drop of his pants to his ankles, exposing the hard length of his penis to me. It was well formed, with smooth skin, a great shape, and a nice length and girth that wouldn’t tear or press too deep while also filling me completely.

As if reading my mind and wanting to prove a point, he touched my moistened pussy with the tip of his head and began to press, the length of his cock sliding erotically into me with a slow, single stroke. The walls inside
me tensed and throbbed at his movements, and I seized his shoulders, thrusting my hips forward to feel his length deeper and deeper inside me as I clawed at his back through his shirt. I let out a groan, soft and low.

Frantic now, I peeled the shirt off his shoulders and dove for his shoulder, licking and nipping as we found our rhythm. He pushed against me harder, fucking me while holding my body firmly down against the counter. I knew neither of us would last long in this position.

He finally drew my dress over my head, and his hands were everywhere, exploring and grabbing as we moved together in a fast and furious movement. I exploded with a quick orgasm, with a starburst in my eyes and tingling nerve endings that made me feel so alive I couldn’t see straight. Me cumming made him shake and sweat, and he finished in a frenzy, burying his cock deep in me and holding himself still inside me, waiting for his orgasm to subside.

He leaned into me, resting his chin on my shoulder and breathing heavily. I, too, was having difficulty restoring my wits and my breath. Finally, I pushed at his shoulder, forcing him to stand up, and he withdrew with one slide, making me gasp.

I hopped off the counter, pulling my dress down and straightened it, not bothering with my panties. It was, after all, my house, and I could clean up my personal mess at my leisure.

He didn’t ask any questions, just went with the flow and redressed himself, looking a bit chaotic but otherwise satisfied. Our encounter had lasted less than two minutes, but I knew it had given us the release we’d both craved. I debated the next step, and decided it made sense to fill his glass again and let him stay for one more drink.

He smiled and accepted the drink, though there was a strange look in his eyes. I waited for whatever bomb he carried to drop. Finally, it happened.

“Do you do this often?” he asked.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “That depends on what you mean by ‘often’. I do it from time to time. But with your charisma, your looks, and that little pick-up routine you just pulled on me, don’t tell me you don’t do it, too.”

He shrugged. “I might pick up a girl here and there. It’s rare to find someone as casual about it as you, though… to be honest, it’s nice to be able to talk and tease about it after the fact rather than have some weepy chick profess her undying love to me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Hon, I haven’t even professed my undying love for anyone’s cock.” We both laughed, but something clenched at my chest at the admission. It had never bothered me before to be eternally single, and for all intents and purposes, it was perfect for me. I was happy, and I spent my single life meeting new people and writing erotica for the lonely people. I even got to live out most of my stories as real life fantasies.

There was nothing missing. …Right?

But suddenly, it didn’t matter. He’d said something that made me uncomfortable, and whether that was his fault or mine for having some strange neurosis, I needed to change my environment.

“Listen, Jamie, this has been fun, but I think I’m going to hit the sack. It’s been a long week, and I’m tired.” I tried to be polite, but I could tell by the look on his face I had come off as harsh or irritated, or something other than kind and casual. He nodded, his face hard, his lips a thin line on his face. “Okay. Well, I’ll leave you my number, and if you ever feel like having a drink, hit me up.”

I suddenly felt a twinge of guilt, which was not a familiar emotion to me. I sighed as he put a business card on the counter and headed toward the front door, not even looking behind him.

“Jamie, I’m not trying to be rude, and it’s not that there’s anything wrong with you. It’s just the way I am. No emotional attachment, no second dates. I’m a loner, and that’s how I want to stay.”

He turned around, and his eyes held a surprising sadness in them. “That’s a harsh way to live, you know. For the other person, sure, but for yourself too. What are you so afraid of? That you’ll actually like somebody?”

The words stung more than I could have imagined, but rather than dealing with the pain, I grew angry. It was safer. “I don’t know, Jamie, you tell me. Maybe I’m selfish. But at least I’m doing what I want to do, and I don’t have to depend on anyone.” I strode past him now to the door, opening it with flourish and holding it.

“Have a good life, Jamie.”

He shook his head in what I assumed was disappointment, and left without another word. It took all of my willpower not to slam the door behind him, feeling pouty and immature. It had been a long time since anyone had hurt my feelings, and I wasn’t sure why his words had bothered me so much tonight. Nonetheless, I had removed the source of the problem, and I poured myself one more glass of whiskey, sipping it slowly while my nerves calmed.

By the time I’d drained the glass, I practically laughed at myself, and I felt like an idiot for being so easily disturbed.

I headed to bed, no longer wanting to ponder my actions, just ready to move on. I had a story to write, and I had the perfect setup for a new idea.