She sticks her fork back into her dessert then looks around. “I don’t see any glasses.”
“Not a problem.” I take a few sips straight from the bottle, then move towards her lips again, waiting. Jordan places the dessert on her bedside table, leaving her hands free to frame my face. She presses her mouth firmly against mine, parting her lips; my tongue slips into her, the taste of wine and chocolate melding together. Her gentle moans and her hot breath cause a stir between my legs. I push her back onto the bed, my firm dick pressing against her clit. I hold myself over her, my palms against the mattress, moving slowly against her.
“How much longer are you going to keep torturing me with this little game?”
I laugh. “You’re so impatient, Headmistress.”
“You barely know me, Mr Kerry.”
I press my dick against her again, making her sigh.
“You know my favourite part of all this?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“The way you look at me after I’ve given you what you want. The way your eyes tell me that you still want more.” I start to push inside her, and her breath catches in her throat. “The way you’re always waiting for me.” I move inside her completely, and Jordan relaxes underneath me. “The way you let yourself go when you’re in my arms,” I say, straightening up into a kneeling position, my hands roaming across her body. “The way you want my touch.” Her mouth falls open as my fingers play with her clitoris.
“Kerry…” she says, almost breathless.
“The way you say my name.”
I press against her and start to rub her clitoris, slowly pushing as deeply inside her as I can.
“The way you’re about to enjoy this again.”
This time, we really did finish our desserts, sprawled out across bed. She drank the wine straight from the bottle, just as I did. I like seeing her so relaxed around me; and I like the fact that, tomorrow, everything will go back to the way it was. I’ll see her in her tight skirt and her sensible shirt, buttoned up to the collar; she’ll have her hair tied back, her glasses on her nose, her serious, professional expression. I know it’s not normal for me to look forward to that, but I like that she has two personalities: one which is just for me. And yes, the thought does shock me a little, but I’m trying to ignore my own fear for now. Mainly because Jordan is currently lying on her stomach, and her arse looks incredible from this angle.
I want to ask her something, to find out what really happened between her and that dickhead, Steven Hill. I want to know how any man could ever cheat on a woman like her with someone who is basically still a teenager – but I realise I shouldn’t be thinking about that. It’s not the best thing to bring up right now: not when we have a whole, crazy night ahead of us. Well, I guess technically we’ve hadtwocrazy nights by now…but that’s beside the point. Tomorrow I’ll have to sign another stupid contract: not because I agree with it, but because I like it when she tells me what to do, when she shows me who’s the boss.
I know, I told you: I’m not normal.
Maybe the real problem is that, until today, I’ve only ever been with women who are completely different to her. Firstly, they were younger; I’m finally starting to realise the huge mistake I’ve been making. There’s no comparison between a twenty-something-year-old with no inhibitions and a mature woman with her head firmly placed on her shoulders. Secondly, women usually chased afterme. And if I happened to be the one doing the chasing, I usually called the shots, too: I decided when to stop seeing them, which was normally after only the second or third time. With Jordan, I’m already on the second time – and I don’t seem to want to give her up just yet. Maybe that’s because, until Headmistress Hill laid her deep, warm eyes on me, my dick didn’t want to see the light of day. Or maybe it’s just this place, this whole situation: the fact that, now, I’m just like everybody else. Apart from my huge Intersport poster.
“Are you staring at my arse?”
I shake myself from my daydream. “Yeah, I guess so. And since when have you used language like that?”
She sits up, leaning her back against the headboard.
“You think you know so much about me, don’t you?”
“As much as you think you know about me.”
She nods, smiling. “That might be true.”
I move closer to her and sit next to her, then turn to face her. “What if we tried something a little different?”
She glances at me, concerned. I laugh.
“I don’t mean sexually. Although we could—”
“Don’t get side-tracked, please.”
“Okay,” I say, lifting my hands. I suddenly fall serious. “What if we tried to be who we are now?”
“What do you mean?”
“No past, no preconceptions, no pretences. Just us.”
