“Maybe I changed my mind.” My right palm skims up his thigh, veering slowly into his lap where I grasp his thick ridge firmly through his jeans, massaging. Awed by the length and girth of him. Holy hell. “Maybe I don’t want an uncomfortable client.” I exhale into his ear. “Maybe you’re makingmeuncomfortable, too.”
“Ohfuck.” When I hear the spray of gravel, I realize Barry is pulling the truck over onto the side of the highway. He sits very still for a long moment, inhaling and exhaling through his nose. Then he’s exiting the driver’s side and slamming the door. He presses his back against the truck and at first, I just think he’s trying to get himself back under control. Until I see the muscles of his back and arms shifting. Quickly. In patterns.
A glance in the driver’s side rearview mirror shows him doing much more than centering himself.
There’s his long, stiff shaft in his hand and he’s pumping the flesh, up and down. Furiously. His head tips back and he grits a curse, the pace of his hand accelerating.
He’s masturbating.
My lips fall open on a whimper, a trickle of wetness between my thighs catching me off guard. Instinctively, I press the heel of my hand down on top of my mound, trying to quell an oddly needy sensation. One I’ve never experienced. I’m barely conscious of my actions as I crawl to the driver’s side and roll the window down, exposing the ample breadth of Barry’s back. His neck.
His rough grunts reach my ears and urge me forward, onto my knees so I can lever up and run my open mouth up the thick slope of his neck. Just because it feels right.
Barry starts to pant. “Stop. Get back on your side of the truck.” Ignoring his directive, I lick a line up the nape of his neckand bite his hairline, rubbing my mouth side to side. “I tried to calm myself down, but you won’t let me,” he grits out. “You…you.”
“Did I talk about sex too much for your peace of mind?” I whisper beside his ear.
“Yes.Yes.”
“What was the final straw? Thinking of a man on top of me, taking my virginity?”
His fist picks up speed. “Petra. Please, stop.”
I lick his ear slowly, all along the shell. “Did you picture yourself taking it, big boy?”
The sound of moisture landing in the dirt is muffled by his hoarse bellow. His hand continues to blur on his lengthy erection, making a wet, slapping sound. And he wheezes, cursing through his teeth, pressing his back into the driver’s side door with so much force, I can hear the metal buckling.
He doubles over then, his sides heaving for long moments, before he straightens and fixes himself back into his pants. Refusing to look at me, he climbs back into the truck, herding me into the passenger side simply by advancing closer.
“I apologize,” Barry says, gripping the steering wheel. Looking out the windshield while trying to bring his breathing back to a normal tempo. “I’ve just…I’ve never seen or smelled or heard anything like you in my life. My God…” His nostrils flare. “You are so tempting, but you are too young.” He closes his eyes. “It just got to be too much. That won’t happen again. Or if it does, I’ll handle myself privately.”
That would be a shame.
I don’t say what I’m thinking out loud. But I want to. I’m still flushed and confused by my physical reactions to Barry. I’m aching in strange places, and replaying what just happened on a loop only serves to make me achier. Wetter.
“I’ve hired you for a specific purpose. Going forward, let’s stick to our original agreement, all right?”
Barry is the client and he’s right, I wouldn’t let up on the sex talk even when he asked me to stop. Not very client-friendly of me.
“Yes,” I say, forcing a quivering smile. “Original agreement. Deal.”
We’re quiet for the rest of the drive to the resort. Though I feel his eyes on me frequently, I only stare out the window, wondering if I’ll ever get the chance to feel like this with anyone else. Or if Barry is the right guy and I’m just living in the wrong timeline.
four
Barry
I listento Petra humming gently in the bathroom, her shadow moving among the light that shines out beneath the door. We’ve checked into our room. We’re minutes from going down to the welcome party being held for wedding guests. I’m going to see relatives I haven’t seen in two years. Some of them in over a decade. There will be strangers.
A lot of them.
After living in isolation so long, I’m nervous as hell.
But the main reason my palms are sweating?
They only had a room with one king-sized bed.
I’m sitting on it right now with my hands clasped loosely between my knees.
