“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I shouldn’t have brought that up. I never cared about the tape—”
“I’m not finished,” he snaps. “That ridiculous fucking orgy story you just threw at me? Baby, you’re about to find out that I can go all night long—but even I couldn’t take on ten women and come out able to walk the next day. That story was fucking bullshit from beginning to goddamn end, as are most of the stories you see on the Internet or read in the gossip rags. I told you from the start that if you had any questions or concerns about any of the bullshit you read to tell me about it. Instead of addressing it head on, you said nothing.”
“I didn’t—”
“And then,” he continues on as he ignores my attempt to speak, “You throw a goddamn hissy fit over the fact that I accurately said that you’re my girlfriend. One of us here has been shooting straight this entire time, and it isn’t you. I couldn’t have made it any clearer that my intentions towards you are solid. You want to look me in the fucking eye and tell me that you’re not my goddamn girlfriend and that you don’t want to be? Because if you can do it, you aren’t just scared, you’re a fucking liar.”
I’m grasping at straws trying to come up with an answer. Finally I go with the only thing I can think of.
“You never asked me to be your girlfriend,” I answer hotly.
Throwing his hands in the air, he lets out a sound of pure frustration. “Am I here every day? Do I text, call and email you all day every day? Do I treat you like you’re my goddamn Queen? I do all of that and you aren’t paying attention if you think I’m not your boyfriend. I don’t know what the fuck you’re so afraid of, and I don’t know why you want to work so hard to push me away when it’s so obvious that what you really want is to be closer. The bottom line is that no matter what bullshit you throw out, it doesn’t change the fact that I. Am. Your. Fucking. Boyfriend,” he growls as he begins closing the distance between us.
I’M TOO SHOCKED BY the feral look in his eyes to move a muscle. When he stops in front of me he reaches out and fists one hand in my hair as the other settles on my ass. Pulling me in without a word, he covers my mouth with his own. There is no slow build up here. Instead he’s clearly set out to conquer me, and I have no desire to fight. Whether I want to admit it to him, or even to myself, I care and deep down I want him to belong to me.
I startle when my back meets a wall, then let out a groan when he starts moving his hand up my thigh.
“I thought about fucking you against this wall all night,” he says huskily.
Holy hell, I’m actually going to let him take me up against this wall.
Taking a breath for courage I nod and then blurt, “Then take me.”
I expect him to come back to kissing me, but instead he bends a bit and lifts me up into his arms before he starts walking toward my bedroom. “I’ll be damned if the first time we make love is in your goddamn hallway,” he says. “I’m going to taste and explore every perfect inch of your body, and we need a bed for that.”
When we get into my room he sets me down next to my bed. I shiver as he turns me around and runs his hands over the fabric of my dress until he finds the zipper on the side. As he pulls it down, I remember something important. Covering his hand, I let out a squeak. “Wait, don’t!”
He stops immediately but then spins me to face him. “What’s wrong?”
It’s actually embarrassingly hilarious, and I can’t help but laugh. I know that I am blushing furiously as I answer, “My boobs are taped into the dress. I just remembered that my skin could chafe off if you pulled the top down.”
Throwing his head back, he lets out a laugh. “I will never understand why you women do the most painful shit to yourselves all in the name of fashion or beauty. You rip the hair out of your legs and tape your tits into dresses. If someone tried to wax my legs or tape my nuts down, I’d go ape shit.”
I’m laughing as he grips my shoulders and guides me down so that I’m sitting on the bed. After turning on the bedside light he crouches down in front of me and runs his finger absently over my knee. “Is there a special technique for getting the tape off?”
“I’ll just go into the bathroom and take care of it myself. You don’t need to see that my boobs are quadruple taped into this dress. I know it’s not attractive to have to see all the crap that went into getting this look” I say with a laugh.
Reaching, up he cups my chin. “Every part of you is beautiful,” he says firmly, “And you never need to hide yourself from me. I see you, Arden, all of you. If you think a little tit tape is going to make me run, you’re not paying attention. Now tell me, is there anything you need to get the tape off without hurting yourself?”
Swallowing nervously, I shake my head. “I don’t think there’s anything to use to make it come off easier, at least not that I’ve ever heard of. Normally I just need to pull it off slowly and hope that it’s quick and painless.”
He grimaces as he nods his head and watches silently as I reach up to my back and undo the clasp that held the top part of my dress up. I can feel his eyes on me as I slowly start peeling the top of my dress down. I work the left side and then the right, sending up a silent thank you to the boob tape gods that the tape is peeling off fairly easily. It takes a few minutes but eventually I get it to come off without having ripped or chaffed any of my skin.
It hits me that I’m about to be naked in front of him for the first time and I feel my heart rate pick up. My thought is that the best way to handle this is just to get it over with.
“I’m going to stand up and just take the dress off,” I say shyly.
He growls as he stands up and looks down at me. “No, beautiful. I get to undress you.”
Covering my hands with his, he clasps the fabric of my top between his fingers and starts pulling it down. When my breasts spill out, he lets out a choked sound that causes me to look up worriedly. I’m not sure what I expect to find, but my already hard nipples harden even more when I see the look of raging lust on his face.
“Jesus fuck,” he rasps, “You’re stunning, baby. I’m going to fuck those tits and then cover them with my come.”
I let out a gasp at his words as a visual of what that would look like dances through my head.
Cupping my breasts in his hands, he rubs my nipples with his thumbs. “I want you to wear me and only me. I’m going to come on you everywhere,” he tells me. “There is no part of you that I won’t mark. You’re mine, beautiful.”
Looking into my eyes, he smiles. “Lie back so that we can get the rest of this off.”
The way his eyes are devouring me and the look of reverence in them is making me dizzy, so lying down is probably a good idea. Doing as he instructs, I lay back and then lick my lips nervously when he grasps either side of my dress and starts pulling it down. I lift my hips automatically when I need to and he rewards me with a smile. Bringing my dress the rest of the way down my legs, he pulls it off and tosses it aside.
His eyes rake over me slowly, almost as if he’s mapping every single inch of my skin. I can’t help but feel self-conscious about what he’s seeing. I’m not a model—I’m a normal woman with flaws. Shifting nervously, I gesture to the light. “Can you please turn that off?” I say shyly.
Eyes flying up to mine, he frowns. “Fuck no, woman! I’m never going to give up any chance to see you better. Baby, you’re the most stunning woman I’ve ever set eyes on and I don’t want to miss anything. I know what would make you feel better about having the lights on, though.”
I raise my eyebrow in silent question and I open my mouth to ask him what he means at the same moment he pulls his suit jacket off. Reaching into the inner pocket, he pulls out a few gold foil packets and shows them to me before setting them on my bedside table and tossing his jacket to the floor. I feel myself blushing furiously as it dawns on me that if he hadn’t thought to bring protection, this night would be ending quite abruptly when we got down to the most important part.