“From when she danced.” He nodded.
“She doesn't dance anymore?”
“You are so full of questions.”
“I'm sorry, I just want to get to know you.”
“Women.” He shook his head. “They change everything.”
“Is that so bad?”
“The verdict is still out.” He surveyed me.
“You might find it's not all bad, letting someone in.” I spoke shyly, but with conviction in my heart. People weren't meant to live alone the way he'd been doing. We were social animals. “Have you ever, you know…” I traced a line on my jeans, not meeting his eyes. “Had a serious girlfriend? Someone you shared everything with?”
“Now that definitely qualifies as a big new question.” He looked at me meaningfully. “You do recall the bargain we have in place.”
“Ian, doesn't it strike you as strange, exchanging like this? Why can't we just—
” I shrugged, stopping short of outright asking him to fool around with me.
“I've told you my terms. It's up to you to decide whether or not you want to continue to agree to them.”
“But why?” I persisted, confused and tempted enough to push the issue. “Why do you want to control it like this?”
“Why do I like control?” His eyes looked dangerous and dark, a wicked heat in them I didn't quite understand. I nodded, feeling slightly breathless as he looked at me that way. “I'll tell you. I'll answer all the questions you’ve asked me. But only if I know what I'm getting in return.”
My body tingled, my pulse throbbing as memories of the night before urged me to say yes, of course yes. In a soft, quiet voice I asked, “You want to make me cum?”
“I do.” The intensity of his gaze pierced me, heating me up.
“How?” Half nervous, half aroused, I wondered if he'd give me more information. If he did, I didn't know if it would make me want to charge forward, or retreat.
“I have some ideas.” He reached out a hand and stroked my hair, his touch gentle and strong at the same time. Caressing my curls, he worked his fingers around the back of my head as he leaned forward, closing the gap between us and tilting my lips toward his. The feel of his lips coming down on mine overtook me like an ocean wave. I clung to him, eager, pressing against his chest, my hands moving up to his thick hair, kissing him back as I'd been waiting and wanting to all day.
“You taste so good.” He kissed my cheek, nuzzled behind my ear. I leaned back, giving him access to my throat as he kissed a trail down, sucking on the sensitive flesh. He brought a hand to my side, stroking up and down, working it up between my legs where he lightly drew just one finger along the seam of my jeans. I gasped, so sensitive, already wet and desperate for attention. He pressed down, making me squirm against his finger, wanting my jeans off, ready to rip away my panties myself so there'd be nothing between us. “I'd like to taste you, Annie.”
My mouth parted in surprise and he took advantage, kissing me again and plundering me with his tongue, masterfully thrusting and licking as I moaned. As he slid his fingers up and down in rhythm, I bucked my hips against him, wanting more contact, more friction.
“I'd like to make you feel good, Annie.” He bit my lower lip, groaning as he pushed directly against my clit. I cried out, my fingers digging into his shoulder, my legs parting, urging him to do more, faster, harder. “Would you like that?” he asked in a wicked, low whisper in my ear.
“Yes,” I panted, not even clearly remembering the question. But the answer, whatever he'd asked, was yes, absolutely yes, yes and please now yes.
“Then that settles it.” He removed his hand, settling back down again against the back of the couch. “Tempting as it is to race to the finish line with you, I'm going to be a gentleman and uphold the terms of our agreement. So I'll go first.”
Heart racing, I smoothed my hair behind my ears with shaking hands. Inexperienced as I was, I knew what we had between us was unusually electric. I'd felt his heart beating fast, his pulse racing right along with mine.
“You asked why I want control.”
I nodded, trying to clear my head and focus. He’d shifted gears quickly, almost as if he were trying to get his side of the bargain over quickly.
“It's a two-part answer. The first reason is I don't like people touching me.”
I'd wondered as much. “Does it hurt to be touched?” I worried briefly that I'd hurt him. I'd grabbed at him, clawing at his shoulders and chest.
“I can see you worrying whether you hurt me.” He cupped his fingers around my chin, looking at me with affection. “You'd be able to tell if you had. Most of my burns are on the back of my body. I was lying down, so most of my front got spared. And a lot of the scar tissue is numb, so being touched isn't necessarily physically painful.”
I said nothing, recognizing this must be one of the most intimate topics he could possibly discuss. I almost held my breath, recognizing how difficult it must be for him to talk about it.
“I have not had a serious girlfriend, to answer your earlier question. I have had many varieties of intimate relationships with women, but only on my terms.”
Why did my stomach flutter as he said on his terms? I wondered what his terms were. Would I like them as much as I did the terms of this bargain?
“It's easier, more pleasurable for me when I control physical contact.”
“So you've never fallen in love?”
He shook his head, giving me that smile again as if to say “you don't stop do you?” But he continued, admitting, “I thought I was falling in love once. I was 21. She was a friend of a friend. Very beautiful, in kind of an ice princess way.”
I didn't like that detail. That was the type of woman I could picture him with, rich and manicured and perfect. She wouldn't wear bulky sweaters with stains.
“What happened?”
“Let’s just say, our physical intimacy was not mutually enjoyed.” There was so much unsaid in those words. “She gave it her best shot. After all, I do come with a large trust fund. But in the end, there's only so much one can do to overcome revulsion.”
“I hate her,” I declared, pumped suddenly full of righteous anger. “What a bitch.”
“I thank you for your indignation on my behalf, but that was many years ago. I haven't thought of it in a long while. I'm actually not too sure why I thought to tell you about it just now.”
“Because I asked.”
“I suppose that's it, isn't it?” He reached out and traced a finger down my cheek. The tenderness with which he touched me moved me as much as his earlier touches had driven me wild. “I did tell you I had a two-part answer, didn't I?”
“Yes.” I was glad I wasn't standing. My legs felt wobbly.
“The other reason I want control? Because it feels so good.” He traced a finger along the neckline of my shirt, lingering along my collarbone. Every inch of skin he touched buzzed and tingled, alive and singing to his attentions. “May I show you what I mean?”
Such a gentlemanly question. Such dirty intent. I couldn't say no. I nodded my consent.
His fingers trailed up to my mouth, stroking my bottom lip. I parted them open in response. “I need you to say it,” he told me. “Nodding isn't enough.”
“Yes, Ian. Please show me.” I gave him what he wanted.
“That's good, Annie.” He praised me and I flushed with pleasure. “Now I want you to take off your shirt.” He sat back on the couch, watching me with a level, heated gaze. I licked my lips and hesitated. It was one thing to tell him that I wanted to play along. It was quite another to do it. But I'd had a taste of this other world he was offering me, full of decadent pleasure. I knew I couldn't turn back now.
I grasped the hemline of my shirt and drew it up over my head. My bra wasn't anything fancy. I didn't own any especially sexy lingerie, but he didn't seem to find fault as he took in what I had to offer. My breasts rose and fell with my quick, nervous breaths. The bra was white, a bit tight on me, and I n
early spilled out of the tops of the cups.