Braydon
Today was awful. The part-time receptionist who works when Isabella doesn't is absolutely clueless. I had to show her how to do everything again only for her to probably conveniently forget her next shift. Plus, damn I hate it when Isabella doesn't work. The second I get home, I call her. As I listen to it ring for the other end, my brain starts chanting her name over and over again, sounding a bit like a train chugging along.
"Hey you," she answers, sounding like she's smiling.
I sigh and smile. "Hey." Instantly, I feel better. Damn, I have it bad.
"How was work?"
"Hell on earth. I don't want to talk about it." I sigh again. "What did you do today?" Tell me you've already fired the dickhead.
"Well, that's taken care of then."
"But then he came by."
"Oh?" Oh sh*t. So she hasn't ended things with him after all? Did he somehow weasel his way back in?
"Yeah. I think I may have... judged him too harshly before." F--k!
She proceeds to tell me how he plead his case like any dickhead lawyer would do, making it seem like she wanted him to take advantage of her drunken state because she had said okay.
"No, from what you've told me you remember about it, he basically directed you to say it." Sure, he talked her into it, but he did it at a point when she was mentally weakened. Plus, the f--ker strikes me as the kind who can sell ice to a polar bear. I don't know, I just see him that way in my head, like he can convince anyone of anything given the right angle. Isabella did once tell me he'd bragged that he could argue anything.
"Huh? What fog?"
"The stuff he was saying. It made me forget what I'd said earlier."
"I'm just reminding you what you told me."
She sounds so relieved. "I know. I think I needed reminding."
"Then I'm glad I could help." I pause. "So, it's... over and done with you two?" My heart beats fast again.
"Yes, though I had to tell him that two or three... or four times."
She lets out a puff of air. "Just him not willing to give up. I got the feeling it was more that he didn't want to lose than anything else."
The corners of my mouth turn up. "Well, he can't win 'em all." And dammit if I'm not thinking how that means I win. I can't help it.
Except she's not mine because she's technically still married. That drives me crazy... but not as crazy as it would drive me if I had stuck to my resolve of not touching her 'til she was divorced.
Which reminds me... "So tomorrow is Love Day. Let's do something." I ask her out to dinner, and she tells me she'd love to.
Tomorrow doesn't get here fast enough. It's my day off, so waiting for the evening to come has its own little trials. But I survive and finally make it to the restaurant.
I almost fall over. That could work. I could get on my knees and beg forgiveness... and then run my tongue up her thigh from that lovely slit in her dress. I grip the back of my chair as I watch her continue to scold me with her eyes. "What can I do to make it up to you?" Please let it be some form of torture.
As I sit down, she replies, "Just be a good boy and have a seat."
"That's all?" I grin.
"And that would be a tragedy?" Oh, she means the suit.
"Well, yeah. I've had this thing forever."
"I can tell." She looks at me like she wants to 'fix' my wardrobe. As long as it involves undressing, I'm game.
Dammit. I just can't turn it off tonight!
"So, it's confirmed," she tells me. "I have a new lawyer, and her name is Vicky Sanchez." She leans forward, looking pleased with herself. "And she's already told me we can pick up right where I left off."
I smile sheepishly. "Sorry. What? I'm a bit distracted."
"Isabella, before I explode, I have to tell you you look amazing." I grin.
She gives me a look. "Thanks. This is new." Does she know I'm picturing her naked?
"Did she give a time estimate?" Because I'm getting more and more serious about what I requested from my imaginary waiter.
"She told me not long, that the courts aren't backed up at all. It all depends on how far my future ex-husband wants to take it."
I don't even have a napkin to bite on! I'm going to go cross-eyed in a minute.
Luckily, our real waiter comes by and takes our order, so I have that distraction for a moment.
The moment is over. Isabella is talking about the cheesy decorations this place put up, but I'm just staring at her breasts.
"Do you want me to take a picture and send it to your phone?" she asks.
"I can tell. You've been staring at my chest since you sat down."
I debate how to reply to that, but then it occurs to me: "Were you kidding about the picture?"
Her head backs up a moment. "A little." She pauses. "You really want one?"
"Yes," I reply, probably a little too quickly for her. I clear my throat and adjust my position on the chair.
"It's just that was unexpected."
"Oh, I'm full of unexpected." My sock-clad foot moves out to run up her calf. I grin when she jumps.
"My, aren't we frisky tonight."
"Very."
"I'm supposed to stop you."
"Am I doing something you need to stop?" My other foot hooks into the leg of her chair and pulls her towards me, almost pressing her stomach into the table. Then my socked one moves up to her thighs. So nice.
She loudly whispers, "Braydon, people could see."
"What can they see?" I wiggle my foot back and forth now, urging her thighs apart.
She puts her hand in her lap and looks around.
"No one is watching, especially if you don't look around like you're wondering if someone is." I wedge the ball of my foot and my ankle and pry her thighs more apart. Yes. I move in, tickling her with my toes.
"Braydon, please."
"You don't like this?"
She tries to close her legs and can't now. "It's... inappropriate."
My lips quirk. "I like inappropriate." I watch her breathing. "Please take it."
She grips the table, her knuckles turning white. I reach out and gently hold her hand. It looks like we're a sweet couple out on our first date. Just to further the illusion, I pry her hand free and continue to hold it. I add more pressure with my toes, digging.
She's panting. "I'm going to make a sound and embarrass myself," she whispers.
"So don't."
"I can't help it!" She bites the knuckles of her other hand, leaning over. Behind her, I see the waiter returning.
"To be continued," I tell her and pull my foot back.
I watch her try to smile as the waiter places our food in front of us.
"Yes?"
"That was so. hot."
Every cell in my body stands at attention. "You liked that?"
When she speaks next, I strain for each word. "Something about it... I don't know. It was like... I had no control for a moment and... liked it."
HOLY F--KING SH*T! Now I'M the one focused on making sure I keep breathing. Otherwise, I'm going to fall out right here.
Am I in a fantasy? I pinch my leg. Nope.
"I can't even begin to describe how happy I am to hear that." Is she admitting this because of my impromptu footsie a minute ago? I want to give my foot a medal of honor.
Her face gets pinker by the moment. "I can't believe I just told you that, though." She closes her eyes.
Her beautiful eyes fly open. I have no idea what expression could be on my face, but she blushes more, if that's possible. "Like... what?" She takes a quick breath. "No, you don't have to tell me."
My sock-only foot returns to her calf. "No, I really think this is a conversation we need to have." Her lips are parted with her breathing. She's fighting how much this is turning her on.
"Not here." She moves her leg away from my foot, and I stop my teasing.
"Where then?"
She puts her hand on her forehead. "I don't know. Maybe on the phone."
"Okay. Later." Holy sh*t. Maybe I really have found my perfect match this time. I've been longing for someone who won't accuse me of being too intense.
I manage to behave myself throughout dinner, proving I can. My brain even calms down some--probably because I know it'll get a workout later... with the faint possibility that Isabella might actually let me do those things to her.
When dinner ends, we each go to our respective homes with the promise of a very important phone call. I wait about ten minutes after I walk through the door to call her since she lives farther away.
"Okay," she tells me, still breathing hard. "I'm sitting down."
"Are you really okay, though? All you did was climb a flight of stairs. Have you been taking your vitamins?"
There's a level of exasperation when she replies, "Braydon, I was nervous the whole way home."
I grin. "Oh that. Well, then, I like that kind of breathless."
I don't want to waste time. "So this conversation started when you said you liked it when I trapped your wrist behind your back." She replies yes, so I continue. "That tells me you trust me."
"I guess it does." She breathes while I listen. "But you said you wanted, that you would fantasize..." She can't finish.
I hear her intake of breath. "We would need a more private setting for that."
Yes, I think as a part of my mental state relaxes, something I'd not really thought was tense. I guess it makes sense it was. "So the act doesn't bother you," I state more than question.
"N-no."
I go a step further. "What if you were somehow tied to the table, unable to move?" Yeah, that part of me tenses up big time again. All these settings I've imaged could possibly only happen in my mind if she's uncomfortable.
I want to cry with sheer joy. Now, I feel a little more confident pushing a bit more. "Excited is good. Because I really want to tie you up, Isabella, in many different ways, and do naughty things to you." I pause. "Of course, I don't have to. You need to know that."
"Well, I mean, Kade and I used to try different stuff, but he never wanted to continue with it. It was never really a big deal, but with you... I can imagine you'd be a lot more... intense."
Sh*t she said the word.
"What?"
I guess she doesn't know where that came from. "I can get really intense. So that you know, all you have to do is tell me, and I'd stop whatever."
"You make it sound like intense is bad."
Do what? My jaw drops. "But... isn't it?"
I bring my thumb and forefinger to the bridge of my nose. "I don't think you understand. I could describe to you one of my more outrageous fantasies, but I also don't want you screaming and running for the hills. I have ruined relationships in the past because I get carried away, and the last thing I want to do is lose you."
"You make it seem like you see me as a... um, powderpuff or something. I'm made of stronger stuff than that."
Damn. She has a point. Although I would label it as 'spoiled princess' instead of 'powderpuff.' It doesn't make me love her any less; in fact, I want to be the one to spoil her.
"So intense isn't bad." My heart starts pounding again, and it's impossible to keep my hopes from rising once more.
I can hear her smiling. "Braydon, I don't know what problems those other women had, but you are incredibly hot. And I think it has a lot to do with this intensity you're saying is 'bad.'"
"No, it's not bad. I don't know why I'm nervous telling you that I like it." Is she fidgeting? I imagine her squirming where she sits on her bed. "But I like it."
This is fantastic! "Then I think the word you're looking for is a 'thrill.' Me imagining myself doing different things to you gives me a thrill, and I think it's addictive." I pause. "You really don't think intense is bad?" This conversation has flipped on its side. Now I'm the one who's tiptoeing into almost-new territory. Yes, we definitely needed to do this.
I had no real idea just how much pain in my past I had from hearing more than once that I was too intense in my woohoo practices, but it all comes swimming up now. "Just please promise me you'll tell me if anything is too much. Like if you think I'm possessive or domineering or chauvinistic or am just generally taking things too far."
"Well, that's an easy promise to make. Yeah. I promise to b*tch at you and get 'all pissy' if you start taking things too far." She laughs. "Or just simply say 'that's too much' or, um, 'orange' or something."
I wipe under my eyes. OMM. "Because nothing rhymes with orange."
"Exactly."
"I f--king love you, you know that?"
"And I'm very easily falling in love with you."
I have to sit down. "This has possibly been the best phone conversation I've ever had."
"I'm sorry I was too nervous to talk face-to-face."
"No. I get it." I hear her yawn. "How about we call it a night, though."
She sighs. "If you insist." She's teasing but in a good way. "Good night."
"Night." I hang up and go to bed a happy man.
No comments:
Post a Comment