Under My Skin Ch. 02

"Do you know what I did with your little photos?" he asked, his voice mockingly conversational.

Oh god. What came next? Was he going to tell me he'd posted them online for other pervs to wank to? Or for the guys at work to laugh at on pub night? Behind my blindfold I screwed my eyes up, trying to block the mental images that began to flash up at the thought.

When I didn't answer, he continued. "I looked at them. Every day in fact. Looking at them...asking myself what the fuck I was thinking. What the fuck I was doing, dragging you into my fucked up world." I heard him moving around restlessly.

"I bet you thought I was wanking off to them, didn't you?" He let out a cynical half-laugh tinged with something close to incredulity. "Nope...I just sat there, staring at them night after night, paralysed to do anything at all."

I was attempting to absorb this confession when I felt the heat of his body near me, his breath on my cheek. I steeled myself, determined not to flinch, even when his thumb brushed roughly along my lower lip.

"Remember this?" he growled in my ear. "You want to know what I want? You really want to know?" He pressed his thumb steadily against my lips until they parted and I was forced to take him into my mouth. "I want that cute little mouth of yours on my cock."

Suffice it to say I was no longer feeling cold, and when I moaned softly he pulled his thumb out of my mouth and grabbed my arm, dragging me back towards the bed.

He let go of me, and I lost track of where he was. My knees were bumping against the edge of the bed, so I felt out with my hands, finding his ankle in the bedclothes, searching for a clear place to kneel. I desperately longed to rip the blindfold off instead of feeling around in the dark like a fool, but I resisted the urge. My hands found his legs and I crawled tentatively towards him, his words still echoing in my mind.

My hands felt their way up his legs and I tried not to be distracted by the feel of the muscles flexed taut beneath my fingers. The nerves hit my stomach as I reached his hips and the reality of the task I'd been given. I debated telling him I was no good at this. That I'd just disappoint him or I'd do something wrong or...or...

His hand grabbed the back of my head and pulled me closer, fingers tangling in my hair, stifling my internal debate. Against my cheek burned the heat of his full-on erection. His skin was hot and silky against mine. To my surprise, any trace of the foul spermicide from the condom seemed to be gone. Was that why he'd gone and washed himself? The conflicting gestures continued to confuse the hell out of me. Was this the source of the battle I always sensed going on in him, between the gentleman and the arrogant prick?

"Go on..." he growled, ending my contemplation.

I raised a tentative hand and grasped him, drawing in breath as I got to feel him properly for the first time. Fuck...he was huge. It pulsed in my hand like an animal, twitching slightly if I put my fingers anywhere sensitive. I'd never been a big fan of handling guy's dicks, but his was, well...beautiful. I tightened my grip, pleased to feel the muscles in his legs tense slightly as I increased the pressure. I sighed softly, beginning to relish my assignment for the first time.

I'd never before had any desire at all to suck a man's cock, but something just bloomed in my chest as I touched him. Protectiveness? Some sort of strange, deep wanting to give (could I say it...call it that?) love...to that intimate part of him.

Without any conscious decision, my mouth found the base of his erection and began to lick and suck, my tongue pressing against each ridge and vein, exploring and soothing in turn. His strangled groans only spurred me on as I made my way up to the tip, swirling my tongue as I devoured him with my lips. He was just so hard, but so soft and smooth, so responsive to my touch. Every other conscious thought slipped from my mind, and all that remained was my passionate need to bring him pleasure.

There was no way I could take him entirely in my mouth, but I tried anyway, nearly gagging when I took him deeper. Whenever I did, he swore. A lot. My hands were hungry for the feel of him and wandered along his hips and over the tautness of his stomach, noting every response to my lips and tongue.

After that it was like everything melded together...my mouth and his body to the exclusion of everything but the pinpoint focus of the sensations I was sharing with him. With every movement and breath I could feel his pleasure building, rising up in a sort of radiating excitement that was filling my whole body. As if I were feeling everything he felt and I had complete control of it as it built and built, winding tighter and tighter. I could feel his groans rumbling through his body, his hands tangling in my hair, urging me on. His hips flexed off the bed, arching into me, pushing his cock deeper into my mouth, thrusting more and more erratically. With no eyes to see I only had the sensation, the salty taste of him, the heady, musky scent of his sex. I knew he was close, I could feel him losing himself, his steely control faltering and finally dropping away. He was completely at my mercy, in my charge. I held the most essential core of his manhood firmly in my grasp and coaxed him, groaning and fighting to the edge of climax. I'll never forget the sounds that he made as I took him over the edge. Cries of relief, release. As he came in my mouth I drank deep, and deep again, taking it all, kissing and licking and soothing him as he came back down, slowly...slowly, my eyes inexplicably filled with tears.

His hands on my shoulders, pulling urgently at my arms, guiding me up his body until I lay with my cheek pressed to his shoulder, his arms wrapped tight around my shaking body.

How long we lay together, I don't know. The pounding rush of blood in my ears slowly quietened, the near-hypnotic state I'd been in gradually easing and bringing me back to conscious thought.

I became aware of his fingers, gently stroking my hair. A strange tug, and cool air rushed over my eyelids. He'd taken off the blindfold. The thought went through me like a shock. I'd been without sight so long I didn't even know if I was able to open my eyes. I felt his breath on my face and then the gentle brush of his lips against each eye. Oh god...how good that felt.

"It's okay...you can open your eyes," he said, with a softness I felt right through my body.

I had to blink a few times, my vision blurred and confused, unused to even the low light in the room. As I opened my eyes fully I found myself staring up into the depths of his steely-grey gaze, and forgot how to breathe. He was a rather beautiful man...for being an arrogant prick. But as I studied him, my eyes scanning his face, I could sense a change. Antagonism had been replaced with...possessiveness. It was as if he was trying to devour me with his eyes. I could feel myself begin to blush at the sheer intensity of his scrutiny.

His eyes dipped, and I realised he was staring at my mouth. I raised a quick hand to cover my lips, suddenly horrified at the thought that I was probably a mess. Just as quickly, he snagged my hand and pulled it away.

"You're fine," he muttered softy, his eyes flicking briefly up to mine before focussing once more on my lips. "I want to kiss you."

His words hit me like a blow to the stomach. All this, and we'd never kissed. Until his lips softly brushed against mine I hadn't understood. Until he pressed his mouth to mine and darted his wicked tongue into my mouth I hadn't known. Kissing him...him kissing me...was the most intimate thing I'd ever felt. It reached something in me that I didn't know could be reached by someone else. It was like an instant high, just one touch of his lips and the insatiable need filled me to have his mouth on mine and never, never...never stop.

Mad, passionate, punishing and deep, the real addiction had arrived as we drank each other in, desperate for more and more.

* * * * *

Apparently you can kiss someone for several hours, and still not be bored of it. Considering we'd done pretty much everything else before we got to that point, perhaps it was because there was nothing else left to do. Well...not...nothing.

It's hard to explain. It sort of comes and goes in waves of intensity. You think you're nearly done, then the devouring need comes back over you and you're all tangled up in it again, tongues twining, fingers in hair, toes curling. Particularly when the person you're kissing is Jarod, and he's somehow invented a repertoire of kisses you didn't even know existed. And instead of being his unique brand of arrogant bastard, he's kissing you with such devastating gentleness that you just want to weep.

It had to be late by the time my brain surfaced enough to ask some basic questions. Like...where on earth were we? I reluctantly dragged my lips away from his so I could look around. He lay there, watching me scan the room.

"Where-?"

"My room."

"Yours?" So it wasn't a hotel! He'd brought me to his place? That was sort of shockingly...personal of him. I took another minute to look around, though with the lights low it was hard to see very much. It was sparsely, though comfortably, furnished. He seemed to like natural textures in muted greys and browns. I searched, fruitlessly, for signs of anything more personal. He wasn't the sort of man who gave away much, but I already knew that.

At some point I'd gotten cold and he'd pulled the bedclothes over us. I rubbed my hand over the crisp fabric. The sheets were expensive (big surprise), smooth and soft, smelling faintly of laundry soap. I caught myself wondering if he did his own laundry or if someone else did it for him. And if he'd just happened to have pristinely laundered sheets, or if he'd prepared that far ahead for tonight. Had he fully expected me to fall into his bed that easily? I wasn't sure whether to feel offended that he thought I was such an easy touch (I was) or complimented at his thoughtfulness. I still got the occasional hot flush when it occurred to me that we were totally and utterly naked. I mean...this was Jarod. My personal office tormentor. Naked. I was still getting used to actually being able to look at him after spending so much time blind. It was okay when we were kissing...I found I closed my eyes most of the time. I wasn't sure I could really handle locking eyes with him after everything that had gone on between us, and I had to fight against a nearly overwhelming shyness.

Whatever it was that had happened between us seemed to have relaxed him considerably. That being said, I couldn't ignore the feeling that the wild animal still paced, restless behind those eyes. Watching him now, I still sensed a reserve, a wariness...a withholding of himself. My insecurities flared up, and I stupidly opened my mouth.

"Do you bring all your blindfolded girls in here?" The question popped out before I'd really had a chance to run it past my brain's censorship committee. Damn.

Something flickered in his eyes. Not disappointment, surely. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and swung his legs over the side of the bed, leaving me to stare at a rather breath-taking display of broad, muscular shoulders tapering to slim hips. The sort of hips you like to wrap your legs around and-...

"Get up." There it was. The 'this is not a negotiation' edge in his voice. Shit.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"I said get up!" he snapped.

I scrambled to my feet, the floor cool under my bare feet, and stood watching helplessly as he pulled on his trousers in a few quick, jerky movements. Buttoning them, he stalked from the room, leaving me to stare after him. Okay, so what I'd said wasn't particularly tasteful, but I'd sort of been joking...surely he could have picked up on that?

He appeared at the doorway, stepping only far enough into the room to toss my clothes on the bed.

"Jarod, I-"

"Get dressed." He said through gritted teeth, and disappeared into the hall.

Fuck. FUCK. I ran my hands through my mussed-up hair, wracking my brain for anything I could do to put things right. Hadn't we just been lying there a minute ago, close as any lovers would be? Did that make this a lovers' quarrel? I really didn't care to find out...

I emerged from his bedroom, dressed, still trying to smooth my hair. It felt very strange to walk through a hallway I hadn't seen on my way in, only to spot my shoes where I'd left them when I stripped naked for him, barely a metre from his front door. I turned and took in the floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room, and the glimmering lights in the darkness beyond. So I'd stripped within full view of the entire city? Wonderful. I hope I got a lot of hits on YouTube.

I heard the bang of a cupboard door being slammed in the general vicinity of the small galley kitchen and then running water. I eyed the front door. My handbag was right on the floor where I left it, next to my shoes. I had enough money on me for a cab...or maybe I could figure out the bus route once I got outside. I had no idea where I was, but I could figure it out. I just needed to clear my head. Get some air.

Decision made, I stepped into my shoes, shouldered my bag and grabbed for the front door handle, pushing out into the hallway and walking as fast as I could in the direction of the lifts.

Game or no game, kiss or no kiss, I wasn't about to stay anywhere I wasn't wanted. I pushed at the lift button impatiently, begging it to hurry up. Any second now he'd realise I was gone and...what? He'd probably be relieved. I punched at the button again with my finger. The building seemed new...why did the lift have to take so damned long? I fumbled in my bag for my sunglasses with shaking hands. So what if I'd look like an idiot wearing them in the dark of night? I didn't want anyone to see the stinging tears I'd been fighting ever since he tossed me my clothes as if I was some...some...floozy he'd paid for her services. I blinked furiously, my chin lifting stubbornly. I was a big girl, and I could live with making big girl mistakes.

Maybe it was his bare feet that let him move silently, but I didn't hear his approach until the last second, and by that time my arm was twisted sharply behind me and I was turned with some force to face him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" his voice full of what I could only say was rage. I flinched back from him, turning away from whatever blazed in those steely eyes of his. It created a heat in me I couldn't bear, and I jerked back from it as if from an open flame.

I nearly stumbled as he pushed me backwards until I knocked into the marble pillar between the sets of lifts, his fingers digging painfully into the flesh of my upper arms.

"Did I ask you to leave? Did I?" he hissed, looming over me, his face level with mine.

I set my teeth and stared back at him through my sunglasses, defiant. What right did he have to say if I stayed or if I went? My chin lifted a notch. Which was a mistake.

My sunglasses were ripped off my face and tossed away in a single movement, and I was helpless to resist the force of his accusatory gaze. Some detached part of me watched, as if from a distance, as he pressed me again to the cold hard surface at my back. A soft ding sounded next to my ear, followed by the metallic scraping of the elevator doors opening. I could only hold my breath, imagining the faces of the lift's occupants, eyes wide as saucers at the sight of a crazed, half-naked man pinning me to the wall. I blinked, and the doors slid closed again with a soft thud.

I had to follow my arm as it was dragged in an iron grip at a ridiculous pace back down the corridor towards his flat. I could hear him cursing and muttering under his breath the whole way. He thrust me ahead of him through the door and slammed it closed behind us. I just stood there. I could hear him behind me, braced against the front door, his breath coming in sharp gasps. I closed my eyes. I needed the unreality. I needed for this not to be happening.

He didn't hit me. He didn't touch me. He didn't do anything at all, which was probably worse. He just walked past me into the living room. I heard the creak of leather as he sank into one of the chairs, then silence.

We must have stayed that way for at least ten minutes, our breathing the only other sound in the room. I kept my eyes firmly closed, arguing my way through everything. Justifying everything. Defending everything. It all added up to...nothing. I'd made the wrong choice. Running away never led to anything good.

"I-" my voice choked in my throat. I cleared it and tried again. "I'm sorry...I shouldn't have left..."

The silence expanded around me and I strained to hear any reaction from him. When it came, it was an explosion.

"You're sorry? You're fucking sorry? So that makes it all right then?" I could hear him pacing the floor in the living room, agitated, his voice shaking with anger.

What else could I say? "I'm sorry Jarod..."

When he spoke again he was much nearer, his voice a slow snarl. "And where did you think you'd go? Just go out in the dark and walk home?"

"I was going to get a cab," I muttered lamely.

"You don't even know where you are," he retorted. "There aren't any cabs for miles, or buses for that matter."

"Well, I didn't know that," I said, defensive.

"And you certainly didn't ask!" Was that hurt I heard in his voice? Was I imagining things?

"I told you...I'm sorry, okay?"

More pacing. I kept my eyes clenched shut, my defences steadily crumbling.

"Why? Why did you leave?"

My mind raced back over the last seconds before I'd made my escape. Why had I?

"You told me to get dressed, and you seemed angry...I thought you wanted me to leave," I said miserably.

I waited in silence as he weighed my answer. It wasn't the right one. His hand suddenly at my throat, shoving me into the wall, holding me there, pressing me back, his breath warm on my ear, his voice deadly and close.

"You promised...not...to lie."

"I'm not, I swear!"

"Liar!"

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly full of tears at the truth he forced me to face. And I had promised.

"I felt...I don't know...rejected. I said something stupid and you were so angry with me and I just wanted to escape, okay? I thought you didn't...didn't want me." The tears were now threatening to spill down my cheeks.

"Did I say I was angry at you? Did I?" he growled, shaking me.

"No...no..." I sobbed.

"Open your eyes..." he said, voice low. When I didn't, he shook me again. "Now!"

I opened my eyes straight into his fierce silver ones. The naked emotion I saw there stopped my breath. I could only stare, drinking in what I saw there. It was then that I knew that we weren't playing a game anymore. Maybe it never had been a game.

When he finally spoke, his voice sounded rough, hoarse, his eyes sliding away from mine. "I don't have...girls...up here. Blindfolded or otherwise. Okay?" His eyes returned to mine with burning force. "I haven't been with anyone...for...years."

Stunned, I could only watch as he continued to speak. He pushed away from the wall, leaving me standing there, shaking. He began to pace again, running his fingers through his hair distractedly.

"It's my fault...I guess I can't blame you. This whole thing started out wrong, right from that first day in the office. I started us out all wrong. But what did you want me to do?" He turned to face me, beseeching. "You just sat there...at your computer every damned day, your big eyes following me every time I walked down the office. And smelled...like flowers. And your mouth..." he stepped closer, reaching out his fingers to my lips, but dropped his hand to his side without touching me.