Let Us Eat Cake Page 2

  “I was just about to offer.”

  “Okay. So I’m in good hands. Just checking.”

  “You’re in better hands than you probably realize. I happen to have the most amazing chai tea you’ll ever try, and it goes perfectly with carrot cake.”

  “Bring it on.”

  “Oh, I will,” he said. He stood so close to me that I could feel the heat emanating from him. His warmth beckoned.

  As Jeff got out small plates and boiled water, we talked about his workplace, where he’d been for three years, and that had allowed him to purchase a home and a fancy car even though it didn’t exactly encourage his imagination.

  “How do you keep yourself stimulated?” I asked as we sat down to eat cake. If I were able to wink, I would have.

  “Well, get to know me better and you’ll find out.”

  “Is that a dare?”

  “Most definitely.”

  The cake and tea were delicious. We’d no sooner finished than Jeff cleared our plates and said, “Why don’t we retire to the living room?”

  This guy was too much. Not only did he have nice silverware and dishes, but he actually cleaned them up after using them. Incredible.

  I sat down on his couch. He came in, flipped a switch and sat down next to me. He started the fireplace.

  “Is that real?”

  “Sort of. The fire’s real. But it’s all butane.”

  “Swanky!”

  He smiled. “I guess so.”

  “You’re like Ben Stiller in Reality Bites, aren’t you?”

  “Huh?” He was clearly perplexed. His eyebrow arched.

  “You’ve never seen it? How did you miss it?”

  He shook his head and shrugged.

  “Oh my God. It’s a nineties classic. Winona Ryder is this artsy, poetic chick whose got this hunky but scruffy boyfriend played by Ethan Hawke. Anyway, she meets this other guy, the Ben Stiller guy, and he’s got all this swank about him and well, he’s no sexy grunge guy, but he whisks her off her feet because he’s even hotter.”

  “So…” He looked quizzical. “You have a boyfriend?”

  There was some hesitation in his voice and it made me wonder if he hoped I was single. I sure wondered if he was.

  “No. I just… I’ve never gone out with an accountant.”

  “I’m glad you told me that,” he said.

  “You are?”

  “Yes. One question. Would you have gone for me back in high school?” The second he asked, he looked exactly as I remembered him back then. He was gawky and a bit unsure of himself.

  “Of course I would have. I was actually kind of expecting you were going to ask, but then you didn’t.”

  “I heard you thought I was a dork.” He stated this allegation with confidence, as though it was merely something to observe.

  “Who said that?” I blurted. Anachronistic anger poured from me.

  “It’s in the past. It probably doesn’t matter anymore. You know, I had a feeling about you even back then.”

  A feeling? About me? It was hard to imagine the hot guy in front of me having ever had any feeling about me.

  “You did?”

  He smiled. “I like you, Rachel Perkins.”

  I laughed, and for some reason could not meet his gaze. He brought out some timid aspect of me.

  Then, without warning, he leaned in, closed his eyes and kissed me. His lips were soft. Seductive. I was not a kiss-on-the-first-date type of girl and this was not even a date, so I was really shocked, but his lips were everything I longed for, if I was honest with myself.

  “You are sexy,” he said quietly. Then he kissed me again. “I bet you get told that all the time.”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “So don’t.”

  He kissed me again. Before I knew it, I was on top of him, straddling his lap like we’d known each other forever and were about to make love. His body felt right to me, like we were puzzle pieces that fit together snugly.

  “Can I take this off?” He tugged at my shirt.

  I nodded. He unbuttoned my blouse slowly and took it off. Beneath that was a tight T-shirt.

  “What about this,” he said, tracing the neck line. “Can I take this off too?”

  I nodded. I wished I’d worn my nice bra, but I had not expected this. As it was, the one I had on was pink with tiny black polka dots. When Jeff saw it, he looked pleased. He touched the strap, treating it with great care.

  My skin tingled at his touch. Before long, he held me in his arms. He gave me a long, lingering kiss. Meanwhile, with his other hand, he unclasped the last layer between me and his bad influence. He pulled it off me and tossed it to the empty section of his couch, all the while staring at my breasts.

  “Oh, Rachel,” he said. “I have fantasized about this for years and years.”

  “Really?” I was flattered. “Did you ever masturbate to the idea of me?” I didn’t know where the question came from, but there it was.

  “Hell, yeah. By the time we had that night on the beach, I’d probably pictured your tits at least a hundred times, if not more.”

  “Oh?” Playfulness came over me. “And what were you doing to me in your fantasies?”

  “You really want to know?”

  I nodded.

  “Bad stuff, Rachel.”

  “Well, now you have to tell me.”

  He reached out and cupped my breasts, fondling them and holding them up. He played with my nipples and got me to moan even more than in the bakery. He knew my weakness. I was so wet at that point already. I squirmed on his lap and he pulled me nearer to his mouth. He sucked on my nipples, taking me to the brink of ecstasy with his tongue.

  “In your imagination were you titty-fucking me?” I asked.

  He nodded, still providing ample suction. The arousal peeled my guard down completely.

  “Did you imaging coming on my tits?” I asked.

  Briefly, he stopped so he could talk. He said, “Oh yes.” Then he went back to sucking my nipples, alternating back and forth until I wanted nothing more than to ride him to orgasm.

  “And now that you have my tits?”

  “I want nothing more than to fuck you the way you need to be fucked.”

  “You do?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Right now?” I asked, wondering if he could tell how desperately I craved it.

  He ran his hands up and down my back, then brought them around to the waist of my jeans. He traced his way to the top button and the zipper, which he undid without words. I got up from his lap so I could take my jeans off and questioned for a brief moment whether it was really a good idea to have sex with a guy who’d left me heartbroken long ago. In my lusty state, I concluded that it was more than a good idea, it was downright victorious. I stripped down to nothing. Thankfully I kept my bush trimmed in spite of not having had sex in a while.

  Jeff stood, too, and began to undress. First he took off his shirt. I admired his hot body, and how buff he was. It was really something for an accountant to be able to maintain that kind of six-pack. He undid his jeans next, watching me the whole time.

  “Do you know that you could have been a stripper?” I asked.

  “Oh yeah? You like what you see?”

  I nodded.

  He took off his fitted boxers and presented his package. He was already semi-hard. He sat back down on the sectional and took my hand to guide me back to the exact position we’d been in before we’d taken our clothes off.

  “Come here, baby,” he said.

  I straddled him and he held onto my hips like he was placing me exactly where he wanted me to be.

  “I know you want to ride my cock.”

  He did? Was it so obvious?

  “I’m wet for you,” I said.

  He touched my slick pussy and fed me my own juices, just as he’d done at the store. Then he kissed me.

  “Mmm,” he said. “Your pussy tastes good. Makes m
e want to fuck you.”

  He reached behind him and lifted the lid of a wooden box on the bookshelf from which he produced a condom. Maybe this was the place he got it on with all the girls he met at the store. What did it matter? I just wanted his dick.

  He rolled the condom onto his hard cock. Then he propped me up again like I was his plaything that he could set down wherever he pleased. That was true.

  Slowly, I eased myself onto his enormous dick.

  “Be gentle,” I whispered. “You’re so big.”

  “Take your time, baby.”

  He said that, but then he applied pressure to my hips, adding to the force of gravity that already had him deep inside me. I cried out in a combination of pain and pleasure. He thrust into me.

  “I want to make you come,” he said. “Tell me what you need. Don’t be shy.”

  He took my nipples back into his mouth, which distracted me from the stretching.

  “Oooh,” I said. His attention was intoxicating.

  “That’s what I like to hear. Now let me feel you come.”

  I rode his cock, leaning forward to give him access to my tits. He squeezed my nipples between his fingers. I panted and felt the nearing of orgasm when I positioned myself so that my clit rubbed against him with each thrust. That pushed me over the edge.

  “What’s going on, baby? Tell me.”

  “I’m coming,” I said, nearly breathless.

  “Mmm, baby, yes.” He plunged deep into me, holding me steady all the while. I couldn’t move my hips as my muscles clenched around his base, sending shudders of pleasure reverberating through my body like ripples on a lake. Sweaty and exhausted, I collapsed onto his chest with a sigh.

  “That’s a good girl, Rachel,” he said, kissing the top of my head.

  I lay still on him as my heart rate returned to normal. His dick was still hard inside me.

  “Want to come on my tits?” I whispered.

  “I thought you’d never ask,” he said with a sly smile.

  As I knelt on the floor in front of him, he whipped off the condom, tossed it aside and stood up. I held my breasts up as though presenting them on a platter. He stroked himself.

  “Ready for me?”

  I nodded. “I want you to come on me,” I said.

  “Here I come, baby.” Holding his erection firmly, he unleashed his warmth all over my breasts while letting out a lion-like moan.

  When he was done, he sat back down and pulled me to him.

  “That is something I have wanted to do for a long, long time.” He grabbed a tissue from the bookshelf behind him and wiped me down. I was kind of surprised by the gesture, but it was in keeping with his tidy apartment. He held me close to him and pulled a blanket over us.

  “Rachel Perkins, you really are something else. I am so glad we ran into each other.”

  He smoothed down my hair, caressing me lightly.

  “You’re telling me,” I said. “I thought I was just going out for soup ingredients.”

  “And cake. Don’t forget cake.” He laughed. “By the way, that mouth of yours is about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I want to feed you. Would you like anything to eat right now?”

  “Now?” I checked my phone, which was on the coffee table. It was past midnight. I really wanted to stay, maybe have another round of dare-I-dream-hotter sex, but I knew I needed to get home. “No, I should get going. Next time.”

  “There’s a next time?” he asked. “I like the sound of that.” He winked at me and had such a mischievous grin on his face that it spoke volumes of the opportunities another get-together might offer. I felt myself beginning to get aroused again with the promise of that smile and immediately regretted that I had to leave.

  “Well, maybe,” I said. What do I have to lose? “I like you too, Jeff.” Understatement much?

  “Good,” he said. “I have a feeling we can go far, you and I.”

  Still straddling him, I sat back and examined his face. “What do you mean?”

  He stroked my hips and looked into my eyes with the gaze of an open heart.

  “Whatever you want that to mean.” His tone was definitive. Intentional.

  “Well, I should let you know I just got out of something complicated and draining. I’m not looking for anything serious. Also, I am categorically opposed to marriage as an institution.”

  “Whoa. Whoa. Who said anything about that?”

  “You?”

  Unless I was totally clueless. I tensed up, but he ran his hands up my back and wrapped his arms around me, cradling me. He pulled me flush so that we were heart to heart.

  “I meant sexually. I can tell you like sex at least as much as me,” he whispered.

  I almost wanted to cover up, and I did pull back to get up and get dressed. I had never known anyone to talk the way Jeff did. I blushed. He wasn’t just confident—he was almost full of himself. This was no longer the guy who, years ago, had followed me around asking if I needed help with my binders and textbooks.

  “I see you, Rachel Perkins. I see what you want. What you crave. Believe me, I can satisfy you. I can take you places you’ve never dreamed of.”

  I was aching to hear more. But I didn’t want to show him that. I couldn’t.

  “Me and relationships are like oil and water so be careful with your fantasies of where this is going, all right?”

  Sure, I wanted to fall into his embrace and fall in love all over again, but after what happened last time and the time before that, my heart had created a fortress behind which I could be myself. But expose myself? Be vulnerable? No thanks.

  “I’m not letting go easily this time. Maybe I messed up when I was younger, but I’m different now. I know who I am and what I want.”

  He reached forward and grabbed my hand. My knees buckled with his downward tug, forcing me back on the couch next to him.

  “Are you always this bold?” I asked.

  He shrugged, which only made him seem more self-assured.

  “When I see clearly, I am.”

  “Oh and what exactly is it you think you see?”

  “A really sexy woman who needs to act tough to get by in the world. I want to show you that you don’t need to be tough with me. You can trust me to be in charge. I’ll take good care of you.”

  “I don’t want to be taken care of,” I protested, wondering just how much of my past he remembered. I stood up again, this time really itching to get my clothes back on.

  “Oh really?” He swung his arms around and slapped my backside. Then he gripped me tightly around the hips and pulled me back to his lap. “I beg to differ. I can tell you have needs.” His words melted into me. They were slow and syrupy, uttered in a low domineering way that sent shivers up and down my spine.

  “Everyone has needs,” I said petulantly, as though defying him was the objective.

  “But you, Rachel Perkins…are different and you need your desires met in a bad way I’ll go so far as to guess they’ve never been met before.”

  His arrogance!

  “What would you know about that, huh?”

  “I know plenty. Are you forgetting what you told me back when we were on the beach?”

  “That was a long time ago,” I protested, leaning forward. And, in fact, I had forgotten what I’d said. I hesitated to ask, but I couldn’t remember. “What did I tell you?”

  I shifted my weight and tried to scoot off his lap, but he held me there. I turned at an angle so I could face him. He looked me right in the eye and said, “You said sometimes you just want to be told what to do.”

  His words transported me back to the scene. My former self was not afraid to admit such things. I was different then, more open and willing.

  “I was probably talking about my career or something,” I snapped. “Besides, you’re taking things out of context.”

  “No, I think you just don’t want to admit that you’re still the same girl.”

  “I’m not. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’
ve been hurt. I’m different now.”

  “Baby, I can handle whatever it is that’s going on in here.” With a soft touch, he put his palm above my left breast, as though he was trying to cradle my heart. Despite my cynicism, I could not deny that the warmth penetrated me to the very core. I did not want to let that happen.

  Time to put my guard up!

  “I suppose you think you’re the first guy to talk a big talk.”

  “I might not be the first talker, but I’m the only one who can deliver what he promises. I know you, Rachel. I can tell you want what I want. You want to turn yourself over to me. It’s like I promised earlier. You’re in good hands.”

  “Am I?”

  “Rachel, if you let me take charge, I promise you I will not betray you. Not now. Not ever.”

  In spite of my desire to argue, I had an even greater urge to give in. Those words. His face was stern and serious. He obviously believed what he was telling me, and he continued to hold his hand to my chest. The gesture made me weak. The effect he had on me was overwhelming and suddenly I knew fundamentally what was going on between us. I gulped.

  “When you say ‘take charge’, you mean…” I hoped my confused expression would prompt further explanation.

  “I have my way with you and you love it. I earn your trust, and you get to be fucked the way you really want. I work for your pleasure and you surrender control to me.”

  I gulped at his use of the F-word and his talk of control. No guy had been that way around me before. It struck to the core of me, scaring me.

  “You really think you know me, don’t you?”

  “Am I wrong?” he asked. His fiery eyes stared into me and I knew I could not lie. There was no point. It would only amount to lying to myself.

  “Not entirely.”

  It was like being with a mind reader, but I had barely even admitted to myself that I had a submissive streak, let alone to any guy. I was terrified of going there. My entire adult life had been one long struggle to hide my sexual desires, to force myself into the mold of what I believed was right. That was what had attracted me to writing poetry, the safe acting out of sexuality on the page. But to actually do what my body longed to do behind closed doors? That was not something I’d come close to yet.

  “What am I right about?” he asked.

  “You do see me.”