Chapter Text
Cameras flash, voices carrying over each other to get your attention. Curtis’ fingers are intertwined with yours, leading you through the small path allotted by security from the restaurant to the waiting car. The act of your hand in his own shouldn’t elicit such a reaction but the understanding that you’ve been touch starved more than you are willing to admit makes you grip his hand tighter.
He wastes no time opening the door for you, closing it while more people shout his name, the lights from the cameras lighting up the car.
“Fuckin’ vultures,” Curtis mutters when he finally gets in, looking at your face. “You alright?”
“I thought they’d be gone by now,” you admit, pressing your hand to your heart to feel your heart beating rapidly. “Does that happen every time you go out?”
“Only when I have a date so, no,” Curtis allows with a wink. “You ready to go?”
At your nod, he accelerates, the car shooting forward as he takes a tight turn, the velocity making you laugh as he heads toward the freeway.
“We’ll be home soon.”
You don’t admit how that makes your stomach flutter at the sound, especially since you know that it isn’t your home he’s mentioning.
-
When he helps you out of the car, he gives you a spin, letting you go before he closes the door behind you. Holding out his hand, you take it, Curtis leading you up the steps of his house.
Every single house looks like it could have been taken out of a magazine, an architect’s dream as you slightly look back, careful of your steps as you go up the stairs slowly. More importantly, you’re aware of he holds your hand in his own, his fingers warm against your own.
When he opens the door, your mouth parts in surprise, the entry like a bridge to the living room, a pond underneath the bridge.
“A pond?” you ask, Curtis standing behind you as you take a step forward to look. “How…”
“It was a surprise to me too when I saw the plans.”
When you get closer, koi fish swim to the surface as you lean over to look.
“A little surprise from my architect at the time. I take good care of these guys,” Curtis says.
“Incredible.”
You can feel his eyes on you when you finally look at him as he nods for you to continue on. Going over the bridge, he’s behind you, your hands nearly touching when you glide your palms on the rails.
“It’s very fancy.”
“I’m more of a minimalist but they’re a nice touch,” he agrees, motioning to the right. “Kitchen is that way.”
Stainless steel appliances and black lacquered cabinets await you, everything carefully decorated when he turns on the light, taking off his shoes in a swift move, padding into the kitchen.
“Pick your poison,” he offers, heading to the built-in wet bar.
“I’ll have a scotch, please.”
“Scotch,” Curtis says with a raise of his eyebrow. “I would have taken you for a gin sort.”
“Gin?”
“Sophisticated. Architects have a way about them.”
“Like what?” you inquire, Curtis handing you your drink as he raises his to yours. The glasses clink slightly before he answers you.
“Complex without being overbearing.”
You take a sip, Curtis following suit.
“Complex,” you repeat. “That’s now how I would describe myself.”
“Then you’re not giving yourself enough credit. Complex doesn’t need to have a negative connotation. Everything about you is complex because you don’t outwardly offer your feelings.”
“I think I’ve been pretty open.”
He laughs at your comment, nodding in agreement.
“But the treatment that I offered, that was complex. Broke a few of my own set rules but it worked. You’re a complex woman and I find that insanely sexy.”
You swallow the last of your drink, seeing him take another sip.
“It’s a good thing that I was cured then. You won’t have to break any more of your rules,” you add, seeing him set down his glass.
“How would you know what other rules I’d be willing to break?”
Your mouth goes dry at his question, licking your lips as he cages you against the wall.
“I was guessing.”
“Hmm,” he replies, his eyes gazing at your body. “There’s only one way to find out. Can I touch you?”
You nod, almost too furiously for your good when he lowers himself down, his hands at your hips, his fingers sliding down the fabric of your dress and down to your bare skin. He doesn’t break eye contact with you, hands slipping under your dress as he pulls the fabric up.
He leans in, kissing your thighs, your own hands rolling into fists as he inches closer and closer to the juncture of your thighs. You can feel his breath, warm and dangerously close when he leans in, keeping you steady when his tongue finds your covered clit, applying just enough pressure for you to whimper.
“Satin is a nice touch,” he tells you, slipping thumbs under the band. “I wouldn’t want to ruin such a pretty pair but I need to see what I’ve been dreaming about.”
He pulls them down slowly, letting them pool at your feet, carefully lifting up each leg so that you’re finally free. The urge to hide from him, to hold your dress in place is overwhelming.
There is a hunger – a desire – in his eyes that you’ve never experienced with anyone else before.
You’re exposed to him, but it doesn’t matter, your eyes on his arms flexing when his thumb slowly swipes against your clit, back and forth until your hips move forward.
“Easy,” he warns gently, tasting you as you swallow hard. “Just like I thought. Amazing.”
You aren’t prepared for how his mouth feels, wet and hot as he’s gentle, learning you centimeter by centimeter, your fingernails scoring against his scalp. Your breath halts when his tongue laves over your clit, over and over until you forget to breathe again.
“You okay?”
Nodding, your head falls back against the wall when you feel his fingers ease up inside you.
Stretching, caressing keeping time with the tempo of his mouth on your clit.
“C…”
There’s no use in trying to finish saying his name, your hands holding him in place as he brings you to the brink, your legs buckling before you feel him hold you up as you shatter.
“One so far,” he says, looking up at you with a sly smile. “We’re barely getting started.”
He stands up fluidly, your boldness peaking when you pull on his shirt to bring him closer.
“One of how many?” you ask, seeing his devious smile.
“That depends,” he replies. “How many do you want to give me?”
There’s no set number in your mind, only the want – need – to have him that propels you forward, your lips on his, tasting yourself that only spurns you to kiss him deeper as he takes control, his hand at the side of your neck, breaking the kiss to turn your head slightly, drawing your skin into his mouth as he sucks it gently but deep enough that you can feel the sweet pressure and sends shockwaves down to your belly.
“I’ll give you a choice,” he says, breaking the kiss. “Dress on or off before you go upstairs.”
You’ve never been exposed like this before, especially knowing the only thing you’ll be wearing are your heels.
Whatever you choose, you’ll know he’ll accept without question. The freedom to decide how you’ll end up in his bed may be insignificant to him – though you hope not – it feels freeing to know that he’s letting you make the decision.
Turning around, you hear it: the slight suck in of his breath, looking over your shoulder as your eyes plead silently for him to help you.
“Bold move,” he praises, his fingers unzipping your dress.
As it slips down your shoulders, his lips brush against the tops of your shoulders and at the back of your neck when it pools at your feet.
“Absolutely unreal,” Curtis says, taking your hand as he turns you around in a circle, his appreciative gaze making you even wetter than you thought possible.
“Up the stairs and to the left,” Curtis directs. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Every step you take, your insecurities come racing back. Despite every body being a good body, you’re aware of your own shortcomings, the ones you see in the mirror when the confident façade slips. You’re aware of how your hips sway, certain imperfections that you can only imagine will be amplified with you only wearing your black stilettos.
“You look absolutely perfect,” he says behind you, as if he’s reading your mind.
“I’ve never been this… exposed,” you whisper in the darkness, Curtis right behind you as you can feel his arousal, cradled right between your ass.
“I guessed since it's taking you a while to get up the stairs. Not that I’m complaining in the slightest,” he assures you, kissing your cheek. “But you’re going to kill me with that perfect view.”
A slight tap of his hand against your ass makes you involuntarily moan, gripping the banister for a moment as you look back at him.
“You’re dripping,” he says, his eyes wandering between your thighs. “Making a nice mess if I do say so myself.”
You finally reach the top of the stairs, the cool air doing nothing to stop the ache between your legs when you make the left toward his room. You’ll marvel at the work of his upstairs when you’re not thinking about how you’re going to get wrecked, Curtis pushing the door open for you as you step into his room.
Black silk sheets.
“It’s not fair, you know,” you finally say, turning your body to face him. “I’m the only one underdressed.”
“I don’t think I’d look as good as you do,” Curtis answers you, beginning to unbutton his shirt. “But I can oblige if you want.”
“I want to help.”
His hands lower to his sides, letting you take over to finish unbuttoning his shirt, your hands resting on his chest. Tattoos are etched on his chest, your fingers outlining them as you trail down, unbuckling his belt as you see his Adam’s apple bob, perspiration on his forehead.
“Am I going too slow?”
“You take all the time you need.”
His voice pulls at your core, hands deftly ridding him of his belt and then buttoning his slacks. He’s hard as a rock when you accidently brush against him, his composure strong as steel when you pull down his boxers and pants. His cock springs free, long and thick, your eyes dropping down to look at it appreciatively. Gone are the thoughts of finishing getting him undressed, your hand reaching out to touch him gently, fingers wrapping around the length of him, his eyes closing in response.
“How can you be so calm,” you whisper against him. “I can’t believe I’m…”
Pre-cum makes your grip slicker, his head tilting up as you kiss his throat, his hands going to your face as he kisses you, kicking off his pants. He walks you toward the bed, stopping right when you can feel the bed behind you.
When you reach to take the heels off, he shakes his head.
“I meant what I said. Heels on until I say so.”
-
He prides himself on self-control. He’s lasted this long with his wits about him, to know that patience is always much sweeter but he knows he can’t wait much longer when your sweet voice pitches as your thighs try to close together, his hands gripping them so you don’t use them as his earmuffs.
All he can think about is how gorgeous you look when you come apart - three times now - just by where he touches, learning your body as you react to his touch. Your lips are parted, chest rising and falling as your hands cover your breasts. It’s laughable for a moment if it wasn’t so excruciatingly painful how badly he wants to be inside you. Your legs are still over his shoulders, Curtis caressing your calves before he looks back at your swollen cunt.
“I’m not going to get enough of how good you taste.”
Your eyes are half lidded, mouth moving but no sound coming out when he carefully eases you off of him, gently removing your heels as they fall to the ground. He kisses your brow, your hands going to his neck to keep him in place.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he admits, his cock nestled between your legs.
“I need you,” you mouth, kissing him deeply and he swears your legs are opening wider when he reaches for the drawer. “I want to just feel you. I’m clean.”
You’re bartering, his smile against your lips as you kiss him again. You’re uninhibited, vulnerable and the progress you’ve made makes him greedy, a flash of possessive that he shuts out when he kisses down your neck.
“Me too but it’s still dangerous,” he warns gently, seeing you shake your head slowly, nodding to your arm.
“Implant. You can’t leave a legacy,” you tease, your eyes closing in bliss when he’s cradled against your entrance. “I want you, I’ve tried to ignore it but -”
That’s all he needs, inching slowly inside you as your fingernails score his back. You’re tight, wet and hot, gritting his teeth as he tries to maintain what shreds of composure he has left, reaching the hilt of you when you left out a soft whimper.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No,” you murmur. “Just…”
“Big?”
He can tell you want to laugh at his joke but he knows the truth, seeing you finally relax before you urge him to move. You’re like a vise, his control slipping with every single thrust, your soft little noises urging him on.
He needs to see ore of you, rolling you onto your side, your thigh on his hip as the new angle makes your mouth drop open, exposing you in a way that makes your fingers give him better access as you grip your thigh.
You’re close, he can feel the way your silky walls squeeze him tighter, your incessant pleas for him not to stop only urging him on. He commits the way your pretty face looks to memory, knowing that you’ve fundamentally changed how he sees you – how your body reacts to him – and how freely you’ve given yourself to him.
“Fuck,” he grits out, keeping you in place as he cums, filling you as you cling to him.
“Oh god, I… oh, I…” you pant, not letting him go. “I can’t see straight.”
“We’re not done,” he promises, smoothing back your hair as he holds you close. “Not by a long shot, four.”
“Five,” you whisper against his lips, closing your eyes.
-
Your eyes are barely open when you feel the slight dip in the bed, a glass of water in front of you.
“You need to drink something,” Curtis reminds you softly, rubbing your back in soothing circles. “I ran you a nice bath. Just waiting for you.”
“What time is it?”
“Two or three,” he answers, kissing your cheek.
“Mmm,” you mumble, eyes closing again. “I’ll get up if you come with me.”
“That was the plan.”