Chapter 140: Jewel
She cleaned her small efficiency apartment in record time. It wasn't much, but she tried her best. They both knew tonight wasn't about dinner or dating. A woman didn't invite a man to her apartment without an agenda. This was about sex. Matt's constant flirting and the way he watched her over the past four days had her libido on high alert. She was a grown woman and men like Matt wanted sex. It just rarely happened that anyone worthwhile wanted it from her. Matt was different and saw past her scar; he actually desired her, and she wanted a night of un-adulterated lust. Her last sexual encounter was over a year ago and the creep lied to her. And, like the stupid woman she was, she believed him. After his wife called the diner and the two women had a heart to heart, Jewel left a not-so-nice message on his cell phone. He never came back or called again, and Jewel hoped his wife kicked his ass to the curb.
She looked through her closet, but didn't really have anything sexy to wear. The light blue tee and jean short shorts would have to do. She knew she had good legs, but thought her ass was too big and her boobs were too small, and she felt like a slightly uneven hour glass. For so long her marred face kept her from thinking about the imperfections of her body. She smiled to herself because Matt seemed to appreciate every part of her body, even in the appalling uniforms she wore.
She'd opened all the windows to let the faint breeze in, but the small apartment was still too warm. There was nothing more she could do, and at five minutes to six, a knock sounded on her door.
He held the bags of food in his left hand and looked her over from head to foot, spending an appreciatively long time on her legs. Her gaze traveled to his snug black tank top and the bulging muscles of his chest and arms. She wanted so badly to run her fingers over every line of ink and see if it covered him everywhere. She noticed the pulse beating on the side of his throat before meeting his eyes. Sexual tension flowed back and forth between them. Her hands trembled when she took the bags from him and stepped back.
He walked in, closed and locked the door, and then took the bags from her hand and set them on the small table she'd prepared with plates and silverware for dinner. She noticed a black bag with the strap slung over his shoulder. He slipped it off and set it down on the carpet with a gentle thud.
He turned and walked toward her. When he was close enough that his earthy, masculine scent surrounded her, he spoke on a whispered breath, "I'm not eating before kissing you." His palms went to her face and his thumb put light pressure just below the corner of her scar, causing her lips to separate.
That small touch was the sexiest thing any man had ever done, but she had little time to enjoy the tender sensation because his mouth came down hard on hers. His tongue danced in and out, up and around, applying gentle then stronger force. He backed her to the wall and captured her ass cheeks in his hands, pulling her against the bulge of his jeans. Her arms squirmed out of his hold and went to his shoulders, but he growled slightly, released her ass, and then took her hands in his, lifting them above her head. With only one of his larger hands, he held both of hers against the wall. Then his free hand was back on her ass, massaging and pulling her closer, using the age-old rhythm of sex to grind then loosen then press into her again. In sixty seconds she was closer to an orgasm than after half an hour of any oral sex she'd ever had.
One leg came up to wrap around his waist. He released her ass and settled his hand on her bare thigh, applying downward pressure, which caused her to grumble under her breath.
His hand traveled back up to her face, taking hold of her jaw, while releasing her lips. "Not yet. Dinner first then you and I will talk."
"Talk?" She almost squeaked.
His smile was gentle, but the word firm, "Talk."
"Okay." She felt suddenly insecure, but then his lips took hers in another demanding kiss.
Finally, his mouth separated with a few last small nips and he backed away. He pushed the black bag on the floor out of his path and sat down at the table. She followed the movement of his foot with her eyes, but he didn't explain. Removing the white containers from the plastic bags gave her something to do with her shaking hands. "This is enough food for an army."
"I didn't know what you liked, so I figured you could save the leftovers."
"If it's Chinese food, I love it all."
"There are noodles too." He sat down and propped his chin on his hand with a grin.
"These noodles I can live with. What would you like to drink? I have beer."
"Just water."
"Okay." She walked into the small open kitchen area and felt his eyes on her backside. Looking over her shoulder, she saw his smile widen without shame.
He shrugged his shoulders. "I like your ass."
Heat shot to her cheeks. She turned away flustered, grabbed two glasses of water, and brought them to the table. They began eating and he asked her more about George and Starla.
"They took me under their wings after Starla hired me to waitress. I don't have any relatives here and it's nice knowing George will fix a leaky faucet when my landlord doesn't get to it."
He looked around the small rundown but clean space she lived in. "Do I need to have a talk with your landlord?"
His protectiveness warmed her. "Gosh no. The rent is super cheap and he's a very nice elderly man. He owns the printing business downstairs and eventually fixes what's needed if I wait long enough. This arrangement is perfect for me." She changed the subject. "I've never asked where you live." His eyes went darker and she almost wanted to take the question back.
He stayed quiet for a moment and then said, "California."
"Are you working a job here?"
"I'm kind of on a break, but I'll be leaving town on Thursday and won't be back for a few days."
"There's something you're not telling me," she said playfully, but added a firm look.
"Yes, but I'd rather talk about tonight."
That snapped her from her curiosity over his living arrangements. "Tonight?"
"Sex." The intensity of his gaze created a slow burn between her thighs.
"Okay." She managed to keep the squeak out of her voice this time, but her heart rate picked up.
"I like control."
It was the last thing she expected him to say and she could only stare.
He continued. "I put a lot of thought into our... date. At first, I planned to enjoy a vanilla evening, but I've decided that's not what I want from you."
She knew about sex practices outside of what he termed "vanilla," but had never experienced anything other than the run-of-the-mill hot and heavy sex. Her eyes traveled to the wall where he had held her hands above her head. Her heart rate increased and her fingers quivered when she grabbed her glass of water to give herself a chance to think. She took her time, and then lowered the glass, looking into his deep, penetrating gaze. "What exactly do you want from me?"
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