Lip Service (A Pleasure Chest Story) Page 6

  The words don’t come easily, and I find myself avoiding his eyes. “I—” I have to clear my throat, my entire body flushing from embarrassment and the difficulty of saying this out loud. “I was recently in a relationship,” I say, taking a steadying breath, “When he broke up with me, he told me that is was because of the sex—that I was bad at it. Blowjobs especially.” I glance up at Philip, and there’s no smile on his face anymore. Instead there’s shock, and I see a spark of growing anger in his eyes. I look away again. “He told me that the rest of me didn’t make up for how bad I was in bed.”

  Suddenly Philip’s lips are on mine, and I’m overwhelmed by the fierceness of his kiss. His body presses mine down into the mattress, and his arms lock me against him. His tongue sweeps across my lips, and I open them. This kiss stirs something in me, an ache deep in my chest. It’s a feeling I don’t recognize, and I’m not sure I want it to leave. He barely lets me breathe, and I feel lightheaded when he breaks away. I’ve never been kissed like that, and I wouldn’t mind being kissed like that forever. I manage to open my eyes, and when I do Philip’s face is close. He speaks before I can ask him why he just kissed me like the world was ending.

  “Your ex is a fucking idiot,” he says, voice forceful. “You are exquisite, and sexy. And aside from your pussy, your mouth is the best thing that’s ever happened to my cock.”

  I laugh, the way he phrased that making me smile, but he doesn’t smile.

  “Anyone who would make someone like you feel like that doesn’t deserve to be called a man,” he says, pressing another, gentler, kiss to my lips. “And anyone lucky enough to share your bed should consider themselves a lucky bastard.”

  My breath catches, because I know that he’s completely serious. “You think you’re a lucky bastard?” I ask.

  “I think I’m the luckiest of bastards. Because if Christa hadn’t asked me to fill in and you hadn’t walked into Pleasure Chest we wouldn’t be here. If that’s not luck, I don’t know what is.”

  I think about that. Bryan and I never had sex like this. The sex was good—or I thought it was—but it wasn’t explosive like this. He hadn’t been nearly into things like my blowjobs. The way he and Philip had reacted couldn’t have been more different. In light of the sex I had, new things come to light in my mind. Bryan had largely ignored my breasts unless he decided to fuck them. It’s no wonder that I was surprised by the way that Philip made them feel.

  Another memory pops to the surface, Bryan chastising me for being loud on multiple occasions. He said it was distracting, and unsexy. I’ve been quiet during sex ever since. I’m not sure why I thought that was okay. I guess I just loved him enough to ignore it. I guess I loved him enough to ignore myself entirely. To not realize that I wasn’t the problem.

  “Where did you just go?” Philip asks.

  I edge myself closer to him again, and I let him kiss me. The world isn’t ending, but it’s still a damn good kiss. “Thank you,” I say, “for saying those things.”

  “Do you believe me?” he says.

  “Yes,” I say, and I do.

  “But?”

  I sigh. “But when you know someone that well, it’s hard not to think there’s some grain of truth to what they say.”

  He frowns. “He’s wrong, Mayra. That and whatever else he said about you, he was wrong.”

  “You’ve only known me for a day.”

  “Even if I’d known you a year he’d still be wrong.”

  I smile, his words settling in my chest, warm and perfect. Curling into him, I finally give into the temptation of a nap. “I’m so tired,” I say. “I slept terribly because of you.”

  He perks up at that. “How so?”

  “Ask me when I don’t so desperately need a nap,” I say.

  He chuckles, and I feel him pull a blanket up over the two of us. “You can count on that.” He says, but I’m already fading away.

  10

  Philip

  Mayra falls asleep faster than anyone I’ve ever seen. I almost wish I could take a nap with her, but I couldn’t sleep now. How could I? I’m fucking electrified. I want to run a marathon and climb a mountain. Both to celebrate how amazing that was, and also take out all the incredibly violent instincts I’m having towards her ex. The guy needs a good punch in the face. Or ten. Even if someone is bad in bed—which Mayra is the furthest thing from—what gives you the right to shatter their self-worth? If you need to break up with someone, break up with them. But the least you can do is acknowledge that break-ups suck and try to get out with as little damage to both of you as possible.

  I’m so angry at the man, and yet, there’s a part of me that’s grateful. If he hadn’t been a complete and utter dick I wouldn’t be in this bed right now. Mayra rolls over in her sleep, and I pull her in so her back is against my chest. I like the feeling of her breathing against me. After so many months of not feeling anything—and not admitting that I wasn’t feeling anything—it feels like I’ve found a crack in the ice. I know Mayra isn’t some magical key to unlocking my soul, but just knowing that I can feel like this…I didn’t want to admit that I had given up hope of that.

  I’ll have to tell Christa that I don’t need her to put in a good word for me now. In fact, maybe I can convince Mayra to go with me to check on Christa later this evening. The thought of taking her with me to go anywhere feels good. It feels right. I examine this feeling, trying to discern whether or not this feeling is just because of the sweet relief of connection or something deeper. I’m honestly not sure which one I’d rather it be. For the moment though, I’m perfectly happy holding her against me, letting her sleep. In my struggles with nightmares, I’ve learned that it’s hard to sleep if you don’t feel safe. I like knowing that I make her feel safe.

  Curling my arm around her stomach, I tuck her more solidly against me, listening to her breathe and settle in to wait.

  In spite of myself, I do doze for a while, though I never let myself drift completely off. It’s a couple of hours before Mayra stirs in my arms, stretching and turning so that she’s facing me. Her eyes are still heavy with sleep, but she’s smiling. The sense of rightness flows through me at knowing I’m the one that put that smile there.

  “Hi,” she says.

  “Hello.”

  “I slept.”

  I grin, pulling her in to kiss her. “You did, and you were damn sexy while doing it.”

  “How can you be sexy while sleeping?” She laughs.

  “You were naked and pressed against me—believe me it was sexy.” I feel my cock stirring, and she does too.

  Her eyes widen. “If you make me come again right now I might explode. I’ve already had more orgasms in one day then I’ve ever had.”

  “Three is the most you’ve had?” I feel my eyebrows raise.

  That telltale pink colors her cheeks. “Four.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “When was the fourth?”

  “At the gym.” She clears her throat, “In the locker room. With the Mustang.”

  A laugh bursts out of me. “That’s bolder than I was thinking.”

  “I forgot I had put it in my purse, and I found it while I was at the gym, and after the night I’d had—”

  “You mean where you dreamed about me?” I lean back and pull her over on top of me, and I feel her nipples harden against my skin.

  She huffs a laugh. “Yes.”

  “What happened in these dreams of yours?”

  “Pretty much exactly what happened,” she says, leaning down and pressing her lips to my skin. She drags her lips along my collarbone to my neck, “but the real thing was better.”

  “I would hope so.”

  She continues her exploration of my skin. Her lips are soft, and I want them on my cock again. The thought makes it harder, and I’m glad she can’t see how much I’m tenting the blanket right now. She might think I’m sex crazy. “I wanted to ask you something,” I say.

  “Sure.”

  “The teacher that got sick
, my friend Christa,” I say. “I’m going to check on her this afternoon, bring her some food. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?”

  Her head pops up, a big smile on her face. “You want me to go somewhere with you?”

  “Yes.”

  She nods. “That would be fun. And I suppose that I should thank her for getting sick, even though that sounds dumb.”

  “I was thinking the same thing about your ex,” I laugh, “even though I want to punch him in the face.”

  Mayra laughs, pressing her lips into my skin. “I think I’d kind of like to see that. Honestly, he’d probably run away.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Bryan.”

  I nod. Adding together his names and his actions, he sounds like a pussy. I don’t say it out loud though. “Well, if we ever run into each other, I guess we’ll find out what happens.”

  “Well I’m hoping not to see him again,” she says cheerfully, rolling off me. “What kind of food do you want to bring to Christa?”

  I should answer, but I’m distracted by Mayra’s naked body. She pulls open a drawer, and retrieves some underwear. I swear, watching a woman get dressed is almost hotter than watching her get undressed. Especially when you can now look at her and know exactly what she’s hiding underneath, what she feels like, how her skin lights up under your touch. She slides on her panties and a bra, and I get lost in her curves, she turns and catches me looking. “Sorry,” I say, “did you ask me a question?”

  She laughs. “What kind of food for Christa?”

  “I brought her soup last night, so maybe something with more substance.”

  “There’s an organic restaurant down the street,” she says, pulling on a pair of jeans. “They have really great things like smoothies and stuff, would that work?”

  I nod. “Perfect.” But I’m still engrossed in watching her dress. She pulls on a loose sleeveless shirt that shows off her shoulders and cleavage and flows around her waist. It makes her look carefree and so much happier than she looked yesterday.

  “You should get dressed,” she says, smiling at me.

  “I’m still hoping that I’ll be able to convince you to get back in here,” I say, “We can test just how many orgasms you can have in a day.”

  Mayra climbs onto the bed, crawling over to me and climbing on top of me. I grab her hips, letting my cock press against her jeans as she kisses me. It’s a deep kiss—the kind of kiss that promises something. “That’s very tempting,” she says, “especially since you’re still naked.”

  “It doesn’t have to be a temptation.”

  She rolls off me again, avoiding my attempt to pull her back. “My vagina isn’t made of glass, but it does need a rest.”

  I grin at her. “Sounds good. Because rest gives me hope for tonight.”

  “Get dressed,” she says. “I’ll grab the menu.”

  She heads out into the kitchen and I force myself up off the bed. As I pull on my shirt and pants I wonder about how I feel right now. I feel like it’s been overcast for months and the sun has come out. I wonder if it’s possible for me to feel like this all the time. I hope so.

  I really hope so.

  11

  Mayra

  Christa’s house isn’t too far from mine, given the spread out nature of L.A. Philip and I picked up some grilled chicken and vegetables for her from the restaurant down the street, and I insisted on getting her a smoothie. I have their smoothies all the time and they’re delicious.

  I also woke up from my nap feeling better than I have since the incident with Bryan. I don’t question the circumstances, and I ignore the logical part of my brain yelling at me about how ridiculous this is. Instead, I choose to take this happiness. I’m going to hang out with Philip, help his friend, let him say nice things about me, and maybe have sex with him again. No strings, no expectations, just taking the day to be happy.

  At Christa’s door, Philip pulls out a loose brick in the wall and dumps out a key to let us in. “Hello!” he calls through the house, and there’s a muffled answer from deeper in.

  We walk into the kitchen, and Philip puts our bags on the counter. “We come bearing food.”

  “I told you not to do that.” Christa, a petite redhead who I’m sure is a knockout when she’s not ill, shuffles out of the back hallway. She’s in pajamas and frankly looks like death warmed over.

  He laughs. “And Sean told me to make sure you were okay.”

  “I’m fine,” she says.

  “Right,” Philip says, “I totally believe that.”

  Christa coughs, “Okay I’m not fine. But I do feel better than yesterday.” She finally looks up and sees me. “I see you brought company.”

  I give her a little wave. “Hi, sorry.”

  Philip puts his hand on the small of my back. “Christa, I’d like you to meet Mayra.”

  Her head whips around to me, and she suddenly looks at me in an entirely differently was. “Ohh,” she says. “Of course. Hi.”

  “You know me?” I ask.

  Christa points at Philip. “This one came over last night to see if you had ever come to one of my classes before. You really made an impression.”

  “Oh, really?” I look over at him, and he’s scratching his neck and looking at the floor. “I didn’t realize.”

  “How’d he find you?” Christa asks, sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar.

  Philip starts unpacking the food. “I didn’t. We literally ran into each other near the gym.”

  “I was looking for my keys in my bag—wasn’t paying attention.” I hand Christa her smoothie.

  She starts drinking it immediately. “You guys are like a walking rom-com scene.”

  “It’s L.A.” Philip says. “They’ve got to get their inspiration somewhere.”

  Christa bursts out laughing and it turns into a coughing fit. “Ugh, don’t be funny right now. My chest can’t take it.”

  “Sorry,” Philip says, and I can tell he’s not sorry.

  “How do you guys know each other?” I ask.

  “My boyfriend, Sean, is best friends with this guy,” Christa says. “They were in the army together, and they both do all the wilderness stuff. Sean is in Colorado on a hiking trip and he made tall-dark-and-brooding over here promise to babysit me.”

  Philip rolls his eyes. “I’m not babysitting you.”

  “Are too.” She pulls the top off the chicken I’ve handed her. “But this is really good, so I’ll let it go. What do you do, Mayra?”

  “Public Relations. I work for a firm that does a lot of high profile stuff, celebrities, brands.”

  “Is that fun?” she asks.

  “Most days? No,” I say, laughing. “Most days it’s a combination of damage control and pandering. I’m glad to have the day off.”

  Philip winks at me. “Me too.”

  My face goes red, and Christa sees it. Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything.

  “I’m going to use your bathroom,” Philip says. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Sure,” Christa says.

  He’s gone before I can protest. I’m not afraid of Christa, but I’m always a little nervous to be alone with new people for the first time.

  “So what do you want to know?” she asks me, taking a bite of vegetables.

  “I’m sorry?”

  She waves her fork in the general direction Philip went. “We’ve only got a couple minutes before he comes back, and I’ll answer whatever questions you have before he comes back.”

  “Is he a good guy?” I’m surprised with the speed that the question flies out of my mouth. I guess it was something I didn’t want to admit that I was wondering.

  Christa finishes chewing a bite of chicken. “He’s the best. He really is. He’s gone through some stuff—stuff it’s not my place to tell you about—but he’s got a good heart. I know that’s kind of a cliché, but it’s true.”

  I take a sip of my smoothie, the next question lodged in my stomach in an unc
omfortable way. “Is he a player?”

  She looks at me, I guess wondering what is driving me to ask that question. “He’s been with his fair share of women, if that’s what you mean. And he’s had his reasons, but for what it’s worth, I think he’s looking for something a little more…settled.”

  I nod. “Okay, good to know.” I can’t really think of anything else I want to ask her. I feel a little weird asking her things I should probably be asking him. I hear the flush of a toilet somewhere in the house, and I know I only have a few seconds if I want anything else. The little question seems so small, so inconsequential that I’m not even sure it’s worth asking, but I do. “Why me?”

  She smiles. “He didn’t say. But you’re the first in a long time.”

  I don’t even have time to react to that, as Philip comes back into the room. “How’s the chicken?” he asks Christa.

  “It’s good,” she says. “Making me feel better. In fact, I may be able to come back to class tomorrow.”

  Philip laughs. “Don’t even think about it. Just rest—You’ll have plenty more classes after this one.”

  Christa grumbles something under her breath but she doesn’t disagree. She looks between the two of us. “Well, thank you for the food. I do appreciate it.”

  “No problem,” Philip says.

  “Hold on.” She holds up a hand. “I wasn’t finished.”

  Philip chuckles, and they share a look. It’s a look of long friendship and understanding.

  “I’m glad your brought me food, but it’s a nice day. And judging from the sex rolling ofo the two of you, I think you owe her dinner.” My face bursts into flames, and Christa laughs. “I’m a sex teacher, I can tell when two people have had sex. Especially as recently as the two of you have.”

  Philip clears his throat. “I think that can be arranged.” He looks at me and smiles. “For the record, I was going to ask you to dinner when we left. She stole my thunder.”

  Christa mumbles something about him deserving to have his thunder stolen, and I smile. “I’d love dinner.”