Page 11 of Crossing the Line
No Stopping Us
Paisley Grove
It happened again. As we walked the rest of the way to his building, my legs felt wobbly. My body is still pumping dopamine like a pumping jack. I vaguely remember the warm lights that surrounded us when we entered Hercules’s building.
Now my back is against the smooth white stone wall of his private elevator. The atmosphere is erotic with blue light playing against the white. Hercules is gripping my forearms, holding my arms over my head, pressing them against the hard and smooth surface. His solid front is flush against mine. Our molten kissing takes my breath away.How did we arrive at this moment? It happened so fast.
I feel woozy as he releases my arms to slip the red material away from my breasts. My chin floats up on a long exhalation. My body and soul are in complete surrender. Hercules rewards me for giving myself to him without hesitation by tracing laps around my sensitive nipple with his wet, warm tongue. I release a shuddering breath at the ceiling as his tongue and teeth continue working in sensual harmony, indulging one breast and then the other. His stimulation spreads rapturous sensations down to my sternum, sliding to my belly and then pushing them further south to activate my sex. He’s so good at this. And he’s making all sorts of exotic sounds come out of me. I’m surprising myself.
What Hercules mutters next is indecipherable as his strong, needy hand rubs my inner thigh. He parts my thighs wider, and I gasp when his fingers plunge inside me and shift in and out, stroking my wetness, making me wetter.
“You’re so ready for me,” he whispers thickly.
I am ready for him.My body, mind and soul have always been ready for him. “I know,” I whimper with need, sinking my fingers into the supple skin of his shoulders. He’s such a hunk of man—strong, athletic, and virile. I’m so turned on.
“Your lips,” he whispers before his tongue dives deep into my mouth. The delicious sultriness and spiciness of our intense kissing makes my head so woozy that I feel as though I’m floating on cloud-nine. The effects of dopamine pulsing through me has made me feel high. My mouth lets go of his so that my desire can settle to a manageable level.
Hercules presses his forehead against mine. “Sorry,” he sighs.
Eyes closed, I swallow, failing at controlling my lust, I whisper, “Sorry for what?”
“Moving too fast.”
My eyes flutter open. He’s watching me. Our chests rise and fall in unison.
He swallows audibly. “I promised you a drink. I think you should have one.Weshould have one.”
I nod. “I think so too,” I say tightly. I don’t want the night to move too fast. I want to savor being with Hercules, and that means delaying the inevitable for as long as we are able to.
* * *
Hercules has takenme to what he says is his favorite room in the penthouse, a den with south-facing views. He’s already poured our drinks—a vintage Malbec for me and a Tom Collins for him. We’ve had a couple of sips of our cocktails. We sit comfortably on a white rug that’s as soft as a slinky kitty, at the foot of a white leather L-shaped sectional. I luxuriate in the moment and mull over something Hercules said.
My eyes caress the million-dollar view of skyscrapers extending to the edge of Battery Park and then capturing the bay and New Jersey beyond. You miss nothing from being up this high. Even though I see these sorts of views from my parent’s place, Hercules’s views and his penthouse are more stunning. He’s made himself a young, hot bachelor’s paradise. His furniture is modern and sleek, with sharp lines and upholstered with expensive muted fabrics. And the distinctive light fixtures are beyond. I look up at the one hovering above us. It’s cylindrical and emits warm orange light. The wine, the scenery, the lighting, and Hercules all put me in a sultry mood.
“Well, I wasn’t going to go,” I say, raking a hand through my hair. I’m referring to that fateful New Year’s Eve party where we last ran into each other.
Hercules raises his knees and sets his forearms on top of his kneecaps as he swirls the ice in his glass. “Humph,” he says thoughtfully. “Me neither. Nero”—he looks at me as if that name should ring a bell—“my cousin, who met your friend at the party. He insisted I get out and do something.”
I frown, faintly remembering the guy Hercules was with. His name was indeed Nero. The next morning, when I crept back to my dorm, Eden hadn’t returned yet. When she finally made it home, the new day had bloomed, and she never looked happier. We made ourselves comfortable on my bed as she told me all about the dreamy hours she spent with a guy named Nero. She also said that she hadn’t given him her real name, especially after learning that he was a Lord.
“Too rich,” she said, squishing her nose like she couldn’t stand the smell of people with money.
“My family’s wealthy,” I said, rightfully feeling defensive. “My family works hard for every penny. That doesn’t make us bad people.”
She sighed as though my response made her weary. “I know that Pais. But the Lords are pretentious, old money assholes, and you know it,” Eden had said.
I remained silent long enough to let the line of conversation drop. Because I didn’t knowit. The only Lord that I knew was Hercules, and he was neither pretentious nor an asshole.
“What are you smiling about?” Hercules’s oh-so-sexy voice brings me back to the moment.
I exhale softly through my nose. “Did your cousin ever learn my friend’s name?”
Hercules hangs his head and laughs. He’s in a very breezy mood, just like I am. “No. He wanted me to call you and ask for it. But…” He shrugs.
I nod. No words are necessary. That night so many years ago was a one-and-done experience. It was bad enough that we were together. If my family ever found out that Hercules was my first, they would go ballistic because he’s a Lord. And of course, there was me lying to him about being on the pill. That haunted me for several days. For a few days, I found myself praying for my period not to come. But I also dreaded what would happen if Hercules had gotten me pregnant. My parents would’ve been disappointed in me. I could see Uncle Leo, my dad’s brother and Treasure’s father, looking at me as if I had betrayed my grandfather and made him turn in his grave. When my period finally came, I was relieved. I don’t think I could’ve borne being the outcast of the family. I wasn’t as strong then as I am now.
“Her name is Eden Castro.” I take another sip of wine. “You should tell him. She liked him.”
