Free Beg by C. D. Reiss Page B

over my body. He slipped his finger under the bra strap. “Take this
off.”
    I did, dropping it to the porch floor. He stroked under my
waistband. He wanted that off too. I knew it, and I complied. I was fully naked
except for my shoes, with my back to him.
    “Face me.”
    I did. I’d never felt so naked in my life as he took his time
looking me over.
    “Hands behind your back.”
    I think if anyone else had gotten to command number four, I would
have started laughing, but he wasn’t anyone else.
    “You doing okay?” he asked, stepping up to me. He put the glass
to my lips and tipped it. Warmth filled my chest. It was good whiskey. The
single malt I’d suspected.
    “It’s warm tonight,” I said.
    He put his face up to mine and whispered, “Infield fly rule. What
is it?”
    He kissed my neck as I answered. “When there’s a force play at
third, any fly hit inside the baselines, whether it’s caught or not, means the
batter’s automatically out.”
    “Why?” He bit the corner of my neck and shoulder, and I gasped.
    “To prevent an intentional error that would manufacture a double
play.”
    “You are very real.” He enunciated each word.
    He drank the last of the whiskey and took an ice cube in his
teeth. He put his face to mine and pressed the ice cube to my lips. I sucked on
it, then took it from him, holding it in my mouth.
    He took half a step back. I must have been a sight: naked but for
my heels, hands behind my back, with an ice cube in my mouth. “And you are
stunning,” he said, lifting his glass. He put the cold base of it to my nipple,
and I groaned as it hardened. He touched the other one, chilling it to a rock.
    He bent down and warmed my breast with his mouth, sucking on the
hard tip, pulling on it with lip-blunted teeth. I gasped, but couldn’t open my
mouth farther or I’d lose the ice. I guess that wouldn’t have been the worst
tragedy, but I knew the game was to keep the ice in my teeth. His attention to
my breast made me groan, awakening the warmth in my crotch. The ice in my mouth
melted, dripping down my chin and neck, tingling a wet path to my stomach. He
licked the droplets that found their way to my breasts, warming cooled skin
with his tongue. When I thought I couldn’t take another minute of his attention
without falling down from the pleasure of it, he stood straight and put his
mouth over mine, sucking the ice back.
    He crunched it and said, “Come on in.”
    I stepped past the threshold, and he closed the door behind me.
The living room was impeccable in dark woods and Persian carpets. The bookcases
were full. The whole place was the exact opposite of the cold modernity of his
hotels.
    Jonathan stood in front of me, watching my eyes take in the
details of his house. The paintings. The stained glass. The clean corners and
fluffed pillows. He kissed me again and, having forgotten the edict about the
position of my hands, I put my arms around him. His hands warmed my back, his
touch solid and strong. He kissed my cheek and neck. “Go upstairs. There’s a
room with the light on and an open door. Sit on the end of the bed. I’m going to
lock up down here.”
    “Okay,” I said because I needed to hear the sound of my own voice
at the end of so many commands. I backed up, and he watched me as I turned and
went up the stairs.
    The room he wanted was right in front of me. There were other
doors, all closed. I heard him banging around downstairs with locks and lights.
I could peek in one room, just to see, then say I was looking for the bathroom,
but the idea lasted the time it took for me to step into the room with the
single, glowing lamp.
    I sat at the edge of the bed. It must have been a guest bedroom.
There were no pictures, no personal effects, just a hardwood bed and matching
craftsman style dressers.
    He seemed to take forever, and just as I was about to get up and
see if he was all right, I heard him coming, one slow step at a time, up the
stairs.
    He was still dressed