“I’ll do anything for you,” he hums, his tongue sliding through me before he closes his mouth over my clit, sucking and flicking until I’m seeing stars. I’m not sure who taught this man the right way to use his mouth, but bless her. In fact, I hope she’s out there giving classes to other men.
He sucks in soft, quick pulses while two fingers part my lips. He wants to draw this out, wants it to last as long as he can make it. Last time he tried this tactic, we ended up with his cock in my mouth. Not that I mind. He has a fantastic cock. He went right back to work after I got him off, making sure I had more orgasms than common sense. Walking into class the next day proved difficult, and I regret none of it.
I play with his hair, twisting it around my fingers and pushing it out of his face so I can watch him. His fingers splay, stretching me open. They push deeper and curl, finding my g-spot with ease as my toes curl. A man who can find both a clit and a g-spot should win some kind of Oscar in my mind. I slide my nails through his long, soft, caramel swirled hair and tell him how good he is. He loves his praise, so I shower it on him.
“Right there, baby. Make me scream for you and your magic tongue.”
I’m thankful when he finds the pace he wants to set and lets his tongue draw circles over me. I push his face into me as I get closer to what we both want. “Just like that, baby. Oh god! Fuck me, Chase! Make me come on your gigantic cock!”
He picks me up and drops me on the table. As he goes to pull his cock out, he freezes and looks away from me.
“I can’t…do this.”
“Chase?” He doesn’t answer, swearing under his breath. “Baby? Come on, what’s the matter?”
“I can’t do this…not again. Not again.”
I sit up, reaching for him, but he shrinks away from my touch. This has got to stop, and it has to stop now. “Chase Cooper, you need to talk to me. We’ve been doing this dance for a week. This has more behind it than just paparazzi or me going home.”
“I fucking can’t!”
Without looking at me, he storms into the kitchen, leaving me half naked on his dining room table. He opens the fridge so hard the bottles on the door rattle and threaten to break—just like my heart. When he comes back out, he has a beer in his hand and he walks right by me, heading to the patio. I watch Pongo follow him as Chase drags a chair about as far away as he can get, turns it away from the house, and sits with his head in his hands. As badly as I want to go to him, I don’t think that’s what he wants right now.
I pick up my phone and call my sister.
“Yo, are you ever coming home or should I hire movers for your shit?”
“Soon. Hey, can you give me Jamie’s number? Something’s going on with Chase and I want to talk to someone who knows him better.”
I jot the number down on a folder, and once we’re done talking, I call Jamie. He doesn’t answer, so I leave him a message.
“James, it’s Ren. Uhm, I need some help with Chase. He’s acting unusual lately, and frankly, it’s getting worse. I’m hoping that I’m not meeting the real Chase right now, because I don’t like it.” It sounds like I’m calling a parent about a child who’s misbehaving, which isn’t the tone I wanted, but it fits the circumstances. I keep the information vague while fighting to keep the quaver out of my voice. The familiarity of hiding my fear only makes it worse. “I’m worried about him.”
I leave him my number, pull my robe back on, pack up the few remaining papers I need to grade, and head upstairs to the loft. We both need a little space right now. As I set up the pillows and get comfortable, my phone buzzes. It’s not showing a caller ID, but it could be Jamie, or a parent, so I answer it.
“Renate?”a familiar voice asks, but I can’t place it.“Richie Lawson here from the studio. I’d like to talk to you.”
Of course, I didn’t recognize his voice because he never once said my name. “I believe you said all that you needed to at the charity function, don’t you?”
“Chalk it up to me being drunk. Okay, princess? This concerns Chase Cooper more than it concerns you or me. His past, and his future.”He says Chase’s full name as if I wouldn’t recognize the name. I should ask for a sincere apology before continuing, but it will never come.
“What about him?”
“I’d rather discuss it in person. Can I send a car for you tomorrow afternoon?”
“No, I have meetings scheduled.” I don’t hang up on the prick, and I can’t explain why. Curiosity, or the off chance he might be behind whatever’s bothering Chase? “What about Thursday? I’ll meet you somewhere.”
“Thursday works fine.”
He agrees to meet at a bar that Dani and tried a few months ago. Public, but not so public he’ll refuse. The call ends with an ominous warning to not tell Chase about the meeting. I plan on telling Chase, but not until I figure out what Lawson’s up to. I need to see what this fucker wants before I get Chase involved. Especially given his emotional state. I don’t want him getting into any more fights with Lawson or doing something stupid. My phone rings again, but this time I recognize the number.
“Jamie?”
Someone giggles in the background before he clears his throat.“Yeah, hey, sorry about that. I was, uhm, busy helping Lexi. I got your message. How weird is weird?”
I tell him about everything that’s happened since the dog park, about the last few days, and how fine of a line Chase now walks around me. I’ve got thick skin; it comes with the territory of being a teacher. I can take a lot of bullshit from people, but I have my limits. Even shorter limits for the people who are supposed to care about me. Chase has tested those limits far too often since I got here.
“He hasn’t exactly crossed into red flag territory, but he’s dangerously close. He’s under a lot of stress right now, but it’s not an excuse to be a dick.” He’s stayed clear of the one boundary of mine that has no lenience. Violence. He gets mad, and occasionally has shouted, but he’s shown no signs of being abusive, in either the physical or emotional sense, toward anyone but himself. I just wish he’d stop trying to hide his pain from me like I don’t see it. I’m not making excuses for him; I’ve done that before and it doesn’t end well. “If he doesn’t open up to me soon, or if he crosses any of those lines, I’m not sure we’ll be able to recover. I’m not sure I’ll want to.”
