Broken Rules 3: Aurora
My heart is racing. In fact it’s beating so fast I’m surprised that it’s not painful. I can barely breath. I keep having to remind myself to take a deep breath every few seconds, so that I don’t pass out from oxygen deficiency. Although even in my foggy brain that sounds ridiculous; whoever heard of someone passing out from… well… wanting someone? I can barely focus on anything except the fact that I’m going home with a man I’ve just met. It’s exhilarating and scary all at once. He’s perhaps the most beautiful man I’ve ever met but he’s also rather intimidating. He’s impressive, overwhelmingly so and I don’t know how I’m going to get through tonight. As much as I want him, as much as I want this; it goes against my every instinct. Every inch of me wants him but my thoughts are complicated and scared. No not scared – I’m terrified. It’s not only something my parents had told me not to do; it’s something I’d told myself not to do countless times. I’d been good at keeping the rules for such a long time. I’d kept them for so long now, that somewhere along the way they ceased to be their rules and they became my own and now I’d reached the point where I could no longer blame them for my missed opportunities. After all they were my missed opportunities, not my parents’. Normally I wouldn’t have even gotten myself into a situation where a guy would offer to take me home, let alone ask him to. This whole thing is so out of character for me that it makes me question whether it’s a good idea at all. Am I really going through with this. Of course you are you plonker, you’re sat in the back of his car, I tell myself. Shit, I mentally swear, I’m in way over my head. I take in my surroundings, trying to distract myself, I’m sat in the back of a black Lexus LS 600h L, “you’re not driving?” I ask the first question that comes to mind, anything to slow down my heart rate and get my breathing back under control. Every muscle in my body is tight with tension; I try to loosen off. I don’t want him to know just how nervous I am.
He’s holding my hand, “I would have normally driven but I drank too much tequila to drive so I texted my driver.” Now that he’s said that, it seems like a stupid question. Of course he’s not driving. We’ve been drinking shots.
I nod, unsure what to say in response, feeling slightly awkward. Sitting in the back of a car, being driven by a driver isn’t new to me. My parents get chauffeured around everywhere. My father is the Managing Director of one of the biggest publishing companies in the country. He has always been excessive and his tastes are luxurious to the extreme. The only things he likes more than luxury is charity and church. It’s something I dislike about my family; I don’t like the excessive luxury. Trust me to find a man who might be just as over the top as my parents. I frown at the thought before trying to refocus on something else, anything else, “You drive a hybrid.”
He’s surprised, I think. He’s really hard to read. He doesn’t give much away with his expressions. He seems closed off, like he’s purposefully trying to keep his distance. As if he doesn’t want to be understood; I imagine he’s good at poker. Perhaps I should challenge him to a game. Poker is a favourite pastime of mine; much to my parents’ disappointment. The only disappointment I’ve ever caused them. No gambling was definitely on my list of rules. “Yes,” is all he says in response.
“The LS 600h L is a beautiful car,” I smile, “I’ve been trying to talk my parents into buying one for a while now.” It’s not a lie. I’ve been trying to get my parents to buy a hybrid for years now. My father has driven a Mercedes for as long as I can remember. Every time he buys a new car, he does extensive research and then always chooses a merc. I tried to get them to at least consider the Lexus but when my father refused that, I tried to get him to buy a Mercedes hybrid but he wasn’t having any of it.
He nods, “what do you drive?”
“BMW 7 series active hybrid,” I tell him confidently; I’m proud of driving a hybrid. As I’d told my father the benefits far outweighed the negatives. My parents had bought the car for me when I graduated a few months ago. They had tried to talk me into getting a Mercedes again, like my last car, but I’d already decided on the car I wanted. My father needed convincing but he gave in after I showed him how much money I would save on petrol. He wasn’t quite as interested in the environmental benefits as I was, but at least he let me have the car I wanted. It wasn’t that my father didn’t care about the environment. He was better at recycling than I was. It was more that it wasn’t at the top of his list of considerations when buying a car.
“You know cars?” He’s shocked. His eyes are wide; this time I’m sure I’ve surprised him and it pleases me to know that he doesn’t understand me either. I’m not the only one confused. I’m grateful and I don’t feel quite as much of an idiot any more.
I shrug, “I know hybrids.” I’m not exactly a car expert or a fanatic or anything. In fact not at all. I wouldn’t recognise half the cars passing us on the other side of the road if I could pay attention that is, but Landon is the centre of my attention. More than that he’s the sole focus of my attention. In this moment, he is all I can see. Nothing else matters.
“Normally women just comment on the colour of the paint or the interior material,” his eyebrow is raised again, “it’s kind of hot that you know about my car.”
“It’s a nice car,” It’s a really nice car. So nice in fact that it seems like a massive understatement.
We’re silent for a while. I want him to touch me. I need him to but he doesn’t. He just sits next to me and even though he isn’t looking at me, I get the impression he’s watching me. I really don’t know what he’s thinking but I know that I’m nervous. I wonder if he realises just how nervous I am. How nervous he makes me. Taking several deep breaths to still myself, I watch the buildings pass by as we drive through the dark city. I love London at night; the buildings all lit up, reflected in the river. We turn into an underground car park and Henry, I think that’s his name, stops the car in front of a set of glass doors. He steps out and within a few seconds he’s opened the door and Landon is getting out before offering me his hand, “I’ll just park the car sir. Will you be needing anything else tonight, Mr Peters?”
Peters… I recognise the name. I can’t work out where I recognise it from though so I put it to the back of my mind. There are more pressing things trying to get my attention; like the fact that I think I’m going to lose my virginity tonight. Who thought tonight would actually be the night that I finally break some rules. I sigh as I get out the car, the scared part of me wants to run. Where; I don’t know. Just away. But I give myself a gentle mental shake. You can do this, I tell myself.
“No thank you Henry,” Landon glances at him before returning his gaze to me. The look he is giving me is... hot. Really hot. It makes me blush. His eyes are flashing between looking at my eyes and my mouth. It’s quite embarrassing to think that Henry knows what we are about to do. He must know right? How could he not? It is pretty obvious. I’m the girl his boss has brought home from a bar. I can’t help but wonder if this is a regular occurrence for him; just a normal night working for Landon. Landon leads me through the glass doors and into one of the lifts that line the wall. He pulls out a key card and places it into a slot next to the buttons. The lift begins to move and he pulls me towards him. Before I can catch my breath he’s kissing me again and I’m losing myself in him. His hands are even more explorative than they had been when we were dancing in the bar, now that we are alone. Alone; the thought is daunting. I’ve been alone with guys before; I’ve had boyfriends but it was never like this with them. Their kisses left much to be desired by comparison and I’d never been interested in the idea of letting them… well… let’s just say I wouldn’t let them touch me the way I’m letting Landon touch me. Not a chance. His hand is under the cup of my bra and I gasp at his touch. I’m on fire. A part of me is embarrassed by the way he’s affecting me. My whole body feels alive under his touch. It’s bizarre how only he can do this to me; only his touch leaves me wanting more. “So which of your rules are we going to break tonight?” he asks me huskily and I swear he’s challenging me. I think if he has his way, by the end of the night he’ll have introduced me to every sinful pleasure the world has to offer. My mind is alive with ideas of all the things he could possibly show me.
His hands are on the button of my jeans and he’s pulling down the zip and then he’s touching me. I’m scared. I tense. What if someone stops the lift? What if someone sees us? What if we get caught? But I don’t stop him. I can’t. He’s amazing. His fingers are like fire, they are burning me alive. He circles my clitoris and then pushes a finger into my folds, “You’re wet.”
I’m not embarrassed by his words; quite the opposite. It turns me on even more. “I want you,” I don’t know if I’m trying to explain myself or just pointing out a fact but I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want him in this moment and my body is happy to show him just how much I want him. None of the guys I’ve dated have made me feel this way; I’ve never let them get this close.
“I want you too,” he tells me as he pushes his finger inside me. I moan. “Tell me what you want?”
“You,” I can’t focus on anything except the way his fingers feel against me. I want him. I want him inside me. I want him to take me right here in the lift and that surprises me. I watch as he pulls his hand out of my jeans before lifting it to his mouth. I can barely breathe as I watch him suck on his finger. It might well be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I’m breathing loudly as I watch him, shaking gently as I lean against the wall of the lift. His eyes are alight with enthusiastic desire.
“God you taste good,” Landon tells me. His voice is hoarse. “I want to get you out of these jeans so I can taste you properly.”
At that moment the doors of the lift open and I panic. What if we are caught by one of his neighbours? Landon’s eyes light up, “don’t worry. We’re here.” He takes my hand and leads me out of the lift and into a foyer. There are incredible landscapes covering the hessian walls. My eyes try desperately to take it all in. There are hill top views, mountain ranges, cityscapes but the one that catches my eye is a rocky beach with a beautifully bright lighthouse. The water is crashing against the rocks but the light reaches far and wide keeping sailors safe. It’s beautiful; a masterpiece. As a child, I had always wanted to live in a lighthouse on the side of the beach. It was a bizarre penchant that had began when I was playing at the beach with my sister one summer, underneath the shadow of a large white lighthouse. I’d never seen anything so beautiful. “Beautiful isn’t it? It’s my favourite,” he tells me.
“It’s incredible,” I whisper, “Do you know the artist?”
“My mother,” Landon replies with a smile, “all of them, they are all hers.”
On the furthest wall there is a door. Landon’s fingers fly across the security pad as he enters his password to get into his home. It’s incredibly sensual to watch him, because I know what else he has done with that hand. I know how he has touched me with that hand. He takes my hand and leads me into his apartment. “Welcome to my home,” he tells me. We take a right and I find myself in his living room.
I look around. It’s incredible. I’m accustomed to luxury, growing up as Michelle and Lewis Stone’s daughter, but this is something else. As amazing as it is; it’s too much. Surely, he doesn’t live here alone. It’s huge and luxurious and expensive and although it’s nice I don’t like the extravagance but that makes me a hypercrit so I don’t say anything. It’s not like my flat is your typical student housing and the difference between me and Landon is that he probably bought all this luxury with money he’s earnt himself; unlike me. That thought leaves me feeling cold. There is a beautiful oatmeal colour sofa facing the fire and above the fire is a large flat screen TV. The walls are the same hessian colour as the walls of the foyer. There are very few personal affects around the room; except for a single family photograph of Landon and what must be his brother and parents. Just past the living area, I can see one of the largest dining room tables I’ve ever seen. He catches me looking at it and grins, “I sometimes have business meetings here.”
I nod, showing that I’ve heard him. Behind the sofa is a wall of windows. Just behind that window is another dining area and what I think is a kitchen. I make my way over to the boardroom style dining room table, carry on past it until I reach the sliding doors behind it. Just beyond the doors is a lovely balcony garden. The view of the surrounding buildings is amazing. This is clearly the penthouse. “You like it?” He grins. Looking at him over my shoulder I realise that he’s waiting for my confirmation as if my opinion holds importance. The idea confuses me. He barely knows me. I’m just a girl he picked up in a bar. I try not to let my mind dwell on that though; I don’t want tonight to be meaningless. I don’t want to make it seem dirty or slutty of me or something; god I can only imagine what my mother would say if she knew where I am or what I plan to do here.
“Yeah,” I nod as he pulls me back towards the sofa and I’m not lying. His home is beautiful; it’s too much but he’s not like me. He probably likes luxury. People who earn it for themselves usually do. I’ve just never wanted to be the sort of person to live off the wealth of someone else and a lot of the time that’s how I feel about my parents, that I’m living off their fortune. They’d chastise me if they knew how I feel about it. They’d tell me that everything they have, everything they’ve made, they’ve made for us; Aileen and I.
“Do you want anything? A drink perhaps?” he offers me, considering my every need like the perfect host. He seems so at ease now that he has me in his flat; if you can call this a flat. I don’t know what word I’m supposed to give his home.
I shake my head, “only you.” I settle for an honest response.
“Good answer,” he looks pleased as he sits down and pulls me down so that I’m straddling his lap. He’s kissing me again and it eases my nerves a bit. Only slightly though. He pulls my top over my head and it sends my heart racing and then he’s kissing down my body as he undoes my bra. A small voice in my head tells me this is a bad idea; that I don’t know him, that I can’t trust him. Hell, he could be a fricking serial killer and be planning to kill me but the touch of his hands on my skin stills my fears. I want him. When I’m uncovered, I can feel myself blushing all thoughts of serial killers gone from my mind but the embarrassment doesn’t last long because he trails his tongue along my skin before suckling on my nipple. I’ve never felt anything like it and I can’t keep a moan from escaping me as I push closer to him. I can feel him beneath me and I want more.
“Please,” I whisper. I don’t know quite how to ask for what I want.
“Please what?” his eyes are on mine.
“Please... I want you,” It’s all I can say to express what I want; what I need. My voice rasps and dips in ways I’ve never known it to before. This is all new to me.
He licks his lips and I swear I’m lost. My hands are on the buttons of his shirt and I kiss his skin as I reveal it. I want him to feel just as lost as I feel right now. He chuckles when I throw his shirt behind me. He gets to his feet, lifting me into the air as he goes. I wrap my legs around his waist and he walks across the room and back into the entryway. He takes a right and walks past the kitchen, through an open door. I take a quick glance around and we’re in a closet. “This isn’t quite what I expected,” I quirk, feeling entertained I give him a questioning look.
He laughs, continuing through one last door. This time when I look around, I’m in a bedroom. “This place is a maze.” His eyes are shining with humour.
Landon drops me on the bed that dominates the room. He pulls my jeans down, slowing revealing my skin. Then he removes my knickers and steps back, “what are you doing?” I ask because he’s just standing there and I’m beginning to feel awkward again. All my earlier shyness is coming back in spades. Fricking hell; am I really going to do this? Yes, you are Stone! Stop being a wuss, you big coward, I chastise myself seriously.
“Just admiring the view,” he smirks. I try to hold his gaze, but everything inside me wants to look down in embarrassment. Within a moment he’s on his knees at the foot of the bed. I can’t help but watch him. I’m fascinated by him and how he affects me. The muscles in his arms are tense and firm as he pulls my legs apart and begins to suck on my sex. I lose myself in the sensations he is giving me. His tongue brings me to orgasm before he joins me on the bed. “Tell me when we break a rule,” he grins at me as he licks his lips seductively. He’s brought me to orgasm but I know he’s not finished with me yet.
I watch as he removes his trousers and boxers and am overwhelmed by him. I can’t tell him we’ve already broken several rules. It’s embarrassing. In one night I’ve broken more rules than I’ve broken in the rest of my life. Don’t go home with random guys. Don’t have oral sex with random guys. Don’t be indecent in public. He kisses me gently, pulling me out of my thoughts, as he leans passed me and pulls something out of the cabinet beside the bed. He groans into the kiss before pulling back to put a condom on, “god, you’re incredible. I’m so hard... it fucking hurts, that’s how hard you’ve made me.” His words are almost too much; I’m embarrassed and turned on and I don’t know which emotion is going to win out. He hovers above me before entering me slowly. It hurts. It hurts a lot. He is so big and I can feel him everywhere; he is so deep inside me. He pauses, “shit you’re tight,” And for a moment I wonder if he knows that I’m a virgin. I desperately and silently hope that he can’t tell. The idea makes me blush yet again. I don’t particularly want to have to explain that one. At least not right now. I take a deep breath and tell myself to relax. This will be better if I can relax.
He is breathing heavily as he holds still, giving me time to adjust. I breathe in and out as I wait for the pain to recede. After a few moments he starts to move again, fast and hard and what started off painful is transformed into something overwhelmingly sensual. I hold onto him for dear life, as he fucks me into oblivion. This is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. It is intense, overwhelming, consuming. I lift my hips to meet him thrust for thrust. I want to take more. I want all of him inside me. I want to make him come from the sheer pleasure of being inside me. I’ve brought myself off before but this is nothing like that. This is deeper than that and the orgasm that I can feel coming is going to be all the more powerful for it. I can feel him taking me over the edge. I am moaning, but I’m no longer embarrassed. I am too close. “Fuck,” he says, “I want you to come for me, baby.” It’s rough as he slams into me deeper still and I want to come. “Landon please,” I beg him.
“Come for me, baby,” he repeats his words hoarsely; he’s struggling for control.
Hearing him say it is enough to take me completely over the edge. I moan out his name as I feel him come, my walls clamping down on him. He collapses on top of me, trying to catch his breath. I feel sleepy but I’m not sure if he wants me to stay. I should probably just get dressed and go home. There’s like a whole etiquette for one night stands and because of my fricking rules I have no idea what I’m supposed to do now. He rolls over onto his back. He seems to want to say something. He is silent for a moment before saying, “do you still want to break some rules?”
I’m not sure how to respond, “I’ve already broken quite a few tonight... what did you have in mind?” I’m breathless. I can barely recognise the sound of my own voice. I’m tender, sore even but I’ve not had enough yet.
“Have you ever been tied up?” he raises an eyebrow, “I imagine that would definitely be against your parents rules.”
“Definitely,” I reply with a bark of laughter, “my parents are very traditional.” He has no idea; traditional doesn’t describe my parents’ accurately… try Victorian.
“So what do you say?” he asks. He looks calm and completely at ease but I can see something in his eyes; eagerness? excitement? need? want? weariness? I can’t get a read on him.
I’m really not sure what to say, I’ve just lost my virginity, I am a little overwhelmed, but I am not ready to go home. I don’t want this to be over. “Okay,” I hear myself agreeing.
He stands and walks back out of the room. He returns a moment later with a navy tie and makes his way back to the bed. He asks me for my hands. He wraps the tie around my wrists before tying the tie to one of the bars of the bed. “You look incredible like this... tied to my bed...” Unlike a moment ago, I can read his expression easily, now he’s looking at me with undiluted desire. He wants me; the idea is intoxicating.
I blush again. I am really self-conscious. For way to long, I’ve kept myself safe, untouchable. I’ve never felt so exposed. “I’m going to fuck you now.”
He moves in and out of me gently this time, slowly, purposeful, teasingly. I feel every part of him inside me. “I want to touch you,” I complain. My hands pulling against his tie.
“You are touching me,” he runs his fingers across my flesh.
“No, I’m not. You’re touching me. I want to touch you.” Even to my own ears, I sound like a petulant child. All I need now is a sulky look on my face.
Landon laugh before grabbing my hand, holding it tightly. He holds onto the bed with his other hand, “there you go, now I’m not touching you either.”
“But I like it when you touch me,” I moan with disappointment but it doesn’t last as he begins to speed up.
“Good,” he grins at me, “I like it too.”
He is fucking me harder now. I can hear the bed hitting the wall in time with our movements. “God, you’re perfect,” he tells me as he pounds into me. I can feel the silk of his tie against my wrists – his tie will mark me. Strangely the idea leaves me panting with a strange desire that I’ve never known before. I want him to mark me; I want to be his.