The Sex Surrogate Read online

  My hand stroked upward, my thumb brushing over the head, stroking his wet desire, and drawing my much wanted groan from his lips. Emboldened, I started stroking quickly. Up and down. Then twisting slightly with each stroke. Chase's hand on my arm was digging in painfully, his body stiff underneath me.

  “That feels good, baby,” he praised me and it set off a flurry of fluttering in my chest. His hand went over mine for a second, squeezing. “Just a little harder,” he instructed and I did as he said. “Yeah, just like that.”

  I lifted my head, sitting up a little straighter so I could watch his face. His head was titled up toward the ceiling, eyes closed. Then, as if sensing me, he looked down and his eyes found mine and stayed there.

  “Fuck, baby,” he hissed, his eyes getting heavier. “I'm gonna come,” he told me, the words falling with a small thrill. Because I had never been able to make that happen before. Then his hand positively crushed into my shoulder, his other hand grabbing my wrist hard as he cursed, his body jerking. “Fuck, Ava...” he ground out as he came.

  He leaned down a moment later and kissed my forehead, and I smiled up at him with my own internal, victory. Maybe to most, it was small. But to me, it was huge.

  He smiled back down at me, knowing, sharing it with me.

  “I made you feel good,” I said, a little shyly, knowing it was an immature way to put it, but it was the best I could bring myself to say.

  “Yeah, you did,” he smiled wider. Then his face came toward me, pressing his lips into mine, kissing me until my entire body felt like it was starting to tingle. “Okay,” he said, pulling away, “I'll be right back,” he said, taking off toward the bathroom. He came back a moment later, a washcloth in his hand, taking my hand and rubbing gently over it. Finished, he pulled it up toward him, kissing my knuckles and letting it drop.

  He came back a few seconds later, slipping in beside me, laying on his side.

  “Are the nerves better?” he asked, pulling me on my side to face him.

  “A little,” I admitted. Because they had been. Though they were quickly coming back.

  He was going to touch me.

  Soon.

  “Good,” he said, leaning closer and brushing the hair off my neck a second before his lips went down there, making me sigh at the contact, “Because I really want to make you feel good. I want to watch you as I make you come. And just when you start to come down, I am going to drive you back up and make it happen again. Until your body can't take anymore.”

  Oh

  my

  god.

  Where did he learn to talk like that?

  “Does that sound good?”

  I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

  “Good,” he said, his hand sliding to my breast, taking the nipple and working it into a painfully tight point. His hand went up to my shoulder, pressing until I laid flat, then went to the other nipple until I was squirming, pressing my thighs so hard together that the muscles were aching.

  His hand moved between my breasts, slowly moving a straight line down my belly, pausing, then stroking down my thigh, then back up the other one. His hand rested at the triangle above my sex. “Let me in, baby,” he murmured and my legs just... spread for him. Then his hand slipped between them, quickly stroking up my cleft, making me gasp and jump at the unfamiliar contact. “You're so wet for me,” he groaned, his fingers stroking my folds. “Is this okay?”

  Okay? No.

  No it wasn't okay.

  It was fucking incredible.

  It was everything everyone had ever told me it was.

  And more.

  “Yes,” the word came out on a moan, and his eyes quickly went up to my face, apt.

  Then his fingers moved upward, stroking over my painfully sensitive clit. And I almost jumped off the bed. “Fuck,” he hissed, watching my face twist, my back arch, as his finger started slow circles around the sensitive point. “Ava, look at me, babe,” he urged.

  My eyes drifted to his as his finger moved across my clit and my body exploded into an unexpected orgasm. “Ah,” I cried out, shocked, then groaned as my body pulsated hard over and over, my body going taut, my hand slamming down hard on Chase's shoulder.

  Chase let the orgasm wash over me, fingers stilling. Then as my body relaxed, his finger started working again. Just like he promised. “God, you're so fucking beautiful when you come,” he said, leaning down and taking my lips gently in his.

  I turned slightly toward him, my arm going around his back, kissing him back with all the amazement I was wrapped up in, wanting him to share it. And he did, greedily.

  He pulled away, waiting until my eyes slowly opened, then his finger slid away from my clit, drawing out a frustrated grumble for me. “Don't worry, you're going to come again,” he said, his finger pressing against my entrance. Then his finger slid slowly inside me, making my body jerk.

  Because it had been so long. Honestly, I wasn't sure I had ever really even experienced what it felt like to have a finger or... anything else, inside of me. I was usually too busy trying to calm myself down to feel anything but my own pounding heart. But, god, it felt good.

  “You with me?” he asked, his finger stilling inside.

  I smiled slightly at him. “Always,” I found myself saying. Then, seeing the darkness come over his eyes, wished I could suck it back in. His finger turned inside me, stroking up against the top wall, finding the spot most men weren't even sure existed and raking his finger across it. And nothing else mattered but that feeling.

  “Oh my god,” I whimpered, my fingers digging hard into the skin on his back.

  Chase gave me a small smile. “Does that feel good?” he asked, knowing damn well it did.

  “Yes,” I cried out, my hips sliding up toward him, wanting more.

  But then he stopped stroking my g-spot and started thrusting fast in and out of me, making my breath catch, arching up toward his hand, crying out shamelessly as my body went up up up again. Just when I thought I couldn't take another second of the torment, his thumb found my clit as he stroked back over my g-spot and I just.. shattered.

  “Chase,” I cried out, grabbing at him, pulling him toward me as my body spasmed violently.

  “It's okay. I'm right here. Come baby.”

  It felt like it lasted forever, my body completely beyond my control, shaking, writhing, being completely consumed in the sensations.

  I came down slowly and Chase's finger moved inside me and I shook my head at him.

  “No?”

  “I can't,” I said, burying my face in his chest because I felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to cry. Not sob. Not break down. Just... cry. Because it was just... too much. I couldn't take it.

  His finger slid out of me, his hands moving to stroke me. Down my back. Down my side. “Baby talk to me,” he urged, one of his hands slipping into my hair.

  But I couldn't. Because I was concentrating on my very silent little cry, tilting my face just away from him enough that the tears didn't fall on his chest.

  “Babe? Ava...” he urged, then shifted, grabbing the side of my face and forcing it up to look at him. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, his fingers catching the tears and brushing them away. “Are these good tears or bad tears?” Not able to find the words, I turned my head and kissed his hand. “Good tears,” he concluded, smiling at me. Then he leaned down and kissed my wet cheeks, kissed my eyes closed, then finally... kissed my lips. Until all that there was was him and me and the sweet, delicious feeling of lips trying to consume each other.

  A while later, me laying across his chest like it was the safest place in the world because, for me, it was, his hand heavy on my back. “That was fucking amazing,” he said, half to himself. “I'm serious,” he said, turning to look down at me. “You did really well tonight.”

  I felt myself force a smile. Force because he just inadvertently reminded me what we were. Not lovers. Doctor and patient.

  “Where are
you going?” he asked, trying to reach for me as I moved off of him and slipped off the other end of the bed, away from him.

  I didn't answer him because, well, what could I say?

  I need to leave because if I stay, it is only going to blur these lines even more for me and I am already in so deep I can barely see the surface anymore?

  Yeah, that wasn't going to work.

  I slipped into my clothes faster than I probably ever had before, taking a deep breath and looking back toward the bed. But he wasn't where I left him. He was sitting off the side of the bed, his feet on the floor, his head in his hands.

  “Hey,” I said, feeling almost worried, “are you okay?”

  He didn't answer for a long moment. “Yup,” he said in a tone I didn't trust. Then, “So, ya' leaving me?” he asked in a voice I didn't even consider his. It was odd. Guarded? Distant? Something like that.

  “It's late,” I guessed. “I have work in the morning.”

  “Okay,” he said, still sitting there, not looking at me. “Thursday. Seven-thirty.”

  Same cold, dead tone.

  “Umm,” I said, feeling torn. The part of me that needed to protect myself, needing to leave. The other part, the part that felt too strongly about Chase to ever want to leave, wanted to know what was wrong. To go to him. To soothe over his feelings like he did for me. But, I reminded myself, taking a breath, that wasn't my place. I wasn't his girlfriend. I was his patient. Nothing more. “Okay,” I said, my voice numb as I was feeling, “I'll see you then.”

  After the Session

  “What are you doing?” Jake asked, coming in from the gym so drenched it was actually impressive.

  I saluted him with my spoon, then dug it back into the half gallon of salted caramel gelato I had stocked the freezer with, completely wiping out the deli around the corner, on my way home from Chase's office.

  I was situated on the couch in baggy sweat clothes and a huge gray men's robe and fluffy purple slippers. My hair was pulled back into the same messy ponytail I had pulled it into before I went to bed the night before, at least a third of it sneaking down around my face and shoulders. “Just catching up on some TV,” I said, shrugging.

  “It's ten o'clock in the morning.”

  “And that's what makes on-demand such an awesome invention.”

  “It's not a holiday.”

  “Nope.”

  “You've literally never missed a day of work before.”

  “That's true.”

  “Oh, my god. It's like talking to a three year old with ADD,” he said, throwing his gym bag next to the door. “Are you sick?”

  “Nah.”

  Well, maybe a little heart sick. But hell, I wasn't sharing that.

  “Are you having some kind of fucking mental break down? Should I call one of your shrinks or something?”

  “Oh my god,” I grumbled, pausing my show. “I'm taking a day off from work, not speaking in tongues.”

  “Love, a normal person taking a day off is considered good for their mental health. You taking a day off is like the complete opposite.”

  “You're such an ass,” I said, taking another spoonful.

  “Alright. I'm taking a shower and when I get out, you're fucking sharing that gelato. And then telling me what is wrong with you.”

  “I'll bite your hand off if you try. And good luck getting it out of me,” I said to his retreating form, turning my show back on.

  He was actually right. I didn't take off from work. Not even when I was down with a case of pneumonia that threw me for a loop for three weeks, making me too sick to eat and losing fifteen pounds. I don't know why I was that way, but I always had been. Every year at school, I got the award for perfect attendance. That was just how I was. Always there. Always there on time, usually early.

  But, I had tossed and turned all night long, plagued with dreams about Chase. Good dreams. Him kissing me, touching me, complimenting me. Then not so good ones. Ones of him standing there sneering at me because he found out I liked him. Or out and out telling me I was never anything but a patient to him.

  My alarm went off like a damn air horn in my head. And I just... couldn't make myself get up. Get dressed. Go to work. Act like I wasn't in a grumpy mood.

  So, I just didn't.

  I called the office to have Shay pick up. “What the fuck do you mean you're not coming in? Are you dying?”

  “No, Shay.”

  “Good, because even that won't get you out of going out with me Friday. I'm holding you to that.”

  “I know, Shay.” Actually, I was starting to look forward to it. I needed something else to focus on. “I'm excited to go actually,” I admitted, surprising myself. I wasn't the kind of person who shared information like that.

  “Me too, girl. I am bringing you an outfit because, well, I mean... you don't own a damn thing appropriate for what I have planned.”

  “Please don't tell me all my bits will be on display.”

  “Fuck yeah they will. Make the men drool so they buy us drinks.”

  “I think you'll be the one making them drool, Shay.”

  “Girl, sometimes I just don't get you. You know you're hot shit, right?”

  “If you say so.”

  She made a weird growling objection noise. “You're hopeless. Look, I am gonna come to your apartment at like... seven. We'll get all dolled up, then hit the town. Sound good?”

  “Great.”

  “Aight. Have a good fake sick day,” she said, hanging up.

  Jake came to the couch with his own container of my gelato wrapped up in a kitchen towel. For my sake, he had actually put a shirt on. Which was new. He stared at the TV until the credits rolled and I got booted back to the main screen.

  “Now spill.”

  “There's nothing to spill, Jake. Oh,” I said, thinking of Shay, “by the way, I am having a girl from work over Friday. And you are not, under and circumstances, going to hit on her.”

  “What do you mean you have a girl from work coming over?” he asked, looking at me like I had genuinely gone off the deep end.

  “I mean... Shay, a girl I have worked with for years, is going to come over here on Friday at seven. We are going to get dressed up and then we are going to go out.”

  “Okay. What the fuck? Seriously. Am I on some hidden fucking camera show? Did aliens beam you up and steal your body or something?”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “I'm just... branching out. Trying new things.”

  “Damn. I guess that sex doctor was worth every penny, huh?” At the mention, I felt myself flinch. Visibly. Hard. “Well, shit..” he said, watching me.

  “So what do you want to watch next? Another show? A movie?” I asked, silently pleading for him to let it go.

  “You caught feelings.”

  Mother fucker.

  I should have known better to hope for Jake to have a little mercy. He wasn't the type.

  “I have not,” I objected, but my voice was too high and squeaky to hold any authority.

  “You are a dirty little feelings haver,” he insisted, sticking his spoon out toward me. “I should have known. Bathrobe, mindless TV, junk food. It's all the typical signs.”

  “Oh, what the hell do you know about feelings? You barely keep girls around long enough to catch STDs.”

  “Hardy har,” he said, squinting his eyes at me. “I don't know anything about feelings myself. But I know about women and their feelings. I have four fucking older sisters, Ava. Trust me, I know.”

  I loved Jake's sisters. Their visits were worth every moment that he drove me nuts every other day of the year. Because around them, he cowered like a scolded dog. They attacked him about his shit all over the apartment, about his meaningless pursuit of the perfect body, about his using women like they were disposable. They made him do the dishes. Sweep. Mop. Scrub the bathroom. I would come home to a pristine apartment with dinner on the damn table. Granted, they only s
topped in maybe twice a year. But they were like mini Christmases every time.

  “You are exhibiting all the typical signs.” At my silent clicking around on the movie menu, he sighed. “Look, I know you think I am just some muscle bound jerk...”

  “I don't...”

  “Yes you do,” he cut me off, smiling a little. “But it's fine. Because I don't really give you much reason to think otherwise...”

  “That's not true. Lately...”

  “But I am actually a decent shoulder to lean on, okay? I'll listen. I'll give you the advice you need.”

  I took a slow, deep breath, and, still staring at the TV, said, “I have feelings for Chase.”

  “There. Was that so hard?”

  “Yes,” I shot back, glaring at him, “and you're not exactly proving your case here, jerk.”

  He laughed, taking a spoonful of gelato and shrugging. “Hey, I'm still me. Even when I am being helpful. So, what? You just realized it? 'Cause you're a little slow. I've been seeing it happening for days.”

  “You didn't think that you should have maybe filled me in on it?”

  “And let you miss out on the fun of finding out yourself?”

  “Fun. Oh, yeah. It was boatloads of fun to figure out when I was in bed with him.”

  “In bed?” Jake asked, eyes bright.

  “We're not having sex,” I added quickly. “Not yet anyway.”

  “So you think it's legit feelings... or that thing?”

  “Transference,” I supplied. “I don't know. I think that is kind of the point of transference. The patient doesn't know whether the feelings are real or not.”

  “Maybe you should see your other shrink and ask her.”

  My head snapped to his. “Yet again,” I said, thinking about his ideas for telling me to go get some sexy lingerie, “you are a genius.”

  Which brought me to Dr. Bowler's office. Familiar. Not near as swanky as Chase's. The waiting room had the typical, awful, brown arm chairs with red and blue pattered seats and backs. The coffee table was strewn with old magazines. I sat for a long half an hour before Dr. Bowler came out of her office, giving me a kind smile. “Ava.”