Escaping Reality

to let me
    show you I’m that safe place.”
    But he’ll be gone tomorrow and where will I be? What place will my
    mind have traveled, and will I get back to where I was before? “Do you ever
    give away control?”
    “No. That’s not what works for me.”
    “But you think it will work for me.” It’s not a question. It’s clear what
    he thinks. I just want…more. More understanding. More…him.
    “It will work for you. Let me teach you, Amy.”
    Teach me. This is what he’d been talking about on the plane and this
    is so far into new territory, I don’t know which direction to go. I crave what
    he will show me but I fear what I will show him.
    “Do you have things you need to block out, Liam?” I ask, and I am on
    tenterhooks, waiting on an answer that feels important to me, when I do
    not even know what I expect—or want—it to be.
    “Yeah, baby,” he surprises me by saying, “I do. Knowing you need the
    escape and admitting it, if only to yourself, is control.” I am shocked by his
    admission, by his willingness to share something so personal with me. I am
    beyond aroused by this man and when his finger traces the skin at the top
    of my blouse, I feel the touch in every part of my body. “I did.” He starts
    unbuttoning my blouse. “And now I’m going to show you how we escape
    together.”
    Together. I like how that sounds, but…
    “Right here in the hallway?” I ask, and my blouse begins to gape,
    exposing the thin lace covering my breasts.
    “Right here in the hallway,” he agrees, his hot gaze raking the swell
    of my breasts, his deft fingers finishing the buttons and quickly popping
    open the front clasp of my bra. He covers my breasts with his hands, and
    nuzzles my neck at the same time, and the mix of erotic and tender ignites
    my senses and soothes my nerves. “You smell like sunflowers.”
    “My perfume,” I whisper, and unbidden, my mind my goes to New
    York, to my apartment where it, and everything else I own, and no longer
    have, are located.
    “It’s perfect,” he approves, tugging my nipples, and the unexpected,
    bittersweet ache leaves room for none of the burn for what is behind me.
    There is only the burn for now, for him, for the escape he has promised me.
    My lashes flutter and just that quickly he is on his knees, inching my skirt
    upward, and there is only the emptiness that is my ache to feel him inside
    me. I am in a haze of desire, and my skirt is somehow at my waist, his
    tongue tracing the top of one of my thigh-highs, then traveling up and
    down my leg. The urge to tug my hands free, to tunnel my finger into his
    thick, dark hair, and force his mouth where I want it, is almost too much to
    bear.
    “I want to touch you,” I pant. “I need to touch you.”
    His eyes meet mine, and they are hot with desire and dark with
    command. “Not yet,” he orders, and with no warning, he wraps his fingers
    around the thin strips at my hips and tugs my panties down to my feet. I
    step out of them. Or I think I do. I don’t know. Everything is a haze of
    nerves, and desire, and need. But they are gone and Liam’s fingers are
    exploring the slick, wet center of my body, and his mouth is on my upper
    thigh, teasing me with where it might go, where it hasn’t gone and I soon
    hope it will be.
    He slips two fingers deep inside me and there are panting, moaning
    sounds filling the air that I barely recognize as coming from me, and I try to
    control myself, but I cannot. I’m not sure I’m really trying. I am so wet and
    so aroused, I am certain I will come ridiculously quickly. The idea is
    embarrassing and I try to will my body to calm. I try to resist the pleasure
    building low in my belly and spiraling into my sex, but it is growing,
    consuming me like a black hole where nothing but pleasure exists. It
    reaches out to me and drags me deep into the center of spiraling, delicious
    sensations. They overcome me, he overcomes me, and my sex clenches so
    intensely that I jerk and my knees go weak.
    Liam’s arms wrap around my lower body, holding me up and his
    tongue laps at me, fast and hard and then slowing as I soften, as my
    muscles ease, and I relax. He tears my jacket from my wrists and I wrap my
    arms around him for stability and bury my face in his neck. He drags me
    with him, until he is sitting against the door and I am straddling him and all I
    can think is how embarrassed I am. How long did I last? One minute? Two?
    Please let it have been at least