Ruining Hattie, page 14
Then Bastion hurtles me over the cliff, and the most intense feeling of bliss showers my entire body. I’m crying out, jerking in his arms as I spiral out of control.
I don’t know what I do, what I say from there on, but when I come back to myself, I’m breathing heavily and Bastion is nuzzling my neck.
“Fuck, babe. That was something else.”
The fog from my orgasm clears, and I take note of where I am, what I just did, and who I did it with. Despite my earlier success at pushing back the shame, it now coats me like a bucket of paint thrown over my head.
I don’t know what to do, what to say, so I blurt out, “I should get up. I probably have to leave soon.”
After untangling myself from Bastion’s arms, I don’t turn around to look at him before I bolt from the room.
Despite my panic, I’m pretty sure I don’t regret what happened. How can something that feels that good be bad?
24
BASTION
Sensing that Hattie needs some space, I don’t fight her when she leaves my bed. I blow out a breath and push my hand through my hair, staring at the ceiling.
That was… fuck.
It’s not like I expected any of that to happen, though I’ve been planning to get us there since she arrived. The only reason I backed off yesterday was because after our almost-kiss on Friday night, I wanted her to feel what it was like not to have my attention. I wanted her to miss my affection so that when I again bestowed it on her, she’d be receptive.
I’d say that plan worked. Just as it always has with my conquests.
Maybe a little too well, because now I’m sitting here with a raging hard-on that I’m going to have to take care of myself.
No. I refuse to beat off with Hattie on my mind. That is not part of the plan.
I’m supposed to be seducing her, not the other way around.
But Jesus Christ, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed.
I’ve been with a lot of women, but none who gave themselves over to me like she did. It makes me want more—my face between her legs, my cock in her mouth, her cunt.
No, dammit, think of something else.
The remembrance of why she was in my bed floats through my mind then—the nightmare that was really more of a memory. I was nine and found my mom passed out in her own vomit, and I thought she was dead.
“Fuck that.” I refuse to take a trip down memory lane.
I twist out of bed and stalk into my en suite, turning the cold water on in the shower. It’s not until I’m exiting the shower five minutes later that I remember that Hattie brushed me off today.
She’s new in this city. What the hell could she be up to?
Only one way to find out.
An hour later, my question is answered as I watch her disappear through the doors of a church a few blocks away from my condo building. I can’t help but wonder if she already had plans to be here today or if this is a result of what happened this morning. Maybe she feels the need to confess her sins. God forbid she had an orgasm.
Since I have no desire to walk through those doors, I wait until the service is over for her to leave. It’s clear the service is finished when groups of people make their way through the door and down the stairs, but Hattie doesn’t come out. In fact, it’s not until most people have left that she walks through the doors, making conversation with a man I’m guessing might be a couple years older than her.
She laughs at something he says, and my hands fist, my jaw setting. I’m even more annoyed when I realize that she appears relaxed with him. I only see that side of her sometimes. Lately, she’s always on edge when she’s around me.
They make their way down the steps together before saying their goodbyes and heading in opposite directions. I wait until she’s far enough ahead that I won’t be seen before I follow her.
She’s definitely not headed back to the condo based on the direction she’s going, unless she’s forgotten her way back. But within a few minutes, it’s clear she has a destination in mind when she pulls out her phone a few times to glance at it, as if checking her current location against the directions on the screen.
As I follow her, I tell myself that it’s only because I need to know where her head is.
After a ten-minute walk, she looks at the sign over the door of an old brick building before entering. I don’t slow my pace. I’m unable to see what this place is from this far, and I didn’t walk all this way not to find out where she’s going.
I draw closer and realize it’s a soup kitchen for the homeless. She must be looking to volunteer here. Once I’ve passed the building, I continue walking, telling myself I’ve seen what I needed to see.
Still, for some reason, it’s hard to walk away, to not wait outside until she reappears and see where she might go next. So instead, I’ll do the next best thing—I’ll go through her room at the condo and see what I might find.
A half an hour later, I’m going through the things she’s unpacked, and the only interesting thing I’ve managed to find thus far is the book on her nightstand. This one is way smuttier than the one she was reading in Wisconsin, and when I see the price sticker from the airport bookstore, I figure she must’ve bought it on her way here.
I open the nightstand on one side of the bed and find spools of yarn and what I think are crochet needles. In the other drawer I find socks and… her underwear.
The sight makes my dick twitch. I’d forgotten that she doesn’t wear plain cotton panties.
I think back to this morning. Though I didn’t get to see them, they definitely weren’t lace. I reach into the drawer and pull out a pair of silky maroon ones. They must’ve been like these because they were smooth.
My dick grows to a half chub, and I drop the underwear back in the drawer.
I need to maintain control here. I can’t afford to let myself actually be attracted to Hattie. It would jeopardize my entire plan.
I slam the drawer shut, annoyed with myself for even having a reaction.
“I need to get out of here,” I grumble.
I start for the door, but as I reach the threshold, I plant my hands on either side of the doorjamb. My head drops forward as I try to will myself out of the room, but my feet won’t move.
Not until they spin around and hurry over to her closet. Yanking the hamper open, I grab the panties at the top of the pile—silk and lace hot pink panties—then I’m charging out of the room, heading straight to my own, and slamming the door behind me.
Before I consider my actions, I unfasten my jeans, shove them down my legs with my boxer briefs, and sit on the edge of my bed with my dick in one hand, Hattie’s panties in the other. I bring the fabric up to my nose and inhale. My eyes practically roll back in my head. Fuck, I can’t wait to taste her. God, I’m no better than her sleazy landlord back in Wisconsin.
My bottle of lube rests on the mattress beside me, and I squirt some down the length of my cock with my free hand, then fist the base. I stroke it, imagining Hattie’s small hands doing the work, inhaling her scent once again.
I can imagine all I want, but it’s not like it would be if Hattie were doing the work. Visions of the two of us and all the things I want to do to her swarm my head. She’d pack up and leave so fast if she had any idea the kinds of things running through my head.
Fuck, I wish she were here right now, touching me, torturing me with her wide-eyed innocence.
I wrap her panties around the base of my cock and use them to stroke my shaft. Looking down, I watch the bright pink lace and silk slide against my slick cock, and I grow even harder. My shaft twitches as my hand moves up and down the length, and I cup my balls and squeeze lightly.
My low groan rings out into the empty room, and I increase my rhythm. I imagine the panties currently stretched around my girth on Hattie’s body, pressed up against her cunt, and the tingling starts in the base of my spine.
I grip my cock harder, imagining Hattie wearing them and only them, bending over in front of me so I can get a peek of what I know will be her pretty pink pussy through the lace, and my dick gets impossibly hard before I bring the fabric up to the head and come on a roar. My orgasm just keeps coming, feeling almost never-ending.
Once I’ve spilled everything I have onto the pink silk and lace, I unwrap them from around my length, pull open the top drawer of my nightstand, and toss them in. Hattie won’t be getting them back. It’s not as though she’d ever ask me if I knew where they were anyway, so she’ll be left to wonder.
Then I go into my en suite and have my second cold shower of the day.
25
HATTIE
Around dinner on Sunday evening, I finally work up the nerve to return to the condo. I did have plans to check out a church service before anything happened between Bastion and me this morning, but I may have prolonged my time away on purpose.
After service, I got to talking with some of the church members, and they mentioned a soup kitchen nearby where a lot of the members volunteer. I’ve always enjoyed volunteering, and I’ve noticed in my short time here that Seattle seems to have a lot of homeless people who could use some help, so I figured I’d check it out and see if I could be of service.
When I was done there, it was a beautiful summer day, so I decided to walk around and explore the areas I haven’t been to yet. That left me a lot of time to think, and the only conclusion I’ve come to is that I don’t regret what happened between us, but I also don’t know if anything like that should happen again.
Fooling around with Bastion has the potential to mess up my job and my living situation if things go sideways. At the same time, that orgasm this morning awakened something inside me. Some part of me was slumbering, just waiting to come out.
All afternoon, all I could think about was what happened. I must have replayed what we did in my mind about a hundred times. And then I imagined other things we might do together. Other things Bastion might help me explore.
He’s not the ideal candidate—what with him being my boss—but the thought of doing anything like what we did with someone else doesn’t have the same appeal. Which leaves me in a predicament—do I ignore how I feel and keep Bastion at arm’s length, or do I opt for more with him and risk losing the job and salary that my family needs?
I press the code into the keypad beside the condo door and step inside. Though I hoped I’d be able to make it to my room without seeing Bastion, he’s in the main living area and watching a baseball game on TV. I’m not sure why I find it so unusual. Maybe because we’re rarely on the same schedule, and I never witness him casually doing something he enjoys.
“I got you some food when I ordered. It’s on the counter,” he says, his eyes never straying from the television.
“Thanks.” I make my way into the kitchen and see that he got takeout from the Italian place I like down the street.
My pasta dish is lukewarm, so I spoon it into a bowl and put it in the microwave. When it beeps to signal it’s ready, I take out my food and walk around the large island, then stop, looking between the table on the opposite side and the living area where Bastion is.
“I won’t bite,” Bastion says, still looking at the TV but somehow knowing what’s happening in my head behind him.
With a sigh, I walk over and sit on the couch with him.
“Not like I did this morning.” He turns his head and meets my gaze.
It takes me a beat to catch his meaning, then visions of him biting the curve of my neck this morning come to the forefront of my mind. My cheeks heat, and I bury my head into my pasta.
“I take it from the way you’ve avoided this place that you regret this morning?” There’s no bite to his tone, but I still worry I’ve offended him in some way.
My head whips back in his direction. “No.”
He arches an eyebrow in challenge.
“I don’t regret it, it was… I’m just not sure it’s wise for anything like that to happen again.”
“Because you’re ashamed?” Bastion’s tone turns to almost hurt.
I shake my head, moving my plate from my lap onto the coffee table. “Because you’re my boss, and I’m staying here right now, and you’re so much older than me, and you’re so much more experienced than me, and…” I trail off before the truth of what scares me the most leaks out.
Bastion leans closer. “And what, Hattie?”
“Nothing.” I will my face to remain neutral.
“Bullshit. What were you going to say?”
My legs bounce as I consider whether I should share with him my biggest source of shame.
He places his hand on my knee, preventing it from moving, and squeezes. “I won’t judge you. I hope you know that.” The truth rings through his words, clear as a bell.
If I tell him, maybe he’ll understand where I’m coming from. “I went to a religious college, and I met a guy there named Rich. We dated for a few years, and he was raised within the church like I was, so we held similar values, so we never… you know.”
“Fucked?” Bastion deadpans.
I nod. “Right, that. But in our last year, he pressured me to sleep with him. He said he loved me and that we were going to be together forever anyway, so what was the big deal? I loved him, and I wanted to make him happy, so over time his demands wore me down, and I agreed as long as he promised to never tell anyone else. I was swept up in what I thought we had, what I thought he felt for me.”
Bastion squeezes my knee, somehow sensing that this next part is the most painful to say out loud.
“After we slept together the first time, that’s all he wanted to do. We barely went out on dates after that, and it began to feel like that’s all I was to him—a vessel for his sexual release. About six weeks after we first slept together, I caught him talking to a friend of his about me.” My chest squeezes painfully even after all these years. “He was telling him all about how we’d slept together, all the details, bragging almost. But the worst part was when his friend asked him if we’d still get married, Rich said that there was no way. The kind of woman he wanted to marry wouldn’t give it up before marriage. He wanted someone pure of heart and body.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as the familiar shame and pain lance through my body. “It felt like that was my punishment for sleeping with him before we were married. I went against what I knew was right, and I suffered the consequences. Maybe if I hadn’t let him talk me into it, I would’ve passed the test and we’d be married now.”
When Bastion doesn’t say anything, I open my eyes to look at him. His face is burning with pure disdain, enough so that I shrink back from him.
“Hattie, it wasn’t God punishing you. You were just dating a piece of shit. Nothing more, nothing less. Did you ever stop to think that if God was involved, maybe he was saving you, showing you what kind of man this Rich guy really was so that you didn’t end up married to him for the rest of your life?”
I blink several times. Not once had that thought occurred to me. Not once. I was so quick to soak in the shame and blame that I didn’t even stop to think it could be anything else. What if Bastion’s right and everything that went down wasn’t about punishing me for sinning, but to lead me toward the right path?
“I’ve never thought of it that way.” My voice is a whisper, and I look down at my lap, trying to make sense of my thoughts. “I believed in Rich, and he turned out to be a liar and a manipulator. I don’t trust myself to make the right call. That’s why I haven’t dated anyone since we broke up. I didn’t want to make the same mistake again and be hurt like that. Feel like that.”
Something flashes across Bastion’s face, some emotion I can’t quite grasp before it’s gone. “I’m not Rich. I’m not going to use you for my own pleasure and then judge you for it.” He looks as though there’s something else on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t say it.
I meet his gaze. “I believe you.”
“Anything that happens between us will be your decision. I’m not going to pressure you into something you don’t want to do. It needs to be your choice.”
“I don’t know what I want right now. I think I need a day or two in order to clear my head.”
There’s no irritation on Bastion’s face. He merely squeezes my knee again before letting go and shifting away from me. “Then that’s what you’ll get.” He turns his attention toward the TV again. “Do you like baseball?”
“I don’t not like it.”
He chuckles. “All right then, stick around and let’s see if I can make a fan out of you.”
I pick my plate back up and set it on my lap, the pasta likely lukewarm again. “Okay, let’s see what you can do.”
“Is that a challenge?” He glances at me, his blue eyes glittering with amusement.
I shrug. “Maybe.”
“Careful, Hattie. There’s nothing I like more than a challenge. You should know I always play to win.”
26
HATTIE
By the end of the following week, I’m strung tighter than a bow. It’s not a feeling I’m used to. Not at all. I’ve never craved physical intimacy with anyone before, but with every day that passes, the feeling gets worse. Memories of Bastion’s fingers and the way they worked expertly run like a loop through my head. I can almost understand why Rich’s attitude changed so much after the first time we had sex. I’ve been completely preoccupied, and I haven’t even had sex with Bastion.
It doesn’t help that I can feel his gaze on me throughout the day while I work. Sometimes I push my thighs together in an attempt to ease the ache. The looks he gives me are enough to make me want to flick the lock on his office door and beg him to give me another orgasm.
I could put an end to my suffering by just telling Bastion that I want to explore some more with him, but I need to be sure. I can’t compromise my parents’ future for sexual satisfaction. It wouldn’t be worth it in the long run.
