RAY
"Name," she demands in a bouncer's tone.
"Ray—," he begins and halts. Then he flashes one of his charming smiles and says, "Puck," like he's been one for years.
The lady squints slightly in suspicion but says nothing. Either she's a novice or she's determined to get whatever she's after, which bothers Ray a hell lot.
Although inside, waves are crashing about, skies are dark, Ray maintains the nonchalant cheer of a veteran gigolo until the woman turns away.
As he closes the door, the woman's voice orders from the living area, "Lock it", and he fumingly obeys, his mind organising his priorities at a fierce speed. By the time he enters the living area, Ray is clear headed once more, ready to clear the task list.
He heads for the space next to her on the long couch, when her eyes shoot at the armchair beside the couch, signalling him to take it. Ray obeys again but tilts his body to focus solely on her.
Can a human change this much after ten years? Ray remembers Kate vividly, as though they've just chatted face to face, and no matter how close he scrutinises, there isn't a trace of his beloved angel on her.
Except for the scent.
"Have you examined enough?" she asks, and Ray realises that her voice is also deeper than Kate's. Slightly scratchy too.
Most men would be turned off by that tenor voice coming from a woman, but, for some reason, Ray finds it alluring and wants her to talk more. For a split second, he's forgotten about the list and wonders how his name would sound in that sexy voice.
"Mr. Puck!" Her impatience finally burst through. "You are already late, and now you're wasting more of my time. Are you doing this to earn more since you're paid by the hour? I already promised you five grand!"
Even her angry face looks extremely adorable—for some reason.
Ray clears his throat and apologises. Then, he eyes at the spot next to her. "May I?"
Her eyes flare. She's surprised that it's too sudden too soon.
And Ray mentally ticks one box: she's never done this before.
"Or perhaps you'd like to choose first?"
Limbs crossed in a protective manner, shoulders slightly relaxed, she squints again, which seems to say: what am I supposed to choose?
Ray chuckles and leans back leisurely. "Foreplay," he explains with a priest's understanding.
At that, her slim brows arch in full embarrassment—and Ray has to look away to hide his grin as he continues, "We've got A: kissing, petting—."
Her face jerks away, downcast to hide her blush.
"B: oral—."
She swings back with a glare, her hand gripping the couch seat, as though she doesn't want this.
Yet, she's determined to stay. Ray grows more puzzled.
"Is there anything less…touchy?" She blurts out.
Ray widens his smile to an assuring one. "Role play."
A new squint, and he patiently explains. "You can be anything you want—a policewoman, a CEO, a teacher—and I'll improvise." Seeing her beautiful features in an aghast twist, he chuckles and adds, "Or we can just have a casual chat."
Which is what he hopes for.
Her shoulders sink further and her limbs cross again. "I'll take the last one."
"Alrighty then." Ray adjusts himself to greater comfort when he catches a frown. "What is it?"
"There's nothing about this on the website or the contract. Having the client choose a manner of foreplay."
Damn, she's sharp, Ray grins proudly inside. Outside, he shrugs. "We added it this morning." He pretends to get up and go to her. "Or do you prefer to scrape it and we go straight into—."
A palm shoots up. "Fine, a chat first."
Smugly, Ray lowers himself back on the armchair. Removing his jacket, he casually asks, "So do you own a pet?"
She blinks in surprise, not expecting the question. Then, her brows knit in disapproval, as though the question conjures an unpleasant memory.
A sense of thrill holds his breath but he maintains nonchalance. "Why?" He watches her carefully. "Not the right question?"
"Why do you think I'd have one?" She leans back to distance herself, her arms cross tighter.
Ray frowns in puzzlement. "You can just say you don't have one."
She snorts a rebuttal chuckle. "Fine. I don't have one."
"But you've had one in the past?"
Her gaze darkens. "If you're wondering whether I hate animals, I don't. I've saved a stray puppy once, and when it got better, it left."
Ray can't hide his excitement. "What did it look like?"
Why do you care? Her squint seems to ask, and Ray is snapped back to the present. Giving another shrug, he slouches back into the armchair. "Just curious."
"You love animals?"
"Cats." He says the first thing that comes to his mind. "Wolves."
She jolts in surprise. "You want a wolf as a pet?"
He waves indifferently. "Why not? Especially the ones with white fur. They're nice to look at."
"Yes, they are," she murmurs absently. She's gazing at her bathrobe-covered knees, but Ray feels that she's looking into a distant memory.
"So the stray puppy has white fur?" he asks, watching her closely.
She nods and smiles. "It was friendly. A good company."
His throat dries up. He's reaching somewhere with his second task. "But it left," he whispers. "Do you miss it?"
She snorts, this time a sad chuckle.
Ray finds himself at her feet, kneeling. Gently, he tips her chin so he can check her face to make sure she's alright. The sight of her red rimmed eyes clutches his chest.
She's staring at him, studying the lines and curves of his face. If she was Kate, she'd recognise him immediately, won't she? But Ray gets the feeling that this is her first time seeing his face.
Naturally, his palm covers the right side of her face, and she flinches, her shoulders tensed up. But she doesn't move or look away, and the softness of her skin makes him want to feel more of it, so his right hand reaches up to cover the other side of her face.
"I'm sorry." His voice is raspy with guilt.
She blinks in curiosity and the dews of her tears stick to her long, curly lashes. She asks, her voice seemingly lost in her queries, "Why are you apologising?"
"Because…," he breathes, his awareness slipping to his thumbs stroking her cheeks. "Because I should." Ray isn't sure what he's saying.
But her lips part slightly, so he figures he's said the right thing.
She's like a little bird in his palms. The thought clenches his heart and his right thumb glides lightly and slowly across her lower lip. She becomes conscious of his actions and what is coming and unconsciously bites it.
Fuck, Ray inhales sharply. It's fucking adorable. Before he realises it, his mouth is an inch from hers, and her eyes are shut tightly as though she's in danger.
"Do you still want this?" he asks, his voice hoarse with need.
Her eyes fly open and she barks, "Of course, I do!"
He chuckles as his hands clear the loose strands from her face. "Then, don't look like I'm about to rape you."
She avoids his gaze, her nerves strangling her voice, "I want this."
"Then, let's get even more comfortable with each other." Ray gets up and takes the spot next to her on the couch. Then, he taps his thighs.
"Wait—." She hesitates then obediently follows his lead to straddle him.
They come face to face, and she flushes hard, too stunned to speak or move, until his arms go around her.
She flinches again, her face deepens a shade, but says nothing and stays in his embrace. "W–What now?" she asks in an unsure voice.
"Touch me," Ray says, picking up her hand, and she snatches it back, leaning away. Exasperated, he adds, "Or I'll touch you."
Hastily, she grabs each side of his face—sending his heart pounding—and glares resentfully: there! "Now what?" She snaps.
Ray grins smugly. "Touch me." He leans back and spreads his arms along the edge of the couch, lounging, his gaze intent and focusing on her.
"How?" The first sign of her shyness.
And he shrugs. "Anything you like, Madam. I'm all yours."
Timidly, she traces his brows, and Ray swallows hard to stay in control.
But it is fucking hard.
He doesn't expect someone's fingertips to be this sensual and provocative. They slide down the side of his face, and he feels a caress across his abs. They glide along his jaw, and blood rushes down to the core of his desires.
A strong current of anticipation shoots up to his lips and slips out in a hiss.
She recoils in genuine concern. "Did I hurt you?"
Ray swallows hard, leaning his forehead against hers for support as he replies, his voice strained, "No." He closes his eyes and adds, "Go on."
And she obeys.
That feathery touch of soft warmness sails across his cheekbones, down his nose, hovering above his lips, before it regains courage to brush down his lips.
"Puck," she whispers, and he swallows again to find his voice to answer.
"Yes."
"Can I go on?"
Ray is going crazy inside. A thunderstorm is about to break. Can she go on? What a question. If she stops right now, he'll die. Literally. Of implosion.
He can't speak, or he'll lose all control and grab her. So he manages a nod and she lifts her head from his. Without any support, Ray has to rest his head backwards. His throat is freed, stretching wide open for her view.
He feels her gaze on him and more blood rushes in. His mind curses. Why did he think this would be easy?
She traces lightly along the swell of his throat, and he flinches in delight. He hears a sharp inhale from her and is flattered. Perhaps, he should tell her to start using her lips—.
Something warm and wet presses against the base of his throat.
Fuck, he breathes in. Her lips.
She's kissing him.
And then, it's gone.
"I'm sorry!" She huffs, and he looks at her. "I just had this sudden urge to do that—am I doing it right?"
"I'm hard," he blurts out, and she freezes. "You know what that means right?"
Like a student, she nods, and he smiles encouragingly. "Urges are good. Just—." He exhales and lays his head back. "Go on."
She unbuttons his shirt then spreads the fabric open. After another sharp inhale, her fingers trace his collarbone, down the middle, shyly avoiding the sensitive pink circles, and then across the masculine grooves of his muscles.
Then, her lips take over, repeating the entire course until they are both breathing hard and heavy.
"Take it off," Ray says, and her hands go to the belt of her bathrobe, when he chuckles and stops her. " I mean my shirt."
"Oh." She stares at his abs as her hands quietly obey.
Ray sits up, hands on her back pushing her closer to snuggle against him, and plants his lips on that sweet spot just below her earlobe. She shudders in surprise then relaxes when he kisses that tiny flesh joining the edge of her ear.
"Okay?" He breathes and waits.
She pulls her arms around his neck, giving him the green light to continue, and he buries his face into the crook of her neck to fill himself up with her scent.
Kate, his mind whispers. "You smell nice," he murmurs against her skin, then presses his lips against her collarbone, mimicking her, and receives a shudder.
She hugs him closer, signalling her trust in him, and he spreads his lips into a smile over her throbbing skin.
He leans back to check on her, his gaze seeking her permission, and feels the teasing of her fingers at the ends of his hair around his nape. Eyes not leaving hers—in case she changes her mind—he quietly unknots her belt. Then, he pushes the thick robe off her shoulders and pauses—if she shows the slightest hint of distaste, he'll stop.
But there's none. So it's alright to look.
The second he does, he forgets to breathe.