Deviant: Calla & Jason (The Billionaire Voyeur)

CHAPTER 7 - Jason & Calla

JASON

We brush our teeth upon awakening and chat for an hour or two before Calla suddenly tells me to lay down on the mattress as she stands next to it.

I do as I am told, eager to plop myself down on that decadent mattress still holding her scent. I position the pillows around me.

"Did Scott ever mention a Jesse to you?" she asks, catching me by surprise; it seemed so out of left field.

So far, we had been talking about the old days—when it was just the two of us, and we were on the cusp of adolescence. We had even laughed about an incident where I'd tried to inveigle her in talking shit about our math teacher while in class. Calla was such a good girl, even then. She pretended like she didn't hear my whispered jokes, but I saw the corner of her mouth tilt up.

I guess that's why she figured it was safe to bring up Jesse—it almost felt like we were at the beginning of junior high again, before Scott's introduction to her life. We were best buds.

Still, she didn't bypass my guy code. I can't lie to her, but I don't have to tell her the whole truth, either. Besides, I can't bear to see Calla sad. Plus, we've been having such a good time reacquainting ourselves with the younger versions of us, and I figure all the reminiscing made her feel more comfortable about giving me that massage, which she's about to do.

She places her soft hands on my back, and I already feel my body relax a little from her gentle touch. But I'm still on alert.

"Oh, that chick from his class?" I say. "Scott's kind of yappy in general—he's like a girl sometimes."

She taps my back in some semblance of a playful slap, then her slender fingers start making circles on my back, but I won't let her trick me.

"So I've heard about Jesse, Chris, Lisa, James..." I continue. The palm of her hand skillfully kneads my muscles. "Can't tell you a thing about them—I blank out sometimes when he's going on about this or that."

It seems she's letting me get away with being vague. But then she says, as her hands continue to move deliciously over me, "Is she pretty?"

"She's all right," I say honestly, hoping she doesn't ask where I saw her. Scott had texted me a pic. "Nowhere near as pretty as you," I say as I flip over, successfully shocking her into extended silence. Her hands pull back as if burnt now that she is suddenly faced with me lying on my back before her. She tries so hard not to scan my torso but fails miserably.

"I guess that's it, then," she says.

I just stare at her.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she says, looking worried.

Truthfully, I'm just willing myself not to pull her on top of me—that's all my body is screaming at me to do. My struggle is probably written all over my face.

Sure, my brain has been partially occupied by trying to dodge a conversation about this girl that Scott suddenly found himself attracted to, but my body can't ignore how good it feels to have Calla's hands on it, and I want to know what all of her feels like—both pressed against and on top of me, with me inside of her.

I close my eyes, finally breaking the eye contact, then sit up.

She steps back a little.

"Thanks for the massage," I say, "it helped a bit. But I can't do the ground much longer."

I make sure not to look at her as I say the words—no doubt she'd see an intensity that could scare her. But I meant it.

Too bad for her sense of impropriety—I need to join her in that bed.

* * *

CALLA

"We've got to get out of here," I say, worried at the shift I sense.

Sure, Captain Obvious has arrived, but what else could I say? I really mean it—I feel like Jason and I are about to be in trouble; time is running out. I enjoyed touching him too much, and the way he looked at me—damn it, I'm wet again. He has aroused more than my curiosity; I'm actually tempted to sleep with him!

I can't believe it—I never even imagined doing it with anyone but Scott. Scott was my first, last and everything. I had fantasies of marrying him, having his babies...all of that. But suddenly I'm wondering what it would be like to get wrapped in the arms of an old friend?

Those arms are part of the problem, by the way—they look so strong and capable. So...okay, I'll say it—sexy, damn it; Jason is crazy sexy. The cut of muscles in his limbs, the veins popping around his biceps, those riveting six-pack abs—he just looks so damned masculine, and it makes my breath catch. In general, he's a good-looking guy, too, just never my type—so I thought. Now, it's like I can't keep my eyes away from him. Is that not the very definition of attractive?

Damn it, it's this small room, isn't it? A small space and a good-looking member of the opposite sex who is clearly attracted to you and not doing a whole lot to hide it...

"Let us out of here!" I shout suddenly, addressing the voice of the freak who put us in this position.

I only hear a rumble of laughter in return.

"Fuck," I whisper. It's all becoming too much. Something in my body has heightened. I want him! Damn it, I want Jason.

I make sure not to look at him.

But frickin' hell, Jason steps toward me.

"How long do you want to be trapped here with me?" he asks huskily.

I chance a look at his face, and he looks calm, but those eyes—and definitely that voice—give him away.

"You're acting like you're down with this!" I say, not even trying to control the panic in my own voice.

"I'm down with getting out of here sooner than later," he says with those stormy eyes.

"Dream on!" I say, folding my arms with finality and turning away.

Something in his energy changes, like he's pulling away.

Then he says, "Get over yourself, Calla—you're not all that. But good for Scott—looks like he's doing a great job of fooling you."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" I say, turning back to him.

He comes right up to me, and I feel weak from the nearness of his strong chest as he towers over me. He is taller than me by about six inches, so I have to look upwards into his quiet anger.

"It means you're doing a lot of over- and underestimating here. I'd rather not touch you, either." Then he turns away, and I realize I'd been holding my breath when I finally let it out.

"I get the bed tonight," he says before flopping on it. "And I don't care what you do for the other nights, but I'll be here for the rest of those, too. Join me, if you dare. You'll no longer take my chivalry for granted, Calla. Contrary to your own belief, you're no princess. Not mine, anyway."

He throws down the pillows.