Comfort Zones by Bronwyn Judde Book Read Online And Epub File Download
Overview: She was willing to risk everything to be with me... now I have to decide if I'm brave enough to do the same.
From the moment I lay eyes on Charlotte, I want nothing more than to chase away the sadness lurking behind those beautiful green eyes.
On her knees, she's even more stunning than when we met on that park bench. With every session, she embraces more of what I long to give her — pain and pleasure beyond anything she's ever known.
But there is a darkness I've kept from her, desires I'm not certain she can handle. Accepting who I am, allowing her to see the real me, will mean pushing us both well past our comfort zones.
Comfort Zones by Bronwyn Judde Book Read Online Chapter One
Charlotte
Central Park was such a special place. It was the living, breathing heart of New York City and I loved it here. The trees were in all their late spring glory as I sat quietly on a bench reading a novel about people making bad choices.
I’d made some bad choices in my past; that’s why I was careful with my decisions now. For me, trusting men could be difficult if not impossible.
I had barely dated in college—I was afraid of every man who approached me. I’d tried the various dating sites online, but most of the men I met were so completely different from their profiles and creeped me out. They came on too strong, seeming to assume I wanted to be intimate when I didn’t know them at all. But did I go out with them? Let’s just say some of my personal bad choices involved me saying “yes” when I should have said “no.”
I needed my life to change. I was ready to move forward, convinced that somewhere out there was a man who deserved my trust, who could open me up to the intimacy and adventure I craved. It was embarrassing how much I fantasized about a man who’d sweep in, making me feel loved and cherished, removing the void that had taken over my life. But how? How could I do that? How could I find a man capable of making my fantasies come true? Finding him was the hard part.
The rest of the world made it look so easy, like it took no effort at all. Just a few days ago I’d been sitting on this same bench reading this same book, while under a nearby tree a couple was sitting together on a blanket. He had his hand in her panties. She was rubbing the front of his jeans. They kissed and cuddled, fondling one another, and watching them totally turned me on. It also really freaked me out. I could never do that in public, no matter how much part of me wanted to. And I did want it, very much. I had to be cautious, though. One wrong move and my life would be ruined. Again. I was endlessly conflicted.
For just a minute I got caught up in a flashback of when I was staying in a hotel in London with my parents. These feelings inside me as I watched the couple on their blanket reminded me of how it felt when I walked up to the huge picture window that night when, giving in to my newly awakened desires, I’d shed my demure flannel nightgown and pressed my naked body to the cool glass. I remembered how wicked it felt to imagine all the people who might be watching me from other windows.
It was the first time I’d ever felt real arousal. Maybe the last, sadly. My sex life since then had become pure vanilla. I’d never had a real, mind-blowing orgasm. Not with a partner, nor with my toys. Not a screaming, thrashing, spasming orgasm like the ones I had read about in my romance novels, anyway, and I wanted one.
But to do that, I had to get close… intimate with a man. One who I trusted to guide me to this thing I’d always wanted.
How does anyone know whether a choice is good or bad before it’s too late? That was my problem—I was too afraid of losing control. I needed to take chances. I needed to be brave. I needed to have a fucking orgasm.
As those thoughts ran through my mind a man came and sat on the end of my bench, which irritated me. There were lots of other benches. I huffed, doubling down on my reading.
Still, I found myself sneaking peeks at him. He also had a book and seemed absorbed in it. He was well dressed, wearing a gray suit, beautifully tailored and in marked contrast to most people in the park, who wore athletic gear or tee shirts and jeans. I liked his shoes, in particular—dark brown brogue wingtips. He was elegant, in other words. Interestingly, he had a small curving line that ran down his arm where his sleeve was rolled up. It appeared to be a tattoo. Hmmm. Unexpected. His hair was brown with gold highlights in the sun and he had a beard.
Now, normally I’m not a fan of beards, but this one seemed just right: trimmed, neat, with a small mustache. How would that feel against my skin? Against my pussy? A heated flush burned my cheeks as my thoughts turned from mundane to explicit. To calm my errant brain I turned my attention from his beard to his hands. Those were innocent enough, right? They were beautiful and strong with long fingers.
He glanced up, catching me staring, and his mouth curled up a little at the corners.
I flushed hot all over again and looked down at my book.
“What are you reading?” he asked me, scooting a half inch closer.
“Um, a novel about people making bad choices?” I kept my eyes on my book. “What about you?”
“I’m reading about challenges people take,” he said.
I raised my head at that. “What kind of challenges?”
“Things that go just beyond their safety limits but allow them to grow.” His smile was wicked, his gaze knowing.
It was an innocent statement but something about the way he said it made the hairs on my arms stand on end. “Give me an example?”
“Well, for a shy person, going to a fancy restaurant by themselves, for starters.”
“That would be a bit difficult for me,” I said. “What would be a harder test?”
“Hang gliding? Kissing a complete stranger?” His eyes were very blue and they drew me in deeper with each word he spoke.
“Ah. That doesn’t sound too bad.” Was I flirting with him? That was so unlike me, but somehow I felt very safe.
“The point is to find what makes you uncomfortable, but things you also really want to do, like an achievable fantasy, and make it happen.”
I was enjoying this exchange immensely.
“So, what do you fantasize about, but never dream of actually doing?” he asked with a grin.
“I don’t know you nearly well enough to tell you that!” I exclaimed.
“Oh, I’m just a stranger on a bench,” he teased. “I won’t judge you, and maybe that would allow you to go beyond your comfort zones.”
I was getting turned on now, his attention stoking visions of fantasies I had never dared to explore before. My panties were feeling a bit damp.
“Okay. I’m up for the challenge. I’ve fantasized about going to a sex club.” I was sure that answer would shock him, so maybe he would be appalled enough to find a different bench and leave me in peace?
“That’s an excellent fantasy. If you achieved it you would have expanded your comfort zones quite a bit. I would probably recommend starting with something a bit easier, though. A little exhibitionism, perhaps?”
He was grinning at me, his mouth curling up at the corners. It was a sexy grin that I found very attractive.
“That’s also on the list,” I allowed, gulping at the turn this seemingly innocent conversation had taken.
“Bondage?” he asked.
“Possibly.” My heart beat faster.
“Multiple partners at once?”
“Um, maybe?” Was I really just sitting here on a park bench having a conversation about such intimate and naughty things with a stranger? And a handsome stranger at that!
“Spanking?”
“Wow! I’m not sure about that.”
“Have you ever tried it?” he asked.
“Oh god, no.” My panties were soaked now. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.” I resisted the urge to hide my face in my hands as I struggled to keep my voice from sounding like Minnie Mouse. “I don’t even know you!”
“My name is Ford.” He held out his hand to me.
“I’m Charlotte.” I shook his hand. Mine was trembling.
He scooted half the distance of the bench toward me.
Just enough space.
Too much space.
I wiggled a little toward him, fiddling with the hem of my skirt. “What about you? What are some of your fantasies?”
“I’ve tried all of them already, so they’re not really fantasies anymore. They’re experiences.”
“What was one that made you grow...” I blushed scarlet and hoped he didn’t—or maybe that he did—get the double entendre.
“Hmm. Staying a night in the Shamrock Hotel,” he decided.
“Why is that... a fantasy?” I asked.
“Do you know about that hotel?” He was laughing at me, but I didn’t mind.
“I’ve never heard of it. What is it about that hotel that makes you … feel challenged? And where is it?”
“It’s here in New York City, next to the High Line Park. It's known as a hotel for exhibitionists. People who are walking on the High Line can see into the windows of the hotel.”
My eyes got big. “What did you do?” I asked, intrigued.
“I had sex right in front of a huge window with lots of people watching from the park.”
“Oh my god. That would be terrifying,” I said breathlessly. My heart was racing and I was squirming a bit. “Did you wear a mask?”
He let out the best laugh. “I did not, but my partner did. The first time,” he clarified.
“So, you did this more than once,” I said.
“Absolutely.” He grinned. “It’s pretty amazing.”
“I’m a bit jealous of you, but maybe it’s easier for men?”
“It isn’t easy; that’s sort of the point. And my partners were women.”
“Was it a fantasy for them, too?”
“Of course, although they had tried lots of easier things before.”
“It sounds... exciting,” I said. “I might wear a mask... not that I’m going... well, maybe I’ll fantasize about it.”
He reached into his breast pocket, drawing out a leather card holder. “Here’s my phone number. I would be honored to take you to the Shamrock Hotel to explore your fantasies, but you might need to try something less challenging first.” He handed me a business card.
I was a bit shocked at his offer, but I reminded myself that I needed to be a whole lot braver, and somehow, despite my tendency to fear strange men, he made me feel as though I could trust him.
It’s now or never, I thought.
“Like maybe asking a stranger if he wanted to go and have a drink with me?” I tried to keep my voice level and out of the higher ranges.
“That would be excellent.” He grinned.
“Um, Ford, would you like to have a drink with me?”
“Charlotte, I would be delighted. When?”
“Tonight?” I hardly dared look at him as I waited for his answer. Oh my god, what had come over me?
“That would be great,” he replied. “Shall we meet at The King Cole bar at The St. Regis at seven o’clock? My treat, of course.”
I was getting short of breath, but I managed to stammer out, “See you there.”
We both stood up and he took my hand, kissing my knuckles. I barely waited for him to drop my hand before I turned to rush away.
“Hey Charlotte,” he called after me, “you forgot your book!”
I turned back and he handed it to me with a small bow.
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