The Consummation: Josh and Kat Part III (The Club Book 7)

by Lauren Rowe

  “Thanks for picking it up for me. I’ve been crazy-busy this past week.”

  “Oh, honey, it was my pleasure. Plus, it was safer this way—it would have been terrible if Miss Busy-Body somehow intercepted the delivery at your house.” Louise glances at Kat across the room again. “Just a little warning for you—Kat’s peeked at every single Christmas present I’ve ever gotten for her. She unwraps the gift and then rewraps it and puts it back under the tree.” Louise rolls her eyes. “Kat doesn’t know I know she does that, by the way, so don’t tell her I know. This year, I’m gonna beat her at her own game and put a wrapped box of hemorrhoid cream under the tree for her to peek at—that ought to teach her a lesson about peeking.”

  I chuckle. “Now I see where she gets that little dash of evil I love so much.” I slip the box into my pocket. “Thank you again.”

  “Aren’t you gonna look at it? It’s beautiful, Josh. Gives me chills every time I look at it.”

  Carefully, taking great care not to let anyone around me see what I’m doing, I open the box a tiny crack, just enough to confirm it contains the engagement ring Louise and I picked out for Kat on our highly enjoyable shopping trip together last week.

  “Wow,” I say. “It’s incredible.”

  “Just be prepared—Kat’s gonna lose her mind when you give this to her. Like, seriously, honey, she’s going to go completely ballistic on you. Just be ready to scrape her off the floor.”

  “Oh, God, I pray you’re right,” I say. “If Kat says anything but hell yes, you’ll have to scrape me off the floor, and not in a good way.”

  Louise touches my forearm. “Why on earth would Kat say no? She loves you.”

  I shrug. “Unexpected things have happened to me before, Lou. Bad things. I’m kind of used to getting blindsided by life.”

  Louise’s face melts. “Oh, honey. No. Kat loves you. She’s having your baby. For God’s sake, she’ll say yes.”

  “But you heard her: ‘Marriage just isn’t in the cards for us.’”

  Louise snorts. “Oh, please. Kat’s full of it and we both know it.”

  I grin. “I sure hope so.”

  “Josh, I know so. I’m her mother. Trust me.”

  I give Louise a quick hug. “Thank you again.” I pause. “Momma Lou.”

  Louise blushes. “Oh my gosh, I love the sound of that!” She giggles. “Although, I must admit, Thomas is right—it does sound a bit like I run a soup kitchen in the South, doesn’t it?” She giggles again, reminding me of Kat for the millionth time. “Don’t tell Thomas I said he’s right, by the way—I wouldn’t want him to get a big head.”

  “I’ll never tell.”

  “Josh.”

  I turn around. It’s Theresa.

  “Jonas asked me to come get you. He wants you to join the interview. He says please.” She motions across the room to where Jonas is still talking to that same reporter. He’s feigning comfort quite well from the looks of him, but I know him well enough to know he’s dying on the inside.

  I chuckle. “Okay. Josh to the rescue. Bye, Louise. Thanks again.”

  “My pleasure. Keep us posted.”

  “Will do.”

  I cross the room quickly and help Jonas finish up his interview, much to his obvious relief, and when that’s over, Jonas disappears into the crowd to find Sarah.

  I scan the room looking for Kat and spot her talking to her family—looks like I’ve still got some time—so I survey the place, searching for Henn. Boom. He’s talking with Hannah and Sarah, and when I catch his eye, I motion for him to meet me in a quiet corner behind one of the rock walls.

  “Hey, man,” I say, bro-hugging Henn when he reaches me. “Thanks for coming today. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it,” Henn says. “Plus, it gave me an excuse to come see Hannah.”

  “So, hey, man, do you think you could do me a favor? I need to find someone—get me dialed in.”

  “Sure. Who is it this time, boss?”

  I tell him the name of the person I want him to locate and everything I know, which isn’t much.

  “Okay. Shouldn’t be hard. I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “Thanks, man. As soon as possible, please.”

  “Yeah, I figured. When have you ever asked me to find someone ‘whenever it’s convenient for you, Henn’?”

  I chuckle. “Sorry.”

  “No worries. Whatever you need. Always.”

  “Thanks, bro. So what’s been shaking with you?” I ask. “Work good?”

  “Yeah, finally finished working with the feds on our sitch. They’ve got enough to put the pimpstress extraordinaire into an orange jumpsuit forever, probably. Bye-bye, Oksana. Nice knowing you.”

  “That’s a relief. Any sense there’s anyone else left in The Club organization we should be keeping an eye on?”

  “There are definitely some heavy hitters in Russia and Ukraine who ran a big part of the show from there, but no one stateside with any real power—and certainly nobody who’d know about us.”

  “Keep an eye on things, though, would you? Just so we know if there’s ever something we should be concerned about. Jonas is already starting to doubt his decision to leave Oksana standing—we should probably give him periodic assurances that everything’s still quiet.”

  “No problem.”

  “So what are you working on now that The Club stuff is all done?” I ask.

  “Oh, I just did a really fun job.” He tells me about a large department store chain that recently hired Henn to try his mighty best to breach their own computer system for the purpose of testing their security. “It was awesome,” Henn says. “They truly believed they were impervious to hacking. They’d supposedly hired ‘the best cyber-security team money could buy’ to protect their data, but I dug around and broke ’em wide open in less than a day. I waltzed into my first meeting with their supposedly ‘expert cyber-security team—’” He snorts loudly with glee. “And I was like, ‘So, hey, folks, great to meetcha. Oh, by the way, I got into your piddly-diddly system four different ways from Sunday in about six hours—here, here, here, and here,’ and they totally shit their Depends.” He sighs happily. “God, I love my life.”

  I chuckle. “And how’s everything else? Things with Hannah good?”

  “Better than good. Awesome. She’s moving to L.A. next month.”

  “Really? Wow. That’s fantastic.”

  “Yeah, the long distance thing is killing us, man. And since Kat’s decided to put her PR company on the back burner for a while to become a mommy, Hannah’s decided to look for a PR job in the entertainment industry.”

  “Awesome. Hey, you should ask Reed if he knows someone who might be able to help her with her job search. Reed knows everyone.”

  “Yeah, I already talked to him. He’s on it.”

  “Good.”

  “So how are things with Kat? Have you two been nesting, getting ready for baby?”

  I glance at Kat across the room. She’s dancing with Sarah again, wiggling like she’s got ants in her pants, throwing her tiny belly around with abandon. “I’m gonna ask Kat to marry me.” I pat my pocket. “Got the ring right here.”

  “No shit?” Henn hugs me. “Awesome. When are you gonna do it?”

  “As soon as you get me that info.”

  “Ah. Interesting. What does one thing have to do with the other?”

  I briefly explain how I’m planning to propose to Kat, using the information Henn’s gonna get for me.

  “Very cool,” Henn says. “Okay. I’ll put a rush on it, boss.” He grins. “Wow. I never thought I’d see the day Josh ‘YOLO’ Faraday would get married and settle down.”

  “I never thought I’d see the day, either. And now it’s all I want.” I bite my lip. “Let’s just hope Kat says yes.”

  Henn waves his hand dismissively at me. “Bah. Just dick it up and she won’t be able to resist you.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, well, I’ve recently learn
ed the whole dick-it-up-strategy might not be quite as effective as I originally thought.” I steal another look at Kat. “At least not with Madame Terrorist.”

  “I’m really happy for you, Josh,” Henn says.

  “Thanks, man.”

  “You’ve definitely come a long way from the dude who got YOLO inked onto his ass-cheek over a quote from Happy Gilmore.”

  “God, I hope so. Hey, what was that quote we were arguing about, by the way? I can never remember what it was.”

  “Oh, it was really deep and profound. Grandma in the nursing home asks Ben Stiller if she can trouble him for a warm glass of milk because it helps her sleep. And he goes, ‘You could trouble me for a warm glass of shut the hell up!’”

  I laugh. “Oh, shit. Really? No.”

  “Yes.”

  “Really?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “I got YOLO stamped on my ass over that?”

  Henn nods, laughing. “You were positive Ben Stiller says, ‘You could trouble me for a tall glass of shut the fuck up.’”

  I shake my head. “God, I was such a little punk. Please tell me I’m not that big a tool anymore.”

  Henn puts his hand on my shoulder. “You were never a tool, Josh—you’ve always been the greatest guy ever, right from day one. And you’ve only gotten better with age. You’re a fine wine, man.”

  My heart pangs. “Thanks, Henn. Back at you.”

  He smiles.

  “Okay, well, this fine wine had better get back to his adoring public,” I say. “Thanks again for coming—and thanks for the favor.”

  “Any time,” Henn replies.

  We bro-hug again and then Henn slips into the crowd, saluting me as he goes.

  My eyes drift to where Kat was dancing with Sarah a moment ago—but she’s not there. I reflexively look at my watch. Oh shit—it’s been way longer than twenty minutes since Kat and I made our “date.”

  I practically sprint toward my office in the back of the gym, getting stopped at least ten times along the way by well-wishers, and finally manage to slip unnoticed through a door marked “Authorized Personnel Only.” Once inside my darkened office, I beeline to the bathroom in the back and rap softly on the door. “Kat?” I whisper.

  The door opens a crack and in one fluid movement, Kat grabs a fistful of my shirt and yanks me forcefully into the bathroom.

  “I just made myself come while waiting on you, Playboy,” she whispers, furiously unbuckling my belt, her eyes on fire. “You’re such a naughty boy for making me wait.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I ask, my dick throbbing with anticipation. “My pregnant whore is feeling horny, huh?’

  She reaches into my pants and strokes my hard-on furiously. “Oh, yeah,” she says. “Heidi Kumquat’s on fire. She’s aching to give you your money’s worth, baby.”

  “God, I love you,” I growl, my body jerking as she works me with her hands.

  “I love you, too,” Kat says. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” She fondles my balls. “And I love your dick.”

  Without further ado, Kat kneels down and swirls her tongue on the tip of my cock—right into my little hole—making me jolt. “Oh my fuck, Kat.”

  She looks up at me from under my straining cock and smiles. “I never knew I could love someone the way I love you, Joshua William Faraday,” she purrs—and then she takes the full length of my cock into her mouth and proceeds to deliver a blowjob so intense, it makes me grip the sink ledge to keep from falling to my knees.

  “Oh, God, I love you,” I growl, trying to hang on. I grip her hair and press myself farther into her open throat. “You’re worth every fucking penny, baby,” I choke out, my passion reaching its boiling point. But even as I’m saying those words—because, of course, those are the magic words Kat loves best when she’s giving me head—what I’m actually thinking is something new for me while in the midst of receiving a mind-blowing blowjob: If a guy needs more than this to be eternally happy with one woman, then he’s either crazy or just a greedy-ass motherfucker.

  Chapter 33

  Kat

  “Blood pressure looks good,” the nurse says, removing the cuff from my arm. “Sit tight for a bit and Dr. Gupta will be right in.”

  “Thank you,” I say. I exhale and squeeze Josh’s hand. “I’m nervous.”

  Josh kisses my forehead. “The kumquat’s gonna be fine,” he says softly. “Hey, Sarah Cruz. Hit us with some ‘Would You Rather?’ questions. Kat’s nervous—we gotta distract her.”

  “Okay, Josh Faraday,” Sarah says. “But under the circumstances, I’m gonna keep it family-friendly.”

  “Boo!” I shout.

  “Yes, Kat,” Sarah says sternly. “Playing X-rated ‘Would You Rather?’ in this crowd would hurtle us into TMI territory on a bullet train.”

  I laugh. “Probably true.”

  “Okay, then,” Sarah says. “Would you rather be hideously ugly but extremely wealthy, or spectacularly good looking but dirt poor?”

  We all ponder that for a moment.

  “Jonas?” Sarah asks. “What say you, love?’

  “In which of these scenarios do I have a better shot at snagging you?” Jonas asks.

  “Doesn’t matter. I’d love you rich or poor, gorgeous or hideous.”

  Jonas shrugs. “Then I don’t care. You pick. As long as I have you, I’m good.”

  Josh shoots me an annoyed expression, and, in reply, I pretend to stick my finger down my throat.

  “Is it your life’s mission to make me look like a prick?” Josh asks Jonas. “Because I was about to say rich and ugly.”

  “Aw, come on, babe,” I say. “Good looking and poor, all the way.”

  “No, babe. If I’m rich and ugly, I can wine and dine you, which means I’d still bag you. Best of both worlds—I’d still be rich and I’d still have you.”

  “You’d bag me even more if you were dirt poor but looked the way you do, I assure you.” I wink. “ If you wanna wine me and dine me when you’re dirt poor, just make me one of your orgasm-inducing PB&Js.”

  “Kat,” Sarah chastises, putting her hands over her ears. “Family friendly, remember?”

  “Okay, okay,” I say. “Ask another one, Sarah.”

  “But this time don’t lob a softball at your husband that makes me look like a total prick, Sarah Cruz,” Josh adds.

  “I don’t think it was Sarah’s question that made you look like a total prick,” Jonas says.

  I look at my watch and shift on the examination table, making the wax paper crinkle underneath me. “Where’s the doctor?”

  “Okay, Kat. Listen up,” Sarah says. “Would you rather have balls hanging from your chin or a two foot tail that wags every time you feel excited?”

  We all laugh at the ridiculousness of the question.

  “Hey, I thought these were supposed to be hypothetical,” Josh says, and we all laugh again.

  “Okay, okay,” Sarah says. “That was a dumb one. Here’s a good one: would you rather be a wildly successful artist who makes totally uninspired crap you abhor creating, or a starving but brilliant artist who makes art that feeds your soul?”

  “Wildly successful artist who makes total crap,” Josh says without hesitation.

  “Yeah, baby!” I shout, high-fiving Josh. “Me, too. Totally.”

  Sarah and Jonas look at each other, absolutely dumbfounded.

  “Are you joking?” Jonas asks. “You’ve only got one soul, for fuck’s sake.”

  Sarah high-fives Jonas. “You tell ’em, baby.”

  “There you go again, making me look like a prick,” Josh says.

  “Aw, screw them,” I say. “Let Jonas and Sarah be soulful arteests while you and I make oodles of cash off our bottle-cap-pipe-cleaner sculptures. And while they’re eating Kraft Macaroni & Cheese in their rat-infested hovel in SoHo, surrounded by their frickin’ art, we’ll head to Cabo on our private jet and ‘feed our souls’ while making love on a white-sand beach.”

  “You’re a
fucking genius, babe,” Josh says.

  “You truly can’t keep it family-friendly if your life depended on it, can you, Kat?” Sarah says.

  “Oh, come on, Cruz. That was PG-rated at worst,” I say. I look toward the door. “Where the heck is Dr. Gupta? She doesn’t normally take this long.”

  “Okay, listen up, Party Girl,” Josh says. “Would you rather be the star player on a football team that loses every game of the season or warm the bench on a team that wins the Super Bowl?”

  “Hmm,” Sarah says. “Play on the losing team, I think. What do you think, my love?”

  “I think I’d rather sit the bench on the winning team,” Jonas says. “Because, ultimately, I’d aspire to become the head coach—so this way, I’d have the opportunity to watch and learn from the best.”

  We all burst out laughing.

  “What?” Jonas asks. “That’s my honest answer.”

  “Oh, Jonas,” Sarah says. She touches his cheek tenderly and her diamond rings sparkle under the lights of the examination room. “I love you.”

  “Okay, I’ve got one,” I say. “Would you rather be stuck on a desert island for the rest of your life all alone or with someone who talks incessantly?”

  “I’d rather be stuck on a desert island with you, babe,” Josh says sweetly.

  “Aw, that’s lovely, honey—but you gotta pick one of the choices.”

  Josh raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I did pick one of the choices.”

  Everyone bursts out laughing, even me, just as the door to the examination room opens.

  “Oh, wow,” Dr. Gupta says. “There’s a party going on in here.”

  “Hi, Doctor,” I say. “You remember Josh—my baby-daddy?”

  Josh blanches. He hates it when I call him that, which is why I keep doing it.

  “And this is my best friend, Auntie Sarah, whom you’ve met before,” I continue. “And Sarah’s husband, Uncle Jonas, who also happens to be Josh’s brother.”

  Dr. Gupta shakes everyone’s hand and introduces us to the technician who’ll be conducting the sonogram. “So are you ready to see your baby?” Dr. Gupta asks.