Stuck-Up Suit

by Vi Keeland

  “No problem, Mr. Morgan.”

  She bit her lip and shook her head in disbelief at me, and that made my dick swell even harder. I couldn’t go to a wake with a hard on. So, this was an urgent matter anyway.

  Soraya’s back was against the leather seat. Sliding the material of her dress up her thighs, I knelt beneath her and spread her knees apart. Slowly removing her lace thong with my teeth, I could feel the wetness on the material against my tongue.

  Fuck me. She was drenched.

  Her ass writhed under me as I wasted no time moving my tongue in a slow up and down motion over her pussy. I wasn’t just using the tip, but rather the entire length of my tongue to devour her, stopping only long enough to suck on her clit. She’d never been this wet for me. Ever.

  Soraya ran her long fingernails through my hair and pulled. My mouth was covered in her arousal as I kept at it before deciding that I couldn’t take it anymore. Sticking my fingers inside of her, I moved them in and out as I looked up into her glazed-over eyes. “I really need to fuck you.”

  “Yes. Please…” she muttered.

  Oh, I could definitely get used to Soraya Venedetta begging.

  Unzipping my trousers, I let them fall halfway down my legs before repositioning her so that she was on top. The leather was cold beneath me. Within seconds, she bore down on my cock, causing my eyes to roll back.

  Her dress was riding up her waist, her bare ass exposed as she rode me while I looked up into her eyes. The feel of sinking into her had been just as incredible as I imagined it would be. I couldn’t help pulling out the pins in her hair, undoing her updo, watching the tresses fall as she fucked me. Just like the night of the gala, she didn’t protest; I knew she didn’t want it up anyway.

  The other times we’d had sex seemed gentle in comparison to this town car experience. This was rougher, carnal…pure, unadulterated fucking at its best.

  When she let out a stifled moan, I came harder than I could ever remember coming. It felt so good to let out the tension that had been building all day. Nothing—not even my strenuous workout—had been able to soothe me like being inside of her had. Not only that, but Liam’s death was a harsh and painful reminder of my own mortality and a reminder of what was important. Life was simply too short not to fuck like this all of the damn time.

  “We’re both a mess now,” she said as she got off of me.

  “I swear to God. You’ve never looked more beautiful to me, Soraya.” It was the truth. Her face was flushed, her hair a mess. Pure joy in the face of death. I was so grateful not to have to face this night alone. So grateful to be alive.

  She took out her compact and looked in the mirror. “I went from looking like Princess Grace to Roseanne Rosannadanna.”

  That made me chuckle. “And I fucking love it.”

  I had Louis stop at Macy’s so that Soraya could use the bathroom to fix her hair and buy some new panties. We were officially late to the wake.

  When we pulled up to the funeral home, my anxiety level was sky-high again. Soraya now had her hair tied back into a low ponytail. She rubbed my back and said, “It’ll be okay.”

  Thank God she was here with me.

  Not only was it going to be difficult to see Liam’s dead body, but it was the first time I’d have to come face to face with Genevieve in a very long time. But perhaps the most painful part was the fact that all of this reminded me of the last time I’d set foot in a funeral home: when my mother died.

  The line was out the door, a sea of black, stuffy polyester. Old rich members of Manhattan’s upper crust were discussing their stock portfolios when they should have just been shutting the fuck up. I couldn’t see past the people in front of me. Not that I wanted to see anything in there. I wanted to go home, to my safe place inside Soraya.

  Having to take a leak like no one’s business, I whispered in Soraya’s ear, “Keep our place in line. I’m gonna find a bathroom.”

  “Okay,” she said, looking a bit wary of my leaving her alone.

  I left the line and followed the path of Persian rugs to the restroom. After I’d pissed like a race horse, I was on my way back to Soraya when I spotted Liam’s mother, Phyllis, comforting a little girl in the hallway. The child was crying, and it broke my heart.

  While the girl’s back was turned to me, she seemed to be about four years old. She had to be Liam and Genevieve’s daughter. I’d never seen her before. I’d only known that Liam knocked Genevieve up pretty soon after I found out about their affair. At the time, that news had only made things worse. But at this moment, I felt nothing but sympathy for a child who’d lost her parent. I knew that kind of pain all too well.

  Phyllis looked startled to see me, but I couldn’t walk past her without paying my condolences.

  I felt nauseous as I said, “Hello, Phyllis. I’m so sorry about Liam.”

  Looking distraught, she simply nodded and held the little girl tighter before walking away. I trailed behind them when I noticed a black pom pom had fallen out of the girl’s hair onto the rug.

  Clearing my throat, I walked a bit faster to catch up with them. “Excuse me. She dropped something.”

  When the girl turned around, it was the first time I’d gotten a look at her. Kneeling down and holding the pom pom out, I’d forgotten what I was supposed to say next. The wind had been completely knocked out of me. There were no words…just a complete state of disbelief and confusion. Because if I didn’t know better, I would have thought I was looking into the face of my mother.

  CHAPTER 15

  SORAYA

  WHAT THE HELL WAS TAKING HIM SO LONG?

  The line was moving faster than anticipated, and Graham had yet to return from the bathroom.

  It was now possible to see the open casket. How upsetting it was to witness such a young, handsome guy lying there dead. I knew he had wronged Graham, but Liam didn’t deserve this. I could see that he had blond hair and a handsome face. He looked so peaceful. I truly hoped he was in a better place.

  Loads of white floral bouquets surrounded his casket with banners that read, Son, Friend, Husband. There were long, cream-colored candles lit. It was a beautiful setup. The best that money could buy.

  I looked behind me. Still no sign of Graham.

  My eyes then landed on her.

  Looking stoic, she was sitting in the seat closest to the casket.

  Genevieve.

  My body went rigid, an unexpected surge of possessiveness running through me. Like Liam, Genevieve also had blonde hair. My boyfriend had been fucked over by Barbie and Ken. And I was more like the Bratz doll rebound.

  My boyfriend. I guess he was, wasn’t he?

  Anyway, Genevieve was physically the opposite of me, petite with almost a ballerina’s body. She was beautiful. While I hadn’t expected anything less, I had hoped that maybe, by some chance, she would just be average-looking. Not the case.

  But it wasn’t just her looks that gave me an upset stomach. It was more so coming face to face with someone whom Graham had given his heart to. He’d loved her. I wasn’t sure that he’d ever feel the same about me. Perhaps I never realized how much I wanted or needed that until this moment.

  As she spoke to the people giving their condolences, I looked at her eyes. Those were the eyes that used to gaze into Graham’s. I looked at her mouth. That was the mouth that kissed his lips, sucked his cock. I then looked down at her modest breasts hidden beneath a black sheath dress. My boobs were way bigger. That made me feel good for about a millisecond until my eyes traveled down to her thin legs. Those had been wrapped around his back.

  Jesus, Soraya. Stop torturing yourself. So THIS was what full-blown jealousy felt like.

  When I looked behind me again, the woman in back of me smiled. “How did you know Liam?”

  “Um…I didn’t. I’m actually with Graham Morgan.”

  “Genevieve’s former fiancé?”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Fiancé?

  “If it’s Graham Morgan of
Morgan Financial Holdings, yes. They were engaged to be married before Genevieve and Liam got together.”

  My stomach sank. He’d asked her to marry him?

  “Right. Of course. Yes. I’m with that Graham Morgan. And you are?”

  “Helen Frost. I’m a neighbor of Genevieve and Liam’s. I sometimes babysit Chloe.”

  “That’s their daughter?”

  “Yes. She’s four. Beautiful, dark hair, unlike her parents.”

  “Well, that happens sometimes.” I shrugged.

  Before our conversation could continue, my attention shifted toward the sight of Graham wading through the crowd toward me. He was staring blankly ahead, looking completely dazed. This whole experience was apparently even tougher on him than I thought.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nodded silently, but my gut told me that something was terribly wrong.

  It was finally our turn to kneel at Liam’s casket and offer a prayer. Clasping my hands together, I closed my eyes and said one Our Father and one Hail Mary. My heart dropped when I heard the words that came out of Graham’s mouth.

  “You bastard,” he whispered under his breath. His eyes were watery, but he didn’t full-on cry. His lower lip trembled. I just continued to look at him, confused at his sudden anger. We both stood up in unison, slowly heading toward the not-so-grieving widow. Genevieve looked strangely okay for someone who’d just lost her husband.

  Her eyes seemed to brighten when she saw Graham. His body was stiff as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close.

  You bitch.

  “Thank you so much for coming, Graham.”

  Graham just stood there, staring at her.

  Had he gone mute from shock?

  She went on, “I appreciate it more than you know. I’ll see you Friday for our meeting.”

  Meeting?

  She was going to see him?

  We were holding up the line, and he hadn’t even introduced me. She finally peeled her eyes away from him long enough to notice me standing to his right.

  She flashed a fake smile. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Soraya…Graham’s…” I hesitated.

  He finally spoke. “Girlfriend,” he said firmly as he placed his arm around my waist.

  “Girlfriend…” she repeated.

  Graham tightened his hold on me. “Yes.”

  “Avery told me you were seeing someone new, but I didn’t realize it was serious.”

  “It is. Very serious.”

  Well, okay then. Good to know.

  “Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Soraya.”

  “Likewise. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  And by that I mean…Graham.

  Graham was giving her what looked like a death stare.

  What the hell was going on? Why was he so angry all of a sudden?

  He abruptly moved along to the next family member in line. We mechanically shook hands with every person in the lineup before reaching the end.

  Letting out a sigh of relief, I said, “Well, that was painful. What do we do now?”

  He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. “Soraya…”

  “What? Graham, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

  “I can’t right now. I’ll lose it on someone. And it’s not the right time nor place.”

  It wasn’t long before I got the answer to my question when all eyes in the room turned to a beautiful, dark-haired little girl appearing at Liam’s coffin. Chloe. She’d been MIA all night. I’d assumed Liam and Genevieve’s daughter was kept away intentionally. I didn’t think she was here at all.

  The crowd seemed to still upon the heartbreaking sight of the girl weeping over her father’s body. It made me feel guilty because my father was still alive, and I chose to have nothing to do with him. Hers was dead, and she would never have the option to see him again.

  “That’s so sad,” I whispered to Graham.

  He took a deep breath in and slowly let it out.

  Almost at the same moment, Chloe turned around, allowing me the first look at her face. I literally gasped. Out loud. The wheels in my head started turning. When I looked over at him, he was staring at her with a look of disbelief.

  “Had you never seen her before, Graham?”

  His eyes were still planted on her when he shook his head and simply said, “No.”

  Suddenly, Graham’s strange behavior made total sense. Because this little girl looked just like her father.

  Her father, Graham.

  There was no doubt in my mind. Graham was Chloe’s biological father. My mind was racing. How could this have happened? How could they have not told him? Was it even possible that this could have been a coincidence? That she looked just like Graham, even though she was Liam’s? In my heart, I knew the answer. Suddenly, I didn’t know if I wanted to cry or punch someone out.

  He tugged at my arm. “We need to leave before I do something here I’m going to regret.”

  I looked over toward Genevieve, who was oblivious to Graham’s impending nervous breakdown as she chatted and flashed her perfect white teeth at the people in line.

  “Okay. Okay, let’s go,” I said.

  Back in the town car, Graham stared blankly out the window for the first ten minutes of the ride. Presumably still in shock, he didn’t seem ready to talk about what we’d just witnessed, and I didn’t want to push it.

  He finally turned to me. “Tell me that was just my imagination.”

  “No. It wasn’t. That little girl looked just like you.”

  He blinked repeatedly, still trying to process. “If she’s my daughter, how could Genevieve have known all this time and not told me?”

  “I wish I had an answer, but I don’t. I guess you’re gonna have to ask her.”

  Rubbing his temples, he said, “I have to think this through.”

  “I understand if you want to be alone tonight.”

  “No!” he said emphatically. “I need you with me.”

  “Okay.”

  That evening, there was no sex. Instead, Graham just held me, the enormous weight of his worry evident with each and every breath he took as he stayed awake, unable to sleep most of the night.

  It seemed like the fun, carefree days of our relationship had come to an abrupt end tonight. Things were going to change in a very drastic way. As much as I wanted to be there for him, I couldn’t help the fact that part of me was secretly putting on an imaginary suit of armor to protect myself.

  ***

  GRAHAM HAD DECIDED THAT HE WOULDN’T confront Genevieve until their meeting on Friday. He figured he’d give her time to properly bury Liam before going on the attack about Chloe. I think he also needed the time to prepare for the inevitable truth as well as determine what his legal rights were. He was also bogged down with work, still trying to strategize on the takeover of Liam’s company.

  I’d decided that a couple of nights off from each other would be a good idea under the circumstances. Much to his dismay, I intentionally made plans with Tig and Delia two nights in a row and told him I’d be sleeping at my own apartment.

  Truthfully, there were no plans other than just hanging out at the tattoo parlor. I really needed my friends’ opinion on this situation.

  They couldn’t believe the story.

  Delia was organizing her disposable piercing needles as she spoke. “This sounds like something out of General Hospital.”

  I had to bite my tongue. They had no clue of the irony in that statement. I had never mentioned that Graham watched it.

  Tig had his feet up as he put out his cigarette and cracked, “More like All My Children if you get what I mean.”

  “Thanks a lot.” I rolled my eyes.

  He continued, “What I don’t get is how this guy never considered the possibility that that kid was his.”

  “He’d never seen her.”

  “But he’d heard about the pregnancy, right? Couldn’t he have done the math? It didn’t d
awn on him that it was, at least, possible?”

  Feeling the need to defend Graham, I said, “They had stopped speaking. He didn’t know the exact timing. He just assumed it was Liam’s.”

  Tig lit another cigarette. “That’s some crazy shit. You wake up one day and boom…instant family.”

  His words made me shudder. Tig had just articulated my absolute worst fear.

  Delia knew I was upset when she turned to her husband. “Don’t say that. He’s not with that chick. They’re not his family.”

  “Believe me, it’s not like I haven’t thought that very same thing,” I said. “Not only was he once in love with her, but there’s no other man in the picture anymore, and she’s likely the mother of his child. Where exactly do I fit into this?”

  Delia tried her best to talk me off the ledge. “You’re jumping way ahead of things. He’s not gonna want to be with her, especially after knowing she lied to him for years.”

  I sighed. “This woman is beautiful and cunning. I bet she’s already trying to figure out how to make this situation work to her benefit. She’d scheduled a meeting with him to talk business even before he found out about Chloe at the funeral. She wants to merge Liam’s company with Graham’s.”

  “I bet she wants to merge a lot more than that,” Tig cracked.

  Delia walked over to Tig and shook him playfully. “Will you stop?” She looked at me. “Graham seems to really care about you. I have a hard time believing he’s gonna fall for her crap.”

  Tig interjected, “I have a hard time picturing Soraya acting all Mary Poppins and shit with this kid. You have to look at the big picture here. Even if Mr. Big Prick doesn’t end up with the girl’s mother, Soraya still has to deal with raising someone else’s kid if she stays with this guy. That alone is something to consider.”

  He was right. There were so many different layers to this problem.

  “Soraya would be a good stepmother. We could dye the little girl’s tips and pierce her ears.” Delia smiled.

  Tig blew out a huge waft of smoke. “You know what I think? I think you should bid Daddy Warbucks and Little Orphan Annie adieu. That’s just my opinion.”