by Mariano, Sam
“Naturally,” I say, winding my arms around his neck and gazing up at him. “How could I ever want anyone else?”
He smiles faintly and pecks me on the lips, then with much more force, he smacks me on the ass. “Get your coat so we can leave.”
* * *
I think New York is wonderful all year, but it’s especially lovely during the Christmas season. Since we have tickets for an eight o’clock show and we’re clear across town, Carter gets us a cab when we leave the apartment. When we leave Radio City after the show, though, we’re close enough to walk to our dinner reservations.
Tucking my arm through Carter’s as we stroll down the street, I lean my head on his shoulder and muse, “We should go ice skating in front of the tree like we did last year.”
“We will,” he assures me. “I have a whole anniversary date planned, I’m just waiting for finals to be over so you won’t be as stressed.”
“I’m not stressed,” I deny. “There’s just so much information to remember. I want to finish my first semester strong so they don’t regret lettin’ me in.”
Wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me into his side, he says, “No one’s going to regret letting you in. You’re smart enough to be here even without the nudging we did on your behalf; you don’t have to kill yourself studying now that you’re here. The world won’t end if you don’t have a perfect GPA. Once you graduate and you’re in the field, it won’t even matter what your GPA was.”
“It’s not all about my GPA. It’s important information I’ll need to know later, in med school and when I’m practicing.”
“Some of it is. Other stuff is filler. How often do you think you’ll need to be able to quote Socrates? Yet, you spent all last night jamming ancient Greek philosophy into your head. It’s crowded up there, save space for what matters and give yourself a break.”
“Maybe I’ll have a patient who is obsessed with the Socratic method, and my in-depth knowledge will be the key to figuring out his problems,” I suggest, primly.
Carter smiles and tugs me closer so he can kiss the crown of my head. “If that ever happens, I’ll eat my words. But assuming it won’t, at least take it easy in the fluff classes.”
Largely inspired by my experiences with Carter and then reaffirmed by conversations I had with university faculty, I decided to pursue a career in behavioral sciences. It’s going to mean a lot of school, but eventually I want to be trained to help those at-risk for problematic behaviors, and counsel people whose general mentalities err more toward the abnormal. Carter lucked out by finding me, but if some other girl had crossed his path, I don’t know where either of them might have ended up.
Years down the road I’ll be Dr. Ellis, and I’ll be able to help people with their problems while doing something that interests me, too. It’s the perfect career for me, and with Carter’s dad paying for my undergrad study, I won’t be afraid of any potential debt I might incur pursuing my PH.D. either. Plus, Lucis is on the same path, and he has already told me I could work as a TA while I’m doing my grad work.
I can’t hold back a little sigh. There’s plenty of day-to-day stuff I could stress over, but ultimately, so much is going right in my life, and I would rather focus on that.
Giving me a light squeeze, Carter asks, “What’s that sigh for?”
“I’m just happy. Everything is so perfect right now. Even this snow,” I add, holding my hand out to catch a few crystal flakes on my cashmere glove. Peering up at him with a smile, I tell him, “I love our life.”
“So do I.”
Carter opens the heavy black door for me when we get to the upscale steakhouse where we’re having dinner. One of his friends owns the place so we have a standing reservation. There are black, leather-upholstered seats lining each wall of the entrance cove, both of them completely full of people. Carter puts a hand at the small of my back and walks straight to the hostess stand.
“Reservation for two. Carter Mahoney.”
The hostess looks up, her gaze nearly as sharp as her jawline until she sees Carter, then her face softens into a little smile. Disinterestedly, she flicks a glance at me. I flash her a smile that she doesn’t bother returning, then she consults her list, doesn’t find what she’s looking for, and looks back at him. “What time were you supposed to be here?”
“Whenever I show up,” he states, a touch arrogantly, given her dismissal of me. “Other list, sweetheart.”
Her posture is already astounding, but she stiffens at his tone. Flipping that list, she consults a much shorter list behind it. “Ah, there it is.” Covering the exclusive list back up, she grabs two menus and leaves her hostess stand. “If you’ll just follow me, Mr. Mahoney.”
The hostess walks us through the crowded restaurant, past the bar dotted with well-dressed women and men in suits, or at least dress shirts and ties if they’ve taken their jackets off. I’m not sure if there’s an actual dress code here, or just an unspoken understanding that it’s not civilized to show up in jeans if you’re going to spend this much on a steak.
The reserved seats are the ones you never have to wait for, and also the best seats in the place. We’re escorted up a floor and led back to a private corner, removed from the noise and chatter that filled the dining room downstairs. The hostess waits for us to take our seats, then she hands us our menus and removes the additional place settings. She comes back to light the candle on the table between us and fill our water goblets, then she tells us our server will be over in just a few moments.
We look over the menu for a few minutes, but I usually get the same thing. There are no prices on the menu, thank goodness, because I know from accidentally seeing the bill last time we stopped in for drinks and dessert, they would make me lose my appetite. This place has my favorite dessert in the city, though. An incredible slice of chocolate cake. That’s it, just chocolate cake, but I don’t know what is done to the cake. Obviously it is dipped in sin and sprinkled with ecstasy, because it is the loveliest thing my taste buds have ever come into contact with.
My mouth waters just thinking about it. Our waitress finally comes our way, but she’s carrying a tray and we haven’t ordered yet. I glance around, but there are no other diners in our little nook, so she must be bringing it to us.
Smiling, she puts the tray down in front of us. It’s a tray of caviar with two glasses of champagne.
“Oh, we didn’t order…”
The waitress is already nodding. “On the house.”
Carter smirks, unrolling his napkin full of utensils. “He saw us.”
I sigh, much less amused. “He’s here.”
The waitress stifles a knowing smile, then asks, “Did you two need a minute to look over the menu, or…?”
“Nope, we’re all set,” Carter tells her, then proceeds to order our food.
Once the waitress is gone, I eye the caviar, but only reach for the champagne. “If he’s gonna send over free food, he should skip the foreplay and send me cake.”
Amused, Carter assures me, “You’ll get your cake after we eat.”
“I’ll take pre-dinner cake and cake for dessert. There’s never enough cake. I would like cake in a house, I would like cake with a mouse. I would like cake here or there. I would like cake anywhere.”
“No more Dr. Seuss bedtime stories for you,” Carter tells me.
I shake my head. “I have to train my brain to stop memorizing everything my eyeballs skate across more than once.”
I’m not a big fan of caviar at all, but I’m so hungry, I eat a little of it while we’re waiting for our food. Other than popcorn at study group, I haven’t eaten anything all day, so the single glass of champagne makes me a little loopy.
I process everything more slowly when I’m tipsy, so it takes until a moment after the scent of expensive cologne and bad decisions wafts my way, then I sense trouble standing behind me.
I tip my head back gracelessly and tip backward in my chair, my back pressing into the knuckle
s of the man standing there with a firm grip on my chair.
His blue eyes gleam with amusement as he looks down at me. “Hello, Zoey.”
“You sent over strong champagne,” I say accusingly.
“I sent over Cristal. You’re a lightweight.”
“I think it’s extra strength champagne,” I tell him argumentatively.
“With your discerning palate, I’m shocked Zagat hasn’t recruited you yet,” he deadpans. Dismissing me, he looks across the table at Carter. “You sure you want to bother with food? I think you have her in an ideal state already. Just clear out of here and head home, your job is done.”
“I’m not leaving until I’ve eaten my weight in chocolate cake,” I state, holding onto the edge of the table so I can sit back up.
“How about one piece?” he suggests, openly looking down at my breasts, then letting his gaze drift over the rest of my body. “Hate to see you lose that lovely shape.”
“Ugh. I hate you.”
He grins, utterly pleased with himself, then turns his attention to Carter. They bullshit for a few minutes and I zone out, thinking about all the presents I still have to wrap. Now that Chloe lives with us, we essentially have a child, so Christmas is a pretty big deal. This being her first Christmas with us on top of it, I went way overboard on presents in a bid to make the change easier. The presents are mostly stashed in the unused cabinets under the marble counter in my walk-in closet. Chloe never goes in there, so it was the only feasible hiding spot.
I need to get bows. I have lots of wrapping paper and glittery nametags, but no bows. I pull out my phone to order some bows, but before I can shop, I see a message from Lucis.
“Study group is tedious without you.”
I’m not sober enough to guard my phone from potential misinterpretations, and my awkwardly slower reflexes do not help me tilt it away quickly enough when Carter’s stupid asshole friend leans down and asks, “Who is Lucis, and why does he miss you so much?”
“Have you ever heard of privacy?” I ask him.
“Have you ever considered not being a cocktease?” he shoots back.
My eyes widen in disbelief. “I am not a cocktease.”
“He sends you unmitigated longing completely unprovoked, then?” he questions, arching a golden eyebrow.
“That is not what that message was. You’re twisting it up to cause trouble.”
“I’m not trying to cause any trouble. Just pointing out that this guy wants to fuck you, on the off chance Carter didn’t already know.”
“See,” Carter says, nodding smugly and leaning across the table. “Give me that fucking thing. I have some words for Lucis.”
I cradle the phone protectively, then sneak it back into my purse before anyone can humiliate me. “Absolutely not. He’s the TA in my psych class and he doesn’t wanna fuck me.” Before either of them can disagree, I add, “And even if he does, it doesn’t matter. I am happily on the inside of a committed relationship. You can’t honestly think I’m goin’ anywhere.”
“I don’t, but I don’t like him sending you texts like that. It’s disrespectful.” Carter’s hand is still out, waiting for the phone. “Hand it over.”
I shake my head. “No. All he said was that study group was boring without me, it’s nothing scandalous.”
“Oh, yeah? That’s funny; according to you, Max and Cadence are the main sources of study group entertainment. But it’s boring without you there?”
Asshole Face doesn’t help, offering, “Must not be able to stroke his cock to thoughts of either of them.”
Glaring up at him, I ask, “Don’t you have actual work to do?”
“Nah,” he says, grabbing a chair from a nearby table and pulling it up to ours. “I can join you, if you’d like?”
“I wouldn’t like,” I inform him. “I wouldn’t like at all.”
Shaking his head, Carter grabs his champagne glass and takes a drink. “I don’t like Lucis,” he informs me.
“He doesn’t like you either.”
“Well, of course not, I get to fuck you and he only gets to dream about it,” Carter replies. “I wouldn’t expect him to like me.”
Smiling faintly, I shake my head. I know he’s not really as worked up about Lucis as he pretends to be, he just likes the drama. He likes the surge of jealousy, the friction and the play fighting. Then when he gets me home, he’ll throw me down on the bed, devour me, and fuck me with the kind of sensual violence Lucis never would.
One of the many reasons he knows he doesn’t have to worry about Lucis or anybody else.
Still, Carter likes his games, and I don’t mind playing them. I especially won’t mind later, when he’s punishing me with his body and I feel freer and sexier for it.
My blood warms with the mental images of what he’ll do to me in bed later, and suddenly I am ready to forego the cake—and the food—to go home now. Can’t do that, so instead, I reach back into my purse and draw out my phone. Lacking any attempt at stealth, I start typing out a text.
I feel Carter’s eyes on me, then my body responds like it’s been hit by a jolt of electricity when his voice drops low and he asks, “Who are you texting?”
I look up at him innocently. “Who do you think?”
A hint of pleasure glistens in his eyes right before he narrows them at me. “Delete the message and put the phone away.”
“Or what?”
Carter cocks an eyebrow at me, then he reaches into his pocket. The vibrator comes to life inside me and I jump, startled. Taking a shallow breath, I shift, trying to get my bearings, but it’s difficult not to squirm noticeably as the little bullet stimulates the most sensitive part of my body.
I don’t know if there’s no low setting on this thing or he just ramped it up to punish me, but I’m having the hardest time sitting still. Even my breathing is hard to control already, my body wanting to respond naturally to the pleasure triggered by the vibration.
I clench and unclench my hands, struggling to hold in helpless noises that are just begging to escape my throat. His friend is watching me, his blue eyes narrowed with suspicion. I’ll die if he figures out what Carter just did, but I’m not being as subtle as I’d like to be, either.
Casting my boyfriend a pleading gaze across the table, I silently beg him to turn it off.
Carter cocks a dark eyebrow, silently challenging me to obey him or endure the consequences.
I close my eyes, attempting to summon every unsexy thought I can muster, but pleasure moves through me in waves and it’s a physical challenge to hold it in.
This is torture.
Jittery and barely able to keep my shit together, I tap my screen, erase the message I was going to send, and flash Carter the screen as proof.
“There, it’s gone,” I snap, a little breathless.
“Good girl,” he says, more than mildly amused.
Every muscle in my body taut with the effort of holding back an orgasm, I wait for him to reach into his pocket and turn it off, but damn him, he reaches for his champagne and takes a slow sip instead.
My eyes widen in betrayed disbelief, then narrow as I glare at him. “Carter…”
“Yes, princess?” he asks, as if innocent.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Pretending to consider, he rubs his chin. “Hm, I don’t think so.”
If we were at home, the bullet vibrator probably wouldn’t be so potent, but the knowledge that we’re in public and his friend is standing right here, watching Carter toy with me…
Fuck, I’m going to come. I don’t want anyone to notice, but I squeeze the edge of the table and close my eyes as the pressure builds and builds, as I approach—
Just before I get there, he turns it off.
I groan and let out a breath of frustration, sinking back in my chair and glaring at Carter.
His hand comes out of his pocket and he smirks at me across the table. “Something wrong, baby?”
I could growl, I’m so
irritated. Uncaring of how it looks, I push back my chair, storm over to Carter’s side of the table, and grab him by the arm. He doesn’t stop me as I literally drag him out of his chair, in front of his friend, and toward the bathroom.
“Don’t you want to grab your purse?” he asks, letting me drag him.
“Fuck my purse,” I snap, picking up the pace as my insides clench around nothing, desperate to be filled.
We barely make it inside the bathroom. It doesn’t even offer the privacy of a single stall restroom, it’s a whole row of stalls that anyone could be inside or come in to use, but I don’t care. I close my eyes as he takes control, roughly grabbing my arms and backing me up against the wall. Fire ignites low in my belly at the familiar signal that it’s go-time.
“Kiss me,” I say breathlessly, half demand, half plea.
He leans in close, pressing his body against mine, making me feel the enticing heat rolling off his well-sculpted body. “Now, princess, is that how you ask?”
I’m too turned on to play resistance games, so I don’t. “Please.”
Just like that, his mouth is covering mine, my body weakening as my mind is assaulted by an explosion of pleasure. Our tongues tangle for a few seconds, then he wrestles mine into submission, bringing a hand up to palm my breast through the fabric. I gasp into his mouth, my body so sensitive already from the pleasure he ignited inside me back at the table.
“Please, Carter, I need you,” I tell him, digging my fingers into his back, trying to pull him closer.
Carter bends his head to kiss my neck, sending yet another frenzy of pleasure coursing through me. As he works magic on my neck, he reaches between my legs, slides a finger inside me, and removes the bullet, catching my moans against his mouth.
He slips the small toy into the pocket of his slacks, then goes to drag my panties down. I free up a hand and reach down to help, to try to push the damn things off faster, causing Carter to chuckle.
“Someone’s eager.”
“You’re so mean,” I tell him. “Do you know how close I was?”