I felt a blush burn up my face from chin to forehead. “I was working on the World Historical Network show, Forgotten Extraterrestrials.”
His eyes widened, and a hysterical giggle escaped me.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“That’s the one with the nutty guys with terrible hair that think the pyramids were built by aliens, right?”
“Among other things, yes. The preferred term is ‘Ancient Extraterrestrial Theorist’ by the way.” I tried to keep a straight face but failed almost instantly and tried to cover by taking another sip of tequila. Then I tried to cover the sip with a bigger gulp.
“Yikes.”
I smiled ruefully at him. “‘Yikes’ is pretty much the standard reaction from people when I tell them where I work. A lot of people think I’m crazy. The truth is that I just want to survive.”
“It could be worse.”
“Oh definitely. I could work in porn. Or, like, weird porn.”
“Or home shopping.”
“Or infomercials.” If I ever had to do a ten-hour shoot for a BowFlex commercial, I imagined I would be on my way back home to Arkansas on the next flight.
“What do you want to work in?” I was surprised he asked, and even more surprised that he seemed interested to hear the answer. I considered making up something glamorous and ambitious but decided just to tell him the truth.
“Honestly? Historical programming. I’m working on my thesis for my master’s degree in history right now. I care about public programming and like the idea of producing educational content.”
“Like cooking shows?” He asked hopefully.
“More educational, you know documentaries and nature programming. The stuff that used to be on the educational channels before it all became exploitative reality bullshit.”
“Cooking shows can be educational. What about nutritional anthropology?”
I was impressed he even knew what that was.
“I like Michael Pollan quite a bit,” I said, testing the waters for depth. David’s eyes narrowed and then he smiled playfully.
“Me too, although he’s considered more of the pop psychology equivalent in academic circles, isn’t he? Sort of the Malcom Gladwell versus Alan Greenspan of economics?”
My lips parted in surprise. David wasn’t just a pretty face at all, although he certainly was that, too. My shock must have been obvious because he smirked and added,
“My twin brother is a certified, genuine genius. I’m not one, but I’m also not a complete troglodyte either. I’m more of a part time troglodyte.”
“I’ve gone out with plenty of guys in LA that think the troglodytes are the hot new indie band playing Coachella,” I confessed. “I think I’ve become disenchanted and snobby as a result.”
“Don’t worry about it. That brother I was talking about? Huge snob. About everything. Actually, my whole family are pretty snobby, although it’s more of a rich person type of snobbery than an intellectual one.”
“What’s it like being super rich?” I felt compelled to ask, because I’d probably never meet another third-generation billionaire.
David seemed taken aback by the question.
“I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that before,” he said after a moment. “I’m not sure how to answer because I’ve never not been super rich. I’m not even sure how it stacks up to being regular rich. I’ll go out on a limb and say it’s great, but it’s hard to compare my experience to anything else. I certainly imagine it’s a lot better than being poor.” His smile could light up a room. It was no wonder he ended up on TV.
“I guess it wasn’t a very fair question,” I replied. I shook my head in bemusement. “I’ve never not been working class, but I can still imagine being rich. Seems comfortable at the very least.”
“Comfortable?” His tone was interested.
“Sure. I don’t mean that everything would be easy, but if you wanted to get something material you always could.”
He nodded. “Material yes. But there are lots of things worth having for, um, overall comfort that aren’t for sale.” He smiled at me suggestively, but I decided to pretend not to notice. Not yet.
“That’s true. Money can’t buy health or happiness. I’m sure making real friends is hard or trusting if a romantic partner is actually into you.”
He nodded.
“I guess I would say this: being born super rich opens a lot of doors, but it also closes others permanently. On the whole, I highly recommend it.”
“Which doors are closed due to being rich? I thought being rich pretty much let you do whatever.” This conversation was genuinely interesting to me. I’d never met anyone rich and famous who was willing to have a regular conversation with me. Actually, despite living in LA for three years and working in television, I’d never met anyone rich and famous at all. The Forgotten Extraterrestrials guys didn’t count. They were only famous in their minds and on certain internet forums.
I wondered when the last time was that I’d enjoyed just talking to any guy like this. It had been a long time. David seemed to be equally engaged as he thought about his reply.
“The way I was raised, being a dilettante was heavily discouraged,” he said.
“You couldn’t have any hobbies?” The idea was perplexing.
“Golf maybe, but not beyond that. We were not permitted to dabble in subjects. Or fail. My brother and I were expected to be the best at what we did, at whatever we did, and we lived under a lot of pressure from a young age. He coped with it a lot better than me.”
The whole world knew these two fraternal twins. David’s brother Nathan Breyer was even more famous. He was an ex-astronaut turned commercial spaceflight entrepreneur. I could see that being hard to compete with at Thanksgiving.
“Why did you have to be the best all the time?”
“Well why not? We had every advantage in the world. With everything we had going for us there was no excuse for mediocrity.”
“I could see that being frustrating. Still, it beats wrangling ‘Ancient Extraterrestrial Theorists’ so you can buy ramen noodles.”
“I like ramen noodles,” he said with total innocence. What a freakin’ rich kid.
“Everyone does until you run out of money and get to eat only ramen noodles for a week.” I made a face at him.
“That’s fair. Again, not something I’m acquainted with.” If he hadn’t been honest, it would have been obnoxious. As it was, I couldn’t even hate him for being privileged. He seemed to know he was lucky, and that he hadn’t earned it. What more can you hope for?
“You’re lucky. Then again, I guess there’s no freedom like poverty. I can suck at however many hobbies I can afford to pursue. You should see my bad knitting. It’s atrocious.” I made my sister Tanya a scarf once and later saw that she’d given it to her dog, Ebenezer the obnoxious chow-chow, as a chew toy.
“How’s your cooking?” David asked.
“You may be disappointed to learn I’m a total dilettante.”
“That’s not a dirty word in my book. It means you try.”
David smiled at me and I grinned back. I felt a little tingle of attraction in me growing, and I wasn’t fighting it. The tequila made me feel warm, disconnected and brave. I saw the mistake coming from a mile away and I was running right for it. I made my decision way before I even knew what it meant.
Since David slammed the stop button in the elevator half an hour ago I felt like I was sleep walking. From his bright, blue-green eyes, square, masculine features, to the tips of his expensive-looking shoes, David had me hopelessly entranced. Even the fact that he had a small beard didn’t turn me off. I don’t usually go for beards, yet it suited him. He looked sort-of rangy and pleasantly rough. I imagined he’d be pleasantly rough with me, too. He’d cast some sort of spell on me and instead of despising him, I found him irresistibly charming. The knowledge was slightly irksome, but also useless. David’s charm was utterly inescapable.
&n
bsp; “Do you want to get another drink?” he asked, pointing down at our empty glasses. An hour had flown by as we talked. I took a deep breath.
“Yeah. I think I do.”
Somehow, we ended up walking down the hallway toward his hotel room about three and a half hours later, hand in hand. He kissed the top of my head as we walked, and I struggled to keep my steps in a straight line. I was drunk, but not sloppy drunk. Happy drunk. He ran his key through the card reader and pulled me inside.
“Am I going to regret this?” I asked David before he could lean in to kiss me. He pulled back to look at me seriously. I wasn’t slurring, I still had control of myself, but I only barely.
“I hope not. I’ll try not to disappoint you.” His voice was low and soothing, and when he pushed my hair back over my shoulder, his fingers were warm.
Disappointment was hardly what I meant, but it didn’t matter. He was right in front of me and thinking logically had gotten tough about two tequilas ago. I kissed him.
His tongue flicked against my lips a moment later and I parted them willingly, wanting to give him every inch of my body to explore. He tasted like alcohol, too. Like the four vodka tonics he’d had downstairs. He took things slow to start, kissing me hesitantly as if waiting to see if I would change my mind and bolt. His gentleness only stoked my need. I felt like I was about to ignite.
By the time he pushed one thin strap of my top off my shoulder, and then the other, I was breathless and panting against his mouth. I’d never been kissed so thoroughly in my life. He ran his hands through my hair before gathering it at the nape of my neck and pulling my head to the side to kiss my neck, allowing my loose-fitting blouse to fall down my torso, past my hips, and down to the ground.
Now wearing just my black, longline strapless bra and black twill pencil skirt, I felt exposed until he looked down at my chest like it was an oasis in the desert. I reached behind my back and unclasped my bra to give him a better view and his breath escaped in a low hiss. He cupped me with both hands from below and I arched into his palms.
“Totally perfect and totally real,” he said in wonder between kisses, “and I thought LA was nothing but silicone and saline.”
I smiled and giggled. “You thought they were fake? I don’t make enough money for implants.”
“You should never even consider implants. That would be an absolute crime,” he murmured into my neck and I could feel the honesty in his voice. “You’re perfect.”
David pulled me toward the bed and I kicked off my heels to lie down atop the crisp white linen. He unbuttoned his shirt as I watched with renewed nervousness. Beneath his clothing, his body was flawless, with broad shoulders, long limbs, and defined muscles that moved smoothly beneath his skin as he lay down beside me. I hoped he really liked what he saw of me, because I couldn’t imagine wanting anything more than I wanted him at that second.
I reached out to him and he came into my arms with a dreamy smile that made me wonder if he was just as overcome as me. We smiled at one another in simple wonderment that we’d ended up like this. His soft mouth was back on mine a moment later before descending to pull at one nipple while his hand found the other. He licked and sucked my tender skin eagerly, drawing my nipples to hard, tight points as I breathed in the pleasure beneath him.
His tongue made gentle circles on my sensitive, needy nipples, and I felt his thick erection growing harder and longer against my thigh. I needed it but was too overwhelmed with what his mouth was doing to move or speak. With every kiss and tug at my nipples I fell deeper under his spell. It was exquisite torture. I’d never thought I was one of those women who could climax without direct stimulation, but at that moment I was half convinced I could be. I was certainly willing to find out.
I ran my hands up and down his back as he sucked on me, dragging my nails against his skin to make him shiver and then nip at me with gentle teeth. The sudden smooth hardness of his careful teeth jolted through me like lightning. Finally, when I wasn’t sure I could take any more attention on my chest, that the tender aching between my legs would make me crazy, his fingers dropped to the hem of my skirt and I spread my legs eagerly.
His big, searching hand slid up my thigh and found me dripping wet and ready. His lips curved upwards and he petted my swollen clit through the thin fabric just to taunt me. Finally, he worked down my panties and I kicked them away. Now totally naked save my skirt bunched at the waist, I strangely no longer felt exposed or nervous. I felt beautiful, appreciated, and wanted (I was also glad I’d shaved).
“I’m on the pill,” I told him when he produced a foil packet from his pocket and he tossed it away with obvious relief.
“Good. I want to feel all of you.”
I wanted it too. I wanted all of him. Now.
He unzipped his pants and my hands were on him in an instant, stroking up and down the smooth, tight skin appreciatively. He was thicker and longer than other partners I’d had, but instead of intimidation or fear of pain, all I felt was an aching, throbbing need. I worshipped him the way he’d worshipped me, using both hands to explore every inch of him and claim it as mine. He stared down at me as I worked on him with my hands, propped up on his elbows and staring at me hungrily.
“I need you,” he finally managed from between gritted teeth, and I nodded, spreading my thighs wider to receive him.
“Yes,” I whispered in his ear, biting his earlobe with gentle teeth and breathing against it until he shivered again.
He took himself in hand and rubbed the tip against my desperate, swollen clit before pushing inside me with a smooth, slow movement. He penetrated me tenderly, so carefully and gently that I could feel my interior muscles stretching and pulsing against him before conforming to his shape. We fit perfectly.
I wrapped my legs around him, but he grabbed my knees at pushed them to my shoulders instead so that my legs rested on either side of his head. I was unfamiliar with this position but could instantly see the advantages of the more direct penetration (although now that I was basically bent double under him, I was glad I’d kept up with my yoga this month). His first thrust of his hips rocked me back onto my tailbone and I held onto his arms to stabilize me as the sensation of being totally filled up threatened to overwhelm me.
This was going to be good.
I pushed against him insistently, but he kept us going slow and steady. Each push of his hips into mine was incredibly slick, deep, and satisfying. He was breathing heavily against my neck, and I heard myself starting to make little noises to coax him to move faster and push harder.
The world started to slip out of focus as we moved against each other, wordlessly finding the right pace. David’s eyes were wide, and his full lips were parted as he thrust into me with a steady, eager rhythm. My climax hit me hard a moment later and I was looking straight at him as I came, desperately staring into his blue-green eyes until I saw nothing and hanging onto his arms for dear life. He finished a few quick strokes later, pushing harder and faster until he collapsed atop me with a rushing pulse of wet heat I felt release inside me.
I stared blankly at the ceiling for a beat before David rolled away. He pulled me against his chest after we separated, and I wrapped my arms around him. He kissed my forehead, ran his hands through my hair, and was performing a very wonderful scalp massage with his fingernails when he caught sight of his wristwatch.
“Holy shit. Is it really two-forty-five?” he exclaimed, sitting up suddenly and dislodging me in one movement. I made a little whiny noise of protest, but he was already getting up and looking for his clothes on the ground.
And just like that, our perfect moment was gone.
4
David
“You’re an entire hour late,” my brother scolded via the conference phone in the attorney’s office. I sank back into the rolling office chair guiltily as the legal team assembled around the table looked on with carefully blank faces. I tried not to meet any of their eyes for fear of seeing judgment, or worse, pity. They pr
obably all thought I was totally unhinged and on the brink of another outburst. Little did they know, I felt better than I had in months. Sex endorphins will do that for you.
“Sorry Nathan, and sorry everybody else. I’m really, really sorry I’m late.” I hoped my voice sounded genuine, because I really hadn’t intended on keeping fifteen people—fourteen of which charged by the hour—waiting on me uselessly. I’d had to shoo Casey out of my hotel room at a deplorably rude speed and then rush downtown to be merely an entire hour late. I’d need to send her flowers or something to make up for it, although it occurred to me that I had no idea how to contact her. Nathan’s voice distracted me.
“Look, David, where’s your head at? Are you ready to talk about this or not?” I could almost hear my brother grinding his teeth through the phone. In my mind’s eye, his blue-green eyes stared into my matching pair with an accusatory, deeply unimpressed expression.
“Yeah I’m good. I’m totally fine. Let’s go. Let’s talk law stuff.” I was actually quite preoccupied with thoughts of Casey, but that was neither here nor there. My skin still smelled like her. I missed her already.
“Alright,” Nathan said. Skepticism was heavy in his tone, and it didn’t take someone who shared a womb with him to hear it. “I think Tobias wanted to start with the contract termination terms…”
The next four hours were an absolute nightmare and by the end of it, beautiful, sexy, whip-smart Casey was totally and completely erased from my thoughts. I knew there would be a reckoning for throwing my little temper tantrum on national television, but I hadn’t quite understood that it would require a four-hour lecture from a veritable army of lawyers on all the ways I’d fucked up. I feel like a memo would have been a lot more efficient. Still, I learned a few things.
First, I’d been right when I told Anders that he was fucked if he tried to sue me. There were so many ways to weasel out of any accountability for my actions that it was hilarious. Apparently, all you need is a brain trust of lawyers and you can do whatever the hell you want. I guess I should have known that already, but it was reassuring to discover nevertheless.
Lost and Found (Scions of Sin Book 4) Page 3