Prelude: Book One in The Interlude Duet

by Auden Dar

  He groans loudly. “Fuck. Fuck yeah,” he says as he explodes inside me. We stand in the same position for a few minutes, our breathing still heavy, our bodies completely sated.

  Taking his sweet time to pull out, he spins me around. When I lay my eyes on Julian Caine, I ache. My heart hurts because I’ve lied to myself.

  I belong with you, Julian.

  I want more than a one-night stand.

  Forty-Four

  We slide to the ground, allowing the warm water to fall all over our bodies. I’ve never taken a shower with Andrew before, so my first instinct is to leave. Moreover, knowing I want more than what he’s offering makes me vulnerable. When I slowly get up and try to open the shower door, Julian reaches for me. “Where are you going? We haven’t washed each other properly.”

  Exploring one another, our hands follow every curvature, every plane of our naked, wet bodies. We take turns, lathering each other with my favorite scented body gel. Every single inch of my body is being cared for. He pours shampoo all over my hair, slowly massaging my scalp. The act is so sensual, I would easily have begged him to take me again, but I am too sore.

  So this is what it feels like to be taken care of? I can certainly get used to this. We rinse ourselves off with hesitancy and finally decide to get out of the shower. He dries my entire body, not missing an inch.

  Gently wrapping his arms around me, he sighs. “Woman, you’ll be the death of me. I am spent.”

  His admission surprises me. “What? I thought this was your standard routine.”

  “Nothing with you is routine. I fucked you raw. I’ve never fucked a woman bare until you. Everything with you is … different. Don’t you feel it?”

  Yes, and I want so much more.

  Rather than try to come up with the right words that might scare Julian away, I turn to face him. I rise on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck. When I offer him my lips, he groans. “Baby…”

  So yeah, I’m over the moon right now because I just had multiple orgasms and I love being called, “Baby.”

  We pad to his master bedroom holding hands as more than friends. I immediately plop myself on his massive bed and get under the covers while watching the man who fucked me senseless, still stark naked, walk over to his dresser. He uncorks a bottle of wine, pours a glass, and makes his way to the bed. Even with a semi erect cock, he is magnificent. Would I be able to fit him in my mouth? The thought makes me wet.

  With a serious tone, Julian admits, “I couldn’t be away from you again, and when you returned to Santa Monica, I didn’t want to be without you. Those few days apart were torturous. Knowing that you were with him. I spent many nights picturing you with him.”

  “God, Julian, if only−”

  Surprisingly, he interrupts me with a forefinger on my lips. “No more of that. All that matters is that you’re here.” Capturing my mouth with his, this kiss is not tender at all. This time, it is an earth-shattering, move the mountains type of kiss. It is a kiss that says ‘You are meant to be with me.’

  “I need to get something,” he mumbles while breaking our kiss. Retrieving a pair of gray sweatpants from his walk-in closet, he says, “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

  Left alone in Julian’s bedroom, I study my surroundings and notice it’s decorated sparingly. Besides the king-size bed I’m lying on, and the mirror we fucked in front of, there is only a dresser and a gray mid-century armchair. The white walls are bare with the exception of an enormous painting by one of my favorite painters, Derek Baldwin. I should mention to Julian that I know the artist personally.

  As I bask in the afterglow of amazing orgasms, I still can’t believe I am here with the Englishman I’ve fantasized about for the past few weeks. I bite my bottom lip and smile. I had amazing sex on my birthday. Not once but twice tonight. I sit up with my head against the wooden headboard and rearrange my body under his cool, crisp white linens. That voracious man wasn’t kidding when he said he would make me sore. I can barely sit. While I think about the way he made my body feel, I am pleasantly interrupted by the sight of him, holding a tray with several cupcakes, each with a candle.

  The tender smile he bears makes me weak. In a surprisingly beautiful deep voice, Julian sings, “Happy Birthday.” I am floored. Cupcakes from Magnolia Bakery! I giggle in such delight that one would have assumed I had not eaten a delicious Japanese meal a few hours ago.

  “Wow,” I say, pointing at several cupcakes on the tray. “My absolute favorite.”

  He exposes another panty-dropping grin. “Magnolia, darling. Only Magnolia.” Revealing one of my best-loved places on earth, he knows Magnolia Bakery in the West Village makes the most delicious cupcakes in the world. Fond memories of us as kids trekking down to Bleecker Street from uptown hit me. We endured long lines just to taste Magnolia’s moist, delicious cupcakes. My smile doesn’t go unnoticed.

  “We were cupcake junkies back then, were we not?” he asks, reaching for the lighter on the tray.

  “Speak for yourself. Still am. Nothing is as delicious as Magnolia’s on Bleecker though. The others don’t come close.”

  Julian lights a candle. “Querida, please make a wish.” My eyes moisten a little. No one has addressed me as querida in years. When I was a child, my father had affectionately called me querida. He said it was the first word spoken after my mother had given birth to me. It means darling in Portuguese.

  Julian’s forefinger traces the chocolate frosting before pushing it between my lips. He watches in wonder as I suck it. He moves forward as I continue to enjoy his finger, and his Adam’s apple swallows hard. “Lina.” His tone is heavy. Before I can respond, his lips are now on mine. And this kiss, lingering as if time no longer exists, is really the kiss of all kisses.

  We spend the next hour kissing and eating cupcakes, listening to a music playlist he made specifically for my birthday. As each song plays, I become more consumed by the man who was thoughtful enough to make me forget the most dreaded day of the year.

  This has been the most amazing day of my life. It’s the first time I have ever celebrated my birthday without regrets. It’s the first time someone has ever given me an orgasm. It’s the first time I have ever felt so much passion for someone. Julian is right beside me in bed, celebrating with me. His ink blue eyes bore into mine, and his strong arms are wrapped around me. He whispers, “I fucked you twice, and now I’m going to make love to you … all night.”

  Forty-Five

  I wake up in the comfort of Julian’s bed … alone. With barely opened eyes, I instantly reach my hand out for him, but I feel nothing but the cool sheets. Willing my eyes to open, I peer to the side where Julian had slept a few hours ago. Only two down pillows. Clearing my throat, I call out his name and there is no response. I saunter to the master bathroom and find still no evidence of him. His electric toothbrush is no longer on the stand. I pad my way to the bed, grab the white bed sheets, and wrap it tightly around my body. He wouldn’t leave me without a word. Not after the passionate night we shared together.

  I leave his bedroom, ambling down the circular stairs hoping to find him in the kitchen. He must have been hungry. I know I am. As I make my way around the vast duplex, I hear movement in the kitchen. Ah! With only the bed sheet covering my body, I feel like a vixen on the prowl. I want him again. I crave to feel his lips touching every part of my body. I want to feel the beating of his heartbeat next to mine.

  Approaching the kitchen, the sound of Taylor Swift’s “Last Kiss” halts my steps. And it’s as if someone just knocked me out. That’s not Julian in the kitchen. Knowing him, Taylor Swift, although awesome, is not Julian’s type of artist.

  I peek in, and it’s Miss Pendleton, alone.

  “Umm.” I clear my throat. “Good morning, Miss Pendleton.”

  She barely looks my way. “Good morning, Lina. Are you hungry? Julian had Sears pancake mix delivered so I can make them for you.” She reaches for a copper skillet before positioning it on the massive range.
After placing several ingredients in the skillet, she searches my face.

  “Yes, but … I … I was just looking for him.” This is awkward. I tighten the sheet around my body for fear it would fall off. I shouldn’t have walked around his home like this.

  Miss Pendleton doesn’t seem surprised that I spent the night in Julian’s bed.

  Lowering her head, she casts her eyes downward, pretending to occupy herself with the bamboo spoon.

  Oh. Shit.

  I cough a little. “Excuse me, Miss Pendleton. Where is Julian?”

  That look. The look of sadness. The look of an apology that should have been said by the man who spent the night making love to me.

  “Lina … he left a few hours ago.”

  Okay, that’s fucked up even if he had to go to work.

  I remain silent for a few seconds wondering what to do. “I guess I can wait until he returns later today.”

  Miss Pendleton’s expression says it all. Her lips are pursed, her eyes remain downcast, and her body is surprisingly stiff. In a gravelly voice, she says, “I’m sorry, my dear, but Julian will not be returning today.”

  Julian left.

  He left me without a word.

  I stare at her, no doubt shocked by her admission. With everything in me, I try to contain my embarrassment and, more importantly, my tears. In an instant, she is by my side. Gently rubbing my back, she’s hoping that her touch would somehow comfort me.

  “Lina, dear. He went to London.”

  I nod my head, unable to say anything. As she tries her best to ease this awkward moment, Miss Pendleton offers, “Julian … he’s just complicated. But dear, please wait for him. Please stay here until he returns.”

  A single tear falls, and Miss Pendleton wipes it with the pad of her thumb. “Just wait, my dear. Please don’t cry. He’ll return. Stay here and think of this place as your home.”

  I look at her and know my heart can’t wait for a man who leaves me after I have given all of myself to him. “Miss Pendleton, I … I won’t cry.” It takes everything in me to hold back the tears. “Thank you for the offer. But I am going to change and head back to my own home.”

  “But Lina …” she interrupts, and that’s when I notice the lines on her forehead are more prominent.

  “Don’t worry. I promise. I’ll be fine.” I squeeze her hand lightly before leaving the kitchen.

  How many women have had the misfortune of having Julian leave them after fucking them?

  How many women have Miss Pendleton comforted the way she tried to console me a few minutes ago?

  I head upstairs toward Julian’s master bedroom, distraught. I can barely make it up without hurting myself, tripping and hitting my knee on a step. Fuck. But the pain doesn’t compare to my shattering heart.

  Last night, Julian proclaimed he wanted me to be his. Why did he declare all those romantic notions if I was just a one-night stand? Why bother at all? Succumbing to him, even if it was only for a night, not only causes my heart to ache but also instills physical pain.

  Oh, God, I can still feel him inside me.

  An empty bed greets me, taunting me, reminding me of the hours spent making love. Images of his full lips, his strong hands, his commanding body. The lust in his startling, gray-blue eyes haunts me. I can still hear the longing in his deep voice. I close the door behind me before slipping to the ground. I should have known it was too easy, too perfect. The way he held me as he entered me. The way my body responded so immediately to his. I remain on the floor, bawling my eyes out like someone just died. Wait, my heart did die … a few minutes ago. I didn’t even cry when Andrew and I broke up. But just one night with Julian and I’m swimming in a puddle of fucking tears. My body is afflicted. I can barely get up.

  I’ll remember this moment−the moment when I hated someone for still wanting him so desperately.

  My body trembles, and it aches. It aches not only from one night of rigorous lovemaking but also from sheer abandonment. He left me again. But this departure is a grievous wound to my heart. And even though he just left me without a word, all I can think about is being wrapped in his arms again. My memory−it’s the only place I know where he will hold me tight, whisper dirty words and make love to me. I take a deep breath. Just a few more tears and you can walk away. Like everything I have loved and lost, my one night with Julian will just be another memory.

  Rather than curse the man who left me, I thank him. I thank him for helping me celebrate my birthday. I thank him for awakening my body to something I had never expected. I thank him for giving me pleasure. I thank him for allowing me to surrender. I thank him for loving me even if it was only for one night. Wiping the last of my tears, I barely rise up.

  All I can think of is escaping this apartment. The sooner I leave any reminders of him, the sooner I can repair my heart. After washing my face and trying to conceal my heartbreak with makeup, I grab everything I own. Draped over his armchair is the pair of jeans he wore last night. Peeking out of the pocket is the black lace underwear Julian ripped off me. I take the underwear out. Looking around the master bedroom once more, I notice the note on the dresser. In Julian’s handwriting, it reads:

  Darling,

  I didn’t want to wake you. You look so lovely sleeping.

  -Julian.

  Well, he had no problems waking me up several times through the night to make love to me.

  That’s all I was … a one-night stand … Someone to preoccupy his time in this city of millions. I crumple the note and throw it along with the torn underwear in the trashcan not too far from the door.

  On my way out, I stop by the kitchen. “Miss Pendleton, I’ll be on my way.” Planting a kiss on her cheeks while she attends to her baked chicken.

  “Dear, why don’t you stay and join me for lunch? I can also make those pancakes you like.”

  And although the baked chicken and potatoes look absolutely delicious, and I wouldn’t mind some Sears pancakes, all I want to do is leave Julian’s duplex. Why prolong the inevitable breakdown? When I go home, I can bawl my eyes out alone. “It smells delicious, but I need to go. Thank you, though.”

  “Lina,” she calls out before I reach the elevator. My finger has already pushed the call button when I turn around.

  “Yes, Miss Pendleton?”

  I wait as she rushes to my side. Taking my hand, she studies my face before offering, “You’re the only one.”

  I cock my head, confused. “I’m the only one?”

  Pulling me close, she embraces me. “Dear child, you’re the only one he’s ever brought to his home.” She pauses before admitting, “You’re the only one. Please remember that.”

  Well, I won’t be the last, I think to myself.

  I give her a sad smile before leaving. Her thoughtful gesture warms my heart, but it doesn’t stop the pain.

  I enter the elevator and hold the railing, willing myself not to fall. How could I have been so stupid? He never promised you more than a one-night stand. Yet I continue to replay his words, “You are finally mine.”

  Stop, just stop!

  I take a deep breath once the doors open. You can do this. I walk through the lobby keeping my head down. This is my first walk of shame. Luke, the doorman, stays clear of me. Smart man. Heading straight for the front doors, I have only one destination in mind … home.

  Outside, in broad daylight, all I see is darkness. I continue to walk my way up north with purpose. When I reach the corner of the next block, I stop myself. With one hand clutching my purse, the other holding the corner of the building, it takes everything in me not to fall.

  What have I done?

  I stand by the corner of the unfamiliar building, watching people go by. I try to seek comfort among the strangers circling me. Some simply walk by, and some blatantly stare at me. If I wasn’t dressed in a beautiful garment and sexy peep-toe shoes, I could easily have been mistaken for a homeless person. My hair is a mess. My eye makeup smeared. I tilt my head and look up at the
sky. A cloud of darkness shrouds me.

  What am I going to do?

  Two men I care deeply about both in their own way have wounded my heart.

  So you’ve left your fiancé, and he didn’t fight for you.

  And you’ve just spent the most passionate night of your life with a man who left you the next morning in his bed ... alone.

  I took passion over pride. I gave myself to Julian willingly. All. Night. Long. I was stupid with lust, fooling myself that it was more than a one-night stand. He only offered one night. I could feel sorry for myself, or I can leave this corner before someone drops money in front of me.

  Fuck this.

  Fuck Andrew.

  Fuck Julian.

  Fuck them both.

  A few minutes go by before I collect myself, refusing to allow any tears to flow.

  This heartbreak is just a prelude …

  Opening my clutch, I retrieve my phone and a set of earphones. Scrolling through my music, I press play to Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” before setting CeeLo Green’s “Fuck You” on repeat. I stand straight and proud before taking a deep breath. You’ll be fine, Lina. Go on, girl. Go home. Walking up north along Broadway, I move forward with my new life when a text appears.

  MARCEL: We need to talk.

  TO BE CONTINUED

  Interlude (Book Two in The Interlude Duet)

  Releases January 25, 2018

  Pre-Order Interlude

  Playlist

  For the full playlist, please visit www.audendar.com/Playlist.html

  Bryan Ferry “ Slave to Love”

  Marvin Gaye “If I Should Die Tonight”

  Maxwell “Whenever, Wherever, Whatever”

  Sade “You’re Not The Man”

  The Blue Nile “Downtown Lights”

  The National “Guilty Party”

  Woodkid “I Love You”