by Amy Brent
“God… you are… really… good at… that,” I moaned, closing my eyes. I held my breath as she slid me back into her mouth, then pulled back slowly. My balls began to tighten. I knew I would cum if she kept doing what she was doing. I didn’t want to cum in her mouth, at least not yet. I wanted her to milk my thick cock with her tight pussy until I exploded inside her like a volcano. I wanted to feel her pussy milking me, making me cum.
I opened my eyes and smiled down at her. She was smiling up at me with half my cock in her mouth. I held out my arms and wiggled my fingers. “I want your pussy,” I said, breathlessly. “I want you to ride my cock so I can see your face and play with your amazing tits.”
“With pleasure, Mr. Patron,” she said, releasing her grip on my glistening cock as she licked her lips. She got onto her knees so she could straddle my cock. She reached down between us and took my cock in her hand and lowered her pussy onto me. She swirled the bulbous head around her hole for a moment to lubricate it, then lowered herself onto me. I put my hands on her hips and watched as the head of my cock disappeared inside her. Her eyes were closed. She was biting her lip, holding her breath.
“God… your cock… is so fucking… huge,” she moaned. She impaled herself on my cock, taking it in until the head hit her cervix. “There… right… there…”
I dug my fingers into her hips to steady her as she started to rock her hips back and forth, sliding her dripping pussy back and forth over the shaft, washing her juices over me, stopping when the head was at her hole, then sliding back down.
“Fuck… Fiona… your pussy… so fucking… tight…” I put my hands on her tits and gave them a squeeze. They were soft, yet firm. Her nipples were long and plump. I leaned up the take them between my lips as she continued sliding along my cock.
She put her hands on my head as I slathered her tits with my tongue. I could hear her breathing in my ear, panting, moaning. She lifted my head and pressed her lips to mine. “I’m going to cum… Oh god… Nick… I’m going to cum…”
“Cum, baby,” I said, knowing that I wasn’t far behind. I could feel the orgasm building in my balls, hot, tight. I curled my toes and clenched every muscle in my body. I arched my back to lift her in the air. My cock went in deeper, making her gasp.
“Fuck… yes… yes… yes…” Fiona dug her nail into my chest as she came, her head whipping back and forth, riding me like bull. She squeezed her eyes shut and let go a low moan that didn’t end until she was past the orgasm.
It felt as if every nerve in my body was connected to my cock. When I came, filling her wonderful pussy with my hot, milky seed, the orgasm rippled through me and made my entire body tingle. I put my hands on her hips and pushed inside her as far as I could go. The orgasm seemed to take minutes. When we were both spent, Fiona lowered herself on top of me and put her lips to my ear.
“That was amazing,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re not mad.”
“And I’m so glad you brought donuts,” I said with a grin. “Otherwise, I might never have let you in the door.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN: Fiona
Nick and I lay in each other’s arms without saying a word; just listening to each other breathe. I rested my head on his chest and my hand on his hard stomach and melted into him. His naked body was warm and comforting. His strong arms closed around me and made me feel safe and warm for the first time in years. When Nick’s breathing grew slow and shallow, I closed my eyes and quickly drifted off to sleep.
When I woke up, I was alone in Nick’s bed. I stretched my arms toward the ceiling and yawned at the clock on the nightstand. It was nearly noon. I’d been sleeping like a baby for three hours.
“Hey, sleepy head,” Nick said as he came back into the bedroom carrying two cups of coffee and the box of donuts from the kitchen. He was wearing a pair of black boxers and a smile. “I made fresh coffee. I’m afraid we let the other pot burn.”
“It was so worth it,” I said, propping up on pillows and pulling the sheet over my breasts so I didn’t get crumbs down my cleavage. Although if I did I was sure Nick would love to lick them off. He handed me the cup of coffee and set the box of donuts on the bed, then sat on the foot of the bed and crossed his legs.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Nick said, picking up a cream-filled donut and biting into it. He licked the cream from his lips and gave me a smile. “Now, tell me why you’re here.”
I blew a cooling breath into the steaming cup and gave him a playful frown. “What do you mean?”
“I mean why are you here,” he said, shrugging his eyebrows. “And I don’t mean because you wanted to tap this shit again.” He grinned at me. “Are you here just for sex or because you’re looking for a rebound romance or…?”
“That’s a good question,” I said. “I’m not sure I know the answer.”
He smiled. “That’s fine. I don’t really care what your reason is. I’m just glad you’re here.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “And why are you glad I’m here?”
He chuckled. “I’m not sure I know the answer to that one myself.”
“My, aren’t we two peas in a pod,” I said. I sipped the coffee and cocked one eyebrow at him. “So, we’ve established my relationship status. What’s yours?”
“Mine?” He shook his head. “I am as free as a bird.”
“No girlfriend? Or girlfriends? No serious significant other?”
He shook his head and gave me a sigh. “I have never been in a serious relationship,” he said. “Not once.”
“More of a ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’ kind of guy?” I’d done my research into Nick Patron’s social life online. He had been linked to lots of women, though none seriously.
“More of a ‘love ‘em and get back to work’ kind of guy,” he said. He smiled at me with his eyes. “Just never had the time for relationships before.”
“Before what?” I asked. Before he could answer, my phone buzzed in my purse on the foot of the bed. Nick heft up the purse and handed it to me. I tugged out my phone. It was Kyle.
“It’s work. I need to take this,” I said, tossing back the covers and sliding out of the bed naked. I did a little dance as Nick clicked his tongue as I trotted into the bathroom and closed the door.
I sat on the toilet and quietly answered the call. “Yes?”
“Fee… oh shit… Fee.” Kyle was crying. Really crying, not pretending to. “Fee, it’s mother. She’s had another heart attack. Jesus, Fee, they don’t think she’s gonna make it. Please come, right away.”
“Fiona, do you want me to heat up your coffee?” Nick called through the door.
“No thanks,” I said quietly, covering the phone with my hand. “I’m sorry, Kyle. I’ll be right there.”
I went back into the bedroom and quickly put on my clothes. Once again, I was running out on Nick after having amazing sex. This time, it couldn’t be helped. I could only hope he understood. I found him in the kitchen pouring himself another cup of coffee.
“Nick, I’m sorry but I have to go,” I said, giving him a pained look. “I swear, I’m not running out on you again, there’s just an emergency that I have to handle.”
He looked disappointed for a moment, then shrugged it off and took me in his arms for a big hug. He kissed the top of my head. “I hope this isn’t going to be how it works every time we have sex. Maybe next time you can hang around longer than a few minutes.”
“Yes, I would love that,” I said, not really knowing what to say. I wasn’t even sure there would be a next time, but this wasn’t the time for that conversation. I leaned up to kiss his cheek, grabbed my purse, and hurried out the door.
* * *
Ramona Cassidy died of a third heart attack, this one massive, before I reached the hospital. The ER doctor who had admitted her the night before met me in the hallway and gave me the news. Large clots had blocked both her arteries and before they could get her to the operating room she had died. I didn’t ask if the angioplasty would have saved her
life. We both knew that it would have, but there was no need to say it. I was sure Edward felt bad enough. There was no need to rub salt into his wounds, even if his indecisiveness inadvertently caused his wife’s death.
I pushed open the door to Ramona’s room slowly, dreading what awaited me on the other side. Ramona was on her back in the bed, eyes closed, mouth open, covers up to her chin. Edward was sitting in a chair beside the bed. Kyle was beside him with a hand resting on his father’s shoulder. They were both crying in that quiet, stern way men who claimed they never cried, cried.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, stepping to the other side of the bed. I put my hand on Ramona’s forehead. It was cold and hard. I glanced at Kyle and Edward. Edward was weeping with his hands and forehead resting on Ramona’s arm. Kyle looked at me through big tears and just shook his head. I felt sorry for him, even after everything he had done. When he came around the bed with his arms outstretched, I took him into my arms and rested my head against his shoulder. I began to cry with him. We remained like that, sobbing, until the orderlies came in to take Ramona’s body away.
“I can’t be alone this weekend,” Kyle said, wiping his nose and eyes on his silk handkerchief. “Please, Fee, let me come home. Stay with me, just until mother is laid to rest.”
I didn’t want to, but I didn’t have the heart to say no.
An hour later I as in the back of the limo next to Kyle, headed for home. Danny O was in the seat next to me. I felt as if I was being driven back in time, leaving my newfound freedom, and my wonderful new lover, behind.
CHAPTER TWELVE: Nick
“How was your weekend?” Jesse asked as he breezed into my office just after eight on Monday morning. Jesse’s hair was nearly white now, though his face didn’t sport a single line or crease, other than those from the battles of his youth. He kept his hair buzzed short, professional looking, he called it. He was dressed in a gray suit and a black collarless shirt. A thick gold cross hung from a gold chain around his neck. He looked nothing like the guy in sweats I’d met in that dive bar ten years ago. Jesse sat down in a chair across from my desk and crossed his legs. He bounced his foot and gave me a smile.
“My weekend was interesting,” I said, turning away from the computer to face him. “I met a woman.”
“Of course, you did,” he said with a chuckle. “What else is new.”
I gave him a smile as Uma, my assistant, came in carrying a tray with two cups of strong black coffee. This was our morning ritual: bullshitting over two black coffees before the day began. As busy as we were, it was about the only alone time Jesse and I got anymore.
Jesse took his coffee from the tray and set it on the desk to cool. He spread out his dark hands. “So, tell me about her.”
“Well, let’s see, she is gorgeous, blond, blue-eyed, nice smile.”
“Tits?” Jesse asked, cupping his hands to his chest. “You know I’m a tit man.”
I grinned at him. “Yes, she has tits. Quite nice ones, in fact.”
“That’s good to know.”
“Is that all you guys think about?” I looked up to see Jenna coming into the room, rolling her eyes at her uncle and me. Jenna was tall and thin, dark-skinned, with hair that was woven into dreadlocks that hung to her collar. She has a toothy smile and eyes that could cut into you like a knife. She had a stack of mail and a cup of coffee of her own. I nodded and she set the mail on the corner of the desk.
“And good morning to you,” I said, leaning back to lace my fingers behind my neck. “Anything in that stack there I need to look at?”
“No, but there was something online I thought you’d want to see,” she said, sitting in the chair next to Jesse. She opened her iPad and flipped through it for a moment, then turned it around and handed it to me. “I think you knew this lady. She was the one who put on the fundraiser you went to Friday night.”
I frowned at the screen. It was a page from the city newspaper’s website. The bold headline read: Entrepreneur & Socialite Ramona Cassidy Dead At 65. I took the iPad and leaned back in my chair. “Son of a bitch…”
“Who is it?” Jesse asked.
“Ramona Cassidy died of a heart attack on Saturday,” I said with a deep frown. “I just saw her Friday night at the benefit and she looked fine. Son of a bitch.”
“Did you know her well?” Jenna asked, sipping her coffee with her eyebrows up.
Jesse answered the question. “Ramona Cassidy and her husband own Cassidy Event Management.”
“Ramona booked our first event in the city ten years ago,” I said, scanning through the first couple of paragraphs of the story. “She was instrumental in helping Jesse and I get Patron Sports off the ground. And now she’s gone.”
“I thought Kyle Cassidy ran that company,” Jenna said.
“He acts like he owns it,” Jesse said, making a sour face. “But it belongs to his father, Edward. Who also has one foot in the grave.”
“Stop,” I said, scolding him. I handed the iPad back to Jenna. “Send flowers to the funeral home. Find out what arrangements have been made.” I nodded to Jesse. “We should attend the funeral.”
“Yes, we should,” Jesse said with a sigh. “Sad. She was a nice lady. And the only one in that family that didn’t crawl around on the ground on their belly like a motherfucking snake.”
“That’s the truth,” I said, leaning back to rub my eyes. “I hate to think what will happen when Edward turns the reins fully over to Kyle. God knows what it will cost us to book events in the city.”
“Oh, one other thing,” Jenna said, back on the iPad. “You asked for a background check on a Fiona Kassidy with a K who works for the Northeast Animal Rescue Fund.”
“Is that the new girl?” Jesse asked.
I arched my eyebrows at Jenna. “And?”
“And there is no such person living in the city that I can find,” Jenna said, sliding through the screens to find the email I’d sent her. “I couldn’t find a Fiona Kassidy with a K, and I talked to the director at the Northeast Animal Rescue Fund and they said their PR rep is a guy named Wallace. However…” She handed the iPad back to me with the news story still displayed.
“I saw this already,” I said.
“You didn’t read it all. Scroll to the end.”
I frowned at the screen and scrolled to the end of the story. I read out loud. “Mrs. Cassidy is survived by her husband, Edward, and one son, Kyle, who is married to…” I looked up at Jenna. “Fiona Cassidy.”
“There are pictures on the next screen,” she said, directing me with a stiff finger in the air. “Scroll to the left.”
“I know how to use a fucking iPad…” When the next screen came up, there were images of the Cassidy clan at various social functions: Ramona and Edward, along with their only son Kyle and his lovely wife, Fiona. Fiona Cassidy.
Fiona Kassidy with a K was really Fiona Cassidy with a C.
Fiona Cassidy was Kyle Cassidy’s wife.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Fiona
The next few days passed quickly, but the nights seemed to drag on forever. Kyle was back home, his suitcases stacked neatly in a corner, sleeping alone in the master bedroom. I slept in the guest room and refused to let him near me after our initial hugging and crying jag. We were cordial, but we both knew it was over. Kyle was resistant at first, wanting to plead his case and offer his deepest, sincerest apologies, but his words fell on deaf ears. I promised to stay with him until his mother was buried. That would happen today at two. The moment Ramona was in the ground, our marriage, and all pretense of happiness, would be over.
As you would expect, Edward was a wreck. He hadn’t eaten or slept much since his wife’s death. I worried about him, but his doctor, the one who was still sunning himself in Antigua when Ramona died, assured me that Edward was strong and would survive his mourning.
Kyle drifted around the penthouse like a ghost seeking the afterlife, quietly, deliberately, without much to say after I told him his words had no effect on me. I focuse
d my attention on making the funeral arrangements and fielding calls from other family and close friends. It felt like I had talked to everyone Ramona had ever known. She had impacted a lot of lives. Lots of people, including myself, would miss her and were sad that she was gone.
I refused to let Danny O stay in my home. He had his own apartment uptown. I told him to go home and stay there until his master whistled for him.
The one person I didn’t talk to was Nick. I didn’t call him because I had no idea what to say to him. When I left his apartment on Saturday, I told him I was leaving to take care of a work emergency. I had not called him since or tried to see him. I imagined by this point he had written me off as some flaky broad and wouldn’t speak to me. Our brief affair had ended before it even had the chance to get started, as did any chance of a future relationship.
A few minutes before two in the afternoon, Edward, Kyle, and I climbed into the back of the black limousine to head to the church downtown. Kyle insisted on letting Danny O ride with us. I was too tired to argue. Danny climbed in with a greasy smirk on his face and sat across from me. Danny’s neck pushed against the collar of his starched shirt. His rounded shoulders and thick arms made the jacket appear a size too small. He twitched now and then, jerking his right shoulder toward his ear. He’d shake his head as if to ward off the spasm and glance at me to see if I was watching him. I avoided his eyes by staring at the tissue I was wadding into a ball between my gloved hands in my lap.