by Sofia Tate
And then you press the heel of your hand into my mound, developing a syncopated rhythm with your fingers.
I start to jerk my hips forward in time with you to meet each thrust of your fingers, your hand angling against my clit so perfectly.
I'm so close, riding such a wave of pleasure, sending me soaring until I shout out your name, soaking your hand with my cream.
My heart is racing, my breath panting.
You remove your fingers from my soaked pussy, pressing them to my lips. I take them wholly into my mouth with both hands, sucking on them as I bore my softened eyes into yours.
“Beautiful,” you whisper in a rasp.
I glance down at your trousers, now tented by your bulging erection.
I pull your fingers from my mouth with a pop. “Quid pro quo, Sir.”
You give me a knowing smirk as I unbuckle my seat belt and lean over the console, giving you a quick deep kiss before placing myself carefully over your thighs. I untuck your shirt from your trousers, nuzzling your muscled abs with my nose, my cheek, luxuriating in their warmth, licking and kissing the entirety of your abdomen, your hand gently caressing the top of my head as I perform my ministrations.
I look at up you, your warm blue eyes searing into mine. Your jaw is clenched. No words are necessary.
I sit up slightly as I slowly begin to unzip your pants. Your cock springs free, hard and begging for my mouth. I give you a quick sly smile and start to lick the crown, sweeping my tongue across the top, licking up the pre-cum that has already gathered, humming my pleasure at the feel of silk over bone in my mouth.
I pull back slightly, then take a deep breath as I swallow you, sliding my mouth up and down your cock, pumping you simultaneously with my hand.
At this angle, your engorged shaft touches the back of my throat as I breathe through my nose.
Your hand fists my hair, wordlessly telling me to go faster. I follow your signal and speed up with my mouth.
Under my chest, I can feel your muscles begin to lock. Your grunts fill the interior of the car, arousing me to my core, knowing I can do this to you, for you.
A loud growl releases from you as you explode into my mouth. I swallow as much as I can, but some of your cum escapes, trickling down my chin.
“Such a good girl,” you tell me, running your fingers through my hair.
“Always, Sir. Thank you. I aim to please. Give me a sec.”
I lean back and reach for my purse, grabbing a pack of tissues so I can clean us up. I wipe us off, then look up at you and envelop your face with my hands, placing a soft kiss on your lips.
“I enjoyed that,” I inform you.
“Likewise,” you reply.
“I have an idea for us.”
“Do share.”
“Car sex.”
Your eyes widen in surprise. “Very naughty. But I’d like to point out the obvious that we did just have car sex.”
“I know, Sir, but that was oral. It still counts, of course, but I meant vaginal. You up for it?”
You raise your eyebrow at me with your stupidest-question-ever look that I’ve become accustomed to by now.
I shake my head and smile. “Right. Silly me. It’s just that I never did it in a car.”
“Yes, privacy partitions can only hide so much in a limousine.”
“Ha ha. Very true. Which is why I’m making up for it now.”
You grin back at me. “I’m glad I could be of assistance.”
“Any specific place in mind?”
You smile wickedly at me. “I have a few.”
Suddenly, car engines around us come to life. You lean in and kiss me. “Buckle up, baby.”
I give you a wide smile. “Yes, Sir.” I get back in my seat and lock myself into place.
You start the car again. I look out at the sea of cars, now starting to advance forward.
I look down when I feel your right hand take my left, placing it on your right thigh, where it remains for the rest of the drive home.
9
Aiden
I take another swig of my beer while I wait for Seb to arrive at our favorite dive bar in the East Village where the drinks are cheap and the jukebox only plays classic rock.
I reread Seb’s text on my phone. Need to talk ASAP. Can you meet me at the Crown Lounge?
He’s never sent an ASAP text to me before, so I knew something was wrong. I got in my truck and crossed the river into Manhattan from Long Island City.
The young prince saunters in, letting in the daylight, making my eyes squint.
“Finally! What took your ass so long? Are all of your Brooks Brothers shirts at the cleaners?”
Seb’s lips are pressed together, pulling up the stool next to me. “I need a drink, man.”
I can tell he’s not kidding. I’ve never seen him so serious before. So despondent.
I signal to the bartender, gesturing toward my glass and holding up two fingers.
Seb leans his elbows on the bar, running his hands roughly over his face. “I got the speech, Aiden. The ‘Your Playboy Days Are Over and It’s Time to Grow Up Because You’re a Parker’ speech from my dad.”
Two tall pints are placed in front of us, froth still spilling down the sides of the glasses.
I watch as Seb takes a long sip of his drink. “You knew it was coming. What brought it on? Bea’s forthcoming engagement?”
Seb puts down his glass. “Yeah, and thanks a lot by the way for not telling me the second you heard about that happening.”
“How the hell was I supposed to know your family didn’t keep you in the loop? Christ, rumors about them are all over social media.” I pause before asking my next question. “How is Bea doing?”
“Fuck if I know. She’s so quiet. She’s not talking to anyone, not even me. It’s like she’s resigned herself to it and accepted her fate. Porter Thorne, that geek. Of all people. I remember him.”
“Is he a bad person?” I ask nonchalantly, just to get any information I can out of him.
“Nah. He’s all right. We’ve known his family for a long time. Friends by default, I guess. But I hate that they’re doing this to her. It really kills me.”
I know exactly how you feel, brother.
I’ve texted Bea every day since our kiss in her bedroom, something flirty just so she knows I’m not giving up on her: Thinking about you, I can’t wait for a repeat of that kiss. But she’s ignored my texts, every single one.
I might have to change my strategy.
Seb takes another long draw of his drink. “Let’s talk about something else. Oh, hey, I meant to ask you. On New Year’s Eve, there’s a benefit at the Waldorf, forget what it’s for. Anyway, my family bought a table for it, and I need you there as my wingman.”
I shake my head. I know from experience what it’s like to be Seb’s wingman—having to make small talk with the girl’s best friend while Seb plays the one he’s interested in, all the while ensuring he doesn’t get drunk off his ass and make a total fool of himself.
“No, thanks. I think I’ll pass.”
“Shit, man. Bea’s on the planning committee for it, and—”
Oh, fuck. That’s right. The thought of her all dressed up in a sexy dress and fuck-me stilettos…and there’s my new strategy.
“Yeah, okay. Why not? Next round’s on me,” I declare, a huge smile plastered across my face.
“What are you watching?”
I look up at my father from the leather recliner in front of the TV. I can barely move, thanks to the beers I had with Seb, then dealing with a surprise OSHA inspection at the site, grateful that I got a huge coffee from Dunkin’ to sober up before I got back in my truck. It was a shit day all around. I nuked a frozen pizza for dinner because that was all I could handle.
“The Departed,” I mumble under my breath.
He settles down into the matching recliner next to me. “Excellent.”
Just as the Dropkick Murphys begin to launch into “I’m Shipping Up to Bost
on” during the opening credits, I check the Prose app on my phone. A green dot appears next to 10280girl’s profile.
She’s online.
I mutter an excited “Yes!” under my breath, jumping up from the recliner.
“Where you going?” Pop asks me curiously.
“Be right back,” I shout over my shoulder.
I rush up to my room and sit down at my desk, powering on my laptop and clicking for the Prose website.
My heart pounding, I sign in and immediately click the IM link on her profile.
“Hey 10280girl. I’ve been thinking about you. I enjoyed ‘The Confession’ and ‘Quid Pro Quo.’ You totally aroused me. And I think it’s perfectly fine for you not to have had so many lovers.”
Come on, Buzzy.
A few seconds, a full minute…and then the bubbles appear and I fist-pump the air. Only two words appear in the message box. “You do?”
I lean back in my chair.
So sweet. Oh God, you’re killing me, baby.
GalwayPlayer: “Of course I do. I’m glad you had the courage to open up about yourself.”
10280girl: “Thank you. So, I’m guessing from your name that you’re Irish. Your family is from Galway?”
Cork, actually.
GalwayPlayer: “Yes.”
10280girl: “So, the player part. Does that mean you play a sport or that you date a lot of women?”
I laugh out loud to myself.
No, Buzzy, you’re the only woman I want to date.
GalwayPlayer: “I play rugby. And I don’t date a lot of women.”
10280girl: “Really? No luck, not even with that famous Irish charm?”
Fuck, I wish I could spank you so hard right now.
GalwayPlayer: “I’m very selective.”
10280girl: “Got it. LOL. What do you do for a living?”
Shit! I never thought of an answer for that one.
Think…
GalwayPlayer: “I’m a high school English teacher.”
10280girl: “Where?”
Damn it.
GalwayPlayer: “On Long Island.”
10280girl: “That’s so nice. Who are your favorite writers?”
I exhale in relief. Finally, something I don’t have to make up.
GalwayPlayer: “Steinbeck. Beckett. Flannery O’Connor. Let me guess. You’re a Jane Austen fan?”
10280girl: “I am, but lately, I’ve been more into the Brontë sisters and their brooders. You know, Heathcliff and Mr. Rochester.”
I grin widely. Why am I not surprised, Buzzy?
GalwayPlayer: “So, you like them dark and complicated?”
10280girl: “Hmmm, more like complex.”
Good answer, baby.
GalwayPlayer: “Judging from your posts, I’m not surprised. I want to ask you a question.”
10280girl: “Okay.”
GalwayPlayer: “Is there someone specific you’re writing about in your posts or just a generalization?”
I sit back in my chair.
Talk to me, Buzzy. Tell me.
Finally…
10280girl: “I write about someone I have a crush on, but we can never be together. Is that okay?”
No, of course it isn’t fucking okay, because we are going to be together. I want you, Bea.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts.
GalwayPlayer: “It’s fine. I’m not offended. You can talk to me. Why can’t you be together?”
10280girl: “Circumstances beyond my control.”
I clench my fists. Fucking bullshit.
GalwayPlayer: “So this is why you come here? To meet someone without any strings attached?”
10280girl: “I suppose. But honestly, it’s just an outlet for me to express my true self.”
GalwayPlayer: “And you can’t do that otherwise?”
10280girl: “Not really. Everyone expects things from me.”
GalwayPlayer: “Everyone, meaning family?”
10280girl: “Yes.”
“Fuck this,” I hiss under my breath.
For fuck’s sake, you’re a grown woman, Bea. You don’t have to do everything your family asks of you.
I take a deep breath before I start typing again.
Don’t be a shit to her. She needs a friend.
GalwayPlayer: “You don’t have to go into details, but just know you can be yourself with me. I’m a good listener.”
10280girl: “Really?”
I can picture her right now, sitting in her bedroom on Park Avenue, tears forming in her shining green eyes, touched that a stranger, a man she’s never met before, would be so selfless with her and not ask for anything in return.
GalwayPlayer: “Really. I mean it.”
10280girl: “Okay. Look, I hate to do this, but I have to go.”
GalwayPlayer: “Just one more question before you go.”
10280girl: “Yes?”
GalwayPlayer: “Would you like to go exclusive on here so only we can see each other’s posts?”
A minute passes, but it feels longer.
Take a chance. Please, baby.
Bubbles appear. She’s replying.
10280girl: “I’d like that.”
“Yes!” I shout out to the air.
GalwayPlayer: “Thank you, 10280girl. You’ve made my night.”
10280girl: “I’m pleased to know that. Enjoy your evening. We’ll talk again soon.”
Bet your sweet, lovely, heart-shaped ass we will.
10
Bea
A sharp pain throbs on the left side of my head. A cacophony of sounds assaults me inside the cavernous space of the ballroom at the Waldorf, ranging from the clinking of crystal glasses, the incessant stream of conversation around me, and the thirty-two-piece orchestra on stage belting out a Cole Porter classic.
A female voice behind me shouts above the din, “Have you seen these tacky New Year’s Eve decorations? This is the Waldorf, not Times Square!”
I turn around to see who said that. I take a step forward to confront her, but Marisol jumps to her feet, holding me back by the wrist. “Let it go, chica!”
I look across at the tables festooned with party favors ranging from hats to horns to celebrate at midnight.
I turn back to my best friend, dressed in a fire-engine-red gown that perfectly accentuates her curves. “It’s fucking New Year’s Eve! What did she expect?”
“Exactly! So just forget it and enjoy the party.”
“I agree, sis.”
I turn around to see Seb standing in front of me with a redhead and a blonde attached to him, his arms lounging casually over their shoulders. But my attention switches to the bowtie hanging around his neck, a large tacky accessory with blinking lights lining its edges.
“Sebastian, what the hell is that?” I ask, pointing at his neck.
“It’s New Year’s Eve, Bea. I thought it was appropriate for the occasion.” He smirks back at me.
“Only you could pull something off like that. You and your bowties.”
“It’s all in the charm, sister of mine.”
“Seb, I’m thirsty,” the redhead whines.
“Well, then, we must rectify that situation, shouldn’t we?” He steers the women toward the bar, giving me a wave over the blonde’s shoulder. “Happy New Year!”
I turn back to Marisol, both of us simultaneously rolling our eyes. “He’ll never change,” I tell her.
She shakes her head. “I disagree. I bet you the minute he really falls in love, he’ll get knocked on his ass, and then he’ll really be in trouble.”
I laugh at her absurd notion. “Yeah, we’ll see.”
We sit down again, and I sip some champagne to ease my nerves.
“Is there anything I can do? Do you need anything?” Porter asks me, his clammy hand resting on my bare shoulder.
I completely forgot he was here tonight, and he wasn’t helping matters. I accepted that he had a little crush on me, but I didn’t realize how serious it w
as until tonight, constantly checking on me, hovering over me, nervously fiddling with his tie. I know he’s just being nice, but every time he’s near me, I feel smothered.
“I’m fine, Porter. Really. I just want to make sure tonight goes smoothly.”
“Oh yes, yes…of course.”
“Just relax.”
Before he can reply, a noxious flowery perfume assaults my nose. “Beatrice, darling, what a splendid evening you’ve created! You’ve really outdone yourself. The committee is so thrilled with how much we’ve raised tonight!”
When I turn my head to the right, a chain of diamonds nearly blinds me. Decked out in her finest couture, Penelope Covington gives me a double kiss on my cheeks. I cringe from her close proximity, knowing I’ll probably have a sneezing fit any minute.
“It’s like a metropolitan winter wonderland in here!” she continues as I nod my head in acknowledgment. “The flowers, the topiaries, the bright lights…”
As she drones on and on, a shiver inexplicably runs up my spine all the way to the back of my neck. The air shifts in the room and everything becomes white noise. The room stills.
Over my shoulder, at one of the exit doors, Aiden is staring right at me.
My breath catches as I take in his appearance.
Dressed in a tuxedo that accentuates his perfectly sculpted body, his dark hair swiped away from his forehead, he is the epitome of a man who exudes confidence and knows what he wants.
And what he wants is me.
Marisol turns her head to see where my attention is fixed. “Holy shit.”
At the sight of him, I turn wet from arousal and desire. His face is still covered in scruff. He didn’t bother to shave again, which only heightens my hunger for him.
Suddenly he begins to walk toward me, his eyes on nobody else in the room. My heart pounds rapidly inside my chest. As much as I want him, I fear what will happen if I do give myself to him, how many lives would be ruined, how my family’s image would be forever tarnished.
I pivot my head away from Aiden, fake laughing at something Penelope says when I sense him standing right behind me.
“Good evening, everyone,” his deep voice booms out toward my tablemates.