by Lexi Whitlow
His hazel eyes shift and change, green to brown. Brown to green. He looks away. “Yeah,” he says. There’s a long pause. “Who says I want her at that school? Public school system was good enough for me.”
“She’s not at a public school right now, and it’s the middle of the year. If she’s going to live with you, she needs an easy transition. Like I said, a good faith effort. That’s what Rhiannon called it.” I think for a second, looking over at Liam. His long, muscular body stretches out over the seat of the car, his knees hitting the back of the passenger side seat. “You’re making an effort. They’ll see that.”
“I should have done it before,” he says, looking out of the window. “Gotten a place that Marta could actually bring Brie. By the way—” he stops and looks over at me.
“What else?” My stomach drops. “I don’t like your ‘by the way.’”
“We’re meeting with the lawyer after this, and then you get to meet Brie. I thought it would be next weekend, but fucking Marta says she needs to bring her along to see the lawyers. Before she’ll even consider letting Brie see us again.”
“Christ on a bike, Liam. Why in the hell didn’t you tell me?” I groan and throw my head back against the seat. “Jesus. Give me a little time to prep for these things.”
He doesn’t answer me directly—again. An irritating fucking habit if you ask me. Instead, he looks out of the window as we cross over into Queens. “I fucking hate Brooklyn. And I hate Queens too. It’s the new Brooklyn. Fucking hipsters.”
I groan. “I’m going along with all of this and I don’t know why—and then you spring this newest shit on me like I’m some idiot who’s going to do whatever you say.”
Liam looks at me and grins. “You know why you’re going along with all of this. It’s pretty fucking clear you want this magic—” Liam looks at the Lyft driver and then leans into me. “Cock,” he whispers.
My cheeks color, and warmth spreads through my body. “I don’t know for sure if it’s magic. You haven’t seen fit to test it on me yet.”
“I’m going to,” he says. “And it definitely is.”
When he says it, there’s laughter in his voice, like there was when I first met him. I liked that sound. The goofy sense of humor that goes along with his New York accent and his inexplicable hatred of all things trendy.
He brings his hand to touch my leg, resting just below the hemline of my skirt. It’s not an apology, not exactly. Liam Dougherty hasn’t apologized to me for any of this. It doesn’t seem like that’s the kind of guy he is.
I add to my mental checklist for a long-term life partner. Must be able to apologize.
His hand inches higher, and a thrill runs through me. We’re pulling into the neighborhood my friend found—cheaper than just about anywhere in Manhattan and close enough to Brie’s school to get her there and back in ten minutes. Not so far away from the bar that he couldn’t get there by subway in an hour.
This is a sacrifice he can make for his kid. It isn’t even a sacrifice at all. Fucking asshole. He should be bowing down and thanking me—
His hand is warm. Hot. It stays, pressed against my thigh, like a reminder that he’s in this with me. That I’m here, with him, for a reason. A favor. Something that will stick in my memory forever. I’m venturing out of my comfort zone. This is for me as much as it is for him.
“This is it,” the driver says, pulling up to a tiny townhouse. The bottom floor was converted to an apartment with two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a little family room just big enough for a sofa and a chair. Cute. Homey. Comfortable. The countertops might still be Formica, and the floor might slope to one side, but it’s safe and warm and far better for someone with a kid.
When I see it—really look at it—as we pull up, I realize I picked somewhere I might want to live. Even though I won’t be living here. Not really.
I look over at Liam as the car parks. He opens the door slowly, his hand falling away from my thigh. He grabs my hand and pulls me out with him, looking back at me for a second. The impression I get of him in that moment is one of curiosity, interest, maybe even excitement. The expression on his face doesn’t match his rumblings from before. It signals something hidden deeper inside of him.
Maybe.
The driver pulls away, and we’re left standing there together. I realize we’re holding hands, like a real couple. That thought makes me woozy.
Being with him goes from being infuriating to tantalizing in a matter of moments.
He walks to the stone steps, still holding my hand. “Where’s the realtor?”
“She said she couldn’t make it. Told me the combo to get in. She’s a friend of Rhiannon’s so—” I fumble with the lock on the door, entering the code twice before it pops open and delivers a worn looking key. The door sticks when I try it, so I jiggle the handle. When it opens, there’s a change in the air. It’s warmer, quieter, inviting. “So, we can look at it ourselves.”
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly as I walk inside.
Behind me, the door closes and locks. Liam is silent, walking over the slightly crooked, worn hardwoods, over to the kitchen with its old gas burners. The Formica is stained very slightly from years of use. There are some scratches in the kitchen tile, and some cracks in the walls. But it feels nice, like a place we could live.
A place he could live. After this is all over.
He turns to me and smiles. “This is good. I gotta hand it to you.”
“Even though it’s in Queens—”
“Don’t mention that. You’ll ruin the moment.” He takes me in his arms and lifts me onto the kitchen countertop. There’s a window behind me that looks out into a tiny backyard. “And besides, I think I could pretend I’m somewhere else in here.”
“Like where?”
“Like not in Queens.” He kisses me, slowly, movements languid, like we’ve got all the time in the world.
“Hey, I thought we needed to meet with the lawyer.”
“Not until one,” he mumbles. His lips trail over my neck, hands searching beneath my shirt. His fingers unhook my bra. “I’d like to take this opportunity…” He lifts a hand to my breast and pinches one nipple, rolling it between his fingers. Before I can say anything, he’s lifting my shirt over my shoulders and throws it to the floor, along with my bra. “To show you more about my magic cock.”
“Come on,” I whisper. “That’s not a good idea. We don’t live here. I mean—this isn’t our place. The realtor does have a key too. She’s not in the area, but you never know for sure. Shit. What if someone else—”
“No one else lives here,” he replies. “Not yet. And besides, it’s ours. We’ll sign a lease today. After the lawyer.”
“I have two other places to look at. One in Brooklyn—”
“Fuck no,” he says, lifting my skirt and tugging at my panties. “No fucking Brooklyn. This is the place. This is the one that’s closest to Brie’s school? Close to Marta’s. And my Ma’s old church, I think. We’ll sign the lease today.”
“You mean you will.”
“You should too. Sign the lease. Make sure I can’t kick you out.”
I balk at that, putting my hands on top of his. “It’s twenty-seven hundred a month. Are you just doing all of this to get me to pay?”
He laughs and moves his hands away from mine, pulling my panties off and tossing them on the floor. “The bar isn’t just a fake job. I work my ass off. I’ve been putting money away for two years. And more before—” He stops, moving his fingers to my aching sex. “I have plenty. For as long as you’re here, I’m paying for you.” He kisses me in the hollow of my neck. “For your rent. Your meals. Like a real couple.”
I’d like to tell him how that makes me feel—warm inside but also deeply anxious.
Seconds ago, he was giving me shit for making him even go to Queens. Now he’s ripping my clothes off and feeling me up on a kitchen counter.
It’s troubling, this thing growing between us. If it’s not real, the
n what is it?
Two fingers slide inside of me, making a beckoning motion against my g-spot. Lightning strikes through my veins, smoldering heat licking over my thighs. My focus is growing blurry around the edges. My anger is fading from a deep, furious red to light pink. And then to nothing, as heat sings through me.
“I shouldn’t sign it,” I say, a little moan in my voice. His palm rests against my clit, his fingers drenched in wetness. “We’re not a real couple.”
“Real enough,” he says. “I’m starting to know what you like, anyway. My little librarian. Pure and innocent. But she secretly—” He leans in, the base of his palm resting against my clit now, my legs spread over the kitchen counter. “She wants to fuck.”
“I’m a writer. Not a librarian. I’m not even a writer. Just an assistant.” I laugh as I say it, and I throw my arms and legs around him. It feels good to be wanted like this, to know that his cock is pressing against my thigh, that he could fuck me at any moment. The woman who was heretofore unfuckable.
“I know what you are. I don’t get that shit confused.” He shifts his hand and lets his thumb work against my clit. White hot flame rises in me, focused on the spots his fingers find, the places he touches me, where no man has ever touched me before. I moan softly, leaning into his shoulder.
“Liam, come on. I can make an appearance when and where I need to—” I stop, panting, moaning. He has me close and he knows it. “Fuck. Just listen to me—Are you going to fuck me?” I almost blush when I say it, but we’ve been building to this. He’s teased me, taunted me, made me want it more than I imagined I would.
It strikes me. I’m invested now. How much deeper will I go when we start sleeping together?
Still, there’s nothing I’m going to do to stop it now. It’s clear to me—I’m in this. And I’ll see it through to the end, whenever that is.
“Not today,” he growls. He brings me to the edge with his fingers, kissing my neck, his mouth moving down to one nipple, his other hand holding me up as the sensation builds in my body. Everything grows tighter and tighter until it feels like I’m about to snap.
“Please.” I hear myself saying the word. It wasn’t a conscious decision—to want this, to beg for it. The need is so deep that the words come out anyway, unexpected.
“Please what?” His voice is gruff.
“Please… make it today. I want you to fuck me today. Here.” My head swims as I’m saying it. This isn’t our apartment—and shit, wouldn’t we get arrested or something if the realtor caught us? If the landlord came by? The heat builds, pooling between my legs, centered on his fingers.
My orgasm explodes through me, the wave so strong that my brain goes blank for a second. I hear myself calling out Liam’s name, and I’m babbling like a madwoman. My muscles pulse against his fingers, and I whimper as the pleasure crescendos and slowly fades away. “I want more,” I say without even thinking about it. “Make me come again. Fuck me. Please fuck me.”
“Not yet,” he says. He leans in and nips at my neck.
He takes his hand away, leaving me panting and exposed. “Come on,” I whimper. The thrumming in my body is maddening, taking me to heights I never experienced with Charlie. I want it again. Already. I didn’t experience much of anything at all with him—just sleepless nights when I’d get off by myself. Each experience unsatisfying.
Here, with Liam, this one moment is better than a thousand nights with Charlie. Liam’s touch trumps all the chaste kisses and promises of a future together.
He pulls me from the counter, wrapping my legs around his waist, carrying me to the back bedroom. “We haven’t seen the master bedroom yet, little miss.” He kisses me on my neck as he carries me. “Don’t worry—we’ll break it in when we do.”
I think of him, his hips thrusting between my legs. His cock, filling me to the hilt. I want it, want him bare, coming inside of me. I’ve never had these thoughts before. The images, fast and intense, frighten me.
“You mean you’ll fuck me, right? Today?”
He doesn’t respond. Instead he carries me into the room and puts me down on my knees. The gray carpet is new and soft. The light filters into the windows, illuminating both of our bodies. If someone came and looked through the blinds, they’d see Liam unbuckling himself, releasing his cock and stroking himself in front of me.
“Pull your skirt up for me, sweetheart. Let me see your pussy.” I turn red, but I do as he says. I always do. It’s become a habit. It’s become my reality.
I kneel before him, totally exposed, skirt lifted around my hips.
“And? What do I do now?” I look up at him. If anyone had asked me a year ago if I imagined myself here, my mouth watering at the sight of this man’s cock. An ex-con, a bad boy. A man with tattoos and reckless mistakes and insane passion in his history.
I would have told them no. I’d be married to Charlie, trying to make a baby. Maybe writing a book. A boring one. One with no experience behind it.
But those are all dreams that didn’t happen—and what’s more, they’re dreams that are far less exciting than my reality now, at this very moment.
“Now? I’ll teach you how to suck my cock.” He strokes himself again, tugging his pants down to the floor and stepping forward. I haven’t seen it in the light of day—it’s huge. I swallow hard, anxiety and excitement swirling together in the pit of my stomach. “It’s a skill every good girl should know. And you’re a good girl, aren’t you? Good for your man?”
I nod. He places his cock against my lips, and I open my mouth, pressing my tongue to his hot skin and wrapping my lips around the head.
“But your man was never good to you, was he?” Liam brings his hand to my head and brushes his fingers through my hair. It sends shivers down my spine, my body lit on fire from the inside. “I will be. I might be cocky. I might hate this fucking neighborhood. I might drive you crazy.” He thrusts forward, making my mouth open wider. I taste him, salty and sharp. A groan escapes from his lips, deep and throaty and rich. “I might be an arrogant asshole.” He shudders. “But I treat my women good. Especially if they’ve got a mouth as pretty as yours.”
I swirl my tongue over his cock, and I close my eyes. This is a visceral, deep pleasure—taking him, letting him thrust into the back of my mouth as he holds my hair, pulling it. I moan against his cock, and he grunts in response. My eyes are watering, tears streaming down my cheeks as he hits the back of my throat. But I find I like this particular brand of discomfort—my nipples stiffen in the chilled air of the room, and my sex aches for him. I feel myself getting even wetter than I was before. My body is hot, ready, anticipating.
I bring my hand to the cleft between my legs, finding my clit. I let my fingers flick over it, heightening my own pleasure as I suck his cock. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, chills running up and down my spine. I start to come, sensation overtaking me, waves of release hitting me so hard I feel like I might temporarily go insane.
“You like that? Sucking my cock? Coming for me while you taste me?”
I can only moan and mumble against his skin, and he groans at the vibrations.
“God, I’m close,” he says, his cock moving faster now. I bring my hand to the base of his cock, stroking it tentatively as he fucks my mouth. “That’s perfect. You’re doing so good. So fucking sweet.”
I taste him then, stronger. Sharp and musky. He moans, fingers tangled in my hair, pulling it hard. The mascara I put on earlier is ruined, running down my cheeks. I don’t care—I have no capacity now for modesty. All I want is for him to come, to fill my mouth, my throat. To give him the pleasure I’ve been dreaming about since I met him. He thrusts hard, once more, and his essence fills my mouth.
“Swallow it,” he groans. “I want to feel you swallow.” I obey, and he groans again, a shiver running through him. “That’s my good girl. You like being a little fuck toy, don’t you?”
A tremor of uncertainty hits me. Do I? Is this what I am? Secretly? Who I am? Did I stay her
e today instead of bolting because this is exactly what I want?
He pulls away, and I lick my lips, still hungry for his taste. I look up at him, and slowly, I nod.
Liam falls to the floor beside me, pulling me into his arms. His taste is heavy on my lips. And to my surprise, I like it. A sensual secret, a brief sign of what took place in this room with him.
I keep it close, a memory for when we’re done. When our time wears thin. He’s told me it will—he’s not a man who stays.
Chapter Nine
Liam
Skye’s face is flushed when we leave the apartment.
“So, this is really what you want? You don’t want to look at the other ones?”
I turn to her and take her by the shoulders. “Yeah, really. I like this place.” I smile. “Besides, it’s where you gave your first blow job.” My cock throbs at the thought of it, at the messiness of her hair, her pink cheeks.
She bites her lip hard and shushes me. “Come on, someone might hear you.”
“What? We’re wholesome. A couple moving into an apartment in fucking Queens of all places. We haven’t even fucked. Can’t get more wholesome than that.”
“We should fix that,” she whispers. A shiver runs through my body and reaches the base of my spine. “You have to tell me when.”
I take her in my arms and kiss her, pulling her close. “We should. When the time is right. Besides, I like making you wait. Something sexy about that. Keep the virgin waiting.”
“Look at you with all this romantic stuff,” she says. “Someone might say you like me.” She looks at me, horrified when she says it, like she’s said something wrong. Something tightens deep in my chest, causing me an almost physical pain. “Sorry,” she adds.