by Aston, Jana
That was the saddest Thanksgiving ever.
The GPS is directing me to his condo. I tap my thumbs on the steering wheel as I drive and I get progressively more pissed off as the miles pass. The garage door at 10 Rittenhouse Square opens automatically as I pull up. I assume this fancy car has a sensor to match his fancy condo. I park in Luke's spot and think.
What am I supposed to do now? Did Luke indicate if he'd see me later? I have his keys. Did he send me home with his car to wait for him? Am I supposed to let myself into his place or did he just want me out of his parents' house?
I'm over this day. I lock the car and take the elevator to the lobby. I know there's a concierge, I've seen him when we've walked through the lobby to the adjoining Italian restaurant Serafina. It occurs to me now how convenient it is for Luke to take me out to dinner at a restaurant in the lobby of his condo. We go from dinner to fucking without ever leaving the building.
My heels click across the empty marble lobby. It's so quiet, everyone has somewhere to be for the holiday. I set the keys on the counter in front of the concierge, a well-dressed man I estimate to be in his forties.
"Would you see that these get to Dr. Miller?"
"Of course, Miss Tisdale." He's the model of professionalism, impeccable in a gray suit and black tie, not a hair out of place. If he finds it odd that I'm leaving Luke's keys with him he doesn't show it, but maybe this is a common occurrence.
Wait. "How do you know my name?"
"It's my job to know." He offers a polite smile and I wonder how many names he's had to memorize. "Do you need a ride somewhere?"
"No, thank you. I can get a cab out front."
"We have a courtesy town car on site," he says, picking up a phone behind the desk. "I insist."
I'm not going to bicker with him about how I get home so I gracefully accept his offer and head out front, where a black Mercedes is already idling at the curb. The doorman holds the car door open for me so I slide in and give the driver my address.
* * *
Back in my room, I shut the door behind me and lean against it. It's oddly quiet, most everyone gone for the long weekend. Jean won't be back until Sunday. I straighten and check my phone. No messages. I kick off my heels and peel off my nylons before unzipping my dress.
Rummaging through my dresser, I look for something comforting to wear and find a small wrapped package on top of my flannel pajama bottoms. I slip the pants on with an old Penn tee shirt and sit on the edge of my bed with the package.
I tear off the wrapping paper and find a pair of brown socks. Huh, kind of boring. Then they unravel and I laugh for the first time all day. They're turkey socks. Toe socks, kind of like gloves for your feet. Each toe is a different color and there's a big silly turkey face on the top and gobble-gobble printed around the top.
I love them, and I love that Jean left me a little surprise just when I needed it most. I smile as I text Jean a thank you before crawling under the covers with a textbook.
* * *
A knock on the door wakes me. It's dark outside but my room is ablaze in light. I fell asleep studying with the lights on and now I'm disoriented. The knock sounds again as I walk over and swing the door open. Luke is filling my entire doorway, leaning one arm against the frame.
"How did you get in here?" I'm confused. You can't just walk into the building, even if you're a student.
He takes me in for a moment then places his hands on my hips, backs me into the room and shoves the door closed with his foot. Then his mouth is on mine like he's starving for me and I gasp when he wraps a hand in my hair and tugs, angling my head exactly how he wants it.
"Why did you leave?" He stops kissing me and stares at me, waiting for an answer.
I pull away from him and put some space between us. "How did you get in here?" I repeat.
"Did you not want me here?"
"Stop!" I'm louder than I meant to be and I lower my voice. "Just stop it with your non-answers."
He crosses his arms across his chest and rubs his bottom lip with his thumb. Which is annoying, because it always does things to me and I'm trying to focus. "A blonde girl named Paige told security I was with her and brought me up." He drops his arms and stuffs his hands into his pockets. He's wearing the same thing I saw him in earlier, but he looks wrinkled now, tired. "You weren't answering your phone," he adds. "Are you ignoring me?"
"I fell asleep," I say, picking up the phone and glancing at it. "I forgot to turn the mute off when I left your parents' house."
"You put it on mute to meet my family?" he asks with a tiny smirk.
"I wanted to make a good impression," I reply, then sag as I recall the day.
"You did," he assures me. "You did make a good impression."
I look at him in disbelief. "They hated me. Your mother tried to set you up on a date while I was sitting right next to you."
"You made a good impression with me," he clarifies. "And that's all that matters."
My eyes burn then. Tears form and I fight them off. "Those people are awful, Luke." My voice catches. "Who raised you?"
He closes the distance between us and wraps me up in his arms, my head resting under his chin. He kisses the top of my head as he says, "A lovely British woman named June."
I laugh. "Really?"
"Of course. You don't think my parents got their hands dirty, do you?"
"No," I sigh and bury my face in his chest. He still smells of aftershave and faintly like hospital disinfectant, but I like it. "I was too upset to eat the pumpkin pie."
"I'll buy you all the pumpkins in Philadelphia and we'll make our own." He runs his hands up and down my back. "I'm sorry, Sophie, I shouldn't have brought you there."
What? "You didn't want me to meet them?"
"I wanted you there for myself, Sophie, because you make everything better. It was selfish of me to bring you." His hands slide under my flannel pajama bottoms and cup my ass. "I should have ordered takeout and kept you naked in my condo all day persuading you to let me fuck this perfect ass."
I shove him away. He looks surprised for a second until I say, "Gina."
His expression closes, giving me nothing. "Gina is a non-issue, Sophie."
"You were engaged to her!" I'm outraged. How can he be so dismissive of his relationship to her and my feelings about it? Will I be nobody to him someday too?
"A long time ago."
"I was in high school."
He looks confused for a moment then asks, "When I was engaged to Gina?"
"Yes," I reply, but I don't meet his eyes.
"That bothers you? That I was engaged or that you were in high school when I was engaged?"
"Both. Neither. I don't know."
I'm staring at my toes as Luke tips my chin up to look into my eyes. "I'm a lot older than you, Sophie. Is it an issue or not?"
"It's not." I shake my head. "Unless I'm thinking about her." I stress the last word.
"She's hardly the only woman I've…" He stops when I glare at him and laughs.
"Why is she still around?" I sound like a crazy person. He can't be friends with his ex? But she was a bitch to me, wasn't she? "Never mind."
"We have business together, that's all, Sophie. She's no one to me." He says that last part with his lips hovering over my ear and his breath tickles me, making me shiver. He cups the back of my neck and runs his thumb over my earlobe. I nod and then wrap my arms around his neck as I kiss him.
"I kinda love imagining high-school you not putting out," he says when I break the kiss. He glances around my tiny dorm room with interest. His eyes move over what is obviously Jean's side of the room and stop on my side. Our room is small and messy. My dorm may not be far from Luke's Rittenhouse Square condo physically, but it's a world away financially. My room is quite literally the size of his walk-in closet.
He steps over a foot and examines my corkboard. God, what do I have on there? The bra I wore today is hanging over my desk chair. He fingers it as he peruses the to
p of my desk, a messy assortment of textbooks and notes. He's probably wondering what he's doing with a college student. Fuck, are those panties on the floor next to his toe?
I'm not sure what to say as he continues looking his fill. I'm not going to apologize for my room. I might be a little embarrassed, but I'm not apologizing. He lived in a dorm room once too, I'm sure. A long time ago. Damn it. Is that what he's thinking about? How long it's been since he was a student? How different we are?
He turns to me with a sly grin. "You've never had sex in here."
Obviously I haven't. He's the only person I've had sex with and that's all been at his place. "No."
"We can rectify that now." He grins.
Oh, that's what was on this mind? He wants to be the one to fuck me in my dorm room? "Yes, please."
"Yes, please?" he repeats back to me. "So polite, you little hussy," he says as he covers the three steps that separate us. "Should I be polite?" He bends and kisses me under my left ear, not waiting for an answer. "Come on, Sophie, let me make love to you, baby. I'll make it good for you, I swear." He's kissing me along my jaw and keeping his hands chastely on my hips, over my pajamas. I'm not sure what is happening right now. "I'll just put the tip in, okay?"
I laugh. He's giving me clichéd college sex lines.
"I'll still respect you in the morning, baby."
I'm laughing when he covers my mouth with his. He keeps whispering ridiculous lines to me, but his mouth and hands are their usual Luke perfection. I play along because it's funny, but it's hot too. Also, I love it when he loses focus and smirks at something I've said. He takes his time, probably more time than he's ever needed to take.
"Can I take off your shirt?" he asks, as if there's a possibility I might say no.
Jesus, yes! I want to scream at him. He's got me so worked up and we've still got all our clothes on. Heavy petting is bullshit when you've already ridden the bull. I unbutton his pants and ask for permission to "touch it." This earns me a laugh and I think I might have him then, ready to end this game and pound the fuck out of me on my twin-sized bed, but no. He regains composure and guides my hand up and down the length of him.
"I want you to be my first, Luke. I know you'll make it good." I am laying it on now. "I've wanted you inside of me since the first time I saw you." It's getting harder to speak with his hands down my pants. "Your fingers, God knows how I loved watching them as you brought your coffee cup to your perfect lips. I'd go home after my shift and lie in this bed and touch myself while thinking about you. Before the clinic, before I even knew your name, I'd lie right here thinking about you while making myself come."
"Fuck!" Luke roars. He's so loud in the quiet room it startles me for a second before he's ripping my flannel pajama pants down my legs and lowering his own. He doesn't even get his pants all the way down before he's inside of me.
He strokes back and forth, so deep, kissing me long and hard while he's burrowed within me, before pulling back enough to watch himself slide in and out of my body.
"I won't come in you, Sophie."
It takes me a moment to realize he never put on a condom. I'm not sure if we're still roleplaying or not, but I trust him enough not to worry about it further. I'm on the pill, which I take every day faithfully.
He gives up watching to drive into me. He's still got his feet on the floor and my back is on the bed with my pelvis raised, legs over his shoulders. He pounds into me, our skin slapping in the quiet room, my moans as quiet as I am able to keep them.
He changes the angle and presses down on my clit with his thumb and I come all over his cock. He pulls out and orders me on my knees. "On the floor, now. You're going to suck my cock and swallow." He has to help me off the bed, my body a wet noodle after that orgasm, but I obey and sink to my knees before him. He slides into my mouth the moment my knees hit the floor.
"Taste yourself, Sophie. You just came all over me and now you're gonna swallow my come."
I moan around his dick and he asks me if I like it. The insides of my thighs are slick and his words are making me wetter.
He grabs the side of my face and fucks my mouth. No gentle teasing now, he just takes. His hands are knotted in my hair when he comes and it's easy to swallow it all at this angle, most of it bypassing my tongue and going straight down the back of my throat.
He picks me up off the floor when I'm done and lays me on top of him in my small bed while our heart rates decrease. "You filthy bitch." He slaps my ass as I lie on top of him, running my nails lightly across his chest.
"What?" I'm so tired. Why is he still talking? "What did I do?"
"You masturbated while thinking about me, apparently."
"Oh my God." I stop running my nails across his chest so I can hide my face in my hands. "I didn't mean to tell you that. You had me all worked up. Just… forget I said that."
His chest shakes as he laughs at me. "Not a chance."
Chapter 20
I slide the pie into Luke's high-end Miele stainless-steel oven and search for a timer.
"How long?" Luke walks up behind me and presses my body into the oven, his front to my back. My hair is up in a bun while I bake, leaving my neck wide open, which he takes advantage of with his mouth. I lean into his touch, desire warming my skin.
"Forty-five minutes," I tell him and he punches the time into a digital panel on the stove before turning me to face him.
"You smell like nutmeg."
"Does that turn you on, Dr. Miller?"
He laughs. "Everything about you turns me on, Miss Tisdale." He's walking me backwards, hands on my waist until my butt hits the kitchen island before he picks me up and sits me on the counter. He spreads my legs and stands between them, then pins me in place by placing his hands on either side of me on the granite countertop.
"Sophie." He touches his forehead to mine then tilts his head and kisses me briefly before stepping back. "We need to talk."
What? My eyes fly to his and my heart races as I try to piece together what he wants to talk about. I thought we resolved everything yesterday at my dorm. After the awful day at his parents and the incredible dorm sex that followed, he told me to grab enough stuff for the weekend and took me back to his condo.
We went out this morning hand in hand for coffee and bagels before hitting the grocery story for pumpkin pie ingredients. Luke mentioned the store had pies already prepared, but quickly shut up at the look on my face.
Now he leans against the counter across from me and sighs, running a hand over his face before crossing his arms across his chest and looking at my feet dangling off his countertop. "What the hell are on your feet?"
"Turkey socks," I reply, wiggling my toes.
He shakes his head in response. Yeah, I don't think my socks are what he wants to talk about. What is it? Have I trashed his kitchen? Is he some kind of obsessive-compulsive about to flip out over dirty mixing bowls?
"Yesterday in your dorm room," he begins, slowly. I stare at him waiting, wanting him to spit it out already, but I sit silently, waiting for him to continue.
"I shouldn't have done that," he finishes.
Done what? The kinky roleplaying? I thought that was fun. Wait, did I initiate that or did he? Does he think I'm a freak? Or does he mean he shouldn't have come to my dorm at all?
"I shouldn't have…" He pauses, searching for how he wants to phrase this, and all I can do is stare at him and wait. "Entered you without a condom."
Oh. Okay. He's right, I guess. I want to tell him it's fine, no big deal, but I tread carefully, because I liked it. I liked that he lost control enough to want to. I liked that he'd trusted me enough to. And I damn well liked the feeling of him, sliding inside of me, knowing it was impossible to get any closer to him than that. Then when he came down my throat telling me to taste myself on him? I get a little wet remembering it and I shift on the countertop.
I want to tell him these things and remind him I'm on the pill and that he didn't come inside of me, but… gynecolog
ist. I really want to avoid a safe-sex lecture from my lover.
"I'm taking the pill every day." I smile at him, wanting to lighten the mood. "And I don't have any STD's," I add in as a joke.
He doesn't look amused. At all. Instead he tells me to, "Stay," like a child and leaves the kitchen.
What is his problem? I fear he's going to whip out a pregnancy test and make me pee on it in front of him. He walks back into the room with a sheet of paper. Oh, shit. Does he have some kind of STD? Is that what he's so worried about? What the hell is on that paper?
"I had this done in October," he says, handing the sheet to me. I stare at it with no idea what I'm supposed to be looking for.
"Luke, I don't know what any of this means," I say, indicating the sheet. "What are you trying to say?"
"I'm trying to tell you that I'm clean, you have nothing to worry about."
"Great." I smile, relieved.
"No, Sophie. It's not great." He looks annoyed. "You should always have this information prior to having unprotected sex." He runs a hand over his eyes. "I'm setting a really shit example for you. Promise me you'll never allow anyone to touch you without a condom before exchanging test results first."
"You want me to have all my future lovers hand over test results prior to ditching the condoms. Got it, Doctor," I say sarcastically because this conversation stings. I can't look at him right now. I cannot believe he's lecturing me about future lovers. Am I supposed to be touched by his concern? Creeped out by his authoritative decree? Or devastated that he's talking to me about other men touching me?
"Goddamn it." Luke mutters something about going to use the gym as he stalks out of the kitchen. I hear the front door slam two minutes after that and I still haven't moved from where he sat me on the counter.
What just happened? Is he mad at me or I at him?
I clean up the kitchen and take the pie out when the timer dings, then stare out the kitchen windows at the Philadelphia skyline, still confused about what set him off. Was I not taking his safe-sex talk seriously enough? Forgive me, but being lectured by my current lover about future lovers pisses me off.