Vote Then Read: Volume III

by Aleatha Romig

  “Space to do what?”

  Larry winked. “He’ll tell you. It’s not my secret to ruin.” He looked at me pointedly. “I see you struggling. If my suggestion means anything—which I know is asking a lot, seeing as you don’t know me—but if you want to know him, give him a chance. It isn’t what you think. And you’ll need an open mind to accept. But we’re all a little corrupt, doing our best to fit into a world that’s broken but still demands perfection.”

  “What—what do you mean by that?”

  “I mean thieves can become saints. Saints can become thieves. Most of us deserve a second chance.”

  Penn looked up at that moment, his dark gaze targeting mine. He half-smiled, his hands loose by his sides, his body straight but not as stiff as before. Without thinking, he placed his palm on Stewie’s shoulder as he bumped into him, racing below Bumble Bee not looking where his feet were going.

  That simple caress—so expected and wanted was enough to crack my already fractured shell.

  Penn’s hair was no longer shiny with sunlight but covered with a black baseball cap. Either Stewie had given it to him, or he’d had it hidden in a pocket. Either way, it shielded his eyes, and I saw another scenario I didn’t want to see.

  Penn could easily be no one. He could be someone. He could be pain or happiness or heartbreak.

  That was the problem.

  How was I supposed to fall for a liar?

  Blindly?

  Trustingly?

  Not at all?

  I needed time.

  I needed space.

  I need to think.

  “It was lovely to meet you, Larry.” I tore my gaze from Penn’s and smiled at the older gentleman. “I’ve got to go.”

  I left before Penn could change my mind for the second time.

  30

  SAGE CURLED UP on my lap as I sipped a glass of sparkling apple juice and stared at some TV program I hadn’t paid attention to for the past two hours.

  Ever since leaving Central Park, I’d been in a fog I couldn’t shake.

  I’d returned to work but had been absolutely hopeless. Steve had found me heading into my office and asked how Greg and I were. He acted as if he didn’t know his son had threatened me, and I didn’t want to flippantly tell him in a Belle Elle hallway. I scheduled a meeting with him next time he was free to discuss a leash for his wild heathen of a son.

  Dad hadn’t returned to the office after the restaurant, Fleur answered my urgent emails on my behalf, and for the first time since I had my appendix out two and half years ago, I claimed health reasons and headed home to do my best to get my head on straight.

  Greg worried me.

  Dad concerned me.

  Steve annoyed me.

  And Penn…Penn claimed my thoughts in my home as much as he had in the park or at my office.

  My heart had a box with three different puzzles mixed up inside. The pieces were tangled, their edges able to fit together to form an incorrect Frankenstein of three scenes, but unless the three puzzles were separated, none of them were true.

  Puzzle one: Penn was nobody but a successful businessman who was bored and liked to lie.

  Puzzle two: Penn was Nameless and treating me with contempt because…?

  Puzzle three: I have no idea what’s puzzle three.

  “What am I doing, Sage?” I cuddled her close, drawing comfort from her warmth and familiarity. “I’ve slept with the guy once, and I suddenly can’t stop thinking about him? Is that normal behavior? No wonder love is frowned upon. It’s a workaholic’s nightmare.”

  She purred, not even bothering to open her eyes and answer me.

  A knock reverberated through my apartment. For a second, I thought it was the TV, but then it came again from behind me.

  The door.

  Someone is at my front door.

  The only people who ever visited (make that person) was Dad.

  No one else.

  Don’t let it be him. Please.

  The knock came again.

  And again a few seconds later.

  “This isn’t fair,” I breathed into Sage’s fur as I scooped her into my arms and climbed off the couch. Every step I took toward the front door sent my heart chugging a proverbial wine bottle until I wobbled with fake intoxication.

  Looking through the peephole, Penn stood smart in different clothes than this afternoon’s lunch date. He’d put on light-colored jeans and a white long sleeve t-shirt that sent my libido melting.

  “I don’t have anything to say to you.” I hoped he could hear me through the door. “Please, go away.”

  “I’m not leaving. Open up.” He held up a brown paper bag with a gold embossed logo on the side. “I’ve brought dessert.”

  Dessert?

  It was ten p.m. on a week-day. Most normal people had finished eating by now and were winding down for bed.

  Shifting Sage into one arm, I reluctantly opened the door. “Bribing me with sugar won’t work.”

  “Are you sure about that?” He smirked. “You opened the door, didn’t you?”

  I scowled as he stepped over the threshold uninvited. “Only to tell you face to face to go away.”

  “Tell me after we’ve had a sugar fix.”

  I grumbled under my breath and shut the door. Following him into my kitchen, I took pity on him this time and motioned toward the sheer wall where a simple push opened the cupboard holding the cutlery.

  He found the utensils, grabbed two spoons, then skirted around me and headed toward the couch. Dropping his weight into the comfy white leather, he placed the brown paper bag on the glass coffee table and pulled out two containers of chocolate mousse.

  The emblem of the bakery was from the Gilded Cocoa. A high market delicatessen that served the best pastries and confectionery in New York.

  Fine, I would admit. He had good taste.

  Sage decided she’d had enough attention and leaped from my arms. Landing on four dainty feet, she took off into my bedroom where no doubt she would claim my pillow like she did every night, telling me in no uncertain terms that my bed was actually hers.

  “Are you going to have one of these, or are you going to make me a diabetic?” Penn glanced over his shoulder, eyeing my black maxi dress.

  I’d made the mistake of showering when I got home—hoping it would relax me—then dressing in my comfiest piece of clothing.

  With no underwear.

  I didn’t want to eat mousse with Penn in my apartment with no underwear on.

  “Sit, Elle. For fuck’s sake.”

  “Don’t swear.” I shuffled around the couch and took a stiff seat beside him.

  “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  “Don’t turn up uninvited to my apartment.”

  “Don’t fucking ask questions you’re not prepared to hear the answers to.”

  We breathed hard, fists clenched, fire glowing in our veins.

  Reaching for the chocolate, Penn shoved a glass container into my hand and jabbed a spoon into the other. “Eat. Then if my company is so goddamn repulsive, I’ll leave.”

  “I don’t even want dessert.”

  “Christ, you test me.” Shifting closer, he stole the spoon he’d only just given me, scooped up a decadent sized mouthful of chocolate, and pressed it against my lips. “Take it.”

  I pressed my mouth together. The scent of rich cocoa and cream made my taste buds tingle, but I wasn’t refusing the sweet—I was refusing him for reasons I could no longer truly remember.

  He smeared the chocolate over my lips, painting me with edible lipstick. “Open, Elle.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away, his chest rising and falling the more he teased me with the dessert. “Open, just once.”

  His voice throbbed with sudden need.

  I reacted to his lust, inhaling quickly, opening just enough for him to slip the spoon into my mouth. The moment the cold metal hit my tongue, and the richness of chocolate mousse sang on my taste buds, I moaned a little.

  His j
aw clenched as he withdrew the utensil, leaving the morsel behind for me to suck. I didn’t chew. I let it dissolve and infiltrate my blood with a rush of sweet, sweet sugar.

  “Again.” His voice no longer resembled a man but a beast aching for sex. My nipples hardened beneath my dress as I obeyed without question this time.

  The heat in the living room increased by a thousand degrees. He scorched me with every move, stare, and command.

  Lust wasn’t just a word; it was an axe that cut all chains of propriety. It was the gun that shot common-sense dead. Lust was a kidnapper and killer all in one.

  Gathering more chocolate, he sucked the spoon clean, his tongue flashing out to make sure he caught every last drop. The fact he shared my spoon, licked my spoon did crazy things to my tummy.

  Another scoop of chocolate.

  This time, he inched closer, placing the container on the coffee table and grabbing my nape with his free hand. Holding me steady, he pressed the mousse to my mouth, breathing hard.

  I opened for him.

  He placed the dessert on my tongue.

  I sucked the sweetness off.

  He withdrew the spoon.

  He didn’t give me a chance to swallow.

  His fingers tightened around my neck, jerking me forward. I tumbled into him, my mouth opening in surprise, his lips smashing against mine with violence.

  His tongue met mine, the chocolate thick and cloying and rife with memories of another chocolate kiss.

  Nameless.

  I’d been fighting for so long. Too long. I carried guilt too heavy. I wallowed in shame too great. Kissing Penn while my heart remained in the past with another chocolate kisser unraveled me.

  The long day.

  The angst, the worry, the unknown.

  I snapped.

  Throwing myself into his arms, I intensified the kiss until our teeth smashed and violence was the theme not desire.

  He fought back, letting himself go.

  His hands tore at my dress, finding the straps on my shoulders and shoving them down to imprison my arms while freeing my breasts.

  Shoving me backward, he instantly smothered me with his body. “You want this? You want to fucking do this?”

  I nodded, unhinged. “Yes, fuck me. Don’t hold back.”

  “Jesus, I can't. I can’t hold back anymore.”

  It was messy, sugar riddled, and full of things we needed to say, but we had no time or rationality left to talk.

  Shoving my dress up, he found I wasn’t wearing underwear.

  He lost the last shred of decency. “Fuck, Elle. Just—fuck.” He crushed me, his mouth suffocating mine, his taste becoming that of chocolate and sin. His fingers found my wetness. His body convulsed as he jammed his erection into my thigh.

  I didn’t wait for instructions.

  Grabbing his belt, I undid the loops, unzipped his fly, and sank my hand into his tight boxer-briefs to grasp his hot length.

  His back turned rigid as he pressed into my palm.

  Two fingers speared into me, filling me fast and hard.

  I cried out.

  He silenced me with yet another dangerous kiss.

  His thumb landed on my clit, rubbing me in circles while his fingers rocked against my G-spot.

  Everything locked tight. The quivering need built and built. The desire to snap my legs closed made me squirm beneath him.

  “Condom. Back pocket,” he snarled, working me hard.

  Somehow, I managed to slip my hand into his jeans and find the condom. I shattered between living in the brewing orgasm and forcing myself to remain sane enough to wrap him in latex so he could fuck me.

  The thought of him replacing his fingers and just how incredibly good it would feel was the only thing that kept me coherent enough to rip open the packet, roll down the slippery protection, and sheath him.

  He nipped my neck, shoving my hand away and wedging himself between my legs.

  “You don’t get to run from this. Not again.” He thrust.

  He didn’t line up or take me gently.

  One moment, we were two people.

  The next, we were one.

  My body screamed as he split me in half.

  Then sobbed as the orgasm he’d conjured turned into something with serrated blades for teeth and sharp, sharp bliss.

  “Look at me.” He drove into me again. “Look at me if you’re going to come.”

  The tightening hurried inside me. His hips pumped into mine, our clothing forgotten in our rush to join.

  My gaze locked with his, imprisoned for eternity by the fierce triumph, the epic guilt, the tangled lies he webbed.

  I was no longer a shy virgin. I was no longer a meek woman. I was past any shame I might endure by letting go and living entirely in this moment. “Fuck me. Please.”

  “Come. Then I will.”

  How had he completely possessed me? How was it he’d claimed me so I would do anything he asked, be anything he wanted?”

  Pleasure built into a supernova, roaring, pulsing, demanding to pulverize into stars.

  He thrust again, anger painting his face. “Give in, Elle. You’re mine.” His hips kept punishing, adding punctuation to his eroticism. “You know it. I fucking know it. So let me fucking claim you.”

  I closed my eyes. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t let him see that I wanted to let go. That all my life of business wheeling and dealing was nothing compared to what this felt like. But I didn’t trust him. And trust was too big a problem to ignore.

  I could never just listen and not question. I’d never be able to fully let go, open up, and stop searching for his secrets.

  But that conclusion could be shared after.

  Right now, I would obey because it meant we’d both find mutual happiness if only for a few orgasmic seconds.

  Then…I would show him the door.

  For good.

  His hips drove into me. “Stop thinking. Let me inside you.”

  I took it figuratively, opening my legs wider.

  His primal growl echoed in my chest as I gave into him. I went supple, submitting entirely. He angled himself higher, somehow swooping upright, hoisting me into his arms while still filling me deep.

  Sitting on his knees on the couch, he cradled me in his arms while my legs draped either side of him. His fingers became white-knuckled as they locked around my hips, keeping me wedged as far down his cock as he could.

  His head fell forward as he watched us fucking. Slowing, his cock pulsed inside me, dragging out the pleasure to agonizing joy.

  “Oh, God, yes…like that.” My body turned limp as I focused completely inward. He supported me as he did it again, slowly learning me as I learned him, trading our dictionaries, our thesauruses, making sense of this new language we’d developed.

  “Please, Penn,” I whimpered as the billowing orgasm became a physical entity. It was part human, part wind, part ocean. It needed somewhere to go, someone to explode for.

  “Fuck, I love it when you beg.” His lips latched onto mine. We kissed hungrily. We kissed savagely. “Do it again.”

  I didn’t hesitate. “Please. Please make me come. I need to come.”

  His grip bruised me as he thrust up, sending my breasts bouncing.

  My thoughts scattered, my nerve endings trembled, my entire body clenched. “I’m so close. God, please…”

  “Come, Elle. Fucking come.”

  My breathing stopped.

  The world turned sparkly and gray.

  I couldn’t hold off anymore.

  My brain turned to sounds rather than words.

  My body turned to liquid rather than bones.

  I came.

  I came and came as Penn fucked me as ruthlessly and as thoroughly as any hot-blooded lover.

  The moment I finished, he looked down, shoving aside the bunched material of my dress, hypnotized by his cock driving into me. “Fuck, yes. This—this is truth right here, Elle.”

  His hand roamed to my breast
, clutching my flesh with passion bordering on pain.

  Grabbing my hair, he drove into me harder, harder. His roar added gasoline, and I plummeted stronger and faster than ever before. My back bowed as he pulled my hair with a vicious yank.

  “Shit, take it. Take me. Take everything.” His words scrambled with grunts as he chased me off the cliff.

  His orgasm quaked his body, his forehead smashing against my shoulder as he emptied himself.

  He didn’t look up for a long moment. His breathing ragged and lost.

  I stroked his hair, calming him even though I needed calming myself.

  Time lost all meaning as we slowly returned to earth and disengaged.

  I couldn’t look him in the eye as he pulled off the used condom and placed it in the brown paper bag the mousse had come from.

  Standing, he tucked himself away and did up his trousers, followed by fastening his belt. Once presentable, he raked a hand through his hair.

  “Tomorrow night.”

  I looked up, smoothing my dress, still shivering from orgasm aftershocks. “What?”

  “If you have any plans, cancel them.” He strode around the couch, pausing in the middle of my apartment. “You’re coming with me. Dress in silver. I’ll pick you up at Belle Elle at seven.”

  He left me alone with the chocolate mousse and my crazy conclusions.

  31

  ALL DAY I’D struggled between working and reminiscing about sex.

  I was sore again, entirely focused on Penn every time I moved, and my body clenched from being used. He’d consumed me and utterly confused me.

  Why chocolate?

  Why kiss me with chocolate?

  I hated that I now had two experiences with dessert and kissing.

  The two memories did their best to mingle, to convince me that Penn was Nameless and Nameless was Penn.

  I didn’t have a picture of Penn, and Google had nothing on him—no company profile, no Facebook account. I wanted to stare into his face and force my brain to recall Nameless. To delete the scruffy beard and dark dreadlocks—to see if there was any chance (no matter how small) that the distinguished cocky businessman currently seducing me was that ragamuffin from my past.

  By the afternoon, I was semi back to normal. There were no erotic texts from Penn, no pop-ins from Greg, and the back-to-back meetings with Japan wholesalers and a new supplier of handbags in Beijing meant I could remain focused on things I knew, rather than things I didn’t.