by Layla Hagen
"Are you okay with this?"
Nodding, she moves her hand to the tip and down, repeating the movement over and over again. I'm pulsing in her hand, every muscle tightening. Slowly, she brings her mouth to the tip again. I hold my breath, waiting for her plump lips to touch me. When they do, I let out a deep groan, tipping my head back. Then she takes me in her mouth all the way to the base, cupping my balls in one hand, squeezing them gently.
"Are you trying to kill me?" I rasp. Pulling back, she swipes her tongue over the tip, tasting me before clamping her mouth tightly around it again. "Damn. You're so good at this." I grab her hair as I start moving in and out of her mouth with deep, measured strokes that grow less restrained by the second. I can tell she's never given anyone so much control over her, and I want her to feel safe. When I feel I'm about to snap, I pull out.
"Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't—Are you okay?"
She looks up, nodding. In a fraction of a second, I pull her up to me, so she's sitting in my lap.
"I didn't mean to be so rough," I say, "but you made me lose control."
"I like it when you're rough," she replies.
"You're driving me crazy, Victoria." Without another word, I kiss her, deep and hungry. Pushing her dress up to her waist, I yank her closer, and her bare center slides against my groin.
"You're not wearing panties."
"No seductress worthy of her name does."
Pushing her dress further up until I relieve her of it, I kiss across her collarbone to her sweet spot. She moans against my mouth as I slide a hand between us, stroking her clit, coaxing more sounds of pleasure out of her.
"I need to be inside you. Now."
She reaches for the nightstand where the condoms are. After sliding one on me, she climbs back in my lap, her knees positioned at the sides of my thighs. We lock eyes for a brief moment, and then I nod, letting her know I'm up for the ride. Wanting to drive her crazy, I drag the tip of my erection up and down her folds.
"Christopher." Her thighs quiver violently when she lowers herself on me, taking me in.
"You look gorgeous like this."
I cup her cheek with one hand, and she turns her head slightly, leaning into my touch. With the other hand, I grip her ass, guiding her moves, watching her reactions. I want to learn everything that gives this woman pleasure, everything that makes her happy, and I don't mind if that turns out to be one lifelong lesson. This is perfection.
She increases her pace, squeezing me good with her inner muscles. "I won't last long," I warn her before lowering my other thumb to her clit. The combined effect of feeling her ride me and seeing her come undone is violent. Energy shoots through me, my balls tightening.
I cover her mouth with mine, and we both moan our release. Afterward, I hold her tightly to me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Victoria
Mom used to say she always knew when something bad was going to happen, that she could feel it in her bones. The night before their accident, she called me and told me she loved me. I didn't inherit her talent for premonitions.
Today is a gorgeous Wednesday, seventy degrees with sun, a rarity in San Francisco for the beginning of December. Ah, how I love this month, even if it does rain a lot, and on some days the clouds are so dense, you can't see one speck of blue sky. The one thing I wish San Francisco had is snow. It would be considerably colder, but snow is just magic. Still, even without snow and the permanent presence of its much less magic sister rain, my birthday and Christmas are in December, which are reasons enough for it to be my favorite month. I'm a happy camper as I scour the city, searching for the perfect leather armchair for a client. When I can't find what I need through my usual suppliers, I start hunting.
San Francisco abounds in little thrift and antique shops. There is some serious crap in them, but there is the occasional gem to be found that makes the search worthwhile. Even the fact that I'm meeting Hervis Jackson today for the monthly update doesn't put a damper on my good mood.
Armed with a bucket-sized cup of cherry black tea, I search shops, finding just what I need in a quaint one with antiques. I take pictures and ask the vendor to put it on hold for me for two days so I can get my client's approval.
Afterward, I head to the coffee shop where I'm meeting Hervis. His schedule is so packed that he doesn't have time to drive all the way to our house, and he wanted more than a phone update. Suits me. I have nothing but good news to relay to him.
I arrive at the coffee shop a few minutes earlier than our scheduled meeting and head to a free table. I've barely reached it when my phone rings. Placing my huge bag on the table, I look through it until I find the phone. Isabelle is calling.
Holding the phone to my ear, I greet, "Hey!"
"Have you checked your e-mail?"
"Not in a few hours."
"Girl, you should sit on it for this news."
My heart soars in anticipation. I bet she's calling to tell me we nailed down the McLeod account. That would be our first business to business contract since I worked on Alice's restaurant, and it would be a nice extra income.
"I'm sitting," I lie, too excited to do so. Instead, I'm standing next to the table, grinning like a lunatic.
"Natasha is suing us. Her lawyer e-mailed us."
My stomach constricts, suddenly feeling nut-sized. Maybe I should have sat. Breathing in deeply and then releasing it out slowly, I try to calm myself down enough to think.
"What does the e-mail say?"
"A bunch of legal blah blah, but she basically wants the money we got from the Alice Bennett job and Julian Humphrey."
Julian Humphrey was the client who first went to Natasha's office, then contacted me. But Christopher's lawyer assured me the guy was fair game. And how in the world did Natasha find out?
"We can't afford to pay her anything. I'll call the lawyer I talked to about Julian and ask him to see us today."
"Good." Isabelle falls silent but doesn't click off. "I'm scared," she says eventually. "We work so hard. What if we lose everything?"
The secret ingredient to our friendship has always been that when one of us is down, the other encourages her. This is excellent advice for times when problems are one-sided, but harder to follow through when we're potentially both in trouble up to our necks. Still, I find it in myself to sound strong and positive.
"We didn't do anything wrong, Isabelle. We'll go to the lawyer, and he'll set us straight. It's too soon to throw a pity party."
"You're right," she says at once, her no-nonsense tone back. "Let me know when the lawyer can see us."
I click the phone off but keep clutching it tightly.
First things first, I call the lawyer, asking if there's any chance we have to pay Natasha what Alice and Julian paid us, because there's no way in hell we can do that. He is ninety-nine percent certain we won't have to pay anything, and once he looks over the e-mail from Natasha, he’ll be able to tell us more. Thankfully, he offers to squeeze us in his schedule in half an hour. If I leave the coffee shop right now, I should make it in time. I'll just have to find a good excuse for Hervis.
"We can reschedule for another time if you're busy," Hervis Jackson's voice booms from behind me the second I drop my phone in my bag. My insides clench instantly as I swirl on my heels to face him. Clearly, he'd been eavesdropping on my conversation with the lawyer.
"Yes. It's an urgent meeting—"
"Legal troubles, I heard."
Even though I'm dying on the inside, doubt and fear suffocating me, I pull myself straighter, rolling my shoulders. "My previous employer is completely out of line. I just talked to the lawyer, and he assured me I have nothing to worry about."
"You sounded very worried."
"It's unpleasant, but nothing I can't weather."
"Please keep me informed," Hervis says. "I sincerely hope it won't have any adverse effects on your business."
"It won't. Have a good day."
Once in my car, I call Isabelle and th
en drive to the lawyer's office. Isabelle's words roll back and forth in my mind. What if we lose everything?
She meant the business, the clients, but a deep fear takes roots in my mind, spreading like poison. What if I lose the kids? Minutes pass and everything around me blurs as scenario after scenario run through my head. Loud honking snaps me back to my senses. I didn't see the light turn green.
Isabelle is pacing around the lawyer's office when I arrive. Alan Smith is in his late fifties, but his hair is completely gray, which I find has a calming effect on me.
"Why don't you take a seat?" Sitting behind his large desk, he points to the two seats across him.
"I'm too nervous," Isabelle says.
"Same here."
"Very well. I've looked over the papers you were served, and I cannot find any grounds for a successful lawsuit. You didn't have a non-compete clause in your former employment contract, and even if you had, those are notoriously hard to enforce."
I let out a breath of relief. Isabelle stops pacing.
"That's good, right? It means we have nothing to worry about?" I ask.
"Natasha could try to prove you purposely undermined her company and turn this into suing for defamation—"
"Oh God!" I slump into one of the seats in front of his desk.
"I'm not done," Alan says, not unkindly. "When you asked if working with Julian Humphrey was fair game, you mentioned she still had your work in her portfolio. That is strong evidence in your favor."
"I still don't understand why she keeps those," I say honestly.
"Maybe because you and I did the best damn jobs in that company?" Isabelle suggests.
"Which brings me to the most probable reason for this bogus lawsuit. I've seen this before. It happens far too often, given how rarely it brings results. A company loses employees, those employees then open their own business in the same industry, and of course use the same ecosystem of suppliers, distributors, etcetera. Old clients prefer to switch over. Revenue goes down. In all likelihood, Natasha’s lost considerable revenue since the two of you left, and she's hoping you'll be willing to settle so you don't go to court."
"Will we have to settle?" I ask, already panicking.
Alan smiles warmly. "Not if I have anything to say about it, and I happen to have a lot to say. I'll get on this right away, and everything should be closed by the end of the week."
"That's three days away," Isabelle remarks.
"I'm very good at my job," Alan replies simply.
"One more thing. Remember I told you about having to report to Family and Social Services regularly. The social worker in charge of our case overheard me talking to you—"
Alan holds up his hand. "Leave me his number and I’ll keep him up to date."
"Can you emphasize that this won't affect our business?"
"Absolutely."
I breathe with relief. Isabelle finally sits down on the chair next to me.
"How much do we owe you, Alan?" she asks.
"Nothing. And before you both get up in arms, no, Christopher isn't paying. I owe him for a personal favor. He said this is personal when he told me about you, so it's quid pro quo."
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Christopher
As I walk inside Victoria's house on a Saturday morning two weeks later, everyone is in a frenzy. Victoria is running up and down the stairs for no apparent reason. Sienna is rearranging the plates in the dishwasher for the third time in the span of five minutes. Lucas and Chloe are huddled in a corner, whispering to each other. Judging by the way they jump whenever their older sister passes by them, my guess is they're trying to keep their conversation from her. Since it's Victoria's birthday today, I suspect the little punks are up to something.
"Did you all accidentally drink coffee or something?" I ask a flustered Victoria as she slips into her boots, ready to leave the house. She's been on edge for the last two weeks, since the e-mail from her former employer. When she told me about it, I wanted to eviscerate Natasha Jenkins and her company. No one messes with Victoria and gets away with it. Alan talked me out of it, assuring me he would handle it, and he did. Within days, the issue was completely off the table, and Alan assured Victoria that her former employer wouldn’t bother her anymore. But she's still on edge, and I don't like it.
It's just the two of us in the foyer, the kids having slipped into the living room.
"No, just don’t want to be late," she offers with a weak smile. "You're really great for coming by today."
"No problem. I like hanging around with the kids." She's meeting a new client today, and I offered to keep the kids company. Usually Sienna can hold her own watching the kids for a few hours at a time, but it's easier if she's not alone. That’s where I'm stepping in. "By the way, I have a surprise for you tonight."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, it's your birthday. I have a surprise for you."
"Okay."
"So you'll allow it?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Not really."
"Thought as much."
"Can you stand still for more than one second at a time so I can give you a proper happy birthday kiss?"
At once Victoria stills, watching me expectantly. Her hair sticks in a million directions, giving her a wild appearance. I know what goes with that look. I kiss her thoroughly, cupping her at the back of her neck, tunneling my hands in her hair.
"Wow," she whispers when we pull apart. "I'll pretend it's my birthday every day if it earns me a kiss like that one." Checking her phone, she curses. "Shoot, I'm going to be late. Let me give you a rundown of—"
"Victoria, relax. I'm going to watch the kids, and I promise we won't burn the house down. I've been in charge of my younger siblings often as a kid."
"How did that go?" she asks.
"I don't recall the details, but I think a fair summary would be that no one went to the hospital with a life-threatening injury, just a couple of broken arms and legs, and we accidentally set a doghouse on fire. The dog wasn't in there, obviously."
"Very reassuring." Shaking her head, she laughs, some of the tension bleeding from her shoulders. I walk with her outside, but we linger on the porch.
"Why are you so nervous?"
"This is a new client, and he seems fussy. He said he wants to work with me, but he didn’t like any of my proposals. I've been brainstorming like crazy for new ideas, hoping something will impress him."
"So it's a man."
Victoria glances up at me with incredulity. "The male brain will never cease to amaze me. I just told you I'm worried about not signing him as a client, and all you worry about is that he's a man?"
She clenches her hands into fists, tapping her foot against the floor. My woman woke up with an extra dose of fierce today, which I love, except when said fierceness is directed at me.
Right, time to lay on the charm.
"That's because I know you'll impress him. You're very good at your job."
"You're not fooling me with compliments," she replies, completely unimpressed. "Yeah, he's a man. Proud owner of the Y chromosome, and a penis."
"Does he know you have a boyfriend?”
"Caveman much?"
"Very much." I advance to her, and she backs against the wall of the house. "The thought of other men hitting on you, wanting you, drives me crazy."
"He's a client."
"So was I."
"And I'm yours now. I can't decide if this alpha behavior is sexy or annoying."
"If I give you another birthday kiss, will I tip the scale in favor of sexy?"
"You can try."
I lean into her, covering her mouth with mine.
As if through a dense fog, I hear Chloe's voice. "I knew they were doing the kissing."
"Of course, silly. That's what happens when people are boyfriend and girlfriend," Sienna enlightens her. "And it's called kissing, not doing the kissing."
Sienna's voice snaps me back to reality, and I instantly step aw
ay from Victoria, who stares at her hands, red in the face. She's never looked more adorable.
"How did you two get here?" I ask the girls.
"Through the back door. And you two don't need to sneak around. We all know that couples do the kissing," Sienna says, barely withholding laughter as she glances downward at Chloe.
"I really have to go," Victoria says. If possible, her cheeks are even more flushed. "I should be back in about four hours. Call me if anything is urgent."
***
After Victoria leaves, the kids announce that they’re going to spend some time in Lucas's room, helping him on a science project. Call it a sixth sense, but I immediately become suspicious. Possibly because Sienna and Lucas are exchanging guilty glances, and Chloe says science project with a self-confidence that tells me they rehearsed this, again.
"What kind of science project?" I inquire.
"You know, science stuff," Lucas says. Clearly, they weren't expecting me to question them.
"Buddy, my siblings and I invented the art of sneaking around. I know something's fishy here. Why don't you all fess up?"
"What's fess?" Chloe asks.
"Confess," Sienna and I say at the same time.
Lucas rubs the side of his neck, glancing at his older sister.
"Let's tell him," Sienna says. "Maybe he can help."
"What's going on?" I ask, already imagining worst-case scenarios. They're kids, goddamn it. How much trouble can they be? Well, if I look back at my own childhood, the answer is a lot.
"But it's our present," Chloe says.
Some of my paranoia vanishes at the word ‘present.’
Taking a deep breath, Sienna says, "We want to build a vanity table for Victoria."
“A what?” I ask blankly. "I didn't know she wanted one."
"A makeup table. We found some pictures of one in her office, and also some instructions on how to build one," Sienna explains.
"She didn't mention anything to me," I reply.
"To us either," Sienna says. "But ever since Mom and Dad passed away, she hasn't bought fancy stuff for herself. She buys us everything we need, but….”