“And who’s this?” She nodded in my direction. “She’s pretty.”
Andre laughed. “This is Alexandria. And yes, she is pretty.”
I bugged my eyes out at him, ignoring the fact that he’d just called me pretty and focusing entirely on the fact that he’d used my real name.
“Relax,” he leaned in to whisper. “No one here has met Toni.”
I breathed a sigh. “It’s nice to meet you.” I smiled at the old lady, who was busy throwing food together behind the counter.
She deposited a plate in front of each of us and fixed me with a serious look. “I like you, but you’re too skinny. Eat.” She ended on a big grin and then turned back around, getting back to running her restaurant.
The plain white plate contained nothing but a white bread roll, overflowing with fillings. Andre was already devouring his in giant bites. “Best damn po’ boys in the city,” he said around a mouthful. “Eat.”
“I’m not too skinny,” I mumbled into my full breasts, Toni’s dress showing more cleavage than I was used to.
Andre swallowed his massive bite, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Don’t mind Delphine. She’s . . . eccentric.”
“How do you know her?”
“She used to be friends with my mama.”
“Used to?”
“My mama died when I was in high school, my daddy just after I turned twenty-one. I think that’s why I was so hell-bent on helping Toni—I know how isolating it is to lose parents. Suddenly, the people you’re supposed to be able to rely on are gone, and you have to make your own way in the world.”
I didn’t miss the fact that he said “supposed to” and not the people you do rely on, but I chose not to push it. I just gave him a glimpse of my own pain. “I lost my dad in my early twenties too. Very suddenly.”
For a moment we just stared at each other, understanding exactly what the other person was feeling. Then Andre cleared his throat and got back to his meal.
I picked up my own sandwich, took a bite, and lost the next ten minutes of time, my full focus on the deliciousness assaulting my taste buds. The bread was crispy but feather soft on the inside, the roast beef tender, the pickles bursting with flavor.
We left with shouted goodbyes to Delphine and Andre’s promises to come back soon and “bring the pretty girl” with him.
“All right.” Andre clapped his hands together on the sidewalk outside. “I promised beignets.”
I groaned. “I don’t know if I have room.”
“How about a walk first? There’s a market nearby.”
I nodded and he led the way. We wandered slowly through the covered market area. Food stalls lined one wall, and stalls selling everything from magnets to clothing to jewelry made from spoon handles spread out along the rest of the area. We stopped at several stalls, Andre chatting to the vendors as if he knew them, joking and goofing around while I admired the wares.
At the end of the market, Andre pointed down the street at what looked like a cafe with a massive outdoor seating area. “Beignets?” He practically bounced on his toes, his anticipation palpable.
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Lead the way.”
We ordered and found a spot in the shade of an umbrella. I was only planning to have a taste, just one little puffy sweet treat, but when I tasted the sugary goodness, I couldn’t seem to stop. Before I knew it, the whole plate of beignets was gone.
I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my belly like a pregnant lady, breathing hard. Andre sipped his coffee, watching me with an amused expression.
“What?” I narrowed my eyes but couldn’t hold back the smile.
“Nothing.” He shrugged, a teasing grin on his face.
“They were really good, OK?”
He threw his hands up. “I didn’t say anything.” He took another sip of his coffee, trying to rein in his laughter.
“Thank you for bringing me here. I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.” He nodded. “Alex. Why are you doing this?”
“What do you mean?”
“The swap. Why pretend? Why not just take a vacation or say you won’t marry the guy? You obviously don’t want to.”
I sighed and thought about how to answer such a complicated question. “Can’t afford a vacation.” I shrugged. “Yes, I come from an old, rich family, but the debts are at breaking point. The money I used to get here was the last we had, the hotel was booked using loyalty points, and my credit cards are starting to get canceled. And that’s exactly why I can’t not marry the guy.”
“Because of money?” He tried to keep the disgust off his face, but it leaked in.
I resisted the urge to get defensive. “Yes, the arrangement comes with a substantial amount of money, but it’s not about me wanting to maintain a luxury lifestyle. I’m trying to save my business, my family’s legacy, generations of history, dozens of jobs and livelihoods. A lot of people are depending on me to sort this mess out. I can’t let them down.”
He frowned at the table. “I’m sorry. I didn’t . . .”
“It’s OK. I know how it looks. That’s why no one outside our immediate families knows. The point of this trip was for Oren and me to meet each other, keep up appearances so the engagement looks genuine to anyone looking in. But at the end of the month, nothing will have changed, regardless of how well I know Oren or how much I like him—I still have to marry him. So yes, it may be crazy, but I saw Toni and saw a reprieve in a face identical to mine. You know I haven’t had a panic attack since moving into her loft?”
“You get panic attacks?”
“Since my dad died. I’m under an immense amount of pressure. Sometimes it gets to me.” I didn’t usually tell people that—actually, I did my best to keep it secret for fear of seeming like a weak, emotional woman in a male-dominated business world.
We sat in silence for a few moments. He must’ve come to some sort of conclusion, because his next question shifted the conversation to a lighter topic.
“OK, so what’s the plan? What do you want to do with the rest of your freedom?” He gave me a brilliant smile.
“I don’t know.” I laughed. “Exploring New Orleans and having a break from being me is more than enough. Toni keeps telling me I should ‘fuck’ someone.” I put air quotes around the curse word.
He barked out a laugh. “Yeah, that sounds like Toni.” Then after a pause, “Maybe you should.”
“Should what? Sleep with someone?”
He shrugged. “Why not? I mean, you want a break from your life and want to live Toni’s for a while. Let loose. It’s what she’d do. It’s what she does most nights.”
I rolled my eyes but indulged him. “Who would I even . . .” I didn’t want to say it again.
“Fuck?” He raised his brows, clearly amused at my discomfort with the word.
I squared my shoulders and sat up straight. This was ridiculous. I was a grown-ass woman. “Yes. I don’t even know who I’d fuck.”
Andre leaned forward on the table and fixed me with a perplexing look, something between mischievous and suggestive, skirting the edge of intense. “Who do you want to fuck?”
I swallowed, unable to look away from his mesmerizing eyes, and rubbed my thighs together to ease the sudden pressure between my legs.
After another excruciating moment, he flashed me a grin and changed the topic, putting me out of my misery. It made me wonder if he knew the effect he was having on me, if he was maybe even doing it on purpose.
The next day I didn’t see Andre until the bar was already open and getting busy. He showed up just as the band arrived, and flashed me a wide grin.
I waved before I had to take another drink order, then turned around just in time to see Ren—one of the casuals had mentioned the asshole’s name, solving that mystery—saunter in from the back entrance. The rest of the band followed closely behind, carrying their instruments. Andre and Ren embraced. Andre said a warm hello to the entire band, but his hug with Ren linge
red just that little bit longer. There was definitely a story there.
Ren’s gaze met mine, and his eyes narrowed into a look of disdain. There was another story I wanted to get to the bottom of. Why did he hate Toni so much?
The night picked up, and the drink orders kept coming in as more people poured into the bar, ready to hear the Thousand Lies play. It didn’t take the band very long to set up and do a quick sound check, and then they went straight into the first set. Ren looked like he owned that stage. He looked like sin, bad decisions and eyeliner. He was everything I could never have. That kind of man would never be acceptable for me to be seen with. Maybe that was why I was so inexplicably attracted to him. He was the incarnation of everything my life couldn’t be.
But I wasn’t living my life. I was living Toni’s, so I wasn’t going to deny myself the pleasure of watching him play, watching him move across that stage, listening to his velvet voice as it hypnotized everyone in the audience. I let his music move through me as I worked.
The bar was so busy I hardly got a chance to go to the bathroom. Right around the time the band finished their last set, the other bar chick waved me off. “Go have a quick break before it gets nuts again.”
I made my way to the back corridor and through the first door, aiming for the storage room. But I accidentally barged into the men’s bathroom instead.
My first hint should’ve been the urinals lining the opposite wall, but that wasn’t the first thing I saw. As the door swung closed, my attention went straight to the erect penis pointed at me.
Leaning on the vanity with one hand, his other wrapped around his appendage, was Ren. He was sweaty from his last set, the hair at his temples sticking to his skin, and he was breathing hard.
My mind screamed at me to leave, go, but I couldn’t seem to make my feet move.
After a beat, Ren cocked his head and looked at me curiously. His hand stilled, but he made no move to cover himself.
For a few tense seconds, we remained in this bizarre standoff, staring at each other. Then my eyes started to move down.
What the hell are you doing? Get out of here! Do not look at the penis! My mind tried to talk sense, but I couldn’t stop my eyes. They traveled down over the scruff of his chin, past the silver pendants on black leather hanging from his neck, over the graphic print on his too-big tank top and zeroed in on the engorged flesh in his hand. It was maybe a little bigger than average and curved just slightly to the left. A metal piercing shone at the tip.
Seeing something like that usually would have made me wince and wonder how painful it must’ve been, but all I felt was curiosity. I wanted to touch it, play with it. What would it feel like sliding into me?
“Are you fucking kidding me?” His eyes narrowed, but his hand stayed clamped around his dick. “I don’t know what your damn problem is, but you’re in the wrong bathroom. And I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”
“Uh . . . yes, I see that.” My voice was breathy, surprised but maybe also a little intrigued. “What are you doing?”
“What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?” He punctuated his vicious words by completing one long stroke of his cock, up and back down, his eyebrows raised.
I knew I should leave him to whatever bizarre post-performance ritual I’d walked in on, but my body was frozen despite itself. “Just . . . out in the open like this?” I glanced around the empty bathroom.
“Obviously I didn’t realize the lock didn’t latch properly,” he gritted out, then barked, “Either get the fuck out or join in.” He started stroking himself again slowly, his eyes narrowed, his smirk pulling at the little piercing in the middle of his lip. He was goading me, fully expecting me to realize what I was doing and leave, horrified.
But it was only yesterday I’d sat around with Andre eating beignets and talking about why I was doing this whole thing in the first place. I’d decided to embrace every impulse, every desire, anything that made my heart race and made me feel free. In this moment, I didn’t have to be me. Alexandria would’ve already run out of the bathroom, but Toni would probably be on her knees with his cock in her mouth.
I wasn’t going to leave.
I reached out, flicked the lock on the door, and leaned back against it, meeting the challenge in his gaze with one of my own. His green eyes widened in surprise for only a fraction of a second. I let my eyes roam his body—the sweat around his hairline, the piercings in his face, his eyes hooded with desire—as I reached for the button on my shorts.
I splayed my left hand on the door behind me while my right undid the zip.
Ren’s eyes fixed on my right hand as I pushed the fabric down my hips a little.
I didn’t let myself think about it. I just slowly pushed my fingers under my underwear. I didn’t tease myself with soft strokes—I found my clit and rubbed, my lips parting on a gasp as my eyes half closed.
Ren groaned and licked his lips, his hand moving a little faster.
“I want to see,” he ground out, his eyes flashing up to mine. When I paused, they narrowed. “I’m showing you mine, aren’t I?”
He jutted his hips forward as if to illustrate his point, making my gaze fall to his dick once again. Precum leaked out of the top, coating half the piercing. I wanted to lick it.
I pushed the shorts and underwear down to my knees, exposing my lower half to a man I didn’t know.
Widening my stance as much as the shorts would allow, I put my hand back between my legs. His eyes stayed glued to my hand as I bypassed my clit and spread my folds, moisture saturating my fingers. I stroked myself, teasing my entrance, then inserted two fingers, moaning at the sensation.
Ren groaned. “Fuck.” He tightened his grip on the edge of the counter and bent over a little more, the muscles in his arms dancing under all that ink as he pumped himself faster.
I matched his pace with my fingers. I was so wet it was starting to get on my thighs, my fingers sliding in and out effortlessly.
I pulled my fingers out and changed it up, focusing on my clit, rubbing it with firm pressure—the kind of movement only I knew how to get right.
“Show me your tits,” Ren demanded, his voice gravelly.
I lifted my top and bra, letting my full breasts out. My nipples were hard. I caressed one breast, pinching the nipple, while I kept my pace up between my legs.
Ren panted as his ravenous eyes took in what my hands were doing. His tongue kept darting out between his parted lips, poking at the piercing every so often. I wanted to bite down on it, take the little piece of metal between my teeth and give it a tug.
Instead, I bit my own bottom lip and banged my head against the door behind me, resting it there and watching him with narrowed eyes.
He was close. His balls were tight, the muscles in his shoulders and arms corded from tension as he jerked his hand faster.
I alternated rubbing my clit with pumping my fingers in and out of my dripping core.
The pressure built from deep inside me, traveling up my chest and down my limbs as I started to moan and writhe against my own touch. My hips gyrated against my hand as I got completely lost in the way Ren was watching me. His gaze was possessive, greedy, his own movements becoming more desperate.
I cried out as my climax washed over me, but I made myself keep my eyes open, watching him. He moaned and grunted, coming mere seconds after me. He threw his head back and cursed, the muscles and tendons in his neck stretching taut as his cum dripped down his hand. Some of it landed on the edge of the counter.
I removed my hand from between my legs and held it out at my side—it was messier than his.
“Beat you to it.” I don’t know what made me say it, but the words came tumbling out of my mouth on a dark chuckle.
He fixed me with a half-amused, half-frustrated look and shook his head. “You’re a twisted bitch.”
I wasn’t, not really. I was just giving in to every crazy impulse I had. Or maybe I was twisted, deep down inside. Who the hell knew anymor
e?
Ren turned the tap on, washing the cum off his fingers and wiping the rest of the mess up with a paper towel. I took another few moments to catch my breath before pulling my bra and shirt down with my clean hand and shuffling over to the sink next to him.
“Do you do this every time? After playing, I mean,” I asked as I pulled my shorts back up.
“This specifically?” He laughed. “No, this is . . . new.” Looking me up and down, he dried his hands and threw the wadded-up paper towel into a trashcan. Then he pulled his pants up and leaned back on the wall, running a hand through his messy, sweaty hair. His face was still flushed. “Performing is . . . like no other high in the world. Music is magic, and sometimes, when you get a really good crowd, and you hit every note just right, and everyone in the band just plays together fucking seamlessly—it feels really damn good. So no, I don’t do this after every gig, but sometimes, after a really good one . . .” He shrugged and pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket.
“You can’t smoke in here.” I pointed to the cigarette already hanging loosely between his lips.
He took it back out slowly and smirked, his eyes narrowing. “And she’s back.”
He walked behind me and unlatched the door. “I don’t know what the fuck that was”—he gestured in the general direction of the filthy bathroom—“but if that Toni ever wants to come out and play again, I’m down.” With one more unashamed look up and down my body, he disappeared.
We hadn’t even touched, we’d barely spoken, and that very well may have been the dirtiest, most erotic sexual experience of my life.
…
A: Hey, why does this Ren guy hate you so much?
T: Ugh! Because he’s an ass.
A: That’s not an answer. What happened between you two?
T: Literally nothing. He just showed up, decided he hates me, and the rest is history.
Just Be Her Page 9