This Absinthe is more controlled, more refined. She’s elegant and poised, polished. There’s a quiet strength about her that was always there before, but now it’s showing itself in a whole new way.
“Just wanted to be alone,” she says, not looking at me.
Fair enough.
“You know, I’ve thought about you every single day for the last five years,” she says, tucking a strand of dark, windblown hair behind one ear. “There hasn’t been a day when I haven’t wondered where you are or if you’re thinking about me or if you’ve moved on or if you’re happy or if you’re missing me as much as I’m missing you. There hasn’t been one day when I haven’t wished I was with you, experiencing everything by your side.” Halston rests her cheek on top of her knee, glancing up at me, her green eyes shining in the dark. “I know this sounds absolutely ridiculous and I’m going to sound like a schoolgirl with a crush, but I always thought that if things would’ve worked out differently, you and I would be together now, spending our days reading amazing books and drinking good wine and screwing like crazy.”
“You’re living in fantasyland,” I say, not that I haven’t imagined the same things myself.
She presses her lips flat. “I know that. Now.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out between us,” I say. “And I mean that, Halston.”
“Yeah. Same.” Dabbing her eyes with the backs of her hands, she chuffs. “You know what’s really fucked up?”
“What’s that?” It pains me to see one of the strongest women I’ve ever known so vulnerable, so raw. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m the only person who’s ever seen this side of her.
“I’d still let you fuck me. If you wanted,” she says. “You don’t deserve it, but I’d let you. And only because I want it. It’d be for me, not you.” Halston shakes her head, half chuckling, half crying. “You’ve turned into a coldhearted asshole, and clearly you have some hatred toward me that you can’t seem to let go of. So maybe … maybe we should?” She rises, drying her cheeks and staring me straight on, shoulders pulled back. “Maybe one night together is all we need? You get closure. I get you out of my system. We’re both free to move on after that.”
I begin to speak, but she cuts me off.
“All I ever wanted was to be yours,” she says. “I’ve waited and waited—just like you asked me to. And I think … one night with you would be better than never being with you at all.”
“I don’t understand how you think this would make you feel better?”
“You don’t need to understand,” she says, speaking quickly, cutting me off. “This is just something I want. For me. It has nothing to do with you.”
Before I say another word, her fingers begin to work the buttons of her top until it falls down her shoulders, landing in the sand at her feet. Sliding her shorts down her long legs, she steps toward me, reaching her hand toward my face.
I tense, willing myself not to enjoy this.
I’m going to fuck her.
And just like she has her reasons, I have mine too.
She’s the one thing I’ve always wanted, the one thing I’ve never had. Maybe one time is all we need so we can both finally move on.
Her fingertips trace my jaw as she presses her half-naked body against mine. Rising on her toes, she hooks her arms around my shoulders, angling her mouth just below mine, an offering of sorts.
Skimming my hands down her hips, I grip her tight ass, lifting her up until her thighs hook around me, and then I carry her inside the boathouse, locking the door behind us.
“You sure you want this?” I ask, my cock beginning to strain against my shorts.
Halston nods, breathing me in with a lungful of damp, salty air, her hair whipping across her pretty face.
Her body slides down mine until her feet hit the floor. Cupping her jaw in my hand, I angle her lips once more, holding them hostage, drawing this moment out a while longer if only to tease her, to punish her.
This woman betrayed me—ruined me—when all I wanted to do was love her.
Halston’s hands tug at the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my shoulders and tossing it aside. Turning, she peels the tarp off my uncle’s speedboat and climbs inside. I follow, unzipping my fly as the boat rocks gently on the water.
Taking a seat in the front of the boat, she shimmies out of her black panties and unclasps her lace bra, throwing them behind me.
I almost lose my breath at the sight of her creamy soft skin and delicate, feminine curves. She places a hand on her hip as we lock eyes, the perfect mix of confidence and vulnerability, and as much as a small part of me wishes I could make love to her tonight, that I could go easy on her and make up for all those years we lost …
… it’s not like that.
This woman destroyed me.
She stormed into my life and left a devastating wreckage in her path.
And now she wants to act like it never happened, like we could just pick up where we left off and live happily ever after.
She’s lost her goddamned mind.
“Turn around,” I say.
“What?”
“Turn around,” I repeat myself, my instructions clearer this time, stroking my cock in my hands.
Halston turns, bracing herself on the front of the boat, body slightly angled. From here, I have the perfect view of the most gorgeous ass I’ve ever laid eyes on. Tight and toned, begging to be slapped and ridden.
Lowering myself, I drag my tongue along the seam of her wet pussy, my right hand reaching around and circling her clit. Her taste is spun sugar, addictive and exhilarating, and her breathy sighs only serve to make me hard as a fucking rock.
Rising, I place my hands above the curve of her hips, spinning her to face me. With one finger, I lift her chin, positioning her mouth near mine. Slipping a finger between her thighs, I drag it along her slit before slowly plunging inside her.
Good God, I’ve never felt anything so tight, so wet.
Sliding it out, I bring it to her mouth. “Taste yourself, Halston. Taste what I can do to you.”
Her mouth accepts my finger, and her velvet tongue grazes my flesh.
Those lips.
Those fuckable, juicy lips.
“The first time I saw that mouth, it was wrapped around a sucker,” I say, taking her hand and placing it on my cock. She strokes the length, pumping it in her hand as our eyes hold. I’m going to fuck that pretty little mouth of hers the way I’ve fantasized about a thousand times before. “On your knees.”
Halston lowers herself, her palm gripped around the base of my cock as she strokes the tip with her warm tongue.
“Oh, god.” I exhale, tossing my head back as she takes the length of me in her mouth, going deeper and deeper still. Each swirl of her tongue, each pump of her hand, is pure fucking ecstasy … and I almost forget … “Get up.”
She pulls my throbbing dick from between her swollen lips and rises. Tracing her nipples with my fingers, I pinch her rosy buds before taking one in my mouth.
“Your body is fucking perfection.” I release a lungful of air before inhaling her sweet arousal all over again, preparing to own her the way I’ve always wanted to, if only for the smallest sliver of a single night. “And tonight, it belongs to me.”
There’s a flicker in her eyes, a hint of a spark, as if my words breathed a fading part of her back to life. Her body surrenders to mine, melting with each touch, becoming pliant and malleable. She’s breathless, her fingers stroking my face, touching my hair, her mouth waiting for mine. She’s dreamed about this moment just as much as I have, only tonight I can’t promise it’s going to be the magical experience she always hoped it would be.
“This is just sex, Halston,” I remind her.
“I know.” She presses her mouth against mine, pressing her body against me.
We stumble backwards until I take a seat in one of the captain’s chairs and she straddles me. Grinding against my cock, she presses her tits against me and buries
her face in my neck.
“No, no, no,” I stop her after a minute. “This isn’t how this is going to go down tonight.”
She sits up, eyes searching mine, and I guide her off of me.
“I want you on your hands and knees,” I say, pointing to a bench seat in the back of the boat. She once told me she hated “doggy style,” that her favorite position was missionary because it made her feel safe and it was romantic. Unfortunately nothing about this night is romantic, and if she wants to be fucked by me tonight, she’s going to get fucked by me tonight.
Halston doesn’t protest.
She does what I tell her to do.
Approaching her from behind, I trace my fingertips along her inner thighs before spreading them wider. I want to see everything. I want her body on a silver fucking platter.
Halston sighs, her body quivering, overcome with anticipation as I retrieve a gold foil packet from my wallet. Tearing it between my teeth, I sheathe my cock and stroke the shaft before teasing the tip along her slick seam.
I watch her hands grip the seat cushions in front of her so hard her knuckles turn white, and when she least expects it, I enter her fully, completely, so deep she’s gasping for air.
“Oh, god,” she whispers, as if she’s finally been gifted the relief she’s been so desperately seeking all of these years. “Don’t stop, Ford. Please. Keep going.”
I feed my length harder, faster, my hands gripping her hips, controlling them with each piston and thrust. Her pussy is tight, slick with desire, and she clenches around my cock, the friction building as my thumb circles her clit.
My palm slides up her smooth, soft belly, traveling between her breasts before cupping her jaw. Her moans quicken, her hips convulsing as if she’s right there on the edge, and I guide her up until our bodies are melded.
“Come on, baby,” I moan into her ear. “Cum on that cock. You’ve waited a long time for this.”
Fucking her harder, with everything I have, her body begins to shudder and tremble, quick sighs leaving her full lips as her hips buck against me. My release is sudden, hot streams jetting as her beautiful body bounces against mine, greedily accepting my cock until I have nothing more to give.
Panting and drained in the literal sense, I pull out of her and collapse beside her, trying to catch my breath for a moment.
For the first time in years, I taste vindication.
But when I glance her way, she’s not wearing the smile of a satisfied woman, a woman content to move forward from this point on and leave the past in the past.
“What?” I ask, brows furrowed as I sit forward.
She shakes her head, not speaking as she gathers her bra and panties, slipping them on like she needs to get the fuck out of here.
“Halston,” I say.
Her back is to me now.
“Are you … crying?” I ask.
Without answering, she climbs over the side of the boat toward the door, messing with the lock.
“Fuck. Let me help.” I pull my clothes on and get to the door, but first I spin her to face me. Fat tears drip down her cheeks. Two, maybe three. Her expression is tough, determined, but her eyes tell a different story. “You wanted this. You asked for this.”
“I know,” she finally speaks.
“Why are you crying? I thought you enjoyed it?” I sure as hell did.
“It’s nothing,” she says, forcing a smile as two more tears streak down her flushed cheeks.
“It’s not nothing,” I scoff.
“It’s complicated. Now will you please unlock the fucking door?”
I get the latch and step back as she rushes outside, searching for her clothes in the dark, sea-scented evening. Waiting in the boathouse, I give her time to get dressed and space to breathe.
But when I come out, she’s gone.
Chapter 52
Halston
“Can I say I told you so?” Lila asks from the other end.
I lie on my hotel bed Friday morning, my body damp from the shower and my hair wrapped in a towel. I don’t have the energy—or the motivation—to move. It took all the strength I had to take a damn shower this morning.
“You were right.” I exhale, rolling to my side and pressing my cheek against a cool spot on the pillow.
“Men are dumb. Literally,” she says. “We’re smarter than them in every way. The only thing they have on us is physical strength and the ability to get an erection on demand.”
I laugh, which is a nice change of pace from last night.
Crying after Kerouac fucked me wasn’t part of the plan, and I’m not sure who was more shocked: him or me. I don’t cry. Ever.
He knew.
He knew I hated that position, being on my knees and being fucked like an animal, but he did it anyway. He did it on purpose. It wasn’t the way he described it once upon a Karma conversation—the very fantasy I’d played in my mind hundreds of times before. It was nothing like that.
Kerouac was cold, emotionless.
Like I was any other girl and he was any other guy.
“I thought I could fuck him out of my system,” I say.
Lila laughs. “That’s not a thing.”
“All these years, I wanted that from him. I wanted that physical closeness. That intimacy on a level we never had a chance to have,” I say. “I guess I was hoping one time together would change things. Would maybe make him feel differently, reconsider things? God, I’m an idiot.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“Psh. No. It was just sex to him,” I say. “He made that clear.”
To be fair, he made it clear five years ago, when he said he’d only fuck the shit out of me and break my heart. Guess he was telling the truth.
“Okay, then fuck him,” Lila says. “Not literally but, you know, like … screw that shit. Time to move on. Close that chapter. Meet new and better people. Can’t promise you won’t get your heart broken again because that’s kind of an unavoidable fact of life, but I can promise there are men out there who are worthier of your tears.”
My mouth curves. “You’re sweet to say that.”
“Not trying to be sweet. Just being honest.”
“What if I never have that kind of chemistry with anyone else?” I ask.
“You will.”
“What if I don’t? What if I have to settle for someone who prefers ESPN over Hemingway and has zero sense of humor?
“What if you find someone better?” she asks.
“Don’t know if that’s possible.”
“Anything’s possible,” Lila says. “So, what’s the plan today?”
“Not sure.” I check the time on my phone. “The rehearsal dinner is tonight, but we’re not in the wedding party, so Mason said something about doing our own thing today. Anyway, he’s probably going to be knocking at my door any minute now, so I should probably dry my hair or whatever.”
She chuckles. “All right, sweets. Hang in there.”
Hanging up, I peel myself out of bed, change into some real clothes, and put myself together. When I’m finished, the hotel phone rings.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Meet me downstairs in ten minutes.” It’s Mason. “I have a surprise for you today.”
Jerking my head back, I’m confused, but all I can manage is a stuttered, “Wh-what?”
“Ten minutes. Surprise. Lobby,” he says, words rushed.
“I still have to dry my hair.” I yank the damp towel off my head. “I need more than ten minutes.”
“Just try to hurry.”
“Are we trying to catch a plane or something?” I lift a brow, completely getting my hopes up. I can’t deny the fact that I want to go home.
Mason chuckles. “No. I’m taking you somewhere. You’ll love it.”
Spending the day with Mason holds zero appeal to me, especially after last night and especially with my mind so consumed with … other things. But I came here with him. For him. I have no excuses not to go. There’s no getting ou
t of this one.
“Okay. Give me fifteen,” I say.
Throwing my bag together, I step into a pair of flats and make my way downstairs, hoping I don’t run into Kerouac on the way down. I know I’m going to run into him tomorrow, at the wedding—that’s a given—but today I need some distance.
It would hurt too much to see him so soon.
Floating down to the main floor, the elevator deposits me in the lobby, and I spot Mason standing outside next to a black Escalade. He smiles when he sees me, waving me closer.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask when I climb in.
“My family’s estate in Mattituck.” He slides in beside me, slipping a pair of shiny sunglasses over his nose.
“Why?”
“You’ll see when we get there.” Pulling out his phone, he checks his email. I’m dying to know what this is, what he’s up to, but I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.
An hour later, the driver pulls up to an iron gate, swiping a security card Mason hands him. Pulling in, we coast around a circle drive, past rows of shade trees and a bubbling fountain with a bronzed eagle in the center.
The home is gargantuan, covered with cedar shingles and white framed windows and nestled on a few acres of land overlooking the sea.
The driver gets my door, and Mason meets me at the back of the SUV.
“Ready?” he asks.
Head cocked and still unsure, I nod before following him inside.
Taking my hand, he leads me through a sweeping foyer, down a hallway, and toward a set of double doors.
“Cover your eyes,” he says. I place my hands over them, listening for the click of the door latch. With his hand on the small of my back, he guides me forward. “You can look now.”
“Oh my god.”
“You like?” Mason grins.
“Is this real life?” I laugh, moving toward a bookcase on my left. This entire room is walls upon walls of bookcases, floor to ceiling, filled to the hilt. Hardcovers. Leather-bounds. First editions. All of them literary classics.
“I know you like books,” he says.
“Understatement, but yes.”
“I wanted to thank you for coming with me,” he says. “I know it’s not easy working with me, and I’ve been a pain in the ass the last couple of days.”
Absinthe Page 19