The Ex

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The Ex Page 8

by Abigail Barnette


  He was loving it. More surprisingly, I was loving it.

  My butt lifted out of the seat around the next curve, even though he’d really backed off on the speed to get through it. I’d never been on any roller coaster that had made me feel this out-of-control. By the time we returned to the starting line, I was panting.

  “We need to go somewhere,” I gasped as we pulled off the track and rolled toward the garage.

  “Are you going to be car sick?” he asked, pulling off his helmet. The concern on his face displayed his complete lack of understanding of the situation.

  I got rid of my helmet, unfastened my seatbelt, gripped the front of his sweater, and twisted. “We need to go somewhere to fuck.”

  “I—” Neil ducked a vicious nibble attack and steered us away from the very confused looking guy waving us into the garage. “I can’t do anything if you bite my face off, Sophie!”

  I leaned back in my seat, writhing. “Hurry.”

  “I’m not sure it was a good idea to bring you here,” he said with a surprised laugh. “Am I going to survive?”

  “You’re going to fuck me!” I groaned, already pulling off my jacket.

  He drove to the back of a mostly empty lot and parked behind an unhitched trailer. Snow bracketed each tire, so it hadn’t moved and wouldn’t, for a while. The second the car stopped, I climbed to straddle his lap. I held his face and kissed him, harder and bolder than I usually would. Even in our vanilla sex, I tended to let him take charge. Not today. I grabbed his hair to jerk his head back and rose over him, reaching between us to paw at his fly.

  He twisted his face away from me. “You’re wearing boots, Sophie! This isn’t going to work.”

  That knocked some sense into me. I sat back, my face scrunching up into an expression of horny confusion. I still wanted to have sex, but he was right, the boots and jeans would be a hindrance.

  Luckily, he followed up with a solution my adrenaline and hormone addled brain wouldn’t have been able to figure out: “We’re going to have to get out.”

  I scrambled off his lap as the scissor door opened, and I almost spilled my ass onto the snow-covered pavement. The air was so cold it felt like I would never breathe again. I had enough presence of mind to look around us to make sure we wouldn’t be seen. I don’t think it would have stopped me, though.

  Neil stepped up behind me and closed his hand over the back of my neck. He pushed me down on the hood, slapped my ass and growled, “Get those fucking jeans down.”

  I reached between my body and the car to pop my button and pull the zipper. Neil grabbed the crotch of the too-tight denim and jerked them down, tearing my panties in the process. His jeans touched the back of my thighs, and I rose up on my toes. I arched my back as he entered me, and a long moan of relief tore from my throat.

  “Quiet, sounds carry in the cold,” he warned, breathing heavily. “This has to be fast, or we’ll freeze to death.”

  I didn’t need much time, anyway. He pounded into me, and I slipped my hand down my body to rub my clit in rapid circles. My orgasm accelerated at the same rate the Venom had, and there was no holding back, even though my lips were clamped together tight. I gasped and wailed a ragged sound, my toes curling and cramping in my boots.

  Neil leaned over me and muffled his groan into my hair, and his cum gushed into me in a warm burst. I wriggled back, until he hissed in discomfort and withdrew.

  I straightened and pulled up my jeans and shredded panties. “At least these were already ruined.”

  “Sorry, I should have pulled out, but it was far too late by the time I thought of it.” He leaned heavily on the car.

  “Are you okay?” I asked as I buttoned up.

  “What? Oh, yes. Just…let me get my breath.”

  There are times when I forget that Neil is much older than me. Probably because we spend so much time together, and I’ve seen how immature he can be. But, when he had the occasional moment of showing his age, even something as minor as this, I started to panic. I thought about what his mother had said at Emma’s wedding, about how terrible it was to lose her husband. And here I was, letting him tear-ass around a track in a car that would probably disintegrate on impact.

  Overcome with irrational anger, I stomped over to the passenger side.

  “Sophie?” he wheezed, cautiously zipping his fly.

  I didn’t answer him and got inside. I tried to slam the door hard then mentally calculated how much it would cost if I damaged it. It was a good thing scissor doors didn’t slam as easily as regular car doors.

  This whole thing was insanity. After all the shit we’d been through, after nearly losing him, he was willing to take this kind of risk? I wanted to tell him that he was never allowed to ever do this kind of asinine thing ever again. Then, I remembered why I’d come along in the first place. I’d wanted to make him happy, because he’d been so unhappy.

  Neil got in and hastily pulled the door down. “Darling, if I’d known you’d be that upset, I wouldn’t have torn them.”

  “What?” He thought I was upset about my underwear. Oh, that would make this so much easier. “I’m not mad about that.”

  “You stomped off in such a huff, I thought—”

  I shook my head and laughed, and hoped I sounded sincere. I hated lying to Neil, especially when it was something I’d worked on in therapy. But there were lies to cover your ass, and lies to protect the people you loved. My emotional bullshit was my problem, and I wouldn’t make it his.

  “I was just cold,” I assured him. “Though, in hindsight, I can see why it would seem that way. I did stomp, but I was trying to get the feeling back in my legs.”

  He hesitated between uncertainty and acceptance, but I was relieved when he nodded in amused understanding.

  “So, I take it you enjoyed the ride?” he asked with a smirk. “On the track, I mean?”

  I quirked my lips at him. “Very funny. I wouldn’t say I enjoyed it, so much as endured it. It got my adrenaline a-flowin’, but it was a little scary for me. I’m ready to go home.”

  “Ah, well.” He looked embarrassed. “I have a bit of bad news for you on that front.”

  My eyes went wide. “What? You weren’t planning on doing it again?”

  “No, but we do have to take the car back to the garage. The left front wheel wobbled a bit toward the end.” He didn’t make eye contact with me as he put his hand behind my seat to look as he backed up.

  “Well, better that then drive home on a bad…” Horrible realization dawned. “We’re going to go back…and they’re going to know what we were doing, aren’t they?”

  Neil gave me a please-don’t-start-yelling look. “Well, darling, I’m sure this isn’t the first time anyone has ever…”

  He wisely went silent after that.

  * * * *

  At work on Wednesday, I received a surprising email. I grabbed my phone and forwarded it to Neil then dialed the house.

  “Do you have a minute, baby?” I asked when he picked up.

  “Do you have a minute?” he asked. “You’re the one at work.”

  “Smart ass.” I motioned to Penny to close my door. She did, and gave me a thumbs up through the window. I lowered my voice and turned away. “I got an email from Emir. I sent it to you.”

  “Oh?” Neil brightened, and I hated to squash his hopes.

  “He needs to see us, but only for drinks. No sex.” I twisted a lock of my hair around my finger. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

  “Maybe he only has time for drinks,” Neil said, though he sounded unsure. “I’m at the computer right now, let me pull it up.”

  While he looked, I switched the phone to speaker and flipped to my email.

  Sophie,

  I regret that I will not have time to spend with you and Neil while I am in New York on this visit. There is a matter I wish to discuss with you, but our usual arrangement would not be appropriate.

  The note went on to suggest our assistants coordinat
e our schedules, but I was hung-up on the not appropriate part.

  I heard Neil’s sound of understanding and quickly killed speakerphone.

  “What do you think?” I asked, but I already knew the answer.

  “I think we’re getting dumped, darling.” His disappointment was evident in his tone. “There’s always a chance that we’re misreading it—”

  “He’s our fuck buddy, and he wants to see us and not fuck us. I think that’s pretty clear.” It was a shame. I really liked Emir, and not just the sex. We’d had some good times over the summer when he’d stayed with us for a week. It had been fun to get to know him. I wondered if we would all stay friends.

  We set a date for drinks the next night. I chose a sleek blue sheath dress and gold heels, and I kept my hair loose around my shoulders. If we were getting dumped, I wanted to look good.

  Neil seemed to have the same idea; despite the size of our closet, we kept colliding with each other and swearing under our breaths as we got ready. He wore a dark gray suit with a crisp white shirt and a powder-blue silk tie with a waffle texture. When he looked over his shoulder at me, he stopped buttoning his silver cufflinks to ask, “You’re wearing gold jewelry? Should I change these?”

  “Silver goes with your hair,” I teased. “I don’t know why we’re so tense. We kind of know what to expect coming into this.”

  “Look, if he’s ending this thing, I want him to regret it a little bit,” Neil said, checking his hair in the mirror. “Leave a good last impression, so he remembers us fondly.”

  “And misses us like crazy.” I stepped up close to him and laid my hand against the lapel of his jacket. “Are you okay, baby?”

  “Of course.” He gave me a sad half-smile. “And you?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. On the one hand, we don’t know that he’s breaking up with us. On the other hand, I don’t think I’m as emotionally attached to him as you are.”

  Neil went very still.

  “It’s all good,” I said gently. “I’m not stupid. You guys shared something special in London. He was your first good Dom. If you feel for him the way I feel for you—”

  He raised his head and gazed at the ceiling in his usual don’t-be-silly-Sophie expression. “Well, I wouldn’t take it quite that far.”

  “But you had a good experience with him. And we had a good time over the summer. I’m not saying that you love him more than you love me, but maybe you have a little crush on him.” I straightened his tie. “I’m not mad. And I’m going to miss him, too.”

  We flew into the city and met Emir at a bar in lower Manhattan. He’d selected an actual bar, not a place where we could get dinner, which had only reinforced our suspicions.

  When we entered, the hostess took us to a VIP table in the back, an isolated corner booth with ceiling-high dividers to keep our conversation private. Emir waited there already, impeccably dressed as always, and he stood as we approached. His black hair brushed his collar—I liked the messy, curly look on him—and he sported some stubble on his jaw.

  “Leif, Chloe,” he greeted us, using the names we always used, the boundary between our relationship as a couple and our relationship with him. He took my hands and kissed my cheek, and did the same with Neil before we sat down.

  “You’re both looking well,” Emir leaned back with one arm propped on the back of the banquette.

  Neil and I sat close together across from him. Goose bumps tingled over my freshly-shaved legs. Despite the fact that we were expecting bad news, my body responded to Emir’s presence. My libido didn’t know any better.

  Neil moved his hand to my knee under the table, stroking his ring and pinkie finger lazily along the inside. I wasn’t the only one feeling the effects of Emir’s charisma.

  You’re here because he’s breaking up with you, I reminded myself.

  I looked between the two of them. We needed to respond in kind, didn’t we? “I like your hair!” I blurted then cleared my throat.

  A server came to the table, a sleek blonde woman with a tall, slender neck. Emir regarded her appreciatively. I bristled. He could at least not move on in front of us.

  Well, not move on. We had no idea what Emir did between his visits with us. We knew he had a wife, and other lovers. But we didn’t share those kinds of details with him, so we didn’t expect him to share them with us.

  Not that there was much to share on our end. Apart from our occasional hook-ups with Emir, we didn’t see anyone else. Neil and I had discussed the possibility of finding another lover, but it was always in passing, a “someday” conversation.

  Neil ordered whiskey, a double, and I followed suit with a Jack and Coke. Short drinks, for what might end up being a short night.

  “I’m sorry we could not meet under our usual circumstances,” Emir said, once the waitress had left. “But I come with some rather unhappy news.”

  I took a breath to brace myself. I saw the rise of Neil’s chest and knew he was doing the same.

  “Best to get all the unpleasantness out at once, don’t you think?” Neil said softly.

  Emir took a sip of his wine and nodded. “The more I say it, the less difficult it becomes. My wife and I are divorcing.”

  My brows raised a notch. Neil and I were silent; I didn’t know how to react to this.

  “Things have ended…poorly,” Emir continued. “Her girlfriend has grown jealous and demanded that my wife make a choice. She did, and she didn’t choose me. She plans to take our daughters to France to live full time. Naturally, I cannot allow that.”

  “Daughters?” Neil leaned forward, glancing up warily at the server who returned with our drinks.

  I took a huge gulp from mine.

  With an elegant shrug, Emir dismissed Neil’s question. “I did not feel it was appropriate to mention them before. Not within the boundaries of our relationship.”

  I winced as I swallowed; the booze to pop ratio was terrible. “Totally understand,” I assured him.

  “You will also understand, then, that as I pursue a better arrangement for them, I must be circumspect in my personal life.”

  This was it, then. This was where he was going to break up with us.

  I held my breath.

  He looked from me to Neil as he spoke, his brows drawn together in concern and regret. “So, until this messy business is over, I believe we should temporarily suspend our encounters.”

  “Temporarily?” I squeaked.

  “Oh, thank Christ,” Neil said, his breathing audibly affected by his relief. “We thought you were breaking up with us.”

  “What? No!” Emir looked horrified at the prospect. “I simply need to distance myself for now. In a few months, when the divorce is settled, I would love to see you again.” He lowered his voice. “Perhaps I could show you how to fuck him, Chloe.”

  Neil blushed bright red, from his collar to his forehead. “Yes, well, that’s always a possibility.”

  I considered it. Pegging Neil… It did have a naughty kind of fascination for me.

  But that wasn’t the issue at the moment. I reached across the table and covered Emir’s hand with my own. “Are you all right?” Was it okay for me to be asking this? “Is there anything we can do?”

  “No, no,” he said gently. “None of this is your concern. I just wanted to make both of you aware that my withdrawal from communication is not a reflection of my feelings for you.”

  “Well, I’m very sorry this has happened,” Neil said, taking a sip from his glass. “I’m divorced, myself. They aren’t easy.”

  “No, but sometimes—” Emir nodded to me, “the outcome isn’t too bad.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Neil said with a chuckle, and he lifted his glass to clink against Emir’s.

  In the car on the way home, I leaned my head against Neil’s shoulder and closed my eyes. “You don’t think we’ll ever get to a point like that, do you? Where we get…territorial over each other?”

  His chest rose under my hand with a deep
breath. “I already feel territorial. As much as I enjoyed sharing you with Emir—and given the right partner, I would do it again—I think it’s only natural that I experience some jealousy as part of the process.”

  “We’ve already established that my lack of jealousy over Emir has to do with my ignorance regarding your bisexuality.” I felt so bad about that, but it was hard to shake myself out of my previous stupid thinking. “Be sure to keep reminding me about that.”

  “I certainly will,” he said with wry amusement in his voice. “You never know. You might feel equally unthreatened if I were to sleep with a woman.”

  “But I won’t know until it happens.”

  “Do you…” Neil paused. “My friend, Ian, and his wife, Gena, are swingers. And they did drop some hints at my birthday party. Would you be interested in having a date with them? We could see where it goes.”

  I would definitely not have an issue sleeping with Ian. He was Neil’s age, seriously cool, had the crudest language I’d heard from anyone who wasn’t Deja, and wasn’t bad looking, either. Gena had been really friendly, and she was a gorgeous, curvy redhead with mountains of cleavage—basically, Neil’s ultimate sexual fantasy.

  That did intimidate me, a little bit. I seemed to be the exact opposite of Neil’s ideal physical type for a woman. I was short, brunette, and my tits were on the small side when compared to Gena’s lush body. The firm, perky, small side, but still.

  Was I going to freak out and get jealous seeing Neil with another woman? What if he liked her, but I didn’t like Ian? Or the reverse?

  On top of that, I didn’t really know what “swinging” was. I had an idea, though. “Swinging is like the thing where you switch partners?”

  “It can be,” Neil said with a nod that hesitated in the down position as he spoke. “Some swingers do partner swap, but some don’t. Sometimes, it’s a group activity. We wouldn’t know until we set the parameters. But we needn’t do that on a first date, unless things went in that direction.”

 

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