Incomplete

by Eliza Park

  “Jesus,” I muttered.

  “She was a blast in Dublin,” Celeste said.

  “It’s loud in here, do you want to go outside?” I asked.

  Celeste shot her cousin a worried look, but I assured her she would be safe with celibate Brody and she followed me out the front of the bar.

  The night was a little chilly. Fall was just beginning to set in, scaring summer into its yearly hiding place. My ears were ringing from the loud, pounding bass we’d been hearing all night. Celeste turned to me, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip for just a moment.

  “So, you’re staying with me tonight?”

  “What?”

  “That’s what your text said that you needed a place to stay.”

  “Oh, I didn’t text you.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “No,” I waved my hand in the air, “That was my friend Jonah.”

  “Oh.” She looked down at the sidewalk.

  “Do you want me to stay with you?”

  She shrugged, “I have a guest room.” The toe of her sneaker dug into the sidewalk, “it doesn’t have a bed, though.”

  I would sleep on the floor at your feet.

  “What about a couch?”

  “I do have one of those.”

  “We got a hotel, but if I stayed with you at least we could start hanging out early tomorrow.”

  She bit her lip again and I resisted the urge to free it for her. “What about your stuff?”

  I motioned down the street, “In the limo.”

  She nodded. “Your friends won’t be mad?”

  I laughed, “The bachelor is the one suggesting I stay with you.”

  “Okay.”

  I grinned, “Okay.”

  Her cheeks pinked up and I shoved my hand in my pocket to keep from touching her. I was sober enough to keep my hands to myself, but my last drink would be hitting soon, and I wasn’t sure how long that would last. The less intelligent part of my brain argued into drinking more alcohol, to keep my dick limp. I surveyed her profile, enamored by the way her hair hung against her cheek, the quick motion of her hand tucking it behind her ear.

  “I missed you,” I breathed.

  She looked up at me, eyes widening in surprise, “I missed you too.” She frowned then, shifting uncomfortably on her feet, and brought her hands together, fingers folding into a triangle. “Listen, Mav, I should tell you—.”

  The door to the bar opened, loud bass booming into the streets. Jonah stumbled out, his brother and Logan following. When he saw Celeste, he threw his arms wide and ran to her, gripping her into a big hug. “Oh my gosh, I have been waiting to meet you!”

  Celeste’s green eyes widened momentarily, and she brought a hand up to pat Jonah on the back.

  Jonah released her, his arm still draped over her shoulders, “This man,” he said, pointing to me, “He saved my life.”

  She glanced to me.

  “And,” Jonah droned on, his words slurring, “He’s a great dancer.”

  Noah flanked his drunk brother on the right, lifting his arm up to disengage him from Celeste, “Alright, buddy, let’s get you back to the hotel.”

  I pulled out my phone to text the driver our location, knowing he was no less than 10 minutes away at all times.

  “Seriously,” Jonah kept on to Celeste, “best guy I’ve ever danced with.”

  Charlie showed up then, Brody behind him, followed by Janey. “If he’s so great, why don’t you marry him!” Charlie yelled, laughing. By the way he was moving, I could tell he was still sober, and he smiled as he linked under Jonah’s other arm.

  “Are you kidding, I can’t compete with that,” Jonah responded, nodding to Celeste.

  I shrugged, unable to argue and Celeste shifted, her face pink.

  Brody and Janey seemed to be in a heated argument. Janey’s face was turned up to the running back, her arms gesturing wildly. Brody was just shaking his head. “Yo,” he said to me, “Listen to this shit. Ms. Irish over here thinks we should have gone with a Hail Mary during last year’s championship.”

  “What?” Logan said.

  I shook my head, “A Hail Mary pass is a last-ditch attempt, made only in desperation. We weren’t desperate. It’s also an impossible play to make.”

  “You should have been, their offense was one weak drop from scoring. And your defense was weak.”

  “Hey,” Noah said. “I was on defense.”

  She shrugged, “You were weak.”

  Celeste chuckled.

  “We still won.”

  Janey pointed a finger at me, and I noticed a small tattoo on the inside of her thumb. “Just barely, quarterback. Barely.”

  The limo pulled up then and my driver stepped out, opening up the door for us while Janey continued to berate Brody for not being a better running back. “Did you want to ride to your place?” I asked Celeste.

  She was watching Logan and Noah load Jonah into the stretched-out car as he belted out lyrics to what I guessed was a Celine Dion song. Her mouth fell open and I knew before she said anything, “Too many people?”

  “I’m sorry.” She said, grimacing.

  “Why?”

  “I’m…not good with crowds.”

  I shrugged, “You don’t gotta be.” Brody and Janey continued to argue, getting no closer to the limo which was now fully blasting Mariah Carey. “Although, I suppose I can find you a VIP pass for my games this season.” I took a step closer to her, “Unless you’d like to be a cheerleader?”

  She rolled those green eyes so far back into her head, for a moment I thought she was possessed.

  Janey stomped over to us, pulling Celeste into a hug, and hooking her thumb over her shoulder at Brody. “I’m leaving with the guys. Somehow they play a sport they know nothing about.”

  I could almost see Brody convulsing at the accusation.

  “Plus, my apartment is on the way to their hotel. You good?” Janey looked me up and down.

  “Yeah,” Celeste said, “There’s no one I could be safer with.”

  I felt a little sober at that, wondering if I could defend either of us in my state. Brody tossed me my duffel bag and I slung it over my shoulder.

  We waved to the guys and Janey as they drove away.

  I took Celeste’s hand, “So how far away are we?”

  Celeste stepped in front of me towards the road and stuck her hand in the air. A cab pulled up to the curb. “About ten minutes, depending on traffic.”

  “Oh, you’re just a New Yorker now?”

  She smiled and opened the door, sliding in before me.

  Celeste’s apartment was just a couple of blocks away from NYU, situated at the top of an old brick building. You needed a code to get into the building and another to get into her apartment. I was tipsy enough that my vision swayed a little on the way down the narrow, well-lit hall to her apartment. She gently shut the door behind us and quickly did the control lock and the chain. Her apartment had a unique floor plan. You walked directly in with the kitchen situated on the right, a large counter island with four stools under the counter, and a small dining room-a table and four chairs. The living room had two couches and a comfy looking chair, a coffee table, and a rug. A 40in TV was mounted to the wall. “This…” I hesitated. A bright blue teakettle sat on the stove; two matching towels folded perfectly over the arm of the oven. She had a ceramic jar with wooden spoons that looked worn with use, and the cabinets were glass, displaying neat stacks of plates and glasses. Everything was orderly, in calming neutral colors, and as I looked over at Celeste, I realized how much this apartment really felt like her. From the giant blanket draped over the couch to the little blue tea kettle, a book with a worn spine on the coffee table and the heavy curtains over the windows. “This is very different from your Castle Hanson.”

  She coughed out a laugh, clearly nervous, and pointed to the door on the left side of the room beyond the dining room. “There’s a bathroom attached to the guest room over there. My room,” she co
ntinued, “Is on the opposite side.”

  “The couch sure looks comfy. Guess we’d better turn in. Big day tomorrow.” I bent forward and kissed her on the forehead, then walked over to the couch. I threw my duffel on the floor and fell back onto the comfy cushions. “I’ll see you in the morning, Ace.”

  She nodded and headed to her room, looking what I hoped was a little disappointed. “Goodnight, Maverick,” she said, slipping into the dark room and closing the door.

  I sighed and closed my eyes, willing the room to stop spinning. Picking up the book on the coffee table, I checked out the title. It was a romance novel, a shirtless dude on the front holding a woman draped in loose fabric that was falling over his arm, looking like she was about to faint. I grinned. Celeste had remained without a romantic partner the three years since I’d seen her, but the fact that she was reading a steamy romance novel meant she was further along in healing than I thought. If she was willing to expose herself to this kind of nonsense, she was maybe willing to enter into a very slow relationship with me. I reached down into my duffel bag and pulled out my flask, taking a big, long drink.

  The Duke held her tightly by the wrist, his eyes black with anger. “You have not been given permission to leave.”

  I scoffed.

  And kept reading.

  I was just starting to get into the story, the liquor from my flask making its way swiftly through my brain when a moan sounded from her room and I froze, sitting up and dropping the book to the ground. Anger, jealousy, confusion, and then worry ripped through my body. I leapt as quickly as I could over to the sound. The door to her bedroom was shut tight so I put my ear to the wood and listened. Another moan. I stared at the door handle, curiosity warring with propriety.

  Don’t open the door, you fuck. Don’t do it.

  I was still gripping the flask in my right hand and I took another drink.

  Bad idea. Step away.

  Another moan, this one a little more breathless. She said something then that I couldn’t quite hear. A word, a murmur, a promise.

  I slowly turned the doorknob, my heart racing.

  The sight before me hardened my dick and pounded blood into my heart and ears. She was lying on her bed, covers strewn around her curvy body, blonde hair messy and splayed out on her pillows. One tank top strap fell down across her upper arm. She was in her underwear and her hand was unmistakable dipped down into that sweet, warm spot between her legs. She bit her lip and moaned again, her head turning from side to side. I was rooted to my position, unable to walk away. I wanted to join her.

  Fuck, did I want to join her.

  Walk away, man. Walk away before she opens her eyes and sees you standing there like a fucking creep.

  “Mav,” she moaned, breathless and panting. Her eyes remained closed.

  She was thinking of me.

  “Fuck,” I said out loud.

  She shot up like a whack-a-mole, green eyes wild and wide, her hand disappearing from her underwear, “Jesus Christ,” she shouted, “You scared the shit out of me!”

  I swayed a little against the doorway, “Were you just…?”

  Her mouth fell open and her tank top dipped a little. She wasn’t wearing a bra and I could see the hard points of her nipples through the fabric as she straightened the strap back over her shoulder. Her cheeks were flushed, “It’s been a long time for me!”

  “No, not that. I mean—were you thinking of me?”

  She grabbed a pillow, hugging it to her chest and avoiding my gaze, the flush of her cheeks deepening to a scarlet.

  “Okay, I’m going to take that as a hard yes,” I slurred, holding myself up with the door frame, “This is a terrible idea, but may I come in?”

  Celeste stared at me, looking slightly frightened.

  I held my hands up and her eyes shifted to the flask, “I’m sorry, I will return to the couch and the mercurial duke.”

  Her eyes widened, cheeks turning scarlet in the darkness. “Oh no…” Her hand flew to cover her face.

  “You have very interesting taste in literature.”

  She groaned and I took that as a gentle invitation, wandering over to her and leaving my flask on the dresser. She shifted her ass on the bed when I approached, making room for me to sit next to her. “Look, I won’t fuck you, but I don’t see why I can’t help you achieve your goal. It’s something a Duke would do.” I kept my jeans and shirt on, needing those extra layers and flopped onto the bed next to her, rolling to my side.

  “You won’t fuck me?” She asked slowly.

  I reached up to touch the soft pink of her cheeks, “No, I won’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t think you’re ready.”

  Fuck, I don’t think I’m ready.

  Hurt crossed her features and I backpedaled quickly, hoping I didn’t sound too much like a drunk asshole, “No, I want to fuck you, Celeste. I mean, really. It’s all I think about. But I won’t because I just don’t think we’re ready.”

  “You brought a flask? How drunk are you?”

  I tugged at the pillow covering her beautiful tits, more than a little excited at seeing them in their new cup size. “As you have said before, my darling, I am toasty.”

  A small smile broke out over her pretty features and she relinquished the pillow. I tucked it behind her back, staring maybe a little too longingly at the hem of her top.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know. I’m not a charity case.” She leaned back against the pillows, turning her head to look at me.

  “I don’t know what kind of charities you’ve been supporting recently, but please sign me up.”

  She giggled and my dick twitched against my jeans. I tilted her chin up, “Can I see your tits now please?”

  “That isn’t something a Duke would say,” She said pointedly and lifted up her top, tossing it off the side of the bed before relaxing against the pillows with her arms crossed over her stomach. I swallowed hard. The soft swells of her breasts were resting just above her ribs and I cupped one in my palm. They were just as they had been, but rounder, perkier, fuller, too big for my over-sized hands. I leaned in, my other hand cupping her jaw, and brought my lips to hers. Her mouth parted against mine and I felt the tension ease from her body as my mouth explored hers. After a moment it was like no time had passed. We were making out, slow and practiced like we had so many times before. Her breathing quickened when my thumb connected with her nipple, flicking at the pink bud. I tore my lips from hers, running my tongue over the other nipple and loving the gasp she made as a result.

  “I didn’t realize you were a boob man,” she said breathlessly, lifting her hands above her head. I moved between her long legs and they hitched on either side of my hips. I was straining against the fabric of my jeans and I could feel the warmth from her underwear even through the thick material.

  I brought my mouth back down to her incredible tits, playing close attention to each nipple, kissing the surrounding flesh, and licking the buds until she moaned. I wasn’t really a boob man, or an ass man, but Celeste had unknowingly formed an instant obsession with both the moment she reappeared. I ran a hand down the flat plane of her stomach. Her hip bones still jutted out, but not in a worrying way. I kissed her stomach, from her ribs to her belly button, and touched the edge of her pink underwear.

  “Can I take these off?” I asked huskily, “Please?”

  Her mouth fell open, “You’re asking for permission?”

  Fuck yes. The King of Consent.

  “Yes, Mav. I mean we’ve done this before.”

  I half shrugged and stuck my fingers under the hem of her underwear. My skin against hers was a marvelous feeling and I relished in it, hesitating. My drunk brain was telling me to rip the fabric in two, spread her wide, and kiss that part of her I’d been dreaming of for so long. The sane part of my brain, the one that wasn’t dripping with IPA’s and vodka argued vehemently against this motion. My sane brain lectured my drunk brain, pointing out that if I saw this
part of her body again so soon, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from taking more than she might be ready to give. And if she was surprised that I was asking for permission just to remove her underwear, she probably wasn’t ready. I glanced up at her upturned chin over the round swell of her breasts. Her cheeks were flushed, those top teeth biting into the soft flesh of her lower lip. I let go of the hem of her pink underwear and placed a kiss on her lower abdomen.

  I couldn’t do it. Not yet.

  Her eyes popped open, “What’s wrong?”

  I moved back up her body, missing those beautiful breasts, and took a nipple into my mouth without answering. She arched her back, letting out a soft gasp. I snuck my hand down her side and into her underwear and brought my face up to hers, needing to watch her while my fingers finally made contact with that part of her body. She spread her legs for me, and her eyes searched mine. My breathing was ragged, my lips an inch from hers as my fingers crept steadily downwards, dipping between the soft, wet lips in her panties. She sucked in a breath; eyes fluttering closed as the pads of my fingers dug even deeper. She was so wet, so deliciously wet. I dragged my middle finger through her wetness, pulling it back up between her lips and around her clit, rubbing in gentle circles.

  I felt her hand weave through the hair at my neck and kissed her jaw, biting gently as I worked her in lazy circles. I felt the hardness of her nipples through the fabric of my shirt and groaned, switching my thumb for my middle finger to continue the ministrations on her hard little nub. I touched the wet hole between her legs and nearly came with the effort of keeping myself in control. She groaned, her fist in my hair forcing my lips to hers. My middle finger pushed inside of her, joined quickly after by my pointer finger. She felt so tight, so wet, so unbelievably wonderful in my hands. She bit my lip and I grinned, keeping the tempo slow, knowing it would drive her crazy. Celeste had never been a patient girl, and it was becoming clear that at least, had not changed.

  She was squirming against me, her hips bucking into my hand. Our tongues met, dancing to the increasing rhythm of my fingers fucking her pussy. Her breathing was heavy, and she tore her mouth from mine after a moment, her hands gripping the sheet beneath her as she arched her back. Her one hand moved to cover mine, like she wanted to pull it away.