AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yeah,” he says, like he’s thinking the same thing. “Good idea.”
I wish I could say I manage to keep my hands off Drew before his shift, but once he finishes his meal and before he gets dressed, he beckons from the couch, and I come running.
I blow him as usual, but then he surprises me by hauling me up between his legs and flipping me around until I’m lying with my back to his chest. With one hand putting pressure on my throat, he finishes me with quick, sure strokes of his other fist, making me jizz all over my coffee table as his rough breaths heat the nape of my neck.
He doesn’t complain when I wrap my arm around his head while I’m deep in the throes. It’s intense. Almost intimate. And he doesn’t shove me away right after I come, either.
Our faces rest against each other’s for a long moment while we both come back into our bodies until, finally, he taps my belly to let me know he needs to get up. Moving off him is more of a struggle than I’ll admit. And, if I’m not mistaken, his sigh as he rises has a note of regret in it as well.
We have kind of a moment at the door when he leaves, too. I don’t usually walk him out, but he asks me to tonight. Before he opens it to go down to work, he turns to me and gives me a long look. “Don’t have too much fun tonight.”
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’m in survival mode.”
“You gonna miss me in the morning?”
Not for the first time, I sense a soft spot in him—a sliver of vulnerability—which punches through my chest like a fist. Gone is the hard edge in his sharp gaze. The mask of indifference he wears like a second skin is replaced with what I have a feeling is his natural face. It’s the first time he’s letting me see the real Drew on purpose.
“I might,” I say quietly. “Yeah.”
“I might miss you, too.” His gaze drops to my mouth.
My vision blurs as all my blood rushes from my head. I want this. I want to feel his mouth on me. Anywhere, but right now, my lips are all but begging for his. I’m past being shocked by these constant waves of wanting him, but I’m not past being totally screwed up by them.
“So, your number’s in the system. You have any reason to want mine?” he asks while I stand there waiting for a first kiss like a virgin in a romance novel.
“That’d probably be good to have,” I say. “Yeah.”
“I’ll text you later then.”
“Okay.”
He’s still staring, and I’m still waiting, my breaths heavy and near labored in my chest. But I don’t get a kiss. I get two light pats on my cheek, an anemic echo of his erotic slaps.
“Stay out of trouble tonight, Peach.”
With that, he’s gone, and I’m huffing out all the air trapped in my chest, the urge to fan my face near overwhelming.
Once I recover, I go through all the usual motions of getting ready for a night out with Elodie, but Drew is much harder to get out of my head than usual. There’s a definite sense of something shifting, but not enough has actually changed to know what the shift is exactly. And I’m not sure I’m ready for it either.
I also can’t resist it. I’ve always been curious. Incurably impulsive. I want that fucking kiss, and yeah—like I told him this morning—I want to fuck him.
If I have to marry Elodie in a few months and spend years, if not the rest of my life with her, then I plan to enjoy what little time I have left whenever I can. If I want to fuck a man, I will. Not that it’s been a lifelong dream or anything, but it’s a fantasy I’m currently obsessed with, so why not? It’s not like anyone’s paying attention to me anyway. No one but him.
I even consider the weird idea Drew had this morning about moving Elodie in here, continuing to hook up with him, and letting her do whatever the hell she wants. I’m not afraid of the doormen selling me out anymore, but I would be nervous about Elodie’s “suitors.”
There’s nothing some people won’t do to milk an heir or heiress for a buck or fifty thousand. More, even. NDAs aren’t iron-clad, but regular people don’t really know that. The threat of a lawsuit is usually enough to keep people’s mouths shut, but if they slip even once to the wrong person, the damage is done, and suing them is just revenge porn after that.
So yeah, it’d take a lot of convincing for me to let someone in this house to piss on Elodie while I’m upstairs blowing Drew. I couldn’t give less of a shit if Elodie knows about Drew—as long as she doesn’t breathe a word about it to my parents.
Fuck, it makes me want to vomit just thinking about my parents finding out about Drew.
I’d lose everything. Including them.
What keeps me from retching is remembering that the whole idea came from a conversation about Drew saying he didn’t like the idea of me fucking Elodie every other week, which—join the club—me neither, Jack. But there’s some comfort in that. That he’s not hanging me out to dry here—that he wants more, too. Although his definition of more and mine might be vastly different.
Literally all I can think about is kissing. I find myself studying the waiter’s lips as he recites the specials because he’s a good-looking man with a mouth, and that reminds me of Drew, and this dude has approximately the same amount of stubble. I’ve never kissed anything that wasn’t soft, plush, and sweet.
Drew would be rough, scratchy, hard—aggressive even? Maybe? I blink myself out of the fantasy to answer Elodie’s second iteration of her appalled question. “The doorman? Really?”
