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I’m still concerned this will be the end of my friendship with Danny, which has lasted nearly as long as my life. But I’m not worried enough that I’m ready to step away from her. It feels like stepping away from her would be the end of me, or any part of me that’s good.
She pulls back, her lips glistening. “We need to find someplace that has a locking door.”
“I can’t…you’re…” I swallow. “You had three glasses of champagne.”
She gives me a wry look. “You think that’s enough to make me too tipsy to consent? You’re so old.” She retreats from me, then walks in a straight line, one foot in front of the other, arms splayed out to either side.
She looks like a dancer, a vision. An illusion wrapping a ribbon around my brain. She’s easily the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Have I proven to you that I’m fuckable?” she says in an undertone that hopefully doesn’t carry.
“I knew that. I’m not an idiot. But you really want to mess around in a supply closet?” I’m partly asking because I want her to repeat it. She always makes such a big point of not wanting to butter up my ego, and then she goes and says a thing like that, implying she can’t wait for me.
“Or a bathroom. This looks like a place that has clean bathrooms.”
There are two single-stall bathrooms with locking doors just down the hall from us, there for the use of whoever rents the private room. It’s a serious risk. Someone might end up waiting outside, and then they’d see us leave together. Or there’s a chance those disgusting pate cups will give everyone diarrhea and there’ll be a run on the bathrooms. It’s an unappealing thought that should sober me, and it might have, if Ruthie’s eyes didn’t light up when she saw where I was looking. She walks to the closest bathroom with a gleam in her eyes, her ass sashaying, and then glances over her shoulder and beckons me forward with her hand, fingers splaying and un-splaying.
I follow her. Of course I do. I follow her as surely as if she had my dick in her other hand, because she might as well. The bathroom is lowly lit, with a scented candle that finally cuts into the odor of tomato and garlic, and it looks as clean as a bathroom at a restaurant could be.
It’ll do. I’m not going any farther than the door.
I close it behind us. Lock it. Back her into it as I look into those crystalline blue eyes. “Ruthie,” I say in an undertone. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve wanted to touch you again? You haven’t left me alone all week. You’ve been in my head longer than that, though, always telling me what not to do, like a real pest.”
She lets out a laugh that’s half-delighted, half-annoyed, and leans up to kiss the underside of my jaw. “I was thinking the other day that you’re like my little devil. The one who sits on my shoulder and tells me to do bad shit.”
“Who’s your angel?” I ask, already internally scowling, because I think I know the answer. Also because I’m not sure how I feel about being her devil, prodding her to do things she shouldn’t.
“Tank.” She runs a hand over my brow, laughing. “I thought you prided yourself on your poker face.”
“It seems to crumple around you. But you said he’s just a friend, and I believe you.”
“You’re still jealous.”
So much so, my jaw might break. If I ever actually meet the man, I’ll be hard-pressed to say a full sentence to him. But that’s my problem—I would never make it hers.
“I don’t like that he stayed the night at your apartment, or that he’s checking you out in your bootie shorts. Those are my only complaints. He’s your friend, and it’s important for people to have friends who understand them.”
“Were you jealous of Rand?” she asks, catching me off guard. Maybe she’s asking less about Rand than about when this protectiveness started. Well, I won’t lie, even if I feel inclined to.
“I wanted to kill him,” I admit, running my fingers through her hair, gripping it. Need pulses through my veins, my cock. “He may have run off like the little slinking coward he is, but I still want to kill him. He didn’t deserve you, and he definitely doesn’t deserve that little girl. I told you as much back then.”
“Shane.”
“I didn’t understand it at the time,” I say, my hand still gripping her, because I can’t let her go. I lean in to kiss her neck. To breathe her in. “But I felt sick to my stomach at your wedding. It didn’t feel right, and it wasn’t only because I knew he was an asshole. I wanted to carry you away with me. I thought it was only because you were Danny’s sister, because you were both more to me than anyone else in this world, but it wasn’t just that…”
“You better touch me right now, or else.”
An incredulous laugh escapes me. “You’ve been trying to get me to talk, and now you want me to shut up?”
“I want you to put that mouth to other uses while we still have time,” she says, her eyes bright, “because I need you right now.” Her words are forceful, and gratitude glimmers inside of me because her need for me feels like a gift I don’t deserve.
“I need you.” I kiss her hard, using my hand in her hair to draw her closer, and as with everything, she meets me and exceeds me. While we’re still consuming each other, I run my hand up beneath the slit in her dress, following the seam of the stockings. Wanting to rip them off and tie her hands with them, the same way she did with me. Wanting everything.
I don’t have a condom, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have other kinds of fun.
I get to the top of the stockings, and even though my cock is painfully hard and pounding, I pull them down slowly, bringing her panties with them, wanting to feel the fabric relinquish its territory to me. The look of her creamy skin emerging beneath the dress makes me even harder. Kneeling at her feet, I look up and see her staring down at me—Queen Ruthie, watching her supplicant. “These are sexy as hell,” I tell her, “but I’m taking them off.”
Her response is to lift one foot, her hand gripping my shoulder. I grin, because she really is acting like royalty. I slip the shoe off, remove the impediments to bliss, and then slide the shoe back on and move to the other side. Once done, I stuff her stockings and underwear into my pants pocket. I’m unsteady as I climb to my feet, already reaching for her.
