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“Correct,” Reed says. “Tell everyone and anyone, as you like. But if you want to earn that bonus, you’ll tell Caleb tonight.”
She looks at me. “Are you okay with me doing this, Miss Ricci?”
“I’m thrilled about it, Amy. But thanks for asking.”
“Okay, then. Sure. I’ll head straight to C-Bomb now.”
“Actually, hold on.” Reed grabs his wallet, counts out ten bills, and hands them to Amy. “I trust you to earn it. There’s no need for us to deal with payroll on this.”
Amy takes the cash with a shy smile and disappears out the door, presumably to babble to C-Bomb about the shocking thing she’s just witnessed.
“You’re a sadist,” I say. “That poor girl was nearly crapping her pants again. And you clearly enjoyed it.”
“She’s a PA on tour with a rock band. If she can’t handle walking in on a make-out session a few times, she needs a new profession.” He smirks. “Now, where were we, sexy girl?”
“Not so fast. When you texted Owen and arranged for that poor girl to walk in on us again, you didn’t know I was going to say yes about you telling the world about us.”
He shrugs, not understanding my meaning.
“What if I’d said no?”
“Then I would have put the fear of God into Amy O’Brien about her NDA, again. But, either way, I would have had the pleasure of getting walked-in on again. One of my all-time biggest turn-ons.”
My jaw drops to the floor.
“Oh, please. You love getting walked-in on as much as I do.”
“I do not.”
“Liar. You love it.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yep. And you can’t convince me otherwise.”
I twist my mouth. “Okay, I admit it’s a turn-on for me to see how much it turns you on. But that’s as far as I’ll go.” Laughing, I slide onto his lap again, and we begin making out enthusiastically... until I remember the door to the dressing room is unlocked. “Hold on. Who knows who else you’ve arranged to ‘accidentally’ walk in on us.” With a little bite to Reed’s earlobe, I get up and lock the door—a move that elicits a booming and fervent “Boooo!” from Reed. And when I return to my hot boyfriend, his face, and the bulge behind his pants, tell me he’s as aroused as I am.
Standing over him, I reach inside my skirt, pull off my cotton undies, and fling them onto the floor with gusto. And then, licking my lips, I slowly kneel before him, unzip his fly, pull out his hard shaft, lick him from his balls to his mushroom tip, and get to work. I lick and suck and deep-throat him with everything I’ve got, enjoying every groan and shudder and yank of my hair, until Reed is growling and quaking so fervently, I know he’s on the bitter edge.
My heart pounding along with my clit, I get up, straddle him, and slide myself down onto his hardness. And the moment I’m positioned, Reed grabs my hips and roughly leads my movement, until we’re both losing our minds. Release comes for Reed first—which isn’t a surprise, considering the epic blowjob I just gave him. But after he comes, he kisses and touches me to a rolling, rocking orgasm that curls my toes and makes me wish he already had another erection I could suck.
I collapse onto him, feeling utterly euphoric. Swept away. Closer to him than ever. We’re not going to hide our love anymore. From anyone. It’s a dream come true.
I kiss his cheek. “So, I’m assuming you’re planning to visit your mother during this trip, like always, right?”
Reed stiffens against me. “Uh. No, actually. Not this time. My mother is out of town. She’s visiting a friend.”
I bite my lip, trying not to smile in reaction to his lie. Oh, Reed. My beautiful, beloved liar. . . I was hoping he’d tell me the truth without coaxing. But I suppose old habits die hard. “Oh, yeah? How nice for her. Where does this friend of your mother’s live?”
Reed pauses. His chest heaves. “In... I don’t know, actually. I didn’t ask. She’s out of town. Somewhere.”
I press my forehead against Reed’s and exhale. “My love. I know all about your mother.”
His breathing hitches. “What do you mean?”
“I know your mother isn’t visiting a friend. I know she lives in a mental facility in Scarsdale. And I know and understand why you don’t like to talk about that.”
Reed has turned into a trapped animal, looking for a way out. With a soft whisper of reassurance, I caress his chiseled face. Kiss his cheek. Skim his lips with mine. “You don’t have to spill your guts to me about her. Or about anything else that’s been hard for you in your life. You’re a private person, and I get that. I respect it. But you can’t flat-out lie to me anymore, okay? Those days are over. We don’t lie to each other about anything. You don’t want to talk about something? You say so. But you will not lie. And neither will I. Which is why I’m confessing to you: I know all about your mother. And your childhood. I know about Oliver. And the divorce. I know why your mother lives in that mental facility, and why she’s lived in one, almost continuously, since you were nine.”
