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Sophie: Jude, you asked me right before you made me come inside a public bathroom at the Plaza. That’s grounds for a mistrial, at least.
Damn, I love when she gets all sassy like this. Even if we’re mixing jargon, they’re still some of the wittiest messages I’ve ever shared with a woman.
Me: I plead guilty, your honor. But I don’t really think you can convict me of anything other than satisfaction. I made you come TWICE, by the way.
Sophie: I’m so rolling my eyes at you right now.
Me: Well, I’d like to remind you that time is ticking, babe. Come have the time of your life with me for a few days and more orgasms than your body can handle OR…you know…stay in New York and do boring shit. It’s up to you. Take it or leave it.
I watch as the text bubbles on the screen float up and down. And I swear a good minute goes by without an actual response.
But then, one chimes in.
Sophie: Okay. Fine. This is NUTS. Pretty much insane. But count me in.
Hell motherfucking yes.
Me: You won’t regret it.
Sophie: Can you give me a hint on where we’re going so I know what I need to pack?
I smirk and type out one final response.
Me: Anything you want. Plus, lots of sexy panties. See you at 10.
I lock the screen of my phone and go back to eating dinner. Thankfully, everyone’s moved on to ribbing someone else, and they don’t have the energy to pay attention to me.
I smile.
Vegas, baby. With Sophie, her sexy panties, and her magically delicious pussy.
Sophie
Two months ago, if you would’ve told me I’d agree to go on a last-minute trip to an unknown destination with a man I’ve been having secret-rendezvous sex with, I would’ve told you that you were psychotic.
But here I am. On a freaking private jet with Jude Winslow, heading for god only knows where.
My standing appointment with Dr. Winters earlier today was one of the catalysts for me saying yes. I told her the gist of what’s been happening with Jude and me—minus all the panty-stealing and illegal sex in public places—and when I mentioned that he asked me to go on a trip with him, she tossed her normal therapist’s open-ended questions my way until I admitted the truth—that I really wanted to go.
Now, though, I’m wondering if maybe my therapist has lost her ever-loving mind.
I mean, rearranging my work calendar and rescheduling two meetings so that Jude can take me to the unknown to get my rocks off for a few days?
Like, this whole thing is pretty out there.
Goodness, if Julie only knew that my supposed last-minute trip to Miami to see my parents was actually a trip with Mr. Sexy Good Time, she’d have a stroke. Especially since she doesn’t even know about Jude. In fact, my sisters don’t even know about him.
I’m just spinning this giant web of lies, and somewhere along the line, it’s probably going to catch up with me. Hopefully, Belle won’t have a shit fit over the next few days when I vaguely have to tell her I’m busy when she asks to grab lunch or something. Or, you know, talk to Julie and blow the lid right off my can of deceit.
Sheesh. Am I making a big mistake right now?
I stare out the window as the plane drifts higher into the dark night sky and try to wrap my head around all the crazy things I’ve been doing since I met Jude. All the secrets I’ve been keeping from my family and friends.
All the damn lies I’ve been telling them to keep said secrets.
Yeah, but don’t forget about all the excitement. Or the wild sex. Or the orgasms.
I can honestly say I can’t remember the last time in my life where I’ve felt free enough to just give in to my wants and desires. Where I’ve felt this uninhibited to feel what I want to feel. To do what I want to do. And to say what I want to say.
Jude might just be a guy I’m having fun with, but he makes me feel more like me when I’m with him. He quiets my tendencies to obsess over the future and overthink minute details that probably shouldn’t matter.
I pull my eyes away from the window and look right at the good-time devil himself. He sits in a cushy leather captain’s chair directly across from mine, and his body just vibrates this playful confidence.
Dressed in jeans and a collared white shirt, his style is more relaxed for the flight, but there’s no denying he looks good. Then again, Jude always looks good.
“So…” he says, grabbing my attention. “What kind of panties did you bring for my collection?”
“Oh my God.” A very unladylike snort jolts from my nose. “Did something happen to you as a kid? Were you in the Boy Scouts or something and had to collect stuff for badges? Is that where this obsession stems from?”
