by Raquel Belle
“Fitzwales.” I said and shook his hand.
He didn’t smile—he just nodded. “Interesting seeing you here, Preston. Have you got everything?” I pulled the money out of my wallet and handed it to him. Then showed my pins and bracelet for an education foundation, cancer research, and UNICEF.
“Do these represent general contributions, or large ones?” Jonathan said.
I almost laughed but held it in. “They represent regular contributions.” I hated the feeling of having to prove myself and show tangible proof that I care about shit.
“Very well… Put this on,” Jonathan said and handed me a robe. I shrugged it on, and they walked towards the middle house. It was bizarre, since we were in a quiet neighborhood, and barely anyone was out on the street. Jonathan used a key to get inside. The foyer was dim, lit by one hallway light. There was a staircase a few feet across from the door, one went up—presumably—to the next floor and another down to the basement, maybe. The house was silent, like no one else was around. I hoped there wasn’t like some sort of séance taking place downstairs.
Nathan and Jonathan led me down the steps to a basement door. Jonathan opened it, and all the noise that was missing poured out. We stepped into Narnia. A speakeasy bar stretched out in front of us. It was built and decorated like a 1920’s gentlemen’s club…and not the kind that invited strippers.
I scanned the room. About twenty men wearing robes hung around. A few were at the bar, but most were in the seating areas, just talking. I realized what the five-hundred dollars was for. Speakeasies were generally expensive bars, especially in Manhattan. They rented out the whole place for a night.
“So, this is a normal meeting for the society?” I said.
Nathan nodded. “Just about. Though we do have women members, this particular meeting is known as a Classics meeting where it’s men only. Generally, we don’t discuss organization issues or society goals at Classics. It’s more of a social. It’s good for inducting new male members too.”
“Organization issues and society goals?” I said. Nathan gestured for me to follow him to the bar. I couldn’t believe that I’d neglected looking into who Jonathan was in the country with. Beth had been more resourceful than me, and she should be the one sitting at this meeting, talking with Nathan. And Nathan was like an open book. He talked—sometimes without breathing—about the society, what they stood for, and what they did. Their mode of operation was to help kids and especially forgotten kids—underprivileged kids and the like. Then I got around to asking about why the society hadn’t really caught up with the times, and why there was a lack of women.
Nathan explained that leadership had changed and the Common Templars was trying to catch up as fast as they could. They’re doing something interesting, tailoring their public image while tucking away a likely problematic past. Just talking to Nathan, I knew he was in spokesman mode. He was passionate about what the local chapters did for their communities and wouldn’t bring up anything that might make the society look bad as a whole. All in all, it was an interesting night, and I got a lot of information. When the bar gave last call, I got a ride back to the Regis with Nathan, thanked him, and then took out my phone to call Beth.
Chapter Seventeen
Beth
I laid in bed, hugging my pillow, and watching Thirteen going on Thirty. It was nearly impossible not to obsess over what Anthony was doing or how the meeting was going. Every few minutes I’d get the urge to text him, but then I had to force myself not to. It was torture. I should’ve made plans to go out. Staying in just wasn’t like me but that’s how stressed I was. I couldn’t even think outside of what was going on in that stupid all-men’s meeting.
My phone started buzzing under my leg. I snatched it out so fast that my heart leapt into a gallop when I saw Anthony’s name.
“Hey,” I answered, my mind was almost blank because I hadn’t expected him to call.
“I hope it’s not too late?” he said. I heard the sounds of the street on his end of the call. Had he just left the meeting?
“No, I was up. How…how was it?” I asked.
“It was really interesting. I learned a lot,” he said. “I was hoping to see you tonight. To give you back the recorder.”
“I thought you were going to just email me the file?” I pulled my phone away from my ear to check the time. It was nearly one a.m., which, granted, for a New Yorker wasn’t late by any stretch, but it was still way past business hours.
“I want to see you to talk about how we’re going to do this,” he said in a rush.
“O-kay,” I said, slowly, “I’ll text you my address.” We got off of the phone, and I texted him, then immediately started to worry about what he could say. Already, he was doing more than I gave him credit for. What if he was coming over just to say that he wouldn’t give me anything? What if there was no recording on the mic receiver? My chest felt like it was freezing up on me, so I forced myself to breathe, but the worry still kept me in bed, and I hated the feeling with all my heart.
The buzzer finally rang and I dragged myself out of bed to walk to the front door and check the camera feed. It was Anthony—with his hair combed and wearing a black suit and tie. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a James Bond movie. I buzzed him in and paced in a loose circle until he knocked.
When I opened the door I looked Anthony up and down. He was so hot that I literally shook my head at him, getting a lopsided smile in return. I waved him inside.
“Did you manage to record anything?” I said, testing the water.
Anthony followed me into the living room and we sat on the couch. He nodded. “I recorded everything. I was surprised the receiver lasted as long as it did.” He took it out of his pocket and handed it to me.
“Did you email yourself the recording?” I said.
“No, not yet. I figured, in a gesture of good faith, that we could go through the recording and talk about what happened together.” He sat back, getting comfortable, and his legs fell open a bit. Of course, my eyes flicked to his fly for a second then I glanced to the left and pointed to the kitchen.
“Did you want something to drink, or something to eat?” I said, hoping he didn’t notice my awkward moment. When I met his blue eyes, they were trained on my lips. My nipples hardened behind my t-shirt.
“You want to feed me?” he said.
His tone was excited, but his eyes had only travelled lower, and I felt heat creeping up my neck and into my cheeks. I laughed, nervously. “Food, actual food.”
He shook his head. “Food, not so much. You, though…absolutely.”
I didn’t know what to say. My mouth opened and closed a few times, and I blinked rapidly to try and clear my head. “What…what are we doing?”
“I want to date you,” he said, as if he’d thought about it well in advance. “As much as I enjoy getting on your nerves, I’d rather get to know you and explore why we have so much chemistry.” Anthony searched my eyes, and he scooted closer to me. I could feel my heart pounding. Part of that was shock, but the other part was my libido roaring to life.
“Oh,” was all I could say, while my mother’s voice echoed in my head, I told you so.
“What do you say? Can we finally go to dinner?”
I smiled. “Yeah, okay, that would be…sure.”
Anthony grinned, and he took the spy gear that was still in my hand and put it on the table. He pulled me into his lap. I combed my fingers through his silky hair as our lips brushed. Electricity lit up my senses. A slow ache started to build between my legs as we kissed, savoring each other, as if we had all the time in the world, which, I guess we did. Something in my chest eased the more I realized what this meant. Anthony wanted to put aside all of our bickering and history to see where things could go with us, and I wanted that, too.
I started to unbutton his shirt and then pulled his tie loose. He kissed my chin and then whipped the tie over his head, and unbuttoned his shirt while I took off mine. My boobs were no
thing to write home about, smaller than average, but Anthony groaned and took them in his hands as if they were the sexiest tits he’d ever seen. He ran his tongue around my nipples and nibbled on them gently, sending bolts of pleasure directly to my throbbing pussy. I felt myself getting wet, and I squirmed in his lap. Anthony cupped his hand over my pussy, and I moaned impatiently.
“You don’t have to hold back… We’re not in your office,” he said. My laugh was breathy, and he nuzzled my neck before he kissed me. His tongue caressed mine, and he rubbed the heel of his hand against my aching cunt. “Do you want me? I can go, or I can stay and cuddle.”
He nibbled my ear, and my breath quickened. My hips circled, and I rubbed against his hand for relief. “Stay, I want to have sex.” He bit my neck, turning me on even more, and my legs started to feel weak just from the barest contact.
Anthony pulled my pajama shorts off. I was naked underneath, and he took immediate advantage, laying me back to kiss my pussy lips. I trembled, as I waited for him to undress. He didn’t take his eyes off me as he did, and the fact that I had his focused attention sent a thrill of pleasure through me.
Anthony’s body was a sight—to say the least. He was tall and lean, and his muscles were clearly defined. Not to mention, his abs were model worthy. He likely didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. More than that, his cock was pretty big. Despite that day in my office, looking at the thick, veiny length was another experience in anticipation. “Anthony, I’m so fucking wet right now, can we skip the foreplay?” I said and licked my lips.
“No, I’m making you come as many times as possible, baby,” he said. He kissed me and then turned my body so that my legs draped over his arms, and my back rested on the couch. He licked, and sucked, and nibbled at my clit. He ran his tongue between my folds and thrust it into my tightened core. I didn’t hold back my cries of pleasure. It seemed like the more I moaned his name or made any sound, the more adept his tongue became. I rubbed my pussy against his lips and lost my head for a split second. Then my body shook and trembled, as the orgasm ripped through me.
“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” Anthony said when he came up for air. His cock stuck straight out, but he didn’t plunge into me yet.
“Good, can you fuck me now?” I said, making him smirk.
“That’s another setback,” he said and stroked his cock in front of me.
My lips parted in shock. “Tease.” I reached for him. He stepped forward, and I stroked the rock-hard length for him, then licked the underside of his cock. Anthony groaned and stepped closer to me. I ran my tongue around his tip and then slid my lips around him. His breathing became uneven, and I responded to his excitement. My pussy throbbed and my cunt was fast becoming drenched. Anthony put a hand behind my head and eased himself just to the back of my throat.
“Fuck…” he hissed. An involuntary moan escaped up my throat, and Anthony quickly pulled his dick out of my mouth and, in a whirlwind, he rolled on a condom, turned my legs, lifted one around his waist and plunged into me.
“Anthony!” I cried. He kissed me, then rested his forehead against mine as his hips swung back and forth. My fingers dug into his waist, and I arched my back, wanting to feel as much of his skin as possible against mine. I got wrapped up in the heat and the deep sensation reverberating through me. Anthony held me tight, and he thrust hard and fast until my legs shook, and my toes curled from an intense orgasm. He kept going, drawing out the quakes that tore through me. He held my gaze, as if he physically couldn’t look at anything else. That closeness sent me over the top, and everything became part of the never-ending orgasm.
His thrust began to stagger and Anthony went still, then I felt his cock pulsing inside me. His head fell into the crook of my neck, and for a while, we just breathed. Soon, he pulled out of me and almost tripped off of the couch. I giggled at him. He stuck his tongue out at me and searched for the bathroom. I couldn’t even muster the energy to direct him. I just basked in the multi-orgasm glow with my eyes closed. A few minutes later, I vaguely felt something soft against my skin. Then he picked me up.
“Is it okay if I sleep over?” he whispered in my ear while he carried me.
I nodded. The bed sheets felt cool against my skin when Anthony put me down. The bed dipped behind me for a moment and then his warm chest pressed against my back. He had me truly sated.
Chapter Eighteen
Anthony
Beth turned over in her sleep and let her hand fall against my chest. Her curly hair was splayed over her face, and she looked even younger than she was. I traced the curve of her nose and the perfect cupid’s bow of her lips. She stretched and opened her eyes—an intimate smile touched her lips.
“Good morning, beautiful,” I said.
“Morning, handsome,” she said, and her smile grew. “Man, I feel like last week was the longest week of my life.”
“It ended well, right?” I kissed her neck, and she slid her hand over my chest and stomach.
“Yeah, I think it did,” she said. Beth got out of bed, and I took her in, enjoying the view. She had the perfect curve to her hips, and her ass was the right size to fill my palms. Her breasts were perfect, too. Huge boobs never appealed to me. She walked casually to the bathroom, not shy or bothering with a robe. I loved that. A cat jumped onto the bed as soon as she left the room.
“Whoa…I didn’t know she had a pet,” I said. It lowered into a loaf and stared at me without blinking…as if gauging my intentions. I offered it my hand, and it sniffed me, then rubbed its jaw on my fingers. “Guess I passed, huh?” I scratched its ears, and it rolled over, purring.
My stomach growled, demanding food after the night I’d had. A quick check on my phone for what was nearby revealed a breakfast café around the corner. I walked to the bathroom and tapped on the door.
“Just a minute…” she said. I heard water running, then she opened the door. She did have a robe on then—it was thin and a little sheer. Her hair was in a loose bun at the top of her head.
“You ever been to this place?” I showed her my phone, and her eyes lit up.
“Oh, yeah, they have great French toast,” she said.
“Cool then, I’m gonna run home and change then bring food back, okay?”
“That’s sweet. I’ll be here,” she said. Beth rose to the tips of her toes and kissed me on the cheek. With a goofy grin on my face, I got dressed in the living room where our clothes were strewn, then took a cab home. Taking the subway would be way too long. At home, I showered and changed at record speed, packed my laptop bag, and debated taking my car to Brooklyn. But there would be the issue of finding parking there. Fuck it. I grabbed the keys, walked to the building’s private garage, and sped back to Brooklyn. After a quick text, asking Beth what she wanted to eat, I picked up breakfast and found a lucky spot behind her building.
Back at her place, Beth had put on an oversized sweater and tights and her hair was straightened. “Oh, you came to work?” she gestured at my laptop bag.
I dropped it on the couch before following her into the kitchen. “Yeah, I figured we could make a game plan or something. We’ve both got deadlines coming up soon, right?”
“That’s true,” she said. I sat at the breakfast bar while she unpacked the food and transferred everything onto plates.
“Did you have plans?” I said.
“Tonight, I’m going out with my friends,” she said and handed me a fork and knife. She laid everything on the bar and sat next to me. “So, how the hell are we going to divvy up this information?”
“There are two angles that I saw forming when I was there…and while I was talking to Nathan. Of course, there’s the angle of discovery. You know, the look, this secret society exists and Jonathan’s part of it, and this is what they do.” I paused to take a bite of my omelet.
“The other angle is more internal and about the history of the society—how they’ve evolved and that can be brought back to Jonathan as part of his philanthropic side.”
Beth glanced at me and studied my face for a second. “Which angle are you most interested in?”
“No, which angle are you most interested in?” I took a sip of the coffee I’d ordered with the food.
“Well, we both know which one sounds better,” she said.
“Comes down to the writing and the framing, you know that.” I put my cup down, and she bit her lip while fiddling with her fork.
“I’ll feel bad no matter which one I choose,” she said.
“No, there’s no rivalry with us anymore, so you don’t need to feel bad. Plus, no matter what, both stories will be huge.”
Beth shrugged. “The second one then,” she said and watched me for a reaction. I didn’t give her one, and instead, I leaned over and kissed her.
“The first one has more shock value. You’ve just been outsmarted,” I said. She playfully hit my arm. God, she was sexy. “When is your story due?”
“After Thanksgiving. You?”
“Same. Does it publish the day following submission or the start of the week after?”
“Start of the following week,” she said.
I laughed. “Wow, they really have us going head to head on this.”
She shrugged, busy eating her French Toast. “I feel like we might have to interview him again to get his direct comments on the society.”
I nodded and sighed. That shit hadn’t even crossed my mind. To be honest, it was annoying to think I’d have to talk to him again. “Great…”
“You don’t like him?” she asked and speared a piece of strawberry with her fork.
“He’s fine, I guess, but I got a weird vibe from him at the meeting. He wasn’t trying to be in my company for too long. When we were at his hotel, I could tell he kinda likes you.”
“Please, he’s a gentleman with ingrained manners. To the untrained eye, it can look like he likes me. He’s just being nice,” she said.
