Masterson

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Masterson Page 13

by Lisa Lang Blakeney


  "We have a situation,” he announces, but I have zero idea what he's talking about.

  "A situation?" I pant.

  "Yes."

  He's right. We do have a situation. A very bad one. This is my chance to stop this before it goes any further. I am acting like a total whore right now. I'm getting eaten out by my frackin' cousin while my aunt prepares pot pies downstairs! Am I the one on drugs?

  I try to turn myself over, because the first order of business would be to get my ass out of Roman's face, but he uses his brute strength to hold me in place and he takes another smack at my ass. This time it's a little closer to my pussy, and I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment while I wait for the feeling of utter ecstasy to pass.

  "Masterson, we can’t,” I say breathlessly.

  "I know,” I hear the gruff regret in his voice.

  Then his mouth returns in between my legs and he takes a long, deep pull of my clit with his lips while shoving both of his fingers back inside me, and I explode.

  My hands fist the sheets of my bed and my entire body convulses as I use every ounce of strength in me to not scream bloody murder. It was the most excruciatingly, powerful orgasm I've ever had. By my hand or another's. So good that I had to catch myself when I felt a tear form in the corner of my eyes. Having to keep silent during my orgasm probably made it that much more raw and overwhelming.

  He growls as he turns me back over. "I asked you to wait."

  "I couldn't!" I protest while panting out of breath.

  "You'll do better next time,” he says.

  And that's when I realize that the palm reader was right. If I'm not careful, this man is going to utterly consume me.

  Me: I need you to meet me somewhere in like an hour.

  Sloan: Where?

  Me: The Lotus.

  Sloan: I thought it was closed.

  Me: It's open again and Roman is the manager.

  Sloan: I don't believe it. I'm stunned shitless.

  Me: I'll explain later. I need you to come because I don't want to go:(

  Sloan: So why are you going?

  Me: Call it family pressure.

  Sloan: I'll be more than happy to get that particular family obligation completely off your back:)

  I told Sloan the minute I found out that Roman was my cousin, which she found totally tragic and hilarious in the same breath. Tragic for me that I'd never get to know him in a "biblical" way. Hilarious because of the stories she'd get to tell their grandchildren about how they met.

  What I haven't revealed to Sloan is how my attraction towards Roman has grown by leaps and bounds since we first met that night at The Lotus. Every interaction between us pulls me in deeper, especially the one we just had. And there's no way in hell that I'm going to tell Sloan that I damn near cried after my cousin gave me the best damn orgasm of my life.

  That's just something a girl needs to keep to herself.

  18

  Elizabeth

  CLUB LOTUS HAS CHANGED significantly in the last few weeks. The intricate details which made the club beautiful are even more noticeable now that the club has been cleaned from top to bottom. I love the curves and swirls of the crown molding in the club. It makes me imagine a time in history when visiting the bank was obviously a luxurious experience. Something only reserved for the wealthiest of Philadelphia society. Nothing like the cold, sterile banks we use today.

  Then there are the contemporary touches that make The Lotus just as beautiful. The modern crystal chandeliers which hang like sparkling pendulums from the twenty foot high ceilings are a happy marriage of old world meets twenty first century. They have been polished to a clear sparkle, and the exotic mahogany wood bars have been buffed to a spit shine. A simplistic, pared down stage has been built by the south wall, and I notice how even the lighting is softer on the dance floor now. No more eye squinting strobe lighting.

  There doesn't seem to be that same homogeneous group of middle class corporate types dancing their cares away either; ordering bottles like they're planning on getting good and wasted on the finest liquor money can buy, because they hate their bosses. Instead I notice that there is a more eclectic group of people, sitting, talking, drinking and having a good time, and I swear that I can recognize several faces chatting at a table near the DJ booth. I'm just not sure from where.

  After taking a good look at my new and improved surroundings, I notice that there is a new elevated seating area at the top of a large curved staircase which features a large, oblong wooden coffee table and several plush chairs surrounding it. These are definitely new and they're all colored blood red. It's from that area that an attractive petite woman with shredded jeans and a tight graphic tee on whistles down to Roman through her teeth to get his attention. Roman responds with a nonchalant head nod to her and the two men she's sitting with. Then he starts moving in their direction.

  He doesn't say much to me, in fact he's only grunted a few words to me since we left home, and his silence makes me feel simultaneously embarrassed and ashamed of what's happened between us. I suppose he regrets what's occurred as much as I do which would explain the whole I'm not saying shit to you Elizabeth thing. Maybe this is how he treats all the women that he's been intimate with. Which would pretty much explain why that pretty bank manager threw water in my face today.

  Now I'm looking to see if Sloan has made it here yet, because I don't know if she'll see me seated in this section. It's pretty dimly lit, and I don't want to be stuck by myself with Roman and his friends all night. I'm sick of him being all hot and cold. He was in a bad mood when he came to my room tonight, then he expertly got me off twice, and now he's moody again. Unfortunately eating Juliette's scrumptious chicken pot pie and giving me two orgasms didn't solve his bad-ass mood. Like I said, I'm assuming that his crappy disposition has something to do with the regret that he feels about what we did earlier. I feel the same way, but you don't see me taking it out on him. The jackass.

  When we arrive to our seats, I'm struck by how attractive the two men are that are waiting for us. They look very much alike, so I assume they must be related, and they're both staring at me like they already know exactly what I'm wearing underneath my clothes. The woman extends her hand and speaks to me first.

  "Hi, I'm Jade. This is Cutter and Camden. You must be the new cousin."

  Interesting that he's mentioned me, but I don't know one single thing about them.

  "That's me. It's nice to meet you all. I'm Elizabeth."

  Roman sits down next to Jade and across from me. Maybe that's why he's so on edge all of a sudden. Maybe she's his girlfriend or at least another one of his friends with benefits. The guy named Camden is watching me carefully, and I blush because he's making me a bit uncomfortable on top of the fact that he's so good looking.

  "Would you like a drink?" Camden asks while he waves down a waitress.

  "She'll have a glass of merlot,” Roman interjects abruptly.

  Jade takes a hesitant glance at Roman and then another back to me.

  "You like wine?" she asks surprised.

  "Yeah, I can't really stomach the hard stuff. Thank you Camden, but actually I'll have a glass of cabernet."

  Roman rolls his eyes.

  "Well that's too bad, because we do shots." The other hot guy named Cutter smiles brightly and says. "And we do 'em all night."

  "I'll pass,” I chuckle.

  "She'll have one,” Roman says, and this time I give him a hard look. What the hell is he doing?

  He shrugs his shoulders with indifference. "You need to relax a little, cousin."

  I want to kick him.

  "I can speak for myself thank you very much."

  He mutters something under his breath only loud enough for him to hear.

  "So what do you do, Elizabeth?" Jade asks after giving Roman another long look. I think she wants to smack him too.

  Please do.

  "I'm an app developer. I went to Penn for computer science." I almost laugh at how I made mys
elf sound ridiculously way more impressive than I really am. I need to take a course in small talk.

  "Damn!" Cutter says. "Smart and you look like that. You ever think about the benefits of marrying young? I'm a fantastic lover." He flirts. I smile back. I can see already that there's something a bit endearing about this guy.

  Roman starts to tap the heel of his foot nervously when Jade places the palm of her hand firmly on his knee to calm it. She definitely must be a friend with benefits. I don't know why I'm so surprised, although he didn't mention anything about a Jade until we were well on our way over here.

  I wonder if she knows that Roman rarely talks about her, that he has some crazy-ass bank manager stalking his ass, and that he just ate me out an hour ago. I wonder what would happen if I told her all of that interesting information. Of course I'm too chicken shit to ever do that.

  Sloan: I'm here. Where are you?

  Me: At the top of the staircase

  Sloan: Is the father of my future kids there?

  Me: Whatever and yes. But I think he has a date

  Sloan: I brought some reinforcements with me

  Me: Who?

  Sloan: Carla, Tiny. Jagger

  Me: OMG!

  Sloan: Thank me later, bitch.

  "A couple of my friends are on there way up here. I hope that's okay,” I say excitedly.

  I make sure to stand by the banister and wave my hand so Sloan can see me.

  "What friends?" Roman asks suspiciously.

  "Sloan and a few friends from school."

  "Oh right ... the glamazon."

  "What does that mean?" Cutter asks with interest.

  "Tall, thin, the usual,” Roman says.

  "Hot?"

  It's a knee jerk reaction, but I look up to Roman to see how he'll answer the question. He looks me straight in the eyes with little expression across his face when he replies to Cutter.

  "Absofuckinglutely."

  If he said it to piss me off, it worked. I look at Jade to see if he's hurt her feelings at all, but I can't really read her. I think I'm the only one who's more irked by the comment, and I hate that I even care. So what he made me come like an hour ago. That doesn't mean anything. In fact I've got to get a grip. I can't just make out with my cousin and think that it means something. That it's ok. It's not. That's why I'm counting on one particular reinforcement Sloan brought to help me shake this whole Roman Masterson spell I'm falling under.

  Jagger Reed is another graduate from the university swim team and was probably Ethan's main competition for a spot on the Olympic team. He's built like the quintessential All-American boy. A tall and broad swimmer's body, eyes that shine, and a crooked smile. If I could do things all over again, Jagger would've been the guy I went out with in school. Not Ethan. He is the only one of Ethan's friends who called to check on me after the attack. Everyone else has been avoiding me like the plague, as if I am the reason that Ethan has been kicked out of swim club and in rehab. I'm sure Sloan asked him along because she knows I've always had a little crush on him. Long before Ethan.

  "You said friends as in plural," Camden says. "Who else is coming?"

  "Some friends I went to school with. A girl from our old dorm; her name is Tiny. And a guy we know named Jagger."

  Roman frowns.

  "Hi y'all." Sloan waves as the three of them make their way up the staircase. She looks amazing as usual in a simple ribbed white tank top, skinny jeans, thin gold hoops and heels. I give her and Tiny a quick hug and offer a smile to Jagger.

  "Damn! Your legs go on for days,” Cutter exclaims.

  Sloan grins.

  "And you are?" she asks amused.

  "Your future."

  She giggles. I roll my eyes (to myself). I thought I was his future just a minute ago.

  "I'm Sloan, this is my old college roommate Tiny, and our friend Jagger."

  Tiny and Jagger say what's up to everyone and then they step back to let Sloan do her social butterfly thing. Sloan is a bit of an attention hog, and so we kind of just let her go and do her thing when we're all out. It's much easier that way.

  Jagger leans back on the banister with a grin and his eyes trained on me. If I didn't know better, I would say that he is looking at me with interest, but that would probably just be wishful thinking on my part. He mouths the words for me to come over and talk to him. My first reaction is to smile and get up, but I feel kind of slutty about it when I do, because Roman is watching me like a hawk with a scowl on his face, and well you know, he did just have his face between my legs not that long ago.

  "Hey Elizabeth. How are you? Long time no see."

  We're both facing each other, casually leaning on the railing, and I can still feel Roman's heated glare. It's difficult to concentrate with him staring like that, but this is Jagger Reed we're talking about. I need to get it together.

  "I recently moved out of my place. So I live with family over in the Historic District."

  "Sweet."

  "You getting ready for the Olympic trials?"

  "Yep, they're next June."

  "Oh ... so you have plenty of time."

  "Yeah, I'll be training all winter at the club and then probably head over to Nebraska in the spring to continue training."

  "Nebraska?"

  "That's where the trials are this year."

  I can tell that Jagger is a little surprised that I don't know diddly squat about the Olympic trials, but when I was with Ethan that was kind of the point. He didn't want to talk about swimming with me. He talked about it enough with his coach, his parents and his friends. He would often tell me that I was his very much needed distraction from all of that pressure. I've learned the hard way that his words weren't even remotely truthful. Drugs proved to be the real escape he was searching for. I can't believe how clueless I was. It still stings.

  "I'm sure you'll do well and get a spot on the team, Jagger."

  Especially because Ethan is no longer competition for him, but I'd never say that. The two of them were always battling each other for the number one and number two spots in competitions.

  "Thanks. So how's your–"

  "Excuse me,” Roman walks up directly between us and interrupts.

  "Yes,” I say with annoyance in my voice. He's been a jerk since we left the house, and I'm certainly not trying to talk to him now.

  "I brought you your shot."

  "Thanks but I thought I said I didn't want one."

  "It's lemon flavored. You'll like it."

  He stands close to me holding the shot. "Take it."

  Jagger starts shifting his weight between both of his feet uncomfortably. I can tell he is itching to say something in my defense. That's just the kind of guy Jagger is, but knowing a little about him, I also figure that he is sizing Roman up first. Trying to decide the best way to handle him. Jagger is smart. I've seen him handle some of the drunkest guys on campus quite diplomatically.

  "Will you leave if I drink it?" I ask already knowing that the question is probably going to piss Roman off.

  "Why?" He looks like he wants to rip my head off right now.

  "Because the lady and I are going to dance," Jagger interjects with a smile as he grabs my hand. "She's a great dancer."

  I'm surprised that Jagger makes a comment about my dancing abilities, because I had no idea that he's ever paid attention to me when we were partying. Although it may not have been the biggest secret in my circle that I love to dance, I'm just shocked that he was watching.

  I throw the shot back, grit my teeth from the sour lemon taste, then grab Jagger's arm and we head down the stairs to the dance floor. Sloan cackles something from her seat on top of Cutter's armrest like, "have fun kiddos," and when I turn around to smile at her, all I see is the deepening scowl on Roman's face.

  He's totally pissed, and it brings me a small bit of satisfaction.

  19

  Roman

  I'M NOT SURE HOW LONG I've been standing by this railing watching Elizabeth and this pre
tty ass swim boy dance in the middle of my club. I don't like him. I can tell life has been entirely too easy for him. He probably got all A's in school, all the pussy he wants, and lives off daddy's money. He doesn't look like he's ever had to fight for shit a day in his life. Guys like that feel a sense of entitlement about everything. I'm positive that he's nothing but trouble.

  Of course one might interpret this another way, and I can't believe I'm even thinking this shit, but is it possible that I'm jealous? I mean Elizabeth's arms are draped casually across this guy's shoulders, and his hands are holding her tiny waist as they dance way too slowly to a fast ass electro song. They're both smiling and giggling with each other as if they are in the middle of some sort of teen Disney movie or they're out on their first date.

  I'm really trying like hell to tame the beast within me, but this is another new emotion for me, and I'm not sure what I can do about it. The swimmer kid should just back the hell off. That would make things a lot simpler, because it would be very embarrassing for everyone if I broke every one of his dainty slender swimmer fingers, now wouldn't it?

  My body is humming.

  The hairs across my forearms are vibrating.

  This thing brewing inside of my body has rendered me utterly stupid. While it's a sensation that I've felt recently, it's a whole hell of a lot stronger this time.

  Possession.

  I know it sounds ridiculous, but Elizabeth is mine. I'm not exactly sure how I can feel so covetous of a woman that I have only tasted but not fully claimed. Not to mention that I don't claim women. That's not what I do.

  And that's exactly how I know that I'm completely and royally fucked.

  I like Elizabeth. I mean I really like this girl. She's made me laugh more than I have in the last year. She doesn't have fake tits, a fake ass, or even false eyelashes. She's a hundred percent natural, one hundred percent real, and she's super smart. I'm not used to intelligence in the bedroom. I'm used to women who either pretend that they are way smarter than they actually are or are plain ole' home grown dummies.

 

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