“I think it’s fair to say that this was a hit,” Chris observed as he cleared my empty dish away a few moments later.
“Yeah, it was really good.”
I hopped down from the stool and walked around the countertop to help him clean up. We loaded the dishwasher in tandem, flirting all the way. A splash of water from the sink here, a slap on the ass there and suddenly we weren’t waiting until we were tired to head to the bedroom.
My heart rate accelerated as we made our way to the master. Though I didn’t doubt we’d end up finishing the thought, I knew that our activities would be delayed. It was now or never, and time seemed to stop as he opened the door and we stepped inside.
“What’s that?” He motioned to the bed, like I knew he would.
“Maybe you should take a look,” I whispered.
He untangled his fingers from mine, then approached the mattress cautiously. He plucked the gift bag up off of his pillow, dangling it in the air by the thin green ribbon that held it closed. Going for a laugh, he lifted it to his ear to check for ticking. Due to my nervousness, it managed to only result in a subdued smile.
“Are you okay?” he asked, picking up on my unease.
“Just open it, please.”
I debated whether or not I should sit down while he unwrapped the surprise, but my feet decided for me. They refused to move, frozen in fear. Not of his reaction, but rather of what it all meant. The sooner he knew, the better. Chris would be able to help calm my nerves and talk me down from the frenzy I’d been working myself up to ever since obtaining the positive test result.
He carefully undid the ribbon, then plunged his hand into the bag, diving into the tissue paper wrapped package for a clue. His efforts were thwarted by the booties being secured in a plastic box - no cheating allowed. With a smirk, he removed the box while keeping his brown eyes trained on me. As such, the answer to his unasked question was right between his fingers, only he didn’t know it yet.
I raised my eyebrow, jerking my head towards the contents of his hand.
“I don’t do the whole subliminal message conversation thing,” he joked, before thinking better of it. “That’s you and your brother’s trick.”
He realized what he’d said as soon as the words left his mouth. Guilt washed over his features as he took in my stricken expression, only making it worse. A complete afterthought, he glanced over at the box he held, the wheels visibly turning in his head as to if my gift was fragile. I knew he was prepared to drop it straight to the ground and rush over to console me. My bottom lip quivered, inviting him to do just that.
Then he looked at it again and the whole mood in the room changed.
“Oh my God,” he breathed.
The booties fell to the floor, breaking free of their packaging as he hurried over to my side. I stared at the tiny shoes as they landed, my vision clouding with tears. Happy, sad, all of the emotions were there, and my body shook with the effects of them.
“Oh my God, angel,” he repeated, taking me in his strong arms.
I melted into his embrace, only to protest when he let me go all too soon. My disappointed squeal was hushed the second he dropped to his knees in front of me. His fingers touched my abdomen reverently, like he was prone to doing anyway since he already loved what was there beneath my clothing, but this time we both knew it was different.
“Surprise,” I said shakily.
“Only the best kind ever,” he agreed, pressing a kiss against my belly.
And we celebrated, putting aside the nagging voices that reminded me that for as much as this fulfilled one dream, another laid broken at my very feet. And although I was undoubtedly the center of both, I had little control of either.
Chapter Nineteen
Gracie
Black hair in perfect starlet waves, flowing over my shoulders and curving around my full breasts.
A smoky cat eye, blended and shaded to perfection.
Crimson lips.
A corset that lifted and shaped exactly what it was intended to.
A garter belt holding up black silk stockings which barely peeked out from under the knee high boots laced on my feet.
Check, check, check, check and check.
Mental list complete, I headed out of my bathroom and plopped down on the empty bed.
I’d been planning this for some time now, and my dry runs had gone pretty much according to script. Now it was show time, with full hair and makeup in place. Having gone through the set up so many times, I knew my iPad was in exactly the correct position on my nightstand, and I carefully powered it up and toggled it to the video function, then pressed record.
I lowered myself to the impeccably placed pillow on my mattress, knowing I was propped up in just the right fashion so that my preparations weren’t all for naught. I wanted him to see as much as possible, which included my face as well as other regions down further.
Then I got to work.
Well, not to work exactly. But to the task at hand, quite literally.
With one hand, I pushed aside my matching thong, exposing myself to the camera spread eagle style. Then my equally crimson nails from the other hand took charge, caressing and teasing before diving inside.
A small moan erupted from my lips, but I was careful not to be too loud. Seriously, I’d practiced both ways. Silent made it sound like I was dead and screaming made me sound like I was in a porno. After my experiments, I decided to keep the sound effects to a happy medium.
One hand occupied down south, my other moved up the corset, pulling a breast free. My fingers rolled over the nipple, tugging it to a hard peak. My eyelids slammed shut, pretending Will’s hands were upon my body instead of my own. Though I could do a more than adequate job, he was phenomenal.
In the end, it was the thought of him watching the video from the privacy of his duplex or Jeep or whatever that sent me crashing over the edge. My heart thundered in my ribcage; I felt its staccato rhythm under both hands, one pressed against my chest, the other between my legs. I kept both sets of fingers active until rewarded with the sweet dampness of my release.
My breath still coming in heavy pants, I allowed myself a moment to calm down before I sat up and switched off the recording. My fingers hovered over the controls on my iPad, debating whether or not I wanted to watch this one back before sending.
The plan was to send it to his email, then text him with a coy little message to check his mail once he got home. He was finishing up his shift, and I certainly didn’t want him to watch my peep show while on duty. But he’d worked weekend shifts enough since we’d been together for us to establish a routine. And I knew that he’d run home to shower and trade off his patrol car for his Jeep before coming over here.
I’d also entrusted him with a key to my house, and I knew he would be eager to use it upon showing up in my driveway to a house completely darkened. Which would only mean one thing: that I was waiting for him in exactly the same outfit, laid out on top of my bed. Wanting him to help me recreate the fantasy that I had illustrated, daring him to do better.
Nope, if my orgasm was any indication of the quality of my performance, then I had nothing to worry about. As such, I decided to leave the video as is, without screening it first. What I was going to do before sending it, however, was wash my damn hand.
So I was in the bathroom, watching the evidence of my activities swirl down the drain in a blanket of soap suds, when my cell rang and scared me all to hell. Quickly drying off my hand, I rushed back out to the bedroom to answer before it kicked over to voice mail. Since there was no time, I didn’t even check who was calling before sliding the touchscreen to connect.
“Hello?” I answered breathily, for a multitude of reasons.
“Gracie?”
The voice on the other line was muffled, both by background noise and also the distinct sound of tears. It took me a moment to place who it was, not being any of my usual suspects.
“Emma?”
She took a deep br
eath before confirming, during which I imagined a variety of bad news, all involving her father. “Yeah, it’s me.”
“What’s wrong, sweetie?”
“Could I ask you a huge favor?”
Considering that she had been integral in paving the way for Will and me to take our relationship from cloak and dagger to out in the open, I was pretty much putty in the girl’s hands. And by her asking that very question, I knew although it was important to her, it wasn’t the life threatening emergency situation I’d been envisioning.
“Sure thing. What do you need?”
“Can you come pick me up?”
The request was so out of left field that it took me a minute to say something. However, I had already wedged my cell between my shoulder and my ear, and was working on finding some pants. I couldn’t go anywhere without those.
“Dad’s at work and my mom thinks I’m spending the night at Jess’s,” she explained.
“But you’re not really at Jess’s?” I hypothesized, smirking.
“Well, I was with her, but we went out to this party-”
“And your mom would totally kill you if she found out?”
“And she ditched me. For this guy. And I just really want to get out of here.”
“Text me the address. I’m on my way.”
“I owe you big time.”
She hung up before I could argue. I flopped my phone down on my mattress, scrambling for appropriate clothing. Within seconds it chirped with a text message from Emma, an address I recognized as being not too far away. Even with it being a short drive, I knew my plans for the evening had changed. And I was horribly relieved that the video was still safe in my iPad, not floating over to her father via the internet.
I threw a hoodie on over the corset, glad that the sweatshirt material would conceal what was underneath. The boots came off, the garter belt and stockings following suit. In their place, I pulled on a pair of sweats and some athletic socks, jamming my feet into the gym shoes kept under my bed.
Good to go. Terribly overkill on the hair and makeup for my going to the gym look, but it would have to do. I wasn’t going to waste time scrubbing ten layers of makeup off of my face when Emma was at some awful party on the verge of a mental breakdown.
Emma hadn’t been able to provide me with the complete address, only the street name. But it turned out that I didn’t need it anyway. The entire street was parked up with a wealth of cars, but the location of the party was evident. Only one house on the block was lit up like a Christmas tree, music blaring from the property like at a rock concert, with people milling about on the lawn in various stages of drunkenness. I had been to my fair share of these types of events, and bet that the only reason the neighbors weren’t calling the police to complain was because they had all been invited, too.
I damn near had to park the Lexus on the next street, so it was a bit of a hike to circle back to the scene of the action. I multitasked as I walked, pulling out my phone and texting Emma that I had arrived. I sincerely hoped that by the time I got there, she’d be on the porch so I wouldn’t have to search her out inside.
Which she was, but she wasn’t alone. Some guy was hovering around her, too close for my comfort. Whether he was friend or foe, I couldn’t tell. But he was clearly speaking at her, though I wasn’t yet close enough to hear the conversation. A red plastic cup dangled loosely in his grip, but Emma didn’t hold the same. I was glad for that, because I really didn’t want to deal with carting around a teenager who couldn’t hold her alcohol in my brand new car.
Flirty Douchebag shifted his attention to me as I approached, and whatever words he’d been about to spout died on his lips. Emma followed his gaze and looked more than relieved to see it was me.
For his part, Mr. Douchebag looked more aroused than anything else. “What do we have here?” he drawled, quickly shifting gears. He eye-fucked me up and down. Apparently the corset could bind and lift noticeably, even under sweats. Boobs obviously not the only draw for him, he gave equal attention to my lips, undoubtedly imagining them on some area of his body.
“Get in the car, Emma,” I ordered, addressing only her. I pointed my key fob in the direction of the sedan, watching as the taillights flashed to confirm that it was unlocked. She watched as I did so, yet refused to move. “I said. Get. In. The. Car.”
At that, she turned tail and obeyed, leaving me alone with her companion. He took this as an invitation to continue his faulty brand of flirting.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he began.
“And we still haven’t.”
“Oooh, you’re feisty. I like that.”
“And you’re also dreaming if you think you have a shot.”
He looked dumbfounded for a moment, but still kept pursuing me. Amused, I let him.
“Are you one of Emma’s friends?” he probed.
“Something like that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I happen to be her father’s woman. Do you realize he’s a cop?” I pointed to the cup in his hand, which I would guarantee didn’t contain water or soda. “I’m sure he’d have a field day here if I called him.”
“No, no,” the guy protested, “there’s no need for that. But if you get bored with someone who’s old enough to be your dad, I’ll be here waiting. Look me up.”
That did it. Yes, I looked younger than I was. But the age difference between Will and me had been sort of a sticking point, one that we’d finally gotten past. And though eleven years wasn’t enough for Will to be my father, I didn’t appreciate the reminder.
I reached out and grabbed the cup from his hand. He’d either just gotten a refill or he was nursing it, for the beer almost reached the top. His eyes on me, waiting for my response, I licked my red lips, inviting him to watch what happened next. I raised the glass, took a big swig of the watered down liquid, then poured the rest squarely on his head. As he stood dripping before me, I pressed the cup back into his hand.
“I don’t think that will be necessary. But here’s a little something to remember me by. Happy wet dreams tonight.”
His jaw practically on the grass, I spun on my heel and retreated to my car. A miniature crowd had formed during my little outburst, and they parted like the seas to allow me to exit. I kept my head down to hide the smile that formed as I disappeared from their view in a haze of scattered applause and catcalls.
Emma jumped as I opened the driver’s side door of the Lexus and slid in. She’d taken the opportunity to compose herself, but the evidence of her tears was still visible from her smudged mascara. I reached back to the floor behind my seat, grabbed my purse, pulled out a tissue and handed it over.
“You okay?” I asked, not sure how much of an answer I’d be given.
She dabbed at her eyes. “Yeah, I’m good.”
She took in my appearance then, just now noticing that the face did not match the outfit.
“I thought Dad was at work.”
“He is.”
Her eyebrow raised, considering. “I won’t ask then.”
“Good call.”
We both laughed, an awkward chuckle. I could tell she had her suspicions, and they were likely spot on. Even if they weren’t, they probably weren’t far from the truth.
“So where to?”
She sighed. “If I go back to Mom’s, I’ll be busted.”
“Right. So your dad’s, then?”
She shook her head. “I guess so, but I feel guilty because it’s not his weekend. And if my mom finds out…” She trailed off, leaving me to fill in the blanks.
I fired up the ignition and pulled away from the curb. At the entrance to the addition, I turned right instead of left, thoroughly confusing her.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“My place.”
Though she looked surprised, she didn’t question me further. She simply settled back into her leather seat and enjoyed the ride. I didn’t press her to talk to me, instead finishing the drive back to my
house in a companionable enough silence.
She’d never been to my house before, and I snuck a glance over at her as we pulled into my driveway and I parked, as per normal, dead center in the two car garage. I was curious to see what she thought of my modest enough ranch. Though clearly I knew what Will’s housing situation was, I had no idea what Stephanie’s place looked like. All I was sure of was that Will had allowed her to keep the family home in the divorce, signing away his ownership rights. And a silly little part of me was curious on how we compared.
Emma didn’t provide me with a tell, remaining stone faced as I climbed out of the car. She followed suit a moment later, resigned to my decision for good or bad. I wasn’t completely sure. She trailed behind me, a shadow over my shoulder, as I secured the overhead door and led us into the house proper.
I flopped my purse on the kitchen counter, slipping out of my shoes and kicking them aside. With a shrug, Emma did the same.
“Want something to drink?” I asked, my head already buried in the fridge. “I’ve got bottled water, Coke, lemonade.” I left out the adult beverages, because I wasn’t an enabler.
“Coke’s good.”
I pulled out two cans, handed one over, and led her out to the living room. As I popped the top of my drink, I chuckled.
“What?”
“You didn’t like that guy back there, did you?” I asked.
She furrowed her brow, which was a good sign for me if she couldn’t remember him.
“The one that was outside when I showed up.”
“Him? No way.”
“Good. Because I couldn’t decide if he was hitting on me or insulting me. So I poured his beer over his head.”
“Gracie!” she squealed, a reaction much like I would expect from Lauren or Blake.
She settled down on to the couch beside me, more like a friend than the daughter of the man I was dating. Her green eyes fixed on me, subliminally pressing me to explain myself.
Silenced Page 17
