For a week, our texts are the same.
He invites me over or offers to meet somewhere to fuck me.
I dodge with excuses of work.
I almost feel like he wants me.
No, he does want me. Just not the way I need him to.
Blake: You must need a break by now.
Yes. Desperately.
Kat: I'm too tired to head uptown.
Blake: I'll come to you.
Kat: And fuck me with my sister in the next room?
Blake: No. And fuck you in my limo.
My sex clenches.
Blake: We have dinner reservations next Saturday. In midtown at six. With Mom and Fiona.
Kat: Have you ever heard of asking.
Blake: Will you join me for dinner?
Kat: Yes.
Blake: Please bring Lizzy. Mom wants to meet her.
Kat: Sure. For Meryl, not for you.
Blake: Of course. I'm not under any illusions about why you're doing this.
But he is. Because it's not just for Meryl. It's for him. Or maybe for me. Because I want to be around him. Just… I need to figure out how to be around him without falling harder.
Blake: Now, Kat, may I make you come in my limo?
Kat: Do we have to talk?
Blake: Nothing but dirty promises.
Kat: I'll be ready in fifteen.
Blake: Don't wear anything under your coat.
Blake is sitting on the bench. He's in his suit and tie, the picture of confidence.
His eyes meet mine. They demand everything.
Dirty promises. We're only making dirty promises tonight. We're only making dirty promises forever.
"Take off your coat," he demands.
My body obeys before my head can step in.
I slide my coat off my shoulders.
I'm not quite naked. I'm in thigh high stockings and heels.
He eyes the tights with appreciation.
"They weren't under my coat. Technically," I say.
He half-smiles. He must appreciate technicalities. He would.
The limo pulls off the street.
I press my palms against my hips. I need to look confident.
This is for me. Because I want him. Because I want this distraction. Because I want my thoughts a million miles away.
He leans back, spreading his knees. "Lie down on the bench. On your back."
Slowly, I lower my body onto the cold leather seat.
He leans next to me. Brushes his fingers against my inner thighs.
His touch is light. A tease. I should be used to his teasing by now, but I'm not.
My body whines for more.
I stare up into his eyes. Demanding more.
Blake pulls a champagne bottle from an ice bucket.
He tilts the bottle away from me and pops the cork. It bounces off the ceiling and lands on the floor. Bubbles spill over the sides of the bottle.
A drop hits my chest. It's cold. Sticky.
Heat spreads through my torso. He isn't touching me. He isn't licking this drop off. I need that. All of it.
It's been too long.
Blake slides out of his suit jacket. "Arms over your head."
My body obeys immediately.
He holds the bottle two inches above my mouth and dribbles champagne over my lips.
I lick the bubbly. My tongue is greedy. All of me is greedy. I need the sweet, fruity drink. I need it obliterating every one of my inhibitions.
Blake draws a line of champagne over my body from my lips to my belly button then back up again.
He plants a kiss on my pelvis. Then it's his tongue on my skin, lapping up every drop of champagne.
He moves up my stomach. My chest. My neck.
He sucks at my skin to lap up every drop.
His fingertips skim my inner thighs. The tease makes me shake. He's taking too long. I can't wait. I'm already waiting for so much.
Then he kisses me and I have everything I need. Feelings are pouring from me to him. And back from him to me. Only I don't know what they are.
He needs me.
I need him.
I don't have a clue about the rest.
His kiss is hungry. Demanding.
When he pulls back, he's panting.
He looks down at me, some mix of affection and desire filling his eyes. "Comfortable?"
"Very."
He undoes his tie and holds it tightly.
He works slowly, wrapping my wrists and binding them.
I'm at his mercy again.
But then I'm always at his mercy.
"Please." I arch my back. "Fuck me."
"I'm going to fuck you so hard you see stars."
I nod. Yes. That. Now.
"But you have to wait."
No. I hate waiting. He always makes me wait.
His eyes stay glued to mine as he strips out of his shirt. Then the belt. The shoes. Socks. Slacks.
He slides his boxers to his feet.
My sex clenches. We're naked in here together. We're so fucking close to exactly where we need to be.
He wraps his hand around the neck of the champagne bottle. His finger slides over the rim.
Then it's his lips.
The teasing motherfucker.
He dribbles champagne onto my lips.
It's amazing, but it's not what I want.
My back arches. It's the only way I can plead. I like being at his mercy, but he's too fucking merciless.
Blake draws another line down my neck, over my breasts, down my stomach. This time, he stops at my belly button.
It's like he's promising to keep tracing that line with his tongue.
Like he's promising he'll finally give me what I need.
His tongue slides over my neck. Flat. Wet. Soft.
Pleasure whirs around me. My nerves wake up. My entire body wakes up. It's here. In this moment. Buzzing with desire.
He licks his way to my breasts. His tongue slides over my nipple. Then it's a flick. Pleasure shoots through me. He does it again.
Again.
Again.
Heat pools in my sex as he teases me. It feels so fucking good. But it's not enough.
I'm shaking when he releases my nipple. He drags his mouth over my stomach, lapping up every drop. He's slow about working his way down my body. His touch gets softer as he moves towards my belly button.
Then below it.
"Please," I groan. I part my legs as wide as they'll go.
"Beg me." He presses his hand against my hip, pinning me to the bed.
"Fuck me, Blake. Please, fuck me. I need your cock inside me. I need you coming inside me."
He leans down to take my nipple into his mouth.
Pleasure floods my body. "Please." I arch my back to push my breast into his mouth. "Please."
His teeth scrape against my nipple. His hands close around my thighs. Yes. Hell yes. Anticipation floods my body.
He drags his lips down my stomach, under my belly button.
Lower.
Lower.
There.
His tongue slides over my clit.
I lean back, relaxing into my restraints as he licks me from top to bottom.
His nails are sharp against my thighs. His tongue moves with utterly perfect precision. Every flick of it sends another wave of ecstasy through me.
Almost…
I press my thighs against his hands. His nails sink into my flesh. The burst of pain is enough to send me into overdrive. An orgasm rises up inside me. It gets tighter and better and harder. Then everything releases in one perfect wave of pleasure.
Blake moves fast. He plants his hands around my shoulders as he brings his body onto mine.
The weight of him feels so good against me.
He's warm.
He's hard.
He holds my hips steady as he thrusts into me.
It's hard. Deep. It's too fast, but it isn't fast enough. It's too much, but it will never be enough.
I arch my back and lift my hips to push him deeper.
He groans as our bodies come together.
He stares back into my eyes as he fucks me.
One hand presses my shoulders into the bench seat. The other holds me steady.
I surrender.
I lose myself in the movements of his body.
Every thrust makes me feel whole and needy at once. He feels so good inside me, but it's not enough. I need more. I need everything.
He moves harder.
Deeper.
An orgasm rises up inside me. I moan. I pant. I groan his name.
I thrust my hips to meet him, to push him deeper.
There.
Pleasure rushes through my body as I come. It knocks me down. My muscles relax. One leg slips off the bench seat. The other presses into its back.
Blake's hands are on my chin.
He's staring at me with that perfect mix of lust and affection.
He plants a desperate kiss on my mouth.
He presses his body against mine.
And he drives into me harder.
He slides his hands around my ass, pulling my body into his, pushing deeper.
It's like I'm his plaything.
Like I'm exactly what he needs.
He groans into my mouth. His nails sink into the flesh of my ass.
There. His cock pulses as he comes inside me, filling me, marking me as his.
He collapses on top of me. Presses his lips against my neck.
I catch my breath as he dresses and undoes the knot on my tie.
"I'd like you to come over." He takes my hand and presses a kiss against my wrist. "If you'd like."
"I have too much to do." I stare back at him. He means it. He wants me around. As much as I want that, it's the opposite of what I need.
"Of course." He nods and settles into the bench seat.
But he actually looks… sad.
We're silent as the limo drives back to my place.
It stops.
Blake slides my coat over my shoulders and does the buttons. He kneels in front of me and rolls my stockings onto my feet one at a time. Then the boots.
He drags his fingertips up my calves and over the insides of my knees. "I'll see you soon."
But which Kat will he want?
Chapter 30
Lizzy is not happy about this dinner.
Or about my continuing arrangement with Blake.
Or how I'm "lying to myself."
She spends the afternoon in her room making alternating claims of doing homework and picking out an outfit.
I knock at five. It's at least half an hour on the subway to Midtown. I don't want to make it harder for her by taking a cab.
My jaw drops as she pulls the door open. She looks so pretty. So grown up.
Her hair is swept into an elegant updo. Her makeup is soft and subtle. Her chic black dress suits her perfectly.
"You look beautiful," I say.
"Thanks. You too." She reaches for her purse. "Should we go?"
"In a minute." I take a long look at my sister. We've barely talked since the fight at the boutique. I miss her. I miss having camaraderie.
I check my phone for word from Blake.
There are a few days of sweet dreams texts. And there's a reminder with the restaurant's address. That's it.
Maybe he doesn't want me. I don't know. It's confusing.
I throw my sketchbook in my purse. It's a new habit. In case inspiration strikes. I still have a lot of work to do for my portfolio.
"Listen, Kat." Lizzy looks at her foot. Presses it into the ground. "Never mind. We should talk about it later."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, totally." She pulls the door open. "About the other day… I know I should have—"
"It's okay. I understand."
I follow her out the door.
The restaurant is beautiful. Romantic.
Black walls. Flickering candles. Roses bouquets.
It's the perfect place for a date. Or a proposal. Or a declaration of undying love.
It's perfect for a panel. The happy moment where the couple falls in love or the miserable one where everything falls apart.
I swallow the lump that rises in my throat. There's only a week until Blake and I marry.
In one week, I'll be the wife of a man who will never love me.
It feels more real every day.
The hostess leads us to a private room in the back of the restaurant. It's just as romantic, though it's brighter. Ornate lamps in the corner offer plenty of illumination.
Meryl is sitting at the end of the table, nursing a glass of wine.
Blake is next to her, his fingers wrapped around a glass of whiskey, his attention on his mom.
She turns to us. "About time someone entertaining shows up." She looks to Lizzy. "You must be Kat's sister."
"Lizzy." She offers her hand.
Meryl shakes. "It's nice to meet you, sweetheart. You're just as pretty as Kat. Tell me there's some man desperate to scoop you up."
Lizzy laughs. "There have been a few."
"None good enough for your demanding older sister?" Meryl asks.
"How did you know?" Lizzy takes a seat. She turns to Meryl. Her expression gets bright. Animated. "None were good enough for me either. They're such… boys."
"And you want a man?" Meryl asks.
Lizzy nods.
"She's only eighteen," Blake says.
"But an old eighteen. Like you were." Meryl leans in to whisper in Lizzy's ear.
Lizzy laughs. She turns back to me. "I get it."
"Hmm?" Meryl asks.
"Why Kat was so… insistent about this… dinner." Lizzy pats the spot next to her. "She's been really excited for me to meet you."
"I've been excited too." Meryl takes a long sip of her wine. "Tell me, sweetheart. Are you an artist like your sister?"
Lizzy laughs. "No. I don't get art."
Meryl stage-whispers. "Me either."
"What's the deal with that one guy who does plaid paintings? I mean, those would look awesome on a skirt, but on the wall of a museum?" Lizzy shakes her head with distaste.
I can't help but smile. Even if Lizzy has no idea what she's talking about. The modernist movement—
"You look gorgeous." Blake's voice grabs my attention. He's staring into my eyes. "I've missed you."
"Me too. I've been busy." I take a seat next to my sister and look to Meryl. "College applications."
"Still?" Meryl plays with the stem of her wineglass.
"With art school, you need a portfolio. But nothing I draw feels good enough," I say.
"Her work is wonderful. She's underselling herself," Blake says.
"I haven't showed you anything." My cheeks flush.
"You leave your sketchbook open on the table. I see plenty when you're drawing." His voice is proud. He really does appreciate my skill.
But that only makes things more confusing.
He misses me. He wants the world for me. He's interested in my art.
And he's never going to love me.
It doesn't add up.
It doesn't make sense.
"And how have you been, Lizzy? How's your chess bot?" Blake asks.
She blushes. "Oh. It's okay. I mean, I'm trying something with Go, but it's impossible." She looks to Blake. "I spent a few hours testing the chat bot."
"You're more interested than I am," he says.
"Did you really program it all by yourself?" she asks.
"I did," he says. "It was my first time programming in awhile."
"It's amazing." Her voice gets loud. Excited. "I go into that room where you can play a game." She turns to me. "You have to guess if you're talking to a human or a chat bot, and the other person does the same."
"What if the other person is a chat bot?" I ask.
"Then it guesses. Sometimes it's two bots talking to each other. You can read the logs of that." Her eyes go wide. "It's so cool
."
"Thank you," Blake says.
"Programming is his idea of fun, I think," I say.
Meryl laughs, but it's strained. She brings her fist to her mouth and coughs.
Blake leans closer.
She waves him away. "I'm fine, sweetheart. Just thirsty." She holds up her empty glass.
Right on cue, a server enters our room. He smiles at Meryl. "Another?"
"You're too kind." She hands him her glass.
He looks to Blake. "You too, sir?"
Blake nods. "A gin and tonic for my fiancée."
"You order for her?" Meryl coughs. "Really? Don't you think that's a bit old-fashioned?"
"You'll confuse the man." Blake's lips curl into a half-smile. He looks to me and winks.
He's making another joke. It's not a good joke—no server is so easily confused that the word old-fashioned would make him think he should fix an old fashioned rather than a gin and tonic—but it's mine.
It makes me warm all over.
"Yeah, it's weird. But I think they're into that." Lizzy looks to the server. "Diet Coke with a maraschino cherry."
"A second glass for my daughter." Meryl motions to the empty spot next to Blake. "She got held up discussing something with Trey."
The server nods and disappears through the doors.
Meryl lets out another cough. Or more like a fit. She clears her throat and forces a smile. "Lizzy, I heard you're going to school next year. Is that true?"
Lizzy takes a seat. She plays with her dress.
"Well, sweetheart, do tell. Have you decided?"
"Stanford."
My stomach drops. "Officially?"
"Yeah. I'm sorry, Kat. I should have told you sooner. But I already enrolled. Yesterday actually." She bites her lip. "I have a full scholarship."
"That's great, sweetheart," Meryl says. "Lovely campus. And California, well, it's not my taste, but the weather is lovely."
"Stanford grads do great in Silicon Valley." Blake takes a long sip of his drink. His eyes pass over Meryl.
There's something in his expression. He's worried.
God, if Blake's worried, it must be bad. Or it could be I've somehow cracked the code to his expression.
I look closer. No, that can't be it. The man is still a mystery. A beautiful mystery who makes me come so hard I scream. But a mystery nonetheless.
"I'll miss you," I say.
"Blake, honey, I hope you'll keep your wife too busy to miss her sister." Meryl lets out a light laugh and turns to me. "And aren't you looking at schools?"
Dirty Deal Page 20
