by Tara Brown
“We have to wait for the room. I need to fuck you on a bed. I don’t want it to be like this,” he whispered into my lips, his words caressing me.
“I want you to fuck me right now.” I kissed him again softly. “And then again in the bed.” I spoke through my ragged breathing.
The switch clicked again, and he sprang to life. He pulled my skirt up more, sliding my underwear down my thighs while I finished unbuckling his pants. I grabbed the waistband of his boxers, getting worried when I saw the outline of his erection. Licking my lips, I pulled the waistband down, eyes widening when his erection sprang from his boxers, slapping him on the abs. It went past his belly button and had girth like I’d never seen. “Uhhh.”
But it didn’t seem like he realized what he was packing, given the way he cupped my ass and pulled me into his lap, again kissing me hard as he placed a condom into my hand.
A little scared, I slipped a hand down there, almost measuring with my fist as I gripped him and rolled the condom on.
“Go slow for a second,” I begged as I led him to the right spot, rubbing him back and forth and then easing him into me.
There was a moment I could feel the tension in the air again. It wasn’t awkward; it was self-control. I started to understand him a little better. He wasn’t thinking of something to say or do; he was holding back. He vibrated with it. I eased myself onto him, going up and down a few times to stretch myself in a way I’d never before stretched.
He kissed my neck, thrusting just slightly, burying himself in every way into me, his cock all the way and his mouth in my nape. I whimpered into his hair, holding his face.
He gripped me, holding my hips with his shaking fingers as I slowly started to move, catching my breath in my throat for the first few strokes. My movement gave way to permission for him to grind. And like releasing a horse from a stall, he thrust, bucking and making me ride him at the same time. I couldn’t sit back, it was too much, so I wrapped my arms around him, clinging to him as our cheeks pressed against each other, speaking with breaths and gasps, getting a feel for one another.
Our lips met again, like they were lost in the confusion of this sudden assault we were both guilty of, maybe me more so than him, as our hands grounded us. He pumped into me, grunting and fucking while I clung to him, desperate to hang on.
Moaning, I started rotating my hips, riding him on my own.
The car jostled us with a sharp turn, and I cried out, losing the control I had and realizing how close I was to orgasming. Desperate for it, I slipped a hand down between us, fingering my clit as he thrust hard and fast, maintaining a rhythm I couldn’t. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back as I rubbed the sensitive spot he’d already been massaging.
He held my body in place, controlling how I moved as he slapped our bodies against each other. My finger and his cock met in the middle, my clit, finishing something he’d started.
I tensed with my orgasm, pleasure filling me and forcing sounds from my mouth that I didn’t normally make in the backs of cars.
I clenched and cried out as he thrust harder and faster, making me fuck the way he wanted to.
My whole body convulsed with perversely found indulgence as I used him as much as he was using me at this point. It was primal in nature and yet satisfying in a way I’d never been satisfied. Though I wasn’t sure before this moment that I’d ever needed to be fucked the way he fucked me. I’d never needed to come the way I just did, gripping another human, unsure if our feet were still on the ground. It was the savage end of a savage ten days spent in agony and turmoil. This was the moment I’d anticipated in the bathroom on that boat, animalistic—no, it was better. It was better because I liked who he was. He was flawed, but he was vulnerable. And he’d shown it all to me.
He finished, with hard jerks and loud noises, gripping me and rocking.
I managed to catch my breath as he relaxed, dropping the scowl. He had an angry sex face, and for whatever reason I liked it. I ran my hands over his face and smiled.
The car stopped, and we stared at each other for half a second, wide eyed and realizing what was about to happen. The car door slamming made our eyes pop open even more. I got off of him and pulled my skirt into place as he slipped his pants up and zipped his fly with the condom still in his pants.
I started to laugh hysterically as the door opened and the light of day shone in. I couldn’t imagine what was happening in his pants, but I bet it was bad.
As we stepped outside in the fresh air, as fresh as New York ever got, a hard hit of reality slammed me.
I was outside with no underwear on in the middle of a busy street in Manhattan, blushing like an idiot, and he was wetting the front of his pants.
As if the fates had it in for me, this awkward moment would of course be the one where a girl who looked exactly like Amy got out of a limo parked across the road. She turned and lowered her sunglasses, pausing and staring. Then she lifted her sunglasses and walked away before I could be sure it was her.
My heart stopped.
My mouth went dry.
Postcoitus remorse kicked in with the breeze and the random man staring at us and the fact that seeing Amy or her doppelgänger reminded me that I am the Test Dummy.
Panic and all the bitchy emotions that rode with it started to arrive, sneaking around in my head.
What-ifs plagued me.
Hennie.
Amy.
His broken heart.
Apartment shopping.
His parents’ divorce.
Him finding out who I was in the grand scheme of it all.
My heart started racing as I glanced around the busy street for Amy, but she was gone. Or hiding among the trees and cars. Maybe she wasn’t real, but like the ghosts of A Christmas Carol, she’d shown me my past sins.
The buildings around us spun.
I pushed Jordan back into the car and closed the door behind me, certainly being rude to the driver. “I have to go home.” I had no excuses or other words, just that single statement that burst from me, breathy and desperate.
“What?” Jordan couldn’t have sounded more shocked.
“I need to go.” I leaned forward and contemplated kissing him, but my stomach twisted at the thought of the terrible person I was ever touching those divine lips again. I’d broken his heart and made him confront his dad, and his parents were getting a divorce.
Panicking in a way I never had before, and certain this was the last thing I should do but not sure what other option I had, I lied. “I’ll call you later. I can’t do this right now. I’m so sorry.” I pulled back and jumped from the car, rushed away from him, and disappeared into the crowds.
“Lacey, wait!” he shouted, and I started to run.
And just like Cinderella, I left him shouting my name.
And not in the good way he should have been.
Chapter Thirty-Four
GHOSTING AND OTHER BASIC THINGS TO DO
Lacey
My body spent every moment creating dreams that woke me begging for more of Jordan, but I held strong. I fought the urge to call him or answer any of his texts the first two days, regardless of how badly I wanted to. Today was the third day, and I was nowhere near as indifferent as I needed to be in order to continue ghosting him. But the reality was, I couldn’t date him.
How could I?
How could I be with him and lie about what I’d done to him?
He was going to meet Hennie, that was obvious. And then what, I was the girl who ran the Test Dummy, who set him up to be ruined by his family? I was the reason his parents were getting a divorce and his dad had disowned him?
No.
Here he was talking about apartment shopping while his family life was falling apart, and I was going to, what, ask him to understand that I got my best friend from work—who was now dating my brother and whom he would absolutely meet at some point—to pretend to hit on him and record him so that his girlfriend would dump him and ruin his family?
No.
Between school, work, Martin, tuition money, my uncertainty over the Test Dummy, Miguel’s video, and Jordan, something had to give.
It wasn’t even a breakup. Just an end to something before it ever started.
We had limo sex and talked on the phone once.
What we had couldn’t even be called a relationship.
It was a fling.
A one-night stand.
A one-week stand.
And as much as I told myself I didn’t care, I was dying.
My heart, which shouldn’t have been attached to him, was broken, battered, and bleeding to death. Bleeding love. Losing hope.
The Test Dummy wasn’t helping.
Emails were still coming in.
I’d tested two guys the night before, one at a party in Queens and the other on campus in a library. Both had turned me down, no matter how hot I looked or how hard I came on to them. Restoring too much faith in men.
I chanted that Jordan had hit on Hennie because he was slimy.
I told myself repeatedly that he’d fucked me in a limo like a fling.
I lied to myself and said that he was barely even trying to get me back.
But the truth was painful.
He wasn’t slimy. He was sad and desperate and hated his ex-girlfriend.
I’d forced him to fuck in the limo. He’d begged me to wait.
And he was currently sleeping in his car outside my office instead of going to work, double-parked but important enough, or bribing the right people with enough money, to be allowed to stay. It had been three days, and he was fully stalking me. And I couldn’t face him because I wasn’t strong enough to walk away again.
“Hey!” Hennie smiled weakly. “How’s it going?”
“Awful.” I sighed, holding up my phone. “I can’t do this. Marcia just sicced the Test Dummy on Monty.”
“You need to take that sign down from the spa.”
“I did. I took it down days ago, but now the email address is like an urban legend.” I groaned into my hands, letting the phone drop onto the desk.
“Yikes. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Lie and tell her he didn’t hit on me and not send her the video. Maybe she’ll start calling me a rip-off and bad-mouth me, and the business will die.”
“You wish.” She slumped into the chair across from me. “And what about Jordan?”
I winced when she said his name, feeling the burn in my chest come back.
“Ouch. I take it that is also not going awesome.”
“He texted twenty times an hour yesterday for ten hours. Then he called, leaving, like, eleven messages. Now he’s sleeping in the limo instead of going to work. I had to leave through the service entrance at the back of the building for lunch. Marcia is ready to kill me; Monty told her I broke Jordan’s heart and am ghosting him. Which I am!” I snapped. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Come clean.”
“I can’t.” I was ashamed. “I took money from people for manipulating other people.”
“We took money because we provided a service. I’m not trying to church this up, but we caught people. You saved Kami from a dangerous douchebag. You did the world a favor.”
“It doesn’t feel that way,” I admitted.
“And Martin is doing awesome.”
“He is.” We both smiled, but it wasn’t making me feel better. Not better enough.
“Go see Marcia and come clean.”
“Maybe.” I contemplated it.
“No maybe, just do. I’ll see ya after work.” She got up and walked out.
My phone was buzzing enough that I was about to throw it against the wall. I turned it off and put it in my desk, not sure where to take this or how far I had to go before I decided enough was enough. I currently had five jobs lined up to test guys.
At this rate I would cover my tuition easily.
Maybe I could even stock Martin’s tuition for next year. I could help my parents so they could go on a date night or take a day off together. If I did enough Test Dummy jobs, I could send them on a small vacation—a weekend away. But the problem was that I didn’t feel emotionally invested enough to keep up. I was currently lining these gigs up for one every other night. Plus, work. I would be burned out and hated by almost every guy in Manhattan by the time this summer was over.
I told myself I would only be hated by the guys who cheated. The ones I proved were decent wouldn’t have an issue with me. Except for one in particular. Jordan had failed the test but ended up being sort of decent anyway.
Deciding Hennie was probably right, I got up to go talk to Marcia. I knew she was at the spa. She’d sent me a snap of her with the mask, pretending to sleep.
It almost made me smile.
But as I left my little office, Mr. La Croix was coming down the hall, looking feisty. I pitied whomever he was going to ream out, but then his eyes met mine, and I knew he knew.
“You’ve got some serious explaining to do!” He spoke to me like I was one of his kids with her hand caught in the cookie jar, not his employee.
I gulped, not sure which thing he was upset about or how to smooth over whatever it was.
“I cannot believe you did this behind my back. Haven’t I always loved you and treated you fairly and guided you and been a second father to you?” He was fucking angry. He paced in the hall, not even giving me the privacy of my office or his. He covered his eyes with his hands, forgetting about his glasses. “I just can’t believe this, Lacey.”
Heads poked from offices; people winced.
“I mean honestly, did you think Marcia wasn’t going to tell me? Really?”
“I’m sorry.” Fuck! Marcia knew?
“I mean, he’s your brother. Which means he’s my family too. How could you keep something so big from me?”
Oh, God. It was worse than him finding out about the Test Dummy.
“I’ve spoken with his doctors, explained the situation, who he is. His care has been transferred to a better specialist.” He folded his arms, looking sick with the amount of hurt I’d caused.
“I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t work.” My voice cracked, and he lunged at me and wrapped himself around me. I lost it there. My knees buckled, and he held me as I sobbed.
“It’s okay.” He rubbed my back, speaking soothingly. Switching his anger to comfort. “I’ve taken care of everything. I have a team assembled. We’re arranging a gala fundraiser to cover any extra costs your family might run into, and the rest will be donated to the children’s oncology department. Everything is going to be okay.” He whispered the next part. “Marcia told me you’ve dropped back from the group of girls and stopped seeing Jordan. I know you’re stressed. Marcia said she thinks you’re working a second job at night, burning yourself out. Why wouldn’t you just come to me and tell me about Martin? Or ask Jordan for help? Or ask me to help you financially?”
My pride crumpled. He knew everything.
“I know I’ve always tried to instill a work ethic in you, but this is too much. I wouldn’t have made it to where I am if I had hurdles like yours. I had a clean ride up, which isn’t how it works for everyone. That doesn’t mean that you can do this all on your own. I heard your parents are working back-to-back shifts to cover expenses. It’s just money, Lacey.”
“They-they can’t afford it all,” I stammered, sending more tears down my cheeks. “I have to help.”
“And so do I. This is my family too. God, even Marcia wants to be involved. She’s agreed to spearhead the fundraiser.” His words punched me in the stomach again. Marcia was working? “She’s gathering her forces and selling plates, a thousand dollars a pop. She has donations for prizes coming in from everywhere and entertainment like you can’t imagine. We’re going to make all the money your family needs and donate the rest to the hospital for cancer treatments for kids like
Martin.” He smiled. “Family takes care of each other. You’ve been my daughter since you were thirteen. My protégé. My future.” He hugged me again.
I had managed to catch my breath, and it was gone again.
“I love you, kid.”
“I love you too.” I sniffled and hugged tighter.
“Come on.” He squeezed tightly. “We take care of each other.” He rubbed my back as he stood. “No more secrets.”
His words hit me in the gut.
No more secrets.
I had another secret, other than my brother being sick.
And I needed to deal with it before that cat got out of the bag too.
Because if this was how my other dad felt about finding out my brother was sick, he was not going to like finding out about the Test Dummy from someone else.
Chapter Thirty-Five
THE GIRL ON THE TRAIN
Lacey
“I’m sorry I never warned you that I told Dad your business,” Marcia said, offering a weak apology. “But yesterday I forced Martin to tell me what was going on with you because you’ve been distant, and he told me about the tuition and your parents working back-to-back shifts and the money problems.” Marcia leaned against me as we walked to her place. “And it accidentally slipped out to Dad. And then he was so wounded that you didn’t come to him.”
“I know. I could tell.” I sighed. “I’m just glad I don’t have to keep the secret anymore.”
“Me too. I miss you. All these extra shifts you’re working are driving me nuts. Every time I text you, you’re busy. Where are you working, anyway? I was thinking it must be driving a taxi, since you’re always all over town. But you don’t even know how to drive.”
“No.” I contemplated what I would tell her. “Running errands for people. Delivery. Bike delivery.” I wanted to tell her the truth, but I was terrified. Adding the pressure of the gala fundraiser made it all worse.
What if I told them, and they were disappointed in me?
What if Jordan found out?
“It’s been stressing me out so hard.” I gave her a look. “Knowing that I might have to beg your dad to let me work all year, and do schooling part-time for a couple of more years when I save up the money or get the student loan, and then not be able to move out. I’m gonna be, like, forty before I can support myself.”
