Nick stared at her, all his hopes crashing to the ground. He had bet all on the last throw and he had lost. He had never felt so empty in his whole life.
It was so easy for her. She had barely paused when she had decided she didn’t want him anymore, and that was devastating. He refused to let her see how much she had wounded him, not wanting her pity. So he nodded slowly, regretfully even, and signaled for the bill. He took out his wallet and laid some money on the table.
“Okay, then, I guess it is,” he said, getting up. He looked down at her, his face unreadable. Christine wanted to reach out to him, stop him from leaving, but she folded her hands tightly in her lap. “I really think we could have been happy together, Christine,” he said softly then turned away.
Christine watched him walk away, willing for him to return, to take it all back, but he didn’t. She felt tears stinging her eyes, and she blinked them back, taking a deep breath. She finished her coffee to give her time to gather herself, even managing a smile and a nod to the waiter who presented the bill and took the cash Nick had left.
Nick watched her, out of sight, from the entrance of the restaurant. The only time he really saw her lose control was when they were making love, and what he saw now was a completely collected woman finishing her coffee as if nothing had happened. Great going, Nick he chastised himself bitterly, knowing he had just burnt all his boats. All these boating metaphors is killing me he thought with grim humor, and he walked slowly away.
Christine went home, her head empty of thought save for one: He’s gone. She knew he wouldn’t be back this time. He was a great lover, a fun friend, but he had a quiet pride that could be implacable, even with her. There were some things that his dignity would not allow. He had laid his heart at her feet and she had rejected it; it was a deal breaker.
Lisa had found her own boyfriend, an IT programmer with a penchant for argyle socks, and more often than not she was out for the weekend. Christine came home to an empty apartment, and she felt safe enough to finally allow her emotions to take over.
She cried quietly for what seemed like hours. No wailing or screaming for her; even in despair she kept it to herself. At the end of it, she simply fell asleep from exhaustion, her cheeks still wet. She dreamed of Nick; he kept turning away from her, and finally she had collapsed, crying. She woke up, and her tears were flowing. She had thought she had cried herself out. Apparently, she had squeezed some from her dream-self.
It was dark when she finally emerged from her bedroom, and she made herself a cup of coffee, letting it get cold as she watched old movies with unseeing eyes.
Her six months with Nick had been one of relative non-commitment. They had agreed that they were free to see other people, and that neither would ask about the other’s other “friends.” Christine had dated occasionally to make a point, but none had gone beyond the first date (with no sex) because she didn’t want to. She felt she had everything she ever wanted in a relationship with Nick. She had never asked about Nick’s activities, but presumed he still dated. Despite herself, she had felt jealousy at the thought of other women in Nick’s arms, but chastised herself for being a hypocrite.
Staring at the moving screen, her thoughts chased themselves fruitlessly around her head.
I made the right decision; if I let him dictate to me now, it would be that much easier to give in the next time. the stubborn voice in her head insisted.
But he wasn’t really dictating to me, was he? A small-girl voice asked dubiously. He had told her he loved her and wanted to be with her. Was that so bad?
He said he would wait for me to tell him when I’m ready her stubborn self argued back, and I’m not.
Really? You’re going with that? A third, unfamiliar voice chimed in drily. Girl, you’ve been ready for a long time, and you know it.
It was going so well! the small girl voice wailed, dwelling fondly on happy memories.
For you, maybe. Little Miss Independence, the dry voice rebutted. Well, you’ve done it this time, toots. Enjoy your independence because that’s all you’ve got left.
Bleak thoughts.
Christine pressed her hands to her eyes, wanting the thoughts to stop, wanting to be over this. She would get over it. It wasn’t the end of the world. Just the end of the world with Nick.
Her hands dropped, and she stared off into space as she realized she actually had no choice in the matter. Once, maybe, six months ago, she could have walked away.
“Nick,” she breathed, heart beating fast. She had to get him back. She finally admitted to herself that life without him was no longer possible, and for a fleeting moment she wished she had never met him. If she hadn’t, she would probably be playing her favorite online game right now without a care in the world, instead of this enormous weight on her heart threatening to crush it. But no; she did not really regret being with Nick. Her life had assumed much deeper meaning with Nick in it, and she found herself willing to do anything to keep him in her life.
Moving quickly before she lost her nerve, she washed her face, registering that her eyes were still puffy, changed into a short skirt and blouse, rummaging in her drawer for the keycard to his condo. Nick had given it to her despite her protests, claiming she could water his plants when he was out of town. As it chanced, anytime he went out of town he came back the same day, or he brought her with him, so the plants survived without her ministrations.
She gave a small cry as she happened on the card. Clutching it in her hand, she grabbed her purse and headed out the door. She lucked on a cab just as she stepped out of the building and she was whisked away before she could catch her breath.
She had been to his condo several times, and the night doorman knew her by sight. He tipped his hat to her and opened the front door, replying to her greeting in kind. The elevator, keyed with the special card, whisked her to the penthouse.
The elevator doors opened noiselessly, and Christine stepped out cautiously. The entrance was a long corridor, with doors to the dining room on the left, kitchen on the right. Both were empty. At the far end it led to the living room and beyond that the bedrooms. Just short of the end of the hallway, Christine heard voices. She recognized Nick’s, but not the other one. They were talking in low tones, but she heard enough to know that the other voice belonged to a woman.
Christine drew back instantly, not breathing. He was with another woman already. She squeezed her eyes tight, a hand to her mouth to keep a sob back. After a moment, she started to walk back to the elevator, heart thudding heavily. She couldn’t get caught here; she would die of mortification. She had almost reached the elevator when it started to open, and she froze.
A tallish man in his mid-fifties stepped out, and stopped short at the sight of her playing statues. Then he smiled, and she was instantly reminded of Nick. This must be his father, she thought, searching wildly for an explanation as to why a strange woman was skulking in the shadows of his son’s condo.
“You must be Christine,” he said, holding out his hand. Christine took it automatically. He pumped it twice, then took her arm, steering her towards the living room. “I’m Daniel St. Claire, Nick’s father. I’m glad you were able to make it after all.”
Christine murmured agreement although she didn’t know what he was talking about, and before she could think of what to do, they were in the living room, and she was being introduced to Nick’s mother, Monica.
She was a woman who must’ve been at least in her late forties, but she looked much younger. She had red hair and green eyes that reminded Christine of Kate, and she had the same good-humored twinkle. She was shaking Christine’s hand, and Christine was conscious of Nick’s burning eyes as she murmured “how do you do”.
“Nicky here was telling me that you weren’t going to be able to make it on time, but I’m glad you did,” she said, leading her to the sofa. “I’ve been dying to meet you, Nick talks about you often.”
Christine sneaked a look at Nick, who had composed his expression to a neutra
l one. “Really? He talks about you all the time, too.”
Monica St. Claire gave her son a playful look. “Did he tell you that I’ve been badgering him to bring you over to the house?”
Christine shook her head, blushing faintly. She had a no-parents policy, and it suddenly occurred to her that she had been the one dictating to him throughout their relationship, She felt deeply ashamed, and wondered wildly when she had become such a control freak..
“Well, I have, and it’s a shame we have to meet under such circumstances,” Monica continued, and as Christine threw her a stricken look, she looked suddenly thoughtful. “Nick didn’t tell you? We’re on our way to the airport for an extended tour of Europe, and we just had time to say hello.”
“Oh, he didn’t mention it,” Christine said.
Daniel St. Claire glanced at his watch. “Speaking of which. If we don’t get a move on, darling, we’re going to miss our flight.”
Monica rose, and Christine stood up as well. Monica gave her a kiss on the cheek, patting it lightly. “Well, we’ll see each other when we get back,” she said reassuringly, “and we’ll have a long chat then, okay? Nick, bring her over for Christmas,” she commanded, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before bustling away. Daniel merely shook her hand, but smiled warmly as he said goodbye. Nick stood up to escort his parents to the door.
Christine sank down on the sofa, her knees suddenly weak. Too many things were happening too fast, and her head was in a whirl. Nick came back into the room and regarded her from afar, his face unreadable. She didn’t look at him; she didn’t know how. She also had no idea what she was going to say.
“What are you doing here, Christine?” he asked, his voice harsh.
Her lips began to tremble, and she bit them to stop it. She had never heard him use that tone with her before. He was angry and she couldn’t blame him. She had to get out of here before she made a total fool of herself by crying.
Nick had his own difficulties. He had spent a hellish afternoon considering his bleak future, walking for hours. He had finally gone home, knowing his parents would be there soon, and not knowing how to tell them they wouldn’t be meeting their future daughter-in-law after all.
He had decided two months in their relationship that he wanted to marry Christine, not just live with her. The sex was as good as ever; better even as they came to know each other better. He loved her slow smile, her placid disposition (when they weren’t making love), and her easy acceptance of all life had to offer. He wanted children with her, and that would gladden his parents’ hearts as well. In the end, he lost his courage and made up some excuse for her absence.
And now she was here, and he didn’t know what to make of it. Did she think she could convince him to forget about his ultimatum and just continue as they were? The hell he will! Better to cut his losses now while he had some chance of getting some of his life back.
And now she was here, and his longing for her seemed to triple because he still believed he could never have her. Not the way he wanted.
He was therefore in a towering rage, and he could barely contain the blistering words he wanted to say to her, to lash out for the hurt she had caused him.
“You’re angry…” she faltered out, her voice husky.
“Of course I’m angry,” he shouted, frustration giving strength to his voice, as he walked further into the room. “You say you don’t want me, and then you turn up here without calling, using my damned key card to get in, and then you sit there as if everything is just peachy! You had no right to come here!”
Christine stood up, holding herself rigidly, willing her tears to go away! She didn’t dare look at him, and tried to keep her voice even. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It was a mistake. I’ll go.” Her voice wobbled a little at the end and she was poised for flight. His next words gave her pause.
“Why did you come here?” he asked more moderately, curious despite himself. She had never gone to his condo on her own or uninvited, and doing so now was incomprehensible. Unless…but no, he wouldn’t allow himself to hope just yet. He watched her closely.
Christine didn’t know what to say. She had been planning to tell him that she had changed her mind, and that she was willing to try to have a life together, but now she doubted that it would do any good. He didn’t want her anymore. He was so angry!
She was suddenly aware of the key card she still held tightly in her left hand. She placed it on the coffee table. “I just wanted to give this back to you,” Christine said quietly, and she found the courage to look up at him. “I should have called first. I’m sorry.”
Nick believed her; you could see it in the way his face hardened. Christine didn’t know if she should be glad or not. He nodded curtly, and made no move to stop her when she walked past him. I’m going, I’m really, really going, and I’m never coming back, she thought distractedly, her face working .She was almost in the hallway when he suddenly spoke.
“Did you ever love me at all?” he asked tightly, as if the words were wrenched from him.
Christine grabbed at the wall for support, her heart constricting at the hurt she heard in his voice. Her tears began to fall, but she didn’t mind anymore. She turned to face him, and saw that he was crying as well. His face was still hard, his body rigid, as if he was holding on grimly to his self-control but a tear was nonetheless trickling down his cheek.
Christine couldn’t stand it. She had never seen him cry, and she was furious at herself for causing him pain. She came to him, her purse falling unheeded to the floor. She reached up and lovingly brushed the hair from his forehead.
“I’ve think I have always loved you,” she admitted huskily, and kissed him.
Nick hugged her convulsively, feeling as if he had pulled from the brink of an abyss. He held her close as he buried his face in her neck, his tears now flowing freely as he broke down from the stress.
“Don’t ever leave me again,” he muttered thickly over and over again. Christine stroked his hair soothingly, crooning to him, waiting for the storm to pass.
Chapter Ten
They sat on the couch, her head on his shoulder and her feet curled under her, content to just relax after such an emotional rollercoaster of a day.
“Why did you really come back?” he asked after a while, stroking her hair.
Christine smiled, once again secure in his love. “To tell you I changed my mind. Isn’t it obvious?”
Nick grimaced. “I thought you were going to try to make me change my mind.”
She raised her head, looking at him searchingly. “Could I have done that?”
Nick shook his head. “No, but I didn’t dare hope you had. I thought you only wanted me for my body.”
Christine giggled. “I can’t believe you actually said that!”
Nick grinned, tapping her nose. “Well, you are one very horny lady, you know that?”
“Oh, yeah?” she asked, sincerely surprised, and gasped as his hand rode up her skirt. Her thighs parted automatically to give him access to the most secret part of her body, and he grinned wickedly.
“Oh, yes, you are. I was wondering if you were a man in a past life,” he teased, his hand doing things to her that was making it hard to concentrate.
“Well, I’m not a man now,” she said, her breath coming more quickly as he pushed the fabric covering her pussy away.
“Definitely,” he whispered, rubbing her with one finger, spreading the wetness. She mewled with pleasure, and her eye fell on his crotch. She bent down and started to unbutton his pants, using her teeth to ease them slowly out of their holes. As she progressed down, the bulge grew appreciably bigger, and by the time she exposed his briefs, you could trace the contours of his shaft through the fabric. Which she did, with her tongue.
Nick lifted his hips so he could shed his pants, which pooled around his feet. Christine continued to tease him through his briefs, and he retaliated by ripping her blouse open and grabbing her breast, kneading the flesh through her br
a.
Christine laughed breathlessly, and pulled down the fabric from his dick, which sprang up to attention. She cooed over it, running loving fingers up and down its length, making him pant. She relented and shifted to a kneeling position so she could take him in her mouth. Her tongue flicked at his tip before she engulfed as much of him as she could, sucking deliciously as she bobbed her head steadily up and down.
“Suck me, baby,” he whispered, throwing his head back, his mouth open, breathing rapidly as waves of pleasure radiated from his dick because of her wet, sucking mouth.
Nick pulled down her panties and gave her a smack on her ass, leaving a red mark on one cheek. The pain made Christine moan with pleasure in her throat as she grabbed his dick to squeeze as she sucked, and the shaft throbbed in response, thrilling her.
“Bad girl,” he panted, giving her another spank, causing her to squeeze harder with one hand, while her other hand cupped his balls, tugging gently. She stopped and looked at him, her hand pumping wet shaft twice before letting go.
“Oh, yes, I’m your bad girl,” she whispered, pushing off her panties completely before straddling him, his dick at perfect attention. She lowered herself slowly, pausing as the tip slipped inside her pussy, holding her position. Nick groaned but made no attempt to push her down, savoring the exquisite feel of the most sensitive part of his dick being squeezed by her wet sex. The blood was pounding in his ears, and when he thought he couldn’t stand it anymore, she lowered herself completely. “I’m the bad girl who’s gonna make you come.”
“Oh, yes!” he cried, grabbing her waist as she rode him, her bra-clad breasts in his face. He pulled the cups down roughly with his teeth and buried his hot face between them, sucking and licking the valley, brushing his lips against her sensitive nipples, making her go faster and utter short cries of pleasure. He made her stop when he felt his climax building to the point of no return, holding her fast with his dick buried deep in her, throbbing achingly. He pleasured her with his mouth, nipping at her sensitive neck, until he felt more in control.
Good Girl Gone Wild: When Lust Turns to Passion... (Good and Wild) Page 8
