Homecoming (Speakeasy)

by Rebecca Norinne

  I couldn’t say anything with my mouth occupied, but I could definitely show him. I rolled my hips against the bulge in his jeans as my needy core clenched with longing.

  When we next came up for air, I moved to his ear. Taking the lobe between my teeth, I bit down gently and tugged on it. Just as I let it go, I whispered, “I need you inside me.” His cock jerked against me as my words registered.

  “Get in the car,” he growled with a light slap of his palm to my ass as he stepped away and circled around the Volvo’s hood to reach the passenger side door.

  When we were seated, he leaned over to pull my face back toward his for another kiss. “I know you need to drive, but I can’t keep my hands off you.”

  “Fuck driving,” I said, pushing up onto my knees and pitching my leg over his lap to straddle him. It’d been a very long time since I’d last made out in a car, and the guy had been significantly less built than Preston was, but I didn’t care. I needed his hands on me.

  “Oof,” he huffed when my elbow connected with his shoulder.

  “You okay?” I asked as I dropped my face forward. I didn’t wait to hear his answer before I locked my lips to his. When his tongue slicked its way inside my mouth, I let out a breathy moan and rolled my hips against him.

  Preston’s hands found my ass again, and he guided me back and forth along his cock. I could likely get off from the friction alone, but I hadn’t been lying outside when I’d said I needed to feel him inside of me. It had been too long since I’d had sex with a man I loved, and I didn’t think I could wait a single second longer.

  Without breaking our kiss, I reached down between us and flicked the button of his jeans through its hole, sliding my hands down into his pants to press my palm against his hard, thick length. Tipping backward on his lap as best I could given our cramped quarters, I eased his cock out of his jeans and gripped it in my fist. Twisting my wrist, I tugged upward and then coasted back down. Preston’s hips flexed to meet my downward pull.

  His moans of pleasure drove me even more wild than I already was. “I love your cock,” I told him as I watched, with rapt attention, the head peeking up through my fist. “So fucking big.”

  “I want to fuck you so bad right now,” he rasped.

  “Then do it.”

  “I never got to the store.” His face was full of regret in the dark shadows of my car.

  “My purse.” I gestured with a slant of my head.

  “Really?” His eyebrows shot up with surprise.

  “I’m a Virgo. We’re planners.”

  He chuckled. “If I hadn’t said it already, I’d be pledging my undying love to you right this second.”

  “You can tell me again.”

  “I fucking love you.” He reached into my purse for the small square box of condoms I’d tossed into my basket the other morning when I’d run to the drugstore to pick up my mom’s prescriptions. “And I’m definitely going to love fucking you.”

  His words sent a jolt of desire down my spine. Who knew I liked a little dirty talk with my sexy times? Back in the day, when my friends would recount all the crazy, kinky things they’d done with hookups, I hadn’t felt one iota of jealousy. I’d always been the girl with stars in her eyes who thought sex should be romantic. With Preston, I was coming to realize it could be fun, flirty, filthy … and yes, romantic, too. Who knew hearing him describing how eager he was to fuck me could be such a turn on? I looked forward to exploring all the other things I’d taken for granted before.

  But first, the fucking. And in the front seat of my car, no less. Twenty-year-old me would be aghast. Thirty-two-year-old me couldn’t wait to welcome this man into my body.

  When he tore open the foil, I scrambled up off his lap to lower my leggings and underwear as far down as they would go. It was incredibly awkward and not at all sexy, but I didn’t care. I pushed back up onto my knees, taking hold of him and positioning him at my entrance. He tangled his hands in my hair, pulling my face toward his as his hips jutted upward. When I was fully seated, he dropped his hands from my face and palmed the globes of my ass. “You feel so good,” he said, gently guiding me along his shaft. “I’ve dreamed about this.”

  “You dreamed about fucking me in the Speakeasy parking lot?” I joked as I adjusted around him and found my pace.

  He laughed and then groaned when I raked my fingernails over his chest, paying particular attention to his nipples beneath the long-sleeved waffle-weave henley shirt he wore under his jacket.

  “You like that?” I asked.

  “I like everything about this.”

  When he reached between us to rub his thumb over my clit, I saw stars. All further conversation was abandoned … unless you counted more, harder, right there, just like that, and oh god, I’m coming as conversation. And then I was coming. My head dropped back and I opened my mouth in a silent scream of pleasure as Preston pistoned his hips faster, his arms banded around my middle.

  “Fuck,” he grunted, and then with one final thrust, joined me in ecstasy.

  When I eventually came down from my endorphin rush, I collapsed against him, laughter escaping. “Oh my god. We had sex in the Speakeasy parking lot.”

  He rubbed his hands in circles over my back. “I haven’t done that since high school.” He shifted in his seat, a slight groan escaping his lips. “And now I remember why. Next time, let’s wait until there’s a bed nearby.”

  I pushed myself up, my face hovering just in front of his. As I did, my calf cramped up and I sucked in a breath. “Or at the very least, a horizontal surface.”

  With a wince, I eased up off him and scampered back to the driver’s seat, pulling up my leggings, readjusting my bra, and pulling down my long tunic sweater. Meanwhile, Preston set himself to rights, and then we fell silent, each of us staring out the windshield.

  After a few moments of self-reflection, I spun in my seat to face him. “Can I say something really quick before we completely go back to reality?” What we’d just done had put things in perspective for me. If I was going to be rushing out of restaurants to have sex in cars, I had to be sure my partner was worth the risk of a public indecency charge. I loved Preston, but I couldn’t forget his earlier comment about being my rebound guy. We each had to know the other was fully committed.

  He nodded wearily, swiping his palms over his jean-clad thighs.

  “First, the next time you freak out about something, please don’t shut me out. If there’s something wrong, I need you to talk to me. I can’t be in another relationship where I’m constantly wondering what I did wrong or how I could have behaved differently. It’s not fair to ask me to do that.”

  He blew out a breath. “That’s fair. And for what it’s worth, it’s something I know I need to work on. Not to bring our past relationships into this—especially given what we just did—but I’ve sometimes wondered if I’d been more forthcoming with my feelings if Margaux wouldn’t have turned to my brother. I obviously wasn’t giving her what she needed.”

  I harrumphed. “From what you’ve told me about your ex, she sounds as steadfast as mine. My guess is she never would have been faithful to you. If it hadn’t been your brother, it would have been the next rich guy who turned her head.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he mused.

  I reached out and took hold of his hand, linking our fingers together. “And while we’re on the subject of our exes, I want you to know in no uncertain terms that you are the furthest thing from a rebound guy who has ever existed. I didn’t wake up one day last month and decide my marriage was over. I’ve been alone for years, Preston, and that’s given me plenty of time to think about what I need in a relationship.

  “I don’t ever want you to wonder if I’m only with you because you happen to be convenient—although living next door is very convenient.” I smiled at him, which elicited a slight hitching of his lips to the side in return. “And I certainly didn’t fall for you because I’m lonely or horny. I have several vibrators to sc
ratch any itch I might have. I don’t need a man, Preston. I need you. I fell for you because you’re loyal and kind, and when you’re not being a stubborn fool, you make me feel really good about myself.

  “What I mean to say is, I’m in this for the long haul—assuming you are, too?”

  When I wrapped up my monologue, I held my breath while I waited for his reply.

  It came in the form of him tugging me across the console, his hands tangling in my hair, and his tongue seeking mine. “I’m definitely in this for the long haul.”

  25

  Rosalie

  Two days later, I was back to feeling frustrated and overwhelmed. I didn’t know how much longer I could handle this boomerang of emotions. Every time I was with Preston, I felt happy and content, positive about the direction my life was taking. But then Blake would pop up and burst my proverbial bubble.

  “You’re kidding me,” I said, dropping my head into my hands and letting out a long groan. This was becoming a common occurrence whenever I spoke with my lawyer. “That bastard.”

  “Mr. Wentworth’s own legal team was equally surprised,” my lawyer, Mariana Torres, said in that brisk, no-nonsense way she had of speaking. “Frankly, it’s not often their clients go rogue like this.”

  “Leave it to Blake,” I muttered in defeat. If anyone could throw a monkey wrench into something that should have been a straight-forward divorce, it was definitely him. “What can I do?”

  I heard papers shuffling on the other end of the line and then a low-muttered curse. “Hold on just a second,” Mariana said brusquely before putting me on hold. About forty-five seconds later, she came back. “Sorry about that. Where was I? Oh, right, I’m going to recommend we bring in my colleague to advise us on the best course of action moving forward. Between the sudden irregularities around the insurance investigation and now this, it’s my professional opinion that we need to be more aggressive in how we deal with Mr. Wentworth. I know you wanted to keep things civil, but his behavior borders on illegal, and this latest action may be a crime. That’s why I want to bring Rodrigo in. He’ll have a more concrete recommendation on which avenue to take once we hear back from Mr. Wentworth’s attorneys.”

  “I’m not getting out of this anytime soon, am I?” I tripped over my words, my throat growing tight with emotion. Do not cry, I told myself as I pulled a deep, steadying breath into my lungs.

  “Honestly? No. Listen, Rosalie, I have to jump on another call, but I want to caution you again not to deal with Mr. Wentworth directly. It’s obvious he’s no longer acting in good faith.”

  “Okay,” I said, but the line had already gone dead.

  Given that Gutierrez, Torres, and Jones billed their clients in six-minute increments, I should have been thankful she didn’t waste time with platitudes and niceties, but I couldn’t help feeling it was rude to just hang up on someone like that. Then again, Mariana had just saved me several hundred dollars, and I was going to need every last cent of the cash I’d secretly stashed away before leaving California.

  For several long, fraught moments, I sat there staring at my phone’s dark screen and trying to process everything I’d just learned. I didn’t even know where to begin. How in the hell had Blake removed my name from the title of our condo? The only explanation was that he’d forged my signature somehow, but how did he manage to forge me? Since I definitely hadn’t signed a quitclaim deed in front of a licensed notary, no one could explain how he’d managed to pull this off.

  The only thing they could explain was that his actions left me in a financially precarious position. Since Blake had owned our condo well before we were married and I no longer appeared on the title, I was screwed. But the fact that he’d also drained our joint bank account had me panicking. I’d long known I couldn’t trust the man any further than I could throw him, but I’d never once stopped to consider that he might actually try to steal from me.

  Since moving back to Vermont, I’d been trying my absolute damnedest to stay positive, but I didn’t know if that was possible anymore. Sometimes, a woman just had to stomp her feet and scream until her ears rang.

  Which was what I proceeded to do for the next thirty seconds.

  “Wow,” came a voice from behind me.

  Startled, I spun around to find Preston leaning against the door jamb, his arms crossed over his chest. His face was a mask of concern—not that I could blame him. He probably thought he was dating a crazy person.

  “Hey,” I replied, feeling suddenly sheepish.

  He pushed off the door, stepping into the kitchen. “I knocked, but when I heard you screaming, I thought you might be hurt … ”

  “Sorry,” I muttered, dropping back down in my seat. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  He pulled out the chair across from me. “Anything I can do to help?”

  I shook my head. “Not unless you happen to know someone I could hire to break Blake’s kneecaps.”

  He looked thoughtful for a moment before smirking. “I’m a Kelly from Boston who works in construction. I’m sure I know a guy who knows a guy.”

  I felt my cheeks lifting involuntarily. Leave it to Preston to find a way to make me smile even when I didn’t want to. The image of some Irish gangster cornering Blake in a dark alley momentarily lifted my spirits. I wasn’t a violent person by any means, but the man had the uncanny ability to make me want to be.

  “What did he do now?” Preston asked, turning serious.

  I blew out a breath. “Nothing much—just removed my name from the title for the condo and emptied our joint bank account.”

  His hands dropped down onto the table with a loud slapping noise. His jaw hung open. “What?”

  “Yeah. That was pretty much my reaction, too.”

  “How can he do that?”

  I shrugged sullenly. “Hell if I know. Hell if my lawyers know, either. His lawyers can’t even explain what happened. One minute we’re negotiating spousal support, and the next he’s telling them he’s broke. When Mariana—that’s my lawyer—recommended selling the condo and splitting the proceeds of the sale, his lawyers pointed out that Blake had purchased it well before we got married. Never mind that I paid for at least half of that hideous remodel he’d insisted we do.

  “But that was when they dropped their next bomb: even if that hadn’t been the case, since I’d taken my name off the title, it was a moot point. The problem was, the only way that could have happened was if I’d signed a quitclaim deed in front of a notary. Which I obviously didn’t. We’re all baffled. Mariana said the word ‘crime’ at least three times during our ten-minute call.”

  “Wow. And you had no idea?”

  “None,” I said, shaking my head. “The thing I can’t figure out is when he did it and how. Did he pay someone to look the other way? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Preston set his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his upturned palm, his fingers drumming against his cheek. “It makes me sick to my stomach to even have to ask this, but was Blake ever violent with you?”

  “No,” I rushed to assure him. “Once he decided he was done with me, he mostly acted like I didn’t exist. We lived together, but essentially led separate lives.” I scrunched my brows, wondering at the motive for this line of questioning. “Why do you ask?”

  Worried eyes found mine. “Everything about what you just told me has alarms going off in my head. They make made-for-TV movies about guys who do shit like this to their wives right before their bodies are found buried in the middle of the desert.”

  My heart rate spiked at the picture he painted. Blake was a lot of things—duplicitous, vain, and arrogant—but I didn’t think he was dangerous. I set my palm on Preston’s thigh. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure about that?” His jaw ticked. I sensed he was biting back what he really wanted to say, but I didn’t want to argue about this. I wasn’t afraid of Blake. At least, not in the way Preston meant.

  “Yes,” I said, putting as much convictio
n into that one word as I possibly could. After all, what more could Blake do to try and ruin my life?

  As if by simply putting that thought out into the universe, I had an epiphany: there was nothing worse than what he’d already managed to do. He’d stolen years of my life, and now he’d stolen my financial future, too. If he’d truly swindled me out of the home we’d shared—and if the insurance company refused to pay for the fire at the gallery—there was zero reason for any more back and forth. If there was nothing for me to gain, there was no use fighting for what was rightfully mine.

  I could be free of Blake once and for all.

  All I had to do was accept that I’d be leaving my marriage with even less than I’d had going into it. Completely starting over at my age would be daunting. Still, I had my mother’s unwavering support and an amazing boyfriend who loved me. I wasn’t destitute. I could do this.

  I hoped.

  “Can you at least promise me you won’t engage with him any further? Let your lawyers handle everything from here on out.”

  “Absolutely,” I said, moving from my chair into his lap. “It’ll be a relief not to have to ever speak with him again.”

  He wrapped his arms around my middle and hitched me closer. “I just wish there was something more I could do. I hate the thought of you dealing with this asshole on your own.”

  “I’m not on my own, though. Not anymore. I have my mom and an absolutely amazing not fake at all boyfriend.”

  “Mmm,” he hummed, nuzzling into the crook of my neck. “Every time he pulls the rug out from under you, I go all caveman inside. I want nothing more than to throw you over my shoulder and drag you off to my lair where I can protect you from all his fuckery.” He kissed his way across my collarbone and then back up my neck to that spot just below my ear that drove me nuts.

  “I don’t need you to protect me,” I stammered, my thoughts becoming a jumbled mess as he nibbled on my sensitive skin.

  “It doesn’t mean I don’t want to, though.” His teeth clamped gently down on the spot where my neck met my shoulder, and I shuddered.