I ignore the little tramp’s indignant squeal and the snorts of laughter and gasps from our audience, pleading with all that is holy that there is some explanation, apart from the obvious, for her presence at our family Fourth of July gathering.
Dillon coughs. “Uh, I didn’t realize you’d be here, Gigi.”
“Why. Is. She. Here?”
“We’re together,” he mutters. It comes out all jumbled like one long curse, but there is no mistaking what he’s just said.
“I’m sorry...You’re to—what?” He’s got to be fucking with me right now. “You were supposed to be helping fix their sex life, not stealing his wife, Dillon!”
“Can we talk about this in private?” Dillon begs, glancing around at all of our family’s shocked faces. “They don’t—well didn’t—know.”
“Yeah, thanks, Gina,” Clarissa chimes in. “Now they’ll all think I’m a ho.”
“If the shoe fits, lace that bitch up.”
Clarissa looks around, her face growing pinker by the second. “You don’t even know me,” she grits out.
“I know you had a sweet husband who worshiped the fucking ground you walked on. Who cared enough to try to save your marriage by going to freaking sex therapy. Do you have any idea how hard that is for a man to do? And you thanked him by not only fucking said therapist, but leaving him for the therapist?”
I hear Aunt Martha gasp behind me and turned to apologize. The next thing I know, I’m flat on my back, my head inches from the pool, with my former client wailing away at me. Her sudden attack takes me completely by surprise, but it’s not long before our roles are reversed, and I’ve got two fists full of her weave, ready to yank it out. How dare she attack me like this?
“Tink?” The lone word stops me in my tracks. It can’t be...
“Jeffrey?” I answer, costing myself a jab to the cheekbone as I search through the shocked faces gawking at us to find the man I haven’t been able to stop thinking about for the last month.
He rushes over, and before I realize what’s happening, I’m in his arms, my back to his chest and the skank in Dillon’s. My anger forgotten, the only thought in my head is how good it feels to be held by this man again. “You smell like beer,” I mutter, and he laughs. The vibration of his laughter against my back has me turning to putty in his familiar arms.
“Your lip’s bleeding,” he counters, lifting the hand that’s across my chest to touch his thumb to my swollen cheek. “You’ll have a nice shiner here.”
Spinning around in his arms, I touch each of my hands to the sides of his face, relishing the feel of the coarse stubble against my palms. “You don’t drink.” I can’t get past the smell of alcohol on his breath and the overwhelming desire I have to taste it on his tongue. My heart is racing. It’s as if everyone else has just disappeared, and Jeffrey and I are the only two people in existence.
Jeffrey’s head shakes. “I said I don’t drink around my kids.”
Ah. His kids aren’t here—wait...why is he here? “Wh—what are you doing here?”
Jeff pushes my hair behind my ears; his fingers never stop touching me as he speaks. “The girls are with Jessica’s mother for the weekend. So, I went out last night...and ran into an old buddy from college. He invited me over and here I am.”
“Dillon.”
Jeff clears his throat. “Yeah, he an ex of yours or something? What the hell was that?”
“That,” I answer, trailing my eyes back over to Dillon and Clarissa, “is the reason I had to leave New Orleans.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
JEFFREY
“THOUGHT YOU DIDN’T catch feelings?” There’s a bite to my tone, and I’m feeling something a little too reminiscent of jealousy for my liking. But I’ll be damned if it doesn’t piss me off to imagine his hands on Tink. To see her scrapping it out with another woman over a man who isn’t me. Not that I want her feeling possessive over me. I don’t. Right? Of course not.
A knowing smile curls her lips. “Would it bother you, Jeffrey?” She smooths her hands over the front of my chest, and when her fingertip brushes my nipple, my dick begins to harden. I’m positive that I’ve never wanted to fuck so badly. Ever.
“No,” I lie. “I just need to know what I’m up against here, Tink.”
“Meaning?”
“That was a hell of a show for someone who doesn’t get attached.”
“Dude, chill,” Dillon interrupts, reminding me that there are people standing around, listening in on our conversation. “We’re cousins. Trust me, if there’s one girl who won’t lose her head over a guy, it’s that heartless bitch.”
“I can speak for myself, asshole.” Gina’s ready to duke it out with Dillon now. She’s like a little Chihuahua.
“All right, Ronda Rousey, that’s enough,” I tease, taking us both by surprise when I silence her with my mouth. Cheers erupt around us, but I couldn’t care less. Her lips are soft, and pliant. Her tongue desperate and seeking. And her nails feel so good digging into my shoulders.
“You taste so good,” she murmurs into my mouth, causing me to chuckle.
“Such a fucking alcoholic.” I pull back and run my thumb along her lower lip.
“I take it you two know each other?” Dillon asks.
“We fucked a few times on the ship last month,” Gina announces. To her whole family. Just like she’d be announcing that she saw a movie last week.
Her dad cracks a huge smile, and I want the ground to split open and swallow me up. What a fucking weirdo.
“Gina!” Martha gasps. “Honey, I wish you wouldn’t treat sex like a...a man. You deserve someone who’ll worship and adore you.”
“Stop.” Gina gives her aunt a no-nonsense look. “Don’t you dare slut-shame me.”
“I’m not. I ju—”
“Come with me?” Gina says, dismissing her aunt. She grabs my hand, and I follow her through the crowd, back into the house. She leads me down a long dark hall before finally opening a door and ushering me inside.
“The laundry room?”
“Jeffrey, I need you to fuck me.” This woman never ceases to shock me with the things that come out of her mouth.
“What?” I look around at the confined space. “In here?”
She nods her head as she saunters toward me. “Right here, CEO. Right now.” Tink’s hand goes straight to the bulge in my khaki shorts, and she begins kneading my dick. “If you’re not up to it, I’m sure I could go out there and find another friend of my cousin’s who’d be more than willing to help me blow off some steam.”
I grip her hair in my fist and tug until her eyes lock with mine. “I’m more than up to it.”
“Good,” she says, backing up to the dryer. Her hands creep up her thighs slowly, lifting the skirt of her pink sundress. When her thumbs hook into the band of her bikini bottom, I can hardly breathe with how badly I want to be inside of this woman again. I can’t take my eyes off her as she does a little shimmy, sliding them down the length of her legs and flicking it across the room. “I’m dripping, Jeffrey.”
Holy shit. “Yeah?” Advancing on her, I grip the backs of Tink’s thighs, hoisting her up onto the top of the vibrating dryer.
“Grab a sock from that basket over there and tie it to the outside of the doorknob.” Gina points to an unmatched mountain of socks hidden away in the corner of the room.
“Are we suddenly back in college?”
Her eyes roll. “Jeffrey, this is a utility room. There’s no lock. Do you want someone to just walk in on us?”
“A sock? Really?”
“Everyone knows what a sock on the door means, CEO. And my family is very aware of who I am as a person. Trust me. They know exactly what we’re doing back here. When they see the sock, it will instantly click.”
“I don’t know how I feel about having sex with you in the same house as your parents...and them knowing.” I’d have never talked about having sex so casually with my mom and dad, much less Jessica’s.
; “Drying up like the fucking Sahara over here, Jeff. You’re killing my buzz.”
“Just so you know,” I say, as I grab a damn sock and quickly knot it around the knob. “I’m leaving as soon as we finish.”
“I’d expect nothing more from you, Jeffrey.”
“I mean it. I’m not sticking around to deal with the awkward aftermath.”
“It’s fine. I just want you for your cock.” She winks then slips the dress over her head, leaving her in a white bikini top and nothing else.
There’s a brief moment where I worry about the possibility of humiliating myself with a case of whiskey dick. I don’t drink often now that it’s just me and my girls. But one look at this beautiful blonde trussed up on that machine with her legs parted, dipping her fingers inside and swirling her own juices around her clit, has me about to come in my shorts. “You’re so fucking sexy, Tink,” I groan as I retrieve a condom from my wallet, drop my pants, and roll it on.
She’s moaning before I’ve even touched her. No girl has ever performed for me this way. Oh, who am I kidding? This isn’t for my benefit at all. Tink is lost in her own world. Chasing her release. Hell, I’m not even sure she remembers I’m in the room until she starts moaning my name.
“Keep going, babe,” I encourage, placing my hands on the top of the dryer and bringing my mouth to her pussy. I drive my tongue in and out while she moans and writhes against my face. When I feel her body tensing up and I know that she’s close, I grip her thighs and pull her to the edge, slamming into her in one quick thrust.
“Jeffrey!” she screams. “Oh, God, I love your cock.” Her legs wrap around my waist, and as she rides my dick, she goes on about how massive it is and how she’s been up at night craving it. I really wish I could let her continue because my ego is thoroughly enjoying this, but she’s going to get us busted.
“Shhh,” I whisper, taking her mouth with mine as I rock in and out of her tight, warm, channel. The vibration heightens every sensation. We’re both seconds away from exploding together when the door creaks open.
Gina and I both freeze. I’m sure neither of us is even breathing when a hand holding a dirty towel appears through the opening. Tink’s nails dig into my ass cheeks when the door moves another fraction of an inch.
“Who put a damn sock on the door?” Martha shouts.
Shit. Fuck. We are so busted.
“Oh my God, Mom! Shut the damn door.” There’s a slight scuffle, and then the door slams and I can hear Dillon explaining the sock to his clueless mother as they move down the hall and away from the laundry room.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
GINA
“WAIT! WHERE ARE you going?” As soon as the door closed, the CEO withdrew his glorious erection and began stuffing it back into his clothes. “I wasn’t finished.”
He gives me an “are you fucking kidding me” look, to which I lift my brows in an unspoken, “does it look like I’m kidding?” stare in return.
“Gina, I can’t. I’m sorry. I have to get the fuck outta here. This is too weird for me.”
Horny tears well up in my eyes. “Please don’t do this to me.” Goddamn it. Why do I sound so weak and needy? It’s just a dick, Gina. You can find another, like that. I snap my fingers for effect in my subconscious. But I don’t want another, I argue with myself. I want that one.
Jeff’s eyes fall while his lips twist into a smirk. I can’t tell if he feels sorry for me or is trying not to laugh. “Tink,” he croons, walking over to the dryer and slipping my dress over my head. “Why don’t you come with me? Let’s go grab a drink.”
“Look at you, tempting the lush with booze,” I mock pout. “Such a dad move.”
At that he bursts out laughing. “Most dads don’t try bribing their daughters with alcohol, Tink.”
I shrug. “Well, mine would...but I meant you trying to make me all squirrely by dangling a shiny new toy in front of my face.”
He bites down on his lower lip, looking at me with puppy dog eyes. “Is it working?”
Sigh. “Maybe. I’d much prefer the toy you have dangling between your legs, though.” While running my tongue over my lips, I trail my big toe over his crotch.
“Later,” Jeff says, taking my hands into his and pulling me down from the dryer. “I’m having a little performance anxiety.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out my suit bottom and presses it into my hand. “Get dressed.”
It’s not hard for us to sneak out unnoticed. Everyone is either gathered in the kitchen for food or out back, in and around the pool. After a quick peek down the hall, we walk right through the front door.
“I’ve always loved this place,” I muse aloud, while admiring the cobblestone sidewalks and huge live oaks.
“Yeah?” Jeff asks, placing his hand at my lower back. It’s warm and feels nice. It’s so strange just walking and talking like a normal couple, which we are not.
And never will be, I remind myself.
“Yeah. I always thought I’d end up here someday, living in my princess castle with the man of my dreams, 2.5 kids, and a fluffy little white dog.”
There’s a softness in his features when he responds, “You could still have all of that, Gina.”
Forcing myself to smile, I swallow the lump that’s just formed in my throat. “Nah. It isn’t in the cards for me. But it’s really neat to come back and revisit my little girl dreams, you know?”
“Yeah,” he answers, taking on a faraway look.
“Shit. It’s getting a little too deep for me, CEO. Take me to the booze!”
His head shakes and he huffs out a laugh. “I thought you liked it deep?”
Oh, the old man’s got jokes.
We catch the St. Charles trolley, getting off at Canal. I let Jeffrey lead the way, curious to see where we end up.
“A Court of Two Sisters?”
“Best brunch in the city,” he answers. “Did you want to go someplace else?”
“No. Their mimosas are great.” I don’t tell him that this seems a little too date-ish for two people who are just fucking. This is such foreign territory for me. I don’t date. I’m not used to being out with a guy unless it’s with a group of friends. I’m breaking all of my rules for this man, and I have a sinking feeling that if I’m not careful my heart may get caught up in the crossfire.
We’re seated outside in the famous courtyard, right near the huge fountain. “Did you know they call that the Devil’s Wishing Well?” I ask the CEO when he returns with his plate overflowing with jambalaya, breakfast potatoes, and eggs.
“I did not. Why do they call it that?” Jeff mumbles through a mouth full of food.
“Ever heard of Marie Laveau?”
“Famous voodoo queen, right?”
I nod. “Well, legend has it that she used to practice in this courtyard and that well,” I say, pointing to the fountain with my thumb over my shoulder, “is named in her honor.”
“No shit?” He shovels another bite of sausage into his mouth. “That’s fascinating, Tink. Ever had your cards read?”
“Uh, no. I have no desire to know when I’m gonna die.”
Jeffrey cracks up. “You honestly think they’d tell you that? They want you to come back. It’s all a gimmick. They’re trying to make a believer out of you, not frighten you half to death.”
“Have you had yours read?” I counter.
“Well, no. It all seems silly. Though it’s not too hard to figure out that they tell you what they need to in order to keep people coming back. I mean, almost everyone I know is all amazed that their card reader was able to tell that they’d lost a loved one...who hasn’t. You know?”
He does have a point. “Well, I still have no desire to have someone digging around in my cards.”
“Here you go, ma’am,” Our server, Gaston, walks up behind me, setting a much-needed mimosa on a little cocktail napkin then reaches back to his tray for Jeffrey’s bloody mary. I cringe to myself, never having been able to get on board with drinking vegetables
. “And here you are, sir. Vegetable art courtesy of our head bartender, Marty. Sometimes he likes to get fancy.”
Sticking out of his drink is a long, curved green bean with an olive attached to either side, impaled by a toothpick to hold the sculpture together. “It’s a dick!” I shout, unable to stop myself from reaching out and touching it.
“Did you just flick my—” Jeff looks at me incredulously.
“Totally just flicked your bean, CEO.”
He sucks in his lips, shaking his head. “Just keep your mouth away from that shaft. I have plans to drink this thing.”
My cheeks flame. “I was seasick.”
My date eyes me skeptically.
“I’ll have you know my gag reflex is nonexistent, mister. I’m a professional.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“The fucking boat shifted, and your dick was practically in my stomach. I need a chance to redeem myself.”
“Yeah,” he says with an exaggerated dry heave, “not interested.”
By the time I’ve finished stuffing myself on the best primavera pasta and apple cobbler I’ve ever eaten, and sucking down a few cocktails, I’m ready for bed. It’s not even two in the afternoon.
“Mmm,” Jeff moans over a forkful of salad. “Have you tried the balsamic?” he asks after chewing and swallowing. “It’s so good.”
“It’s literally vinegar, Jeff. How good can it be?” And where the hell does he put all this food? He’s got to be on his fourth plate by now.
After the waiter finally brings our check, we make our way out into the bustling streets.
“Where to now, boss man?”
“Lady’s choice.”
All of the dirty places I could take this uptight daddy start rolling through my head. “You sure you wanna hand the reins over to me?”
“Do your worst,” he says, gripping my chin in his forefinger and thumb and placing a chaste kiss on the tip of my nose.
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