by Whitney G.
—Aubrey
His response came within seconds.
Subject: Re: SERIOUSLY?!
I’m really on a date right now with someone who’s not going to leave third degree burns on my dick. And I’m not a sex addict, I’m a pussy addict. There’s a difference.
—Andrew
Subject: Re: Re: SERIOUSLY?!
You are a disgusting and vile asshole, and I honestly regret ever sleeping with you.
—Aubrey
No response.
I watched as he looked down at his phone and raised his eyebrow. He turned around in his chair—slowly scanning the room until he found me.
His eyes widened the second they met mine, and his lips slowly parted. His gaze traveled up and down my body, and I could practically feel him undressing me.
There was suddenly no one else in the room but the two of us and I could tell that he wanted me to come to him—right here, right now. I felt my body responding to his stares, felt my nipples hardening as he dragged his tongue against his lips.
I swallowed as I looked him over, realizing that I’d pictured his hair entirely wrong in my dreams this week. I’d finger fucked myself for hours on end last night—using his face and the memories of his voice for inspiration, and seeing him in person only made me want to feel his cock inside of me again.
I leaned forward, wanting to go to him, but my tunnel vision started to clear and I saw that we weren’t alone in this room.
Far from it.
His date’s perfectly manicured hand found its way to his chin, and turned his head away.
I followed suit and asked for two more drinks. I gulped them both and when I looked over my shoulder, I saw that Andrew was staring in my direction with undeniable want in his eyes.
I forced a smile and opened my mouth very slowly, mouthing, “Fuck. You.” before leaving. I snatched a handful of mints from a random waiter’s tray and rushed back toward the gallery.
I was halfway there when I felt my phone vibrating. An email.
Subject: Meet me in the bathroom.
NOW.
—Andrew
I turned off my phone and continued walking toward the gallery doors—damn near running. I reached the lobby, but someone grabbed my arm and pulled me across the room.
Andrew.
I tried to jerk away, but he tightened his hold and looked back at me—giving me a ‘Don’t Fuck with Me’ look as the people around us whispered.
He pulled me into a bathroom and locked the door, narrowing his eyes at me. “You think I’m disgusting?”
“Extremely.” I stepped back. “I’ve lost what little respect I had for you and if you even try to put your hands on me, I’ll scream.”
“I don’t doubt that.” A trace of a smile grazed his lips, but it didn’t stay. “You haven’t shown up to work for four straight days. You think just because I fucked you that I won’t fire you?”
“I don’t give a fuck whether you fire me or not! Have you ever thought about why I haven’t shown up to work?”
“Incompetence?”
“You’re fucking married! Married! How could you—” I shook my head as he closed the gap between us. “How could you leave that part out?”
“I didn’t,” he said. “And for the record...I’m not technically married, Aubrey.”
“I’m not technically stupid, Andrew.”
“You’re making it very difficult to talk to you right now...” His lips were nearly brushing against mine.
“That’s because you’re not making any fucking sense.” I freed myself from his grasp and headed for the door, but he grabbed me by my shoulders and slammed me against the wall.
“It’s a contested divorce,” he hissed. “If you were a real lawyer I’m sure I wouldn’t have to explain what the hell that term means, but since you’re not—”
“It means that you’re still legally married. It means that if you die before the papers go through, that your wife—which is what she is, will still be entitled to everything you ever owned. It means that you’re a LIAR! A fucking liar, who is apparently exempt from his own stupid and ineffectual rules!”
“I filed.” He gritted through his teeth. “She refused to sign, and there’s a lot of complicated shit that I’ll never feel like discussing, but we’ve been separated and out of touch for over six years. Six. Years.”
I shrugged and tried to put on my best poker face, ignoring the fact that my heart was skipping every other beat as he wiped my tears away with his thumb.
“I’ve never lied to you, Aubrey,” he said sternly. “You asked me before if I’d ever lied to you and that answer is still the same. I don’t talk about my life before Durham with anyone, but yes, I did once have a wife and she showed up to my office on her own. I didn’t call her, I never will, and I haven’t called her since I left New York. Our case is extremely complicated and I prefer not to think about it.”
“I don’t care,” I said. “You’re still wrong. You still neglected to tell me about her for six months. Six. Months!”
“At what point was I supposed to bring that shit up?” His face turned red. “In between fucking you over the phone? When I was begging your lying ass to meet me in person? When I was unknowingly helping you with your fucking homework?”
“How about before you fucked me?” I hated that being around him pulled emotions out of me. I couldn’t pretend to act unaffected if I tried. “How about then?”
He clenched his jaw, but he didn’t say a word.
“That’s what I thought,” I said, knowing that I’d won this. “Now, I’m sure you and your lovely D-cup breasted date have a room reserved across the street, so if you don’t mind—”
“There’s nothing going on between me and my soon to be ex-wife,” he said harshly. “Nothing. And I do have a room reserved across the street. I’ve had the same one reserved for the past four nights with four different women, but I’ve been unable to fuck any of them because I can’t seem to stop thinking about my incompetent-ass-intern and how I only want to fuck her.”
Silence.
“Do you...” I shook my head. “Do you honestly think saying shit like that is a turn-on?”
“Yes...” He trailed his fingers underneath my dress, slightly brushing his thumb against the crotch of my soaked panties. “And apparently you do too...”
“Me being wet just means that I can’t control my body’s reaction to you. It doesn’t mean that I want to have sex with you. I hate you.”
“I’m pretty sure that you don’t.” He slipped his hand around my waist and pulled me close—making my breathing slow.
“Get your hands off me...”
“Say it more convincingly and I will.” He waited for my request, raising his eyebrow, but I couldn’t bring myself to say those words.
We stood staring at each other for several minutes, letting that raw, palpable tension build between us before I finally broke the silence.
“I think you should get back to your date...” My voice was a whisper. “You’ve said all you had to say so...What more could you possibly want from me?”
“In this moment?” He trailed his finger against my collarbone.
“In general...” I turned my cheek before he could kiss me. “I’m never sleeping with you again, I’ll be formally resigning by the end of the week, and I think we need to end our so-called friendship for good.”
“You mean that?” he whispered.
“Yes, I mean that.” I ignored the feel of his hand squeezing my ass. “I want to be friends with someone who’s interested in more than my pussy.”
“I’m interested in your mouth, too.”
I had no response for that, and he must’ve sensed it because he tightened his grip on my waist.
“I know how hard it is for you to tell the truth,” he said softly, “so I need you to be completely honest when I ask you these next few questions. Can you do that?”
I nodded, breathlessly, and he leaned closer to my lips.
“You don’t enjoy fucking me?”
“That’s not the issue.”
“That’s not the answer. Tell me.”
I ignored the loud beating in my chest. “I do enjoy it...”
“Are you really resigning?” He kissed me.
“No...I just—” I sucked in a breath as his hand cupped my right breast, as he squeezed it. Hard.
“You just what?”
“I want to be reassigned to another lawyer, and I don’t want to see you any more than I have to...”
He stared into my eyes for a long time, not saying a word as he finally let me go. “That’s how you truly feel?”
“Seeing as I’m the only one between us who actually feels anything, yes. Yes, that is how I really feel about you.”
He blinked. Then he suddenly pulled me back into his arms and crushed his lips onto mine.
“Why are you such a fucking liar, Aubrey?” He hissed. Pushing me against the vanity, he bit down on my bottom lip and snatched the feathered headband out of my hair.
Keeping his lips on mine, he pushed my dress up my waist—ripping off my panties with one pull.
“Andrew...” I tried to catch my breath as he picked me up and set me on the sink. “Andrew, wait...”
“For what?” He grabbed my hand and placed it over his belt, telling me to unbuckle it.
I didn’t answer him. I slipped my fingers underneath the metal clip and unclasped it as he pressed his mouth against my neck.
Trailing his tongue against my skin, he whispered, “You haven’t missed me fucking you?”
“It was only twice.” I sucked in a breath as his hands caressed my thighs. “Not enough to miss anything...”
He bit me harshly and leaned back, glaring at me.
My breath caught in my throat as he slipped two fingers inside my pussy and teasingly moved them in and out.
“It feels like you’ve missed fucking me...” He pushed his fingers as deep as they could go, making me moan softly.
I arched my back as he stroked my clit with his thumb.
He suddenly pulled his fingers out of me and brought them up to his lips, slowly licking them. “It tastes like you’ve missed fucking me, too.” He pressed another finger against my throbbing wet clit and then he brought it up to my face—placing it against my lips. “Open your mouth.”
I slowly parted my lips, and he narrowed his eyes as he slid his finger against my tongue. I felt his cock rub against my thigh, felt him using his other hand to wrap my leg around his waist.
“Tell me that you don’t want to fuck me,” he said. “That you don’t want me to bury my cock deep inside of you right now.”
He grabbed my face and pressed his lips against mine, drawing my bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth.
I was sliding off the edge of the counter, about to fall, but he suddenly pressed me back against the mirror.
I kept my eyes locked on his as he unwrapped a condom, as he put it on and stared at me with that same angry expression he’d been wearing all night.
He grabbed me by my ankles and pulled me forward, sliding his cock into me as my legs gripped his waist.
My hands clawed at his neck as he pounded into me again and again.
“I’ve missed fucking you,” he rasped, threading his fingers into my hair and pulling my head back. “But you haven’t thought about me at all?”
“Ahhh!” I screamed as he sped up his thrusts. I squeezed my legs around him even tighter, trying my best not to give in.
I shut my eyes and heard him saying my name—panting, “Fuck, Aubrey...Fuck...”
“Put your hands on the counter...” he commanded, but I ignored him and tightened my grip around his neck.
“Aubrey...” He bit my shoulder again, still fucking me harder than ever. “Put your hands on the counter. Now.”
I slowly unclasped my hands from around him and lowered them to my sides—gripping onto the cold counter. The next thing I felt was his tongue swirling around my nipples, roughly sucking my breasts.
I gripped the tile harder as his kisses became more ravenous—more possessive, and as he fucked me harder and harder I felt myself on the verge of losing control.
“Andrew....” I moaned. “Andrew....”
He released my nipple from his mouth and slid his hands underneath my thighs, picking me up and pinning my back against the wall.
“I know you love the way I fuck you, Aubrey...” He looked into my eyes, forcing his cock even deeper into my pussy. “And I know you’ve touched yourself every night this week, wishing it was my cock inside of you instead of your fingers.”
My clit throbbed with his every word, and I was wetter than I’d ever been in my life.
“Tell me it’s true...” He pressed his lips against mine and slipped his tongue into my mouth—muffling my moans with an angry, unrelenting kiss. “Finally tell me something that’s fucking true...”
Tremors traveled up and down my spine, and I was seconds away from coming, but he wouldn’t let my mouth go.
He was still kissing me—glaring at me, begging me to tell him the truth.
I nodded, hoping that he could read my eyes and see that I needed him to let go of me, I needed to be able to breathe.
He slammed into me one last time—hitting my spot, and I managed to tear my mouth away from his.
“Yessssss!” My head fell forward into his shoulder and I gasped for air.
“Aubrey...” He gripped my waist until he stopped shaking.
As we both came back down, there were few random knocks at the door, a few “Is anybody in there?” taps, but both us remained silent and breathless.
Minutes later, when his breathing seemed to be under control, he pulled out of me—staring into my eyes. He tossed the condom away in the trashcan behind him and pulled up his pants.
I watched as he fixed himself in the mirror, as he smoothed everything so well that no one would ever know that he just fucked the shit out of me.
I slid off the sink and looked at my own face—flushed cheeks, wild hair, runny mascara—and pulled my bra straps back over my shoulder. Before I could pull up my dress straps, Andrew moved my hand away and pulled them up for me.
Our eyes met in the mirror as he smoothed my hair, and for a split second he turned away—to pick up my headband. He gently held it over my head and slid it into place, and then he walked away.
“You know, it’s rude to just leave someone after sex without saying anything,” I muttered.
“What?” His hand was on the doorknob.
“Nothing.”
“What did you say?” He cocked his head to the side. “I’m not a mind reader.”
“I said it’s rude to just leave after you fuck me. You could at least say something, anything.”
“I don’t do pillow talk.”
“It’s not pillow talk.” I scoffed. “It’s part of being a gentleman.”
“I never said I was a gentleman.”
I sighed and turned around. I waited to hear the door close, but his hands were suddenly on my waist and he was spinning me around to face him.
“What am I supposed to say after I fuck you, Aubrey?”
“You could ask if it was good for me or not...”
“I don’t believe in asking pointless questions.” He looked at his watch. “How long do you have to stay here?”
“Another hour or so.”
“Hmmm.” He was quiet. “And while you were stalking me and my date how many shots did you have?”
“I wasn’t stalking you and your date. I’ve been avoiding you all week, or haven’t you noticed?”
“How many?”
“Five.”
“Okay.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ll take you home whenever you’re ready and have someone deliver your car to your apartment tomorrow.” He planted a kiss on my forehead before heading to the door. “Just call me.”
“Wait,” I said as he opened it. “What about your date?”
<
br /> “What about her?”
***
An hour later, I slipped inside of Andrew’s car—a sleek black Jaguar. He held the door open until I was comfortable, and waited until I put on my seatbelt before shutting it.
On his dashboard, I spotted a red folder with a New York state seal on its center. I picked it up, but Andrew immediately took it from me and locked it inside his glove box.
He looked offended that I’d touched it, but he quickly turned away from me and revved up the car.
“Can I ask you something, Andrew?”
“Depends on what it is.”
“I googled you this week and nothing came up...”
“That’s not a question.”
“Why didn’t anything come up?” I looked over at him.
“Because I’m thirty-two years old and I don’t waste my time on Facebook and Twitter.”
I sighed. “And you really haven’t spoken to her in six years?”
“Excuse me?” He looked over at me as we approached a red light. “I thought we just sorted this out in the bathroom.”
“We did, but—” I cleared my throat. “You filed for a divorce, and it couldn’t go through?”
“It takes two people to complete a divorce, Aubrey. Surely you know that.”
“Yes, but...” I ignored the fact that he was clenching his jaw. “Wouldn’t it be easier for someone like you to make it happen? Six years is a pretty long time to stay married to someone you claim you don’t love anymore, so—”
“You’d be surprised at how well some people can spin a fucking lie to get what they want,” he said, his voice cold. “My past isn’t up for discussion.”
“Ever?”
“Ever. It has nothing to do with you.”
I leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms. “Are you ever going to tell me the reason why you left New York and moved to Durham?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have to.” He steered the car into my apartment complex. “Because like I told you an hour ago, that part of my life never happened.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone. I just—”
“Stop it.” He faced me as he stopped the car, and I could see a world of hurt in his eyes. It was the most vulnerable I’d ever seen him.
