Just as I began to feel overwhelmed, the music stopped. We weren’t in the reception hall anymore. We were in a hotel bedroom, and I was missing both the cotton candy and my clothes. Levi was naked too, and he held my face in his hands and kissed me like the sky might fall if he let go. In this topsy-turvy world, it very well might.
We were on the bed. My core sizzled and I rubbed against him, desperate to relieve some of the ache. I couldn’t think of anything but how good his cock was going to feel, how bad I wanted it.
I burned. I ached. I needed.
Levi filled me, all of me. He was in my body and my mind, and waves of sensation broke across every inch of my skin. The pleasure built as he claimed me, plunging into me over and over until I thought I might burst with the need for release.
He whispered things in the dark. Dirty things.
“I’ve wanted to fuck you since the first night we met. After I saw your face, only your sweet pussy would do.”
Sweet things.
“I can’t believe I’ve never told you how beautiful you are.”
Confusing things.
“Don’t forget to validate your parking.”
He rolled me over and entered me from behind, my face pressed into the pillow as he controlled the pace of every thrust and made it count. I swirled into an abyss of pleasure. He fucked me so hard I was sure the whole hotel could hear us, and I didn’t care. There wasn’t a single thing that mattered to me more than the pleasure his hard body promised mine.
Suddenly, I broke. Everything turned dark and then exploded into color.
But I wasn’t finished yet.
There was more inside of me, and my core still throbbed with my need for him. I could go on like this for hours, for days, and it would never be enough. But Levi wasn’t going anywhere. He pounded me, shaking the whole bed with the force of his thrusts.
I screamed as another orgasm ripped through my body and set me on fire. I was close to another, and I stretched for it. Close. So...close...
RING RING.
I jolted awake, panting breaths echoing through the room as I tried to get my bearings.
RING RING.
My phone danced on the bedside table, and I shot my hand out so quickly I nearly knocked it off. What time was it? Who was calling me?
I looked at the caller ID and panic gripped my chest. It was my Mom. Had she sensed I was having a sordid dream from thousands of miles away and called to snap me out of it? My face burned.
No, of course not. I was still on edge from the dream, and I was letting it get to me. I took a couple of deep breaths and answered in my cheeriest voice.
“Good morning!”
“How is my beautiful Francesca?” Mom asked. “Did I wake you up?”
“Uh, no, not at all.” I tossed the blankets off and got to my feet. “I’m just making coffee.”
“Your father said it was too early to call, but I told him if that girl is asleep at nine thirty on a Friday, I’d be a bad mother if I didn’t call her. There’s only so much I can do for her when she’s so far away.”
“I appreciate the thought,” I said, laughing on my way to the kitchen.
I was going to need a strong cup of coffee to get over the shock of my abrupt awakening and the horror of the dream that had come before it.
“How’s Dad?” I asked.
Mom sighed. “He says he feels as fit as a fiddle, but we all know that’s not true.”
I heard my dad’s croaking complaint in the background. “I’ve never felt better!”
“Let me guess.” I balanced the phone against my shoulder and started filling the machine with water. “He didn’t like the outcome of his surgery consultation.”
“He liked it just fine until they told him how much it was going to cost.”
“Those doctors are always trying to trick people out of their money!” Dad called.
Mom’s returning shout went directly into the receiver and made me wince. “The only thing they’re trying to trick you into is not dying!”
“How much is it, Mom?”
“Part of it is covered by his insurance, but we’re going to have to shell out close to ten grand.”
“Do you have that much money to spare?” I filled the coffee machine with coffee and set it to start while I waited for Mom’s answer.
I heard rustling and figured she was walking to another room where my dad couldn’t listen. He was used to being the provider, and ever since his breathing troubles started, he’d been trying to convince us all it was less of a problem than we knew it to be. When it came back that he was going to need surgery, I knew right then he would go down swinging before we could even get him onto a table. They’d probably have to knock him out and drag him into the operating room.
“I think I can extend our line of credit at the bank, maybe take out a small loan,” Mom said finally. “Your father loathes the idea, but what am I supposed to do? Let him die?”
“No, and you’re not going to take out a loan either,” I said. “Let me pay for the surgery. Business has been good, and I’ve got just enough tucked away in savings right now to help you guys out.”
Mom protested for a whole five minutes, but we both knew there was no other way. Kids weren’t cheap, and they’d raised four of them. My brothers both had families of their own, and my sister was fresh out of college and broke as a joke. It had to be me.
I finally convinced Mom to let me help them and then swiftly moved the conversation along so she wouldn’t dwell too much.
“It’s good that you called ‘cause I could use your advice on something.”
Mom perked up. “What is it?”
“A troublesome groomsman,” I stated bitterly, watching the last drips of coffee fall into the pot. “My latest client’s fiancé has asked his brother to be his best man, but he’s far from the best of anything. He’s the rudest person I’ve ever met.”
“I doubt that. You’re getting soft over there on the west coast. He’s probably nothing compared to half the people here, your father included.”
“Hey!” came a distant yell.
“Don’t let him have his way,” Mom continued. “Give that man a run for his money and never let him see you with anything less than a big, shit-eating grin, you hear me?”
“She’s right, sweetheart!” Dad chimed in.
I laughed and wished I could be there to hug them. I always missed my parents, but I especially missed them when I needed pep talks like this.
We caught up about what everyone in the neighborhood was up to and whether I was getting enough to eat, and ended the call with a promise to talk soon about Dad’s surgery. Only half an hour of talking to my parents had improved my mood significantly, even if I still felt weird about my dream.
It was bad enough I had to be around Levi in the real world. Did I have to dream about him too?
Worse, did I have to enjoy it so damn much?
Chapter 7
Levi
I took a sip of my coffee and leaned back in my chair, frustrated. The Black Mountain Brewery office was my oasis. At least, it was supposed to be. It occupied the two floors above the brewery, and the tangy smell of toasting hops perfumed the main floor offices and meeting rooms. The executive offices were on the top floor and were, for the most part, odor free.
Garrick and my dad and I each had a private space joined by a communal lounge.
I spent a lot of my time in the lounge. Its black leather couches and polished black marble floor made it feel like a volcanic cave. A couple of years ago we commissioned a local artist to paint a mural of the Cascade Mountains on the inside wall. Across from it, a wall of glass looked east toward the city, with Mount Saint Helens and Mount Hood in the distance. I met clients in my office but did my best work here, at the small glass desk propped in front of the window. Anytime I needed a break I could just look up and stare out at the craggy, snowy peaks. Just like I did now.
The sunlight gilded the young leaves of the maple tre
es below the window, and a gentle breeze urged them to stir and dance. The rippling leaves and fresh spring grass held the promise of a beautiful summer to come. But even this scene didn’t boost my mood.
I was distracted. My thoughts kept looping back from figures and spreadsheets to Val’s curvaceous wedding planner. With Dad and Garrick out at meetings all morning, by all rights, it should have been a productive, relaxing day. A quiet day. But one comment from Garrick this morning about how Frankie and Val had plans today was enough to steal my concentration.
I kept thinking about her lips, her long, silky hair and how it would feel wrapped around my fist. I didn’t understand it. I despised this woman—why couldn’t I get her out of my head?
I plunged back into work with a frustrated sigh and shoved Frankie far out of view.
Just as I was getting into a groove, I heard the elevator buzz up to the top level. Dad and Garrick’s boisterous conversation announced their arrival long before the doors slid open, and I turned my head to greet them as they walked into the lounge.
They stopped talking and smiled when they saw me.
“Hey bro,” said Garrick.
“How was the meeting?” I asked.
Garrick and Dad strode to the coffee pot and each poured a cup. Both added milk, and Dad stirred in some sugar, something he only did at work since he’d never get away with it in front of my mother.
“Boring,” Garrick replied, taking a tentative sip of his coffee. He sidled over to the far couch and sank down with a sigh. “You wouldn’t believe how eager the reps were to get our support. Apparently, nobody else will touch them. It’s a hard time for new music festivals at the moment.”
Dad followed and took the opposite side of the couch. He tossed his feet up on the glass coffee table and rested his cup on his round belly.
“No more talk of music festivals,” he declared. “I’m tired of being reminded how old and out of it I am.”
I chuckled. “You own a brewery. You’re about as in as they get.”
“Like you’d know,” Garrick said dryly.
I frowned. Dad and Garrick exchanged a cheeky, almost identical smile. It was easy to tell they were father and son. Their eyes always shone with humor, and now that Garrick was nearing thirty, his were beginning to crinkle in the same way. If my brother didn’t watch himself, he’d wind up looking exactly like my dad in thirty years—beer belly and all.
“Getting much done in here?” Dad asked.
I turned back to my computer and shrugged. “Could be worse.”
I thought they might go to their separate offices and leave me in peace, but that turned out to be wishful thinking. Dad and Garrick always talked fast and drank their coffee slow. I became childishly determined to wait them out. Their background chatter wasn’t that bad, anyway. I was used to tuning them out.
Only when they started talking about the wedding did it become impossible to do so.
“Where is Val today?” Dad asked. “Will she be stopping by?”
Val sometimes came by on Fridays to see Garrick, and anytime she did Dad liked to tease her about trying to steal our secrets.
“Probably not. She and Frankie are out doing a cake tasting.”
“And they didn’t invite me along?” Dad complained.
Garrick chuckled. “If your next slice of cake were at the wedding it would be too soon.”
“What kind are you thinking of getting?” Dad asked. “Give me something to look forward to.”
I stared hard at the mountains and tried to block out the conversation behind me. I did not succeed.
“Val wants red velvet, she thinks it’ll look good with all the pearl accents. I voted for fun-fetti, but she shot that down.”
Dad made a noise of contentment. “Your mother and I had vanilla with the most delicious buttercream icing I’ve ever tasted.”
“That’s funny that you say that, Val originally was leaning in the direction of something buttercream, but she saw a red velvet cake on Pinterest for a winter wedding and fell in love.”
I couldn’t take it anymore.
I whipped around and glared at them. “I am at work. In a brewery. If I can’t escape wedding talk here, where can I?”
Dad and Garrick were silent for a moment, then both burst into giggles.
“Come on, Levi, we’re just excited,” Dad said.
“I’m excited for Garrick too, but I manage to contain myself during the hours from nine to five.”
“Looking forward to the big day, are you?” Dad asked with a twinkle in his eye. “You bringing along a special lady?”
I rolled my eyes. “No.”
I turned my back to them to signal that the conversation was over.
Garrick lowered his voice just enough to make it sound like he was telling Dad a secret, but not enough to keep me from hearing it. “The only reason Levi isn’t bringing a date is that he’s got his eye on the wedding planner.”
I kept my eyes focused on my laptop screen, gritting my teeth. “I most certainly do not.”
My raised hackles were not enough to deter him. “Of course you do,” Garrick said. “You should have seen him last time we got drinks, Dad. He was smitten.”
“Smitten?” I snapped.
Okay, now I’d had enough. Garrick might not know it, but he was prodding a tender spot, and I was going to make damn sure he left well enough alone in the future.
“Let me make this clear,” I said, raising my voice but still not turning around. “The only thing I might feel for that girl is sorry for her. She couldn’t find anyone to marry herself so now she tricks luckier girls into thinking she likes them so she can lurk in the background of their wedding photos and dig a deep hole in their pockets. I wouldn’t take that girl out if I was the tide.”
Garrick and Dad made no reply. In fact, they’d gone so silent that I wondered if they’d left somewhere in the middle of my tirade. I thought I’d heard footsteps.
I turned around and my stomach clenched.
Val was standing just inside the room with her hands in fists at her sides. Beside her, Frankie clutched a cake box and stared at me like I was the most abominable person in the world. Hell, I felt like it.
I rose to my feet and picked up my laptop, heading straight past the two girls and to the fire stairs.
The worst part of the way Frankie looked at me wasn’t that she now hated me more than ever. I could have taken that in stride. No, the worst part was the raw hurt that darkened her eyes. Nothing I said or did in the past had visibly shaken her, and she always came back with fire and sass. This time I’d gone too far. All I’d wanted was to get Garrick off my back.
I took my laptop to the park near the brewery but didn’t get anything done. I considered going back to apologize no less than five times but always stopped myself before I did.
What did I care if I hurt her feelings? I meant what I said, so why should I have to apologize for it? It was better if she hated me. Then at least she might abandon all thoughts of trying to befriend me or establish some sort of camaraderie between us. If she hadn’t already. In the long run, this would be better for both of us.
After a couple hours of staring down at my computer my neck started to ache, and I figured it was safe to go back to the office.
It was quiet inside when I came back. My dad and Garrick were still sitting in the lounge, but they went silent as I left the elevator and darted into my office. Neither of them said a word to me. I doubt any of us knew what there was to say.
Chapter 8
Frankie
I was becoming the backspace queen. Every time I typed a sentence, my ring finger inevitably stretched over to the rectangular key and jabbed away at it with a vengeance. I would start typing again. I would backspace again.
Writing a blog post shouldn’t be this hard, especially when it was an entry responding to a reader question. I loved these types of posts because it was much easier for me to respond to a question than it was to plan a topic and ou
tline an entire entry from scratch. So why was I having such a hard time?
Who was I kidding? I knew why. It was the nature of the question. The bride had a troublesome bridesmaid on her hands and wanted to know how I would approach the issue without making things worse and ruining her big day. The reluctant bridesmaid was a member of the groom’s family and was angry that they’d scheduled the wedding during the first week of her first year of college. The brat was acting out to the point where the bride wondered if she was trying to get kicked out of the wedding.
It was a similar problem to the one I was facing with Levi, but at least this bride knew why the girl was cranky.
My responding blog post would address the concerns of this bride while inserting some general tips on how to manage moody members of any wedding party. I was often surprised by how selfish and unreasonable the closest people to the bride and groom could be, and had defused a handful of unruly relatives in my day. It had the potential to be a great post. Too bad I couldn’t get past the first sentence.
I closed my laptop with a sigh and leaned back, letting my eyelids drift down. I didn’t want to admit that Levi’s comment yesterday had gotten to me, but here I was.
Blocked. Hurt. Frustrated because I was blocked and hurt.
Who cared if the human equivalent to a honey badger thought I wasn’t worth his time? The only person whose opinion mattered in this scenario was Val’s. She adored me, and I adored her, and together we were building my most beautiful wedding yet. Levi thought he knew me, but he had no idea who I was or what I wanted in life. He based his presumptions on nothing more than his bitter view of the world.
Problem was, Levi’s rejection hit on an old wound.
That’s the funny thing about rejection, isn’t it? It sucks no matter who’s doing it, and when it happens you can’t help but think about all the other times you weren’t good enough, wondering what about your personality, your looks, your actions, drove those people away.
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