by Eva Luxe
“ I prefer the term ‘smuggler’.” We get to our floor, and only then does it occur to me: “We forgot about the elevator!”
“You mean I carried these two super-heavy bottles of wine up four flights of stairs for nothing?!” Amil brandishes the bottles (which we may have stolen when the hosts’ backs were turned), and I raise my hands in a plea of innocence.
“Not for nothing! We still get to drink them! And the trip will make them even taste more good!”
“More good isn’t the right word, silly!”
“It is too! Stair wine is more good than elevator wine! See, I used it in a sentence!”
“Okay, using it in a sentence only matters in a middle school spelling bee!”
“Fine, then, what’s the right word, smarty-pants?”
Amil opens her mouth to speak, but before she can, I start laughing uncontrollably. “What?! What’s so funny?!”
By now I’m leaning against the wall, wheezing. “Your teeth…they’re all purple! It looks like you took a bite out of Barney the Dinosaur!”
Amil pauses, then starts to laugh too. “Your mouth doesn’t look much better! Better! That’s the word I was looking for!”
We’re both in gales of laughter now. The hotel room door next to us opens, and a prim-looking man in a suit (I think I recognize him from downstairs, but who knows), peers out with a look on his face like we’d deeply offended whatever sensibilities he had. “Excuse me. Could you please keep it down out here? If you want to shout and be gregarious, do it in your own rooms. This is a public hallway.” With that, he slams the door.
Amelia looks at me, and then, in a mocking interpretation of the man’s tone, says “Excuse me could you please keep it down out here meh I need my beauty sleep blah blah blah.”
I imagine that my laugh is much too loud for the man behind the door, but I don’t care. This is the most fun I’ve had in months.
We keep walking down the hallway, heading to our room. “Do you think the person who played Barney did it drunk?” Amelia asks reflectively.
“I mean, I feel like he must have. How else would he be able to make it through a day without drop-kicking one of those little annoying snot monsters through a window?”
“Exactly! That guy from the Brady Bunch TV show was on coke the whole time too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah! I’m telling you, if they’d had camera crews filming the behind-the-scenes stuff on 80’s TV series instead of the scripted parts, reality TV would’ve been way more popular way sooner.”
We make it to our room, and I fumble with the key card. The lock buzzes and flashes red. “Come onnnnn!” Amelia opines. “I have to pee!”
“Whose fault is that?” I laugh, swiping the card again. Still nothing.
“Yours!” she insists. “You brought me here!”
“Okay, that’s fair.” That’s when I notice I’m swiping my credit card in the door. “Whoops.” I fumble for the right card in my wallet, and finally get the door open. Amelia beelines for the bathroom, and I flop down onto the bed.
Staring at the ceiling fan, I call out, “I don’t think I could ever be on a reality show.”
“What?” Amil shouts back from behind the slightly-ajar bathroom door.
“I couldn’t do it. All those cameras and people watching and voting online about you? I’ve had my fill of that already.”
The toilet flushes, the sink runs, and Amelia reappears in the doorway. “Wait, what do you mean, you’ve had your fill of it? You’re not rich and famous.” She frowns. “Right? I feel like that’s something worth mentioning and you haven’t, so.”
My head clears just a bit, adrenaline hitting me as I realize what I’ve just said. “Nah, I’m not. I meant, like, I’ve had my fill of watching reality TV. I can only do the fun baking competition shows, you know?”
Amil slides down onto the bed with me. “Is that why those girls wanted your autograph the other day? Because you’re super popular on the fanboy forums?”
I laugh, but Amil doesn’t break her gaze. Shit, she really wants to know. Somewhere in the back of my head, I’d known it was going to happen eventually if we’d kept things up, but the rest of me had been in denial. I especially hadn’t figured on the question being popped while we were drunk on a weekend away.
“Okay.” I roll over and face her, propped up on an elbow. “I’m not famous. But my family is. We’re bankers, entrepreneurs, really well-known in certain social circles. It’s how I had the money to fund the venture capitalist opportunities. And now, it’s how I made enough to retire and make art. So, it was worth it, but, it came with a price. Those women…I’ve seen them around at family functions before. My last…breakup was quite a scandal around those circles, so they all know that I’m supposedly up for grabs.”
“Smelling blood in the water.” Amil giggles, but her expression quickly turns serious again as she looks up at me from her pillow. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“I don’t tell anyone.”I examine the ceiling fan again, then take a deep breath and open my mouth to tell her the rest…only to see that she’s fallen asleep.
“Huh.” I expect to feel relieved…but instead, I’m almost disappointed. It’s a strange feeling, and it’s the last thing I remember before I fall asleep too.
Chapter 45 – Amelia
I wake up with a low thrumming in my skull, and light poking at my eyes like a kid harassing their parent on Christmas morning. I lift my head from the pillow gingerly, and crack my eyes open. The ceiling fan spins in lazy circles above me, and I have to close my eyes again because the motion makes my head spin just like the blades.
Next to me, poking out from a pile of sheets, blankets, and discarded clothing, is Brent’s dark hair, attached to the rest of his still-sleeping body.
Last night is a blur. Shocking, huh? I figured the last full bottle of wine was a bad choice, but at that point, it was one I wanted to make. I know I fell asleep after drunken revelry and some serious talking, but the details are fuzzy.
I’m fine with that, though. It’s been ages since I’ve felt so relaxed and had such a good time with someone, especially for more than one day. This weekend away has been fantastic, and it’s not over yet.
That’s when Brent jerks awake. The first sound from him sounds like I feel, an unintelligible mumble-groan. “Took you long enough, sleepyhead.” I laugh.
“How long have you been up?”
“Hours,” I say. “It’s almost 3 in the afternoon.”
“What?!”
He stares at me through bleary eyes, and I can’t keep the ruse up. “Five minutes. It’s only nine o’clock.”
“That…” he moans, “Is not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
He rolls his eyes and climbs out of bed. “Just for that, I’m going to take a shower alone. I was going to invite you, but…”
Shower sex? I’ve never done that. Jason never would’ve asked me - no. Why is he still in my head? In that moment I decide the best way to get away from him is to ride the wave of odd decision-making and go for it. “Oh really? Maybe I’ll just invite myself along anyway. I’m pretty sure I can think of a way to convince you to let me stay.”
Brent chuckles, rubbing at his eyes. “You’re welcome to try.”
I follow him into the bathroom, silently marveling at the size of the shower/bathtub combo. I’ve never even had a tub that I fit into comfortably.
Brent twists the shower handle, and the water kicks on. He steps in, and I follow him. We’re both still sweaty and bedraggled from last night’s escapades, but the warm water cascading down starts washing it all away. A little out of the stream of water, I shiver just a bit. Brent wraps me in his arms, smiling. I rest my head on his chest, feeling the warmth of his body on mine, and make up my mind.
“You didn’t invite me in here just to get clean, did you?” I squeeze him a little tighter. “Because I can think of some other things to do. Unless you’re
not interested.” I can tell that he is - it’s hard to hide a growing erection when you’re naked and pressed against someone else.
He utters a low chuckle. “Of course I am. I always am when I’m around you.”
This makes me blush. “You’re the first guy to tell me something like that. With other people, there was always something about me that could be better. They always wanted more.”
“Well, right now, all I want is you.” Brent kisses me. I kiss him back, before pulling away and dropping to my knees on the ceramic tub floor. I can hear his gasp of pleasure even over the sound of the cascading water hitting his skin and the surface of the shower as I wrap my hand around his waiting cock.
I tease him, running my fingers over his cock, balls, and thighs ever so gently, then gripping him and giving him a firm squeeze that makes his toes curl. Water’s not the best lubricant, so I slide him into my mouth before long (not that I need an excuse). I relish the way his hardness feels between my lips, the power and connection that comes with blowing him. I use my hand and my mouth as one, swirling my tongue over the tip of him and sliding my hand up and down his shaft.
His hands find my hair, gripping tight and pulling just enough to send waves of pleasure through my body. His touch doesn’t make me feel used…it makes me feel connected. His hands follow my lead as I explore his skin with my tongue and teeth, nipping at his hip bones and gently kissing my way along his thighs…
Until I look up too quickly as Brent shifts, and suddenly end up with water hitting me full in the face, blinding me. Before I know it, I’m hacking like a dying cat and swiping at my eyes. Brent lifts me up to my feet, clear of the water, still holding me close.
“Breathe,” he says. “You’re okay.”
One more good cough clears the water from my lungs, and Brent helps wipe the last of the water from my eyes. That’s when I start laughing, and he joins in.
“I always heard shower sex was tricky. Now I get why.” I laugh, swiping at my wet hair to keep it out of my eyes.
“Wait, you’ve never had shower sex before?” Brent looks at me, an incredulous expression on his face.
“What?!” I shoot back. “Do you make it a regular thing or something?”
He grins, a bit abashed. “Not really. I tried once, and I sprained my ankle so bad my girlfriend was stuck doing nothing but cowgirl for two weeks. I mean, that was her favorite position, but still. First time for everything.”
I laugh, long and loud. “So, what you’re saying is, you have no grounds to be criticizing me at all, you liar.”
“I…yeah, that’s fair.” He kisses me. “Feel like giving me another shot at glory?”
“At being the hottest person in the ER waiting room? Sure.” I kiss him back, still giggling.
“Wow. I’m offended.” Brent pushes me back against the wall of the shower, and I can feel him rising against my thigh again. It just makes me want him more.
Brent puts a hand under my left thigh, lifting my leg off the ground. For half a second I’m afraid I’m going to fall over, but then his other arm wraps around my waist and holds me steady. He reaches out to the ledge of the shower, where he’s left a condom, and puts it on, still while holding onto me, effortlessly.
My back is braced against the shower wall, my eyes locked on his, as I reach down with my free hand and guide him inside me. He gasps a soft breath in at the same moment that I sigh one out, relishing the feeling as he pushes fully inside me.
Brent moves his hips, slow at first, finding a rhythm that will keep both of us on our feet. The shower, very warm now, sends rolling waves of steam up around us. Brent’s lips find my neck, pressing into my skin with enough force that I can feel my own heartbeat thumping against his lips.
“Oh, that’s good.” I whisper in his ear. My feet are barely resting against the porcelain, and I realize two things in that moment: I’m not the one in control…and I still feel safe.
Another deep thrust, and anything resembling a deep coherent thought leaves my head. That’s fine…I’d rather focus on what’s happening in front of me anyway.
My fingers dig deep into the flesh of Brent’s muscled back, eliciting a moan of pleasure from us both. From there, my hands grip his firm ass, feeling the muscles flex as he thrusts into me. My head rolls back on my neck, and I’m dimly aware that I’m shouting and moaning for him to not stop, to fuck me harder—
In one swift motion, he puts me back on my feet, turns me around, puts my hands on the wall where my back had been resting - and enters me from behind. I’m crying out again, and his voice is urging me on too. It’s just like that first night in the alleyway…only better. This time, I know the man that’s thrusting into me, know the feeling of his hands on my back and in my hair, begging for him to hold me harder as he grips my hips from behind, holding me steady…
I hold myself up with one hand, and the other reaches down to touch my clit, doubling the sensations I’m feeling. My fingers massage desperately, in concert with Brent’s thrusts, and I feel the now-familiar sensation rising.
My orgasm blooms from between my hips, racing tendrils of electricity and energy down my legs, up my arms, through my chest, down to my toes and out to my fingertips. I shudder in ecstasy and buckle against him.
As my orgasm finishes, his is about to begin. “Wait, wait, wait…” I whisper, turning to face him and dropping to my knees. “I want to taste you.”
I wrap my lips and fingers around his cock, slick with my own juices. I taste good…and when he cums, he tastes even better. His hands are on my head again, holding me in place (gladly) as I taste his warm cum and swallow it.
I look up at him and smile. “What was it you were saying about there being a first time for everything?”
Chapter 46 – Brent
“Bacon and blowjobs? This morning is just an embarrassment of riches.” I grin across the table at Amelia, who’s digging into her own mountainous plate of breakfast food.
“Shhh!” She giggles, glancing around at the other tables near us.
“What, are you afraid they’ll be jealous of us?” I ask, in between crunching bites of bacon.
“I’m practically jealous of us, this weekend has been so amazing.” Amil takes a deep draw from her mimosa.
“It really has.” I agree. “Part of me just wants to stay around here for another couple days and take advantage of everything all over again.”
“Don’t tempt me.” Amelia pouts. “I can’t. I have to work.”
“You sure? A few extra days off never hurt anyone…”
“It could hurt me, though. Believe me, I’d love to stay here with you, but there’s this thing at work—”
“What thing? Is it better than mine?” I smirk a little.
“You’re disgusting.” Amelia says, grinning. “No, it’s just…okay, one of our partners left a few weeks back, and the submission period for his replacement ends tomorrow. I was - well, I was thinking of going for it.”
“Really?” Almost unconsciously, I start smiling. “You absolutely have to do it!”
“You really think so?”
“Of course I do! I know a little about the firm you work for. They didn’t get their reputation as one of the toughest law firms in the city by pure luck.”
“Is this supposed to give me confidence? ‘Cause I’m not sure it’s helping.”
“No! I mean, yes, it is. Look, you’re already one of their top case lawyers, right? If you weren’t, you wouldn’t even be able to submit for the position. My point is, I think that the promotion is yours if you want it!”
Amil sighs. “Maybe you’re right. It’s just that I know some of the people in my office don’t think so.”
“Some people who?” I scoff. “Who cares what they think, Amil?”
“I do. Not that I want to, but I do. It’s hard when…well, when one of the people you work with is your ex.”
“Wait.” I’m actually surprised. “You work with your ex-fiancee? So the case worker you said
he cheated on you with…”
“Works for the company too.”
I sit back, food forgotten for the moment. “Wow, Amil.”
“Are you mad I didn’t tell you?” She looks borderline contrite.
“Amil! No. I guess…I’m not happy about it, but why would I be? You can’t be either, can you?” She shakes her head no. “I don’t expect you to tell me everything…whatever this is between us, it doesn’t have those kind of rules. Honestly though, this just proves me right.”
“Proves you right?”
“Yeah, absolutely! If you can work day-in and day-out with the people who - with those people - you can do anything. You’re a badass.”
Amil smiles, for real this time. “You’ve convinced me.”
Chapter 47 – Amelia
“You’re a badass.” I keep replaying Brent’s words over and over in my head as I walk down the hall toward Styles’ office. I try not to clutch my application folder too tightly, since my hands are sweating and leaving wet handprints on the thing wouldn’t be considered particularly professional.
Deep breath, I remind myself, stopping just outside the door. You can do this. I raise my hand to knock. The door opens, and I hear: “-looking forward to your decision.”
I know the voice before I see him. Jason. He sees me standing there, and fixes his smug look on me before adding, “I’m sure it will be an easy choice.”
Jason walks past me and down the hall without another word or glance. All the energy has somehow been knocked out of me. The door in front of me is still ajar, but I don’t move forward. I’m frozen, and I hate the feeling.
“Ms. Hope?” I hear Mr. Styles’ voice from beyond the door. “Ms. Hope. I thought that was you. Please, come in.”
Shaking my head, trying desperately to get rid of the jangling fear and nerves that are suddenly rattling all throughout me, I step through his door.
Behind his desk, Styles regards me with a measured gaze. “What can I do for you?”
I imagine myself saying “Nothing, I’m so sorry”, and retreating down the hall. That’s what a big part of me wants to do. But then I hear Brent’s kind, comforting voice in my head: “Who cares what they think, Amil? You can do anything.”
