by M. S. Parker
He had no reaction at first.
Pressing myself against him, I wondered if I’d spent the past few weeks flirting with him, teasing him, all for nothing. I’d always considered myself a good judge of character, but now I wasn’t so sure.
But then he moved.
And man, did he move.
He drove his hands into my hair, dislodging the glittery combs I’d used to pull it up and back. They fell to the couch and floor, but I ignored them. Even the pain in my scalp was easy to disregard as he plundered my mouth.
He tore his lips away from mine, then yanked my head back, his teeth scoring the sensitive arch of my neck before he bit my earlobe. It was hard enough to hurt, but that just sent a thrill through me.
He pulled back, eyes glittering as he stared into mine. “You better be certain you really want to do this. After the past few weeks…”
“What about the past few weeks?” I whispered.
“You think I haven’t noticed the damn tight skirts you’ve been wearing? The way you seem to be everywhere I am, every time I turn around? I go to get a cup of coffee, and you’re there. I go to my office, and you’re talking with someone nearby. I’ve seen you bend over your desk to straighten things up so many times, every curve of your ass is imprinted on my brain.”
He slid his hand around my hip and grabbed my ass as if to emphasize his point. My heart fluttered, climbing up to pulse inside my throat as he pressed a line of kisses to my skin, working his way down to the neckline of my dress. My movements had pulled it down so that the top edge of my bra was visible.
“Are you certain you want this?” he asked again.
“Considering that I’ve gone out of my way to drive you crazy the past few weeks...” I teased.
He pulled back the faintest bit and slid his eyes up to meet mine. “Not bothering to act otherwise?”
“Why would I?” I met his gaze with a challenge in mine. “I told you that I knew what I wanted. I’m just done being subtle about it.”
He laughed, a low, dark sound that sent another wave of arousal through me. “That was subtle?”
I slid a hand between our bodies and cupped his cock through his pants. “What do you think?”
Placing one hand on my thigh, he used his free arm to grip me around the waist. As he moved us around so that I was stretched out, I couldn’t help but notice the care he took with my ankle. He stroked a hand down my leg, his touch gentle as he curled his fingers around my ankle, moving it in a way that wouldn’t risk injuring it further.
He traced a finger over my calf, then curved his hand so that it cupped the back of my knee. “That’s pretty much just an invitation to trouble, Astra.”
I grinned up at him. “I’m pretty much an invitation to trouble, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
He pushed my dress up, the skirt and petticoat billowing up to my waist. “That you are.” He let out a low whistle as he saw my panties. “Damn, those are sexy.”
I almost told him that I’d worn them hoping he’d get to see them, but he was folding himself onto the couch so that his head was hidden under the swaths of cloth. I had a moment to anticipate the touch of his mouth, and then he was there. Lips and tongue first moved over the thin lace, then on skin as he slid the crotch of my panties aside.
“Fuck,” I cried out at the first pass of his tongue over my clit.
I couldn’t see his head, but my hands found his hair anyway. I twisted the soft locks, urging him closer even as he did what I wanted. He alternated between long licks with the flat of his tongue and dancing jabs with the tip. I’d experienced the oral talents of a few men, and some had been quite good, but I’d never felt anything like this. As much as I wanted to believe that it was purely his physical skill, a part of me knew that the reason it was so good was because of this deeper connection between the two of us.
“Busy little mind,” he growled against my pussy. “Let’s see if we can make you stop thinking.”
I started to say good luck, but without another word, he pushed two fingers inside me, wringing out a cry.
“I’ve been dying to hear that again,” he whispered against my skin. His teeth sank into the fleshy part of my inner thigh and I keened.
“Fuck. Do that again. Come for me, Astra. I want to hear you come.” He licked around the place where his fingers thrusted into me. “I want to taste you when you come on my fingers.”
The quiet, reserved man from the clinic was gone.
This man was about to blow my mind, and the raw, sensual demand in his voice was enough to leave me shaking.
As he ground the heel of his hand against my sex, he said it again, the command in his voice clear. “Come.”
I was so primed, so ready for him. I had been ever since those hot, decadent minutes in his office.
No. Ever since that stolen kiss at the Halloween party the first night we met.
“Come, Astra.”
I did.
He twisted his fingers, his mouth sealing over mine as I screamed. Drinking down the sounds, Dash let me know just how pleased he was with my acquiescence to his demand.
Once my climax began to fade, he let me go, and I sank back onto the couch, mind a blissful haze.
Okay, now he could get naked and…
He turned away, and I frowned.
“What are you…?”
“Need to get a condom,” he said, already striding out of the room.
My face flushed. Right. Condom. I was glad at least one of us was still thinking clearly enough to do the smart thing. The way I was feeling right now, I would’ve let him slide right inside...and I wouldn’t have regretted for a moment getting to feel him skin to skin, to feel him come inside me. It was almost enough to make me beg him to set the condom aside.
He was back before I could process those thoughts any further, and I smiled as he knelt in front of me. His pants were open, and I could see his cock straining against his boxer briefs. “As much as I want to see you naked, I’ve been fantasizing about taking you in this dress from the moment I saw you at the party. Then when I saw you kiss Turk…”
His words trailed off, and he looked away, his expression tight.
“Turk is just a friend,” I reassured him. I couldn’t deny that his jealousy gave me a twinge of satisfaction. “It was a Christmas kiss. Mistletoe. Nothing more.”
His eyes came to mine, his body stilling. “And what’s this to you? A Christmas fling?”
I gave him a soft smile. “Words fail me. I can’t even begin to describe what this is.”
A faint smile appeared, and he dipped his head to kiss skin bared by the dress’s neckline. “Neither can I.”
He levered his weight over me, the dress crushed between us. His cock, hard and thick, slid against me, confirming that my panties were still slid to the side. I sucked in a breath, angling up to take him, but he caught my hip. “Be still.”
“But…”
“Be still,” he ordered as he lifted my hips up.
His eyes met mine, then he thrust in deep, burying himself in that single stroke. My scream caught in my throat, and my hands clutched the back of his shirt. He withdrew, thrust again. This time, he drove the sound out of me, and I reached up to grip his shoulders, clinging tight.
Need lurched through me, savage and brutal, matched by what I could see on his face. Whatever control he had possessed was now gone.
Hot and frantic, he drove into me, and I sank my nails into his shoulders, panting for air and blind to everything but the sensations of his cock thrusting and pulsing deep inside me.
He muttered my name, kissing me behind the ear before nipping my earlobe. My skin felt too tight, like I could explode at any minute. Spontaneous human combustion at its core. I’d shatter, and there’d be nothing left of me.
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. I knew that if I couldn’t get in air soon, I’d pass out, but not before I came, and that would kill me. Obliterate me.
He bit my lower lip.
I exploded, his name tearing from me in something akin to agony.
He whispered my name, going rigid above me as his cock pulsed deep in my core. For a moment, I wished I could know what it was like to feel him come inside me. Then he was brushing his lips across mine as he collapsed atop me.
I was smiling as I drifted off to sleep, his arms wrapped around me.
27
Astra
My smile didn’t last.
Sure, it was on my face when I woke up the next morning, but I woke up alone and in my own bed.
I had a vague memory of Dash carrying me to the cottage, and I remember us making love again, then falling asleep in his arms. But he wasn’t there now, and I had to assume he hadn’t bothered to stay. I could have considered it gallant...if he hadn’t fucked me first. Would it have been so awful to let me sleep in his bed? Or even in one of the guest rooms in the house? It was big enough that I knew there had to be at least one other bed available. Why couldn’t he have put me there?
I couldn’t help but think that he’d taken me back to my place so he didn’t have to think about what we’d done. That he regretted it.
And those were the thoughts plaguing me every hour since I’d woken up Thursday morning. Now it was Christmas Eve, and Piety had been watching me for the past twenty minutes.
“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”
I looked up at her from the plate I was making. She’d hired a catering company to take care of food for our Christmas Eve get-together, and everything looked amazing. That was good because I was eating my feelings. I was on my second helping of them, and I knew I’d regret it at some point. Probably the next time I tried on one of my favorite outfits, and it didn’t fit because I’d put on twenty pounds of post-sex, post-holiday weight.
“Nothing.” I shrugged and smiled.
She raised her eyebrow, giving me a look that said she clearly didn’t buy it.
“The same way nothing has been bothering you for the last couple of weeks?” She ran her hand over the faint swell of her belly, the movement unconscious. “You regret moving out here, don’t you?”
“What?” That got my attention.
“It’s kind of hard not to notice, Astra. I mean, you’re doing a good job of hiding it, but you’re distracted, and just…you’re not yourself.” She pushed off the wall and came over to hug me. “If you want to go back to Philly, you can. I won’t be upset. I’ll miss you of course, but I understand. We’re always going to be best friends. I won’t be able to travel for the first little while, but you know you can come visit me. And once the baby is big enough to fly, we’ll be going out to see my folks a lot.”
She gave me a bright, brave smile. She actually thought I regretted moving out here.
“Piety…” Putting my plate down, I took her shoulders, forcing her to look down at me. “You are such a…dork.”
She glared at me, scowling. “Here I am baring my soul and telling my best friend I’ll understand if she abandons me while I’m big and fat and pregnant, and you call me a dork.”
“You’re beautiful and glowing and pregnant. And yes, you’re a dork.” Rolling my eyes, I pulled her in for a hug. “Yes, I’m distracted, but it’s not because I regret moving here. The job is a challenge. And…” I managed a weak smile. “It makes it easier not to think so much about Jamie. I’m the queen of denial, you know. And it’s nice to not have my parents hanging over me all the time. You get that. And I love California. I’m glad I came out here.”
“Then what’s going on?” She caught my arms as I started to pull back.
“I…” Blowing out a sigh, I wondered if I should tell her about Dash right now.
No. The answer was clear. No, I wasn’t ready to discuss him again. Frankly, I didn’t know how I felt about him, about us. Was there an us?
Normally, I wouldn’t have hesitated to talk to Piety about this. But I was still trying to process it all, and for some reason, I felt like I needed to do it on my own. Maybe because, for the first time, it wasn’t just me and Piety against the world.
“I’m working through something,” I said finally. “But it has nothing to do with you, and I don’t regret the move. I promise.”
I just lied to my best friend.
I hadn’t realized it until just now, but the fact was, I lied to her.
The vague unsettlement I’ve been feeling did have something to do with Piety, but not because of anything she had done or was doing. It was because of me, and my total lack of forward movement.
She was doing the growing up thing. She was married. She had bought a house – a for-real house. No condo, no apartment. They had a house, and they were furnishing it to make it a home. She was pregnant, and the baby was just another part of the life she was making with Kaleb.
I loved her, and yeah, we’d always be friends, like she said, but our lives weren’t wholly intertwined anymore. But she really was moving on with her life, while I was stuck in limbo.
A laugh broke out, and I looked up to see Camry and Kaleb bent over something. It looked like a picture, and as Piety leaned in to see it, a smile spread across her face.
“You were so cute,” she said to Kaleb, shaking her head. “And small. I can’t believe you were ever that small.”
With an ache in my chest, I finally admitted to myself the thing I’d been trying to hide from. The three of them had formed their own family unit, and I wasn’t part of it.
Piety hadn’t asked any questions when I left earlier than normal.
Neither Kaleb nor Camry would think anything was off since they hadn’t been with us last Christmas Eve, but I normally stayed with her until well past midnight and had since I was old enough to drive. It wasn’t like my parents had ever done much more than purchase several insanely expensive presents which I hadn’t been allowed to open until Christmas dinner, always at two in the afternoon precisely. And only in front of the photographer they hired to document their parental awesomeness.
Piety and I had started making our own Christmas traditions when we were ten, and we’d built on them every year since, but it was time for her to start her own thing with her husband.
Besides, now that I’d finally admitted some things to myself, I just wasn’t in the mood to hang around past nine or so. When I pulled through the gates, I saw Dash’s car and realized I wasn’t the only one spending the rest of the night alone. I had to admit that I was surprised though. I would’ve thought he’d have been with Didi and Christal, or his parents. Then again, he said that he wasn’t a holiday person, so it wasn’t that surprising after all.
As I drove past, I caught sight of Dash’s door, even though I told myself I wouldn’t look.
The wreath was still up. My heart hitched a beat, and I tightened my hands on the steering wheel. He hadn’t taken it down. Did that mean anything? I had no idea.
But suddenly, I wasn’t so keen on going back to my place and going to sleep, or reading a book like I’d planned.
I didn’t want to spend Christmas Eve alone.
I shouldn’t have to.
And neither should he.
28
Dash
Sitting in my home office alone wasn’t the best way to spend Christmas Eve, but it wasn’t like I’d join my dad for his Christmas soiree, as he had taken to calling it. I blamed Marilyn for that. Ever since he’d married her, he’d been doing all sorts of things he hadn’t done before, trying to prove that he was still the virile leading man who’d commanded the box office for more than two decades. He wanted to be more than relevant. He wanted to be back on top.
Marilyn had been his physical trainer – still was – and while she’d helped him reduce his stress and get healthier, I could do without the odd suggestions that I should broaden my diet and eat more seaweed or kelp or whatever the latest health food craze was.
Yet another reason not to go to the party.
Even if the food was any good, it would be a nightmare. Marilyn’s friends ran
ged from those she knew through her work to those she’d met through my father, which meant a lot of them were my age or younger, while my father’s were people I’d known half my life. Too many would ask questions I didn’t want to answer, and I didn’t want to have yet another conversation with my father about how I wasn’t interested in the entertainment business.
We had a decent enough relationship when Marilyn was sober, but it became awkward when she’d had a little too much to drink and started hitting on me. I’d try to visit them between now and New Year’s, but I much rather preferred to spend holidays alone than risk the insanity that accompanied my family.
Swirling some scotch in a glass, I stared at the picture of Layla that sat on my desk and wondered how things might be in my life now if things had gone differently then. Immediately, I felt guilty, because even as I tried to think about my former fiancée, another woman pushed herself in.
Astra.
Even when she wasn’t here, she haunted me.
She was taking over the places where Layla’s ghost had been, pushing out the woman I’d loved. The woman I’d intended to marry, to spend the rest of my life with. The woman I’d wanted to have a family with.
Tightening my hand around the glass, I stared hard at the picture, trying to remember if it had captured the exact shade of sienna her hair was, or if her blue-gray eyes had been that dark or if it was a shadow. But I couldn’t remember. When I thought of her, it was the image from the photograph I saw in my head.
I wanted to tell her I was sorry, but part of me knew I’d have been lying. I couldn’t stop myself from forgetting her face, but I’d be damned if I’d lie to her memory.
Tossing back the scotch, I rose and moved over to refill it. I knew if I kept going like this, I’d be drunk before midnight, but at the moment, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea. I snorted a laugh. How ironic was it that I wanted to drink to forget that I was forgetting someone I used to admonish for self-medication to avoid the past?
