"Sure, do you have any requests?" I stand and make my way to the piano.
"Something new. Not Mozart or anything like that, please." Jackie smiles at me and rolls her eyes. The first song that comes to mind is Emeli Sande's "My Kind Of Love."
I place my fingers on the keys, knowing I don't need to check if it’s tuned. I want to sing. I block everyone out of the room, which is easy as I have my back to them, and it’s just me, the piano, and a beautifully-written song. I take a breath and begin.
I sing the words and they flow out of me, calming me instantly. I feel myself relax and escape in the music. My fingers run over the keys, never missing a note. My voice is clear but full of emotion. I never realized this song would be so significant to Lincoln and I.
I finish and take a deep breath. I turn in the piano stool and find the shocked faces of the family.
"Jesus, Har, that was fucking amazing." Lincoln is looking at me with his mouth open and eyes wide. "Um, thanks . . ." I smile shyly and his family make me blush with their kind words.
"Who sings that song originally?" Jackie is still kind of gaping at me, and I feel proud that I've impressed them all.
"Emeli Sande. My best friends and I believe she wrote the soundtrack to our lives. Each one of us has a song we completely relate to." Sadly, it’s true. Art’s relatable song is full of sadness.
"That's better than being able to relate to an Adel song. That chick is depressing," Jackie says and we laugh.
After my impromptu song, Lincoln and I decide to head home. Well, to his home.
We say our goodbyes, and I give Jackie my number so we can arrange our spa day. Ben pulls Lincoln aside and whispers something to him, which earns him a slap on the head. This time hand and head connect.
Lincoln walks over to me, grinning. "Ready beautiful?"
I nod. "Thank you all for having me over. It's been a great night."
Dianne hugs me first, followed by the rest of the family.
"Bro, my new bar opens next month, so you two have to come to the opening night. I'll put you on the list."
"Done. We'll be there." Lincoln answers for both of us, and I don't mind because I've heard about this bar a bit tonight and I'm excited to see it.
We get in the car, and before we reach the end of the driveway, Lincoln stops the car abruptly.
"Whoa, did you forget something?" I ask while gripping my seatbelt.
"You were amazing tonight, Harbour. I mean, I knew they'd love you, but I wasn't expecting that."
"Thanks. They're all so nice. I'm just glad my lack of mouth-filter didn't embarrass me!"
He leans over and kisses me deeply. The kiss is amazing. It's soft and gentle. There are definitely some scary emotions attached to it. A car horn erupts, breaking our moment. Lincoln leans his forehead on mine ignoring the honking car that has now moved next to us. He takes a deep breath.
"Fucking Ben." He releases me and lowers his window.
Ben is looking at us with a huge grin on his face. "Maybe save the R-rated shit for when you get off mom and dad’s property, bro."
He drives off, laughing as Lincoln flips him the bird.
"Let's get home so I can have a good look at the bra and panties you're wearing, then remove them with my teeth." He kisses me again and I moan into his mouth. I really do love it when he talks dirty.
"Don't make noises like that, baby, or I’ll fuck you on the hood of my ridiculously expensive car." Oh God!
"Two things, first: I don't think the charity will be happy to know the dent in the hood of the car was from you fucking me relentlessly on it and two, if you keep talking like that, my panties will disintegrate. Now drive, fast."
We don't say another word. I put my window down to get some air because I really feel like I’m going to combust. I just want to jump in his lap and fuck him.
I look over at Lincoln, and he is concentrating on the road. His face looks pained, like if he isn't home soon he'll explode. I look down and see his straining cock pushing against his zipper. I have to touch him. I reach over and rub him through his pants.
He grits his teeth. "Harbour, I'm serious, I’ll fuck you if you don't stop."
"Is that a threat or a promise?" I find the zipper of his pants and slowly undo it while looking up at him through my lashes. His eyes are wide with wonder; his jaw is slack. I see him lick his lips and I've had enough. I undo my seatbelt, ignoring his safety concerns and pull his throbbing cock out of its cage and into my mouth. My back is arched over the gears and my ass is in the air. Anyone driving past would be able to see what's going on, but I don't care.
Lincoln quickly pulls over to the side of the road and turns the engine off. "Fuck, Har, I could've had an accident." He's breathing heavily as I amp up my efforts. He slaps my ass and I take him completely in my mouth. I can feel him at the back of my throat.
I'm so aroused; the pressure is building and my pussy is throbbing, I’m so close to coming that I lose focus for a second. Unbelievable! I'm completely clothed and giving him head and he still has the ability to make me come in my pants.
One of his hands is in my hair and the other is reaching in the back of my jeans. He's fondling my ass, his finger sliding up and down my crack. "I fucking love your ass, Har."
He grabs the top of my underwear and pulls it up slowly, causing the fabric to rub against my clit.
"Oh, Lincoln . . ." I moan around his cock and it sends him over the edge, spurting his come into me as I come with him. I pull him slowly from my mouth, licking as I go. I kiss the head of his cock and sit back in my seat.
"Fucking hell." He groans as he reaches over and kisses me wildly.
"That's just a preview of what's to come," I say, smirking at him.
"You're gonna come so many times tonight you'll be begging me to stop."
"Doubtful."
"What? The coming part, or the begging-me-to-stop part?" He adjusts his pants and starts the car.
"The stopping part, of course. I don't know if you've noticed but I can't seem to get enough of you."
"Well, the feeling is mutual, sweetheart." He winks, and I'm more than ready for round two.
True to his word, Lincoln had me begging to stop. After four orgasms I thought I thought I was going to pass out. I think I did, because when I woke the next day I couldn't remember when we stopped.
And I still had my sexy shoes on.
Chapter Seventeen
For the last two weeks, Lincoln and I have managed to maintain a professional distance at work, except for the occasional heated kiss in his office. Our nights have been explosive. After work, we barely make it in the door before we're tearing each other's clothes off and mauling one another.
There has only been one snide remark from Savannah since the meeting in which she “ousted” us. I happened to be in the lift heading up to the office when she stepped in with two perfect-looking friends of hers.
"Speaking of gold-diggers . . ." They’d giggled, and as much as I would've loved to have given her a piece of my mind, I couldn't do it. She wasn't worth the breath I'd use to retaliate with one of my awesome sarcastic remarks. I just gave her my best Bring it on, bitch glare.
Thankfully, my silent warning got through to her, which has been a huge relief. I'm not letting my guard down, though; I know how these women work. She'll try to make me jealous or spread rumors, and I'm just waiting patiently for her to get her plan in motion.
****
I'm in a cab headed to my apartment. I haven't been there for longer than two hours in the last fortnight—I've been staying at Lincoln's the whole time. Tonight, though, he's headed to Chicago for a meeting, and as much as I'd love to stay alone in his home rather than mine, I feel like my apartment is being wasted. I collect my mail and walk over to my bed, flopping onto it. Jesus, it feels even smaller now that I’ve spent so much time in a penthouse.
With a sigh, I lie there and flick through the mail, sorting the junk from the important stuff. Bills. Boring. I rise
from the bed, go to my closet and find my daggy pajamas. These haven't made the cut of Clothes I Take To Linc's. I'd rather walk around naked than wear my well-worn, pink flannelette pants in front of him.
As I make my way to the bathroom, my phone chirps with a familiar tone. Like a teenager, I rush over to my handbag and excitedly pull it out. Even more ridiculous is the huge, megawatt smile I'm wearing while I read his texts.
Just landed, missing you already. Is that weird?
If it is, then I'm probably a bigger weirdo than you.
I saw the photos you took of yourself on my phone. I have no words to describe the hard-on I've been sporting ever since. I nearly asked the pilot to turn the damn plane around.
I'm glad you liked them. I thought I could remind you of what you're coming home to.
Damn, sweetheart, I didn't need photos to remind me. Your face,
sexy body, and even the taste of you is imprinted on my brain.
Ditto.
Good. And after today's 'farewell' session, I bet you can still feel me too.
Yes, actually. I feel like I've run the New York marathon without stretching first.
You stretched. You stretched plenty.
Yeah, I did but I mean stretching BEFORE the workout.
You did that too, remember? Stretching your arms, your legs, and pulling my hair while I . . .
Okay! You need to stop with the 'fuckbacks' before I fly up there and you miss your meeting.
Fuckbacks?
Yeah, fuckbacks. Fucking flashbacks! My panties are wet beyond comprehension and I think I've forgotten how to turn on the shower.
You never forget how to turn me on . . . That's all that matters.
It's my mission in life, handsome. Go to work and call me before bed.
Think of me in the shower . . .
Oh, I will ; )
I smile like an idiot, put the phone down and head to the bathroom. Then, because I'm slightly obsessed, I race back out to the sofa where I left my phone on and bring it with me. Just in case.
I strip off and enter the shower, my mind racing with what ifs the entire time. By the time I'm dried and dressed, the paranoid and low self-esteem side of my brain has come up with stupid scenarios that are slightly depressing. I never felt I was good enough for Derek, and he was a small-dicked, aggressive loser. I try to shake my thoughts but they just continue on repeat.
He's perfect. What makes you worthy?
You've fallen for him, what if he doesn't feel the same?
I need to clear my head. There are a few options: one, drink tequila until I'm buzzed; two, put Emeli Sande’s album on full-volume and sing; or three, bake.
Apparently drinking alone is a sign of alcoholism, so I'll skip that. Option two is a no-go also; the walls are so thin in this place that Polite Harbour doesn't think my neighbors would appreciate a late-night karaoke session.
So option three it is. Baking. It's kinda my thing. My phone rings and I quickly retrieve it, it’s Jackie. "Hi there! What are you up to tonight? I’m in the neighborhood so I thought I’d swing past." Did Lincoln tell her he was going away for the night? And in my neighborhood? Not deliberately, surely. "Lincoln is away for the night so I’m at my place. I was gonna bake but I just realized I don’t have any ingredients." I laugh sheepishly.
"Well, I can be there in 20 minutes with pre made cakes and wine. Send me your address. We say our goodbyes and I shoot off a text to her with the details. 30 minutes later she knocks on my door with a cake box in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. I show her in and she put the items down before hugging me tightly. I love how comfortable she is with me. "Cute place. Do you have a bottle opener? Please say yes." She looks at me with hopeful eyes and I nod and smile in response. I open the bottle, pour two glasses and we get comfortable on the sofa. After a few minutes of general conversation and catching up, Jackie mentions Lincoln’s birthday. "Does he normally have a party or anything?" I ask
her.
"He didn’t do anything for his 21st, my mom was so disappointed..." She snaps he fingers and suddenly her relaxed expression changes. Her eyes are wide and her mouth is shaped in an O. I watch her expectantly.
"What is it?" I ask after waiting a few seconds.
"A party!! A surprise party! For Linc’s 30th. Oh, this is brilliant!" She takes a large gulp of her wine whilst waving her hand in the air asking me to get a pen.
"You want a pen? " I clarify.
"Yep, pen and paper, we have lists to write." I jump off the sofa in a rush. I’m so excited to plan a party. Whenever a friend or family member back home wanted to host an event, they'd call me with the budget and I'd plan the entire thing. Sometimes I think I missed my calling. I love the look on people’s faces when they see the final result. My parties are always spectacular.
"May the third. It’s in two weeks and lands on a Saturday. This is the best idea, Harbour! Mom and dad will agree. I'll also call Ben, he'll be in town that weekend anyway so it works perfectly." She takes a sip of her freshly-poured wine and grabs the notebook and pen I placed on the coffee table.
"Okay, first thing’s first: we need a theme. Masquerade?"
"We did that on New Year’s, and it's a bit formal. What about a laidback party."
"Okay, no masquerade. What about an 80’s theme?" This is going to be harder than I expected. I take a very unladylike gulp of my wine.
"Jackie, I don’t think Lincoln would want to dress up in 80’s clothes. What does your brother love to do?"
She gives me a look of confusion and slowly replies, "You?"
I laugh, hard. Again, not ladylike at all. I even snort, which I never do. Once the tears in my eyes clear, I look at her and realize she's completely serious.
"No! I mean, like, pastimes. Jesus, I don't think your parents would appreciate that theme!"
"They won't, but Ben and his friends probably will." We laugh and continue brainstorming.
After twenty minutes and zero helpful ideas, I finally suggest one we both agree on. The beach. Being May, the weather will be okay; not too hot or cold.
"We can have it at Mom and Dad's house. The yard is perfect! We can bring in sand to cover the grass and surround the pool. Make it look like a real beach. We’ll order outdoor heaters in case it’s too cold. We can hire colorful beach umbrellas and sun loungers. Oh, and we can make everyone come dressed in beach clothes! This is a great idea, Harbour." Her excitement is bubbling over. She can no longer sit, apparently; she's on a roll.
Jackie hands me the notepad and asks me to jot down all of her ideas. There are a lot of them. I suddenly feel uncomfortable with the whole idea. I can't afford this! As if reading my mind, she halts mid-sentence and gives me a stern look. "By the way, you're not paying for any of this. My parents will take care of it all."
I cringe slightly before I answer. "I can't help plan this whole thing and not pay for any of it. Your parents will feel I'm taking advantage of them."
Jackie laughs wholeheartedly and sits back next to me on the sofa. "Harbour, Lincoln didn't let my parents throw him a twenty-first. He took off with his friends and spent the weekend in Vegas being a typical twenty-one year old. They’ll want to do this. He owes them."
Before my mind can run away with thoughts of Vegas and debauchery, I agree and we continue planning.
****
It's ten thirty p.m. when my phone rings. It’s Lincoln.
My goofy smile earns an eye roll from Jackie. "Go talk to your lover boy and I'll open another bottle of wine."
"Hello handsome, how's Chicago?" I hear a mocking barfing noise from the kitchen as I head into the bathroom for some privacy.
"It's shit."
"Really? I thought you loved it there?"
"I did, until I met you and got to experience how good you feel wrapped around me. No place compares to your pussy, baby."
I hold in my giggle and pretend to be shocked. "Lincoln! Don't be rude."
"You love it when I'm rude. Don't lie. An
d I'm sure you've been thinking about me being inside you all night. Do you miss me, Har? Does your sweet pussy miss my cock?"
Jesus, I'll need to change my panties before I go back out there. "Yes, I do. And yes, it does, very much."
I'm practically panting. Hearing his sexy, sleepy baritone voice talking like that sends electricity running through my body. My clit is begging to be touched.
"As much as I'd love to continue this conversation, your
sister is here, and I can't leave her waiting while I have phone sex and play with myself."
I hear a sharp intake of breath. Is he mad she's here?
"First of all, why is my sister there? And second, if the photos weren't enough, now I have the image of you sitting on your bathroom vanity, playing with your pussy."
"How did you know I was in my bathroom?" I look around suspiciously for a hidden camera.
"It's echoing, baby. So why’s my sister there? Nothing serious, I hope."
"No, just girl talk, some wine. You know."
"If it wasn't my sister, I'd ask if you’re in your underwear having pillow fights too, but that's an image I'd rather not go to sleep with in my head."
"Well, maybe you should, because it'll help reduce the huge hard-on you're probably sporting." He laughs and then lowers his voice to panty-dropping level. "No, I'm saving this hard-on for you. Have a good night with my sister, but don't stay up late. You'll need your rest. I promise you, Harbour, we won't be leaving the bedroom until Monday morning. I'll make you scream my name so many times that the neighbors will think I'm a fucking god."
Mmmm . . .
"Well, your altar is one I have no problem worshipping at. Even on my knees."
"God dammit, I'm ending this call before I come in my pants like a fucking fifteen-year-old boy. Goodnight, beautiful."
"Goodnight, handsome." I wait for him to hang up but after several seconds I can still hear him breathing. I hate the whole, you hang up, no you hang up scenario so I just whisper, "Dream of me," to which he replies, "Every night."
I end the call and turn to look in the mirror. My face is flushed and glowing. Wow, he really is some kind of god. Who needs moisturizer and concealer when one phone call makes me look so good? I smile at my reflection and make my way back out to Jackie. She's on a call so I grab some potato chips and bring them over. She ends the call and smirks at me.
Harbour (Runaway Home #1) Page 13
