My pulse was thumping wildly in my neck, and as though drawn there, he tore his mouth from mine and dropped his lips to my throat. I ground against him, burning with impatience as his hand bunched at the skirt of my dress. The dip in my collarbone fascinated him, and he took his time sucking, tasting, until I was throbbing.
I waited for his mouth to return to mine again.
When it did, his tongue plunged, tangling with my tongue, and he exhaled. “I can’t kiss you fast enough,” he rumbled from deep in his chest. I slid my thighs against his bare stomach, clinging to his waist, my hand reaching for the lamp fixture as I attempted to steady myself.
He gripped my spread thighs, supporting, slipping his thumb over the lacy material of my panties to draw tight circles over my clit. The pressure sent tremors to my core. Trembling, I tore away from his mouth and cried out, my eyes lifting to the ceiling as he pushed, harder and faster, his chin dragging along my chest.
“Your hand,” I managed, not really making any sense. Did I mean stop? Go? Harder?
He had no problem interpreting, shoving the thin scrap of lace to the side. I came apart as I felt his strong hand, his fingers thrusting inside.
“Keaton,” I managed, again, and then again, his name becoming the only word my voice was capable of saying.
“I feel you,” he answered, so deep. “You’re so fucking ready for me. I want inside of you, Vivian. Now.”
“Oh, shit.”
Robin’s voice sent Keaton backwards, and he caught me from falling just before I hit the floor. She disappeared back into Keaton’s room in a wake of expletives. “I’m sorry! Shit. Shit shit shit.”
Keaton dropped his forehead to mine, searching for breath, grinning. “Robin, go away, we’re busy.”
I shot him a reprimanding glare, but he only continued smiling.
She made a disgusted sound from the other room. “We have to be at the salon in ten minutes. You guys are going to have to finish this shit on your own time,” she called, slamming the door of Keaton’s room in a huff.
I lifted my face to his, breathless.
“You left the door open?”
“I swung the bar latch to prop the door open. I thought we’d be leaving. I’ll lock it.”
“Wait,” he was bending to my chest, cupping my breast, sucking, and I was dissolving again. “Wait, you heard your sister, we have to go.”
“Fuck the salon. After I do you, I’ll do your hair.” His teeth nipped at my skin.
I laugh-moaned; I couldn’t help it. The build-up, the tension, and the overwhelming desire lingering in the space between us had me wondering if I was temporarily insane. I was still seeing stars from the intensity of what he’d done to me, and how it’d made me feel.
“Come on, Keaton. We have to go.”
He grinned, and that dimple forced my lips to curve into a smirk. He teased my smile with his, and this time, his kiss was long and slow.
I sighed against his mouth.
“You make me feel… everything.”
He gripped me tighter, his warm breath on my lips.
“This fucking contract. I can’t wait to fire you.”
“Fire me?” His hand and his mouth were roving, and I loved every second of it.
“Would you like to hear about your unemployment package?” His fingers pinched my ass, and I giggled, squirming.
“Come on!” Robin’s voice yelled from down the hallway, and I grinned.
“You can show me your package later. Let’s go.”
Watching Keaton leave with the other men in the wedding party was more difficult than I expected, especially since my friendship with Robin was bordering on strained. I’d been fit into the schedule at the last minute, taking Lindsey the Cunt’s hair and make-up appointment. Now that Lindsey was back, the salon had graciously offered me an appointment as well.
Keaton pressed his credit card to my palm on his way to the photo location with the guys, lowering his mouth to my ear. “Anything you want.”
His mother stayed back in the hotel room, complaining of a migraine, which drove Robin to snag a bottle of champagne from the kitchen before climbing onto the limo. I sat next to Robin while the girls talked excitedly with the bride.
Lilly and Kate Singleslut were sisters (that wasn’t their last name, of course, but with the eye-fucking they’d given Keaton at the rehearsal and the stink eye I was getting now, I decided the new surname was appropriate.) Per Robin, Madeline had already assured them that Keaton was hot, rich, and single, so they were united against me from the moment that I was introduced as his girlfriend. Every once in a while I could feel their eyes boring into me as they whispered between themselves.
Alexis was Madeline’s best friend since elementary school, and I already knew that she was intensely competitive over Lindsey’s spot as Maid of Honor. When I’d been offered the open position, I almost expected Alexis to walk out of the church.
Carrie and Sherry were married, and that little rhyme was exactly how I remembered their names. Their spouses were back in the hotel room enjoying room service and Pay-Per-View porn.
When Lindsey asked Sherry when she was due, she claimed to be seventeen months pregnant, explaining ruefully that there would only be nine months between her new baby and her son, Austin.
Lindsey the Cunt proceeded to ask if her husband had ‘tapped that’ while she was still in the stirrups, thus earning her another nasty title that I heard Married Sherry whisper to Best Friend Alexis.
The limo bus was overflowing with a cutthroat bunch of wenches, according to Robin, and I should ignore everything they say. I glanced down at my phone, grinning to realize Robin was texting me even as we sat right next to each other.
I’ve laced the champagne with Midol.
“Drink up, ladies!” She called, passing the bottle around to all of them. I laughed, and Madeline gave me a questioning smile.
“Vivian, are you even old enough to drink?” Lindsey asked, and I nodded.
“Today’s her birthday! Twenty-one and gorgeous. Be jealous, bitches.” Robin clanked glasses with me, and I twirled a long strand of hair anxiously.
“Happy birthday,” they all called, way too enthusiastically, and I thanked them, sipping my champagne. Realizing I’d eaten nothing for breakfast, I slowed my gulping.
“Okay, salon, and then back to the hotel to get dressed. The ceremony is at one-thirty, pictures right after, and dinner and reception at five. I need everyone ready for the procession right at five. I don’t care what you’re doing between the photos and five o’clock (yes, I was the recipient of that suggestive look) but I expect everyone standing in the conference room at five on time. Women, get your men in check.”
“Aye aye, captain!” Madeline saluted Robin playfully, and Robin threw back her champagne with a grin.
Another text came through moments later.
Did he pay you for what I walked in on today?
I turned to her sharply. She raised her eyebrows, tapping her champagne flute with her black fingernail.
I texted back. I like him.
She rolled her eyes. No shit.
I really like him. Lame. It looked like a thirteen-year-old had drafted my message.
I hope you like getting your heart BROKEN again.
??
You’re convenient for him. And then he’ll leave.
You don’t know that.
He’s not here forever, Viv. He’s leaving on Monday.
The salon was packed, and I settled into a chair while a nice girl named Rose proclaimed that I had the longest, thickest, healthiest hair that she’d ever seen, proceeding to irritate the hell out of all of the girls but Robin. As she worked on my up-do, I grinned at another text.
Keaton had sent a picture of Luke puking into a giant, bedazzled goblet that read PIMP in shiny letters. Luke sat on the toilet with his pants around his ankles and his shirt covering his junk. In giant, red lipstick, the letters FML were scrawled across the bathroom mirror.
I typed my response quickly.
Was there a tiger in the bathroom?
His text came through seconds later.
Wish I had been here for this.
I’m sure Luke wishes that, too.
I watched the girl work my hair up into a bun, intrigued as it turned out both messy and classy at the same time.
Another message from Keaton.
What’s taking so long? They can’t make you any more beautiful.
Oh, my stupid heart. I leaned forward, angry as Matthew’s words (that I’d managed to block out for hours) played through my mind.
Are you there, beauty?
The day I’d walked out, Matthew had been standing in the rain, begging me not to leave. He swore that we’d get through everything that we’d lost, with help, with counseling, or time, or whatever the hell people do when the one thing they love more than their own life just dies.
When my own flesh and blood just completely stops living and becomes a tragic fucking memory and nothing else.
I remembered how the rain had run down his glasses so that I couldn’t see his eyes.
It made it easier to leave.
The ride back from the salon to the hotel was even livelier, with all of the girls complaining about this or that, giggling, sharing too much. As we filed into the hotel, Sherry announced that the guys had gone out to lunch and would be back by noon.
Madeline needed a paper bag to breathe into with the sudden change of plans (“They’re supposed to be here getting dressed! He’s not going to make it!”) but Robin assured her that the guys didn’t need an hour to get dressed-they needed four minutes, a toothbrush, and a girl to fix their cummerbund.
The girls got together in the lobby restaurant to eat something light, and I managed to have a salad and a roll before leaving them all to their own excited discussions. Robin watched me stand, looking concerned. “You okay?”
“Just going to my room before we get dressed. I have to read that book. I promised I’d mail it back on Monday.”
She rolled her eyes, gagging. “Oh, the erotic romance? How are things going with good old Damon and his pulsating, gargantuan peen?”
“Not well,” I admitted with a wayward smile, leaning down to hug her before heading for the elevator.
I left the latch opened in the doorway as Keaton had done before, listening for the girls to come back to our floor.
My dad’s number flashed on my phone, and I sighed, declining his call. I knew that he wanted to wish me a happy birthday, but inevitably my mother would get on the phone.
After the baby was gone, my mother had suddenly switched gears in her opinion of Matthew. Something about the experience had made her accept him, finally, though I no longer cared whether she approved of our relationship or not. When I left him, my parents used every opportunity to get us back together, convinced that Matthew was the only one who could pull me out of the spiraling depression that had set in.
So I did what I do best; I ran. I ran away from Matthew, my parents, and everyone and everything that reminded me of the stage, my dreams, and the family I almost had.
The man that I almost married.
Gram called next, and I smiled, answering. She immediately began singing ‘Happy Birthday,’ and I waited, consumed with warm memories of her and my childhood. “Thanks Gram,” I said as she finished, and she chuckled.
“You’re welcome, honey. Are you having fun? Being safe?” She prodded.
I cringed, hoping she meant safety as in numbers, and not safety as in birth control, because that would just be too much. “Of course. Keaton’s family is wonderful.”
“I mean in bed, honey. Condoms.”
I sighed. There it was. One unplanned pregnancy, and I was a careless whore for the rest of my life. “We’re just friends, Gram, but thank you for caring about me.”
“I know you have that birth control shot, but I just don’t trust that kind of new medicine. I love you, Vivie. Nothing wrong with a little roll in the hay, as long as you’re careful. Double wrap it, sweetie.”
Oh, Jesus. “Okay, Gram, love you too. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
My Gram was a pleasant mix of Mother Theresa and Betty White, and I decided to just accept her words without comment.
A roll in the hay. I had to smile, settling back on the pillows with the book in my hand. Not a paragraph into Doubting Damon, my eyes were heavy. Letting the pages flutter, I closed my eyes, thinking about Keaton.
Something about him felt like home.
I couldn’t explain the feeling if I tried. Matthew had been my only serious relationship, and after the baby, everything felt forced. Obligatory. As much as I had loved Matthew, I wanted to be as far away from him as possible as soon as I realized our son was gone.
Usually, when I started to think about the tiny baby in my arms, I’d close my mind. This time, I let the memories in, just one, just the smallest recollection.
“It should have been me,” I’d whispered, staring at the empty, hospital grade bassinette. They were the first words I’d spoken since I’d last held our son.
“It shouldn’t have been either of you. I couldn’t let you go, Vivian,” Matthew replied, sitting next to me on the bed and wrapping his arms around me. I was still so weak, but I had forced strength into my arms to drop them around his shoulders.
The IV had gotten tangled with the bed rail. I remembered watching the bubbles inside the tube, hoping one would make its way to my aching heart.
As soon as I heard the door open, I bolted upright, shaken from my half-dream.
“Hey, Viv, you in here?”
I narrowed my eyes, watching Dean saunter into my room. “Hi… yeah. What do you need?”
“The guys aren’t back yet? Robin sent me up to see if they’d come up the back elevators.”
“No, Keaton’s not here.”
He nodded, and I became hyperaware that the door was no longer propped open with the latch. Checking to see that it was completely closed behind him, he smiled. “Robin told me about your job.”
“My job?” I sat up more fully, smoothing my sundress over my knees.
He nodded, his too-big arms flexing as he dug into his pocket. “I have a hundred bucks. What will that get me?”
“Excuse me?” I was on my feet in seconds.
He counted the cash in his wallet. “Well, I have a hundred and ten. Robin was all bent over your job, but I was like, hell yeah, there’s a girl who knows how to use what she’s got-…,”
“If you say one more fucking word to me before turning around and getting the hell out of my room, I will punch you in your teeth.”
“I love mouthy actresses.” Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha went his stupid laugh. His blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail and streaked with highlights, and the expression on his face disturbed me. He’s completely serious. I went for the door, stumbling. He caught me by the shoulders, actually put his hands on me, and stopped me from passing. “Do I have to pay extra for the rape fantasy?”
Okay, now I was freaking out. Pay, rape, and fantasy obviously were a trigger for my gag reflex. Swallowing hard, I glared at him. “I am not a prostitute. Let me pass.”
“Get on your knees. I want those thick lips around my cock. Let’s go.” He chuckled again, scratching at his chin hair. “Huh, that sounded fucking awesome.”
I laughed, because that’s what I did when I was scared out of my mind. “Keaton will be back any minute and walk in here. You are completely ridiculous. You really believe I’d take your money and do that?”
“What, more than a hundred?” He pushed at my shoulders, and I jerked away, rushing for the door. This is really happening. I can’t believe this. I can’t- He had my back against the door to my hotel room, his breath hot on my neck. His hands were shoving my skirt up to my thighs, and I fought him, trying to squirm away. “What
, my money isn’t good enough for you?”
When his fingers forced their way between my thighs, I fought to keep from screaming. “Do you hear yourself? Dean! Listen to me! What you’re doing is illegal. You’re hurting my arm,” I cried, unable to hold the tears back any longer. “I don’t want to have sex with you, not in any way. Let go of me!”
“Come on,” he growled, and in my effort to turn away from him, my cheek was flattened against fire exit information on the door. He was too strong, and I slipped into a state of utter incredulity.
“Get off of me-”
And suddenly, Keaton was pulling Dean off of me and punching him.
Repeatedly. In the face.
Blood sprayed from Dean’s nose, and I gagged at the cracking noise before screaming, backing against the wall. “Keaton, stop!”
“Fuck,” he slammed Dean to the floor one more time, standing and delivering a purposeful kick to the man’s side. He was unconscious, and Keaton’s knuckles were bleeding. “Are you okay?” He panted, reaching for me.
“Did that just happen?” I stared in disbelief, at Keaton, at Dean, and the hotel room, shaking my head. “Did you just beat off my potential rapist?”
“Did he touch you?”
“No,” I reached for his hand, leading him toward the bucket of melting ice on the bar. “He’s out. You broke his nose.”
“Fuck,” he said again as I lowered his fist into the ice water. “I just got off probation. I can’t let this happen.”
“Um, too late?” I pulled his hand out of the bucket and carried the bloody ice water to Dean, turning it over his face.
He came to consciousness, choking and spitting at the water. When he saw Keaton, he backed against the wall. “Yo, man, I wasn’t gonna… what the hell, you broke my nose…,”
I stepped forward, pointing at my chest. “No, I broke your nose when you tried to rape me. You’re lucky Keaton walked in, or you’d be dead. I’m a ninth degree black belt.”
Sounds good. Were there nine degrees?
I continued, on a roll. “Go clean yourself up and make up a story that’s better than a little girl breaking your face. I’ll try not to tell Robin what you did.”
Below Unforgiven Page 14
