Break Point

by Rachel Blaufeld

  I laughed into the phone. “Take your wife away.”

  “Oh, so you’re a softie now. What did you do, fall for someone since I last saw you at the Southern? You’ve been MIA.”

  I leaned back in my chair and propped my feet up on my desk. “Seven years ago, before I moved down here, I took a job coaching tennis. There was a girl, a player of mine, who’d been hurt badly. Some bad shit at her former school. A transfer. We fell for each other and then I ran off, thinking it was best for her.”

  “Damn, King, you never said anything. A player? Did you get caught?”

  “No. It was only a matter of time, so I bolted. Here’s the thing . . . she had a kid.”

  He moaned on the other end of the line. “You can’t let her pin that on you—”

  “Sull, if you met the kid, you’d know she was mine. Basically, my clone as a girl.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure. Sure enough that I took care of her yesterday with a fever.”

  “You feeling okay? Maybe you got a virus or something?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “So, what now? You do right by the kid? Give her some cash every month or a lump sum?”

  “No, I want my family. I want it all.”

  “I guess you need to lawyer up and get a paternity test.”

  I sat forward and put my face in my palms, the phone in the crook of my neck. “I can’t push her on this. If I lawyer up, she’ll bolt this time.”

  “I think taking Rosie to Europe isn’t looking so bad.”

  I blew out a long breath. “I want to be mad at you, but I can’t. I only have myself to blame here, so the shit’s hit the fan. I guess.”

  “Nah, looks like you’ll get a life at the end of it.”

  “I’m not so sure. By the way, don’t harass anyone at the Southern anymore.”

  “What the hell’s that all about?”

  “The appetizers, the server . . . that’s her. The mother of my child, you ass.”

  “Shit, man. You sure you’re still going to take good care of my money?”

  “Yeah, you’re in good hands. Just watch your mouth.”

  “I got you.”

  “I’ll see about that. I got to go. Talk soon.”

  I disconnected before he could say anything else, and spent a few hours going over numbers and answering e-mails. I managed a small handful of clients who had money to burn. They typically only reached out when we took in a big profit or stood to take a large loss, which happened sometimes. Mostly, I served a who’s who of Palm Beach County from my small stucco office building.

  I was used to coming and going for my workouts, leaving my competent staff to take care of shit when I was gone. Which was good, because I was going to need them over the next few months.

  When six o’clock came, I showered at my office and put on a crisp white shirt and dark jeans. I still had my SUV from earlier, so I didn’t bother to go home and switch cars. I went straight to the Southern and asked for a table in Claire’s section.

  Of course, fuckface Bryce came to greet me as soon as I finished speaking with the hostess.

  “Hey, man, is Claire cool with you being here?”

  “She most certainly is. Spent the night at my place last night.” She was going to be pissed as hell over that little zinger. Fuck her rules.

  Bryce held up his hands, palms out. “No need to get in a pissing match. I’m just looking out for Claire and her girl.”

  I lowered my voice. “My girl.”

  “Yeah, it’s sort of hard to miss that little fact, but where’ve you been?”

  “Stay out of it, man. I’m here now.”

  We had a two-second staring contest, and he was the first to look away.

  “Right, so now that all the chitchat is over, can I go see my other girl?”

  He nodded. No freaking way was he going to get one over on me.

  “Amanda, please see Mr. King to table forty.”

  “Of course.” She smiled, looking me up and down.

  I gazed beyond her, looking for Jules. She was standing at a large table, smiling as she took an order, her formfitting white shirt outlining her tits. As the hostess walked us past Jules, I paused next to her.

  “Good evening,” I said to her but looking toward her table, being the ever-friendly businessman.

  She didn’t even turn my way, only muttered, “Good evening.”

  We’d have to do something about that.

  Seated at table forty, I made myself comfortable.

  A few moments later, she appeared next to my table and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m starting to think I would’ve been better off leaving you with Darla.”

  My hands on the table in front of me, my heavy steel watch weighing down my wrist, I raised my eyebrow at her greeting and demanded, “Come close.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

  “Come close, Claire.” This time, she leaned in without arguing.

  “After you take my drink order, I want you to text Molly and tell her I’m going to double her hourly rate while she stays late. Extra late. Because I’m going to take you home, and hope to fucking God I can wait until we get there to f— To screw . . . your brains out. I’ve had enough cat-and-mouse, and now I’m done playing.”

  I’d decided this all on my drive over. I was a man, one who was used to being in control, and I was finished with all the chasing.

  Jules’s eyes burned emerald, but she didn’t say a word.

  “As much as I’d love to be with Darla, it’s our time this evening. I want you, and I’m done waiting. So get me a Scotch and hurry up with all your other people.”

  “Drew.” She was still leaning close, her dark green tie tucked between two buttons of her shirt, her nipples hard beneath her bra and shirt.

  “Go. Scotch. Serve your tables, and then get ready to leave. And keep the tie on.”

  She turned on her heel and went. She’d always liked my dominant side, and it was high time I took charge.

  I sipped my Scotch and ate grilled sea bass while I waited. No need to be too full.

  When I saw her close out her last table, I picked up my check, paid it, padded it with a thousand dollars cash, then stood and handed the leather folder to Jules.

  “Let’s go.” I took her hand and didn’t wait for any answers or grumbling.

  I led her to the back room so she could grab her shit, then ushered her to the back door, out the exit, around the building to my SUV, and opened the door.

  “Get in.”

  She dug her heels in. “You can’t boss me around like this, King.”

  “I can and I will.”

  “What about my car?”

  “You’ll get it in the morning. After I take Darla to school.”

  “I have to go home tonight.”

  “Get in the car. You’ll go home later. I’ll come back after the gym and take Darla to school, and then drive you to your car. Do I have to spell everything out?”

  “Yes, you do. This is my life, and you’re trying to orchestrate it.”

  “Exactly. Until I get what I want, then you can boss me around all you want.”

  She slid into my car—finally.

  “What do you want?” she asked as I settled into the driver’s seat.

  “Everything. All of it. You and Darla, 24/7.”

  When I gunned the engine, she yelled, “Drew!”

  “What? I want it all.”

  “Not that. This.” She waved the money in the air.

  “Better put that in your purse.”

  She pouted and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Be mad,” I said with a huge grin. “I’m going to fuck it right out of you.”

  Drew

  I pulled into my driveway and didn’t bother with the garage. After throwing the car into park and turning off the engine, I said, “Let’s go.”

  My body was raging. I was done. Overcooked. Fried. Baked. Burned. Whatever cliché you wanted to
call it, I was it.

  “Drew.” Her voice was a whisper as she sat still in her seat, the passenger door slightly cracked open, and her lip trembling in the moonlight.

  “Jules, listen, I didn’t mean to be so forceful.” Regret washed over me as a lump formed in my throat.

  “It’s not that.” She stared out the windshield at my house looming ahead of us—either an island of pleasure or a monument of regret. “I get that was our thing. You were the coach, and I was the pupil. It was hot and sexy back then. Now too, if I’m honest. But I have Darla, and I know keeping her from you was my choice. I had my reasons but my brain is so clouded right now, I can’t even remember them.”

  She twisted her hands together, wringing out all the tension and hopefully keeping all the hope. “What I’m trying to say is this . . . I have a life, one that I made. It may not be as glamorous as yours, but you can’t throw money and demands at me like I’m some two-bit hooker.”

  At her words, I was heartbroken. “No, no, no. You’re not some . . . I can’t even say the word.”

  “Hooker.”

  “That’s not how I meant to make you feel, Jules. It’s just you’re smoking hot, and in a way I can’t even understand, you’re even more attractive now that you’re the mother of my child. And I’m only a dude at the end of the day. I know it’s a lousy excuse, but I wanted to be with you so badly.”

  Her hand tangled with mine.

  She was comforting me.

  I was such an ass.

  “Do you want me to take you home?”

  She shook her head slowly. “No. But I don’t want you to leave me tips, okay?”

  “All right, but I need to make up for all the years I missed and you scrounged. Will you let me?”

  Her hand rose to my cheek and she slid it down to my jaw. Staring into my eyes with the moonlight streaming through the windshield, she asked, “Can’t you just set up a college fund?”

  “Of course,” I muttered. Unable to stop myself, I pressed my lips to hers. I kissed her softly, like a woman of substance, not a two-bit hooker.

  I broke free and pressed my mouth to her forehead. “But she’ll probably get a tennis scholarship.”

  “Oh God.”

  “She’s good, Jules.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  My mouth ghosted over hers again. “I loved you back then. Never stopped. If you need me to slow down, I will.”

  “No.” Her lips slid along mine. “Let’s go inside.”

  I led her through the house and to the back deck. “Sit. Please sit.” I pointed toward the lounger.

  She lay back and kicked off her shoes. I sat at her feet, running my hand down the length of her right foot and up the left, and she closed her eyes. I pressed my thumb into her arch and she moaned. I dug deeper, adding pressure.

  “Feel good?”

  A louder moan. “I may orgasm like this,” she said, her eyes closed and her lips parted.

  I kept working at her feet, caressing and adding pressure in intervals. Finally, coming to a stop, I said, “You work hard. I want to take care of you.”

  Shifting up her side, I lifted myself on top of her. Then, bracing my weight on a forearm, I made love to her mouth.

  Her hips rose to meet mine and my pelvis ground into her, both of us seeking friction. My tongue traced a path down her neck, to her clavicle and back. A faint trace of her perfume still lingered, even above the smells of the night, and I inhaled harder.

  Her hand batted my nose away, her middle still keeping close contact with mine. “I probably smell bad.”

  “You smell fantastic. Downright edible.” The words fell out of my mouth as I bit her neck.

  “Maybe I should shower?”

  I unbuttoned her shirt and slid my greedy fingers inside, running them over her bra. But they were more than greedy, they were downright grabby, and I couldn’t help but push her cup down. Her nipple puckered in the nighttime air, and I squeezed it.

  “Mmm,” Jules whimpered.

  I let my head fall forward, and circled the same exposed nipple with my tongue.

  Another hum came from her as she slid her fingers under my shirt and up my spine, leaving small shivers in her wake. Her delicate touch followed its course back down to the edge of my shirt and tugged. Breaking free from her nipple for a moment, I lifted my shirt off.

  “What are you doing to me, Drew?” Her nail traced my old prep school crest.

  “Making you feel good. Better than good.”

  My hand was working with a mind of its own and decided to unbutton her pants. With one quick flick of a button and the slide of a zipper, I slid my fingers inside. She was wet and warm, and ready for me. I traced her satin panties with my index finger, pushing inside the soft fabric.

  “Before the second round,” I whispered in her ear, and swirled my finger over her most sensitive part.

  “Oh my . . .”

  She was seconds away from coming apart, with her pants still on, and I only had one finger touching her . . . not even inside her.

  “Let’s do this right.” I pulled my finger away to a whimper and used my hand to slide her pants off. She lifted her ass for me to make quick work. Rinse and repeat with her thong. Then I was on my knees at the side of the chair, my bad one screaming at me.

  Ignoring every protest my battered body gave me, I put my hands under her and my mouth to her core. Sweeping my tongue up and down and up again, landing where my finger had been. It didn’t take long—a few swipes and nips—and Jules was putty in front of me, her shirt flapping in the breeze, revealing the outline of her hardened nipples against her sheer bra. I licked and caressed her throughout the waves until her ass stilled in my hands.

  Then I stuck my hand in my pocket, took a condom out, shoved my pants the fuck down, and sheathed my commando self.

  Jules watched me, the amber light of the porch lamp highlighting her need-filled green eyes.

  “It’s okay?” I asked, setting a knee down on the lounger and leaning over her.

  “Yeah, more than okay.”

  I gripped my length and ran it along her, wetting the tip, and I was in.

  “Is this okay?” she whispered through heavy breaths.

  I stilled. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

  “It may be different. After a baby . . .”

  With my mouth over hers, I let her know nothing was different, only better, as I rocked deep inside her until we were both fully satiated.

  For the moment.

  We lay together afterward, her tucked into the crook of my arm, the ocean lapping in the background and the air ripe with humidity. A slight breeze swept over our bare legs, and I felt a shiver run through her body.

  “You okay, Jules?”

  “Yeah, it’s so peaceful here. I’m not sure I’ve been this relaxed in the last seven years.”

  I pressed my lips to the top of her head and lingered, afraid to break contact, not wanting to interrupt this moment of truth. “I hope soon you’ll do this all the time.”

  “Drew, slow down. We need to go slow. Slower than slow.”

  My fingers ran a lazy pace up and down her arm, and her hand smoothed circle eights over my forearm. “Would taking a weekend off and spending it with me be too fast?”

  That earned me a pinch.

  “I have to go home. Darla will be up for school in a hot minute and want me to leave her hair a holy mess.”

  “She’s a lot like you when you used to wear that crazy bun.”

  “That was ages ago.”

  “I don’t think . . .”

  She sat up and her shirt fell open, exposing more of the creamy flesh I wanted to run my hands all over.

  “What about the shower?”

  She snagged her thong and pants and stuffed her lean legs through the holes. I’d never felt such panic as what was coursing through my body in that moment.

  “At least a rain check on the shower?”

  This got me a laugh. “Maybe,” she teased, her eyes
sparkling in the dim light.

  “Whew.” I stood and held my hand to my chest. “No joke, my chest hurt when you stood to leave.”

  She cocked her head to the side and examined me, her lips set in a straight line. “Really?”

  “Yes. It hurt.”

  Closing the distance, I wrapped my arm around her middle and held her tight. Her oxford was still unbuttoned, and I buried my head in her chest. Not with sex on the brain, but because I needed to feel her heart beat.

  “I didn’t mean for it to hurt. I just need to get back. This feels so decadent, like a vacation. If I don’t go now, I’ll never leave.”

  With a small kiss above her cleavage, I said, “Would that be so bad?”

  Silently, I snagged my shirt and vowed to myself that moment would come soon. The moment she never wanted to leave.

  Jules

  The next morning, I held my lips a little longer on the top of Darla’s head when we got to the school’s steps. With only a few hours of sleep and my emotions in overdrive, I ached for my daughter. I’d done wrong by her.

  Wrong by Drew too.

  Now it was my turn to make it right, and I couldn’t rush. No matter how hard Drew pushed.

  “I have some good news.” I tugged on the ponytail Darla had begrudgingly allowed me to fix.

  “Yeah.” Her smile was wide and energetic.

  “I’m going to work lunch and pick you up afterward, then be with you all night!”

  “But you don’t like working lunch, Mom.”

  “For you, I do. Here’s a note for your teacher. You’re going to stay at the afterschool program until I can pick you up. It won’t be long.”

  “Can we go to the park and hit tennis balls?”

  “Of course.” I kissed her cheek and sent her on her bouncing way.

  It was going to be a multiple-shots-of-espresso kind of day.

  After school drop-off, I did a yoga tape, trying to center myself and my thoughts. It didn’t help much; my mind kept drifting to Drew every time I bent over in downward dog. Twisting, turning upside down, none of it helped ease the ache in my heart or slow the rollercoaster in my head.

  I turned on the shower and undressed while waiting for the water to heat up. Standing in front of the full-length mirror on the back of the door, I tried to look at myself through Drew’s eyes. My legs were still lean and firm, mostly from working and the tiny bit of yoga I sneaked in. I had a small tummy pouch from Darla. Not huge, but my stomach wasn’t flat like it was years ago. My breasts were still smallish. Carrying trays kept my arms toned.