by S. E. Hall
His hands move to each of my thighs and in one long lap, his tongue runs over the entire length of my slit. I cry out, placing my hand over my mouth to silence the sobs of pleasure as he delves his tongue deep.
This is where you need a real sheet under you to grip onto, not a paper one that shreds in your hands. Still, I claw at it, arching up into his mouth as he caresses my inner walls. I’ve hardly had my fill when his tongue flicks out and sets its beautiful torture to my clit, two fingers satisfying my neglected center.
They thrust in and out, hooking up and hitting the exact spot they seek, the spot no man has touched in me before. My screams spill against my palms, covering my mouth as I writhe and buck against him.
His face is buried between my legs as he inserts a third finger, which stretches me in pure delight. I shudder and convulse, my walls gripped around his digits as I buck up once more. As the wave washes me away, I fall back, oblivious to all but sheer bliss.
His fingers fall away and he stands. I sit up, catching my breath, still dizzy from my orgasm but ready for his dick to fill me. When I reach out to him he steps back and walks over to the sink.
I watch, unsure what to think when he pumps two squirts of soap on his hands and washes them hastily.
Once he grabs a paper towel, he turns back to me, face passive.
My lips curl up, legs falling open in the stirrups. “It’s your turn to strip,” I hum.
“Why would I do that?” he asks, tossing the towel in the trash can and crossing his arms over his chest.
I blanch at the harshness in his tone. “What? I thought…I mean…I want you. I want to feel you inside me.”
“You just had my fingers and my tongue, what else do you want?” He’s goading me to say it. I’ll play along if he needs to hear it.
I sit up straighter and lean forward, palms down against the table supporting me. “I want your cock.”
“Hmm, well
problem with that is,” he stalks towards me, stopping inches from my face, “I don’t fuck my patients.” With that, he turns on his heel and storms from the room, leaving me rooted in place, feeling anything but satisfied.
Chapter 14
I leave Dr. Reynolds’ office unsure what to make of his last words. Unlike the previous times he’d left the room after our trysts, I was never regarded so severely. I drive straight home, my thoughts muddled, ready to soak in a hot bath to clear my head then curl up on the couch for a marathon of my favorite sitcom. Jack and Karen usually never fail at having me doubled over in fits of hysterics, no matter how many times I’ve seen the episode, but tonight I barely crack a smile.
Something changed between us and I have a feeling his secretary won’t be calling tomorrow. Shifting the pillow under my back, I brush off the looming chance that our scandalous rendezvous could be ending and gulp down another swig of wine. He just needs time to see what we have is ideal—no fuss, no strings, simply raw pleasure.
I refuse to worry over what the future may bring and enjoy the mental replay of his hands working over my chest, the pressure of his fingers, the smoldering desire in his blatant stare. My eye slide shut and I’m there again, relishing the roughness of his words, a molten zing coursing through me from his vulgar, dominating instructions.
Of course I can’t stay in that happy place for long as my phone begins to buzz from the side table. No clue who would be calling, I’m pleasantly surprised to see Dylan’s name on the screen, half wondering if he might have butt dialed.
“Guess I can call off the APB,” I greet him.
“Mocifus! How the hell are ya?”
“Pretty good. What about you? I feel like we haven’t talked in forever.” I slink back in the sofa with my glass.
“We haven’t.” He laughs. “Sorry about that, I’ve just been busy getting things up and running.”
My smile can’t be contained—my brother’s actually living his dream! “Don’t apologize, Dyl. I’m so proud and excited for you!”
“Thanks,” he says, his voice humble. “So hey, can you do lunch tomorrow, my treat?”
“Of course! Need my big brother fix.”
“Great, say noon at Ruby’s?”
I immediately agree and end the call with a giddy excitement, sitting back a minute to revel in how happy I am for my brother.
****
I’m actually more surprised that I’m surprised...why wouldn’t Brady be here, already seated and cutting up with Dylan as I’m lead to their table?
“There she is!” Dylan springs from his seat to wrap me in an energetic embrace. “You look great, Moe. I’ve missed you.”
“Me too.” Swiping quickly at my silly tears of pride, I glance hesitantly at Brady, who still hasn’t greeted me as Dylan pushes in my chair. It’s official. “Brady and Moe” is broken. Never has that man not acknowledged me within five seconds of being in a room. For fuck’s sake! I didn’t say we couldn’t talk, I said we couldn’t be more. But in all fairness, I haven’t gone out of my way to send a text and invite him over to hang out either. It’s no longer easy with us as friends and I haven’t been able to bring myself to face it.
Seems his “coward” comment held more truth than I’d care to admit.
“Hello, Brady,” I grind out as civilly as possible, aggravated at his stubbornness.
“Moe.” He gives a curt nod.
Dylan’s watching back and forth like a Ping-Pong match, understandably confused. “The hell? Ya’ll have a fight?”
Brady cocks one brow my way, challenging me to answer. Not biting. “No, of course not.” I smile at Dyl. “Anyway, this is your day. So tell us all about things.”
Don’t have to ask him twice; he instantly starts gushing out all that’s been happening as I hold my enthusiastic smile firmly in place, trying to keep up and stay focused, while kicking Brady under the table. He looks my way only once and I stick out my tongue, face twisted up like a slapstick comic seeking a laugh. I don’t get one and when I kick my foot out again its only air I hit; he’s moved his leg, and worse, he’s scooting his chair over.
Thankfully, Ruby’s is a sandwich shop, so we’re able to order and be served quickly, the atmosphere slightly more amicable, but still “off” despite my attempts to lighten his mood. Brady wasn’t this quiet when he had laryngitis two years ago, and if he doesn’t stop dampening Dylan’s parade with his pouting, I will throw this pickle at him.
“So you’ll both come, right?”
“What?” I ask, having zoned out on the last part of Dylan’s speech.
His head cranes my way. “My launch party. It’s this Friday night. You’ll be there?”
“Of course I will.” I pat his jittery hand. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Just let me know when and where. Did I mention how proud of you I am?”
“Shucks, ma’am,” he jests with a wave of his hand. “Oh and it’s formal, so gown and tux,” he speaks between us both. “And bring dates. The more the merrier. I want a big crowd there.”
I struggle to temper my expression—formal and a date, not what I’d expect from my brother.
“You got it. No worries,” Brady says directly to Dylan. His voice cuts through me, sparking the flame Dr. Reynolds had been managing.
We’re mercifully saved from further “surprises” by Dylan’s phone, but the bomb’s already dropped...gown and date.
“Sorry guys, but I need to go. See you Friday?” My brother leans down and kisses my cheek, hardly waiting for our answers before he’s out the door.
I jump up, busying myself with throwing away our trash, ready to rush out as well. But as I turn I’m immediately pinned by a brooding, menacing Brady hovering in my space.
“Be my date for Dylan’s party, Moe. Me and you, please. I miss us.”
“Do you?” I scoff, shoving against his chest, not budging him whatsoever. “Could’ve fooled me! What’s with the doom and gloom pouting then? You could have gotten up and hugged me, called me, anything! Didn’t seem like you missed us
? Which, P.S., is exactly the reason I said no to more in the first place!”
“Well excuse the fuck outa me! It’s not easy to figure out the rules—your rules! I could have sworn there was something real here, Moe, so I put myself out there and you basically shot me down, right through the heart! P.S. maybe I can’t snap back into ‘just friends’ mode like you can. Maybe I wanna sit beside you and caress your back or—ahh!” He mocks a gasp. “Maybe I want to hold your little hand, no matter where we are or who’s watching.” His tone drops along with his face, anger suddenly morphed into hurt. “I just…I could’ve sworn you thought Brady and Moe was something different now too.”
Lowering my head on a sigh, I fight the anguished quivering in my chin. I never want to see him hurt and I never meant to cause it. “Listen, Brady, you’re my best friend and I miss you desperately but I’ve got something—” I stop, not wanting to delve into things in the middle of Ruby’s.
“Be. My. Date,” he growls lowly in my face.
My head’s shaking before I refuse verbally and he’s once again already sulking out, nearly ripping the door off when he shoves it open. I hate myself in this moment. My head falls back against the wall, my arms wrapping around myself, wanting to hide from the world. I don’t even notice the tears until a voice asks, “You okay, Miss?”
I look up to find a waitress staring at me with nothing but pity. With an irate huff, I push off the wall. “Golden.”
It’s me that’s busting out their door next, ready to crawl back in bed and end this damn day.
****
A dress? You’d think that’d be simple enough to find, except I’ve been to half the shops in town and found not one. It isn’t helping that the event is tomorrow, and after spending the last few days going from work to home and straight to bed, I’m quickly running out of time and options.
Maybe I’m depressed, which seems ridiculous to me because only a few days earlier I was damn near giddy with the hand I’d been dealt—deliciously erotic doctor appointments—and now… Now everything is as fucked up as my dress hunt.
I need something that reflects the love and pride I have for Dylan. I’m standing in the last shop in town, begging the universe to show some mercy, when it does just that. I snatch the dress from the rack with a triumphant smile. It has a babydoll-style skirt, corseted waist, and plunging neckline in a gorgeous off-white with just a hint of silver highlighted throughout. It’s even more gorgeous when I see the price tag; I can afford new heels to match.
I head straight to the dressing room hoping it looks as good on me as it does the hanger when I hear my name.
“Addison?”
I turn toward the unfamiliar voice and see the brainy beauty, aka Brady’s last date, standing with a long gown in hand. Crap, what’s her name?
“Hi.” I grin a bit too much hoping it will cover the nameless slip.
“You don’t remember me?” She laughs softly, almost like music. No wonder Brady asked her out.
“No, I do! Brady brought you to dinner,” I say quickly, then confess. “Sorry, I’m horrible with names. It’s nothing personal.”
“It’s Ashley and don’t worry about it, I forget all the time.”
“Right, sorry, but you remembered mine, which means you’re just being polite right now or I left a memorable impression.” I pale as the words fall out, remembering why she’d have a lasting impression of me after my abrupt exit that night. “Look, sorry I up and left during the dinner, it’s just…”
“You don’t have to explain. And the reason I remember you so well is because Brady talks about you often. You two seem like close friends.”
My shoulders drop. “Yeah.” It’s barely a whisper.
“Love the dress. It’s gorgeous. I almost grabbed it for myself.” She nudges her head at my hands gripping the fabric.
“Thanks, you found a good choice…classic black.” The dress draped over her arm is long and screams graceful and timeless. “What’s the occasion?”
“I’m guessing same as you. Dylan’s party tomorrow night.”
It’s a surreal moment, the kind where the air is ripped painfully from your lungs and you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. With a spinning head and failing knees, I could swear an earthquake is pulsing under my feet.
She’s going to the party, which means Brady found a date. I retreat into the dressing room before I lose my sense in front of her and say something I’ll regret. They’ll look good together. Brady in a tux, her corralled in his arms…I can’t stomach the thought.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you there,” I say in an awkward huff, then quickly shut the dressing room door.
“Okay, yeah, bye,” I hear her say but I’m already squatted down on the floor, face in my hands, trying to block out the assaulting images of her and Brady together.
He deserves to be happy, I remind myself. I have to let him go, let him take the time he needs to be angry at me. Eventually he’ll see that “we” are too important to risk on a tryst. There can never be more, despite the flicker of hope and tearful musings of how extraordinary “more” would probably be warming my chest.
Chapter 15
I’m late. Only by five minutes or so, but still late to the most important night of my brother’s life. Guilt eats at me yet does little to quicken my pace.
My excuse, in case he notices, is still being debated. Traffic is always a safe bet but in reality the only thing to blame is my own selfish procrastination.
I dragged ass from the moment I got off work. I watched a little television, painted my nails only to remove it and repaint them a different color, and then finally hauled myself into the bathroom to get ready an hour before the event began.
So here I am, stepping into a grand hotel in the center of town, reluctant to pass through the double doors leading to the ballroom.
And no, my tardiness has nothing to do with the fact that I know I’ll find a gorgeous Brady on the other side, charming the room with a flawless date wrapped around his arm.
Nope, nothing at all.
I hope he is in there; happy, carefree, wearing his usual smug grin, back to his old self. Truly.
I check my coat and square my shoulders, ready to do nothing but celebrate my brother’s accomplishment. He has a lot of work to do to the get the business off the ground, but tonight it’s official, he’s putting the pieces together to bring it to life.
Seems lots of things are changing.
A waiter greets me, handing me a glass of champagne, then steps aside, revealing the room awaiting me.
The quick chug I take of the liquid bravado nearly sputters out as I take in the insanely stunning scenery, decorated in white linens and Dylan’s black “Game On!” logo. The atmosphere leaves me breathless. Never would I have thought it could look so chic. Dylan knows games, but throwing a party? He must’ve found an incredible planner.
Time to go find my big bro and remind him just how amazing he is.
Once I’m fully immersed in the room, I spot Dylan near the band and my face splits into a wide grin. Eager to get to his side where I plan to remain all night, I weave through the crowd of mingling guests, but as I draw closer, my feet trip me up in an abrupt stop. Dylan’s in deep conversation with not just two studious men whom I’ve never seen before, but also Ashley, who’s looking as beautiful as I knew she would.
Brady’s not with them, but he can’t be far. He wouldn’t leave his date alone with all these men, not with the way she fills out that dress. I snatch another glass of champagne from a passing tray and gulp.
Feeling out of place, I move back, unsure if I should wait until she leaves his side or go say hi now. It’s silly and ridiculous. He’s my brother, but still, I don’t want Dylan to see any awkwardness tonight.
Deciding I’ll bide my time before I say hello, I stand there alone and unnatural, wishing I had brought a date. As I try to block out my solo status, a current of electricity sizzles down the back of my neck. I don’t need to turn aro
und to know he’s here. He’s close. I can feel him behind me, my body hyperaware of him tonight.
I wait, expecting him to speak or step around me to say hello when I feel his breath hit the back of my ear, caressing it. Damn him. Friends! Friends!
And then he surprises me yet again when he slips past me, his arm brushing mine as strides smoothly over to his date waiting beside Dylan. She welcomes him over with a sweet smile.
Brady doesn’t look at me once he’s there in the small group, laughing and chatting it up, so I decide to make the most of my night and walk up to the first guy I see standing alone.
“Hi,” I say cheerfully. “I’m Addison Porter, Dylan’s sister. Nice to meet you.”
The guy looks to be around Dylan and Brady’s age; not as built, but cute. His hair is dark and neatly trimmed, no facial hair and dull brown eyes but still…cute.
He gives me a noticeable once over before his lips curl up and he takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Pleasure. I’m Cole. Friends with Dylan for a few years now. Good guy.”
Dylan has very few friends and none I’ve never meant unless he means… “Online gaming friends?” I ask, curious.
He nods with a hint of embarrassment in his smile. “Yeah, I know it’s not the sexiest thing. Most girls hate guys that game, but it’s in my blood. I flew out tonight to show my support.”
“Addison.” I look up to see my brother and Brady walking over, Brady’s eyes hard and zoomed in on Cole.
What provokes me, I haven’t a clue, but I tug my lip between my teeth and lean in and whisper to Cole, “I think it’s kind of sexy.”
“What’s sexy?” Dylan asks, standing beside me now.
“Uh, nothing. Hey, sorry I didn’t come over yet, I just got here and you looked busy.” I give him a quick hug. “I love you. I can’t tell you how impressed I am. And how—”
“Proud you are,” he finishes for me with a chuckle as he releases me. “I know and I’ve been hearing it all night from Mom and Dad too, who are looking for you, by the way.”
