Booty Call

by Ainsley Booth

  She clings to me as I snap my hips and find home. My cock has to fight through her swollen folds, and I think it’s gotta hurt her, but she’s writhing against me, begging for more. She comes again, just like that—bam bam—and the slick pull does me in. An electric pulse starts in my balls and shoots through me. I pull out just in time and jerk my cock against her belly, shooting white ribbons of jizz all over her abdomen, and watch it drip down the crease between her hip and her thigh, onto her bare, silky pussy.

  Before I can say sorry for being a dirty bastard or you’re welcome, maybe, since she’s whispering how good that was, she’s pushing me back into the tub. She falls on top of me, laughing and kissing my mouth, long drugging kisses that would make me hard again if I had anything left in the tank.

  “We’re making a mess,” she finally says, peering over the edge of the tub.

  I don’t fucking care. “Worth it,” I mutter, squeezing her ass. “Best bath ever.”

  —twenty-three—

  Alison

  We’re heading out for dinner. Mostly because we need some fuel, but also because I’ve never been to England before, and I’d like to see more of it than just Scott’s bathroom. And his bedroom, although all we did in there was nap.

  Getting dressed reveals a neat side effect of being shaved—I’m super sensitive.

  Scott grins at me as I shift while we wait for the elevator. Lift, I remind myself. I like all the different words. They’re fun. England has shot to the top of my “run away from the family” destination list.

  “Stop thinking about my bare pussy rubbing against my lace panties,” I say under my breath. Then it’s my turn to smirk. Ha.

  “Stop giving me hard-ons in public,” he mutters back.

  We’re hopeless. It’s kind of gross, except that it’s our secret and it’s not gross between us. It’s…I had no idea it could be like this. This kind of stupid-happy? This is what other people must mistake for love.

  If I wasn’t so jaded, I might do the same.

  Good thing I’m totally cynical about such things.

  The lift is old and creaky, and we joke about it, so when it stops with a bit of a bang and the doors open, I stumble out, giggling. Scott stops abruptly, and I right myself before looking around.

  Ahead of us in the lobby is a woman.

  She’s beautiful. Blonde and aristocratic. Well dressed. We have the same boots, I notice. And she’s staring at my boyfriend with a warm smile on her face.

  I tell myself this isn’t one of those times when everything I’ve started to let myself believe is proven to be a total lie—like the time I caught my mother sneaking into my grandfather’s room in the middle of the night…or the time my oldest sister, who I idolized, gave the Vice President of the United States a blow job and filmed it for kicks…or the time my father murdered a call girl and got away with it—but I know this feeling.

  I trust my gut. I’m twenty-fucking-years-old and I shouldn’t be this wise to feeling like the floor is about to give way beneath me, but here it is.

  Hello, betrayal, my old friend. I was wondering when you’d break my heart again.

  Scott puts his hand on my arm. “Ali,” he says, and I don’t know if it’s a warning or a plea.

  “Scott,” the woman says. “I didn’t know you were back. I mean, I knew you must be returning, what with Jeff’s new plans, and the expansion—”

  “Madelyn.” His grip on my arm tightens. “We were just heading out for dinner.”

  “Delightful!” She claps her hands together. “Could we join you?”

  No, my heart hammers.

  “Unfortunately our reservation is just for two,” he says. It’s a lie. We don’t have a reservation. We don’t even know where we’re going to eat.

  “Where are you going?” She gestures at the doorman behind her. “I’m sure Jacques can call and convince them to move us to a table for four.”

  “Four?” Scott asks, and there’s an edge there that confirms I’m not going to like the rest of the conversation.

  Madelyn smiles. “John is just parking the car.”

  I dart my eyes back and forth between them. Who the hell is John?

  “I see. Shame we’ll miss him.” Scott didn’t sound like that was a shame at all. Since when did he lie through his teeth like a socialite on the dating circuit? “But we really must be heading off.”

  “No, no, it’s fine.” With a start, I realize that’s me. Scott stares at me and I colour. “If you want…”

  “Yes,” Madelyn says, delighted. “Fine indeed!”

  “It’s not fine, Madelyn.”

  “Madelyn again?” She laughs. “Please, darling. Don’t be all formal. I’m so glad that you are back.” She moves in closer as she speaks, emphasizing glad as she presses her fingertips to the front of his shirt.

  My head explodes. Or at least it feels like that, but since there isn’t brain all over the antique everything in Scott’s lobby, I guess that was just me not being able to cope with this porcelain doll come to life.

  Touching my man like she knows him.

  Because obviously, she knows him. And I don’t know her, but then she turns to me, flashing green eyes curiously blinking out of that peaches and cream complexion, and she tilts her head to the side. “And you must be Alison.”

  My mouth drops open.

  She knows me, too.

  Well, fuck.

  “Who are you?” I don’t care if I’m being rude as I take a step back.

  Her eyebrows raise just enough to confirm that yeah, I am.

  Still don’t care.

  Scott crosses his arms and frowns at me as I move further away. It’s a small lobby, I can’t go that far, but he’s still scowling at me. “This is Madelyn Dunn. I wasn’t expecting to see her this trip. I apologize for not giving you a heads-up.”

  “A heads-up about what?”

  “Honestly, Scott, must you always be so locked-up tight?” She smirks at me, like we’re in on a joke together. But we’re not. Hot, achy panic is settling into my chest, because I don’t like that she knows all this stuff about Scott. I don’t like that she assumes we’re on the same level in that regard, and I’m pretty sure any second she’s going to realize that actually, I don’t know him nearly as well as she does.

  And then I’m going to find out why that is.

  I want to know, because fuck him for keeping secrets, but I don’t want to know, because fuck me…I’ve fallen into caring about us. Valuing what we have, and now I don’t know what that is.

  What do we have?

  Secrets, apparently.

  And a beautiful British woman ready to spill them.

  She smiles at me. “Scott and I were close once. We’re still close, really.”

  I want to scream at her. Tell her to get her mitts off my man, but they are still close and we just have midnight hook-ups. And a single date with a tequila bottle. And this European adventure, although I’m starting to think that in the catalogue of our limited relationship, this might not fall into the relationship-building category.

  I don’t know anything about Scott and she knows everything, including why he’s come back now and apparently what his business is.

  My head hurts.

  And she’s still touching him. Her hand is wrapped possessively around his biceps and a vein throbs in my head as I stare at that point of connection.

  I edge backward, nodding inanely.

  Scott says my name, but it’s like he’s talking at the far end of a tunnel. Everything is fuzzy and echoing inside my head. My pulse is pounding in my throat and my eyes are itchy.

  I know this feeling.

  It’s rare, because it’s practically been bred out of me, but I’m going to cry.

  Oh, no.

  No, no, no, not effing happening, no.

  Not going to cry over the guy who took my virginity. Nuh-uh.

  He doesn’t get that power.

  I try to swallow. Oh, shit, that’s hard. I try agai
n, forcing the lump in my throat to move out of the effing way, because I don’t have time to care.

  I need to get my bag, find a cab, and get the hell out of this country.

  “I forgot something upstairs,” I say inanely and punch the button for the elevator. Lift. What-fucking-ever. The doors open and I stumble inside. There’s no button to make it close faster, so I just stand there, face burning, as Scott glances back at me and talks faster at Madelyn.

  I’m not listening. If I listen, I’ll cry. If I cry, I’ll lose my mind. So I think of Research Methods and try to guess where in the fourth floor stacks I’d find a book on quantitative data gathering, and do not think about the man I just realized I thought of as my man, and how fucked up that is.

  How immature and pathetic I am.

  Definitely not thinking about that.

  Nope.

  Quantitative data gathering. That’s all that’s on my mind.

  And the doors close, just as Madelyn lifts her voice in my direction. “Really, genuinely lovely to meet you.”

  Nothing has sounded less genuine or lovely ever in the history of polite conversation.

  —twenty-four—

  Scott

  I’m going to kill Madelyn.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I demand, shoving her away from me. I need to go after Ali, but I need to know that Maddie won’t follow, either. For all I know, she’s got a key to my flat, and that’s not on.

  “Getting to know your…friend,” she says.

  “She’s not just my friend and you know it. You’re causing trouble. We are not close,” I hiss under my breath. I don’t need to make a scene in front of the porter, Jacques. “We weren’t close when we were engaged, and we haven’t spoken in more than a year.”

  She blanches. “I don’t want someone taking advantage of you,” she says stiffly. “That’s all.”

  “If you know her name, then you know her family. Ali’s the last person to take—you know what? It’s none of your fucking business. Why are you really here?”

  She frowns at me. “I live here.”

  What the fuck?

  “John and I bought the flat on the second floor a few months ago. Evelyn didn’t tell you?”

  Evelyn is my cousin. Soon to be my dead cousin, if my rage has anything to say about it. She might be Maddie’s best friend, but she’s my fucking blood relation. “No.”

  “Oh, Scott.” She sighs. “Go and smooth things over with your friend, and then come ring our bell. We’d love to catch up.”

  “Not happening. Change of plans, we’re leaving tonight.”

  Her brow wrinkles. “I thought you were here to untangle your bank accounts? Such an unseemly mess, that.”

  “My cousin has a big mouth, and perhaps so does my brother. What I’m here to do is none of your business.”

  “It used to be my business.”

  “That was when you were going to be my wife,” I growl at her. Behind me, I hear a gasp, and I turn around. Ali is standing there. I didn’t hear the elevator.

  She gives me a cold, level stare. “Change of plans, Mr. Mayfair. I’m heading straight to the airport. The full charge for our session can be paid directly to my pimp. An extra thousand for giving it to you up the ass.”

  Madelyn gapes at Ali as she sweeps past, and I’m tempted to laugh before I realize I need to stop her. I reach the street as Jacques, ever the efficient porter, already has a taxicab waiting for her.

  I wave him off and grab the door. “Wait, babe…”

  She swats at my arm. “Fuck you, Scott. You think I’m overreacting? I was fucking falling for you. You know that? That’s what I realized in the elevator as we came down to the lobby. I was thinking, holy fuck, this is something special. And then I find out…nope, you’re nothing special. You’re a giant dick, full of secrets and lies. Which is fine and dandy if we’re just fucking, which is what I wanted in the first place, but you had to go and worm your way into my heart. That’s off-limits. I’m going home, and you can’t stop me. I don’t want you to try. I don’t want you to do anything, you get me?”

  “No.” I ignore the driver, who’s shooting daggers at me, either for holding up his fare or more likely for taking advantage of a young woman, and I lean into the cab. “I didn’t tell you about Madelyn because it’s embarrassing, nothing more. And the rest of it is just nothing. It’s the boring shit. You’re right, we’ve got something between us—”

  “No we don’t. That was a lie. A fantasy like everything else.” She turns to the driver. “Can you call the police? The bobbies? Whatever you call them. I want this man away from me.”

  “Whoa, stop.” I shake my head. “You are way overreacting here.”

  She glares at me. “Get out of my fucking cab. Is that woman your ex-fiancée? Did you forget to tell me that you’d been engaged? Does she know more about you than I ever will? Get. Out. Of. My—”

  I back up. “Okay.” I pull out my wallet and hand over a hundred pounds to the driver. “Take her—”

  “I can tell him where to take me,” she snaps. “Get out.”

  Numb with disbelief, I step away from the car and close the door. I need to follow her, but I also need to meet with my brother and do something about my bank accounts and not get arrested for harassing a woman right after I’ve just been let back in the country.

  Heading back inside, I find the lobby mercifully empty. I’m shaking with rage by the time I get to my flat. It takes me three minutes to pack my bags and head back downstairs.

  Jacques, having read my mind, has another taxi waiting. I give him a couple of folded bills and thank him for his help. Then I get in the cab and give the driver my brother’s office address.

  —twenty-five—

  Alison

  The desk clerk at the airport hotel doesn’t blink when I ask to be registered under a pseudonym. Maybe this is how celebrities do it. I hand over my credit card, grateful for the privilege that allows me to not sleep at the airport tonight—that allows me to flee to the airport, passport in hand, knowing that I can just buy the next available flight home.

  I don’t cry until I’m behind the locked door of my hotel room, and even then, I wait until I’m in the shower to really let loose.

  Doubt is already warring with anger inside my heart. Should I have stayed and heard him out?

  Is there anything he could say to make this okay?

  He’s watched my family dynamic. He knows how wary I am.

  If I’m not going to put myself first and protect my heart, how can I ever expect a man to do the same? No. I need to leave.

  But as I towel off and curl up on the bed, I already miss him. I miss his laugh, and how big he is when he wraps around me. I miss his arms, holding me tight, and I miss the lie that I’d started to believe was blooming between us.

  That’s the fucking kicker.

  Even as I tell myself it was a fantasy concoction, I miss it so much it feels like a knife cleaving me in two.

  I fall asleep, but my phone wakes me up while it’s still dark. My flight isn’t until midmorning. I grab at it, heart pounding. If it’s Scott, will I answer? Will I be able to stop myself from answering?

  Fingers shaking, I lift it so I can see the screen.

  It’s Hailey.

  My heart cracks again.

  When I don’t answer, she texts.

  H: Scott called me. He said you had a fight. Setting aside the fact that I didn’t know you two were together…are you okay?

  A: We’re not together

  H: Awww, sweetie, I’m sorry

  A: Nothing to be sorry about, it’s fine

  H: You’re in England

  A: Leave it alone

  H: Okay

  A: I might need to hide at your place for absolutely no reason

  H: We’ll pick you up, let me know what time your flight gets in

  I send her the details and turn off my phone. I don’t want to stay with my sister, really, but I can’t go home. Scott will c
ome there sooner or later, and I’m not sure I’m strong enough to ignore him.

  —twenty-six—

  Scott

  Jeff stares at me across his massive desk. “You want me to do what?”

  “You don’t need to do it yourself. Just get someone to do it.” I’ve given him a list of tasks I need taken care of here in England. I’m leaving for Washington on an afternoon flight. Ali’s on a morning flight, which I couldn’t get on, no matter how big the bribe. It’s bad enough that I can’t get there to be waiting for her. I’m not losing another day or two just to handle some basic administrative details.

  “You want a bathtub removed from your flat and shipped to the U.S.”

  “Yes.”

  “They sell bathtubs back home. Not sure if you’re aware.”

  “Humor me.” And it’s the only part of my flat I care about anymore. If a flame thrower could be taken to the entire building, that would make me happy.

  “Fine.” He glances at the rest of the list. “You’ll need to provide our attorneys with an affidavit allowing them to act on your behalf with the banks.”

  “We can do that over breakfast.”

  He scowls. “I take it this means you aren’t coming to see the nanotechnology lab tomorrow.” We were going to take a helicopter up to Leeds. I thought Ali would enjoy it.

  Acid rises in my throat at the damage my secrets caused her. “Not this time.”

  “Shame. When we begin the process to go public with Mayfair Enterprises, I’m going to buy the lab from the company. I’d enjoy bringing you into this new venture.”

  “Not my dream, bro.”

  “Fair enough.” He rocks back in his chair. “I really didn’t tell Madelyn anything, you know.”

  I don’t know if I can believe him or not. I do know he didn’t hurt me on purpose, but my brother can be thoughtless. Selfish.

  Apparently it’s a family trait.

  “Not really my priority right now.” I press my thumb against the throbbing vein in my temple. “How long until we can rouse one of your lawyers from bed?”