by Lulu Pratt
Just like that, I’m lost in the feel and smell of him. He tastes like beer, but I taste like whiskey. His body warmth cascades down me and thaws every piece frigid from getting out of the bath. Eric is more aggressive than ever with his kisses. He bites, pulls and sucks like he’s desperate.
I can feel myself slipping. It’s so easy to give in to him, to his power. He commands the entire room with his presence, but this was so unexpected that I have no choice but to obey anyway.
He moves to my neck, biting and sucking while making my towel disappear. No longer cold, I’m burning hot and need him to stop the swell within me. I need Eric to touch me in all the most intimate places so I can get relief, relief, relief.
“Eric.” I finally find my voice and fight against the growing need within me. “What are you doing?”
“Tell me to stop if I need to stop.” He mutters against me. I’m thrust and lifted against the wall so he can take my breast in his mouth. He sucks hard and I gasp from the pain and heat of him.
“I—” The words die in my throat, because I can’t speak. I’m naked, pressed against a wall, with my nipple between the teeth of the man I couldn’t stop thinking about. Nothing within me, nothing, could tell him to stop.
He looks up at me with intense, heavy dark eyes. I have nothing to say but yes, please, now.
Eric carries me across the living room, his tongue massaging my nipple as he walks. My body illuminates under his touch. All I want is more. No talking, no thinking, just primal urges satiated in the candlelight of my apartment.
We bump into the couch arm and he sets me down, fingers digging into my skin as I move against him and the thickness in his pants. Eric spins me around and spreads my legs with one hand while the other cups my breasts. He draws circles across my inner thighs, leaving me lightheaded and dizzy at his touch.
He’s so close to what I need and yet so far. The perfect metaphor of whatever fucked-up relationship it is we have.
The firm head of his cock presses against my opening and I cry out in desperation. I don’t wait for him to tease or for him to find me. Reaching back, I guide him into me and engulf his cock with my wetness.
“You are a fever in my veins.” he grunts as he thrusts into me.
Our first time together, we had sex for hours. After every orgasm, we kissed and licked and touched until he was ready to slip himself back inside me. Four hours passed, easily. Not once in that time did he fuck me the way he is now.
The intensity radiating out of him spills into the way he loves me with his cock. Because there is no other word for it in this moment. It’s not a sweet love, it’s not a cherishing love, it’s dominating.
I’m a fever in his veins. The words send chills through my body and make everything heightened. I wasn’t supposed to hear it, I know I wasn’t. Eric Stevens doesn’t show weakness around me. Tenderness, certainly. But not weaknesses.
I reach behind and give his balls a squeeze. He stops mid-thrust and groans, his head to my back. His breath is heavy because as much as he acts in control, he’s desperate. And that is incredibly liberating. Sexy.
My hips grind against him and his fingers dig into my softness. He leaves a trail of hot kisses along the back of my neck and throws himself into me. I lose myself to the motion of our bodies. I stop thinking, stop breathing and just survive of the rhythm between us.
At some point there is a misstep and we topple sideways. He picks me up and presses me against the wall, his cock back inside me before I feel fully righted. This is more intimate than anything we’ve been in and my brain can barely comprehend it.
“You asked me once what I saw when I looked at you,” Eric breathes against me. Our bodies continue in a perfect carnal dance but my chest tightens and my vision blurs. I can’t hold out much longer against him like this. His voice tightens, like he’s feeling the same thing. “The answer is perfection.”
I am no longer Kate and he is no longer Eric. We are bodies of energy that fly apart and come back together as one.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ERIC
“So then I said, who do I look like, fucking Spielberg? And he said yes, that cheeky fuck! It was hilarious. Man, you had to be there. Next time I go to dinner with those boys, Eric, I’ll give you a call. They’ll all need someone like you on retainer, I’m sure.” David wipes his eyes, finding his own terrible story hilarious.
They all do. All their stories are uninteresting and pathetic. All their stories revolve around being compared to someone else famous, someone clearly better than them, like a massive penis competition. Who has the bigger ego? Who has the bigger dick?
None of them. All their egos are as fragile as my old man’s hairline and their dicks are tiny. It’s why they cheat with young girls to begin with. They don’t know any better.
“Let me buy you dinner. Tonight.” David slams his palm down on my desk and jolts me out of the mental ass-beating I’m dishing out. “You look you could use a break, and maybe some pussy. One of my favorite spots? The girls, Eric! You wouldn’t believe the girls.”
I lean back in my very expensive leather desk chair and steeple my fingers before me. If I wore glasses, I’d take them off in a very dramatic fashion. Mental note: tell Sophie to order me some of those fake glasses Geoff always wears to court. They don’t make him look smarter, but they would be a nice accessory when dealing with dipshits.
“David.” I interrupt his stream-of-consciousness chatter about whatever club he wants to take me to. “I’m sure it’s swanky as hell. But we’ve talked about this shit.”
“But if my lawyer is with me.” David’s face splits in a stupid grin and he spreads his arms to match. He’s like a crucified glutton who looks completely content with his lot in life. “Who can say no? I’m just taking a friend out, having a good time…”
“Looks like bribery.” I don’t move from my stoic, steepled pose. This is my Fuck Off and Get Serious pose, and McArthur has seen a ton of it lately. “Looks suspicious. It makes me look cheap and you look broke.”
“I—” David’s jaw flaps a bit. “But we both know that ain’t true.”
“Perception is everything. Which is why you are instructed to lay low.”
“And I have been! I’ve been laid up in my big ass house, all alone. I mean, aside from the visitors, if you know what I mean.”
“Goddammit, David.” Pose broken. I massage a pulsating headache spreading across my temple. “You’re trying to claim that you still have an active marriage. If you can’t knock off this shit, the case is as good as dead. You thought I was kidding, man. I’ll put you on goddamn house arrest if I have to, because—”
A very loud, obnoxious ringtone kicks off from David’s pocket. Immediately, I want to throttle the guy into the atmosphere. He knows I have a very strict phone policy in my office. I lean across the desk and take it out of his pocket. It’s turned off in two seconds, cutting the sound dead.
“See this shit? You know this shit isn’t permitted in my office. You aren’t a petulant child, David. You’re thirty-six-fucking-years old. You are divorcing a beloved younger woman, who is widely known her for charity work and humanitarian efforts, because you can’t keep it in your pants.”
“I thought you said we were framing it as her having the affair.” David swipes his phone back and turns it on. “That’s what you said. Then I can look like I’m free.”
“Because you told me she cheated, David.” I say through clenched teeth. “You’ve been unable to provide any proof, which says you lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie.” David holds his phone up at me like he’s going to reprimand me with it. I seriously consider snapping it in two pieces. “I suspected. She was always gone, you know? Sure, she said it was some charity gala or event planning, but she always came home late and was in such a good mood after. We stopped having sex. She sometimes wouldn’t even sleep in the same room. That screams affair, Eric. You just need to dig deeper.”
Or she was trapped in a miserable relations
hip with a selfish asshole and hated being at home. I shake my head slightly to ditch the thought. I can’t do this to myself. I can’t sabotage the entire case because I like to fuck his ex-wife.
“So, come with me to dinner and—” The phone rings again. David grins like an idiot and stands up, a finger in my face before he goes to pace across the length of my office floor. “Brad! How’s it going, baby? Did you get a chance to see the script? Sure, I can talk, I’m just with my lawyer. No, no. He can wait. I pay him enough to do what I say.”
At this, David shoots me a wink.
His pacing takes him to the windows at the front of my office, with a great view of the city. He stands there, blabbing and bragging about some movie he’s putting together, disrespectful as fuck. I swear to God, he acts like I have no other clients. Like he’s the singular most important thing in my life right now.
Well, fuck ‘im.
Screw him. Overwhelmed with anger at him, I stealthily unzip my pants and pull my dick out under my desk. After a quick glance his way to make sure he’s still acting like an ape, I pull up the file of Kate’s topless photos on my laptop and two clicks later have a pretty solid hard-on. It’s stupid the shit this girl does to me. She takes my mind off my stress and makes me do crazy shit.
Fucking her at her apartment did not pull her out of my system like I’d hoped. If anything, it sank me deeper, which is quickly becoming dangerous. For the moment, though, it paid off in spades.
I snap a quick shot of my dick in my hand, painfully thread it back into my pants, and send it to Kate with a quick note:
David is here. Thinking of you.
She’ll probably hate me for it. Women are so finicky about the dick pick. If they’re horny, they’re happy for it. If they aren’t, they get pissed. It’s walking a fine line I don’t usually have time to figure out.
David turns and gives me a thumbs up and goes back to pacing, along with a series of hand motions I assume is supposed to let me know he’s wrapping up soon. My hate for this guy grows daily.
He finally says goodbye and plops back in my chair just as my phone lights up. I grab it before he can look and have to steady myself. Kate sent back a picture of her draped in nothing but a towel, a little leg poking out. It is one of the sexiest poses I’ve seen her in.
“What’s so good over there?” David asks, leaning in. He’s like a goddamn dog with a nose that can sniff smut out.
“Oh, nothing. Some sex tape news about that hotel heiress—”
“London Holton? Eric, that girl can lay down some pussy. We were in Verona once for a shoot.”
He launches into his story and it takes all I have to not hurl my phone in his face. Instead, I flick my dick under my desk until the erection dies. This whole thing is a goddamn nightmare and it’s all his fault.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
KATE
Vivian’s office is probably one of my favorite places in Los Angeles, which is saying something. Her office overlooks the beach, with perfect white-capped waves as a gorgeous background to all the pleasantries we must sort through. Every time I feel overwhelmed, I stand by a window and just take it all in: the rolling waves, the birds flying by, the perfect blue skies.
Everything isn’t so bad when you’re on the beach. Even if you’re on the beach to discuss a divorce from a sadistic, womanizing, manipulative manwhore. Look at the sand and feel better.
“Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Vivian concludes, scribbling a few more notes on a legal pad. “It’s working. David looks like an asshole in the media and you look like a woman just trying to move on with her life. That should help our case greatly.”
I like that she’s old school, always scribbling notes on legal pads and transcribing them later, taking audio notes on a small recorder that was probably made in 1995, using a paper filing system. I’ve seen her open a laptop twice during all our visits.
Old school means she doesn’t rely on technology to make herself tough. She knows how to find things without having to consult Private Detective Google. Though I’m sure she does plenty of that, too.
“You look good.” Vivian encourages. “You’ve got a healthy glow about you, despite all this. A big change from the beginning. That’s good. It means you’re handling this in a healthy way.”
“You could say that.” I try to suppress a smile. All this talk today about being a woman moving on has made me feel so much better about what has been happening behind closed doors. “I feel better, mostly.”
“I guess I need to consider this hot yoga mess you keep going on about. If I can sweat for an hour and look like that? Sign me up. Usually I don’t look that happy unless I’ve gotten laid.”
At this, Vivian pauses. She looks up from her notepad and stares hard at me.
“You aren’t sleeping with someone, are you?”
“No.” I answer as truthfully as possible. There’s never really been any sleeping involved. This reminds me of the first interlude with Eric, the one that ended disastrously, where we both made a point to outline no sleeping was involved. “I have not been sleeping with anyone. I have considered getting a cat, though, or maybe a dog to cuddle with. Beds can get a little lonely at night, you know? But the upkeep is hard with my busy schedule. Haven’t made a decision yet.”
“Kate.” Vivian squints at me. “Are you fucking someone?”
I become very interested in my latest manicure. The color reminds me of ocean water, which is always so soothing. Also, my nails don’t have the laser focus Vivian currently has, which is sort of terrifying.
“You do understand, as I’ve repeatedly told you, the state of California does not recognize legal separation unless specifically filed, correct?”
“Of course.” I nod. “You were always very clear about that.”
“And you two elected not to go the route of legal separation, saying divorce was the only option.”
“It is.” I nod harder. There was no way I was remaining attached to that asshole any longer than necessary. “It is the only option.”
“You then realize the state still recognizes you two as married.”
“It’s only a piece of paper.” My cheeks flush and the room spins, just a bit. I never liked feeling like I was in trouble, not even as a child. I wish I had a better poker face. “We’re already filed, the proceedings are going on. This is just over assets and money.”
Vivian leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. Everything about her in this moment is cross: her eyes, her lips, her brow, her arms. Everything. She may as well be a jailer, waiting to lock me in.
“You just said I looked like a woman getting her life back together.”
“A woman does not need a man to have her shit together, Kate.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
“Look, this just sort of… happened.” I put on a mask of ambivalence. It’s one I used a lot with David. “It’s nothing serious. It’s nothing loud. We’re quiet, I promise.”
“Who is it?”
Well. I guess I should have seen that question coming.
“Kate, if this is someone who has the power to ruin your case, this could totally destroy us. We are currently nailing this fucker to the wall because he’s a cheating bastard, okay? We are laying out a case that shows him using you and your marriage for his own personal gain, which then presents you as a role in all the assets he has in his Swiss account. I thought this is what you wanted.”
“It is.” A fire nips at my veins. “This is what I want. He only has that stupid account because of me, and he moved everything over to it. He doesn’t deserve all the money, Vivian. This was my life, too. My career, too. I dedicated everything to him and he swept the vault clean.”
“Good. Remember that. Now who is the mystery lover, so I can prepare for the backlash when this inevitably hits the news?”
“It won’t hit the news. I told you, we’re careful.”
“Sure, right. Everyone thinks they are careful. Unt
il they aren’t. Do you know why family law is so lucrative in this town, Kate? Because no one is as careful as they claim. This has the potential to ruin you. Do you understand that?”
“Everything in this town can ruin you. What’s a sex partner?”
“In a divorce case? Everything. Don’t get involved in the same bullshit as David, Kate. You’re better than that.”
“This is not the same as that asshole.” My mask can’t block out the punctuating anger. “David fucks anything with a pulse. He’s been out almost every night with a different woman on his arm. He had at least two girlfriends while we were married. He goes to strip clubs, dance clubs, fancy fucking bars with piles of groupies. Everyone knows he’s out banging half the city. This is not the same thing.”
“Two wrongs don’t make a right, Kate. And his numerous transgressions don’t overshadow any you could populate. You don’t think the media isn’t chomping at the bit for a chance to see Golden Girl Kate McArthur fall from her horse? This place thrives on lives being ruined. They only need one nibble that you’re having an affair and it’s over.”
“I’m not cheating.” I spit the foul words out. The beach looks fuzzy and feels disorienting, not soothing. “That’s David’s thing. David cheats. I’m simply moving on. This is weeks from being over. The only thing in our way right now is paperwork.”
“Sure, sure.” Vivian cocks an eyebrow at me. “Paperwork and a fuckload of money. End it.”
I don’t say anything because there’s nothing to say. She’s right, but I don’t think I have it in me to walk away. Not anymore.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
KATE
The bath tub doesn’t provide me any answers tonight. Nor has it for the last several nights. Since Vivian told me to cut things off with Eric, I’ve been walking the beach for hours and soaking in the tub for almost as long.
It’s not often the water lets me down, but this week it has.
Staving off Vivian’s storm is no small feat, either. She’s livid I won’t tell her who I’m occasionally sharing a bed with and has threatened to send a private detective after me. That alone has kept me quiet. Lily and I have worked on the gala several nights out of my dining room simply because I was too scared to step foot outside.
