by Colt, Elodie
“Just a matter of time management. No sharing secrets. No talking. Just you,” I drawl and nibble her soft lips, “coming again and again and again.”
“Challenge accepted,” she says with a cute giggle.
“Challenge accepted? Why, what’s your challenge?”
“Orgasming six times!”
“Baby, you just have to spread your legs and let me do the rest.”
“Deal.”
Fuck, yes. I’m already counting the days until I can give her those six orgasms, which reminds me…
“Uhm, by the way… I’m away on a business trip in two weeks, so we won’t see each other again until next year.”
The thought pisses me off more than I want to admit and gathering from the hard swallow coming from next to me, Devon doesn’t like the idea of being apart for so long, either.
“Do I hear a disappointed sigh?” I press, but she stays silent, wiggling out of my embrace to get up. “Hey, don’t do that.”
“Do what?” Her tone is nonchalant, but I know her tones pretty well by now.
“Saying nothing instead of saying what’s on your mind,” I reply. I need her to tell me how she feels. “Being honest. Telling the truth.”
The silence that follows as she adjusts the straps of her nightgown lasts so long, I fear she’s never going to answer, but I remain patient, giving her time to arrange her thoughts.
“As soon as we enter this room, we lock out the truth, Ross,” she says to sidestep my question, her voice somber. “That’s what we’re here for. To keep the truth outside these walls.”
Pressing my lips together, I stand from the bed and step up to her.
“I don’t care about the truth outside these walls,” I say, and it’s all I can do not to raise my voice. “I care about the truth inside your heart.”
The heavy sigh floating through the enclosed space tells me that I’ve accomplished nothing with my speech, and the hasty kiss she grants me is the exact opposite of the passionate ones we’ve shared over the last two hours.
And then she hammers the last nail into my coffin with her next words:
“Lucky for me, my heart is made of steel.”
I knew it was going to be a bad day from the moment I awoke, and it had nothing to do with the fact that it was Mom’s day of death.
I thought I was finally free of the nightmares that had been haunting me for such a long time, but the dream torturing me last night left me drenched in sweat and with a racing pulse that wouldn’t calm down for the next hour.
My paranoia got the better of me yesterday when I stood by the window, whispering a prayer for Mom with a candle in hand, only to nearly suffer a heart attack. A figure in a cloak scurried by that I swear looked exactly like Luka, and I dropped the candle, almost setting the curtains on fire. And then the weather got worse, the light snowfall turning into a blizzard that slashed against the windows through the entire night, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised I didn’t get much sleep.
I groan when I inspect my ragged reflection in the mirror. The bags under my eyes are so dark, I look like a clown. From all the days I could be my blissfully invisible self, I look like Charlize Theron in ‘Monster’ when I have to show my face in public and pretend to enjoy Holly’s Christmas party that’s going to take place tonight.
Craning my neck, I brush my fingers down the bluish stain. It’s been a week since my last date with Ross, but the lovebite is still clearly visible. My lips break into a smile for a moment, but it fades when I recall how we parted ways. After he dropped the bomb that we wouldn’t see each other for three weeks, it was all I could do to hide my vulnerability, so I let my shields soar up high and played it cool with a half-assed goodbye.
I know I wasn’t fair to him, and it has been gnawing on my conscience ever since. There were so many doubts battling in my head, I had no choice but to draw my armor and get on the offensive. A lot can happen in three weeks. In the meantime, he’s going to celebrate Christmas and New Year’s Eve and God knows what, and I can only imagine how they party in the upper crust. Chances are, he’ll forget about me as soon as the next year rolls around, and considering he hasn’t contacted me since last time, I fear we’re on a good way to reaching the end of our little liaison.
My gaze drops to the dragonfly necklace, my thumb skimming the pretty wings. I was never into jewelry, but I fell in love with that piece the moment I saw it under the light for the first time. I’m not an expert on gems, but I know that it’s not just cheap stuff. It’s made of pure gold, and the mere thought that Ross spent so much money on it makes my stomach flutter.
He’s rich, Ella. He probably owns hundreds of these.
Maybe he just felt obliged to give me something in return and let his sexy secretary order this on jewelryforwomen.com, or whatever.
After I’m done self-pitying, I amble into the kitchen to make myself a gallon of liquid caffeine, but I forget my need for coffee the moment I throw a glance at my aquarium. Frowning, I walk over to check on my dragonflies only to see that Spidey, the wandering glider that was supposed to stay a nymph for a few months longer, already shed its larval skin and damaged a wing in the process.
“Oh, no. What happened to you, my boy?”
I watch as it drags its broken wing along, barely able to move, and my heart breaks at seeing it so helpless. Sadly, there’s nothing I can do for him but hope that the other three wings will be strong enough to give him the ability to fly.
My lip quivers as I hold back the tears, and I try to swallow down my emotions, feeling eerily forlorn all of a sudden and in desperate need of a hug. A hug from Ross.
Bouncing a curled knuckle against my mouth, I shuffle over to the window. A thick blanket of snow covers the entire city, the harsh wind forcing it into drifts. Only a few cars are in motion. Almost no one dares to drive when the streets are so slippery.
Did I make a mistake turning Ross down? Should I have accepted his offer to quit Silent Sins and meet in private? If not lovers, we could have at least become friends. I could use a friend. Someone who’s not Zoya or Holly or a woman altogether. Someone to comfort me and hug me and fuck me whenever I need more than girl chat.
I draw in a ragged breath, clutching my chest. You still have time, Ella. No need to rush.
Better to use the next few weeks to get a clear head and weigh up my options. If I’m willing to take the risk and meet the guy in person, I can tell him when we meet next time.
The sixth time. Where he promised me six orgasms.
My gaze darts to my phone. I pick it up, navigating to my Silent Sins app and composing a text.
Devonport: How’s your business trip going?
I stare at the screen, but the dot above his avatar stays gray. I didn’t expect an answer right away—he could have flown to another continent where it’s in the middle of the night, for all I know.
With a sigh, I grab my coffee mug and settle down in front of my computer, ready to finish the translations that are due this week. Quickly scanning through my emails, I see that I received one from Kate yesterday, wishing me Merry Christmas and saying that she hopes I’m still happy with my match. She included a funny Christmas meme where Santa Claus gives his sexy reindeer a spanking, and the reindeer moans, ‘Whip me harder!’
I decide to give Kate a call and wish her Merry Christmas in person, so I pick up my phone again and scroll through my contacts. Slurping my coffee, I wait for her to pick up, but the female voice at the other end of the line isn’t Kate’s.
“Sorry, I must have dialed the wrong number. Can I speak with Kate Dugan, please?”
“Oh, no, this is the correct number,” the woman says in a hurry. “I’m sorry, but Kate won’t be back in the office for some time.”
“Uh, okay… She sent me an email yesterday. Is she on vacation?”
“Are you one of her clients?” she asks instead, her hesitant tone making me suspicious.
“Yes. I’m Ella Jenkins.”
There’s some typing as s
he hits the keyboard. “Ms. Jenkins, Kate had a horrible accident yesterday. She’s in the hospital, and we don’t know when she will return.”
I go rigid in my chair. “Accident? What accident?”
“Sorry, but I’m not supposed to tell you. I can assure you that she’s fine, considering the circumstances. Should I leave a note so she can call you back?”
Rubbing a hand over my chest, I try to loosen the knot of unease building there.
“Uh, yes, please.”
“Done. Thanks for your understanding. Goodbye, Ms. Jenkins.”
“Bye.”
Placing my phone onto the table, I stare at the screen until it turns black. What did she mean ‘I’m not supposed to tell you?’ What accident was she talking about? And why the secrecy?
My phone rings, and I snap out of my reverie when I see that Ross is calling.
Hang on. Ross is calling? How the hell did he get my number?
No, stupid me. He’s calling via the Silent Sins app, I realize when I look at the screen.
After clearing my throat and steeling myself with a deep breath, I take the call. “Hello?”
The soft chuckle on the other end of the line shoots straight down to my belly and sticks there to flutter around like a butterfly on speed.
“Hello, you too, dragonfly girl.”
Dragonfly girl… I could get used to that name.
“I had no idea the app also had a call function.”
Distinct chatter resounds through the speaker, and Ross says something in hushed tones before the noises die down as if he just walked into a room and closed the door so he can talk to me in private.
“Sorry, it’s all haywire here, and I have to turn off my phone during my meetings, so I figured I’d call you.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to if you’re busy. We can talk later if you want.”
“No.” He huffs a laugh. “I need a break anyway, and I wanted to hear your voice.”
I close my eyes against the emotional wave sweeping over me. God, if he only knew how much I needed to hear his voice…
“Where are you calling from?” I ask.
“St. Petersburg.”
“Enjoying the Florida sun?” I ask with a smile.
Another chuckle. “Not St. Petersburg in Florida. St. Petersburg in Russia, honey.”
I straighten in my seat. “You’re in Russia?”
“Well, looking out the window and watching the city drowning in snow, I could have also landed in Antarctica, but seeing all the buildings with their onion domes, I guess I’m in the right country.”
I giggle.
“Am I anywhere close here to where you come from?”
“Yeah, only about 1300 kilometers or so. You know, Russia is so small…”
“Kilometers,” he repeats with an audible smile, and I roll my eyes, quickly doing the math.
“Eight hundred miles, or something like that. Sorry, the metric system is ingrained into me.”
“How long are seven inches in the metric system?” he asks out of nowhere, and my forehead creases as I do the calculation in my head.
“A little more than seventeen centimeters, I think. Why? What’s seven inches long?”
But as soon as the words are out, I know exactly what he’s going to say, and he proves me right by the mischievous cackle that follows.
“You’re going to figure that out when I slam into you next time, Devon.”
I draw my eyes heavenward, praying for strength as I clench my knees together.
“You shouldn’t think about sex at work,” I say.
“No? What should I think about then?”
I shrug. “Don’t know. Global warming, world peace, Christmas...”
Ross laughs. “Are you going to celebrate Christmas with your family?”
“Yes. I wish it were over already…”
“That bad?”
“No, but…” I pause to heave a sigh. “I’m having a really bad day.”
“Why, what—Just a sec, dammit!” he curses after somebody probably wanted to see what’s taking him so long. “Shit, I’m sorry, Devon, but I have to go.”
“It’s okay,” I say with a smile and add, “I’ve got work to do, anyway.”
A beat of silence follows, and I hold my breath, waiting for his parting words.
“Listen, Devon, my offer still stands, okay? Let’s quit Silent Sins and go on a real date. I’ll take you somewhere fancy. Or to Wendy’s. Or we take a biking tour. Whatever you want. Just… think about it, promise?”
My eyes find the floor before I answer.
“I promise. Thanks for calling, Ross. And… merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Devon. Meet you soon.”
Yeah. Just not soon enough.
~~~
‘The Roast’ is exactly how you’d imagine it—a vintage bar & grill at Coney Island rimmed with neon signs and faded Marlboro ads where ninety-nine percent of the food listed on the menu starts with ‘roasted.’ It belongs to Holly’s father who throws a Christmas party here every year.
The place is already packed when I arrive with Zoya—the weather forced me to leave my bike in the garage, so she gave me a ride—and it only takes me a second to realize that I’ve stumbled into an LGBT party. Fine by me. At least, I don’t have to worry about any guys creeping up on me. Then again, I’m a Plain Jane in comparison to all the girls and boys disguised as naughty Santas, glittering snowflakes, or fluffy reindeers, so no one will notice me in my gray, long-sleeved winter dress.
“To a great party,” Zoya says as we sit down at a table and start the evening with a round of vodka shots. We knock back our drinks in unison.
The party exceeds my expectations, and I find myself having the most fun in ages. The stuff Holly’s father can roast is amazing, and I eat so many roasted pumpkins, I soon feel as round as a pumpkin myself.
Just as I down my third shot, my gaze locks with a girl throwing me a seductive look, and I rake my eyes down her tight skirt and sexy stockings. Her body is a canvas of tattoos, and her pastel-pink hair matches her rosy skin.
Sending her a cocky smile, I beckon her to me, and she floats over in a slow swagger before she parks her sexy butt on my lap. Not sure if it’s the booze or my sex-ventures with Ross, but I need skin under my hands.
“What’s your name, gorgeous?” I purr into her ear.
“Bex,” she says with a smile, curling an arm around my neck.
“Nice to meet you, Bex. I’m Ella.”
“Ella,” she repeats in a drawl, plucking an ice cube from a bowl on the table and placing it on her cleavage.
Taking the cue, I lean in to lick it from the swell of her breast and then down my shot in one go. Bex watches me with bedroom eyes as I suck the ice cube, and before I can swallow it, she dives down for a kiss, her mouth closing over mine.
While our tongues duel for domination, my phone rings with an incoming call, but I ignore it, too lost in the moment. My desire to have sex with that woman is there, though not even close to the deep ache from below whenever Ross pushes my buttons. Hell, even being in the same room with him makes me crazy with savage need. But I’ve promised myself not to waste another thought on him tonight, so I clutch Bex by the nape and squeeze her tight.
My phone seems adamant to ruin the moment, though, ringing once more, and Bex pulls away with a chuckle.
“Be right back,” she says with a wink before she skirts off to the ladies’ room.
Someone grabs my arm, and I whirl my head around to see Zoya giving me a bug-eyed look.
“Since when?” she whispers.
I shake my head. “I’m not gay. Just having my occasional fun with women.”
Zoya sends me a dubious look. “What about Ross?”
“Ross is not… here…” I trail off when I check my messages, leaning closer to the screen so I can read the text again.
Unknown number: Ella—sorry to disturb you on X-Mas but there’s something I need to tell you. Pls com
e over asap. Lenox Hill Hospital, East 77th. Kate
I tense, my forehead creasing as I read the message again.
“What’s wrong?” Zoya asks in alarm.
I raise a hand to stop her from firing off more questions and give myself a moment to think. And think.
And think.
But no matter how fast I turn my wheels, I can’t for the life of me figure out why the hell Kate would want me to visit her right now, in the middle of the night, on Christmas Eve, knowing that it will take me at least an hour to drive to Manhattan. The thought alone is so absurd that I excuse myself to rush over to a quiet corner, so I can call the hospital and ask if Kate Dugan is actually a patient there. When the nurse at the other end of the line confirms, telling me that Kate woke up a few hours ago, I realize that it’s not just a prank.
I stride back over to our table, and Zoya looks up at me in concern.
“I have to go,” I announce, grabbing my coat.
“What do you mean you have to go?” Zoya exclaims.
“It’s an emergency, sorry,” I mumble as Bex returns.
“What?” Zoya throws her hands in the air. “Hey, what the hell is going on?”
“Tell you tomorrow…”
“Do you want to borrow my car?” Holly offers, fumbling in her bag for the key.
“That would be great, thanks.”
She tosses me the key, and I catch them mid-air before I turn to face Bex.
“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” I apologize. “I was a horrible companion tonight.”
Bex smiles, leaning over the table to fetch a pen and napkin.
“You can be a better companion next time,” she suggests with a wink, jotting down her number on the napkin and pressing it into my hands.
Palming her face, I say goodbye with a last kiss before I hurry outside and dash toward Holly’s Chevrolet. A good thing we Russians have a high tolerance for alcohol, or I wouldn’t have been able to sit behind the wheel.
By the time I arrive at the hospital, I’m so distressed, every inch of my limbs tingles. There’s a reason I despise hospitals, and it takes all the courage I can muster to step through the revolving doors. A public place that locks you in but locks no one out. You can shut the door behind you, but you can’t turn a key. Thank God, I’m not here as a patient today.
