Unpredictable

by K. A. Berg

  The quickness of my orgasm surprises me, considering I just came less than ten minutes ago. It’s strong and intense, rolling further and further toward ecstasy. A flash of color waits for me behind my eyelids, erupting as soon as I close them. The tips of my fingers tingle and my toes curl as a wave of pure euphoria crashes through every single cell of my body.

  “Yes, come, angel.” I hear Alex, but he sounds miles away from me. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you get lost in my cock like this. I don’t think I can hold off any longer. Not with you quivering under me. Shittt…”

  The muscles under my hands as I grip his arms tighten as Alex pistons his hips at a punishing pace. My pussy cries out as he pounds the sensitive flesh. Another orgasm brews fast, coming in hard. A string of unintelligible words flies from my mouth as the pleasure explodes again at the same time Alex gives a final thrust, ramming himself as far inside as he can get. His cock throbs inside me as he releases inside me with a long, loud groan of satisfaction.

  My lips tingle and I’m lightheaded thanks to all the moaning I’ve been doing. The two of us both fight to draw oxygen into our bodies in deep, long breaths. The number one sign of a great orgasm. A laugh bubbles from inside me thinking how amazing it still feels to come this hard after all this time we’ve been together.

  “Nothing kills a man’s ego like laughing after sex…” Alex says with a little mirth in his voice. “What’s so funny?”

  “Not funny, just happy. It’s still just as great as the first time.”

  Pride shines from behind his eyes and his lips turn up into a wicked grin. “Well, if it’s only as good as the first time, then I guess I better fuck you again and make it better than the first time, huh?”

  He swivels his hips, and my eyes roll into the back of my head. I have a good suspicion I’m going to have a hard time walking in the morning.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  QUINN

  EARLIER THIS WEEK, ALEX SIGNED A CONTRACT WITH ONE OF the colleges on Staten Island to offer and design target specific classes for their athletic program. Mainly strengthening and conditioning. He’s done so well with Legacy. It’s really thriving.

  I want to surprise him with a weekend getaway to celebrate. The weather’s supposed to be beautiful, and everyone has been talking about how they’re going to spend Labor Day weekend. I overheard a few senior associates discussing weekend plans including a trip to Montauk and the Catskills on the way back to my office from lunch.

  Hearing others’ plans for the weekend sparked my own thoughts and what Alex and I could do. Our Napa weekend was quite successful. Maybe we could head to Atlantic City. Or we could go to Jones Beach? We could be extra adventurous and go to Lancaster. Actually, believe it or not, I’ve never been there and the idea does sound like a fairly nice way to spend some time together.

  My fingers fly over my keyboard, and I open window after window with various ideas for a quick trip. Damn, this would have been a great surprise for Alex, but now that I think of it, it would be very presumptuous of me not to check with him about his schedule first.

  Jordan knocks lightly on the door of my office and peeks his head in, centering me in the present. “Do you have a few?”

  “Yes, of course,” I answer, looking up from my screen. I forward all the links to my email so Alex and I can look them over later and see what works. Jordan walks in as tall as ever yet seems so buckled down with an enormous weight on his back.

  I try to find a way to ask him if he’s okay without seeming like I’m mothering him again. He’s been very clear that he doesn’t want to be treated with kid gloves many times. Going with blunt, I ask one specific thing and see how he responds. “You look tired. Still having trouble sleeping?”

  “Yeah,” he admits, dropping into one of the chairs positioned in front of my desk. “It’s getting better, though. It’s the being awake part that’s getting me now.”

  Jordan has this aura of resolve about him. While he’s not walking around angry and miserable, he has this unsettledness that follows him like a shadow. Today he looks different. I can’t put my finger on it, but something about him has changed.

  I don’t say anything. I wait. When he’s ready, he’ll continue. He opened this door, but I’m not going to shove him through it.

  “I need to get out of New York,” he sighs, releasing some pressure, allowing his body to visibly relax. “I’m surrounded by the life we were supposed to live. Everywhere I look, I see Hailey. It’s not that I want to forget her, but I can’t stay being haunted by what we had and what’s gone. I feel stuck in the past here. I need to be able to see the future. For my sake, and for Jaden’s.”

  Wow. I’m not sure what I was expecting him to say, but it sure wasn’t that. He wants to move? “It’s only been six months. No one expects you to have moved on and forged forward. You lost your wife, sweetie. It’s going to take some time.”

  He shouldn’t be expected to have it all together, have processed all the stages of grief, and be ready for his new life.

  “I know,” he nods. “But, here, in New York, I can’t even begin to move forward in a life we built together, alone. I need to build a life in a new place and lay this one to rest with Hailey.”

  He seems firm in his decision. He makes a valid point. How is he supposed to work on moving on in life while going through each day constantly reminded of what and who’s missing? “Okay,” I nod, understandingly. “Where are you thinking, North or Central? South Jersey would be a hell of a commute. Or were you leaning more toward Connecticut?”

  Jersey would be the easiest answer. The rest of the group is in Jersey. Of course, Connecticut isn’t far either.

  “California.”

  That word halts all thoughts swirling in my head. What the fuck?

  “California?” The word flies from my mouth as if I’m spitting out poison. I have nothing against California. It’s a beautiful place, but it’s on the other side of the fucking country. Three-thousand goddamn miles away.

  “Yes.” His eyes never waver from mine. His spine is stiff and slightly more confident as he sits resolved in his choice. As if just speaking the words out loud to me solidified the choice for him.

  “What about New Capital?”

  The corner of his mouth tips up, only slightly. “We’ve discussed expanding. California makes sense. Rather than hire someone new to handle operations, I can do it. Look around, this place didn’t come out too shabby. We can do this… I can do this.”

  “This would be a big deal. It’d be a huge undertaking. And you want to do it all by yourself in California?”

  Business Jordan is here to play. I watch as he switches modes, preparing to win me over. “I have some contacts and a plan. But before any of that, I need to know on the business front, are you down with a cross-country expansion? Opening a West Coast division of New Capital? You run East. I run West.”

  “Business-wise, yes I think this could be a substantially huge win for us.” I nod and am rewarded with a full smile from the man who hasn’t had many reasons to smile lately. “Personally… I’m worried.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “I do, but—”

  “Then let me get the ball rolling on this,” he interrupts. “This is a partnership, Quinn, I would never let something personal become bad for the business. But a move like this is good for business, and it’s good for me personally. We’ve discussed opening more offices quite a few times. The only difference in this conversation is that I’m the one heading it. This isn’t a decision I came to lightly. I think it could be good for what we’d be looking for. I promise you this isn’t some rash decision.”

  Would it be selfish of me to say, “No, I don’t want New Capital in Cali?” I don’t want to lose Jordan. He’s been a staple in my life for the last six years. We’ve been through more than most friends. We have an unbelievable bond. Now, after one of the most horrific things in his life, he wants to pick up his family and move as far away as he can?
Alone? With no one there to support him?

  No matter how much I don’t want him to go, I can’t possibly ask him to stay. Not while he’s missing a love that is no longer there. It hurts to miss the one you love, and there’s no coming back for Hailey.

  I flash him a smile. It doesn’t reach my eyes, but it’s still genuine. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  QUINN

  “COME ON, ANGEL. WE’RE ALMOST THERE,” ALEX encourages from my side, sounding barely winded. Me, on the other hand, everything burns. My chest currently feels like it could be on fire. My legs drag like sandbags. Sweat covers my entire body, plastering the pieces of hair that have fallen from my ponytail over the last twenty-six point two miles to my temples. But Alex is right. We’re almost there. I can see the black and white checkered finish line banner two blocks up as we round the corner. Two more blocks. I can do it.

  This end stretch feels the longest. My feet pound the pavement, one after the other, sending vibrations through my body. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

  Cheering people line both sides of the street. A small crowd of familiar faces comes into view as I get closer and closer to the finish line. All my friends and family are just past the finish of the marathon Alex and I are running for my mother’s massive benefit for the women’s shelter. I kept my commitment to my mother, but just Alex and I ran.

  Running has never been my thing, but what’s life without challenging yourself? I’d never actually planned to finish this thing. When I first decided to start this, I knew I’d never finish this length. No way in hell. I’d never done more than a mile. There was no shot that I’d be able to get in the kind of shape needed to finish a full marathon. Regardless of finishing or not, Alex and I have been training for this for months. And I’m only a few hundred feet from doing something I never thought I would.

  It’s safe to say, as my entire body screams at me, running still isn’t something I love. But the feeling of pride flooding my chest as I cross the finish line is worth all the pain. It takes a little bit for my legs to stop moving; they’ve been running for hours. Before they fully stop moving, Alex scoops me up in his arms, and I squeal as he spins me around in a circle.

  Kisses rain down on my face. “You did it, angel!” A huge smile spreads across my lips as joy shines from his eyes as his lips leave mine. “I knew you could.”

  My lips press back against his. “I couldn’t have done it without my very dedicated, and very sexy, trainer pushing me the whole way.”

  Our bubble is infiltrated by all the familiar faces from the crowd. Every single person in our circle came to cheer us on. Each one with a poster, too!

  “Way to go, Aunt Quinn and Uncle Alex!” Michaela shouts from on top of Tanner’s shoulders. He’s trying to look inconspicuous in his ball cap and aviators, but it’s kind of hard to accomplish with a seven-year-old bouncing up and down on top of you waving a poster board covered with pink glitter.

  “Thank you, baby girl,” I smile, blowing her kissing.

  “Ann Kin! Ann Kin!” Jaden squeals, running from Jordan to me. Scooping her up, I smother her with wet, sweaty kisses until she can’t giggle anymore.

  “Great job, Quinn,” Jordan beams. “Although, you cost me a hundred dollars. I said no way you were doing the full twenty-six…”

  I elbow him in the side, hard. “You bet against me…”

  He lets out an umph followed by a laugh. “Ouch. No, I said you were only good for fifteen miles, twenty max.”

  This time he’s smart enough to shuffle back, out of elbowing range. “You’re an ass.”

  A deep laugh leaves his chest. Over the last month, I’ve seen a different Jordan. The post-Hailey Jordan. He seems to be moving on okay. The move, even in its beginning stages, is just what he needed for himself.

  Doesn’t mean I still don’t try to get him to reconsider when I can. “Are you sure you want to miss all these exciting moments?”

  “You know, I can afford to fly back when needed.” He gives me a side glance. “How about I promise to fly back to New York next time you run your first marathon?”

  Now I let out a deep laugh. “You really are such an ass.”

  “I should really try to incorporate a private plane into the business model for life in Silicon Valley.”

  “Go for it. See how often I use it to check up on you.”

  He lets out a big belly laugh. “Ugh, never mind.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  QUINN

  THE LAST PLACE I WANT TO BE ON FRIDAY EVENING IS AT LA Sur d’Mae with one of my most hated investors.

  Mario DiPaulo is an arrogant, pretentious misogynist, whom I can’t stand. He’s made my skin crawl from our first meeting together. That meeting was here at this very restaurant in SoHo. He arrived first that day, waiting for Jordan and me at the table. The scum had the nerve to dismiss me from the table, mistaking me for the hostess. “You can go, sweetie. The man has found his table.”

  When Jordan clarified I was his partner and here for the meeting, he was appalled Jordan would bring a female to dinner. ‘Women didn’t belong in business meetings.’ He then rambled on for five minutes about how much he loved the ambiance of the place, which was douche for he enjoyed looking at the pretty waitresses in their black dresses.

  Every time I spoke, he either cut me off or ignored me, speaking to Jordan rather than me.

  Jordan looked horrified. I wanted to shove my fist down the grease ball’s fat throat.

  For the sake of his multi-million-dollar accounts, I never attended anything else involving him. I avoided prison once, but I would go for sure this time if it were for strangling this douche.

  Yet here I sit. This meeting had been scheduled two months ago, and I knew this guy would have a shit-fit if we had to reschedule. Considering my feelings toward this sorry excuse for a man and his of me, I don’t want to be the one to break it to him that Jordan will be moving to the other side of the country. Not on my own, anyway. Honestly, I can’t say I’d be able to mind my words.

  There is no doubt DiPaulo is offended when I meet him at the table. As suspected, he doesn’t seem to care Mr. McCallahan is deeply sorry for not being here in person, but he’s unavailable for the time being. His face contorts, almost as if he is trying to hold in gas.

  Jordan’s real estate buddy over in Palo Alto called him yesterday informing him a prime office location was going on the market in two days, but he had permission to show him beforehand. Jordan will be meeting him first thing tomorrow morning to scope it all out and talk numbers if he feels it’ll work.

  From the photos emailed over, the place looks perfect for what we’ll need. This is the first property we’ve come across in the last month of searching fitting almost exactly what we’ve been looking for. Jordan was eager to get out and see it. With the holiday creeping around the corner, Jordan is eager to get out of the city.

  We sit awkwardly in silence at the table as our long-legged, gorgeous blonde waitress pours my glass of riesling. She leaves and with her, my client's attention. Such a pig. DiPaulo’s mouth opens to say something, and I brace myself whatever condescending, woman-hating thing comes out of his mouth.

  I’m spared for the time being as another beautiful woman approaches our table to deliver his appetizer. I watch as he squeezes lemon all over the plate, coating the oysters, and then lathers on the cocktail sauce.

  “How long until Jordan is back in the office?” he asks as he brings the oyster to his lips. He slurps the slimy mollusk into his mouth, and my stomach lurches. A wave of nausea passes through me. Something about the way his smarmy lips pucker to eat the oyster makes me want to vomit.

  He looks at me expectantly, and I stuff down the urge to be sick at the table to answer him. “Mr. McCallahan is handling some business outside of the city but will be back in two days.”

  “Sad thing that happened to his wife,” he says as picks up another oyster. “But that’s what happ
ens when we allow women in a man’s world.” He gives me a very pointed look as if to reinforce what I already know. He doesn’t appreciate me being here because, to him, I don’t belong.

  If Jordan ever heard him say that, I’m pretty sure he’d murder the man with his bare hands. There are so many things I want to say to this piece of garbage, who reminds me entirely too much of my father, but it wouldn’t be good for business. Thankfully, our server comes to take our order, and I don’t have to agree or disagree with his asinine thinking.

  Lucky for me, he changes the subject on his own as soon as we order our dinners.

  “Did you bring the quarterly reports?” The condensing tone of his voice is irritating as all hell. Being treated as if I’m too dumb to remember to bring the whole purpose of this meeting is infuriating.

  “The numbers are good,” I reply, reaching into my briefcase to pull out the copies he’s asking for. After sliding them across the table, I pick up my fork and start on my Caesar salad while he looks over how much money we’ve made him.

  Eight minutes, I check my watch the entire time. He spends eight minutes looking over the report. A report I can guarantee he never inspects this way with Jordan. Most clients flip to the last page and check the bottom line. It’s the number they’re most interested in. They have employees to analyze everything else. Not to mention these reports are generated from our system, handled by the accounting department. The numbers are just delivered by Jordan and me.

  “Everything looks in line with the return New Capital promised.”

  No shit. It’s actually a percent and a half better.

  His phone rings, depriving me of the chance to tell him as such. He sticks up one short, fat finger and picks up the phone. What a fucking asshole.

  Our meals are delivered while DiPaulo is still taking his call, at the table no less. I break off a piece of my seabass with my fork, attempting to ignore the conversation taking place across from me. He cuts into the steak he ordered. It’s rare, and the juices from it overtake his plate. As I bring the fork closer to my mouth, the smell of the fish wafts into my nostrils and the rolling is back in my stomach. The fish tastes as bad as it smells but I swallow down the bite at the same moment DiPaulo stuffs a piece of steak into his mouth, giving me a glimpse of the food in his mouth as he argues with whoever is on the phone. The way some the food flies out of his mouth as he chews and speaks only compounds the returning urge to vomit.