by Shayne Ford
I don’t understand.
Evelyne and Adele pull away from the two men.
It doesn’t take me long to realize that Abel arriving almost at the same time with my sister is nothing more than a coincidence. The fact that he and Mark know each other is a completely different story and sends a shudder through my bones.
It can’t fucking be.
Furtively, I look around checking people’s faces, searching for reactions, afraid that my secret is no longer a secret, and my messed up history is no longer buried but broadcasted in the hubbub of the room.
Nobody gives a damn, but that doesn’t stop my thoughts from spinning in my head.
I haven’t seen Abel in, um, I don’t know... A year ago?
My mind turns silent as Evelyne and Adele enter the kitchen.
“Here you are,” Evelyne says.
Surprisingly, she opens her arms to hug me. I look at her suspiciously.
A smile stretches across her lips, prompting me to fake excitement as well. I slip into her embrace, her fingers brushing my skin, cold as icicles.
In a staged move, she pulls back a little and gives me a thorough once over. I look at her in silence. She’s either that good of an actress or this is nothing but a set-up.
Another grin lights up her face, making her blue eyes pop. Swept back, the platinum, blonde hair gives her a demure look.
It takes only a second before her expression shifts, and a critical gaze falls on me, her eyes glinting with an amused grin.
“You’re never gonna change, Senna,” she says, condescendence threading through her voice.
“Nice to see you too. How are you?” I toss at her, the irony lost on her.
She dismisses me with a flick of her hand and smoothly shifts her gaze away, focusing on the hors-d'oeuvre platter sitting on the counter.
“I’m famished,” she chirps preciously. “We spent hours stuck on the tarmac. And I couldn’t eat on the plane anyway.”
She slips a tiny canapé into her mouth and chews delicately.
“How is your business?” she manages to ask between morsels of food.
“It’s okay,” I say without elaborating.
“What about your boyfriend?”
Her side glance finds me unprepared. I sense my lips quivering and my cheeks burning. I quickly recollect myself and give her a cold gaze.
“What boyfriend?”
“The man you had with you at Isabel’s party.”
She narrows her eyes, and I expect a wink. It never comes.
“Is he old news already?” she asks maliciously.
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
Careful not to smudge her lipstick, she makes a perfect O with her lips and holds her fingers in front of her mouth.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Have I used the wrong word?” she asks, pretending she doesn’t understand the meaning of my words. “Is he your partner?”
“He’s not my partner,” I say curtly, the anger in my voice, prompting Adele to shift her eyes to me.
“What is he then?” she asks, a wicked smile flickering across her face.
“He, um... was working for me.”
“In what capacity?” she asks before she gulps another canapé.
Unlike her, she licks her fingers.
It’s time to pour myself a drink. I push myself out of my chair, turn my back to them and fumble through a couple of cabinets until I find a bottle of wine and glasses.
“You want some?” I ask as she carefully slides the edge of a napkin over the corner of her mouth and brushes off a crumble of pastry.
“No, thank you.”
I turn my back to her again, concentrating on the glass.
“He helped me with my writing.”
“Did he?” she sneers.
I spin around to face her, my eyes throwing daggers over the rim of my glass.
She barely suppresses a chuckle.
“Hmm... Oh, yes. I remember. He was a writer.”
She places a tiny Japanese roll in her mouth.
“He’s an extremely handsome man for a writer,” she says, chewing on the food.
My eyebrows go up.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
I wait for her to finish up chewing and swallowing and even getting a sip of water before she finally speaks again.
Leaning against the kitchen counter, Adele watches us, her arms folded over her chest.
“He made quite a splash with my friends last year in the Keys. After all this time, they’re still talking about him.”
She smiles. My hand is itching to wipe that grin off her face.
“That’s why I was wondering about your relationship with him,” she mutters casually.
“There was no relationship between us.”
My voice rolls out tense.
“That’s good to know,” she says, tossing her napkin on the table.
A sly smile drapes over her lips.
“Seemingly, he was bedding one of the guests that night.”
My glass slips through my fingers. I manage to catch it, half of the wine spilling on the floor. I straighten my back immediately, doing my best to stifle my reaction.
“Are you okay?” Evelyne asks.
Briefly, I lock eyes with Adele who throws me a worried look.
“Yes,” I say and smile.
To prove my point, I take a swig of wine.
“You were saying...?” I mutter.
“One of my friends caught him leaving a bungalow other than yours in the middle of the night.”
A black hole forms in my chest sucking in my heart. I crush a gasp between my lips, trying to ignore the angry voice shouting in my head.
Does it even matter?
My skin gets cold, my teeth about to start to chatter.
To aggravate me even more, the voice of reasoning pops in as well, barking I told you so.
I stiffen. I can say Evelyne’s words don’t mean a thing, but the truth is, he was gone that night, and I had to wait for him, tied on the bed until he came back.
My lips crease into a sad smile.
Fucking liar. He’s nothing but a fucking liar. He’s no better than me.
He would’ve left me anyway.
“Good for him I guess,” I say, detached.
My reaction throws her off, turning her smile into a ghost.
“Anyway, it’s not my business,” I add in a rush, motioning to the living room.
“If you’ll excuse me... I need to talk with my friend.”
I shift an empty gaze to Evelyne, who observes me in silence.
“I guess we’ll see each other again,” I say.
Her eyebrows lift with a questioning look.
“Adele told me you are a speaker at the Chamber of Commerce event,” I say.
“Oh, yes. Are you coming?” she asks pleasantly surprised.
For the first time this evening, her expression strikes me as genuine.
“Yes.”
Smiling, I grab the wine bottle and my glass and spin away from her.
3
SENNA
The crowd thins out around midnight, the few people left splitting between a political debate in the living room, and a dessert tasting session in the kitchen.
Abel has been discreet the entire evening, the few polite exchanges of words serving no clues to others on the nature of our connection.
It turns out that he knows Mark from work. I was never curious enough to ask him about his line of work, and tonight was not the best moment to start that conversation. I introduced him to Harper before I mingled with the crowd, trying to stay away from him, Evelyne, and my whole past if I’m being honest.
I can’t point out to the exact number of drinks I had to ingest to make this work. All I know is that one of them–– the last one most likely, did the trick, and I no longer care about the people, my past life, or Jaden. A giggle forms in my throat as I finally see the funny part of it.
Amused, I set the empty bottle
on the table, spin around and head to the bathroom. My balance gets compromised for a moment, and I do my best to regain my control. The walls seem to cave in and the floor to shake as the whole room starts to spin.
I’ll survive.
Just put one step in front of the other, Senna. You’ve done it before. You can do it again.
Grinning, I take a few more steps, my eyes trained on the bathroom door when a hand slides onto my butt.
Oh, I know this touch. I know it so well.
Soft tingles roll down my legs. Mmm... It doesn’t feel bad at all. It’s been some time since I felt that.
“You haven’t called me in a while,” Abel says, his husky voice flowing through me.
I shift my eyes to him, and lose my balance again, this time clutching his arms and crashing with him against a wall not far from the elusive bathroom door.
“What happened to you, baby?” he asks.
His fingers gently clasp my chin, his eyes looking for mine. I find myself studying him, in spite of my foggy brain.
He’s such a handsome man.
A thought springs in my head, yet I have a hard time voicing it. I part my lips and try to speak, the alcohol blocking my pipes.
His sexy grin doesn’t help, distracting me even more.
My eyes dip to his full lips, then sweep the strong edge of his teeth and the shadow of his stubble.
“I meant to...” I mutter quietly, but that’s a lie.
I never thought it’d work again. That’s why I chickened out.
But now I wonder. Could it work again?
I cast a glance down his body. The sharp, button-down shirt fits smoothly on his torso, the bottom neatly tucked inside his suit pants.
His hands slip to either side of my head, his palms bracing the wall, as his lips stop inches away from mine.
He would never kiss me. Not for a starter. But now, he might. His lips press against mine before I spin another thought.
Mmm.
He tastes good–– a mix of scotch and cologne. I bring my hands to his neck and pull him into me. He crashes into me, his warmth melting my skin. His lips burn. My blood starts boiling.
Without giving it much thought, I let my hands travel down his back, and cup his hard butt.
His lips part, his tongue swirling around mine. I really don’t need that much teasing. My fingers trail around his hips and find the smooth line of his fly. I run my palm down, boldly cupping his bulge.
“You make me so hot for you,” he breathes into me, his hard-on stirring in my hand.
Panic sweeps through me.
Fuck. Someone could walk in on us. I tear my lips away from his.
“I can’t do this here, Abel.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” he says, his eyes glinting with a smile, the flame stirred up inside our bodies suggesting otherwise.
I slide my hand onto his chest, following the smooth lines of his muscles, at the same time brushing his hardness.
“I still have it for you, Senna baby.”
I open my mouth to say something, but the words never come. He curls his hand around my neck and pulls me to his lips again. His free hand comes on top of mine, his cock twitching against our touch. Mouths locked, we slipped into the bathroom, our senses getting swept by fire.
He slides his tongue between my lips, and I slip my fingers down his pants, eager to touch the soft skin of his shaft. My palm trails down, cupping his balls. Tingles swirl between my legs, the tension rising fast. He slips his hands under my dress and smoothly rolls it to my waist.
This is insane, I muse, while sucking on his tongue and moaning in his mouth. He pulls the patch of fabric to the side and runs his fingers onto my clit.
“Damn it, Abel,” I mumble, going down in flames.
He lifts my thigh and smoothly thrust his fingers into me. I bite his shoulder, my core clenching around his touch, my lipstick leaving smudges on his shirt.
“Fuck, Senna...” he rumbles. “What the hell happened to you, baby?”
I wish I could give him an answer, but this is not the moment to confess. I’m too dazed to think about it, and too focused on the pleasure he’s been giving me. His fingers go in and out, his hot breath charring my skin.
“Come on, baby,” he mutters against my lips as he feels the wetness pouring, and my walls clenching.
He breathes faster and faster, his hard cock rubbing against my hand.
It all becomes a blur while tasting that pleasure, and in that fog, I hear a noise and register the bathroom door sliding open, and a silhouette filling my sight.
Harper’s lips part in surprise, or rather, shock, as her gaze dips briefly.
We don’t stop. We can’t.
A moment later, she slams the door shut, leaving us alone.
“That was awkward,” he mutters, his eyes unfocused with arousal, his balls already drawing tight.
He slips his arms under my thighs, lifts me up and wraps my legs around his waist.
“Which way you want it?” he asks.
I smile, amused, the effect of the alcohol finally waning.
Good habits die hard. He’s still following our script.
“Any way you like it.”
“Do you mind watching?”
“Not at all,” I say.
He bends me over the sink, my reflection smiling at me. My eyes shift to his face. Eyes swimming with lust, he can’t keep his gaze off my ass. He lifts my dress over my butt and pulls my panties down. Then finally lifts his gaze.
Our eyes meet in the mirror as he pulls his hard cock out, and gives it a smooth tug.
“Don’t start teasing me now, Abel.”
He rolls a condom down.
“No teasing, baby,” he says, giving me a sly grin.
“Just do it hard...” I say, and then I feel him sliding into me. The way I want it.
“Argh!”
My voice bounces against the walls.
He pulls back and roots himself in me again, granting my wish, filling me to the brim. My cock sabbatical is finally coming to an end. Like right now.
Fuck you, Jaden.
With this last thought, I let myself absorbed by the man behind me.
Observing me through long lashes, he yanks his shirt open. Silky, dark hair spreads a shadow over his chest. He relishes my eyes on him, his hardness pulsing in my core.
I smile and bite my lip. He grins as well.
Hovering over me, he peels my dress off my shoulders and scoops my breasts out, giving them a good kneading. I curve my back and push against him, the pleasure spinning inside me.
A moment later, he straightens his back, looking down at me and grabbing my ass while plunging into me.
“I fucking missed you,” he says, thrusting hard.
Our eyes lock in the mirror again, and I see it in his gaze. He always had for me so much more than a throbbing cock.
Pleasure rolls in waves through me followed quickly by regret. I close my eyes and try to push it to the side. This is not the time for it.
His grip hardens as he starts slamming into me.
“I’m coming...” I mumble with a shaky voice.
My moans come out louder and louder, prompting his hand to go over my mouth.
“Not here, baby,” he says softly as he picks up the pace.
He holds onto me while I come, pounding me until he shudders.
A muffled dialogue travels down the hallway, shifting closer. We hear the knock on the door, just when his fingers dig into my flesh and the climax shakes his body.
Heaving, he pulls out of me. He disposes of the condom, pulls his zipper up, and buttons up his shirt.
A second rap echoes against the door.
“Just a moment,” he says, his voice even and low.
My eyes shift to him while he motions to me.
“Time to go, baby.”
I straighten, my legs still wobbly.
“Can you walk?” he mouths to me.
I nod, and then I pull my
panties up. He tugs my dress down. I shimmy my way back into my frock, and glance in the mirror, running trembling hands over my skirt.
He opens the door.
A woman stares at us suspiciously.
“My friend doesn’t feel well,” Abel says to her, flashing a charming grin.
The woman’s eyes start swinging back and forth between us.
“I understand...” she says, not at all convinced.
She steps aside and lets us pass by her before she vanishes into the bathroom. Hurriedly, we veer toward the exit.
The moment we step out the house, he whispers in my year.
“I want more,” he says.
“Me too. Your car, my place...”
Just as I climb into his car, I spot Harper. She waves at me.
I grip his arm.
“Wait.”
For a moment, I search his eyes, pondering.
“Can we take her home?” I ask.
“Sure,” he says, a smile gliding to his lips.
I turn my head to Harper who’s still waiting and beckon her to us.
A muffled alarm pulses in the background.
I lift my head and look around, faint light filtering through the shades. A groan starts crawling up my throat, the pounding of a migraine killing me.
What day is today?
Little by little, reality fights its way back into my haze. It’s Saturday.
Good.
Eyes closed, I sink back into the pillow, my head heavy as a shovel, my mouth dry like a heap of sand. I could easily drift off to sleep if it weren't for the headache that’s been hammering my head.
A sound of running water travels through the air, coming from the shower. I slide my eyes open again and prop myself on my elbows, listening attentively.
I shift my body, the silky sheet gliding off my chest.
The bed is empty on my side. More reality pours in, with it coming flashbacks.
Bathroom.
Who is in the shower? Abel?
Groaning, I roll off the bed and shuffle to the second bathroom. Running a shaky hand through my hair, I glance in the mirror.
I have to stop doing this. It makes me feel like crap. Mumbling a curse, I slip into the shower and let the water roll over me.
Mmm. That feels nice. The more water flows on me, the more clarity comes back to me.
That’s the problem with a life high.
It makes you forget for a moment, but there’s a price to pay. It’s the morning after, or the minute after. It's the moment you get weaned off that thing. It’s the pain that comes back to you ten times stronger. It’s the ugly truth. The emptiness, inside.
