“Tell me about it,” said Donovan, who had led me to his father’s office with the promise of “fucking escape.” He surely needed it more than I did—this was his parent’s house, not mine. The Thanksgiving meal we’d suffered through with all its pomp and circumstance had to be more of an affront to him, and I had been quite offended.
“Are all people this terrible?” I asked, crossing over to the bar to scour for a decent alcohol.
Donovan finished cutting the cap off a cigar and stuck it between his teeth. “Rich people are.”
“Thank God we aren’t them,” I said cheekily. “Looks like we have the option of bourbon or bourbon.” I held up both overpriced bottles so he could choose.
He looked up. “The Michter. It’s more expensive. We’ve earned it.” He toasted his cigar, drew in a puff, and rotated it until the heat was evenly distributed. “You’ll like this though. Illusione Epernay. It’s mild the way you Europeans tend to like things.”
He handed me a cut cigar in exchange for one of the glasses I’d poured. I sniffed the foot. It smelled like coffee and cedar and, when I drew off it myself a few moments later, I detected floral and honey notes as well.
“Very nice.” I sank into the oversized leather armchair and crossed my ankle over the opposite knee, letting the tension in my shoulders uncoil with the pleasant body of the tobacco. “Are all holidays with your family as awful as this one?” With more than two dozen high-class guests, the day had been filled with pageantry and performance. Much like this office with its overabundance of wood paneling and the gold-plated details. What a nightmare of a life.
“I couldn’t tell you.” He plopped into the rolling chair and leaned back to prop his feet on the massive desk in front of him. “I don’t spend time with them for a reason.”
“But now you’re in the States. For good?” He hadn’t given any indication that he was returning to the Japan office anytime soon, but with Donovan, you could never be too sure what his plans were.
He hesitated, either uncertain of the answer or uncertain he wanted to share it. Finally, he said, “For good.”
“I’m guessing Sabrina Lind has something to do with that.” I was fishing, and it was obvious. Hopefully it wasn’t as evident that the person I was really curious about was Sabrina’s sister, and he’d unwittingly tell me something useful.
Donovan had never been one to show his cards, though. Even years ago when I’d first met him. When he’d practically been engaged to my stepdaughter.
He wasn’t eager to show them now, either. “We’ll see. We’ll see.”
“I’m somewhat surprised she isn’t here today, after that scene you made the other night. Declaring you were her boyfriend right there on the streets of Manhattan.”
He gave me a sharp glare. “It wasn’t a scene. It was a necessary declaration.” Then, after a beat, “She’s spending the day with her sister. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
Neither did I, which was why I was poking around for information. As she’d asked, I’d sent Audrey a text the night before when I’d gotten back to my apartment after Aaron had been found. It had been short and factual.
Dylan: He’s home. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
Audrey: I’m so glad.<3
She’d responded right away, and I’d wondered if I’d woken her or if she’d waited up for my news. Probably the former. And still the possibility that it could have been the latter intrigued me. As did the symbols that followed. A heart, according to Urban Dictionary. Or a ballsack, depending on which definition I wanted to rely on. Either could be considered appropriate.
And yet I longed for the meaning of the heart.
I was stupid. I was raving mad. Letting my thoughts drift to her as often as they did. It was all the buildup. All the wrought-up tension between us. I needed to get laid. Obviously. It would be the only possible way to cut through the bullshit and get down to the meaning of our companionship, the pure sexuality that was the only true connection we shared.
I took another draw on my cigar as I pulled out my mobile from my jacket pocket and was surprised to find another message waiting from her. I’d forgotten I’d put it on silent for dinner.
Audrey: Our T-Day reservations aren’t until five, btw. You can call or text anytime before that.
I looked at my watch. It was a quarter to four. Really? That early, and I already needed a drink this badly?
The good news was I had time to catch her.
I set my drink down and stood up. “I, uh. Need to ring someone. Can I step out there?” I nodded toward the single French door that led to a balcony, so small it could only fit one person comfortably.
Donovan shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me any. Aaron?”
I puzzled for half a second before realizing he was asking if I was calling my son. “Yes. Yes, Aaron. You understand.”
Pushing open the door, I stepped quickly out into the biting cold before I could feel too guilty about the lie. Then I clicked on Audrey’s name, put the mobile to my ear, and puffed on my cigar until she answered.
“You called me!” she exclaimed.
“You said I should.” Had I misread her message?
“I know I did. I just didn’t think you’d actually call. I expected a text, at the most.”
“I’ve felt you come around my finger—I think we’re beyond texting, don’t you?”
She was silent for a moment, and I watched my breath curl with the smoke of my Epernay, anxiously wondering if I’d gone too far. Said too much. My head was filled with her was the only reason I had for my behavior. I needed to be inside her. Needed to fully have her before I could get over the distraction she imposed.
Whatever the excuse, I was preparing to deliver an apology when she said, “Ohhhh. I liked that. Is that dirty talk?”
“It’s a rather lame attempt, I’m afraid. Fortunately, I was going for frankness.”
She giggled, and despite the godawful temperature, I felt my cock jump at the tinkle of a sound. “So we’ve discovered I like frankness for sure, and possibly I like dirty talk as well. Should we try more of that to see?”
Oh, how I wanted to. Right then and there. There were a slew of filthy things I wanted to whisper to her. I wanted to tell her all the ways I meant to touch her sweet little pussy, how I would pet it and lick it and fill it up with my cum. Wanted to tell her how good her skin tasted, how drunk the scent of her made me, how the slick clench of her cunt while I’d fingered her made me ache with the need to bury my cock inside her to the hilt and fuck her until she saw stars.
But after a glance behind me at the door with its thin panels of glass separating me and my friend, I thought the dirty talk should probably wait.
“I’m hoping this call will lead to the chance for just that. Our night was cut short. I owe you a raincheck.” No, that wasn’t how I wanted to present that. As if she were an obligation. That was a far cry from the truth. “I’m looking forward to the opportunity,” I amended.
She sighed wistfully. “I want to. So badly. But you have Aaron tonight through the weekend, and I leave Sunday.”
“True, true. But my plans with my son have changed a bit, and I had a thought—would you be able to change your train ticket back to Delaware to something later in the day? I’m more than willing to pay for the change fee.”
“Yes!” she squealed. “In fact—I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to be presumptuous—but I already looked into it, and there’s a train leaving at four-fifteen, and there’s no charge for changing with twenty-four hours’ notice. I can be at your apartment by ten-thirty in the morning.”
She was fantastic. Truly.
“Then everything’s settled. Sunday at my place.” I glanced once more behind me and found Donovan had his eyes closed, likely sleeping off the tryptophan and dreary dinner company. I braved another comment. “I’m warning you, little girl—our lessons won’t be over until my face is wet with your juices and your pussy is sore from my cock, so be prepared to learn.”
She let out a noise that sounded like a shiver. “Wow, yes. I definitely like dirty talk. And now I need to go spend some alone time with my hand before I have to leave for dinner. ‘Kay, thanks.”