I feed my length harder, faster, my hands gripping her hips, controlling them with each piston and thrust. Her pussy is tight, slick with desire, and she clenches around my cock, the friction building as my thumb circles her clit.
My palm slides up her smooth, soft belly, traveling between her breasts before cupping her jaw. Her moans quicken, her hips convulsing as if she’s right there on the edge, and I guide her up until our bodies are melded.
“Come on, baby,” I moan into her ear. “Cum on that cock. You’ve waited a long time for this.”
Fucking her harder, with everything I have, her body begins to shudder and tremble, quick sighs leaving her full lips as her hips buck against me. My release is sudden, hot streams jetting as her beautiful body bounces against mine, greedily accepting my cock until I have nothing more to give.
Panting and drained in the literal sense, I pull out of her and collapse beside her, trying to catch my breath for a moment.
For the first time in years, I taste vindication.
But when I glance her way, she’s not wearing the smile of a satisfied woman, a woman content to move forward from this point on and leave the past in the past.
“What?” I ask, brows furrowed as I sit forward.
She shakes her head, not speaking as she gathers her bra and panties, slipping them on like she needs to get the fuck out of here.
“Halston,” I say.
Her back is to me now.
“Are you … crying?” I ask.
Without answering, she climbs over the side of the boat toward the door, messing with the lock.
“Fuck. Let me help.” I pull my clothes on and get to the door, but first I spin her to face me. Fat tears drip down her cheeks. Two, maybe three. Her expression is tough, determined, but her eyes tell a different story. “You wanted this. You asked for this.”
“I know,” she finally speaks.
“Why are you crying? I thought you enjoyed it?” I sure as hell did.
“It’s nothing,” she says, forcing a smile as two more tears streak down her flushed cheeks.
“It’s not nothing,” I scoff.
“It’s complicated. Now will you please unlock the fucking door?”
I get the latch and step back as she rushes outside, searching for her clothes in the dark, sea-scented evening. Waiting in the boathouse, I give her time to get dressed and space to breathe.
But when I come out, she’s gone.
Chapter 52
Halston
“Can I say I told you so?” Lila asks from the other end.
I lie on my hotel bed Friday morning, my body damp from the shower and my hair wrapped in a towel. I don’t have the energy—or the motivation—to move. It took all the strength I had to take a damn shower this morning.
“You were right.” I exhale, rolling to my side and pressing my cheek against a cool spot on the pillow.
“Men are dumb. Literally,” she says. “We’re smarter than them in every way. The only thing they have on us is physical strength and the ability to get an erection on demand.”
I laugh, which is a nice change of pace from last night.
Crying after Kerouac fucked me wasn’t part of the plan, and I’m not sure who was more shocked: him or me. I don’t cry. Ever.
He knew.
He knew I hated that position, being on my knees and being fucked like an animal, but he did it anyway. He did it on purpose. It wasn’t the way he described it once upon a Karma conversation—the very fantasy I’d played in my mind hundreds of times before. It was nothing like that.
Kerouac was cold, emotionless.
Like I was any other girl and he was any other guy.
“I thought I could fuck him out of my system,” I say.
Lila laughs. “That’s not a thing.”
“All these years, I wanted that from him. I wanted that physical closeness. That intimacy on a level we never had a chance to have,” I say. “I guess I was hoping one time together would change things. Would maybe make him feel differently, reconsider things? God, I’m an idiot.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“Psh. No. It was just sex to him,” I say. “He made that clear.”
To be fair, he made it clear five years ago, when he said he’d only fuck the shit out of me and break my heart. Guess he was telling the truth.
“Okay, then fuck him,” Lila says. “Not literally but, you know, like … screw that shit. Time to move on. Close that chapter. Meet new and better people. Can’t promise you won’t get your heart broken again because that’s kind of an unavoidable fact of life, but I can promise there are men out there who are worthier of your tears.”
My mouth curves. “You’re sweet to say that.”
“Not trying to be sweet. Just being honest.”
“What if I never have that kind of chemistry with anyone else?” I ask.
“You will.”
“What if I don’t? What if I have to settle for someone who prefers ESPN over Hemingway and has zero sense of humor?
“What if you find someone better?” she asks.
“Don’t know if that’s possible.”
“Anything’s possible,” Lila says. “So, what’s the plan today?”
“Not sure.” I check the time on my phone. “The rehearsal dinner is tonight, but we’re not in the wedding party, so Mason said something about doing our own thing today. Anyway, he’s probably going to be knocking at my door any minute now, so I should probably dry my hair or whatever.”
She chuckles. “All right, sweets. Hang in there.”
Hanging up, I peel myself out of bed, change into some real clothes, and put myself together. When I’m finished, the hotel phone rings.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Meet me downstairs in ten minutes.” It’s Mason. “I have a surprise for you today.”
Jerking my head back, I’m confused, but all I can manage is a stuttered, “Wh-what?”
“Ten minutes. Surprise. Lobby,” he says, words rushed.
“I still have to dry my hair.” I yank the damp towel off my head. “I need more than ten minutes.”
“Just try to hurry.”
“Are we trying to catch a plane or something?” I lift a brow, completely getting my hopes up. I can’t deny the fact that I want to go home.
Mason chuckles. “No. I’m taking you somewhere. You’ll love it.”
Spending the day with Mason holds zero appeal to me, especially after last night and especially with my mind so consumed with … other things. But I came here with him. For him. I have no excuses not to go. There’s no getting out of this one.
“Okay. Give me fifteen,” I say.
Throwing my bag together, I step into a pair of flats and make my way downstairs, hoping I don’t run into Kerouac on the way down. I know I’m going to run into him tomorrow, at the wedding—that’s a given—but today I need some distance.
It would hurt too much to see him so soon.
Floating down to the main floor, the elevator deposits me in the lobby, and I spot Mason standing outside next to a black Escalade. He smiles when he sees me, waving me closer.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask when I climb in.
“My family’s estate in Mattituck.” He slides in beside me, slipping a pair of shiny sunglasses over his nose.
“Why?”
“You’ll see when we get there.” Pulling out his phone, he checks his email. I’m dying to know what this is, what he’s up to, but I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.
An hour later, the driver pulls up to an iron gate, swiping a security card Mason hands him. Pulling in, we coast around a circle drive, past rows of shade trees and a bubbling fountain with a bronzed eagle in the center.
The home is gargantuan, covered with cedar shingles and white framed windows and nestled on a few acres of land overlooking the sea.
The driver gets my door, and Mason meets me at the back of the SUV.
“Ready?” he asks.
Head cocked and still unsure, I nod before following him inside.
Taking my hand, he leads me through a sweeping foyer, down a hallway, and toward a set of double doors.