Tell Me More (21 page)

He grabbed me in a clumsy hug that set water sloshing in the bathtub. “Oh, you poor girl. You poor, wee thing. I’m so sorry.”

I was so thankful for his reaction and so entertained at being called a “poor, wee thing” that I gave a great snort of laughter.

“Don’t cry,” he said.

“I’m not crying.”

“Well, thank God for that. And where was your fellow in all of this?”

I shrugged. “Full of remorse, or the appearance of it, when he came back and found out what had happened. Sorry, that probably wasn’t the sort of secret you were expecting to hear about.”

He shook his head. “And here I was thinking I’d get a kinky story involving school uniforms or something.”

“I could do that, too, but I didn’t go to the sort of school Kimberly did. Remember when she kissed me?”

“Oh, yeah, her lurid lesbian past.” He released me. “I’m honored you told me. Are you okay? I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I shook my head. “You didn’t. I think I upset you more.”

“Elise didn’t want kids.”

“And you did?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t want to rule it out entirely. I don’t want to talk about Elise. So you want to hear my deep, dark secret? For starters, I jerk off quite a lot.”

I feigned a yawn. “That’s hardly a secret. All guys do. What’s a lot? Ten times a day?”

“I wouldn’t have time for much else if it were ten times a day.” He reached for my foot and stroked it gently, tweaking my toes. It should have tickled. Instead, it felt unbearably sexy. “Look, I don’t want to be one of those guys who’s always going on and on about his ex. But I’ll say this. After we were married she rationed sex. She didn’t like oral sex and she’d sulk for a week if I expressed any interest in her ass. So I took care of things myself and I withdrew from her. She acted like she didn’t even like me anymore. So I’m something of an expert at avoiding intimacy. And that, Jo Hutchinson, is why I recognize you withdrawing from me, because I’m so good at it myself.”

“Oh, yeah. Here comes the lawyer in you.”

I’d meant it as a joke, but he frowned. “And that was another thing. Pressure from Elise and her family, and from my da, too, to practice law. Absolutely not. No way will I put on a suit and pontificate and spend my life acting like a jerk.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve. But you don’t need to act like a jerk to practice law. Liz said you gave legal advice to women at the shelter.”

“It’s hardly the same. And it was pro bono. No chance of becoming a rich jerk that way.” But he frowned and I could see the tension in his arms and shoulders.

I leaned forward and reached around him to pull the plug from the drain.

He sat, hunched. “My da’s coming into town in a few days, on business. You can meet him if you like.”

“Is that a cry for help?” I stood and reached for a towel.

“A cry for moral support, and I’m not proud of it. He’ll put on the charm and good behavior and not drink too much or harangue me if you’re there.”

“Sure. But don’t you think it’s a bit early for…for, well, meeting family?”

He stood, scattering water. “Seize the moment. He’s not often on this side of the Atlantic, thank God. But you and me, we’re not exactly playing this by the book, are we?”

I certainly wasn’t. I wiped steam from the mirror and rubbed moisturizer onto my face as Patrick, or rather Patrick’s erection, nudged against me from behind.

“I could do you right now.” His hands were on my hips, guiding me. He nibbled at my ear, my neck.

I pushed back against him, wanting him, his cock sliding against my butt. In the mirror his hand closed around my breast and tweaked my nipple into a hard, dark point.

“Do you like to watch yourself come?” His other hand slid down my belly and disappeared below the level of the sink.

My eyes were dark, wide, and my gaze locked with his in our reflection. Even when my legs shook and my mouth opened wide, he held me; held me close to him, held me safe.

ORGASMS HAVE A WAY OF RELAXING YOU, SOMETIMES
too much.

After my bath and Patrick’s attentions all I could do was mumble that I was tired and let him tuck me into bed for a nap. I awoke a couple of hours later, tired and disoriented, my mind fuzzy. Another quick shower woke me up and I dressed and went downstairs to meet Patrick.

He was transformed. He wore a dark suit and a dazzling white shirt open at the neck. No tie, his hair slicked back, giving his face a stark severity. Once I’d thought him a leprechaun, then a fairly okay-looking guy, but until today I’d never thought of him as handsome. Desirable, yes, but that was from our progression from strangers to lovers. I suppose that was what we were now. After tonight we would be.

He watched me walk down the stairs and I slowed for his appreciation. The dress swished at my thighs; nylon whispered as my legs brushed it in my descent.

“And would those be stockings?”

“Possibly.”

“It’s with the greatest of restraint that I haven’t pretended to drop a quarter on the floor so I could take a look up your skirt.”

“I don’t think they give medals out for that sort of thing.” I twirled to give him a preview of what he would see later, then plucked my cell phone from my purse. “I’ll call for our ride.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Very fancy. And here we are, each other’s arm candy.”

When the limo arrived we spoiled the effect of our finery, Patrick with a large woolen scarf, me with a down coat that made me look hugely puffy, for the sake of keeping warm on the quick run from door to car. We also had backpacks with our overnight stuff.

I had been afraid that we might make a stop to pick up Ivan or someone else I knew, but it seemed we were to be the only passengers.

“So where are we going exactly?”

I laid a hand on Patrick’s knee. “You’ll find out.”

“Hmm. I like to know where I am.” He fiddled with his cell phone and I knew he was tracking our position via GPS; I also knew, from experience, that the signal would fade as we climbed higher into the mountains. Once again, I was going into the unknown, but this time with Patrick, and it was an adventure.

I pushed the button that would bring a screen between us and the driver. Patrick looked up from his cell, eyebrows raised. “What did you have in mind?”

“I need to tell you things.”

“Go on.”

“I’m obsessed with you.” I was, but I’d meant to tell him about Mr. D. Here in the darkness.

“Me, too.”

“I heard what you said the other night. I don’t know. I want to say no, it’s not too early, but I can’t give you an answer yet. I have some things to resolve. Some emotional tidying up. So I can’t talk about love right now.” I took a deep breath. “And I’m not into my job anymore. It used to be so important to me. I have… It’s become routine. Very little thrill. I mean, the job has a lot of piddling administrative stuff, but the reward always used to be I’d go on air, and I’d feel I made a difference, that what I did was important. And now…it’s not just that I think about you most of the time and want to be with you. I may have to face the possibility that I’ve burned out. That it’s time to move on.”

“Sure. Why not? Don’t beat yourself up over it, Jo. Maybe it’s best to leave while you’re ahead of the game.”

“I’ve been there ever since college.” There was a note of panic in my voice. “Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to whine.”

“And you’re thinking what the hell else could you do, right? And how will that weird job look on a resume?”

“Yes.”

He took my hand and rubbed it between his as though warming me up. “You don’t have to make a decision right now. You have time, and for what it’s worth, you sound great. Gives me a hard-on every time.”

“Oh, that’s real reassuring.” Despite my anxiety about work and about the evening I giggled. “I don’t think Nielsen has erection ratings.”

He placed my hand on his crotch. “How does this rate?”

“Oh. Pretty high, I think. Or should that be hard? I hope you haven’t had this since we had a bath. Maybe I should direct the driver to take us to the nearest emergency room.”

He grinned. “No, this is a new one. I’m afraid I had to start all over again.”

“You jerked off?” I increased my pressure, trailing my fingertips up and down his impressive length.

“Well, yeah. I told you I jerk off a lot.”

I unzipped him and slipped my hand inside his pants, felt his silk boxers. “Tell me you thought about me when you did it.”

He leaned to lick my ear and nibble my neck. “I did. I thought about what I’d do to you tonight. I think I’ll tie you up and have my wicked way with you when you’re spread out and helpless and naked. Mostly naked.”

Oh, God. A frisson shivered through my nipples and crotch. I squeezed my legs together. “What if I don’t want you to tie me up?” I rubbed the silk against his cock.

“I’ll do it anyway. You’ll be at my mercy.” He flipped up my skirt. “Well, look at those panties. And the stockings, too, what a treat.”

I looked down at my black panties for the pleasure of seeing his hand stroke the satin. My legs had spread wide of their own will; I certainly hadn’t had anything to do with the decision. The skin of my thighs above the stockings looked very white in the dim light, bisected by the black garters. Yes, the real McCoy that made men such helpless, drooling idiots. Garters and black lace.

“Kimberly says it’s serious if you wear a garter belt,” I said. “You gladly suffer the strange indentations and indignities.”

He unfastened his pants. “Brace yourself for indignities, then, because you’ll be keeping that on all night.”

“I love it when you go all macho on me.” I stroked his cock slow and easy. Dampness coated my fingers as I drew his foreskin down.

“Turn toward me. Take your panties off. One foot on the seat. Spread your legs.”

I did as he told me, thrilled by his commands. Mr. D. would love this. I’d—

I snatched my hand away as if his cock was on fire.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” And I truly believed I’d stopped thinking about Mr. D. Was that why the thrill had left my radio job, too—because Mr. D. wasn’t there to share it?

He shook his head, tucked his cock away and zipped up.

“Sorry,” I added, a second too late.

“One moment you’re a sex goddess, the next you’re blowing hot and cold. Precious little blowing, to think of it. What’s wrong? Did you remember you left the oven on at home or something?” He reached to the floor and found my panties.

I felt embarrassed now, pulling the damp underwear on and straightening my dress. “I can—”

“No!” He sounded exasperated. “If you want to tell me whatever it is that turned you off, then tell me. If it was something I did or said, let me know, and it won’t happen again.” He shook his head. “Sorry, this delayed gratification thing is getting to me.”

“It was your idea.”

“I know.” He stared out of the window and produced his iPhone again.

The irony, our first fight, albeit a very minor one, and we hadn’t fucked yet; or, as we both knew, if we had fucked we’d be sated and happy. Or maybe not. We spent the rest of the trip in silence.

The driver’s voice came over the intercom. “Ma’am, sir, we’ll be arriving in five minutes.”

Patrick looked at me and winked. “How very discreet.”

I reached for my backpack. “One more thing.” I handed him one of the masks Harry had given me.

“What the hell? How am I supposed to put this on with glasses?” He fiddled around, finally removing his glasses and folding them inside his jacket. “Why the secrecy?”

I shrugged. “It’s sort of a tradition.”

He took my hand as we got out of the limo and squeezed it. “Sorry to be a grouch.”

“Me, too.” We kissed and then walked up the imposing steps of the mansion, flanked by stone lions, to the massive front door.

Patrick knew something was off about the whole evening but he went along with it because it seemed important to Jo. There was definitely a hidden agenda here but he was so cock-driven at this point he would have agreed to anything. Suit? Sure. Silly black mask? Naturally. Small talk with strangers? Honey, for you, anything.

Because he was going to get laid, finally, and he’d walk through fire or jump through hoops to get there.

And she looked great in that slinky dress. If she moved fast, it twirled out and flashed garters and the tops of her stockings, dark against her pale skin. And beneath, the filigree of sexy black underwear with presumably a matching bra, both of which he’d remove, leaving her in the garter belt and stockings. Yes, he was a predictable fool, his brain settled firmly in his genitals and to hell with the consequences.

The location looked like some sort of hotel—huge and ornate, probably built by a nineteenth-century miner who’d struck it rich. He took Jo’s hand as they went up the steps together and through a huge, carved front door that looked like it might have been pilfered from a medieval castle in the days when the nouveau riche swarmed around Europe buying bits and pieces for their painfully new ancestral homes.

Inside it wasn’t a hotel, and it wasn’t quite a private home, either. A receptionist—masked, wearing a tight, short black dress—greeted them, checking off their names on a list, and handed them a key to their room: a real brass key, not a key-card. “Cocktails are being served in the library, dinner at eight. You’ll need a tie, sir.”

Another minion, a slender young man with close-cropped dark hair, took his scarf and Jo’s coat and their backpacks and whisked them away as if they polluted the spotless elegance of the vestibule, with its antique furniture and fancy rugs.

Patrick reached into his pocket for his tie.

“I rather like you like this. The hint of chest hair.” Jo touched the open neck of his shirt, her fingertip cool against his skin.

He knotted the tie and turned his collar down. “Behave. I have other plans for this tie. I doubt they’ll provide house handcuffs.”

“They might.” Her eyes were very bright, her lips parted. She reached to straighten his tie, a gesture that was oddly domestic.

They followed a group of people up the imposing staircase. By this time Patrick had become accustomed to everyone being masked. Most of the other guests (or whatever they were) wore the plain black masks that covered only the eyes and that served to emphasize women’s lips. He’d not appreciated the subtlety, or, when you got close, the gleam of eyes through the mask. He was mostly longsighted, and could appreciate the general view, even if Jo, the woman to whom he wanted to be closest, appeared slightly blurred.

The library looked like a movie set but he suspected the floor-to-ceiling shelves of leather-bound books might be real. Waiters—unmasked, because obviously the hired help didn’t count—circulated with trays of drinks and hors d’oeuvres. Jo looked around and shrugged. “I’d introduce you to people but I don’t know who they are,” she said. “Being mysterious and atmospheric doesn’t always work.”

“Jo! Darling! So this is your main squeeze.” A guy with reddish hair approached and kissed Jo’s cheek. Patrick watched to make sure his hand didn’t linger too long on her waist. “Hi, I’m Harry. Glad you could make it. Everything okay? Let me get you a drink.” He took a couple of glasses from a passing waiter. “You’ve got a great room. I hope you enjoy it, and we expect to see much more of you, Patrick. Catch you later.”

Patrick took a sip from his glass and sensed the bite of alcohol under a tart citrus taste. No big surprise. He weighed the pros and cons of making one of his rare forays into alcohol consumption. He didn’t have to drive or operate any heavy machinery (he didn’t think Jo counted as such). He wanted to have every sense and nerve sharp when he got Jo alone (and naked and aroused and coming) but the buzz from a couple of drinks might be nice. It might also slow him down. Not that he was worried about his performance, and after all they had all night. And many more nights.

“I thought you didn’t drink.” Jo, right on the button.

“I don’t. This seems pretty innocuous.”

“Okay.” She stared after Harry as he worked his way through the room, kissing cheeks, slapping shoulders, for all the world like a campaigning politician.

He took another sip. “Everything okay?” he asked her.

Just then a couple bore down upon them and Patrick gaped at the woman’s astonishing breasts before they blurred into pink half moons above the top of her dress, a tight, silver thing that ended barely below her butt. They introduced themselves as Jake and Cathy.

Jake moved in to kiss Jo and she stepped aside, turning her face so he hit her directly on the cheek, not on her mouth. Interesting.

Patrick kissed Cathy’s offered cheek, taking the opportunity to squint into her cleavage. Her breasts looked like a pair of pink melons, fascinating yet slightly repellent.

Jake elbowed him. “Aren’t they great? You should make Jo get hers done.”

“And wouldn’t that be Jo’s decision?” What the fuck did this guy know about Jo’s breasts? He was torn between outrage and embarrassment at being caught peeking by the woman’s husband.

“It’s okay, man,” Jake said, slapping his shoulder. “Take a good look. Fair’s fair.”

“Behave,” Cathy said to her husband. She tugged her dress down to cover her ass. “C’mon, honey, let’s circulate. See you guys later.”

“You bet.” Jake laughed loudly. His hand at Cathy’s waist, he steered her away.

“Are they friends of yours?” Patrick asked Jo, looking around for another drink.

“No. I just know them.”

Another guy swooped in to kiss Jo.

“Hi. Willis Scott—oops, we’re not supposed to use last names. How’re you doing?” Before either of them could answer, something caught his attention. “Gotta go, I’ll catch you later.”

No last names. Interesting. And why these cryptic comments on something or other happening later? Patrick moved closer to Jo and slipped an arm around her waist. “I’m getting a bit tired of seeing you manhandled by every other guy here,” he murmured.

“Don’t exaggerate. Besides, I don’t think I know anyone else here.” But she looked around the room as though she was expecting another admirer. Or something. Then she reached a hand down to his butt and squeezed and he forgot all about the other guys and whether he wanted another drink because it was Jo, and she was his and he was in love with her.