“Come here.” He nudged my nose with his and slid me off the counter. Without letting me go, he carried me through to my room. Just when I was smiling at his act of romance, he pulled out of me and dumped me unceremoniously on my bed.
I shrieked and grabbed my sheet to stop myself from falling onto the floor. “You dick!” I yelled as he disappeared into the bathroom.
Of course, he laughed. He never took me seriously when I yelled insults at him, and that was half the fun.
“Hey, bitch.” He threw a towel on top of me and then jumped over me. His knees were on either side of my thighs, his forearms by my head, and his grinning face was hovering just inches above mine.
“What?” I asked, awkwardly reaching between us and wiping. Somehow, I eased my panties down and threw them on the floor.
His smile widened. “You never gave me my blow job.”
My own lips moved to mirror his, and I tapped his nose. “That’s what you get for teasing me and fucking me on my kitchen counter. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to clean the counter while you call and order me a replacement dinner.”
I scooted up the bed and swinged my legs over the side. Then I grabbed a pair of cotton shorts from my drawer and pulled them on.
“You forgot your underwear.”
I paused at the door and glanced over my shoulder. “A woman never forgets her underwear. What she puts on—or doesn’t—is entirely deliberate and always serves a purpose. You should remember that.”
*****************************************
I rubbed my temple as the receptionist on the other end of the phone babbled on about…well, I don’t know. Nothing informative.
“Yeah, okay,” I cut in. “But can you give me prices? Packages? Or do I physically have to come to California to get this information?”
She paused. “I can email it to you.”
“That would be great.”
“Okay. Can you give me your preferred dates so I can check availability…for how many people?”
“Uh…four or five.” Despite the wedding, I knew that Day didn’t want a huge friggin’ bachelorette party.
“For a bachelorette party?”
“You know, there’s another spa two blocks away from you that was very accommodating when I called earlier today.”
“Just a second, ma’am.”
I couldn’t help it. I smirked.
“We have availability for you, but not for our complete package.”
“No good,” I said immediately. “All or nothing.”
“We don’t have time slots for five of you that day, ma’am.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I hanged up and dropped the phone.
Three spas. Two no-gos. One possibility.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
I dropped my phone on the coffee table and stood up. Immediately, Angus started mewling at me and ran over to his food bowl. I checked the time. Shit. I had to get ready for work.
I dumped a can of food into his bowl—much to his Lordship’s delight—and darted into my room. I pulled some skinny blue jeans and a white shirt from my drawers and quickly slunk into them. As quickly as you can slink into skinny jeans, that is. And, let’s be honest, there’s no graceful way to do it.
I hoped into the bathroom, still tugging them up my thighs, and fell into the doorframe. Yup, definitely not graceful. That bitch will bruise in the morning. I shoved toothpaste on my toothbrush then the brushed into my mouth, holding it still with pursed lips as I button the jeans.
Brushing my teeth with one hand, I ran my hairbrush through my hair with the other. And looked in the mirror. 'Fuck a duck, have I been wandering around with panda eyes all day?'
So nice of Ivan to tell me when he left a few hours ago.
I spitted out my toothpaste and wiped the makeup from my face simultaneously. I hoped my best friend would appreciate the late and frantic efforts I’m putting into this bachelorette party business. I was kind of hoping that I could forgo the planning shit and just turn up somewhere… Alas, no.
I had a list in my messages. A real fucking list. A to-do list.
Until that morning, there was only one thing on my to-do list: Ivan Sands. Now, there were around fifty million things she wanted me to do.
'Book the party. Invite Mish. Email details to everyone. Find a hotel to stay at. Organize a restaurant and book a table for dinner and drinks. Find evening entertainment. Yeah. I’m not even going to think about the effing bridal shower.'
I grabbed my phone and keys from the side and ran down the stairs. It was raining outside—of course it was—and I forgot my coat. Fantastic. That wasn’t how Wednesdays go. It was how Mondays go.
'Or is Wednesday the new Monday?'
I tucked my phone into my bra and ready the key fob between my fingers. I pressed the button as soon as I opened the door and ran to my car. I yanked the door open and slid in.
Pushing my hair from my face, I tore out of the parking lot.
I could just tell that this shift was going to be complete shit.
“Did Ivan tell you that Mish is staying with him for a month?”
I paused and looked at Dayton. “No.”
“Oh.” She sucked in her bottom lip. “Then this is awkward. I thought you knew.”
“No. I wonder why he didn’t say anything.”
“He fucked you before he told you his name. And you’re surprised he hasn’t told you that his sister is staying with him?”
“I… No.” I took my cup of coffee from the counter and sat down. She took the seat opposite me and I continued. “When is she coming?”
“Three days from now. She said she needs to get away while her divorce is going through.”
“Great. So, essentially, seven days after officially starting to date, I’m meeting the family.”
I didn’t like families. Not that I have anything against them, per se. In fact, I'm sure his sister is lovely. I just didn’t like them. Families are…serious. When you meet them, you get all…well, serious.
Sure, I was thinking about beginnings with Ivan, but I was not thinking about serious beginnings. Because, really, how serious can a relationship between a sex addict and a love addict be?
“Brenda…” Day said slowly. “You can breathe, you know, sweetie.”
I shook my head. “Nope, nope, and nope.”
“No, you’re not going to meet his sister yet?” Day raised her eyebrows with an amused twist of her lips.
“Nope. I’m not going to. I’m going to hide for the next three weeks, because then it’ll be, like, a month and a totally acceptable duration of a relationship for that stuff.”
“Brenda, snap the hell out of it!” Her words were short and sharp.I blinked harshly.“Honestly, I can’t decide if you’re addicted to love or a commitment-phobe.”“Both. Definitely both.”“Don’t tell me you’re seriously thinking that being with Ivan is a bad idea.”I leaned back in the chair. “I’ve never not thought that. He’s a very, very bad idea.”“You really piss me off sometimes.”“Good. At least the feeling is mutual.” I grinned and she returned it.“Seriously, meeting his sister isn’t a big deal. You don’t even have to meet her with him. We’ll go for drinks or something.” She shrugged. “Aaron’s working late, so I’m basically sitting around like a dick every night, doing nothing.&r
The model stared at me with an affected look before she turned to Ivan. A flirtatious smile stretched across her face and she flicked her hair.'Oh, please. Is this fucking high school?'“Let’s get started,” Ivan said casually.You wouldn’t believe that, just seconds ago, he was leaning over me, half threatening me.He casually picked up his camera and directed the model where to stand. I hooked one of my ankles over the other. Resolve was building inside me. 'I will stick this shoot out.''I’ll sit here, jealousy and anger and possibly a little hatred building inside me, and I’ll watch the whole damn thing.'Just to make a point.I rested my elbow on the desk and placed my chin in my palm. I was not sure who the model waz or what she was doing, but she had a really annoying laugh. All high pitched and almost squeaky. The ones you cringe at.I tapped my nails against my leg, watching the shoo
The glass clanked on the counter as I placed it down. The vodka settled into a warm ball in my lower stomach. Shit, shit, shit. Fucking shit!I kicked the cupboard shut and looked at the clock for the first time since leaving the studio. At least I lasted most of the shoot. That was better than running at the first glance.Ha. Running. I’m good at running. So much so that I should live in my fucking sneakers.I poured another drink and drunk it as quickly as the last. Shit. What if I am falling in love? What kind of fucked-up bullshit would that make our relationship? It certainly wouldn’t be a fairytale.It would be nothing close to a fairytale. Not even good ol’ Walt could spin it into a Disney-esque happy ending.Another clank of the glass against the side and I stormed into the bathroom. I turned the shower on—full heat and full power—and stripped off. I stepped beneath the burning flow of water and let it wash ove
“I’m not shooting in two weeks.” His lips curled up. “Yes, you are. Modester just didn’t call you yet. You got the campaign. And while you’re on a beach in fucking Mexico in a fucking bikini in front of some fucking knob, I’m stuck here, waiting for you to get back.” I couldn't even be happy. I couldn’t be thrilled about getting the campaign. All I could hear was the thickness in his voice. The one he was trying to hide. “You are mine, Brenda. Don’t ever doubt that. Every part of you is mine. And I’m yours. Every part of me is yours. Don’t doubt that either.” I buried my face into his chest. He was right. We belonged to each other, even if it was in the most fucked-up way. In a way that made no sense at all. “I don’t doubt it,” I whispered into him. “I never doubt it. Not when I feel this way. I can’t. It’s impossible, Ivan. I can’t not believe it.” “Then listen to it. Please, baby girl. Please just fucking listen to it when I make you
“Or else I’ll smack your arse so hard you’ll feel my hand there for a week.” “Tempting.” I caught the thong and tucked it into my palm. “I happen to be fond of your spankings… And your hands.” I laughed and ran out of my room. Ivan’s own quiet laugh followed me, and I flicked the kettle to boiling. Brits and their fucking tea. He wrapped his arms around me from behind and buzzed his lips down my neck. “You’re a dirty, rotten tease, bitch.” “And you’re awfully demanding.” I smiled and threw a teabag into a mug for him. I spooned coffee into the second. “It’s hard not to be when you give in to every single one… Especially if handcuffs are involved.” “Or ties. Or scarfs. Or maybe chains,” I teased. “Chains, hmm?” “Are you getting ideas now?” He reached out and grabbed his tea. He curled his fingers around the mug handle. “Brenda,” he breathed close to my mouth. “All you have to do is exist and I get ideas. About yo
I hid my smile and took my phone. “Seriously. Is she pregnant?”He shook his head. “After the last few days, thank god she isn’t. The day she does get pregnant, I’m going on a nine-month-long vacation. Now, before she marches over here and strings my balls from the pier, go to fucking Starbucks. I’m going to get Tylenol and a nap.”I got in my car, laughing loudly, and waved to him. I think I wanted to feel sorry for him, but he can be just as bad.When I arrived at Starbucks, and she gets in my car before I can even cut the engine.“Drive. Now. To your apartment,” she demanded, clicking her belt into place.“I thought—”“I need a tequila shot and a bottle of wine—something Starbucks can’t provide me. Foot down, Brenda.”She was lucky I always had tequila and wine
I swallowed and opened the drawer. My words were caught in my throat, but I got the feeling that he didn’t want me to talk. He just wanted me to do.The bed creaked as I perched on the end of it and rolled the silky stockings up my legs.“Good girl. Leave your hair down. You have two minutes to get some shoes on and meet me outside.”The line cut out with those words, and my eyes widened. Two minutes?“Way to give a girl some warning, asshole,” I muttered, simultaneously brushing my hair and sliding my feet into some heels.I ran another layer of pink gloss across my lips, and after double-checking that my MIA cat had food in his bowl, I locked the apartment. Damn cat had been out somewhere for three days, probably humping a bunch of lady-cats in a desperate attempt for baby Anguses. Unfortunately for him, his balls were as
"I’m the only one on my floor. It’s…convenient.” His lips curled at the corners.“Very much so.” Another sip. “And you have quite the uninterrupted view over Elliot Bay. Another convenience?”“I enjoy waking up to nature on a morning. It’s very pleasurable.” The inflection on the last word reached out and grabbed hold of me.“I’d imagine it is.”I sat back while the waiter removed our plates and offered us the dessert menu. Ivan politely declined, instead requesting the bill.“Tell me.” I leaned onto the table. “What else do you find pleasurable?”His jaw ticked, and he reached out to cup mine. “Beautiful blond women who wear lacy, navy lingerie and do as they’re told.”“How convenient,” I murmured, turning into his hand.