Professor Nesbit wasn’t known for his scintillating lectures, and I’d discovered early this semester that my mind had a tendency to wander once he opened his mouth. I’d begun recording his classes and then listening to them at home later, when I could take frequent breaks and move around the room to keep from falling asleep.
I was mid-way through the recording of his droning monotone talk from the morning session, jogging in place to stay awake, when my phone rang, halting his voice. I wasn’t sure if I should be annoyed by the interruption or relieved by the break. When I saw the readout on the caller ID screen, my stomach turned over.
“Ava.” I dropped onto the couch and ran one hand over the cushion next to me. “Hey, married lady! How’re you?”
“I’m fine. It’s you I’ve been worried about.”
That knot in my middle tightened a little. “Really? Why?”
“I’ve called you three times in the last two weeks, and you haven’t picked up or returned them. Liam and I haven’t seen you since the wedding, and Giff told me today that he hasn’t seen you, either. What’s going on? Are you avoiding us?”
I wrinkled my nose. The short answer to that question was yes. I knew that if I spent any time with Liam and Ava, there was a very good chance that I’d be subject to twenty questions about Vincent and what was going on between us. He’d assured me that he hadn’t spilled the beans to his family, but he’d also admitted that Ava seemed to suspect something and asked him pointed questions whenever they were together.
Giff knew a little more than Ava and Liam did, but I had no desire to dissect what was between Vincent and me—not with my friends, my mother or anyone else. He and I didn’t discuss it; we didn’t put a name on what we were to each other or what we were doing. What we were doing was enjoying ourselves.
I’d been surprised at how much fun Vincent could be—and fun was something that had been missing from my life for a long time. As we’d anticipated, time together was hard to find. Both of our lives were insanely busy, between his demanding hours at the restaurant and my classes and job at the law firm. We were two driven people, and we lived an hour and a half from each other. This situation was not optimal, to say the least.
For the first few weeks after the wedding, I’d been a little anxious, worrying that he’d have regrets about us. I spent many a long evening, expecting him to call to tell me he’d changed his mind. But it didn’t happen.
What did happen was more shocking. He texted me—not all the time, but at least once a day, and often enough that I knew he was thinking of me. It was sweet, and each time I saw his name, my heart sped up a little in anticipation.
That was dangerous, and I tried not to think about it too deeply.
The holidays had also played a part in keeping us apart at first. The week after Ava and Liam’s wedding had been Christmas, which I’d spent at home with my parents at my childhood home in central New Jersey, outside Trenton, while Vincent was with his family in South Jersey. He’d texted me in the morning to say merry Christmas, and that night, when I was in bed, he’d called.
“I didn’t get you a Christmas gift.” Vincent opened, as he so often did, with no preamble or lead-in.
I gave a half snort. “Okay. Well, don’t feel bad. I didn’t get you one either. Full disclosure: I figured I could shop the after Christmas sales, since I don’t know when we’ll be together to celebrate.”
“Yeah, well, the thing is . . . I don’t need anything, and I have no fucking clue what I’d buy for you that would mean a damn to you. But I had an idea. Let’s start a new tradition, just you and me. Instead of gifts, let’s exchange holiday orgasms.”
I laughed until I couldn’t breathe. “Oh, Vincent. Only you. All right, so just how are we going to make this happen? Is this another IOU? I think I might be getting in over my head here on what I owe you.”
“No, I think the thing about the holiday orgasm is that it has to happen on the actual holiday. Since we’re not in the same zip code right now, we’ll have to improvise. How do you feel about phone sex?”
My cheeks were warm, which was ridiculous, because no one else was in the room or on the line; only Vincent could hear me. “I haven’t thought about it much one way or the other. If you want the truth, I’ve never done it. Phone sex, I mean.” I paused. “Or holiday orgasms, either.”
“For real? God, baby, sometimes I think you’ve been way too sheltered. Time for us to take care of that.”
“Vincent.” I felt a thrill of wickedness, alarm with a little trepidation. “I’m at home. At my parents’ house, I mean. In my bedroom from when I was a kid.”
“Uh huh. And?”
“What if someone hears me?”
He chuckled softly. “Just keep your voice down. And if you feel like you’re going to scream out my name in ecstasy, grab a pillow to put over your mouth.”
“Vincent . . .”
“Amanda,” he teased. “Come on. I miss you. If I can’t be with you today, this is the next best thing.”
“Okay.” I sighed. “Fine. So how do we begin? Do I just start moaning? Oooooh, Vincent, do me, baby. That’s it . . . right there.”
“We’re having phone sex, not shooting a low-budget porno.” I could practically hear him shaking his head at me. “First things first. What are you wearing?”
I glanced down. “My Christmas pajamas, of course. They’re red, with little Santa kittens all over them.”
“Cute. Take a picture for me?”
I only hesitated a minute. “Hold on.” Lifting up the phone, I swiped for the camera and turned it on selfie mode before I made a face, sticking out my tongue and crossing my eyes. Giggling a little, I hit send.
I heard Vincent’s answering laugh. “Yeah, those are adorable. So are you. But if you’re going to stick that tongue out, I’m going to make you put it to good use.”
“Oh, really? Tell me more.” I snuggled down.
“I plan to do just that. First, though, I need you to unbutton those PJ’s. Doesn’t have to be all the way—just enough that you can get to those sweet tits of yours.”
“You really have a thing for boobs, don’t you?” I remarked as I unbuttoned my top.
“I have a thing for your boobs,” he countered. “They’re pretty damn perfect, babe. Now, are you ready?”
“Unbuttoned as instructed, sir.” I couldn’t help a little sass.
“Ooooh, I like that. Sir.” His voice went soft and throaty. “Put your fingers on your nipple. Just . . . lightly. Don’t get rough—yet. Trace a gentle circle around it. Is it getting stiff?”
“Mmmmmhmmm.” I closed my eyes. “It is.”
“Give it a pinch now. Pretend it’s my mouth sucking that peak hard. Scraping my teeth against it.” There was a rustling on the other side of the phone.
“It feels good.” I trailed my fingers down the slope of one breast and over to the other. “You know, you didn’t tell me what you’re wearing.”
“Boxers. Sadly, mine are not Christmas-themed.” He muttered something under his breath. “And they’re now on the floor.”
“Excellent. Are you . . . hard for me?” I licked my lips, my tongue darting out between them.
“So hard. I’m remembering what it was like that morning in the shower, when you took me in your mouth.”
“I remember that, too. Fondly.” I cupped one breast, squeezing it. “You put your hand in my hair while I was there on my knees.”
“I didn’t want you going anywhere.” I heard a slight strain in his voice, his desire coming at me over the phone.
“But then right as you were about to come, you reached further down and touched my cheek so gently . . . and then you cupped my cheek. It was kind of beautiful.” That had been when my night with Vincent had somehow morphed from just sex into something more.
“If I were there with you right now, in your bed . . . I’d do the same thing. And I’d kiss you until we were both out of breath.”
“Where would you touch me next? If you were here. After you sucked on my nipples until I was begging for more.” I trailed my finger down my stomach.
“I’d lay down between those long legs of yours, and I’d press my lips into your pussy. I’d lick you hard once, and then I’d work you with my tongue and my fingers until you were sobbing for me. Touch yourself there now, baby. Slide your fingers down there and rub your clit.”
I sucked in a fast breath. “Is your hand around your cock? Are you pumping it? If I were with you, that’s what I’d be doing. And I’d lean down to take the head into my mouth, to run my tongue around the crown, and then I’d hold you while I took as much as I could between my lips.”
“Baby.” Vincent sounded strangled. “I wouldn’t be able to take it another minute. I’d roll over with you on top of me, and I’d watch as you sank down onto my dick. Watch your face as I slid into you. I’d see your eyes go soft when I hit that spot—the one that made you arch your back whenever I hit it. And then you’d ride me, moving up and down on my cock, while my hands were on your tits, playing with them and making you say my name—”
“Vincent.”
“Just like that. God, Amanda, fuck. Fuck. I’m going to come. Are you close, babe? So fucking close. I feel like I’m going to explode. God, Amanda—fuck.”
His voice reverberated through the phone, but I was too lost in my own pleasure to pay attention. The orgasm washed over me, wringing every bit of energy from my body, until I lay limp and panting against the pillows.
“Holy shit, baby, that was incredible. You okay there?” He was still breathing heavily.
“Yeah, I’m good. I managed to keep it down here, so I don’t think my parents heard me.” I gasped out a laugh. “Having them run into my bedroom to see why I was being so loud would’ve been slightly mortifying.”
Vincent laughed. “I would’ve enjoyed hearing you explain it to them.”
“I’m sure.” I nestled back under the covers. “Speaking of loud, you weren’t exactly using your inside voice when you were calling out my name. Good thing you’re at your own house, huh?”
He gave a little cough. “Didn’t I tell you I was staying over at Ma’s tonight? Ava and Liam are in the next room. And this house is small, so I’m sure everyone heard everything.”
“Vincent!” I shot straight up in the bed. “Oh, my God. Why—oh, my God, you said my name. Your whole family heard you yell my name when you were coming? I’m never going to be able to look any of them in the eye again. Ava won’t ever speak to me, and Liam—he’ll never let me forget it. And your mother is going to hate me before she even knows that you and I are—well, whatever it is we’re doing.”
“Amanda.”
“Yeah, that’s it. Say my name a few more times in case someone down the block from your parents’ house didn’t hear you the first time.”
“Amanda.” He was laughing, damn the man. He was laughing at my humiliation.
“Keep it up. Keep laughing. I’m glad you find this so amusing.”
“Amanda,” he wheezed. “I’m not at my parents’ house. I’m at home—at my house. I was just teasing you. It was a joke.”
I fell back onto the bed. “A joke? I’m going to fucking kill you, Vincent DiMartino.” I paused. “You’re really at your house?”
“I promise, I’m at home. Really. I’d never do that to you, Amanda.”
“Hmph.”
“Hey. Don’t be mad. Didn’t you like your holiday orgasm?”
I couldn’t keep my mouth from curving up. “Yes, I did. Did you like yours?”
“Best one ever. But I’ll let you in on a secret. That was my first Christmas orgasm, too.”
Now, sitting on my couch, I gave a happy little sigh, remembering that night. On the other end of the phone, Ava cleared her throat.
“Amanda? Are you still there? Are you going to answer me?”
“Ummm, yes. I mean, no, of course I’m not avoiding you. I’ve been super busy with classes and work. Maybe you remember that I’m in my last semester of law school. Things tend to get a little hectic.”
“Hmmm. Yeah, I get that. But you can’t hide away forever. Liam and I were thinking of driving into the city this weekend. Let’s plan to have dinner.”
“No.” I didn’t mean to sound as adamant as I did, but Vincent and I were meeting this weekend at an inn halfway between his house and mine. We hadn’t seen each other since Ava and Liam’s wedding, and after several other phone sex sessions—I was definitely not a virgin anymore—we were desperate to see each other. To be together. We might have agreed that sex shouldn’t be the only reason for us to like each other, but it was a damn important part of the equation, too.
“Oh.” Ava sounded taken aback. “Are you busy? I mean . . . we can be flexible. If we can’t have dinner, maybe we could meet for breakfast or lunch. We haven’t all been together in one place since the wedding, and we haven’t gotten to celebrate Giff and Jeff’s engagement.”
I felt like a jerk now. “It’s not that I don’t want to see you, Ava. I miss you guys, too. And I’m so excited for Giff and Jeff. But I really do already have a commitment this weekend. Could we try for next weekend, instead?”
She was quiet for a second. “Sure. I’ll check with Liam and see if that works for him.”
“Okay, and I’ll do the same with Giff. If it all pans out, let’s have dinner next Saturday at that kitschy little Asian fusion spot over by Penn. We can drink sake and toast the boys.”
“That would be fun.” Ava paused for a beat. “Amanda, I’m going to ask you this, and you don’t have to answer. Did my dickhead brother do something to make you mad? I saw you two dancing at the reception, and then Ange said that she thought Vince drove you to your hotel. I hoped . . . but if he was a jerk, I’m really sorry. He’s just—Vince.”
“Oh.” I laughed, stalling. “No, of course not.” I hated the idea of lying to my friends, and I was skirting dangerously near that edge now. “He’s not so bad.”
“Well, you don’t know him like I do. He made my life miserable when I was growing up. Any time a boy would even look at me, there was Vince, glowering. My first date, he took the poor kid aside and threatened him with loss of life if he tried to kiss me.” She snorted. “Meanwhile, he was nailing anything in a skirt from the time he was a freshman. Talk about double standards.”
“Awww, he was a good big brother.” I smiled, picturing Vincent cracking his knuckles as he intimidated Ava’s potential boyfriends.
“Yeah, he had his moments.” Ava sighed. “After Antonia . . . well, when she got pregnant, Vince was furious. Not at her—Vince always had a soft spot for Antonia—but at Frankie’s father, Mark. He beat him up. Ma was afraid Mark might press charges, get Vince in trouble, but he didn’t. I guess he knew he’d screwed up, and maybe he realized he’d gotten a little of what was coming to him.”
My heart hurt a little for Vincent, at the same time that I was proud of him for standing up for his sister. Antonia had gotten pregnant in high school, I recalled. Ava had given me the short version of the story one day when I’d been visiting, and she’d been babysitting her niece, Frankie. A drunk driver had hit Antonia’s car one night when Frankie was just an infant, killing Ava’s sister immediately. I knew that it was a tragedy that it had scarred the tight-knit DiMartino family.
“I can’t imagine what it must be like, to have a protective brother.” I’d wished for a big brother when I was little. It had always seemed like the best kind of sibling to want. But my feelings toward Vincent were far from fraternal.
“It’s not a bad thing, and the truth is, I love the big lunk. Carl, too—but you know, Carl’s more like my father. There’s a quiet strength there. Vincent’s more like a male version of Ma, I guess. Protective to a fault, and not afraid to say what’s on his mind—but someone you definitely want on your side all the time.”
“True.” I smiled, thinking of the way he’d held onto me that night at the beach.
“Um, Amanda? I asked you if Vincent had done something to annoy you, but . . . maybe I should’ve been asking the opposite question.”
I played dumb. “You mean, did I do something to piss him off? Hmmm. I don’t think so. You’d have to ask Vincent, though.”
“That’s not what I meant, smartass, and you know it. Is something going on between you and my idiot brother?”
For a few moments, I didn’t reply. Back after our hook-up, I’d stayed mute about what had happened, because it wasn’t supposed to go anywhere or mean anything. But now . . . I couldn’t lie outright to Ava.
“We’re . . . friends.” It felt odd to say that, but I realized as I spoke the words that they were true. “I like Vincent. So, yeah. We’re friends.”
“Just friends?” Ava wasn’t going to let this go.
“Why do people say that? Just friends? That’s terrible. Would you say I’m just your friend?” I wondered if I could distract her with semantics.
“Considering that in English, that phrase is idiomatic and means two people who like each other but aren’t currently bumping uglies, then yes, I’d say we are just friends. Because I think you’re gorgeous, and you’re plenty sexy, honey, but I’m pretty sure we’ve never had sex. Also, stop trying to get me off track here. Tell me the truth. Is Vince putting the moves on you?”
“Did you ever think maybe it was me putting the moves on your poor innocent brother?” I countered.
“Totally. You’re badass, Amanda. And maybe if I was talking to my brother, I’d ask him if that were the case. But from the way you’re evading and eluding, I’m assuming that he’s the instigator here. Now, having said that, I’m not going to lie to you. I’m ninety-nine percent sure you two were together after my engagement party, so the idea that Vincent pursued you after that—well, it’s kind of mind-blowing. Is this really just a friends thing, or are you guys gettin’ jiggy?”
“Ava.” I didn’t know whether to giggle or to groan. “This is your brother you’re talking about. I don’t intend to talk about our sex life with you.”
“Aha!” she shrieked. “So there is a sex life to discuss?”
“So, Ava,” I said loudly. “We’ll plan for dinner next week. I’ll call Giff, and then I’ll text you to confirm.”
“No way, Amanda! You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I want the details. Are you serious? Are you exclusive? Do you plan—”
“Look at the time! Gotta run. Love you, Ave, hug Liam for me, see you next week.” I hit end on my phone and dropped it onto the table as though she might yet reach through to make me talk.
I took a few deep breaths to calm myself before I ventured to pick up the phone again, this time to text.
Amanda: So your sister just brow beat me into admitting that something is going on between us. I’m sorry. I couldn’t lie to her.
I waited a while, because I knew that this time of the afternoon, he was busy putting the final touches on the evening’s desserts for Cucina Felice. Meanwhile, I turned Professor Nesbit back on and tried to concentrate. When my phone buzzed, I glanced at the screen and grinned.
Vincent: She’s a pain in the ass, isn’t she? I guess that’s why I have three missed calls from her.
I winced, wondering if he was truly pissed off.
Amanda: I’m really sorry. I tried to change the subject, but . . .
Vincent: Hey, I’m not worried. I know you wanted to keep us on the QT though. Sorry my sister is a nag.
Now my smile was even wider. I’d been seriously concerned that Vincent might be annoyed that I’d spilled the beans to his sister.
Amanda: I’m relieved. I thought you might be pissed and want to cancel this weekend.
Vincent: No fucking way. I have plans for you this weekend, baby. So I don’t care who knows what or how or when. It’s just you and me . . .
Amanda: And hours of meaningful conversation about life and other existential topics?;)
Vincent: If by conversation, you mean sweaty sex, sure.
Amanda: I thought we were about more than sex.
Vincent: We are. But more than implies sex is there. So you have the sex first, and then you add on the more than. I promise, babe, I’ll talk to you while I’m balls deep inside that tight, sweet pussy of yours.
Amanda: You sweet-talker, you. You’re setting my heart a-flutter.
Vincent: That’s not all I want fluttering. Shit, I gotta go. I have to pipe some cannoli for a tray that’s going out in a few minutes. Talk tonight?
Amanda: Talk, yes. Phone sex, no. I’ve decided since we’re going to be having all the sweaty sex this weekend, I’m saving myself.
Vincent: That’s cool. We’ll have some of that meaningful conversation.
Amanda: Good idea.
Vincent: I do my best conversations when I’m naked, btw. Just so you know.
Amanda: Of course you do.