Sophie

Jim’s company product launch was on the upper floor of a huge building in Chelsea that had once been some kind of industrial plant but was now a trendy art gallery and event space. I’d been to one or two of Jim’s company events, and they tended to be formal. I wore my best little black dress, which I’d had to have steamed at the hotel before I could put it on. I paired it with black strappy heels, a necklace and matching bracelet to add some sparkle, a clutch bag, and an hour’s worth of makeup and hair. This was as formal as I got, though it would be a lot less dressy than some of the others there.

I’d come straight to the hotel from the airport, then straight to the event, so I hadn’t seen Jim and Patty yet. I spotted them as soon as I walked into the room. Jim was near the big display in the middle of the room, wearing a tux and shaking hands. I’d always liked Jim—my mother’s marriage to my father had been miserable, but Jim made her happy. He looked only a little bit like Dex; his hair was grayer, his frame thicker, and he was much shorter than his son. But when the two of them stood side by side, it was unmistakable.

My mother stood next to her husband, smiling at his friends. She had put her hair in an elaborate updo and was wearing a dress of cobalt blue spangled with sparkly beads. It sounds Dallas-like, but my mother was the only woman I knew who could pull it off and look like the upper end of class.

She air-kissed me when I approached, then gave me a big hug. “This is such a nice surprise, sweetheart!” she said.

“So nice,” Jim agreed, giving me a squeeze. “Both you and Dex coming to one of our launches. What are the odds?”

“Is he here yet?” I couldn’t help but ask.

Jim laughed at that. His laugh was genuine and a little contagious, which was part of the reason he was such a good salesman. “Of course not. No one would be looking at me if he was!”

I smiled. For a man with a son so famous, Jim was pretty level-headed. He liked to brag about Dex, of course, and he liked to show Dex off at events like this, but otherwise he seemed free of any pettiness or jealousy of his son. Dex’s mother had met another man when Dex was six years old. She’d divorced Jim and moved to Hong Kong to be with her new husband, leaving her son behind. Five years later she’d died of a brain embolism, shocking everyone, since she was only thirty-seven years old. It had been hard on them—I never heard either man talk about it—but Jim had been Dex’s continuity, his rock. When Dex had discovered soccer and been scouted for the big leagues, his father had never held him back.

A waiter brought us drinks on a tray and we chatted, Jim giving me the lowdown of the new software product his company was launching. It was a specialized gaming system that had some kind of revolutionary, updated console and state of the art graphics. The company Jim worked for was one of those smaller, innovative IT companies that was always coming up with something new and edgy. He’d been with them for nearly ten years. It had been at one of his company parties that he’d met my mother, while she was still working as a lawyer. I think I’d heard that story at least a dozen times.

The room had filled up as we talked, people mingling and filing by. Jim was just finishing when my mother tapped him on the shoulder. “Do you hear that?” she said to him with an eyebrow arched. “There’s a murmur in the crowd. That means your son is here.”

She was right. It was a subdued murmur, of course—these people were classy. But there was a small tremor of excitement in the air. I turned and craned my neck.

I saw Dex immediately. He was standing in a small group of people, talking to an elderly man in a tux. He was wearing a slim, perfectly cut single-button black suit over a crisp white shirt—the same outfit I’d seen him wear off the plane in Milan. He had no tie on, just the flawless collar of his white shirt, with one button open at the throat. He was the only man in the room with no tie, yet he managed to look just as formal as the others, while also looking relaxed, masculine, and so sexy I could have inhaled him.

The elderly man said something, and Dex leaned forward just a little in order to hear. I could see the line of his hard muscles inside the suit. He had dark stubble along his jaw, which contrasted with how neatly his hair was swept back from his forehead and how perfectly groomed he was.

He listened to whatever the man was saying, then nodded politely. And then his blue eyes looked past the man’s shoulder and fastened on me.

It was stupid. It was stupid that my throat went dry, that my pulse pounded in my neck. It was stupid that our eyes locked and in a room full of people who wanted a piece of him, I thought he only looked at me. It was stupid that when I looked at the man who was my stepbrother, that I’d known for years, that I’d given my virginity to, that—oh, God—that I’d drunk texted two nights ago, that when I looked at him I was nervous.

Behind my shoulder, my mother waved.

Dex excused himself from his conversation and came toward us. Toward me. He was looking at me as he wove through the crowd. I sipped my drink and turned my back on him, facing my mother again.

“Nice to see you, son,” Jim said as Dex approached my shoulder. “I appreciate all this.”

Dex didn’t touch me, and he didn’t look at me, but he stood right next to me, so close I could almost feel him. I could smell him—expensive cologne and clean, crisp man. I was immediately turned on. “Sure, Dad,” he said easily. “No problem. You’ve got a lot of people this time.”

“Stay for the presentation,” Jim said. “It’s going to be impressive.”

“We’ll see,” Dex said.

Now that he was so close, I could feel the tension coming off him. He appeared relaxed, but his muscles were flexed like steel, and his sentences were clipped. He didn’t want to be here, and he wasn’t at ease. I was suddenly glad I’d come, and I wished I could touch him.

“You didn’t say hello to Sophie,” my mother pointed out to him.

He looked down at me, and for a second there was a flash of something between us so strong I was surprised security didn’t kick us out before both of us looked away.

“Sure I did,” Dex said to my mother, giving her a wink.

My mother looked at me. “He did,” I agreed. I took another sip of my champagne.

Someone Jim knew came along, and our parents turned away. For a minute, we were alone in the swirling crowd.

A waiter passed by, and Dex grabbed a glass of champagne. It was only the second time I’d seen him drink anything, ever. He gave me a look that made a pleasant pulse start up between my legs. “I knew it,” he said. “I told you so.”

Follow the orgasms, Sophie. That was what he meant. I put a hand on one hip and looked up at him. “That’s not it at all,” I said, though it was. “I came to help you out.”

“Uh huh.” He sipped his drink, but I could see him smirking.

“I saw the press conference yesterday,” I said.

The smirk disappeared and he rubbed his chin.

People were looking at him; I had only seconds before someone interrupted us. He had turned away from me. I watched him fidget. He had something on his mind, something that was weighing him down. It amazed me that no one else could see.

“How bad is it?” I asked him.

Dex let out a breath and looked at the ceiling for a minute, as if turning that question over in his mind. “That dress is backless,” he said.

“I know,” I replied. It was still classy—it wasn’t like the backless part went down to my ass. “What’s your point?”

He still wasn’t looking at me. “Those heels,” he said, “are very high.”

I felt my cheeks heat. He was saying I was sexy; that I was turning him on. Suddenly, I felt like the sexiest woman in the room. “Dex,” I said. “Look at me.”

He did. His gaze focused on me, blue and mesmerizing.

“Are you suggesting that you distract yourself from your problems with sex?” I said to him.

He didn’t waver; his voice went low. “I’m suggesting you hike that dress up for me, Sophie,” he said. “Right fucking now.”

Yes, please, my body shouted loudly. Yes, please, I would like to do that, right now. Let’s go. But I managed to say, “We’re in the middle of a party.”

Dex looked at his watch—something expensive and gorgeous and masculine that made even his wrist look like pure, unadulterated sex. “If you follow the hallway over there and take a right,” he said, unconcerned that even his watch was making me wet, “there’s a bathroom. It locks. I’ll meet you there in five minutes.” Then someone tapped his shoulder and introduced themselves, and he turned away, and the crowd somehow swirled between us, leaving me alone.

Jim and Patty were still talking, so I stumbled away, wobbling on my high—very high—heels. There was no way I was going to have sex in a bathroom at my stepfather’s launch event. Nope. No way. That was not something that Sophie Breen, college graduate and law clerk at a prestigious firm, would ever do.

And yet my feet carried me through the crowd, weaving my way slowly to the hallway he’d pointed out. There was a stage set up at one end of the main room, and someone came to the podium as the lights dimmed. The loud din of cocktail conversation wobbled as people in the crowd turned toward the stage, craning their necks to look as music came from the speakers. The presentation was starting. No one was looking.

The hell with it.

I downed the last of my drink, put down the glass, and ducked into the hallway. Just as Dex had promised, when I took a right I found the bathroom. I slipped inside and locked the door behind me.

Like the rest of this place, it was pretty much the nicest, most modern bathroom I’d ever seen. There was a powder table with a mirror and a padded chair. The counter was of butter-smooth marble, cool and veined, with another mirror. The lighting was soft and flattering. The air smelled like sandalwood. Outside, I could hear the faint echo of the speech from the podium and the music behind it. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw how flushed I was, then looked away again.

A soft knock sounded on the door, with Dex’s voice. “It’s me.”

I let him in, my heart skipping. He locked the door behind him and came toward me, put his hands on my waist. I caught his intoxicating smell again. “Come here,” he said.

I suddenly had second thoughts. “Dex…”

“Don’t worry.” He was close to me now, and he put his hands delicately on the sides of my face, his thumbs touching my cheeks. He lowered his head and kissed the side of my neck gently. “You look so beautiful,” he said. “I promise not to mess up your makeup.”

That made me smile. Trust Dex to be considerate, even when he was basically demanding a bathroom quickie. I could feel the tension radiating from him again, now that his body was close to mine. He was hiding it well, but underneath that designer suit he was a pressure valve about to explode.

And it was me he wanted.

I pressed into his body as he kissed my neck again. I was wild, my pulse beating hard. I remembered how we’d been together, how crazily my body responded to his, every time he’d touched me and fucked me. How incredibly easily he’d made me come. What his body had been like on mine, warm and hard and strong. I hooked my fingers in my skirt and tugged it up over my thighs.

Dex watched me, and his eyes grew dark.

“Is this what you wanted?” I breathed.

“Yes,” he said, the word a murmur. “Higher.”

I pulled it higher. Now he could see my panties, black satin lined with lace, below the hem. I dragged my thumbs beneath the lace over my hips and pulled it a little, giving him a show.

He liked it. I had no practice, and I’d never given a man any kind of show before, but he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. He liked what I was showing him, and that was all.

When I moved both hands to my panties, the hem of my dress drooped, and he took it with one of his strong, elegant hands, pulling it up over the skin of my belly so he could see everything. “Take them off,” he said.

I was breathing hard now. I slowly pulled the panties down, over the curve of my hips, feeling them slide off my ass. Dex was watching so closely a missile could have gone off and he wouldn’t have noticed. It was me he was looking at, not some swimsuit model, me whose skin he was watching slowly reveal itself, as intent as if he’d never seen a woman before. I kept myself tidy, but I wasn’t waxed or plucked or groomed or perfumed. It was just my body, wet and suddenly very, very ready for him, exposed to his gaze.

When the lace hit my upper thighs, he hooked a finger of his free hand into it and pulled it down, taking over. He slid the panties to my knees and pushed me gently back against the counter, his other hand still holding my dress up. He put his feet between mine, pressing my legs apart as the panties dropped to the floor. Then he rubbed the strong, deft fingers of his free hand between my legs, pressing over my slit, and then sliding inside me.

I let my head fall back, my eyes closed, and let go. I pressed my hips forward into his hand. He pushed two fingers into me, moving them in and out of me, and I gave a helpless little whimper. I could come like this, both of us fully dressed except for my panties, with just his hand. All he had to do was touch me with those expert fingers, and I could come.

He dropped my hem and pulled the shoulder of my dress down. I wasn’t wearing a bra—the backless dress wouldn’t allow it, and my breasts were small so it didn’t matter. The fabric fell down my arm, exposing one breast. He cupped it and stroked the nipple while his fingers moved gently to my clit.

It was incredible, but it wasn’t enough. I pressed my hand to the front of his pants and felt his hard cock through the cloth. I fumbled with the buttons.

He pulled his fingers out of me and cupped my ass as I worked. His breath was warm in my ear. “Yes?” he whispered.

“Yes,” I whispered back, unbuttoning him, freeing him as applause sounded somewhere outside. He was hard and ready and delicious. I ran my fingers up and down him. “Yes.”

His voice was harsh. “Turn around.”

I did, gripping the counter. Behind me, reflected in the mirror, I saw Dex push my skirt up over my ass, positioning himself, positioning me. Then he thrust inside me, hard.

“Oh, God,” I breathed.

He was panting as hard as I was. “Jesus, don’t move,” he said. He moved behind me, changing his position, and suddenly he was even deeper inside me. “Just like that.”

I dropped my head, my hair trailing down against the counter. In the mirror I could see the bare curve of my ass against the cloth of his shirt as he thrust inside me again and again, slow and hard, his body taking over for both of us. He put his hand on my bare shoulder, where the dress had pulled off, and I caught the glint of his watch. He was still fully dressed, even to his jacket, and he had me disheveled and desperate as he fucked me like crazy. It was dirty and fast and hard, and I was about to come.

He moved his hand up to my bare back, slid it up my spine as he kept his rhythm. My hips were pressing into the cold counter, and I braced myself on my hands. It was intoxicating, feeling him take me like this—it was pure animal power and pleasure, with no hesitation. His hand landed on the back of my neck, beneath my hair, and gripped me. “Fuck, Sophie,” he said, pounding me harder. “I want you to fucking come.”

I did. I came apart, biting my lips and making a sound in my throat, trying not to make noise. He came as I convulsed on him, exhaling hard and gripping the back of my neck.

After a minute, he pulled out of me, doing himself up again. I stood and put my dress back on my shoulder, righting it. When I saw myself in the mirror, I was flushed and hot, my eyes wild. Sophie, a voice in the back of my mind said, did you just get used?

But Dex helped me clean myself up and straighten my dress. He picked my panties up off the floor and handed them to me, quirking an eyebrow at me. Then, as I brushed off his jacket and straightened the front of his shirt, he kissed me lightly on the lips where I’d bitten my lip gloss off.

“I want to get the hell out of here,” he said.