Nora
“You look delicious.” I ignore Liam’s choice of words and smile politely at him.
“You’re looking very debonair yourself.”
Liam mock gasps. “A rare compliment. I may have to document this moment somehow.” I ignore his bait and focus instead on the marble and ornate filigree work surrounding us as we walk into the foyer.
“This is amazing,” I say. Liam threads my arm through his elbow and escorts me further into the party. “Do you always throw yourself a big birthday party?” I ask.
He makes a sour face at me. I have said something wrong but then he laughs, loud and freely, as though my faux pas is an adorable transgression
“This is my father’s birthday celebration and yes, he does.”
I arch a brow at him. “Meeting the parents already?”
“Don’t go getting any ideas,” he says, before winking at me. As we approach a ballroom, the music grows louder. A live band. It sounds nice but I don’t recognize the song playing. Then again, I’m not a huge music buff, so I probably wouldn’t.
“My dad isn’t the ... most pleasant person,” Liam says into my ear. I turn my head slightly toward him. Anymore and our lips would touch. “Don’t let him sour your mood.”
“I don’t love parties but you already knew that from our first meeting. I promise to behave tonight and put on a good show,” I say, while looking straight ahead.
He pushes his lips closer to the shell of my ear. His breathe gives me goosebumps. “The only show I’ll permit you to put on, will be for me, in private.” My breath catches in my throat. This is why I came, right? To see if there was a spark. To push through the tension constantly thickening between us and give him a chance? His words are firm and laced with lust. He straightens as an older man, tall and broad like Liam, approaches us.
“I only meant I might afford you the opportunity to catch me again, thus making you the hero.” Liam bites his lip and stifles a laugh.
“Liam,” the man says. With eyes sparkling and a wide smile, he pulls him into a one armed hug.
“Dad. Happy Birthday,” Liam says as they part. “I’d like to introduce you to Nora Robertson.”
I extend my hand to Mr. Lockwood but am left shaking air. He looks me over from toe to top with a scowl on his face. My cheeks grow hot under his scrutiny. There is a familiar nefariousness about him that makes my heart pound. My hand drops to my side.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say to his shoes. My voice is meek and I do not want to feel his eyes on me a moment longer. “Happy birthday.”
“I could think of a few ways it could be happier,” he says.
“Let’s go say hello to Mike,” Liam says. His body bends almost protectively around me, forming a barrier between me and his father. I welcome the intrusion. He takes my hand and kisses the back of it. “I am so sorry he was rude.”
I try to play it down. “You did warn me.”
“I promise you will like Mike. He’s my best friend from childhood,” Liam says. I snag a glass of champagne from a tray going by and nod at him.
It does not take long to realize at parties like this, women are worn like jewels to flaunt. Objects not meant to have an opinion. He whispers each guest’s name into the whorl of my ear—how he keeps track of them, I do not know, except that he has been bred for it—and I realize that somehow, inexplicably, I have ended up the guest of honor’s son’s guest of honor. Liam may have beguiled each attendee, but it is with me that he shares his most private observations (“District Attorney—he’s slept with every woman here,” “Miranda Swan—major eating disorder”). One too many glasses of champagne, and an hour later, the overheated room is swimming. I need air, water, something, or I am sure my ankles—bowing under my body’s pressure upon the thin, pointed pair of heels that Aubry insisted I wear, will blow.
“I’ll be back,” I whisper into Liam’s ear as he chats with the Chief of Police. He nods with a smile on his face and pats my rear end. It makes me stutter a step as I walk away.
I pass the band and several wait staff as I make my way through the crowd. I feel claustrophobic. My pulse jackhammers. I have the urge to tear the heels from my feet so I can run to the bathroom or outside. Anywhere that is quiet and away from the masses. I settle for walking like a baby gazelle. I reach the main hallway, locate the bathroom door and push through. I almost hit a woman with the door as I plow inside. I mutter an apology, head down. What am I doing here? I do not fit in with this caliber of people. I barely know Liam. I fear lust and curiosity has skewed my judgment. I pull my phone from my clutch and text Aubry.
This was a mistake.
I set my phone down and grip the countertop. The mirror reflects a red-faced woman. I place my hands on my cheeks to cool them. My phone buzzes.
No, it isn’t. Get out of the bathroom and go have fun with that hottie.
I snicker at my screen. It is just like Aubry to know what is going on without being present. Another message pops up.
Deep breath. Really. Enjoy your night. Have fun. It doesn’t have to be so serious.
Easy for her to say. I take three deep breaths like Dr. Richardson recommends. Inhale for four seconds, hold for seven and exhale for four. It crosses my mind that I could just leave without a word. I could go home. Put on a nightgown and curl up with a good book. It would be so easy. Simply walk out the door, turn right and push through the doors into the night air. Turn my phone off and hope that when I wake tomorrow, I don’t have a plethora of missed calls or texts from Liam.
I shake my head and push into one of the stalls. When I’m finished, I wash my hands, dry them and head back to the party. I round the corner toward the main ballroom and Liam stands waiting for me. It startles me.
“You were gone too long. I was worried.” I shoot him a questioning look.
“You worry too much.”
“You look gorgeous tonight.” I smile. “Let’s get out of here. Come home with me.”
I bite my lip. My stomach churns. I want to. But the idea of spending a night with Liam also terrifies me. My mouth answers without my brain’s consent.
“No.”
His warm green eyes turn muddy like the river—the light in them snuffed out by a single word. I open my mouth to speak but his palm clamps down around my mouth. I am paralyzed in the moment from the contact. He walks us toward the exit. My heart pounds at the sudden contact.
“Nora, we’re good together and I’m sick of crappy first dates with women I’m not interested in.” His fingers are warm and rough on my skin. “And you ... you refuse to even date.” He drops his hand and I huff before crossing my arms over my chest. He pushes the doors open for me. “Just ... for the love of God, consider it? And please don’t give me any lines about our friendship is too important to chance,” he finishes in his best impersonation of me. I stare into his jewel green eyes.
Truthful eyes.
Sincere eyes.
Good eyes.
My heart claws at me from inside my chest. It’s dying to get out. To latch on to him and give in—just once. Just force me. Take me away. Whisk me from this crappy world. Do it.
Do it.
Do it.
A low growl leaves him. It catches me off guard. Liam is done waiting. Done playing. My lips part in surprise as his hand snakes around my waist. He tugs me flush against him. His lips hit mine. Warm. Supple. I open my mouth to him and he emits the smallest groan. His fingers press into my lower back with force. I shouldn’t want this, but I do. And I fucking love it. Maybe it is just the game. The push and pull between us. I can’t be sure yet. Maybe I am not as recovered as Dr. Richardson believes I am.
“No matter how hard I try, I can’t stay away from you,” he says. “You’re coming home with me.” I almost protest again. But I am going home with him. I am going to let Liam try to please me. He signals to the valet before kissing me again. His fingers tangle in the hair at the base of my neck. He tugs. My head arches backward exposing my neck to him. His lips are feather light as they trail from chin to collarbone. My breathing is ragged. Headlights illuminate us and I mewl in embarrassment.
Liam releases me, a wolfish grin on his face. He takes my hand and leads me to the car. I buckle as he rounds the hood to his side. When he is in, he turns the radio off, puts the car in drive and stomps on the gas. I am pushed into my seat with the force of his acceleration.
“Chill, I’m not going to disappear,” I quip.
Liam glances at me but says nothing. One hand leaves the steering wheel and reaches toward the glove box. Except it reaches just below my knee and pushes the fabric of my dress up. “Show me,” he says.
“Show you what?” His erection is hard to miss as he drives. I have an overwhelming desire to touch it. He pushes the fabric higher, exposing my thigh. His hand clutches my skin. I shiver. I pull my dress up so both thighs show. My breathing is shallow. His hand trails up and down my left thigh before dipping between my legs. “Spread your legs, Nora.” I bite my lip and do as I’m told. His tone leaves no room for argument. I want to obey. His fingers toy with me. He rubs and circles the crotch of my panties. I wiggle in my seat. “Guide me,” he orders.
“What do you mean?”
“Use your hand to guide mine.” I stare at him with butterflies in my belly. I have not touched myself for someone before. He speeds up. I decide to be bold. To be better than I am. I put my left hand on his erection and my right atop his hand between my legs. He swerves and I scream.
He chuckles. “Sorry.” I am clutching his hand between my legs so hard my knuckles are white.
“How far away are we?”
“Ten minutes,” he says. I lean my head on the headrest. I pull my panties to the side and guide his hand between my legs. He moans when his fingers slip between my folds. He does all the work. His fingers work in dizzying patterns over my clit. He dips two fingers inside and I look down to watch. I am merely holding his wrist as heat spreads from my core, up my spine.
“More. I need more.” I plead with him. He pulls into a long driveway. As we approach a large Tudor style house, my pussy clenches around his fingers. Ripples of ecstasy roll through me. He brakes, throws the car in park and unbuckles seemingly in one motion. His hot breath tickles my neck, sending shivers down my body and making my nipples harden. “More.” I don’t know why I’m begging him. I push my hips up to meet his hand. He bites my neck and thrusts his fingers deep inside me. A low groan rips from deep inside me and my body shakes as an orgasm tears through me.
***
Liam
I watch her face as she comes. It is beautiful the way her milky complexion flares to life. Pink tinges her cheeks and her lips tremble. Her lips are lonely and thirsty. They crave me. I smirk. They are slick and shiny in anticipation. It makes my cock throb. Just her lips. What will the rest of her do to me? I slow my fingers until her breathing slows. She opens her eyes. They are cloudy with lust. “Let’s go inside.”
She bites her lip and nods. I hop out and round the car to get her door for her. I hold out my hand for her. Her hand is small in mine. Almost fragile. I squeeze and pull her gently to her feet. She takes a step and it looks painful.
“Hang on,” I say. I kneel down on one knee and unbuckle the ankle strap of her shoe before sliding it off. I repeat the action with the other foot. She sighs.
“That is so much better,” she says.
“Not used to heels?”
She shakes her head and hold her hand out for the shoes. I shake my head and carry them inside for her.
In the foyer, she stops as the lights come on and looks around.
“Do you live here alone?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“It’s so ... big,” She comments.
“That’s what she said.” Nora’s eyes whip to mine and she laughs. Her smile is brilliant. Something I could see every day and never get sick of.
“Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
She shakes her head at me. I drop her shoes and take her hand. Women love tours of houses. Even strange women like Nora. I lead her through each room in the house except for my bedroom. She has childlike expressions. Her eyes widen when she sees something she likes. She looks in every nook and corner as we go. She takes it all in. She is curious. I pull her through the sliding glass doors to the yard.
“And this is the pool.”
“It’s remarkable. Lovely,” she says. I toss my suit coat over the back of one of the pool lounge chairs.
“It’s a gorgeous night. The water is perfect this time of year. Let’s get in,” I say.
She wrinkles her face. “I didn’t bring a suit,” she says.
“We don’t need suits.” I approach her slowly.
“I do,” she says.
“Don’t be shy, Nora.” She cocks her head at me. I trail a finger down her arm.
She clears her throat. “I’m not. I have scars. I don’t like to show them off.”
“We all have scars,” I say. I lean in and let my lips graze her collarbone.
“Not like mine,” she says. Her pulse pounds. I can feel it in her neck under my lips. I lift her arm, find the zipper on her dress and slowly lower it. Her breath hitches as it goes. Down. Down. Down.
“Just like yours,” I say. I slide the fabric up her arm, letting my fingers feel her skin as I go. She moves her arm for me, slipping it from the arm hole. I gently lift it over her head. All I have to do is drop the fabric and she will be exposed to me. Her eyes catch mine and we stand silently facing each other, each frozen. She bites her bottom lip. I let the dress drop. The emerald fabric pools around her feet. She trembles.
“Swim with me,” I say.
She tilts her head again. “Swim?” I can barely understand what she’s asking as I take in all of her. Milky skin clad in lace. Slender and slight in all the right places for my liking. Her tits are full and real. I nod.
“Yes, swim.” I unbuckle my pants and let them drop to the concrete. My fingers make quick work of the buttons on my shirt. I toe off my shoes and socks and pull her flush against my chest pressing my cock into her belly. With one hand, I pull at the pin in her hair. It tumbles down past her shoulders. Her eyes scream nervousness but she smiles to try and cover it up.
“You first,” she says. I shake my head and release her. With steady hands, I begin to turn her toward the water.
“No. Not yet,” she says but her voice holds no conviction.
The air I suck in is audible when her back comes into view. It is disgusting. It is familiar. It is my childhood. Nora spins around, hands covering her chest, anger in her eyes.
“I told you—”I plant my palm over her mouth to shut her up. With the other, I grab her hand and thrust it into my hair. She looks at me curiously as her delicate, slender fingers trace the numerous scars on my scalp—hidden beneath my hair. She does not say a word. There is no pity in her eyes, no curiosity, and no judgment. I understand her and she understands me and we do not need to discuss the moment. I walk us to the pool steps as she fingers my raised scars. She never breaks eye contact. She stops trembling as I lead her into the water.
“It’s heated,” she deadpans. I laugh so loud, it echoes through the yard.
“I told you it was perfect for swimming.” She wiggles from my hands and dives under, not popping up until she is near the middle. I dive in after her. When I surface, she is treading water before me. Droplets of water slip down her skin. I want to take her hard, here in the pool but I refrain. I swim to the edge of the pool to the remote and turn on the outdoor speakers. Music fills the air, a slow jazzy melody. One of my favorites. She swims up to me. She still cannot touch the bottom at the edge but I can. I pull her to me. Her legs wrap around my waist.
“This is nice. Who is it?”
“Elliot Moss,” I say. I nuzzle my nose in her neck. The chlorine is no match for her scent.
“Never heard of him,” she says.
“You should. He’s amazing.”
“Maybe I will.” Her fingers slide into my hair again. Feeling. Trying to figure out what happened. She does not ask. And for a time, I say nothing. She unwraps her legs from my waist and floats on her back. I swim beneath her and pop up on the other side. I slide a hand along her back. She gasps but does not swim away from me.
“I was broken from a young age. Music helped me cope. It’s therapy for me. A song can come on and take me right back to a single moment in time. It freezes memories; makes them forever tangible. Don’t you have a song? One that rips open your wounds and drops the entrails at your feet?” I ask, as I caress her scars. Her eyes pop open. She stares at the stars blanketing the sky.
“No,” she says.
“You will.”
She half smiles and looks at me. She stops floating and secures herself to my waist. My cock throbs painfully. I need her. “I’m not huge into music. Before you go freaking out on me,” she holds up her hands, “I like music, it’s just not an instrumental component of my existence.”
I laugh, take her hands and wrap them around my neck. “I can change that.”
She raises a brow at me. I wade us through the water. Her body clings to mine. Her skin slippery and silky.
“How?” she asks.
“I’ll show you.”