@Jenny0989: @RonanFitz Men like you make me sick. You deserve to be hung, drawn, and quartered #manwhore #teambrona

@RonanFitz: @Jenny0989 Hang and draw me all you like, but go near my quarters, and we'll have a problem.

 

 

*Ronan*

March 18

4:10 p.m.

Dear Ronan.

I agree, the truth always comes out. I’m so glad you didn’t do anything rash. She doesn’t deserve your time and attention (or energy).

I was surprised by your questions in the last email, regarding what I’m getting out of helping you. The answer is quite simply this: I am getting the pleasure of your correspondence. I wonder if anyone has ever told you this before, but you are very charming and likable. You’re very clever—your emails make me laugh. I like you.

-SML = Someone (who) Maybe Likes (you)

 

It was Friday morning, and I was re-reading The Socialmedialite’s last message for the umpteenth time as I rubbed at my temples. My head was officially wrecked. Now I knew who the faceless person was on the other end of the emails.

I’ll admit, when I first found Annie’s phone in my car, I was furious. I felt betrayed and beyond angry. I couldn’t believe that I’d yet again been taken for a fool by a woman. The doorman who worked in my building, Jeffrey, who I’d built up a friendly and amiable rapport with, had asked me how my day had been, and I’d responded with a frighteningly manic: “WONDERFUL, JEFFREY, JUST CUNTING WONDERFUL!!”

So yeah, Jeffrey and I were now on the outs.

When I reached the penthouse, I went one too many rounds on the punching bag in the gym. I didn’t wear any protective gear, and my hands were abraded and raw by the time I was done. Fortunately, my temper had simmered down enough that I could bring myself to steep them in some warm water, disinfect them, and wrap them up for the night.

I thought I might be having an emotional meltdown, like a wife who just found out her husband of twenty years was cheating on her. On the periphery of my mind, I was aware that my betrayed reaction was way over the top. It brought me to the stark realization that I was far more invested in Annie than I’d thought.

I knew I wanted her physically, but it was becoming plainly obvious I had feelings for her that ran deeper than that. She’d woven her way into my affections, fucking up my steady plan to keep life simple. I was supposed to be going out and having no-strings sex, yet here I was, allowing myself to get involved. There were so many strings it wasn’t funny, and we weren’t even having sex yet.

But back to my most recent discovery. I tried to put things into perspective.

Yes, she had been lying to me, but I’d only known her for a short while. It wasn’t like I’d done anything to earn her loyalty. After I’d worked myself to exhaustion, I collapsed on my bed, staring at the ceiling. My body was dog-tired, but my mind was a flurry of activity. I tried to imagine myself in Annie’s shoes. I mean, the woman had difficulty putting herself out there at the best of times. I guessed that admitting her secret famous online identity to the likes of me would be a scary prospect. It was understandable she’d kept it to herself. In fact, if she had come right out and told me, I might have been suspicious. It would have been way out of character.

Still, I was pissed, mainly because she’d kept up the correspondence with me and not admitted she already knew me. She allowed me to believe she was a stranger I could confide in, someone far removed from my everyday life. It was one thing to simply not tell me she was The Socialmedialite—that was the part I expected—but it was another entirely to write to me day after day, pretending to be someone else. That part took effort and secrecy and a certain level of duplicitousness.

These were my thoughts up until I met her in the park yesterday for a run. She’d spilled her guts to me, and I couldn’t help but be heartbroken for her, wrap my arms around her, and let her soft body sink into mine. I wanted to be angry, but I just couldn’t hold onto it.

I understood Annie’s reasons for being the way she was too well. And then I had another epiphany. I thought that maybe, just maybe, Annie wasn’t being duplicitous by keeping her secret. Perhaps this was the only way she could truly be herself and get to know me without her anxiety getting in the way. She needed the veil. The distance. The electronic safety net.

It went without saying that my conversations with The Socialmedialite were far more open than my dealings with Annie in person. So, after I left her to go to work yesterday, I made a decision. I would allow Annie her safety net for a while longer. I wouldn’t tell her I knew her secret just yet because that way we got the best of both worlds. We’d still have the electronic avenue of communication, the one where she was confident and spoke her mind. And then we’d also have the in-person avenue, where I could delight in being around her and teasingly coax her out of her shell.

Speaking of Annie’s “electronic” life, I’ve been finding myself reading her blog more and more, working my way through her back catalog like it was a book I couldn’t wait to reach the end of. Reading her posts made me warm to her that much more because, despite my original impressions, Annie’s articles weren’t the same as most of the celebrity gossip trash out there. They were witty and intelligent; they poked fun at egos and hypocrisy instead of weight gain and tawdry personal lives.

In one article earlier this year, she wrote about a hip hop artist buying himself a $40 million gold-plated car while at the same time advocating a campaign to raise money for the victims of natural disasters. Annie asked, why not just donate the pointless, garish excuse for a motor vehicle to the victims before pleading with everyday working people to give up their hard-earned cash? Take that money in your mouth, and set a good freaking example!!!

And then late last year, a celebrity phone-hacking scandal had hit the headlines, and the world’s media was condemning a number of actresses and singers for saving racy nude pictures and videos to their phones. Annie stated, Anybody, anywhere, at any time, should be allowed to save whatever the hell they want to their phones without those files being stolen and showcased to the entire world. I don’t care if you’re an Oscar-winning actress or a fry-cook at McDonald’s, nobody’s personal privacy should ever be invaded like this, never mind spread across the Internet to be picked apart, criticized, and condemned. Is it possible, just this once, to *NOT* blame the victim?

Reading all this was confusing. Not only did I think she was beautiful and remarkable in real life; but behind her quiet façade she was insanely clever, and she had the balls to stand up for what she believed in. She had principles, and they were the kind I respected immensely. I admired her.

So now, I stared at the screen displaying her last message to me as The SML and deliberated on a reply. The stream of conversation between us had gone silent for the last few days. I needed to figure out just the right way to start it back up. Her coming out and admitting that she liked me made me preen like a bloody peacock. I began to type.

 

March 21

9:45 a.m.

Dear SML,

First off, my apologies for the radio silence. As you can probably guess, I’ve had a lot on my plate the last few days. I’m trying to be less impulsive, less easily drawn into anger, so it took a lot to sit back once Brona’s story came out. Anyway, I’m trying not to fixate on it.

So, you like me, huh?

I’d like to say I’m surprised, but it’s obvious that your previous insulting messages were a prime example of a schoolyard crush. Ma always said that the girls only called me names because they fancied me ;-)

Unfortunately for you, my affections lie with another. However, if you’d like to win me over, you’re welcome to send some racy pictures (even if they’re only of your boobilicious mermaid tat.)

Don’t be a stranger.

Ronan

 

I hit “send,” wondering how Annie would reply.

She still thought I had no idea who The SML was, so I made it clear there was somebody I liked. As well—though I’d liked The Socialmedialite and had enjoyed our exchanges—since meeting Annie in person, seeing how adorable and beautiful she was, I had eyes and thoughts for no one else.

I should have been clear earlier with her online persona, but I’d always been a flirt when I wasn’t dating someone. However, now I took pains to make certain The Socialmedialite—and therefore Annie—didn’t think I was chasing her in the real world while trying to get my jollies with some anonymous online bird at the same time. About a half hour later, I got a response.

 

March 21

10:22a.m.

Ronan!

How have you been? If it weren’t for the fact that you and your new squeeze have been splashed all over the Internets, I might have thought you fell down a well or something. Because that happens all the time, right? Lol. When I was a child, I used to think that getting struck by lightning was one of the main causes of death amongst humans.

So, you and this Annie girl, eh? I have to say, despite wanting you all for myself, I’m liking her, and from what I’ve read, everybody else does, too. Sometimes the public can be overly critical of the non-famous girlfriends of celebrities, because you know, jealousy and all that. So it’s a really good thing that people are embracing her. I read an article today on a very popular site questioning Brona’s story, since she hasn’t brought forth any evidence of her claims. I think you’re well on your way to being in the clear.

And not to worry about my little crush. I will harbor it with both grace and zero hard feelings.

Your chum,

The SML

P.S. I saw those pictures of you and Annie kissing in the park yesterday. Holy shit, they were hot! My mermaid may have had some happy time in the shower after seeing them. Enjoy the visual.

 

I was grinning like a fool by the time I got to the end of her message. Annie had a wicked side, I’d give her that. Still, the body of her message had been too casual and friendly, and I craved something more. This was why I pulled out my phone and typed a message to the real Annie.

 

Ronan: I miss your taste. Come over.

 

Her reply was almost immediate.

 

Annie: I’m working. You’ll see me tonight.

 

Oh, no way was she getting off that easily. I went into full-on sext mode.

 

Ronan: I want to make you come with my mouth.

Annie: Ronan! I’m at the office and Gerta is RIGHT BESIDE ME!

Ronan: Gotta say, that kinda makes it hotter.

Annie: *squints eyes* Do you have a thing for Gerta?

 

Ha! I knew she didn’t like how friendly I’d gotten with her assistant.

 

Ronan: Jealous, love?

 

It took a while for her to answer that one, and I liked to imagine she was cursing how transparent she’d been.

 

Annie: No.

Ronan: Good, because it’s not Gerta’s tits I fantasize about coming all over.

 

Another long pause. She’d seen the message, but she wasn’t typing back yet. Then finally her response came.

 

Annie: Please stop texting me. Gerta thinks I might be coming down with the flu. Your last text caused a coughing fit.

Ronan: Got you thinking, though, didn’t it? ;-)

Annie: Yes. Too much. You’re too much.

Ronan: I’ve actually been told I’m just the right amount :-D Admit it, you’re missing me as much as I’m missing you.

Annie: Maybe. Just a little.

Ronan: Tell me what you miss about me.

 

There was an even longer pause this time. I could just imagine her fretting over whether or not to indulge me.

 

Annie: I miss how you smell. How your body feels against mine.

 

Okay, I had not been expecting her to play along. And yeah, I was already hard.

 

Ronan: You gonna let me inside you tonight, love?

 

I could just imagine her blushing.

 

Annie: Isn’t that more of a fourth or fifth date kind of thing?

Ronan: I’m Irish. We don’t adhere to that shite.

Annie: I have to get back to work now, Ronan.

Ronan: Okay, then. See you tonight. xxx

Ronan: Keep thinking of me.

Ronan: I can’t stop thinking about you.

 

When it was finally time for me to get ready for my date with Annie, I put an inordinate amount of time into my appearance. In fact, I don’t think I’d ever put this level of effort into looking good before. In the end, I settled on a fitted white shirt and a pair of dark blue trousers from some designer or other. Aside from the fact that you could kind of see my tattoo through the shirt, I looked pretty fucking respectable.

I was addicted to the way Annie’s eyes drank me in whenever she saw me, and I wanted to encourage more of it. I’d insisted I be the one to pick her up, and she’d grudgingly provided me with her address. She lived in a nice building in a very upper-middle-class area. It wasn’t over-the-top fancy—which I imagined she could well afford, given the extra income from her blog—but it was cozy. I found myself smiling. I liked it before I even stepped inside the building.

I wasn’t smiling for long because when I knocked on Annie’s door, she wasn’t the one to answer. Instead, some blond prick stood before me, one eyebrow raised as he assessed my appearance. In my opinion, no man should be assessing the appearance of another man unless he bats for the penis squad.

“Can I help you?” the man asked, arching a brow.

“No, you’re all right, mate. I think I have the wrong apartment,” I replied and turned to try the next door when Annie called out. “Ronan, is that you? Come on in.”

Her voice sounded a touch strained, and I noted she was calling me Ronan rather than Mr. Fitzpatrick. Stepping past Mr. Peroxide, I walked into the lovingly furnished apartment, taking it all in. It was so warm and lived-in that I felt like staying here with Annie for the evening rather than taking her out as planned.

Fuck, it smelled faintly of her perfume, too.

It was so perfect that I almost forgot about the arsehole standing behind me. I ignored him and turned to Annie, who was wearing a knee-length midnight blue dress that fit her perfectly, highlighting her little waist and generous breasts, though I wished it didn’t flare out and hide her shapely legs and thighs. But it did dip attractively at her cleavage, displaying her gorgeous creamy skin to perfection. Her long hair was down, and she’d put on a small touch of makeup. I stepped up close to her and took both her hands in mine, noticing her nervous swallow. I rested them on my chest and rubbed my thumbs along the inside of her wrists.

“You look beautiful, love,” I murmured.

Mr. Peroxide cleared his throat, and I turned my head to him, feeling a scowl coming on.

“This is my neighbor Kurt,” Annie began, her voice faltering. She seemed to be having a hard time with this situation for some reason, so I kept rubbing her skin with my thumbs in an effort to relax her. “Kurt, this is m-my, my…my Ronan.”

Her eyes widened; she looked like she wanted to facepalm, but her hands were unfortunately otherwise engaged. My grin spread wide across my face.

“Fuck yeah, I am.”

“I mean, he’s my….”

“I’m her boyfriend,” I finished for her before she started to ramble.

“Kurt lives next door. He just came over to borrow some sugar. We were laughing at the fact that we’ve lived next to one another for so long but only met recently. It’s crazy living in a city this big. You never get to know your neighbors, you know? Anyway, enjoy the sugar, Kurt.”

I chuckled quietly. God, this woman was going to kill me, she was so cute. I wanted to see her get all flustered like that when I tied her to my bedpost, wanted to see how quickly she’d shut up when I put my mouth on her.

“Yeah, Kurt, enjoy the sugar. Wouldn’t want you suffering a cup of unsweetened tea, now, would we?” I added and then gave him a wink that said I found him adorable. His posture grew stiff, and his mouth formed a thin line. I knew exactly what this fuck was up to. Sugar, my arse. Such an obvious ploy to try to wheedle his way into Annie’s apartment. In fact, it pissed me off to know she’d let a man she barely knew into her home. I might have to punish her a little for that one.

“I’m actually having a dinner party tonight and needed it for a dish I’m preparing,” he replied smoothly.

“Well, don’t let us keep you,” I said, my expression hardening now.

A silent staring contest ensued. He was the one to look away first, ignoring me and focusing his attention on Annie. “I’d love for you to come over later. It’s just going to be me and a few close friends. Good food, good wine, intelligent conversation.” His sharp blue eyes flicked to me for a second, and I swear to God, I was ready to deck him. He was clearly insinuating I wasn’t capable of the latter.

“We actually have plans,” Annie answered, giving him a small smile. “But maybe some other time.”

Kurt looked like the cat that got the cream, smiling back at her lasciviously. “Yeah, I’d like that. Another time then.” Shooting me one last hostile glance, he turned and left the apartment. The moment the door clicked shut, I began walking Annie backward until her back met the wall.

“Some other time?” I said, cocking an eyebrow.

“I was being polite.”

“You smiled at him.”

“Yeah…he’s my neighbor.”

My tone was tender but firm when I replied, “Annie dearest, forgive me for being blunt, but he wants to fuck you. Something you’ll need to understand about me—I won’t tolerate men like that, especially not in your apartment. You’re mine. I told you this. This is the way it works.”

Her voice was tiny but distinctly outraged. “Are you fucking serious?”

I was surprised by how easily she’d cursed and how natural it sounded slipping from her lovely lips; it seemed my Annie had a dirty mouth. But being this close to her, having her smell surround me and her pliant body flush with mine, it wasn’t a surprise that I grew aroused.

I pressed the evidence of this hard into her thigh, and she let out a little gasp.

“Let go of the righteous indignation, Annie. We’re together now, and there are going to be rules. I don’t want other men alone with you in your apartment, but it goes both ways. I won’t have women at my place, either. Shit, I don’t even want to look at any other woman but you. I feel…very protective of you. Irrationally so? Yeah, maybe. But it’s just the way it has to be. I promise you, once you realize all I want to give you, you’ll like it. Hell, you’ll love it. This is us, and this is permanent.”

Something in her melted. I could feel it in the way her body lost all tension. She sank into me, her hand pressed firmly into my chest. I didn’t want to talk anymore, so I brought my mouth to her swan-like neck and licked a line all the way to her earlobe. She trembled and gripped my shirt. Grabbing the back of her knees, I easily pulled her up, and she wrapped her legs around my waist. It was the perfect position for me to grind my erection right into her sweet spot.

“Ronan,” she sighed right before I captured her lips with mine, plunging my tongue into her soft, wet mouth. I began to move my hips back and forth rhythmically as I devoured her with my teeth, my lips, my tongue. She was so warm and soft I felt I could get lost in her for hours, days. I didn’t know how long we’d been kissing when her phone began to vibrate loudly over on her coffee table.

She loosened her legs and dropped down, breathing heavily and resting her face in the crook of my neck. “God, what are we doing?” she murmured as though to herself. When I took her chin between my fingers and lifted her face to me, she seemed overwhelmed. I was going way too fast, but I couldn’t seem to help it. There was something about Kurt’s presence that made some ridiculous caveman part of me need to stake my claim.

By the time the phone stopped buzzing, Annie seemed to have collected herself.

“Let’s go—grab your coat.”

She nodded, though she appeared to still be dazed as she walked to the closet; but then she suddenly turned back to me. “Oh! I almost forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

“I….” Her eyes lifted to mine then fluttered away to the table behind me. “I got you something.”

“What?”

She walked past me, giving me a little smile, then retrieved a black unmarked bag. “It’s not on the market yet, but it’s supposed to be much better than the latest model; and I noticed you don’t have a watch, so I just thought…here.” She shoved the bag into my hands.

I studied her. “You don’t need to buy me anything.”

“I know. I wanted to do it.”

“Why?”

“Because….” She shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ear self-consciously. “Because, honestly, it felt good. It felt good to think about you and what you might want, what you might need….” Her voice trailed off, and she looked nervous and uncertain.

Her answer was alarming, and I wasn’t sure why it unsettled me. Nevertheless, I tried to give her a reassuring smile as I reached in the bag, pulling out a very sleek, high-tech watch in futuristic-looking packaging.

“It’s a watch,” I said. By the looks of it, it also appeared to be a very expensive watch.

“Yes. But it’s more than that. You can use it to track your calories—both intake and calories burned, and you can enter diet data directly—and distance is recorded via the GPS tracking. And it also lets you send and receive tweets and take pictures which you can upload immediately to social media. It’s 4G, and you’re already connected. So you can do it all anywhere, anytime.” She was smiling at me, a big, hopeful grin. “I thought it might make your online interactions a little easier, plus the fitness tracker….”

Being connected all the time sounded awful; but I saw that she’d put a lot of thought into the gift and was excited about it, so I did the only thing I could.

I said, “Wow, thank you, Annie. This is…really great.” I even sounded like I meant it, probably because I did mean it.

Just the fact that she’d bought me a present blew me away. I was on her mind; she was thinking of ways to make me happy. That was the real gift.

***

I held her hand as we made our way outside to hail a cab. I took her to Tom’s for dinner because she seemed to really like the food there. Thankfully, tonight was Tom’s night off, so I wouldn’t have to sit through Annie fangirling him again.

Instead of sitting opposite her at the booth, I sat right next to her. After what happened at her place, I felt the need to be as close as I could possibly get.

I hadn’t planned on drinking, but strangely, when the waitress came to take our order, I found myself asking for a beer. These feelings I had for Annie, the intensity of them, shit, it was no surprise I needed something to take the edge off. Annie ordered a glass of red wine, and I couldn’t stop staring when her full lips curved around the edge of the glass. I could see in her eyes that she knew exactly what I was thinking.

I asked her lots of questions about her life now, her childhood, the kinds of things she liked to do. She was a tough nut to crack for most of it, only giving me quick, close-ended answers. I wanted to know about the things she’d been through as a kid. Just call me a masochist because I knew hearing about it would piss me off, but I still had this fierce need to know it all, somehow exorcise those demons for her.

She turned the conversation back on me and seemed more than content to listen as I talked about myself. In fact, she ate it up. I saw genuine interest with each new story; it didn’t matter if I was talking about pranks during college or a particularly vicious rugby match, her eyes were bright, watchful, engrossed. She was enthralled, hung on my every word.

She made me feel like I was the king of fascinating blokes. It was a heady feeling, seductive, did wonders for my ego. It confirmed that she genuinely liked me.

“You’re a great storyteller.” Her words were a little slurred, and I smiled warmly. “This was nice,” she went on as she gazed up at me from beneath her thick lashes. She was on her third glass of wine, her cheeks growing rosy, and I’d just finished my second beer. The waitress came and set the bill on the table.

“It’s not over yet,” I replied, rubbing my thumb over her bottom lip. I felt her breath sweep over my skin in a rush.

“No?”

I shook my head, my lips curving in a smile. “I’m taking you dancing.”

Her eyes got big and round, and she seemed surprised. “You dance?”

I nodded. “Relatively well.”

It wasn’t long before we were being papped making our way inside a flashy nightclub in a stylish area of Manhattan. Truth be told, Tom had suggested the place. I knew no more about flashy Manhattan nightclubs than I did about open heart surgery. With my hand firmly on Annie’s lower back, I ushered her to the bar, where a tall, slim woman wearing a belly top took our drinks order.

“Oh, my God! You’re Ronan Fitzpatrick, aren’t you?” a female voice squealed from behind me. Annie got a hunted look on her face and focused intently on the glass she was holding. It was moments like these that I realized just how unused she was to being around people. Obviously, she wasn’t sheltered, but she’d kept herself away from social situations for so long that she was no longer equipped to handle them. I turned to find three women wearing tight little dresses and sky-high heels smiling at me like I’d just told them they’d won the Lotto.

“It is him!” another said. “Could you please sign something for us? We’ve been following your romance this week in all the magazines, and we are just obsessed with the both of you.” They all gave Annie encouraging smiles, but she just stood quietly next to me as though frozen. I signed some napkins for them and let them take some pictures, and they gushed a little more before finally leaving us alone. The barwoman tapped me on the shoulder then and handed me a card.

“We’ve got a private VIP section upstairs if you’d prefer,” she suggested.

I took the card, thanked her, and then slid my hand into Annie’s.

“Did you notice how those women didn’t talk about Brona?” said Annie. “This is good. It means people are focusing more on our relationship than her story.”

“True, but it doesn’t surprise me,” I said tenderly. “One look at those big brown eyes of yours and the public probably fell head over heels.”

Ignoring my compliment, she asked, “Are we going upstairs now?”

“Yeah, soon, but first I want to dance with you,” I replied, leading her to the busy dance floor. The DJ started playing “Nightcall,” and the heavy electronic beat sank into my bones. I brought my arms around Annie’s waist and pulled her close, moving our bodies to the hypnotic song. I stared down at her the entire time, admiring how her lashes cast a dark shadow over her cheekbones. She refused to look at me, instead keeping her gaze fixed firmly in the vicinity of my neck. Frustrated, I brought my hands up to her face and cupped her cheeks, tilting her head so that she’d finally give me her eyes. Her skin felt warm and soft beneath my sport-roughened palms.

Our hips began to move in unison—a slow, sensual rhythm—and now that our gazes were locked, it felt like neither one of us could look away. I stared deep into her eyes, and even though we were surrounded by dozens of strangers, it felt more intimate somehow than if I were inside her. I felt like I was trying to see right into her soul. Right then I knew that this woman had the power to destroy me. It was a frightening prospect. She was way, way deep under my skin. I could hardly fathom what adding sex to the equation would bring, especially if she was open to doing things my way.

“I feel like I could lose myself and find myself in you, Annie,” I murmured close to her ear.

She swallowed. “Don’t say things like that.”

“I can’t help it. Believe me, I’ve tried. You make me feel everything.”

Her body seemed to sink further into mine at that moment, and before I knew it, I was leading her upstairs to the private section the barwoman had recommended. A man in a suit led us to a little half-crescent alcove with plush, expensive-looking seating. Annie made a move to sit down, but I pulled her arm and twirled her so she fell onto my lap. I knew that fourth glass of wine was taking its toll when, instead of protesting, she let out a little giggle. God, she was so fucking sexy. Frenzied, I fisted her long, silky hair in my hand, yanked gently, and then brought my mouth over hers. I heard a small muffled moan as she strained to get closer, her breasts pushing into my chest deliciously.

Letting go of her hair, I grabbed her hips and lifted her so that she was straddling me. It was such a small movement, but it made all the difference. I knew Annie could feel it, too, when she sighed my name.

“Ronan….”

“Can you feel me, love?” I asked darkly, trailing my mouth down her neck, across her collarbone, and over her lush cleavage. I dragged my lips over the tops of her breasts and felt her quivering. Using one hand, I gripped her neck and could feel her pulse fluttering against my fingertips.

“Yeah,” she finally answered, all breathy. “I need more.”

She didn’t have to ask twice. I suddenly appreciated that the skirt of her dress was long and flared rather than close-fitting because it meant I could slide my hand under without it really looking like we were doing more than kissing. Slowly, I ran my palm up her silky thigh before slipping it between her legs and cupping her over her lacy underwear. I didn’t think I’d ever been this turned on in my life. Every little sound she made, every movement, made me feel like I might come without her even needing to touch me.

“Oh, God,” she moaned, seeking my lips eagerly. I sank my tongue into her mouth at the same moment I slid my hand under the lace and felt her for the first time. Fuck, she was wet. She was getting loud now; but the music in the club was blaring, so I was the only one who could hear her. There was something exciting about that, about the fact that one of the workers could come by and discover what we were doing at any moment. I think Annie felt that excitement, too, because her skin was damp and had goosebumps where I was still holding tightly onto her neck. That was the sign that I was the one in control, the one leading her, even though she was on top.

I sank two fingers inside her and felt her pulse all around me. Jesus, I didn’t think I’d last much longer. Groaning, I sought her clit with my thumb, rubbing circles while my fingers moved in a rhythm inside her. She was lost to me then, and I was lost to her. She owned me, and she didn’t have a clue. I broke our kiss because I wanted to see her when she came. I knew she was close because her entire body felt like a coiled spring. Leaning back against the seat, I stared up at her, my hand still working beneath her dress.

Her long hair hung to the side of her face, her lips plump from kissing and her cheeks pink. Her chest rose and fell, making me wish we weren’t in public so I could strip her bare. My body was covered in a layer of perspiration, I was so worked up, and then she came with a sharp, keening cry and tremors that lasted and lasted. She collapsed into my arms, and I was completely done for. Her face was in my neck, mouth planting kisses and murmuring indistinct words.

“That’s it, Annie, that’s it,” I said, my fingers still inside her. I caressed her cheek with my other hand and whispered in her ear. “Come home with me.”

“I shouldn’t….”

“But you want to. For once in your life, let yourself have what you want.”

She looked at me then, biting on her bottom lip, and replied with that sweet little word, “Okay.”

The entire taxi ride to my building, I kissed her. I could have kissed her for hours. You know, those lazy afternoon sessions on the couch when just kissing is enough? Well, I could have done that every day with Annie and never tired of it.

In the lift up to the penthouse, my hands were all over her, in her hair, squeezing her arse, molding her breasts. Hers were all over me, too. She was finally letting go of her inhibitions. When she pressed her hand against my cock, I wanted to bite her, it felt so good. I kissed her so fiercely her lips were probably going to be sore in the morning.

In my mind, I searched through my memory of what I had in the penthouse. I hadn’t brought very much with me, but there had to be something I could use to tie her up. Then I remembered the welcome basket that had been there for me when I arrived. It had silky red ribbon wrapped all around it. It wouldn’t be great, but it would do for now.

Managing to slot my key in the door and still keep my mouth on hers, I pushed it open and pulled her inside, slamming her back against the wall and lifting her leg so that I could press my hard-on into her core. I heard somebody clear their throat just before a voice I recognized well said, “Um, I’m sorry to interrupt you two, but yeah, this is awkward.”

Annie gasped in surprise, and I sagged against her.

Fucking. Hell.

I sighed, my hands fisting in frustration, and clenched my jaw.

“Lucy,” I muttered under my breath. I took a moment to gather myself before I straightened and turned around to see my sister grinning and my mother wearing a small frown.

Sighing, I squeezed Annie’s shoulder and with no small amount of reluctance said, “I guess this is the perfect time for you to meet my family.”