Zed, p.16
Zed, page 16
Like a slippery witness, he had several avoidance tactics that he was clearly used to wielding in order to keep his private life from prying eyes and inquiring minds; changing the subject, deflecting, and answering questions with questions. He’d obviously had years of evasion practice.
“Come on, Zed. Throw me a bone, would you? I’m not in the habit of repeatedly sleeping with random guys I know next to nothing about—”
“Repeatedly?” He quirked his eyebrow, laying down a challenge.
“Maybe. So work with me here.”
“Hey, listen, you’re not in court now. You can’t expect to cross-examine someone and have them spill their guts just like that. At least not if that someone is me. I’m not under oath.”
“I get that, but I don’t want to put you on the witness stand, for God’s sake. I just want to get to know you a little better, find out what makes you tick. Pretty normal stuff, really. Look, while I’m the first to admit that I find it hard to switch off the lawyer part of my brain at any given moment in time, but this is more than just that. I’ll be honest with you—I’m genuinely really intrigued by you. I’ve definitely never met anyone quite like you. You’re a whole bunch of paradoxes, and I just can’t figure you out.”
“That’s because there’s nothing to figure out. What you see is what you get.”
I’d never met a person for whom that statement was less true. He was a complicated enigma: both rough and smooth, wild and tame, down to earth and cultured. Nothing about Zed was standard issue, that was for sure.
I decided to change tack.
“Tell me about Lily.”
He looked stricken, his eyes swiveling about the room as though looking for his nearest escape route. I felt bad for cornering him that way, but I knew he was never going to willingly offer information without me asking him. I could also tell that convincing him to open up was going to be the key to getting to know him, and the truth was, I truly wanted to get better acquainted with him.
After what seemed like an age of trying to work out how to bolt from the crowded restaurant, Zed finally met my eyes. I sucked in a rapid breath, shocked by the raw emotion etched across his features. It was as though he had momentarily let the mask fall, and the pain and anguish in his eyes were heartbreaking. I held my breath, waiting for him to make the next move.
“I can’t. I want to, but—” His voice cracked, and he wiped the corner of his eye with the back of his hand.
Holy shit.
I threw him a lifeline. “I’m fascinated by the psychology of birth order. I guess being one of six kids would do that to you.” As much as I wanted to know him, I didn’t want to break him. He’d let me in by allowing me to see and feel his pain. I wasn’t about to bring him to his knees in the middle of a crowded restaurant.
“Six kids? I thought you said you had four sisters, with the historically significant names.” The mask had slipped back into place, replacing the sorrow with a carefully crafted neutral expression.
“You remembered! I did indeed say that, and it’s true, I do. But I also have an older brother.”
“Ah, okay, so where do you sit in the lineup, and what does that say about you psychologically?”
“Well, I’m in the middle, possibly the shittiest place to be.”
“How so?”
“Well, think about it. Older kids have their thing—the pioneer, the protector of their younger siblings. They tend to be leaders and trailblazers, but not in a wild and carefree way. They’re too weighed down by a sense of responsibility and setting a good example, especially for their younger siblings, for that. They tend to be cautious, conscientious, maybe a little controlling.
“Then you have the youngest children, who are generally the exact opposite. They’re the wild ones—unencumbered by responsibility, frequently spoiled and coddled by both their parents and their older siblings. They can often be very manipulative. They’re self-centered, and their lives tend to be all about them and their instant gratification. They’re the classic live-for-today types—the epitome of yolo, even before it was a thing. Thinking about consequences isn’t their thing. They’re fun people to be around though, very outgoing, and they like to be the center of attention.”
I studied him for any kind of reaction to my words and was met with the same artfully neutral expression. God, he was hard work.
“But middle children are neither here nor there, so to speak. It tends to be pretty hard for them to carve out a niche for themselves. It’s almost as though they’re defined by what they’re not. Not the eldest, not the youngest, so what does that make them? We can be quite rebellious as a way to distinguish ourselves from our siblings. I think that gene skipped me though, because I’ve never so much as colored outside the lines. Literally. The way things have worked out, with the age gaps between us, we have kind of joint oldest, joint youngest, and then me right in the middle of both.”
“Math is not really my thing, so correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t that add up to only five kids? There are six of you, no?”
“Yeah, sorry, I should explain. My brother, Nate, was adopted. He came to us when he was nine years old. Psychologically, the order effect thing isn’t really a thing with adopted children unless they enter the family as an infant, thus taking their place in the pecking order like the rest of the kids.”
I paused while the waiter brought our desserts—mine a rich and lavish chocolate confection, Zed’s a cheese platter—then drained the last of the champagne from my glass.
“Another?” Zed offered.
I shielded the top of my glass with my palm. “No thanks. I’ll be a drooling wreck if I drink any more. Remember before I said whiskey is like water to me, but anything grape-based goes straight to my head? I don’t want you to have to carry me home. How did the order effect work in your family?”
“Ha! Ever the lawyer. I should’ve known that any information you offered up in the conversation wasn’t just idle chatter but leading to something else.”
“You’re a textbook eldest child.”
“Really? How so?”
“Are you kidding me? Serious, controlled, conscientious, reserved. The nurturing, protective thing—like the way you’ve taken Xavier under your tutelage—is classic big brother behavior. And speaking of brothers, tell me about yours.”
“Nope. We won’t be talking about him tonight, or any night for that matter.”
It really was like pulling teeth with this guy, but in some ways that was for good reason. If I’d been through what he had, I’d likely be a locked vault as well.
Still, the finality in his tone was almost scary. He was cold as ice, which told me I was getting warm when it came to peeling away some of the layers of Zed’s complex emotional onion. However, it also told me not to keep pushing the issue tonight, or else I’d risk ruining the date, having already come close by enquiring about his sister Lily. If I was going to make any progress, it was going to have to be slow going. But having noted several gaping holes in his case file, I was determined to find out more.
23
Zed
Oh hell no. No fucking way was she about to coax me into talking about him. Wasn’t going to happen. The only thing guaranteed to put me in more of a funk than speaking or thinking about him was any mention of my parents—which, of course, was bound to be part of a conversation about little brother dearest.
Not today, Satan.
We finished our meal and drove back to Vivi’s place in contemplative silence, both lost in thought. I had a tendency to get stuck in my own head, but I really wanted to bring the date back from the brink.
As I pulled up to the curb outside her apartment building, I cut the engine and turned her way.
“I’m sorry about before. Talking about my family tends to kill my vibe.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m sorry I was heavy-handed.”
Speaking of hands, she reached across to mine, which were still braced on the steering wheel. She interlaced our fingers, and I marveled at how such an innocent, G-rated gesture could feel more intimate than the kiss we’d shared earlier that day, or even when we’d slept together. Though maybe intimate wasn’t quite the right word. It was a gesture that signified a deep and ongoing connection between two people. It felt permanent.
I brought our entwined fingers to my mouth and kissed each of her knuckles, never moving my gaze from hers. Vivi shuddered almost imperceptibly and swallowed hard, as affected by the encounter as I was. She licked her lips, and her eyelids lowered heavily. My dick hardened painfully in response.
We needed to leave the car. Stat.
“So, I think we should go upstairs. Either that or we stay here and give your neighbors a floor show. What do you say?”
“Umm… as tempting as it is to give the curtain twitchers something to talk about for the next few months, I want to be able to look them in the eye when we share an elevator, so I think it would be best if we took this behind closed doors.”
She had a point.
In trying to be discreet, we at least made it off the street and into the building, if not into her apartment. As we waited for the elevator to arrive, I lost my battle with patience and restraint, pushing Vivi against the wall and sinking my mouth to hers with no preamble. I swallowed her little yelp of shock and waited for her body to catch up to mine.
Moments later, she was right there with me, kissing me back with a fervor that matched my own. I slid my knee between her legs, bending it so it pressed against her clit. That time it was a groan of appreciation I stifled with my lips. She ground down hard against my knee, and I knew I’d hit the spot.
When the elevator pinged open, I was thankful to find it empty, and without breaking our embrace, I walked Vivi backward into it. Stopping for her to press the button for the twelfth floor, I pushed her against the side mirror and decided to up the ante, replacing my knee with my hand, moving under her black slip dress and straight into her panties. Her body jolted at my touch, but she raised one leg, bending the knee and resting her foot against the elevator wall behind us, granting me better access. I quickly slipped first one, then two fingers inside her, rotating them slowly.
“Holy shit.” She spoke into my mouth, and it was hot as hell.
The elevator pinged at her floor, but there was no way in hell I was getting out of it at that point. I stretched one foot back enough to trick the door sensor and keep the elevator in place, all the while still working Vivi over with my mouth and hand.
“Zed, we can’t do this here.”
“We can and we are. I want to make you come.” I could see and feel that she was close, so I started pumping my fingers in and out of her, making sure to brush her clit with my palm each time.
“I can’t….” But clearly she could and she was. I felt the telltale clench of her muscles around my fingers and knew she was there. I pumped harder still, smiling against her lips as she screamed out in joy, her head lolling back against the mirror behind her, her eyes tightly closed. The look of bliss on her face was unmistakable.
“So much for discretion among your neighbors. I’m pretty sure people could hear you scream in Jersey.”
Her eyes snapped open. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t be sorry. I loved every minute.” I pulled my fingers slowly from inside her, bringing them to our lips. I slipped one into each of our mouths, and we gently sucked them clean of her arousal. Then I kissed her again, loving the taste of her on her lips. I registered the shudder of orgasmic aftershocks through her body. Good.
“Come on. I think we’d better get out of here.”
As I stood behind her while she fumbled in her purse for her keys, it was all I could do to resist hitching her dress up and fucking her from behind against her own front door. Instead, I bit my lip so hard that I almost drew blood in an attempt to restrain myself. Something about this girl really brought out the fiend in me.
She got the door open after what felt like a lifetime and led me by the hand into the still-immaculate living area of her apartment, then across to the dining table. Given that we’d just consumed a rich and generously portioned meal, I knew she didn’t want to eat. At least not food, anyway.
When she pulled off her dress in one swoop, then made equally light work of her delicate panties and bra, I knew I’d read the situation correctly.
“Umm… unless I’m going to be doing this thing alone, you’d better stop gawking, get your ass in gear and get naked too.”
That was all the wake-up call I needed to get out of my black jeans, dress shirt, and boxer briefs faster than she could say “last one naked isn’t getting laid.”
When I was done, she held out her hand. “Condom?”
I grabbed my wallet from my pants pocket and handed her the foil packet.
“Thanks. Now sit.” She nodded to the chair at the head of the dining table. I sat, unsure of where she was going with this but one-hundred-percent there for the ride regardless. Before I knew it, she was straddling me on the chair, facing me. This girl truly was full of surprises. I raised a questioning eyebrow.
“What, did you think Corporate Barbie was a missionary kind of a girl? You have a lot to learn about me, my friend, and the same can definitely be said vice versa.”
My dick definitely agreed, bobbing eagerly between us. Taking the not-so-subtle hint, Vivi wasted no time in sheathing me before returning her gaze to mine. I loved her eyes, not only because of their unusually light tone but also because of the way they changed, glinted and glimmered to reflect her mood.
Whether she was staring into my eyes or gazing at me from afar, I always got the impression that she was seeing me, not just looking at me. It was kind of disconcerting the way she seemed to take so much more notice of me—what I was thinking and feeling, what I wasn’t saying—than anybody close to me ever had, even my parents.
I didn’t want my shit-stained past to wreck my vibe in my very pleasant present, so I snapped my mind back to the room and the one person who did see me. She was looking concerned. Damn.
“Where’d you go just now?”
“Nowhere. I’m right here. Never wanted to be anywhere more, in fact.” I shifted my gaze from her to my sheathed and waiting dick, then quickly back again. It wasn’t subtle, but it got my message across.
Vivi didn’t miss a beat. “You’re deflecting, again, but I’m going to let you get away with it this time because you’re right. I want you right now.” Clearly subtlety wasn’t a thing for either of us at that point, and I was glad.
Bracing herself with one hand on my shoulder, she lifted herself up and used the other hand to guide my dick to her entrance. She hesitated a moment, and we both caught our breath. Then she lowered herself slowly onto me, easing me inside her. She placed her other hand on my shoulder, using both hands to give her leverage to lift slowly up and down. She rode me as though we were made of glass, taking the utmost care, not breaking eye contact. I felt like we’d symbolically signed some kind of contract, but I wasn’t sure what it said.
Something seemed to shift and she pulled up faster, throwing her head back and closing her eyes. Then she was riding me hard and fast. She was in control, rising and falling to the beat in her head, taking me deeper with every fall. I slid my hands to her hips, attempting to slow things down a little, but Vivi had other ideas.
“Don’t. I want this as hard and as fast as possible.”
Despite my attempt to apply the brakes only moments earlier, hers was a plan I could definitely get behind. I followed suit, closing my eyes and leaning my head back against the top of the dining chair so I could focus on the pleasure, but also on not coming too soon.
My plan worked. I was as turned on as I’d ever been, but Vivi rode me until I felt her muscles clench around me. We came hard and heavy together, and I swore that had my eyes been open, I would’ve been seeing stars.
As it was, the two of us were a sweaty but sated mess. Vivi slipped her hands behind my neck, tugging gently to bring my focus back to her. When she had my full attention, she leaned in, kissing my forehead and my lips.
“Thank you.”
“What for?”
“Two perfect orgasms. I’m a lucky girl.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m the one winning in this equation, so thank you. Now come on, Corporate Barbie, do you think we could lie down on an actual bed? My back isn’t loving this chair right now.”
She laughed at that. “So says the old man.”
“Hey, less of the old, but you’re right. I want to be comfortable. Come on.”
Before she had the chance to raise an objection, I was up and stalking through her apartment with her in my arms. Ever the quick thinker, she wrapped her legs around me, and we stayed connected until I lowered her onto her bed. Despite having just come, my erection didn’t seem to be going anywhere.
“Not bad for an old man, right?” I motioned toward my dick.
She laughed, taking the comment in the spirit in which it was meant. “Not bad for any man.”
24
Vivi
“I love the work you’ve done for Anton. In fact, I love all your work.”
“Thanks. It feels good to hear you say that. Although each piece means something specific to the client, every tattoo I create also means something to me. It’s always been that way, from day one. If I don’t feel a design, or the reasoning behind it, or the client requesting it, I’ll refuse the job. Period. That’s the beauty of a boutique place like ours, where people actively seek out artists whose work resonates with them, and with whom there’s some kind of connection or affinity and vice versa, rather than just sitting in any old chair in some conveyor joint.”
I loved how passionate he was about what he did. It was God knew what time in the small hours of the morning—we’d dozed and screwed again after Zed had carried me to my bed—yet when talking about his work, he was as animated as though it were the middle the day.
