Man in Love Page 8

  His reminder that I better really be doing what I said I was doing was unnecessary. “I’m so frustrated. It’s not enough. I’m begging for more. Give me more, Scott.”

  I heard another rustle of movement followed by a zipper. “You’ve spread your legs, and now your hand has moved down. You’ve put your fingers inside you.”

  “How many?”

  “Two to begin. Are you wet?”

  “I’m soaked.” I paused so I could mirror the pose he’d asked me to take. Then I stuck two fingers inside me, stopping at the second knuckle so I could pull them out only to put them back in.

  “Deeper, Tessa,” he said, as though he actually knew how shallow I’d been with my probe. “I want them as far as they can go. I want you stretched. I want you to ache. When I look at your face, is it aching?”

  “Not yet.” It was a near lie. The dual roles he played, boyfriend and voyeur, had me turned on like I’d never been before. My desperation did indeed have me aching.

  But I wasn’t aching like I would if he were actually there. I wasn’t stretched and spread and filled the way I would have been if it were his cock instead of my fingers. “I wish it were you inside me.”

  “Put three fingers in, baby. Curve your hand so your thumb can rub your clit, and no more going slow. I want to see a steady pace. Can you hear this?”

  I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be hearing at first. But then he seemed to move his phone, and I could hear a distinct sound of rhythmic rubbing. Of skin against skin. His hand moving quickly up and down along the length of his shaft.

  “I want to be your hand,” I said, acknowledging I could hear it. Acknowledging my intense need in the threadbare tone of my voice.

  “That’s the tempo I want your fingers to be fucking you. Match that tempo.”

  I did as he instructed, put three fingers in, moved them in at the rough speed he’d adopted, rubbed my clit furiously at the same time. “It’s too much.”

  “Don’t slow down, Tessa,” he ordered. “I want to see you struggling.”

  “I am. You do. You see me leaning my forehead. Against the glass. Because I can’t. Stand up on my own anymore.” My sentences came out short and choppy as my breath picked up. “You see my eyes closed. My face twisted. My mouth open.”

  “I’m close,” he said, and I could picture him too—his eyes closed, his face twisted, his mouth open. “I’m going to come all over my hand. You’ve done that to me. I’m watching you, and you’re so fucking hot, and I’m going to make a mess all over myself because of you.”

  “Yes, yes.”

  “Put your phone on speaker, and flash me your tits. I want to see your breasts pressed up against the glass.”

  I didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even pause to check once more to be sure no one was watching. I just did as he said—hit the speaker, set the phone on the windowsill, and lifted up my shirt, wrestling with it one-handed until my breasts were bare. Then I pressed them against the window.

  “Can you see them?” I asked. “The glass is cold. But I’m so hot. I’m going to come.”

  “Your nipples look like daggers. They’re so hard.”

  “They’re so hard,” I echoed shrilly.

  “And I can tell you’re about to come. But you’re fighting it. You don’t slow down, but you’re waiting to release.”

  I sawed my fingers in and out despite the clenching of my pussy, fought against my threatening orgasm despite being on the ragged edge. “What am I waiting for?” I cried, unsure I could hold off another moment.

  “You’re waiting for your boyfriend to tell you that you can come.”

  “He wants us to come together.”

  “He does.”

  “What does he need from me to get there?”

  In the pause I could hear his hand moving along his cock, his tempo picking up to a furious pace. “Tell me how close you are. Tell me again what I see while I’m looking at you.”

  “I’m so close. My legs are spread, my knees are buckled. My pants have fallen to my ankles. My tits are bare against the glass. My nipples are so taut they hurt. My fingers are jabbing inside of me. I’m so wet. So slick I can hear it. Oh my God. Oh my God, it’s so hot.”

  “Come, Tessa. Come with me.” His voice tightened, and by the end of his sentence I knew he was already coming.

  And I was coming with him. My entire body tensing as I rocked against the window, my hand frozen between my legs, too afraid the change in sensation would kill me if I moved it. There were stars in the night across my vision that weren’t there when I’d looked at the sky, and as much as I’d tried to hold my sound in, a jagged cry escaped me.

  “Fuck, that was hot.” Scott sounded as destroyed as I was when he spoke.

  “Oh my God, the hottest,” I agreed, slumping to the floor, my pants still around my ankles. After wiping my hand on my shirt—I was not in a state to be concerned with whether or not that was gross—I picked up my phone and turned off the speaker before bringing it to my ear. “I wonder if Bennie and Tey heard me in the other room.”

  “Shit, Tess. Are you trying to get me hard again?”

  I let out a harsh laugh. “If you are, you’re on your own because I am nowhere near recovered.”

  “Duly noted.”

  We fell silent. I was still trying to catch my breath, trying to steady my heartbeat. As I came down from the high, my brain kicked in. This thing with Scott had to be more than just sneaking around and phone sex. The kink was fun, but I’d reached a point in my life where I’d learned that the fun always fizzled eventually. That’s when the guy usually disappeared.

  I didn’t want Scott to disappear.

  I said I could give him a day. Truth was, I could give him longer than that. Knowing me, I’d give him too long. I always did.

  A sort of hopelessness started to creep in at the edges of my good mood. I wanted so badly to keep it at bay. Needed to keep it at bay. Needed Scott to help me. “So tomorrow…”

  He jumped right in. “I didn’t talk to them tonight because my mother is always sulky after my father has spent the day golfing and because I was going to be with you. Monday night is our standing family dinner night anyway, which is the best time for trying to keep my parents’ attention.”

  “Family dinner?” Being an only child from a single mother, a family anything was a somewhat foreign idea.

  “Immediate family. Though it’s only about once a month that all my siblings show up. It tends to work out for the best that way so we can rotate who has to bear the criticism and regret. It was already my turn, so it’s perfect timing.”

  “Yuck.” It made me wonder why any of them would continue to go. The power Scott’s parents held over their children really was stronger than I understood. Which got me thinking... “What will happen when you tell them?”

  “Well.” He cleared his throat, and I braced for him to either say something terrible or for him to lie. I didn’t know which I’d rather hear. “They’ll try to talk me out of it, of course. Try to bribe me. My father will tell me to forget my transfer and then will give me a list of failures that validate why I didn’t deserve another position anyway. A typical family dinner.”

  My stomach clenched. “That sounds horrible, Scott. How can you stand them?” Why did he stand them was the real question. And would he end up backing down?

  “It’s how they’ve always been. I guess I’m used to it.”

  “But you don’t have to be. Parents don’t have to be terrible, and when they are, they don’t have to be part of your life.” It hadn’t been my choice to be abandoned by my father, but having been, I was fully aware that it was possible to live without him.

  Of course, it was probably a lot different for Scott being a Sebastian and all. I’d had enough experience with the elite to know their ties held stronger than others. Their bonds often impossible to break.

  I expected him to tell me that now, but instead he said, “You make it sound so easy.”

  I wanted
it to be that easy for him. Not just for what it meant for us as a couple—were we really a couple?—but for what it meant for him as a son. As a man. He was already so much. How much more could he be if he took charge of his life and stopped letting them pull him down?

  I should have told him so, but the words didn’t come. The most inspiration I could give him was, “Good luck.”

  “There’s no reason to worry, Tessa,” he said, seeming to sense my unvoiced concerns. “I’m going to stand up to them. The only reason they’ve had power over me in the past is because I didn’t have any good reason to fight with them. Now I do. And I will. No matter what it takes.”

  My chest warmed, and my muscles relaxed. And maybe it was naïve to believe anything a hot boy said, but I did, and if it bit me in the ass in the end, then so be it.

  “I miss you,” I said, the words slipping out without warning.

  “I miss you too, baby,” he said without hesitation, relieved maybe to not be talking about his parents anymore. “Not just because I want to marathon-fuck you all night. I miss looking at you. I miss breathing the same air you breathe. Is that stupid? I only dropped you off six hours ago. What are you doing to me, Tessa Turani?”

  I grinned, a wide dopey grin that I would have been shy to show him if he were present but wouldn’t have been able to hold back. Shocks of pleasure spread over my body, making my skin tingle and my belly twist and my pussy buzz and my heart feel full.

  “I don’t know, Scott Sebastian,” I said honestly. “But whatever it is, you’re doing the same to me.”

  Eight

  Scott

  “You’re here early,” I said, surprised to walk in and find my brother in my parents’ penthouse living room.

  Cole looked up from the bar where he was pouring more than two fingers of something amber into a tumbler. “You are too.”

  “That I am.” It was unusual for both of us. While my parents didn’t tolerate tardiness, my siblings and I had perfected the art of arriving Just On Time. Rare was the occasion when not one but two of us arrived for the weekly dinner a whole hour before serving time.

  He held his drink up as if to ask if I wanted one. When I shook my head, he explained his presence. “I was out of the good scotch at the office. You?”

  “I have something to discuss with them.” There was no need to specify the them. “Thought if I got here beforehand, I’d have a better chance at gauging their moods.” I wasn’t going to add that my anticipation over the conversation had made it impossible to sit at my desk one minute more than necessary. Even with typical rush-hour traffic, I’d made it to the Upper West Side well ahead of dinner.

  He considered. “Right now I think you’re at a three for Mom. Five and a half for Dad.”

  We’d developed the parental mood scale years ago. It ran from one to ten, the high end being the that-might-have-been-a-smile side of the scale, the low end being the run-for-your-life side.

  “They’re in good moods then.”

  “The most surprising part about it is that they’re in the same room and still just as chipper.”

  “Hmm.” The knot of tension in my shoulders tightened. They never chose to spend time together voluntarily. And if they’d been in good moods when they’d entered the room, it was safe to say it wouldn’t last. “Where are they?”

  Cole unbuttoned his jacket as he sat down in the wingback armchair. “Library.” He lifted one foot then the other to the foot rest, not bothering to remove his shoes before he crossed them at the ankle. “Dad got in a new revolver today. He’s unpacking and inspecting it. Cataloging every scratch and nick. You know the drill.”

  “That explains why you gave him a five.” My father’s favorite hobby besides golf was his collection of antique guns. It wouldn’t have surprised me to find out he’d named the collection as his sole benefactor in his will. Either that or he’d bury them with him. I was one hundred percent sure he loved them more than any of his children except for his only daughter.

  “Five and a half,” Cole corrected, as though the half made a difference because it did. “Mom decided to take advantage of his fine spirits and followed him in. She’s working on a guest list and wants his input.”

  Oh, God. My father hated any type of event planning. So much for that half being relevant. He was likely already on his way down to a four.

  I’d been torn whether or not to bring up my engagement before or during dinner. Now I was definitely thinking before.

  I took a step toward the library and paused. “What event is she planning? Do you know? Do I want to know?”

  “Your engagement party, it seems. Funny that I hadn’t been informed that you were engaged.”

  “I’m not.” And now I was reconsidering that drink. My mother was a finisher. She was not going to be happy to be told her planning was for naught.

  “Mom sure seems to think you are.”

  “Well, what she thinks and what is are often quite different.” I crossed over to the bar and grabbed a tumbler from the cupboard, then poured some of “the good scotch.” Whiskey wasn’t my usual drink of choice, but I needed something with a swift kick to settle me before going in that room.

  The first sip sent a scorching burn down my throat. The second sip was less harsh, and the weight on my chest started to feel bearable.

  “Tell me something,” I said, knowing that I should be headed into the library instead of prolonging the inevitable. “How did you get Dad to transfer you without being married?”

  Cole was older by two years, and I’d always assumed his status as first son was why he’d been given his dream position at SIC as soon as he’d asked. But now that I actually thought about it, giving anything to anyone without making them jump through hoops was not my father’s style. Especially when the anyone was one of his sons.

  “Oh, so that’s what he demanded.” He nodded as though something had fallen into place in his head. “He’d mentioned he was considering putting you on the board. I didn’t put two and two together.”

  “And you’re VP of strategy. Aren’t you supposed to be a whiz at connecting the dots? Something smells of nepotism.”

  We chuckled in unison. Nepotism ran galore at SIC, but that didn’t mean any of us were undeserving. We’d been bred for the sole purpose of one day working at the family business. We’d grown up learning every aspect of the company alongside our normal studies. We’d been tested and given grades as far back as I could remember. No one was more qualified to take on a position of importance than a Sebastian.

  Which was why I deserved to work in research and development instead of in fucking PR. I’d had years of covering up my father’s shitty image. If I had to do it for even one more, I knew I’d throw myself off the SIC tower.

  Or, that had been my attitude before Tess.

  Stomaching the job was a lot more tolerable when she was a part of the day. Maybe it was too soon to think about a future with her, but telling my parents I wasn’t marrying Kendra Montgomery automatically put my future under scrutiny. And if it meant staying where I was at SIC for the rest of my life to merely get a chance at something more with her, it was a no-brainer. Sign me the fuck up.

  “Marriage, man,” Cole said sympathetically. “That’s a pretty intense stipulation, even from Dad. The ‘rents must be getting anxious for grandchildren.”

  “That was my impression.”

  “Well, it wasn’t the bargaining chip he used with me. Believe me, though, the old man has a creative mind when it comes to torturous terms in his bargaining. VP of strategy didn’t come for free.”

  Of course it hadn’t. How had I ever thought otherwise?

  It was clear my brother wasn’t going to offer more details of the deal he’d had to make, and I could have asked, but there was sort of an unwritten rule amongst the five of us not to speak of the arrangements we had with our parents. As if not talking about them somehow gave them less power. It was easier to pretend we lived normal lives with normal familial bonds if w
e didn’t give voice to the cruel expectations that accompanied the Sebastian name.

  As ruthless as our parents’ demands might be, they always were open to negotiation. At least there was that.

  I took another sip of the scotch before putting the half-drunk glass on the bar. “I’d better go in there.”

  “Unless you want to wait until Mom has her wine in hand at dinner. But I wouldn’t recommend that. Zach’s coming.”

  That was all he had to say. Zach was our youngest brother, and whenever he was in the room, our father’s focus was on him. Not because he was a golden child by any means, but because the kid got into more trouble than the rest of us combined. Dad frequently said he had shit for brains, but I had a feeling he was probably smarter than us all. He’d certainly learned how to get attention when the rest of us fought for any scrap we could get. It didn’t matter that the attention was negative. At least he was seen.

  “Alrighty then. Going in.” I took a deep breath and started for the library door when Cole called after me.

  “Word of advice? Don’t agree to anything without asking for time to think it over. Dad has a way of making it seem like you don’t have any other options, but you always do.”

  “Always?” I gave him an incredulous look. From my experience, Dad’s gift was making sure there actually weren’t other options.

  “Always,” he repeated.

  If he believed it then...knock on wood.

  Literally. I rapped three times on the library door.

  “Come!” It was my father’s distracted tone. I wasn’t surprised to see him standing behind his desk, completely engaged as he shined his new pistol with a cloth. “Pre-twentieth century,” he said, holding it up for me to see. “Lion-headed ivory grip. Back when you could get tusks without all that animal rights fuss. Only had to spend twenty-five Gs.”

  Thank God I didn’t have to feign interest or pretend that animal rights laws weren’t a good thing because my mother jumped in from her spot on the sofa. “Oh, good, you’re here.” Her almost pleasant expression quickly turned into a scowl as she looked at the nothing behind me. “Where’s Kendra?”