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“Put your feet on the pegs.” I point down.

“I’m not a child. I can figure it out.”

I try not to laugh because she is acting like a child. But surprisingly she does as she’s told.

“Good.” I’m trying to encourage her.

She gives me a closed mouth smile; I ignore her obnoxious gesture. “Have you ever ridden on one of these?”

“No. But how hard could it be?”

“For you, not very. It’s all a question of balance. Just stay upright and hold on.”

“Where’s your helmet?” she asks as I hop on.

“I gave it to you,” I say over my shoulder.

“You don’t have two?”

“I just bought the bike a few hours ago. I didn’t think I’d have a passenger so soon.” At that she says nothing. I can’t see her expression to tell whether she’s making a face. I put both my feet on the ground and turn my head. “Ready?”

“Are you sure you know how to drive this?” she asks nervously.

“I had one in New York. And besides, I’ve been riding dirt bikes and surfing my whole life. This is a piece of cake.”

But she stiffens when I climb onto the seat. “Hold on to me,” I tell her, as I click the kickstand up. For once she’s quiet. She says nothing as her arms wrap loosely around my chest. I grin as I jam my boot down on the throttle. “Tighter. You have to hold tighter than that.”

She clasps her hands together and I lower them. When I do, I feel her shoulders against my back. It’s something I’ve experienced with her before and this time I’m the quiet one as I ride off the few miles to West Hollywood. She moves closer as I zoom out onto the street and with her so close to me, I can’t push away the memories.

I had her naked before me sitting on the bathroom counter and I had to have her. She pulled my head to hers for a deep kiss. I circled my tongue just to taste more of her. Her lips were soft and tasted like mint. As my hands slid down her chest, her full breasts were too much to resist so I bent down and sucked on them. She still had her heels on and she ran the toe of her shoe up my thigh.

“Take those off,” I instructed.

She kicked them to the ground, pressed herself back against the counter and spread her legs apart before running her bare foot back up the same path on my leg. This time her painted blue toes curled around my hard cock and I stifled a groan. When her hands went to the same spot, she etched my erection with her fingernails. I leaned back and toed off my sneakers then shoved my jeans and boxers down in one swift movement before removing my shirt. Then I lowered my head. “You sure you want to do this?” I asked her as we both stood naked in the bathroom.

She nodded and reached her hand back down to my cock.

“Say it.” I wanted to make sure she wanted this as much as me.

“I want you to fuck me,” she breathed.

“Good, because that’s just what I’m going to do. I promise.”

She hopped off the counter and before I could ask where she thought she was going she dropped to her knees. As her hands explored what I had to offer, I gripped the counter. But when her mouth plunged around me I yelled, “Fuck!”

I heard myself groan loudly as her teeth grazed under my cockhead and her hand grabbed the base. When my throbbing dick hit the back of her throat, I forgot all about where we were and even who we were and just took what she was giving. “Oh yeah, like that, just like that,” I said to her and dropped my head back.

Most guys start getting blowjobs young, but Dahl and I had been together forever and she never liked to give them. So unless she was really drunk or I begged for it, it wasn’t part of our sex life. And the few times she had attempted it, she never took it very far.

I looked down. S’belle licked every inch of me, sliding her tongue up and down my length before taking me down her throat again. She worked her mouth, up and down, back and forth. She fucked me so hard with that mouth, I couldn’t help but yell out, “Fuck, yes! Yeah, that’s it!” Fuck me, nothing could feel better than the way she slid my cock from one side of her mouth to the other, then down to the back of her throat. “Oh yeah, baby, that’s it, that’s it.” When I was close, I put my hands on the back of her head and guided her. She didn’t pull away—and there was nothing I wanted more than to come in her mouth. “Oh fuck!” The last strokes of her tongue made me explode. I filled her mouth and as she swallowed she still didn’t stop. I fucking loved it—the feeling that shot through my body was like anything I’d ever felt. I kept the pressure on her head for a few more seconds before letting go of everything as satisfaction rippled through me.

When I let up, she sat back on her heels and I could see the evidence of my pleasure glistening on her lips. I was panting, spent, and so fucked up, but all I knew was I wanted more.

During the ride she squeezes my waist tight when I whip around a corner. Her address turns out to be a nicely kept Spanish style apartment complex. She moves quickly to dismount as soon as I’ve turned off the engine but I reach my hand back. “From the left side, always from the left,” I say. She does as I ask and once her heels touch the sidewalk she whips her helmet from her head and her long red hair tumbles down her shoulders. Her cheeks are red from the cool air, but the smile on her face says what I know she clearly won’t—that she enjoyed herself.

“I’ll be right back,” she says and hands me the helmet.

I admire her ass as she enters the iron gate and disappears in the courtyard. Sitting alone, I allow myself to get lost in the memory of our night together.

“Are you okay?” she asks, having returned with a bag in hand.

I look up into those emerald green eyes. “Never better. Now hop on so I can get you to work on time.”

This time she grips my waist without hesitation—and as I steer out onto the road I feel a sense of happiness I haven’t felt in a long time.

When I pull over she hops off and hands me the helmet. “Thanks for the ride.”

She looks at her wrist again and I have to ask. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“What?” she asks.

“Looking at your arm.”

“Oh, I smashed my watch on a serving tray last week and can’t get used to not having it there.” She shrugs. “Habit, I guess.”

I nod in understanding.

“See you around.” She waves and heads toward the sliding doors.

“Bye, S’belle. See you around.” The whole situation is amusing to me because she obviously doesn’t know I’ll be attending the affair as well.

She turns and walks backward to continue the conversation. “My name is Bell.”

I grin and say nothing, thinking,
“Sure thing, Red.”

Shaking her head, she turns her back to me. I glance at my watch. I have an hour to get back here so I pull into the street and race to my fleabag hotel to get changed for work. In the shower I turn the water on full blast. Steam from the hot water fogs the mirror by the time I’m done. I wipe it a few times and push my hair back with both hands. Alone in the bathroom, staring at myself, I see a reflection from a different time.

The curves of her beautiful breasts, a face full of promises, wild hair, me slamming into her from behind as she leaned over the counter and I looked in the mirror. Moans of passion that I wasn’t sure were hers or mine. My body shaking . . . hers quivering. I had been drunk, sure, but I felt completely sober when my hands roamed her body. Her pussy was so sweet I couldn’t get enough. Without any inhibitions, I told her all of my deepest sexual desires. She only smiled in response as I stood and brought her mouth to mine. I felt my dick throb.

With my body pressed up against hers, heat was everywhere, surrounding us. She pulled back and looked at me with clear eyes. “You’re not from LA, are you?” she asked.

“What makes you say that?”

“You just seem different.”

“Born and raised in Laguna.”

“On the beach. Was it fun?”

I ran my hands through my hair and quirked a smile. It wasn’t the time for conversation. My arms caged her body and my throbbing cock rubbed against her thigh.

Her eyes roved up and down my body and she licked her lips before dropping her gaze. “I think I really like surfers.”

“Oh yeah, what makes you say that?”

She pushed the hair from my eyes before dropping her stare again. “Tan, sun-bleached hair, hot, and sexy.”

I moved closer and whispered in her ear. “This hot and sexy guy is done talking now. I want to fuck you.”

She traced her tongue along my lips and moaned. Breathing heavily she purred, “Please.”

I urged her closer. She was so wet I slid inside her with unabashed ease. She closed her eyes, but I had a strange need to see her while I fucked her. I lifted her chin. “Look at me.”

We stared into the depths of each other’s eyes as I slowly moved in and back out so I could feel the thrill again. Each time I thrust in only felt better than the last. I could see in her eyes how much she was enjoying it and I was fucking loving it, too. Each plunge brought me closer to the brink. I tried to control myself but she was doing crazy things to me. When I could see she was close I said, “Come with me.”

She dug her nails into my back and wrapped her legs tighter around my waist. The sensation of filling her so deeply was unreal. She called out my name over and over and through gritted teeth I did the same. Once my orgasm subsided, I looked at myself in the mirror and was struck by a huge wave of guilt. Despite it, I closed my lids and felt my cock swell. It wasn’t anywhere near done and neither was I.

“Hey, surfer boy.” She pulled my attention back toward her. “Can we do that again?”

“I plan to.” I pulled away and circled her like she was my prey. “Put your heels back on and show me again how you walked on the beach in the Riviera.”

Not sure what came over me, I wanted her do as I ordered—it made my heart beat faster and adrenaline flooded me. When she moved passed me, I pulled her flush to my chest. I traced my fingers along the silky fabric covering her clit and sucked on one of her nipples. Her moans of pleasure made my dick ache but also made me feel like I was going to be able to do this all night long. I turned her around. “Watch us,” I told her, as I spread her legs and plunged into her from behind as we both looked on in the mirror.

Neither of us came but we weren’t done with each other when I stopped. Without a word, I picked her up and moved her to the bedroom. We fell to the mattress where I hovered above her and sucked her tits hard. I inserted two fingers inside her. I moved them in and out, faster and faster. She moaned. Next I used my tongue to plunge in and out of her pussy. She cried out in pleasure. I fucked her every way I could with a stamina I never knew I had. We fucked in ways I never had before. She squeezed her breasts together and I slipped my cock in between them. I thrust in and out over and over. It felt fucking amazing. I yelled and grunted and groaned and when I finally came, I came hard. My whole body trembled.

The last thing I remembered before passing out was grabbing her hips and moving her as she rode me. I had one hand on her pussy while the other hand cupped her full breast. She was screaming my name like a prayer as I massaged her clit and tugged her hard nipples in unison.

When she started yelling, “That’s it, surfer boy, that’s it! Oh God, oh God, that feels so good!” I came deep and hard inside her.

When I woke up she was gone and my shirt blanketed my nakedness. The devil in me mourned her absence. But the larger part of me was relieved. The forbidden fruit was already bitten and I knew I needed to stay far away. One night with her had fulfilled every fantasy I ever had but I couldn’t risk my future on a fantasy.

Counting Stars

The wedding festivities are in full swing when I arrive at the Montage a little late. I missed the announcements—too bad for me. I duck into the bathroom and loop my tie around my neck, thinking I don’t look all that bad—new tan suit, blue shirt. Except I wince at the sight of the tie in the reflection. Fuck the tie. I toss it in the trash and head to the bar to grab a quick drink before I go in search of the happy couple.

Once I throw back a quick one, I enter the grand ballroom and scope out the subtle signs of wealth and luxury. There are no tapestries, no grand, ornate, golden gilded mirrors, or fringed pieces of furniture that scream money. Instead S’belle did a great job of giving the couple what they wanted. Looking around I definitely feel like I’m in Nantucket—which was their wish. The elegant simplicity inherent in the wooden floors beneath the simple glass-cut chandelier at the center of the room only helps bring the blues and whites to life. Circular tables with toile tablecloths surround the dance floor with hydrangeas filling their centers in clear glass vases. Small candles are floating in water to illuminate the elegance of the fine table settings. And wicker chargers set the place setting for every guest. It’s very Ralph Lauren. Very Nantucket.

I spot the bride and groom immediately. Sloan lifts one hand in a vague gesture of hello. As I approach, her gaze meets mine and I try to ignore the familiarity in her greeting.

“Miss Bennett, how nice to see you again.” I take her hand and kiss it.

She manages to play along and seems just fine with me having paved the way to a drama-free night. “Mr. Covington, I am so glad you could make it. This is my fiancé, well, my husband now, Tike Rodale.”

I extend my hand and we exchange greetings. After a five-minute conversation with the groom I can see what the problem is—he’s definitely not into women. In fact, I’m pretty sure he wanted to make a pass at me. I retreat at the earliest opportunity and grab a glass of champagne from a waitress walking by. But Tike makes sure the circle containing the three of us stays tight. I continue to ask the questions I need answers to in order to write the column but he’s dragging out his answers and Sloan looks bored as shit.

Just as he finishes telling me how he proposed to his lucky lady, I hear the sound of throat clearing from behind me. I don’t even have to twist my head or look over my shoulder to know who it is. In an authoritative tone, she says, “Sloan, Tike, the photographer wants some photos of the two of you near the champagne fountain, if you don’t mind.” Tike pats me on the back before excusing himself. As if he forgot his bride, he doubles back to take Sloan’s hand in order to escort her to yet another picture perfect moment to memorialize the day.

S’belle’s eyes cut to mine and they seem a little softer than they did earlier today, and so does she. She’s changed and looks fucking amazing. Her low-cut green blouse highlights her eyes. Her short black skirt and matching jacket look professional, but sexy as hell. She’s holding a clipboard in one hand with a pencil tucked behind her ear and I have visions of her standing in front of me naked with those props. I quickly try to push them aside.

I can’t help but smirk at the spitfire standing in front of me. “Well, hello again.”

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here tonight when we were together earlier?”

“You never gave me the chance.”

She blows a piece of hair out of her eyes. “I’m really busy right now. I have a million things to do. I appreciate what you did for me but I have to get back to work.”

I take a step closer. “I promise to stay out of your way if you promise to catch up with me later.”

A small sound escapes her throat and I try to determine if it’s exasperation or attraction. When her breathing hitches I opt for the latter and try to keep my own attraction at bay.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” I ask, pushing the loose tendril of hair from her face.

Her eyes close when my skin makes contact with hers.

“You seem flustered.” I breathe against her neck, as my fingers trace a path from her ear to her jaw. I’m hoping in some way she’ll give me the green light to carry on with our flirtation.

“No,” she says, stepping back, clearly affected by our closeness.

When I stifle my chuckle with one hand in front of my mouth, she drops her eyes then turns away and sashays off, her hair bouncing as she goes. I swear if I didn’t know any better I might think she wants me just as much as I want her. My eyes devour the sight of her red waves against her back and her bare skin below her skirt hem to her high heels clicking against the glossy tile floor. When they land on the ground, another thought comes to mind: Her wearing just those heels and prancing in front of me while we are alone.

I try to shake it off and grab another glass of champagne for distraction, but I still can’t stop following her every move. She’s talking to some brute of a guy in a gray pinstriped suit. He pulls the pencil from her ear and I notice his thumb graze her cheek as he does. She pulls away. He points to her clipboard with the eraser and seems annoyed as he taps it. Every time she steps back, he takes a step forward. If I thought the faces she made at me were disgust, the expression she offers him is one of repulsion. I keep my eye on them, just to make sure whoever that asshole is stays in check.

“Ben, there you are.” It’s Tike with a hand on my shoulder, gripping a little too tight.

I turn around to face him. “Just the man I needed to see. We need to finish this up so I can leave you and your beautiful wife alone.”

He waves a hand. “Oh, no need to rush. We have time to talk. Come with me, let’s grab a drink.”

As we walk to the bar I have a fucked-up thought—what if he wants . . . Fuck, if the word “ménage” leaves his lips, I’m so fucking gone. We spend fifteen minutes talking about bullshit and the whole time I’m waiting for him to say something out of line, but thank you, Jesus, he doesn’t.

“Tike, Sloan is waiting for you in the hall. It’s time to officially introduce you as husband and wife. I’d like you both to enter the room together.” We turn in unison to the sweet voice commanding our attention, then I notice that while I’m looking at her he looks at me.

“Of course, darling,” he responds to her or maybe to me. I don’t know because all he does is wink and walk off.

My eyes slide to S’belle. “Can I buy you a drink?”

She looks around the crowded bar area and then at the empty bar stool. She slides into it and looks at me quizzically, scrunching her nose. “Why would you ask me that? It’s an open bar.”

Fuck, she’s adorable. She really is. “Let me rephrase. Would you like to have a drink with me?”

She bites her lips. “First, I don’t drink while I’m working and neither should you.”

“Right, Red, I’ll keep that in mind. And second?”

Her lips form a sexy pout again that I can’t resist. They’re so pink and full and my mind keeps wandering to. . . . “You said first, and that’s usually followed by a second.” I hold up my glass and drink the entire thing down. “There, now I won’t be drinking on the job.”

Her mouth forms a straight line that I think will be turning upside down at any second but she surprises me when instead she smiles at me. I think I might be in—she’s warming up to me, I can tell.

“Bell,” a stern voice calls from behind me.

In a huff she says, “I have to go.”

I turn to see the pinstriped asshole glaring at her as she hops off the stool. The hint of citrus she leaves in her wake tickles my nose as she spins around and walks away. I breathe it in before pulling out my notebook. Time to finish the checklist. Two things left.

Information needed to write the Rodale Wedding Piece

How did Tike propose to Sloan

Where are they going on their honeymoon

Details of the ceremony

Comments from the parents

Wedding venue details

I push through the crowd of people waiting to congratulate the new husband and wife and search for the second to last item on my list—comments from the parents of both the bride and groom. They’re easy to spot as they’re sitting together at a table in the center of the room. When I approach, cautiously, not sure how receptive they’ll be to being interviewed, they exuberantly plead with me to join them. They offer me a drink, not that I need any more right now, and eagerly discuss the marriage of their children.

While jotting down their thoughts and memories, I allow them to blab on and take the opportunity to glance over at S’belle. Again the guy in the suit is standing a little too close and when she shakes her head at him, he reaches around and pats her ass. She steps back but he corners her and puts his hands on her hips. I start to stand, ready to intervene, but they part ways before I can break away. Once my interview is complete, I politely excuse myself. All I have left is to find out the vendor details and then I’m out of there. In order to complete my checklist, I need the wedding coordinator to give me that information. I contemplate skipping out without it, but regardless of how much this work sucks, I would never half-ass a job. So I go in search of the spitfire, but she’s nowhere to be found.

The lights dim and the dance floor fills with people. The strains of a popular love song play as the couple takes their spot front and center. Maybe it’s too much booze, maybe it’s the thought of this make-believe marriage passing for something real, but I suddenly need some air.