Girl After Dark (24 page)

“Okay,” he says slowly, still kind of confused.

“I know I said Girl After Dark was over. And it
is
, at least on the internet, anyway. But a few days ago, I spoke to my friend Katy. She works for a publishers, you see. One of the really old, respectable publishers in England, although they have offices here too. And she wants to turn my story into a book. Don’t worry. It would be totally anonymous and even though the blog started as kind of a hook up thing, that’s not the story they’re interested in. It’s more timeless than that. It’s just boy-meets-girl, that’s all. Do you understand? They want to know about the love story — about you and me. So …”

I take another deep breath, scanning his face.

I can see that he’s finding all this just as hard to take in as I did.

“What do you think?” I ask nervously. “You can take as much time as you want to think it over. I know it’s kind of crazy. But I’ve got a really good feeling about this. I trust Katy.”

He stays silent a moment longer, looking down at his hands, deep in thought, before his eyes meet mine once again.

“And you promise it’ll be totally anonymous?”

“Of course,” I say, trying to keep the rising excitement in my voice under control.

“It’s not that I’m ashamed of you or us in anyway,” he explains softly, “just that in my line of work, scandal isn’t really such a good thing.”

“Does that mean I can do it?” I say, clasping my hands together, hoping and praying that it does.

“I guess so,” he smiles back, and I squeal and hug him and kiss him, feeling a fresh rush of excitement.

I’m going to be a published author!

This is all working out better than I could have ever hoped!

“Now,” I say with a sheepish smile, “can you help me think of a way to break the news to my dad?”

From: [email protected]

Subject: You Were Warned

I thought my stepson was smart enough to leave you in the gutter where you belong. But obviously I was wrong.

I didn’t want to have to do this, but you were warned.

Now all of New York will know just what a tramp you are.

Esme

§

Maybe it says something about how crazy the last few months of my life have been, but when I wake up in the morning and the first thing I see is an email from my boyfriend’s stepmother, threatening me with destruction, I’m not even surprised.

I suppose I knew all along that she wasn’t going to keep her nose out of our business. So I’m not surprised, but I
am
scared.

Threats like this, from a woman like Esme, aren’t to be taken lightly. I know she’s used to getting exactly what she wants, and what she wants right now is to get rid of me.

I hear Carson sigh, by my side, still half asleep. He throws his arm around me and pulls me closer, his body so warm and comforting. Our bodies fit together so perfectly, it doesn’t matter that my Queen-size bed is so small.

I look at him and I’m seized with panic as I wonder exactly what Esme plans to do.

My mind scans back to the time she summoned me to meet her for coffee. She insinuated then that she knew all about the video of Vintage Honey that Will leaked online. Does she mean that she’s going to make sure that everyone in New York knows about
that
? But how bad would that really be? After all, I’ve told Carson and he doesn’t care. He’s only angry that someone betrayed my trust in the first place. So if Esme told all of New York society that her stepson’s new girlfriend was the girl in that video, surely
she’s
the only one who stands to lose? I mean, those people aren’t my friends. What do I care what they think?

But what if it’s
not
that? What if Esme’s got something else up her sleeve? What if she’s planning something that I can’t even imagine? I know she’s capable …

And as I’m trying to reassure myself that I’ve already
told
Carson everything about my past, I feel him stirring next to me.

I look over at him and he gives me a sleepy, innocent smile; not a care in the world.

“You okay?” he asks, puzzled when he sees the obvious look of panic on my face.

“I don’t know,” I explain. “I mean I
am
… I’m so glad I’m with you. But are you sure
you
want to be with me, too? I mean, your stepmother obviously
hates
me.”

“Hey, hey,” he laughs, brushing the hair from my face, his hands cupping my cheeks, his eyes searching out mine. “Where did all this come from? And anyway, I don’t care what Esme thinks. I thought we’d been over all that already. I want to be with you. I want you to be my girlfriend. I
love
you. Understand?”

“I love you, too,” I say with a smile, feeling myself relax once more. Because hearing him say those words, those three words that all lovers can’t get enough of hearing and saying, the words that are still so new to us, brings me right back to what’s important, right here.

“I love you,” I say again.

I love you
,
I think. I want to say it a thousand times.

“You don’t have to dash off straight away, do you?” I ask. “You’re always so busy.”

“I’ve got all morning,” he replies, as his toes start to brush against mine beneath the covers. And he’s got that look in his eye.

“Great,” I say, as I respond to the gentle brush of his toes by rubbing my slender legs against his, so strong and muscular in comparison. With a teasing tone in my voice, I carry on, “If we get up now, we’ve got time to grab breakfast and a walk before checking out the new exhibition at the Met.”

He smiles, raising himself up on one elbow and leaning over me, gently kissing me on the lips and then looking up and down my body. “Great idea,” he says as his fingertips begin to slowly graze my stomach in light circles, always getting close but never quite close enough to that place between my legs that’s begun to yearn for him now. “I don’t need to be in work until after lunch. So why don’t we get up right this second, clean the house, go for a jog, and stock up at Whole Foods, too?”

“Actually,” I reply with a smile, feeling his fingers move to my thigh now, my own hands beginning to stroke his chest, my movements just as teasing as his. And then, all of a sudden, I’ve pushed him back on the bed, thrown a leg over him, and I’m sitting on top of him. “The thing is,” I carry on, “I’ve entered us both into the New York City triathlon, so we’re gonna have to start our training right this minute!”

I’m enjoying this, I want to carry on teasing him further, but I’m stopped in my tracks by his hands grabbing my ass and drawing me down towards him, his hot hardness pushing right against my twitching clit, causing me to gasp as his motions force us to grind together, so slowly and perfectly, just the cotton of my panties and his boxer briefs stopping us from taking this to the next level.

He’s looking at me, eyes fixed on mine, daring me to carry on teasing him, to see if I’ll really get out of bed like I say. But there’s no force on this earth that would tear me away from Carson Ashcroft right now.

“Mind you …” I say, trying to keep my voice steady despite the slow, delicious movements of his cock brushing against me. And then I fake a tiny feeble cough, the kind of cough a kitten might make. “I think I might be coming down with something … I should probably spend the morning right here in bed …”

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to get sick,” he murmurs, his hands moving to my face, his thumb gently stroking my cheek in a playful gesture of concern, his hips still bucking as we slowly grind together. “I take your condition very seriously, Melissa,” he says with a smile.

And with this, it’s his turn to take me by surprise. He lifts me up and off him, laying me back onto the bed, all in one easy motion, as he moves up and over me.

“I guess I’m going to have to check your temperature,
all over
,” he says with a grin.

“Do whatever you have to,” I say, trying to keep my face straight and serious. “After all, you’re the doctor …”

He moves over me, his fingers teasing my vest upwards, slowly uncovering my belly, his fingers tracing the delicate lines and patterns of my honeysuckle tattoo. And at his touch, I feel my skin flashing with electricity and anticipation. I shiver as he pulls my top up a little farther, slowly sliding it over my breasts, revealing them.

“Everything looks in order here,” he murmurs, his hands now gently cupping my breasts, before he leans in to softly kiss first my right nipple, then my left. “The patient seems to be responding well,” he says, as he teases them into hard, puckered little points.

Next he works his kisses back downwards, over my belly, then my panties, before hooking his thumbs beneath the waistband and quickly but deftly sliding them down over my legs and tossing them on the floor behind him.

His face moves right between my legs, and I gasp as I feel his tongue lap against my clit — somehow managing to be soft and urgent at once.

“Good,” he says between kisses, “everything seems to be in order here, too. I think I have just the medicine …”

And as he brings himself up, so that he’s right over me, I watch in anticipation as he pulls down his shorts, finally uncovering himself, his cock so hard and swollen. He brushes it gently between my folds, sending fresh shivers through me.

And then, so slowly and deliciously, he enters me.

“Does the patient want me to increase the dosage?” he whispers, the smile playing on his lips as he teases me with slow, sensual movements of his hips.

“Yes, doctor,” I reply, my voice trembling now.

And so with that he picks up the pace, fucking me harder and harder with each thrust, his hand moving between my legs too, his thumb lightly resting on my clit, applying just the right amount of pressure and friction, until I’m gasping and moaning, my orgasm flashing out around my body, the body that he knows so well by now.

But
he’s
not finished yet, although I can tell that he’s close …

“And where exactly would the patient like her medicine?” he whispers, pausing between thrusts, his voice tight with desire now, his cock twitching inside me, my own shudders still flashing through me.

“Right ...
here
,” I say with a naughty smile, cupping my breasts and offering them up to him.

“Very good,” he replies, pulling out of me and climbing upwards, so that he’s kneeling over me, jacking himself, his beautiful body so slick and shiny with sweat, his abs tensed and his cock rock hard as he pumps it with his fist.

“I’m ready, doctor,” I giggle, my body still trembling with pleasure, offering myself to him.

And with a final low gasp, he comes, right over my breasts, dashing them with his warm wetness, way more than I was expecting, jetting over my tingling skin in hot powerful squirts.

And once he’s finished, I pull him eagerly down on top of me, pushing my mouth against his in another hungry kiss, the two of us sweaty and sticky, my body still yearning for him, feeling like I’ll never be able to get quite enough of him no matter what we do ...

And as we finally lie back in a happy cuddle, my face breaks into a smile.

“It’s amazing, doctor,” I say with a giggle. “I think I’m cured!”

§

“Have a good day at work,” I say as I kiss him goodbye on the stoop of the apartment.

“You too!” he replies. “I hope you make some good progress on your book.”

He sweeps me up in his arms.

“This is how I want our life to be, Melissa,” he says. “See? We can be fun
and
focused.”

“Me too,” I reply with a smile. And then I say it again: “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

One final kiss and then he’s gone, and I remain on the stoop for a moment, watching him walk off down the street — thinking again how lucky I am that this wonderful, handsome, funny, amazing guy is actually
mine
.

And it’s such a beautiful afternoon, I decide to make the most of it and walk to a coffee shop with my pen and notebook, and start seriously thinking about my book.

My book!
I think, excitedly. It’s going to be a lot of hard work, but I’m ready for it. Because I know it’s going to be a lot more complicated than just handing over the blog posts as-is. Even without a Creative Writing degree, I know that I need to build a satisfying story arc. There’s so much technical stuff about writing that I still don’t know, I really hope I do get into NYU this Fall. I’ve got so much still to learn.

As I walk to the coffee shop, I’m so excited about starting work on my book I’ve even stopped worrying about Esme. I know her thoughts can’t hurt me any more — after all, I’ve told Carson all about that stupid video, and if
he
doesn’t care, what does it matter if she does? And the way he and I were this morning, I know we’ve got something real, something that can’t be hurt by mere gossip …

I spend a blissful afternoon working on my book. I haven’t even brought my phone or my laptop with me — I want to sketch these ideas out by hand, undisturbed.

When I finally look up at the clock, I realise four hours have gone by while I’ve been absorbed in my work. I’ve done loads and I’m really proud of myself. But most of all I’m excited all over again about this new future of ours that’s opening up before us.

I walk home at a slow, leisurely pace as the afternoon begins to fade into dusk. I feel like a real writer for once. As I pass people, I imagine their stories, their lives, their hopes and dreams …

When I get home, I skip straight up the stairs to run a bath. I’m excited to soak for a long time I’m still thinking about my book, and I
always
have good ideas in the bath.