Undying Love (8 page)

SEVEN

S
he slept naked, spooned in my arms, that night. My palm held her heartbeat as I inhaled the sweet smell of her. I couldn’t fall asleep. All I could think about was the mind-blowing experience I’d had with this sassy Irish girl from Queens. I had never experienced anything like it with any other girl. Especially Charlotte, whose idea of making love was along the lines of let’s get it over with. She fucked with the reserve that colored her whole life. Beige. Quietly and dispassionately. “Mind-blowing” was not part of her vocabulary. She had never cared for me grunting or groaning, so when I came, I had to stifle my sounds. She would always assure me that she had come, but the truth was, I could never tell if she really had.

Not Allee. Like everything she did, she came with gusto and brutal honesty. And she had made me come the same way. Where the hell had she learned to fuck like that? I had the burning urge to wake her and make love to her all night, but the peacefulness on her angelic face held me back. I finally drifted off, the memory of her pussy dancing in my head.

When I woke up in the morning, I was greeted by the unmistakable smell of bacon and eggs—and freshly brewed coffee. Allee wasn’t in bed. She must be downstairs cooking.

She trotted upstairs, carrying a wicker tray with breakfast for two. She was wearing one of my expensive cotton dress shirts that stopped midway on her sculpted thighs. It turned me on that she was wearing my shirt—that, in some way, she was inside me. Knowing her bare pussy was likely beneath my shirt turned me on even more. I felt the beginnings of a hard-on.

She lowered the tray to the bed and then crawled into it, facing me. She wasn’t wearing her glasses, and her ebony hair was gathered into a high ponytail. Her skin was dewy and her espresso bean eyes twinkled. Sheesh! She was beautiful in the morning!

“What time to you have to be at the Met?” I asked, helping myself to a mug of the steaming coffee.

“I don’t,” she grinned. “I have the day off.” She lifted a forkful of the scrambled eggs to her mouth and savored it, smiling as she swallowed. I loved the way she loved food.

I immediately reached for my cell phone on the floor next to my bed and hit Duffy’s number. I was hoping to reach his voice mail but instead he picked up.

“What’s up, dude?”

“I need you to cover for me today. I’m sick. I’m not coming in.”

Allee giggled.

“Bullshit. Are you getting laid?” asked Duffy.

Damn. It was hard to pull the wool over his eyes because Duffy thought with his dick.

“How many times have you done it?”

“None of your business. I owe you.”

“Just get me some of what you’ve got.”

I rolled my eyes. Poor Duffster. He really needed to get laid. Assured that he would take care of things, I ended the call.

“Where were we?” I asked Allee.

“We were here.”

She placed the breakfast tray on the floor and smothered me with kisses. The kisses led to another delicious session of lovemaking. A tangle of legs and tongues. Moans and groans. Two heated bodies that couldn’t stay away from each other. After we exploded together, we showered.

Facing me, she lathered my balls and then my rod, making it thick and hard yet again. “Oh, Allee,” I cried out as she ran her hand up and down the slippery shaft. Waves of pleasure were coursing through my entire body. I, in turn, rubbed her clit, turning it into a marble. Our breathing grew haggard. I held her as she arched her back and sensuously caught droplets of water on her tongue. She was so sexy. And beautiful. And mine. I thought I might have been dreaming until she cried out my name. “Madewell.” As she convulsed around me, my own climax met hers. Before stepping out of the stall, I lifted her into my arms and showered her with kisses.

We never left my loft. In fact, except for retrieving the Chinese food I ordered in, we never left my bedroom.

“I’ll pay you back for lunch,” Allee said, sitting cross-legged on my mattress as she fed me a heaping of Lo Mein.

“I’ll put it on your tab.” Before she could insert the chopsticks into my mouth, I smacked her lush lips with a playful kiss. I had no intention of ever having her pay me back.

While we continued to feed each other the tasty noodles, my landline rang. I let it go to my answering machine.

“Ryan, darling. I think we can make things right. It was just a little skittish skirmish. Mummy says we’re just having pre-nuptial jitters. Let’s have dinner tonight. I love you. Call me back.”

It was Charlotte. I knew it and so did Allee. The chopsticks that were heading into my mouth froze in mid-air.

“She’s still into you,” she said, matter-of-factly. “You and she belong together. You come from the same tribe.”

I cupped her head in my hands. We were still sitting cross-legged on my bed, facing each other. “Look at me, Allee Adair.”

She slowly tilted her chin up until her eyes met mine.

“It’s over between Charlotte and me. You’ve got to believe me.” I looked into her eyes so deep I could practically see inside her.

“You’re full of shit.”

“I’ll show you what I’m full of.”

In a heartbeat, I tore off the shirt of mine she’d put back on. I left no part of her body untouched. It was all mine to stroke, suck, lick, and gnaw. She squealed with delight as I fumbled with the drawstring of my sweats and pulled them off. Spreading her legs, I thrust my hard thickness into her center and finished her off with an orgasm that rocked her body and mine.

I lost count of how many times we made love. Of how many times she’d come. And I’d come. Each orgasm was as spectacular as the one before, leaving us only wanting more. Finally wasted, we spent the rest of the afternoon cuddled up in my bed listening to music—she loved Adele, Edith Piaf, and Debussy—and talking about our dreams. She dreamed one day of living in Paris, working as a curator at the Musée D’Orsay.

“Do you speak French?” I asked, toying with her gold locket.

“
Bien sur
,” she replied, her French accent charmingly laced with her heavy New York one.

I, in turn, shared my dream of becoming a great writer. Like Hemingway, Fitzgerald, and all the greats before and after them.

“So, what else have you written besides bullshit articles for that piece of crap magazine of yours?”

Man, she could be acerbic. I thought my articles were good, for what they were, but instead of defending myself, I said, “Lots of short stories.”

“Let me read one”

I was taken aback. I had never shared any of my personal writings with anyone. Not my father. Not my mother. Not Charlotte. Not even my sister, or my best friend Duffy.

I got up from the bed and crossed the room to the desk where I kept a file of my stories. I randomly pulled one out. It was about an estranged father and son who finally bond when they’re both old men.

I returned to the bed, and Allee snatched it out of my hand. She immediately began to read. My eyes stayed riveted on her, my heart thudding. I wasn’t sure if my anxiousness was tied to my desire for her or my fear of what she would think of my writing.

“Why are you staring at me, Madewell?” she asked as she flipped to the second page. She hadn’t looked up once, yet she knew my eyes were on her.

“I’m not,” I said in defense.

“Bullshit. You’re staring at my legs. If you want me to finish this story, you’d better stop it.”

Man, she was irritating. And such a tease. The deliberately sexy way she was sitting with her knees bent and apart was making me horny as hell. I wanted her to read faster.

When she was done, she handed me back the story and looked straight at me. She fidgeted with her locket.

“You’re good, Madewell,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice, saving me from having to ask her what she thought.

“Not great?”

“Good is the enemy of better.”

“What do you mean?” She was pissing me off.

“Next time, write with your heart and not the tip of your dick.”

Before I could ask her what she meant by that, her cell phone rang. I didn’t want her to answer it, but she insisted. Her thick brows furrowed when she gazed at the caller ID number. “Fuck. I’ve got to take this.” Her voice wavered.

“Hi, Sid… shit… okay… where?… okay… I’m on my way.” She ended the call and leaped out of the bed. She quickly donned her clothes.

Sid?
Was she seeing someone else? A pang of jealousy slashed through me. “Who the hell is Sid?”

“My other boss. I’ve gotta split. I’m late for a massage client.” She hurried the words.

“Male or female?” While I was relieved that Sid wasn’t some other guy she was seeing, the thought of her touching another man made me cringe.

“A woman,” she said hastily to my relief.

She bounded down the winding stairs, with me, naked, trailing behind her.

She grabbed her purse, which she’d left on a couch, and hurried to the elevator. I pressed her against the metal door and pinned her to it with my body. I leaned into her, my lips heading straight for hers. To my surprise, she jerked her head away.

“Madewell, I’ve gotta go. Please.” Her pained eyes were begging me to release her. As much as I wanted to hold her in my arms forever, I let go of her. I pushed the call button, and the elevator door slid open. She scurried inside it.

“Can I see you later tonight?” I asked, holding the door open with my body.

She shook her head. “No, not tonight.”

I let go of the door and she disappeared.

Balls. She was out of my life again. Her sudden departure left me bereft. I was frustrated and restless. It was too late to go into the office, and too early to grab a bite to eat. Besides, I wasn’t hungry. But I had to do something to release this crazy energy. The gym? Nah. I was too tired from my sexual workout with Allee. I headed back upstairs. My short story was still lying on the bed. After putting on some sweats, I reread it. I hated to admit it, but Allee was right. It was good, but something was missing from it. Taking it with me, I crossed the room and sat down at my desk where my laptop faced me. I opened up the document on my desktop and began to type, forcing myself to really put my heart and soul into the two main characters. To really feel what they were experiencing. More show, less tell. An hour later, I came to the words THE END, and I reread the story. You know what, it was a hell of a lot better. Sadness washed over me. The father and the son had gone on an emotional journey that had brought them to a peaceful place even though their lives were both coming to an end. I couldn’t wait to show it to Allee. Part of me wanted to call her, but damn it, I didn’t have her cell phone number. And she was probably busy with her massage client. Besides, I shouldn’t act too eager. My mother always said, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” Perhaps, that’s what kept her with my father.

Hungry now, I wound downstairs when my cell phone rang. I made a mad dash to the kitchen, where it was lying on the polished steel counter. I was hoping it was Allee and praying it wasn’t Charlotte. It was neither. It was my father. Ryan Madewell III.

“Hello, Father.”

“Ryan, I want you to meet me at the Four Seasons at six.”

He ended the phone call before I could say, “Yes, sir.”

His curtness unnerved me. What did he want? No one said no to my father, including me. Fuck. I had less than an hour to shower, shave, get dressed in full suit and tie, and get uptown in the middle of rush hour. Being late for my father came with repercussions. I was going to have to take the subway.

The Four Seasons bar was bustling. Well-dressed Fortune 500 executives were quietly mingling with each other, some with extremely attractive women beside them. Like my father, Charlotte hung out here too. Inwardly, I shuddered, hoping I wouldn’t run into her.

I spotted my father right away, seated at the ample corner table that was permanently reserved for him. Clad in an expensive, custom-made gray suit and matching tie that went well with his slicked-back salt and pepper hair, he was already nursing his thirty-dollars-a-pop scotch. Women eyed me as I wove through the bar to his table.

“Have a seat, son.” His eyes were steely, and his voice was cold.

I nervously sank into the plush leather club chair across from him.

His eyes stayed riveted on my face without blinking, and his mouth was pressed into a grim line. “Where were you this afternoon?”

“What do you mean?” I shot back, hoping a waiter would come by soon to take my drink order. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him about my afternoon with Allee.

“You weren’t at the shareholders’ meeting.”

Fuck! I had totally forgotten about that dreaded meeting. My father expected me to be there. No ifs or buts about it.

“I called your office. They said you weren’t in.”