I said nothing.
I didn’t send rejections to any of the others.” He looked genuine. “Just those two.”
“You promise?”
“Promise.” He kissed my forehead and rubbed his hand against my thighs, rendering me speechless in seconds. Sliding his hands between my legs, he smiled when he realized there were no panties to rip off me.
Bending low, he slowly pushed my skirt up and pressed kisses against my skin. Then he stepped back and took a seat in his chair. Lowering it, so it was below the height of his desk, he kept his eyes on mine.
“Sit on my face,” he said.
“Here?”
“Yes.” He looked into my eyes. “Here.”
He didn’t give me a chance to second guess anything. He gripped my hips and pulled me forward. “Grab the bookshelf.”
I obliged, gripping the wood, and positioning myself over him. Without another word, he cupped my ass and held me still as he buried his face in my pussy.
I moaned as his tongue toyed with my lips. “Oh, fuck …”
He slowly sucked my clit in and out of his mouth—forcing me to scrape my nails against the bookshelf’s wood.
Shutting my eyes, I tossed my head back as he kept up his reckless rhythm. I couldn’t focus on anything but the pressure building between my thighs, the feel of his mouth controlling my pleasure.
“Wait … Slow down …” I felt my pussy throbbing against his mouth. “Preston …”
He groaned and slapped my ass, not taking my direction at all.
“Oh … Oh ...” I arched my back and tried to hold on just a little longer, but it was no use.
My orgasm came fast and hard, and I gripped onto the bookshelf as my body convulsed like never before.
Gently caressing my sides, he waited until I stopped shaking to help me down. Smiling, he set me on his desk—pressing his hands against my trembling legs.
“Can we go back to your bedroom suite and lay down for a minute?”
“Of course not.” He smirked. “Now, we’re going to handle the fantasy you told me about on the phone.”
Twenty-Eight
Preston
Sex with Tara was incessant and out of control. It was also a new part of my daily routine and my new favorite part of the day. Each time was more fulfilling than the last, and although it felt like we were making up for the past two years, a part of me wished we could go back and start over.
“Are you okay?” I smoothed her hair as she leaned against me in my master bathroom. Her leg was wrapped around my waist, and her ass was pressed against my sink.
“Yes, but I have to go this time,” she said, blushing. “I need to nail this interview tomorrow, and I need to prepare for at least two hours.”
“This is your sixth interview for an EA position. I thought you wanted to work for yourself.”
“I do,” she said. “But I have to start somewhere. Somewhere that’s not where you are.”
“Hmmm.” I kissed her lips and slowly slid out of her, tossing the condom into the trash. “I could help you prepare for tomorrow if you like.”
“That’s what we were supposed to be doing.”
“You can spend the night here, then.”
“I tried that yesterday, and we ended up having sex in your laundry room, Preston.”
“What’s your point?”
She laughed and kissed me, motioning for me to pick up her dress. “I’ll come back later if I finish.”
“If?”
“Yes, if. I.e., if Preston doesn’t send me a bunch of filthy text messages to distract me from my work.”
“I won’t start sending them until four hours from now.”
“Thank you.”
I clasped her hand and walked her to the elevator, giving her one last kiss to remind her to come back. Then I checked on Violet one last time before taking a seat in my office.
Not wanting to face any work tonight, I picked up my brother’s letter, but I put it down. I pulled out the manila envelope of Violet’s documents instead and spread them across my desk.
I flipped through her passport and noticed she had four full pages of stamps. France, Britain, Thailand, Australia, Mexico, Japan, and multiple stamps from the Dominican Republic.
I didn’t know Weston traveled so much.
I read through her hospital records, saving her birthdate in my calendar. I flipped through a miniature photo book, ignoring the pain in my chest as I came face to face with Weston helping her onto a horse. Him carrying her on his shoulders. Him kissing a pretty brunette as Violet smiled in the background.
As I was opening my liquor cabinet, I heard the sound of doors opening and closing. The sound of things falling onto my floor.
Standing up, I headed to the hallway and froze. Violet stood crying in front of my second guest room with Bear in tow.
“Violet?” I bent down to her level. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t find my mommy and daddy.” Tears fell down her face. “Can you help me?”
I pulled her close as she cried harder. “It’s okay, Violet. It’s okay.” I picked her up and carried her to my room.
Hitting the lights, I pulled back the covers and tucked her next to her teddy bear.
“I’m sorry, Violet,” I whispered, wiping the last of her tears away. “I’ll try my best to take care of you, okay?”
“I know because you live in my bear.” She gave me a soft smile.
“What do you mean by that, Violet?” I thought she would have stopped saying that strange phrase by now, but she still said it at least once a day. “Why do you think I live in your bear?”
“I can show you.” She sat up and grabbed Bear, flipping him over and unzipping his back. She pulled out a small blue booklet that read, Violet’s Family: People Who Love Me, and flipped it open.
On the first page, there was a beautiful picture of my mother and father standing in front of our old home.
“This is Grandma Rose.” She pointed at my mother and smiled. “I have a rose in my name, too.” She pointed to my father. “And this is Grandpa P. They’re in the clouds now.”
She flipped through a few more pages of my parents until she reached a picture of my brother and his fiancée. “This is my Mommy and Daddy. They’re in the clouds now, too.”
She flipped to the very last pages of the book where there were two pictures of me, images from my Mister New York covers. “This is my Uncle Preston—you. See? You live in my bear.” She looked at me. “Are you crying?”
“No.”
“Your eyes are watery.”
“They’re not watery, and I’m not crying.”
“You look like you’re crying.” She hugged me. “It’s okay, Uncle Preston. They’re in the clouds now.”
Twenty-Nine
Tara
“the bitter end”
“Aren’t you happy you didn’t quit your job, hon?” My mother smiled when I met her at the airport a couple of weeks later. “Tell me I was right all along.”