“Ha,” she laughs. Her face is right in front of mine and I can see the panic building as she struggles to get free, but can’t. “You’re not fucking me tonight, asshole. There’s no way.”
“You’re right. I have no intention of fucking you tonight.”
She wriggles in my hold, her little fists pushing against my broad shoulders. She’s small when pulled tight against me.
“But you will be in my bed. And you will let me make love to you.”
“Like hell,” she says, still resisting.
I stroke her cheek to calm her down. “Grace, listen. Just be still and listen to me. I like you. I can’t stand the thought of you not being in my life and I want to have something more with you. Now settle for a moment. Just get used to this. Let me hold you close.”
She lets out a long breath but she does settle against my chest. I wrap my hand around her head and bring her even closer. So her cheek is pressed against my suit coat. “I wish I could take this coat and shirt off and feel your cheek on my bare chest. I’d like to feel your breath as you calm down. I’d like to feel the thumping of your heart as it slows. But I’m afraid if I let you go, you’ll get away.”
She stays still against me, thinking.
“Will you leave me?”
“Will you leave
me
?” she asks back.
“Stick around and find out.”
“Fuck,” she huffs. “What the hell do you want from me, Vaughn? It’s not enough that you insulted me with your NDA, your money drops in my bank account, the public fucking on the island, the humiliation of making me blow you in my hallway, making me eat out of your hand as I sit at your feet, and then having to watch one of your many whores on TV tell me I’m breaking up her relationship. For Christ’s sake, what more do you want to do to me?”
“It’s pretty clear all that makes me a monster, right?”
“How the fuck could it not?”
“Did you like the sex, Grace? And be honest.”
“Yeah, I liked the sex. But a relationship is more than your stupid sex games, Vaughn. Life is more than the fun stuff. Life is the serious stuff too. And I don’t think you do the serious stuff. I like the fun just as much as anyone, but it’s another lie. Because if we were together, then most of our time would be spent having regular sex. Doing things like working, and cooking, and all that stupid bullshit that comes with a relationship.”
“How would you even know what comes with a relationship?”
“Says the fucking kettle to the pot!”
“Have you ever had a normal relationship? A long-term one?”
“Have you?”
“No!” I shout, making her jump. “No,” I repeat, softer this time. “That’s my whole fucking point. I want all that boring stuff and I want to try it with you. And you’re what? Too fucked up to even hear me? Should I just put you to bed and try this conversation again in the morning when you’re sober and rational?”
“I’m not drunk. I’m just angry.”
“With who, though? Me? Because of the girl on TV telling lies about me? Because of all the fantastic sex we had? Because I gave you money to donate to your favorite charities? Because I won you in a game of baccarat? I mean, what exactly is pissing you off here?”
She laughs. Her whole body shakes against mine and she laughs. “You
won
me?”
“Oh, please, don’t take that the wrong way. Of course it was fake, Grace. A symbolic gesture between me and that Li character you were attached to at the hip. So spare me your feminist self-righteous bullshit. I can’t take anymore. You have no idea what you want. You want the fairy tale? The prince, the money, the fantastic vacations and travel? Private jets, probably. That’s fairy tale stuff. Stuff I can actually give you. So you say you want all that, but then when I offer it up, I’m using you. I’m disrespecting you. I’m—what were your words on the island?—I’m an Oscar-winning prick.” I let go of her and push her off me. “Just shut the hell up with your conflicting emotions for once, Grace. Give in and say yes. You never want to say yes.”
“God, how can you even say that?” She crosses her arms in front of her and rubs her shoulders, like she’s chilled. “I
never
say no. I
always
say yes. You’re the only person ever who makes me want to say no.”
“And why is that? Can you at least answer that honestly?”
She stops her rubbing and lets her arms fall to her side. And then she turns her back and walks over to the bar, grabbing her empty champagne glass along the way. She fills it up, takes a sip, then fills it up again and guzzles it down.
She places her hands over her face and drops her head for a moment, and I’m almost positive she’s trying very hard not to cry, but then she brings her hands back to her sides and turns to face me.
“Because, Vaughn, you scare the shit out of me. That’s why. You want honesty? Fine. You scare me. You were my dream guy, OK? You were everything I ever wanted. And you’re here and it’s not real.” She shakes her head, like the whole idea that we’re in this room together is incredible. “You’re here in front of me, offering me something I want more than anything else in this world. And I’m too scared to try because I know you’re not the dream guy I made you out to be. And I’m going to get hurt. And I’m going to get used. And I’m going to regret it if I let you in. Do you understand that? I’m going to regret it.”
“You’re setting yourself up to regret, Grace. How do you not see that?”
“You’ve been complaining about my fantasy since we met. You want me to be rooted in reality and not heap these expectations on you. So fine, that’s where I’m at. And that means this fight, Vaughn, all this fighting we do… that’s our reality. It’s unfortunate, but true.”
I sigh and walk over to the bar to pour myself another drink. I take a long sip, then guzzle it, just like she did a few moments ago. “It doesn’t have to be that way, Grace. We don’t have to make this our reality.”
“It’s a personality clash, Vaughn. It can’t be helped.”
I turn back to her, shaking my head. “It’s not a personality clash, Grace. It’s an issue of trust. You don’t trust me to be careful with your heart. I don’t trust you to be honest with me about your feelings. It’s got nothing to do with our personalities. Our chemistry is just fine. I really like you. I’m attracted to you in every dirty way imaginable. You say you’ve been fantasizing about me for years. You respond to my sexual requests and are willing to meet me halfway. You signed an NDA for me. So I know you’re interested. I know you like me. Why can’t you just admit it to yourself?”
She walks over to the couch and sits down. He head falls back against the cushions and she lets out a long sigh. “I don’t think it can work.”
“Why?”
“Because…” She closes her eyes and stays silent.
“Because why, Grace?” I take a seat next to her and pull her in my lap. She scoots down and places her head on my thighs and tucks her hands between her legs like a little girl going to sleep. I stroke her hair and wait her out, and with every brush of my fingertips past the smooth skin of her neck, I feel her relax a little more.
“Because I’m scared. It’s so much easier to want things than it is to have things. Because having things means you have to keep things.”
It’s my turn to sigh now. “That’s true. The more you have, the more you have to lose.”
“Exactly.”
“You have to take that risk, though, Grace. What good is living if you have no real joy?”
“I like to experience my joy from afar.”
“Don’t be stupid,” I chastise her. “That’s not living. I’m here, right now. You’re here. I want this. I want you. And all you have to do is say yes and we’re together.”
“We’re together how? I’m your whore you fly in to see in Denver whenever you feel like it? You never called me again after last time. Why would I trust you this time?” She makes to get up but I hold her steady.
“Grace, I have a very good reason for that and I’ll be happy to explain everything, but not tonight. It’s too much for tonight and we’ve been drinking. That is a sober conversation if ever there was one. Tonight, just let me take care of you. Let me make love to you.”
“If I let you do that”—my heart skips at the possibility that she will give in—“then what happens if you disappoint me again?” She opens her eyes and stares me in the face. “I can’t take it, Vaughn. That’s why I push people away. I’ve lost a lot in my life and I can’t go through that again.”
I know she lost her parents, but the revelations from Felicity make me question everything. There’s something very wrong with my Grace’s childhood. Something very, very wrong. We need to have that conversation soon, but not tonight. Tonight I just want to make her happy. “I won’t fuck it up, Grace. I swear.” She shakes her head just as the door chimes. “I swear, just settle down for one night. Enjoy yourself.” I lift her up off my lap and he sets herself back against the couch cushions.
“Just trust me now, please.” I get up and walk over to the door to let the servers in. A team of six bustles past me with carts piled with silver trays and they proceed to set the table with linens and silverware. Grace takes it all in. She says nothing, but her eyes dart all over the place, not missing a thing.
A few minutes later the team of servers leave and I close the door and turn back to her. She walks over to the table and stops in front of it and looks down at the large sheepskin rug. Then she slips her shoes off and steps forward, digging her toes into the plush pelt.
“There’s two place settings,” she says, her focus on her feet.
“One for me and one for you.”
She looks up. “Then why the rug?”
“It’s just an option.”
She sinks to her knees and then lies down on it. I walk over to her and sit in the chair. “Why are you on the floor, Grace?”
“Because I’m tired, Vaughn. I’m exhausted. And it feels good. I just want to lie here and do nothing.”
I kneel down next to her and turn her a little so I can unzip her dress. She doesn’t protest, so I lift up her arm and slip it through the sleeve. I repeat this for the other arm, and then I pull it down to expose her black bra. “Lift your hips for me, sweets.” She does and I pull the dress down her legs, then past her feet. I fold it nicely and place it over the back of a chair.
“It feels so good,” she says, her fingertips threading through the soft fur.
My hands press against her calves and then I slide them up her legs and loop my fingers around her panties. “Not commando today?”
She smiles but her eyes are closed.
I pull them down her thighs, exposing her sweet pussy. It makes my dick so hard, I can barely think. I spread her legs and lick her inner thigh. She moans and her hands automatically come to my head, pressing me into her slick sex. I lap at her clit, then suck as I finger her softly.
“Why do you feel so good?” she whispers. “Why do I want you so bad?”
I lick her again, and then I push her legs up, bringing her knees up on either side of her head, and I probe the soft bud of her ass for a second before dragging my tongue up her crease. She wriggles and moans, so I stop. “We’re going to eat first.” I pull her up so she’s sitting, then reach behind her and unclasp her bra, letting her full breasts fall free. I palm one, squeezing, but not too hard. It’s a time to be gentle. There’s time for other stuff later.
“Do you want to sit at my feet or in a chair?” I stand up and take off my coat. She watches me and this makes me very hard. I drape my jacket over the chair, on top of her dress, and then I pull my shirt out of my pants and begin unbuttoning it from the bottom up. Her eyes never leave my fingers.
I remove my tie and shirt and place them on top of my jacket.
When I turn back to Grace, she’s got her fingers between her legs. “I’m dying for you, Vaughn. I hate you and I’m dying for you. Why do you make me feel this way?”
I squat down and cup her face with my hands. “Because you like me, Grace. You like me and I like you. We’re in like.”
“We can’t be in like,” she whispers back. “Like should not be filled with so much discord and fighting.”
“Like is passion. And what we have, Grace, is not discord. It’s passion. There’s a difference.” I watch her as she thinks about that. “I’d like you to sit on my lap. Will you sit in my lap for dinner? And if you get too tired you can sit at my feet and fall asleep with your head on my thigh. Your hot breath against my cock.”
“Will you fuck me?” she asks in a sweet voice.
“No, baby.” I reach for her hand and pull gently, bringing her reluctantly to me. I sit down in my chair and guide her onto my lap. One of her hands goes between her legs as I lift the lid off the plate closest to me. There are two steaks, both cut up into bite-sized pieces and grilled to a perfect medium-rare pinkness in the center. I pick up a piece with my fingers. “Open, Grace.” She opens her mouth and I place the juicy meat on her tongue.
“Mmmm. I’m hungry.” She chews slowly and I take this time to feed myself. We alternate this way for a few more bites, then I hand her the champagne flute and she sips. We do this over and over again. Not talking. Not fighting. No expectations or awkwardness.
Just… nourishment.
Her head is pressed against my bare chest. My hands play with her breasts between bites. I squeeze when I want to hear her moan, and then when the last bit of meat is gone and the champagne glasses are empty, I dip my fingers between her legs and find her slick and ready.