Owned: A Mafia Menage Romance (45 page)

“I
want
 you to kiss me,” I said in a plaintive whisper. “But if we don’t get Bridget her wine she will start giving Anneka fashion advice or something.”

“No,” he shook his head with a smirk. His eyes danced. “Now.”

I almost started to object when he suddenly fell to his knees in front of me, draping my leg over his shoulder. I bit my lip, hard, as he dove straight for the crotch of my lace thong, mouthing my swollen, wet lips through the fabric.

“Oh my god!” I muttered urgently.

My fingers clawed the edge of the sink and held on for dear life. He nuzzled and bit and nosed my covered sweet spot with fervor, then used his free hand to drag my thong to the side.

The first flick of his warm tongue along my wet furrow sent shocks through my body. Fear mixed with desire as I realized there was an excellent chance I would come, and an even better chance that it would not be quiet.

Covering my lips with his lips, Jackson sucked ardently at my pussy. His tongue flicked my tiny nub back and forth at first firmly with his tongue pointed, then softly with it flat. The variation drove me insane, and I felt the fruit of my orgasm filling quickly, growing instantly bright.

My hips bucked against his warm, urgent mouth. I wanted to come as fast as I could. As though he read my mind, he slid two fingers into me while he licked my hard nub, pulsing them forward toward my navel.

My whole body rocked as his fingers instantly found my g-spot. I held my breath, stifling a scream, and grabbed the back of his head. White fireworks shot off in succession like a blinding blitzkrieg as the dual sensations of my clit and g-spot battled for prominence. Jackson lapped at me feverishly, his fingers working like pistons that blasted my pussy with spasms of ecstasy.

The build-up threatened to overwhelm me and I worried briefly that I would cry out, but the fruit swelled and then suddenly burst. Red streamers of passion cut across my vision as I came and came, clenching in waves, releasing all the sweet juice the fruit held.

Jackson jumped up and clapped his hand across my mouth, holding me tight to him. “Hush!” he commanded, and I came to my senses enough to silence the animal that was crying in my throat.

He held me tightly as I rocked and rocked with each wave until my legs were quaking and limp.

“Margot,” he admonished me gently, grinning. “There are like nine people right behind this wall! Be quiet.”

I nodded obediently. It felt like I had sprinted up the block. “You shouldn’t make me come so hard,” I explained, shrugging. I wanted a nap.

He shook his head, the dark wave of hair sweeping across his eyebrows. I imagined him carrying me across the dining room to bed, and fucking me for a few slow hours before we went to sleep. That would be nice.

“Hey,” came his voice from far, far away. “Stay with me, baby. We have to get the wine.”

“Wine,” I sighed agreeably. Fuck the wine.

He brushed my hair back from where it had stuck to my humid forehead. “Yes, baby. Go get the wine. I’ll cover for you. See you at the table.”

Just like that, he dragged me back to standing on my rubbery legs and opened the door after checking the hallway for intruders. Suddenly I was able to focus on my mission and darted out and immediately through the cellar door, tiptoeing silently down the stairs to the wine racks.

The room seemed preternaturally bright as I scanned the reds section for a couple appropriate bottles of Malbec. As my fingers drifted along the labels, the dusty, dry paper felt almost taste-able next to my skin. I had to chuckle at that. My senses were so turned on, they didn’t even make sense anymore.

Is this what those vampires feel like?
 I thought vaguely as I cradled a couple bottles and reached for the light. All my senses crackled with energy, like I had just been turned on with too much power. I flipped off the switch and climbed the stairs again in the dark.

***

The conversation rose and fell with the natural rhythm of a body of water. I could feel Kevin’s eyes on me frequently but I didn’t glance back, though I loved the feeling of finally getting his attention. Every once in a while I would look at him as he was talking and think how strange and far away he seemed. Though he was just at the end of the table, he was practically a stranger now.

“So, Bridget,” Anneka called from across the table, “Kevin says you’re an art dealer?”

Bridget pursed her lips and nodded, swishing her wine around in her mouth.

“That’s very interesting,” Anneka persisted. “What kind of art?”

Bridget shrugged. “Oh, all kinds,” she said vaguely.

“And what is your favorite?”

“None of them,” Bridget drawled.

Anneka’s polite smile froze on her face and she looked around to see if she was missing another joke.

“You’re kidding,” she said gamely. “You’re, ah, pulling my legs!”

“Nope,” Bridget said. “They’re all a bunch of entitled brats making precious little squares of wallpaper. And they all expect a prime spot on the Great Refrigerator Of Art History too. No offense.”

“None taken,” I shrugged. I was feeling pretty darn easygoing.

Anneka looked affronted. She glanced at Declan and Jackson for guidance and then shook her head slightly.

“So Amsterdam is actually named for the dam on the Amstel…” she began telling Kevin as Mike brought out a creme brulee with berries for dessert.

Everything began to get swimmy and dreamy as the wine stuffed my head with cotton wool. I cracked into the brulee with my spoon, imagining vividly licking the dollops of sweet custard from the divot between Jackson’s pecs. Or Declan’s. Whatever.

I glanced sidelong at Kevin, seated at the far end of the table. When did I ever want to eat anything off of him? He leaned his head politely toward Anneka as she prattled on about the waterways of her homeland, but he didn’t look particularly enthralled.

Why did you even invite him?
 I asked myself.

He seemed small and silly compared to Declan and Jackson whose presences settled over the table like a minty, money-and-confidence-scented fog. In his logo polo, Kevin looked ridiculous and petty. I wished I had just ignored his text. Now I didn’t even want to chat with him; I just wanted him erased from my history.

Or maybe I’m the petty one,
 I mused.
Exactly what kind of point was I trying to make?

I’m sorry, Kevin,
I thought, knowing I’d never tell him to his face.

Finally Bridget raised her wineglass and sat forward, pouring off another inch into her glass with a sigh. She fixed me in her tipsy gaze.

“All right,” she muttered, “let’s see the goods.”

I nodded and bit back an excited smile.

“If you’ll excuse us?” I said, pushing back from the table.

Bridget eyed the half bottle of remaining wine and then shrugged, scooping it up as she wobbled down the hall to the studio. I followed a few feet behind, hoping she would take a second alone before I had to explain myself.

When I got there, she was standing right where I wanted her, right in front of the lemon branch. I saw her raise her wineglass halfway to her mouth, then raise the bottle instead and swig from it directly.

“You should slow down,” I called from the doorway. “You have definitely had enough wine.”

I strolled up behind her and took the glass from her hand, finding a non-lipsticky part of the rim and quaffing half of it.

“What… the hell… is this…” she finally whispered, shaking her head.

“Oh,” I said. “Well…” I stood back and looked at them again. I tried to see it through her eyes, the eyes of the gallery owner who had to actually sell it.

“OK, maybe it’s too much,” I started. Maybe it was. It had felt so right at the time though.

“They’re… I don’t know what to say,” she sighed. “They’re awesome. They’re amazing.” She turned to me, nodding. “Bitch, they’re fucking amazing.”

Relief flooded me and I wanted to giggle.

“Really?” I asked, plainly begging for affirmation like a puppy.

“Oh my god, yes. They’re genius. They’re… totally unlike you.”

“Hey!”

She shrugged. “Well you know what I mean.”

“No I don’t,” I pouted.

“It’s just.... well I’ve always wondered if you came pre-assembled with that stick up your ass, or if you had to have it installed special.”

“Hilarious, Bridge,” I drawled sarcastically.

“But this,” she continued. “This is good. This
really
 good.” Her head went sideways as she peered each of them over, one by one.

My heart leapt. She hadn’t done the sideways-head-peer on one of my pieces in years.

“OK, talk it through for me,” she asked.

I sighed. Where to begin? She knew I hated having to explain myself. The work should speak without me. If it didn’t, I knew the piece had failed. But this time, I felt like I just needed to give it a proper vocabulary.

“All right, well… These are the lemons I promised you, obviously. But then I wanted to show them sort of pushed and pulled, like something unattainable, or something in a dream. So here,” I waved my hand in front of the drippy, thick layers of paint upon paint, “they’re obscured. But here... they’re revealed.”

She nodded. “Uh huh, yes. Go on.”

I stared at the next piece, trying to give it words. “It’s just.... Like, here, I didn’t want to just document the literal
thing
, I wanted another layer on top of that… Like a laid-out emotional layer. The way things in dreams aren’t just things. They have like a whole fairy tale around them... How much you want them, how tender they are, how delicate. I wanted to show how I felt, while also showing what it is. To make lemons and oranges more than just… you know. Lemons. Oranges.”

She shook her head. “Girl, it’s so right on.”

I bounced on my toes. I had taken a real chance, basically obliterating the paintings I owed her and replacing them with something else. Everyone knew me for my carefully controlled still lifes. This was risky. Hugely risky.

“OK, I know you’re trying to figure out if you can sell this. I can start again and give you what I promised if you want. But painting the life
out
 of something right now felt so wrong. Painting life
into
 it, stuffing as much as I could of myself, basically bleeding on the canvas…. That’s what I needed to do. It had felt fucking triumphant at the time, too.”

“Damn right it’s triumphant,” she muttered, not talking her eyes away. “I can see why you had to disappear.”

“But like I said, I can start again…”

“Oh fuck you,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You leave the selling to me. You do… whatever this is. Again. And again.”

“It’s still just a lemon branch,” I said modestly.

“No, seriously,
fuck
 you. It
was
 just a lemon branch. It
was
 just a technical exercise. And don’t get me wrong, babe, you’re the goddamn queen of the technical exercises. But this is… real. This has some fucking balls. And it’s about time.”

“I think it’s great,” came a voice from the door. Jackson’s blue eyes shone brightly.

Bridget whirled around on her stiletto. “Oh no!” she shouted. “Hell no. Grownups are working here. You: out.”

“Excuse me?” he said, raising his eyebrows as though she were joking. I shrugged at him in apology.

Bridget flung her arm out, pointing, and started to walk toward him. Jackson got the threat and left immediately, closing the door behind him.

“Goddamn, this house is overrun with man meat,” she muttered. She wrinkled her nose and stalked back to the easel. “You smell that? It’s like a locker room.”

“Oh shut up, Bridget.”

She folded her arms in front of her chest and stared at the paintings some more, sucking her teeth loudly. “Can I smoke in here?”

“Nope,” I said for the millionth time.

“Fine,” she sighed. “Well I love them. I absolutely fucking love them. It’s the boy toys, isn’t it.”

I shrugged. “I doubt it.”

She cough-barked. “It is, totally. You’re different already. You
look
 different.”

“I feel different,” I admitted.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I feel like one of those movie vampires. I’m on fire… like all over.”

“Goddamn. I bet.” He heaved another great sigh that ended in a chuckle. “Well, keep doing it, bitch. This is… alive. You’re alive. It’s a nice change. And kudos for the evil plan to humiliate Kevin. I totally approve.”

I flinched and shook my head, rolling my eyes silently and scowling.

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Oh isn’t it?” she persisted, eyebrows raised. “You didn’t invite him here to ambush him with your new love life?”

“No of course not.”

“Lies,” she accused. “But like I said, I approve.”

“You never cared for Kevin…”