The One For Me (Danver #8) (14 page)

Crystal sought Mia out during her break the next morning. She winced as she took a seat on the chair in front of her friend’s desk. Mark had been insatiable the previous night, and her body felt battered in the most wonderful way. The man certainly had some stamina. They hadn’t even made it to the bedroom the first time; instead he’d had her to lean on the arm of his sofa. He’d then spread her open wide and proceeded to lick her from end to end. She was certain she’d passed out a few times before he finished wringing a couple of orgasms out of her. He’d kept her in the same position and taken her hard from behind. She had been grateful that her feet weren’t touching the floor because otherwise they would have buckled. Then they’d moved on to a bath, where she’d ended up riding him—while flooding the bathroom. And God, she couldn’t forget the shower sex this morning. Wrapped around his waist and pushed against the wall. Sleepy, tousled Mark, all slippery and yummy.

Fingers snapped in front of her, and she flinched. “I don’t know what you’re thinking about over there, Crys, but if the heavy breathing is any indication, it
must be damn good.” Mia winked. “Come on, tell me all about it. Seth’s out of town, and I’m on a dry spell.”

Rolling her eyes, Crystal asked, “How long have you been suffering this time? A whole day?”

“Hey, don’t make light of my pain,” Mia joked. “He’s been gone eighteen hours, and he’s not due back until later tonight.”

“I don’t know how you’re going to make it,” Crystal cried dramatically. “How are you able to work? To even function in society with that level of neglect? I’d just kick Seth to the curb and be done with it if he can’t keep up with you properly.”

Kicking her feet up on top of her desk, Mia nodded. “Yeah, I would—except he packs about five days’ worth of loving into every session. So even though I don’t like going without—I’ve got enough reserves to get by awhile longer.” Giving her a questioning look, Mia said, “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, what brings you to my neck of the woods so early? I gathered from your text yesterday that you DeStudo have made up.”

“Oh, yeah.” Crystal grinned. “We sure did. And it was amazing as always. But that’s not why I’m here.” Mia flicked her hand, encouraging her to get on with it. Biting her lip, she admitted, “Well . . . I’m going to marriage counseling with Bill this evening.”

“What?” Mia shrilled. Her friend looked like a guppy fish as her mouth flapped open and closed. “Bu-but I thought that was over. I mean, you’re sleeping with Mark, right?”

“That’s right,” she agreed. “We’re having a just sex nonrelationship.”

Mia rubbed her temple as if in pain. “Er—honey, if you’re sleeping with one man, should you really be trying to get back together with another one? I mean, no judgment here, but that sounds kind of . . . duplicitous.”

“But I’m not going back to Bill,” Crystal pointed out.

Enunciating each word carefully, Mia asked, “Then. Why. Are. You. Going. To. Counseling. With. Him?”

Crystal squirmed in her seat. “I can’t help it. I feel sorry for him. He’s called me for the past two days begging me to go. I caved under the pressure this morning when it sounded as if he was crying. It’s not a big deal, though. We were married for a long time. What’s a few more hours for old times’ sake?”

Mia now looked as if she were close to beating her head against her desk. “Did you ever think that possibly he’s just playing you? He, better than anyone, knows what a soft heart you have. You’d probably agree to go to marriage counseling with King Kong if he shed a tear or two. What does Mark have to say about this?”

“I can’t tell him,” Crystal whispered, after looking over her shoulder to make certain the door was still closed. “He doesn’t like discussing Bill. Remember how he reacted a few nights ago when I told him about seeing him at my mother’s?”

“Out of curiosity,” Mia began, “how do you think you’re going to hide this from him? What if he wants to see you tonight?”

“He left for Charleston this morning,” she admitted.
“He said he won’t be back until sometime tomorrow, so I’m good.”

“You dumped all of this on me because you were afraid of putting Gwen in labor, weren’t you?” Mia asked astutely. “Plus you knew that your sister would probably have a heart attack over it.”

“Well . . .” Crystal hedged, “nothing really shakes you, and I had to tell someone in case Bill drags me off afterward.”

“Well, hell,” Mia huffed. “Now, I’m your enabler. I want to officially go on the record as being opposed to this crazy bleeding-heart sympathy counseling you’re doing with Bill. I’ll keep my mouth shut, but I want you to promise me that you’ll talk to him after it’s over tonight. Let him know where you stand and that this was a onetime thing for you.”

Crystal crossed her heart. “I will. I’ll invite him for coffee and tell him the truth.”

“All right.” Mia sighed, sounding resigned. “I just know this isn’t gonna end well, but you’re a grown woman. I hope you know what you’re doing. Often it’s better for someone to have no hope than the false kind.”

Crystal was on her feet and almost to the door. Turning back, she asked, “Are you talking about me or Bill?”

“God knows at this point,” Mia admitted.

•   •   •

What a mistake,
Crystal thought dazedly as Bill used yet another tissue to wipe his eyes. She had to admit that the man who she’d always thought was oblivious to her feelings seemed to have a long and very detailed
list of every time he’d hurt her in the past. As he listed each and every one of them, she nodded politely while he begged for forgiveness. As their hour drew to a close, she was physically and emotionally exhausted. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t to sit quietly the entire time while Bill talked nonstop and the counselor nodded approvingly before finally saying brightly, “This was a great session, you two. Bill, you communicated your feelings beautifully. And Crystal, next week we’ll begin with you. After that, we can have joint discussions as we work to put your broken pieces back together again.” Then she clapped—she honest-to-God clapped—her hands and said in a peppy shout, “Now stand up and take a bow—you both deserve it!”
Nightmare on my street.

Bill jumped to his feet enthusiastically. When Crystal remained seated, mainly in shock, both the counselor and her ex-husband looked at her expectedly. So she had little choice but to stand and bow as if she’d just finished the starring role in a third-grade play.
Shoot me now.
After that, there was no way she could force herself to spend more time with Bill, even if they did need to talk. So she said the first thing that she could come up with, to get away quickly. “I’ve really got to go. It’s that time of the month.”

Thank the Lord that some things never changed. Bill looked like he was ready to bolt at her words, and he stammered out, “Oh, um, sure. You go do—whatever, um, you need to.” She waved limply with one hand while holding her stomach for good measure with the other and shuffled quickly to her car.

And just to give her a swift kick, fate took that exact
moment to make her phone chime. She fumbled in her purse, pulling it out to see a message from her mother.
It’s about time you got your head on right. Bill told me that you’re getting back together. Don’t mess it up this time!
Complete with an exclamation mark and a fucking emoticon with a frowny face.

The scales were officially out of balance in her life once again. The good side with her nonrelationship was rapidly being overwhelmed by the bad side with Bill and her ex-husband-loving mother. Joining the Peace Corps was sounding really good right about now.

It was almost two in the morning when Mark walked in the door of his Charleston home. He loosened his tie and tossed his suit jacket on the back of a chair. Evenings with his parents were freaking exhausting and he wanted nothing more than to leave the city and not come back. Every once in a great while, his father decided to make an ass of himself to get attention. And he’d done that yesterday afternoon. As usual, he’d been either drunk, high, or a combination of both.

He’d learned long ago that things would continue to escalate unless he gave his father the outlet he was seeking, which was usually an opportunity to flex his imaginary muscle. When his grandfather had turned the family company over to him, his father had nearly gone ballistic. Mark couldn’t understand how his father was the only one who didn’t see it coming. After all, Mark had taken a stagnant company and shot it straight to the top, ahead of all of their competition. His business instincts were spot-on almost without fail, and that was something that his shrewd grandfather had picked up on right away. Therefore, while his father lived the life of an overgrown playboy, Mark quietly took control and never looked back. And his
parents cursed him for it even as they ran through the money he made for them like water.

His parents shared a bizarre relationship. He knew that they both had lovers and didn’t bother to hide their affairs from each other. Yet they had each other’s backs in a way that Mark would never comprehend, considering the state of their marriage. No doubt money played a part, as his mother was used to living the good life. When he was forced to spend time with them, he never ceased to be amazed by their actions, even though he should know what to expect from them by now. His mother would pretend for a few hours that she actually gave a damn about what was going on in Mark’s life, and his father would go through a rehearsed list of all of the ways that Mark had embarrassed and failed them. It was almost like some childish bid for attention.

During the time that he was with them, his father would toss back one drink after another while his mother ate a couple of bites of salad. Then she would produce a compact from her purse and carefully reapply her lipstick and touch the skin under her eyes as if checking for any new wrinkles. If was as if she didn’t hear a single word that her husband slurred out.

Looking at them tonight across the table, he’d felt something in addition to the usual anger and impatience. He’d had an epiphany of sorts. He’d avoided relationships all of his adult life because he’d been terrified of becoming what his parents were. Hell, it hadn’t been long ago that his friend Brant had accused him of having mommy and daddy issues and he’d laughed in agreement and told him that he’d even
throw in some grandparent issues as well. He’d been moody that day because he’d just finished dealing with his father’s latest tantrum. He’d shown up drunk and disorderly at the DeSanto Group’s Charleston headquarters, and Hank, one of the security guards there, had been forced to call Mark and ask what to do. That had been one of the worst instances since his father had swung at Hank before being subdued. Just another fucking moment of family embarrassment.

But tonight, when he’d been at his lowest point of the evening—ready to toss his napkin on the table, have the jet fueled, and leave the country—his phone had chimed. He’d pulled it from his pocket, welcoming any excuse to block out his father’s grating voice. There had been a surprising text that instantly soothed his despair and brought a smile to his lips.
Hey, DeStudo . . . I’ll never complain about being a booty call again. Could use one right about now. . . .
A smiley face followed the comment.

She would never know how much he had needed that text from her tonight. He’d quickly hit the
REPLY
button and typed,
Wish I could oblige, Angel. . . . You okay?
Regardless of her words, he didn’t think she was necessarily trying to sext him. He had a feeling that like himself, she might have had a rough evening and just needed to reach out. It was already after ten, and he hoped like hell he could get out of here soon so he could call her before she went to bed. He longed to hear her sweet voice and her laughter tonight. Normally, after a hellish dinner like this, he’d be looking for someone to take the edge off for a few hours. Physical exertion followed by a release—or several of them.
Right now, though, the idea of a one-night stand held no appeal for him.

He was still holding his phone when she responded,
I’m fine . . . but I miss you.
As he sat reading her words and wondering why the sentiment she’d expressed wasn’t freaking him out, another one chimed right behind it.
Crap! I shouldn’t have said that. I mean—we barely know each other and now you’re going to think I’m some kind of clinger.
He’d no sooner finished reading that comment when another popped up. He couldn’t help it; he started to laugh. She went on berating herself for at least two minutes before there was a lull in the action. God, he loved how adorably rattled she got when she was nervous. He could only imagine how flustered she was right about now.

Before she could continue on, he typed out,
It’s fine, Angel.
Then, because it was very much true, he added something he’d never admitted to another woman.
Miss you too.

Really??
Her reply was almost immediate.

Across the table, his mother had called his name and he’d known his reprieve was over. His fingers flew over his phone and he sent back,
Yeah, baby. Call you later,
before turning once again to his parents.

In the end, it was hours before he’d gotten away. He’d ended up taking them home since their driver was off for the rest of the night. His mother had insisted he come in and he figured that she needed his
help with getting his father into bed after he passed out. He had no idea how she handled it on other nights, but some part of him couldn’t leave her stranded. She’d never be mother of the year, but she was a damn sight better than her husband.

As he slumped back against the plush cushions of his sofa, he thought again of Angel. It was far too late to call her now—but he wanted to. He reached for his phone lying on the table beside him and waged an inner war. He could text her once and if she didn’t reply, he’d know she was asleep. He chose to ignore his inner voice telling him that he’d wake her up either way.
Sorry was later than I expected. Bet you’re already asleep.
He closed his eyes and tried to relax. He was dozing off when the sound of his phone ringing jolted him abruptly. He looked at the display and chuckled. “What’re you doing awake, Angel?”

“Waiting for you to call,” she responded softly and without hesitation.

His gut clenched, and his heart did a funny flip. So fucking sweet and innocent. He should walk away and leave her alone. If only he didn’t want her so damned much. She was changing him—changing everything. “Baby . . . ,” he said, unable to get anything else out.

“You sound tired,” she added. “Is your trip going okay?”

“Yeah, Angel,” he said huskily. “Just dealing with some family shit.”

She sounded curious now. “Problem?”

“The usual.” He had no idea why he was compelled
to add, “My father makes your mother seem like June Cleaver, if that gives you any idea.”

All was quiet before she let out an “Ohhh. Wow, I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

He was moved by the sincerity in her voice, but he didn’t want to think about his parents anymore for a while. “It is what it is, Angel. So, tell me about your evening. What had you stressed enough earlier to request a DeStudo drive-by?”

She giggled at his attempt to lighten the mood. “It was . . . nothing specific really. The usual long day.”

Even though she tried to sound light and airy, Mark could tell there was more to it than that. She seemed happy to talk to him, but he could detect a note of strain beneath the surface. “Did you speak to your mother today?” he asked casually, figuring that was the source of her unhappiness.

In a rapid-fire change of subject, she asked playfully, “So . . . what’re you wearing, DeStudo?”

If her evening had been anything like his, then he figured she needed an escape, because he certainly did. So, he went along with her diversion and replied, “Still dressed in everything except my jacket. How about you, Angel? What’s touching that beautiful body of yours?”

She hesitated for a moment. “A T-shirt and panties. I wanted to say something more exciting, but I’m going with the truth.”

“I can’t imagine anything better than what you’ve just described. I bet that shirt is riding up and the curve of your sweet ass is peeking out. If I were there, I’d have my hand right on that spot where it connects
with your thigh. You’re so sensitive that you’d shudder as I stroked you.”

“Oh, wow.” He heard her breath hitch, and he knew without seeing her that she was biting her plump lip. That mouth drove him crazy. He spent far too much time thinking of it wrapped around his cock. Then she surprised him by asking—or more like mumbling shyly—“Do you . . . I mean, have you ever tried . . . phone sex?”

He couldn’t help it; her question had him bursting into laughter. He heard her huffing in irritation before he finally got himself back under control enough to say, “Yeah, but it’s been a long time.”

“Oh,” she murmured, “I guess it was never something that the great DeStudo had to resort to very often.”

“That’s true,” he agreed truthfully. “I think we both know I haven’t lacked for female company, Angel, but I will say this. Right now, other than being with you in person, there is nothing else I’d rather be doing. In the past I would have gone out tonight and found someone. Fuck knows I needed the release, but it just didn’t interest me.”

“Really?” she asked, sounding almost giddy at his words. He’d never been one for flowery speeches, and to him, what he’d just said didn’t even come close to romantic. But it seemed to make her happy, and it was certainly the truth. All he wanted right now was her, and phone sex sounded pretty damn appealing.

“Baby, I could drag this out for a while, tease you with taking off one article of clothing at a time, but I think we need to cut to the chase. So how about you
be a good girl for me and remove that shirt and your panties. While you’re doing that, I’m going to take my clothes off and then I’m going to stroke my cock while you touch yourself. Does that work for you?”

“Um—yes!” she squeaked. “I’m er . . . going to do that—what you said—right now. Hang on, okay?”

Chuckling under his breath, he said, “All right, baby.” Then he laid the phone down before tossing off his clothing. Instead of returning to the sofa, he went to the bed. The sheets felt smooth and cool against his overheated skin. “You back, Angel?” he asked as his hand encircled his hard length. He clicked the
SPEAKER
button on his phone and dropped it on the bed beside him.

“I’m here,” she answered right away. “I’m naked. Should I be on top of the covers or under them? Is there like a certain position that you’re supposed to assume for this?”

He smiled, wanting to laugh at her question but managing to bite it back. “Put your phone on speaker and lie on top of your comforter, Angel—then spread your legs for me. Now touch yourself and tell me if you’re wet.” He heard a rustling sound and knew that she was doing as he instructed.

He pinched the tip of his cock, attempting to relieve a little pressure, as she suddenly moaned low in her throat, admitting, “I’m really wet. And my hand feels good—but not as good as yours.”

“Ah, baby,” he groaned, while pumping his dick. “Slip a finger inside you.” He knew by the sounds she was making that she’d done exactly as he asked. “Rub your clit with your other hand.”

“That feels so good,” she whimpered. “Are you . . . doing it too?”

As his balls tightened painfully, he said, “Yeah, Angel. I’m imagining plunging deep inside of your wet heat while I bury my tongue in your mouth. I’m so hard right now that I can hardly stand it. And it’s all for you, baby. Now add another finger and stretch yourself.”

“I’m close,” she wailed, and he could hear her how close she was to her orgasm through the phone line. “Oh, Mark—I wish you were here.”

“Me too, baby,” he gasped out as his hips surged forward. With the sounds of her cries in his ears, he shot streams of cum onto his belly. He knew he called her name as she continued to call his. “Are you okay, Angel?” he managed to ask when he finally recovered. She’d been quiet for the last minute or so, not saying anything.

“Mmm-hmm,” she sighed, sounding both tired and satisfied. “That was awesome. I mean, it’s not the same as—you know, but it was still one of the best ever.”

“For me as well,” he admitted, and he meant it. He’d come harder from phone sex with her than he had being intimate with most of the other women who’d passed briefly through his life. “It’s late, baby,” he said gruffly, unused to dealing with these types of tender feelings. “You should go to sleep now. You’re working tomorrow, right?”

“Yes,” she answered quietly, and he knew that she was already practically dozing. “When are you coming home?”

He yawned, relaxing further into his pillow before remembering he had some cleanup to take care of. “I’ll be back sometime tomorrow evening. We’ll have dinner if it’s not too late.”

“Mmmm K,” she agreed. “Night, Mark.”

He said his good nights and waited until she ended the call before tossing his phone aside. He left the bed and took a quick shower before collapsing back onto the soft surface. As his mind relaxed and his body drifted, he couldn’t help but find it strange that after a shitty evening, he was going to sleep happier than he had been in a while. And somehow he didn’t think it had anything at all to do with phone sex.