There were seven of us in the kitchen; Robbie and me; my brother Charlie and his wife Rose; my parents, and for some inexplicable reason, Scott. I wished he would leave. I’d been saved from talking to him by Mom’s interception but I knew Robbie could sense something was up and Scott was making me feel highly uncomfortable. He leaned against the fridge, sipping champagne and gate-crashing on what should have been a family catch-up.
I say ‘catch-up’ but it was more of an interrogation. I don’t quite know how we’d all ended up in the kitchen, or how the door had shut firmly behind us. All I knew was that Mom was using her fake-nice voice to cross-examine Robbie and I couldn’t get a word in edgeways.
“You work in the kitchen of a hotel?” Mom had morphed into condescension personified. Even Dad was mortified. He’d already pretended to check his watch seven times.
“Yep. The Sky. I do desserts.” Robbie seemed oblivious to the disapproval in her voice. I wondered how much more unimpressed she’d be if she knew he’d been fired from such an improper job.
“And you like working there?”
“Well, it pays the rent,” Robbie laughed. I laughed too. Mom didn’t.
“The rent? Where did you say you lived?”
“Brooklyn.”
Fuck. Mom knew the neighbourhoods of Brooklyn like she knew her PTA schedules.
“Oh? Which street?”
It went on. Employment history, family history, credit rating, and even fucking dental history. Charlie texted me from across the kitchen.
Wtf were you thinking?
I glared at him and he smirked. I imagined Mom had an imaginary checklist of questions in her head. It must have been at least five pages long.
“You didn’t go to college? So what did you do?”
“Is that annual? It must be after tax. Before tax? Hmm.”
I tried to smile. Scott caught my eye and winked. It seemed like a more reassuring gesture than anything but I looked away. Dad shot me a pitying glance. Out of everyone in the room, Robbie seemed the most at ease. He laughed, joked and manoeuvred his way out of closed questions, simultaneously impressing and infuriating my mother until she eventually gave up and let him talk about the cake he’d made.
“I’m sorry,” I said, when no-one else was listening. “But you did pretty well.”
Robbie smiled. He’d begun to cut the cake.
“It was easy. I just thought about what we’d be doing later and everything else didn’t matter much at all.”
I looked up at him anxiously. He looked at me and smiled.
“So you were – serious?” I asked carefully.
He laughed.
“One hundred percent, angel. Hey, you have the first piece. It’s your cake after all.”
He handed me a small plate.
“Tell me what you think. Honestly.”
I took a bite. It was beautiful.
“Delicious. So nice. Unreal. It’s like – lemony. Yum.”
Robbie laughed.
“High praise indeed. Hey, are there any more plates here?”
“Yeah, I’ll get them.”
I crossed the kitchen to look in the cupboards only to be cornered by Scott.
“So you’re fucking a baker?” he murmured. His mouth was so close to my ear that I could feel his warm breath.
I tried to move away but he blocked my path.
“Leave me alone,” I groaned.
“C’mon, Ally. We’re friends, aren’t we? Don’t be like that. I only asked a question. Is he a baker?”
“He’s a pastry chef, actually,” I scowled.
“What’re you so touchy about?” Scott’s voice was faintly amused. “Are you fucking him? Or just dating him?”
“It’s really none of your business.”
“I’m only curious, princess.”
He stretched to the top shelf and retrieved the plates that I’d been trying to reach. He handed them to me and I snatched them away.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Princess? Why not? Is that only for him?” His voice dropped even lower. “Does he fuck good, Ally? The way you like it? The way I did?”
I blew out a breath.
“Yes. And he’s way better than you. Must be an age thing.”
Scott laughed.
“Good. I’m happy for you. Genuinely.”
I looked at him and our eyes met. He smiled. I tried not to.
“How’s Amber?” I asked.
“She’s great. I was only asking all this for her. She’s hugely curious about how the two of you made out. Says it seems weird to ask though.”
“She’s right. It is weird.” I paused a second and then asked brazenly, “Are you fucking her?”
“You’ve got a dirty mouth,” Scott laughed. “I’ll see you around, kitten.”
He left swiftly. I glared after his retreating figure and felt Robbie watching me. When I looked at him, he turned his attention back to the cake. I took the plates over.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” Robbie’s voice was quiet and he didn’t stop plating up the cake even as he looked at me. “It was him. The older guy. The friend with benefits? How the fuck were you even friends?”
His voice had an edge to it that I’d never heard before and there was a clinical routine to the way he set each plate down on the table.
I tried to gauge his mood.
“It was – does it matter? It’s history, isn’t it?”
He didn’t answer immediately and then he let out a breath.
“Yeah. I guess. I just – he seems like an asshole. What the hell is he doing here anyway?”
I set the stack of clean plates down. The cake was disappearing at an alarming pace.
“He’s kinda my dad’s friend,” I said evasively. “But I don’t know why he’d be invited. He’s probably gate-crashing.”
“What’s his name?”
“Scott.”
Robbie smirked. “Is he Scottish?”
I laughed, relieved that he was making a joke.
“Maybe. He lives in LA, though.”
“Huh.”
***
The party wore on. We ate cake, drank champagne and I introduced Robbie to as few people as possible. Every half hour we edged closer to the door until most of the guests had spilled out and it didn’t seem rude to leave. Still, we had to make excuses and I deliberately ignored my mother’s pointed gestures that indicated she wanted to talk to me alone. I knew I’d end up paying for it – most likely on the phone – but the night had already taken enough out of me. We took a cab back to my place and while Robbie seemed to have forgotten Scott, he brought him up again as we climbed the stairs to my apartment.
“So this Scott?” he asked. “Was he a good fuck?”
I glanced at him warily, serenity fast turning into anxiety.
“Robbie, please.”
He didn’t let go of my hand.
“It’s just a question. How was it with him? Honestly?”
I didn’t want to talk about it. I tried to pull my hand away but he held fast.
“It was just sex,” I tried to sound nonchalant. “Nothing more.”
“Yeah, I figured. But how was the sex? It must’ve been pretty good.”
I glared at him. “It was. Is that what you want to hear? For god’s sake, Robbie! It’s over!”
“How long did it last?” he asked, undeterred.
“One month.” I snapped. “It was last December. And we only met like – five times. That’s it. Five times.”
Robbie stopped short.
“Five times?”
“Yes!” I looked up at him desperately. “So it was nothing. You get it, don’t you?”
He didn’t get it. He didn’t speak again until we were inside my apartment. Half of me didn’t want to let him in but he’d shadowed me so closely that it was impossible to shut him out. The door clicked shut. Robbie dragged off his shirt like it irritated him.
“I’m being an asshole,” he said. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”
We were standing just inside the front door and I kicked off my heels. I felt as though I should tell him it was fine but I couldn’t bring myself to lie, even if that meant hurting him.
“He seemed so – full of himself, y’know?” Robbie pressed. “So over-confident and fucking inflated.”
Common ground, at last.
“He is.” I acquiesced. “He’s very arrogant.”
“And it was as though he thought he could still have you if he tried,” Robbie seethed. “I mean, just the way he talked to you. Like you’d just fall for him. I mean, I know you wouldn’t but he was so fucking inappropriate. Didn’t he get it?”
“Get what?” I frowned.
“That you’re mine. He doesn’t get any fucking part of you.”
Robbie kissed me suddenly, his tongue pushing into my mouth as though he was trying to reinforce his claim. I reached out to touch his shoulders in an attempt to placate him but he snatched my wrists and held them behind my back. His kiss was possessive, his body pushing against mine as he pulled me closer until we were pressed tightly together. I could feel his heat, smell his sweat and soon enough I felt the hard swell of his cock against my stomach. He broke the kiss momentarily and when I looked up, our eyes met.
“All mine,” he said, like I needed to be told. We were both breathing hard but that didn’t stop him kissing me again, his hands releasing mine and pushing me back against the door. I felt him clawing at the hem of my dress and he pulled it up to grasp my ass, lifting me up so he could grind his hard cock against my snatch. I shuddered and tried to press back, already chasing an inevitable orgasm but he pulled away suddenly.
“Not yet,” he breathed. “You think it’s that easy, angel?”
His voice was teasing but it barely hid the steel edge to his tone. I looked at him and he looked back, emotions fighting for exposure across his face. Dominance, anger, forced patience and overshadowing it all, the implacable silhouette of lust.
“Get on your knees.”
I slipped down before he’d finished speaking. My heart was thumping, my palms clammy with sweat. I wanted it to be just us; for him to forget everyone else we’d met or seen that night; for the distractions and complexities to be paled into insignificance by the raw emotions that electrified the space between us.
“Take my cock out,”
Robbie’s voice sounded harsh in the small entranceway. I could hear people arguing in the apartment upstairs, and heard music playing from somewhere beneath us. I looked up at Robbie. He looked at me impatiently and I reached to the fastenings on his jeans, undoing the button and sliding the zip down. He was wearing boxer shorts underneath and he didn’t move, didn’t help but didn’t hinder, as I fumbled to tug at his clothes and ease his hard cock out from beneath. I swallowed hard and looked back up at him, my hand loose around his erection. His face was a mask of control.
“Aren’t you gonna suck it?” he breathed. “No hands. Just your mouth.”
I closed my lips around the head of his cock and went further, slowly taking in more and more. I sucked in air through my nose, my eyes flicking up to his every so often to try and read his reaction. He didn’t give me anything; just watched, as calm as anything. I sucked harder, traced my tongue back and forth and fought the urge to stroke him with my hand. It would be so much easier.
“C’mon, angel,” he growled. “Is that really the best you can do?”
His hands went to my hair, firmly grasping my twin braids as he leveraged himself into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat. I’d deep throated him before but there’d always been an element of control on his part, as though he’d been afraid of pushing me too far. Tonight was radically different. As soon as I’d fought the urge to gag, he pushed into my throat and held himself there, my face pressed against the muscle of his stomach. When he finally withdrew, I had a few precious seconds to suck in air before he was at it again, using my throat selfishly and forcing me to take what he wanted to give.
It went on. My eyes watered furiously and when he withdrew long enough for me to look up at him, his face was shadowed; teeth clenched and constrained pleasure darkening his features. I didn’t want him to stop. He used me, driving his throbbing cock into my mouth over and over until my throat felt raw and saliva dripped down my chin.
It should have been humiliating but it didn’t feel that way. Subconsciously, my hand had found its way beneath my dress to my dripping snatch and as his cock plundered my mouth, my finger rubbed urgently against my clit; attempting to coax out a much-needed release. His grip on my hair tightened painfully and his throbbing cock drove on, fucking my throat mercilessly. I felt him jerk ever so slightly and as soon as I registered it, he pulled out, releasing me and leaning his hands against the door.
“Did I say you could touch yourself?” he growled.
My hand stopped moving. He grasped my arm, pulling me up off the floor and he caught my wrist, his mouth closing around my wet fingers. He sucked hard, his dark eyes on mine.
