After Dark (6 page)

“So leave.” She took a drag. “You’re the one who wanted to talk to me.”

“What, you don’t want to talk to anyone?”

She slanted her gaze toward the deli. Last night’s vulnerability was gone. Today, she’d tucked her concerns behind a snarky exterior, and suddenly the pregnancy was no big deal.

“It’s not like I plan to keep it anyway.”

“So you’ve definitely decided on an abortion?”

“I hate that word,” she snapped, “and I don’t know.”

“Okay. Well, shouldn’t you…” I took a deep breath.
This
was what I didn’t want Matt to know. “Shouldn’t you tell Seth? I mean, if you’re sure he’s—”

“It’s him. There hasn’t been anyone else for a while.”

I closed my eyes and chilled in the late spring heat. Seth Sky, Matt’s brother, was the father of my sister’s child? How completely fucked-up.

“Do you know how far along you are?”

“About eight weeks.”

“Okay…” I tracked back mentally to the end of April. It was a bad time, and because of that, I remembered it well. I was hiding at the Econo Lodge, separated from Matt. Chrissy kept me company some nights. She’d tried to cheer me up. She’d even …

My eyes widened swiftly.

Two months ago, Chrissy had coaxed me out of my motel room and took me to a suite at Four Seasons, where Seth and his bandmates were staying. Chrissy had a thing with the bass guitarist. But she also had a huge crush on Seth.

That was the night I gave Seth a hand job.

Then I left.

I left my sister with those deadbeats, in that drug-ridden hotel room.

Cue imagination.

Seth exits the bedroom, depressed, prowling. He sees Wiley and Chrissy. Wants me. I’m gone. Maybe he offers her coke, the way he offered it to me. Maybe she tries it, the way I tried it. Whatever really happened, I know how that night ended.

It ended with Seth and my sister having sex.

“At Four Seasons,” I whispered.

Chrissy frowned. “Yeah, that night. How did you know?”

“Good guess. And you haven’t talked to him since?”

“No,” she said. “It was a one-night kind of deal.”

“Are you still dancing?”

“Dancing”—that’s how we referred to my sister’s job at the Dynamite Club, a strip club in Boulder. The job suited her well. She was wild and exhibitionistic.

“Yeah, but the morning sickness is messing with my sleep. Plus, I can kiss my job good-bye if I blow up with a baby. I’m kind of screwed.”

“Well, don’t let that influence your decision. Do you need money?”

“I’ve got some saved. I mean, not enough to pay for…”

The abortion. She couldn’t or wouldn’t say it. And, obviously, she still lived without insurance, as she had for the last several years.

“I’ll pay,” I said, “if you decide to go that route. Or if you keep it. I’ll help you no matter what. Don’t worry about anything.”

My sister straightened in her chair.

“Do you even have that kind of money?”

“I do.” Reflexively, I pulled my left hand onto my lap. “We do.”

“Oh, God. You mean Matt’s money?”

“Why not? His money is mine. He said so.”

“Han … it is too beyond fucked-up for me to get handouts from the brother of the guy who got me pregnant, okay? And—” She frowned. “Wait. Shit. Did you tell Matt?”

“No! God. I told him you’re pregnant.” I held up my hands. “That’s it. Not, like, who.”

“You
can’t
tell him.”

“Trust me, I won’t. I think he’d kill Seth.”
I
wanted to kill Seth. Matt really might. I shuddered. “Look, I need to get back to the office, but let’s meet again. This weekend, maybe?”

“Sure, whatever.”

“Okay. I’ll call you. And please—” In the movie of my life, I would touch my sister’s hand and look earnestly into her eyes, and tell her everything would be fine. In reality, I fumbled with my purse and frowned at her cigarette. “Quit smoking until you’ve made up your mind.”

I hurried back to the office. A fine, cold sweat gathered on my brow. The spare aesthetic of the agency seemed ominous that day, the air laced with guilt.

My instincts told me to run home to Matt. Now was not the time to start hiding things from him. I was already dodging the Children Discussion.

But I couldn’t tell him about Seth.
Seth, of all fucking people …

I popped my head into Pam’s office.

“Yes?” She glanced over her computer.

“I read the full manuscript I requested, and I’m interested in representing the author.”

“Great. I’d like to take a look at it, if you don’t mind. We can discuss it.”

“Of course.”

“And you’re good to go this weekend,” Pam added.

“Excuse me?”

“You needed Friday off?”

“Uh, no.”

“Well, you’ve got Friday off. Matthew called. Something about a trip.”

Heat spread across my face. My fists tightened.

“Oh, right … the trip. I forgot. Thank you, Ms. Wing.”

*   *   *

I returned to the condo later than usual, around seven.

Matt hovered by the door.

As soon as I let myself in, he tugged me into his arms.

“Missed you,” he whispered. I stiffened in his hold, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I made dinner. Mexican…” He padded over to the kitchen table and gestured to a plate of
taquitos.
I grimaced. As usual, he’d made the whole box—all twenty-four—and half of the rolls looked suspiciously dark. He saw me eyeing them.

“I did this half in the oven. Then I did this half in the microwave, since—”

“I’m not hungry.” I plopped my purse on the counter.

Normally, Matt’s pitiful cooking attempts melted my heart, but not tonight.

“Oh.” He shifted the plate. “Well, they got cold anyway.”

“And you really need to stop making the whole box. Make, like … half.”

“Oh. Yeah…” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his shoulders sink.

“It’s too many.” I slapped the counter. “It’s a waste. We can never eat them all, and then they sit in the fridge getting stale, okay? I feel like that’s common sense.”

“You’re right. I…” He began to pile taquitos in his palm, as if he could somehow salvage them. He paced across the kitchen, frowned, and then returned the rolls to the plate.

“And you need to stop going over my head at the agency,” I snapped.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb.” I whirled toward him. “You called Pam and got me Friday off with your stupid M. Pierce influence and I am
tired
of you Sky men trampling over my life and clearing my fucking work calendar like I’m a child who can’t—”

Matt snagged my wrist. With one terse tug, he reeled me into his arms.

This time, I crumpled against him.

“I’m sorry.” His soft voice thrummed through me. I listened to his heart and smelled his clean, strong body. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Oh…”

“Hannah, I want you to meet my family, too. Properly.”

I hid my face against Matt’s chest. I had definitely not met Matt’s aunt and uncle
properly
at his phony memorial.

“And I thought we could fly east a day early. I want to show you some things.”

“What things?” I peeked up at his smooth jaw.

“Surprises, little bird.”

Simply standing in the circle of Matt’s arms eased away the rough edges of my day. I let myself forget about Chrissy and Seth … and Katie. Anyway, I didn’t plan to ask Matt about the things Katie had said—not until I heard more and determined how much I believed.

I kissed his throat. He sighed and I trailed the tip of my tongue up his neck.

“Hannah…”

“I missed you today.” Through the fabric of his shirt, I brushed a thumb across his nipple. He responded impulsively, his groin pressing my belly.

“Babe.” He cupped my face. “Are you okay? Lately you…”

My poor sweet Matt. He struggled, and failed, to articulate my crazy mood swings.

“I’m fine now.” I raked a hand down his spine and slid it into the back of his shorts, my nails teasing over his ass. A tense moan sounded in his throat.

“Mm, I just”—he got a handful of my backside—“don’t want to repeat last night.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean me jerking off at my desk.” He laughed reluctantly and I giggled.

“Is that what you did? I’m sorry, baby.” Except I wasn’t
too
sorry. I loved driving Matt to touch himself; it was ridiculously hot.

“Not your fault. I got too worked up.”

“Yeah? Are you getting too worked up now?” I stepped closer to Matt, crushing my chest to his, and reached between his legs from behind. I palmed his balls and he growled.

“Fuck, yeah.” His head rolled back. He rubbed the sides of my breasts.

“Do you always watch porn … when you do it alone?”

“Sometimes,” he said—no hesitation. “Not always.”

I massaged him gently and watched his neck cord and relax with pleasure, his chest rising and falling slowly. I eased back enough to let him play with my breasts, which seemed to please him. I moaned as he squeezed them.

“Want to feel those against your wet cunt,” he panted. “My balls.”

Unf
 … the dirty talk. My toes curled on the hardwood.

“Do you wanna … maybe … watch porn with me?” I gasped as soon as I said it. Where did
that
come from?

Matt was right; in some ways, I didn’t know him. But I wanted to know him—his habits, his likes and dislikes. I wanted to know all of him.

His head sank and his eyes floated open. He smiled thinly, head cocked.

“Hell, yes…”

Chapter 8

MATT

I pulled off my T-shirt and dropped it by the door. Hannah slid her hand out of my basketball shorts, her hot little touch leaving my balls.
God damn …

The girl had a way of distracting me.

Tonight, distracting me from dinner, and some vague plan to sit down with her and talk about Chrissy’s pregnancy. It troubled Hannah deeply, and a little more than seemed reasonable.

I eased my dick out of my shorts.

“Oh,” she whispered.

She always stared. It always surprised her.

Heavy-lidded satisfaction uncoiled inside me.

“Was getting uncomfortable.” I took her hand and led her to the office, collected my MacBook Pro, and tugged her toward the bedroom.

“I really don’t watch much of this stuff…” I pushed off my shorts and sat on the bed, booting up the laptop. Hannah was curiously quiet, as if she’d exhausted all her courage for the night. “You sure you want to?”

“Yes.”

“You watch porn?” I raised a brow.

“Um. Some. Sometimes. Not … since I met you, really.”

I grinned and stretched. “No need, am I right?”

“Oh my God.” She laughed. “So vain.”

I hummed a bar of “You’re So Vain” and browsed the videos I’d bothered to download. I didn’t have many; it was all online anyway. “You should get undressed.”

I glanced at Hannah and caught her staring at my dick. Again. She flushed and my grin faded, something darker replacing it.

“Don’t be shy. You’re going to be my wife. I want you to look at it.”

Her mouth fell open. Her eyes strayed over my cock and abs as she undressed, peeling off her polo dress, shimmying out of her thong and unclasping her bra.

In turn, I gazed appreciatively at her body, which she revealed for me without pretense. Her full thighs and curved hips, her heavy breasts … the simple exposure made me harden completely.

She joined me on the bed.

She began to stroke my length; her leg pressed alongside mine.

“That’s nice…” I glanced at her hand. Nice? My control slipped. I slid under. Not for the first time, I thought,
I could die like this, in this dark water. Gladly.

“Did you pick something?”

“Mm.” I opened one of the files. The media player filled the screen. “It’s the threesome you caught me watching. You seemed intrigued.” I leaned over and bit Hannah’s shoulder, then kissed it, my tongue sweeping her warm skin. She shuddered. “Am I right?”

“Um … yeah.”

“You sure?” I clicked on the progress bar, skipping the preamble—the producer’s sad effort to give the porn some plot.

“Yeah, yes.” Hannah didn’t sound too sure, but she glanced at the screen, where a dark-haired woman knelt on a bed. The room looked like all porn rooms: modern, anonymous, too clean. A man stood behind the woman, his erect cock touching her thigh. He stroked her ass. Hannah stroked my arousal.

I reached between her legs and found her wet.
Perfect.

“Get on your hands and knees,” I said. “I know you like that.”

She obeyed quickly, transitioning to her hands and knees on the bed. I knelt behind her, rubbing my head against her glistening cunt. When she tried to slide back onto me, I slapped her ass. The sound sent a tremor of pleasure through me. The sight of her quivering made me twitch.

“Stay still. Be a good girl. Watch.”

When the man on the screen penetrated the woman, I slid into Hannah. Slow … so slow. One torturous, lazy stroke.

Hannah was panting by the time I buried myself.

We fucked like the couple in the video. When he drilled into her, I moved harder against Hannah. When he pulled her hair, I tugged on Hannah’s curls.

“How do you like it?” I gasped.

“Nn … good.” She struggled to keep her eyes on the screen.

The second man stepped into the frame, casually undoing his jeans.

Hannah inhaled. Her pussy clenched and I moaned.

“You’re making me feel so good. Keep watching.” I slid out of her—she whined at my absence—and climbed off the bed. The air of the bedroom felt cool against my body.

I disappeared into the closet, returning with Hannah’s vibrator—the LELO I bought for her last summer.

“Look.” I nodded at my laptop. The second man knelt on the bed before the woman. She got him hard with her hand and mouth. I watched for a beat, my pleasure intensified by Hannah’s bright blush and shy gaze. “You remember where this is going?”

“Y-yes…”

I dropped the vibrator between her knees.

“Do it, then,” I said, and we did.
She
did. Trembling exquisitely, Hannah pushed the toy into her body while I knelt in front of her and slid my member down the back of her throat—again and again. She took it all. Her eyes rolled toward the laptop, where the woman on the bed got her mouth and pussy fucked. I asked if Hannah liked it, being full. She nodded as well as she could. Saliva dripped from her lips.