The Fling (18+)

Chapter 9

The cool, sweet bubbles of the imported champagne danced merrily across my tongue. Leaning my head back, I closed my eyes as I gulped down the final swallow of my glass.

My third glass of the night...

"...I'm just glad to see you finally made it out – this weekend wouldn't be the same without you, man." My father's words were barely audible past the background drone of panic buzzing inside of my head.

"Wouldn't have missed it." The deep, resonant rumble of his voice caressed my ears, and I clenched my teeth as a shiver teased along my skin.

Whiskey Neat – aka Adam Baker – aka my father's best friend...

Staring at my plate, I twirled the stem of the empty champagne flute between my thumb and forefinger, praying that my emotions weren't as obvious as they felt.

"...Nora actually had some hiccups on her way out here too – do you think you were on the same flight?"

Ice water flushed through my veins, and my gaze rose from the tabletop, meeting his.

Dark eyes stared back at me – the same eyes that had watched, enraptured, as I sucked his cock-

Breaking the connection, I looked around, searching for my next glass of champagne.

Distantly, I heard Adam mutter, "Probably?"

Dad shrugged, amusement coloring his tone, "Well, it's not like you would have recognized each other. You haven't seen her since, what? Her Christening?"

Turning toward my father, I asked, "My Christening?"

Dad smirked, "Didn't you know? Adam's your Godfather."

Images of last night flashed across my vision, memories of my filthy, brazen actions suddenly burning white-hot with shame.

This is a nightmare – I'm still asleep, and when I wake, none of this will have happened.

But my retreat into fantasy was tragically brief.

"By the way," Dad began, addressing Adam, "thank you again for your help this morning-"

This morning?

My brows drew together, confusion flooding through me. I spent all morning with Adam; when is he talking about-

My thoughts cut off, abruptly and absolutely, as the answer became clear to me.

The phone call...

Sickly horror turned my stomach, and I fought the urge to race to the bathroom.

Dad was speaking to Adam while I...

A violent shudder overtook me as I remembered how Adam had so deliciously filled my mouth and then my pussy-

-with my father speaking to him the entire time.

Picking up my clutch purse, I stood. "I'm going to go find the restrooms."

Dad looked over at me, "Well, hurry – dinner is going to be served soon."

I nodded, pushing in my chair as he added, "And go easy on the champagne – I don't need you making a scene."

"Sure, Dad." I muttered, all but fleeing the table.

Fuck champagne – if this night gets any worse, I'm drinking Clorox...

Retreating across the dimly lit ballroom, I stepped out into the hall, finding the opulently outfitted ladies' room and locking myself in a stall.

With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone, opening my messages and tapping on my conversation with "Whiskey Neat".

The words of our last exchange, the lighthearted, flirtatious tone as we planned our next rendezvous, seared me to the soul, and hastily I typed out one curt sentence:

"We should probably forget that last night ever happened."

And this morning – oh, god, this morning...

Overwhelming humiliation fought with a damned, unquenchable desire as I hit send.

You cannot still want him- I argued with myself, disgusted and dismayed.

But, deep within me, behind the protestations of my rational side, I knew the truth.

My phone buzzed in my hand, and I looked down, spirits dropping as I read one word:

"Probably."

Okay, okay. We're on the same page. This is a good thing.

Right?

Taking a long, steadying breath, I locked my phone and placed it back in my purse, stepping out of the stall to wash my hands and return to the party.

Instead of heading back to our table, I made a beeline to the open bar, ID out and ready when the bartender asked for my order.

"Gin and tonic."

The man nodded, turning slightly to my left, "And for you, sir?"

"Whiskey, neat."

The rich timbre of Adam's voice carried over the ambient sounds of chatter and music.

Silence stretched between us as I stood there, at a complete loss for what to say. Waiting for my drink, I struggled to resist the helpless, primal attraction that pulled me toward him.

When our glasses were placed before us, Adam spoke, "I want you to know, I had no idea-"

Picking up my tumbler, I cut him off, "Neither did I." Tilting the clear, effervescent liquid toward me, I drank slowly, savoring the bite of lime and the subtle burn of the liquor.

As the swallow slid down my throat, I turned, noting that my father had gotten up and was speaking with the silver-haired potential buyer – was his name Bruce? No doubt he was doing his damnedest to charm the man – I could almost feel his insincerity from across the room.

Looking over, he caught sight of us, beckoning us to him.

Adam held his glass over to me, "Cheers."

"Cheers?"

He sighed, "To surviving the rest of the night."

Shaking my head, I tapped my drink against his with a 'clink', echoing his toast.

"To surviving the night."