The Fling (18+)

Chapter 11

After the last speech had been spoken and the last toast made, I sat in my chair, mindlessly scrolling through my phone, periodically glancing up to see if Dad was ready to go yet.

He stood across the room, back to me as he charmed his audience.

Gotta hand it to him - he's good at that.

Unfortunately, his silver tongue came with some serious drawbacks.

Like never shutting the fuck up.

Seriously, waiting for my father to stop talking was worse than watching paint dry because at least the paint would dry eventually - with my father, there was a very real possibility that he would just keep jabbering on forever.

Standing beside him, Adam Baker dutifully listened, nodding along and occasionally contributing. The slim remnants of his whiskey swirled and sloshed in his glass as he gestured, and the motion mesmerized me.

Whiskey Neat...

The man I would have been spending the night with.

A sly voice inside my mind whispered, The man you still want to spend the night with...

A shiver caressed my skin, and I looked away, ashamed.

Adam is Dad's best friend; he's my godfather for fuck's sake.

And, if I closed my eyes, I could still hear the deep, resonant groans as he fucked me against the hotel room's window.

I'm sick. That's the only explanation; I am sick in the head.

But that didn't erase the longing, the need to taste him, to feel the heat of his skin against mine.

Swallowing hard, I tried to force the wicked thoughts from my brain.

It was forbidden.

Unthinkable.

Unutterably taboo.

I was going to sleep alone tonight, and in the morning, I would pretend like it never happened.

A sudden chill cut through me, and I glanced back at Adam.

Would he be sleeping alone tonight?

After all, he'd gotten me into his bed with some sultry looks and one blunt proposition. It wouldn't take much for him to find someone new to warm his sheets.

A sharp, sickly pain bloomed in my abdomen, and I got up, snatching my phone and my bag before hurrying toward the bathroom.

With the night's sumptuous meal racing down the drain, I stood at the sink, swishing a mouthful of water and trying to get the rancid taste off of my tongue.

The door behind me opened, and I looked up to see the devil in a red dress walking up to the sink next to mine.

"Here," Jessica snapped open her clutch and pulled out a small tin of mints, "I thought you might need these."

Leaning over to spit, I wiped my lips on the back of my hand. "Thanks," I muttered, taking the tin.

"Anytime." Digging further, she pulled out a tube of heinously expensive lipstick and carefully refreshed her makeup.

As I crunched a few of the tiny, potent mints, I asked, "Well, are you here to scold me?"

One artfully shaped brow arched up as she answered, "No?"