Livvy

  “So embarrassing,” I say. Jon waits for more of an explanation. “I was late, first of all, and she made a big scene of that... and then my phone rang. I thought she was going to make me leave the class entirely.”

  “Awww,” Jon says, sympathizing with me.

  “Didn’t she dock your grade?”

  “Yeah,” I admit, “but still got a ninety-nine because she liked my paper so much.”

  “How’d you do in her class?”

  “4.0,” I tell him.

  “You got your grades?” Jon asks.

  “Yeah, I checked at the hotel. They must have just posted them.”

  “How were the rest?”

  “4.0 GPA, all around,” I tell him quietly, not trying to brag in front of everyone.

  “Baby, that’s great!” He kisses my cheek and squeezes my hand. “This calls for a celebration.” He walks over to a stand where a bartender has a variety of different liquors and spirits to choose from. “What do you want?”

  “I don’t think we should,” I tell him.

  “Come on, Liv. I won’t. But you deserve some champagne or something.”

  “I don’t want to drink if you’re not.”

  “A glass of champagne,” he orders, “and a ginger ale on ice.” He reaches for his wallet, surprised to see the bills I’d put in it to pay him back for the chauffeur tip. I shake my head at him minutely, signaling that he doesn’t need to pay for anything at the drink counter. He narrows his eyes, but puts his wallet back in his pocket.

  “Not if there’s no tip jar,” I whisper to him. He shrugs his shoulders and rolls his eyes a little as he smiles.

  When we get our drinks, he takes me to a quiet part of the room, raising his glass in the air. “To us... two fools, madly in love, who got 4.0 GPAs this semester.”

  “You did, too?”

  “But, of course,” he says. “Although I was a little worried I didn’t spend as much time on schoolwork as I should have.”

  “Me, too,” I admit. “I did have to do some extra credit in photography... you know, to make up for that one assignment.”

  “Idiot,” he mumbles after taking a sip of his drink. No sooner than the word escapes his lips do I spot Emmanuel coming in the front door with a tall, beautiful blonde girl on his arm. I drink the entire glass of champagne quickly, cringing at the burning sensation. “Pace yourself,” Jon warns after taking the empty glass from me. I try to play it cool, keeping Jon’s attention on me by straightening his tie and giving him a slow kiss. “This is fun, right?” he asks.

  I start to look around the room for Rachelle. I don’t understand why she would invite him in the first place, and furthermore, I can’t fathom why she wouldn’t warn me. I see her make her way into another room, and I take Jon’s hand in mine, leading him in the same direction.

  “Emmanuel’s here,” I tell him when we get into the next room. Rachelle is on the phone in a corner, trying to find a place she can hear the caller.

  “Why are we hiding?” he asks. “Let’s go talk to him.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I tell him.

  “I’m not going to cause a scene,” he assures me. “You’re going to run into him at school eventually. You’re going to have to have that conversation. Why not let me help?” He walks to the doorway and looks into the main room. “Come on.”

  “Wait,” I say, touching his shoulder lightly. I hear Rachelle ending the call.

  “Hey, so what’s the deal with Emmanuel?” I ask her abruptly.

  “Livvy, I was going to tell you, but I thought you wouldn’t come.”

  “Are you kidding?” Jon says. “It’s more incentive, because now I can say my peace and get it off my chest.”

  “Please don’t, Jon,” Rachelle says, “and Liv, he’s my sister’s guest. He convinced her to model for him, and weaseled his way into the party.”

  “He has a way of doing that,” I mumble. “And Jon, he’s already been punished and had to apologize to my dad.”

  “I don’t see how that affects me,” he says stubbornly. “I deserve to have my say. You’re my girlfriend.”

  “Yes, but I’m not your possession.”

  “Do you feel like I’m being possessive?” he asks, lowering his voice to divert Rachelle’s attention. She leaves the room, escaping the private conversation.

  “I just feel like you want to make that point to him. That I’m yours.”

  “That’s not at all the point I’m trying to make. I don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want me to.”

  “I really don’t.”

  He nods his head, thinking about it. “Can I ask why not?”

  “Because I don’t want to ruin this evening. When I look back on tonight, I don’t want to think about him at all.” This makes him smile. “He knows he messed up. And I promise you right now, if he ever does anything again, I’ll stand back and you can give him a piece of your mind.”

  “Alright,” he agrees, punctuating his accord with a kiss. When we leave the side room, he takes me to the dance floor, where we spend the next hour moving together and talking. When we take a break, Jon strikes up a conversation with some new people, discussing a newly elected official with a questionable background. I’ve never even heard of the guy, but Jon seems to know his entire life story, and is doing a good job of convincing the other people to dismiss his past transgressions and give him a chance.

  My feet start to hurt after another half-hour, and I’m getting anxious for midnight to come along so we can toast together and then go back to our hotel. Rachelle and a few of her friends join me in a casual living area, talking about our first semesters at college.

  A few waiters interrupt us, handing each of us champagne. I check my watch and stand up, wanting to find Jon. He finds me first.

  “You aren’t going to drink that, are you?” I ask him, eying his glass.

  “A sip?” he says. “Isn’t it bad luck?”

  “You could get something else.”

  He looks at me curiously. “Not even a sip?”

  “She’s got you pussy-whipped,” I hear Emmanuel say from behind me. Jon’s eyes drift to him, and I can see a tinge of embarrassment in his anger. He looks back at me, and I simply nod my head, giving him permission to do whatever he wants to do. He hands me the glass and walks past me. I’m not sure I even want to see what’s happening.

  “You know what, Manny?” Jon asks.

  “Emmanuel.”

  “That again?” my boyfriend says, and I finally turn around to watch their interaction.

  “It’s my name.”

  “Fine, Emmanuel,” Jon concedes. He stands at an angle to me, where he can still see me. “You see her over there?” he asks, nodding at me.

  “Yeah.”

  “She’s made the choice to be with me. If that means I get to spend a night with her, or a month, or possibly a lifetime, you’re damn right I’ll do what she asks of me. She’s worth it. Trust me.”

  “I can get that from any girl, any night,” Emmanuel counters.

  “You can’t get anything close to what Olivia has to offer. I’ll stick with my one quality woman. And you can have all the others. I come out on top.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “I’m glad we can agree on something,” Jon says.

  “Guys,” Rachelle says, “the countdown’s about to start in the other room.”

  “We’re coming,” I tell her, waiting for Jon to give Emmanuel one last, hard look before turning away and smiling at me. He takes the glass I offer to him, then links his fingers with mine.

  At midnight, he clinks my glass first, and then does the same to some of the other glasses around us. He drinks a very small amount, setting the nearly-full glass on a side table. I follow his lead, taking only a sip before putting my own glass aside. He pulls me into his arms and kisses me, obviously holding back. I hope I haven’t offended him or upset him.

  “You ready?” he whispers in my ear. I nod my head. “Le
t’s get out of here.”

  He drives very carefully back to the hotel, staying a safe distance from other drivers. The sports car seems wasted right now, unable to do what it was designed to. I hope tomorrow Jon will get a little more enjoyment out of it.

  Once we make it to our hotel, Jon is quiet, taking a seat on the club chair he’d been reading in before we left.

  “It wasn’t so bad, was it?” I ask, pulling the comforter off the bed and tossing a few pillows on the sofa by the window.

  “It was fun,” he says. “She knows a lot of smart people. Some well-connected people, too.”

  “Yeah. Her family’s very well known.”

  “I’m sorry about Emmanuel.”

  “What’s to be sorry about?”

  “You asked me not to talk to him. You gave me good reason not to, but I did.”

  “You did?” I ask coyly, looking at him and feigning confusion. “I don’t remember,” I lie. “Must not have made much of an impact.”

  He laughs lightly. “I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.”

  “It’s a good thing. It’s barely a blip on my radar.”

  “I gloated a bit, though,” he says.

  “You complimented me,” I correct him. “You’d really do anything just to spend the night with me?”

  “Maybe not just one,” he says, standing up and walking over to me. “But this one, yes.”

  “Not tomorrow?”

  “I’ll take tomorrow, too.”

  “You said a lifetime,” I remind him.

  “So it made at least a little bit of an impact.”

  “I’m glad you think I’m worth it.”

  “Look at you,” he says, moving my body to face away from him into the mirror across the room.

  “I clean up nicely,” I say, shrugging.

  “You do,” he agrees. “You know you’re more than just a pretty face, Liv.”

  “I hope so.”

  “You are. And all that asshole cares about is what’s on the surface. He doesn’t even deserve to be in the same room as you, much less have even a moment of your attention.”

  “You do,” I say softly. He kisses my shoulder, then moves his lips to the back of my neck. His hands grip my waist firmly, and he finally reaches the skin on my back exposed by my dress, just like I’d been hoping he would. The kisses continue, lingering around my shoulder blades. I feel him unhook the dress, and start to feel my pulse quicken everywhere in my body. I let out a heavy anticipatory sigh.

  “Bored?” he asks, standing upright again.

  “Never,” I admit, turning around. He puts his arms around me, first hugging me sweetly. I then feel his fingers fumbling with the zipper that begins at the small of my back. I watch him as he studies his own movements in the mirror. Once the dress is unfastened, he lowers it from my body and helps me step out of it, setting it on the club chair. He seems surprised to see I’m not wearing a bra, although I don’t understand why, with the style of the dress. He leans down, kissing both of my breasts sensually. I put my fingers in his hair, wanting to hold him there, wanting him to continue what he’s doing for at least a little longer, if not forever. He stops only long enough to take his glasses off, tossing them on top of my dress. His mouth finds my nipple quickly, eliciting a soft moan in the back of my throat. He walks me backwards toward the bed, and when the backs of my knees hit the edge, I’m grateful to sit down, because I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stand much longer. Jon kneels in between my legs, continuing to focus all of his attention on my breasts with his arms wrapped around me protectively. Now, it’s me that watches us in the mirror. I can’t help but smile at the reflection, becoming more turned on by the millisecond.

  I end up lying back on the bed, pulling Jon with me. I scoot back to make room for him, excited to see him kneeling over me in his tuxedo, looking more attractive than I’ve ever seen him. A few wisps of hair fall into his eyes, the polished man finally becoming the sexy, wanting boyfriend that I need. He watches me, smiling as he takes in the sight of my body laid out before him.

  “You’re beautiful,” he says. I reach up to his tie, and start to unknot it. Once it’s undone, I slide it from his collar and throw it on the floor carelessly. He leans up to take off his jacket, and haphazardly drops it off the edge of the bed. I hear his shoes thud heavily on the carpet. As he lays his body against mine, I undo the button at his collar and the one beneath it, just enough to expose his undershirt. We kiss ravenously as Jon leans on one elbow and runs his free hand up and down my body. More than once, it lingers at the skimpy panties. Each time, I let out a little whine, letting him know that I want it. After the third time, he laughs a little through his kiss.

  Frustrated, wanting him to move things along, I start to untuck his shirts from his slacks. My hands are happy to feel the warmth of his skin, the firm muscles in his back. When his fingers finally dip beneath the fabric of my panties, my painted nails dig into his skin as I’m unable to contain myself. He doesn’t have to do much to bring me to orgasm. I was almost there before his fingers touched me, my body ready for the release. Jon’s kisses are so desperate that I don’t really have the ability to make a sound, but when he feels my body calm under his, he breaks away, panting just as hard as I am.

  “There’s something about making out with you like this that is such a turn on...”

  “Tell me about it,” I breathe.

  “You are so sexy.”

  “You are, too.” He leans up so I can unbutton his shirt, and he shrugs out of it quickly. I try to take off his other shirt, but he stops me, moving his body to my side. His fingers still travel the length of my body while he gazes into my eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  He shakes his head and kisses me again, moving his hand to my breast. When he pulls his lips away, he watches what his touch does to me.

  “What?” I ask again.

  “You said something tonight, about how you’re not my possession,” he starts.

  “Yeah?” I trace my diamond necklace with my finger.

  “I just realize that this...” he says, pausing.

  “What?”

  “I don’t see you as an object,” he says, “but something about this is a little possessive, isn’t it? When I control things. I like it when you lie with me, naked, ready for me. I like doing things at my own pace. Is that bad?”

  “For the record, nothing that you’ve done so far tonight has been bad. At all.” He chuckles lightly as I put my hand on his assuringly. “And I find this attentive.”

  “You don’t feel like a plaything?”

  “If I thought you didn’t care about me I might.”

  “But you know I do.”

  “Yes, I do. Isn’t this what foreplay’s supposed to be, anyway?” He grins at me, smoothing my hair away from my face. Turning to the side, I unfasten his belt and pants. He’s quick to slip out of them. It’s evident that the foreplay is working. Finally, he lets me take the undershirt off.

  He sits on the edge of the bed, gazing out the window. Momentarily confused with his change in posture, I get a glimpse of the tattoo and realize what he’s waiting for. I sit up behind him on my knees, kissing the words before moving my lips to his cheek, jawline, then neck. He reaches behind him, tucking his thumbs under the tiny strings of my underwear and pulling them down. It’s easy to finish undressing for him. His body between my legs, I move my breasts against his back and scratch his smooth chest with my fingernails. He angles to face me so we can exchange kisses, slow and deep. My hands go lower and tuck beneath his briefs. He groans a few times, enjoying the attention. It’s when I start moaning in return, pleading with him to give me more, that he finally stands to finish taking off his clothes and crawls onto the bed, positioning himself on top of me.

  After we squeeze all of our belongings into the small trunk of the Aston Martin, the valet holds the door for me while Jon settles himself into the driver’s seat.

  “Care to explore the countryside?” he asks me.


  “Sure,” I tell him with a smile after checking my watch. I’d told my parents we’d be back in town before sundown today, but it looks like it could be a little later than that. “Did your mom have plans for dinner?”

  “Yeah. I think we’ll make it home by six,” he says. “I just wanted to do some exploring... maybe find some open road to see what this girl can do.”

  “I think you’re making her feel like a plaything,” I warn him playfully. He laughs lightly, pulling away from the hotel.

  “I found some road trip suggestions online yesterday, so hopefully I can remember the maps.”

  “You don’t want to use the GPS?”

  “Nah,” he says. “Let’s just see where the day takes us.”

  “Perfect.” At a stop light, he leans over and kisses me, whispering a quiet thank you for last night. “You’re welcome, and thank you.”

  After getting through Hartford, we drive north, passing more massive homes and then smaller ones in clustered neighborhoods. I can feel the cold front moving in as bursts of wind blow hard against the car. I wasn’t sure that’s what I was feeling at first, but the exaggerated motions through trees and flags confirm it. Snow isn’t supposed to settle in until morning, so I’m not worried about having to beat any bad weather.

  We stop for lunch at a little diner on the side of the road. A few people stare at our car through the windows as he parks it. We pick at each other’s lunches, overwhelmed by the large portions, and end up leaving about half of both of our plates behind. The food’s good, but there was just too much of it.

  When we get back on the road, Jon heads south once again, driving back in the direction we came. It seems like we make it back to Hartford in half the time it took us to get to the diner. Jon takes an exit off the highway, telling me we need to stop for gas. We pass a few service stations, ending up in a quaint neighborhood of older houses.

  Trudeau Street. I remember the name of that street from somewhere... from yesterday... when I was looking up my biological father. Jon pulls over in front of the house on the corner, putting the car in park. I look at him, wondering if he has any idea where we are. His soft smile lets me know he does, and he stretches across the console, taking my hand in his. He turns off the purring engine.