Chapter Fourteen #3
I decide to take a dose of my own medicine: to be handcuffed to a sink by Oliver, to feel so desired by him and to want him so hungrily in return—this is what I’ve been wanting.
I relax into the sensation, turning off my mind and dropping into my body.
Time slows as I wait for Oliver to come back.
I shift on the hard floor, and the more uncomfortable I become, the more aroused, my blood pumping even harder at the thought of Oliver appearing in the doorframe.
But several long minutes pass and there is no sign of him.
There is a circular mirror above the sink, framed by a larger, square window.
The cuff can glide along the pipe so it’s easy for me to stand and look outside.
I look in the mirror first—I study my face, my lips swollen from his rough kiss—and then out the window.
I can’t see the patio or any of the guests from here, but I have a clear view of the beach.
I see partygoers in the ocean, most of them up to their knees along the shore.
And then I make out Oliver, his navy-blue shorts. To my surprise, he’s playing football.
With Jasper.
Like two handsome cousins reunited on their Kennebunkport lawn, not a regular-person care in the world.
Oliver runs into the shallow surf to catch a spiral.
He must know I’m watching. Of course he does.
He peels off his shirt and tosses it onto the sand, then throws the ball long.
And instead of letting it crash into the ocean, Jasper runs in after it.
He catches it then emerges, laughing and soaked, and strips off his own shirt.
Someone I don’t recognize comes to join them, then a fourth, and eventually Oliver and Jasper step away from the game, wandering up toward the party, Jasper’s arm is draped casually over Oliver’s shoulder. Near the house, I lose sight of them.
The tingling in my body returns. Oliver is coming for me.
I slide down to the floor and wait, picturing him finding me—still wet from the ocean, salty and warm from the sun.
Minutes pass and still he doesn’t come. The bathroom is cold and tiled and I shift my weight trying to get comfortable.
I close my eyes and imagine Oliver coming for me.
I can’t wait for him. I slip my fingers beneath my underwear.
I move them slowly, the warm sensation building in my groin, when I hear the bedroom door open. Oliver. I situp.
“Finally,” I call as the bathroom door opens. But the figure in the doorway is not Oliver.
Jasper furrows his brows and takes in the scene—me, almost naked, handcuffed to the sink.
He opens his mouth but nothing comes out.
As much as I want to disappear, once he locks his eyes on mine, I can’t look away.
He bites down on his bottom lip, a flash of desire in his eyes.
I can feel the same in mine. But it’s all wrong.
We’ve been miscast and these aren’t our roles anymore.
My mouth is dry, my cheeks burning. “I’ll see you at the party?” I say, as if he’d just caught me touching up my lipstick.
He smiles and nods. “See you there.” When the bedroom door closes, I manage to connect my foot with the bathroom door and I slam it shut.
A few minutes later, Oliver appears. He’s damp with sweat, or ocean water.
“Undo the handcuffs. Now.”
Oliver pauses, an expression in his eyes like he wants to devour me whole. “You really want me to?”
My own need to feel his hands on me flashes through me, and I shake my head no.
Oliver bends down and reaches for the strap of my bra, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
I’m coursing with desire. So powerful I want to bottle it and save it for a rainy day back in Dallas after the dust has settled.
When I’m not half naked and shivering with need in a beachfront mansion bathroom.
The sex is fast and explosive. Oliver was hard the minute he entered the room and once our bodies finally meet, after lying in wait for what felt like hours, the pleasure is overwhelming.
“I need this,” I tell him. I spread my legs so he can push deeper inside me, again and again. I try to hold off but it feels too good.
“I need this too,” Oliver says and comes with me.
—
The rest of the party we float. Separating and mingling and then finding each other, brushing up against each other.
At one point, I spot Oliver deep in conversation with Jasper, the two of them near the outdoor fireplace. I linger within earshot to find them having a strangely intense conversation about sneakers.
As the party wears on, I slip away to FaceTime Emmy.
She complains, briefly, about the red, white, and blue ensemble Vivian made her wear, but then carries the phone into the kitchen to show off the red, white, and blue cupcakes they made.
I can hear Vivian and Allen’s own party in the background and Emmy tells me she needs to go, Grandpa and sparklers are waiting on her.
I check in on Margot just as she emerges from her nook like a hibernating bear, happily taking in the party she missed.
“Margot!” I call. I give her a thumbs-up. “Everything good?”
“I had the best time! And Liam is a gem. Should we set a call and get into details next week?”
“I’d like that.”
“We’re going to do great things in this space, Diana. I’ll let Petra know.”
Another thumbs-up, this one with tears in my eyes.
—
I head to the balcony to take in the spectacular party.
The beach is still full of happy guests, a surreal mix of well-dressed people on the other side of the glass doors, sipping cocktails, wiping their mouths with napkins printed with a Dirty Diana logo.
I want to remember this exact moment, alone in a crowd, dreamlike and fleeting.
Quickly checking to make sure no one is watching, I take out my phone and snap a selfie.
“I can get a better shot, if you want.”
“I got it. Thanks.” My cheeks burn a deep red with embarrassment.
“No judgment. I have the exact same shot outside every gallery I’ve been a part of. It’s impressive. All this.”
Jasper’s clothes have dried; his thick, dark hair is perfectly in place. He rocks back on his heels, his mouth turning up in a small smile. “I was ready to call 911 earlier. Just so you know.”
I laugh, the blush reaching to the tips of my ears. “Thanks. For looking after me.”
“Diana…” He stops, a look of pure tenderness in his eyes. “I like Oliver.”
“Me too.”
“I can tell.” Then, standing up straighter, he says, “You two should stop by my place tomorrow. It’s just down the road. I might take out my neighbor’s boat and sail to Catalina. Have you been?”
“No.”
“Might be a fun day.” Then he adds, “A double date.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Come on. Where’s your sense of adventure?” Jasper teases. “Oliver would say yes.”
“Would he?”
“Watch this,” he says confidently.
We peer over the deck to where Oliver is laughing with Alicia in the sand. “Hey, Oliver! Want to sail to Catalina tomorrow? On my neighbor’s boat?”
Oliver takes a sip of his beer and grins. “Sure, buddy.”
Jasper turns back to me and beams. “See? We’re buddies.”
My fantasy is change. I want everything to be different.
I want my girlfriend to touch me differently, I want to feel differently when she does touch me.
I want to know that we can still evolve into better lovers.
I want her to get bit by a radioactive spider and turn into an intuitive sex superhero.
Maybe then she would try something different when her face is between my legs.
Maybe one day she dresses up as Harley Quinn and pins me naked to the bed.