Chapter Eleven
Tate
Working in the lobby of the lodge was a great idea. It’s nice not being cooped up in our tiny cabin, the chairs are comfortable, and the Wi-Fi signal in here is twice as strong. I’m totally on board with it until the lobby starts to flood with people, mostly families with cranky half-asleep children and far too many suitcases that won’t shut all the way. My mind flashes back to all those summers I spent helping my mom man the front desk, and I know without looking that it’s 10:30 on the dot. Years of working here have left me carefully attuned to the morning rush that check-out time brings.
A pair of twin boys, no more than ten years old, have started to chase each other in laps around the lobby, each brandishing a stick they found outside. I see one of them coming from the corner of my eye, picking up speed as he gets closer and closer to Piper’s chair. I react without hesitation, tearing her coffee and laptop away from her lap, and before she can get a syllable of annoyance out, the boy careens into her legs and tumbles to the floor. To his credit, he gets back up immediately, shooting off in the other direction without so much as a grunt.
“Okay. It’s time to go,” I announce, folding both laptops shut and reaching for Piper’s hand. She lets me help her up and out of the chair, then becomes self-conscious about the contact, pulling her hand back and nervously wiping it against her jeans. Between this and the awkward not-quite-kiss, I’m starting to feel like there’s something wrong with me. I don’t have the ability to think about it when the lobby is this loud and full of sticky, maple syrup covered children, so I start to usher us back toward our cabin.
The air is quiet, all of the chaos confined to the main lodge, and I’m finally able to process my thoughts. I keep coming back to what I overheard of Piper’s conversation with my sister, and how awkward she thought the kiss was, which is terrifically unfortunate because other than my idiocy at the end, it was one of the most enjoyable experiences of my life. It’s been playing in the back of my brain on a loop ever since we disembarked from that ridiculous boat. I keep analyzing every millisecond, thinking about the way her lips felt, the taste of her tongue, and the sound of her breathing.
My mind flashes with a memory of the outline of her curve in that figure-hugging dress last night. The way she smelled. The length of leg exposed by the slit. The way she twirled a lock of hair around her finger when she was nervous. Those huge eyes and the way they would lock with mine if she was on her knees. The full swell of her lips when I pushed the crown of my dick through them for the first time.
Shit. I have to stop this. Right now.
I can’t cross the line with Piper. She doesn’t need my baggage—the ghosts in my past—so I give her what’s easy. It’s me, in a nutshell, just not the entire man.
I was fine with it ending there, I really was. I could just take that one moment and keep it in my mental vault forever, and probably die happy.
And then I saw her in the shower this morning. I get that it was weird. It wasn’t a smart call. I’ve never lived with a woman, so I don’t know these things. According to my mom, I’m a bit neurodivergent. At least that’s what numerous docs said as I sailed through school without studying or even caring, like some idiot savant. My folks never had the money to get the expensive intake and testing that their expensive self-employment insurance wouldn’t cover.
I don’t really understand personal boundaries and the way neurotypical people interact with each other. Social norms all seem so unimportant to me.
And frankly, until this weekend, I’ve never really thought of Piper as a woman. I’ve just thought of her as Piper . She’s one half of the Piper and Tate combo package. Seeing her naked was like seeing a teacher outside of school for the first time, realizing that she’s a human being with wants and desires and hobbies. Full tits begging for my hands. And a great ass. A really great ass.
I clear my throat, trying to stifle any and all ass related thought processes while I wait for Piper to unlock the door to the cabin.
“Are you okay?” She asks over her shoulder. I nod, hoping that I seem normal when I do. I’m not equipped to deal with these feelings. I’m not equipped to deal with feelings at all. It isn’t hard for a man of my tax bracket to get laid, and I know that I’m not bad looking myself. I’m just used to paying for drinks and enjoying a casual hookup that doesn’t go anywhere, and doesn’t involve a single ounce of my own vulnerability.
On top of everything, I don’t think I can handle my family figuring out that Piper and I aren’t a real couple. If they start to pick at that, our whole lie about the resort being purchased could start to unravel before I can get things stabilized. I’ll just have to deal with this like I deal with everything else. Strategize. Plan. Test. Analyze. Tweak. I told Piper that I don’t believe in love, so this should be no different than dealing with a bit of unruly code.
Those pesky feelings that seem to be developing a mind of their own? They’re not real, so I can ignore them.
“I have a plan,” I announce awkwardly, still standing in the doorway. Piper pauses to look at me, halfway through plugging her phone into the charger on the nightstand. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“I’m scared. You had a plan yesterday. We executed it.” She lets her voice trail off, reminding me again of the terrible aftermath from that kiss under the bridge. Not my proudest moment. I can do better. I am going to do better.
“I think you’ll like the execution of this one much better. I was surprised before. I’m more competent when I’m allowed to think things through.” I straighten my shoulders and smooth the front of my shirt, trying to imbue myself with some kind of self-confidence. Women like me. I’m just usually content with knowing that they like me for my money.
Piper rolls my words around in her head, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she tries to figure out my meaning. She gives up, plopping down onto the bed in defeat. “What?”
“I overheard your conversation with my sister. I don’t want them hounding me.” I walk toward the bed, cautiously sitting down. I leave a tasteful ten inches between us, not wanting to crowd her. “Obviously, we don’t look like a real couple. And now that we’ve decided that’s going to be our cover story, we have to sell it. I can’t deal with Ledger finding out that I’m a silent partner in the resort. You have to agree that would be a very bad idea.”
She tilts her head. Which just causes her mane of hair to fall over her shoulder. Which draws my eyes to her… In the darkest recesses of my brain, she’d moan before she screamed my name. Of course, if this were playing out in my filthy mind, she’d be leaning back on the bad with her legs falling open. Or down on her knees with my dick between her lips. My head snaps back up. “We aren’t a real couple.”
“I know,” I sigh, closing my eyes before taking the plunge. I’ve never been afraid of rejection before, but Piper has me quaking in my boots. A tremble works its way down my arm and into my hand, and I have to focus on my breathing to steady myself. “But we could pass for one if we practiced .”
Please say yes.
The word ‘practiced’ hangs in the air, heavier than I intend. What am I doing? The mere thought of pretending with Piper stirs a confusing mix of excitement and dread inside me. Each beat of my heart pounds with the fear of not just rejection, but of exposing too much, of giving her—or anyone—a glimpse behind the walls I’ve meticulously built. How do I navigate this, when every instinct tells me to retreat to safety, yet every glance at her tempts me to venture into uncharted emotional depths? It’s a precarious dance on a razor’s edge, balancing between what I need to do and what I’m terrified to feel. I’m tired of being harassed by Fallon for my lack of a personal life every time I communicate with her. And pretending Piper’s my girlfriend—while a bit risky—will mean I get to spend alone time with her, acting like she belongs to me. My heart warms just thinking about it.
The stitch between her brows deepens, tempting me to touch it. I want to ask what she’s thinking that put it there. Even more, I want to ask what she’s thinking about me .
“Like kissing?” At least she doesn’t sound turned off by the idea. I halfway expected to take another elbow to the ribs. In fact, she sounds kind of intrigued, if I’m hearing things correctly.
“Yeah. I mean Fallon is going to expect it if she thinks you’re my girlfriend.” My voice is thick with emotion I don’t recognize. “So kissing and… more?”
A weighty silence falls between us, stretching across time and space, the tension in the air so thick it’s starting to crush my chest. I open my eyes tentatively, bracing for the sting of her disgust or indignation. Instead, her face is clouded with thought, as if she’s having a debate wholly within herself and I’m not even in the room. After a moment, she removes her glasses, carefully folding them and setting them on the nightstand, before turning to face me. Her cheeks are ruddy, her pupils blown, and she keeps pulling her bottom lip between her teeth in a way that’s making my heart beat unevenly.
I lean closer, drawn in toward her by some kind of magnetic force outside of my control. I feel like a moon trapped in her orbit. “So, what do you think?”
“Um… I guess that would make things more believable.” Never breaking eye contact, she brings her lips against mine, hard, snaking a hand into the back of my hair. There’s a fierceness to it, as if someone is keeping score and Piper is playing to win. Pulling back from me, I’m dismayed to find that I bob forward at the loss of contact, moaning softly, my heart threatening to explode out of my chest. Not the macho image I was going for.
I want this. I want her.
“I’ve never failed at anything in my life,” she insists with a smile, dragging her thumb across my lip. “I’m willing to practice as many hours as you need to make this work.”
I stare at her, not quite believing it. After a moment’s pause, her expression softens, and she places her hand gently on my arm, grounding me. “But Tate, we need ground rules. First, nothing about this changes anything at work. This... arrangement doesn’t put my job at risk, and it doesn’t grant me any favors. We’re professionals, first and foremost.”
I throw up a hand like I’m taking an oath. “No emotions involved. Friends with benefits just for the time we’re here.”
She searches my face for understanding, her eyes earnest. “Yes. And second,” she continues, voice dropping to a near whisper, “no matter what happens here, it doesn’t change our relationship. We go back to how things were once this is over, okay? No awkwardness, no lingering... whatever this might stir up.”
I nod, the weight of her stipulations pressing down on me, heavier than the air between us. A tangle of relief and something akin to disappointment pulls tight in my chest. She’s right, of course. Setting boundaries is the only way to protect both our hearts in this delicate charade. But as I agree to her terms, I can’t help but wonder if some lines, once crossed, might redraw the map of us entirely.
At her eager expression, my abdominal muscles tighten involuntarily, as if I’ve been shot in the gut by the thought of crossing this formerly uncrossable line. A chill ripples over my skin, and I reach for her wrist, holding her hand in place as I take her thumb into my mouth, gently scraping it with my teeth before sucking at it. She hums happily, pleasure fluttering across her face, and it’s better than any sugar high I’ve ever felt. I release her thumb from my mouth with a pop, and start kissing my way along her palm and wrist, until I meet the sleeve of her sweater.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” I groan. “I can’t get any work done with all of these obstructions.”
“Do I have to do everything for you?” Piper teases, leaning back on the bed. Her entire body looks like an invitation, and I RSVP immediately, reaching for the bottom of her sweater and pulling it over her head. It leaves her tank top pulled slightly upward, revealing the warm skin of her stomach, and I can’t help but run my hand over the exposed flesh.
“Your hands are so cold,” she gasps, giggling slightly.
“Well then, I’ll just have to find somewhere to warm them up.” I make a show of rolling up my sleeves, before reaching for the fly of her jeans, peeling them over her hips and down her thighs and then discarding them somewhere on the floor. She’s somehow even more beautiful here than she was in the shower, probably because she isn’t staring at me in annoyance and snapping at me to get lost. Ever practical, she’s wearing a pair of simple nude cotton panties, and it turns me on more than all of the lingerie-clad models and clout chasers that have fallen into my bed. It feels real. Placing my palm along the fabric, I put pressure against her sex, and feel my stomach swoop when she involuntarily angles toward my hand.
“Don’t you dare warm them up like that,” she snaps playfully, hips rolling as I make small circles against her with my hand. I can feel a slight wet spot through the fabric, and it makes my mouth water.
“Look at us.” Pushing the material to the side, I stroke a finger along her folds, delighting in the little noises she makes at the contact. “Already bickering like an old married couple. I think we’re getting the hang of things.”
Before she can protest, I press against her opening, sliding my index finger inside. The warmth is indescribable. I slip another finger alongside the first, and her mouth falls open, relaxing with a groan. The panties are proving entirely too restricting, and I take my hand away for just a moment so I can remove them.
“Oh,” she whines. “Are you done already? Surely you need more practice than that.”
“You have so little faith in me.” I slide my hand back into position, settling into a gentle, consistent rhythm. Seeing her like this, relaxed and vulnerable for me, is making my head spin. I want to do everything at once, making it impossible to decide. Then, I realize that I don’t have to. Piper makes all of my decisions for me. That’s what she’s good at.
“Tell me what you want me to do,” I murmur, kissing my way along her thigh, continuing my strokes. “I want to make you feel good. I want to get everything as perfect as I can. For you.” I worry that my request is too much, and that she’ll get shy on me. She dispels that notion instantly.
“Angle your fingers upward. Curve them. And use your mouth,” she rushes out confidently, as if she’s critiquing my coding and not my sexual performance. Swallowing a moan, she continues. “Please.”
My ego steps aside, and I mimic the motion she described with my fingers, nearly fainting with excitement when she hooks a leg over my shoulder, letting her toes curl against my back. Lowering my face between her legs, I run my tongue experimentally against her clit, making several short upward short movements. I’m not use to going down on women—I’ve never really had to—but this is Piper. My Piper. And I can’t believe how much I want to taste her. Experience everything possible with her. Most of all, I welcome her guidance because nothing pleases me more than pleasing her.
It’s working, I think, but not entirely. The women that usually bed me don’t expect much of me. It’s embarrassing, but I tend to just lay there and let things happen because they demand it, then they demand presents. I haven’t not tried to pleasure my hookups before, but I’ve never cared too much about how it goes.
Until now. I’m not even thinking about myself. I don’t come until she does.
Drawing back, I look up at her. Her chest is heaving, but she seems lost in thought. “What do you need me to do?”
“Circles. With your tongue. Then suck. Like eating a peach.”
Doing exactly as she asks, I draw the bundle of nerves wetly into my mouth, suckling gently and rubbing my tongue against her in flat circles.
“Oh, fuck. Tate. That’s perfect,” she hisses, bringing her hand down and winding her fingers in my hair. I am a vain creature, and not entirely immune to praise. Hearing her cheer me on makes me double my efforts, marveling at the way she’s beginning to contract around my fingers. “I’m so close. If you stop, I swear to god I’ll kill you. Or even worse. I’ll quit. Your coffee will never be right again, and your ties won’t match your favorite Armani suit.”
Her threat is made a lot less convincing by the hitch in her throat and the sharp little gasps that linger between the words. I’ve never felt as at peace as I do right now. My brain is usually running at a thousand miles an hour, thinking about every aspect of my empire at once, but right now all that exists is the way that she tastes and the little mewls falling from her lips and the wetness running down my hand. Nothing matters to me outside of making her shatter across my tongue.
“God, Tate,” Piper cries, her grip on my hair tightening. “I’m—”
A strangled squeal drowns out her words, her thighs trembling against me, and then she goes still with a soft laugh. Her laugh turns to a groan, and then a surprised whimper as I make gentle kisses against her skin.
Taking my hand away, I look up from between her legs, and I place both fingers in my mouth, cleaning away her essence. “You can’t believe how good you taste. Might even be better than one of your truffles.”
Her jaw drops, and she stares at me, stunned. Smiling, I place a hand under each side of her ass, firmly angling her toward me.
“You don’t have to,” she starts to protest as I dip my head back down.
“I know. But I want to,” I growl, gripping her as I bury my face against her, licking my way up through her folds and back down again. “I take learning very, very seriously.”
I circle her entrance with my tongue, giving her oversensitive clit a few moments to recover, busying myself by imagining the way she’s gonna feel on my dick instead. I want this woman in endless ways, want her in ways I’ve never had anyone, and even as a filthy movie reel of those possibilities flicker through my mind, I know that will never be enough.
I want to eat her out while she’s on all fours and I’m behind her.
I want her riding my dick while her full tits bounce until her nipples harden.
I want her on her knees sucking my length deep into the back of her throat.
Most of all, I want her to want me .
See me.
Understand me.
Tate the man, not Tate Story her billionaire boss.
I want to fall back in time before I made any money and make memories with Piper as a poor, nerdy college student trying to find his place in a cruel world.
Because I know she’d be my ride or die on any timeline.
She tries to wriggle out of my grasp, but I hold on tightly, and after a moment, she brings both hands against my head, grinding herself against my face. “Tate, you lick me so perfectly. Please don’t stop.”
I had never pegged myself for this kind of guy, but the way she’s using me so shamelessly is like catnip to me, and my dick goes so hard inside of my slacks that it hurts to breathe. “I want you to come on my face again. I don’t think we practiced that enough. And then I’m going to practice fucking you, however you want me to, and however long you want me to.”
Whatever I said must be working for her. As soon as I return my attention to her clit, another orgasm starts to descend over her. When she finally goes limp, I pull away, placing a soft kiss on her thigh. My beard is soaked, and I wipe away at it with the back of my hand.
“Now you’re wearing too many clothes,” she laughs, laying bonelessly against the pillows, her gaze traveling down my body and settling at the tent in my pants as my dick tries in vain to break through my zipper. “And I think we’ve had enough practice licking. You get an ‘A’.”
She rolls onto her stomach, before shifting back onto her knees, lifting her ass in the air and pointing it directly at me. I’m starting to wonder if I got in a car accident on the drive out here, and this is all some kind of elaborate hallucination while I’m lying in a hospital bed on a ventilator. Piper is just presenting herself to me, in the middle of the day, sunlight streaming through the cracks in the blinds and landing directly on her slick, swollen pussy. If this is a coma, I don’t ever want to wake up.
I rush to unbutton my shirt, trying to undo my belt and fly at the same time. Stumbling in my haste, I have to put a hand on the bed to steady myself. I say a tiny prayer to no one in particular that there’s a condom in my wallet, and promise to whoever is listening out there that I will work at least two of Ledger’s shifts with Captain Obvious bird bullying me if there is, and it isn’t expired.
Finding my call answered, I tear the foil open and slide it over my erection, knees buckling slightly at how painfully hard I’ve become. She hasn’t even touched me and I’m in danger of exploding right here and now. This can’t be good. This does not bode well for me, and if there wasn’t a tight, warm, very enthusiastic woman waiting for me to claim her, I would stop to overthink things.
Instead, I climb on the bed behind her, marveling at the dip in her back as she arches toward me. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. There should be an entire room in the Louvre dedicated to that dip in her back.
“I can’t imagine you’re getting any practice in just sitting there like that.” As if to underline her point, she makes a small circle with her hips. I’m definitely in a coma. I’m fine with that. As long as no one unplugs me and I can stay here as long as I want, I’ll be happy.
“So you like it…” Bringing the head of my dick against her entrance, I press ever so slightly, not quite entering until I get some kind of permission. God, this is just like I imagined it would be only a few minutes ago. There’s something raw and feral about this position.
“Like this, yeah.” Her hips slide back against me in a fluid motion that throws me off guard, sheathing me entirely inside her and stopping once her ass is flat against me.
Piper. You are the most singularly incredible woman I’ve ever encountered, is what I want to say. Instead, I end up just whimpering her name as she starts to thrust backward against me. I can’t believe how many years we’ve spent not doing this. I scrabble for purchase, grabbing at her hips so that I can start fucking her instead of the other way around. There’s an awkward moment where our rhythm isn’t quite lining up, but then we fall in sync, and the contact starts making this delicious wet slapping noise that makes my own toes curl and my body feel like it’s going to turn inside out.
“Harder,” she bites out, reaching between her legs. “And hold me so I can touch myself.”
Her confidence takes me even higher into euphoria. I take more of her weight with my hands, trying to look anywhere but directly at her, because I know if I do I will come right then and there. I need to hang in there long enough for her to get where she’s going, or it’ll be the kiss on the bridge all over again. I start thinking about the punch list, and food costs, and the party barge. But then I start thinking about how good she looked in that white dress, and how the neckline was low enough that I could slip one of her tits out into my hand if I wanted to, and if she wears it again I could push it up over her hips and fuck her in it, and I know the boat was pretty big but I never checked to see if it had a bathroom—
“Can you concentrate for a second?” Piper moans beneath me. The fact that she can tell that I’m not paying attention even when she isn’t looking at me, and is currently spearing herself onto my erection, does something to my heart that I don’t want to examine. “We need to start practicing your dirty talk, Tate. That’s super important to most women. Tell me how good it feels. Tell me how good I feel.”
“Piper, this is genuinely the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.” I can’t believe I’ve strung out that many words together, let alone in the correct order and with the right meaning. “You feel incredible. Tight. Wet. You feel perfect. You’re perfect. You’re probably going to kill me with how your pussy is strangling my cock.”
We move together seamlessly, as if choreographed by fate itself. It’s as though we’ve danced this dance a thousand times before—no stumbles, no hesitations. With Piper, everything clicks into place, each moment unfolding like a scene from a movie starring older versions of us. She’s both a familiar song whose notes I know by heart and a new creation that leaves me guessing. Each touch, a spark; every glance, a story waiting to be told.
Her thrusts against me grow erratic, and she pushes her face down into the pillow, letting out a dull scream. It’s the green light I’ve been waiting for as my body takes over, and I’m not far behind, driving myself in and out of her with abandon, before I seize up in an orgasm of my own. Harder. Faster. More. My entire body feels like an overtaxed circuit right before a fuse blows as the tension builds, and I worry for a second that I might black out, my vision dimming as I empty myself with a groan. The muscles in my body tighten as Piper cries out, the bliss ripping us apart as we shatter at once, sweat slicked and trembling. We both stay still for a moment, unsure of what to do next, breathing heavily in the silent cabin.
“Good practice,” I mutter, wiping a bead of sweat from my brow before it starts to run down the side of my face. “I really think we needed that.”
“You think?” Piper adds with a laugh. “They say when you’re learning a new skill, it’s better to practice a little bit every day.”
“Well. You know where to find me,” I say with a wink, before heading to the bathroom to clean myself up. As the afterglow starts to wear off, I have to fight the urge to worry that we’ve crossed a line we won’t come back from. She’s my Piper. I know she can handle it.
I’m just a little worried about myself.
As the cold water splashes over my face, washing away the remnants of our ‘practice,’ a profound realization settles in. There’s a line drawn in the sand now—before Piper and after her. Everything feels irrevocably altered, like I’ve stepped through a door and the path behind me has vanished. I’m not sure how to navigate this new landscape where every thought, every pulse of my heart seems to echo her name. How do I reconcile the man I was with the one she’s unknowingly shaping? The starkness of this change terrifies me, yet there’s an undeniable thrill in the uncertainty, a sense of being truly alive that I hadn’t known was missing until now.
Staring at my reflection, the water dripping from my jawline, a flicker of fear sparks within me. What if I fall for her? The thought hits like a punch to the gut, the possibility looming like a shadow over every smile, every touch. And worse, what if she leaves? The mere idea sends a shiver down my spine. After the last heartbreak, the one that nearly broke me, I’m not sure I could navigate through the wreckage of another. How do you brace for a storm when it’s already raging in your chest? The fear of another broken heart, possibly by the hands of the one person who’s come to mean more than I ever expected, is almost too much to bear.
We crossed the line, and I feel like someone plugged my body into a live socket. Even looking at Piper is like lightning bolting through my nervous system, like a fucking current beneath my skin. And I want more. So much more. If I have to label it as practice, so the emotions don’t grow too big, that’s what I’ll do.
But that’s not what it will be. At least not for me.
And one thing I know for sure, I’m never, ever going to forget how she tasted shattering across my tongue like she belonged to me.