21. Mimosa
CHAPTER 21
Mimosa
I’m lounging on the sofa, wearing the hundred and fifty dollar PJs I’d bought—why do PJs even come with that kind of price tag? — when Drake gets back. I stay where I am, browsing my university’s website on the new laptop.
When I’d logged into my student account, it told me I’d failed my previous semester’s classes and that I was behind on payments.
Drake’s expression is momentarily wary, guarded, but when he sees me on the couch, his expression brightens into something hopeful, something puppy-like.
He’s holding two boxes in his hands.
I look pointedly at the boxes. “Do I want to know what’s in there?”
“Probably more than I do,” he drawls. As he sets them down on the coffee table, I see that he’s trembling, for all that he tries to hide it.
I wish I knew what pills Patrick had been selling him.
“Did you seriously do same-day shipping for dildoes?” I ask, finally closing the lid of my laptop. Teasing Drake about sex things has to be better than wallowing in my lost potential.
His cheeks flush, but he lifts his chin in a show of arrogance. “So what if I did?” He pauses, then adds, “That doesn’t mean you can actually use them. I was just curious to see what they looked like.”
Yeah. Sure he was.
“Did you get a big one with lots of texturing, so you’d really feel it in your ass?” I lean forward and poke at the box’s packing tape. It’s already been opened. “Ha. You peeked.”
“I did,” he agrees. “To see if I needed to dump it in the trash before you ever caught wind of the fact that I really bought this shit.”
I still can’t really believe he did. It’s kind of funny that he’s willing to subject his ass to pegging just to prove a point, or to flirt with me.
The dildo itself is average sized at best. Smaller than Drake, I think, but I’ve seen real cocks that were smaller than this. I’ve seen larger, too. He’d chosen a model that looks similar to a real cock, not one of the abstract toys marketed to women.
I hold it up and eye Drake and the dildo at the same time. “Have you ever fucked a man, Drake?”
Drake runs a hand through his hair, mussing up the otherwise perfect styling, and he squirms. “No.”
There’s more to that story, and I wait.
“I’ve done some threesomes,” he elaborates. “And some double pen. Of a woman. But I don’t think that counts.”
“Probably not.” I stroke the dildo as if it were a real cock. “Your friends are hot though. Hunter and Chase? I bet the three of you had orgies with women, right?”
Drake wrinkles his nose. “Are you kidding? Hunter would never. He’s the least fun person I know.”
Thinking about the icy cold doctor, I can see what Drake is talking about. “So just with Patrick, then? Lots of naked cock in the room, and just one woman to share? Don’t you get bored waiting for your turn?”
“I…” He pauses, then lets out a decidedly nervous laugh. “I might’ve gotten impatient once. When I was really, really drunk. It wasn’t much different, except… you know… hairy. Not with Patrick, though.”
I stifle a smile. “I don’t know. Women can be plenty hairy, if they don’t shave.” I meet his gaze, and say, “The real difference is that pussy and cock don’t taste the same.”
He almost chokes, though on what, I’m not sure. “I’ve never done that,” he hurries to say. “Not with a dude. Not in either direction.” He pauses, his eyes narrowing. “Wait. Have you? With a chick, I mean?”
I sit back on the couch, still fiddling with the dildo. “Once or twice. She ended up transferring schools though, so that was the end of that relationship.”
Drake nods, his eyes going to the dildo. “Jesus, I didn’t think that thing was that big,” he mutters. “I specifically meant to get a small one.”
I’m surprised he doesn’t ask more about it. One of the guys I’d semi-dated after had been way too keen to know all the details about my girl-on-girl experiences. I’d ended things because of how gross he was getting.
I’d ended most relationships before they ever got off the ground, actually. Even with that other woman, I’d been secretly glad when she’d left. She’d hinted at wanting to try long distance, but I was more than happy to simply break things off.
It’s weird to think that Drake is the one person I’ve been with the longest, if you could count these strange past few weeks as a relationship.
“It’s not big,” I say to Drake. “You’re bigger—that’s not a compliment—and you shove your cock into smaller holes.”
“I disagree,” he says, only to pause. “Wait. I didn’t mean that your cunt is big. Fuck.” He twitches, but I’m not entirely sure it’s because of the words or something a little more insidious. He pauses, then corrects himself carefully, “But my asshole is tiny, okay?”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “And mine isn’t? There have been a lot of cocks shoved up my asshole.”
He sputters, obviously trying and failing to find words that aren’t going to offend me.
I can’t help but smirk as he tries to salvage the situation.
“Okay, okay. It’s small and tight. Really. But mine’s… special.” He looks so pathetic that I almost feel bad for laughing at him.
Almost.
“You’re going to honestly tell me you’ve never played with your hole, ever?” I set the dildo back into its box. “You’re the one who told me you like to do all sorts of interesting new sex things.”
“Yeah, but that’s not… manly, or whatever.” Drake comes to sit down by me, eyeing the box like it’s hiding a snake. “I don’t know. I have a few gay friends, but then there’s… Hunter,” he says, almost deadpan. “Chase is probably a little more adventurous, b ut we’ve never fucked around or anything.”
“It’s not gay if it’s a woman doing it to you,” I point out. “Or if you’re fingering yourself. Unless you think all masturbation is gay—in which case, you have more issues than I thought.”
He scowls at me, but he wraps an arm around me and pulls me close to his side. “No, masturbation is not gay. And I don’t know what to think of a woman doing it to me. It’s not like I’ve ever fantasized about it before you.”
I place a hand on his thigh and squeeze. “But you fantasized about it now? About how hot it’d be if I was pegging you from behind?”
He seems to realize what he said, and he glowers at me. “That’s not what I meant. No, I haven’t… Not really… Okay, I wondered a little about ass play, but not about you fucking pegging me. Fuck, Mimi.”
Despite the words, he doesn’t sound mad or irritated — a little concerned, maybe, about his precious tiny hole.
“I’d probably fail at putting on the harness,” I say honestly. “I was never that interested in sex toys. And you’ll be very shocked to learn that they didn’t feature much in Giulio Pavone’s illegal sex den.”
Drake’s face falls, like he was the one who’d had to live through that and was now being reminded of it. “I’m sorry,” he says with another awkward sweep of his hand through his hair. “I didn’t…” He licks his lips, obviously stalling.
“I’d say I’m over it, but I’m not,” I answer, my voice flat. “But there’s no changing it now. I can deal with it, and you can make my life better or worse.”
“Do you want to… I don’t know, do you want to talk to someone about it? I’m sure Hunter or Chase know of someone trustworthy.” He doesn’t like the idea. I can see that much. But the fact that he offers takes me completely off guard.
“I went to my university today,” I tell him. “I could have gone to the student health services and found somebody to talk to.”
He hesitates. “I don’t know if that would be a good idea,” he says carefully. “With Pavone being involved and all.”
“And you,” I say.
Wincing, he nods. “Yeah. And me.”
“I alrea dy knew that.” I can feel my emotions shutting down, and I can’t believe I prefer the light flirtation with Drake Brutal over this. “I didn’t talk to anyone. I just did retail therapy, which I have never done before in my life. I enjoyed spending not even a fraction of a percent of your net worth.”
“I’m glad you took advantage of that fraction of a percent of my net worth,” he says, and I’m not sure whether he means it or not. “I can get you phone numbers for Stef and May, if you want. You might like talking to them.” His lip curls into a sneer. “If you can handle Stef crying every twelve seconds and May’s attitude, anyway.”
“Do Hunter and Chase know how you feel about their significant others?” I ask, bumping my shoulder against his. “They didn’t seem that bad when I met them.”
“Of course they know,” Drake huffs. “But I try not to show it too much when we’re around each other. I’m not that rude.”
I laugh out loud at that, and he smiles ruefully.
“Okay. Maybe I am a little rude. But I do want them to be happy, even if I don’t like who they chose to be happy with,” he adds.
“I think May and Chase fucked in your pool,” I say. I shift so I’m sitting against the arm of the couch, my legs across Drake’s lap. “But they probably weren’t the only ones. It was a pretty wild party.”
He makes a face, but he reaches out to massage my leg. His hands are still shaking, I notice, for all that he’s putting on a good front of not being bothered by much of anything. “I’ll have it cleaned before we swim in it.” He pauses, then asks, “Do you know how to swim?”
“Yeah. The public pool was a pretty cheap way to stay entertained during the summer.” I push my foot into his hand. “I bet you’ve fucked in that pool before. There’s no way you haven’t.”
“And in the hot tub,” Drake agrees without hesitation. He pauses, then grins at me. “Wanna fuck in it now?”
I think about how I used to be damn near celibate, and how I’d sneered at the women who fucked everybody who complimented them. I remember being called a frigid bitch more than once by my male classmates.
Amber wouldn’t have agreed to fuck in the hot tub.
But I’m less Amber, more Mimosa now. I nod. “Sure.” I get up and stretch, making my PJ t-shirt rise and exp ose my belly. “Let’s hope we don’t get so lightheaded we pass out.”
His gaze traces the display of bare skin, and he nods, flashing a grin at me. “I think we’ll be okay. I’ll rescue you if you pass out, though, don’t you worry.”
He follows me and sheds his suit with a relieved sigh as we walk. By the time we get to the jacuzzi on the rooftop patio, he’s fully naked, and his cock is half-hard.
I give it a small stroke and shake my head. “You’re pretty easy after all.”
Drake grins at me. “I never said I wasn’t easy,” he replies. “C’mon.” He uncovers the hot tub and turns on the bubbles before turning to face me. “Need help getting undressed?”
I snort in amusement and loosen my body. “Sure. Undress me, knave.”
Laughing, he comes closer, but instead of simply undressing me, he cups my cheek in his hand and leans in to kiss me. His hand slides under my pajama shirt, over my back. Sobering, he asks softly, “Did you enjoy today? At least a little?”
“Yeah,” I answer, kissing his jaw. “I spent over ten thousand dollars on frivolous crap. I don’t even feel guilty about it either.”
He grins. “Don’t.” He pauses, then says, “You said you went to your campus…” I start to tense up at the mention, which he seems to realize because he quickly goes on, “Do you want to go back? I can pay for your classes. That sounds more your speed than frivolous stuff?” The words come out as more of a question than anything else.
I sigh and rest my head against his shoulder. “Maybe. I need to figure out what I want. No point in going back to the classes if I’m just going to be miserable.” I move my hand down to his bare ass and give it a squeeze. “You sure you want to talk about that now, though?”
“If it would make you happy,” he says, but I can tell he’s distracted enough by the promise of sex to where he’s easy enough to manipulate away from the topic.
I’m just not ready to think about it yet, and sex would be much easier.
He quickly strips me down then, getting into the hot tub and offering his hand to help me into it.
I sigh as I slip into the water. It’s actually very nice, and for a few seconds, we sit quietly and let the jet streams massage our backs.
The cool air is an amazing contrast to the heat, and I can admit that our view of the sunset is pretty spectacular.
“You didn’t grow up rich,” I say quietly as I twine my hand with his. “You built the company and decided to be one of those people who buys a penthouse condo and has a hot tub on the balcony to look out over the entire city.”
He tenses at that. I’m not sure he’s going to reply, not at first. It takes him a full minute to tell me in a rough voice, “Yep.”
“Are you happier now than back then?” I laugh darkly. “Great foreplay conversation, I know.”
“We suck at that today, apparently,” Drake says. “Do you want to stop? Or do you really want to know the answer to that question?”
I shift to straddle his lap and place my hands on his shoulders. His eyes look tired, more than I expected from the man who rush-ordered sex toys and suggested a quickie in his hot tub.
“I don’t know, Drake. I think…” I kiss his forehead. “I think we’re both trying to figure shit out. But it doesn’t have to be right now.”
His hard cock slides against my cunt.
“Good,” he says with an awkward chuckle. “Because I could think of better things to do with our mouths than talking about shit like this.”
Shit he doesn’t want to talk about, obviously, but I don’t call him out on it.
We kiss, and it’s surprisingly gentle. I like being on top of him like this, even if the cool air is making me shiver and my nipples pebble up. I ignore that, running my hands over his shoulders and chest while our tongues tangle.
The heat of the water feels especially nice in contrast, and I sink down onto him as I wrap my arms around him. Those soft kisses turn into something hungrier, more intense, and I stop thinking about school and his past and everything else that could turn this from a fun fuck into something sobering.
He groans, thrusting his hips up until he’s buried completely inside of me. “Fuck, Mimi,” he mumbles against my lips.
I kiss him again before he can continue. “Shh,” I tell him, not wanting to ruin this moment that’s surprisingly sweet despite it all.
His thrusts are slow, tender almost, as he fucks up into me. I feel in control as I ride him, and he lets me have that even now.
Time slows, stretching on in a leisurely, endless rhythm — of moans and thrusts, of what I wouldn’t have ever expected he was capable of until the night at the yacht.
I reach down to rub my clit, but he catches my hand and does it for me, his rough fingers taking over in that surprising way he does when he wants to bring me pleasure. I can tell he’s close, and the closer he gets, the less patient he gets.
He waits anyway, and I can see the strain on his face as he holds back his climax until I’m clenching around him. His orgasm follows quickly, and he groans as he buries his face against my neck until he seems to recover and sits back upright.
Then there’s only silence, only the meeting of our gazes as we stare at one another like something has finally clicked into place between us.
Drake opens his mouth and says, “Mimi, I lo?—”
I place my finger on his mouth to stop him. “Hey. That’s way too soon for us. Let’s figure our shit out first.”
Disappointment crosses his features, and his shoulders slump a little. I can tell this isn’t how he planned for this to go — if he planned for it at all.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice going rough again. “Come on. We can make that fucking salmon you got. I’ll even eat some carrots if you make them with the butter sauce again.”
I nod, and I wonder about the twinge in my heart. But I let it fall away with the rest of my emotions until I feel calmer, more in control of myself.
One of us should be in control, right?