Chapter Nineteen
There was a saying about biting off more than you could chew. I wasn’t sure if that was exactly the case, but I was definitely in over my head.
Still lying in the bed where Mason had just given me my first ever oral sex experience, I smiled at the ceiling.
I didn’t care I was forty and too old to lie in bed, giddy that the boy I liked had gone down on me—the results of that were insanely spectacular.
Somehow I didn’t think that twentysomething men had mastered the skills Mason had, so for once I didn’t feel like I’d missed out on anything.
I doubted that many women had the same experience their first time.
Or maybe they did, what the hell did I know.
Three orgasms in one day.
Three.
My smile deepened, and I didn’t care about that either.
I was going to lie here and bask in my newfound good fortune.
I was going to lie here and pretend I was twenty and allow myself a few moments of immaturity while I remembered every detail of Mason’s mouth on me.
I deserved it.
Hell, I’d earned the right to savor the moment.
Later would come soon enough, and reality would come crashing back in.
Later would also mean I’d have to face Pete, who I was pretty sure had heard the culmination of Mason’s fantastic cunnilingus.
Good Lord, that was a cringy word.
On that thought, no longer glorying in all things orgasmic but instead embarrassing, I rolled out of bed.
I needed to wash off the five layers of makeup I’d worn out to dinner—which, after two orgasms, felt like a lifetime ago.
Silly but true. It felt like I’d lost track of time when I was with Mason. Like the outside world didn’t exist, and it was just me and him in our own version of paradise. Not that I’d admit it to Mason, but even arguing with him made me feel . . . normal.
Up until a few days ago, I’d never exchanged a cross word with Atlanta.
We didn’t bicker or banter. Tom didn’t count; I didn’t argue with him.
When we didn’t see eye to eye, or in the rare cases he attempted to play overprotective overlord, I voiced my disagreement, he voiced his, and that was it.
I didn’t yell at him, my heart rate didn’t elevate, and I certainly didn’t get worked up to the point I wanted to jump him and hump his leg.
Oh God, more embarrassment. I’d blundered the whole unbuttoning his shirt, and I think I climbed him like a tree—I couldn’t exactly remember that part, I was too turned on, but I was blaming that on Atlanta. She’d put the thought in my head.
I couldn’t regret what I’d done, but damn if the timing didn’t suck.
Now I had to face Pete and pray that he didn’t tell Fallon.
Thankfully, my phone on the dresser rang, stopping my spiraling thoughts before they could get any worse.
Speak of the devil . . . my old pal Atlanta.
“Hey,” I greeted.
“Hey?” she greeted back, but hers sounded more like a question.
I waited for her to go on. Normally I could withstand the silence, but not when I was in the middle of an embarrassment episode—was that a real thing?
“You called?” I broke and asked.
“I wanted to see how your dinner with Amir went, but now I want to know why you sound . . . squeaky.”
Squeaky?
Great.
Perfect.
I traded my oral sex V-card for a squeaky voice.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I told her, as I made my way into the bathroom and closed the door. My gaze caught my reflection and my breath caught in my lungs. My one breast had . . . was that . . . beard burn?
“What’s happening right now?” Atlanta asked. “You sound like you’re having an asthma attack.”
“Nothing’s happening,” I wheezed.
But something was. The evidence of Mason’s claiming was right there on my breast.
His mark.
I clenched my thighs at the sight.
If Pete hadn’t interrupted, would I have begged him for sex? Yes, absolutely. Yes, without question, I’d been ready for more.
“Calista,” Atlanta snapped. “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”
“What’d you say?”
“Okay, seriously, what the hell is going on? Did Amir do something?”
Shit, I knew that tone, it was Atlanta’s I’m going to ruin your life with a few keystrokes voice.
“No. Dinner went fine. He’s slimy, made a few passes, but I made it clear I was uninterested, and he let it go. Mason was there the whole time. Fallon too. But . . . Jason was there.”
“What? At dinner?”
“At the bar. I saw him as I was walking out.”
“Fuck, Calli.”
Fuck was right. I’d lost my advantage.
“It’ll be fine. I lost the element of surprise in the sense he knows I’m in Dubai, but he’d never imagine who I’ve turned into.
The only thing he’s going to find on me is that I’m a freelance journalist. Most of my articles are about crimes against women and children.
With my background, that won’t raise any red flags.
I’m proceeding as planned. Which reminds me, did you get ahold of Tanner? ”
Atlanta blew out a harassed breath. “Yes. I gave him the information on Sparkle.” I didn’t miss her chuckle slash sneer. “He said it would take him a few days to get a team together, but he’ll take care of it.”
“And my kit?”
“He’s got a Steyr DMR and two Colt M-nineteen-elevens for you.”
I would’ve preferred a Knight’s Armament SR-25, but a beggar can’t be choosy.
“What kind of glass on the Steyr?”
Her pfft made me smile. “Like I’d let Tanner give you shit optics. He sighted in a Leupold Mark 5HD for you at a thousand yards, just in case. But it’s not like you’re gonna use the Steyr.”
She was correct. The long-distance rifle was a just-in-case backup. This particular mission would be up close and personal.
“Thanks.”
“On a scale of a little mad to super-extra-double mad, where are you now?”
My exhale felt like I’d let out a breath I’d been holding for twenty years.
Maybe it was because I was so close to finally getting peace for my sister, or maybe it was the three glorious orgasms Mason had given me, or maybe I was just tired of my life, but I felt like I could almost taste my freedom.
“A few notches up from a little mad but nowhere near really mad.”
“Okay, now that we got the fun stuff out of the way, tell me why, when you answered, you sounded . . . strange.”
“I thought you said I sound squeaky,” I reminded her.
And why am I having this conversation in only my undies?
I snatched a towel off the bar and wrapped it around me.
“You did, which is strange. You normally have this husky phone-sex operator voice—”
“I do not.”
“Girl, I’ve been on comms with you when you’re working a mark. You add this almost Southern honey to your voice when you’re trying to canoodle. I’m a chick who likes dick, but even I think it’s hot. But I’ve never heard your voice get high pitched.”
Canoodle.
I shook my head and stared at the floor. “It’s . . . personal.”
“You banged your fake bodyguard,” she whooped.
“I didn’t bang him.”
“Why the hell not?”
Because I’m a virgin!
No, that wasn’t the truth. I’d been ready to happily shed that designation.
“We were interrupted,” I admitted. “Not visually. No one walked in on us. But Pete knocked on the door, and I think he heard.” I rushed out the heard part.
“Oopsie.”
“Oopsie? That’s all you have for me? Mason’s downstairs with his team now. Gavin, Aiden, Jack, and Catarina just got to the penthouse, and I’m hiding in the bathroom.”
“Okay, now I get the squeak. You just did it again. But I don’t get what the big deal is. You and Mason are two unattached . . . wait, he’s single, right?”
“Of course he is.”
“Right. Good. Two single, consenting adults fooling around. You said Pete didn’t walk in on you, so what’s the big deal, he heard a little moaning and grunting.
Wait, you weren’t getting all freaky-deaky asking to ride him like a camel, were you?
Not that there’s anything wrong with that, fly your freak flag, sis, but—”
“Camel?” I choked out. “Ride him like a camel? What the hell, Atlanta. That’s not freaky, that’s weird.”
Why had I answered the phone?
“Sorry. I was reading a Brittney Sahin romance last night.” Wait, what?
Atlanta reads romance books? “Actually, the book takes place in Dubai. The hero was after a terrorist, and the heroine was trying to free her best friend from jail before he was beheaded. There was a scene in the desert with a camel. The book’s really good.
You should try it. Oh, and shit, the hero was pretending to be her bodyguard too!
And so you know, there was some well-written tent nookie.
Maybe you and Mason should go rent a tent. ”
Unfortunately, my life wasn’t a Brittney Sahin novel. Though I should look her up and stock up on some of her books before I slipped away to my no-people-allowed oasis.
“I think you’ve lost the plot of my story,” I grumbled.
“No, I haven’t. My point is, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Sex is natural. Besides, it would seriously suck if Mason was giving you the business and he couldn’t bring it home.”
Mason had no problem bringing it home—quickly, as he pointed out. Something else to be embarrassed about. The man barely had to touch me and I was a sopping-wet mess primed to explode.
“Okay, well, thanks for the talk. I need to shower off the gallons of makeup before I get wrinkles.”
Leaving makeup on doesn’t cause wrinkles, dumbass.
“Right. Wrinkles,” she called my bluff. “Tanner will be in touch. I gave him this number to arrange delivery.”
Shit, he couldn’t deliver my kit here. I’d need to set up a place to meet him.
“Great. Thanks.”
“Before I let you go, Jason . . . did he recognize you? It’s been twenty years. You’re older now, and when you’re all glammed up, you don’t look like you.”