8. Suzette
SUZETTE
T he boat cuts through the river below us as the skyline rises above. The bright lights twinkle against the black sky. Up close, it’s intimidating but there’s still something elegant about those tall buildings.
The air at the bow of the boat is crisp and clean.
With both of my hands holding the railing, I breathe in deep, grateful for a moment alone after the last hour of socializing.
My cheeks hurt from the constant smiling.
I laugh when it’s appropriate and keep everything light.
This isn’t my first time at a gathering that’s … out of my league.
I’m sure it’s obvious that I don’t quite fit in, but it’s gone well as far as I can tell. Champagne flutes clinked as we worked through the crowd, and the small gathering of women mostly gossiped about social circles I’m not privy to.
Most notably, the view is stunning.
I grew up in New York, but not in the city. I knew the dream of it, breathed in the hope of what NYC offers. I believe in this city. It will never cease to amaze me.
New York City is freeing in the same way my divorce was liberating.
Admittedly, that freedom came from the fact that I had security in my job. I could make it on my own and live the dream I’ve had since I was a little girl without fear. That was then. My hands twist against the cold, smooth metal. This is now.
Apprehension spreads through my gut. I can’t deny the fear that my job might be on the line now.
I’ve slept with Adrian and he’s sending emails about gathering client lists like he wants to rearrange everything at the office.
Or rather his “team” is. If I don’t have that security anymore, then everything is at risk.
“You’ve been out here a while.” The deep rumble from behind me is startling.
Adrian appears at my side by the railing, looking out with me. “I was spending time with my thoughts.” Smiling at him, I step a bit closer. “Is your meeting done?”
“Yes.”
“Did you seal the deal?” I ask him as he breathes in deep, looking over my shoulder to gaze at the skyline. He peers down at me, a charming smile at his lips. “Always, my little vixen.”
With the heat in his eyes, I let out a nervous huff of a laugh and pull away.
“Dinner’s about to start. Let me get you a drink.”
It gives me a bit of relief that he’s not pressing me about what’s on my mind.
I’m not sure how to talk about it with him yet.
Adrian leads me back inside the cabin, the mood seeming a little more somber as more thoughts race through my mind.
Thoughts of anxiety and anticipation about what’s going to happen at work.
Adrian takes me by the elbow to guide me through the tables, stopping at the bar for a glass of wine.
The ship is massive and spacious. It’s obvious they spared no expense for this evening’s outing.
The group of women I was chatting with earlier are seated with their companions, dining on caviar as they overlook the river.
All the tables have been set with linen tablecloths and beautiful dishes. This is how the other half lives. It’s elegance and convenience that will only ever be a dream for most.
“We’re toward the stern … for more privacy.”
We reach our table, nestled in a corner with lit candles and the perfect view of the ship splitting the water that reflects the bright lights of the city. I stop at the edge, bracing myself, suddenly uncomfortable. With a firm hand he tilts up my chin. “What’s wrong?”
“Just worried.” The knot in my stomach ties tighter.
“About what?”
It takes great effort to keep my expression neutral, in case anyone may see when I say, “My job.”
Light dances in his eyes. “It’s after six.”
“Unlike you, I can’t just turn it off. I can’t stop worrying about my responsibilities and wondering what’s going to happen to my income … and what might happen between us.”
There’s a pause, a tension that gathers between us before Adrian pulls out my chair and tells me, “We can discuss it later, but I’m telling you, I don’t want you to worry.”
“As if I can just stop.”
“You can. And you will.”
“It’s just hard to believe right now.”
“Let me help you with that.” His gentle smile is as confident as his touch. “You need to eat. Sit.” He takes my wineglass from my hand, only a few sips gone, and helps me to my seat.
It’s a bit chillier now than it was earlier and even with the beautiful double collar Mackage jacket Noah was gracious enough to have rush delivered before the boat set sail, it’s brisk.
“May I?” Adrian asks, still standing as I take my seat. He moves the remaining chair around the table, dragging it to sit beside me.
“You’d rather sit next to me?”
“I’d rather have my arm around you.”
There’s comfort that’s unexpected, in the way he simply wants to be with me. Next to me, with me, touching me. I crave it without realizing it.
The waiter comes by with appetizers: oysters on ice, bruschetta, and marinated olives with feta. Where we’re seated, the chatter is muted and drowned out by the water, the breeze is comforting and it feels like the city has stayed awake just for us.
We’re finished with our appetizers when Adrian orders two glasses of ice water.
“I’m all right with the wine,” I tell him.
“I thought we could play a game,” is his reply. “To keep your mind off work.”
“What kind of game?” My cheeks are instantly flushed and hot, though no one seems to be paying attention to us, tucked away back here. “Would it be … discreet?”
“Very,” he says and his gorgeous pale blue eyes rest on mine as he smirks, “as long as you can keep quiet.”
“I have no problem with that.” The suggestive game is enticing, and there’s no doubt I would much rather get lost in this man’s touch than ruminate on matters I cannot control.
Just as I rest my hand on Adrian’s thigh, the waiter returns and a hot blush creeps to my cheeks realizing I’m the one caught.
The waiter only offers a polite smile, not saying a word as he sets down the goblets of ice water and then uncovers dinner: filet mignon and lobster tail with mashed potatoes and asparagus, all neatly arranged in a tasteful way.
My mouth waters instantly.
Adrian’s quiet and commanding as he tells me, “Pick up your fork and make sure you appear to be eating, no matter what I do.”
“Appear to be eating or actually eat?” My fork hovers over the plate.
“You should eat,” he decides. “I’ll try to be fair and give you time to chew and swallow.”
Adrian looks down at his own plate and says, “Enjoy dinner. That’s all you need to do.”
Small talk ensues. About the city, the ever-changing neighborhoods and real estate. Nothing heavy, yet it chips away at who each of us is and what we want.
“Why am I not surprised that you live in Tribeca,” I comment offhandedly knowing how damn expensive it is. Yet another checkbox on tonight’s elite list that I could never fulfill.
That’s when I feel his hand on my thigh underneath the table, pushing my dress up. My fork scrapes against the porcelain, giving away my surprise until I can steady myself. His touch goes up and up until his knuckles brush against my clit through my panties.
Cold shocks me so suddenly, I gasp.
“With a sound like that escaping those lips of yours,” Adrian scolds, his tone teasing, “people will wonder if something happened to you.”
He doesn’t let up with the pressure against my clit and I struggle to perfect my expression.
“Keep your thighs apart,” he murmurs. “That’s the only way to play this game.”
Circular motions of his knuckles make me hotter, increasing the heat until all at once he removes his hand.
My initial reaction is to object, but that’s quickly silenced as he plucks a piece of ice from his glass and, with his eyes on mine, his hand disappears under the table. My lips part with a hiss as the cold hits my inner thigh first. He doesn’t stop, slowly trailing it up.
I let out a breathy laugh. “That’s freezing,” I admit. “It’s so, so cold.”
“Sensitizing, isn’t it?” he says quietly and casually spears a stalk of asparagus with one hand, while his other slips the ice up and down my slit until slowly he presses it inside of me. Goosebumps dance along my skin as I focus on my breathing and simply staying still.
Adrian repeats this process, bringing me to the edge and then stopping me with the freeze of an ice cube. Abruptly, he stops.
“You’re going to give us away,” he warns lowly, his lips at the shell of my ear and his warm breath tickling my neck.
That’s when I realize my fork is fisted in my hand and my eyes were closed tight.
“I know you can do it. My little slut knows how to hide it. Don’t you?”
My breathing is rushed when another piece of ice slips along my skin, and my hand trembles. Adrian watches this with curiosity burning in his eyes.
“Oh my,” I whisper and breathe, my eyes half-lidded.
“I want you to come for me.”
“I don’t think—” With two fingers he enters me, his fingers deft and knowing. As if he’s memorized just how to get me off.
“I know you can. If you must, lay your head down on the table.” The moment he suggests it, I obey, pushing the plate away and resting my head down.
He doesn’t let up, not even when the waiter questions if I’m all right and he orders Dramamine for me.
The second his footsteps disappear, Adrian’s touch becomes merciless and he whispers at my ear, “If you don’t come for me right now, I swear to God I’ll throw you over this table and fuck you until all of Manhattan hears you crying out my name.
I couldn’t care less about this deal if I can’t even get my little whore to come on my hand. ”
My lips part, my warm breath heating my face still resting against the table and hidden by my arms. That’s what does it. It’s what brings me to the edge. I clench around him thinking of what he’s just described.
The moment I’m granted my release, he removes his hand and it’s only a moment after that his hand rests on my shoulder while rubbing soothing circles. Adrian informs the waiter that I will be fine.