23. Cole
Despite my latenights with Riley, I’ve been having no trouble coming into the office at my usual time each morning—somewhere between eight and eight-thirty, depending on what time I plan on returning home.
This morning, I’m in the elevator up to my office by eight fifteen. The firm has a suite of offices that comprise three floors of a high rise in midtown Manhattan, and my office is the penthouse—I have a suite to myself, in the corner of the topmost floor.
From the office, I have a spectacular view of the city that I almost never get to appreciate. The only times I have the chance to look out the window are while I’m on the phone.
“You’ve had two calls so far this morning, Mr. Sullivan,” says my assistant as soon as I step through the glass door. Kerry’s at her desk. She doesn’t look up from her computer screen as she vigorously types.
“Already? That’s early.”
She shrugs. “I told them you’d be in the office within the hour, and they said they’d call back, but you’ll probably seem more proactive if you get out ahead of them.”
“Of course. Thank you, Kerry. Could you shoot me their numbers?”
Kerry nods, and I head into my office. For a second, I pause and take a deep breath, looking out over the pointed skyscrapers. A flock of pigeons shoots past my windows.
“Do you want some coffee, sir?” Kerry asks, sticking her head in the doorway. “I was just about to put a pot on.”
“That would be fantastic. Thank you.”
She closes the door to give me my privacy. I stretch, then settle in at my desk to check my notifications.
The first call I need to return is from a long-time client, looking to expand his portfolio—simple enough. The second call is from a new legal consultant, who we’ve been considering hiring to help our firm’s work become more transparent.
While I’m on each of these calls, I wander around my desk, too restless to stay still. I take notes, and after I hang up, I diligently peruse my notepad, copying everything I’ve written down into an email, which I send to Kerry.
As I’m transcribing, I find that my typical focus is hard to maintain. Thoughts of Riley keep creeping into my head.
The way her hair looked in the shower, silky and dark with the water, trailing down her back like liquid as I fucked her against the tiled wall.
The look on her face as she rode me, her head flying back in ecstasy—moments before I flipped her over, unable to hold myself back any longer, and pounded into her tight pussy.
The way her eyes roll and her mouth falls open as she comes—
I take my hands off the keyboard, swiveling my chair to face the early morning sky. I’m half hard already, just from these snapshot memories.
I shake my head, take a deep sip of my cooling coffee, and blink rapidly. Focus. Come on, man. You’re at work.
I manage to keep myself on-task until ten o’clock, when my personal cell rings in my pocket. I scowl, irritated at the interruption, until I check the screen and see that the call is coming from Declan.
Oh, well. Might as well take a short break, anyway.
I answer the call, standing up. If I’m going to take a few minutes away from my work, I might as well keep myself moving somehow.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Cole,” says Declan. “You’re not busy, are you?”
I laugh, and he laughs, too. We both know how it is; it’s rare to find a time when either of us isn’t busy.
“Yeah, that’s what I figured. Sorry if I pulled you away from something.”
“It’s fine,” I say with a shrug. “My next meeting isn’t until noon, and I’ve been light on calls this morning, so I can talk for a bit. What’s up?”
“I wanted to ask you if you were down for a poker night soon,” Declan says. There’s a little bit of reproach in his tone, and I think I might know why.
Guiltily, I begin to pace up and down next to the huge windows, eyeing the tiny cars crawling up and down the street below. “Uh, of course.”
“It’s been a while since we’ve seen you,” Declan adds.
There it is. I cough a little, not willing to admit the reason why my nights have been booked solid for the past couple of weeks—I’ve been with Riley pretty much every single night since our arrangement began.
“Yeah,” I say. “Well. It’s been crazy over here. Haven’t had much time to myself lately.”
“Whatever you say, man,” Declan says. He’s not like Reed, who would’ve grilled me endlessly. Declan is just as intuitive, and probably knows something’s up, but he’s not really the type to pry. “Just thought it would be good to get the boys together. Is there a night that works for you?”
“Sure, sure. You know, now that I have the nanny, we could meet wherever you guys want.” Typically, especially when Archie was younger, I would host poker night at my house. That way, I could still be around the kid and keep an eye on him.
“Oh, right! I totally forgot about that,” Declan says. “Good for you, figuring out the nanny situation. How’s she working out?”
“Not bad, all things considered,” I reply, keeping my voice light so as not to accidentally imply anything. It’s probably for the best if I don’t mention the fucking. “She’s good at it. Um. Good with kids, that is.”
“That’s great. Listen, I have to get going, but—how does Friday sound? My place. Eight.”
“That’s perfect.”
“Awesome. Can you do me a favor and give Reed a call to let him know?”
“Sure thing,” I say.
“See you then.”
Declan disconnects the call, and I stand at the window for a moment, steeling myself to talk to Reed. Of the two of them, Reed is much more likely to try to call me out if he catches wind of anything off. The last thing I want is to explain myself to him, of all people.
But when I finally dial his number, Reed answers with surprising bluntness. “Hello? What do you want, Cole?”
“Take it easy,” I say. “Friendly call. What’s going on with you?”
“Sorry,” he says. His exhale is reduced to static by the phone microphone. “It’s just been kind of an intense day. What’s going on?”
“We’re picking up poker nights. Friday at Declan’s place. You in?”
Reed seems to perk up at that. Some of the seriousness goes out of his voice as he says, “Of course! It’s about damn time.”
“Great. Looking forward to it.”
“Eight o’clock, right?” He chuckles. “Or—I guess I’ll just show up whenever. Did I ever tell you that I guessed Declan’s door code? I can let myself into the Wright residence whenever I feel like it. Maybe I’ll go in and rearrange his spice cabinet, or something.”
The joke is classic Reed, but there’s something a little strained in his tone. I frown. Something’s not quite right.
“Are you good, Reed?” I ask.
“Totally,” he says, but he sounds distracted. “Just… busy with something. Speaking of, I gotta run. I’ll talk to you later.”
Reed hangs up before I can say anything else, and I’m left standing, staring at my cell phone.
There’s definitely something going on there, I think to myself.
I don’t wonder about it for long, though; Declan and I will probably hear about it at poker night.
With a sigh, I return to my desk, moving my mouse to turn off my screensaver. Time to get back to work—and time to keep my mind off of Riley, if that’s even possible.
* * *
Riley
On Friday night,while Cole is getting ready to leave, I busy myself clearing away the dishes from the dinner we shared with Archie.
Archie tags after Cole, whining, “Why can’t you stay and paint with me and Riley?”
“I told you, little man,” Cole says, ruffling his hair. “I’m going to spend some time with Uncle Declan and Uncle Reed. It’s been a while since I’ve seen them.”
“So? I want you to stay,” Archie pleads.
Silently, I smile down at the dishes. I have to agree with that. Since Cole told me about his poker night yesterday, I’ve been a little bummed out that we won’t be able to spend the night together.
I’ve been trying to tell myself to get over it; this is the deal we have, and besides, I’ve spent time with him almost every night since that first time we had sex. He’ll probably be back in my room tomorrow night, I tell myself as I start the dishwasher, drying my hands on a kitchen towel.
“Riley,” Cole says from the doorway, “can I speak to you upstairs for a moment, before I head out?”
“Sure.” I set down the rag and follow him up the stairs. He heads straight for my bedroom, and I feel a prickle of excitement as I step inside and close the door behind me. Whatever this is, he doesn’t want Archie to hear about it. Which might mean…
As soon as the door is closed, Cole reaches out to take one of my hands. He places something small and silicone in my palm.
“What is this?”
“This,” he explains patiently, “is a remote-controlled vibrator. When you’re finished taking care of Archie tonight, I want you to put it in.”
I blink, surprised and somewhat confused. “I… I don’t understand. What am I supposed to do?”
He smiles, and his finger slides to the larger, bulb-shaped end of the vibe.
“This goes in your pussy,” he says, and I take a breath, heat rising in my face. “And this”—he gestures to the protruding piece of silicone—“will be at your clit.”
I swallow hard, nodding.
“I will have control of it from a distance,” he says, a growl in his voice. “I want you to count how many times you come before I get back to fuck you properly.”
I squeeze my thighs together as my clit throbs, turned on just from his words. “I feel like I just did,” I say in a small, teasing voice.
There’s a hunger in his eyes, like he wants nothing more than to grab me and kiss me. I hold up a hand. “I’m still on the clock, remember?”
He draws a short breath through his nose, straightening his back. “Yes. Right.”
As he steps away from me, his movements seem pained, forced.
“I’ll see you… later.”
“Do you know what time you’ll be back?” I ask, already eager.
He shakes his head. “I’m not sure. I’ll text you if I think it’s going to be particularly late, though. We almost always wrap up by midnight.”
With that, Cole leaves. I head back downstairs to get Archie ready for bed. He’s sitting in the front room—which has come to be something of an art room for us—coloring on a discarded newspaper with crayon.
“Alright, bud,” I say. “Your dad just headed out, so you know what that means.”
He sits up. “Party?”
“Bath time,” I say, eliciting an exaggerated groan.
Getting Archie to bed is as easy as ever, and I take extra care with his bath and nighttime routine. Once he’s snuggled up in bed, I slip out of his room and head quickly back to my own, shutting the door gently.
The vibe is sitting on my dresser, waiting for me. I pick it up, letting my fingers run over the soft, lavender-colored silicone. Then I take a deep breath and move to the bed.
I’m already a little bit wet just from Cole’s instructions, but I slather some lube on the vibe anyway to make sure it’s easy to slide it inside. Once it’s in place, I pull out my phone to text Cole.
ME: I’m ready.
COLE: Good girl.
I catch my breath, clenching my legs in excitement.