When she spoke, her words were punctuated with gasps. “You remember.”
I looked up at her from between her thighs. “I remember you forced me to watch it,” I said, slipping a second finger inside her.
“Oh, God, yes,” she said, tossing her head back. “You...were...a….shit...I mean, a sport...about it.”
“I just wanted to get in your pants,” I said, returning my mouth to her clit.
She gripped me tighter, pressing me against her again, her moans coming more frequently now. My cock was rock hard. I don't know what the hell it was about this girl. But something about her still made me crazy.
"Just like now," she said, her words blurred together. "Shit...Silas."
I kept going, finding a rhythm with my fingers, stroking her while I pulled her clit into my mouth. "Oh, darlin', I'm not trying to get in your pants anymore," I said. "That's a done deal. I'm about make you come on my tongue, and then I'm going to ride you until you come again."
I slipped my fingers out and buried my face between her legs, tasting her sweetness. I fucked her with my tongue until she came, squeezing my head between her thighs as she leaned forward and clutched my head against her. When she finished, I could taste her on my lips, on my tongue.
But I didn't give her any time to recover. Instead, I slid her off the piano while she was still relaxed, her head against my neck, and deposited her on the nearest thing I could find, this long lounge chair covered in soft velvety-looking fabric.
Then I did what I'd promised. I slid my cock inside her wet *, still throbbing from her orgasm, and rode her until I couldn't hold out anymore, finally letting go inside her.
After, I pulled her tight against me, feeling the warmth of her body on mine, listening to the sound of her breathing in the stillness of the room. I wanted to stay like this, life on pause, lying here with her and pretending that there was something more to this than what it was.
But that was stupid, and she and I both knew that.
What was happening now was what it was. We were working out something from the past and nothing more. Tempest was a con artist, someone who deceived innocent people. No matter how hard it was to imagine, that was a fact.
This was closure, pure and simple.
It couldn't be anything else.
Even if I wanted it to be.
I ran my finger up and down the back of his hand, where his palm was pressed firmly against my abdomen. It was dangerous, lying here with him as if we were a couple, two regular people with normal lives. It felt too familiar, too homey.
I reminded myself that there was nothing between us anymore.
Anything I was feeling right now was just an artifact of the past, a remnant of some childhood crush, the haze and delirium and stupidity of young love.
And everyone knew you couldn’t trust your feelings when it came to teenage love.
That’s all Silas was, and nothing more.
“Silas?” I asked.
“Yeah, bright eyes.” His hand paused in its place on my stomach.
“I am sorry, you know.” I thought he knew, but it seemed important to say.
“I know,” he said, kissing the back of my head. He was silent for a long time before he spoke again. “Are you staying in Vegas?”
“No.” I didn't elaborate. He didn’t need to know where I was going next. What would be the point? I was a grifter. I didn’t stay in the same place longer than it took to run a con. I didn’t date. I didn’t do relationships. I sure as hell didn’t fall in love.
But Silas didn’t ask me to elaborate. He didn't ask any more questions, just rolled me over onto my back, slid his cock into me, and fucked me slowly, his eyes locked on mine the entire time.
I told myself that what was happening between us was closure.
And the next morning, when we said goodbye, I reminded myself of that fact.
The problem was that when I said goodbye, it didn't feel like closure. It felt like I'd just hit the pause button on us.
And that scared me.
"You look...rested," Trigg said, emphasizing the word, a huge grin plastered across his face. He laughed loudly at his own joke.
"Shut the hell up," I said. "What's going on, anyway? Why does Deborah want to give back the money?"
Trigg shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "But she wants to meet and give it back to you. She said she couldn't reach you because your phone was off. I didn't tell her that the reason your phone was off was because you pulled the hot television producer chick from the bar the other night. I didn't know you even had it in you, man." He paused, chuckling. "But I guess you got it in her, right?"
"What are you, twelve years old?" I asked. "I'm not going to let Deborah give back the money. Did you tell her that?"
Trigg nodded. "I did. Johnny said they're flush."
"How are they suddenly flush?"
"She wouldn't say over the phone," he said. "That's why we need to go by in person. But they're insisting on giving it back. That's all I know. Now, tell me about the girl. Was she as hot as she looked like she'd be in bed?"