A strange look passes over his face, but, then it clears. His fingers slip into my hair and he kisses me. “You liked fucking Sloane Mason?”
Saliva slides down my throat and I wince. It’s already sore. To spare Parnell’s ego, I carefully consider my answer. I don’t want to hurt Parnell’s feelings. I wish he’d come back to our bed without anyone else. I find myself nodding and then I remember our baby girl.
“Georgie is going to Sloane’s concert tomorrow—tonight,” I amend. It crossed over into the new day hours ago. “I gave her my permission to go with Crowell.”
Parnell rolls off me and I lift my head. My husband’s dick is glistening in the faint light. “She met him tonight.”
“Who?” I ask. I don’t know most of what Georgie does, but the thought of her meeting up with Crowell doesn’t sit right with me. If it’s discovered I knowingly allowed her to associate with a grown man, my pristine reputation will suffer. “I’ll speak to Josh—“
“Not Crowell,” Parnell snaps with exasperation. “Sloane.”
I like the sound of that even less. Why, I’m not sure. Maybe, because Georgiana pollutes the house with that god awful music of his. I’ve heard her often enough extolling her love for Sloane. I scowl at the scrollwork on the ceiling. That isn’t it at all. Georgie is young.
Love and sex for her is acceptable, even warranted. She has every right to appease the demands of her body and search for her soulmate. I, on the other hand, will be seen as pathetic and desperate for getting in a young man’s bed. Women over forty are supposed to forget their vaginas are for anything other than pissing.
I grimace, tired of the refrain that constantly lives in my brain. Instead of feeling sorry for myself—making myself feel old—I should do something to remind myself that I’m still young enough to do whatever I want.
Have another baby, maybe?
But whose?
Parnell continues to talk and Sloane’s name catches my attention again.
If he sees Georgie…my young, gorgeous Georgie…My husband already has issues with my maturity. I can’t afford to have the rock god push me over, too.
A frisson of ugliness creeps into my thoughts, seeping into my veins like poison. The bitterness and hatred curling inside of me towards my daughter is dizzying. It frees me, too. I can finally admit that her youth is my problem.
I don’t know much of anything anymore, but I know I have to keep my daughter away from Sloane.
“She was being sullen as usual,” Parnell says with a sigh, filling up the sudden silence with a well-known fact.
Georgiana has her moods. I’d began to ignore them months ago. It’s easier to talk about nice things. Shopping. Travelling. Champagne. Fashion. Now, we don’t spend enough time together for me to exercise any parental authority over her.
“I’d like Sloane to give her guitar lessons.”
I despise the sound of that. “He’s a rock god. He doesn’t have time to give a little girl music lessons.” I sound just as I feel, jealous and insecure.
“Sloane’s coming back Monday for another round of fucking while she’s at school.”
I know and my pussy clenches in anticipation. Just as quickly, concern flares in me. My neck is already showing signs of age. Now, the bruises from Parnell’s roughness will draw his attention right where I don’t need him to be.
“I’m going away on business in a few days. Georgie…while I’m gone…if he does guitar lessons with her, she’ll be sober. She’ll be home, too. She’d never pass up a chance to spend time with her idol.”
“Parnell—“ My words abruptly halt. Sloane visiting for Georgie. I’ll have a lot of opportunities to fuck him to my heart’s content. I’ll get Crowell to distract Georgie before or after her lessons. I’ll—
“He declined.”
Another, more satisfying thought rears up. Georgiana doesn’t have to know anything about the lessons. I’ll whisper to Sloane Monday to accept Parnell’s offer, so we can spend the next two weeks fucking.
Georgie
I’m tired, achy, and trembly. Worse, I’m burning up. My throat is throbbing and my back is hurting to the rhythm of my pounding head. Sunlight gleams through my window and I lift my head from my Queen-Anne style vanity in my dressing room. I have a wicked crook in my neck.
“Shit.” I stumble to my feet and frown at myself, glaring back at me from the mirrored wall across from me. I’m naked and my hair is in tangles. Bits and pieces of last night crawl through my sluggish head. Sucking Crowell’s dick. Seeing his entire body without hindrance. His mouth between my legs. The powder.
The breakup.
Tears rush to my eyes and I hang my head. Sloane Mason’s face pops into my mind’s eye and…I groan, sinking to the floor. I ran into him again and…and talked to him by the pool.