“Nikki! Oh, Christ, baby, yes.”
“Please, Damien,” I beg. “Please.” I can’t manage any more words, and he thrusts inside me, again and again, spinning us both further and further into space. Harder and faster until he’s so close, and he reaches around to tease my clit and take me over with him, until we explode together, and then collapse on the floor of the limo, curled up together in a tangle of limbs.
For a moment, we lie there in total silence, just staring up at the stars that twinkle above us. Then Damien takes my hand and very sweetly lifts it to his lips and kisses my palm.
“I liked my surprise,” he says. “And I think that was one of the best dinners I’ve ever had.”
Chapter Three
It’s easy to keep the secret from him on Saturday, too. We’re home all day, just lazing around. During the day, we both tackle some of the work we’ve brought home, although I spend a lot of time not working on my proposal. Instead, whenever Damien isn’t around, I open a new browser window and search out amazing gifts for his party. Not for Damien, but for gift bags.
Since the guests are all taking time out to travel to Santa Barbara, I want to make sure everyone has something nice to go home with. And, honestly, it’s fun. Before life with Damien, the most I could offer party guests was a really kickass margarita, courtesy of my Texas roots.
Now, I can have a special thank you ready for each of them.
In the end, I come up with body lotion and custom bracelets for the women, shaving soap and designer cufflinks for the men, and tiny bottles of wine and scotch for everyone. The trick, of course, is that all the items have to be delivered by Friday so that I can put them together in the customized gift bags I also ordered. Then I’m going to pass it all off to Rachel, who’s arranged to get everything delivered to the hotel by early Friday morning.
I even have special bags for Ronnie and Jeffery, despite the fact that Syl says that she’s only going to let them stay long enough to yell “surprise” to Uncle Damien before Stella, their nanny, takes them back to their room.
What I still don’t have is an actual gift for Damien. Yes, I told Rachel that the party is the gift, but I didn’t really mean it. I may not adhere to most of my mother’s rules of etiquette, but the Elizabeth Fairchild Birthday Party Guidelines definitely apply in this case: Thou shalt always give the guest of honor a thoughtful present to unwrap.
But what?
It’s a question I’m still pondering on Sunday when we head over to the Pacific Palisades for an afternoon at Jackson and Sylvia’s house.
“Sex toys,” Jamie says, when I tell the girls my dilemma. We’re drinking mimosas on the rooftop patio as the guys hang out on the lawn doing manly things with the grill and supervising Ronnie on the swingset.
“What?” Jamie asks as everyone turns to stare her. “I bet he’d totally appreciate an imaginative sex toy. I know Ryan did,” she adds with a wink.
“But what could I buy him that he doesn’t already own?” I keep my voice deadpan, which makes Jamie bark with laughter and Siobhan go bright red.
“You two are like a vaudeville act,” Cass says, then leans over to Siobhan. “It’s okay, sweetie, they don’t bite hard.”
“I’m not a prude,” Siobhan protests. “Redheads just blush easier.”
“She’s a prude,” Cass says in mock confidence. “Well, in public anyway. In private she’s a wildcat.” That earns her a shove from Siobhan, with whom she’s sharing a two-person lounger. Siobhan is in a loose skirt and T-shirt because she burns easily, and Cass is decked out in tiny shorts and a bikini top that shows off the gorgeous tattoo of a brilliantly plumed bird covering her shoulder and trailing down her arm.
Earlier, I’d pointed out that technically it’s winter, but Cass just shooed my words away. “What’s the point of living in LA if you can’t pretend like every day is summer?” Honestly, I really couldn’t argue with that.
Cass is Syl’s best friend, and she owns a local tattoo shop. Apparently, she’s given Syl every one of her tats. Frankly, I’d been surprised when I learned that Sylvia had any tattoos at all. But that’s the best part of this growing web of friends and family—I keep learning more about the people I love.
Right now, though, I’m close to disowning them all. “For the record, you guys are no help at all,” I protest grumpily.
“I can go shopping with you this week,” Jamie says.
“Great. For what?”
“Beats the hell out of me. But I figure if we combine the shopping with a few stops for wine along the way, sooner or later, something will seem like an amazing gift.”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t say no. It may not be the best plan for finding Damien’s gift, but the afternoon will definitely be entertaining.