Broken Wings (A Romantic Suspense)(10)

I’m so adamant that I won’t think about him that my hand is already between my legs. I writhe a little and let my robe fall open, cool air pricking at my skin as I move my finger along the soft folds of my *, up and down over my entrance, teasing the skin around my clit.

Trying to put Jack out of my head today is a losing battle. When I close my eye, all I can see is his staring into me as I held back my hair, unflinching. He was looking, hard. It’s not much of a step from there to imagining him grabbing me, pulling me to him. Laying a kiss on my lips gently, testing if it’ll hurt me, then harder when I kiss him back.

In my imagination I don’t care what anyone thinks and neither does he. He spins me around, lifts me off my feet, and presses me against the glass door. For some reason, imagining his hands bunching up my dress and lifting my skirts turns me on as much as the thought of his mouth on my throat or the feeling of his cock jutting into my stomach, straining through his clothes, trying to reach me with frantic urgency.

In my fantasy I decided to skip underwear for this occasion and so did he. When I fumble his zipper down his cock is in my hands and I guide it inside me as I press back into the glass. My fingers slip in and I roll on my side, curling around my hand as I rub and stroke with my fingers and palm, forgetting where I am as I imagine Jack thrusting into me over and over, arms wrapped around me, grunting my name into my shoulder.

I want him so f*cking bad, it hurts. Curled up in a ball, I whimper into my pillows as my arousal grows into a frenzy.

Then a pounding knock comes at the door.

“Wha? Who?”

“Open up!”

Fuck, it’s Laetitia.

I get up slowly and swathe myself in my robe, pulling it tight around my neck. I step into a pair of slippers and walk to the door, hobbling a little. My legs are as tight as steel cables and I’m still shaking.

I didn’t, ah, finish.

When I open the door I find her with her hands on her hips, still in full bridesmaid regalia.

“What are you doing?” she demands. “The reception isn’t over. It’s not even ten o’clock!”

“I got tired,” I sigh, turning away from her. “My leg hurts. I need to lay down for a while.”

“Are you coming back?”

I shake my head.

“Jess wants you to come back. You should be there to see them off.”

The way she refers to my mother by a causal nickname always annoys me, but they are close in age, separated by only a few years; my eldest aunt married young.

“I don’t want to,” is all I can manage.

I start to close the door.

“That guy who was staring at you. Who is he?”

It takes every fiber of my being to resist slamming the door in her face.

“Jack.”

She blinks, and I swear I see her smile for a second, cutting through the overblown look of surprise on her face.

“That’s Jack? Wow, he turned into a hottie, didn’t he?”

Hottie, Laetitia? Really?

“I don’t know. Whatever. I’m not coming back. Give Mom my apology, will you? I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

Laetitia nods gravely. “She’ll understand, sweetheart. Give me a hug.”

It’s weird how she flips back and forth between acting like my peer and my elder. Weird and annoying. Sighing, I lean in and hug her. She embraces me harder than I embrace her, swaying back and forth a bit before she lets me go.

“Isn’t this exciting? She’s so happy.”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “I wish I could come up but I just…”

“Did you take a shower?”

“What? Yes.”

“Why are you all sweaty?”

I sigh. “Hot shower. I’ll see you in the morning, I guess.”

“Yeah. They’re leaving tomorrow. You can say goodbye then.”

After I lock the door I lean my head against it and stand there, chasing back sobs. Sometimes I wish I could just curl up on myself until I disappear.

Sleep will help. I pop a couple of melatonin and hope for a dreamless sleep, free of Jack sexing me up in the world of my imagination.

For the most part, it works. I wake up the next morning itchy and groggy. My knee hurts and my throat is dry as a bone until I chug a bottle of orange juice from the wet bar and wipe off my chin. The way my scars pull at my mouth gives me an unfortunate tendency to drool when I’m sleeping and dribble liquids when I drink.

I’m brushing my hair when there’s a knock at the door. This time I look through the peephole first, half expecting to see Jack there, but it’s my cousin again. I open the door and eye her.

“You ready? Time to see off the bride and groom.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

She’s all made up and dressed, of course. I don’t need to go full formal for this round; Laetitia is in freaking yoga pants. A pair of jeans and a hoodie will do for me. I pull the hood up before I leave the room and stick my hands in the kangaroo pocket.

It’s going to be a windy, chilly day. I can feel it in my joints. The whole hotel has been closed off for the wedding. The guests have gathered in the lobby. There’s no order to it, no planned position for everyone. I slink into the crowd and keep my head down, but it doesn’t matter.

I get plenty of stares. I try to make myself throw back my hood and defy them but I can’t. It’s like a weight on my shoulders, pushing me down. I want to go home.