The Highest Bidder (3 page)

Chapter Five

IM W/NICK. SORRY. MAY NOT BE COMING.

Casey picked her cuticle and then forced herself to stop before she bled. She held her breath as she waited for the phone’s patented chime. When it came she read:

WELL IF UR WITH NICK, YOU’D BETTER COME ;)

That made her laugh. Casey wondered how much of this was Annie and how much of it was fate. Had her friend asked this gorgeous, obviously kind, man to take pity on her? Was she a pity fuck?

NO WORRIES ABOUT THAT. I DID. TWICE. BUT I FEEL AWFUL.

Her vision doubled and then trebled and she wiped her leaking eyes. Listening to Nick in the kitchen getting their drinks had the lazy domestic sounds she missed so much. The sound of another person in the house, moving around, tinkering, making small noises. Not being alone – how much had she craved the sound of another body on slow quiet Sunday mornings?

Her phone burbled again and she read:

DONT. NICK IS A GOOD GUY. NICE. SWEET. HOT AS HELL! IT’S TIME 4U TO DO THIS. NO GUILT!

She typed Kk, their signature sign off meaning OK–OK! and shut the phone. She would go home and process this. Casey needed to figure out if this was a favour to her friend or a pity fuck or … what.

He came in and she started, dropping the phone at her feet.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to–’

There was a knock at the door and they both turned. Her first thought was Annie but then he said, ‘Damn. That must be my Chinese. Only a half hour or so late. Hungry?’

‘No. Um … you get the door,’ she said, taking the glasses he passed off.

Casey set them on the table and started to frantically shove her legs in her panties and jeans. She needed to get dressed and get out of here. She couldn’t seem to breathe. Not at all.

She shut her eyes and sucked in a breath, forcing herself to hold it for a count of four before blowing it out. A trick the grief counsellor had taught her after Brendan died. It regulated your heart, gave you a boost of some chemical she couldn’t remember and basically calmed you down.

When he came back with a bag of food, smiling like he loved the fact that she was here, her heart nearly broke.

‘Hey, thanks but I … I have to go. I just remembered …’ She shook her heard. What? What had she just remembered? That she couldn’t handle this. That she’d left the gas on. That she was on the verge of crying again and was mortified by it. ‘… that I have to go,’ she finished weakly.

‘Casey–’ he started.

‘It’s fine! It’s good! Thanks so much for the um …’ she wiggled her finger at the sofa. What? The sex? The orgasms? The fucking.

She was really bad at this.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, hearing the emotion amping up in her voice and hating it. ‘I just really have to go.’

She grabbed her phone from the floor and her purse and rushed past him before he could touch her. If he touched her, she would crumble. Casey was sure of it.

‘Casey!’ he called out after her as she headed for the stairwell. No time for the elevator. ‘It’s OK!’

She didn’t stop. She hit the metal bar going full speed and started taking the steps as fast as she could.

Nick put the bag down, suddenly not hungry. He didn’t know what to do. Stop her or not stop her. This wasn’t just some fickle thing – this was a woman recovering from loss and he didn’t want to push her.

Annie had filled him in just enough to know that what Casey had had with her late husband had been a bit of a fairy tale love. And he didn’t want to disrespect her memories or feelings by rushing after her like they were in some romance movie.

He rummaged through the paperwork for the charity auction on the breakfast bar. Casey’s number was printed at the top along with: “Please call or text with any questions.”

He dialled, knowing in his gut she wasn’t going to answer, but having to do this anyway. It had been ages since he’d been moved by a woman. Not just the way she looked, but by the way she acted, talked, smelled, laughed.

He’d seen something in her shyly horrified and yet bold expression when she’d hurt her ankle and inadvertently aroused him.

That was a woman he wanted to be around. To get to know.

And the feel and smell and remembrance of being inside of her, feeling her come, was enough to make his fingers stiff and clumsy as he dialled.

When her message came on – he knew she wouldn’t answer – he momentarily froze. Forgetting everything he was going to say and then some.

Finally, fearing the message would click off leaving her only with silence, he said, ‘Hey … .listen. I’m sorry if I … did anything to make you feel bad. I loved being with you. I want to be with you more. Even just, you know, talking …’He chuckled softly, feeling like a pervert and a mental patient. He was sure he sounded like a horse’s ass. ‘But the other stuff was awesome …’

Nick blew out a sigh, fighting the urge to beat his head on the nearest wall. This was not playing out well. His mouth and brain seemed to be disconnected.

‘Look, I sound like a moron. My point is. I was thrilled to see you today, and I was more than thrilled at the turn it took when you came in. And God … Casey, you are amazing. But it doesn’t have to be about sex, you can just come talk to me. Or we can go hiking or get a drink or whatever you like to do. What I’m trying and failing to say is that I–’

‘To hear your message, press seven. To erase your message, press four. To save and send your message press two or hang up.’

He hung up. Hopefully he didn’t sound like a total dick.

She couldn’t answer it. She just knew it was Nick and she was too embarrassed to talk to him. She’d shown up after a very dirty dream about him, attacked him, made him get naked and then burst into tears and ran away.

Every man’s dream date, she was sure.

She’d blubbered and sniffled all the way home and now she found herself standing in her walk-in closet looking for something comforting to wear. She was chilled to the bone but found, embarrassingly, that she didn’t want to take a shower. She wanted him to stay on her. The smell of him the feel of him and the remainder of him left inside of her.

Casey blushed when she realised it but shrugged. Fuck it. She had acted like a fool, but as for right now, she wanted to keep the essence of Nick on her. She wanted the smell of him to comfort her. She was not ashamed of being with him; she was ashamed of her reaction.

There were her favourite fleece pants peeking off the top shelf and a sweatshirt that had once been her dad’s but she’d liberated it from him when she was 20. The thing was at least 15 years old. Standing on tiptoe, Casey yanked the pants and everything shifted, dumping a pile of clothes on top of her. A box fell off the shelf too, to land noisily at her feet.

‘Jesus,’ she sighed. Somewhere in her, though, she was grateful for the mess. It would give her time before having to listen to his message. But when Casey saw what was in the box, she changed her mind. A whole stack of mementos and photographs were stuffed inside and on the top of the pile was the last birthday card Brendan had given her. It had drifted open during the tumble and the line that rose up to smack her in the face read:

Casey, all I ever want for you in life is for you to always be happy …

She waited. And waited. But no tears came.

‘Of course not. Now that you’re home alone and no one can see you or hear you, you are perfectly calm and in control.’ She shook her head.

Putting all the stuff back in the box and placing it on the shelf with trembling hands, she drew out the clean up process. When she turned off the closet light she said, ‘I miss you,’ and headed to her bed.

It was chilly in her room and she bundled herself up, sipping from a bottle of water she always kept on her nightstand. The mist had turned to rain and Casey listened to it tapping against the windows. She played Nick’s message back on speakerphone.

Her heart clamping tight, her stomach buzzing with nerves, her throat growing tight all over again. She shut her eyes and listened to his warm rich voice and when it ended, she was so touched and somewhat turned on by hearing him, she played it again.

She waited to cry, all over again. And didn’t.

‘No. Of course not,’ she said yawning. ‘You’ll see him tomorrow. That’s when you’ll cry. No use crying if you can’t make an ass of yourself, right?’

She snorted, softly and felt herself drifting. Good. She wanted to sleep. For a year now, sleep had been the only place she felt calm and in control. Being utterly unconscious had been her only source of true solace since losing Brendan.

When she woke her body was tangled in damp clothes. The sky was a gunmetal grey, spitting flecks of rain against her window.

Casey felt the thump and thrill in her pussy from her dream. She’d dreamt of his head between her legs. His fingers in her cunt. And then finally him, pinning her to the cool white wall of her bedroom, thrusting up and into her. Bringing her to that sound that only erupted from her when she was coming undone inside. When she surrendered to her pleasure.

‘Jesus.’ Casey ran a shaky hand through her hair. She couldn’t quite shake the dream. She couldn’t quite shake the images that skittered through her mind at top speed – her own personal porn movie.

And to think I only have to see him and act sane in a few short hours …

There was no way. Casey rolled on her belly. Remembering the feel of him the night before. Remembering his length and his heat and his rigidity. Remembering how he held her, understood  her, and …

She shook her head. ‘Pity fuck. Don’t get too attached. No matter how you feel. Remember, you haven’t felt anything in quite a while.’

But her body was excited; a wet pleasure-seeking pulse had started in her centre. Casey fumbled for her middle nightstand drawer and tugged it open. She removed a purple vibrator with a bulbous head and the perfect number two setting – in Casey’s personal opinion – it was her go-to-orgasm tool. If she had an orgasm now, maybe she’d be able to focus later.

Probably not. Not if Nick’s there …

But she had to try.

‘Take one for the team,’ she snickered and worked the fat broad tip over her slit to get it moist. When she set the buzzing plastic to her clitoris a warm spasm worked through her. Her pussy flexed and her stomach went light and buzzy.

It wasn’t hard at all to get herself there. This is what happened when a man was just too good-looking to handle. When the thought of his hands on you made your mind go white with lust. This is what happened, Casey thought, pushing the now-slick toy inside her body.

Her channel spasmed greedily around the buzzing shaft as she called up her dream. His mouth on her mouth, her throat, her earlobes. How he’d teased each nipple into an erect peak of hard flesh.

Casey pinched her nipple with her free hand. When an echo of pleasure coursed through her, she pinched again, harder. Almost clamping her fingernails tight to her pink flesh.

She thumbed the vibrator from the tentative but nice setting of one, to the perfect pressure and vibration of level two.

‘He was licking you,’ she said to herself, pulling the toy free, running it over her engorged clit. Letting the vibration rumble through her entire pout. Outer lips and juicy folds and then her clit once more before driving it deep and tilting her hips to beat it against her G-spot.

‘He was licking you and when he got you off, licking you …’ Her voice had come down to smoke and wind and a dry sound that reminded her of leaves on asphalt. ‘When he got you off, he went for penetration. He slid into you. His big, hard cock forcing into your wet depths and …’

She was talking dirty to herself. How insane was that? But it didn’t matter because her heartbeat had gone wild and her mind had narrowed down to nothing but the bright yellow intention of orgasm.

The toy banged her G-spot gently and she applied a tiny bit more pressure. ‘He fucked you. Against the wall. He took you against the wall. He took you and he fucked you and …’

The first lazy flex of orgasm worked through her and she bit her lip to keep her heart in her chest, because it felt as if it would leap free. ‘And when you came,’ she sighed, coming. Long, lazy, wet spasms deep in her cunt. They seemed to bleed warmly into her pelvis and her belly. Even her fingers felt heavy and lethargic. ‘When you came, he ate every bit of juice you made with little wet flicks of his tongue on your pussy.’

And then she shut up, giving over to the forceful presence of her pleasure. She rode it to the peak and all the way back down. It left her feeling sleepy and relaxed and for a few minutes, Casey let herself lie there in bed, bathed in grey light. Listening to the gentle tap of water on the window. And for the last split second before climbing out of bed, she let herself imagine that if she turned to her side, she’d see him there. Nick, lying on his side watching her. Touching her hair. Kissing her lips. Smiling.

‘What happened last night?’ Annie was scurrying along the long hotel hallway to keep up with her.

‘What, you mean you don’t know? You mean he didn’t fill you in?’ She didn’t mean for her voice to sound so hard and upset.

Annie stomped her foot and grabbed Casey’s arm, halting her. Casey had a good nine inches on Annie’s five feet, but Annie had a grip, especially when pissed.

‘What is wrong with you?’

‘You know I can totally get my own men. You know I can do it, don’t you? You don’t have to set me up with pity fu– dates.’ Casey swallowed and swallowed again, willing herself not to cry. What was wrong with her? She didn’t really mean what she was saying. Not really.

Annie clamped her mouth down tight and yanked Casey to one of the small alcoves along the hall set up for phone conversations. She turned quickly and literally pushed Casey into an upholstered red chair. ‘What is going on with you? Have you gone mental?’

‘No, I–’ Casey shook her head.

‘He was not a pity fuck,’ her best friend hissed. ‘He wasn’t even supposed to be a fuck. He’s a nice guy, in my building, not too hard to look at, a good heart and he said yes. Did you or did you not employ me to find you a bachelor?’

‘I did,’ Casey said. Her face was colouring, she could feel it and knew that should she look in one of the hotel’s gilt-framed mirrors she’d see lobster red cheeks under her wind-wisped hair.