Page 8 of I See Red

Fuck, that bone structure is heavenly. The way the black hairs of his 5 o’clock shadow further defines the true depth of his chiseled jawline should be illegal.

“I mean, if you want to look at it that way, but I’d like to start with how you are?”Really, Tayden, how am I? What are we back in seventh grade again on AOL messenger checking in on one another? You’ve got mail. My inner child is living for this right now.

I can sense the table’s stillness; no true conversations being had, just small, inconsistent ones, to allow them to eavesdrop on the playfulness between two old friends. I am aware all eyes are on us. Especially those of Olive and O’Connor. I sever my connection from the trance he has me encased in, remembering I am upon guests and colleagues. Snapping my head to Olive, I give her a look. Her disdain for our unexpected guest’s arrival staring back at me. It’s cute honestly, and it comes warranted. Outside of Ivy, Olive is the only other friend I’ve had. Our history goes back ten years, and she knows exactly who is standing right in front of me and what it means, and she’s not the only one privy to us at this table. Trying to contain my devilish smile, my eyes squint in her direction, and she’s aware of the task. Luckily for her,Sweet Carolinejust came on, and in Boston, it is amustrally to song.

“Oh, we can’t miss this banga,” Olive shouts, pulling everyone from the table. O’Connor in one hand and her husband Dax, who was built with two left feet in the other.Smart man, no dance abilities. Neil Diamond and Olive for the win.

Circling back to his question, it’s time to play, my tone subtle and precise. “I am well, as you can obviously see Tayden; how are you?” I figured this was more fitting instead of what I really wanted to say.Like, hey Tayden, I’m glad you showed up. Can we skip to the forbidden part? I’ve been a good girl all these years, patiently waiting…fuck me now?

“I’m well. Business is really good, that’s actually why I am here tonight. I had a car that needed to be delivered to your city, and it just so happened to be the weekend of your event, so here we are.”

“So here weare,” I bite with hesitation, sex laced in my tone.

He’s been into anything fast with a motor since we were kids, so there is no surprise he ended up owning one of the top Porsche distributors in the world, well that and his father wasn’t always a tech mogul; he got into the tech world after becoming a car mogul himself. Taking one success and then funneling it into another. His family, just like Ivy and I, love a good monetization. However, Tayden’s company wasn’t given to him as many have believed, coming from the family and wealth he does. No, he created it for himself from the ground up down in Dallas, Texas, far from home and his father’s legacy. He still oversees the car side of his dad’s portfolio, but branched off to build his own. Although his name and connections surely came in handy at times, I’ve always been proud of him for doing something for himself. Proud of him for betting on himself.If only he’d bet on me. When he filled me in years ago when we first reconnected on his endeavors, I wasn’t the slightest surprised by it. He’s always been stubborn and wanted to make a mark for himself outside of his father’s hold. Getting into cars has its perks for sure, nolack of sexy inventory to pick through for a glamorous evening out. Not that we have ever had a mundane night together, but something tells me we just might in the future, and fuck, I love a sexy car, even better when it has a stick shift. There’s always been something about watching a man shift between gears, the way their veins pop and muscles tense as they grasp in poetic firmness onto the handle. Fuck.

I wonder what he’s driving tonight. Fuck me if it’s a manual. Has he already delivered the car? Or am I the stop before the delivery?

Merely the thought brings a puddle to formation between my thighs. Lifting my leg over the other, I cross my legs, squeezing them tightly together, creating pressure to please the taunt that my pussy needs fed, a mere attempt to quiet the pulse.

“Wow, the big boss is hand-delivering cars. It must have been a massive client,” I state, setting the direction of where I’d like this little exchange of words to go. I’m a sucker at baiting conversations when it comes to men, especially with him. Certainly one of my strong suits, among others, but emotionally, it’s my biggest downfall. Strategically, it’s my own superpower; every conversation in the world is simply a game of cat and mouse, like strategic moves across a chess board. We all possess the ability to sway any conversation how we please. Oscillating it the direction in which we desire if we simply read the person in front of us and play our words correctly. I fucking love it. Done properly, the other person isn’t even aware the words rolling off their tongue are merely yours fed to them. Hitting that level of manipulation has taken me years to master, but fuck it’s made my life selling real estate and building an empire limitless. Most of the time, I’m not even aware that I’m doing it. It’s just naturally become part of my day-to-day function. At times, it has complicated my relationships, leaving doubt in them, never knowing if what someone is saying is their truth or simply whatI wanted to hear, something I fed to them. Tayden isn’t a saint in this either; he does it just as good as I, although his ability to turn it on and off is more precise than mine, making this conversation even more exciting as I attempt to put words into his mouth, as he does the same to mine.His words aren’t the only thing I want in my mouth.I shouldn’t be baiting him to say he came for me, but God, the burn that would radiate through my body hearing that would send me into tidal waves, but even so, he wouldn’t play that card this early. No, not my Tayden. He’ll hold it for the last fucking hand. As much as I like to believe I am baiting him, he is playing my own game against me. Two peas in a pod we are—Toxic.

He laughs in a smirk-covered tone, playing his hand, letting me know that he knows exactly what my backhanded comment was fishing for. That’s the problem with him and me; it always has been. We know exactly what the other is thinking before we even speak, making our conversations a fishing adventure that lacks every ounce of true merit. Our relationship is a fucking game, simply feeding the other’s ego.

“Yeah, it was a big client. I must admit I delivered the car with other motives in mind.”

His words showing his hand, proving my suspicions. I knew it; I fish, and he baits me. Leaning into him, resting my elbow on the table, my fingers brace my chin, my tongue lacquering my lips, a smile conforms so big across my face. My deep brown eyes look him down, then back up again, demanding his eyes meet mine, and they do.

“And, what would that be?” Devil knows I shouldn’t be doing this. Ivy would not approve, but seeing him here, I can’t fucking stop. I need to, but I won’t because I don’t want to. I should have shut this down like Ivy did. I should have ran away just as her the moment he approached us; but I am the devil on my own shoulder.

“I assume you would find it rude of me to be in your city on your big night and allow the viewing of that stunning red dress to go to waste, Red?”

“I’d hardly say it would go to waste, you being here or not. Look at me. Do you really think this dress has gone unnoticed tonight?” I pull my dirty martini to my mouth, slowly taking a sip, not breaking eye contact, refusing to relinquish my dominance, slowly removing the last olive from the crystal spear.

“You know what I mean. I’d hate to see that dress go unappreciated for the true beauty that lies under it and within it. Besides, can’t a man just want to see an old friend on her big night and congratulate her on all her success after all this time?”

Fuck off, I can’t with you.

He has never been one to lack ulterior motives, so for him to think I believe whatever line of bull he is throwing is comical, but I love a great power struggle, especially with him. I sense the apprehension in his body, in the way his words articulate the necessities to melodically create the conversation in the direction he craves, but his body is unsure and uncertain because what his mind has always had with me, his words always capturing me leaving me hanging off each one by his perfect design, his body has never fulfilled.

My move.

“The beauty that lies underneath it?I didn’t realize you knew what that looks like. Your dreams are hardly reality.”

“Dreams are dreamt with the hope of forging it into reality, are they not? Without dreams, would our realities even exist? I-”

I mean, was it a dream meant for reality or mere fantasy fueling it all this time?

I can’t help but cut him off mid-sentence. He can save that philosophical bull for Ivy.

“Let’s cut the bullshit. We were never good at small talk, love. A celebratory visit? Let’s see Red and congratulate her on all her accomplishments? What has it been, dear friend?Six, maybe seven years since we’ve seen each other? Let’s address the elephant in the room. Seven years ago, the last time we saw each other, and the unaccomplished mission of exploring what’s under this dress? Me leaving that hotel room with no explanation, the pact the three of us made. Unresolved sexual tension? The fact we haven’t fucked, and you just happen to be in my city to say hi?”

Curving my body into him, I zone in on his uncomfortability. Closing the distance between us, I take him over the cliff with my scent, drawing in his gaze to the structure of my collarbone as I gently roll my fingers across it, pulling our personal spaces into one. My mouth level to his ear, my tone a mere whisper, “Checkmate, your move.” Playfully slamming back into my seat, my drink finds my lips, my view stuck on him as I wait for his play.

His jaw tenses and I can tell I have hit a nerve, and I fucking revel in it for all of three seconds before his retaliation hits me, and I am reminded he will always have the upper hand in his ability to completely undo me.

Grasping the chair between my thighs, he pulls me into him forcefully, his other hand now my necklace, his words his venom.

“Let’s not play games, my little flame. If I wanted you, then I could have had you. If I wanted you tonight, I would have you. Two options, be a good girl and have a drink with me, or when I do get behind those red lace panties I know you have under that dress, I will have no mercy, and the only sounds coming from your lips will be you begging me to fulfill you deeper. Sweet whimpers of you unraveling for my cock.”

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