Page 62 of Crossing the Line
Caught
Hercules Lord
I’ve been summoned to my mother’s house in Greenwich, Connecticut. I pushed to learn the topic of discussion, but she said, “Not over the phone.” The Lord family estate resides in the backcountry of Greenwich, Connecticut. I pushed my meetings back to after lunch, and the only way to make it back in time for them without overextending myself is to helicopter out to Greenwich.
I should be landing soon, but for most of the ride, I’ve been wondering if somehow my family caught wind of the fact that I continued seeing Paisley. I hope not. I’m not ready to back away from her.
The thought of leaving her alone reminds me that my body aches. I circle my shoulders to loosen them. I might have done too much swimming in the past three days. I’m a runner. I don’t exercise the muscle group I use for swimming that much.
Also, I swam more than Paisley did, overexerting myself to rid myself of the urge to pump my cock into her hot wetness. She gets so damn wet for me. I kept fighting the urge to put my lips and tongue on her shoulder and suck. Her skin is soft. Her kiss is too. Her mouth tastes sweet.
I rub up and down my cock. Thoughts of Paisley Grove never fail to make me hard. I’ve wondered if I would think about Paisley as much as I do if she would just let me pound her out of my system.
Could I pound her out of my system? I don’t think that I can.
On Thursday night, I felt a thrill, learning that she let me come inside her all those years ago. I wouldn’t have minded if I’d gotten her pregnant. Then there would have been nothing anyone could say about us being together. She’d be mine. And what if we’d married and had more children? I think we would be happy. I know we would be happy.
I sink deeper into my seat as I stare, unfocused, at the dense green layering the landscape below. In my mind’s eye, I see Xander Grove clearly—his light hair, square chin, and glasses that make him look smarter than the rest of us. I ask him for his daughter’s hand in marriage. I plead my case, saying she’s been back in my life for less than a week, but I’ve loved her since high school. I can’t picture what Xander Grove says to me, but he doesn’t say no, at least not in my fantasy.
“What will Paisley and I do tonight?” I whisper.
I can’t wait to see her pretty face again.
* * *
The helicopter touchesdown on landing pad number two. I eye the silver helicopter sitting idle on landing pad number one. It belongs to Achilles.
The door opens, and the steps lower automatically. The exit light flashes green. Ducking my head, I disembark, muttering a string of curse words.
My brother wouldn’t take time out of his busy Monday morning for breakfast at our mother’s if the topic of discussion wasn’t in reference to money. These days, if I’m part of the conversation and it doesn’t have anything to do with LTI, then it’ll have something to do with me marrying Lauren. Managing her would be easy if she didn’t want to marry me.
Flanked by tall trees that stand at attention, I scowl at the cobblestone walkway that leads to the rear-door entrance. I’m worried because my steps sound too indecisive. I’ll admit that I’m nervous. I’ve been negligent recently. The truth of the matter is that I almost accepted marrying Lauren. She’s attractive. She’s nice enough, although I’m not attracted to her. Lauren doesn’t open up about herself much—actually, not at all. But I can understand a person who keeps her cards to herself. However, she has one trait that irks me to no end. Whenever we’re out together at parties or even dinner, she likes to comment on people’s flaws. She’ll point out a dress and say that it’s cheap. She’ll criticize a woman for wearing what she calls bad makeup or say that another woman’s heels are too high, even though hers are pretty high too.
She even made a string of negative comments about Paisley during the party on Thursday night. I can only recall a few of the comments she made about her because I was too focused on Paisley dancing with Lake. They were sexy moving together. I would never cross the line by picturing my best friend’s fiancée naked, but Lake’s moves were as almost as sensual as Paisley’s. The difference, the one that made Paisley the ultimate winner, was that Lake tried harder to be appealing, but Paisley’s sex appeal was natural.
Damn… making love to her is addicting.
But Lauren referred to Paisley as an eye whore and then explained that Paisley wanted every man in the room to pay attention to her. I was too confused by her judgment to say something in Paisley’s defense. That wasn’t PG at all. At least, that wasn’t how I remembered her. I tried to notice everything about PG as she danced—the way she gyrated her sexy hips, raised her hands above her head, and twisted her body down toward the floor. Watching her as if in a trance got me hard. Then I watched other men admiring her. She was getting a lot of attention. But just like the PG I remembered, she didn’t notice. When she started dancing with Clive Alden, I nearly lost my composure. He kept putting his hands on her, touching her waist and her arms, and leaning into her. My jealousy soared through the roof. Then she shuffled off the dance floor.
“Be right back,” I said to Lauren.
Of course, I never went back. The next morning, Lauren’s phone call woke me up. I lied to her. I told her I was called away on business.
“What business?” she snapped.
“Personal business.”
“Did your business have to do with that girl in the red dress?”
“No. She wouldn’t be business. She’d be pleasure.” That was the truth.
I could feel Lauren’s gasp through the phone.
“You can be such an asshole, Hercules. You better get it together because like it or not, we’re getting married.” Then she briskly said goodbye and ended our call.
That’s the thing that baffles me the most. Lauren should be pissed that she has to marry a man she only met two months ago. I remember the night our families sailed on Achilles’s yacht in the Hudson Bay. She cornered me while I was taking a piss. My cock was out, and she dropped to her knees and tried to put me in her mouth.
It’s often said that no guy turns down a blow job. But I did. My father’s words echoed in my head:“Sex with a woman is never free.”
