Page 47 of The Cartographer

I try to beam my answer into the innermost reaches of his brain:It makes you strong and beautiful, and you’ll give yourself to me because in return I’ll show you pleasure and feeling like you’ve never known before. Give in to me.

When he licks his lips, I know I have him, and though the words should be an afterthought, they almost make me come on their own: “Yes, sir.”

So we go back to it, the stroking and the rubbing and touches too greedy to be called fondling, our kisses interspersed with bites and licks of sweat and the sounds of gratification put off. Finally, when I don’t think I can take it anymore, I thrust harder, pumping with my hand and the strength of Hart’s over it until I can feel the release building from my toes to my chest. When it reaches my heart, I hold it back only long enough to say, “Now, Hart. Come for me now.”

It takes a few more strokes, more vulgar rutting, and then we’re both coming, the thick viscous evidence of our climaxes spurting between us and making this completely lewd mess. It’s sexy as hell, this level of abandon, and I draw on it as my orgasm leaks out of my body. I’ll never admit it to him, but he’s not the only one with lights exploding in front of his eyes, stardust sprinkling through his vision. That was…exceptional.

Chapter Fifteen

‡

“Hi, Mom.”

It’s been a while since we’ve talked, longer than the two or three days we usually go, and I’m anxious to hear her voice.

“Is everything all right? I was getting worried.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m sorry. I should’ve called. Busy, that’s all.”

“With a nice boy, I hope?”

I roll my eyes fondly. “Some.”

We got back from Las Vegas yesterday, and when I dropped Allie at Kendra’s house, I wasn’t sure what to say. Or do. So I let him take the lead, and he led me to a charming-as-fuck grin and a slightly awkward, “Well, later.”

I would’ve liked a promise more specific than that.I’ll call you. Are you free on Friday? When is the next time you can beat and/or fuck me? But no, nothing like that. I’ll just have to wait, which is irritating.

“When do I get to meet him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, my.” Her voice is a study in salacious gossip, and I see my mistake immediately. My answer is almost exclusively “never.” Not that I’m embarrassed for my mom to meet my partners, but for the most part, they aren’t worth meeting. Not when I have precious little time with her. Some one-offs, some occasional playdates. No one with a possibility of becoming more than that. She meets my friends, adores them, but people I fuck? Not so much. Yes, I’m distracted, but I should know better. Now she’ll want details. “Tell me about him.”

“His name’s Allie. I like him. I’m not sure how much he likes me.”

She tsks at me. “Everyone likes you.”

Almost everyone. “Yeah, well, he unsettles me.”

“Oh. You can be a dick when you’re unsettled.” For an Upper East Side princess, my mother can have quite the potty mouth. Especially since her parents passed away. Maybe she finally feels more at liberty to be herself.

Also, while most parents probably try not to swear in front of their children, my mom was young when she had me, and I grew up fast, so we ended up acting like peers a lot of the time. Now I almost feel like I parent her, but that’s my relationship with everyone, so why not her?

“Yeah, Mom, I know.”

“What did you do?”

“I tried to help him get a job.”

“You asshole.”

I snort because my mother being facetious is something I find unfailingly entertaining. “I know, right? I can understand why he was upset, though. I can’t seem to keep my foot out of my mouth when it comes to him.”

“That might be okay, you know,” she offers, and I can picture her sitting on her favorite chaise, winding the curly telephone cord around her fingers while she lifts her small shoulders. She has cordless phones and a cell, but she won’t give up on this old-school rotary thing. To be fair, it is charming.

“Yes, well, if he hasn’t ditched me for being completely insufferable by the next time you visit, you can meet him, okay?”

“I was thinking of coming in two weeks. Does that work for you?”

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