Midtown Masters by Cara McKenna

Author:Cara McKenna
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2017-02-21T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

On Saturday morning, Suzy met Meyer for a coffee and a confab downtown. She’d be picking John up at his hotel in a bit, but she had loads to unpack with her best friend, starting with a confession.

“Save it until we’ve sat down,” Meyer said as they joined the line, though Suzy was bursting, practically jumping up and down, so much on her mind she felt like a kid trying to hold in a secret. She’d been alternately floating on a cloud and fielding funny tugs in her gut all morning. The giddiness was easy to diagnose—she was smitten, and an orgasm from someone new and novel didn’t hurt, either.

The misgiving was tougher to pin down. Was she worried about having maybe taken advantage of John? Had she? She didn’t think so, but something about it felt undeniably uncharted, like a game she didn’t entirely know the rules to. Was she worried she was the one in danger of getting burned, or overinvested? She wasn’t sure she’d unpack that one with Meyer, but the rest of it, definitely.

“Don’t you want to know?” she demanded. She’d not texted or talked to Meyer except to arrange the coffee, and his blasé reply with a place and time had driven her nuts.

“The most insanely fuckable barista was working here on Wednesday,” he said, narrowed eyes scanning the staff behind the counter.

“I hate you.”

In time they got their drinks and found a table near the back, where the only other nearby patron was nodding to whatever music played in his headphones; they’d be needing privacy for this chat. Only when Meyer’s steaming espresso was centered on its saucer and his hands clasped primly before it did he finally say, “Okay. Spill.”

“Oh my God, where do I even start? Right, I’ll start with what’s most important—John Lindsay is a lovely man.”

“Yes, but did you fuck him?”

“No.”

“What base, then?”

“Second, I think.”

He laughed. “I knew it. And you think? Were you drunk?”

“Not really, but I’m thirty-three—I can’t remember what the bases are. But hands were involved, mostly under clothes. But before that we just had a really great time. We talked about—”

“I don’t care what you talked about. Who initiated the grab-ass?”

“Me, but only once I was sure he was into me. We talked a lot about sex, first. And other stuff, too.”

“I don’t care about the other stuff. How was he?”

“He was sweet.”

Meyer rolled his eyes and blew on his tiny cup. “Translation: He was useless.”

“He was sweet and a very attentive student. It was sexy, trust me.”

“What lessons did you impart, precisely, Professor Park?”

“Kissing, lots of that. He was a quick learner. He takes instruction well.”

“And?”

“Touching. Nothing too scandalous for quite a while, but then we wound up in our underwear, and hands wandered. And there was dry-humping. Mostly dry. Barely dry.”

“Did he make you come?”

“With a little assistance,” she said haughtily, “yes, he did.”

Meyer raised his brows. “Well, well. And did you return the favor?”

“Yes, I did. With assistance.”

“So overall, a filthy good time?”

She nodded.

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