xxii. Sleep and Dream
It seems too hot inside the room, and Kit sits up in the bed, moving a slender arm from across her stomach, and a strong leg from across her own. She slides from between Johnny and Angelina and pads across the room, nude, picking up a robe and throwing it over her arm, not bothering to put it on.
She walks out in the hall, dragging the silk along the floor. She goes down the stairs, hearing voices. She peeks into the board room, seeing Viggo and Nicole sitting there. They don’t notice her, but Kit sees Nicole wipe tears off her face. Kit turns away when Viggo pulls Nicole into his arms, kissing her softly. She hears him speaking, but cannot make out the words. She continues off down the hall, still dragging her robe.
She finds Orlando sitting downstairs, in the pool room. He looks at her as she walks up, putting out his cigarette. He smiles at her. She doesn’t smile back. He holds out an arm, and she goes to him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face into his neck. He smells like soap and cigarettes, and musky, spicy cologne. He slides an arm around her and lifts her into his lap.
“It’s my birthday,” Orlando says.
“I know,” Kit says.
“There was supposed to be a party,” Orlando says.
“I know,” Kit repeats. They both know that, with two of their brethren in jail, there isn’t likely to be a party. Somewhere in the house, the phone is ringing, and cuts off abruptly. Answered.
“I just wish things could go right for once,” Orlando says. Kit nods, and kisses him. “Everything’s started falling apart.”
“I know,” Kit says again, and it’s the only words she has for this situation. She’s not good with depressed boyfriend.
Then they hear the entry doors slam.
A few minutes later, Hayden comes in, his blond hair a mess, looking as though he’s been thoroughly tumbled. “What’s going on?” he asks.
Kit shrugs. Hayden wanders back out.
Orlando shakes his head. He presses his lips to Kit’s, leaning her back on the lounge chair. His fingers tangle in her hair, and on the plus side, she’s already naked.
She grins at him.
She starts pulling his clothes off, sliding her hands into the waistband of his underwear, wrapping her hands around his cock.
“How about a present?” she whispers, nipping at his earlobe and feeling him harden noticeably in her hands. “You like that, huh?” she asks, and he mutely nods. She strips him of his clothes, and switches positions with him, so that it is she who presses him into the lounge chair. So that it is she who straddles him, positioning herself, moving, sliding, slick and hot.
So she rode, digging her nails into his arms, scratching up his chest and licking away the blood that slowly welled up in the cuts. Bit him and made him scream. Rode him until he came, and then squeezed him until there was nothing left, and then kept going until she found her own release.
And afterward, they lay on the chair, looking up at the clouds passing through the starry night sky, above them through the skylights.