Well Hung Read online

  I pivoted back to Chloe, who wasn’t trying to hide her annoyance. Despite her clear consternation about grabbing food, I plowed forward. At least now her friend wouldn’t have to sit through our dinner together.

  “So, Chloe? How about it?”

  She contemplated the situation for a moment, and evidently deciding that there was no way out, nodded.

  “Okay. Meet me at eight.”

  I didn’t need to ask where — when we were freshman in college, we’d dined at Bing Liu’s almost every night, getting fresh soup dumplings at eleven and laughing over bottles of sake. I hadn’t stepped foot in the restaurant since we’d broken things off.

  As someone who was about to be engaged, I had no right to be this excited at the prospect of a dinner with my old girlfriend. But as someone who could still see Chloe’s radiant sexuality, well… I’m only human.

  “It’s a date,” I said.

  She lowered her voice so that neither Mx. Tok nor Alexandra could hear her inform me:

  “No, it’s not.”

  We’d just see about that.

  CHAPTER 4

  Chloe

  HOW HAD Xavier twisted me around his little finger again?

  I’d been so sure that if I just steered clear of him, putting plenty of space between the two of us, I could avoid his magnetic sexual pull.

  Yet somehow, he’d managed to rope me back in, nimbly tricking me into dinner. Well, not tricking me per se, but I certainly couldn’t refuse in front of my new boss, who would expect me to dine with such a prominent client as often as they liked. That was the way of the art world. All the tightest connections happened over hors d’oeuvres.

  And, if we’re being honest… I was looking forward to some alone time with Xavier. He was going to be engaged, so of course nothing could happen between the two of us. Just a meal between old friends — old friends who used to sleep together.

  He left me to spend the rest of the day fretting over our plans. Was this the worst idea of all time? I was so distracted that I scarcely focused on the instructions Alexandra gave me as we walked around the gallery. She pointed out fire code procedures, outlined normal hour-to-hour operations, so on and so forth. I missed every damn word.

  Every painting seemed to resemble Xavier. The curve of his eyes, the delicate arch of his sleek brow. I’d only seen him for five minutes and yet already he was imprinted in my mind. Shit.

  After what seemed to be an eternity, my first work day was over.

  It was some small mercy that I didn’t have time to go home and change, because I knew I would’ve fretted for hours over what to wear. Instead, I was resigned to my simple work dress, a 1970s printed silhouette that fluttered around my calves and sheathed my arms in bell sleeves. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

  Heart pounding, I flagged a cab and gave the driver the address.

  I spent the entire ride squirming in the seat, trying to keep the wetness in my panties from leaving a mark on the pleather bench.

  Finally, we pulled to a stop outside of Bing Liu’s.

  “This is good, thanks,” I told the driver, and slid a tenner between the divider. “Keep the change.”

  It felt like only a matter of days since I’d last walked through these jade bead curtains and rubbed the porcelain cat statue at the entrance for luck, its little paw bobbing mechanically back and forth. The restaurant was still illuminated entirely by red paper lanterns, a kitschy affect that only added to its charm. Xavier had often called decorations like these a bit Orientalist, but the food was so excellent at Bing Liu’s that I guess he made an exception.

  “Chloe.”

  I didn’t need to look for Xavier’s voice. I knew he would be sitting on our old booth, on the right-hand side, with two Sapporos ice-cold on the table. He was always on time. I was always just a teensy bit late.

  Sure enough, when my eyes did find the booth, there was Xavier. He wore a sharp black blazer and a matching skinny black tie. His hair hung down over his eyes, in a way that only he could manage to make look both messy and professional. There was color in his cheeks.

  God, he looked as though he’d just stepped off the Gucci runway. There were a few grandmothers at nearby tables who eyeballed him with excitement, as though mentally marking him for their granddaughters. Xavier ignored their stares, accustomed to the attention his looks and money brought him. He tried to be as discreet as possible, but with cheekbones like that, he could only hide so much.

  I nodded to him then glanced around guiltily, as though someone would catch us in the act — even though we’re doing nothing wrong, I reminded myself. It was just a dinner. So what if he had an almost-kinda-fiancée? This was just two old friends, meeting up.

  But as I slid into the seat across from him, I knew that wasn’t true. We were so much more than old friends. The fire between my legs told me so.

  “How was work?” he asked as I adjusted myself, slipping one thigh beneath the other to restrain myself.

  “It was okay. First-day jitters, I guess.”

  I was thinking of you the whole time, I wanted to add, but held back. No need to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how deeply he’d wormed into my subconscious.

  He smirked. “Not like you to be nervous, Chloe.”

  “True. But you met Mx. Tok. She’s kind of, um, intimidating.”

  Xavier’s brow furrowed, growing serious. “Is she being nasty to you? Because say the word, I’ll go talk to the board—”

  I held a hand up, stopping him mid-sentence. “That’s very sweet, but I’m okay. She’s notoriously nuts, and I knew that when I signed on. I just have to ride it out.”

  “I’m only trying to protect you,” he said.

  I know, I thought. Xavier had always been so willing to step in on my behalf, whether that meant talking to professors when I turned in an assignment late or convincing my RA that it hadn’t been me who’d thrown a party in my dorm room on a Monday night. Xavier apparently hadn’t lost that chivalrous streak.

  His hand trailed up and down the sweaty bottle of beer, leaving droplets on his fingertips. As my eyes followed his hand, my mouth fell slightly ajar and I breathed in deeply. I could picture those fingers inside me, working their complex magic, bringing me to orgasm over and over and over again.

  “Let’s order dinner,” I said suddenly, desperate to pull my focus away from his long, painterly hands.

  “The usual?”

  “Yep.”

  He flagged the waiter with a subtle motion, the kind that a man learns only from years of having people wait on his beck and call, knowing that he never had to do more than raise an eyebrow to get some service.

  Xavier placed what used to be our near-weekly dinner order, which included the famous soup dumplings, garlic sautéed green beans and other assorted delicacies. In retrospect, I’m not sure how I ate so much on such a frequent basis. I still had a healthy appetite, but this was outrageous.

  The waiter scribbled down our order and then made himself scarce, perhaps sensing the mounting tension between Xavier and me.

  “So,” I said, hoping to pull my focus away from his full pink lips. “What have you been up to?”

  “For the last couple of years?” he returned, incredulous. “Oh, you know, this and that.”

  I shifted my weight so I could put my left leg over my right, and in the process, my knees brushed against Xavier’s.

  Oh crap. Our eyes met, and I knew he’d felt the movement as powerfully as I had. He swallowed, and his prominent Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. I suspected that if I put two fingers to his throat, I’d find a racing pulse that matched the beat of my own.

  I was going to do what I did best and throw care to the wind. There was only one way to find out if this was all in my head, if the interest was one-sided or reciprocated.

  I refolded my legs once more, and this time, when my knees came in contact with Xavier’s, I left them there, letting the sparks fly between our limbs.

 
If he wasn’t interested, if he was serious about Rebecca, he’d move his legs away — with the utmost politeness, of course, but distinctly enough that I got the hint.

  Xavier’s tongue skittered over his lip. He didn’t move his legs.

  He was feeling everything that I was. Our simple sustained touch told me all that I needed to know. And now that I was certain the attraction was mutual, I couldn’t wait for one moment longer to be satisfied.

  “Do you wanna get out of here?” I asked in a hushed voice.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  In one fast, smooth movement, Xavier pulled a leather wallet out from his pants pocket, threw down a couple of hundred dollar bills and slid out of the booth.

  I followed him, resisting the urge to grab his hand.

  The waiter caught us mid-exit, saying, “Was there a problem with the service?”

  “No,” Xavier replied evenly. “Everything was excellent. You’ll find the money on the table.”

  “Is your girlfriend ill?” the man asked, eyeballing me.

  Xavier lied, “Yes, she is. We have to go now.”

  “Perhaps she would like to use one of the restrooms?”

  Xavier looked at me, and we shared a knowing look. Yes, I thought to myself. A restroom will do. I couldn’t wait any longer for an upgraded location.

  I inclined my head to him, and Xavier told the waiter, “Yes, you’re right. I’ll take her back there.”

  We raced to the front, where the restrooms were, Xavier taking my hand in his as though he’d read my mind a few moments earlier. He pushed open that familiar back door that led to several secluded, one-user restrooms, decorated with ever-burning incense and fake lilies in a tall vase.

  He ushered me inside one, slamming the door behind us.

  We were alone at last, staring each other down in the restroom of Bing Liu’s.

  “What now?” I asked, at a loss. “Is the door locked?”

  Without another word, Xavier kissed me.

  His lips tasted like beer and they wrapped hungrily around mine, opening my mouth so he could plunge his tongue inside me. It had been years since we’d last kissed, and I felt every day of that absence in the frenzy of Xavier’s touch.

  He ran his hands over my breasts, down my stomach and to my hips, where he hiked up my skirt around my thighs, exposing my lacy black underwear.

  “You haven’t changed a bit,” he said with a roguish grin.

  My hands lunged for his pants, unbuttoning them with a speed I didn’t know I possessed, pulling them down so that his black boxer briefs were exposed.

  “I’m going to fuck you, Chloe,” he explained, loosening his cock from the cotton underwear.

  He was hard as hell, the veins of his girthy cock throbbing with excitement. I felt a warm droplet of my sacred liquid drip down my thigh.

  “Do it,” I breathed, pressing my back against the wall. “I need you.”

  Xavier laughed at my excitement, and then suddenly hoisted me onto his pelvis and thrust his cock into me.

  “Oh my God!” I screamed, not caring that we were in a public restroom.

  Xavier’s cock filled me as though it were a missing piece of my own anatomy. He took one of my hands from his chest and interlocked his fingers in mine before slamming my hand above my head. We were intertwined in every possible. His mouth at my neck, my legs around his waist, our fingers raised above us as if in prayer. It was ferocious, all-consuming sex, the kind you have once in your life if you’re lucky.

  He’d scarcely been inside me for more than a minute when I moaned into his ear, “I’m gonna come.”

  “Me too. Come with me, Chloe.”

  Yes, yes, I would. I gripped his back, urging him to pierce me faster and faster.

  “Oh God, holy shit!” I shouted out as his cock hit my G-spot.

  And then we were both reaching climax, shaking and sputtering in one another’s arms, panting and groaning and crying out in shared ecstasy. Our mutual orgasm seemed to stretch on and on, as though it might never end.

  Finally, though, we both came down from the high, our faces covered in the sheen of each other’s sweat.

  I disentangled myself from Xavier, climbing down off his cock and putting my booted feet on the floor once more. He straightened up and tucked that delicious dick back away, zipping up his pants and running his fingers over the new creases in his otherwise perfectly starched white shirt.

  After fixing my hair in the mirror, I turned back to Xavier and saw him pressing the backs of his hands into his eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, worried that I’d fucked up.

  Unable to meet my gaze, he murmured, “This was a big mistake.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Xavier

  CHLOE WAS looking at me with utter disappointment.

  “Did I do something wrong?” she whispered, self-consciously speaking at the ground.

  “No, no it’s not you,” I replied. “It’s me. I should never have done this. I mean, for chrissakes, I’m almost engaged.”

  “Oh, that’s it?”

  “That’s it?”

  She waved away my concern, suddenly at ease.

  “It’s fine, Xavier. It was… a slip up.”

  I wondered if the words pained her as much as they did me. A slip up? Is that all it was? Because when I’d been thrusting my quivering cock into her darkest depths, it’d certainly felt like more than a ‘slip up.’ It’d felt like fucking ecstasy. I was the one in the wrong. It didn’t mean the act itself was inherently evil. Despite myself, I resented her words.

  Why was I so upset? This was what I wanted, right? For her to say this was one false move, not something more profound. My muddle of emotions wasn’t deserved. I stiffened my spine, straightened my shoulders and told myself in the sternest mental voice, You will not show your disappointment.

  “A slip up, yes,” I agreed, despite everything. “Nothing more. I suppose I’m just feeling guilty, y’know, because I haven’t even slept with Rebecca yet.”

  Chloe’s blonde brows shot up. “You haven’t?”

  Was that a hint of satisfaction I detected in her voice, the lingering aftertaste of an animal possessiveness? Yes… yes, I think it was. I bit back a grin.

  “Yeah. Her father is very conservative and she still lives at home.”

  “That must be… challenging,” Chloe observed.

  Damnit, how was she doing such a good job of keeping her own counsel? This calm, now composed woman was such a far cry from the girl I’d been fucking only moments ago. I wish I had the ladylike ability to maintain an even keel after orgasm.

  Trying to force Chloe into showing some more human emotion, I added, “It is, especially since I’ve been feeling so… hungry, lately.”

  “I can tell.”

  Oh, she was inscrutable!

  “Why are you proposing?” she queried, as mildly as if she were asking about the weather, or the health of my dog. “I know you’re both close, but it seems like maybe the, ah, chemistry isn’t there.”

  “Just because we haven’t had sex?”

  “Well, I know how important sex is to you,” she said with a laugh.

  Couldn’t argue with that. “Fair enough. I guess it’s because it’s the right thing to do. The mature thing. For the good of the company. And I want to make my father and her father, Adam, happy. They’re important to me.”

  “So you’re gonna make a lifelong commitment? Kind of a stretch, no?”

  Okay, now her piercing inquiries had gone a little too far. “Rebecca is one of my best friends,” I countered.

  Chloe shrugged. “But is she your future wife?”

  “We grew up together,” I spluttered. “We get along.”

  “Get along? Sounds romantic.”

  “Chloe…”

  “Whatever. I’m just making an observation.”

  I turned to the mirror once more, fixing an imaginary curl in my hair.

  “Thank you for your observation
, but I know what I’m about. Proposing to Rebecca is what’s best for everyone.”

  I faced Chloe once more, and silence filled the space between us. Helplessly, my eyes ran over the curves of her body beneath the dress, which floated around her hips and nipped in at her breasts. In my haste to make love to her, I hadn’t even bothered to take off her clothes, such had been my urgency. She was staring at me as though she could see through my every movement, could read a book of truths beneath my cover of lies.

  I cleared my throat, desperate for some noise to ease the tension.

  “So, you’re just at Comino Gallery for your friend’s maternity leave?”

  “Yeah. And then I’ll be gone after that, don’t worry.”

  “Chloe—”

  “No, no, it’s okay, Xavier.” She turned so that I was looking at her in profile, her shoulder blocking me. “It was a slip up, like we said. And I get that I’m probably not someone you wanna see that much of, with an engagement around the corner. So, I’ll do what I have to at Comino and then get gone. I promise I won’t make trouble.”

  I wish you would, I thought to myself.

  CHAPTER 6

  Chloe

  OTHER THAN the, shall we say, incident with Xavier, my work at Comino Gallery began smoothly. Alexandra took me under her wing and it was like old times. Mx. Tok continued to have a yen for the insane, but I had to admit she was an absolute champion of art, constantly making certain the restorations were going according to plan. Sometimes, I would catch her gazing with love at one painting or another in our galleries. She could stand there for minutes on end, simply admiring the work, before she realized I was in the same space, at which point she’d round on me with a little sniff and storm out, embarrassed to be caught in a moment of vulnerability.

  Meanwhile, the first part of my orientation was mainly meetings, concerning such things as the veracity of the paintings, research on the origin of the work to ensure that my later restoration aligned with the artist’s original vision, and then the usual board meetings that seemed to serve no purpose other than making rich people feel vaguely involved with the work at hand.