Page 110 of The Illusion
"It wasn't meant to be." I reach across the table and take her hand. "He controlled everything about that dinner. About ourwedding. About our entire fucking relationship. He made all the decisions and I just went along with it because I had to.”
Devon's fingers tighten around mine. "And now?"
"Now I'm making my own decisions." I bring her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles. "Starting with bringing you here."
The waiter arrives with perfect timing, and I order an eight hundred dollar bottle of wine. He’s smart enough not to ask for Devon’s ID. Money buys silence and discretion, and I enjoy both.
After he pours and leaves, I raise my glass. "To freedom," I say.
Devon clinks her glass against mine. "To freedom."
The wine is excellent. I drink more than I should, refilling my glass twice before we even order food. Devon watches me with amusement. "Celebrating something?" she asks.
"Maybe." I lean back in my chair, feeling the alcohol warm my blood. "Julie's gone for a few more days. The house is ours. And I'm sitting here with you, in this room, doing exactly what my father would've hated."
"You think he would've hated this?"
"Iknowhe would've." I take another drink. "He would've called it inappropriate. Reckless. He would've said I was throwing away my marriage and ruining my reputation– his reputation– for something that could never work."
"And what do you say?"
I set my glass down and look at her. Really look at her. The way the candlelight catches in her blonde hair. The way her dress dips low enough to show the curve of her tits. The way she's looking at me like I'm the only person in the world who matters. “I say he was wrong about a lot of things."
We order dinner—wagyu beef for me, halibut for her, sides we'll share. The food is incredible, but I barely taste it. I'm too focused on Devon, on the way she eats, the way she laughs atsomething I say, the way her foot slides up my calf under the table.
I keep drinking. Another glass of wine. Then another. The edges of the room start to soften, and the constant voice in my head, the one that sounds like my father, telling me what I should do, who I should be, finally shuts the fuck up. "I'm done waiting," I say suddenly.
Devon looks up from her plate. "What?"
“You’re mine. Tonight.”
Her eyes darken. "Asher?—"
"I know what I said before. About being careful. About waiting until everything with Julie is settled. But fuck that." The wine has loosened something in me, some last restraint I was holding onto. “We’re already doing everything else and sleeping with you, naked, at night in your room has been incredible. But we can do better.”
Devon's breathing has quickened. I can see her pulse jumping in her throat. "What do you mean?”
"I'm saying when we get home tonight, I'm not stopping. I'm not pulling back." I lean forward, my voice dropping. "I'm going to take you to my bed and I'm going to fuck you the way I've been wanting to for months."
She inhales sharply. "Your bed? The one you share with?—"
"The one that's mine." I cut her off. "Julie doesn't get to claim anything in that house anymore. Not the bed. Not me. Nothing."
For a moment, Devon just stares at me. Then she stands up, smoothing her dress. "I need to use the restroom."
She walks away, and I watch her go, my heart pounding. Maybe I said too much. Maybe I pushed too hard. Maybe?—
My phone buzzes. A text from Devon with a photo attached of her bare, glistening pussy:I wasn't wearing panties under this dress and I'm wet as hell thinking of you fucking me in your bed
I nearly choke on my wine. I signal the waiter and ask for the check. He brings it discreetly, and I hand him my black card without looking at the total. I don't care what it costs. I just need to get out of here. Devon returns just as the waiter comes back with my card. She's reapplied her lipstick and there's a flush high on her cheeks.
"Ready?" I ask, standing.
"More than ready."
The drive home is torture. I’m dimly aware that I’ve had a lot to drink and probably shouldn’t be driving, but needs must and right now I need to fuck. Devon keeps her hand on my thigh the entire time, her fingers creeping higher and higher until I have to grab her wrist to stop her. "If you keep doing that, I'm going to pull over and fuck you in this car," I say through gritted teeth.
"Maybe I want you to."
