I really hoped they were one-sided.
“Well, he seems like a nice guy,” I hedged, hoping to keep her talking about him. “Nothing like what you’d think a rich tech bro would be like.”
“Well, he’s not exactly a normal guy,” she explained softly.
“What does that even mean?” I demanded, my hackles rising.
“He’s autistic.”
“Yeah, and?” I asked.
Cadence didn’t seem to notice, though. “Well, it explains why he’s not like your average guy, I guess. And it makes him a very … complex man to be romantically involved with.”
I narrowed my eyes, my blood heating. “In what way?”
“Let’s put it this way. He’s hard work. It takes a certain … personality to manage him.”
Is this bitch fucking for real?
“Have you stopped to consider that maybeeveryonecan be difficult to be with romantically?” I demanded, clenching my napkin in a white-knuckled fist. “And that the things an autistic person needs in a relationship are no less valid than the thingsyouneed?”
Cadence’s eyes widened. “I?—”
“And maybe if you’re unable to meet someone’s needs, that isn’t a reflection on them, but on you, or on your compatibility together?” I interrupted, blood boiling and well and truly on my high horse. “Autistic people don’t need managing—they need fucking understanding!”
Cadence, pale faced, rubbed at her forehead. “I didn’t mean that Henry was to blame … I was so young, and the thought of … I just wasn’t emotionally prepared for a life with him …” She glanced up at me through her heavy lashes. “Back then, anyway.”
“And you think you could cope with ‘managing’ his ‘complex’ personality now, do you?” I asked sharply.
Cadence busied herself with her purse, dragging out a glossy brochure and sliding it across the table to me. “I’ve matured a lot since I was twenty-two. A lot of things about me have changed in the last six years.” One eyebrow slid up just slightly, and I didn’t miss the little jab about my age.
“But we’re not here to talk about my unfinished business withHenry Baxter.” Her smile slid back into place, professional and fake. “We’re here to talk about how I can help you diversify your content, and you can help me sell vibrators.”
I pasted an equally shallow smile on my face.Two can play at this game, Cadence Sullivan.And no matter what I thought about this woman, personally, I wasn’t going to let it get in the way of my business … or my free toys.
“Then by all means, pitch away.”
“You know, I’m sceptical about this,” I muttered, turning the device over and over in my hands. “It feels very … flimsy. And you know I like to ride my toys hard …” I winked at the camera as I reached behind me to unhook my bra. My breasts fell free, and I reclined against my pillows.
I flicked the power button on the toy, my brows rising. “For such a dainty thing, she packs a punch!” I held the quill-shaped toy, complete with a silicon tip shaped like a feather, against one nipple, letting out a gasp when the peak immediately pebbled under the vibrations. “That’s very … stimulating!”
I circled one nipple, then the other with the thing, letting it trail over my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “This vibe is designed for all-over stimulation, and …” I lowered it between my breasts and down my stomach. “It would be so much fun to use with a partner, to let them explore you.”
I dipped it to my thighs, tracing circles from my knee, up the inside, and then across my mons, not letting it touch my now aching pussy. “But I have to say, if you like to tease yourself with solo play—it’s a new thing for me, I’ll admit—this is doing …o Doamne… this is fucking fantastic!”
Bang! Bang bang!
I sat bolt upright, cursing and reaching for the phone to stop recording. I checked the time—it was too early for Kat to be home from work, but she did sometimes get sent home early if the Taverna was quiet. Maybe she forgot her key?
Shivering as I wrapped a robe around my naked, sensitised body, I opened my door and hurried down the hallway towards the front door.
“Kat, if that’s you, I want you to know that you’re clit-blocking me … or, maybe edging? Perhaps I’ll credit you in my post for helping me heighten my orgasm with clitoris interruptus … oh.”
There was no one there. The hallway outside our apartment door was completely empty.
Had I imagined the knocking sound?
“Hello?” I called out, the sound echoing down the stairwell at the end of the corridor. Nothing.
