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Wine. That’s all you could think of. It had been a long, very long week at work, and there was a chilled bottle of sweet white wine waiting in your refrigerator. A short trip on the T, a quick shower, and that baby was all yours. You picked up your pace.
“Y/N?”
You turned your head slightly at the sound of a deep male voice calling your name, somewhat familiar although you couldn’t immediately place how you knew it. Maybe if you just kept walking, whoever it was would give you up as a case of mistaken identity.
“Is that... It is you, Y/N!”
Damn. The man had doubled back, and stopped in front of you. You pulled up quickly, so you didn’t run him down. You raised your eyes, glancing over a solid body in a worn sweater, straight into the ocean blue eyes of -
“Ransom Drysdale.” You shook your head, a small smile playing across your features. “Well, of all the faces.”
“Your favourite one, right?” The cocky smile you remembered from high school swept across his handsome features, and he put a hand on your elbow, gently guiding you out of the path of oncoming pedestrians. “You back in Boston? Thought you went off to New York?”
“I am back, yes. I have been for awhile now.” You laughed self consciously. “I can’t believe you even remember me.”
“Well, we did date.” His blue eyes bored into yours. Those sparkling, plotting eyes hadn’t changed. Damnit.
“In high school. That was nearly twenty years ago.”
“Holy shit, don’t say that!” One leather gloved hand flew to your mouth, covering your lips. “I don’t need a reminder of my age.” Ransom’s eyes twinkled as he lowered his hand. “Are you free? Or do you have to be back at home by six to meet the husband with dinner and a scotch?” His eyes flicked quickly to your left hand, then back up to your eyes as he took in your lack of wedding ring. “Or back to your boyfriend?”
“I’m not married, there’s no boyfriend waiting for a roast dinner.” You smiled wryly. Still only one thing on his mind, then.
“Girlfriend, then. If you’re still single, you gotta tell me it’s because you couldn’t get over me and switched teams.”
“Yes Ransom,” you said drily. “I was so broken hearted over our breakup at 17, that I immediately swore off men forever and became a lesbian.”
“Really?” His brows raised, a playful grin crossing his face.
“No!” You rolled your eyes.
“Shame. That was kind of a hot thought I was having there.” He smirked. “Anyway, you didn’t answer my question. Are you free?”
“Right now?” You looked around the rapidly darkening streets, the sun was setting, the chill was picking up, and all you wanted was to get back to your apartment, open your bottle of wine and get back to reading your latest novel. It had been a long day at the end of a long week, and catching up with an old boyfriend - especially Ransom Drysdale - wasn’t exactly high on your list.
“Yeah, right now. Come on, I’m buying.” Before you could say another word, he had wrapped a strong arm around your shoulders and began leading you away. You considered protesting, but gave up before you even began. It had always been easier to go along with his plans, and you expected that, much like his one track mind, hadn’t changed.
“Oh, my God!” You exclaimed as he pulled you to a stop next to his car. “I can’t believe you still have the Beemer!”
“Of course I do!” He grinned as he unlocked the doors. “The ’72 Csi is a classic.” He slid you a sly look as you took your seats. “Plenty of good times in this old girl, wouldn’t you say?”
You blushed to the roots of your hair, and looked out the window. Yes, there had been a plethora of good times in the old car. You suspected yours had been a very small percentage of them. Not that it mattered. Ancient history, that was. But damnit, the man still looked fine. You glanced over at him, studying his pale features as he manoeuvred the car through the Boston traffic. That slightly crooked nose, those ridiculously plump lips, those stupidly long lashes.
“You likin’ what you see?” Ransom raised his eyebrows and shot a sideways look at you.
“Maybe,” you smirked, then looked back to the road. “Where are we going?”
“Lincoln.”
“Lincoln?! Ransom, that’s miles away!” You glared at him.
“I know.”
“What’s in Lincoln that’s worth driving all that way?”
“Best coffee in New England.”
“Oh really?”
“Would I lie to you, Y/N?”
“Do you want me to answer that truthfully?” You retorted, turning in your seat to look at him.
“Probably not.” He replied easily.
“You haven’t changed much, have you?” You mused.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Zero growth in twenty years? That just might be a bad thing.”
“Zero growth,” Ransom scoffed, a heavy frown settling on his brow. “You know that for certain?’
“You’re right, I’m sorry. That was needlessly bitchy.” You sighed. “When was the last time I saw you? Grad night? What have you been up to since then? Keeping out of trouble?”
“Have you ever known me to do that?” A cocky grin replaced the frown in an instant.
“Absolutely not.” You laughed with him. You had dated him for six months in your senior year of high school, and had gotten up to more in those six months than in the nearly twenty years that followed. “Well, where are you working?”
“Working? I’m kind of in between jobs, right now. You know how it is.” Another sidelong look at you. “But what about you? What are you doing? You still doing art?”
“Kind of,” you stuttered, surprised he remembered. “I own Ashcliffe Gallery.”
“Really?” Ransom looked impressed. “Financial black hole, or doing okay?”
You shrugged. “I’m out of debt.”
“Wow. Good for you, babe.”
You blushed again at the endearment, then mentally chided yourself. He meant nothing by it. He said it casually. And it wasn’t affecting you, at all, not in the slightest. Your eyes roamed over his body as he drove, feeling a little bolder now that the sun had almost fully set. His clothes were all over worn, but you could see that they were expensive. Even at school, he’d dressed that way. His mother would buy him a new wardrobe every season, all the latest fashions, and Ransom would pick three outfits and wear them until Linda sent “the help” in to throw them away. He just didn’t care about the clothes, the brands, or any of that. He had taken an insane amount of care over his face and his body - and from the look of his thighs in those trousers, it looked like he still did - but clothes, no. You shook your head with a soft sigh, then turned back to face the front of the car.
“Hey, what was that bar we went to that night?” Ransom’s voice broke the silence.
“Vincent’s.” You burst out laughing. “Holy shit, I’d forgotten all about that! There was that band-“
“Whiskey Lion. God, did they ever suck.” Ransom laughed as he turned onto a narrow lane.
“That was the night you almost got us arrested, remember?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, yes you did. You were drunk, and you kept trying to fight the bass player-“
“Dude couldn’t play Smoke On The Water, how the hell do you play in a rock cover band without being able to play Smoke On The Water?” Even now, Ransom sounded offended.
”-And you threw a punch at him, and you nearly hit a bouncer. And then you started yelling that if they threw you out, they’d be hearing from your lawyer.”
“In hindsight, that probably was a mistake.” Ransom admitted.
“And then you made such a fuss, that some beat cops took note and we had to run like the wind to get away from them.”
“Good times.” Ransom turned to you as he pulled the car to a stop in front of a large modern house. “Here we are.”
You stared out at the glass fronted mansion. “And where, exactly, is here?”
“My house.” Ransom grinned as he left the car.
“Of course it is,” you muttered as you opened the door and stepped out onto the gravel drive. “This is where they serve the best coffee in New England, is it?”
“You know it. Come on.” Your heart skipped a beat as he took your hand and led you to the front door. He held the large door open for you, and you brushed past him as you stepped over the threshold. Despite the walls being basically made of windows, the house was warm from the fire roaring in the fire place.
“You don’t believe in curtains?” You asked as you gazed around the large open plan house.
“Not really.” Ransom threw his coat on his sofa and headed for the kitchen. “People want to look in, they see what they see. Besides,” he glanced over his shoulder. “There’s not really much in the way of neighbours.”
He wasn’t wrong. You looked out the massive picture windows into pure darkness. You turned away from the darkness and back to the bright interior. It was nicely furnished, it had some lovely art pieces, and it was completely devoid of Ransom’s personality. You wandered into the kitchen.
“Nice art.” You commented, hopping up onto one of the stools at the island counter.
“Is it?”
“Isn’t that why you picked it?” You frowned at him, confused.
Ransom shrugged a powerful shoulder. “I didn’t. Mom got a designer in.”
“Still running your life, huh?”
“She gave up on the clothes, at least.” Ransom looked angry for a minute, before he turned his bright gaze back to you. “Hey, remember that night we swiped that godawful, rotgut vodka from your aunt?”
You groaned. “That was the worst. I’ve never been that sick, since.”
“Right? It was vile, I honestly think it was pure paint stripper.”
“You got me into a lot of trouble back then, Ransom.” You smiled.
“I’m the one who got covered in vomit, if you’ll remember. That was a fair bit of trouble for me.”
“You were fine after a shower, at least. I couldn’t look at orange juice for about six years after that. Do you know how hard it is to get through college without orange juice?”
Ransom laughed, a deep rumble in his chest. “Well, look. I don’t have any shitty vodka, but how about something a little stronger than coffee? For old times sake?” He leaned on the island across from you and gazed at you, blue eyes burning.
You swallowed, your throat suddenly feeling dry. “What have you got?”
A smile lit up Ransom’s features, and he crossed over to a cupboard, opened it, then turned triumphantly waving a bottle of tequila.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” You laughed, shaking your head.
“I never used to have to try,” he grinned as he placed the bottle in front of you, before reaching to another cupboard and returning with two glasses. “In fact, it was usually you suggesting it.”
“Yes, I spent our entire relationship just corrupting innocent little Hugh Drysdale.” You smirked.
“You did.” Ransom smiled. “And don’t call me that, you know I hate that name.” He opened the bottle and poured a generous amount in each glass, pushing one over to you.
“Sorry.” You took the glass and glanced at him. “No salt or lime?”
“Oh, you want to drink it fancy now that you’re big shot gallery owner?”
You scowled at him, then raised the glass. Clinking it with his, you tossed back a mouthful of the clear liquid, grimacing slightly at the aftertaste. “That’s actually not that bad.”
“Told you, not rotgut.” Ransom smiled as he swallowed some, before turning a contemplative gaze your way.
“What?” You asked, feeling flustered under the intense look.
“I just can’t believe I ran into you, that’s all.”
“And I still can’t believe you remember me. A six month relationship isn’t exactly a long term commitment.”
“It is for me,” Ransom muttered before finishing his glass of tequila. You opened your mouth to reply, but Ransom was suddenly on his feet and grabbing your hand. “Come on, let’s listen to some classic rock, drink too much, let’s relive old times.”
You managed to grab the bottle of tequila before he was pulling you into the living room where he spun you around, only letting go when you begged him to stop. He waltzed over to his record player - god, was that the same one from high school? - and soon the sound of the Rolling Stones was filling the space.
Hours passed. The level in the bottle of tequila steadily dropped, the level of laughter raised in balance. The music got louder, the lights got dimmer until the room was lit by nothing more than the fire place. Your inhibitions dropped, and your bodies got closer. Damned if it wasn’t 1999 again, and damned if Ransom wasn’t sucking you back into every single feeling you’d had back then, and then some.
“You know,” Ransom mused as he brushed your hair back and started peppering kisses up the column of your throat. “You’re the only woman I regret not staying with.”
“You dumped me.” You sighed, tilting your head further back, shifting your body until you were more comfortable on the floor.
“I was an idiot.” Ransom looked up and brushed his lips gently across yours. “You are the only one who has never seen me as the entitled little prick I am.” He leaned back and stared down at you, his eyes darkened and intense. “You always made me want to be better.”
“Because I know you can be.” You whispered softly, cupping his cheek in your hand.
Your name escaped his lips on a sharp breath as Ransom dropped his head, his dark brown hair tickling under your chin. He nuzzled into your neck and inhaled deeply, his hands tightening on your waist as he groaned.
“I gotta have you, kitten.”
Your stomach flipped at the almost desperate plea in his voice. “Yes.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper, but it was all Ransom needed. He pulled away from you, shuffling down your body, his fingers - still nimble despite the alcohol - making quick work of the fastenings of your pants. He yanked the material off your legs - your heels had been discarded before the end of the first song - then deftly peeled your panties away from your core.
“This all for me, angel?” He smirked, sliding his fingers into your folds. “All these years, I’ve never had anyone get as wet for me as you do.” He looked up at you, his bright blue eyes blown to black with lust. He stared at you for a long moment, his fingers lazily smearing your juices around your cunt, before he finally lowered his head. Eyes still locked to yours, he licked a long, firm stripe from your weeping entrance to your clit. You couldn’t have held back the moan that escaped your lips if you tried as he wrapped those plump lips around your bundle of nerves and sucked, his tongue working furious patterns over the aching bud. You brought a trembling hand to rest in Ransom’s hair, the other tearing at the buttons of your blouse, desperate to get it open.
Once the offending material finally parted and revealed your bare skin, Ransom’s free hand snaked its way up your body and blindly groped at one of your breasts. He gasped suddenly and lifted his head.
“Is that a fucking nipple piercing?” He stared up at you, wide eyed. You whined and nodded, hand pushing at his head, desperate to get him back to work. But Ransom was like a magpie - he had seen a shiny, and he wanted it. He chained kisses up your torso, burying two thick fingers in you as he went. “Bra off. Now.” He growled.
“Yes, sir,” you huffed, arching your back to unclip it. You quickly shed the remains of your shirt and pulled the flimsy lace away from your breasts. Ransom stared down at the metal bars through not only one, but both of your nipples.
“I always knew you were the bad influence.” He grinned, before swooping down to take one nipple in his mouth, adding a third finger to your cunt as he did so. Before long, you were a writhing mess under him, as he worked your nipples with tongue and teeth, and your core with his skilled fingers. “Come on kitten,” he panted against your hot skin. “Cum for me, wanna feel you, wanna see you fall the fuck apart for me.” He pulled at a nipple, curled his fingers, and pressed the heel of his palm to your clit and you were gone in a white hot ecstasy.
When you came back to your senses, Ransom was kneeling between your legs, naked from the waist down. “There she is.” He smiled, one hand stroking his thick, hard cock.
“Here I am,” you agreed, returning his smile. “What are you doing all the way down there?”
“Waiting for you. Your recovery time has gotten longer.”
“Oh, shut up and get in me!” You laughed, reaching lazily for him. Ransom chuckled, then settled his body over yours, adjusting himself until he was lined up with your entrance. He pushed forward slowly, entering you inch by inch, groaning as your velvety walls stretched and adjusted to him. When he bottomed out, he gazed into your eyes.
“God, you were fucking made for me, Y/N.” He dipped his head to drop a slow, deep kiss on your lips, his tongue rolling lazily with yours. Finally he began to roll his hips, and you fisted your hands into the worn wool of the sweater he was still wearing. It itched against your skin, but you couldn’t have cared less, as you met Ransom thrust for thrust, easily finding the rhythm you had known all those years ago.
The music had stopped long ago, and the room was filled with the sound of skin against skin, the wetness of your core, and the never ending breathless moans coming from you both. Ransom adjusted his angle slightly, and you hardly even had time to acknowledge the build up before an intense orgasm washed through you. You gripped tighter to the back of Ransom’s sweater, unable to do anything, unable to even think , as your body went taut. The feel of you clenching around him was more than Ransom could take, and he followed you over the edge, stilling his hips hard against yours as his cock filled you with his seed.
Ransom dropped his weight onto you, rolling his hips slowly a few more times, before pulling out and rolling to the side of you. The two of you lay next to each other, staring at the ceiling in a daze, lost in your own thoughts. Several minutes passed, then you turned onto your side, propping your head in your hand as you gazed down at Ransom.
“What?” He glanced at you, a lazy smile pulling at his lips.
“Am I ever going to get that coffee?”
Ransom laughed and pulled you into his arms, resting your head on his chest. “I can’t make coffee to save myself. I’ll take you out for some in the morning, kitten.”
“I can’t believe you brought me here under false pretences.” You laughed.
“Are there any other kind?”
“Not with you.”