Taking His Own

by Jessica Wildblood

  “I want to feel you come on me,” he commands me. I’m at the very edge already. His words hum down through my spine, sending shivers through the current. Kicking off my own personal tsunami. I jerk forwards, hearing my own voice scream out. My pussy’s squeezing his dick so tightly it would hurt if it didn’t feel so amazingly, impossibly good. Wave after wave, drawn out longer and longer as he keeps fucking me. He’s not holding back any longer. The sight of me coming is enough to send him to the brink.

  Oh god, I want to feel him finish inside me. The thought’s enough to send my orgasm bursting out around my body again. My fingernails dig into his back. Chance grips my hips, hard, and thrusts into me harder and faster. My pussy pounds in time with him. He’s hitting me somewhere that I never knew needed hitting, satisfying urges I never knew I felt. I’ve never felt so good before.

  “Zara, fuck, Zara, yes,” he moans, and with my name on his lips his dick spurts hot and thick inside me, so powerful I can feel it as though the condom isn’t even there. His face contorts into a masterpiece of pure pleasure. Then he collapses onto me, chest heaving, his fingers curling into my hair as though he still can’t bear for us to be even the slightest distance apart.

  We lie for a few minutes just breathing in silence. It’s perfect. My mind runs back over all the dreams I had of this moment, and I realise that this has topped them all.

  Chance kisses me softly as he pulls away. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” I lie. Actually, now that we’re not right in the middle of sex, I’m feeling pretty sore. He frowns and strokes the side of my face.

  “I’ll be gentle next time. I got carried away.”

  “I liked it.” I remember the way I screamed as I came. I almost blush. “I loved it.”

  “All the same. We’ve got all the time in the world to try things out. No need to go crazy tonight.”

  “Tonight?” I lick my lips nervously. “You mean right now? You want to go again?”

  He laughs and kisses my forehead. “See, I knew you were lying when you said it didn’t hurt. Oh, Zara.” He puts his arms around me and pulls me over to lie on his chest. “You don’t have to impress me, you know. I’m already in love with you.”

  “Hey now, Mr Big Shot Businessman. I’ve only got another three weeks to give you the night of your life before I leave the country and you’re left here to get rich and lonely. And I know what happens to rich men. They don’t stay lonely for long.”

  I’m only half-joking. You see it all the time – bald-headed billionaires with pot bellies and supermodels hanging off their arms. Well, my Chance is young and strong and – speaking objectively here – it’s not just because Mayhew’s a small town that he stands out. He’s the most gorgeous man in any place you’d care to name. I’m already feeling a prickle of jealousy over all the women who’ll come crawling after him when he starts making his money.

  “This is already the night of my life,” he tells me. His voice is so serious, so sincere, that I can’t help but believe him. Holy hell. How did I ever get this lucky? “Zara, you’re the one for me. No-one’s ever going to match up to you. You might be gone for half a year, you might be gone for ten. It’ll be the same story. Do you believe me?”

  “Of course I believe you,” I say. Ha. Take that, supermodels! Chance Madison is mine.

  He seals the deal with a kiss that scalds every trace of jealousy from my brain. “Now then,” he says, his voice a deep honeyed purr. “I think there was something I needed to kiss better?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Chance

  James has owned his suit since last winter. We pooled every penny Mr Jensen paid us into buying him something that didn’t look like it came out of a charity shop. I think he looks great – we’re well matched for height, so he’s tall, and my Mum picked him out a blue tie that she says brings out his eyes. James is starting to worry that our investors have noticed he’s wearing the same thing every time they meet. This’ll be the last time he has to worry about that, though. Soon he’ll be able to afford a suit for every day of the week.

  It’s my ideas that’ll be making us all this money, of course, but I’d never have got this far without James at my side. He’s a born businessman, a natural salesperson. I’m already unhappy at some of the compromises we’ve had to make to get our contract signed, but James is steering me through. He’s got his eyes laser-focussed on his goal. And his goal’s money.

  I’m lucky to have something more than that to work for. I’ve got Zara. She’s the only thing that matters to me.

  I’ll be more than happy to leave Kelsey Technologies to James as soon as I’ve got our flagship program up and running with a few major customers. This is his dream – not mine. I want my girl, whether it’s on this side of the world or that one. We’ve got things to do that don’t involve fat-faced investors and reams of endless legal paperwork.

  Still, I’m lucky to have the powerhouse that is my brother at my side. I’d never be able to afford a move across the world without a substantial chunk of money, and at the rate James is raking in investments and corporate contracts I’m going to have enough to get myself and Zara set up for life.

  There’s always a tinge of sadness when I think about James. Of course I’d rather he’d had an easier ride. I hate the fact that he’s lost so much. But I’m so proud to call him my brother.

  “This looks like you’ve raided your Dad’s wardrobe,” he complains, adjusting the shoulders of my rented suit. We both laugh. Anything of my Dad’s would be about ten sizes too big for me. The poor man’s not small in the stomach.

  “It just doesn’t sit quite right,” I say. “But I guess I’d better get used to it.”

  “We’ll have one tailor-made next month, when the Kent money comes in,” says James. Imagine that. Bob Kent wanting to use my product. Code I wrote in Mum and Dad’s basement, sitting in my trackies and eating freeze-dried noodles out of a pot. Now it’s going to be protecting all of Bob Kent’s businesses and properties. I’m grinning like a lunatic. James digs his elbow into my side. “Look like a grown-up, will you?”

  I rub my ribs. James is all about the tough love. “Alright. I’m taking my boy genius hat off and putting my company director hat on.”

  I stop just short of miming out the actions to wind him up. James is always on edge before an important meeting. And he’s doing me a big favour now.

  The uniformed receptionist pushes a button and the shiny floor-to-ceiling door at the end of Bruce Green’s waiting room slides open. “Mr Madison? Mr Kelsey? Mr Green is ready for you.”

  ‘Thanks, Helen.’ James cuts her a wink as we pass by. Helen breaks her sheen of stern professionalism to flash him a simpering smile. Guess Mum knew what she was doing picking out that tie.

  Bruce Green’s pleased to see us. He’s always pleased to see us these days. James says it was a different story when he was first fighting for a minute of the wealthy man’s time, but now…now we’re making each other money, and it’s all smiles and chit-chat. And I have to pretend the man doesn’t give me the creeps, with his fat froggy face that sinks directly into his shoulders without pausing for a neck. But politeness costs nothing.

  “What can I do for you boys?” asks Green, when we’re all seated and he’s plied us with coffee and offers of something stronger, which we’ve both politely declined.

  “We want to keep you up to date with a future development in the company, that’s all,” says James. Only I can tell by the faint edge to his voice that he’s nervous. He hates what’s coming next, but he loves me well enough to say it anyway. Green doesn’t know him well, and he’s taken in by James’s businesslike shimmer.

  “I’m all ears. Things have been going so well at Kelsey Technologies that I’m sure I’d be happy to expand the company in any direction you two come up with.”

  There’s something lurking under his benevolence. A hungry light in his eyes. He’s pretending to like us for ourselves, but it’s only the clink of money he’s after
.

  “Actually, sir, we won’t be expanding any further. The Mayday program will be our only product.”

  Green blinks slowly. His jowls give a little wobble. He looks from James to me, and finds no trace of humour in either of our faces. “Boys, this is very disappointing news! I wouldn’t have thought you were about to run out of ideas.”

  “It’s not that, sir,” I say quickly. In fact, there are times I wish I could stop the new ideas from sparking off in my mind. There are nights when I don’t sleep, when I have to get up and open my computer just to get everything out of my head and onto the screen.

  James interrupts quickly. He doesn’t want Green to get the idea he’s missing out. “Chance isn’t staying. He’s the one who writes all the code, and he’s not interested in carrying on. As soon as Mayday is up and running he’ll be moving to Malaysia. We’re going to hire in some technicians, and in the future – who knows? I might branch out and create a new product. Or I might use my money to invest in something else entirely. But there won’t be any new programs coming out of Kelsey Technologies. It’s going to be a one-off. Sorry to disappoint you, Mr Green.”

  Green chews it over. He’s clearly not going to give up easily. “Whatever they’ve offered you in Malaysia, Chance, I’m certain we can match –“

  “It’s not a business decision,” I say. “I’m going to be with my girlfriend. I expect I’ll keep on programming. But since it’s much cheaper to live over there, I won’t need to do as much. I’m not interested in being a businessman, Mr Green. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me – I really do – but this one project is going to be the end.”

  “You’re very young,” says Green, leaning forwards keenly. “I want to make sure you fully understand what you’re passing up. Chance. I haven’t been flattering you when I say that you have talents I’ve rarely, in fact almost never, seen before. The level of interest in what you’ve done by yourself has been astronomical. When I think of what you could achieve with investment behind you – there is no limit. Do you understand me? No upper limit to what you could earn.”

  I can see James’s knuckles clenching white on the arms of his chair. I’m sorry to be doing this to him. Truth be told, I’m sorry to upset Bruce Green, too. But it’s not their money if they haven’t made it yet – it’s just a mad dream, hanging in the air in front of us. It may never come true.

  And now I’m making sure it won’t.

  “Thank you for your kind words,” I say. I really mean it. “I’m afraid I’ve made up my mind.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear it.” Green leans back, steepling his fingers. Suddenly, the cloud lifts from his face and he goes to the mahogany cabinet at the back of his office, opening a drawer. “But let’s not dwell on our sorrows! We ought to toast to your future. And to the future success of Kelsey Technologies – such as it will be.”

  He pours out three glasses of brandy before James and I can protest. We chink the large round glasses and drink. James knocks it back in one. I sip slowly, feeling the liquid burn my throat. Bruce Green is watching me, his eyes crinkling at the edges as if he’s suddenly morphed into a kind old grandfather.

  “I don’t like it,” says James, the moment Helen shows us the door. He glances at the phone number she’s slipped into his hand and carelessly drops it into a bin at the side of the road.

  “Oh, you never like anything,” I point out. James thrusts his hands into his pockets moodily and starts walking. It’s a couple of Tube trips and a long train journey home. This part of London is all taxis and fancy cars. I see his eyes licking up and down a particularly shiny Mercedes as it purrs past. “Tell you what, I won’t leave until we’ve made enough for you to get yourself a Merc. How about that?”

  “It’s not the leaving I don’t like,” he says, and turns back to me with a fiery look. “Chance, you have to do this. Do you hear me? You love Zara, don’t you?”

  I stop walking. “More than life. Why?”

  “The people that I loved – I would snap men like Bruce Green in half to see them again. I would walk through fire. Chance, don’t let him change your mind. Don’t let anything get in your way.”

  “I won’t. James, I promise you.”

  James never talks about his family. I can see the pain it’s cost him now. We walk on in silence together until he’s ready to speak again.

  “I think he gave in too easily,” says James, finally. “All that business with the brandy. That’s what I didn’t like. You’re too good an investment for him, Chance. You’re making him too much money to let go.”

  “You’re the one who made all the money,” I argue. “I just wrote the code. Come on, James. You’re getting paranoid. It went better than you expected it to and now – what? You think Bruce Green’s going to sneak into my house and steal my passport?”

  “I don’t know. I’m going to keep an eye on him, that’s all. You know what his reputation is.”

  “Yes, and I also know that he’s making us rich as all hell. I can handle a little hint of mobster as long as we keep our hands clean. Come on, bro. Cheer up!”

  For the first time since Zara got on that plane, I let myself have a little fun. James wants to take the opportunity to hit up the London bars, and I’m more than happy to oblige him. We kick off with Bruce Green’s whisky buzzing in our stomachs and it only gets messier from there.

  The alcohol’s almost enough to fill up the aching void that ripped through the centre of me when she left and that hasn’t healed up since. Every time I remember that going back to Mayhew doesn’t mean falling back into Zara’s arms, the crack in my heart pulls apart a little wider.

  Still, I’m having fun. And for the first time, I can feel myself moving in the right direction. Everything’s in place now. My plans are fully laid.

  Zara, my princess, my only dream, I’m coming to you. Fuck money. Fuck the business. Life’s an empty shell without you even with money pouring in from every direction.

  We stagger onto the last train home and manage to crash through the house without raising my parents from their beds. Shushing each other dramatically as we bounce off the walls, James rocks into his room and I sway into mine. I immediately go for the laptop.

  There’s an email from Zara. Of course there is. My heart leaps up, and it’s not just the echo of the nightclub music singing in my ears.

  I open the email. The words swim before my eyes.

  I read it once, twice, a third time.

  I’m drunk, but I can’t be this drunk. Besides, the shock is rapidly draining the remains of the buzz from my body.

  My whole world has just come crashing down from the sky. My entire fucking world.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Zara

  This is how it happens.

  Chance and I email each other every day, and we save up to phone once a week. He’s started to make some money now, but every penny needs to be reinvested in the business and I won’t let him waste too much on a phone call. Even though my heart breaks every night as I lie in bed, alone, trying to summon up the sound of his voice from my memory.

  It’s easy to find things to say to him. I write pages and pages. All my thoughts, every moment of the day, are only a breath away from him. Every time I see a new kind of flower, or try a different fruit, or visit a new beach with Mariam, I wonder what he’s going to think about it when he gets here.

  He’s got so much to tell me, too. I drink in every word, reading his emails over and over. How Kelsey Technologies is gaining customers – big, corporate customers, companies we’ve read about or companies we actually use when we go shopping or put money in the bank. How James is up at five every morning to go to London and conjure up new interest, new investors, new business. How my Grandma Christine is doing when he sees her in the supermarket on Sundays. Every tiny detail about his life, I want to know.

  Without fail. Once a day or more. Our electronic love letters zap from one side of the world to the other. At the end of each one, his sign-off i
s always the same: Wait for me, Zara. I love you. I’m coming to you.

  Then, one day, no email.

  That’s fine. Computers mess up sometimes. I check my spam folder, just in case. I send my email anyway. I know he was out in London with James yesterday – perhaps he’s too hungover to type.

  The next day’s the same. Not even a line. Not even a word.

  I’m starting to worry, but Mariam laughs at me. “As if anything’s happened to him!” she says. “It’s been two days! Relax. Come on down to the beach.”

  So that’s what I do. I go down to the beach. I tell myself that two days doesn’t mean anything. I send my email anyway.

  On the third day, I call his mobile. He doesn’t pick up. My mother finds me in floods of tears halfway up the stairs of our rented house.

  “Something’s happened to Chance,” I tell her, through my sobs.

  “Don’t be silly,” she says vaguely. She tells me something about boys being boys, and gives me one of her light and fluttering hugs. I think about how much better it would be to have Chance’s strong arms around me.

  I call Grandma Christine. Yes, she saw Chance in the supermarket last weekend. He’s a good boy who helps out his mother. No, she hasn’t heard that anything’s wrong. Nothing bad ever happens in Mayhew. Yes, she’ll certainly call me as soon as she hears any news.

  I try his mobile another seven times that day. There’s nothing. I call his house phone… and that’s even weirder. They have caller ID. They know it’s me calling. Why wouldn’t they answer? I leave an answer machine message:

  “It’s me, Zara. I just want to know if Chance is alright. Please get him to give me a call.”

  I can’t keep the quaver out of my voice as I do. What the hell, Chance? You have to know how much this is worrying me.

  I don’t sleep that night. Mariam laughs at me when she sees the bags under my eyes, like two purple bruises, the next morning.

  “Lovesick, huh?”