by Ryli Jordan
But Julia was different. She wanted it, but she could resist it, and that's what drove me crazy. She had the perfect milky white skin, and hair so soft I could run my fingers through it for hours. Then there was her infatuation with trying to understand people—their secrets, their dreams, and fantasies. Sex is a means to an end. Once you get a woman's clothes off, you tear away their inhibitions and find out who they really are.
This is a sacred process that must be approached without judgment or scrutiny, just pure admiration. I wanted to admire her. I didn't want to take advantage of her. That bothered me. I wasn't leading her into it. She knew what I wanted when she came with me. I didn't even try to hide it.
She was so closed off. Racing down the road showed that. At first, she tensed up like she thought she was going to die. We were obviously safe. Then, when she finally gave into it, it was like getting a glimpse into the real person inside.
I got showered and ready for the day. The board was going to forego their meeting for the morning, which meant I would have to get accustomed to my duties as the head of a major corporation. I wore a plain suit that morning, something that would make me seem relatable. Then I left early and arrived at the building as soon as it opened.
Nobody was there aside from the daily workers—the receptionists and cleaners, as well as the accountants and some interns. I moved quickly through the back entrance and took the elevator to my father's office.
He loved opulence. I like natural simplicity. The main lobby was black marble with gold-trimmed crown molding and pillars lining the halls. Part of me wanted to gut the whole place, but he took years designing it, so I decided to leave it the way it was. Besides, I loved the ocean view that revealed itself through the window behind the desk in his office.
I sat down in the old leather chair and started getting things started. We had to unlock the computers so I could get in. Then a technician came in to show me how to use the security systems, get ahold of the guards if I needed them, and how to run the phones. Once he left I sat and stared at the cameras.
I'm a people watcher. I love the idea of seeing what people do when nobody thinks they are watching. It's another way of removing their inhibitions and getting underneath their clothes. The receptionist at the front desk was interesting. She had a tablet in her lap that she used to play meaningless games when nobody was looking. I watched in high definition while she moved multi-colored blocks around the screen.
Then when the door opened, she scooted forward so nobody could see what she was doing. “Welcome to Valenti. How can I help you?”
“You're going to take me up to see Ray right now.” Julia's unmistakable voice came over the speaker.
The guard stepped forward.
“Ma'am.”
“Oh, don't you ma'am me.” She stepped up to the desk, bracing her hands underneath the counter.
The guard moved over to her side. “Miss, you need to...”
“I am not leaving until you take me to him right now!” The guard reached for his taser.
I moved fast, grabbed the receiver and got the receptionist on the line. “Thank you fo—
“Send her up now. Tell the guard.”
“Y-y-yes sir.” The receptionist was shaking.
The guard stepped back, looked up at the counter and nodded his head. “Right this way, miss.”
I watched as he escorted her into the elevator where she held onto the railings, then pressed her hands underneath the desk when she reached the counter outside my office. Then I got up and walked outside.
“You don't have to ambush the place, you know. You almost got tased.”
“I didn't have any other way to see you.” She stormed into my office, breathless and sweating. “I am so pissed at you right now. You have no idea. I could wring your neck. Why would you play with me like that?” She was facing the door, leaning back against the desk.
“I wasn't playing with you, Julia.” I stepped forward until I was right up in her face. Then I locked onto her eyes. “I want you.” I slammed my lips into hers. Then I picked her up by the thighs and set her onto the desk while I lifted up her black skirt, darted my hand inside and let my fingers move slowly around her lips.
“You like that?”
“Yes.” She gasped.
“You don't mind?”
“Take me.” I wasted no time in tearing her panties off and throwing them behind me. Then I ducked down and spread her legs so I could worship her by moving my tongue over her clit, relishing her soft bubbly sighs that got louder when I dove my tongue in deep, swirled it around and pushed my hand up her shirt so I could pinch her nipple.
Women are delicate beautiful creatures, meant to be handled slowly. I pulled my hands up her thighs and began dragging her skirt down while I lifted up to plant kisses on her neck and chin. Then finally her lips, where the process of deflowering her really began. The best way to get to know a woman, and what buttons to press is to find out how to move your lips. She liked it slow, to ease her into the process. Then her lips finally parted and I slam my tongue in. She was hesitant but not closed off, and she liked the thrill it gave her when I bit her bottom lip.
Then something snapped inside her and she couldn't get my shirt off fast enough. She tore open the first three buttons in a frenzy. Then she ripped the whole thing off, and I erupted forward, tearing into her neck, basking in the sound of her frenzied cries. She was rippling, gasping and begging for more.
Then I pulled off her shirt and got my first look at the exposed woman. She was a real person, nothing but natural, pure beauty. That's who she was and she deserved to be worshiped. I needed her to know that, so I let my lips move down her neck and over her chest, while I unhooked her bra and threw it to the ground. She was perfect, with her nipples sticking straight up, waiting to be touched. I locked eyes with her and used one hand to move my finger up and down her clit, while I used the other to trace a soft ring around her areola.
“Dear Jesus.” My cock pressed against my jeans when her mouth opened up and she started whimpering.
“You like that, don't you?”
“Yes,” she gasped.
“Good.” I stepped back, while her fingers traced down past my shoulders, and stopped just above my crotch. I unzipped my pants to whip out my cock. “You want this?” I grabbed it by the base and swung the thick meat up and down.
“Yes.”
I stepped forward and traced her opening with the head of my dick, watching her expression carefully. Then I dipped down and nibbled on her nipple while I pressed it in just a little bit farther. It was so hot, like dipping the head of my dick into a vat of hot lava, so potent it sucked me in and sent me into a manic frenzy.
“God!” She was wailing, pressing in, only serving to further my desire as I drove in and out, piercing through her barriers until I had fully penetrated her. This was what I lived for, that moment of passion that reveals the true nature of a woman and she was perfect—clay to be molded and shaped. She wasn't a pile of neuroses and anger like the other women I'd been with. She was comfortable. She didn't mind letting me look her over, press inside her and every time I kissed her, she pushed into it, letting me worship her the way she deserved.
I thrust in and out, letting her slippery insides caress my shaft while I pressed my head into that perfect spot and pinched her clit just to get her to scream. And she did scream. She screamed so loud the receptionist, and everyone else in the office must've heard, but I didn't care. The only think I could think about was pushing forward faster and faster, driving her deeper into the state of ecstasy that was threatening to reach a crescendo. Her cries were growing louder, drowning out the sound of my balls slapping against her taint, mixing with the smell of hot sex and her vanilla perfume. Our bodies intertwined, her head dove back and I began nipping at her neck while the heat took over and surrounded us in one big ball of fire that was getting hotter and hotter with every thrust until, like a volcano erupting we both burst into a pile of wet bliss and co
llapsed on top of one another.
Chapter 7
I woke up lying on a soft leather couch in my father's office with Julia's head resting against my shoulder. Her skin was so soft when I let my fingers move down her side, tracing her milky, unblemished skin. The sun was setting, sending a glow across the carpet that tickled her bare feet, and lit up her toes. I've seen plenty of women naked, many of them with tats and fake breasts but I've never seen anybody so pure, not innocent, or naive but pure. She didn't put up a front, or try to make people believe she was anything other than what she appeared to be.
And that showed. She didn't have a problem saying whatever she felt, or acting the way she wanted to. She had a shell and self-control, but it was easily broken, and when it was she became the kind of earthy, sensual woman that I dreamed of.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled while running her fingers all over my chest, tracing the edges of my ink. Then she looked up and pecked me on the lips. When she stood up, she was butt naked, completely unashamed of herself, and instead of walking over to pick up her clothes, she stood in front of the window and watched the sun set over the water.
“I've lived in Los Angeles my entire life, and I will never get used to the sun set. It's probably the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”
I got up and walked over to her. Then I wrapped my arms around her waist. “I think you're just as beautiful.”
“Aren't you supposed to be running out the door screaming right now? Why are you still here.”
I grabbed her chin and tilted her head towards me. Then I kissed her, just long enough to let her know that I didn't want to leave. I wanted to be there with her, basking in all of her imperfections. “Do you like tacos?”
“Tacos?”
“I'm not talking about the things you get a few blocks from Tijuana made from assorted cow parts. I'm talking about a nice fine dining Mexican restaurant with scallops and caviar, shrimp ceviche and a fine tequila.”
“No.” She turned around to put her clothes on.
“You think I'm going to hurt you.”
“You'll screw anything with a hole. I'm not getting sucked into your world just so you can trade me in in a few hours.”
“If you don't take the risk, you'll never know. Besides, I wanna’ see what you really look like with your clothes off, not just naked. I wanna’ know you. Can't you let me do that?”
“No.” She pulled her panties on and grabbed her shirt.
“Why?”
“Because you used me. You're going to hurt me. You knew that I wanted an interview, so you took advantage of me to get in my pants.
I walked behind her and wrapped my arms around her shoulders and held her close. “We both felt something. We both want this. I don't see anyone taking advantage of anyone. This is amazing. Accept it.”
“But it's not real.” She turned around. “It's sex. I know men like you. You'll say and do anything to get me to get into bed with you.” Her voice was bitter, and he couldn't blame her. She was telling the truth, but I wasn't like that. “Then the second we gain an attachment, you'll throw me away.”
“But we already have an attachment. Besides, I want to take you somewhere nice when I give you your interview. You've earned that at least.”
“Fine, but don't expect me to fall into your arms.”
“Then I'll kick your legs out from under you and catch you.”
She laughed. Then she finished getting dressed. “I'll meet you back here.”
“Nope.”
“What do you mean no?”
“I'm taking you somewhere. I told you that.”
“Come back to my place with me. You can get ready there.”
“Why?”
“Because.” I put on my pants, slung my shirt over my shoulder and walked out the door. The receptionist, a geriatric prude with a bright white roller set, stared at me like I was the antichrist.
“I asked you a question.” She followed me to the elevator. “Why do you want me to go back to your house with you?”
I didn't answer.
“Come on. What are you trying to pull?”
“Can't I give you a nice surprise.” When I turned around, she was pressing against the back of the elevator railing.
“I don't trust you.”
“And I don't trust you. Is there anything wrong with trying to change that?”
She didn't answer.
“And what if we might have something going? Do you want to risk that? I think you know the answer to that question.”
“Just tell me where we're going.”
The elevator opened up to the ground floor, and I started walking out to my car, a white luxury sedan with a moon roof. She got in. “What is your problem?”
“What do you mean?”
“You're too cryptic.”
“Alright. I've had enough. If you're going to learn to trust me, you're going to have to take a risk. Can you do that? I'm not going to chop you up and sell your organs on the black market for Christ's sake, and if you're worried about getting hurt then please don't let me put my cock in you. That's fine. I'm perfectly OK with being friends.”
“So what you're basically saying is be quiet and stop asking questions.”
“If you'd like to take it that way,” I sighed, “but it's more like let me show you something amazing. Don't worry.”
She did worry. She fidgeted around and sighed at all the wrong times. Maybe women need to put up a facade in order to handle life. When all of their emotions come rushing out it drives them and everyone else around them crazy, but I would rather deal with the fit she was putting up than have to deal with a fake woman lying to my face.
I drove her back to the house and brought one of the servants into the dining hall while she waited, pacing around the living area. Florence worked at my father's house for years, so she was used to dealing with strange requests. The old, short woman hopped up on a stool and watched me carefully.
“What?”
“You want to impress her.”
“I do. I need you to find things for her to wear during the weekend, and I need you to reassure her, without telling her, where we're going. She's having a hissy fit, and she's ready to leave. Please.”
“I'll handle it.” Florence hopped off down the stool marched up to me and slapped me in the face.
“What was that for?”
“In case you break her heart when I'm not around.” She walked back into the living room, and I took the back staircase to the second floor so I could begin packing and making travel arrangements.
Chapter 8
Thank god for Florence. My little fairy godmother, long appreciated but seldom rewarded for all her hard work. Florence took good care of Julia for me while I got ready for our excursion. I knew Julia was hanging on by a thread, as far as my villainous presence was concerned. She lusted after me, as they all did, but she almost did the unthinkable—she just disliked me.
Most women hated me and wanted to screw me anyway. Julia had an amazing disposition that suggested she really didn’t care. Didn’t care about what I said, what I meant, or what I pretended to be at any given moment. It was almost as if she saw me naked, no matter what I wore. I was not clothed, nor was I protected. I simply was in her presence, bare-soul and imperfect. And she could take it or leave it.
Maybe that’s what was getting to me, above everything else. The idea that Julia really wasn’t as amazed with me as everyone else was. Was I just a career fuck, a stepping stone in her journalistic endeavors?
I had been packing all this time, contemplating my next move, all the while Florence was tending to my guest. I had heard the women talking from a distance and assumed everything was going swimmingly. It was my idea to bring Julia to Devon, a desert island only available to a select few because of the high price. Naturally, it was no expense to me. But I believed that would give me the quality alone time I needed with Julia to set the record straight and give her a damn good interview. If nothing e
lse, she did deserve that—a moment of honesty. Imagine that.
I went back downstairs after backing, but instead of Julia being flirty and excited about our trip ahead, she seemed a bit miffed.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What aspect of me particularly are you referring to? There’s plenty.”
“Florence told me you’re planning on kidnapping me and taking me to a desert island.”
“Well, that’s a rather negative spin.”
“What is the positive spin on that?”
“I just thought it would be, you know, romantic to go on a beach vacation. Quiet, alone, peaceful…not surrounded by hordes of loud children and music. It’s Devon, a desert island just south. It’s a wonderful place. You’ll love it.”
“And you couldn’t even ask me yourself. You had your people do it for you?”
“Well…” I smiled. “Florence is wonderful. She’s not my people. She’s like a member of the family.”
“Yeah right, but?”
“But what? Are you saying you don’t want to go?” I shrugged, having no earthly idea why anyone wouldn’t want to get away from it all on a beautiful desert island. “I mean, who turns down a lottery? Who says ‘I don’t want to be queen for a day?’”
“You are so full of yourself, Ray.”
“Come on, it’ll be great. I promise I won’t make you sleep with me.”
“Oh yeah right. But it’s a deserted island, so who could ever hear me scream?”
“It’s a desert island, not a destitute island. Trust me, they have a great beach house there.”
I watched as Julia folded her arms, looking unsatisfied, but finally getting the point that if being whisked away to a beach house vacation was the worst thing that’s happened to you, your life is still pretty grand.
“Florence is packing for you. You’re going to have plenty to wear. We’ll have plenty to do. Sex is optional, as always, Miss Glass.” I smiled a bit devilishly, as they all loved. “But the interview, I’m afraid, is a prerequisite. I need some good publicity and you’re just the person I need to make me shine.”
