“You could get into trouble like that, beautiful girl,” came the deep, rough voice of the glorious man lying beside me.
His unexpected voice startled me and made me jump slightly. I went to pull back my hand, but he grabbed it and lifted it to his lips for a kiss.
“Good morning,” he said as he pulled me on top of him.
“Good morning,” I said much more softly than he.
“Maybe I want to,” I teased.
“Want to what?” he asked, confused.
I giggled. “Get into trouble.”
“I can accommodate you. I’m a man who likes trouble.”
“I’ll have you know that I can hold my own with the boys, Mr. Sinclair,” I said as my hand traveled down his abdomen and toward the part of him that was rising beneath the sheet. “I order men about for my livelihood.”
With that, he playfully flipped me over, and I rested beneath him.
He brushed my hair out of my face, cupped my chin, and addressed me with a wicked grin.
“I might look like a pretty boy to you, and everyone else may tell me what to wear, what to do and where to stand for my living, but in here, with us, I like to take the lead.” Still grinning, he added, “Okay?”
Oh! The intense look that man gave me turned my libido into lava. I knew this was a turning point for us, and it could have proven to be an issue in our relationship. It wouldn’t be, not with me. I was a woman who liked a man who made me feel like a woman. I knew by looking into his gorgeous eyes that he would never take advantage of his control in the bedroom; they reassured me that I could trust him.
“As long as your standards are as high as they were last night, I have no problem at all,” I answered in a hoarse whisper. My body began to pulsate and tightly clench from his playfulness alone.
He lowered his lips to mine and kissed me. Then, looking into my eyes, he said, “Excellence is my middle name.”
“How do I know that you’re qualified?” I teased.
He tickled me just enough to hear me giggle; then he gave me his most roguish smile and flipped me over his knee…
We were seated at the most picturesque table at The Fisherman’s Inn. It was a restaurant that I loved since I was a little girl. I always looked for it once we’d driven over the bridge as it signaled to me that we were away from the city and on our way to my favorite place—the beach.
Fisherman’s Inn had the most wonderful gardens, but the one I loved the most had a beautiful pond and waterfall. I could have looked out that window for hours, watching the water run over the rocks and cascade around the beautiful flowers. It seemed almost magical to me. I had so many memories of going there; each and every one of them was a good one. That was one of the reasons I had chosen to go there for lunch. It was a perfect setting for Declan to meet my mother, Jeannie.
My mom was great, although she was still grieving the loss of my father. I knew that it would take time for her to bear his death a little easier. Mom was independent, and she did have a job of her own which helped to keep her mind off of the grief. She loved roses, and she loved to arrange flowers. It was a natural fit when she went to work at a local florist shop. She relished the work and was thriving there.
She met every need my father had when he was sick. As he required to rely on her more heavily, his attitude became more and more bitter. Dad hated the loss of his independence. With each day that passed, his incapacity made him feel powerless, and it ate at him as if he had a cancer. The once loving relationship that they shared slowly grew into bickering and contention. The anger that grew inside of Dad, with his illness and his growing inadequacies, he misdirected at my mother. She understood the root of the anger, but it was extremely hurtful, and it was increasingly difficult to bear on a day-to-day basis. As days and months passed, my mom met the needs of my dad, especially the most intimate, and with his growing reliance on her, he became harsher and depressed. It was a blessing for both of them when Dad began to help me with the business and Mom found something she loved to do with the florist.
I had spoken to Mom about Declan a few times, and she expressed a desire to meet him. At first, I resisted, but over the past few weeks, I had a change of heart. I thought she should meet him. He was becoming more and more important to me, and our relationship was growing more serious. I thought it would be good for them to become acquainted. The Fisherman’s Inn was the perfect setting. TT
Declan had also been to The Fisherman’s Inn, I discovered. He shared with me that it was one of his favorite restaurants as a child. He loved the train that traveled from room to room on a track mounted on the ceiling. It was every little boy’s dream. He said that his mother would bring him and Carter to Fisherman’s on their way home from vacation every year, and it was the last stop and treat of their trip. The train was what always stood out in his memory. He said that he would watch that train forever, and it seemed that his food would come in no time. I was thrilled that we had a childhood memory to share.
As usual, my mom arrived right on time. Declan politely stood as a gentleman to meet her…
I could see the family resemblance right away once I met Aria’s mother. My own mother would have approved of my manners as I stood to greet her.
“Hello, you must be Declan,” her mother said as she stretched out her hand. “I’m Jeannie Cole. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you; Aria speaks very highly of you.”
“Thank you,” I said, and I smiled at Aria. “I think Aria’s very special as well.” I motioned for Jeannie to take her seat in the booth.
“I see Aria arranged for us to be seated in her favorite spot,” Jeannie said. TTT
I smiled, looked at Aria, and placed my hand over hers. “It’s my favorite spot as well. I used to come here as a boy and it holds good memories for me. It was a very special treat for my brother, my mother, and I to stop and have a meal here on our way home from the beach.”
“Oh,” Jeannie said. “So, you vacationed down at the shore as well?”
“Yes, Ma’am. Every year for as long as I can remember. It was the only place our family ever vacationed,” I said.
“Do your mother and brother still vacation there?” Jeannie asked.
“No, Ma’am,” I answered. “My mom passed away several years ago from cancer, and my brother and his wife live in the mountains, up at the lake. I’ve just purchased my first home down the ocean, but I haven’t been able to convince them to come down for a trip yet. I’m hoping they will visit soon.”
“I’m sorry to hear of your mother, Declan,” her mom said with sorrow and regret.
“Are you very close to your brother?” she asked.
“Yes, Ma’am, I am,” I told her. It was the honest to God truth. I couldn’t imagine not having Carter in my life; he was my best friend.
“What field of work is your brother in, Declan?” Aria’s mother was full of questions, and Aria was beginning to look slightly uncomfortable.
“He’s a State Trooper, Ma’am. His wife, Lacey, is a teacher. She’s off of work for the summer, and she loves having them off because they live right on the lake,” I replied.
Jeannie looked as if she had prepared a list of questions, and I felt I was about to be interviewed.
“What about you, Declan. Aria tells me you’re a model, and please, you can call me Jeannie. You don’t have to call me Ma’am.” She laughed.
“Well, Jeannie, I am a model, and I have been for quite awhile. I’ve made a considerable amount of money at it, but I have some plans to slow down and open a private studio. I’m thinking of opening the business at the shore. There’s an influx of young people in the summer, so I see the potential to scout new talent. I know what the agencies are looking for. The East Coast needs an office between Florida and New York in the way of a reputable referral agency, and I’d like to explore that opportunity,” I concluded my verbal resume.
She smiled at me and seemed pleased with my answers. Aria looked a bit weathered.
“Declan,
it sounds like you have a solid plan,” she said, smiling. Then she turned her attention to Aria. “Aria, sweetie, you’re being very quiet. At least you’re smiling at me. Are you thinking I have too many questions?” She laughed.
Aria laughed and smiled in return. It was a rather lighthearted and easy banter between the two of them.
“Yes, Mom. You have too many questions. I was just waiting to see if he passed the ‘third degree’. I know you and your inquisitive personality, but he doesn’t. I didn’t warn him that he would be getting fifty questions. So…does he pass?”
“Yes,” Jeannie said. “He passes with flying colors. Now stop worrying!”
We all laughed and ordered lunch—the interrogation was over.
The best part of the day was having Mississippi Mud Pie for dessert in the company of two delectable ladies.
…and the private investigator sent his latest photos via e-mail of Declan Sinclair with two unknown women at The Fisherman’s Inn on the Eastern Shore. This added fuel to the fire that had been burning inside of Marisol. She had attempted to contact Declan, but he was avoiding her calls, and he had no plans to come to New York any time soon. Well, she could manipulate that circumstance at least. A well placed phone call to an advertiser and there would be need for him to come to New York.
The woman sitting next to him was smiling adoringly. She irritated Marisol in her familiarity with Declan. The other, older woman bore a resemblance to her, but she was obviously not a threat.
What did continue to be a growing source of irritation was Declan’s infatuated countenance. It appeared he was growing increasingly fond of the woman sitting next to him. It was making Marisol irritated and damned uncomfortable.
…as she watched their relaxed interaction, Jeannie Cole’s intuition told her that her daughter was falling in love—and this man made her very comfortable…
T Empire State of Mind (Part II) Broken Down – Alicia Keyes (On “The Element of Freedom”)
TT Keep This Love Alive – Toni Price
TTT Fever – Devil Doll
New York City has always felt like my home office. My agency, Bella Matrix Modeling, is located there, as is my agent, Blake Matthews. Most of the business connections that I have made here, in the United States, are located in New York as well, and the decision to bring Aria to New York with me made it much more pleasant and personal. T
Never before had I had invited a woman to come with me to see me working on the set of a photo shoot. Frankly, I didn’t know what to expect of her reaction when she was exposed to the details involved. Once I had arrived at the set in casual clothing, most of the attention would be focused on me. Hair, make-up, clothing, and general conversation would be directed at and centered on me. There would be quite a bit of work involved, but to her, it may appear to be quite self-indulgent.
The general opinion of most people was that modeling would only entail standing, looking nice, and having your photo taken. Perhaps for some in the industry that mindset was acceptable, but not for me. I didn’t take my work so callously. It was my business, not my hobby. My look was my brand so I was very involved in the process and the marketing of “Declan Sinclair”. That meant I was very opinionated about how my look was projected. I had worked long and hard to earn the right to do so.
Although the client would dictate what they deemed acceptable in the final work product, I, first and foremost, needed to be satisfied with what I saw reflected in the photos. If I was displeased with the reflection of the product in any respect, including the lighting, the direction of my hair, or the way the photos displayed me representing the client and what they were trying to sell, I would express that to the photographer; then together we’d work to correct it.
It had taken many years in the business to develop that reputation for excellence and the respect of the professionals involved in each job. I carefully had narrowed down the list and had a select few that I enjoyed working with. This was due, in part, because they reflected a similar work ethic. They were also very talented individuals and had the capacity to transform me into the world’s view of a desirable man.
The insured success of future jobs was in my ability to conform my looks, expressions, and the client’s product into a congealed, believable, and photographic depiction of what the client wanted to say. It was imperative that my final product translated into sales for the client. It was that simple. I wanted to share that with Aria. She knew the real me, but she had also seen the images of me in advertisements. I wanted her, above everyone else, to be able to discern the difference between the two. It was a facet of my life that I had never desired to share with any person before. Together we would navigate these waters.
On the morning of the shoot, I woke early to go to the gym. Working out, especially with weights, insured the most volume in my physique for a desirable physical depiction. Looking at the bed, I saw that my sweet beauty was still asleep, so I lightly kissed her. She was a vision with her hair all splayed across the pillow and her shoulders. I must admit that I attempted to pull the cover down to get a glimpse of the glorious woman that I now considered mine. The sight of her always excited me. My blood was certainly pumping from my workout at the gym, but the site of Aria always made me more aware of the pulsations. There was nothing I could do to control it, nor could she, but she caused responses in me that were foreign, especially to my heart. She enchanted and excited me, over which I had no control or command.
I quietly left her to shower, being quite an unsavory sight when returning from the gym. It was very early, but the night before, I had mentioned to her that I’d reset an alarm and have a car pick her up to bring her to the shoot. There was no need for her to be awake so early. She looked so sweet and peaceful, but sweet thoughts weren’t crossing my mind as I looked at her. If I were to be on time for the shoot, I needed to take a cold shower.
I heard the water in bathroom and opened my eyes. For a moment, I was disoriented. The hotel bed was one that was not familiar, and the steel body of warmth was no longer behind me. It only took a moment to remember where I was. I recalled Declan saying that he didn’t want me to wake so early; that I should sleep in. Well, no matter what he said, that wasn’t going to happen. No way. Not with all the strange things around me to hear and see. That and the fact that it was New York!
I was so excited to see him in his element. This was a different Declan than the one at home. “Home”. When did I begin to think of Declan, me, and “Home” in the same context? The thought made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.
The way he made me feel, I had never felt with another man. Honestly, I was glad for it. I would never have anyone that Declan could be compared with. He made me feel safe, solid, and sexy all with one look. Dear God! the looks the man would give to me! I believe he could incinerate my clothing and melt my heart with one of his determined, sexual, and commanding gazes. He hypnotized me with those stares. I cheerfully obeyed, followed, and enjoyed each suggestion of sensual pleasure he inflicted upon me. He was, obviously, much more experienced, and I loved his taking charge. Just conjuring images of some of his determined control, inventive suggestions and ultimate command of our mutual pleasure made me smile at the memories. I couldn’t wait to see him at his work, but work would have to wait…
I felt her before I heard her. The shower was adequate for two and had a seat, so Aria had approached me from behind.
“Good morning,” she said and kissed my shoulder.
“Good morning beautiful,” I replied, turning to face her. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I missed you, and I wanted to start off our day in New York in a good way,” she said, looking up at me.
I put my hands in her hair and tilted her face up for a morning kiss.
“Every morning with you, baby, starts off in a good way.” I kissed her. “I don’t have much time for this shower, beautiful. I have to be ready. A car will be waiting for me in about an hour or so.”
Aria smiled a coy l
ittle smile at me and continued as though she didn’t hear me. She ran her hands slowly from my shoulders, and down toward my hips. She paused along the way, making torturous stops with kisses, licks, and teasing bites that were testing every ounce of control I possessed. I loved when she became a little tigress and believed that she was in authority. Her hands were so silky from the body wash, and she glided them repeatedly from my glutes to thigh muscles, circling around and around until she began to torture me.
“I see someone got their workout in this morning,” she said in a sexy voice. She had placed her glorious body against mine, the sway of which made me lose all reasoning. TT
“Your muscles look so big this morning. They feel…so hard. Every…one…of…them,” she teased suggestively.
I felt a deep groan escape me. My Aria had recently developed a little jungle cat personality, and she was coming out to play. I enjoyed this emerging boldness in her, so much so that I was powerless to her charms. I wanted to see the tigress play, so I leaned against the shower wall and allowed her full access.
“You know, bear, being a hairstylist all those years has made me acutely particular about grooming…especially “manscaping”. Familiar with the term?” She looked at me with blue-gray eyes that were now turbulently sexy.
Positive/Negativity Page 7
