by Mia Madison
“You can take a day.”
“No. I can't. Cedric will dock my salary. Where the hell is my dress?”
“In the closet of course.” he replies, still with that droll smile. Watching me like I'm an exotic creature he's never seen before.
“Ugh,” I say, when I tear open the door and discover only my sad looking black dress hanging all alone.
At least it isn't wrinkled but still, yesterday's clothes that I not only wore all night but wore to ride a man's fingers like I was on the mechanical bull in a Texas bar. “I'm taking a shower.”
“Behind the double doors,” Brand indicates the ensuite. “I'll see you up top.”
Double doors – to a bathroom on a boat for fuck's sake. It's all white marble and bigger than my apartment. As I stand under the power jet of water, I feel the loneliness of Brand not being here. I'm furious at him for hacking my phone and controlling my orgasmic reactions from afar, but if he were to slide the door back and step into the shower with me right now, I have no doubt I'd drag him in and beg him to pound my pussy hard enough to make this craving disappear.
I dry off my hair and put the ugly dress back on, then go up on deck to figure out how the hell I'm going to get to work. It's a beautiful day, sunny blue skies, the pristine white boat floating on the shimmering water. The towers of the city are laid out like a postcard.
Brand is still bare chested, stretched back casually on the white leather banquette, his biceps flexing as he raises his coffee cup. And standing over him, some stunning blond in an amazing designer outfit is working her most blatant flirting.
Chapter FOURTEEN
Brand
Jolie gets through her coffee, muttering about her job and her salary and how much she stands to lose if she's late for work. Before she hops in the shower, I dig an old wallet out of the drawer in the bureau and drop five hundred bucks on the bed.
“What the fuck is that for?”
Her eyes get wide in outrage and I guess that could be read as kind of smutty. Especially when she's so determined to see the worst in me.
“Didn't you say I should get a ticket? That's for my ringside seat.”
I close the door on her swearing and muttering in disgust about assholes and rich men and who knows what else. She cracks me up when she's mad and the color fills her cheeks in direct contrast to that flame of hair.
Jolie appears from below deck, looking like a newborn foal as she blinks in the bright light. Her hair is all tousled and she's holding her boots in her hand like she needs help putting them on. So innocent and adorable but so determined to be strong and independent. She's young but in no way immature. The sass on the girl is intoxicating.
“Come here, Babe.” I stretch out a hand to bring her over. “This is Pansy. She's a style co-coordinator at Vogue. She's brought you some clothes.”
“She's brought me -?” she mimics, stunned. “I have clothes.”
Pansy gives a little snort and Jolie looks hurt, which makes me feel for her. She'd look amazing in trash bags but I she can't be naked, I want to see her body wrapped in beauty. As soon as she's close enough, I take her hand and pull her down beside me, stretching my arm out along the bench behind her so she feels secure. I'm on her side and she needs to get that much into her beautiful but fiery little head.
“I think the Dolce would be best with her curves,” Pansy tells me.
“Is that the green one?” I ask, indicating the dress with the skin tight skirt and the plunging layers of lace top.
“Yeah, although we're calling it seafoam.”
“It's perfect. We'll take that and the black one with the zippers.”
“What real man could resist that one?” Pansy flutters at me.
“Excuse me, I'm not your personal barbie doll,” Jolie interjects, snatching free her hand that had been lying rigid on the bench trapped beneath mine.
“These are Spring new collection that no one else in the world has in their wardrobe yet.” Pansy looks at Jolie in excessive shock horror, like she peed on the deck.
I find it amusing. But still, I pick up her hand again and restrain her from pulling it back. Clasping it in mine, firm enough to let her know not to fight me, I rest our joined hands on my thigh.
“I'm really grateful to you for bringing them up here at short notice,” I tell Pansy.
“And I sourced matching shoes,” she whines.
“You're the best at what you do. Send me your account and this is for your personal account. Higgs will drop you back downtown.”
For an instant I think that Jolie is going to ask to ride along. My hand grips tighter around hers, just in case she gets any ideas about taking off. I want her with me today. I haven’t had nearly enough of her and she's in no mood to deal with work today.
Once Pansy has sashayed down the gangway and climbed back into the limo my driver has kept waiting for her, I turn to Jolie.
“Go put these new things on then we can go for lunch. I could eat a steer.”
“Let's get one thing clear. I have a job. I need to go do it. I also own my own clothes. What I'm wearing is fine.”
“It's your choice but you'll wish you'd worn the Dolce new season when we arrive where I'm taking you.”
She's about to demur yet again but I hold up my hand for her to be silent.
“I'd like it if you wore the clothes I just bought you.” I tell her in no uncertain terms. “And if you decline, perhaps you remember from last night the kinds of punishment I deal out for non-compliance.”
She looks as though she's about to refuse me then her face crumples just a little, just enough that I notice being as I'm gazing on her so intently.
“Did you sleep in bed with me last night?” she mewls, her lower lip jutting out just a tad.
“Yeah. All night. It was actually rather enjoyable.”
“Oh, I'm honored -” she starts again.
I place one thick finger on her lip and find it quivering again.
“I mean that I rarely, bordering on never, sleep all night in the same bed with a woman.”
“Why not?” she demands immediately, her interest peaking.
My impulse to ignore her inquisition has to be squashed if I want this woman to open herself up to me. And for some reason I haven't quite fathomed, I do.
Want that.
She's crawled under my skin and buried herself there in such a way I can't dig her out. It must be the reason I'm so intent on keeping her with me today. I need to decipher the route she took to ingrain herself so deep inside me. So I can't stop thinking about her and am desperate to see her exceptionally pretty face again, even when she's mere ladder steps away from me.
She's gazing on me with her amazing clear eyes that I now notice go from hazel on the bottom all the way up through the green gradient at the top. And in place of her usual challenging stare, she's curious. Like she's genuinely interested in what makes me tick. Realizing that, I throw up a wall that I have to spend a few moments forcing myself to take back down and let her in.
“I find it – intense,” I admit, trapping her gaze.
“Oh,” she whispers, her lips forming a perfect halo that I want to suck between my own.
But she's considering my confession. Like it actually means something to her beyond some handsome dude with all the money that looks good and picks up all the checks. Women think they're the only ones to be treated like trophies.
“So intense it hurts?” she finally asks, very softly. Her hand is relaxed now, her fingers curling around the edge of my hard index as we sit in the morning sun looking out across the water.
“Yeah, something like that,” I say.
“Hurts so bad you'd do anything to get away from the pain?”
“Usually.”
“And last night?”
“The pain was worth it and in the end I liked it.”
“Oh.”
“I liked it too,” she says on a breathy whisper.
“Enough to do more of the same?”
“You mean the sleeping in the same bed or the controlled orgasms and the punishments?”
“I can't be sure because I'm wandering in uncharted space here, but the two might have to go hand in hand.”
“I'm not much of a woman for being told what to do.”
“I think I noticed that.”
“So why try?”
“The pain is worth it and in the end you'll like it.”
“Okay, I think I'm ready for my lunch now, Sir.”
Chapter FIFTEEN
Jolie
I feel my face stretch as the smile widens. Brand smiles back and places both his heavy hand over mine on the starched tablecloth. He's so easy to be with. And even easier on the eyeballs. I can't stop looking at him, or smiling. Which is not at all what I was expecting and would never have dreamed in a million years, had anyone suggested I'd be here with the man I shouted down in the middle of the street for smashing into my brother's car.
Oh god, I feel my cheeks tingle as the heat rises to them from the memory of yesterday. My harangue at Brand, his very pertinent questions about the shibari art in the gallery, and then, pulling his hand between my thighs to finger me in a public place.
I'm not me. I don’t feel like me at all. In the space of a single night I've become a different person. I don't know who.
Here in the glorious springtime sunshine, I see Brand's face is a little more weathered by maturity than he first appeared in the low light at the gallery and the almost pitch dark of the club. There are small lines at the corners of his eyes, that show how often he wears that wry amused grin. He takes life so chilled it makes me envious.
“Dan will be shipping out in less than twenty four hours,” I say. The thought of my brother taking off flooding into my mind.
“Are you very close to your brother?” Brand asks, knowing exactly who I mean without me ever having named Dan.
The arrogant billionaire is actually way more solicitous than I gave him any credit for and listens to the details of my life more than any man I've ever been with.
I nod my head and bite on my tongue to stop from welling up.
“It's a valiant and courageous thing he does for the love of his country and fellow men. It's also exceptionally difficult for his loved ones left at home to worry about him every single waking moment. In a way you have it more difficult than he does.”
I nod again and bite down on my emotion, amazed that Brand can put into words exactly how I'm feeling. He's named the anger I'm suppressing every damn day because I can't explain it. I don't want it to be my brother fighting and risking his life in some far off foreign country. I don’t want it to be anyone's brother.
“It hurts a lot.”
Brand picks my hand off the table and presses my palm against his lips. He gives me such an intimate kiss, a shiver runs up my spine. I'm almost nervous that I'm going to cry. Partly from sadness partly from happiness. They're all mixing up together.
“Don't run from it,” Brand says.
“Back at you,” I murmur.
“Promise.”
Thank fuck the waitress drops some gorgeous grilled lobster tails and what looks to be the tenderest steaks this side of the Rio Grand. My mouth immediately waters and I can't wait to rip into the food.
“This place is so amazing,” I say as Brand serves me, piling my plate with as much as he wants me to eat.
And for a while I can almost imagine a life like this with Brand. Having him tell me what to wear, what to eat. Being in his company every day, experiencing only the beauty in life. And when ugliness arises, knowing a man like him will be there to take care of it so I won't feel so alone. But I'm going off into fairy tale land that only exists, yeah, in fairy tales.
Because I had that little fantasy once before and it fell away fast as soon as the guy had broken me in to trusting him. Sometimes a woman's caring seems like a game to guys, and even more so with the rich ones. They want to break you apart for the fun challenge but they aren't willing to pick up the pieces and take care of them. But it's a little late now to be having regrets. I may as well get on board for the wild ride and let Brand take care of what he does best – exposing my dirty wanton slut side.
I'm tucking in to the delicious surf and turf and throwing back a delicious French wine that Brand told me the name of and I've already forgotten in my dazed state of blissy enjoyment, when I realize my phone is ringing. Oh god, I'm not that princess that gets to hang all day. Something tells me to dig it out of my bag instead of ignoring it.
“Shit, it's my Boss.”
I slide the call to answer and put on a bright 'hello'.
“Where the fuck are you, Jolie. I've got clients here and all this clear up from last night’s show and Madam is running late?”
Cedric's shouting so loud, I'm sure they can hear him down at the boat dock. I switch the phone to my other ear, furthest from Brand, so at least he won't be aware of how badly I'm treated at my job. Not even to mention the sexual innuendo every day.
“I got into a collision and -” I'm racketing around in my mind thinking of some way to explain all this when Brand reaches over and plucks my phone from my hand before I can object.
“Cedric, hey Dude, it's Brand. I ran into your girl on the way into the office and asked her to come up to my apartment to advise on some new work she convinced me into purchasing last night. I hope I haven't caused you any inconvenience but she's really got her finger on the pulse of what I need.”
My mouth pops open in shock and hysterics. Brand holds the speaker out so I can hear Cedric's reply.
“Dude, not at all. Glad to know she's keeping you satisfied.”
“Perfect, I'll put her back on.”
“I'm so sorry, Cedric,” I grovel “”I should have called you earlier.”
“Um, how many pieces are we talking about here exactly?” he asks, with a hint of suspicion in his tone.
I look over at Brand, sipping the fine wine and looking casually stunning in his perfectly cut suit. He gives me a filthy dimpled grin which I return with the same confidence and an evil little glint.
“It looks like being at least five or six larger works. Maybe a couple for the yacht as well.”
Brand's face lights up in a massive smile when he realizes he's been bested, probably for the first time in his life.
“Yes, I will take very good care of him,” I tell Cedric with my eyes trapped in Brand's stare.
“Is that my punishment for the ticket buying gag?” he says when I get off the phone.
“At least art is an investment. I'll make sure you have nothing but the best.”
“I'd expect nothing less but I thought my return on this morning’s show was the best value I've had in my entire life.”
Can I believe that? It feels so good to hear. When he leans in to take my mouth in his, I put up not a scrap of resistance. I'm having the best time of my life but I'm also in big trouble. Having this much fun and feeling this good tells me I'm falling for Brand good and bad.
Chapter SIXTEEN
Brand
I order a tiramisu, made by the Italian pastry chef at the marina restaurant and a bottle of dessert wine to go with it. Jolie has never tasted dessert wine but her appreciation of all things is instant. Watching her eat is a huge pleasure. Food is sensual and a woman that pushes it around her plate is not a woman I love dining with. Jolie wants everything out of life and I won't be satisfied until what she wants most is me.
We sit late into the afternoon at the marina and when the sun starts to tip down I pick up the check then take her hand to lead her to the dock. She heads toward the yacht but I redirect her, my palm in the small of her back, to the speedboat I keep berthed at this marina
“Is this yours too or are we stealing a getaway vehicle?” she jokes.
She looks so happy and relaxed now, compared to the woman I ran into yesterday. I like to think it's us together bringing about this change.
“I keep it here in case I need
a speedy escape upstate.”
As she steps over the edge onto the boat, my hand slides down over her round ass. So perfectly firm and juicy, my cock starts up with renewed hunger to thrust into her tight hole. I unhook the ropes and toss them into the boat, push off and jump in. The rocking throws her off balance in her new high heels and she falls against my chest. I catch her and crush her to me, squashing her fantastic tits into my rack.
I'm no kid so this isn't my first go-round with instalove but never like this. There's nothing about Jolie I don't find fascinating. She's the most stimulating woman I’ve ever met, in every sense. This is crazy but I don't want to let her out of my sight. Instead of driving around the tip of the island in the sunset, I drive up the Hudson, relishing the sight of Jolie's hair blowing back in the draft and escaping every attempt by her to hold it down.
There are other vessels on the river and every time I hit a wake, I thrust the throttle so we jet off the peak and cruise through the air before slamming back down onto the water. Jolie clutches the edge terrified and laughing every time she's hurled off balance. I cannot resist the beauty of her tits bouncing and jolting in tandem with my drive. The desire to tear them out of their cups has my cock unfurling and pressing at my pants. All I can see is the perfect globes all bound and wrapped in bondage until they're squeezed immobile, the flesh gorging out between the straps.
I stop the boat downtown, tie it off and help Jolie climb out. One little tug on her hand as she comes up onto the pier and she flies into my embrace. I crush her into me, the instant rigid lust in my cock as her tits press into my chest is matched by something else. Some sort of enjoyment I get just from holding her, quite outside of the sensual. Her body is amazing and I want her in every way imaginable but I also just want her.
Is this what people mean by love? The simple pleasure of looking at the beloved, talking to her, walking by her side, being able to rest your fingers on any part of her? No clue, having never done it before. Not truly really deeply. But I haven't even fucked her yet, so how can this be happening to me?
