I take her face in my hands. “Of course. It’s perfect. Every second was perfect.”
“I feel so different.”
“Do you?”
“I didn’t think I would, but…it was so much better than I thought.” She laughs, a soft, lighthearted sound that I feel in my bones. I have to laugh with her, because it was. It was so much better than anything, ever.
I stroke her hair back and kiss her nose. Her oily skin glows like velvet in the amber light.
“I’m sorry for what I said,” she says. “It just…came out.”
“No, it didn’t.”
Her eyes get round. “No, really. It was the heat of the moment. You have to believe me. Please.”
“Okay. I do.” Even though I don’t. Even though she doesn’t either.
I’ve fucked a lot of women. A few loved me, most didn’t. And I’ve never, ever felt something that felt so much like love. Not the typical, jealous kind that turns to boredom after a year. Just utterly fucking real.
I kiss down her body to her gorgeous swollen pussy. “Sore, baby?” I ask, parting her legs gently.
“A little.”
A little. My brave Grace.
I rub my face over her hips and thighs, smelling her beauty, covering myself with our juices. Then I kiss between her legs, her pink puffy lips and her clit. I lick her softly, tasting everything. Her blood, her come, my come. So intimate and primal. I clean her with long rasps of my tongue, and when her breath turns to panting and she’s gripping my scalp, I make her come again. She screams her pleasure, and then she cries out my name. Bram. Bram. Again and again. The sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.
Wrapping my arms all the way around her body, I hold her hips in my fingers. I hold her until the last spasms subside, and then I turn my face away.
Fuck, how I wish she’d tell me the truth. Why won’t she? I’ve broken her down to nothing. Pure feeling. Now is the time.
I wait for her to say something, but she doesn’t. And I don’t tell her my secrets, either.
Maybe we can live with them, just like this. They never have to get in the way. She’ll pretend and I’ll pretend, and our perfect life will go on just like it is.
Or maybe our secrets will come out and destroy us, and all we’ll have left is this beautiful memory.
Bram
For two straight days, we fuck.
We fuck in every room of the house, in every position, every time of day. I wake her up in the middle of the night to fuck. She straddles my lap to fuck me at the breakfast table. We come, we eat, we sleep, we come some more.
I tie her up. Spank her. Flog her, but only after she flogs me. I make her call me Sir. And even after days of fucking and coming and bleeding for each other, it’s still only the beginning. There’s so much more to do.
I can hardly drag myself away from her to go to work. She’s warm and sleepy, an auburn-haired kitten curled up in the warm spot I left behind. I kiss her forehead and her cheek, and she sleeps on. My good girl, fucked to exhaustion.
I drive to the Signet offices in Larchmont and spend the morning consulting on an expansion in Jordan. It’s fascinating work, or it should be. My thoughts are wrapped up in Grace.
She isn’t the only one who’s grown used to our arrangement. Caring for her is my security. I’d made peace with fleeting relationships and an empty house, until her. It became my addiction to rise every morning with a purpose, a woman-child waiting for my arrival, her whole life controlled by mine.
Grace gives me a purpose and a reason for being that are bigger than me or my company. I’m not bored or cynical anymore. I’m alive again.
Halfway through the day, Miriam Peck asks me to come into her office. I expect a luxuriously appointed space with custom furniture and a view over the countryside, but it’s a simple utilitarian room piled high with papers and with windows overlooking the parking lot. The scratched furniture looks like it hasn’t been replaced since the 80’s.
She must see the surprise in my face, because she says, “I started in this office when I was a typist fifty years ago. I keep it because I’m used to it. My uncle told me I’d never be more than a secretary at Phantom. Firing him twenty years later was my best day at this job.”
I smile. She doesn’t.
Damnit, I like Miriam Peck. She’s hard as hell on the surface, and I know why. No woman makes it to her position by tiptoeing around people’s feelings.
“How’s Grace?” she asks.
“She’s amazing, thanks,” I say.
“This whole missing person thing isn’t going to pop up again, is it?”
“No,” I say. “As I said in my email, it was all a misunderstanding.”
“I’ve had misunderstandings in my life, but none of them have ever been on the news. Take a seat.”
I grab a battered metal chair and sit. Arms folded, Miriam leans on the corner of her desk.
“I want you to move to Germany,” she says.
It takes me a second to process her words. “Excuse me?”
She gives me a look that says, at least try to keep up. This isn’t the Miriam from my birthday lunch, it’s the businesswoman who’s frustrated me at every turn for months on end. “You know that’s our main office in Europe.”
“Yup.”
“We’re more dependent on our German division than ever with all the crap going on in the Middle East. I need somebody I trust to oversee things.”
I appreciate that I have her trust – Christ knows it took long enough to earn. But what I don’t have is a signed merger. “We’ll talk about it once the deal’s gone through.”
Her sharp eyes scour across my face. “I thought I just spelled it out, but I guess I was too subtle. You agree to go to Germany, the merger goes through.”
I sit in silence. I frankly admire her willingness to go for the throat. She may be eighty-three and a woman, but she’s got balls to rival most men I know.
The subject of working in a foreign headquarters came up six weeks ago over dinner, and I liked the idea. I didn’t tell Miriam because I keep my thoughts close to the vest, but I was ready to do it. A merger, a new country, a new life.
But something happened between then and now. Grace.
I almost laugh. How ironic. I took control of her, and lost control of myself.
After Indira, I made a promise to myself. No woman would ever neuter me. I wouldn’t change, please, or give in. I’d always be who I am.
And so far, I have been. But what’s happening right now makes me nervous. This is the top of the slippery slope.
And it isn’t even Grace who wants to change me. It’s myself.
I love Coral and Fritz, but deep down I could never understand them. Fritz has his bar and his security position at my company, and Coral’s planning to stay home with her son. They’re buying their first house. They spend weekends decorating the baby’s room and going to the farmer’s market.
And I fucking envy them. Every time I see Coral, I wonder what Grace would look like with my child growing inside her. I want to hold her hand in public. I want to protect her.
Six weeks ago, Phantom meant everything to me. I was obsessed with smashing smaller companies and winning huge contracts from foreign governments. I was a knowledgeable bastard and I liked proving it in interviews and on television. I wiled away my non-existent free time by collecting weapons and screwing everything that moved.
But now, my only obsession is Grace. Possessing her, fucking her, being worthy of her. Everything else feels so small, and so fleeting.
Including the merger. Including Miriam. Which makes being straight that much easier.
“I have something a little different in mind,” I say.
She doesn’t even blink. “Like Cairo? If you’ve got the backbone for it, we have offices there, too.”
I grin. “No, not like Cairo. Like, we agree to the merger with no preconditions.”
Just my size and demeanor are usually enough to make people back off, but not with Miriam
. She’s deflected too much shit in her life. She’s been insulted, underpaid, and probably had her ass grabbed a hundred times. She’s got a hide of stone.
“We’ve been negotiating about what?” I say. “Seven months? Give or take a few years?”
She shrugs. “It’s been a while.”
“You’re a direct woman, so I’ll be direct with you. We do this or we don’t. I understand we both have to give up something, but one thing I won’t give up is my freedom.”
She chuckles. “Freedom? You younger people get so emotional. This isn’t about your feelings, Bram. It’s about what’s best for our companies. Yours and mine.”
“Freedom isn’t an emotion,” I tell her. “It’s a hard limit. I decide where I go and what position I take.”
I see a half-second of surprise in her eyes before she snuffs it out. She’s not about to give me an advantage. She sniffs and purses her lips. “I’ll think about it.”
“With all due respect, there’s nothing to think about. If I decide to go overseas, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, we need to wrap this up.”
“Wrap it up?”
I get to my feet. Maybe I should have told her. Few men are as patient as I am, but few are as done when that patience runs out.
“We’ve gone through this not once but twice. The first time you pulled out because of the trial, and I understood. Since then, we’ve been through countless meetings and dinners. I’ve consulted on plans and projects for Signet, and I was happy to do it.” I’m a little too close to angry, and I pause to force it down. “Look, I know letting go of control is a big deal. It is for me, too. Maybe we’re alike in that way. I’m glad we are. I can only hope to be as strong and successful as you’ve been.”
A tiny smile, a tiny chink in her veneer. “You flatter me, Bram.”
“It’s the truth. You’re as close as I’ve ever had to a mentor.”
She waves her hand. “I’ll tell you what the truth is. I’m a stubborn old woman and this company is my life. It’s that simple.”
“I’m a stubborn young man and my company is my life,” I say. “At least it was.”
She’s too smart to miss what I’m saying. “That’s how it should be. Don’t fuck it up with her, Bram.”
“I won’t,” I say.
She stares at me so long I start to sweat. Finally, she sighs. “All right. Give me ten days to wrap things up. It’s not just the merger, you know. I have to announce my retirement and leave this place, and those aren’t things I want to do.”
“I know,” I say. “I get it.”
“No,” she says. “You don’t get it now, but someday you will.”
I drive back to my office in a state of disbelief. She cracked. I stuck with it, and I outlasted her. I can’t wait to tell Grace. I want her to be proud of me.
And one day, I want her to feel this way, too. I want her to have the joy she deserves.
I gave her a weekend crash course in business between eating good food and fucking, and now I want her to fly free. It would be better for her to fail with the party than depend on me. That’s the best lesson no one ever taught me. Rely on yourself and you’ll succeed. Succeed or drown.
It sounds like tough love, but I’ve never given her anything less. My toughness, and my love.
When I get home, I tell her all about my day. I try to keep my excitement under wraps, but she sees it anyway. She sees beyond the suit to who I really am, which is a runt kid who wasn’t supposed to make it but just did. Made it a long time ago, actually, but couldn’t let himself feel it.
Grace sits on my lap and wraps her arms around my neck. She wants to know everything – what I said, what Miriam said, how I felt. It’s that beautiful trait of hers, vicarious happiness. My joy is hers, and she makes me feel it.
Once I ask how her day went, sweet questions start pouring from her mouth. She wants to know my thoughts on this fabric and that hors d’oeuvres, and I love it. I love it too much.
Two weeks ago, this was all I wanted. To be her everything. For her to need me. Not just for food and human interaction, but this. I didn’t want her to breathe without thinking of me.
And now I have that. But for her own sake, I need to give it back to her.
“I’ll leave you to your work this week,” I say. “I’ll trust you to plan the event on your own.”
There’s a shadow of rejection in her eyes. “What if I have questions?”
“Research the answers and make a decision. You’re smart, Grace. You don’t need me.”
“But this is your party.”
“And I’m paying you to plan it.”
Flushing, she puts on a confidence she doesn’t feel. “Of course. I just want to make sure you get what you want, that’s all.”
She won’t look me in the eye. I cup her jaw and turn her face toward me. “Look. I know the last three weeks have been crazy. But you won’t know how strong you are until you break free of me. Until you fly, or fall.”
“It feels a little like, I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Punishment.”
“Not at all,” I say. “This week is a chance to stand on your own two feet.”
“I guess I’m not a prisoner anymore.”
I stroke her flushed cheek. “You never were.”
“I felt like I was,” she says, squirming on my lap.
“I think you liked feeling that way.”
She gives me a shy little look. “Maybe. Once or twice.”
I squeeze her tight against me. “I liked it, too.”
I kiss the delicate place just in front of her ear while pinching her nipple hard. Gasping, she bites her lip.
“I’ve been gentle with you so far,” I say. “Are you ready for rough?”
Her gaze is alluring, with a beautiful undercurrent of fear. “It depends on what rough means.”
I unwrap her arms from around my neck and put them behind her back. “Let’s find out.”
Pulling off my tie, I wrap it around her wrists. “I think that sore little pussy’s ready to get fucked again, don’t you? You’ve gone without cock all day long.”
She answers by kissing me, a soft, eager kiss that makes my dick curve toward the ceiling. Desire roars in my blood. The restraint I had when she was a virgin is gone.
Pushing the chair back, I pick her up in my arms like a tiny doll and head upstairs with her.
She may stand on her own two feet this week, but she won’t forget that she’s mine.
Grace
When we get to the bedroom, Bram strips me naked. He lays me on the bed with my tied hands above my head, and enters my wet pussy hard and fast. He isn’t patient or gentle. He fucks me so hard my teeth rattle.
“Not a virgin girl anymore, are you?” he growls. “Now you’re a woman.”
Hands around my throat, he captures my mouth and devours it. His hips are like pistons. He’s a human version of the fucking machines I’ve seen online, but never thought were real.
This isn’t the man who took my virginity. This is the man who already owns it, and now wants the rest of me.
He tightens his hands over my windpipe until blood fills my head and my bound hands clutch his. “Trust me,” he says, eyes close to mine. “I’ve got you.”
“Do you?” I whisper.
His gaze fills with tenderness, and I relax. “Always.”
Later, after he comes in my mouth and pussy and makes me come while he fucks me from behind, the Bram I know returns. He’s warm and kind and funny, and I’m not afraid of him anymore. Even though I liked it when I was.
“You have a lot of experience,” I say, snuggling again him. “I can tell.”
“Can you?” he says.
“Definitely.”
“You weren’t sure before but after tonight you are?”
“Uh huh,” I say. “How many women have you fucked anyway?”
“Ten. Maybe twenty. Thirty?” He gives me such a sweet, boyish smile, I can’t help but laugh.
“Judging fro
m the numbers I saw, it was a lot more than that.”
“That was a bad month. Or a good one, depending on how you look at it.”
“Any virgins?”
He gives me a smirk. “We’ve talked about this. I lost my virgin virginity with my beautiful Grace.”
Blushing, I bury my face in his chest. “Stop it.”
He kisses the top of my head. “It’s true. You’re my first and last. I swear on my life.”
I wrap my arms around him and squeeze hard. “You had some big parties. There was one night when it looked like a hundred people came over.”
“It was two-hundred, but who’s counting? That was the last time Fritz and I threw a party. The debauchery lasted all weekend and I was bored to death.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
I smile up at him. “I couldn’t believe some of the costumes I saw. Like something from an old-fashioned ball.”
“I like to throw parties where inhibitions get checked at the door. For four or five hours, the only thing people do is live.”
“I didn’t watch it all, but there was another one – wait. This weird costume. I’ll show you.”
I scramble out of bed and skip to the TV. “You don’t have to,” Bram says. “I’m sure I’ll remember.”
“Hang on. It’ll only take two seconds.”
I flip through the case until I find the right disc. At least I think it is. As soon as I put it in, I’ll know.
I push it into the DVD player and stand back with the remote in my hand.
“Come back to bed,” Bram says.
“I will. It’s coming up right now.”
“Grace.” I hear him get up. “I mean it.”
“I won’t get jealous, I promise,” I say, fast-forwarding the disc. “Even if you did fuck fifty sluts that year.” I giggle.
“Ha ha,” he says. “Give me the remote.” He tries to take it from me but I snatch my hand away.
“Grace.” His face is stern. Pretend-stern, I hope. If not, it’s because he’s afraid I’ll pout.
“You’re right,” I say, pressing play. “It was silly to get jealous when you didn’t even know me then. Well, you knew me, but you thought I was evil incarnate.”
Breaking Grace Page 22
