by May, Linnea
“Oh, yes,” my mother says from the other end of the table. “She’s very diligent. I think she must spend every free minute she has on that piano. Wally told me she usually plays nonstop when she’s here. It’s been good for her.”
“How nice,” Gloria says, without meaning it. “But I’m sure she doesn’t spend every free minute she has on that piano.”
She winks at me and I almost choke on my food as my throat tightens. Everybody at the table saw that weird gesture in my direction. If Gloria is trying to threaten me, I have to admit that she’s successful in this moment. But how on earth would she know.
“What do you mean, dear?” my oblivious mother wants to know.
“Oh, nothing,” Gloria says innocently. “Just saying. She’s a young girl, she’ll have other things on her plate, too.”
My parents both shrug in unison. My father occupies himself by filling my mother’s glass with some more red wine.
“As long as she’s doing a good job for us, that’s none of our concern,” he says.
“Of course,” Gloria agrees. “That’s all we want from her, right, Kingston?”
That fucking bitch. I give her a glare that should make cocksure what I think of her behavior.
Of course, I can’t confront her about it until we’re done with dinner and my parents are out of earshot. I’m filled with impatient rage the entire evening, growling my way through bothersome conversation and trying to hide my anger at Gloria. When we’re finally calling it a night, Gloria tries to leave the house before me, heading for her car and hoping to reach it before I can reach her. She may think that I won’t have the audacity to start an argument in my parents’ driveway, but she couldn’t be more wrong.
“Hold on!” I bark at her as soon as the front door is closed behind me.
Gloria stops mid-pace and turns around to me, her snake-like eyes opened wide, feigning innocence. “Yes?”
“Give us a minute,” I tell her driver, who’s holding the car door open for her.
I grab Gloria by the upper arm and lead her around to the other side of the house, out of earshot of both of our drivers. She resists my violent touch and tries to break free, but stands no chance against me. When I let go of her, she dramatically rubs her upper arm and hisses at me, “What the fuck, Kingston! What –”
“Shut up,” I interrupt her, my voice harsh but hushed, because I want to make sure that this conversation stays between us. “What was that all about tonight? Why those weird remarks about the piano girl? What were you trying to insinuate?”
Gloria’s painted face is illuminated by an oddly bright lantern right next to us, so I can see the grimace she’s pulling all too clearly.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Kingston, I told you I’m not stupid,” she steams. “But you seem to be. You’re fucking her, aren’t you? The little nerd who’s supposed to provide the music at our engagement party.”
It’s hard to tell whether Gloria sounds hurt or annoyed. Knowing her, I’d assume it’s the latter, but she tries to appear hurt for some reason.
“What makes you think that?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes and huffs.
“Please, Kingston. You don’t think I talk to Glen once in a while?” she asks. “He keeps me posted on your little exploits, and he’s been telling me that she was at your place at least three times now. Isn’t that where you draw the line? Fucking three times? You’re done now, right?”
I glare at her, boiling with fury. It never occurred to me that she could have any connection to Glen. He has been working for me for years. I trusted that guy!
“Why the hell do you care?” I ask her, instead of reacting to her accusations. “Why the fuck is this any of your business.”
She frowns at me.
“I’m your fucking fiancée, you idiot. Of course, this is my business,” she says. “I mean, it’s one thing if you run around fucking the occasional bimbo, changing your little fuck toys like towels. But her? And you’re being so careless about it, too! Do you want our parents to find out? You’re risking everything with this! She’s going to be at our engagement party and our wedding! She’s fucking part of it! If word gets out that she’s your mistress, what kind of light does that shed on me?”
Her furious eyes blaze up at me.
“She’s not my mistress,” I object. “You know my rules.”
“Well,” Gloria says, her eyes flickering. “Does that mean you’re done with her? You’d better be.”
I look at her, weighing my options. I’m not done with Elodie, but as much as I hate Gloria, she’s right in this matter. We both made a pact for this. We agreed to get married so that I could secure my future and save my family’s empire from ruin, while Gloria could get her parents off of her back and continue her hedonistic lifestyle while pretending to be my stay-at-home wife and the pretty trophy wife that clings to my arm at formal receptions and festivities. Also, my family’s wealth may trump that of hers, so for her this is a financial and social class ascent.
Both our parents have been on our case to get settled down and neither of us has any interest in doing so. That’s the only thing her and I have in common, though I would argue that my reasons to agree to this mess has more validity. She just wants to continue to be a party girl, while I want to take the place that’s rightfully mine and turn around the mistakes my father and his unworldly associates have implemented. The shipping industry is vastly changing, but he’s not adapting to it at all. If I don’t take over as soon as possible, our companies may take big hits, endangering everything my grandfather worked for. I’ve tried to reason with him for years, but he argues that I’m not to be taken seriously unless I’m settled down as a true patriarch.
How fucking backwards. I have a degree, plenty of experience because I’ve been working at our business for years now, and an entrepreneurial spirit that he and his old buddies lack. But no, I have to put a ring on some pre-selected princess for him to hear me out.
And that alleged princess is now standing before me, her fake lashes fluttering furiously as she awaits my reply.
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her. “I have no interest in putting our arrangement in danger.”
Gloria looks at me, a sudden somberness traveling across her face.
“You need to remember, Kingston, this deal comes with sacrifices,” she says. “We can’t have it all, and we can’t always have what we want.”
I regard her with a skeptical gaze. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing,” Gloria hurries to say, then raising an eyebrow. “Let me just put it this way, Kingston. If you don’t stop fucking that girl, I’ll make sure she gets replaced. I can’t have this kind of risk involved in our little act.”
I shake my head, looking at her through narrow eyes. “Are you threatening me?”
Gloria’s expression changes into a condescending smirk, the ugliest of faces.
“I’m not threatening you, dear Kingston,” she whispers. “I’m just telling you what I’ll deem necessary if this doesn’t stop. Understood?”
That fucking bitch. I clench my fists and remind myself never to hurt a woman in anger. If this was a play session, I’d bend her over and spank the living hell out of her before reminding her of her place by ramming my cock inside her tight pussy.
But this is not what’s happening. She’s not a playmate trying to tease me, but an actual bitch who’s just pissing me off to no end.
Understood? No one has the right to speak to me like this. No one.
I don’t deign her with a reply, but turn around and move toward my car with wide and angry strides.
Chapter XXII
Elodie
“I have a surprise for you,” he says, as we’re riding the elevator up to his place.
He looks at me with a boyish smile, the face of someone who can’t wait to see the reaction of a person he’s about to present with something special and unexpected.
“A surprise?” I ask, getting closer to
him. “What is it?”
“Wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you now, would it?” he replies. “Just wait a few more moments. But you’ll have to wear this.”
He produces a blindfold from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
“Oh,” I say. “Alright.”
He puts the blindfold on me just in time, as the elevator reaches its destination on the uppermost floor. I hear the doors open, but don’t move until he takes me by the arm and leads me inside his apartment. I’ve been here before, but my steps are still careful and shy as he gently pushes me inside the living room area. He positions me, turning me slightly to the left.
It’s still light outside and I can feel the warmth of the sun shining through the panoramic windows blanketing my skin.
“Ready?” he whispers into my ear, and I nod.
My heart is racing with excitement. I have no idea what to expect.
When he removes the blindfold, I’m instantly blinded by the glaring sun and have to lift my hand to throw a shadow over my face.
Then I see it. In the far left corner of his living room, opposite the seating area we’ve played on before, there’s a brand new Steinway Model D grand piano, standing right beneath the window.
He places his hands on my shoulders, standing at my back as he awaits my reaction.
“Oh my God…” I breathe, trying to grasp what this means. This can’t be.
“This… this wasn’t here before,” I utter helplessly.
Kingston chuckles behind me. “No, it wasn’t. Do you like it?”
“Like it?!” I exclaim, turning around to face him. “You did not buy a freaking Model D grand piano for… for me?”
“Well,” he says, raising one eyebrow as he cocks his head to the side. “It’s in my home. But yes, it’s for you to play on.”
“But… but,” I stutter. “I can’t… why did you –”
“So I could watch you play,” he says, smirking at me. “Naked, if possible.”
I stare up at him in disbelief. “W-w-what?”
“Consider this a present for myself just as much as for you,” he explains. “I enjoy watching you play. When I saw you at my parents’ place, it did provoke quite a few images. Things I’d like to see.”
He leans closer, caressing the outline of my jaw with the tip of his finger as he suggests a kiss, our lips barely touching.
“Things I’d like to do to you while you play,” he whispers. “And now, I can.”
I shiver with excitement, leaning in to his kiss, only to have him withdraw from me.
“Play,” he says, nodding toward the piano. “Play something for me.”
“Uh,” I mumble, hesitantly turning around to face the beautiful instrument. “Sure.”
I approach the grand piano with slow and careful steps, as if I was afraid that I could scare it away. It’s the same model that I’ve played on so many times at his parents’ home, but this one is brand new.
“Has it ever been played before?” I ask, as my hand travels along the frame.
“Not that I know of,” he says. “I certainly haven’t.”
I turn around, my hand resting on the fall board. It’s not even lifted up.
“But you told me you took lessons as a kid,” I say. “I’m sure you could play something.”
Kingston shakes his head, a smile appearing on his handsome face as he comes closer.
“That doesn’t mean I want to,” he says. “I enjoy watching you play way more than doing it myself.”
He beckons me to go ahead, and I lift the fall board, exposing the brand new keys underneath. The thought that I’m the first to play this piano is both weirdly frightening and exciting.
“It’s as if I’m taking its virginity,” I joke, as I sit down on the bench and start adjusting it.
Kingston comes to a halt right next to the piano and casts me a mischievous smile. I know that he’s up to something before he opens his mouth to tell me.
“I want you to play naked,” he says. “Get up and let me take care of that.”
I blush and my heart reacts with a silly hiccup to his demand. My eyes wander up to his, searching for affirmation.
“Get up,” he repeats, raising his eyebrows as a warning. “Now.”
I do as I’m told, standing next to the bench a moment later. He nods and steps closer, starting to unbutton my blouse right away. His touch is so warm and gentle, but electric at the same time. He must feel my heart racing beneath the few layers of fabric.
“I like that you’re wearing a skirt today,” he says after removing my blouse and my bra. I’m wearing another ensemble that he sent me a few days ago, an exquisite blouse and a tight-fitting black pencil skirt that ends above my knees. It’s a more elegant and more daring outfit than what I’d usually wear, but I put on these clothes especially for him anyway.
He places his hands on my naked shoulders and gently strokes my skin with his thumbs.
“Look at me,” he says.
I wasn’t even aware that my gaze had lowered again. It’s a reflex that’s hard to fight, even when he tells me to do it.
As soon as my eyes meet his, he pulls me in for a kiss. He’s surprisingly gentle today, not claiming me with the usual force of lust, no biting, no sucking on my lower lip. It would be disappointing if I didn’t know that he’s restraining himself. I can feel it in his hands, clasping on my shoulders with such power that it almost hurts.
I love his kisses, no matter if they’re gentle or demanding. His lips don’t move away from mine, while his hands begin to travel down the side of my arms, fondling my skin and causing me to moan with pleasure. I can feel him hook his thumbs beneath the hem of my skirt and into my pantyhose, and flinch in surprise when he pulls them down in one swift motion, taking my panties with him, so that I’m completely exposed.
He breaks our kiss and when I open my eyes to look up at him, I’m met with the unyielding depth of his.
“Don’t move,” he tells me.
I suggest a nod, my body trembling as he goes down on his knees in front of me, pulling my pantyhose and the skirt all the down to my feet. He nudges me on my ankles and I lift my feet one by one to step out of my clothes. Why am I always the one ending up completely naked before he has taken off even one item of clothing?
His hands trail up along my naked legs, on the outside of my calves until he reaches my knees, and then they move to the inside of my upper thighs.
I yelp when he pinches my sensitive skin, beckoning me to move my feet wider apart, so that he has more leeway.
“Good girl,” he comments when I follow his order, exposing myself to him even more.
His face is right in front of my center, and when he reaches up, spreading my lips apart with his thumbs, I can’t help but sigh with desperate need, mixed with the heat of shame. This is so weird, and so arousing, at the same time. My eyes drift to the side, fixating on the view, watching as the city bustles below, wondering if anyone can see me from one of the other buildings nearby. I doubt it, because the reflection of the sun on the windows must make it close to impossible to see anything that’s going on behind them.
But I can’t be certain of that, and for some reason, this uncertainty only adds to my need.
I hold on to the piano when his tongue meets my wet entrance, drawing circles dangerously close to my most sensitive spot, while he hums with approval. No one has ever gone down on me like this, and I’m thoroughly embarrassed by my own arousal.
“You’re dripping all over me,” he whispers, his mouth still on my lips. “What a naughty girl you are.”
I close my eyes, confused by that toxic mixture of yearning and shame.
Kingston gets back up on his feet, causing me to let out a gasp of relief. He raises one eyebrow, smiling as he shakes his head.
“We’re only getting started,” he announces. “I still want you to play for me, but I will make it a little harder for you.”
I search for an explanation in his dark eyes, but
instead of giving me one, he finally does something I’ve been wanting for a long time. He takes a step back and starts taking off his suit jacket, followed by unbuttoning his shirt underneath.
I throw him a thankful smile.
“You’ll add a sweet distraction,” I presume. “You’re right, that won’t make it easy.”
He shakes his head, but I barely notice because he takes off his shirt in that same moment, exposing his perfectly tanned and toned chest. I’ve never been one to be seduced by looks alone, but Kingston doesn’t just look good. He looks surreal, like a dream come true. His muscles are so defined, they look as if he’s an effigy of a Greek god, carved out to perfection.
“Wow,” I breathe, incapable of coming up with anything more eloquent to say.
He steps closer, and when I lift my hands to touch him, he grabs me by the wrists, once again taking control, even now. I’m not allowed to touch him of my own will, but he guides my hands along the outline of his broad chest, down to his six-pack and the rifts along his pelvic muscles. I’ve never seen, let alone touched, a body like his - and I underestimated the effect it would have on me.
“Reach inside my left pants pocket,” he tells me, pulling me out of my dazed stream of thoughts.
I look up at him, confused and surprised at this command, but he nods, beckoning me to follow through. I do as he wishes and produce something from his pocket that resembles a bullet, about the size of my thumb. It has a smooth surface texture and is pink with a little string attached to it.
“Do you know what this is?” he asks.
I have a suspicion, but am too shy to say it out loud. My voices fails me, and instead of giving him a proper reply, I just smile up at coyly.
“I want you to wear this,” he says, stepping closer and taking the little bullet out of my hands.
He grabs a fistful of my hair and tilts my head back, claiming me with another kiss while his other hand moves back between my legs, parting my lips in one swift move and inserting the bullet inside of me. I’m embarrassed at how easily it slides inside due to my wetness, but he only comments on it with an appreciative hum.
