The big black Benz finally pulled up to the curb and I all but jumped into the back seat, telling the driver to hurry. I wanted nothing more than to lock myself into my comfy hotel suite and be alone with my thoughts for the night. I needed to think this shit over and figure out what my next move would be. As the car rolled on down the road to the hotel, several worries poked their heads up.
What if this compromised the sale?
What if word got out that I had behaved unprofessionally with a client? Especially since most of my clients were men. Married men. I already had to deal with the dirty, suspicious looks some of the wives gave me when I went out for business dinners with their husbands. Obviously, I had never, ever even considered doing anything untoward. I was a professional, through and through, and I was not about to put my career in jeopardy for a fling with some paunchy, grouchy, middle-aged millionaire.
But Bruin was not a paunchy, grouchy, middle-aged millionaire.
He was a sexy, snarky, thirty-year-old billionaire. He was drop-dead gorgeous and I could tell just from the way he kissed me that he knew exactly how to work a woman’s body. Exactly how to play me like an instrument. He had certainly gotten a lot of practice. Bruin had been a player all his life. Jeff used to tell me all the time about how Bruin was bringing home a different girl every night in college, then kicking them out the next morning so he could move on to another unsuspecting target. That alone should have made me less intrigued by him. He was a womanizer, a serial love ‘em and leave ‘em type. But God, nothing I could tell myself made me any less fascinated by him. Turned on by him.
Except for one thing.
If Jeff found out that anything had happened between us, there’d be hell to pay. From both of us. Jeff looked after me like a personal bodyguard, constantly reassuring me that if anyone ever messed with me, he wouldn’t hesitate to make them regret it. Luckily, I knew how to compose myself, how to behave in such a way that my clients usually treated me with respect. I dressed conservatively, kept the conversations rigidly focused on business. I never shared personal information. Apart from a firm, no-nonsense handshake, I never even made any sort of physical contact with my clients. They knew not to try me.
Well, most of them did. There had been exactly three occasions in which a client tried to hit on me or insinuate something unprofessional. Once, when I was still in my first few months of the job, I had a client from France who asked me to meet him at a bar down the street from the docks. Being young and naive and eager to make the sale, I agreed. After all, my male colleagues were constantly going out to bars and posh clubs with their clients to schmooze. Why couldn’t I do the same? So I met him there and did my best to talk business. I spoke Spanish and French fluently, so I was more than capable of holding my own. But the man chose to speak English, apparently not aware that I could perfectly understand French. I had thought the meeting was going well at first. He bought us a few rounds of drinks and I was feeling buzzed but in the zone. The client seemed very interested in what I was selling.
Until he took a phone call from a friend right at the table in French. He blatantly told his friend on the phone that I was young and pretty and that after a few more drinks at the bar I would be more than willing to fuck him. Naturally, I could understand every word he said, so I stood up and walked out of the bar without so much as a word. The man ran after me but I turned and told him off in French. Later that night, Jeff called the guy and warned him that if he ever even so much as breathed in my direction again, Jeff would cut his balls off.
I never heard from the guy again. And the other two times weren’t as bad. Just touchy-feely clients who kept stroking my hand or putting their arms around me. I backed away quickly and rerouted the conversation back to business. I kept my cool and made the sales, even though I felt so grossed out by them. That was the job. And I was damn good at it, too.
But with Bruin, it was totally different. This was a guy I did want to sleep with. I had wanted that for years and years. And now to find out that he seemed to want the same thing? Well, it was going to be one hell of a rollercoaster trying to stick to business.
When I got back to my hotel room, I ordered a sandwich and a dry martini from room service, then stripped down and got into a hot bubble bath. I needed to melt the day away. I had ignored several calls from Jeff, and I knew eventually I would have to call him back and reassure him that everything was okay, but not right now.
I was only about thirty minutes into my bath when there was a knock at my hotel room door. I sat up and looked around, confused. The clock on my phone said 8:37 p.m. Who the hell would be here this late?
I figured it was a maid or someone bringing me more towels. Or perhaps room service had the wrong door number.
I called out, “No thank you.”
But there was no reply. Just another hard knock at the door. Annoyed, I got out of the bath, quickly toweled off, and put on a silky robe to go answer the door. I opened it just a crack and the person on the other side shoved the door wide open, barging into the room before I could say a single word. He quickly shut the door behind him and grabbed my face, kissing me.
It was Bruin.
There was fire flashing in his beautiful blue eyes, his strong arms wrapping around me, holding me captive while he kissed me, hard. His tongue pushed into my mouth and I moaned, feeling my body go weak. His hands roamed down my neck, my arms. He walked me backwards against the wall, then took my wrists and pinned them above my head with one hand. His other hand trailed down to cup and caress my breasts through the thin fabric of the silk robe. I gasped as his fingers stroked over my nipples. He rolled the stiffened peaks between his thumb and forefinger, sending spirals of intense pleasure down through my body. He pressed himself against me, his cock hard and long against my hip.
“Bruin, what are you doing?” I managed to whisper.
“Taking what I want,” he answered, his voice rough and low. I could feel myself getting wet, slicker by the second. Every cell of my body burned for him. Begged him to touch me.
“We-we can’t do this,” I gasped as he began to kiss my neck.
I let out a little yelp as his teeth grazed my skin. I arched into him and he slid a hand down between my thighs, cupping my mound through the robe. I pushed against him, my body giving in without a fight even as my logical side shouted at me to stop this before it went any further.
“We can do whatever the hell we want,” Bruin replied gruffly, sucking my neck as he pushed my robe open and ran one finger along my slick pussy. I cried out and closed my eyes, rolling my hips toward him.
“What about the deal?” I asked breathlessly. “I’m here on business. For Jeff.”
“Let’s not talk about your brother right now,” he growled, grinding his hard shaft against me as he teased my clit with the tip of his finger. I was on fire, trembling already.
“Bruin,” I hissed. “I-I have a job to do.”
“So do I,” he said. “I’m doing it now.”
“No, not this—”
“Listen,” he said suddenly, pulling back just enough to look down at me, his eyes flashing. “If you agree to spend a week with me on Mirabella, I’ll close the deal. No strings attached. Jeff gets his yacht, you get your cut, and I get what I want.”
“And what is that?” I breathed.
“You,” he growled, sliding two fingers inside my dripping pussy.
I cried out and bucked my hips against him, my eyes rolling back in my head. He kissed me, swallowing my moans as he fucked me with his fingers, pumping in and out. I hadn’t had anyone inside me in years. I was so tight, so wet. My body ached for him, for a release.
“Oh fuck,” I mumbled. “Oh God. Bruin.”
“So fucking tight,” he whispered, his breath hot and ticklish on my neck. “Just like I always imagined you’d be.”
Like he’d always imagined? All this time that I lusted after him, fantasized about him, he wanted me, too? For how long? All these questions rushed through my h
ead, mingling with the waves of powerful pleasure Bruin wracked through me. He stroked that deep, dark, delicious spot inside me. The part that nobody had ever touched before. I was losing control, my whole body shaking. Bruin held me up against the wall as I started to go limp, my climax quickly approaching.
“Fuck,” I murmured, my heart pounding. It had been so fucking long.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, Jillian?” he asked softly.
“Yes. Oh God, it feels so good,” I whimpered. I was so close.
“You want to come,” he murmured, his teeth grazing the shell of my ear. I shivered.
“Yes. Yes. Fuck, Bruin. I want it.”
And all at once, he stopped. He pulled away, my climax interrupted as I struggled to stay on my feet. I stared at him with wide, confused eyes. Why did he stop? What happened? I wanted to drop to my knees and beg him to touch me again, to make me come the way I knew he could. But instead he merely smirked, raising his fingers to his mouth to suck my sweet juices off. He looked pleased with himself, but that flash of danger still lit up his blue eyes.
“If you want that deal, if you want to spend those seven days with me onboard, you have one chance. Tomorrow, show up before push-off, or the deal is moot,” he said, his voice rough.
“What?” I asked, still reeling from disappointment.
“Nine in the morning,” he said, and with that, he walked out of the room and left me standing breathless and alone, my body still shaking.
“Damn it,” I swore. I knew I had no choice. He had me right where he wanted me.
Thirteen
Bruin
My teeth nipped at her neck as she squirmed in my grasp in bed, my strong hands guiding her around as she kicked at the sheets and let her hands feel my body. My name was on her lips every few seconds, a hot, breathy gasp that made me harder with every syllable. I worked my stiff cock toward her slick lips and sank into her, pinning her wrists to her sides as my every sense went wild, overwhelmed with her. She was sweeter than anyone I’d ever tasted, and the piercing gasp she cried out as I penetrated her was enough to bring me to my knees.
I groaned at the sound of my alarm going off, early in the morning. As usual, the sun wasn’t up yet, and as if on reflex, I rolled out of bed, preparing myself to get my running outfit on and get that out of the way as I watched the sunrise.
But when I stood up, I realized I had an erection so stiff I might as well have been inside Jillian already. I ran my hand through my tousled, bedhead hair and groaned. The thought of Jillian really wasn’t cutting me any breaks. I went to the bathroom to splash cold water in my face while I waited for my erection to lessen, but it was taking its damn time, and my whole body was keyed up.
I gave some serious thought to skipping my morning routine and instead spending some time in the shower, massaging my cock at full mast until I could release myself in the steaming-hot water.
But with the prospect of seeing Jillian in person today, I wasn’t going to let that happen. I kept my body disciplined, obedient to my will, even when it wanted something more than it had wanted anything in a long, long time.
So I slipped into my shorts and tank top, jogged one last time around my usual beachside path, watched the stunning Florida sunrise kiss my body with morning light, got back to the yacht, and showered off.
I didn’t care about being overly professional, this time. Once I was out of the shower, I dressed myself in deep blue jeans, brown dock shoes, and a tight-fitting white henley, all top-of-the-line designer brands from my last visit to Milan.
All I had to do now was wait, and the morning routine was good for keeping my mind from getting agitated. Because if there was one thing that had frustrated my younger self more than anything in the world, it was waiting around. I could have paced around the yacht like a caged animal if I’d wanted to, easily.
But that wasn’t me anymore. That was a younger man. I was experienced with my body and my mind, and I knew how to handle both.
And if I had my way, I’d be handling Jillian’s before the day was over.
After I was dressed and had put on a spray of Italian cologne, keeping up the theme, I headed to the dining room, where Miguel already had a mug of fine Jamaican coffee brewing for me. It was a brand I’d gotten a taste for during a two-week stay on the island a few years back, and starting each day with the smell of it still brought me back to that drop of paradise in the Caribbean. The mug Miguel had by the machine was handmade in the same place, too.
“Big day, Mr. Kincaid?” Miguel asked as he poured a mug for me, glancing at my outfit. He’d worked for me long enough that he could tell when I was out to have a good time.
“Something like that,” I answered. “But one way or another, we’re going along with the preparations I ordered last night. I assume everything is ready to go?”
“Just waiting on your orders, Mr. Kincaid,” Miguel said with a smile and a nod as he poured my coffee and set it on the rich wooden bar for me to take when I was ready. For anyone else, he’d offer a wide selection of creamers and such that I kept on hand for guests, but he knew I took my coffee black.
“Good,” I said. “And the arrangements for the course I charted?”
“All settled,” he replied with a broad smile. “There’s not a port in the Caribbean that doesn’t like seeing your name show up, Mr. Kincaid. And on a more personal note, I have to say, what you’ve got planned out is a cruise even I’d be jealous of, and I’ve been between the islands most of my life.”
“High praise,” I commented with a laugh, “I’ll make sure you have enough time to enjoy it, too. Expect me to be preoccupied most of the time.”
“I believe it, you’re in high demand,” he added as he poured himself a coffee after I gave him a nod to do so.
“By the way,” I explained. “Rhett’s staying at my place in Santa Barbara, since I’ll be gone longer than I expected. He’s doing me a solid by keeping an eye on everything, so if he calls and needs anything, it’s okay to patch him through to me.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for Mr. Anderson’s name,” Miguel said.
I knocked on the bar with my knuckles and gave him a nod. “Good man. Keep me posted and stay ready for my signal.”
“Aye-aye, sir,” Miguel answered, and I made my way out onto the deck.
Drinking in the humid air was almost as good as the steaming coffee in my cup. I strode across the vast deck of the ship and leaned against the railing, letting my eyes scan the marina. I checked my watch.
It was a few minutes to nine.
For the first time this morning, despite all my discipline, I felt my stomach turn. Ultimately, despite everything I’d gotten ready, it all hinged on whether or not Jillian was going to listen to her heart and do what we both knew we wanted.
I was going out on a limb, making all the last-minute preparations for that insane offer I made her last night. I said it like it was nothing, but I had to move around business meetings and burn a few clients.
Personally, I didn’t care, though. They were a drop in the bucket compared to what the payoff could be.
I glanced at my watch again and saw it hit the hour. I took a long drink of the nearly scalding coffee, and when I lowered the mug, I saw her.
My jaw nearly dropped.
If she showed up, I had been expecting her to be wearing something beachy, maybe even a wide-brimmed hat to hide herself as she came to see me. But no, Jillian was making her way down the marina in a black cocktail dress that exposed her shoulders and black pumps that gave her a stride that turned heads.
And if the sight of her wasn’t turning heads, the sound of her massive suitcase rolling along the wooden planks was.
A cocky smile emerged on her face, and I made sure those green eyes of hers got a look at it before I pulled out my radio.
“We’re about good to go. Pull anchor,” I ordered.
“Yes, sir,” the captain replied, and I finished off my coffee and made my way down to meet Jillian.
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br /> By the time she rolled her way up to the yacht, I was leaning over the side of it, smiling smugly over at her.
She stopped in her tracks and gave me a hard look that was full of so many feelings. Nothing but desire could have brought her here, but she looked up at me with defiance, anxiety, and so much more.
“Good morning, trouble,” I greeted her. “Got your things packed?”
“If I step on this boat,” she started. I could tell she had rehearsed this little speech all morning. “Then Bruin, we need to be really clear. You will sell this boat, and no matter what, Jeff can never find out we did this.”
I slowly strode down and stepped off the boat to stand over her, looking down to that face that I wanted to kiss so badly.
“We have a skeleton crew,” I said in a low tone. “And as far as my records show, you don’t exist on board. On paper, you’re still on land for the next seven days, far away from me.”
She didn’t respond or nod. She just stared up into me, letting that storm of a gaze brew under long eyelashes. “Seven days?”
“Seven days.”
She took a breath, and finally spoke. “Okay.”
A smile spread across my face, and I took her by the hand while waving for one of the crew members nearby to grab her bag.
“Well then, Miss Hargrove,” I said, leading her onto the ship while keeping our gaze locked. “Let’s get to business.”
I had her exactly where I wanted her.
Fourteen
Jillian
This morning, when I’d first awakened I was still in a daze. My alarm went off just before dawn, and I crawled out of bed feeling like a zombie. I had opened up my suitcase and rifled through it, wondering what in the world I had packed that I could possibly wear on a seven-day impromptu cruise. A pleasure cruise, that little voice in the back of my mind whispered. A secret cruise I was not supposed to be going on.
Double Mountain Trouble: A MFM Menage Romance Page 24
