by Paige North
She nods, not speaking and I can see that I’ve thrown her. She watches me with wide eyes. I know I was abrupt but opening up about my family is not what this agreement is about.
I don’t want to talk about my family and she doesn’t need to know the ugly shit about them anyway.
How did we even get on this subject?
It’s irritating, and I feel like somehow it’s Jordyn’s fault that I feel this way.
She doesn’t need to know how I feel—feelings only complicate things, and I need this to stay a clean business transaction.
I’m angry with myself for telling her that baseball story. I won’t let myself open up to her again. It’s better that way. Safer.
Jordyn
I’m wrapped up in my short robe, having eaten dinner alone in the massive kitchen. The food is incredible, like top-star dining, but it’s also lonely eating by myself.
Lonely and rather depressing, especially when I’ve begun to feel that Miles got what he wanted out of me already and might be wishing he hadn’t signed me up for this entire month.
After the weird conversation in the sauna the night before last, I’ve hardly seen or spoken to him. Last night I ate by myself too.
Miles got home late and then went straight to his office here at the penthouse.
Tonight, after my dinner and then a long soak in the tub, I decide to go looking for him. He was so abrupt in his leaving that day—I assume he was uncomfortable talking about his family.
I get that.
I’m not always thrilled to talk to my brother and all of his troubles.
But I want to make sure Miles is okay, since I’ve hardly seen him in a couple of days, and also to find out the details of the baseball game I’m supposed to accompany him to, which is tomorrow.
Assuming I’m still even expected to go with him.
I hope he’s not already finished with me. But even though I know he’s not my boyfriend or anything like that, I don’t understand how we could be so incredibly intimate one moment and then Miles could just ignore me the next.
Was it really just sex, just a release and nothing more?
His office is dark, the lights dim. The black of the chairs and leather couch on the side add to the effect.
And there he is, working as always.
I have to admit he looks incredibly hot even though he’s only wearing a T-shirt.
“Hey there,” I say, walking hesitantly into the office. He glances up at me, his eye flicking over my legs and up to my chest. When his eyes catch mine, he looks away, back at his work. I take a chance and go around to the side of his desk and lean back on it. “Getting a lot of work done?” I say, trying to sound casual.
“Yes,” he says without looking at me.
“Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks, his voice cool and indifferent.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I haven’t seen much of you in the last couple of days. Wasn’t sure if it was because it got a little intense in the sauna the other day, talking about family stuff.”
“Jordyn?” he says, turning to me with a stern look at his face. “Don’t talk about my family. Not to me. Not to anyone. No questions. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” I say, a little startled at the intensity of his reprimand.
But I still want him to understand where I’m coming from. “Sorry, it’s just…I understand tough family situations. I mean, you wouldn’t believe the crap my brother has done. When your own mother has to call the cops on your brother because he’s shooting up in your house, you sort of lose the right to judge, you know?”
I’m hoping my small admission will help alleviate some of Miles’s defenses about his own family.
But he just watches me, a hard look in his eyes that I can’t identify.
He turns in his chair to face me, and I see he’s wearing blue striped pajama pants. Somehow, he’s able to make even this look sexy. “Did you need something else from me, Jordyn?” he asks.
I shake my head no. “That was it,” I mutter. I should leave, let him get back to work. I guess I’ve said too much and he clearly thinks I’m an idiot.
But he’s got me pinned to the spot with just his eyes. “I think you do,” he says. “I think you need something else.”
He stands from his chair and steps before me. My heart is already racing.
“You come in here in this little robe and tell me you don’t need anything from me?”
“I…I just wanted to see you. Make sure you’re okay.”
“Do I look okay?” he asks.
My eyes travel down the length of his strong, lean body. I nod my head yes, feeling my heart flutter. “Yeah…Yes.”
“Take that robe off,” he demands. “I want to see what’s beneath.”
This is unexpected but definitely not unwanted. In point of fact, it’s a relief to realize he does still want me, is still attracted to me.
I’m already feeling hot, the walls of my pussy clenching at the thought of what Miles might do to my body. What he’s already doing to me.
I untie the silky robe and let it fall back on the desk behind me. I’m wearing something from my closet. A silky two piece, shorts and a spaghetti strapped top.
Miles doesn’t waste much time. He takes his shirt off, mussing up his perfect hair in the process, making himself look even sexier. I reach out for him, touching the warm skin and feeling his hard muscles.
“Yes,” Miles says, his eyes raking over my body. “You definitely want something more from me.”
He steps closer and takes me in a kiss. It’s a mad kiss, needy, like he’s searching for something within me.
I give it back to him, always ready to give any part of my body to him. My hands roam over the curve of his shoulders and down the back of his solid arms. Miles pushes my legs open and steps into my space, pulling my body close so that I can feel the hard-on in his pants, always ready for me.
I wrap my arms around his waist to get closer, needing more.
Miles reaches over and grabs his laptop, yanking it out of the charger and tosses the computer on his chair. He turns his attention back to me, raising my arms over my head so that he can take my top off.
My nipples are hard, eager for his mouth, and I push my chest up, begging him to take me. He runs his hands over my tits before dipping his head down and taking my nipple in his mouth, making me cry with relief. I hold his head close to my chest, wanting to give him more, take more of me, to not stop. He sucks at my tit while kneading my other breast and turning my entire body to fire.
Miles pushes me back so that I’m laying down the long length of his desk, my legs hanging off the end at my knees. He runs his hands over my stomach as I writhe over the (probably) very important papers that litter his desk. He kisses my stomach, runs his tongue lower, pulling my shorts down just enough so that he can kiss just above my pelvis. With sudden force he yanks my shorts and panties off in one quick motion.
“God, Jordyn,” he says, taking me in. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
He pulls my knees up so that my heels are on the edge of the desk, my cunt spread open before him once again. I’m no longer embarrassed being so exposed, because I know that whatever he does to my pussy will send me soaring.
Miles bends down and I sink into heaven when his velvet tongue slips over my aching cunt. He places his hand on my stomach to keep me from totally fucking his face, so I hold on to the edges of the desk. I am absolutely throbbing, and his tongue on me only makes me crazier.
He’s licking all up and down me, pausing to flick the tip of his tongue over my clit, making me pant out like an animal. He sucks on my clit and then darts his tongue in and out of my hole. He doesn’t spend too much time in any one place, his mouth is so eager to taste all of me, feel all the parts of me, and it sends my mind reeling.
He stands back up suddenly. “I gotta fuck you, Jordyn,” he grunts. I raise my head to look at him, the sight of
him shucking down his pants makes me wild with want.
In one quick motion he slips his dick into me, stretching my walls and making me cry out. He pumps me once, hard, shoving the whole of his dick up inside me. With my legs still bent he’s holding me by the tops of my thighs, his fingers digging in to keep me in place as he pulls back and punches into me again. His face is a contortion of emotions, of lust and need and something else, something he’s trying to hide.
He fucks me hard, faster now, stretching my walls with powerful thrusts beyond what I thought my limit was, the slight pain gone completely and replaced with more pleasure than I’ve ever felt.
Miles is slamming into me, faster and faster until he leans over, one hand on the desk and gives it to me as hard as he can as I widen my legs even more, wanting more. His dick is just angling across my clit and it sends me crazy, and both of us break over at the same time, crying out, coming together.
Miles hovers over me, arms on either side of me. He watches me, both of us trying to catch our breath. He suddenly leans down and kisses me deeply, stroking my face as he does. When he pulls back there is such softness in his eyes, but he quickly looks away. He begins to get dressed.
I peel myself off his desk and get myself dressed.
“Well, sorry about the interruption,” I say jokingly. “I really did come to ask about tomorrow. The time, and all that.”
“Right,” Miles says, his laptop back on his desk as he clicks through files. His face is flush and his eyes are heavy, but he’s pretending as if that did not just happen. “We’ll leave here around six. May not stay the whole game. I really just want to put in an appearance. You should dress nice but sporty. It is a game after all. I think there’s a Yankees shirt in your closet that you can find something to pair with.”
“Okay, thanks,” I say, feeling awkward. He won’t look at me except in glances. I get the feeling he wants me to go now. I’m sure he just has a lot of work to do. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow evening, then.”
“Sure thing,” he says.
I walk toward the doorway, feeling confused. I’m sure I’m just overthinking everything. Miles is a busy guy. He’s got a lot on his plate. I’m here to make things easier for him, not more complicated. And bonus—I’ll play over the events of the second half of the day for weeks to come. The things he does to my body, and the way he makes me feel are beyond anything I’ve ever known. Now if my brain could just stop overanalyzing...
“Jordyn?” he calls just before I walk out the door. I turn to face him.
“Yeah?”
“Tomorrow is going to be fun.”
I can’t help but smile. It’s like he knew I needed that little reassurance. He even smiles back at me before returning to his work.
Yep. I’m definitely overthinking it.
For the game the next night I find a white pleated skirt and a fitted Yankees T-shirt. When I fix my hair in long curls and do my makeup, I’m pretty sure I look sporty but appropriate for a corporate suite.
When I slip into the car with Miles, he seems pleased and immediately puts his hand on my bare thigh. As we drive up Park Avenue I say, “Oh, shoot. I forgot a jacket. I’m going to get cold.”
He grins. “The suite is heated, Jordyn. And I’ll buy you a jacket if that’s not enough.”
I lean close and kiss him. “Thank you.”
So this is what it’s like being someone’s arm candy, I think. Strangely enough I don’t totally hate it as much as I would have thought.
I sit back in the seat and take his hand as he watches the buildings pass outside. Soon enough he shifts, his hand slipping out of mine. I try not to take it personally, but I wonder.
At the stadium we’re taken to a private entrance and up an elevator with an attendant, who personally shows us to the suite. I don’t see any hot dogs here, but there’s platters of fresh sushi, Kobe sliders and a full bar and bartender. The suite extends outside but is also covered and yep, it’s nice and warm inside.
Soon after we arrive, the suite begins to fill up with a dizzying number of Croft International big wigs and their spouses. Everyone is at least ten years older than me and I try not to shift uncomfortably in my little pleated skirt. It passed the Miles test so I shouldn’t worry too much, but the other women have worn smart dresses or crisp white jeans with blue blazers and heels.
Miles is talking easily to everyone. I stand by him and am introduced simply. (“Roger, Amelia, this is Jordyn.”) Once someone remarks that it’s about time Miles brought along a pretty girl. “He’s always alone, and so serious!”
I’m one of the wives, Ashley, getting food (on real china) when she asks me, “So how did you manage to get that man to unwind a little?”
We both turn to look at Miles.
He looks relaxed, smiling as he talks. He’s holding a beer and keeping a casual watch on the game. He turns to look at me now and then, and when he catches Ashley and me looking at him I blush and Ashley starts laughing.
“Miles, we were just talking about you!” she says, obviously comfortable with chiding him.
But despite the evening starting off well, soon after Miles’ conversations with Roger and the others seem to turn serious, while the wives—who all know each other well—huddle together and talk about their kids.
They drink white wine and vodka sodas and seem to forget I’m there.
Despite the great food, what I really want is a hot dog. Just a plain stadium dog.
I go to Miles, who is deep in conversation. “Hey, sorry,” I say to get his attention. He looks up at me, and so do the others. “Um, I’m just going to step out for a sec,” I say.
“Yeah, sure,” he says, then goes back to his conversation.
Okay, maybe being arm candy isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
I can’t decide.
I go back down the elevator and through the turnstile we came through and wind my way down the lower level where the real people are, buying hot dogs and foamy beers and soft pretzels.
I find a dog and get extra mustard. It’s not as good as I remember, but maybe that’s because I’m just standing alone by the hat store eating it. I feel rushed to get back up to the suite so Miles doesn’t miss me.
But there’s a problem.
When I get back to the turnstile for the elevators to the suite, I realize Miles has my ticket. I also realize I don’t have my phone on me and even if I did I don’t know his number because he never gave it to me. So what the hell am I supposed to do?
“Excuse me,” I say to the woman who is scanning tickets. “I forgot my ticket. I’m upstairs in the Croft suite?”
“What’s the suite number and I can call?” she says.
“I don’t remember.”
“Need to know the number,” she says. “I don’t have them listed by owners.”
I feel stupid. Stranded and stupid. I wait, hoping Miles will miraculously show up. I walk around, watching the game from the normal-people seats. I even walk out enough to try to get a view up of the suite. I can just make out Miles and the others watching the game but there’s no way he’d see me. It’s not until a good forty-five minutes later, as I’m wandering around by the turnstile, that he finally comes down.
“Where the hell have you been?” he says in a lowered but angry voice.
“I went to get a hot dog,” I say stupidly.
“Did you not see all the food we have up there?” he says. “Why did it take you so long? What are you doing?”
“You have my ticket,” I say, the feeling coming back that I had at lunch when he basically scolded me in public. “And I don't have my phone on me.”
He hands both our tickets to the lady, who scans them and lets us through.
“You need to take this more seriously, Jordyn,” he mutters.
“And you don’t have to keep me on such a short leash,” I say.
He stops, pulling me off to the side. “What do you think you’re doing here? Working. You should be making nice with th
e other wives instead of wandering around the stadium. Jesus, Jordyn, we’ve got the nicest place here and all you want to do is leave?”
“That’s not it,” I say. “Besides, everyone is ignoring me. It took you almost an hour to even notice I was gone.” I wonder if he even did notice, or if someone else asked about me.
“Can we just get back upstairs before they start talking?”
Because I guess that’s what matters—what they think.
Tonight was supposed to be fun. Miles had even said so himself. I’d thought he was excited about the game but it was just a corporate meeting in a different setting.
Back at the penthouse later, he gives me a curt goodnight and heads to his room alone. I sit on my big, plush bed, looking out at the city and try not to cry.
Miles
I try to keep my distance from Jordyn but it’s not easy.
When we’re out at functions I find myself reaching for her hand to hold, or resting my hand on her thigh or around her shoulders.
It’s always right at the moment I feel settled, content, when a satisfied little smile creeps up on my face that I realize what I’ve done, and I pull away. I can’t be close to her in that way. My father taught me that being emotional is the same as being weak. I have to keep the relationship clean by giving her what she wants—money—and take what I need, which is the illusion of becoming a family man.
And maybe one day soon I’ll even marry her, but strictly as a business transaction.
Emotions have no place in this arrangement.
I take Jordyn on several more business dates. I try to be strong but sometimes I forget myself. Sometimes I allow myself to follow Jordyn on a path to temporary happiness.
One afternoon after a lunch at the Pierre Hotel she convinces me to take a stroll through the park to see the fall colors. I know I should go straight back to the office but instead I let her take my hand as she leads us across the street and into Central Park.
“Only for a moment,” I tell her.
Lunch went great, I have to admit. Maybe that’s why I’m in such a good mood and willing to make an exception.
