by Lisa Lace
His mouth explores my neck as he slides down my body and feasts on my nipples, now hard as rocks. I arch my back at the tingling sensations that jolt into my body from his teeth. His hand cups my pussy and presses into it, his palm circling perfectly. I feel an orgasm building. My fingers fumble with the buttons on his shirt. By the time I am successful at pulling his shirt open, my hips are moving back and forth on his hand as his fingers slide into me. He fingers me slowly at first. He picks up speed, his mouth on mine, his tongue inside, and his cock begging to be released. He has me on the edge. My breathing is harder, heavier, and my body is aching for him to be inside me.
“Elise,” he says in a growl, his face buried in the crook of my neck.
“Yes?” I say breathlessly.
“Are you protected?”
His question throws me off, and I hesitate to answer. When he leans away from me and looks at me, I shake my head. I want to tell him there has been no reason for it. I want to explain I’m not one to sleep around, but he hardly gives me the chance to say anything at all.
He sits up quickly, pushes himself down to the foot of the bed and pushes my legs apart. Before I can beg him to fuck me, his mouth is on my pussy, and his tongue is doing things to me I never thought possible. With his fingers sliding back inside me, moving to the rhythm of his tongue sliding around my clit, I can do nothing but grip the blanket underneath me. My orgasm rears up and slams into me hard and fast. A moan comes from the depths of my soul. My body shudders uncontrollably, and I feel my muscles tighten until he stops and sits up, looking at me with satisfaction.
He stares at me without trying to satisfy himself. I feel an awkwardness between us. I fumble to get up and crawl toward him, my hands cascading down his chest toward his cock. He snickers as I rub him through his pants, trying to unbuckle his belt.
“You’re not cooperating,” I tease, trying to push him backward. “Let me satisfy you.”
He reluctantly leans back on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows and watches me unbuckle his belt. I pull it from the loops of his pants and slide it around my neck. I look up at him as my fingers unbutton his pants. I slide the zipper down very slowly as I bite my lower lip playfully. His eyes are fixed on my face as I pull him out of his pants and begin to stroke him. I watch him until his eyes close and his head falls back, a sigh resounding from his lips. Moving to the floor, I sit on my knees and scooch myself closer until I am leaning against the side. I lick the tip of his cock, trying to remember how to do this without acting like a novice. I slide my mouth over him, coating the sides of his cock with my tongue as I push myself down on it. When it touches the back of my mouth, a gagging sensation overwhelms me. But I hold my breath and suck my cheeks in as I pull my mouth off him.
He moans and pushes his groin toward me, so I repeat the same motions a few times until he is thrusting himself up to me over and over. I keep my lips tight against him as he fucks my mouth. His speed picks up. I wrap my hand around the base of him, stroking him until he fills my mouth with everything he has. I drink him down until he stops moving and his body is exhausted with satisfaction.
I lay next to him, my body curling around his. I love the feel of him against me as he regulates his breathing.
“That was incredible,” he says, sitting up and turning toward me. “Would you like to go home or stay the night? I can take you home this evening or arrange for my driver to have you home by the morning.”
“Oh.” I feel awkward having to answer. We aren’t dating, and I didn’t expect to see him again. The way the evening has gone, I didn’t think he was expecting to see me again either, unless it is on a professional level.
“I would take you home in the morning, but I have to be at the office very early.”
“Whatever is easiest for you. I don’t want to impose.”
He touches my cheek. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
He adjusts himself and pulls his pants back together before his hands reach out to me. He cups my face, and he kisses me so tenderly that it leaves me speechless. I watch him climb off the bed and walk out of the room with his shirt in his hand.
Rory
Elise leaves early the next morning before Grace or Alice are up. It’s been a long time since I’ve spent the night with a woman. I feel ten years younger when I kiss her at the door and watch her wearing last night’s clothes as she walks toward the town car that I’d called for her.
I’m feeling good. Margot’s false paternity claims have been ousted. There’s no denying that Grace is my daughter, and Elise is someone I definitely want to get to know better. I’m confident things are on the upward turn. Hopefully, the meeting with Bill today will only confirm I have nothing to worry about now that Margot’s lies have been brought to light.
I meet Bill in the boardroom where we last discussed the case.
When I arrive, he’s already sitting at the long shiny wooden table, a bundle of paperwork spread out in front of him. Half of the papers are marked with coffee stains; the rest are crumpled. I remind myself he’s the best in the business and focus on his flawless track record.
“Bill.” I hold out a hand. “Good to see you again. How have things landed now the that true paternity results are in?”
He lets out a low sound halfway between a moan and a grunt. “Not where we wanted.”
“What does that mean?”
“She’s been questioned, but someone else at the center is taking the blame for the botched results. They can’t prove it wasn’t an honest mistake.”
My vision goes black for a second. “Are you kidding me?”
“I’m not a criminal lawyer, Mr. Everest. I can’t argue with the findings, only use what I’m given. In this case, the police have decided there’s not enough for charges.”
“Fuck that. Margot knew exactly what she was doing. It’s the only reason she dared start this custody battle in the first place. She thought she had the upper hand.” I sit down and wave a hand dismissively in the air. “She didn’t get what she wanted, anyway. It’s obvious her version of the DNA results were a fix. I am Grace’s biological father. I’ll be honest, Bill. I was half expecting to come in here and learn she’d dropped the case after her scam fell through.”
“You and me both. Unfortunately, that’s not the case.”
I frown. “Enlighten me.”
“Margot is still going forward with the case. She’s putting forward the argument that you’re an unfit father.”
“On what grounds?”
Bill lists off on his fingers. “Addiction, work schedule, domestic violence.”
“Domestic violence…” I scowl. “We never lived together. There was never any violence, but even if she wanted to throw the accusation around, we were friends with benefits. That’s all. There was nothing domestic about it.”
“The court is going to want to hear her case anyway. All we can do is fight the accusation with evidence of our own.”
“Like the fact I’ve never laid a finger on Grace in her life?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a joke.”
“You don’t have a great reputation in the press, Mr. Everest. There are videos of you fighting journalists on YouTube. It doesn’t show you in the best light.”
“I fight journalists to keep them away from my daughter.” I slam my fist down on the table. “I want those videos taken down. Get whoever the right damn lawyer it is to threaten legal action against anyone who won’t take down those videos. I want the internet scoured for anything that gives Margot’s ridiculous claims any weight.”
“Of course. We’ll work on that.” Bill shuffles some papers. “The work schedule issue is a tough one. Margot works nine to five, four days a week. She has a husband to share her care duties with. You, on the other hand, work around the clock.”
“I’ll quit. Jesus Christ, Bill, I’ll fold the whole company if it means Grace stays with me. I’ll be a full-time, stay at home dad singing nursery rhymes and baking ca
kes. Whatever I need to be.”
“I’ll be sure to pass that on.”
“Are you taking this seriously?” I rest my weight on the tabletop, feeling all the life draining out of me. I thought this battle was over.
“I’m working day and night, Mr. Everest. I promise you. If I seem to underreact, you must remember I’ve seen everything under the sun. Your case, although high-level, is by no means unusual. People try to screw each other over all the time, and custody is just one way they do it. It doesn’t surprise me what lengths people will go to anymore. Rest assured, I’m on your side. I’ve come across the likes of Margot before.”
“She’s after the child support.”
“Most likely, yes.”
“Why would they give Grace to Margot? I provide for her here. She has everything she needs.”
“The courts will look at the best interests of the child,” Bill advises. He sits patiently, his hands folded atop the crumpled paperwork. “That extends beyond financial concerns. The point of child support is that the child never goes without. As Grace’s father, you’ll be responsible for providing for her financially whether you’re granted physical custody or not. The courts will be looking at what will be best for her emotionally and mentally.”
“Emotionally and mentally…How about keeping her with the father who’s raised her for seven years, rather than handing her over to the mother she’s never met?”
“The courts will take that into account,” he tells me. “You have been Grace’s main caregiver for seven years.”
“Her only caregiver. Where was Margot?”
“That’s going to be central to our own case. The courts will ask the same question.”
“And she’ll come up with some bullshit story about how I was a crazed heroin addict who scared the life out of her.”
“And we’ll respond with evidence of why it’s all a lie.” Bill gestures around. “This is not the empire of a crazed heroin addict. Although,” he pauses, “a voluntary drug test would go a long way to proving your sobriety. I’d recommend once weekly, to prove you are recovered.”
“In recovery,” I correct. I fiddle with the sobriety chip in my pocket. “There’s no such thing as ‘cured.’”
“For the purposes of this custody battle, I wouldn’t argue semantics, Mr. Everest. ‘Recovered’ is the word I’d use. Leave no doubt in their mind that drugs and alcohol are not going to feature in Grace’s home.”
“Fine. I’ll take the tests. Every day, if they want. Put cameras in my house. I don’t care. Whatever I need to do to prove I’m on the straight and narrow and the best person to raise Grace.”
“We’ll gather character witnesses, too. From Grace’s nanny, of course, and anyone else who might comment on your capabilities as a father.”
Who would say anything good about me?
“I don’t have a huge fanbase. Those who know me, know me as a businessman, not a father. They’re two distinct personas.” I put my head in my hand. “I’m facing trial by media here. I’m the bad guy—the papers say so. I’d like to see what would be said about Margot if she got trailed by a journalist. You should have seen her back in the day, Bill. She had so many track marks, she looked like an Etch-a-Sketch.”
“Even so, Margot looks good on paper. She has no convictions—regardless of whether she did use drugs or not, it’s not on record—and she has a stable, two-parent home to offer with a flexible work schedule. She’s presenting a wholesome picture, and the accusations she’s throwing against you to justify her absence for so long won’t be completely unbelievable to a judge. As you say, you’re facing trial by media. The press has not been your friend. You have a reputation.”
“And what the hell am I meant to do about that?”
Bill raises his hands. “This situation is all about what it looks like. Show a softer side, Mr. Everest. Hell, if you had a wife, it wouldn’t go amiss. Anything to make the life you can offer Grace seem as ordinary and wholesome as the life Margot can give her.”
Elise
I’m waiting for the bus at the stop near Cedar Manor. I have just turned the volume back on after visiting my mom when my cell rings, and I see Rory’s name come up on the screen. Excitement rises in my chest. I push the button to answer, bringing the phone up to my ear.
“Hey.” I can’t keep the pleasure out of my voice.
“Hi Elise,” he says.
“How are you?” I ask, and he clears his throat.
“As well as can be expected. And you?” His response is stiff, formal—typical Rory, I’ve come to find.
“Good.”
“I was wondering… Would you like to come over for coffee?” Of course, we’re not going out for coffee—his beans are worth more than a month of coffee dates.
“Sure!” Immediately, I wonder if coffee is something more. I hope it is.
“Great. Does twelve thirty work?” he asks. “Then Grace will be at school.” I smile. That definitely sounds good.
“Absolutely.”
“See you then.” I can hear the smile in his voice when he says it. I can’t help but grin myself.
“See you soon,” I promise, ending the call. When I check, the bus is just down the road. I bite my lip. It can’t come fast enough. I’ll have to get home and change before I head over. Ever since the other night, I’ve not been able to stop thinking about him. I’ve gone to sleep on Dayna’s sofa each night with a smile on my face. My night with the billionaire was the night of my life.
And he wants to see me again.
At twelve twenty-six, I walk up the steps to Rory’s front door. I had stopped by Dayna’s to shower and then get dressed. The result is I’m now wearing a pair of fitted jeans that make my ass look great, and a floral blouse I know flatters my figure but won’t look like I’m trying too hard. I fixed my hair into a half-up-half-down style. I’d then splurged on an Uber so that I wouldn’t have to wait for the agonizingly slow bus.
Rory answers the door dressed casually himself, for a change. He’s wearing a pair of beige pants and a white T-shirt that shows off his athletic figure. I want to rip it off right away, but I control myself.
“Hi. I was glad to hear from you.”
He kisses me on the cheek, then steps back to let me into the house. “I don’t know who else I can talk to.”
“Is something wrong?”
“It’s just this whole custody thing.” He offers a tired smile. “Believe it or not, I don’t have too many close friends to talk to.”
“I’m here. Tell me about it.” I follow Rory into his living room and set my purse down on the floor. I was hoping to have another passionate encounter with Rory, but right now, he clearly needs a friend. I settle in and prepare to listen.
“Margot’s not quitting.”
“Really? Even after the whole fake DNA thing?”
“Somebody else took the fall for that. They’re claiming it was an honest mistake and whichever idiots interviewed her are buying it. Apparently, they haven’t got enough to prove intention. I don’t know what more proof they need. She might as well have written those results in crayon on a sheet of pink paper for how legitimate they were.”
“She’s going ahead with the fight, then.” I bite down on my lip. “Do you think there’s a chance she genuinely wants Grace back in her life?”
“Is this how you’d go about it? She could have sent a letter, called, talked to me. She’s jumped straight into a custody battle. She wouldn’t even know what Grace looked like if she passed her in the street. Do you think she’s had a sudden surge of maternal instinct?”
“It doesn’t sound likely.”
“It doesn’t matter what a load of bullshit it is, the courts are prepared to hear her out. And for some reason, despite the fact I’ve raised Grace with love and care, I’m the one having to defend myself.”
My face creases in sympathy. “It’s not fair.”
“Margot has forged this whole perfect little life. She’s got this little sub
urban dream all laid out. A happy husband and wife with a three-bedroom house and backyard. All that’s missing is a child. Bill—my lawyer—thinks she’s painting a pretty picture that the courts are going to buy.”
“And the seven years she wasn’t there?”
“She’s claiming abuse. She was scared to fight back.”
I pause. “And was there…abuse?”
Rory looks wounded; not angry—hurt. “Of course not.”
“I believe you.”
He sits down beside me on the sofa, shaking his head slowly. “I know I’m an asshole a lot of the time, but I never thought it could come back to bite me like this. Who I am when I’m Grace’s father is different from who I am in the boardroom. People think I’m a tyrant. It’s been splashed across the media, and now I have to explain myself to a judge. I have to explain that this guy, who seems ruthless, irrational, and short-tempered, is the best person to raise a little girl.” He puts his head in his hand. “I’ve let my temper come through too much at work, and now everybody thinks that’s who I am.” He lets out a defeated sigh. “It’s not who I am.”
I lay my hand on his knee. “I know.”
“The lawyer says it’s all about what it looks like. Margot looks like someone who’s got her shit together, and I look like a guy who reduces journalists to tears.”
“What does your lawyer advise?”
“Nothing I can act on. He says I should portray my softer side, cultivate an environment that looks wholesome to a judge. He suggests I get a wife.” Rory laughs scornfully. “I need to look the part.”
“A wife? Why?”
“Margot has a husband now. She works short hours, and when she’s not there, this guy will be home. It shows that Grace won’t be neglected. She’ll be emotionally fulfilled. Something like that. I’m a single workaholic. When she’s not with me, she’s with a nanny. It looks cold.”
