As I headed east on Forty-Fifth Street, Ari filled my mind. My body ached for him—his arms, his lips, his tongue, and most of all, his glorious cock. My longing ate away at me. Pessimism persisted. With every step, I was growing more and more positive I’d never see him again.
As I got to the end of the block, a car honked loudly behind me. I turned my head to see what the commotion was about. Rolling up to me was a midnight blue Bentley convertible. A beyond handsome man, wearing a white visor with a T-shirt and expensive-looking wraparound sunglasses, was at the wheel. Holy shit!
“Get in,” he ordered.
“I can’t,” I stammered, marching up Eighth Avenue.
The Bentley trailed me.
“Get your sweet ass in the car, NOW,” barked the driver.
He pulled up to the curb beside me and opened the car door. Torn between stepping into the car and running away as fast and far away as I could, I opted for the former, against my better judgment.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked after slamming the heavy car door closed and fastening my seat belt.
Ari peeled away from the curb. “It’s a surprise. Ben agreed you should come along.”
Ben? I guess I’d made a positive impression on him. Ha-ha. Score more points for me. I held back a smug smile.
“We’ll be spending the weekend.”
Huh? I jolted as Ari picked up speed. I was spending the weekend with this god and his son? I hadn’t even spent a night with him! In fact, I hardly knew him.
Ari glanced my way. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I muttered.
Truthfully, I was already regretting getting into the car. A flurry of worries swarmed me. I had no clue where he was taking me. I had nothing to wear. I should be looking for a second job. I was freaking out about spending the rest of weekend with him. And there was this…who was going to take care of the poor cat? Maybe Mrs. Blumberg could.
“Open the glove compartment,” Ari ordered, shaking me out of my mental madness.
I did as he asked and unlatched it. Inside, along with a Bentley Continental GTC manual, was a white visor like his and a pair of black Ray-Bans.
“Those are for you. You’ll need them.”
I slipped them on. Ari shot me that dazzling, dimpled smile.
As we zoomed uptown and the wind whipped against my face, I began to relax and look forward to my adventure. My guilt and angst succumbed to the joy of being with him. It felt good. So good. At least for now.
We were no longer going to be strangers on a train.
CHAPTER 15
Ari
Oh, yeah. I had her where I wanted her.
She was in my car.
Strapped in a seatbelt.
She protested once. Okay, twice.
I told her to shut up.
She did.
I then asked her if she was wearing panties.
She was.
Not for long.
A victorious smile curved my lips.
It was going to be a stellar weekend.
My cock twitched.
End of.
CHAPTER 16
Sarah
I’d never been in a convertible before, let alone a Bentley. I was loving every minute of it. As Ari zoomed uptown along traffic-free Park Avenue, my ponytail whipped across my face. My eyes darted from the sun-lit skyscrapers to the car’s rich leather and veneer interior, and then over to Ari’s gorgeous but unreadable profile.
“So, come on, tell me where we’re going,” I begged him. We were getting close to his apartment.
“If I tell you, will you play with my Pac-Man?”
While it was way too early in the morning for one of his sexual innuendos, my eyes roamed down his beautiful body and I instantly flushed at the sight of the big bulge between his legs. Tingles rushed to my pussy.
“Sure,” I stammered. “But not in front of your son.”
Ari broke into a smile. “Southampton. I have a house there.”
Southampton was the summer playground of New York’s elite. It figured that he would have a second residence there. My stomach bunched up with nerves. Two questions pummeled my head: 1. What was I going to wear? (I didn’t exactly come packed for a weekend at the beach), and 2. Where was I going to sleep?
I put my mental ramblings on hold when Ari’s stately Park Avenue apartment building came into view. His adorable son Ben was already standing under the awning, holding the handle of a small roller bag in one hand and the toy train I’d given him in the other. Dressed in khaki shorts, an oversized Spiderman T-shirt, and a New York Yankees baseball cap, he waved to us as we pulled up.
“Isn’t Luisa coming?” I asked Ari.
“No, I’ve given her the rest of the holiday weekend off. Olga and her husband Vadim will be waiting for us at the Hamptons house.”
More of Ari’s staff.
The doorman helped Ben put his bag into the trunk, and then the little boy hopped over the rear window into the backseat.
“Buckle up, buddy,” Ari said.
“Sarah, it’s so cool you’re coming with us,” replied his obedient son.
Ari chimed in before I had a chance to utter a word. “Yes, it is so cool she can come.”
I jerked my head in his direction, raising an eyebrow. What did he mean by that? While his vision remained focused straight ahead, he was well aware my eyes were on him. The corner of his mouth again curled into a wicked grin that sent a pang of desire to my core.
We spent the next two and a half hours cruising along the Long Island Expressway and later Sunrise Highway at eighty miles an hour, listening to music that Ari had programmed for the trip, which included selections by Frank Sinatra, Bob Marley, and James Taylor. I liked Ari’s taste in music; it wasn’t that heavy metal stuff or annoying rap crap that so many guys listened to. It was mellow, mature, and soulful.
There wasn’t much traffic as most New Yorkers had left yesterday to get an early start on the three-day Memorial Day weekend. The sound of the wind whipping against the car and the loud music made conversation virtually impossible. Fortunately for me, the combination had a calming effect, allowing me the bliss of mindlessness, instead of my normal stream of worries. Ben quietly played games on his iPad, which I learned was a birthday present from his father, while Ari stayed focused on the road. I glanced over to him occasionally, admiring his tanned biceps and the way the wind ruffled his golden hair. I had to resist the urge to run my fingers through the silky, glistening strands. God, he was gorgeous.
We finally exited the highway and began traveling down a more rustic road. After twenty or so minutes and several turns, the unmistakable smell of the salty ocean mingled with the fresh, fragrant country air. We passed a sign that read “Welcome to Southampton,” and a few turns later we were cruising down an oceanfront road lined with mansion after mansion. We soon pulled up to a massive electronic gate that opened like the wings of a butterfly after Ari hit a button on his elaborate dashboard. Ben shouted out, “Yay! We’re here!”
Upon entering the property, the car traversed a long, pebble driveway that wound past pastures of grass, beds of roses, and other wildflowers. Finally, we pulled up to a rambling two-story gray shingle house with wraparound white terraces. Despite its grand size, it wasn’t at all pretentious.
A big-boned woman with high Slavic cheekbones and a man who resembled Charles Bronson in his heyday instantly came out the front door to greet us. They both looked as if they were straight out of Central Casting for Russian secret service agents. The woman was clad in a black maid’s uniform that was identical to Luisa’s, and the man wore tight black jeans with a T-shirt that exposed his body-builder physique. Ben jumped out of the car to hug the woman and high-five the menacing looking man. They must be Olga and Vadim. The Southampton staff.
Ari hopped out of the car and opened my door before I had the chance. My Trainman was always the gentleman. He then unlatched the trunk of the Bentley as Olga and Vadim promptly joined him.
Ari handed Vadim the luggage, which included a pink overnight bag with tan leather trimmings. Mine?
With his hand pressed on my lower back, Ari ushered me inside the house while an excited Ben skipped ahead of us. The lodging was quite the opposite of Ari’s intimidating, formal Park Avenue apartment. It was the kind of place that, after a long day of sun, you could curl up with a good book and relax. White slipcovered seating arrangements were scattered on bleached hardwood floors, and nautical-themed paintings lined the all-white walls. Everything was connected by accents of blue. The color of the ocean. The color of Ari’s eyes.
“Saarah, Olga will show you to the guesthouse.”
So, that’s where I would be sleeping. In my own room. In my own bed. In my own house. Detached from him.
“Please put on a bathing suit,” he ordered. “That’s all you’ll need. We’ll be going to the beach following lunch.”
So, he had packed a bathing suit for me. A bikini or a one-piece? And what other things would I find in my bag?
As I followed the housekeeper through French doors out to the back of the property, my eyes took in my surroundings. An endless emerald green lawn surrounded a large rectangular swimming pool that shimmered a soft blue in the sunshine, and to the right was a tennis court. I had seen pictures of houses like this but had never in my life thought I’d actually step foot in one. Let alone be staying in one.
Ahead, to the left, was a shingled house, similar in spirit to the architecture of the main house. I assumed this was the guesthouse as Olga led me down a shrub-lined path. As we got closer, my eyes popped. It was bigger than the house I grew up in. Way bigger!
She opened the front door, and I took my overnight bag from her. “Thank you, Olga. I can handle it from here.”
Olga smiled at me, her first sign of warmth. In her heavy Russian accent, she paid me a compliment of sorts. “It eez very nice to finally meet a girlfriend of Mr. Golden.”
Well, I wasn’t exactly his girlfriend, but I took her words to mean that Ari had never brought a woman here before. Well, at least since his ex. It took away the chill of having to stay in the guesthouse alone.
The interior of the guesthouse mirrored that of the main house with a cozy array of slipcovered furniture, flea market finds, and quirky paintings. Outsider art, I was sure. I was beginning to discover there was another side to Ari Golden. One that was warm, unpretentious, and creative.
The best part of the guesthouse was its breathtaking view of the ocean. From the living room, I could see waves crashing up against the white sand. The sound was exhilarating and soothing at the same time.
I found the bedroom easily. It was simple and charming, consisting of a bleached wood sleigh bed and white wicker furnishings that included a rocking chair. I plopped myself and the overnight bag on the bed’s plump white duvet. It felt delicious, and for a split-second, I wondered what it would be like to make love to Ari here.
Before unpacking the bag, I tried calling my mother on my cell phone. No answer. I anxiously assured myself that she was just taking a stroll down a hospital corridor, something she enjoyed doing; I’d try again later. Putting my cell phone back into my messenger bag, I unzipped the pink overnight case. Inside was an assortment of brand new, high-end designer stuff, once again from Bergdorf’s. I unpacked everything. Two string bikinis, shorts, several fine cotton tees, skinny white jeans, a couple of floral sundresses, strappy platform sandals, and a pair of sparkly flip flops. Nothing too formal. And not a stitch of underwear.
After putting everything away, I shed my skirt and combat boots—and said farewell to my panties—then slipped on one of the bikinis. Having worn athletic, one-piece bathing suits my whole life, I was not used to having so much skin exposed. I might as well have been wearing nothing. Maybe that’s what Ari was aiming for. I fought back the urge to cover myself with a T-shirt or one of the sundresses, but knew that wouldn’t sit well with him. Sliding my feet into the flip-flops, I headed back to the main house.
To my surprise, Ari had another guest. His stunning, redheaded twin, Gwen. Her face was buried in the Sunday New York Times, but she looked up when I took my seat at the kitchen island where lunch was spread out. The temperature in the room suddenly dropped ten degrees, and I could feel goosebumps popping along my arms. I suddenly wished I’d put on a T-shirt. Make that a ski jacket.
“Well, hello, Sarah.” Her voice was icy, and the way she said my name was hurried and harsh, so unlike the sultry, breathy way Ari said it.
“Hi,” I squeaked, already intimidated by her.
She ran her eyes up and down my body. “You have very fair skin. You know, you can get burnt. I know lots of women who have.”
Her words got under my skin. I knew what she was implying. That her brother Ari went through women like matches. Lighting them up and throwing them away. Her new scare tactic. Well, two could play at this game.
“I’ll use protection.”
She smirked. “I’ll be watching you.”
“Sarah, do you wanna play Frisbee with us after lunch?”
The sound of Ben’s sweet voice saved me from having to say anything further to Ari’s snide sister. Clad in colorful swim trunks and holding a red Frisbee, the little boy hoisted himself onto a stool and grabbed a sandwich.
“Sure.” I shot him a smile under Gwen’s watchful eyes. She then went back to reading her New York Times.
“I’m looking forward to playing with you, Saarah,” came a deep, sultry voice.
I twisted my almost naked torso around, my breasts almost falling out of the skimpy top. Ari. Dressed in khaki shorts, his golden skin tight around his bare sculpted chest and washboard abs. There was a glimmer of mischief in his blue eyes as they surveyed my bikini-clad body. A shiver rippled through me, leaving me hungry for something other than lunch.
After helping himself to a sandwich, he strode over to a pantry and returned holding a tube of SPF 50 suntan lotion. He squirted some on my back and began slathering it in circles across my shoulder blades, then all the way down to the edge of my bikini bottom. I could feel his warm breath on the nape of my neck, and my skin prickled beneath his touch. Gwen kept one eye on her newspaper, the other on me.
“Saarah,” he murmured in my ear but loud enough for his sister to hear, “I don’t want to see you get burnt.”
“Thank you for the protection.”
The smirk that flashed on my face did not go unnoticed by Gwen.
The sand beneath the soles of my feet felt like a warm foot massage, and the chorus of squawking seagulls that mixed with the crashing waves made for perfect background music. We were playing Frisbee—Ben tossing the saucer to Ari and me, each competing to be the one to catch it.
For a six-year-old, Ben had a damn good arm. I could tell from Ari’s lit up face that he was incredibly proud of his son. Standing at least fifty feet away from us, the little boy flung the Frisbee with the strength and precision of someone much older. It spun in the air, and I had no idea where it might land, given the ocean breeze.
“It’s mine,” shouted Ari, running toward it.
“No, it’s mine,” I countered, running toward it.
And then we collided, the Frisbee flying by both of us.
I tumbled to the sand, my body crashing upon his. Skin to skin, organ to organ, heart to heart. The heat of his body coursed through mine, and his warm breath heated my already flushed cheeks. My scantily clad breasts rubbed against his taut, bare chest. As it rose and fell beneath me, my nipples puckered.
His strong hands hugged my waist, and his ocean-blue eyes burned into mine with the strength of the sun.
“So, Saarah, you play to win.” His cock hardened beneath me.
I would have said, “Game over,” had not Ben run over to us and burst out in laughter.
“You guys look so funny.”
Ben’s laughter was contagious, and despite our mutual embarrassment, we both joined in. This was the first time I’d ever heard Ari laugh hard and it showed
me a lighter side of him that somehow made him sexier. Still chuckling, he scrambled to his feet, pulling me up with him. The smile on face could light up the sky.
“C’mon. Let’s check out the ocean.”
Ben was the first one in. As he frolicked in the waves, I watched as Ari pulled down his shorts, revealing one of those spandex Speedo suits worn by athletes. With his broad shoulders, lean muscular build, and that rock-hard perfect ass, this godlike man could easily be mistaken for an Olympian. Even the shimmering mysterious scar on his back could not take away from his beauty. He turned to face me. My eyes gravitated to the package between his legs. Holy cow! I swear the spandex made it look more sizeable than it already was. I met his gaze and felt myself heating up. He knew I was mentally undressing him and twisted his lips into a crooked sexy smile. I was getting all tingly again, the nerves between my legs bustling with lust. With a wink, he sprinted into the water, diving head first into a frothy wave.
“Come on in, Sarah!” shouted Ben.
At the shoreline, I dipped my big toe into the water. An icy sting shot up my leg. God, the water was cold.
“It’s too cold,” I shouted back.
Rising from the water, like a sea god, all wet and glistening under the burning sun, Ari sloshed toward me.
“Are you having fun?” I asked stupidly.
“Not quite enough.”
I had no time to ask what he meant. His mischievous eyes gleaming, he scooped me up into his powerful arms and flung me over his right shoulder. An arm pressed tight against the back of my thighs, right under my buttocks, locking me against him.
“My pretty princess, you’re coming in.” He smirked. “Like it or not.”
Naughty Nelle Page 38
