by Alisha Rai
It would be hotter if they didn’t even have that much notice.
Her climax came fast, rushing over her like a freight train, leaving her weak and slumping against the wall.
He rose to his feet, his cock curving out of the fly of his unbuttoned and unzipped pants. He pulled a condom out of his pocket and donned it, his hand giving his cock long pulls. His face was shiny with her juices. He licked his lips smugly, back in his role of coercer. “I thought you didn’t want it.”
Ever scrappy, she stiffened her spine. “I figured I might as well have some fun if I’m going to get fucked anyway.”
His big hands wrapped around her hips. Easily, he lifted her up until she was free of her panties, and held her against the wall. His cock dragged over her thigh. “Nothing you can do could stop me.”
Recognizing the dare, she let loose with her hands, slapping at his chest and face with all her force, letting him feel her anger.
She stopped, panting. Unmoving, he waited until she paused. “You done?”
“No.” She slapped him across the face, so hard his eyes gleamed.
She expected him to bind her wrists, maybe with the tie still draped around his neck. He didn’t bother.
He crowded closer, until she was pinned to the wall with his body weight. His cock burrowed tight against her pussy, a thick, long threat. A broad palm settled on her throat. Not squeezing. Just there, a heavy, weighty reminder of how big he was. How much larger than her. How helpless she was. She stilled.
“Nice,” he murmured. His thumb stroked her skin. “You’re going to be good now, aren’t you?”
“Is that what you want? A good girl?”
“I want you.”
Did he? Did he really? Or did he only want the ease of a relationship with an idealized memory?
She bit her lip, losing the thought when he pressed his cock inside of her, pushing slowly past the initial resistance of her body. She was slick and wet from her arousal and his tongue, but she still made him work for it, tightening the muscles of her pussy until sweat beaded on his brow.
And that hand, still on her throat. A threat and a promise. She bucked, and he tightened his fingers. There. The tiniest amount, enough to make it very clear that he could do so much more.
She wanted more. When he loosened his grip, she pressed her hand over his and increased the pressure. His eyes flashed. “Yeah?”
Her lips were beyond dry. “Yeah.”
His motions were controlled as he fucked her, each steady thrust rocketing her arousal higher. He varied the tempo of his hips, sometimes hammering her, other times shafting her slowly, until the need coiled inside her.
“Don’t come,” he ordered.
Was he crazy? Of course she would come.
His fingers twitched on her throat, enough pressure that he cut off her air. He released almost immediately, but that small restriction, that second of illicit danger was enough for her to clench down on his hard cock and shatter.
He grunted. “You dirty little whore.”
The words were distant but appreciated. She gasped as he surged above her, thrusting deep before collapsing against her with a muffled shout. His body tensed as he came, his hands holding her tight. Between them, sweat made for a peculiar sort of glue.
She had a fleeting thought for her dress, so expensive and brand new. Ah well. Dry cleaning could possibly take care of it.
He let her down slowly, holding her steady when her legs would have collapsed. It took him a few seconds to repair his clothes, and he scooped down to pick up her panties and shove them into his suit coat pocket. He readjusted her bodice, but not before bending and pressing a reverent kiss on each nipple.
She glanced at the cameras on either end of the hall. “This is a blind spot, right?”
“Of course.” He arched a brow. “I wouldn’t lie about that.”
“Don’t you think they’ll wonder why we ran out but never made it to the elevator?”
“They’re focused on watching the casino floor and the guest areas, or they should be. There are other safeguards in place to make sure no one unauthorized comes up to this floor.”
She shook out her skirt. Wyatt might be a sex machine, but he knew exactly how far to take things without making a mockery out of their games.
He was…perfect. Fear made her tighten her fingers on her skirt.
Attuned to her body language, he paused. “We are okay, right?”
“Of course.” The tension that the sex had given her a temporary reprieve from found its way to the base of her spine, lingering but numbed by their fast and furious coupling and a solid postcoital glow.
She could read the exhaustion in his face, in the tired ghost of a smile he gave her. He offered her his arm, and she took it. They strolled back to the apartment door, looking for all the world like a rumpled version of the civilized couple who had returned from their earlier night out.
She rested her head on his shoulder as they walked back in, breathing in the scent of his cologne and the sex they’d had. Dear Lord. Please don’t let me screw this up.
Chapter Seven
She woke up to her hair being stroked back from her face. Wyatt was already showered and dressed and sitting on the side of the bed, staring down at her with an intent expression. “Hey.”
She stretched and regarded him somberly. “Hey.”
With those two words, she knew things were still strained. They were being cautious with each other, or he would have tickled or kissed her awake.
“I have to get to work. I tried to clear my day out to spend it with you, but there’s some things…”
“No, it’s okay,” she responded quickly. “Go do what you normally do.” When they visited each other, neither of them worked as much as they normally did, conscious of their finite duration of time together. The perils of a long-distance relationship.
“Did you bring work?”
“I have a commission I can work on. But I think I may go visit my parents first.” She threw it out there casually, like it was no big deal. Like the subject of her parents wasn’t some great gaping injury.
Was there something twisted in her that liked to stick her fingers in these wounds and dig them around when there would be no payoff or resolution? She knew what his reaction would be, and he didn’t disappoint. Wyatt’s face became emotionless, and he dropped his hand away from her, making a show of checking his watch. “Yeah. I have to run. Why don’t you call me when you’re done, and I’ll come meet you somewhere.”
Done? How would she ever be done with her family? Her father’s insidious words from the night before whispered in her mind. Heart heavy, she nodded. “Sure thing.”
He hesitated. “Tell your mom…tell her I regret that last night was uncomfortable.”
She nodded, her sarcastic side certain that the words were simply another manifestation of his relatively newfound social skills training. Emily Post says when your girlfriend’s parents storm out of dinner, be sure to convey your deepest regrets. “Yup.”
He leaned down and pressed a kiss against her forehead. “I ordered breakfast for you. It should be up when you’re done with your shower.”
She closed her eyes, drinking in the consideration as well as his affection. “See you later.”
With a last half smile, he left her. Lingering in bed would have been nice, but all she would accomplish was moping. Instead, she hopped up to go take her shower.
She made plans with her mother via text while she ate, and then left the suite. The hotel was large enough that she didn’t know all of the staff, but they knew her. She received nods and smiles from bellhops and the front desk as she departed.
She raised a brow when she came outside and found Sal waiting for her outside a sleek town car, his face expressionless and his uniform crisp despite the already mounting heat. “I don’t need a car today, Sal.”
Though she knew Wyatt had ordered him to take her wherever she needed, Sal nodded. That’s what she liked abou
t him. He didn’t put his boss’s orders above her own.
She set out down the street, appreciating the low-key morning energy of the Strip. Las Vegas was different from her normal digs, and not just because the heat was a sharp contrast to the foggy bay chill that marked San Francisco. Part of her liked going back and forth. Exploring two cool cities meant she was rarely bored.
This area was walkable, helped by the elevated crosswalks taking her across traffic. In no time at all, she was at the Wynn. She’d been here once or twice before, so she was aware of the location of the adults-only pool her mother had suggested for a meeting spot. Her large tote slapping against her thigh, she made her way through the bar and entered, spotting her mother’s head over the rows of chaises.
She walked toward her, gasping when she came closer and saw the smooth line of her mother’s back, a skort-style bottom her only nod to modesty.
“Mom,” she said quietly, in an effort to hide her complete mortification. This was like the time her mother had chaperoned her junior prom and started dancing to Madonna. Only worse. Much worse. “Why are you topless?”
Her mother turned her head, keeping her arms stacked under her cheek. “Hello to you, too, darling.”
“Hi.” She sat in the lounger next to her. “Mom, seriously.”
“It’s an adults-only pool, Tatiana. European style. Sunbathing is expected.”
She was well aware of the adults-only/European-style concept of the pool. Wyatt even had something similar at Quest, though his was more exclusive, geared toward smaller, private parties instead of hordes of sunbathing guests. They hadn’t personally tried it out—
Note to self: Make sure you drag Wyatt to the pool. For alfresco fucking possibilities.
—but she knew of its existence.
She glanced around. Only a few women had foregone their tops, and she had to admit, the level of male gawking was at a minimum, if nonexistent.
Still, that didn’t explain why her mother was topless. Not that she was an ugly woman, but she was her mom, and she was naked in public, and that was wrong in and of itself. “What would Daddy say if he knew you were out here naked?”
Her mother’s shoulders shook, and she gave a little snort. “Oh, honey. He’d be out here as soon as humanly possible, and it wouldn’t be to tell me to put my top back on.”
Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.
Her mom rose on her elbows to turn around, and Tatiana slapped her hand over her eyes. “Mom! Please.”
She heard a gusty sigh and the rustle of clothes. She peeked to find her mother readjusting the straps of her bathing-suit top. “Honestly, Tatiana, you’re an adult now. No need to be so prudish.”
She imagined Wyatt—hell, any of her past lovers—chortling over that statement. But her mom didn’t know about her sex life, which meant Tatiana was doing things perfectly right, as far as she was concerned. She’d figured out how to be discreet when she was fifteen and Wyatt Caine had snuck his hand under her bra for the first time. “You raised me, so I suppose it’s your fault.” Satisfied her mother was appropriately covered, she slipped out of her sundress to reveal the relatively modest bikini beneath.
Her mom reached into her beach bag and pulled out a bottle of sunscreen. “You always forget.”
Touched when she realized it was the same SPF she usually used—much higher than any her mother, with her skin’s natural tolerance to the sun, would ever buy for herself—she slathered it on. “Remember the first time I got badly burned?”
Janet rolled her eyes and readjusted her sunglasses. “How could I forget?”
Tatiana had been four or five, but she could still recall her mother’s frantic tears and calls to the pediatrician after her father had taken her to the beach, become absorbed in explaining the physical properties of marine vertebrates, and forgot to put sunscreen on her.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, soaking in the hot rays of the sun. “Have you spoken to Clarissa?” Janet asked softly.
Tatiana’s birth mother. Not her real mother. “Not since the last time.” They’d only communicated twice. Once to make initial contact, and a second time because Tatiana hadn’t received the hint that the woman wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” And it really was. Tatiana held nothing against the woman who had given her up for adoption. Maybe it was a sign of her maturity, or maybe it was because her half-brother had given her that sense of genetic connection she’d wanted. Either way, she was fine. She stirred. “You didn’t want to attend the conference?”
“Other than your father, the speakers are morons. It wasn’t worth arguing with them the whole day when it’s so nice out.”
“Good thing you came here instead of San Fran then. It’s been super chilly there.”
“I like San Francisco though. Maybe next time.” She hesitated. “If you’re still living there, of course. I don’t know what yours and Wyatt’s plans are.”
“Oh.” She paused, thought about it. “Neither do I, really.”
“Hmm.”
Her mom didn’t push, for which Tatiana was grateful. She wasn’t a pusher, not since Tatiana had dropped out of college and left the coast to pursue her dreams. She figured her parents had decided the same thing she had—that they’d rather be in each other’s lives, even if they didn’t agree on every point, than cut each other off completely.
This time, however, Tatiana was itching to talk to someone. The words bubbled out before she could halt them. “Last night was kind of a disaster, huh?”
Her mother tightened her lips and then released a small sigh. “I agree. I’m sorry, love. I had told your father to be on his best behavior, but you know the man. He has always been very protective of you. Something about Wyatt rubbed him the wrong way when you were young, and I suppose that hasn’t changed. I told him that he needed to stay open-minded, but, well…”
“It wasn’t all Daddy. Wyatt shouldn’t have been so defensive. And it’s my fault too.” She winced. “I kind of sprung dinner on him. About a half an hour before.”
“Oh, Tatiana.”
“I know. He wasn’t pleased.”
“Why did you do that?”
Tatiana squirmed, fidgeting until her legs were curled up under her. “I was scared he wouldn’t want to come.”
Janet frowned. “Does he dislike us so much? We haven’t even seen him in a decade.”
Tatiana relaxed at the note of genuine curiosity in her mother’s voice. She had hoped the other woman wouldn’t take a sign of Wyatt’s aversion personally. “No. I don’t know. I don’t think he dislikes you as much as he dislikes what you stand for.” Tatiana glanced down at her hands. “I mean, Daddy was always riding Wyatt pretty hard when we were kids—”
“Honey. If your daddy wasn’t morally opposed to firearms, he would have been cleaning guns any time a boy came to the door.”
She smiled at her mother’s dry words. “Yeah, so I think he has pretty not-fond memories of that. Plus, we fought about you guys a lot back then.” Wyatt would make cutting, sarcastic remarks and she would explode. All the damn time.
“Us? Why did you fight about us?”
“Because…” She rolled her neck, trying to relieve the tension. She’d never formally confronted either of her parents, and she wasn’t particularly keen on doing so now. “He said you were controlling me. Pushing me into a major I hated, a life I didn’t want. No girl wants to hear that. I would get mad, he’d get more annoyed, and then we’d storm off.”
Her mother signaled a passing waiter. “Can you get us a pitcher of sangria, please?” She turned to Tatiana. “He was right.”
“What?”
“He was right, back then. We were absolutely forcing you into a life you didn’t want. Not maliciously, of course, and we didn’t realize you didn’t want it, but we were still doing it.”
Tatiana stared at her mother, unprepared for the casual admission of guilt.
Her moth
er smiled at the waiter’s return and poured them both a glass of the fruit-filled alcohol. “You were such a sweet child, Tatiana. So eager to please. We had no idea you didn’t want to follow us into the scientific world, not until you up and quit school.”
“I know. I should have said something.”
“We may have had difficulty listening. This world, this is my life, your father’s too. We don’t fully understand anything else. If you’d told us you wanted to be an artist, we might not have taken you seriously, probably would have bought you some canvas and told you to make it a hobby. And you, sweet child, would have agreed. So even though I don’t understand what you do or why you feel the need to do it, I’m grateful you took such a stand and ran away to live your life, because I can see that it makes you happy. And it’s made you a strong woman, one who can stand on her own two feet.” Her mother sipped the sangria. “If Wyatt was one of the motivating reasons behind you striking out on your own, I’ll kiss him the next time I see him.”
“Well.” Tatiana took a big gulp of her drink. “This is interesting.”
“I only ever wanted your happiness, Tatiana.” Her mom clasped her hand.
Tatiana returned the squeeze. “I know. I’m so glad I was the lucky kid who ended up with you and Daddy.”
Her mother’s long lashes hid the sheen of moisture in her eyes. “Yes.”
Tatiana studied her mother’s hand in her own, naked except for her plain platinum wedding band. The woman worked with her hands too much to fuss with bracelets or rings. A necklace, Tatiana thought. Gold, twisted like a Mobius Coil, with chips of red rubies peeking out. Her fingers itched to draw it, to get started on it right away, but she filed the image of it away in her mind. Later. It would make a lovely birthday present.
