Fulfillment (Book 3 in The Temptation Series)

by K. M. Golland

  He rolled one of the chairs from around the table in front of me then casually took a seat. I smirked at him, amused at his position at the table. Well, taking a seat does make sense, I guess. Grabbing both my ankles, he placed each foot on the armrest of his chair and leaned forward with a salacious grin before tongue-fucking my clit.

  My head fell back and my nipples hardened. “Fuck...Bryce,” I exhaled.

  “That comes next, Hunny.”

  “You’re so ba—” he inserted his fingers in between licks of his tongue. “Bad, you’re so fucking bad.”

  Suddenly the phone rang, and as casually as he would normally answer it, Bryce reached over and hit speaker. “Bryce Clark speaking.”

  “Bryce, it’s Arthur. Have you got a minute?” Santa! Seriously, your timing is impeccable.

  “Sure, how can I help you, Arthur?” he answered nonchalantly. I pulled my head back up and mouthed ‘what the fuck’.

  “I’ve been speaking to the Corporate Partners Co-ordinator in relation to the marquee at the Grand Prix...” Arthur said. Bryce leaned forward again and dragged his tongue slowly across my pussy. I nearly shrieked, but instead, I flinched and clenched my thighs together, capturing his head in between them. He eyed me greedily.

  “...The entire proposal for the marquee’s function has been submitted...” Geezus, Santa. Spit it out. “...Are you happy for me to okay the specifics of the proposal? I’m sure you’ll be more than satisfied.” Arthur asked.

  Bryce stuck out his tongue and flicked at my clit sending my body into a subdued frenzy as my orgasm bordered explosion. I bit my lip.

  “Bryce?” Arthur asked a little impatient.

  “Yes, Arthur, that is fine. I’m happy for you to sign off on it.”

  “Sorry, am I interrupting you?”

  “I’m just eating my lunch,” Bryce answered while eyeing me devilishly. My mouth fell open, and I sat up.

  “Oh, sorry, I’ll let you go then.”

  “No, that’s not necessary. Alexis is here with me though, and just to let you know Arthur, you’re on speaker.”

  “Oh. Hello, Ms. Summers. Sorry to interrupt your lunch. I won’t hold Bryce up for much longer.”

  My face was flushed, and my lips were pursed. Bryce had a vice grip on my hips, knowing I’d try and leave.

  “Hello, Arthur,” I said through gritted teeth. “There’s no rush. Bryce is the only one eating, and anyway, he is finished now.” I raised my eyebrow which was the most stupid thing I could’ve done, because almost instantly Bryce thrust his fingers into me with such force I gasped. I quickly covered my mouth and glared at him while my body thoroughly enjoyed his finger-fuck.

  Bryce continued on the conversation, mischievously smiling and placing kisses down my thighs while continuing to pull his fingers in and out of me. “So, Arthur, how is Geraldine now? On the mend?”

  I mouthed the words ‘I hate you’. He shook his head and mouthed the reply, ‘no you don’t.’ Grrr, No, I don’t.

  “She is much better, thanks. I have booked a holiday like you suggested...,” Arthur stated. Bryce pushed up from his chair and dragged me toward him. He spun me around and gently pushed me forward so that I was leaning over the table. Oh. Shit. Crap. Balls.

  “We will be going to Tasmania in three weeks,” Arthur continued enthusiastically. “Ms. Summers, have you ever been there?” Santa, I’m slightly busy right now.

  “Yes, I have. It’s beautiful. Have you been there?” Fuck, Alexis don’t ask him questions. Bryce very quietly unzipped his pants and I felt the unmistakable warmth of his crown push into my now overly wet pussy. Fuck! I’m not a quiet fucker. I moan, and scream, and pant, and howl. Fuck!

  “Yes,” Arthur answered. “A few times, but most of those were for business.”

  “So how long are you going for, Arthur?” continued Bryce, as he slowly began to push into me. I dropped my head to the desk and placed my arm in my mouth probably resembling a freakin’ dog biting a bone.

  Bryce leaned forward, removed my arm from my mouth and pinned both arms to the table as he increased his pace. I hate him...but I love him...Holy shit!

  “We are hiring a motorhome and driving around for two weeks. I’m really looking forward to the wineries and dairy farms. Do you suggest we go anywhere in particular, Ms. Summers?”

  Please Santa, Shut up! “Strahan,” I mumbled, between subdued pants.

  “What? Sorry I didn’t hear that,” Arthur stated.

  Bryce let out a chuckle, and I swear I could’ve killed him.

  “Strahan, Arthur. Make sure you go to Strahan and take the Gordon River Cruise,” I blurted out as quickly as I could. Seriously, Santa. Fuck off and go and deliver some presents.

  “Yes, I’ve heard that is a must do. Thank you. Anyway, back to my original reason for calling, I’ll sign off on the Marquee’s specifics and send you a list of VIP attendants. Are you going to come this year, Bryce?”

  He was pounding into me now, and the sheer will power I was desperately clinging onto in order to pacify any sound escaping my mouth was quickly leaving my grasp.

  “I don’t know, Arthur. Alexis, do you like the Grand Prix?”

  I dropped my head. You’ll pay for this Mr. Fucker Clark. He slammed into me and I couldn’t help but let out a high-pitched “Yes.”

  “Have you been before?” Bryce asked, with a satisfied grunt, knowing full well that I had. He slammed into me again.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to come?” Oh, you fucking know I want to come.

  “Yes,” I practically screamed, losing it and tipping over the edge, my orgasm rippling through me as I shuddered on top of the conference table.

  Bryce followed, tightening his grip on my hands as he found his release. “Yes, Arthur. We’re coming,” he said trying to sound normal and less breathy than he actually was. “I’ll let you know my final numbers later today.”

  “Certainly, I’ll wait to hear from you. Now, please continue your lunch. Good day.” Arthur hung up.

  I was still slumped over the conference table. “Bryce Edward Clark. I fucking hate you,” I declared, breathlessly.

  He leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “No you don’t. You fucking love me.”

  I cracked up laughing. “Yes, I do.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  I pretty much smiled for the rest of the day as memories of Bryce’s and my lunch date floated in and out of my head. God, I hope Santa didn’t hear my arse being ball-slapped by Bryce. I will definitely be on the naughty list if he did. I giggled to myself. The things Bryce had me do were just so wrong, yet so God damn right.

  Danny had collected the kids from school as Bryce and I were kept busy with his back-to-back appointments for the rest of the day. Most of them were related to the Grand Prix, including the appointment with Chelsea. Her annoying helicopter piloting skills were once again required for VIP transfers to and from the hotel. The fact she barely made any effort to acknowledge me during her visit to the penthouse office only heightened my dislike and unease for the stuck-up bitch. I had never met anyone quite like her, she just didn’t get it—Bryce was no longer interested in her. I wondered if he had ever spoken to her about setting her straight, like he promised he would. She needed to be set straight once and for all. She needed to know that she had absolutely no chance with him—she needed to be told up close and personal that he loved me and that she was just a friend.

  Regardless, I was no longer worried where she was concerned; I wholeheartedly trusted Bryce, and I had no doubts about his feelings for me whatsoever. I just didn’t trust her—that would probably never change—even if he had already set her straight. I realised that it still bothered me that she was alone in his office with him, because I kind of felt sick. But only because she was a lips-licking, devious, sneaky mole, and I hated her.

  ***

  After we both managed to pry ourselves away from the office, Bryce had reluctantly taken a walk with Nate to McDonald’s to pick up our d
inner. We had stupidly asked the kids to make the choice of what to eat and, of course, they chose that. I had to laugh at his efforts to not only eat the Mc Greasy Burgers he was not very fond of, but to also place himself in the vicinity of the Ronald McDonald statue he feared terribly. Maybe the curly redheaded clown was growing on him.

  Charli hadn’t felt like going along with them as she had been a little glum since finding out we were going to the farm on the weekend for Easter, and unfortunately because of that, she would have to wait to see her dad. I had told her that she would see him on the Easter Monday, but this being the first time we would be separated on a celebratory day had obviously really upset her.

  I wanted to cheer her up, so I scrolled through my iPod and put on one of our favourite Glee songs, turning it up as loud as I could.

  Rachel’s version of “Don’t Rain On My Parade” began to play, and Charli’s eyes widened as a broad smile crept across her face. Grabbing her hand, I started to sing the first line in the song, emphasising she not ‘sit and putter’. This made her giggle, so I pulled her up to dance around the room with me.

  She performed a pirouette on the spot and flung her arms out in an over-exaggerated move which made me laugh. My daughter had just as much of a love for music as I did, so I knew that getting her to parade around the living area with me, would surely lift her gloomy spirits. She happily followed me like a shadow, copying my moves and singing along to the Broadway musical song.

  There was a part in the song that I knew was coming and it referred to a hat, so I quickly skipped to the beat of the music and grabbed my sun hat which was hanging on the hook near the entryway wall. As I sang the words ‘Hat, Sir,’ I placed it on her head and curtsied to her. Smiling, she returned my curtsy with one of her own and gracefully nodded her head.

  I took off again but stopped abruptly after only a few steps which made her bump into my back. She looked a little stunned but realised I had done it on purpose so that I could tap my finger on the tip of her nose while singing ‘or freckle on the nose’. She responded to my nose tap by performing a cute little wrinkle and wipe of her own, then ran around me and stepped up onto the sofa with her arms flung out, mimicking a plane. I knew only too well what she had planned because this was not the first time we had danced and performed to this song. So, when she fell forward, I caught her and spun us both around in a dizzying circle. Pausing for the smallest of seconds, we gathered our bearings from my over-exuberant twirling.

  While my head deciphered which way was what, I figured I’d remain in character, acting as if I was in the middle of a Broadway drama by draping my arm across my forehead, over-exaggerating my exhausted state. Charli laughed then joined in on the act and pretended to pat down my head and fan her hands at me.

  Keeping with the dramatized theme, I sprung up unexpectedly and danced to the kitchen, grabbing an apple as the song mentioned ‘life was juicy’ and having to have a bite. I pretended to take a bite of the apple, but screwed my nose up at it and tossed to her. She completely missed the catch and the apple hit the floor and rolled away. Her smile faded to a look of shock and then ‘Ooops’. She is just so adorably cute.

  I danced up to her, grabbed her hand and winked, then led her back into the living area as I knew our favourite part was coming. I snuck a glance at her getting ready for the move, and her excited face warmed my heart. We both stopped dancing simultaneously and pointed our fingers to each other like guns, shouting ‘BAM!’ As always, I let her imaginary bullet get me by faking a clutching of my chest and stumbling for a bit.

  After a quick recovery and a few more spinning leaps, the song was about to come to an end where Rachel held the word ‘Parade’ for a long time. We both belted it out, raising our hands to our invisible audience and giving each other smiling glances to see who was going to run out of breath first. I noticed her suck in another breath while keeping her mouth open, pretending she hadn’t done just that. I couldn’t help but laugh while still holding the note, so I pointed at her accusingly making her giggle.

  When the song finished, we dropped our hands and flopped back onto the sofa laughing and taking deep breaths.

  “Feel a bit better, Sweetheart?” I panted.

  “Yep, thanks Mum.” Her smile was genuine so I pulled her close for a hug.

  Suddenly, we heard clapping from behind us and spun around to see Bryce and Nate standing at the elevator door, McDonald’s bags tucked under their arms. Nate was shaking his head and rolling his eyes while smiling and gently clapping—this performance was not a first for him to have witnessed.

  Bryce, on the other hand, was clapping loudly with the biggest smile on his face. “Wow! I’ve just found the two newest members of our band.” He walked over and kissed my head from behind the sofa.

  “Really? Can I really be in your band?” asked Charli, excitedly.

  “Sure.”

  “Oh. My. God! I’m so gonna go and practice now. Mum can I borrow your iPod?” She was bordering on hysterical excitement.

  My eyes widened at her enthusiasm, so I grabbed her hands—holding them still from flapping about. “Yes, but you ‘so’ need to eat first.”

  ***

  We sat together on the balcony eating our burgers and fries. The kids and Bryce cringed when I dunked my fries into the chocolate sundae—the sundae I had subtly threatened he not return home without. What? There is absolutely nothing wrong with potato deep-fried in oil, sprinkled with salt and covered with vanilla flavoured soft serve ice cream and hot chocolate sauce. I’m not seeing the problem here.

  I popped another into my mouth and hummed.

  Bryce smirked.

  Nate rolled his eyes.

  And Charli scoffed her Happy Meal down like a hungry little piggy, then grabbed my iPod and ran upstairs—she was bound to get indigestion.

  For the next hour, all Bryce, Nate, and I could hear as we sat on the living room sofa trying to watch TV, was Charli’s voice intermittently coming in over the top of Rachel’s as she practiced singing more Glee songs in her room.

  Nate’s body language suggested a high level of irritation as he endured it, occasionally screwing up his face while looking over his shoulder at his sister’s bedroom door. “Urgh,” he grumbled. “Now look what you’ve done.”

  Bryce and I laughed. “Leave her alone, Nate. She’s learning to sing,” I said, willing his compassion to surface.

  “She needs to learn faster.”

  He huffed and walked into the man-cave, I’m guessing he went for the sanctuary of sound-proofed walls. Okay, maybe there is no compassion for his little sister’s singing abilities.

  Turning to Bryce, who was comfortably seated next to me, gently trailing his fingers along my legs which he’d laid across his lap, I posed him a question. “You do realise you are going to have to let her sing a song with your band now? She will not forget your promise.”

  “I know. I have every intention of letting her sing a song at one of our gigs. In fact, we have one coming up in a few months. She can do it then.”

  I laughed. “You’re crazy. You might want to run it past the other members of Live Trepidation first.”

  He scoffed. “I don’t run things past anybody...you know that.”

  “You are such an arrogant fucker,” I teased him, while looking over the sofa to make sure neither of my kids heard what I had just said.

  “Yep and proud of it.”

  “Well, we’ll see how arrogant you are on the weekend when you have to deal with an entire house filled with Blaxlos. My family are not timid, you know. You might not be so arrogant then,” I warned with a secretive smile. He leaned over and pulled me onto his lap so that I was straddling him.

  “Bryce, stop it. The kids could come back out here.” I tried to hop off but he held me there.

  “You ‘Blaxlos’ don’t scare me. You’re putty in my hands.”

  “Ha, you haven’t met my brother Jake, yet.” I pushed off him and got up, making my way to the toilet for pro
bably the tenth time that day and looking over my shoulder at his still arrogant, albeit sexy face.

  ***

  The morning of our trip to the farm, Bryce had all of a sudden become rather quiet and slightly anxious. For the most part of the morning he seemed to be lost in thought and distracted, to the point where I stopped asking him questions because I’d had to repeat them again when he didn’t answer me the first time. The kids had also been somewhat miserable, knowing their Dad was not joining us, instead spending the holiday with Claire and RJ.

  On our way down to the basement carpark, I asked Bryce which car we were going to take. Again, he hadn’t been focused enough to answer me, only giving me a ‘huh?’. So when the elevator doors opened, I gently grabbed his wrist.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What? Nothing, why?” he answered dismissively.

  “Bryce, you’ve been away with the pixies all morning, and because of that I have been having conversations with myself.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “For example, ‘what car are we taking?’... ‘huh?’” I sarcastically mimicked him. He looked out over the cars parked in the garage, let go of the suitcase he had been dragging and scratched his head.

  “I don’t know,” he answered softly. “I’m not sure which one is best.”

  All of a sudden, I noticed just how nervous he really was. I looked between his worried face and the kid’s sullen expressions and sighed. Ah fuck it. Take one for the team, Alexis! “Actually, do you mind if we take the chopper?”

  Bryce shot an astounded look at me, and Nate’s and Charli’s faces lit up.

  “Can we? Really?” They both glanced between me and Bryce.

  “If it’s okay with Bryce, and Poppa gives us the all clear to land without spooking the cattle, then yes.”

  Bryce appeared a lot less agitated now. “Sure, if that’s what you all want to do.”