We arrived at the ballroom and I was suddenly struck with nerves. I wasn’t sure if I was channeling Katarina, or if the fact this enormous place and all the famous and rich people were here for my princess made me anxious, but something spread unease throughout my body. We walked in through the priority line, bypassing all of the other guests. Owen talked loudly into the phone. His nerves were shot too; I could hear it. “Make it happen,” was all I heard before he cursed and glanced at me. I gave him a half-smile and nodded in understanding.
The place was breathtaking inside—not a man’s description word for a ballroom, but it was. Antique lighting lit the walls, some reflecting off the painted ceiling. It was stimulation overload. The tables were large ovals and placed throughout, decorated with white lilies and red roses. Katarina told me it was to symbolize love and peace. Two very different flowers, but just like everything Katarina did, they somehow worked and looked elegant together.
Gazing around the large room, people gathered in small groups dressed in tuxes and fashionable dresses, and laughter and chatter could be heard all around. I had the small-fish-in-a-large-pond feeling. I recognized Katarina’s brother, Luke, and lifted my hand in a wave. He completely shunned me, and I fucking laughed loud enough for him to hear. My sister turned in her tight, dark green dress and told me not to embarrass her with her mom-eyes, and I flashed her a devilish grin. She pointed a finger, mouthing for me to knock it off.
We were shown right away to our seats; each seat had a nameplate secured to the table. Our table was front and center, no distractions; the stage was directly in front of us. An older gentleman approached the microphone, telling everyone to take their seats. He wore a thick cross over his tux and I guessed he was Father Nickels; Katarina had told me all about him and how big a part he played in the charity.
I stood next to our table as everyone took their seats around me. I relaxed a bit when my eyes landed on my princess. She had her arm through Brian’s as they walked out onto the stage like the royal family would, and she waved and I recognized she was giggling.
Brian wore a tux identical to mine, and Katarina’s dress was floor-length and a dark velvety blue that slit up the right side, allowing her long leg to show through. The top of her dress held tight against her chest and stomach. Her shoulders were left bare, displaying the lines of her neck and collarbone perfectly. She wore white gloves to cover her broken finger. Her hair was pulled up into a sexy bun with strands cascading around her shoulders. Fucking beautiful, but my favorite part, the part that had my cock standing at attention, was her necklace. The ring I gave her dangled from the bottom of the thin gold chain. She was proud to wear it, and that was what made me want her so desperately I could hardly stand it.
Owen yelled, breaking my hypnotic state. “Take a seat, Slugger.” I smirked at him, and he tossed a coin at me. Chump.
Katarina approached the podium. I sat on the edge of my seat, ready to spring in an instant. I still couldn’t believe she was mine, and in two weeks, she would have my last name. My legs bounced as the familiar anxiety coursed through me.
****
Katarina
“Thank you for coming tonight to honor my grandfather. I put together a slideshow of pictures to go with my speech. I chose not to talk at his funeral. I thought he would want me to mourn in silence, like he did over my grandmother. I feel differently now; he would want you to know how important what he did was, and how he affected so many lives.”
I looked behind me as my grandfather and grandmother’s picture appeared. I had practiced this at least a dozen times and I knew I would be less nervous with everyone focused on pictures instead of me. The lights dimmed and now only a small light shined on me; the rest was over my shoulder at the start of the slideshow of pictures of my grandfather, our charity work, and me.
“I really only knew my grandfather for six years. Before, I only saw him on holidays and dance recitals. He didn’t talk to me, so I didn’t talk to him. When I was fifteen years old, my life changed. I found myself at his doorstep, and I am not sure how I even got there. He let me in and set up a room next to his. He never once asked me why I was there and he never pressured me to talk, so I didn’t. He made me go with him everywhere. He said, ‘Servicing humanity is the way to a pure heart.’ You can tell at the beginning of the photos with the two of us,” I gestured to the movie, “his heart was purer then mine.”
There was laughter as a photo appeared of me pouting with my arms crossed over my chest. “My grandfather talked to me in quotes. I think during our six years together he said maybe fifty words, because according to him, ‘Words are a dime a dozen.’ Instead, he would try to bond with me over a very quiet breakfast where nobody talked, and he would watch me over his paper. He also tried bonding through word games like Scrabble.” I motioned again to the photos over my head. “Mine were a little less nice than his.” There was laughter as everyone read my less flattering, vulgar words. “I was only attempting to make him laugh. His smile was the most important thing to me.”
I stopped to gather my breath, and then continued, “After years of being top in my class, the smartest girl in the room, I resorted to four-letter words to make my grandfather smile, but he didn’t. Well, he didn’t over that, but when he saw me interact with the locals on a project, he lit up. I was always within arm’s reach of my grandfather, and I began to depend on him without noticing. He did this thing with me where he would kiss the palm of my hand and say, ‘God hears you.’ One day when he did this, I told him I wasn’t talking to God, and he looked at me with that smile of his and said, ‘Yes, you are.’ He put his hand over my heart and said, ‘He hears you in here, and when you feel up to it, you can use your words.’”
I paused as I felt those words come over me, tears pooling in my eyes. “I don’t know if I ever understood that until now. These boys and girls he helped through his charities…he helped them without words; he felt the need in his heart.” I paused again. “If you give to this charity, know that kids who cannot speak for themselves but have God in their hearts will benefit.” I had a steady stream of tears going now. I had forgotten my speech and was blank, and then I just started speaking. “The last time I saw him was at my graduation, and he told me, ‘There are two most important days in your life: the day you are born, and the day you find out why.’”
I smiled as tears began to flow freely down my face, because I understood the saying, and for the first time, I knew why I was here. “I had braced myself for a founding father quote, and he quoted Mark Twain.” I closed my eyes, feeling warmed by telling the small story. “He died the night I graduated. The doctors told me he had a large tumor in his head and he should have died a year ago.”
I gasped for oxygen, feeling like I was suffocating. My eyes dropped to my shaky hand that was black with mascara. “I never cried about it until recently and now I can’t stop crying.” I hiccupped and had a hard time controlling my sobs. I took one final breath. “I will make sure my grandfather’s legacy continues.” I paused, a nervous laugh leaving my lips, and I quickly tried to mask it, pasting on my practiced smile and failing miserably. “Your money, combined with mine, can do great things. It’s my why. Thank you for coming.”
My brother came to the podium behind me and caught me as I began to fall. Women’s shrieks could be heard all around me, and then applause as Bri swooped in to save the day. He carried me away from the stage and found a chair behind the curtain, and I sobbed sounds I didn’t know I could make as he held me close. The ballroom was quiet, and I heard the next speaker approach the podium.
Jason was by my side in a heartbeat after that. Brian didn’t argue as Jason scooped me up in his arms and moved away. We went outside to the balcony that overlooked the gardens, and he sat me down to look into my eyes. He had a water bottle and some tissues. He put his head against mine and sighed, and then he hugged me, my face pressing hard against his chest and it felt wonderful.
“You want to leave?” he whispered,
not letting up on the pressure he held me with.
“Not yet, I want to say hello to my guests and then we can go home.” He pulled back from me far enough to look into my soggy eyes. He looked delicious in his navy tux with the white bowtie. I think I like bows too. “How do I look?” It was a loaded question, because I knew I was a mess.
He flashed me a grin that gave me butterflies. “Like a princess.”
A gradual smile lifted my face. I took the tissue from his hand and wiped my face, concentrating under my eyes. “Don’t leave me tonight, okay?”
He smiled so big I could see all of his white teeth. “Not a chance.”
“I have something for you,” I told him as I reached between my breasts and pulled a small jewelry bag out. “Magic.” I winked, grinning wide and slipping the tiny bag in his giant hand. He squeezed my fingers as I reluctantly stepped back from him. I was unsure about the gift, and my nerves were frayed from the speech. Giving us a little space helped me feel like I had control, even though his response to my gift meant everything to me.
He locked eyes with me, attempting to read my face before lifting the gift to his ear and shaking it. Funny man. He stretched the string at the top of the small jewelry bag and flipped it over in his hand. A note and a masculine, gold wedding ring fell into his palm.
He eyed me cautiously again before he read the note aloud, “To my forever distraction.” He glanced up at me, and my lips moved with the words he spoke as he finished the note. “Thank you for choosing me.” He gradually folded the note after he read it and slowly tucked it into his jacket pocket. His hands were shaky, eyes avoided mine, and his silence was unnerving.
What in the hell is he thinking? “I’m not really a note writer,” I defended with a one-shoulder shrug. He lunged forward before I could continue and took my mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. He tasted like mint and Jason, and I loved everything about it. He aggressively devoured me, and I felt as if I was his lifeline and he was clinging onto my mouth with every ounce of strength he had. His arms tightened around my body and his hands fisted my dress over my ass.
He lightened the kiss after a long, frenzied moment, and the tender Jason was back, urging me to love him with my lips. This was my favorite place, right here with the man who wants to live forever with me. We broke the kiss, slowly catching our breaths. Tears filled his shiny green eyes and I wiped them with my thumbs. I slipped the salty finger into my mouth while watching his smoky lust replace the vulnerability. “The ring was my grandfather’s and I want you to wear it.”
He flashed me a beautiful, sexy grin and I imagined having sex right here with him. He looked so yummy in his tux, and the freaking charming grin he was wearing made me crave him…every part of him. I knew he read my mind, because his eyes flickered toward the door and then he rolled his head on his shoulders, mumbling something. I think I was seconds away from getting what I wanted, but instead, he slowly slipped his fingers through mine and led me back inside.
“You are a dangerous girl,” I heard him say and I giggled. He made me so happy, and even in this sad moment of saying goodbye to my grandfather, I found myself grinning like a fool as he pulled a chair out for me and did the male-nod thing at Owen. I loved this day.
Epilogue
Jason
My family left the beach house, and Katarina and I decided to stay one more day before returning home. I decided I needed one more day, twenty-four more hours before I dealt with reality. I’m finally almost ready to return and fix what I abandoned, left behind a month ago. It was like a wooden chair left out in the sun over the summer; I’d had to go home, peel away the burnt layer, and take my time sanding it, staining it, and nurse it back to its original splendor. It would take patience and hard work to make it completely whole again, but it’ll be worth it.
I wake early and silently tread downstairs; Bo accompanies me, taking his time. I have been planning out this day for a while. I owe Katarina a fantasy. So, here I am now, dressed in cargo shorts and a tight polo shirt. My shirt is so tight I can barely breathe. My arms cross in front of me in an attempt to stretch it out until I hear the material tear, and then I grab the pool brush.
And there you have it…I’m a pool boy. My shorts hold everything, and it kind of feels like I could carry all my belonging in these six pockets. I grabbed the pool brush and toss it between my hands. It’ll be the first time I ever scrub a pool, even my own. I have always splurged on a pool guy, but now, knowing Katarina’s fetish, I might rethink the whole hired-pool-boy thing. My girl likes to pretend, so I am going to do the best performance of an awkward-teenage-first-job-pool-boy I can pull out of my ass.
I feel her approach from behind me and watch as Bo’s ears perk up. His head tilts before his heavy tongue falls out of his mouth. His head bobbles at me for a moment before he slowly hobbles over to her. I ignore her heavy breathing and the sexual tension that follows. All the frickin’ things I do, and she gets turned on by a heavy-pocketed pool guy.
I guide the brush into the pool and move the handle in long strokes. It’s kind of therapeutic, and knowing she’s watching my every move has me falling into this perfect role. It gives me an added addictive thrill. I hear her clear her throat and then the padding of her feet as they move toward the crystal blue water. I snap out of my haze and realize I’ve been doing this for just over a half-hour, but I want this. I want her deep into her fantasy, crazy with lust, dripping with want. I desire her wide blue eyes watching me with hunger, and I’m not finished. This is going to be good—scratch that…this will be great…epic, in fact. I will always be her fantasy.
“Please, have a seat. As your professional pool caregiver, I need you to wait until I am completely finished before immersing into the water.” I give her a hard look and she giggles, and it’s difficult to hold the stern look when she makes that sound. “Something funny?”
She nods at my words and I go back to cleaning the pool and checking the chemicals in the water. I disappear into the large closet that holds the chemicals, when I hear her breathing behind me. I turn and gaze at her. I need her to take the lead. I know I could ruin this. I know my dominance would take control and she would let me smother her fantasy just like the last time. So, I stare at her hesitant blues and I study her. Her eyes skim down my outfit and realization dawns that it’s her turn, her move to make, that I’m in her fantasy. I see the flare in her eyes, the sweet curve of her lips, and I hunch my shoulders slightly, getting into the teenage role.
“I saw you…you know.” Her voice is smooth, almost creamy, and I squeeze my eyes shut at the delicious thought. “I noticed the way you stare at me out of the corner of your eyes.”
My hair falls forward and I shrug. “I can look; it’s a free country.” I wipe my nose with the back of my hand and scratch the back of my head.
“Would you like to touch me?” she asks and I groan. Fuck, I groan because of how innocent her voice sounds when she said it, and I tell my aggressive side to back the fuck down, because right now, I want to take her and that fucking innocent mouth. “You can touch me,” she gives me permission.
I toss my shoulders up again, indicating I may or may not want to touch her. In fact, I brush her off like she’s imagining the whole thing. “I don’t know…what y-you mean,” I stutter and do my best not to look at her and her long legs under her white frickin’ silk nightgown.
She approaches me from behind, and her sweet scent floods my system before her tight little body is in my peripheral vision. She hesitates before her tentative hand creeps up and her finger sweeps my hair back from my face. Her hand lingers in my hair, and then it drifts back over my face. I remind myself of how many times I have taken her with force, with a fierce need to be inside her. She needs this from me.
I glance into her eyes again and she gives me a soft, gentle smile. It’s the most innocent of all her smiles and the first time I have ever seen such a naughty, virginal glow. It’s a weird combination of naïveté and hormone-induced, insatiable des
ire. I’m buzzing with anticipation, wondering what she’s going to do next. It’s her move, all of it, and I’m literally losing my mind in her performance.
I swallow, my heart convulsing out of…arousal. Her hands drop to her own clothes and I watch; I can’t tear my eyes off of her, and I fixate on her tiny hands sliding down her body as they remove her innocent white nightgown. Her tiny panties are next to hit the floor. She takes her time, as if she’s taking enjoyment out of the obvious torment she’s dishing out. I swallow the rock in my throat at the fucking beautiful vision before me. She’s killing me; I need to do something…anything.
“Tell me what you want me to do,” I manage to say through gritted teeth, because this is difficult. The impulse to smash her against the wall and fuck her hard is all I crave at this point. I shake my head, stopping the persistent thought, breaking the fixation on her naked, mouthwatering body.
“Have you done this before?” she whispers against my chest as she lifts onto her toes to pry the shirt off over my head.
“I don’t mix work with pleasure,” I choke out; trying not to touch her is like not drinking an ice-cold beer on a blazing hot day.
She kneels before me. “First timer, then.” Her eyes lock with mine and I physically shiver when her seductive smile swallows me. Her sure hands unzip my heavy shorts and they fall to the ground. She frickin’ giggles again as she wraps her hand around my shaft. “You can watch me. I happen to like your eyes on me.”
Her delicate, bare back is visible, and the round globes of her ass stick out as she balances on her shins. My eyes drift back to her mouth as her tongue lashes out, and she runs it up the base to the sensitive, mushroom tip. I groan again, wondering how this could be her fantasy, because right now, I’m the only one feeling like I could explode any second.
Forever Distraction (Distraction #3) Page 31
