by Daphne Dawn
I take her inside and show her off. Everyone knows me in this building and they know me as a womanizer, but never have I had someone like this on my arm. I take my trench coat and drape it over her shoulders to shield her cum-stained dress from prying eyes.
"I want you to stay over tonight," I say.
She looks at me nervously before saying, "Okay."
I know this is a big step for her. She wants to keep her boundaries and all that shit. But I'm not having any of it. I'm done with the games. I want Jenna, and I'm not gonna be done with her for the entire night.
Things are just getting started.
We go to my private VIP elevator and ride it all the way up to the top. It opens to my penthouse.
She walks in and smooths her hands appreciatively over all my leather couches and furniture. She inspects all the art and all the decorum. I can see Jenna's used to being in billionaire's apartments because she luxuries like this don’t excite her.
I know she doesn't fuck them, but she works with them. Money doesn't impress her. She's so smart that she can make all the money in the world.
I guess I'll have to find other ways to impress her, but that won't be hard.
Everything in my place is a piece of me. With the help of a designer, we've established a smooth and luxe neutral feel. It's all blacks, grays, and whites. The epitome of chic luxury.
It's safe to say my penthouse reflects my personality. All the art is handpicked. I put special care into this place. Letting her see it, and letting her stay here is a big deal.
I know she recognizes that, and it makes her nervous. We're getting into this thing ever deeper. We're so far in that I'm not sure there's a way out anymore.
"You have exquisite taste," she says.
I go to the bar and immediately start shaking her up another drink.
"No, you're just saying that. I know you've seen all manner of penthouses in this town."
She walks up to me and takes a seat at the bar.
"No really. It's beautiful in here, Braden."
Well, I'm glad she seems to like it, but now I really don't care. My only motive at this point is getting Jenna into my bedroom.
I make her cocktail and hand it to her.
"We need to get you cleaned up."
I'm dying to get her into a bath or shower. To see water cascade over her beautiful skin will get me rock-hard again. Besides, I know she's tired and a shower will rejuvenate her.
"Come on," I say.
She follows me through the master bedroom.
Everything is exquisite, as she said. I have an oversized bed with the most expensive furniture you can imagine adorning any room. And the floor-to-ceiling windows look out over the entire city.
But I shut it all out with one push of a button. The automatic blinds come down and we're alone, in the darkened room.
She wants to lie down on the bed, feeling tired from all the intense sex we had. But I pick her up in my arms and take her into the master bathroom where I run a warm shower.
"This will feel good," I say. "Trust me."
I get her out of her dress and she steps into the shower, nude. I take a minute to just look at her. She's like a goddamn goddess that's for sure.
I've never seen tits like those on such a beautiful body. Her skin is smooth, there's not a flaw on her. She stands under the rain-head shower and lets it flow over her pitch-black hair. I can tell it must feel good to her aching muscles and I'm keen to join her.
I undress and get in. I hold her for a while in there. I just wrap my arms around her in intimate silence.
What's happening to me? I'm not like this.
I wash her down with my expensive soap, taking special care to stroke her pussy in gentle ways. I clean her up, and she cleans me up.
Then we get out and she steps into one of my terrycloth robes.
She's exhausted I can tell. So am I.
I take her into the master bedroom and she curls up on my giant bed. She goes to sleep so quickly and comfortably that I wonder at it. I'm not necessarily one to have a woman sleepover. This is kind of new to me.
I lay down next to her and just watch her sleep for a while.
I want to fuck her again but before I can make good on that idea, my own eyes are softly closing and all I dream about is Jenna.
19
Jenna
There's a man in a suit, and he's trying to get me.
He chases me around the building because I have the information he needs.
I run and tuck myself in a darkened alley corner to get away.
He swiftly moves past my position and doesn't find me.
I breathe out a sigh of relief, but I know this is not over.
They'll find me eventually.
My heart pounds with fear.
And then I wake up.
A cold sweat covers my body.
It was just a nightmare. My body is frozen in fear, and yet I feel his arms around me. His strong arms encompass every part of me, and I oddly feel safe.
Warmth rises to my cheeks again, and I feel flushed, full of life.
The nightmare fades, but the meaning doesn't. I will have to answer to the FBI at some point. And it could mean jail for me, for Braden, and for everyone. What will I do?
The impossible choice looms its heady shadow over me once again. I can't do this anymore. I have to do something one way or another. Either I tell Braden what's going on, or I get the information I need.
I can't live in limbo anymore.
For a moment, I let myself relax into the fact that Braden's body surrounds my own and that together, we make a cozy nest in his large bed. The grey sheets and duvet cover us and keep us warm. Not a shade of light enters the room as he has the automatic blinds drawn shut. It's black in here.
I feel his chest rising and falling. I listen to his breathing. He's all I want, all I've ever wanted.
I have no idea what time it is because of the darkness surrounding me. I reach for my watch ever so gently on the night table. It's 5:30 AM, my usual waking hour.
Images from last night cross my mind. The balcony, the stairwell...it was magical.
We fucked several times more in this bed. It's like he couldn't get enough of me, nor I him. There's this pull between us, this ravenous desire to be together―and last night finally fulfilled some of that wantonness.
While I feel like it means that something more is growing between us, and while I feel more intimate with him, I'm also unsure about the future. Nothing can be decided as of now.
Braden may not be a one-woman kind of guy. I have yet to determine that. But my feelings haven't changed; they only grow deeper every second that I'm around him.
I've never let someone penetrate my soul the way I’ve let him in. I hope I'm not opening up too far too fast.
Though I could stay here, curled up with him forever, I recognize the fact that this could be my one opportunity to make a move towards finding the information I need.
I'm sad to leave the warm bed and the feeling of his arms around me, but slowly I extricate myself from his grasp. I am ever so careful not to wake my sleeping man. He's so hot, even when he’s in dreamland.
I place one foot on the floor and then the other. It's freezing in here, and I'm naked.
I seek around in the dark for my dress, or better yet, a sheet, just something to wrap myself up in. My cum-stained dress from last night will not do.
I go to his master bathroom and into his closet where I find all manner of cashmere sweaters. I pull on a heather grey one and a pair of his sweats. Warm at last.
Then I splash some water on my face and once again judge my own eyes, wondering if I'm the type of person who could do something like this. Can I betray the person I'm growing to care about? Can I betray the rest of the league just to save myself and my team?
The answer evades me, and I look away from myself in disgust. I'm used to having a stronger moral compass than this. Usually, I know exactly which way to turn.
<
br /> This could be either my undoing or his. I have to decide soon.
I tiptoe around his room and leave to sleep, hopefully dreaming for me and not having nightmares like I had.
I walk the length of the hall and admire his place in the very early light of day. The guy really has good taste.
In the kitchen, I quietly find a glass and pour some orange juice. I make an espresso out of the machine in the wall, and that's enough to get me going, to clear my foggy mind from everything that happened last night.
It's time. No more stalling. I have to seek some information about the technology he's developing.
A part of me hopes that it's so well hidden, I won't be able to find it and then that'll be my answer.
I find his office in the palatial pad. It's a book-lined room, chic and modern as ever. His desk is right there in front of me, the essential Promised Land.
I can do this.
I don't have to do anything with the information. I can keep it under wraps, and no one has to know I have it. But this is my only chance to get it. So until I make my decision, I at least need to know that I have what the FBI wants.
Maybe somehow I can leverage myself out of this. Make a deal for Braden.
Or maybe I can replicate his technology and take the blame for him. I don't know. But there has to be a way.
For now, I sort through his desk looking for my answer. I'm curious to know his secret. I've been wondering for ages what he's implemented to make his car go so fast.
I wish this was a personal mission of uncovering knowledge, but unfortunately, it might be a government one.
I rifle through all the paperwork. For such a tidy guy, his desk is a mess. I sort through the drawers of his desk and find that one of them has a lock on it but it's open. He didn't bother to lock, probably thinking his information was at least safe in his own penthouse.
And now I feel worse than ever, because I know before I even look that the information I need is in there. I feel so bad for doing this to Braden that I almost want to turn away, but to back out now would mean that I no longer have a choice in what to do.
I've got to get the information to at least hold my options open.
I open the drawer though my head pounds. Then I see the blueprints. I pull them out and spread them across the desk.
It's all here in front of me. Oh, my God, I see how he's done it. He's using an afterburner technology that is out of this world. I never expected he's be tuned into this kind of thing.
What he's doing is highly illegal, and it makes sense now that the FBI would want him locked up for it. But I can tell by the plans that Braden's also on the cusp of something new, and that the FBI will also want this information to use for their own engines. They probably need a person as much of a genius as Braden on their side.
He's accessed a far greater breadth of knowledge than they were aware of. Maybe he refused to give it to them or refused to work for them? I don't know, but looking at the plans makes it all apparent as to why Braden's in so much trouble.
They probably want these blueprints more than anything. More than putting him or the other crew members behind bars, they want the info.
In a way, I'm jealous that it was he and not I that came up with this. Why did I not think to use afterburning to increase the thrust? It's so obvious to me now, but technically speaking, it’s hard to achieve.
I admire Braden. He really is the smartest guy I know, and that is so, so sexy.
I take the blueprints and fold them up. I'm going to need to sneak these out of here.
I remember dropping my Louis Vuitton purse by the door, so I quietly leave the office, making sure everything is left as it was. Then I go down the hall to the front door where I tuck the papers into my purse.
Hopefully, now I'll have time to crawl back into bed with Braden, and he'll never have noticed that I left.
It's so early in the morning, and yet I know he loves to get an early start, too, so I better hurry.
Just as I turn around to join him back in bed, I see his large frame leaning against the frame of the door that leads to the foray.
"What are you doing, Jenna?" he asks with dark eyes.
Damn. I've been caught.
20
Braden
She's on her knees, placing the blueprints in her purse.
Is it weird that I think she looks gorgeous in the morning light, wearing my sweat?
Is it wrong that I want her just as much as ever, even in the midst of betrayal?
"What are you doing Jenna?" I ask her pointedly.
She stands to greet me and tries to play off the deception like it never happened.
"Oh, hi baby. I was just getting some lip gloss from my purse. You woke up early."
So it's gonna be like this. She won't admit that she’s flat out stealing my plans from the drawer in my desk. What does she take me for? A fool?
I planted the blueprints there on purpose, in order to catch her betrayal if it occurs. Does she really think I'd hide them in plain sight, with the desk drawer unlocked?
I guess she does, and I guess she's really working for the FBI. None of what's happened between us has any merit, none of it was true or came from a place of honesty. It was all part of an elaborate scheme to get to this point in time.
She's a liar.
I feel a sense of disappointment that's new to me. Usually, I don't care enough about a woman to be disappointed. I really thought more of Jenna. I thought she was different; thought she’s the real deal.
I know she might be on the cusp of the wrong side. I know she may sway to the authorities and I'd lose her forever.
But now I see she’s in it all along. She's set to ruin me from the beginning.
It's why she got close to me. Her attraction has been nothing more than a facade.
She's been faking it all along, and the reality hits me like a ton of bricks.
I never fall for anyone; I just couldn’t find someone to trust. And now, as soon as I put my heart out there and actually begin to trust, I get nailed.
It's like my instincts are off. I can normally read people so easily, but I guess I read Jenna all wrong.
The feeling of defeat is staggering.
She's got the lip gloss in her hand and she comes up to give me a kiss.
The problem is the sight of her, caught in such an obvious lie. For some reason, it doesn't disgust me or put me off. I still think she's radiant, and I'm still as attracted to her as ever.
And therein lies the problem.
"Have you had breakfast?" I ask.
"Oh no, I just grabbed some coffee. You have quite the espresso maker."
"Come with me," I grab her hand and lead her into the kitchen. "I make the best omelette."
She seems a little shaken, a little thrown off her game, and she should be. It took balls to do what she did, sneaking around my office when I wasn't aware. And then she so narrowly got caught.
I, of course, was expecting it. I heard her slip out of bed. While I was hoping that my information on her was wrong, she certainly proved otherwise.
In the kitchen, I play some music. The sun is shining through the windows and it feels like it should be a good day.
"Do you cook?" I ask her casually.
She laughs.
"Nothing edible. I'm not a very good cook. I know every restaurant in town for a reason. Plus, I have a private chef that comes in on occasion."
"You do? You live a ritzier life than I do."
"A girl's gotta eat."
I oil the pan and begin my creation. Cooking, to me, is like an art form. I find value in cooking for people I love. Not that I'm saying I love Jenna. Not by any means.
My mind is occupied as I make her breakfast. I thought last night meant something to her. I thought we were on the same page. But what I'm coming to find out is that every moment she spends with me is an act, for an ulterior motive.
And yet it can't be. I know we have a connection. I know she feels
it too. You can't fake that, can you?
Either she's the best goddamn liar in town or I've got it all wrong.
"Okay, well, now you can sample some homemade food, a luxury in your world."
I plate her the omelette in town, complete with greens, imported cheese and all my favorite ingredients.
Internally, I curse myself for getting so worked over Jenna. I'm a playboy after all. I don't get consumed and upset by women. I make them swoon, and I bed them, and that's it.
Why should Jenna be any different?
I look at her smiling over her breakfast, so appreciative and sweet about everything. How could I be wrong about this girl? It's not like she wears her heart on her sleeve, but is and always has been kind-hearted and respectful to everyone I know.
She has a flawless reputation unlike my own. She prides herself on having morals and I fucking respect that.
But then I envision myself walking in on her, crouched over her purse stuffing my blueprints away. I saw it with my own eyes, there’s no going back. I can't deny what I saw.
"Is it good?"
"So good. You could be a chef. Like, really."
She's happy and thankful and I'm torn apart. I have to just put her in the category with all other women and not become emotionally involved.
Even if I put her in that category, I don't know where to go from there. Should I break things off?
I curse myself for getting my heart involved. I'll know in the future not to go there. There's a reason I don't involve myself with women like this. It always ends up messy and complicated.
It’s unreal, and I can't even believe I've let my heart go so much. I'm normally so guarded and I'll have to be that way again.
I owe it to myself and to my long reputation of staying distant to continue to do so. I deserve the best, and if Jenna's a fraud, then she's not the best and I needn't have anything to do with her.
At the same time, I have to play this thing carefully. If I break it off now, while things are so good on the surface, she might get suspicious. It'll look like I know what she's up to.
If anything, I have to prevent her from getting those plans to the FBI. They must not obtain them.
