by Kaye Blue
He smirked, then walked back toward me, but moved past me to reach the door.
He closed it and then turned, his front at my back, his mouth close to my ear.
“What did you think this was, Mia?” he asked on a low, sensual whisper.
His breath against my skin, the heat of his body, was enough to make me shiver.
I did, cursing the fact that he had seen it, but knowing that hiding it would have been impossible.
“I…”
“It’s not like you to stammer,” he said.
“It’s not like you to show off,” I replied.
It was kind of low, kind of a bitchy thing to say, especially since I knew it would hit Alex right where it hurt, but I didn’t care. It was clear that Alex was messing with me, and if nothing else, when the mood suited I liked to give as good as I got.
“Ah. You’re throwing my words back at me. It’s true, we don’t know each other, but some things about a person never change. And you’re stammering because this isn’t what you thought it was going to be,” he said.
I wanted to flip him off for being right, but that wouldn’t be very mature.
Instead, I rubbed my palms together and then took a few steps, opening the distance between Alex and me.
Distance that he immediately closed.
He followed, again bringing his body almost close enough to touch but not quite, his mouth near my ear.
If I shifted my head just a little, our lips would be close, and I’d finally have a chance to kiss him, something that hadn’t left my thoughts for two days now.
I didn’t turn my head, but I didn’t step away again, either. It was clear that he would follow, and I certainly wouldn’t have him thinking that I was going to run from him.
“What is this place?” I asked.
“And you’re trying to deflect?”
“Since when is asking a direct question a deflection?” I asked. I shouldn’t have been engaging, knew better than to try. But I couldn’t help myself.
“It’s deflection when you’re thinking one thing and don’t want to admit it,” he said.
He was taunting me, and I wasn’t going to give in to it.
“Are you that eager, Mia?” he asked, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear.
“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
“Sure you don’t,” he responded.
I could hear the amusement in his voice, and also the tension that told me of his desire.
I understood that well, felt much the same myself, but I still refused to give him this point.
“Did you think I was taking you to some kind of sex dungeon or something?” he asked.
“It’s obviously not a…sex dungeon,” I said, dropping my voice to a low whisper.
“You sound disappointed,” he said, his voice light, lifting with his laughter.
“Whatever,” I grumbled petulantly, but still proud of myself for being able to even say that much.
“Mia, I told you I’m not going to pounce on you. But we can go to a sex dungeon if you’d like that,” he said.
Even though I wasn’t facing him, I rolled my eyes, but on second thought, I was glad he hadn’t seen the gesture. It would have come off as fake, and not at all forceful, and I wanted Alex to see nothing of me but strength.
“So if this isn’t a sex dungeon, what is it?” I asked.
He laughed, his breath again brushing the side of my face, making me shiver. Then he moved, something that both relieved and saddened me, though I didn’t allow myself to think about that too much.
Instead I watched as he walked in long, measured strides across the room.
“I thought it would be obvious,” he said as he lifted the two silver domes. I told you we were going to dinner,” he said.
“I thought…”
“What? That I was going to wine and dine you? Take you out on the town?” he asked.
His voice was still somewhat playful, but now had an edge to it, a tone that I didn’t like.
“No. But I wasn’t expecting whatever this is,” I said.
“It’s a private club. They have dining areas where people can discuss sensitive matters without prying eyes,” he said.
“A club. A private one. You never struck me as the type,” I said as I walked toward him.
“When in Rome,” he replied nonchalantly.
“So am I here to discuss sensitive matters without prying eyes?” I asked.
“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing toward one of the chairs.
I walked closer, and then complied, sitting myself in the seat and watching as Alex lifted the plate and sat it in front of me.
“We’ve discussed all that we need to,” he said.
“So why the private dining quarters?” I asked.
“I want to be away from prying eyes,” he replied.
He deposited the other plate in front of him and then sat across the table from me.
I froze, torn, not quite sure what to do.
It angered me and hurt, the implication of him bringing me here. It was almost as if he didn’t want to be seen in public with me. I supposed that was to be understood. We weren’t dating, but it still hurt, made me feel cheap. A feeling I didn’t like one bit.
“You should eat your dinner,” he said.
I looked at him, not having realized that I had looked down.
A hot rush of embarrassment came over me, but I ignored it and instead began to slice the tender-looking steak that sat in front of me.
I took a small bite, noted that the meat was delicious, but the pleasure from the food was dampened by the reality of the situation.
Had I a shred less pride, I might have cried. But I held those tears back, held all of my emotions at bay, and instead went through with the meal, eating, vaguely aware that it was the best food I had ever consumed, not at all caring.
“I’m surprised,” Alex said, breaking the silence after several long, tense, at least for me, moments.
“By what?” I asked after I finished chewing a bite of food.
“You’re not peppering me with questions anymore. So you finally understand the situation,” he said.
“Yeah, I think I understand,” I said, the reality of this situation something that was now completely unavoidable. I knew exactly what I was to Alex, what I had agreed to be, and the shame of it almost took my breath away.
My voice had taken on an edge, one that I was sure Alex didn’t miss. He didn’t react to it though, and instead went back to his meal.
I was full, or more accurately had lost my appetite, and I watched him as he ate.
That was one thing that certainly hadn’t changed.
Alex had grown up not knowing where the next meal was going to come from, so he had never been one to waste time when presented with the chance to eat.
I knew I should probably leave well enough alone, but then again, Alex didn’t deserve my restraint.
“You still eat like you just got out of jail,” I said.
I waited for a moment, wondering how he was going to respond, but in the next he simply shrugged and continued with his food.
“Old habits,” he said.
“How do your new hoity-toity friends feel about that?” I asked.
“Don’t have any hoity-toity friends. And I don’t care how they feel about anything. I’m sure they think I eat like the poor person I used to be, but they need my money and influence too much to let something like table manners bother them,” he said.
In truth, his table manners were good, probably better than mine, but there was still an edge, almost a desperation in the way he ate. And I was sure that didn’t go away, or maybe I was so attuned to him, paying so much attention, caught the little things others wouldn’t.
“I asked you why you’re not peppering me with questions, and your response is to pepper me with questions,” he observed.
“Be careful what you wish for,” I replied.
His
only response was a chuckle. Then I watched as he finished his meal, then put his knife and fork on the plate.
We sat for a moment, still, silent, and I froze, somewhat at a loss.
“What do you do?” I blurted.
I’d read the articles, but they were all very vague, talked about his empire but without any details.
“What do you think I do?” he asked.
There was a gleam in his eye, a challenge, one that I wouldn’t step back from.
“Something that obviously makes a lot of money,” I responded.
“Maybe your father was right. Maybe I grew up to be some kind of criminal or something,” he said.
I scoffed.
“I don’t think criminals have dinner at private clubs,” I said.
“You would be mistaken,” he responded, his voice dead serious, no hints of any amusement at all.
I looked at him, studied him, tried to see if he was testing me, teasing me, or something else.
I remembered how he always swore that he would avoid the same life that had killed his real father, and I’d always been certain that he wouldn’t fall into it. But maybe I had been wrong.
“Are you?” I asked.
“You’re not sure?” he retorted.
“As you like to remind me, I don’t know you. Not anymore,” I said.
“Would that make a difference?” he asked.
“What do you think?” I replied.
Part of me wondered why I was pushing him this way, but I couldn’t not, couldn’t just allow this to continue to careen out of control, me just along for the ride. Perhaps it was an illusion, me thinking I could somehow get on equal footing with him, but I wouldn’t give up without a fight.
I knew Alex was playing a game, knew that I was only feeding into it, but I couldn’t help myself. As if to confirm what I thought, he lifted one corner of his mouth in a smile. “I think you’d do anything to save your precious town and your precious father.”
“Then I guess that settles the matter,” I said.
“I guess it does,” he responded.
I stood abruptly, needing a retreat. I didn’t like to show weakness, ever, something I knew was a flaw of mine, but I was even less inclined to do so now. Especially now that I knew Alex was toying with me.
I felt that anger deep in my stomach and I tried to cling to it, focus on it, use it to keep me centered. Because nothing else would. As angry as I was, as annoyed as I was by Alex’s game, at myself for getting into this, at my powerlessness in this situation, deep down, I knew I wanted him.
It was pathetic, stupid, weak, but I wanted him all the same.
There was no excuse for this, no way I could explain it away, even make myself understand.
“Don’t feel bad about it, Mia,” Alex said.
I hadn’t even noticed he had stood, but he had, and now he was behind me as he had been before.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said on a low voice, one that was stern, full of the certainty that I didn’t feel.
“You want me. And that pisses you off,” he said.
He’d hit the mark, landed squarely in exactly the place I hadn’t wanted him to. There was no way I would admit that, though.
“Whatever you say, Alex,” I said.
He chuckled, and I turned at the sound, surprised to see what looked like amusement on his face.
“I know you don’t believe that, and I know you don’t mean it. That you’re playing this docile role only tells me how close to the truth I am.”
“Congratulations,” I said sarcastically. The last thing I needed was Alex psychoanalyzing me or, God forbid, being right about it.
“Trust me. I understand. But you don’t have to fight it. And you don’t have to like me. We just have to fuck. And I know you want that.”
I looked away, and was glad that I had. My reaction was one that I wouldn’t want him to see. One that I didn’t actually understand myself. I was shocked, not because of his words, but because of the truth that resonated in them.
I’d convinced myself that I wasn’t that type of girl, whatever that meant, but Alex could see through me.
And I knew then, without a doubt, that I was going to go through with this, even worse I was going to enjoy it.
Eleven
Alex
*
This was getting out of hand, but in the best possible way.
I’d been honest when I’d told Mia that I’d brought her here so as to avoid prying eyes. But I hadn’t been completely truthful. The fact was, I had gained a certain amount of prominence, and were Mia and I seen together, it would lead to questions that I had no intention of answering, and would make people curious about her.
I told myself that was the reason why I wanted to keep her away. It had nothing to do with a need to protect her, or keep her out of this world that I hated but that also brought me my fortune.
There was no way I could be upfront with her about that, so while using the words that I had, creating the implication that I didn’t want to be seen in public with her was cruel, it also served a purpose.
I should have been above such pettiness, but I wasn’t, not when it came to Mia. The idea of making her hurt was simultaneously awful and one that I wanted.
Those two conflicting emotions were just things that exemplified how Mia changed me, made me do things, think things, feel things that I had no interest in doing, thinking, or feeling.
I could admit that I didn’t necessarily enjoy seeing the hurt on her face as much as I’d thought I would, but something I did like, and most assuredly would enjoy was the desire I saw there.
She’d been upset, but it was clear that even despite that she still wanted me. I knew that confused her, left her in a state similar to mine. I couldn’t be sad about that. If I had to be here, working my way through these emotions, it seemed only fair that she join me.
Still, I wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it.
There was no doubt that the chemistry between us was combustible, that she was anticipating enjoying me as much as I was her.
But why did that matter?
I kept racking my brain to come up with an explanation, decided that it was futile and then stopped. Reminded myself that why didn’t matter, reminded myself that all that mattered was that I had her here, now, and, it seemed, waiting for me.
I tortured myself by getting close to her, standing close enough that I could smell her shampoo, hear the softness of her breath, see the way her heart thudded in that little spot on her neck.
And, for the first time since I had seen her, I gave in to the instinct to touch her.
I moved slowly, feeling almost like I was outside of myself.
I brushed my lips against her neck, felt and heard her sharp intake of breath.
I didn’t stop, just brushed my lips against that spot again, and then again.
Mia held herself so rigid, her shoulders back, her arms hanging at her sides. For a moment I thought she might pull away, and I suspected she was considering doing just that. But, after several brief moments, she breathed out a sigh, her posture slipping ever so slightly, her body now in the shape of surrender.
Seeing that, having Mia near me after all these years was something I didn’t even have the words to describe.
I kissed her harder, then sucked her skin into my mouth, knowing I was going to leave a mark, desperate to do so.
I had never been able to do that before. Mia had always been too afraid that someone else would see, that someone else would know that she was mine.
Now, I didn’t have that worry.
I kissed her harder, sucked at her skin, marked her in the way I had wanted to in all the years before and in all the ones that had passed.
Some small part of my mind tried to tell me that Mia wasn’t mine, but I dismissed it.
She was mine. At least for the next three months she belonged to me, and right now, that was all that mattered.
I broke th
e kiss, rested my forehead against her shoulder, breathing deep.
I struggled to contain myself, trying to keep a tight leash on the desire that was threatening to overflow.
Failed.
I had no reason to anyway. She had agreed to this, and I could hear from her soft pants, the way her head tilted, her eyes closed, her face tightened with focus that she was in this with me.
Still, I stayed where I was for a moment longer, then another, and then finally moved into action.
I kept my eyes on her face as I reached at her waistband and made quick work of her cheap slacks.
“Step out,” I said.
My voice was rough, thickened with my desire, but I was too far gone to care about that, or about saving face, at least not now.
Mia paused for a moment, seeming to try to process my words before she stepped out.
As she moved, I watched her long legs, full thighs, trim calves that would feel amazing locked around my waist as I pounded into her.
She took a step away, putting some distance between us, but I moved quickly to close it, pulling her back against my front, my cock nestled against her full bottom.
I wanted her to feel this, feel me and how much I wanted her, and when she began to squirm, arching her back to bring us closer, I knew that what I had seen earlier was true.
I wanted to touch her everywhere at once, consume her, but I contented myself with stroking my fingers up and down her thighs.
Her skin was smooth, warm, the fullness of her flesh making me crave more.
I reached between those thighs, laid my palm flat against her sex.
Even through the thin cotton of her panties, I could feel her heat, her wetness, and when I used a finger to stroke her, she squirmed, rocked her hips so that her clit brushed against my finger.
She did that again, then again, then again and soon I could hear her breath hitch, the pants coming out of her desperate.
Still, I continued until I knew she was right on the edge, then I pulled my hand away.
She looked back at me, her expression twisted, surprised.
I didn’t care.
Instead I turned her back around, and then reached into the waistband of her panties. Instead of letting them fall by themselves, I pushed them down, followed them as they moved down her thighs, and I trailed kisses down her exposed skin, paused to lick the spot behind her knee.
