by Emery Cross
I found Max and Remi on the balcony, standing a couple of feet apart. The jealousy boiling through my veins dropped to a simmer. I pulled in the fresh air hoping to chill my temper, as well.
They were the lone people enjoying the fresh air. Max was pointing out one of our major projects, though I doubted she could pick it out from all the other lights of the city.
I inserted myself between them at the railing. She teetered on her spiky heels as she sidled up next to me. She’d had one cocktail, and the rum had been displaced with pineapple and a shitload of cherries, thanks to the too-attentive bartender.
“Did you eat anything before you came here?”
I shut Max out of the conversation by turning my back on him. I heard the sliding door as Max got the message and left us alone.
She shook her head. “I was too nervous.” She clung to my arm to steady herself. “I guess it’s pretty pathetic for someone weaned on moonshine.”
The soft lilt suddenly seemed too authentic. “Were you raised in the south?”
The corners of her lips curled. “Maybe.”
That response reinforced what I already knew, that, unless pressured, she never volunteered any intimate details about herself. In her eyes, I was no different from Fremont. She had no more connection to me than she did him. And she’d made it clear on almost a daily basis that she was counting down the days. Freedom from me would be like Christmas to her.
I scrubbed my hair back with my fingers. “What the hell have you done to me?” I hauled her around the corner of the wraparound balcony and caged her against the wall.
Her body tensed. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I’m damned tired of you playing a Stepford hooker.”
My mouth covered hers before she could protest. I dug my hands into her hair and could feel the pins shake loose. I reached under her dress and ripped the crotch out of the lace teddy she was wearing. Her cunt was hot and slick. She spread her legs as far as the tight skirt would allow and I penetrated her with two fingers. She moaned softly and bucked eagerly against my hand.
Reaching forward, she unbuckled my belt and unzipped my fly. I groaned against her mouth as she wrapped her fingers around my cock. It strained against her grip. She stroked me from the base to the head, rubbing her thumb along the come at the tip. I watched her slender hand pump me. “Is this your back alley special, Diamond?”
My insult made her flinch. She shoved my hand away from her pussy and closed her thighs. But like the pro she was, she finished what she’d started with me. Both her hands now pumped me steadily. She was not as calm as her rhythmic assault on my cock would suggest. Her breathing was erratic and her cheeks flamed. My hands were flat against the wall on either side of her, effectively trapping her, as I watched those dainty hands with the silver painted nails milking me.
With a growl, I spurted into her hands. She licked my come from her fingers. I leaned in and kissed her to taste myself on her mouth. To know that I’d existed to her for a fleeting moment.
I buckled myself up and watched her. Her breathing was returning to normal, but her eyes still glittered with emotion. I’d finally managed to break through her facade. Her lips looked bruised from my kisses, and her hair was completely undone and slightly mussed.
“Fix your hair,” I said and watched her eyes gloss with tears. I couldn’t seem to shift out of asshole mode.
She took a comb from her small sequined purse and tamed her hair some, but she still looked like she’d just had sex.
“I’m done with this event.” I texted Fitch to bring the car around.
Her fingers grazed mine as she reached to take my hand. I stuffed my hand in my pants’ pocket. “Quit with the coy flirting.”
We squinted into the bright light as we entered the main room, and a few heads turned our way. I gave Max the cursory chin lift to let him know we were leaving.
To add to my irritation, there was Zoe, Veronica’s doppelganger and best friend, moving to block my way. “You’ll never guess whom I’m speaking with, Rafferty.”
I put out my hand for the phone. She gave it to me with a gloating smile. The moment I said Veronica’s name, Remi left my side. I heard her ask a server where the restroom was and watched as Zoe followed her. Remi was still unsteady on her high heels. Her auburn hair skimmed the top of her hips, as her sweet ass swayed deliciously beneath the short, shimmering gown. I felt a twinge of guilt. She’d done herself up for this event, and I’d undone her. She’d gone from classy to sexpot in one down and dirty session of jacking me off.
Remi’s face was washed of all color when she returned to me.
“What did that bitch say to you?”
“Who?” she asked with an innocent blink.
I cursed under my breath.
I saw her to the sedan. She started to scoot over to make room for me.
“I left my car in the office parking lot.”
“I’ll walk with you,” she offered.
I leaned in. “Fitch, take her straight home.”
Her beautiful green eyes flickered with something akin to pain. It left me feeling like I’d kicked a kitten. It was unreasonable to blame her. She was just reinforcing the boundaries, keeping me, the client, at a distance. But my mind didn’t operate on reason when it came to Remi.
“Now that your girlfriend is back in town, perhaps it’s best that I leave early.” I couldn’t help noticing that her chin trembled.
“Push me again about that, babe, and I’m going to start tacking on days.”
She tucked herself back against the seat to avoid my glare. I closed the door, thinking I was a prime idiot. I thought of her torn underwear. I wanted to turn her over my lap and spank her and finger-fuck her until she screamed my name. To shove her silver dress up to her waist as she straddled my lap and rode me all the way home.
My heart pounded in my chest as I watched the car drive away. This evening had brought home the truth. I craved intimacy beyond sex with her. I wanted her to need me as desperately as I needed her.
I rubbed my hand over my face. Get your head on straight, asshole. My obsession for the girl was overtaking my life. There were two massive projects on my desk I’d only given half-hearted attention to; besides, Veronica was back and seemed to want to reconnect. Maybe it was finally time to get serious.
CHAPTER FOUR
REMI
The beginning of the evening had had a fairy tale quality. But instead of winning the prince tonight, I’d not only lost him, but pissed him off royally. I cringed as I relived all the humiliating events. Max staring at me non-stop, tapping his chin all the while as he tried to figure out where he’d seen me before. Hearing from multiple sources that Rafferty’s girlfriend was back in town. And being cornered in the bathroom by the seriously scary blonde. She’d emphasized her warnings to stay the fuck away from Rafferty by poking my chest with one of her long, red nails.
But the worst of it all was how Rafferty himself had reacted when I wouldn’t share details about myself. One second he was flirtatious and charming, and flatteringly possessive as if he were actually proud of me. The next, he was an angry stranger crushing me against the balcony wall. I took off my shoes and hurled them into the closet. I left the silver dress in a pile on the floor and, in my frustration to get it off, ripped the already torn teddy some more. I wadded the expensive undergarment into a ball and stuffed it into the bathroom waste receptacle. Nausea threatened and I threw open the balcony doors to let in the refreshing night air. I vowed never to eat anything with maraschino cherries again.
Figuring my services wouldn’t be required this evening, I rummaged through the clothes my roommate had gathered for me and pulled on one of my torn and faded band shirts and a pair of cutoffs. Now that I was in rags, the reverse Cinderella process felt complete.
Ar
med with a tattered paperback of Victorian ghost stories, I went downstairs to the entertainment room. I searched Rafferty’s shelves of vinyls. It took me awhile, but I found an old blues album that suited my sad mood perfectly. I put the record on the turntable and curled up on the couch. I gave reading a valiant try, but tears filled my eyes, blurring the words on the page.
The record came to an end, but I wasn’t done wallowing in self-pity. I trudged over and flipped the LP over and curled back up on the couch. I closed my eyes with the hopes of dozing off.
The turntable clicked off mid-song, and I sat up with a start.
He did not look half as polished as he had at the party. His black hair fell across his forehead, his shirt was rumpled, the sleeves rolled up, and his tie was loosened and twisted to the side. Even from a distance I could smell whiskey and smoke.
“Please tell me you didn’t drive drunk.”
He tilted his head a bit, as if confused by my concern. “I had Fitch pick me up.”
He pulled my phone from his pocket. I’d left it upstairs in my little silver bag. He thrust the screen under my nose. There was a series of messages. One particularly imperious one said he expected me naked and ready when he came home.
“I don’t think so. After attending that dreadful party, I feel I’ve more than earned my keep for the day.” I picked up the paperback. “I think I’ll just stay down here and read.”
I could tell he was having a difficult time controlling his temper. “My day starts at five-thirty. Which means your day starts at five-thirty.”
“That’s less than four hours from now.”
“When my alarm goes off, you’re in my bed. Understand?”
We’d never had sex in the morning. On weekdays, he set his phone alarm on vibrate so as not to disturb me. Normally, he was out the door before I’d woken.
He stared down at me, a muscle ticking impatiently in his jaw, as he waited for me to acknowledge what he’d said.
“Fine. I’ve got it.” I threw myself back on the couch and pretended to be absorbed in my book until he stalked out of the room.
CHAPTER FIVE
REMI
The shades had been opened a little, and bright sunlight peeked through the gaps. The smell of coffee crept up the stairs. I stretched my body, feeling a lovely, satisfied ache. I’d come to bed around four. He’d reached for me the moment I’d slid naked under the covers. Though I still hadn’t forgiven him for last night, my body reacted as if it had been starved of his touch. I actually moaned aloud in anticipation when he merely grazed my thigh with his fingers, and I’d begged to be fucked harder as he took my pussy from behind. I knew I’d shocked him when I started sobbing after I’d climaxed.
Keeping warm beneath the blankets, I sat up in bed, tucking my knees against my chest. Rafferty was already showered and dressed for work. He watched me in the mirror as he tied his necktie. I thought I must look a wild mess after our lovemaking.
“I’m going to have a few people over tonight to celebrate the opening of a theater we renovated. It was scheduled months ago.” In other words, before he’d installed a whore in his bed. He was still watching me steadily. “One of them is the woman I’d been seeing. She did some design work on the project.” I knew what was coming next. “I’d appreciate it if you would just stay upstairs—”
“And keep out of sight,” I finished for him. Yesterday’s invitation to the cocktail party had just been a reckless impulse on his part or maybe even a ploy to make Veronica jealous. Tonight, when he entertained his real friends and the real woman he loved, I was to be hidden away like a bad habit.
“If it’s all the same, I’d rather hang out with friends. I could take the bus.”
He frowned at me in the mirror as he turned down his collar. “Fine. But Fitch will drive you.”
The pain stabbed deep as it occurred to me that he and Veronica would probably reclaim his bed. “I could stay away all night if that would be more convenient.”
He heaved a sigh. “Well, it wouldn’t be fucking convenient.” He shrugged into his jacket.
I plucked disconsolately at the fringe on the comforter.
“It’s nothing. Veronica knows I have no cousin or beautiful young relative of any kind. It’s just easier this way.” He strode over to the bed and pinched my chin and gave me a kiss, but everything felt different. For all his insistence that I needed to be less robotic, to show him my true self, I knew he was back to thinking of the whole thing as a business arrangement.
CHAPTER SIX
REMI
I called my ex-roommate and made a date to go club hopping. Robbie liked the idea of being chauffeured around town and said he’d bring the booze. I returned to the bed hoping to sleep away some hours of my misery. I dozed off for a little while, but it was a restless sleep.
I woke in a sweat. Mrs. McCay had managed to sneak in a lunch tray. I tried a bite of the sandwich, but the hard knot in my stomach made it impossible to eat.
Mrs. McCay certainly wasn’t her usual discreet self. As I continued to loll in bed, she’d knocked and poked her head in several times to make sure I was still breathing. She’d also opened the shades without asking my permission, but as soon as she’d gone I shut them again.
The fragrance of complex food filled the house. Gourmet dinner preparations were certainly underway in the kitchen.
I threw off the blankets and trudged to the guest bathroom. The expensive soap ran like silk over my skin. Its subtle fragrance perfumed the steam. I could have stood beneath the rain shower of hot water all day.
I shampooed my hair and rinsed far longer than necessary before finally shutting off the water. I grabbed the robe from the hook on the door and pulled it on.
My throat tightened as I realized Rafferty hadn’t called all day. I found my beat-up messenger bag and stuffed it with my old clothes. Then I curled up on the couch in the bedroom’s sitting area and stared out the window.
Dusk had faded to the chalky gray of night. I got up and walked out onto the balcony. The pool area was illuminated by torches, and drinks had been arranged festively on a table. Mrs. McCay and her crew of helpers had prepared for a lovely dinner party.
A cooler than expected breeze swept beneath the hem of the robe, chilling my freshly washed skin. I sat on the cushioned chaise and watched as last minute details were being tended to. Small twinkling lights had been strung across the patio, making it all very romantic. So much care had been taken, it was obvious that this wasn’t just any evening.
I heard the glass door slide open behind me. “Take a shower with me.” As always, his deep voice sent a frisson of desire up my spine.
I glanced over my shoulder. Rafferty was standing in the doorway unbuttoning his shirt.
“I’ve already had mine.” I faced forward again. I could sense him waiting for me to change my mind and join him. I heard him curse under his breath as he shut the door. The man was getting spoiled.
I waited until I heard the shower start before going inside. Clad in my black lace bra and panties, I started to apply my makeup, but I kept getting distracted by the gorgeous male animal reflected in the mirror. Of course, I could have used the sink in the bathroom area, but watching the soap and water run down his big biceps, his washboard abs, his muscular thighs, his big cock was just too scrumptious to miss. I was putting the finishing touches on my winged eyeliner, when he came up behind me scrubbing his hair with a towel.
Though the countertop was vast and had two sinks, he was crowding me, making me nervous. “I’ll be out of your way in a second, so you can shave.”
“Come here,” he demanded. I could push the point that I was off the clock, but instead I turned around and came to him. I settled on my knees on the hard tile floor. His luscious erection bobbed in my face. He groaned as I wrapped my hands around the base a
nd eagerly started lapping at his soap-scented skin, running my tongue the length of the ridge on the underside, exploring the slit on the end, and greedily suckling the head.
When he came I eagerly drank him down.
I got up off my knees. “Was that meant to teach me a lesson?” I swept my tongue along my lips. “Because mmm.”
He threw me a slantwise look and moved to the sink. He began lathering his jaw with soap.
I pulled on my tissue-thin Elvis t-shirt. The t-shirt was so faded, the king’s face was barely discernible. I’d discovered the shirt in a thrift store and had immediately taken scissors to it. I’d cut off the sleeves in a haphazard manner, leaving gaping arm holes. I struggled into my skinniest jeans and pulled on my engineer boots.
His eyes darkened with both lust and disapproval at my getup.
“You know I don’t want you going out dressed like that. Christ, I can see most of your bra.”
“You don’t have a say. You gave me the night off.” My lug-soled boots sounded heavy on the wood floor as I crossed the room to get my jacket from the closet. The tough girl act was just that, an act. I’d never felt so vulnerable.
Rafferty wiped the last of the shaving soap off his face and tossed the towel.
He scraped back his wet hair, his army tattoo stretching over his bulging bicep. “I’m already regretting it.” I backed up as he pursued me across the room. His cock was growing dauntingly thick again.
He hooked his finger in the top of my waistband and tugged me forward. He undid the zipper of my jeans and yanked them down to the tops of my boots. My skimpy lace underwear had been forced down with them. The air whispered over my exposed sex.
He groaned and rubbed his thumb along the slit. Trapped by the jeans, I could barely spread my thighs. He managed to push a finger inside me. I wriggled, undulating my hips toward his hand. He shoved his other hand under my t-shirt and undid the clasp on the front of my bra. He cupped one of my breasts and rubbed his thumb over the nipple. He pushed me back on the bed and tugged off my boots, then whipped off my jeans. He settled himself between my legs, and, for the first time, thrust to the hilt without pause. I cried aloud and clutched at his back.
