by R. R. Banks
I give her hand a squeeze and a soft, chaste kiss on the cheek. “I know exactly how you feel,” I say. “But no, this is no fairy tale. This is our life, darlin'.”
We dine at a restaurant called Malvoy's – one of the swankiest and trendiest places on the Riverwalk. There is a constant flutter in my stomach the entire evening and I have trouble even making halfway decent conversation. I feel like a blithering idiot, truth be told.
“You okay?” Amanda finally asks after the waitress clears our plates.
“Yeah, fine,” I say. “Sorry, darlin'. I'm just a little distracted, I guess.”
She shrugs. “I guess that's to be expected.”
“I suppose so.”
The waitress comes back and gives us a smile. “Dessert?”
“Y – yeah,” I say. “Absolutely. Why don't you bring us a couple of those lava cakes you guys make? And maybe some port wine?”
“Coming right up.”
I look over at Amanda who's looking back at me with an amused grin. And then it hits me.
“I'm sorry,” I say. “I did it again, didn't I?”
She nods. “I'm getting used to you ordering everything for me,” she says. “Although, once in a while, I'd like to make some decisions for myself.”
I nod and feel the nervous flutter in my stomach grow exponentially. Without realizing it, she just gave me the perfect opening. The opening I'd been waiting for. I give her what I'm sure is an awkward smile and stand up.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
I don't say a word, but get down on my knee next to her seat. She looks at me with curious, but wide eyes. I can feel the eyes of everybody in the restaurant turning to us and although Amanda's face is bright red, I ignore it.
“I have one decision you need to make all on your own,” I say. “Amanda Johnston, would you do me the incredible honor of being my wife?”
She claps her hands over her mouth and I see her eyes shifting everywhere around the restaurant, taking in all the eyes on us. I can only imagine what she's thinking and feeling in that moment – I just hope it's good. Her eyes are shimmering with tears and her face turns an even deeper shade of red – a shade of red I don't believe exists in nature.
“Will you marry me, darlin'?”
She opens her mouth to speak but no words come out – nothing but a hoarse little croak. But she nods vigorously before she throws her arms around my neck, squeezing me tight.
“Yes,” she's finally able to choke out. “Yes, I'll marry you. Yes.”
The restaurant around us explodes in cheers and applause and Amanda plants a big kiss on me. I take the ring from the box and slip it on her finger. She looks at it with eyes so big, I fear they're going to pop right out of her head. She holds her hand up, gazing in wonder at the ring on her finger.
The waitress comes to the table and sets our desserts down – along with a couple flutes of champagne.
“It looks like the occasion calls for champagne instead of port,” she says. “Congratulations.”
I look at the waitress, my heart filled to bursting, and give her a smile. “If you wouldn't mind, darlin', would you wrap these desserts up to go?”
She smiles and nods. “Of course.”
~ooo000ooo~
We're in the back of the car and Amanda hasn't taken her eyes off the ring. She just keeps looking at it with wonder and marvel in her eyes. She's barely been able to speak.
“It looks good on you,” I say.
She finally manages to tear her eyes away from the ring and looks at me. Her lower lip is trembling and there are fresh tears in her eyes.
“I need you to be honest with me about something, Brady.”
“Shoot,” I say.
“Proposing to me back there like that,” she starts, “was that just all part of selling the illusion?”
I shake my head firmly. “No,” I say. “When I first approached you with this idea, I thought it was going to be nothing more than a business arrangement.”
“Yeah, so did I.”
My heart is thundering in my chest. I'm not a man who enjoys talking about his feelings and think I sound like an idiot when I do. But I know that she needs to hear this. Know that she needs the reassurance. Hell, maybe I do too.
“But the more time we spend together, Amanda,” I say, “the more I fall for you. You have already changed my life in so many ways – ways I can't even begin to explain to you. Ways that I probably don't even understand yet.”
Tears spill down her cheeks, but I can tell they're tears of happiness. I reach out and wipe them away.
“This was a business deal to start with,” I say. “But darlin', somewhere along the way, I fell for you – and I fell hard.”
She presses her lips to mine and then pulls back and smiles. “Thank you.”
I shake my head again. “No, darlin',” I say. “Thank you.”
She gives me another kiss – this one with some real fire behind it and it nearly takes my breath away. Biting her bottom lip, she gives me that seductive smile that never fails to get my fire burnin'.
“Derek,” I say. “Just – drive around for a while, will you?”
“Yes, sir.”
I raise the partition to give us a little privacy as Amanda climbs into my lap, straddling me. She kisses me hard, running her hands across my chest. I kiss her neck, sliding the tip of my tongue down the plunging neckline of her dress, teasing her stiff nipples through the fabric.
I reach down and run my hands up her thighs, pushing her dress up around her waist. She bites my ear and then kisses my neck, grinding herself against my hard cock. I slip one of her breasts out of her dress and kiss it, suck on it, and make her gasp when I give it a hard nip. She takes her hair down, letting me run my hands through it.
I kiss her and give her hair a good pull, tilting her head back so I can kiss her neck. She moans as she grinds herself against me and when I reach down and pull her panties to the side, I can feel how hot and wet she is already.
She reaches down and strokes my cock through my pants. The need and desire I feel for her is overwhelming. Amanda climbs down onto the floorboard and kneels between my legs. Unbuttoning my pants, she pulls my cock out and strokes it, never breaking eye contact with me. Leaning forward, she traces her tongue around the head of my cock, then runs it up and down my shaft. My body explodes in sensation and I moan.
Amanda takes my cock into her mouth, moving her head up and down while stroking me with her hand at the same time. I look out the window, at the cars passing by us and wonder if they feel as good as I feel in that moment.
I look down at her as she sucks me off and want to make her feel as good as I do. I gently push her back and then lay down on the back seat.
“I want to taste you,” I say, my voice thick with desire.
She smiles and moves carefully around so that she's straddling my face. Leaning forward, she takes my cock back into her mouth and keeps sucking. I bury my face in her pussy, licking and sucking, sliding my tongue deep inside of her.
Amanda's rhythm falters when I take her clit into my mouth and suck hard on it at the same time I drive two fingers deep into her. She moans and calls my name softly, grinding herself back onto my hand and mouth, encouraging me to go deeper. I oblige and start pumping my fingers in and out hard and fast as I suck on her clit.
She's moaning and writhing on top of me, squeezing my cock hard and stroking it.
“Jesus, Brady,” she moans. “Oh, God.”
And a second later, her body tenses and she comes hard, her whole body shuddering and her cries coming out more like strangled gasps. I slide my tongue inside of her, desperate to taste her as she comes for me. She moans louder and grinds herself back onto my mouth as her orgasm fades away.
Sliding off of me, she reaches into her bag and pulls out a condom as I sit up. She reaches forward and slides the condom down over my cock, cupping my balls before leaning forward to suck on them.
Amanda climbs b
ack up onto my lap, careful to make sure her dress is up around her waist. She grabs my stiff prick and rubs it against her clit, softly moaning as she does. I squeeze her ass hard as I take her breast into my mouth and suck on it.
She slips my cock into her waiting, wet opening and moans as she slides down on me. When I'm fully sheathed inside of her, Amanda kisses me – a kiss that conveys everything she's feeling. She begins to rock her hips, moving herself up and down on my shaft. I squeeze her ass, feeling her smooth, perfect skin beneath my fingers and relishing the sensation of her body moving on top of mine.
Up and down, harder and faster, she fucks me, never breaking eye contact. She digs her fingers into my shoulders as she rides me, leaning back as I move my hips up to meet her movements, plunging myself even deeper into her tight, wet pussy.
Our bodies move in unison, our gasps and cries a chorus of pleasure and desire. Amanda's breathing is growing ragged and I feel the pressure building to a crescendo within me. She grinds her hips harder and faster, taking me deeper into her, fucking me like there's no tomorrow.
I groan and feel our bodies tense in unison. I move my hips up as she comes down and I plunge deep into her warm, wet depths and that's it for the both of us. Amanda leans back, calling my name as my cock explodes inside of her. We cling to each other, trembling and shuddering as our bodies pulse and throb as one.
She sits up and lays her head on my shoulder as I spill the last of my seed into the condom still inside of her. Looking into my eyes, she smiles.
“I don't think I'll ever get tired of this,” she purrs.
“Me either, darlin',” I say. “Me either.”
I slip the condom off and toss it into the trash can beneath the mini-bar and then sit back on the seat. Amanda wraps her body around mine and we snuggle together as the car drives us into the darkness of the night.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Amanda
The next few months pass in a blur and it all still seems so unreal to me. How can I, a poor working girl from San Francisco, be getting married to Texas royalty? That it started off as a business proposal and turned into genuine love – I still want to pinch myself sometimes.
Okay, most of the time.
After Brady proposed, we knew it was time to start getting our other ducks in a row. He's been spending a lot of time at Keating Technologies, doing what he has to do and learning the ropes around there. And I can see how it's changing him. I can see a fire burning inside of him when he comes home. No, he might not be the engineer type who can actually build some of these technological innovations, but he's talked to me about some of the ideas he's had and that he's becoming increasingly passionate about.
Brady is starting to lay the groundwork for his legacy and I can't possibly be prouder of him.
Of course, with him being so busy at KT, I'm doing most of the wedding planning – which is fine by me. I actually like making some unilateral decisions for a change. Although, I will give him credit – Brady is better about not making every decision for me.
Baby steps though. We'll get there. I'm far too independent for that kind of crap and that is one habit I am most definitely going to break him of. If it kills me – or him. I've already put him on notice that the next time he does it, we're going back for another sparring session at PowerCore. He smiled and promised to make sure he watched himself.
Finished with the cake designer – for now, anyway – I smile at the thought as I walk back out to my car. I have to say, this is one decision I don't mind that he made for me. As I look at the BMW gleaming in the sunlight, I still can't believe it's mine.
“Amanda?” a woman's voice calls. “Amanda Johnston?”
I turn around and see a tall, thin blonde standing on the sidewalk. She's stunning and I think could probably a model. But I have no clue who she is.
“Yes?” I say slowly. “Do I know you?”
“Well, not really,” she says. “But I know you.”
Okay, yeah, that's not creepy or anything. “Know me how?”
“You're marrying my half-brother.”
And then like a two-by-four to the gut, I know who I'm talking to. “Tiffany Greene,” I say.
She smiles brightly. “Yes, that's me.”
Knowing what she's done to Brady and what he thinks about her, I know to be wary. Cautious. I know I can't trust her – so why has she tracked me down?
“How can I help you, Tiffany?”
She seems to recoil at my use of her first name, but she pushes through it quickly. “I was hoping we could have a chat.”
“A chat about what?”
“Please,” she says. “Will you join me for a glass of wine? I have something I think you need to see.”
The red flags are waving in my head and my instinct is telling me to climb into my car and drive off. But there's something in me – a morbid curiosity perhaps – that's urging me to sit with her for a little while and hear what she has to say.
“One glass,” I say.
She nods. “Fair enough,” she says. “Thank you, Miss Johnston.”
We walk to a small cafe a few doors down from the cake designer. Taking a seat on the patio out front, we wait until the waiter has brought us our glasses of wine before getting into the meat of the matter.
“So, you're marrying my half-brother?” Tiffany asks.
“That's the rumor,” I say.
“I wonder,” she says. “Do you know what kind of man he actually is?”
“What kind of man he is?” I ask. “Of course, I do. He's a good man. A good father.”
“I believe you are correct on the latter,” she says. “I've always said he is a dedicated father. But I would have to disagree with you on the former.”
I scoff at her. “He's told me about you, you know,” I say. “Told me how conniving and manipulative you are.”
“Neither of which are things I deny,” she says. “But when a man has those qualities, he's believed to be a tough and firm businessman. If a woman dares have them though, she's labeled a ruthless bitch.”
It's a point I can't really disagree with, although I hold my tongue. I'm not here to debate feminism or the sexism inherent in society.
“What do you want, Tiffany?”
“I've known Brady for a long time,” she says. “And you've known him but a few months –”
“The point?” I ask. “Get to it or I'm leaving.”
“I only want you to know what you're getting yourself into,” she says. “I want to open your eyes before you make a big mistake.”
“And what might that mistake be?”
She looks at me like it's the most obvious answer in the world. “Marrying somebody who doesn't know how to be faithful. It's something of a – family tradition.”
I sit back in my seat and take a deep breath. I don't like this woman. Not one bit. Everything about her reads phony to me. She's trying so hard to sound sincere, but I can see right through her. She's got an agenda, there is no question about it. And I have no doubts that it has everything to do with her taking control of the Keating empire, like Brady told me.
“Listen, Tiffany,” I say. “I know what you're trying to do here and –”
“I'm sure my half-brother has told you some not so flattering things about me. And has given you plenty of reasons not to trust me,” she says. “But you can't deny the truth when it's set right in front of your face.”
“What are you talking about?”
She digs into her bag and tosses a file folder onto the table in front of me. I look at it like it's a coiled snake that's ready to strike.
“What is this?” I ask.
“Open it,” she says. “Don't take my word for anything. See it with your own two eyes.”
I reach out slowly, not sure I want to open the folder – yet, I'm unable to stop myself. I flip it open and find a stack of photographs. In each of them, it's Brady sitting at an outdoor cafe with a dark-haired woman. My heart sinks a little more with each picture
, and by the time I reach the final photograph in the stack, I feel ready to be sick. The last picture in the series is of Brady kissing the woman.
“What you're looking at are photographs of my half-brother and Nicholas' mother – Angie Willows,” she says. “And please, note the time and date stamps on the images.”
I look at them and have to fight off a wave of nausea. I shake my head, trying to deny what I'm seeing. But the eight by ten color images sitting in front of me won't let me. Tears well in my eyes and I feel myself start to shake.
“I take it he didn't tell you she was in town?” Tiffany smirks.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask.
“Would you believe me if I told you it was because I believed we women have to stand together against men who trash and oppress us?”
I shake my head, unable to tear my eyes away from the picture of Brady kissing the woman – Nicholas' mother.
“Frankly, you can believe what you want to believe about my motivations,” she says. “I honestly don't care. But, I feel that you had a right to know before you marry an unfaithful pig like Brady Keating.”
With a trembling hand, I close the folder. I just want to get out of there. I don't know where I'm going to go yet, but I just need to get away from Tiffany. I slide the folder back across the table.
“Keep it,” she says as she gets to her feet. “I've got copies.”
And with that, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving me to pick up the shattered pieces of my heart.
~ooo000ooo~
It's close to ten when I pull into the driveway at Brady's house. After leaving the cafe where Tiffany had dropped the bomb that had cratered my life, I drove around aimlessly. My head was spinning and a million different thoughts were racing through my mind.
I felt used. Betrayed. And most of all – angry.
Brady came out of the house as I get out of the car, a worried look on his face. “Where were you?” he asks. “I've tried calling. I've been worried sick.”
“I – I was driving,” I say. “I needed to clear my head.”
He looks at me closely and I can see that he's genuinely concerned about me. Or at least, he's putting on a good show of it – you know, selling the illusion.
