by Belle Ami
Copyright © 2014 Belle Ami
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 0615837743
ISBN 13: 9780615837741
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
The One and More
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 1
The blue Cayenne hybrid SUV wove its way down the steep inclined canyon road. It hugged each curve with a slow and steady rhythm as it navigated its way down. Within the car, a handsome, middle-aged couple argued. Tension infused the air. Clearly, they had been quarreling for some time.
“Lars, this is ridiculous. You can’t be sure! All of these years—a lifetime’s work! What are you going to do?” she asked, running her hands through her bobbed black hair in frustration.
“Listen, honey, sometimes you have to go with your gut feeling.”
“But your reputation!”
“My reputation will survive. It’s my conscience that I have to live with.” His angular, lined face was set with resignation as his fingers gripped the wheel.
Faye looked at her husband’s profile, her eyes and words pleading. “But why now? Can’t you wait a little while longer? There might be another way.”
Turning to look at her with a softness that belied his words, he answered, “I’ve waited too long already. My mind is made up; I’ll make the announcement at the conference in Germany. The press will be there, along with distinguished representatives from both the political and scientific communities. Believe me, Faye; this will lead to a healthy debate among everyone involved. Too much is at stake. Someone needs to stand up. What I’m planning is just what is needed.”
Faye’s eyes filled with tears as she turned them back to the road. In that instant, she became aware that the car had picked up speed. “Slow down, Lars; you know how I hate this road. I don’t know why you insist on taking it.” Her voice, normally modulated, rose in volume as adrenaline flowed through her veins. “Lars, please slow down!”
Lars pressed his foot on the brake pedal to slow down. When the brake hit the floor he felt his heart leap from his chest. In a complete panic, he began pumping and pumping.
Turning to his wife, his eyes strained with fear; all color drained from his face. “Jesus, Faye, something’s wrong with the brakes!”
Lars pumped the brakes like a bellows, but they responded only with a sickly wheezing. As the downward slope increased, the vehicle continued to pick up speed, swerving from left to right as Lars desperately tried to correct the imbalance. “What the hell’s going on!?”
The runaway vehicle reeled, slamming Faye against the door. “Lars, stop the car. You have to stop the car!”
“Damn it, Faye, I’m trying!”
The tires screeched as Lars tried to keep the SUV on the road. In a complete panic, Faye braced herself against the seat as she grabbed Lars’s arm. Lars clutched the steering wheel, fighting to gain control as the Porsche bumped the wall of rock at the side of the road, which forced it to cross into the other lane. In panic, he jerked the steering wheel, and the car swerved back toward the mountain. The Porsche bounced off the wall of rock a second time, careening toward a hairpin turn.
Faye’s scream rose above the screeching of the tires. “I don’t want to die!” Desperately, her fingers clawed at her husband’s shoulder, anxious to hold on to the man who had been her life.
Lars tried to hold the screeching tires on the road, but the wheels would not sustain traction, and the car plowed through the guardrail. The man and woman, their eyes filled with terror, turned to each other in a last look as the SUV shot out like a rocket into the air, tires spinning. For a moment, it seemed as if the car might fly. Then the front end dropped, and gravity pulled the car toward the earth. The canyon echoed with Faye’s unearthly screams and the sound of the Porsche turning end over end as it bounced off the cliff walls, hurtling down the mountain until it landed on its roof at the bottom of the ravine with a final crash. The tires continued to spin for a few seconds. Loosened gravel and rock cascaded downward, set in motion by a series of landslides set off by the impact. These were the only sounds; then came utter silence. A flock of frightened birds rose out of the canyon, their wings flapping and their cries penetrating the stillness. The only witnesses to the deadly crash flew in a frenzy out of the canyon, heading for a safer haven.
A pressing silence settled in. The only signs of what had happened were the black skid marks and a missing guardrail. The vehicle lay at the bottom of the canyon. The man and woman who, only moments before, had argued within it were dead. Whatever matter had consumed them made no difference anymore.
Chapter 2
Miles poured himself a brandy and walked to the terrace of his plush penthouse hotel suite. He looked out onto the busy Wilshire Boulevard Friday night traffic and frowned with displeasure. He had never liked LA. It always felt as if he had been dropped into a cultureless wasteland. The stop and go traffic, congested freeways, and distances to travel; everyone seemed to be running on a treadmill, mile after mile, in a hurry, getting nowhere. Even the brilliant weather after a day or two wore on his nerves. How did people think with all of that sunshine? It left him yearning for a change of season, anything to break the monotony.
The Solarian board of directors meeting that he had flown in for had been a complete disaster. It had taken all of his self-control and patience to hold the contentious board members from cutting each other’s throats. Solarian, an innovative solar cell company, was bleeding money. If the company didn’t raise more cash, and soon, there would be no way to avoid bankruptcy. There was no way in hell that he was going to let his investors lose $50 million. What he hadn’t expected was the vehement objections of Lars Lindstrom. For sure, he was angling for an exit, he wanted out. Miles hadn’t quite figured out how he would keep the recalcitrant scientist on board. He knew he would have to find a way. Without him it wasn’t likely that the Department of Energy would agree to a second round of loans. He sipped the brandy, thinking, nothing is ever easy.
At least, for now; his business in LA was finished. He couldn’t wait to fly out of tinsel town. If the girl the escort service was sending over was half as good as touted, for a few hours at least, his worries over the Solarian board meeting would be lost in more arousing activities. A few hours of mindless sex would get him through the night until the tires of his jet lifted off the ground flying him out of la-la-land. He couldn’t wait to return to the hectic, reasonable, chaos of New York. The $5,000 that her one night’s company had cost was worth every penny, so long as she was good.
He was about to turn away from the rush hour scramble of Beverly Hills when she caught his eye. He wasn’t sure why he noticed her across the street as she waited for the light to change. She was petite, overburdened, with a ponderous backpack that weighed upon her frail shoulders. She wore a black and white plaid, pleated skirt, white blouse, and black knee high boots. Pro
bably a parochial school student on her way home, he speculated. He grabbed the telescope that stood just inside the suite and pointed it across the street to get a better view of the girl. Focusing the eyepiece, he could see that her skin was translucent, pale as a Nordic sky at dawn; she looked incongruous among the tan, toned, pedestrians and tourists that surrounded her. Everything was bright and chromatic next to her pale colorless persona. Her hair, ebony black, hung straight down and touched her waist. Like a protective cloak, it hid her from the scrutiny of strangers. She reminded him of, Morticia, of The Adam’s Family. She wore large sunglasses that had begun to slip down her thin, delicate nose, but before he could see her eyes she pushed them up to maintain her incognito. He speculated on what color they might be; opting for blue. The light changed and she squared her shoulders heaving the backpack with her as she crossed the street.
With a sigh, he turned away toting the telescope back inside the room. The tinkle of ice against crystal broke the silence sealed in by the closing of the sliding glass doors. The elegant suite provided a quiet oasis, a cocoon like a refuge, from the world outside. Shaking his head, he cleared his thoughts, and returned to the bar to refill his glass with amber brandy. He was so caught up in the vision of the strange girl that he barely heard the hesitant rap of knuckles against the door.
The sound pulled him from his reverie. Finally, he thought, she’s here. He opened the door unprepared for what he saw. His mouth dropped open and he stared. Before him stood the girl from the street looking, if anything, younger than he had thought. He was speechless, the seconds ticked by as they stared in uncomfortable silence at one another. He waited for her to speak.
The sunglasses once more had begun to slip down the sculpted nose. He caught a glimpse of color before her heavily fringed black lashes hid her eyes as she gazed down at the floor.
“Samantha sent me.” Her voice, barely audible, whispered over his ears like a will-o’-the-wisp on a foggy night.
He could feel the anger building as he wondered what the hell he was supposed to do with this pubescent child. In a voice that was unnecessarily harsh he ordered, “Come in!”
Her pallid face blushed pink as she stepped through the threshold. He closed the door, but not before searching the hallway for prying eyes. He watched as she walked to the sofa and gingerly deposited the backpack on it.
Sipping his brandy, he warily observed her as if she were some rare species of bug under a microscope that he had never seen before. “How old are you,” he asked. What the hell was Samantha thinking? he wondered.
The tiniest of smiles, like the Mona Lisa’s, tilted her lips. “I’m twenty-one, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m a student at UCLA, a chemistry major, pre-MED. Look, if you don’t like what you see I’ll call Samantha. She’ll get someone else.”
He pondered her suggestion before answering. “I’m trying to understand why Samantha sang your praises. You’re certainly not beautiful.” He regretted his words immediately, but she just shrugged them off with a lift of her shoulders.
She walked to him taking his glass and lifted it to her pale glossy lips and sipped. The alcohol burned her throat. “This is pretty good.” She coughed.
Amused, he stood still considering his options. He hadn’t made up his mind yet whether to keep her here, or show her to the door. His curiosity piqued, he prodded. “So explain why a bright girl, obviously you must be smart if you’re a chemistry major, are doing…” he tried to find the least offensive words, “why this?”
“This is how I pay my tuition and rent. It requires the least amount of interference to my studies, pays really well, and keeps me fed.”
He shook his head in amazement, not sure about the well fed part. She looked like a waif, malnourished, as far as he could see. “If, and that’s a big if, I let you stay; how do we proceed… I mean… you look pretty fragile, not exactly like a sex goddess?”
Again, the Mona Lisa-esque smile. She removed her glasses and tossed them on the couch. When she turned back to him, her blue eyes, pale like an Arctic iceberg searched his.
At least I was right about her eyes, he thought. He stood transfixed when she lifted her rosebud lips to his and kissed him. It was a sweet kiss that disarmed him. Subliminally he felt the promise of so much more fill his loins. It stunned him how attracted he was to her. Acting on impulse, his arms encircled her, drawing her against his chest as his tongue probed deeper into her mouth. Her tongue was soft and pliant; his tongue hard and demanding. Releasing her, he felt his heart racing. There was no question, he wanted her. “Get undressed.”
“Whatever you like.” She took him by the hand and led him to a tuxedoed club chair opposite the sofa. “Watch me,” she flirted. Settling him, she leaned over to get inside her backpack revealing beneath her skirt, her pale butt cheeks separated by the smallest of lace thongs. He felt the swelling of his cock as he thought of penetrating her impossibly sweet ass. With her back to him she unbuttoned her blouse, removed it, and neatly folded it. Her skirt slipped from her narrow hips and she bent to unzip her boots kicking them aside. He noted the diminutive waistline that his two hands would have no trouble encircling. Then reaching behind her, she unsnapped her bra, letting it slip from her shoulders and tossed it in the growing pile. Miles held his breath as he waited for her to turn and face him. She reached into the backpack removing something, and turning hid it behind her back as she whispered, “Voila! Je te plaire?”
Her ethereal skin was alabaster white, flawless, like a marble statue. His eyes hungrily travelled the length of her body resting on her breasts. They seemed barely developed, yet perfectly formed. Enough for my mouth, he thought. Then he frowned, focusing on the rings that pierced her nipples. “Beaucoup! Beaucoup! Je suis heureux avec ce que je vois. But…” He pointed at the piercings, “don’t those hurt? Aren’t you afraid someone will pull too hard on them?”
She blushed pink, her words cryptic and brief. “There is pleasure in pain.” From behind her back she revealed a short crop that ended in a beaded fringed head.
“Not for me there isn’t.”
“No, not for you, for me…I need it.” The color of her eyes deepened with her admission.
Her intimation filled him with desire. “What’s your name? What do I call you?”
“Helene, my name is Helene.”
“Helene de Troie?” He teased.
“Oui, tout comme Helene de Troie”.
“Vous parlez francais bien.”
“Ma mere etait francais. Elle est morte.” Her countenance reflected sadness and loss.
“Desole.”
Her grateful smile warmed him. In fact, everything about her turned him on. He shifted in his seat, his hard-on no longer bearable.
She bit her lip suppressing a knowing smile, and bent to her knees before him. Her icy eyed gaze held him. “I don’t think this is a conversation that inspires sexual congress, do you?” She unzipped his pants and pulled them down removing them. She looked down at his arousal, her fingers tracing themselves up and down as she examined him, “You have a beautiful cock.”
He could barely breathe as he watched her lower her head, her dark hair cascading into his lap like a waterfall. Her eyes held him as she took him into her mouth; inch by inch, until he could feel the back of her throat against the head of his cock. He groaned as he watched her greedily suck his cock. “Jesus, how in the world... do you take me so deep? Oh...yes...”
Her only response was the liquid sound of her sucking him like a Popsicle. “Hmmm,” her throat vibrated encapsulating him.
His eyes clouded with excitement as he teetered on the brink of orgasm. Her mouth and lips were heavenly. I’m being sucked by an angel. He’d never felt anything like it before. He knew he wouldn’t last, it felt too good; he had to come. He twisted her hair around his fingers as he pressed her head downward, a motion that made most women gag. Instead, her throat op
ened, allowing him deeper access. Driven to find fulfillment, he grasped her hair, pushing and pulling her head up and down until gasping his erection exploded, semen gushed into her mouth as she moaned, swallowing, gulping, and licking up each drop.
“Oh, yes, baby, that’s it, suck me! God, you’re amazing!” His head fell back in delirium, shuddering, he lost himself in the waves of pleasure that rolled over him extinguishing his fire.
Helene’s head fell forward in a faint, her cheek against his thigh. As if from a great distance he heard the sound of ice dropping from a tray in the ice dispenser, and then silence. Lifting her into his lap, she rested against his chest while he pushed her dark tresses away from her face so he could see into her eyes.
The faintest hint of pink lit her cheeks. She rolled her lips together moistening them with her tongue. Instantly, he felt heat fill his loins.
“I want to fuck you, to bring you pleasure.”
“Vos desirs sont mes odres.”
Her words of submission raged through him igniting his desire. He pulled a condom from his pants pocket and rolled it over his thickening cock. Then he picked her up, cradled in his arms like a child, he turned toward the bedroom.
“A moment please?”
He stopped, searching her face. Had she changed her mind? Jesus, he didn’t know what he’d do if she refused him.
“The crop, take the crop, please.” Her voice was hoarse and pleading.
He bent toward the sofa and she grabbed it. Just looking at it, turned his cock to steal; he quickly strode to the bedroom kicking open the door. Gently he laid her on the bed. Lying beside her, he ran his hand down her silken skin. Her supple body felt feverish to his touch, goose bumps rising, as she responded to his caress. He bent his head and took her nipple and the pierced ring in his mouth, he pulled and sucked gently. Her eyes rolled back in her head; her back arched, a slender bough, so fragile, so breakable.
Breathlessly she begged, “Hurt me, please, you have to hurt me?”
