by Ella Miles
7
Skye
I lean my back against the door to remain standing instead of falling to the floor in a puddle like I really want to do. I did the right thing. It was time to say good-bye. My normal life is calling, and Brody does not fit into my normal life. But it still hurts.
Not because I love him. I don’t.
Not because I care for him. I do, but I care for a lot of people. It’s not what’s making me hurt.
Not because I ever imagined any sort of future with Brody. I didn’t.
It hurts because this wasn’t how we were supposed to end. We were supposed to go out with a bang. Literally. Not with an unexpected good-bye, as I’m being pulled back into a life I don’t know how to escape from.
A knock on the door gets my heart racing with far too much hope. I know Brody is standing on the other side of the door, and he’s going to try to convince me one last time to fuck him. And I don’t have the strength to say no again. Despite not having the time, I don’t care. I need to forget. One more time.
I turn around and throw the door open with a smile on my face.
“Bayron,” I say, my lips and heart instantly falling.
“He’s gone, Miss Skye,” Bayron says, reading my thoughts.
“Oh.”
“Are you ready for my staff to get you packed up?”
I nod.
He motions to the staff behind him to enter. I step aside to let them pass. I know they will have me packed up in a matter of minutes, and then I’ll have nothing left to do but leave.
“He wanted me to give you a message,” he says.
I bite my lip, trying to calm down. It’s probably just a good-bye. He never gave me a good-bye.
“Do you want to hear it?”
I nod.
“He said that this isn’t good-bye. That you aren’t finished. He gets one more day. One more time. That was what the agreement was. Seven days. You’ve fulfilled only six of those days. He said he’ll be waiting for you at the airport.”
He’s going to meet me at the airport. I know it. The grin and life in my cheeks returns.
“Thank you, Bayron. For everything.” I lean forward and kiss him on the cheek.
“Be careful, Miss Skye,” he says.
“I will,” I say, knowing that he means be careful about Brody even though he isn’t the one I should be worried about. I put up a barrier between us the second I met him. Brody isn’t the problem. Gabe is.
The fact that I’m ending my last day early to run back to Gabe only verifies that he’s the problem I don’t know how to move on from. He’s the one who broke my heart. I never gave Brody the same chance. It’s impossible for him to break my heart when I never gave it to him in the first place.
I arrive at the airport with excitement and anxiety. My legs haven’t been able to stop shaking since I got into the car. I’ve tried to enjoy the last few minutes of my time in paradise by looking at the beautiful scenery as I am driven to the airport, but nothing holds my attention.
I glance at the clock on the driver’s dashboard as he pulls up in front of the airport. I have thirty minutes until my flight. More than enough time to fuck Brody one last time in a restroom before going through security and still making my flight.
I step out of the car and talk to the ticket agent to get my bags checked before I start looking for him.
He’s here somewhere; I know it. I pull my phone out of my purse, looking at it before I realize that I don’t even have his phone number. I don’t even know his last name. I know nothing about him that would allow me to find him.
I could talk to Bayron. He’d give me whatever information he had on Brody if I wanted him to, but I don’t. I don’t want to know personal details. I just want his body one last time.
I scan the airport lobby, but I don’t immediately see him. I know that I can’t walk through security. He’ll have no chance at finding me there. His flight back home isn’t until much later in the day. So, I walk over and take a seat on a bench, and I wait, letting in thoughts of Brody and igniting my deepest desires to have him one last time.
My eyes widen when I see him pull the rope out from behind his back. In the last few days with him, I’ve learned that I love being tied up. I love giving him control over my body. He knows his way around my body better than I do. But even though I’ve started to trust him these last couple of days, my heart still beats faster and the adrenaline shoots through me whenever he does something even a little bit dangerous.
“Hand,” he says. One word, but he commands my soul with it.
I hold out my left hand and he begins tying the rope around my wrist. He looks to my other hand and I hold it out for him as well. He ties my hands together making sure that the rope is tight enough that I can’t escape, but not so tight that it will leave a mark.
And then he pulls my arms above my head as he ties my wrists to the headboard. My arms instinctually pull at the rope testing to see if I can escape or not. I can’t.
I don’t understand why I give him so much control. I don’t understand why I trust him, especially given my past with men, but I do.
He pulls out another rope and I pant.
He’s only ever tied my hands up, so it thrills and terrifies me to find out what it will feel like to completely give up everything to him.
He grabs my ankle and takes his time tying a rope around each leg. Then stretches my legs wide as he attaches them to each of the posts on the foot of the bed.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Good.”
He tosses his shirt over my face, covering my eyes. I wait for him to tie it around my head, but he never does. I can’t see him, but it wouldn’t take much for me to shake the shirt off my face if I wanted to.
I don’t though.
His hands go to my bikini top and he pushes it up off my breasts. Then his fingers hook into the sides of my bikini bottoms, and he slowly pulls them down until I’m naked, completely at his disposal.
I wait for him to kiss me. Stroke me. Spank me. Anything.
He doesn’t.
He waits. He’s far too patient.
Every second that passes I grow more restless trying to anticipate what he’s going to do. He’s left me alone before; is that what he’s doing again? Leaving me to suffer while he goes and finds new toys?
He hasn’t left though. I can’t see him, but I can feel him. He’s here. I can barely hear him breathing. It’s calm and steady, unlike my own that races faster with every second that passes.
“Please,” I whisper, needing him so badly that I can’t stand it. I pull at the ropes, needing to get my hands on him, but I can’t. And he doesn’t offer me any relief.
More times passes. It feels like hours to me, even though I know in reality it’s only been a few minutes.
Cold. I feel ice cold hit my nipple and I gasp from the unexpected touch. My back arches and my body writhes underneath his mouth.
I feel him use his mouth to move the ice over my other nipple. He swirls it around while my body moves beneath his.
He moves it down my stomach until he lets his slide off over my pussy.
Goosebumps shoot over my body, as I shiver from both the cold and the need for his body.
Again he makes me wait, but much shorter this time before I feel hot drip over my nipples.
“Fuck,” I gasp, as the hot mixes with the cold sensation and takes over my body.
I don’t know what he’s dripping over my body, but it’s a feeling I’ve never felt before. It makes my entire body come alive.
“God damn, I love your body,” he says.
I bite my lip as I arch my back again. “I need you.”
I can feel him smirk. “Not until you can’t stand not to have my dick inside you a second longer, only then.”
I struggle against the ropes again. “I can’t wait.”
His lips touch my neck and I groan.
“Not yet.”
“Yes,” I moan.
“So wet baby.”
He slowly pulls his finger in and out of my pussy and my juices cover his fingers, begging for him.
“I’m ready.”
“Not yet,” he says again.
He pulls his fingers out and then his tongue replaces his fingers at my entrance. He pushes it inside me before pulling it back out and licking over my clit.
I’ve never felt anything so intense. I’ve never needed sex more.
“I’m going to come,” I scream, as he licks me again.
“Come.”
He moves his tongue faster over me and I can’t contain my orgasm. I come over his tongue and lips.
I feel his grin against me, as my body trembles from the intensity of my orgasm.
I’m spent.
I’m exhausted from waiting, and then going through all the emotions I felt before finally coming. I still want his cock, but I’m not sure I can take much more.
“Fuck me,” I plead.
He grins. “Not until you come again.”
“I can’t.”
But his tongue darts inside me again and I feel my body give into him, despite my brain saying that I can’t take much more. His hands grab my thighs pushing me open, as my body pulls against the ropes holding me down.
It doesn’t take me long before I’m coming over his tongue again.
“You taste so good.”
“I need your co—”
He doesn’t let me finish my sentence. He makes me come again and again. And only when he knows that my body can’t take any more, does he finally drive his cock inside me. It’s never felt so good to have his cock inside me as it does right now. I’ve never needed sex as much as I do right now.
My body aches to have Brody one last time. My eyes dart around the airport, but I don’t see him. He’s making me wait again. I’m fine waiting, but I’m already so turned on that I could come with one kiss from him. I try to think about something else while I wait. And wait. And wait. My thoughts keep going back to Brody though.
I wait until I barely have enough time to go through security, pee, and make my flight. And then I go. I walk through security and then onto my flight. I try not to think of him as I board. I have more important things to focus my attention on and worry about now. But Brody is all I can think about as the cabin door closes and the engines purr to life.
I feel hurt, empty, broken. I feel things I never thought Brody could make me feel. Why didn’t he show up? That’s all I can think about as we push back from the gate. Maybe something happened to him. He was hurt. His car got into an accident. It doesn’t make me feel especially better, but it does make me think that he’s not that big of an ass. That he did want to fuck me, but he just couldn’t get to me for whatever reason.
My phone buzzes in my hands. I haven’t switched it to Airplane Mode yet, like I’m supposed to. It’s a message from an unknown number.
I bite my lip as I stare at my phone. I know it’s Brody. I just don’t know if I should open it or not. I hear the engines roar louder, and I know we are about to take off soon and that I won’t have a chance to look at the message again until we land.
I click the message to open it, praying that he didn’t get into a car accident and is now dying in the hospital while I fly thousands of miles away.
He’s not dying.
He’s not hurt.
He’s not even texting to apologize.
Instead, I get a picture of him with a blonde with fake boobs and a fake smile sitting on his lap on a lounge chair back at the resort. His arms are wrapped around her as he softly kisses her on the cheek.
I read the words that he typed below the picture.
I got a little distracted and couldn’t make it. Sorry I’m such a dick.
I delete the image and his number from my phone before I have a chance to do something stupid like texting him back. I reach into my purse and pull out my headphones to put on and try to entertain myself with music or a movie. Even though I know neither will be enough to distract me from Brody.
I thought, the entire flight back, all I would be thinking about was Gabe and how to handle him. Instead, I feel a hatred I’ve never felt for a man before. And I’ve felt plenty of hatred for men before. Gabe did a number on me just before I came here.
Brody thinks he’s a prick, and he is. That’s what I wanted when I came here. An asshole who would make it easy for me to forget about him once I left here. I didn’t realize just how much of an asshole he could be. And I made a mistake, thinking it would be easy for me to forget about a dick like Brody after I left. It will be easy to move on from him to another guy when I get back, but I won’t be able to forget him. This hatred that I feel will stay with me for far too long after I return home. Brody won’t be forgotten, just hated. And I have a feeling that is exactly what he wanted. He isn’t the kind of man who would allow me to forget.
8
Brody
I hear a knock on my office door for the hundredth time today. I exhale deeply to keep from doing what I want to do. Telling my assistant to call everyone in the building and demand they all go home so that I can get some real work done. I have a shit-ton of papers to go through and more emails to answer than I could possibly read, and I have some important decisions to make in regard to if we are going to be ready for the launch of our video game that happens in less than three weeks. Because, if we aren’t ready, I need to save the company millions of dollars and postpone it now rather than waiting.
“Come in,” I snarl at whoever is behind the oak door.
I like my office closed off from the world. The door is solid, the same with the walls. No one can see into my world unless I let them. I don’t even have that many windows to look outside. I might be the most important person at the company, but I don’t have the nicest office, just the most secluded. But it doesn’t prevent me from having to deal with idiots knocking on my door all day.
The door opens, and a young woman steps inside. She’s probably in her early twenties. She looks put together but far too eager to be in my office right now. She hasn’t been yelled at nearly enough to have the look of despair that everyone else in my office knows well enough to wear on their faces when they enter my office. I’m a controlling fucker who wants things done my way. The proper way. I don’t accept mistakes. You get one shot to impress me, and if you don’t, you’re gone.
The woman standing in front of me is already failing. She thinks she’s going to impress me because she looks good in her light-colored skirt and jacket. She’s wrong. It takes a lot more than lean legs to get me off.
“Did you forget why you came in here?” I ask, glaring at her for interrupting me and wasting my valuable time. I make far too much money for this company to waste a single second of it not on point.
She smiles, clearly not getting the message I’m sending. “I’m Angela,” she says, walking toward me with her hand extended to me.
I look down at her hand, not bothering to shake it.
“What are you doing in my office, Angela?”
She tucks her hand back down to her side as she looks around for a chair to sit in. She won’t find one. I don’t keep chairs in my office. It invites people to stay and talk. I don’t want to talk to people. If we are talking, that means we aren’t working hard enough. And, if someone has something to say that is actually useful enough to listen to for longer than five to ten minutes, then that is what meeting rooms are for. Not my office.
“Um…Noah sent me in to meet you.”
I rub my neck in annoyance. “And why did Noah want you to meet me?”
She frowns. “Because he said you would like to meet me. I’m his new assistant, and he said that we would be working closely together, so I should introduce myself.”
I look at her. Really look at her. She’s fresh out of college; that much
is obvious. This is probably her first job. She doesn’t have a clue what she signed up for when she started working for my company. I give her a month, tops, before she decides I’m too much of an ass to bother working for. It takes tough people to work for me. You have to be able to take getting yelled at and not back down. You have to be willing to fight for what you believe in. She looks like, if I yelled at her, she’d run out of here, crying. Might as well get it over with. Rip off the Band-Aid, as some would say.
“Angela, you seem like a nice girl, but you must not have listened very carefully at orientation if you think that you are ever allowed to talk to me. You are Noah’s assistant, not mine. If you have something that you need to tell me, you tell my assistant, Casey. You don’t waste my time, trying to talk to me. You don’t call me. You don’t email me. You don’t knock on my door. And you sure as hell don’t come into my office for no other reason than to say hello. Got it?”
She bites her juicy red lip, and my mind immediately flashes back to the last woman I saw bite her lip like that.
Skye.
But, even when Skye wasn’t wearing red lipstick, like this girl, her lip looked a million times more inviting than this woman’s.
“Why haven’t you left yet?” I half-yell, half-ask.
She releases her lip. “Sorry, Noah told me you’d most likely yell at me but to stay anyway, that it was good for you. That you would yell at me, but then you’d be nice. That you just needed to vent because you’d had a couple of bad weeks. He said to just wade through your storm of emotions, and then things would be a lot better. That you just needed someone to yell at who could take it, so then you could be nice.”
I sigh. I’ll deal with Noah later. “Please tell Noah to stop messing with me. It’s not helpful. And you would do a lot better at this company if you stopped listening to everything that Noah told you to do.”
She smiles, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear. “He said you would say that.”
I run my hand through my thick hair, annoyed and frustrated. Noah’s wrong if he thinks this is going to get my frustrations out. This is doing the opposite.
