Morgan O’Lowry. The story was about us. But I didn’t come off as a monster here… I was a saint, a tortured martyr. Nicholas stayed on the line with me as I skimmed it.
“What… What the hell… This is amazing…” I murmured.
“And here I thought things were over with you and Morgan.”
“You know, I thought the same thing,” I murmured, my voice still heavy with sleep and drink.
“What do you want to do about this? Do you want to issue a statement?”
“Something generic. Say that my partnership with the Silliman University English department has been rewarding in more ways than one, that I look forward to working with them in the future… The usual.”
“Right. Fancy language that says nothing at all.”
“Exactly,” I replied, my eyes still gliding over the words Morgan had written about me. I had to call her.
When I hung up with Nicholas, I called Morgan immediately.
She picked up.
We were both silent for a long time, unable to make words tumble out of our mouths as we enjoyed the silence, the sound of each other’s breathing.
“I’m sorry,” she said finally.
“Me too. Where are you?”
“In Atlanta, with my mom.”
She paused.
“Do you know it’s Christmas Eve?”
I squinted at the date in the upper right hand corner of my computer. December 24th. So it was.
“Then it’s not too late.”
“You Scrooge,” she said with a little giggle.
“I want to see you.”
“I want to see you too. I’m here in Atlanta until New Year’s.”
“Come to New York for the New Year.”
“I’d like that.”
“I like you.”
“I love you. I like you and I love you,” she replied, her voice barely more than a whisper.
27
Morgan
New Year’s Eve. I rode the elevator up to Blaine’s apartment, a bottle of nice champagne in my hands. Of course, it wasn’t as nice as what he could afford, as what he would have for us… But I wanted to bring him something.
I wore a short, flirty little black number. I knew he would like it—knew it would be perfect for our private party.
He met me at the door. His shirt was already off, a glass of champagne was already in his hand.
His eyes seized upon the bottle in my hands and our eyes met. We both burst out laughing.
“I’ll take yours and you can put this one in the fridge,” I said, accepting the champagne and tasting the sour sweetness of the bubbly. He disappeared with the bottle for a second before re-appearing.
“I read your article,” he said shortly.
I felt my face growing hot.
“And?”
“Nicest things anyone’s ever said about me,” he said with a tease note in his voice as he approached me, his hands working their way around my waist.
“Really? That can’t be true…”
“You’d be surprised at the things people say about me…” he whispered, his warm face nearing me, coming closer and closer. I took a deep breath, sighing as I inhaled his scent, and then the scent of the champagne on his breath. That, along with his cologne… The cocktail intoxicated me.
“Well, I think it was Oscar Wilde who said…”
“…that the only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about,” he replied.
“You’ve been doing your reading.”
“I have a good teacher.”
“Oh? What’s her name?”
“Don’t tease,” he growled, as he ran his hands over my bottom, gripping me through my dress as his teeth found my ear lobe. I gasped, leaning into him hungrily.
“You’re the one teasing…” I whined, pressing hard into him, feeling the hard bulge in his pants, feeling his desire aching to conquer me all over again. “Bro.”
“Sis.”
He led me to the couch, my hands already seeking out his flesh, already hungrily chasing the curvature of his muscles, of his abs and his pecs. I pressed him up against the back of the couch, my lips finding his as our mouths met, molding together and mixing as I slid my dress off, leaving me clad only in the burning red lingerie I had picked out for the evening.
“Goddamn, Morgan,” he gasped as he took me in, my soft curves accentuated by the white fabric. He ran his fingers through my hair, holding me tight as he pulled me in for another kiss. Our tongues dueled as I began to undo his pants, unzipping them and dropping them along with his underwear. I giggled as I felt his cock jab me in the belly.
I dropped to my knees and ran my fingers down his muscled sides, taking his hot length into my mouth. He gasped, leaning back against the couch for support as I went to work, tasting him, pleasing him, suckling him, and devouring his flesh as he trembled.
“Oh, god…” he groaned, running his hands through my hair, gripping me harder and harder as I worked my mouth faster and faster, savoring the taste of his manhood, savoring the way he twitched and grunted and pulsed in my mouth. I savored the way every part of him seemed to flow into this one moment and the way he desired me, desired me in spite of everything that had happened.
I licked up and down his shaft, tracing the outline of his thick, bulging vein as I made love to him with my mouth, eager to taste more of him, eager to taste his essence… Eager for him to claim me.
He was gasping hungrily, harder and faster, faster and harder, all as I bobbed my head, working it like a madwoman determined to get what she wanted—what she really wanted. Blaine groaned, his moans heavy and hot as I pleasured him, running my finger tips over his soft, needy, aching flesh, eliciting more and more of those hot, delicious moans from his sweet lips as I brought him closer and closer to his end…
And then, finally, he exploded. I gasped as he flooded my mouth but I simply closed my eyes and savored his taste, swallowed it all without a second thought, hungrily devouring his seed as he groaned, gripping my hair tight while his flesh twitched and pulsed into my mouth.
“Oh, goddamn…” he moaned as I pulled off of him. I couldn’t help but grin as I rose to my feet, the look of amazed pleasure still plastering his face and delighting me.
He scooped me up with a single movement and flung me, giggling, onto the expensive Italian leather sofa.
“I’m all yours,” I whispered. “Do whatever you want to me.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” he whispered. “I will.”
He all but tore off my lingerie, leaving me totally naked before my former stepbrother. His mouth descended hotly on my nipples, suckling and teasing and tearing at them. I shuddered, grasping him hard by the hair and arching my back as he delighted in my flesh, teasing me into hardness, teasing my swollen, puckered flesh.
“Oh, god, Blaine, Blaine, Blaine…” I moaned, hungering more and more, demanding his touch, demanding his hot, powerful hands.
He kissed his way down my breasts and then down my belly, getting closer and closer to my hot core. I spread my legs for him almost involuntarily, although I knew from experience that he would simply do it himself if he wanted to.
You see, Blaine was the kind of man who… took. He took what he wanted.
And, right now, I’m pleased to say: he wanted me.
I whimpered as his hot lips descended on my nether lips, licking and nibbling and kissing me, flicking my hot nub, driving me faster and farther into the depths of my pleasure than I had ever descended before. I ran my fingers through his hair, interlacing them, gasping as this man, this man who had been my brother once upon a time and was now my lover, devoured me.
My hips bucked wildly, like an animal out of control and Blaine had to hold me down, had to keep me still as he licked me, as he pleasured me. I couldn’t believe that after everything we had been through together—all of our trials, from the beginning to almost swearing off each other forever—it had come to this, to this moment with his mouth seeking
my flesh, delighting me, filling me with passion and pleasure.
“Blaine!” I squealed as I reached my climax, every cell of my body feeling like it was set afire, like lightning was running up and down my spine, like muscle in my flesh was going wild, wild for him…
And then, before I knew it, he was inside of me. He was on top of me, grunting and growling as he took me hard and fast. I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him close as he took me deep, as his tool pierced me, finding the deepest parts of my core, going harder and harder, seeming to expand and grow larger and harder inside of me as we made love.
“Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, baby, don’t stop…” I gasped. “I never want to stop…”
“I’ll never leave you again,” he whispered desperately in my ear, biting my neck, my earlobe, my lips, all over, all but devouring me like a wild, ravenously starving animal. “I’ll never let you out of my sight.”
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” I gasped. “Bro…”
Calling him my brother felt so sinful, so wrong, so naughty, yet so right—it was harmless fun now, and who cared?
We were adults and we were adults who had finally said to hell with it to the rest of the world, to the demands that adult society had made on us. We had decided to be together and that was the final straw. There wasn’t anything else to decide.
“Blaine, Blaine…” I moaned, thrusting my generous chest forward as Blaine gripped my bottom, holding me tight, his fingers invariably leaving bruises on my curvy bottom as he pumped into me.
“Morgan, baby girl, I’m getting close,” he murmured. I ran my hands hungrily over his face, over his hair, over his powerful, muscular body.
“Yes, please… Please, I want it…” I moaned, thrusting my hips forward, grinding myself into him. I was close too and the moment when he finished, emptying himself into me, I squealed, reaching my own climax one more time, wrapping my legs tight around my ex-brother, squeezing him hard as we both finished, as his moans and groans and grunts and growls washed over me and then, we kissed, our lips hot and wet and desperate, oh-so desperate…
We went out after a few hours of gentle snuggling and touching and caressing onto the balcony to watch the fireworks. From Blaine’s condo, we could hear the celebrations in Times Square, could see the lights and the smoke from the firecrackers.
“Not a bad way to start the New Year,” he whispered, drawing close to me, wrapping an arm around my waist and holding me tight. I bit my lip and nodded, shivering in the late December breeze but warmed by his embrace. My naked body was all covered in goose bumps but I didn’t care—I had him there, had him there to protect me and to warm me.
We shared another kiss, a deeper one than before, as the clock struck midnight. I wrapped my arms tight around his shoulders, leaning into the kiss, leaning into his passion.
“I love you…” I whispered in his ear as we broke apart. I felt him grin, felt him smile wide.
“I know,” he replied.
Our fingers interlocked, we gazed into one another’s eyes, eyes that had once belonged to brother and sister.
“Let’s get away from here,” Blaine said finally.
“From here? What?”
“Let’s go away. Let’s run away.”
“What? Where? How?” I sputtered, taken by surprise.
“How about Haiti? You could go on leave.”
I bit my lip. I did have a semester of leave that I could use when I wanted to.
“And what would you do?”
“I’ll find something to do. The company can run itself for a while. Maybe it’ll make those jokers I work with appreciate me more when I come back.”
He looked out over the glittering city, a city that looked something like an old dame covered in a black sequined dress.
“You’ll teach English. I can work with small businesses. It’ll be perfect.”
I couldn’t resist a smile.
“Let me… Let me think about it.”
He looked at me hard, looked at me seriously.
“No. A yes or a no. Now. I’m tired of making plans. I want to be spontaneous with you.”
I thought about what Liana had said, about holding onto Blaine, about saving him from the seductions of the city, of wealth, and power. And so, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and said…
“Yes. Let’s go.”
28
Blaine
This was better than sex.
“And that, guys, is how you balance a budget.”
I finished the last slide of my power point. The tiny group of Port-au-prince businessmen clapped politely, starting to chat amongst themselves in Haitian creole, which my mediocre high school French allowed me to only half understand. I had only recently begun to learn the language and I struggled to understand them but, at the very least, they seemed to have understood what I was trying to get across.
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t better than sex. But it was fun. And I felt good doing it.
For such a ravaged country, Haiti is a beautiful place. An inspiring place. The people, the food, everything.
I began teaching business courses at a community college while Morgan taught English. I resisted the urge to buy the finest condo in the city for us—we were determined to live simply for a while.
None of the people I knew back in New York completely understood why we went to Haiti. No one except for Nicholas and, actually, Liana. Apparently, Morgan had been thinking of what Liana said when she agreed to go with me.
I hadn’t talked to either Liana or Nicholas since we arrived in Haiti but they both gave their blessing. The tabloids had a field day, Nicholas had told me in an email, but quickly seized upon one of the other myriad scandals that drifted through their scattered collective minds every week. I was just one of the dreams and there were many more to entertain readers on the subway.
After class, I walked along the streets of Port-au-Prince, taking in the sights, the smells, learning what it was like to live in a place so different, so divorced from our reality in New York. I had given loans to several small businesses around the city and I made a point of visiting each one every week, helping them troubleshoot problems, overseeing how they were using the money—each one was doing great and I felt like each one was practically a child of mine, a child I was nurturing on its way to greatness.
Speaking of children…
As I arrived home, I heard Morgan call me from the kitchen. Our apartment was nice by Haitian standards but modest by my own or even by Morgan’s. But that was what we wanted.
Hell, that was what I needed.
Her belly had grown heavy and swollen in the last few months since we had arrived in Haiti. She giggled when I teased her about it, but she knew I wasn’t being serious. I wasn’t about to make fun of the mother of my first child.
I found Morgan in the kitchen, standing over a steaming pot of goat curry and rice and beans. I came up behind her, wrapped my hands around her waist, holding her belly as she cooked and as I pressed my lips into her neck.
“How was class today, baby?” I whispered as she leaned back into me.
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At His Mercy: A Dark Billionaire Romance Page 13
