by JA Low
“Yep. Any chance I get, I need to work.”
He pushes the door and comes into my room. We had a great night last night. After our candid conversation, our Thai arrived, and we sat down and watched a couple of movies together. But let’s be serious, there wasn’t much watching of said movies, not when Anderson kept disappearing between my thighs. Eventually, we managed to make it to bed separately, much to Anderson’s disappointment.
“Is this how you normally work?” He looks around at my organized chaos.
“Pretty much… until I can get an office.”
Those turquoise eyes narrow on me. “What about your interns? Do they work the same?”
“Yep. They usually come over to my home to work. Wherever they can find a spot, we do our job.”
His forehead crinkles at my comment. “I have a spare office you can use.”
Wait! What?
“Oh, thanks so much for the offer, but I just don’t have the funds yet. I’ll have to wait till next month when, um… you know…” Nervousness runs through me over mentioning the money his parents are paying me to stay married to Anderson. I feel like a bitch taking it, but everyone keeps insisting I should, especially Anderson.
“You don’t have to pay me. It’s empty.”
Is this man serious? Pushing my laptop to the side, I give him my undivided attention.
“Andy.” Giving my stern voice, I continue, “I couldn’t possibly accept free rent from you. I mean, you won’t take any money for me crashing at your home, your family is paying me so much money for us to be together, it all feels so…” I can’t help but feel like I’m taking advantage of him and his family.
“Hey…” Anderson sits on the edge of my bed, “… I want to help. I have an empty office. I own the building. It’s the last office that hasn’t been rented. It’s been vacant for a while. All the other offices make up for it being empty, so I haven’t worried about filling it. I think it would be perfect for you.” He gives me a blinding smile that lights up his handsome face as he reassures me. “Come on, let me show it to you.” He jumps up rather quickly from the edge of my bed. “If you don’t think it will work, then no harm. We can try and find something else for you.” He seems rather excited by it, so who am I to turn him down.
“I feel like you were put into my life for a reason.” Mulling over the craziness that has happened to me since meeting him, I sigh.
“Maybe I was.” He gives me a Cheshire cat grin. “Don’t think about it, just go with it. Okay?”
Fuck it! I’m sick of second-guessing why good things are happening to me. Maybe karma is finally paying me back for the fucked-up shit that happened in my childhood, and I need to embrace it because she hasn’t steered me wrong since meeting Anderson.
“Okay.” Jumping up off of my bed, I ask, “So show me this office space.”
“That’s the spirit.” Anderson grins.
A little while later, Anderson’s driver stops in the Garment District outside a trendy-looking brick building. There’s even a busy coffee shop underneath bustling with office workers grabbing their to-go cups. Anderson helps me get out of the car, holding my hand as we walk toward the building’s side door. He types in a code, and the door clicks unlocked. He let’s go of my hand, and we walk inside to the large foyer. There is a lift to the right and wooden stairs to the left. The walls are exposed brick, and it has a relaxed loft-style vibe about it.
“The office is up these stairs, but you can also use the lift if need be. The office is on the first floor.” I follow him up the wooden stairs, my eyes firming in on his tight denim-clad ass.
We reach the top, and I’m blown away.
Laid out before me is my dream office space. Distressed whitewashed brick walls, sky-high ceilings with wooden beams straight across with industrial metal columns, and gorgeous hardwood floors. Large arched glass windows bathe the area in natural light down one side. The office space is enormous—it goes on and on.
Walking through the large room, I spy down the back a kitchen area, bathrooms, and an oversized ornate French door. Unlocking the slightly rusty lock, I push open the door, and holy shit, there’s a large rooftop deck which is spread out before me. Turning and looking around at Anderson, who has a smirk on his face, he knows precisely what this space means to me. Rushing toward him, I leap into his arms. He catches me with a grunt as I kiss the living hell out of him.
“I’m guessing that means you like it?” Chuckling as I kiss his handsome face before sliding down his hard body, I rest my feet back onto the hardwood flooring.
“It’s amazing.” Looking around at the space, my mind is running a million miles a minute with how I’d like to set it up. “The area is perfect. I’m surrounded by designers… established and up-and-coming.” A huge grin settles on my face. “It’s not that far from your home.”
“Our home,” he corrects me.
“Our home.” Grinning, I like the sound of that.
“I can set up a reception area over here.” I start mapping it out. “Then, a dressing room where we can store all the designer items that they loan to us for photo shoots.” Pointing to another area, I continue, “Oh… and because there’s so much space, I could set up a studio right here.” I look over at the perfect corner for it. “I don’t have to hire studio space for photo shoots, it will save me a ton of money.”
“I can have a contractor here on Monday to build the walls you need,” Anderson tells me.
“You’ve done so much for me already.”
He grabs my hand and presses his lips to it. “Let me do this. It makes me happy.”
I’m not going to argue with him, especially with the way he’s looking at me.
“Okay.” Giving in, he pulls me hard against him and presses a chaste kiss against my lips.
I am so giddy with excitement.
22
Emma
What a day!
First off, Anderson delivers me my dream office space, free of charge, and then reminds me that we are heading to The Paradise Club tonight to celebrate. I’m so excited my body is jittery from all the nervous energy swirling around.
I’m not sure what to expect.
At all.
I mean, Anderson tells me it’s an elite sex club, but what exactly does that mean? I even tried to google it, but nothing came up. It’s all very mysterious, and if I’m honest, it better live up to the hype that I have built up in my mind already.
“You look hot.” Anderson admires my white backless dress. From the back of my neck to the top of my ass is exposed, the hem is indecently high, the material is relatively thin, so my nipples are poking through, but you can’t see them, and the best bit is I’m not wearing any underwear.
My raven hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, my makeup is neutral with just a glossy lip, and I am wearing a pair of sky-high white heels.
“Why thank you, kind sir.” Giving him a curtsey, which exposes my ass cheek, Anderson reaches out ever so quickly, his fingers digging into my flesh. He pulls me toward him, my back hitting his hard chest.
“Please tell me you have some semblance of underwear under this dress?” he growls into my ear.
Turning my head ever so slightly, I give him a cheeky grin. “What’s the point. They won’t be on for long.”
He pushes me away from him. “Dammit, Ems.” Raking his hand through his blond hair, he hasn’t shaved this morning, and he has a nice bit of scruff on his jaw, and in all honesty, I wouldn’t mind feeling it rubbing against my thighs right about now.
“Come on,” he growls his command as he stomps toward the elevator.
“Hey,” Grabbing the sleeve of his shirt, I ask, “What’s going on?”
Anderson shakes his head, and the bell of the lift goes off, and he storms into the steel box.
“Andy?” my voice raises.
When he looks up at me, those turquoise eyes are swimming with confusion. He crosses his thick arms over his body, effectively telling me not to continue with the subje
ct. “I didn’t like the images in my head of someone getting to taste you.” He grabs my hand as we walk through the foyer, past the bellmen at the concierge’s desk. A doorman opens the glass doors for us and wishes as goodnight as we jump into Anderson’s waiting town car.
As soon as our backs hit the plush leather seats, I hit the privacy screen button. As much as I like Anderson’s driver, he doesn’t need to see what’s about to happen in the car’s back seat.
Anderson is looking out the window as the car sets off into traffic, the lights of the city passing by slowly because, let’s be real, this is New York, and there’s always traffic.
“Are we going to talk about what just happened upstairs?” Turning my head, I question him.
“It was nothing.” I notice the tension in his shoulders, his back is straight, his hand is in a small fist beside him.
There’s nothing about his body language that says it’s nothing.
Without thinking, I straddle his lap, surprising him as his hands automatically catch my hips.
“Emma?” he raises his voice.
Grabbing his hand, which is wrapped around me, I move it to between my legs, running his hand through my thighs. Those turquoise eyes widen as his fingers slip between my folds. “Emma. What are you playing at?” he questions me again.
“I’m hoping you might open up to me while you open me up.” Giving him a wink at my dirty joke, it makes him smile. He slumps back against the leather seat, hunger replacing the tension from earlier.
“Really now?” His hand is moving of its own accord.
“Yes.” Biting my bottom lip, goosebumps tingle all over my body.
“I was slightly jealous,” he confesses. “Only for a moment,” he adds.
“Jealous. Why?” I’m curious about his reaction.
He lets out a heavy sigh. “You look gorgeous tonight, and in that moment, I realized I was going to have to share you.”
I’m surprised he’s reacted this way. I mean, the man is one of the biggest playboys in New York. He’s rich, handsome, and can get any woman with just one look of those baby blues. “Like… I’m okay with it. It’s something we both agreed to.” He continues, “It’s just that…” He shakes his head as if he’s trying to dismiss whatever sentence was about to fall from his lips.
“Just what?” I push him to continue. “You and I promised each other that we would always be honest, that communication was key.”
“You’re right.” Anderson smiles, his eyes close for the briefest of moments as if giving himself the strength to be honest with me. “I want to touch you first.” His finger slips inside of me, and I let out a hiss at the connection. “You look gorgeous, and I just…” His turquoise eyes fall to my lips, then back to my face. “I want to have you first.” His finger begins to work me over, lust and desire swirl all around me. “It’s stupid, and male, and—”
I don’t let him continue as I lean forward and capture his lips against mine in a heated kiss. His other hand wraps around my neck, holding me in place as I grind against him.
Eventually, we pull apart from each other, his forehead rests against mine. “You look gorgeous tonight, and I realize you’re dressed for someone else, not me,” he confesses in a whisper.
Why does that statement make me wet? It makes me all warm and fuzzy for some reason that a man like Anderson is a tiny bit jealous.
“I have a confession…” I grin down at him, “… I wore this dress especially for you.” Those turquoise eyes widen as he sinks another finger inside of me, my fingers digging into his thick shoulders.
“You did?” he questions.
“Yes.” I’m almost breathless as he continues his rhythmic strokes inside of me, building me higher and higher until I’m chasing that cliff to fall over. “I want to make sure that out of all the women you can have tonight, that you…”
Oh, yes, that’s hitting the right spot as he twists his wrist ever so slightly.
“That I what?” he grunts at me.
“That you thought of me while fucking them.”
Fuck. His magic fingers push me over the edge as my orgasm takes hold of me. Throwing my head back, my eyes close, riding the glorious wave. Eventually, coming down from my high, I notice Anderson is smirking at me.
“What?” Touching my face, I think maybe there’s something on it.
“We are certainly a pair.” Mirth warms his voice.
“We are learning how to be a couple, and I think bumps are bound to happen along the way.”
His hand moves from between my thighs, and I miss his fingers already.
“Maybe you’re right, this is all rather strange.” He shrugs, now both hands are gripping my waist.
“You and I are very similar, I think.” Wrapping my arms around his neck, it’s nice feeling comfortable enough to touch him the way that I do. It also feels natural, effortless, and dare I say it, normal. “We are essentially loners with a large friend group.”
He chuckles. “Hadn’t thought about it that way, but yeah, you’re right.”
“We are like the black sheep of our friends’ group. We do our own shit when we want to and fuck the consequences.” He nods his head in agreement. “We are both so used to looking out for just us, and now, all of a sudden, we have to look after another.”
“You know I’m not trying to hold you back, don’t you?” he asks, sounding concerned.
“I know you wouldn’t, and that’s not what I mean. I mean…” trying to think of the right words, “… um… like I’m now living in your space. We have to worry about keeping this a secret from our friends. Worry about each of us fucking someone else and wondering if they’re better.”
Anderson bursts out laughing. “We all know no one is going to be better than me.”
The cocky bastard has me laughing.
23
Anderson
This whole being married scenario is taking a bit of getting used to. I didn’t think Emma looking like a goddamn goddess would hit me like it did. That a small portion of me wanted to scream, “she’s mine,” which is utterly absurd. I don’t go back for seconds, let alone claim a woman as mine.
Women I’ve been with hook up with friends of mine, and it’s never fazed me. I always understood our time was for one fun night, but imagining Emma with one of my friends fills me with rage.
Maybe it’s because she now has the title of ‘wife’ instead of a friend, hook-up, or a one-night stand. Perhaps the whole connotation of the word changes things. I know what we have isn’t a real marriage in that we are two people who love each other, and we want to spend an eternity together. The kind of people who would want to buy a home, and have two point five kids, all the everyday couple things. Just because I don’t love her doesn’t mean I don’t respect her, admire her, desire her. She’s unique, intelligent, and funny.
I love how much Emma’s trying to get her business off the ground, so I had to help her. I mean, she’s stuck with me for an entire year. The poor girl needs a gold medal for effort. And I know my parents are financially helping her, which, in all honesty, I loathe, but in reality, as cocky as I am, I’m a mamma’s boy at heart, and I will do what she says.
Insert eye roll here.
And I did have a spare office space which is kind of perfect, so why not give her a helping hand and rent it to her. Emma’s very insistent that she pay me rent. I don’t want it nor need it. Little does she know that money is going directly into another bank account for her to use once our year is over.
She can buy her own apartment with it, or travel the world, or do whatever she wants.
My stomach sinks a little at the thought ‘that she can do whatever she wants’ because it won’t include me. Fucking hell, I sound like Noah. Least I’m not hung up over some girl that I can’t have because my twin is the world’s biggest cockblock.
“Mr. and Mrs. West, welcome,” says the beautiful woman standing behind the reception desk.
Emma turns and gives me a look at
the receptionist using Mr. and Mrs. before turning her attention back to the woman. “My name is Layla.”
Giving us both a warm smile, she continues, “Mrs. West, we would love to formally welcome you to The Paradise Club as a member.” She hands Emma a gold credit card and her colored bracelets, which are compulsory to wear as they describe what you want from the club.
Pink—if you’re into exploring with women.
Blue—if you’re into exploring with men.
White—no sexual intercourse, but all other play is okay.
Red—if you’re happy to explore sexual intercourse in the club.
Yellow—if you’re looking to explore with just one person.
Green—if you’re looking to explore with more than one person.
Purple—means you’re okay with playing in public.
Orange—if you would prefer to play behind closed doors.
Black—means no play.
Many staff members will wear a black one, but you can find some staff members with colored bands.
Emma grabs her bands and places them on her wrist.
Layla pushes open the large wooden door and ushers us through. “Enjoy your night,” she adds, closing the door behind us.
“Wow!” Emma looks around the bar area. I can hear the awe in the singular word she uttered, then she continues, “This is not at all what I was thinking.”
Nate has created a classy joint, not some seedy little underground den of desires.
“It looks like an underground speakeasy.”
She’s probably right, especially with the black marble bar and the gold and bronze intricate designs. The tall two-story wooden cabinet behind the bar, which is filled with bottles as far as the eye can see, is making an impressive statement in the middle of the room.
There’s a second mezzanine level that looks over the floor below. The walls are painted almost a charcoal color with oversized bronze mirrors hanging in the walls arched curves.
Sitting below the walls are red velvet-covered booths where people sit and relax, chatting away but cocooned away from the main bar area. It really is just a luxury bar that could be anywhere in the world.
