Zoey stared at herself in the mirror, more than a little nervous, and incredibly turned on. The leather harness fit around her hips like it had been made for her, which boggled her; she was so much slimmer through the waist and hips than him. She stared at the harness to keep herself from panicking at the bright purple cock that jutted out of it.
Alex rested behind her, his chest solid and strong against her back. “Goddamn,” he murmured into her hair, his fingertips teasing down her shoulder blades. “That is one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.”
“I feel like a porn star,” she said. She wrapped one arm up around his neck and tilted her head back. He responded by kissing her neck, soft and gentle, as his fingers came to her breast again, teasing her nipple with his featherlight touch.
“You’re sexier than a porn star,” he said. “Because you’re here. And you’re mine.” He nipped her neck and she groaned, harsh and loud. Her cheeks flushed, and he laughed. “Stop worrying. Sophia and Claire sleep on the other side of the apartment. You’re safe.”
The word slipped over her heated skin, and she nodded, trusting him. His hand wandered down lower, and stroked the length of the purple cock—her cock—which shifted the end of it that was buried inside of her. The noise that simple motion drew out of her was a low-pitched keen. “When you said you’d fuck me, this wasn’t what I was thinking you meant.”
His hand stilled for a moment, slipping back to lie flat on her belly, pulling her towards him in that gentle swaying motion again. “Me either,” he said, his voice the soft quiet sound of someone telling one of their greatest secrets. “This isn’t something I’ve ever asked anyone to do for me before.”
She met his eyes in the mirror. Surprise was written on her features, and she tried to keep it toned down, but she knew he had to see it, at least a little. “But—you had all the equipment right there, ready to go.”
“Wishful thinking,” he said.
“Why me?”
He ran her fingertips through her hair, and she watched as she tilted her head for him, shifting with him. “I don’t know why I trust you so much. I probably shouldn’t. It seems foolish. But here I am. Here you are. And I can say with total honesty, Zoey, I’ve never wanted anyone this much. I’ve never wanted this with anyone else. Maybe it’s because there’s so much other stuff going on, maybe it’s because I don’t really have anyone else I feel I can trust right now. But I know that I care about you, and I want you to be happy, and if you can be happy with me? I’m excited about that possibility.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “Then show me how to fuck you.”
He led her back to the huge bed and bent his head to her breasts, licking and teasing them, taunting her nipples with his teeth. His hand came to her cock again, stroking it firmly, turning her hips into water as it shifted deep within her. It wasn’t anything like being fucked, but it was still incredible. She’d played games with herself in the past, when she was pushing a deadline and bored out of her mind—she’d take a toy and slip it in, and then keep writing. Every little shift of her hips would blur into torture, and she never let herself come until she hit the deadline in question.
This was like that. The toy didn’t quite touch her clit, so she wasn’t sure she would come during this little experiment, but she was sure Alex would take care of her, in the end.
He stretched out on the bed, face up, his legs spread wide. “Watch first,” he said, smearing lube on his fingers.
She stood at the end of the bed, trying not to feel extraneous as he stroked his cock with one hand, and circled his anus with the other. And then he slid two fingers into his body, smooth and slow, and she watched his eyes pop open with eagerness. “Holy shit,” she murmured, watching his cock twitch in the air, watching his fingers slide in and out of his body. She wanted to touch her clit, wanted to join him in the exploration of his pleasure, but she couldn’t reach it with the harness in the way. She settled for stroking her cock—and groaned like it had been electrified. She’d never played like this before, and it blew her apart, touching that long length in front of her, feeling the twisting sensations within her as the toy shifted.
“Like this,” he said, his voice tight and excited. “Oh, Jesus, Zoey, you keep doing that, I’m going to blow before you touch me.”
She stroked her cock more firmly, and watched his eyes widen. “You better not,” she said. “You told me that I have to fuck you to get fucked tonight, and I want my fucking.”
He tore his hand away from his own cock, cursing. Inspiration passed over her, and she climbed onto the bed. She knelt over him, her ass on his chest, and brushed the head of her toy cock over his lips. “Suck it,” she said.
He went after her with enthusiasm, groaning and licking and sucking the toy. The sensations were muted in her body, but the way his eyes rolled up at her, the way he shivered—that was worth it.
She slid down him again, standing at the end of the bed. He dropped his hips a little, to compensate for his height, and she made herself focus on him, not on the burning in her clit or the tautness of her nipples, as she smeared lube over the length jutting from her hips, then guided the head of her cock to his ass. He hissed in anticipation as she pressed gently forward.
When his body relaxed, and she slipped that first inch inside of him, she gasped, her eyes going wide. His body tensed, electrified; his eyes caught hers and held them. “More,” he said, hoarse and wound incredibly tight. “Jesus, Zoey, more. Oh, please.”
He said please, but she knew a command when she heard one. “What’s that you’re always telling me? Have patience?”
Sweat gleamed over his forehead. “Fuck me, princess, oh god, fuck me before I come without you even halfway in me.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’ll stop you if you do.”
She slid forward, pressing her cock into him slowly, listening to him curse, each sound making her cunt tighten around her end of the toy, and she felt her body clenching, spasming in little mini-orgasms that left her vision spotted and her knees weak. She balanced herself with a hand on his thigh as their hips met. He cried out at the contact, writhing. His cock was rigid and thick on his belly, gleaming with his arousal. She reached between them and traced one fingernail down his length. “Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck fuck fuck, what are you trying to do to me?”
She laughed as she pulled back slowly, then brought herself forward again. The cock inside of her slid more smoothly this time, and she began to reevaluate her opinion that she wouldn’t come like this. It was rubbing right up against the spot that made her see stars. The pressure wasn’t direct, but it was intense all the same. “I’m following directions,” she said, another stroke bending his back and making him curse. “You told me to fuck you. I am pretty sure I’m fucking you.”
His hands were fisted in the sheets, his forearms corded with wiry muscle as he gasped. “Jesus, I am not going to last, this is—something else, princess, something—” his teeth clenched, and he panted, hard and fast, his cock twitching against his stomach as he fought to hold out. She went still against him, because she wasn’t ready to be done either, but when some of the tension flooded out of him, she began to move again. “Aching,” he muttered, his head tossing. “Aching for you. Baby, Jesus, Zoey, princess, oh god—”
She wrapped her free hand around his cock, and thrust into him as she stroked his length, keeping that slow, steady rhythm. It was enough to drive him over the edge within moments, crying out as he spurted over her hand and his stomach.
She heard the words in the cries, the soft three words he muttered as he descended back to earth. She wasn’t sure he even heard them, so she didn’t say anything back. She wasn’t sure she could have said it back, even if he had been fully aware of what was happening.
She glanced to the side, wanting to find control of her emotions before he saw her confusion, just in case. She found herself staring into that full length mirror, seeing herself between his legs, buried in him as he relaxed through the last of his orgasm, his body speared through with hers. Her eyes went wide at it, shocked and delighted at what she saw.
She turned back to him, pulling the toy free. She stepped out of the harness, letting it fall to the floor, her pussy whimpering slightly at the loss of the sensation. She stretched out next to him, sighing with quiet delight as he gathered her up. “I promised to fuck you,” he said, his voice hoarse from all his noise.
“You did,” she said, ignoring the need still filling her. “That was—moderately incredible, yes. I’m going with that.”
He chuckled and rolled into her, his lips closing almost delicately around her nipple. “You can do better than that,” he murmured around her flesh, and she clenched again. “Tell me what you want. My tongue, my fingers? Want to wait until I recover and have me fuck you again? Want me to get a toy and do you now?”
“I’m not sure—”
He kissed a line down her body, his teeth tracing her skin. “How about this,” he said. He sat up, pulling her with him, until they were up at the headboard of the bed. He placed her hands, one at a time, on the headboard, then settled behind her. He pulled her hips back until her ass rested on his upper thighs, her own thighs spread. And then his fingers slipped into her inner lips, finding her clit, and began to swirl.
She was sopping wet, and her head fell back onto his shoulder as she gasped in happy delight at the ecstasy that turned circles within her. He murmured into her ear, calling her princess, telling her how sexy she’d looked while she fucked him, how hot and amazing and gorgeous and powerful as she’d throbbed into him. She let go of the headboard to reach back and caress his neck, and he slapped her hand hard enough to sting. “Move again and I’ll tie you down,” he said, his voice flipping from erotic to sharp in one beat of her heart.
It was what tipped her over the edge. Even as he snapped at her, the skillful motion of his fingers didn’t stop, and she spiraled out her hips bucking and her back arching as she spasmed, clamping her teeth together to stop herself from screaming.
He dragged every drop of excitement out of her, and she sagged into his arms, tired and swollen and sore and suddenly incredibly, thoroughly relaxed. He tapped her hands gently with his fingertips; she hadn’t even realized she was still clutching at the headboard until she let her fingers relax.
“How is it,” he whispered in her ear as he cradled her against him, “That every bit of you I get just makes me want more?”
“Not sure,” she murmured back. “But the feeling is mutual.”
They were quiet for a while. She lay quietly in his arms, and felt that she was holding him as much as he was holding her. It struck her how incredibly vulnerable he’d made himself. It wasn’t just that he’d never asked anyone to perform that one particular act for him; it was also that it had so completely undone him.
She’d read that phrase in cheesy romance novels before, and had always rolled her eyes. But when his eyes had locked on hers, with no barriers and no pretense, she’d understood it for the first time. And she found herself grateful for the opportunity to be on the receiving end of that expression, especially from someone who kept himself under such tight control.
“What was Claire’s excuse for skipping school,” Alex asked her as he traced a finger lightly down her spine.
Zoey shook her head. “She’s scared of someone Olivia’s associating with. Aaron Schwartz?”
Alex made a sound, low in his chest, that was painfully close to a growl. “I know him. She’s right to be cautious, but why scared?”
“She thought she saw him at school. She turned around and came back here as fast as she could.”
He nodded, slowly.
“Do you think she’s really in danger, Alex?”
“No,” he said. “There’s no reason for anyone to hurt her. She’s legally Philip’s heir. There’s no question about it. Hurting her would be foolish.”
“I feel like there’s a certain school of thought that says murder for financial gain is foolish, no matter what.”
He barked a little laugh and kissed her quickly. She sank into the pressure of his lips, letting him envelope her for a moment, his hands on her bottom tugging her tight against him. “True enough.”
“I talked to Cindy.” The words blurted out before she thought better of them. She felt Alex go painfully still under her hands. “I thought maybe I’d be able to help. Maybe she’d see me as an easier ally, since I don’t have a dog in the fight, so to speak.”
She felt sure he’d be angry, irritated at the very least, but instead he just slowly returned to his delicate caresses of her skin. “And could you?”
Zoey shook her head, then leaned back to catch his gaze again. “She screamed that she was going to take the kids and run, and it was all our fault.” She thought carefully about how she wanted to phrase her question. “Do you know what might have happened, what could have made her so afraid?”
He shook his head, and then froze. “Oh fuck,” he said. “I need to talk to her.”
“Wait, Alex.” She put her hand on his arm as he sat up and moved towards the edge of the bed. “Hold on.”
“I dropped her name to Olivia,” he said. “She must have—fuck—she must have gone after Cindy. Intimidated her. I didn’t think—” He bit off another curse as he reached for pants. “This is my fault.”
“Stop,” Zoey said, and to her surprise, the man did pause, at least, and turned to face her. “If she’s really afraid, there’s nothing worse you can do than go tearing over there. You’ll frighten her even more.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “She’s not going to answer the phone, and she made it perfectly clear to me that she didn’t want to hear from either one of us again. If you really think your mother’s a danger, Alex—maybe it’s time to get the police involved.”
“No,” he said, too fast. “No, it won’t do any good. We don’t have any proof yet. They’ll dismiss me out of hand. Even the friends I have on the force won’t be enough. We need proof, Zoey.”
It was her turn to shake her head, and she tried not to let the fact that she was naked whittle away at any of her determination. “It’s not our job to bring proof, Alex. That’s the job of the police.”
For a moment, she saw him tremble. She had an idea of the enormous forces that were dragging on him from all sides, and she could imagine that he had no real idea of where to go or what to do next. But the anger in his eyes, the fury that wasn’t just about tonight, but about a thousand slights and smarts over the years, things about which she’d only found the barest edges—it made her nervous, just a little. “I don’t think you understand,” he said, in a voice so quiet and low and careful that it only increased her nervousness. “How much is riding on this. It’s not just about shares in the company, or whether I’m a multi-billionaire, or just a garden variety fucking rich guy. Zoey, people are dying.”
“Yes, they are,” she said. “And more may die if you don’t tell the police what is going on.” She paused, thinking back over her conversation with Cindy. “She said that you weren’t the only one who knows the police commissioner. Do you know the police commissioner?”
Alex shifted from one foot to the other for a moment, a funny look on a naked guy. She swallowed the smile. It wouldn’t help the conversation. At all. “Yes. We—have a mutual friend.”
Zoey found herself unable to resist. “A mutual lady friend?”
He rolled his eyes, but he sat back down on the bed next to her and stopped twitching quite as much. “No, not like that. A mutual friend from school. We got him into a lot of trouble a few times, but Leo and I always saved his ass, too. He owes me.”
She placed a delicate hand on his shoulder, and when he didn’t shrug it off, she stroked it lightly down his arm, then scooted a little closer, letting him feel the warmth of her body. “Either call him, or don’t,” she said. “But stop torturing yourself. On some level—she’s a big girl, Alex. She told me she was going to run. And if she does—then she does, you know? You can’t fix this for her, especially not when she’s refusing help.”
He nodded, and scrubbed his hands over his hair. It was a nervous gesture, she realized. “I should call Luke,” he said. “I know I should. But something keeps holding me back.”
“She’s your mother,” Zoey said, as gently as she could. “I can’t imagine needing to tell the police that you think your mother is killing people.”
He laughed just a little. “It is a little bit out there. I mean, Olivia is a bitch, and she’d go to a lot of lengths to protect Claire and I, and to make sure that everything—everything she gave up wasn’t for nothing. But kill people?” He shook his head. “I just don’t think she has it in her.”
“Then maybe you should come to bed,” she tried. She didn’t go as far as reaching out, her arms open and ready, but she thought about it. She just didn’t think it would play out the way she wanted it to.
“I’d really like to,” he said, and his eyes skirted down her body again, a smile playing over his lips. “But I called an emergency board meeting for tomorrow morning, thinking I’d have Cindy’s backing. Without it, I—” he shook his head, and she saw something she’d never seen in his posture before, never even dreamed of. She saw fear.
No, fear was too intense. But she’d never seen him show even the slightest hint of reticence. Not just in her past few days experience with him, but ever. Not in the press, not in interviews, not when challenged. Publicly, and now privately, she saw Alexander Blankenship as someone consumed by his own confidence, strong and powerful. It was disarming and alarming to see him nervous. It made him somewhat more human than he had been.
He recovered quickly, and gave her a boyish grin. “I have to try and pull one hell of a meeting out of my hat, or look like a fool,” he said. “I’ll probably be up for a bit. But you should get some sleep.”
“Do you want me to sleep here?” She didn’t know how to ask without being blunt.
“Very much,” he said, with the same sort of tone.
“Okay,” she said. “I should go by my apartment and get some clothes, then. Unless you plan on buying me a new outfit every day.”
“Would you accept them if I did?”
She had to laugh. “Not unless you started shopping at the thrift store.”
He was still for a moment. “I do, you know. For things that aren’t for work, obviously. But when I just want clothes that are comfortable, and I’m not going to be judged for how they fit. Or if I know that they’re going to get destroyed. I’m not utterly irresponsible.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, even though it didn’t seem like entirely the right thing to say.
“I’ll have someone drive you,” he said. “It’s too late for the subway.”
He said it so offhand; it was a fascinating moment, given what he’d just been saying about thrift stores. She got it, right then. He chose to shop at the thrift stores, because it made sense and was a frugal choice. But he’d never had to shop at a thrift store. She would have bet—dollars to donuts, Mama had said—that he’d never looked down at his last $20 on Monday afternoon and tried to figure out how he was going to eat until Friday. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand how the “other half”—or, the other 99%—lived, it was just that he’d never had to live like that.
“Okay,” she said. It felt a little bit like she was letting down everything she’d been raised to believe in, but at the same time, he was right. It was too late to be on the subway. “Thanks.”