I stand against the rail, looking out into the night as the ocean laps against the boat. I glance at my watch and wonder if Brennan has reached her room yet. A smile forms on my lips just thinking about her reaction to my gift and, more importantly, my note. Hell, I’ve never had this much interaction with my employees before, other than Tory. Tonight, I had Atticus issue iPhones to all of them—all so it wouldn’t look preferential to give one to her. I’ve never given out company phones before. The unlimited Wi-Fi needed to text has always been a perk of senior leadership, but I just extended this perk to include my aft staff. Although I did insist on delivering hers myself. That earned me a curious look from my house manager.
With a glass of Macallan in one hand and my phone in the other, I take my inappropriateness a step further. I text Brennan.
Me: Have you figured out how to use the phone yet? - Mr. Smug Hottie
Several minutes pass. Just when I think that I won’t get a response tonight, I see those three dots appear. She’s typing. I take a few swigs of the scotch in my glass as I wait patiently.
Brennan: You aren’t going to let me live that down, are you?
Me: Not a chance! Where would the fun be in that?
Brennan: Thank you for the phone. It’s nice to be a part of the 21st century (insert eye roll). The camera is really nice just like you said. I’ve been playing with it for the past hour, learning all the cool features. I hope that’s okay. I know it’s supposed to be for business. It’s just so amazing—it’s a computer inside the phone.
I can’t help but laugh over her obvious enthusiasm. It makes all the scheming just to get her a phone totally worth it. Her response is sweet with a hint of smartass and naïve all rolled into one.
Me: The phone is yours to do with as you please. Have you had a chance to check out the Spotify app I added? You don’t have to keep the songs. Just thought I’d add a few so you could get the hang of how to make playlists.
Brennan: Yes. I love the app and all three songs. I especially love the “Tonight” song by Nonso Amadi. I was listening to it on repeat before I got your message.
That song is one of my favorites too. She has good taste. I know I’m breaching dangerous territory here, and I should leave her alone, but she is intriguing. She’s an anomaly of fresh air—untainted. Is that why she appeals to me? I want to dirty her up in the best possible way—beneath me and stuffed full of my cock. My restraint is being tested, and so far, I’m failing miserably. Might as well continue down that road—at least for tonight.
Me: I know you were checking out the indoor pool this morning. Want to join me for a midnight swim?
I hit send before I can talk some sense into myself. I’m crossing so many lines, and I can’t say that I give a shit. I make the rules. Several minutes pass with no answer, and I must say I’m not used to being on this side of the fence. Can’t say that I like it, either. She has me anxious like a nervous schoolgirl until finally, I see those long-awaited three dots again. Thank fuck.
Brennan: To be honest, swimming is kind of my thing. It’s a long story, but I try to do it daily. That’s why I was checking it out this morning. If you promise that it’s just swimming, then I would love to join you. I don’t work tomorrow until the afternoon shift.
So she wants to lay down the rules, huh? If I promise it’s just swimming? How cute—charming even. I’ll play along for a bit, but she has no idea she just awakened my competitive nature with that little ultimatum. I make the rules, and I always get what I want. Let’s see how she responds once the kid gloves are off.
Me: Of course, it’s just swimming! What did you think swimming was code for? I usually swim daily too … before sunrise. I missed today, so I thought I’d get some laps in before bed. I’ll meet you at the pool in twenty minutes.
Brennan: Okay. See you there.
I finish the remainder of my scotch and head to put on a pair of swim trunks. This should be fun. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a tad excited to see the flesh that she keeps hidden under those baggy clothes.
I arrive at the indoor pool first, so I use this time to start laying my seductive foundation. Nothing is ever as it seems. I will let her think she is setting the pace for our interactions when, in reality, I’m the mastermind pulling the strings behind the scenes. I quickly create a unique playlist and input it into the elaborate sound system built into the wall. This private feature must be accessed through a hidden control panel via the keypad. Usually, I use the music to fuel my workout when I’m doing laps in the pool. But tonight, it’ll serve a different purpose.
“You know I got a special spot to help you remember me” sounds from the speaker just as Brennan enters. Her face lights up with the most earth-shattering smile as she recognizes the “Tonight” song by Nonso Amadi we were just talking about.
She’s wearing an enormous white t-shirt with cartoon characters on it. It’s the most adorable thing I’ve seen in a long time. Most women—hell, scratch that … any other woman would have worn the smallest bikini they could find to get my attention. Her shirt comes down to her knees. I walk over to her like her attire isn’t out of the norm.
“Like the music choice?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“I do,” she beams. “Where is the music coming from?”
I point at the area next to the stairs that leads to the next level. I have the panel flipped open so she could see. “It’s one of my secret gizmos,” I reply.
“I have to say this boat is filled with surprises,” she says more to herself.
“Come on! Let’s go swim,” I suggest.
Her freakish gray eyes widen as I pull my shirt over my head. Her fingers lock together as I make a show of sliding my joggers down my legs to reveal my swim trunks. She lets her eyes travel south for the briefest of seconds before turning away from me. Too late, sweetheart. That lovely shade of red your skin is now wearing tells me all I need to know. She is definitely a virgin. I run and jump into the cool water to combat my growing erection. I freestyle for a few strokes before I re-emerge.
“Come on in. The water feels great,” I encourage.
She walks to edge and dips her toe in before jumping in feet first. She swims until she meets me in the center of the pool. She shakes the water from her face as she treads the eight feet. Her bun tumbles loose, and it’s my turn to stare. Her raven locks are still constrained by the elastic holding it together, but the length flows away from her as her shirt floats up to her chest. I peruse her from head to toe. I see why she’s wearing that shirt. Her one piece is a couple of sizes too small. Her ass is so damn nice. Even through the water, I can see its heart-shaped perfection. My palm itches to reach out and grab it, and I can feel my dick trying to harden again.
“Want to race?” she asks, interrupting my lustful pondering. Yeah, sure, that’s what I want to do.
“Go!” I shout as I get a head start toward the end of the pool. With every stroke, I can hear her slicing through the water behind me, trying desperately to catch up. I touch the wall first and wait for her. My little stunt did very little to work my erection down.
“You cheated!” she accuses when she reaches me. She attempts to grab the wall behind me, but her reach falls short. Her hand grips my shoulder instead, and I pull her close merely to keep her upright since we’re both standing in the shallow end now. The trouble is, I pull her right into my hardness. A moan slips past those innocent lips of hers, and the last of my restraint shatters like glass. I capture her lips and work the seam until she opens them for me. My tongue savors hers with a fervor that surprises her. I feel a slight hesitation in her body, but it doesn’t last long. She claws at me, trying to deepen the kiss and, oh, do I oblige.
“Shit,” I growl as I lift her legs around my waist. My hands slide down her bare ass not covered by her one piece, and I waste no time pushing her further against my cock. My fingers are so close to her pussy. I just want a taste. My dick pushes against the thin fabric keeping her pussy from me. I rub her against it, desperate for the friction to stave off some of the ache. She whimpers, and all thoughts of taking her slowly are getting foggy.
“Fuck,” I curse again to myself. Brennan breaks our kiss and slides down my body, jilted.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” she apologizes. Is she fucking for real? She didn’t do anything wrong. “I need to go,” she adds.
I know that if she leaves now, things will be awkward between us from here on out. I grab her hand to keep her from leaving. “You have nothing to apologize for Brennan,” I assure her.
“But you’re my boss, and I just kissed you,” she insists, embarrassed.
“Wrong! I kissed you, and I’d do it again. We’re both adults.” Besides that, she’s omitting the fact that we took things past first base. “Come on. Let’s go up a level and look out at the ocean. If you liked the view this morning, you’ll love the view at night. It’s my favorite.”
“I really should get going,” she says. She pulls her hand out of mine, knotting her fingers together, and I know she is questioning what she should do. I’ve come to correlate the knotting of her fingers together as something she does when she’s nervous.
“Just one drink. I don’t want things to end weird, okay? We’ll just talk. That’s it.”
“Just talk?” she questions, unsure. There she goes again with the establishing rules thing. I’ll allow it for now.
“Pinky swear,” I promise as I untangle her fingers and hook my pinky with hers. That earns me a half smile. That’s better.
“Okay,” she finally agrees. I jump out of the pool first like a giddy schoolboy and then turn to help her out, but she has already headed for the end of the pool near the stairs that leads up to my level.
She pulls the t-shirt that now clings to her body over her head and lays it over the railing. I know I’m in trouble when I get my first true glimpse of her body. It is nothing short of every man’s fucking fantasy. D cup breast, a narrow waist that leads to a heart-shaped ass, and virgin pussy. I want to claim every inch of her, explore every curve. She follows up with pulling the elastic from her hair and lets it fall to her waist. All I want to do is wrap my fist around it and claim her virtue. This image of her will be ingrained into my brain for sure. I grab a couple of towels and wrap the first one around my waist to hide my semi-erect cock before I walk over to meet her at the steps.
“Thank you,” she says as she unsuccessfully tries to adjust her swimsuit to cover more of her shapely ass. I want to comment so badly about how small her fucking swimsuit is, but I refrain. I won’t risk her changing her mind about having that drink with me. I envy her towel as I watch like a creeper while she quickly dries herself before wrapping it around herself.
“I’ll just leave my shirt here on the rail of the stairs to dry until I come back down,” she tells me. I just nod and gesture for her to lead the way. I’m absolutely watching the sway of her ass in that towel as she turns to do just that.
The night air is a little chilly for January, so I have her follow me to the fire pit located closer to the doors of my suite. Can’t wait for the warmer temps as we get further out into the Caribbean Sea.
“I didn’t see this here earlier,” she says puzzled.
“Um, because you were too busy laying down the law.” I chuckle. She does have a sort of bossy side to her, come to think of it. “That is my room, Brennan,” I inform, pointing past the fire pit. “This whole fourth level, forward to midship, is my personal space.”
I watch with amusement as realization dawns on her.
“Wait. So I was trespassing on your deck … I was the one somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be this morning? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Well, then, I would have had to tell you who I was.” I shrug playfully.
“Yeah, about that. You let me make a total fool out of myself. I’m sure your other employees think I’m a complete whack job!” She folds her arms and huffs.
“Don’t get yourself worked up. It was cute. It was way more fun to be Mr. Smug Hottie anyway.”
She flushes crimson for the millionth time, and I’m beginning to like the color on her. “I’m going to grab us a couple of warm throw blankets and make us a drink.”
I gesture for her to have a seat then light the fire pit before leaving. I bring back two glasses of some of my finest scotch—the Macallan 64 that I was drinking earlier when I started texting her.
“How did you know what I’d like to drink?” she asks teasingly. “You didn’t even ask.”
“Hmmm, aside from soda, I don’t have any of that froufrou girly drink crap.” I wink. “Of course, if you don’t think you can’t handle the manly stuff, I can order you something. What do you drink?”
“I don’t drink, so I wouldn’t know where to begin. Sure, I’ve tasted alcohol at one of the Neumann’s ritzy parties, but don’t ask me what it was,” she snorts. She quickly covers her face, but I remove her hands and place the scotch in one hand. I take a seat across from her so that I can admire her beauty highlighted by the flames.
She gulps her first sip and wrinkles her nose in disgust. “That burns going down,” she notes.
“Try sipping it, sweetheart, not deep throating it.” Her eyebrows rise, and I mentally pat myself on the back—points for shock value. “It’s fine liquor. It’s not a shot. You’re supposed to sip it.”
I keep talking in hopes she’ll forget about the deep throat thing. I’m supposed to be taking her slow. That comment wasn’t very professional, but neither was my tongue down her throat or grinding her virginal pussy against my cock.
“What is this?” she asks while taking a careful sip this time. “It’s actually okay once you get past the burn.”
“Just okay? You have thousands of dollars’ worth of liquor in your mouth right now. Many would kill for that sip.” I love fucking with her. I would rather be fucking her or have her mouth full of my cum, but I will get my chance.
“Thousands? What do mean? How much is that bottle?” She picks up the bottle to inspect it. Like there would be an actual price tag on it. I can barely contain my laughter. She is just too damn adorable for words.
“Well, that bottle in your hands cost me almost a half a million,” I answer truthfully. She sets the bottle back down on the table like she is afraid she may break it.
“You’re lying,” she accuses.
“Afraid not. What can I say? I enjoy fine scotch.”
“And you’re just drinking it like it’s nothing. It’s not even a special occasion. That’s pretty pretentious, Mr. Lair.”
The way she addresses me has a different tone. Not the “your my boss, Mr. Lair” tone either. Whatever it is, I like it. She leans back in the lounge chair and takes slow sips from her glass.
“So you wanted to talk. Tell me about you. How did you end up with more money than you know what to do with?” The alcohol is definitely getting to her. That was a bold question coming from her.
“Well, the short version is my paternal side has always had money dating back from their oil business. My father used his inheritance to start a few hotel chains. I inherited my share of the money when I turned twenty-one, and then what he left me when he died a few years later. My mom died when I was six. My father remarried when I graduated high school, but his iron-clad prenup ensured that she left with what she came with—nothing—so it all went to me. Sex sells, and I’m good at it, so I decided to use it to make a profit. I’m in the sexually oriented business of bringing like-minded people together to enjoy their kink. The end.” I grin.
I gave her the CliffsNotes version. She doesn’t need to know the sordid details—or about Jasper. She empties her glass, so I refill it. She doesn’t push for more, but I can see the unanswered questions swirling through that cute head of hers. Her inquisitive facial expressions give away her thoughts. Her wrinkled forehead and that bow above her lip show me that she is pondering something.
“What about you?” I ask.
“What about me? I don’t have any money.”
“Tell me about you. How is it that a twenty-one-year-old woman has never owned a phone? Tell me about your life growing up.”
“My story is not as glamorous as yours, but I’ll bore you with it anyway,” she jokes.
She tells me that she never had a chance to meet her father. That he died before she was born. She talks about her mom and how swimming was their nightly thing before she took her own life. Her eyes sadden as she recalls that day and again when she tells me how mean the kids were when she tried to attend one of those “fancy private schools.” The staff at the Neumanns were her family as well as her friends. She didn’t need frivolous things such as a phone when she didn’t have anyone to call outside that house. She was homeschooled, so as she grew up, she missed out on virtually every aspect of socialization.