12
Tack
I turned off the shower as she stepped around me, reached for a towel and wrapped it around herself. She rushed for the door, and I heard Miller as he passed the bathroom.
“Are you okay?” Miller questioned her. “What’s taking you so long?”
Silence followed and I couldn’t decipher if they were speaking low or simply communicating in signs of some type. I dried quickly, redressed, and entered the room.
“Mother of all things holy,” Miller squeaked. Juliet and he stood in a face-off with one another and I leaned on the bedpost. I hadn’t finished kissing her, not by a long shot, and I wasn’t leaving this room until I got a little more from her.
“I guess, I’ll just…” Miller’s voice faltered as a hand flapped out between Juliet and me.
“What did you want?” I asked, sharper than I intended.
“I came to take Juliet to dinner.”
Shit, I thought as I glanced at the bedside clock. We only had fifteen minutes. I needed to get dressed. I needed to relieve some pent-up pressure. My dick still stood at attention as I took in the sight of her in her towel, the hint of her firm breasts peeking over the terrycloth. I didn’t like Miller’s presence so close to her, gay or not.
“I’ll take her,” I stated.
“I’ll meet you both there.” She reached out and patted Miller’s chest before tipping her head for the door. He brushed past me and the door slammed.
“He’s pissed?” I questioned. She shrugged in response, and another thought occurred. “Has he seen you naked?”
“What difference does that make? It’s not like that for him and me.” She laughed humorlessly.
“It matters to me. I want to be the only one.” I took one giant step toward her and cupped her jaw.
“Well, you haven’t been.” The comment startled me, and my face stung like she’d slapped me.
“I’m the only one from now on.” I tugged her to me, my lips crashing over hers. My tongue invaded her mouth, refusing to release her. She was mine and only mine.
“What is wrong with you?” she snapped, breaking the kiss by firmly pressing back on my chest. “’You are beautiful, but you are empty.’”
“Stop quoting the fucking Little Prince at me.”
“Well, I’ve had two years to memorize it.”
“And who’s fault was that?” We glared at one another. We’d already established she left, and she already said she was sorry. What was wrong with me suddenly? I didn’t want to be fighting with her. Her shoulders slumped, and her head lowered. I stepped back.
“I didn’t mean that,” I said, swiping a hand through my hair.
“You did,” she said defiantly, holding her head up again to face me.
“I guess I still don’t understand. And I’m afraid I’ll walk out that door and it will all be as it was. You’ll feel like a dream.”
“Maybe that’s all it was,” she said, lowering her voice. I reached for the towel and tugged at the material, loosening it enough to fall to the floor. My hands covered each breast, squeezing them within my palms.
“I’m. Not. Dreaming.” I hissed, and her breath hitched, but her lids lowered. She sighed. “Baby, you have no idea how real you are to me.”
“Then show me,” she said, her confidence shaky but her determination something I recognized.
I spun her so her back braced against the foot of the bed.
“Hold onto the bar,” I demanded, motioning for the brace between the two posts, and she did as I said. Recalling our discussion about submissives and dominants, I remembered she had been curious. I didn’t know how far we’d get in fifteen minutes, but I wanted to show her who was in charge. She was. She could have what she wanted from me.
I knelt before her and spread her knees. My palm shot up her thigh and fingers dove into her warm center.
“Jesus fuck, Mouse,” I muttered, my forehead coming to her belly. “You’re so wet.” Her hand came to my hair. “Don’t remove your hands from the bar,” I ordered, inhaling the sweet aroma of her—tropical fresh but wanting sex. My fingers played a moment, sliding in and out before slipping free. She whimpered, her hips chasing my hand.
“How badly do you want this?” I whispered, blowing air against her heat. She moaned. “Ah, I remember. You like the breeze.” I wanted to lay her out on the bed, spread her feet and let the ocean air kiss her, driving her wild with need. But I couldn’t contain my own desire. My mouth watered for her, and I wrapped my lips around her clit, sucking deep, drawing in her flavor. She groaned above me as I lapped and licked and spread her with my tongue. Her hips rocked forward, but I pressed her back with my hand at her hip. I was fucking her, not the other way around. My tongue danced over her folds. My lips sucked her sweet nectar, and within seconds, she whimpered my name. Her knees shook, but I forced her to ride the wave, continuing until she said she could take no more.
I kissed up her belly before reaching a breast. Opening to devour one heavy globe, I slipped my fingers into her again. She moaned, and my eyes drifted up to her.
“Again,” I demanded, before latching onto her breast once again. I sucked with fervor while fingers, slick with her desire, slipped in and out of her, working to bring her another release. I moved to her other breast and noticed her thighs squeeze together. She was close. I nipped her nipple and she broke. Her head fell back while her hips rolled forward, drawing my fingers deeper.
“That’s my Mouse. Let me in,” I said, as I stood to my full height. Her body shuttered, and I pulled my fingers from her, slipped them up her belly, circling her breast with fingers slicked in her own juices, marking her as mine.
“Do you feel good, baby?” She nodded as her head fell forward to rest on my shoulder. “I did that to you,” I said, beating on my own chest. “I want you to remember that. That was real, not imaginary.”
Her head snapped upward and her hand released from the bar of the bed. Not knowing her intention, I caught her wrist. I licked the inside, over the vein and then kissed her palm.
“This is real. And I’m not losing you again.”
+ +
The restaurant was busy. I stood near the bar in my suit, minus a tie, sipping my bourbon, attempting to pace myself while I waited. I didn’t want to leave her room without her, but I convinced myself I’d made my statement. We were real, and I wasn’t letting her go. My hands twitched, still fresh from the feel of her under my palms. My lips tingled with the soft pressure of her lips against them. The thought brought my dick to attention, and I knew it would be another long night.
She entered the room with silent grace, like she had the night before. Oh, Mouse, I thought as my eyes roamed her body in a dress that reminded me of the one she wore the night I asked her to share in my celebratory steak dinner. Loose-fitting and white, it cut straight across her breasts, some type of ruffled material holding them upright. The remainder of the dress flowed to the floor in a gauzy mass that I could see through in the right lighting. I’d already been between those thighs but I wanted more.
This night would be unbearable with all these people around us.
“If you eye her any further, you might mess yourself,” Abby said at my elbow.
I sputtered into my drink and reached for a napkin to dab at my shirt.
“Damn it, Abby,” I snapped.
“You’re eye-fucking her so hard, the whole room is getting turned on,” she snarled, slipping her hand through the crook in my elbow. “But just think how that headline will read—small not-for-profit earns money by sleeping with a millionaire.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I hissed, but the moment I said it, I felt I’d betrayed Juliet. That’s exactly how things would look for her.
“She’s very pretty, in a quiet sort-of way. Something submissive and skittish about her personality, perhaps that’s her appeal.” Abby’s fist tightened in the fold of my arm. “But, of course, I’ve heard of your fetish. I know women who could give you so much more.” I glanced at Abby over my shoulder, her presence close enough to look attached to me. She spoke through a smile of gritted teeth. And she knew nothing. I might want control, I might want to dominate, but Juliet was all I needed. She was all I’d wanted for nearly two years.
I considered what she said about Juliet’s company, though. I didn’t want any kind of mark on her reputation. The Mouse Trap was small, but it was growing. People loved her story, and they trusted her product. She was doing good things with their money.
“Why would you say all this, Abby?”
“I’m just looking out for you. I wouldn’t want you to be taken advantage of. I don’t want her to use you for the money.” I slipped my arm out of Abby’s when I noticed Juliet eying us.
“She’s not like that, Abby.”
“How do you know?”
I paused. I didn’t know for certain. I’d known her less than three months, but I trusted her. I trusted that she wasn’t greedy like that.
“Interesting dissertation,” Abby scoffed. “She made fifty-thousand dollars off that scandal. It built her company, did you know that?”
I didn’t know that. I’d read the financials and knew she had start-up money. I didn’t bother to investigate the origin of the funds. More importantly, how did Abby know?
“Who says her dissertation was a scandal?”
“Who imagines a man, decides she can change the outcome of a situation, a rape no less, by controlling him after the fact?” Abby snorted. It sounded convoluted and impossible when said aloud.
“I don’t think that’s exactly how it happened,” I defended.
“Well, you can’t take back what’s been done. She’ll never get over it completely. She’ll never love because she’ll never trust. It’s rather sad.”
I didn’t like what Abby said, no more than I liked her tone. Juliet and I made great strides together in the past. I didn’t expect her to get over anything, but I did intend to show her that she could trust a man. She could love one, and I wanted that one to be me.