Chapter 15
Bianca
February 15
I wake up next to Jordan almost surprised to see him. All night intense dreams involving him filled my slumber. I’m almost afraid he isn’t real. That I’m still asleep. So, I reach over and touch his face. His wavy blond hair is still mussed and glued together in places thanks to my sweat and other fluids.
To my immense joy, he’s one-hundred percent real. He’s a dream come true, and he isn’t just a figment of my sex-starved brain.
Last night got pretty crazy, I think, spying the lingering redness and flog marks zigzagging Jordan’s back. They rest there alongside numerous scratch marks from my nails. Really crazy. Intense. Way more intense than I ever imagined they would. Than I’ve ever had with anybody.
A dull almost bruising but pleasurable ache fills my pussy. Not for one second do I regret giving him my body. My virginity. It seems as if he’s the one I’ve been waiting for.
As if Jordan’s playing the role of sleeping beauty, and I the dashing princess come to rescue him from his slumber, he opens his eyes as I let my mind wander over our night together.
“Good morning, my lady,” he says, sounding like he’s already drunk on me. Definitely hung over from the night before. “Did you sleep well?” As he asks this, he draws me closer. I let him do so, enjoying the warmth of his body. In our excitement and ensuing exhaustion last night, we didn’t bother to pull back the covers. We just fell asleep right on top of them.
“I did,” I say, curling into him and kissing him on the cheek, then on the mouth. Faintly, I can still taste my own musk on him. Not unpleasant in any way. It simply reminds me even more of how delicious last night was. How unbelievably good and unexpected.
“You?” I ask.
“Great,” he says, stroking my back, and then resting his hand on the small of it. “Slept like a baby.” He smiles, chuckling at what I guess he feels is a dumb comparison. “It’s been a long time since I’ve slept that well or had such a good time.” He kisses me again. All over my body. My cheeks. My breasts. “You set me free, Bianca,” he says, tracing his lips around my nipples. Already erect from the cold, they’re puckering up even more from his attention. “Saying ‘thank you’ is not enough for what you did for me last night. You gave yourself to me. I’ll never be able to thank you enough. You gave me a precious gift.”
I put my hands in his hair. Stroke my fingers down it, and on to his cheek and chin. His jaw is boyishly strong. Sexy in the low light. And just about as irresistible as the rest of him. I return his storm of kisses with my own. I kiss his chest and shoulders, relishing their broadness. Their strength. How manly they are while also being tender and sheltering.
“You were a very good boy,” I whisper, afraid of the emotions whirling up inside of me. Threatening to overwhelm me. I can’t let him know how deeply I already care for him and how much I crave him. “It was intense, wasn’t it?
“Totally,” Jordan agrees, sounding like my kisses have the power to get him high. “But I didn’t mind. At first, I was surprised by how much I could take, how much I enjoyed it. I loved every minute.”
This only makes me kiss him more. And this is trouble. Once I start kissing him, I can’t stop. And it fucking scares me. Terrifies me.
Somewhere between his stomach and his groin, I stop short in my affections. I pull myself away, feeling too vulnerable. Too out of control.
Simmer it down, Bianca. You’re falling too hard and too fast for him. You can’t lose yourself to him this easily or this quickly, woman. He may have been your good boy last night, and you may be able to have him continue being your good boy for part of today, but that means nothing will continue between you and him after this weekend. He may not even be from around here, you know.
Like the good, observant boy Jordan is, he notices right away something’s wrong. That I’ve frozen up. Distanced myself from him under my current thoughts.
Bianca.” He sits up, taking me to him. Virtually into his lap. “What’s the matter? Did I say something wrong?” His big, earnest eyes fill me. “I’m sorry if I said something that offended you, my lady. Please forgive me if I’ve done such a thing.”
I don’t know what to do. I don’t know whether to let myself succumb to him or to fight it. If I continue to fight it, he might continue to think I'm upset with him. I lower my eyes briefly. But if I continue to allow myself to carelessly and completely give into his charm, I’ll be a wreck when we have to part ways.
After a moment of silence, with Jordan just patiently stroking my back, rubbing my shoulders, I decide I’d rather have a broken heart than regrets. Than memories tainted by me rejecting Jordan’s closeness. So, I look up at him and say, “Oh, I was just trying to think of how I want the rest of the day to go, whatever of it we have left. And I was afraid I might not be able to think of something that would be able to follow how great last night was for you.” It’s a lie, but it’s a good one. It’s believable, and it’s partly true. I do want to spend the day with him. Explore his limits more before the weekend comes to a close.
Jordan traces my cheek with his bejeweled fingers, looking completely calm and at peace. “Well, would you like to start with breakfast?” he asks. “My friends — the ones I had to abandon you for yesterday — they’re expecting me to join them again this morning. But I’d like to take you with me.” He snuggles me to him. “That is if you want to do that kind of thing.” He turns my face toward him and kisses my forehead. “If not, I can just tell them we’ve got other plans, and we can ditch them to do something else.”
“No,” I say, climbing from his lap to take his face in my hands, “that sounds lovely. Besides” — I let my fingers drift seductively from his chin as I wander to the wardrobe to grab some clean clothes (something presentable) — “I’d like to meet your friends.” I give Jordan a smile though a pit opens up in my stomach again. “At least then, I’ll know who to thank for bringing you to me this weekend.”
***
By the time Jordan takes me down to the hotel restaurant where everyone’s apparently agreed to have breakfast, service is already in full swing. Most tables are packed full. But as Jordan raises his hand, flagging the attention of a particular group of people sitting at a table closest to a fire, I realize I don’t have to worry.
His friends are already here, already seated and saving a place for us.
When Jordan and I reach the table, I recognize the two men who get up to greet him. They were the men with him at the Club last night. The taller, older, more rugged-looking of the two — definitely not sub-material goes to pat him on the shoulder. Jordan avoids the contact, snatching his hand up instead.
“Been waiting for us long?” In his tone, I hear a splash of hope. Like he’s looking for a way to irritate this guy.
“Not long enough,” the guy answers, chuckling.
Jordan ignores him and pulls out a chair for me. I sit, and he scoots me all the way up to the table before sitting down in the chair right next to mine.
The other guy, much younger looking, and more baby-faced (not as baby faced as Jordan), bumps fists with him. “Don’t worry about it. We kind of figured you might be a little slow in getting up” — he lowers his head closer to us — “and that this place was gonna be hella busy, so we decided to get here early and get a seat.”
A blonde, sporting to-die-for curves next to him jumps in. She’s wearing a large, flashy engagement ring on her finger. “Don’t worry about Paul, hun,” she says, “he’s just angry because he didn’t get enough time with Mariah this morning.” She waggles her eyebrows at us before extending her hand. Her nails are impeccable like the rest of her. “Hi! I’m Jane, and you are?”
I take her extended hand and shake it. “Bianca.”
“Bianca,” Jane murmurs, “what a lovely name. Sounds beautifully classic.” I see her wink and smile at Jordan. I’m not sure what that’s about, and I don’t care. All I care about is maybe getting some food and giving my good boy some attention while we’re here.
“Why, thank you,” I say, slipping my hand down into my lap, and then over to Jordan’s. As he feels my hand come down on his jean-covered knee, he stiffens. Jumps a little, but quickly moves to cover it in the act of looking at a menu, which he brings over to me.
I glance at it halfheartedly, deciding to put more attention into stroking Jordan’s inner thigh than actually picking out something to eat. Though I know I’ll have to.
“This is Mariah,” Jane says as I turn my attention back to her. She points out the girl next to her, who is the opposite of her in every way. Curvaceous still, but more bookish. More reserved. She waves shyly. “And this,” Jane adds, doing a flourish around him like she is a game show hostess, “is Paul.”
Paul, the tall rugged-looking fellow, lets his golden-brown eyes flirt with me. I can already tell he and I won’t get along.
“Everyone, this is Bianca,” Jane says, finishing her introductions. She forgets to introduce her “honey.”
I let her know by saying, “who’s that honey of yours, Jane?”
Jane blushes. “Oopsie!” She hugs on her main squeeze as if he’s something she could never forget. “This is my fiancé, Alex.”
“Hey, Bianca,” he says, letting an adorably geeky smile part his lips. For as cute as it is, it still doesn’t hold a candle to Jordan’s soft, silky lips. His radiant smile.
Thinking this, I resume my stroking and petting of Jordan’s inner thigh. When the waitress comes by and asks for people’s orders, I start lightly touching his balls.
Again, I feel him quiver. Jump. But again, he shows none of this above the table.
Jordan and I both decide on the same thing: a cup of coffee. Good boy. Saving room for something more, I see.
When the waiter departs, I set about asking how they all met. As I’m talking, I continue to stroke and caress Jordan's leg, inner thigh, and balls. Slowly making my way up to more and more of him. The more I touch, the more he trembles, but he still doesn’t give away the action happening under the radar.
“Mariah and I met in college,” Jane says only partly answering my question.
“Where we still are,” Mariah adds.
Jane shrugs. “These two are brothers,” she adds, pointing out both Alex and Paul. “If you couldn’t tell. We met them when Mariah and I auctioned ourselves off at the Club this last Christmas.” Jane continues blushing. No doubt thinking back on her romantic night after the Exchange Club. “If we hadn’t done that none of us would ever have met.”
Jordan clears his throat, desperately trying to cover up the sound of his chair squeaking. “Alex is my friend from high school,” he says, bringing out a bit of punk to shield him. “That unshaven yeti over there has been riding my ass for nearly as long.”
Paul throws a piece of his torn-up straw wrapper at Jordan. “Well, I had to keep my brother safe from an herb dealer,” he says, obviously trying to start something.
“Grower,” Jordan snaps, as I take that moment to fully cup his balls and play with his head through his pants. He sighs shakily under this but keeps his mask up. “And all the stuff I did in high school was just prerequisites to be the best around. Thanks to my extra curricular activities and Colorado's legalization, I have over a billion to spend on making dreams come true for those who can’t.”
I am genuinely shocked. Not by the fact that he’s a billionaire. He spent $3 million on me. But what surprises me is that he would spend at least that much on making other people’s lives better. It seems my sweet boy is a kind-hearted philanthropist.
I place my hand on top of Jordan’s cock now, gently squeezing and stroking the shaft and head. Not surprisingly, it’s grown hard.
The waitress brings Jordan and me our coffees. Something we both dig into immediately. Sip at, though Jordan gulps more than he sips. Probably in an effort to distract himself from the movement of my hands. The quicker, more persistent strokes I’ve employed on him.
“So you help people out who are in need?” I ask, turning to face Jordan.
“When I can,” he replies lowering his eyes as if he’s embarrassed. “I help people who aren’t in a position to help themselves.”
“I guess that’s true,” Paul says, hungrily eyeing other people’s food as it goes to their respective tables, and not in front of him, “but Jordan’s still a punk.”
While I’ve felt quite at home with everyone here at the table — like we might get along quite well with each other if we spend more time together — this comment of Paul’s sets me sideways. Has me momentarily pausing in my tender love and care of Jordan from under the table.
“And just what do you mean by that?”
Paul isn’t the least bit fazed by my stern glance. He’s definitely not my kind of guy.
“Well, I’m sure you know exactly what I’m talking about, Miss Bianca,” he drawls. “I bet he gave you plenty of attitude, plenty of uncultured attention last night.”
“And how do you know that?” Anger wells up inside me.
Surprisingly, though, Jordan doesn’t seem to go soft under this exchange. Under the less-than-favorable review he’s getting from Paul, he’s actually getting harder.
Paul picks up a piece of crispy bacon and gestures with it. “By sleeping with him, I’d assume? I can't imagine someone like him knowing what to do with someone like you.”
"Cool it, bro," Alex warns
The girls actually suck in their breath. Look at me like I’m the new alpha female in their group.
This time Paul looks a little contrite. But not nearly enough. So I say, “Unless you have experience in what you’re talking about, I suggest you refrain from commenting on how he was or wasn’t with me last night.” I take a big swig of my coffee. “I’m the only one who would know. And even if he was a bit of a punk — even if he did give me some attitude, some ‘uncultured’ attention as you call it — I liked it. I like him just the way he is.” By this point, I’m about ready to spring out of my seat and tie Paul to his.
Jordan, on the other hand, is about to spring right out of his pants. His cock is hard enough to hang something on, even covered up by his boxers and jeans.
When Paul offers no rebuttal, no come back, Jordan clears his throat. He gets up in the next second, bringing me to stand close to him. To shield him some. “Sorry, guys,” he says, looking at his watch, “it looks like we’re, uh, out of time. We — we have other plans, so, uh, we should get going.” Jordan tugs me with him. Practically runs through the maze of tables crowded with people, all the while trying to shield his erection from them. “We’ll meet up with you guys later,” he calls back, as we get closer to a side door. “Like for lunch, or something, okay?”
Jane’s the only one to shout back. “Okay, Jordan! You and Bianca come join us at the café around one.”
“Sure,” Jordan shouts back. Even as he tries to keep his voice steady, I hear it shaking. Along with the rest of him. “The one on the second floor of the lodge?”
“Yeah.”
Jordan nods, immediately turning to escape through the doors. The ones meant for the waiters and waitresses, but Jordan’s beyond caring right now.
And if he doesn’t care, neither do I.
We both just want to get out of here as soon as possible.