CHAPTER 16
Sarah
I’d never been in a convertible before, let alone a Bentley. I was loving every minute of it. As Ari zoomed uptown along traffic-free Park Avenue, my ponytail whipped across my face. My eyes darted from the sun-lit skyscrapers to the car’s rich leather and veneer interior, and then over to Ari’s gorgeous but unreadable profile.
“So, come on, tell me where we’re going,” I begged him. We were getting close to his apartment.
“If I tell you, will you play with my Pac-Man?”
While it was way too early in the morning for one of his sexual innuendos, my eyes roamed down his beautiful body and I instantly flushed at the sight of the big bulge between his legs. Tingles rushed to my pussy.
“Sure,” I stammered. “But not in front of your son.”
Ari broke into a smile. “Southampton. I have a house there.”
Southampton was the summer playground of New York’s elite. It figured that he would have a second residence there. My stomach bunched up with nerves. Two questions pummeled my head: 1. What was I going to wear? (I didn’t exactly come packed for a weekend at the beach), and 2. Where was I going to sleep?
I put my mental ramblings on hold when Ari’s stately Park Avenue apartment building came into view. His adorable son Ben was already standing under the awning, holding the handle of a small roller bag in one hand and the toy train I’d given him in the other. Dressed in khaki shorts, an oversized Spiderman T-shirt, and a New York Yankees baseball cap, he waved to us as we pulled up.
“Isn’t Luisa coming?” I asked Ari.
“No, I’ve given her the rest of the holiday weekend off. Olga and her husband Vadim will be waiting for us at the Hamptons house.”
More of Ari’s staff.
The doorman helped Ben put his bag into the trunk, and then the little boy hopped over the rear window into the backseat.
“Buckle up, buddy,” Ari said.
“Sarah, it’s so cool you’re coming with us,” replied his obedient son.
Ari chimed in before I had a chance to utter a word. “Yes, it is so cool she can come.”
I jerked my head in his direction, raising an eyebrow. What did he mean by that? While his vision remained focused straight ahead, he was well aware my eyes were on him. The corner of his mouth again curled into a wicked grin that sent a pang of desire to my core.
We spent the next two and a half hours cruising along the Long Island Expressway and later Sunrise Highway at eighty miles an hour, listening to music that Ari had programmed for the trip, which included selections by Frank Sinatra, Bob Marley, and James Taylor. I liked Ari’s taste in music; it wasn’t that heavy metal stuff or annoying rap crap that so many guys listened to. It was mellow, mature, and soulful.
There wasn’t much traffic as most New Yorkers had left yesterday to get an early start on the three-day Memorial Day weekend. The sound of the wind whipping against the car and the loud music made conversation virtually impossible. Fortunately for me, the combination had a calming effect, allowing me the bliss of mindlessness, instead of my normal stream of worries. Ben quietly played games on his iPad, which I learned was a birthday present from his father, while Ari stayed focused on the road. I glanced over to him occasionally, admiring his tanned biceps and the way the wind ruffled his golden hair. I had to resist the urge to run my fingers through the silky, glistening strands. God, he was gorgeous.
We finally exited the highway and began traveling down a more rustic road. After twenty or so minutes and several turns, the unmistakable smell of the salty ocean mingled with the fresh, fragrant country air. We passed a sign that read “Welcome to Southampton,” and a few turns later we were cruising down an oceanfront road lined with mansion after mansion. We soon pulled up to a massive electronic gate that opened like the wings of a butterfly after Ari hit a button on his elaborate dashboard. Ben shouted out, “Yay! We’re here!”
Upon entering the property, the car traversed a long, pebble driveway that wound past pastures of grass, beds of roses, and other wildflowers. Finally, we pulled up to a rambling two-story gray shingle house with wraparound white terraces. Despite its grand size, it wasn’t at all pretentious.
A big-boned woman with high Slavic cheekbones and a man who resembled Charles Bronson in his heyday instantly came out the front door to greet us. They both looked as if they were straight out of Central Casting for Russian secret service agents. The woman was clad in a black maid’s uniform that was identical to Luisa’s, and the man wore tight black jeans with a T-shirt that exposed his body-builder physique. Ben jumped out of the car to hug the woman and high-five the menacing looking man. They must be Olga and Vadim. The Southampton staff.
Ari hopped out of the car and opened my door before I had the chance. My Trainman was always the gentleman. He then unlatched the trunk of the Bentley as Olga and Vadim promptly joined him. Ari handed Vadim the luggage, which included a pink overnight bag with tan leather trimmings. Mine?
With his hand pressed on my lower back, Ari ushered me inside the house while an excited Ben skipped ahead of us. The lodging was quite the opposite of Ari’s intimidating, formal Park Avenue apartment. It was the kind of place that, after a long day of sun, you could curl up with a good book and relax. White slipcovered seating arrangements were scattered on bleached hardwood floors, and nautical-themed paintings lined the all-white walls. Everything was connected by accents of blue. The color of the ocean. The color of Ari’s eyes.
“Saarah, Olga will show you to the guesthouse.”
So, that’s where I would be sleeping. In my own room. In my own bed. In my own house. Detached from him.
“Please put on a bathing suit,” he ordered. “That’s all you’ll need. We’ll be going to the beach following lunch.”
So, he had packed a bathing suit for me. A bikini or a one-piece? And what other things would I find in my bag?
As I followed the housekeeper through French doors out to the back of the property, my eyes took in my surroundings. An endless emerald green lawn surrounded a large rectangular swimming pool that shimmered a soft blue in the sunshine, and to the right was a tennis court. I had seen pictures of houses like this but had never in my life thought I’d actually step foot in one. Let alone be staying in one.
Ahead, to the left, was a shingled house, similar in spirit to the architecture of the main house. I assumed this was the guesthouse as Olga led me down a shrub-lined path. As we got closer, my eyes popped. It was bigger than the house I grew up in. Way bigger!
She opened the front door, and I took my overnight bag from her. “Thank you, Olga. I can handle it from here.”
Olga smiled at me, her first sign of warmth. In her heavy Russian accent, she paid me a compliment of sorts. “It eez very nice to finally meet a girlfriend of Mr. Golden.”
Well, I wasn’t exactly his girlfriend, but I took her words to mean that Ari had never brought a woman here before. Well, at least since his ex. It took away the chill of having to stay in the guesthouse alone.
The interior of the guesthouse mirrored that of the main house with a cozy array of slipcovered furniture, flea market finds, and quirky paintings. Outsider art, I was sure. I was beginning to discover there was another side to Ari Golden. One that was warm, unpretentious, and creative.
The best part of the guesthouse was its breathtaking view of the ocean. From the living room, I could see waves crashing up against the white sand. The sound was exhilarating and soothing at the same time.
I found the bedroom easily. It was simple and charming, consisting of a bleached wood sleigh bed and white wicker furnishings that included a rocking chair. I plopped myself and the overnight bag on the bed’s plump white duvet. It felt delicious, and for a split-second, I wondered what it would be like to make love to Ari here.
Before unpacking the bag, I tried calling my mother on my cell phone. No answer. I anxiously assured myself that she was just taking a stroll down a hospital corridor, something she enjoyed doing; I’d try again later. Putting my cell phone back into my messenger bag, I unzipped the pink overnight case. Inside was an assortment of brand new, high-end designer stuff, once again from Bergdorf’s. I unpacked everything. Two string bikinis, shorts, several fine cotton tees, skinny white jeans, a couple of floral sundresses, strappy platform sandals, and a pair of sparkly flip flops. Nothing too formal. And not a stitch of underwear.
After putting everything away, I shed my skirt and combat boots—and said farewell to my panties—then slipped on one of the bikinis. Having worn athletic, one-piece bathing suits my whole life, I was not used to having so much skin exposed. I might as well have been wearing nothing. Maybe that’s what Ari was aiming for. I fought back the urge to cover myself with a T-shirt or one of the sundresses, but knew that wouldn’t sit well with him. Sliding my feet into the flip-flops, I headed back to the main house.
To my surprise, Ari had another guest. His stunning, redheaded twin, Gwen. Her face was buried in the Sunday New York Times, but she looked up when I took my seat at the kitchen island where lunch was spread out. The temperature in the room suddenly dropped ten degrees, and I could feel goosebumps popping along my arms. I suddenly wished I’d put on a T-shirt. Make that a ski jacket.
“Well, hello, Sarah.” Her voice was icy, and the way she said my name was hurried and harsh, so unlike the sultry, breathy way Ari said it.
“Hi,” I squeaked, already intimidated by her.
She ran her eyes up and down my body. “You have very fair skin. You know, you can get burnt. I know lots of women who have.”
Her words got under my skin. I knew what she was implying. That her brother Ari went through women like matches. Lighting them up and throwing them away. Her new scare tactic. Well, two could play at this game.
“I’ll use protection.”
She smirked. “I’ll be watching you.”
“Sarah, do you wanna play Frisbee with us after lunch?”
The sound of Ben’s sweet voice saved me from having to say anything further to Ari’s snide sister. Clad in colorful swim trunks and holding a red Frisbee, the little boy hoisted himself onto a stool and grabbed a sandwich.
“Sure.” I shot him a smile under Gwen’s watchful eyes. She then went back to reading her New York Times.
“I’m looking forward to playing with you, Saarah,” came a deep, sultry voice.
I twisted my almost naked torso around, my breasts almost falling out of the skimpy top. Ari. Dressed in khaki shorts, his golden skin tight around his bare sculpted chest and washboard abs. There was a glimmer of mischief in his blue eyes as they surveyed my bikini-clad body. A shiver rippled through me, leaving me hungry for something other than lunch.
After helping himself to a sandwich, he strode over to a pantry and returned holding a tube of SPF 50 suntan lotion. He squirted some on my back and began slathering it in circles across my shoulder blades, then all the way down to the edge of my bikini bottom. I could feel his warm breath on the nape of my neck, and my skin prickled beneath his touch. Gwen kept one eye on her newspaper, the other on me.
“Saarah,” he murmured in my ear but loud enough for his sister to hear, “I don’t want to see you get burnt.”
“Thank you for the protection.”
The smirk that flashed on my face did not go unnoticed by Gwen.
The sand beneath the soles of my feet felt like a warm foot massage, and the chorus of squawking seagulls that mixed with the crashing waves made for perfect background music. We were playing Frisbee—Ben tossing the saucer to Ari and me, each competing to be the one to catch it.
For a six-year-old, Ben had a damn good arm. I could tell from Ari’s lit up face that he was incredibly proud of his son. Standing at least fifty feet away from us, the little boy flung the Frisbee with the strength and precision of someone much older. It spun in the air, and I had no idea where it might land, given the ocean breeze.
“It’s mine,” shouted Ari, running toward it.
“No, it’s mine,” I countered, running toward it.
And then we collided, the Frisbee flying by both of us.
I tumbled to the sand, my body crashing upon his. Skin to skin, organ to organ, heart to heart. The heat of his body coursed through mine, and his warm breath heated my already flushed cheeks. My scantily clad breasts rubbed against his taut, bare chest. As it rose and fell beneath me, my nipples puckered.
His strong hands hugged my waist, and his ocean-blue eyes burned into mine with the strength of the sun.
“So, Saarah, you play to win.” His cock hardened beneath me.
I would have said, “Game over,” had not Ben run over to us and burst out in laughter.
“You guys look so funny.”
Ben’s laughter was contagious, and despite our mutual embarrassment, we both joined in. This was the first time I’d ever heard Ari laugh hard and it showed me a lighter side of him that somehow made him sexier. Still chuckling, he scrambled to his feet, pulling me up with him. The smile on face could light up the sky.
“C’mon. Let’s check out the ocean.”
Ben was the first one in. As he frolicked in the waves, I watched as Ari pulled down his shorts, revealing one of those spandex Speedo suits worn by athletes. With his broad shoulders, lean muscular build, and that rock-hard perfect ass, this godlike man could easily be mistaken for an Olympian. Even the shimmering mysterious scar on his back could not take away from his beauty. He turned to face me. My eyes gravitated to the package between his legs. Holy cow! I swear the spandex made it look more sizeable than it already was. I met his gaze and felt myself heating up. He knew I was mentally undressing him and twisted his lips into a crooked sexy smile. I was getting all tingly again, the nerves between my legs bustling with lust. With a wink, he sprinted into the water, diving head first into a frothy wave.
“Come on in, Sarah!” shouted Ben.
At the shoreline, I dipped my big toe into the water. An icy sting shot up my leg. God, the water was cold.
“It’s too cold,” I shouted back.
Rising from the water, like a sea god, all wet and glistening under the burning sun, Ari sloshed toward me.
“Are you having fun?” I asked stupidly.
“Not quite enough.”
I had no time to ask what he meant. His mischievous eyes gleaming, he scooped me up into his powerful arms and flung me over his right shoulder. An arm pressed tight against the back of my thighs, right under my buttocks, locking me against him.
“My pretty princess, you’re coming in.” He smirked. “Like it or not.”
“Put me down. Now!” I barked back at him.
I kicked furiously and pounded his muscular back, my eyes all the while riveted on his in-my-face perfect ass. It was futile. He was already marching back into the sea, giving me no choice but to enjoy the ride. And the spectacular view. Blood rushed to my head. I felt tingly hot when I should feel chilled against his cold, wet body.
In the near distance, I could hear Ben laughing his head off again at the sight of us.
“Ben, tell your dad to put me down,” I called out to him.
The water up to his waist, Ari retorted, “Forget it, Saarah. I like it when you’re all wet.”
Before I could say another word, I was flying in the air and, seconds later, thrashing beneath the frigid water. I alternated between gripping my bikini bottom and skimpy top, fearful the sea would claim them.
When I resurfaced and was able to regain my balance, Ari was standing right beside me, now chest-deep in the water and holding Ben in his arms. He clasped my hand, and we began jumping waves, each one bigger than the one before.
“The waves are so big!” squealed Ben.
Ari squeezed my hand and shot me a smile. “The bigger, the better.”
Waves of desire mingled with those of the sea and I thought: The more, the better.
The monster waves licked my clit as I jumped them, making me long for the erotic sea of waves this man could drown me in. As I brushed up against him, I wondered what the rest of this weekend would bring.
Ari spent the rest of the afternoon inside the house, catching up on business-related matters while I decided to spend it with my sketchpad at the pool. Ben swam about in the water under the watchful eye of Vadim, who I was convinced was some kind of bodyguard. Just as I pulled out my sketchpad from my satchel, Ari’s sister took the chaise next to mine. She was wearing a black bandeau one-piece bathing suit that was cut in a way that made her long, lean legs look even longer, and a large, stylish, floppy hat. The latest issue of Vanity Fair was in her hand. Good. She was going to read. I wouldn’t have to talk to her and could do some sketching. At least, that was what I thought.
“My brother seems to like you,” she began, her tone cold and calculating.
“We get along,” I replied coolly. And we fuck really well together.
“You’re the wrong kind of woman for him.”
Her tone went from cold to cutting. Each word was a knife to my heart. I was glad I was wearing the Ray-Bans so that she couldn’t see the hurt in my eyes as she continued.
“He needs someone mature, independent, and with class. Someone who can take an active role in society, host dinner parties, and know what private schools are best for his son.”
His mother. He already had one and didn’t need another. Anger was rising in me like bread in an oven.
Her eyes narrowed into sharp slivers of glass. “I’d like you to consider dropping him, and I will make it worth your while.”
Was she bribing me?
“Help!” The word sounded loudly in my ears before I could respond.
Gwen jumped to her feet. “Oh my God,” I heard her mutter.
My eyes darted to the pool. Ben was in the deep end, flailing his arms. “Help!” he screamed again as his head sank under the water.
Vadim, fully clothed, was in the water too, swimming toward the child at Olympian speed. I held my breath while Gwen, truly terrified, cupped both hands over her mouth.
My eyes didn’t blink once as I watched Vadim pull the limp child out of the pool and onto the concrete. His mouth pressed against the child’s mouth as he pumped his large hands against his slender chest. My heart was in my throat…and then the little boy squirmed and bolted up. Gwen and I breathed out loud sighs of relief in unison.
“Oh, God. He almost drowned once before.”
“How?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.
“His mother took a combination of sedatives and alcohol and fell asleep out here. While she was out, Ben fell into the pool; he was only a toddler. Had Olga not been bringing out lunch, we would have lost him.”
I digested her words. The picture of Ari’s ex-wife was getting clearer and clearer in my head. What other terrible things did she do to Ben…and my Adonis? Loathing for this woman was seeping through my veins.
Within seconds, Ben was back to his playful self, high-fiving Vadim.
“It looks like he’s okay,” I commented.
Turning to me, Gwen narrowed her incendiary eyes. “Sarah, my brother needs someone responsible. You’re just a child who throws temper tantrums in restaurants and wants to play with toys.”
Her words stung me like the wasp buzzing around me. She had no clue who I was. Or what I was capable of…literally no idea what I did to take care of both my mother and myself.
“Consider my offer, Sarah. I’ll draw up a contract.” She rolled up her magazine. “And one last thing, please don’t tell my brother about this incident. Ari would rather die than lose that child.”
She stalked back to the house, leaving me with decisions to make.
When I got back to the house, I learned that Ari was taking me to a cocktail party at the home of one of his clients. Gwen was staying put, looking forward to a quiet evening with Ben and Olga’s homemade pierogi for dinner. After our run-in this afternoon, I was glad she wasn’t coming along.
Before I headed back to the guesthouse to shower and change, Ari whispered in my ear. “Wear the jeans and a T-shirt. And the only panty line I want to see is that of your tan.”
No panties. No bra. No surprise.
Returning to my quarters, the first thing I did was call my mother again. Fortunately, this time she picked up. I inwardly sighed with relief. Though she sounded weary, it was good to hear her voice. I told her I was at the beach; she was pleased to hear that I was enjoying myself. I didn’t tell her I was spending the weekend with a stranger I met on a train. After I said goodbye to her, I immediately called Mrs. Blumberg and asked her to feed Jo-Jo. She had a spare set of keys to my apartment, allowing her access. Of course, the busybody wanted to know where I was. I told her I was visiting a girlfriend. She didn’t believe me and went on about the dangers of going away with men you didn’t know. “Didn’t you read in the papers about that poor girl who got stabbed to death by some meshuganah she met on the Internet?” Rolling my eyes, I told her to stop worrying, that I was fine.
I thanked her for taking care of Jo-Jo and hastily bid the naysayer goodbye. It was time to get ready for the party. I stripped off my clothes and headed to the bathroom.
The shower—with its state-of-the-art massage showerhead—was divine. But lonely. As the hot, pulsing water poured over me, kneading my muscles, I fantasized about Ari sharing the shower with me. Closing my eyes, I arched my head. I could see his face—those sexy, sapphire eyes—and feel his hard body against mine, his hands soaping me up all over. The space between my inner thighs ached for his thick length. And the stroke of his long fingers.
Craving his stimulation, I rubbed my soapy hand over my mound—stimulating my clit just like he did it. Pleasure? I wasn’t sure. I needed to come, and the only way I could was by imagining him. The orgasm came quickly, but not with the magnitude, endurance, or insane ecstasy he could give me. I was only placating myself, compensating for the emptiness I felt inside me. Masturbation had its place but not its glory.
As I dried myself with a thick, fluffy towel, my cell phone rang. Letting the towel fall to the tile floor, I ran out of the bathroom stark naked, thinking maybe something bad had happened to my mother. When it came to my mother, my mind always jumped to the worst-case scenario.
Hands shaking, I picked up the phone, which I’d left on the nightstand in the bedroom. The caller ID said “unknown caller” which freaked me out more. Maybe it was a doctor from the hospital calling.
“Hello,” I said, my voice quivering.
“Sarah.”
I recognized the shrill voice immediately. A sigh of relief was followed by a huff of disgust. It was my demanding boss—Catherine Sinclair. Why the hell was she calling me on a Sunday night, let alone a three-day weekend? I scrunched up my face as she continued.
“I’m just checking in to make sure you booked my trip to Nuremberg for the International Toy Fair.”
“All done,” I lied through clenched teeth. The damn Toy Fair was over a year away.
“And I can assume you got me first-class tickets and a suite at The Four Seasons?”
“Yes.” Sheesh!
“I want to extend the trip. After the convention ends, I want to go to Milan to do a little shopping. So be sure to add that to your ‘To Do’ list.”
“I assume you’ll want to stay at The Four Seasons?”
“Seriously, do you really have to ask? I don’t like it when you waste my time.”
And I don’t like it when you waste mine, I seethed silently.
“I will email you a list of the designers with whom I want you to book appointments. And while I’m there, I want to visit my hairdresser, Adolpho, so squeeze that in too. I expect everything to be taken care of by the time I walk into the office on Tuesday.”
“Of course.” Seriously?
“That’ll give you plenty to do over the rest of the weekend.”
My blood curdled. I already had plenty to do over the rest of the weekend and it had nothing to do with work. Or her.
“Are we clear?”
“Yes,” I mumbled.
“Good.” Once again without thanking me, she ended the call.
God, I hated working for this skanky bitch. She was a total slave driver—and an incompetent one—with no appreciation for all I did for her. There was only one saving grace. A least it was a job taking me one step closer to my dream of creating toys that would give joy to boys and girls. If only that could happen sooner than later.
Seething mad, I set my cell phone back on the nightstand and inhaled a deep breath to let go of the rage that was spiraling inside me. As I got dressed, my head spun at the prospect of going to a party in the Hamptons with my Trainman and the night ahead.
It was only a five-minute drive to the gated oceanfront house where the party was taking place. Unlike Ari’s New England-style cottage, this one was a spectacular Downton Abbey-like brick manor house surrounded by formal gardens, greenhouses, and stables. After valeting the Bentley, we were led to the vast backyard. About two hundred people sipping cocktails milled about. They were all perfectly tanned and chicly dressed, the women mostly wearing sophisticated sleeveless dresses and the men in jackets. Everyone oozed sex and money, and I felt out of place in my jeans and T-shirt.
As we ambled through the crowd, Ari turned heads. He was wearing white linen drawstring pants and a V-neck T-shirt that showed off his bronzed skin and biceps. I swear every woman was looking at him although Ari seemed oblivious to their stares. Holding his hand did not alleviate my anxiousness. Who knew better than me the effect this heart-stopping sex god could have.
“There’s my client,” said Ari, glancing to the right. “I need to spend some time with him.”
Breaking loose of my hand, he strutted in the direction of a debonair, silver-haired man clad in khakis and a navy blue blazer.
Please don’t leave me. I felt intimidated, surrounded by all these beautiful people I didn’t know and who were definitely way out of my league.
Ari needs a woman who is mature and independent. Ari’s sister’s words whirled around in my head. Okay, Sarah, plain and tall, be a big girl and mingle.
I snagged an hors d’oeuvre from one of the white-gloved waiters who were passing them around and strolled over to the bar. Maybe a glass of wine would loosen me up.
“I’ll have a glass of Chardonnay over ice,” I told the bartender.
“Sarah!”
My eyes popped. The raspy voice behind me was familiar. So familiar. Holding my wine, I spun around. Standing in my face was my best friend Lauren, dressed to the nines in a tight strapless dress that hugged her curves and matched her six-inch-high strappy stilettos.
We hugged and said it at the same time: “What are you doing here?”
I let Lauren answer first. “This is Taylor’s parents’ house. Remember, I told you they were throwing an impromptu cocktail party to celebrate our engagement?”
Some “impromptu party.” With the white-gloved staff and elegant décor, it looked like it had taken months to plan. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the scope of Lauren’s wedding as she asked for a glass of champagne.
Taking a sip of the bubbly, she flashed an auspicious grin. “And I bet you’re here with—”
“Yes, Ari,” I said, cutting her off. And then I remembered that Taylor’s father owned the largest chain of drug stores in the country. Of course, he must be one of Ari’s biggest clients.
“You’re next,” beamed my BFF, flaunting her boulder-sized engagement ring. The diamond sparkled under the moonlit sky.
I rolled my eyes and took another sip of my wine while Lauren chugged her champagne.
“Listen, I’ve got to go and spend some time with Taylor’s parents’ friends. I’ll catch up with you later. I want to hear everything.”
She sauntered off, strutting in her mile-high heels as if she were born wearing them. In the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Ari. My heart skipped a beat and my wine glass almost slipped from my hand. He was talking to a gorgeous blonde, who looked like she could be a movie star. One of his women? Or someone he just met and was hitting on? A mixture of jealousy and anger ripped through me. I thought about marching up to them—“Oh, hi, I’m Sarah, Ari’s girlfriend”—and then refrained. First of all, I wasn’t Ari’s girlfriend (I’d known him for all of forty-eight hours) and secondly, maybe I was jumping the gun and letting my insecurity take hold of me. Maybe she was just an acquaintance. Or an old friend. I was nonetheless miffed that he had left me alone, stranded for such a long time, and was ignoring me. Maybe he was testing me. To see how independent I was. To see if I could survive his crowd of movers and shakers.
And then, just as I got a grip, he took her in his arms and smacked a hot kiss on her lips. I’d seen enough. Draining my wine, I fled and thought about calling a cab. But where would I go? I sure as hell didn’t want to go back to his house and have an ugly confrontation with Gwen. Then, I thought about the train station we’d passed on our drive but doubted trains were running back to the city on a Sunday night in the middle of a holiday weekend. And I certainly couldn’t afford a cab ride into Manhattan. Right now, I just needed to be alone. With tears brimming in my eyes, I escaped the party, running aimlessly through the vast property, passing formal gardens, a tennis court, guesthouses, a pond with swans, and ending up at the pool area. The shimmering pool was surrounded by chaise lounges and off to the right was a lit-up pavilion.
Emotionally drained, I leaned against the pavilion and gazed up at the starry sky. As clear as the night was, I was in a thick fog. Yes, here I was at a glamorous party in the Hamptons with a gorgeous billionaire that I’d met only a couple of days ago, but I was just arm candy. As exciting as my life had been since I met him, loneliness and apprehension assaulted me. Even jealousy and insecurity came out of hiding. He had fucked a lot of women. I was just one of them. This man did not want commitment. And I, Sarah Greene, did not want to get hurt.
For all I knew, he would be going home with the stunning blond tonight. Maybe not fucking her in his bed, but fucking her somewhere. He was a player and that’s what players did. Tears pricked my eyes as I watched a shooting star rocket across the darkening sky. I didn’t need this. I had too much on my plate as it was, between my ailing mother and my demanding job. Before the weekend was over—maybe even tonight if I had the chance—I was going to end it. Tell him the truth that this “relationship” wasn’t right for me, that I needed more…someone who adored me and could be supportive, get me through this challenging time. Unbearable sadness swept over me. Who was I trying to fool? I was smitten by this man. Helplessly, hopelessly falling in love with him. And his little son. The timing was all wrong; that’s what it was. Fate fucked me over when I ended up sitting next to him on the train. As much as I longed to be in his arms, it just wasn’t meant to be. The tears that were threatening to fall could no longer be held back.
As I brushed them away, a familiar man’s voice startled me. “Hey, babe. Fancy meeting you here.”
I turned my head. My bleary eyes squinted at the husky male form about twenty feet away. It was Lauren’s fiancé Taylor, staggering toward me with a drink in his hand. His eyes were glazed, his lids hooded. He was drunk. Very drunk. I had seen him this way before way too many times.
“Watch’ya doing here, Sarah?” he mumbled as he stumbled up to me, slurring each word.
“I’ve got to go…head back to the party.” I hurried the words, pondering an exit strategy.
“What’s the rush, sweetheart?”
Before I could take a step, he pinned me hard against the stucco of the poolside pavilion. His hips pressing tightly against mine, he leaned into me. His warm breath reeked of alcohol. Whiskey? Gin? Vermouth? I was no expert.
“You look fucking hot tonight,” he breathed into my face, his fetid breath nauseating me.
I tried to wiggle myself free of him, but even in his drunken state, ex-football star, Taylor Hodges IV, was too strong for me.
His lips parted, and I was prepared for the worst as they moved in close to mine. Ugh! He was kissing me, his slobbering mouth all over mine. I squirmed as his tongue darted out and forced my lips to part. It rolled around my palate, its foul taste making me feel even more nauseated than I already was. His hands groped my breasts as his hips gyrated into mine. A hard bulge, growing between his thighs, dug into me through his chinos. I continued to resist him, but the more I struggled, the more forceful he became. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. Oh God, get him off me.
“What the fuck?”
I knew that voice too. Ari! Oh God, what was he going to think?
In one swift move, he yanked Taylor away from me, sending his cocktail tumbler crashing to the ground.
“Hey dude, chill,” slurred Taylor.
Fury was blazing in Ari’s eyes. Balling his fist, he socked Taylor in the face, sending him to his knees.
“Hey man, what was that for?” winced Taylor, blood pouring from his nose.
“For the same reason I’m doing this, motherfucker.”
I cringed as Ari kicked him hard in the gut. Taylor clutched his stomach and groaned as Ari grabbed me by the elbow and jerked me away.
“I’m away from you for fifteen minutes, and you wander off with some asshole?” Rage mounted with every word.
“I can explain.” My voice shook.
“Remember, speak only when spoken to.”
Reducing me to silence with his harsh words, I hung my head low as we headed back to the party. Inside, I was fuming.
“We’re out of here,” he thundered, gripping my hand so hard it hurt.
He was moving so fast I could barely keep up with him. Unsteady in my platforms, I thought for sure I would twist an ankle. On the way out, I passed by Lauren. Engaged in conversation, she shot me a wink. I twitched back a fake, fleeting smile. My heart sank to my stomach. Did she know what a jerk her fiancé was? I wasn’t sure if I was going to tell her what happened. Especially when she was riding so high. When my emotions settled, I’d think about it more.
Ari and I shared a stretch of tense silence on the way back to his house. His mouth was pressed into a hard, angry line, and he didn’t look once at me. Finally, I had enough.
“You’ve got it all wrong,” I barked.
Silence.
“That jerk—Taylor Hodges IV—FYI, the son of your beloved client—is my best friend Lauren’s fiancé, and he hit on me.
Silence. His eyes narrowed. My nerves were little electrical pulses ready to explode. I was getting nowhere with him. This guy’s level of trust, on a scale of one to ten, was a minus twenty. A good part of me wanted to jump out of the car and hitch a ride back into the city.
With a sharp turn, the Bentley flew through the electronic gate of his estate as it opened. He sped down the pebble path that led to the house. The car came to a screeching halt in front of the shingled structure, and I hastily jumped out, not waiting for any I’m-a-gentleman door opening.
“I’m going to sleep,” I huffed. “And in the morning, I’ll be taking the train back to the city.” I stalked off in my platforms. He could keep them and everything else he bought me.
“Sarah, wait!” I heard a desperate voice call out.
Screw him. Without slowing down, I turned my head as he hopped the Bentley and then picked up my pace as he sprinted my way. Dammit. If only I could walk faster in these wedge sandals. Catching up to me in no time, he grabbed my shoulders, stopping me in my tracks, and then spun me around.
“Princess, I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I fucked up.”
Before I could say a word, he hauled me against him and crushed his velvety lips into mine. It was an all-encompassing kiss, full of tongue, passion, and remorse. I was melting like a candle, dripping with desire. I could not stay mad at this man. This god.
Slowly, he pulled away. My lips ached for more. My body ached for more. I wrapped my arms around his hard body, the way his were wrapped around mine, and leaned my head against his concrete chest. I closed my eyes. The waves in the distance lolled as he let me enjoy his warmth.
He clasped my hand from behind. “Come, Saarah, let’s take a walk on the beach. We need to talk.”
Hand in hand, we headed down to the beach in silence. Upon hitting the sand, we both kicked off our shoes. The sand was now cool and soothing beneath my soles. Ari wrapped a strong arm around me while I rested my head against his shoulder as we strolled.
The night couldn’t be more perfect. The temperature was still mild, and a myriad of stars danced around the full moon. The black as the night ocean was at low tide, the white-crested waves gently ebbing in and out.
“I’m sorry I acted that way with your friend’s fiancé,” said Ari, breaking the silence.
“He deserved it. Thanks for coming to my rescue.” Once again, he had been my heroic Power Ranger although not well intentioned.
“He’ll probably tell his father and I’ll lose my biggest account.” He shrugged, kicking up some sand.
“Nah. Macho Taylor would never tell a soul, including his father, that he got beat up.”
“Are you going to tell your friend?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s so in love with him. Maybe it was just an act of drunken folly.” Although I knew damn well, this was not the first time Taylor had cheated on Lauren.
We stopped to look at the peaceful ocean and then, releasing my hand, he turned me around to face him. Tenderly, he tilted up my chin and looked into my eyes. “And I’m sorry I came down on you so hard.”
I twitched a little forgiving smile. “It’s okay. You didn’t know what was really going on.”
His eyes stayed on me. “Do you believe in love, Saarah?”
His question struck a deep chord inside me. I nodded. “Yes.” The way Tony unconditionally loved Maria in West Side Story. “What about you?”
He took a shaky breath. “I used to. I’m not sure anymore.”
Ah, the emotional scar left behind by his ex-wife. I yearned to tell him that scars can fade. Even my mother’s broken heart had mended after my father deserted her.
“Did your father love your mother?” I asked.
“Totally. He put her on a pedestal and worshipped her. He was very possessive of her.”
That explained a lot about his behavior. Like father, like son. He treated me like he owned me.
“And my mother loved him like none other. It took two years for my sister and me to convince her to sell our family home just outside Philly. That’s where all the family memories were stored…all the memories she needed to let go of to survive. Finally, she acquiesced and moved into the city to be close to us. She’s happy now, but I don’t think she’ll ever marry again. No one can ever replace my father.”
I understood what he said. Though my mother’s first love was hardly as adoring, there’d always been an attachment she couldn’t let go of. There had never been another.
I stared at the ocean, absorbing his words as the waves gently crested along the shoreline. The word “love,” which had been mentioned several times in our conversation, rolled silently over my tongue.
“Ari…”
“Yes?”
Do you think you can love someone again? The words I was burning to say stayed trapped in my throat, and instead I commented on his earlier behavior.
“You get jealous.” My observation was more lighthearted than judgmental.
He let out a short, sexy laugh. “Yeah, I confess. I get jealous. I wanted to kill that asshole.”
“You can be a very bad boy, Mr. Golden,” I laughed back.
“Ms. Greene, I was never good at sharing my toys.”
A pang of anger stabbed at me. “You think I’m a toy?”
“No, not at all.” He flicked the tip of my nose. “I just want you all for myself.”
“Then come and get me.”
Relieved, I didn’t know what made me do it, but I broke away from him and took off like the wind. Turning and running backward for a few yards, I shouted out at my shocked companion, “You said you could keep up with me. Prove it.”
Without waiting for a response, I sprinted across the sand.
“You’re going to pay for this, my pretty princess,” I heard him shout back.
I craned my neck and stole a look at him. He was running after me at hell-bent speed. I propelled my legs to run faster. My lungs were burning and so were my thighs. I looked over my shoulder one more time. Shit! He was gaining ground on me; I needed to run faster, but I couldn’t. Panting, I was losing speed and running out of stamina. I could feel him behind me, his breath on me. And then a powerful arm cinched my waist, stopping me dead in my tracks. He flipped me around, his breathing ragged.
“Saarah, it’s payback time.”
Holding me prisoner with one arm, he feverishly unbuttoned my jeans and yanked them down without even bothering to unzip them. Then, one-handedly, he pulled my T-shirt over my head and tossed it onto the sand. His lustful eyes made their way from my head to my toes, lingering on the obvious places.
“Fuck. You’re so, so beautiful.”
The words rolled off his tongue like a song. Then as he hauled me to him, a sharp slap sounded in my ears and a sharp sting zapped my ass. Simultaneously.
“You’re getting something my son never gets,” he breathed in my ear. “A good spanking.”
Holy crap! I’d never been spanked before in my life. My mother didn’t believe in that form of corporal punishment. And while I had always shuddered when I heard about other children being spanked, I was strangely looking forward to it.
Before I could take another heated breath, his large hand struck me again. Whack! I winced. And then again and again. Each slap louder and harder than the one before. With each blow, I let out a shriek, and tears stung my eyes. Yet, somehow, this licking was turning me on. Wetness was dripping down my legs, and I was tingling all over.
“You won’t stray from me again…will you, Saarah?”
Whack.
I shook my head no, stifling a cry.
“Good.”
My pulse racing, my muscles tightening, I was prepared for another swat of his hand, but instead the spanking stopped. He gently rubbed my raw, burning buttock. The pleasure mixed with the pain, creating an erotic cocktail that aroused every nerve in my body.
He grinned wickedly. “I’m not done with you.”
My heart thundered as I wondered what could be next.
In one swift move, he scooped me up and laid me down on the sand. The cool grains felt soothing against my burning ass.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered, all six-foot-three of his virile perfection, looming above me.
Trembling, I did what he asked.
My gaze stayed riveted on him as he loosened the drawstring of his linen pants, letting them fall to the sand before expertly stepping out of them and then tearing off his shirt. He stood above me in his naked glory, his enormous cock, hard and erect, aimed at me like a lethal weapon. Before I could blink an eye, he threw his torso upon mine and, with a savage grunt, plunged his steely spear deep inside me. I winced. Oh my warrior!
“You’re going to get it hard, my deviant little princess.” He grunted out each word, already grinding his raging hot length in and out of me without restraint. “So hard you’re going to beg me to stop—but I’m not—GRUNT—and when I’m done with you, you’re going to scream my name so loud you’re going to wake up all the fishies in the sea.”
Gah! A retribution fuck. I was speechless. The only sounds I was capable of were garbled shrieks and whimpers as he plundered me like a madman. Just two days ago, I was a virgin, being stretched by a stranger on a train, and now I was letting this relentless beast ravage me as if I’d done it my whole adult life. Digging my fingertips into the sand, I squeezed my muscles around his ruthless cock, bucking my hips to meet every forceful thrust. Rubbing my clit as he hammered me, he was taking me to the limit and sending me over the edge. Was this beautiful love or beautiful torture? I just hoped I wasn’t going to wake up his son or his sister.
Hovering above me, his breathing grew ragged, and wisps of his hair fell forward onto his gorgeous face. His eyes glinted with raw lust and passion. Pure primal need.
“Do you like it when I fuck your tight little pussy hard?” he panted out as I brushed back the flaxen strands.
I managed a weak nod. Don’t stop, now.
With a fiendish smirk, he accelerated his pace, pounding me faster and faster. Harder and harder. Fast and furiously. I wrapped my legs around him just to hold on, not knowing this action would allow him to drive into me even deeper. And much harder. My whimpers morphed into sobs. Loud, needy sobs that were begging for release. My climax was building with the force of a tidal wave and I could tell from the exquisite torture written on his face so was his.
Just when I thought he couldn’t go any deeper and I couldn’t take any more, he cupped his hands under my sore ass and lifted it up off the sand. Thrusting his cock one more time ruthlessly inside me, he cried out, “Now, princess!”
At his command, my orgasm crashed through me like a tsunami, taking every cell, every molecule of my being with it as his own epic orgasm chased my sea of fierce waves. I wailed happily, helplessly as he hoarsely shouted out my name and then collapsed on top of me.
Drowning in our sea of juices, he couldn’t move. Nor could I. The cold sand beneath me was a welcomed contrast to the heat of his sweat-laced body blanketing mine. Our breathing was still harsh as his hot release spilled out of me.
I don’t know how long we stayed in this position when he rolled off me. Recovered from his epic orgasm, he repositioned his glorious body so that he was perpendicular to me, his head resting on my warm breasts. He swiveled his head so that his eyes, two glistening stars, gazed at my face. I ruffled my fingers through his damp silky hair. His fingers danced along my neck, twirling around that strangely erotic spot below my chin as he let out a breathy sigh.
“That was fucking incredible, Saarah.”
“Yeah.”
I was basking in the aftermath of our mind-blowing orgasms. Despite the turbulence I’d just experienced, there was now peacefulness. Harmony. The soft waves of the ocean synchronized with the exquisite waves still rolling through me.
He flicked my chin. “Do you think you’ve been punished enough for one night?”
I jerked a little. Was he thinking of fucking me again? After all, he was still erect. I just wasn’t sure if I could handle it.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to fuck you again although you are quite insatiable.”
I laughed. “Hey, I should be punishing you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You left me all alone at the party and flirted with that blonde. You even kissed her.”
He tugged at my ponytail. “Saarah, Saarah, Saarah. That jealous streak of yours rivals mine. That woman is my head of sales. Anne Connelly. And she happens to be happily married with two kids. The reason I kissed her is that she told me another one is on its way. Oh, and by the way, she’s gay.”
I gulped. I mistakenly jumped the gun. I needed to apologize. Before I could say a word, he rose to his feet, lifting me up with him. He drew me in close to him and smashed his lips against mine. The kiss was fierce, hot, and maddening. I melted into him as his warm tongue chased mine. Desire for another helping of his cock was rising inside me.
I pulled away, my confidence soaring. “I’m going to punish you anyway.”
I ran my fingers down his chiseled chest and over the ripples of his six-pack, heading toward his magnificent erection. To my shock, he caught my wrist, stopping me in my path before I could reach my final destination. His gaze met my shell-shocked eyes. The expression on his face was far from desirous. His eyes, half-moons, conveyed something between aloofness and anxiety.
“Saarah, get dressed. I need to—”
“Be there for your son.”
I finished the sentence for him. As much as I understood where he was coming from, I felt bereft. This was my real punishment for getting too close to him. With a weighty heart, I brushed the sand off my body and quickly donned my jeans and tee.
“Let me walk you back to the guesthouse,” he offered, sliding his linen pants up over his semi-erect length.
“Don’t bother. I’m a big girl.”
Without looking back, I sprinted across the sand. I was nothing more than a guest in his life. Someone who had to respect his rules and his space. Someone who had no right to tomorrow. I had to remember that. I was just his girl toy. Tears pricked my eyes. As I neared the guesthouse, I noticed the silhouette of someone perched on the upper terrace of the main house. The moonlight illuminated her face. It was Gwen. A shudder rippled through me. She had been spying on us.