CHAPTER 14
GRAHAM
I SHOULD HAVE BEEN WORKING instead of fucking around. My desk was piled with stacks of documents, there were, at least, a hundred emails in my inbox that I needed to respond to, and here I was writing to a sixty-year-old advice columnist again.
Dear Ida,
The woman I’ve been seeing has recently expressed an interest in being tied up. I was wondering if you could provide some guidance for a first-time bondage novice. Would rope be a good investment? Or do you suggest something along the lines of fur-lined handcuffs? Perhaps some silk ties that are less likely to leave marks on her wrists? I should note that I plan to bury my face in her tight little cunt, so there will be a good deal of tugging on the restraints while she is writhing on the bed from multiple orgasms.
-Fifty Shades of Morgan, Manhattan
It only took twenty minutes for a response to appear in my inbox. I had expected a lengthy response full of her usual sarcasm. I should have known better than to think I could anticipate anything to do with Soraya Venedetta.
Dear Fifty,
Might I suggest checking your partner’s bedside nightstand? Perhaps since this woman you’re seeing expressed an interest, she went shopping after lunch for some supplies.
This woman was going to be the death of me; I just knew it.
An hour later, my secretary buzzed in through the intercom. “Mr. Morgan? You have a phone call on line three.”
“Didn’t I ask not to be interrupted?”
“Yes. But they said it was urgent.”
“Who is it, and what do they want?”
“Umm. I didn’t ask.”
“Listen…” What the hell was her name? Ellen? God damn it. “The bulk of your job is to screen phone calls, am I correct?”
“Yes.”
“And would you consider interrupting me when I’ve asked not to be interrupted, without having the name of the caller, doing your job correctly?”
“I…”
My patience was running thin. “Find out the name of the caller and the nature of the so-called urgent matter.”
A minute later the intercom buzzed again. “What?”
“It’s a Ms. Moreau. She said to tell you the nature of her emergency is that her husband is dead.”
I picked up the phone. “Genevieve.”
“Graham. I need your help.”
“I’m working on it. I told you that yesterday.”
“I need more than that.”
I took off my glasses and tossed them on my desk. Scrubbing my hands over my face, I inhaled a deep breath. It had been years since I had a civil conversation with her, but contrary to popular belief, I wasn’t a total prick. She had just lost her husband to a heart attack at the age of thirty-one.
Leaning back in my chair, I exhaled a breath of venom and sucked in fresh compassion. “What can I do for you, Genevieve?”
“I don’t want to run a company by myself. I can’t do it.”
“Of course you can. You’ll hire someone you can trust if it’s overwhelming.”
“I trust you, Graham.”
I used to fucking trust you, too. It was physically painful to bite my tongue. “You’re not in a state to discuss business right now.”
“I’m always in a state to discuss business. So are you. It’s the one thing we have in common. Our emotions take a backseat to a deal.”
“I think you’re wrong, and you’re just unable to see that clearly right now. But what is it you think you’d like me to help with?”
“I want to merge with Morgan Financial Holdings.”
“You want me to buy Gainesworth Investments? As in take it over completely?”
“No. Gainesworth Investments and Morgan Financial Holdings combined would be a powerhouse. I want to run it with you.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me right. I want to merge. Be a team again.”
“Genevieve, I don’t want to be tactless, but…you just lost your husband. Don’t you think you should take some time before seeking a new teammate? Grieve a little perhaps? You’re not thinking clearly.”
She sighed. “Liam and I were separated.”
“I wasn’t aware.”
“I caught him fucking my twenty-three-year-old assistant.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“No, you’re not. You’re thinking what comes around goes around. I would be, too.”
Surprisingly, I actually wasn’t. “You still suffered a loss. Your daughter must need you right now. Let me finish freezing out shareholders from acquiring too much stock, and keep your leverage safe. We can discuss business after you’ve had time to think clearly.”
“That’s Graham-speak for we’ll have a conversation after I’ve already decided what I want.”
“Genevieve, go be with your family. Business can wait.”
“Fine. But check your calendar. You have an appointment this Friday with a Ms. More at ten—it’ll say it’s a referral from Bob Baxter. It’s not. That’s me. More—Moreau. I made the appointment two weeks ago. I was planning on coming to you about this anyway.”
“I’ll see you at the service tonight, Genevieve.”
After I hung up, I clicked on my calendar. Sure enough, there was an appointment for a new client consultation with a Ms. More on Friday. And it was noted as a referral from Bob Baxter. I had to hand it to her. Normally I would call someone who refers a new client, flush out some information on the referral. But Genevieve was smart. She knew there was no way I was calling Bob Baxter. There was no such thing as a ten-minute call with that man. He would have had me on the phone for three hours and made it impossible to decline a dinner invitation before I hung up, too.
Unable to concentrate, I decided to go to the gym for a while. Running and lifting always helped me clear my mind. Around mile three on the treadmill, my head was still spinning. Flashes of my life were flickering through my mind randomly.
Soraya’s eyes fluttering open this morning snuggled in my bed. Smiling as she found me looking at her.
Genevieve and I popping open a bottle of champagne in the office the night our asset management portfolio reached a billion dollars for the first time.
Soraya, kneeling, looking up at me as she slid that ball of silver around the head of my cock.
Walking into Genevieve’s office after arriving back early from a business trip, ready to celebrate another closed deal. Finding her kneeling, taking Liam’s cock down her throat.
I ran faster and faster. But the faster I went, the faster the flash just played in my head.
Watching Tig’s needle pierce my skin and the ink bleed over Genevieve’s name.
Liam and I, arm in arm, watching as they hung the first sign at our office three weeks after graduation.
My mother. My mother. Frail, lying in the hospital bed, trying to pretend she was fine.
What the fuck?
I ran faster.
Soraya’s feather tattoo.
Genevieve sitting on the corner of my desk.
Liam running next to me on the treadmill.
I looked to my left. Fucking Liam was running next to me. The vision was so clear, for a heartbeat I really thought it was him.
When I finally stopped, I had been running so fast, it took me a full five minutes to catch my breath. Leaning down with my hands on my knees as I panted, sweat dripping from everywhere, I squeezed my eyes shut. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Just when everything finally started to seem so simple, why did it suddenly feel complicated?
I had no idea at the time, but the feeling was a premonition of things to come.
***
I WASN’T A HUGE DRINKER, never took drugs. Sex was my only vice. And when I was stressed out, I needed it even more. Like a fiend.
I knew I shouldn’t have been thinking about fucking Soraya on the way to a wake, but I couldn’t help myself. She looked absolutely stunning in that little black dress. She’d done her hair up, even though I knew she didn’t like it that way. She probably felt that she needed to hide the colored tips again. She looked nervous, too. Fuck me, if that rare vulnerability she was exhibiting didn’t make me want to screw her senseless even more. The divider separating us from the driver was completely closed, and that wasn’t helping. The temptation to lift her onto my lap was getting stronger by the minute.
She must have been reading my mind when she said, “You look like you want to attack me, Morgan.”
“Would you lose respect for me if I told you that despite where we’re headed tonight, all I can think about is slipping your panties off and letting you come on my face?”
“I already know you’re a dirty bastard. So, that’s not surprising. But this just might be a new low for you,” she joked.
“Something you’ll figure out about me…when I’m under stress, I get particularly horny. Sex diverts my mind from whatever is bothering me. It’s really the only thing that helps.”
“I see. Are you looking for my help, Mr. Morgan?”
“Don’t call me Mr. Morgan unless you’re going for a submissive vibe, in which case I’ll be more than happy to take you over my knee right now. We could play that game if you want.” My thoughts trailed off as I became mesmerized by her slightly parted lips. “God, I want to fuck your mouth right now.”
She seemed to squirm in her seat. “Do you now?”
“Yes. And go down on you. We can liken it to stress eating.”
She burst into laughter.
“Glad you think it’s funny because I am ten seconds from burying my face underneath that dress.”
“We can’t. We’re going to be at the funeral parlor any minute.”
My voice sounded thick and needy as I slid my hand underneath her dress, caressing her thigh. “Not if we agree to be late.”
“You’re serious?”
Instead of answering her, I picked up the phone to call my driver. “Louis, we’re not quite ready to head to the funeral home. We’d like you to just drive around for a while. Circle back here in about thirty minutes.”
“No problem, Mr. Morgan.”
She bit her lip and shook her head in disbelief at me, and that made my dick swell even harder. I couldn’t go to a wake with a hard on. So, this was an urgent matter anyway.
Soraya’s back was against the leather seat. Sliding the material of her dress up her thighs, I knelt beneath her and spread her knees apart. Slowly removing her lace thong with my teeth, I could feel the wetness on the material against my tongue.
Fuck me. She was drenched.
Her ass writhed under me as I wasted no time moving my tongue in a slow up and down motion over her pussy. I wasn’t just using the tip, but rather the entire length of my tongue to devour her, stopping only long enough to suck on her clit. She’d never been this wet for me. Ever.
Soraya ran her long fingernails through my hair and pulled. My mouth was covered in her arousal as I kept at it before deciding that I couldn’t take it anymore. Sticking my fingers inside of her, I moved them in and out as I looked up into her glazed-over eyes. “I really need to fuck you.”
“Yes. Please…” she muttered.
Oh, I could definitely get used to Soraya Venedetta begging.
Unzipping my trousers, I let them fall halfway down my legs before repositioning her so that she was on top. The leather was cold beneath me. Within seconds, she bore down on my cock, causing my eyes to roll back.
Her dress was riding up her waist, her bare ass exposed as she rode me while I looked up into her eyes. The feel of sinking into her had been just as incredible as I imagined it would be. I couldn’t help pulling out the pins in her hair, undoing her updo, watching the tresses fall as she fucked me. Just like the night of the gala, she didn’t protest; I knew she didn’t want it up anyway.
The other times we’d had sex seemed gentle in comparison to this town car experience. This was rougher, carnal…pure, unadulterated fucking at its best.
When she let out a stifled moan, I came harder than I could ever remember coming. It felt so good to let out the tension that had been building all day. Nothing—not even my strenuous workout—had been able to soothe me like being inside of her had. Not only that, but Liam’s death was a harsh and painful reminder of my own mortality and a reminder of what was important. Life was simply too short not to fuck like this all of the damn time.
“We’re both a mess now,” she said as she got off of me.
“I swear to God. You’ve never looked more beautiful to me, Soraya.” It was the truth. Her face was flushed, her hair a mess. Pure joy in the face of death. I was so grateful not to have to face this night alone. So grateful to be alive.
She took out her compact and looked in the mirror. “I went from looking like Princess Grace to Roseanne Rosannadanna.”
That made me chuckle. “And I fucking love it.”
I had Louis stop at Macy’s so that Soraya could use the bathroom to fix her hair and buy some new panties. We were officially late to the wake.
When we pulled up to the funeral home, my anxiety level was sky-high again. Soraya now had her hair tied back into a low ponytail. She rubbed my back and said, “It’ll be okay.”
Thank God she was here with me.
Not only was it going to be difficult to see Liam’s dead body, but it was the first time I’d have to come face to face with Genevieve in a very long time. But perhaps the most painful part was the fact that all of this reminded me of the last time I’d set foot in a funeral home: when my mother died.
The line was out the door, a sea of black, stuffy polyester. Old rich members of Manhattan’s upper crust were discussing their stock portfolios when they should have just been shutting the fuck up. I couldn’t see past the people in front of me. Not that I wanted to see anything in there. I wanted to go home, to my safe place inside Soraya.
Having to take a leak like no one’s business, I whispered in Soraya’s ear, “Keep our place in line. I’m gonna find a bathroom.”
“Okay,” she said, looking a bit wary of my leaving her alone.
I left the line and followed the path of Persian rugs to the restroom. After I’d pissed like a race horse, I was on my way back to Soraya when I spotted Liam’s mother, Phyllis, comforting a little girl in the hallway. The child was crying, and it broke my heart.
While the girl’s back was turned to me, she seemed to be about four years old. She had to be Liam and Genevieve’s daughter. I’d never seen her before. I’d only known that Liam knocked Genevieve up pretty soon after I found out about their affair. At the time, that news had only made things worse. But at this moment, I felt nothing but sympathy for a child who’d lost her parent. I knew that kind of pain all too well.
Phyllis looked startled to see me, but I couldn’t walk past her without paying my condolences.
I felt nauseous as I said, “Hello, Phyllis. I’m so sorry about Liam.”
Looking distraught, she simply nodded and held the little girl tighter before walking away. I trailed behind them when I noticed a black pom pom had fallen out of the girl’s hair onto the rug.
Clearing my throat, I walked a bit faster to catch up with them. “Excuse me. She dropped something.”
When the girl turned around, it was the first time I’d gotten a look at her. Kneeling down and holding the pom pom out, I’d forgotten what I was supposed to say next. The wind had been completely knocked out of me. There were no words…just a complete state of disbelief and confusion. Because if I didn’t know better, I would have thought I was looking into the face of my mother.