Masterson Unleashed

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  "Masterson,” I whisper.

  "Yes, baby?"

  "You're confusing the frack out of me."

  "I know."

  As I continue kissing him, I begin rubbing my hands across his head, because I know he loves this. That's the crazy part about this whole thing. I want to please him. I enjoy it. I'm not sure when that started either.

  Then he pulls back and breaks contact.

  I'm shocked at first, because I'm always the one to stop (if we stop).

  "Let's go inside." He smiles as he motions to exit the truck. "We've got work to do."

  13

  Roman

  I know what I said the other day about doing all that I had to do to keep Elizabeth moaning my name yada, yada, yada; but truthfully I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. Wait, scratch that. I know what the fuck I'm doing; I just don't really understand why I'm doing it.

  What's my end game?

  It was never my plan or intention to take Elizabeth out on a date.

  Ever.

  I don't even go on dates. Who has time for that shit? And up until now it hasn't been an issue. There are plenty of women out here who appreciate a good fuck, just like me and don't want to be tied down. I find them all the time for the most part. Sure there may be a few clingy Carols every once in a while, but you're bound to run into a few bad apples here and there.

  So the fact that I'm sitting here plotting and planning a night out to woo my cousin is somewhat laughable. No let me rephrase that. It's insane.

  We spent the greater part of today visiting all five of the spots Joseph (and I now) own in Philly, and we also called management of the two we own in Manhattan and the one in Miami.

  I got brick fucking hard just watching Elizabeth get busy in her element. Inspecting the old ass desktops, asking the manager's questions about the databases and them staring at her like she was speaking another language. It was all some very smarty pants, sexy shit. And it smelled very much like foreplay to me. If I thought she would have been down for it, I would have fucked her silly in every back room of every location we dropped by today.

  Maybe I still will.

  That little shit Jade hung up on me today. Maybe I pay her too much money. Maybe she isn't desperate enough for a job. That girl needs an attitude adjustment or a month on the unemployment line. That will straighten her ass out real quick. All I did was call her and ask for her help to plan my non-date, and needless to say she wasn't too happy about the request.

  "You can't honestly be considering taking Elizabeth out on a date? See this is what I'm talking about when it comes to rich people. You all make so much money that you have no idea what to do with yourselves. You fuck so many random bitches that you're bored, and so now you want to date your own cousin? For what, to spice things up?"

  "Simmer the fuck down, munchkin,” I warned her.

  Of course she wasn't affected at all by my warning. Jade might be one of the only people who isn't intimidated by me. Well her and Elizabeth.

  "Then you call me asking me for personal favors and crap. Not asking me about a lick of business. Just more shiznit about Elizabeth. Your couzzzzin."

  She exaggerated the word cousin as if I didn't already know how backwater fucked up this is.

  "Do I have to explain any further how crazy you sound, Roman?"

  I really wanted to reach through the phone and kill her little spitfire ass or at least send Camden to do it, since I suspect that he has some sort of thing for her. He's always staring at her when she isn't looking.

  "No little peewee. You don't need to explain any fucking thing, because guess what? I don't give a shit about what you have to say. And yes, I am asking you to do personal stuff for me, because you are a personal assistant in case you didn't realize that shit."

  "I'm an executive assistant,” she huffed.

  "To be an executive assistant you have to be working for executives Einstein. And we are nobody's executives. We shake down people for a living. Plain and simple. And your job is to do whatever the fuck I need to make that happen or anything else I want to happen for that matter. You feel me?"

  Jade started popping her gum a little more loudly after I dug into her ass. She was pissed, but she knew I was right and more than that, she knew I was dead ass serious.

  There's a time for banter and then there's a time for showing fucking respect to the people who pay you, and she wasn't paying it to me. And I'm not having that shit. I don't care how long the two of us go back.

  "What do you need?"

  I could have tore into her ass a little further; and if she was anyone else I would have, but then I could hear that you hurt my feelings tone in her voice, so I couldn't.

  Yep, it's official.

  Elizabeth's turned me into a pussy.

  Angry with me or not, Jade planned what seems to be like a perfect first date, but not really a date. First, I'm picking Elizabeth up from the house on the pretense that we're going by the Apple Store to look for new computers.

  I need Joseph's nosy ass to believe that, so we're going to have to stop at the one on Walnut Street and buy some shit before we continue on with the rest of our date.

  Why the fuck do I keep calling it that?

  I call Elizabeth instead of texting her, in order to let her know that I'm five minutes away, because I want her to see the dick shot I took of myself and put in her contacts. The picture will pop up when I call.

  Well it's not a literal dick shot, it's just a pic of my hard ass bulge straining to get out of my jeans and into her heavenly pussy. She's going to hate it. Which is exactly what I'm shooting for. She looks so fucking sexy when she's pissed.

  "I can't believe you put this shit in my phone,” she whispers angrily when she opens the door. The look on her face is so fucking funny; I almost lose my shit on the front stoop.

  "I love how I'm rubbing off on you, Elizabeth. You've said two real curse words today. I'm so proud of you baby."

  She quickly whips her head around to see if anyone can hear us.

  "Stop calling me that,” she whispers again.

  "They know that I'm coming over, Elizabeth."

  "Not for your baby!" she says in her best whisper-scream voice. Hysterically funny.

  "You're so fucking cute."

  "Let's just go."

  It's unusual for Juliette to not come to do the door and say hello regardless of the fact that she's already seen me today. That's just her. All bubbly and shit. It's actually one of the things that my father must find attractive about her. Especially since he's always in a bad-ass mood. He's been an icy cold brick wall all my life. And he only slightly warms up for her. Only her.

  "Where's Juliette? Are they even home?"

  "No, they went out for drinks."

  "So why the fuck are you whispering?" I ask genuinely perplexed.

  "I don't know."

  You see? I couldn't make this shit up. She's so fucking funny.

  "Let's go scaredy pants. I promise you that there are no listening devices in this foyer or anywhere in the house for that matter."

  As we hop in the Rover, I realize that Elizabeth didn't follow instructions. I told her to get prettied up and while I think she's gorgeous butt naked with zero make up on; she didn't even try to dress up for me tonight.

  For one, she couldn't have showered because she still has on the same tight ass gray jeans she had on this morning, but has changed into a clean white T-shirt and has on different shoes.

  I'm guessing that she thinks that if she put on a tight skirt (like the one she wore for her pitch meeting) or a dress that she'd be trying too hard. That it would look very much like a date. A date she didn't want with a man who she's fooled herself into believing that she doesn't want.

  I get it.

  But getting people to change their minds about things they feel very strongly about is my specialty. In my line of work, I mostly use threats of bodily harm, so this time I'm going to have to be a little more creative with my strategy. Beca
use if I'm going to be completely honest with myself about this, sometimes I have shitty ass nights of sleep, because I lie awake thinking about what I would do if some other man put his hands on Elizabeth. His mouth on her mouth. Or God forbid, his dick in her pussy.

  My pussy.

  That shit can never happen.

  I won't let it.

  First we stop at the Apple Store, and I can tell that this might be her favorite store on the planet. Some girls like Victoria's, some like Vuitton, but I can tell that my cousin loves gadgets. They turn her the fuck on.

  She signs us up to see a sales tech, and we have to wait in some ridiculous queue before anyone can help us spend my money. Unbelievable. I just remembered why I never come to this store.

  Some hipster looking kid, with thick black-rimmed glasses, finally comes over to us and spends the next ten minutes talking shop with Elizabeth. I don't like the way he's being so familiar with her, but I realize that one, it's probably part of his job to close the sale; and two, that even only with just a little bit of lip gloss on, Elizabeth is a stunner. So of course he would flirt with her. I shouldn't blame the dweeb.

  There's no doubt about how she oozes sexiness and confidence at every given moment. She would intrigue any man. She just doesn't know it. Which is simply one more thing about her that's so attractive.

  After we put in an order for eight of the latest iMac desktops, five for Philly, and the others shipped to their locations; I pull our sales tech to the side and have him ring up one of the latest laptops for me as well. I'm going to tell Elizabeth it's for Joseph, but I'm going to give it to her later tonight since she practically orgasmed after we bought all of those computers. I can't imagine what she'll do when I give her one for her own personal use. I heard her once complain that her laptop was a slow moving monster. So I think she'll like it.

  After our shopping spree, I drive us away from Center City and onto the drive. I stop when we get close to Boathouse Row. My favorite place.

  "Why are we stopping here?" she asks nervously.

  "Remember I was taking you to do one of my favorite things?"

  "Yeah?" she responds hesitantly.

  A stocky, bearded man in a white windbreaker jacket approaches us with some reserve in his steps.

  "Are you Mr. Masterson?" he asks as if there's no way I could be. He must be new.

  "That's me."

  "A pleasure to meet you. I'm Dex your captain. You can come this way. Your boat and house are ready."

  Elizabeth stops me in my tracks by grasping my forearm.

  "Wait a minute."

  "What's wrong?"

  "Are we getting on a boat? On the very deep and murky Delaware River?"

  "That's right." I smile.

  "But the sun is going down."

  "We're going on a sunset cruise."

  "A cruise boat?"

  "Well it's not really the size of a cruise boat. More like a very small yacht."

  "Roman–"

  "You'll love it."

  "This sounds like something lovers would do. This sounds like a date."

  "Hell no, Elizabeth. I've done this a million times with the King brothers."

  That's sort of the truth. Except every time we go boating, we are always drunk, and always fucking random club skanks on the boat. But it's probably best to leave that part of the story out.

  "Really?"

  "Yep. It's one of my favorite things to do. I'm not kidding."

  "I wouldn't have pegged you for a sailor."

  "Joseph used to take me."

  We start walking to the third boathouse. I know this one well, because I've rented it before. All the boathouses are basically empty spaces available for boating groups to rent for events, but I've rented this one out and had it decorated tonight for dinner. Thanks to Jade.

  "We've got at least another hour before the sun starts setting," I continue. "Let's eat first."

  When we enter the boathouse there's a long, thick rectangular wooden table, which almost looks like an old door that's been restored and given a glaze top coat. The table has two place settings and is decorated with several white taper candles in silver candlestick holders as well as blue mason jars full of some sort of white flowers. They look like wild flowers of some sort; not like an arrangement I would buy a woman. I'm pleased though with how it all looks, because Jade arranged things exactly as I asked. Understated but pretty. Just like Elizabeth.

  "You did this?" she asks. I like the look on her face. She seems impressed.

  "Yes. I thought it'd be nice to have dinner here by the water before we go out."

  "You have candlelight dinners with the King brothers when you all go boating together?"

  Maybe it wasn't as understated as I thought.

  "Absolutely,” I lied.

  But it's what she needs to hear, and I have no problem lying to get what I want.

  Because I want Elizabeth.

  There's no doubt in my mind about it.

  14

  Elizabeth

  Even though I'm lying underneath a soft cream-colored chenille blanket, I still feel slightly chilled, as I lay on a chaise lounge on the deck of a yacht appropriately named Nauti Buoy. The sun set about an hour ago and now Roman and I are cruising under the stars and down the Delaware River. Fall is definitely coming.

  Captain Dex is about to turn off the engines, so that we'll basically be buoying in the water for a while per Roman's orders. And I'm a little nervous about just floating out in such a vast body of water for a variety of reasons; but mainly because I can feel each and every movement of the water now that the engines have stopped. But I guess that's the point. To feel the motion of the river. To be lulled by it.

  I take a few deep breaths to try and relax. I trust that I'm in good hands. It's just that some part of me changed after the attack. Some irrational, anxious part of me that I wish like heck would heal already. I don't trust easily anymore. Not only do I not trust many people, but I'm starting not to trust a lot of situations, especially ones that I can't control. Situations like this.

  "You want a drink?" Roman turns to me and asks.

  I'm not sure if the offer is coincidental, or if he knows that I'm a little on edge. Probably the latter.

  "Sure. What do you have on here?"

  "Everything. They make sure to stock up the bar on yachts like this."

  "Okay… I'll have a glass of red anything."

  "I figured that. They have a good Shiraz on board that I think you'll like. I'll get you a glass."

  "Thanks."

  Roman returns with a glass of wine for me and a lowball glass of whiskey for himself. He sits back down in his chaise but adjusts the back of it, so that he's completely sitting up at a ninety-degree angle. Then he reaches over and does the same for my chair.

  "Let's talk."

  "We have been talking." I say. "All night."

  Amazingly enough we have. Roman and I have been talking about everything under the sun, and I have to admit that I'm pleasantly surprised by it. He isn't a total one-track minded sex god like I thought. I guess these are some of the "layers" that he was referring to.

  Tonight we've been chatting about how to solve the national debt crisis (as if that's really possible), how to fix the domestic abuse issue in football (which seems to be the only sport he follows religiously), things I miss about my hometown, and our favorite music. I love bands in almost every genre, but after listening to dance music all night in his clubs, all Roman wants to listen to are classic rock or R&B ballads when he's relaxing at home. Interesting.

  "Let's talk about our deal."

  "What deal?" I ask trying to play dumb.

  "Don't be cute, Elizabeth. The deal where you go out with me tonight, and then the other part where you call swim boy and put him out of his misery."

  "I told you that I need to see him in person when I talk to him."

  "I'm not sure that I agreed to that shitty arrangement."

  "Do I have to start taping
our conversations?" I giggle while taking another sip of my wine. He's right, it is yummy. "You agreed to it as long as I gave you that kiss we had."

  "Do you really like that piece of white toast or are you just using him to make me angry?"

  "I don't like what you're insinuating. Once again you think that the world revolves around you, and that I have nothing better to do than to plot and plan how I'm going to drive you crazy. I'm trying to build a life, Roman. My career. I don't want to be forty and miserable in a dead end computer job. I have dreams and plans that are way bigger than that, and trying to make you jealous isn't one of them."

  "People can build a business and a relationship at the same time, Elizabeth. People do it everyday. It's not an either or situation. Or at least it doesn't have to be."

  "Well let me put it this way, if I were to ever find the time to have a social life, it would definitely be with someone like Jagger. He's sweet, good looking–"

  "Boring and boring."

  "Smart and respectful–"

  "Plus it's a shame about that broken collarbone of his."

  "What broken collarbone?" I ask alarmed.

  "The one he'll get if you ever say that shit about him again to me." He grins.

  "That's not funny, Roman."

  "Come down below deck, I want to show you something."

  "Show me what?" I ask skeptically.

  "Nothing like that. I promised you I wouldn't touch you didn't I?"

  He has been keeping his word. He hasn't once tried to touch my ass, my breasts, or even play with my hair.

  Not once.

  "All right."

  We head downstairs into a sort of living room, lounge area below deck. There's long built-in fiberglass board seating along both sides of the boat, which are decorated with lots of down-filled throw pillows in variations of blue and sea green. In the middle of the built-in couches is a round polished metal table that seems to be bolted into the floor of the boat. On the table are three gift-wrapped boxes that I've never seen before.

  "What are those?" I ask confused.