Her Every Fantasy

by Zara Cox

  His features tightened. ‘My inability to say no around you speaks for itself.’

  But not his ability to walk away without a backward glance. ‘Then I’m saying no for you.’

  ‘I didn’t mean the painting, and you know it.’

  We stared each other down, words arcing between us we weren’t quite ready to voice. And perhaps I was a coward but I wanted to hang on for a little bit longer, not say or do anything that would trigger a faster ending to our dirty little agreement. ‘I’ll take it on loan. Final offer.’ I would never be able to look at it afterwards and not yearn for him. And even without knowing the true depths of my feelings, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand that.

  He glared bloody flames at me for a minute before he nodded curtly. ‘Have it your way.’

  A waiter walked by. Bryce snagged two glasses and handed me one. The clink of his glass against mine held a touch of cynicism. In silence we drank, toasting to God knew what. It was clear he was disgruntled.

  For some absurd reason his unsettled state turned me on. Enough to spark a wicked little plan in my sexed-up brain when the crowd had thinned a little.

  I took a sip for courage, took his glass from him and set both flutes down. He eyed me warily. ‘What’s going on in that head of yours, rosebud?’

  I caught his hand in mine, led him down the short hallway to the unoccupied unisex bathroom. Flames ignited in his eyes as I turned the key and leaned against the door.

  ‘You know we’re twice as likely to be disturbed in here, don’t you?’

  Who was I turning into that the thought of discovery made me hotter? ‘Do you care?’

  His gaze raked over my jade-green multi-strapped dress, lingering feverishly on the exposed parts of my shoulders, arms and legs. Especially where my hemline ended above my knees. ‘Fuck no,’ he responded gruffly. ‘What have you got in mind?’

  ‘I want to try out your gift.’

  He exhaled raggedly, his eyes squeezing shut as he gathered his composure. Yes...a ruffled Bryce definitely did wild and dirty things to me. Unwilling to give him time to regain himself, I swayed from the door to where he leaned against the vanity and brushed my lips over his, mimicking the butterfly kiss he’d given me earlier. ‘Want to show me how this works?’

  His Adam’s apple bobbed when I dragged my lips along his jaw to nip his earlobe. He shuddered. Then he snatched the pouch from me, dropped it on the vanity before grabbing my waist. ‘You’re determined to make me lose my mind, aren’t you, Savvie?’

  I was determined to make him find himself. With me. But there were so many obstacles between us that I couldn’t voice my deepest yearning. So I kissed him, channelling my feelings into the act that had him groaning in under a minute.

  His fingers dug into my hips as I straddled one leg and shamelessly rubbed my pussy against him. With a thicker groan, he moulded my arse, his breathing turning harsher as he lifted the flared hem of my dress and encountered another one of my creations.

  This one was a simple sheer black body with a thong design. ‘Fuck, that’s glorious,’ he slurred, reversing our position before turning me to face the mirror. ‘I can worship this beautiful arse all day, you know that, rosebud?’

  My nipples tingled at the thick desire in his voice, at the hands that were several shades lighter than my light brown skin, caressing me. Turning sideways, I watched his hands mould my arse. ‘Spank me.’

  His eyes flew to mine, heat flaring across his hard cheekbones. ‘Have you been spanked before?’

  I shook my head. ‘I’ve never wanted it.’

  His hands tightened on my flesh. Then without warning he tugged the thong high, causing sweet friction between my legs. Shoving my dress up to bunch around my waist, he caught my gaze in the mirror and brought one palm down hard on my bottom.

  I gasped at the sharp sting but pleasure flared simultaneously, dragging a moan free.

  ‘Again.’

  He granted my wish on the other globe. Pleasure. Pain. A heady combination I’d never been tempted to try with my ex or any other man before him.

  I gripped the vanity tighter as Bryce delivered skilful intermittent smacks. With each slap, I felt myself getting wetter, needier.

  His gaze crashed into mine in the mirror as his fingers delved between my thighs. ‘Christ, you’re soaking.’ He dragged moisture from my pussy to my puckered hole, groaning as he gently pushed one finger in. I gasped at the different sensation that gripped me.

  He caressed the tight muscles with the cool plug. When it warmed against my flesh, when I couldn’t distinguish between it and his fingers, he pressed it firmer against me. The alien sensation was wickedly, decadently pleasing. Tentatively I pushed back against it until it slid in.

  A shudder shook Bryce’s body, his breathing harsh. ‘God, you’re so fucking tight. So beautiful, Savvie.’ His voice was heavy with arousal. ‘I’m dying to fuck you.’ He raised his head and stared at me. ‘But you didn’t bring me in here to have sex, did you?’

  Getting hot and heavy was one thing, but full-on sex within hearing distance of others? Biting my lip, I shook my head.

  He squeezed his eyes shut. Looking slightly relieved, he stepped back and arranged my clothes. ‘Are you ready to go?’

  ‘Yes.’

  We left the gallery after saying our goodbyes. Bryce’s hand gripped mine as I dismissed my driver and we slid into his car.

  Riding in his sports car, my senses on fire, sex toy inside me, was one of the most decadent things I’d ever done. By the time he pulled up in front of my apartment building I was almost at the point of orgasm.

  It was clear Bryce was caught in the same vortex. The hand that gripped the steering wheel was white with tension. ‘I’m not going to come up.’

  Disappointment pummelled me but I managed a nod. ‘Okay. We do this after my launch party. We’ll make it a private celebration. Does that work for you?’

  Hot eyes met mine and a tingle shimmied over me. ‘I’ll count every damn second,’ he said, his voice thick with relish.

  He threw his door open and came around to open mine. I let him help me out and walk me inside to the lift, fighting the urge to invite him up, let him finish what he’d started. Instead, I fell into the goodnight kiss barely able to focus as he resolutely stepped back.

  ‘Okay if I call you later?’

  I nodded, then reluctantly stepped inside.

  We stared at each other until the doors shut. And for the next few hours I existed on an electric plane, every movement reminding me of the toy inside me, keeping me on the edge of orgasm.

  Bryce called just after midnight, then spent a decadent half hour in the sexiest version of phone sex that sent me right over the cliff.

  With the fast-approaching launch, things kicked up to a frenetic pace over the weekend. Which probably helped with not descending into a pathetic heap when Bryce went AWOL on another project.

  But it gave me time to compose how to break the news to him that Graciela had RSVP’d yes to my launch invitation and that, while I hadn’t promised to keep her arrival a secret, she’d indicated she would prefer he didn’t know beforehand in case he actively put her off.

  Taking the coward’s way out to break the news to him face-to-face wasn’t helped when he texted on Monday to say he’d been further delayed and wouldn’t be returning until Tuesday afternoon.

  I was reading his text when he sent another.

  Everything going okay?

  No, I wanted to type. I miss you. Desperately.

  Yup—usual last-minute headaches.

  Anything I can do?

  I toyed with taking one headache off the table by telling him about Graciela but chickened out.

  Thanks for the offer but I’m fine.

  For several minutes he didn’t answer. Then...

  Enjoying your toy?


  I squirmed in my seat, my face flaming at the reminder of the sex toy currently in situ.

  That’s for me to know and you to find out.

  Challenge accepted.

  I ended our texting with a hollow feeling in my belly. Somehow that sexual fantasy had become a pivotal event with no clear indication where it would lead us eventually. If anywhere.

  Putting out last-minute fires and calming nerves all day Tuesday helped me keep my own inner hurricane at bay.

  I plunged myself into every query, took the time to inspect every outfit and accessory. I fetched water and wiped nervous tears. All the while wondering if I’d have the nerve to confess my feelings to Bryce when the time came.

  I was in love with him. Had been since the first time he sauntered up to me with a sexy smirk.

  And if he planned on ending this thing between us with another disappearing act for another three years, I needed him to know.

  He was convinced we were different people. Maybe he was right. But we weren’t so different as to be totally incompatible.

  My insides burned with fear and dread but I swallowed them down, reminded myself that nothing I’d wanted had ever come easy.

  I’d launched and headed a successful brand where very few woman like me held their own for very long. I’d survived a difficult marriage and come through stronger.

  I needed to know where I stood with him.

  What if you stand nowhere?

  My breath caught.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  Nellie, my assistant, stood next to me, concern etched on her face. She wore the headgear that connected her with each model’s station, the photographer and stage manager. She was the heart of the operations and my right-hand woman. We’d been together for four years and she knew the ins and outs of most of my relationships.

  But not Bryce. I shook my head. ‘Last-minute nerves.’

  Her eyebrow shot up. ‘Really? You? The most together person I know?’

  I let a wobbly smile slip. ‘You’re good for my ego, Nellie.’

  ‘Would it have anything to do with that piece of eye candy prowling the back of the showroom?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’s been wearing grooves in the floor for the last fifteen minutes. I had one of the interns ask him if he wanted a drink. He got glared at. But he came bearing the most amazing painting so I let him stay...’

  I was rushing for the short corridor that led to the catwalk before Nellie was done forming her conclusions.

  One quick peek between the heavy black curtains and I spotted him. I also spotted the reason for his mood. Graciela Mortimer stood in front of him, her arms windmilling as she made whatever point she was intent on making.

  Bryce’s jaw clenched before he glanced sharply towards my hiding spot. His gaze announced his fury and he left his sister mid-sentence and headed towards me. The Wu Cheong painting was propped up against a chair on the first row of the seating area with a carelessness that belied its quarter-million-dollar price tag.

  ‘Hi, Bryce.’

  His gaze raked me from head to toe before settling on my mouth. With almost impatient need, he pulled me close and planted a hard kiss on me before stepping back. ‘You didn’t think to give me the heads-up that Graciela was coming?’

  I shrugged. ‘You were going to find out sooner or later. Why make it sooner?’

  ‘My sentiments exactly,’ Graciela said, strolling up to join us.

  Bryce took a deep breath. ‘Can you give us some privacy, please?’ he said between his teeth.

  ‘Why? You’ve already kissed her in front of me so I know there’s something going on between you two. Besides, we’re not done talking.’

  Bryce rounded on her. ‘We’re not doing this now,’ he warned.

  Graciela, a statuesque beauty with long, dark hair and signature Mortimer hazel eyes and as stunningly beautiful as her male relatives, folded her arms and glared at her brother. About to open her mouth, she froze when Nellie’s voice boomed from behind the curtain.

  ‘Thirty minutes to ignition, people!’

  My pulse jumped into my throat as the frenzied rush intensified.

  The soft drone of voices filtered in as the main doors were opened to welcome VIP guests. The event organisers were serving premium champagne and world-class canapés as the music seeped backstage.

  I forced myself to take a breath. ‘I have to go.’

  Bryce stared at me for a moment before his features softened and he nodded. ‘Everything looks amazing, rosebud. You’ve got this.’

  A lump swelled in my throat, snatching the words from me.

  It will be fine.

  It will be a success.

  I’d deal with business. Then I’d deal with whatever fate held in store for me and Bryce.

  But the words, no matter how brave, couldn’t stop fear knotting in my belly as I returned backstage and threw myself back into the fray.

  It was still there, growing larger as the main lights dimmed and the thumping Afrobeat I’d picked for the event throbbed through the speakers. From my vantage point, I watched the gold-and-purple spotlights hit the four models suspended in wicker baskets above the catwalk. Legs slowly swinging back and forth, bodies seductively reclined, they looked like barely clad African goddesses, right down to the ethnic bangles on their wrists and forearms.

  But the moment the cables lowered them on the four corners of the catwalk and they stepped onto the runway, the focus fell on the lingerie.

  Bold and striking and proudly plus size, they strutted down the long purple carpet to the sound of gasps and applause.

  My breath caught again, my heart flipping up to lodge in my throat for the solid hour the twelve models showcased the forty-eight outfits chosen for the show.

  ‘Savvie?’

  I turned at the soft whisper of my name. Nellie stood behind me, the garment bag draped reverently over her arms. ‘It’s time.’

  Nodding, I stepped away from the curtains.

  In my small dressing room, I changed into my outfit. The black-and-purple corset-and-garter ensemble was trimmed in predominately purple Ghanaian-made kente cloth, the matching black silk dressing gown also trimmed in the rich fabric. I pulled on glossy black lace-topped stockings, adjusted the garter belt, and fastened the bespoke headdress into place. My make-up artist had worked her magic earlier, so all I needed was a touch-up and the costume jewellery that completed the ensemble.

  ‘Wow,’ Nellie whispered when I stepped out.

  Nerves held at bay by sheer willpower threatened to break out. I shook out my fingers and took three deep breaths. On the fourth, the curtains parted, leaving me framed in blinding light.

  Shoulders back.

  Chin up.

  Smile.

  For the longest time I’d faked confidence until it became second nature. But tonight felt...different. Maybe it was stunned gasps where there’d been electric buzzing for my models before as I stepped out in sky-high heels to begin my walk down the runway. Or the fact that I was different. That the concerns and hurts and uncertainty of my place in the world were suddenly reduced to a small, manageable kernel and in its place a wild acceptance that I was doing what I was born to do.

  You’ve got this.

  Bryce’s words pulsed through me as I strutted down the catwalk. As the gasps turned into excited whispers and then outright shouts of admiration as I stood poised at the end of the long gangplank, hand on hip, letting the photographers have their fill before executing a neat pivot.

  My gaze landed on Bryce. The raw intensity in his eyes made my heart stutter, then surge with wild hope.

  You’ve got this...

  I love you, I wanted to scream.

  I bit my lip just in time. With my eyes on him, I slid off the robe, and while the audience basked in the
full effect of the outfit, I basked in the look on Bryce’s face and dared to believe that this wasn’t just a risky little game we were playing.

  That there could be more.

  My robe trailing behind me, I completed the walk.

  Each one of my twelve models stood ready for the last parade. Swivelling to face the audience once more, I led them down the catwalk to thunderous standing ovation.

  But not everyone stood up.

  Maybe his seated position was the reason my gaze flicked over to the figure on the second row. Whatever the reason, his portentous presence struck me harder than it should have.

  Only years of training stopped me from stumbling and making a total fool of myself. Only a strong force of habit kept the smile on my face.

  But still, he saw me falter. And smirked.

  And as much as I hated myself for reacting, I felt the slightest wobble in my chin as I stared at the spanner to end all spanners.

  My ex-husband.

  Bryce

  My God, she was spectacular.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off her, and it had nothing to do with the magnificent outfit she wore or the perfection of her body.

  From the start it’d been Savannah’s spirit that had called to mine. A warm and compassionate place to land where I’d known only callous indifference and uncertainty.

  Granted, I’d doubted the sustainability of those attributes for the longest time. Hell, I’d spent the last three days fighting the urge to test the true depths of the waters to see where I stood.

  I still wasn’t completely sure. But I knew one thing.

  If I couldn’t bear to be away from her for a measly three days, what the hell would the next weeks, months and years look like?

  The only sure-fire way to find out is if you don’t try.

  The contents of the letter from my mother I’d unearthed in some hope of dissipating their power reeled through my head, a cold wash threatening to invade my system. It’d been happening with alarming frequency, as if my dear dead mother were trying to make her point from the grave. If you believed that sort of thing.