“Tell me, sweetheart, is your pussy wet for me?”
“Yes,” I whispered. He pulled them off. I closed my eyes and bit my lip when he touched me. He parted my lips and spread my juices over my clit and labia. I shuddered. His hand definitely felt nothing like mine. He made a sound of approval.
“On your stomach,” he said. I flipped over and waited for him to tell me what he wanted next. I thought he would smack me again when I felt his weight behind me on the bed. He propped my hips up like we were going to do it doggy. Suddenly, he moved, coming off the bed and standing. He reached for one of my pillows, pulling it out of the case.
“Are you going to keep your hands to yourself this time or will I have to bind you,” he said, more to himself than to me. He put the case on the bed near me before climbing back on the bed. His hands were back on my ass. He pulled my cheeks apart, terrifying me for a second. I had never had anal. His cock was huge; he would rip me in half.
“Has anyone ever fucked you back here?” he asked, running his thumb over my rosebud.
“No,” I said breathily. It felt good—his thumb over my hole. He rubbed my juices over it, teasing it. I tilted my hips back. I didn’t want him to stop. His thumb disappeared, replaced by his tongue. I squealed feeling him lick me, something else I hadn’t had anyone do before. I was holding myself up by my arms, but they threatened to buckle. One of his hands rubbed my clit as he ate my ass. I moaned. If he didn’t fuck me at this point, I didn’t even care. He kept it up till I came, pressing my thighs together.
He climbed off the bed again. “On your back,” he said. I slumped onto my back and looked at him. I finally saw it. His cock was straining against his pants. That was the one thing that gave away his arousal despite his composure. “Give me your hands,” he said. I put them out over my body.
He picked the pillowcase up and held both my wrists in his hand, making me hold my arms out on the bed over my head. “I’m going to tie your wrists together,” he announced. He looked at me like he was waiting for me to say something. I wasn’t. He pulled the other pillowcase from my pillow and fashioned fabric cuffs, tying one around one wrist and the other around the other, and tying the cases together after pulling them through one of the slats on my headboard. It was the touching thing. Had he hated it that much? I shook the thought from my head. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t painful; it was kind of exciting. He tightened the case around my wrist, hard enough for me to feel it, then too hard. I gasped.
He stopped and looked down at me.
“Is that painful?” I was silent. It was. “Does it hurt? You have to tell me if it hurts. I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.
“It’s tight,” I said quietly. He loosened it before he let his hand run from my wrist, over my arm, over my chest, breast and stomach before stopping between my legs. He was still fully clothed when he moved in between them and hitched them up, so his thighs were under mine. He ran his hands over my sensitive inner thigh skin.
“I don’t want to use a condom,” he announced.
“Then don’t,” I said. He looked me right in the eye as he reached for the front of his pants. He quickly unsheathed his cock, veiny and standing at attention. He covered his body with mine, sucking one of my nipples into his mouth. I sighed, enjoying the contact. He finally slid into me, fast like the first time. He swore, bracing his weight over my body and thrusting into me. He had my legs pushed into my body, so I was open to him. The feelings of shyness at being so exposed were overtaken by the feeling of his cock stimulating me deep in my core, spurring my second orgasm.
I tried to concentrate on that rather than that I was naked and he was fully clothed, that he had his hands all over me and I couldn’t touch him, that this was likely the last time I would have him inside me. I hated how distant he felt. I wanted to kiss him. To feel him under my hands, inside of me, completely surrounding me like I felt the first time we kissed. He sped up and warned me that he was going to come. Maybe that would do it, maybe then I’d feel him. His strokes became erratic, and the hot spurts of his seed shot into me, he groaned as he slowed down before finally stopping.
He slid out of me and silently leaned over my body to untie my arms. I balled my hands into fists when he did and placed them at my sides. I sat up and turned my back to him. Maybe when I turned around, he’d be gone and there would be money on the dresser. I mean, why not?
Fuck. It was just like last time. I felt like I was alone in the room but he was right there. I felt empty—like he wasn’t there. Like we hadn’t just had sex. I stood and walked to the bathroom to clean up.
“When can I see you again?” he asked from behind me. I could feel his seed seeping out of me. He had just fucked me, and I was still naked. I turned my head.
“You know where to find me,” I said before leaving him and entering the bathroom.
He knew where to find me, but I could make sure he didn’t.
13
Levi
Surprise surprise, Max was being a bitch about the auction house. Par for the course; he was a bitch about a lot of things. Particularly when things came to me. We had never had a civil conversation since we’d met. I had expected him to at least be professional about this, but that was a mistake on my part. You didn’t dump a bucket of water on yourself and expect not to get wet.
I wanted the auction house. I didn’t just want it because Max had it. I hated the guy, but Strickland’s wasn’t a toy car we both wanted that he was playing keep-away with me with. Strickland’s didn’t strictly qualify as one of Dad’s old businesses that fell under Max’s control when he died. It was sort of in its own gray area, so Max getting it was likely because it was explicitly real estate.
Dad had been the owner, and he had donated and invested in it heavily. He hadn’t run it, really. He was there for all the old, expensive shit he could buy through it. He liked art. Maybe it was because he was sick that he hadn’t tried to make it the next Christie’s.
That was where I came in. What I really wanted was to open up a Strickland’s in New York. New Yorkers loved to spend hours staring at art. Art wasn’t the only thing that was auctioned, though; real estate was too. Why didn’t Clapsaddle lead with that? Then he’d have been talking my language.
Repossessed houses and properties were auctioned off all the time. The simplest way to make money in real estate was flipping. Strickland’s could broker the sales of high end, luxury real estate to the wealthy, discerning clientele it already had. What the hell would Max do with the auction house, anyway? Look at it? Use it to keep stalking Audra? Another oversight old Jackson had had putting his last will together.
The cat was out of the bag. The auction of the Strickland collection was going to be a charity auction. If Dad’s old friends knew what was good for them, they’d show their support.
I got an email from the Strickland’s people nearly every other day. The showings of the collection were beginning, which at another time would have meant nothing to me, but now, things were different.
I had fucked up. Again.
I was smarter than this.
A four-year degree and subsequent graduate degree at two Ivy League colleges said this. The fact that I headed a multinational said I was smarter than this. The fact that I had been raised in part by a single mother and had a sister said I was fucking smarter than this. Why then, was I apparently clueless when it came to Audra?
Weren’t we speaking the same language? Didn’t we want the same things?
I’d never felt so fucking awful after coming in my life. She didn’t even want to look at me. I know she enjoyed it. Maybe it was too much to say that, but I know I made her come that time. She’d said that if I wanted to see her again, I would know where to find her, but that wasn’t a fucking invitation.
That was what you said to end conversations with people you had no intention of talking to again.
What did I do wrong? She’d been willing the entire time; then she had suddenly checked out. She’d gone
to the bathroom, and after ten minutes had passed and she hadn’t come out, I had knocked on the door.
I hadn’t thought she’d drowned or anything; I just wanted to know whether she was okay. She said she was washing her hair, and that she was fine. Through the door—she hadn’t bothered opening it.
Passable lie. Her hair was long, all the way down her back, it made sense that it would take a long time to wash. I hadn’t stayed around to see whether she would come out of the bathroom with her hair wrapped up in a towel. I left because I knew when I wasn’t wanted. I had been smart enough then, but not now. It didn’t last.
The problem was this: I still had to go back to New York. I didn’t live here. I didn’t work here. I could work from here, but it would all be remote. The other problem was… who was I kidding, there were so many? They all had the same root, though. The girl who made me think of New York, and Marin, and my dad, and my brother. The girl who was giving me a hard time. So hard in fact that I was ready to make some very irresponsible decisions concerning her.
Audra… I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to leave before I saw her again. I didn’t want to leave and possibly never see her again. Shit, I didn’t want to leave knowing Max lived here and was interested in her. Thinking of them together made me mad. I was jealous. The stone-cold fact was he was the better choice. If it was a competition, he had me beat geographically, and he owned the fucking auction house where she worked.
Previously I never would have thought of my brother as competition, but now I wasn’t so sure I could rely on that security. After seeing her practically flatline after we had sex, I wasn’t so sure I still had that security. I didn’t have that security, and it was my fault that I didn’t. I had lost it. I had fucked her twice and, well; it was safe to say that she didn’t want me to do it again. I still wanted her. God, so much. I hadn’t even been able to last the five minutes I told her to wait for me when I’d sent her to her room. I needed to be inside her.
Her specifically. I would have fucked Debbie to see whether it was just in my head, but the thought was so off-putting I couldn’t do it. Debbie was still the same; she hadn’t suddenly completely changed in the last few weeks. She was just not Audra, and that was just another one of my many problems.
Maybe I shouldn’t have tied her up; she said it hurt her wrist. Maybe I should have, I don’t know, what? Let her tie me up? Let her be on top? I had to do something. Had to. It was imperative. Top of my IN pile. The auction was only going to keep me till it was up, maybe a little while longer after it was over. I had to go back soon, but it was a charity auction; there was going to be a dinner, or ball or whatever that the Foundation threw that I would have to attend. I would just wait for Sissy to tell me or something.
I tried to see Audra at her house the next day, but she hadn’t been home. I knew she hadn’t been home on purpose and not that I had just missed her because it was nighttime when I went. It was after eight o’clock, the place she should have been was at her house, but she wasn’t. The day after that, I saw her at the auction house. I hadn’t wanted to see her there because if she was there, she would be working and she wouldn’t want to halt that to talk to me. Especially not to talk to me. It had worked once, but I doubted it would work again.
It wouldn’t fucking work again, let’s be real. I still tried, though.
When I hadn’t found her at her desk, I had asked where I could. Gallery, apparently. I had just watched her for a while. She had been mounting paintings to the wall, silently and quickly, stepping back after mounting each one to make sure she hadn’t put it up crooked.
I walked into the room, and I practically saw the moment she realized she wasn’t alone anymore. Her body became stiff, and she held the painting she had in her hand a little tighter like she was afraid she’d drop it and its frame would break. She didn’t bother turning around, and she didn’t move again till I was directly behind her, close enough to smell her hair. It smelled floral. Sweet.
She moved forward like her legs weren’t hers; like they were attached to her body and this was the first time she was using them and hung the painting up. I couldn’t remember ever having seen it in the house. It looked like what would happen if you accidentally spilled red, yellow, white and blue paint on a canvas. Or had some chickens with paint on their feet walk all over it. There were words too, names of colors, orange, gray, red, all over it. A mess, basically.
This shit just was not for me. I didn’t even try to feign my interest in art usually. Obviously, it wasn’t what I thought it was. I bet Audra knew exactly what. I decided to ask her. Her face when she was talking about those dead butterflies with Max or the old books with Sissy; she loved this stuff. I asked her.
“What’s that?”
“Painting. Oil on canvas. It’s by Jasper Johns. He called it False Start. It’s worth anywhere between fifty to a hundred million dollars.”
“For that?” I said incredulously. She looked at me, coolly.
“You’ve bought art before. You know it’s not cheap. You should be happy. The Strickland Foundation is going to benefit handsomely from this. Are you here because you wanted to approve the galleries before the showings begin?”
Business. She wanted to talk business. Or she was talking business because she didn’t want to talk about what she knew good and damn well I wanted to talk to her about.
“I wanted to see you yesterday,” I said, looking at the painting. She had put it up and was standing back to see if it was crooked. It wasn’t.
“Did you?” her tone was disinterested.
“I went to your house.”
“Uh-huh,” she said. She was putting up another painting. That one was a real fucking mess, just more spattered random color. I swear to god, why’d I go to school to study business if shit like this sold for a hundred mil?
She didn’t say anything after that. She stepped back to check it before reaching for another one. I stood in front of her so she would have to look at me.
“This isn’t a good time for me, Mr. Strickland. I have to work. Showings begin in a few days. You of all people are aware of the sheer volume of things I have to get through. What do you want?”
“I have to see you again, Audra.”
“Well I wish I had more time for you,” she said. That was definitely sarcasm her words dripped in.
“Oh no, Audra. Not this again. Why are you being like this?”
“Like what? I’m busy, Levi. I’m sorry I can’t put everything on pause and spread my legs for you whenever you get the urge. Your dick isn’t a big enough emergency for me to put work off.”
“Is that what you think I want?”
“Am I wrong? You want to see me? I know the meeting won’t involve conversation and a meal. I know you won’t call ahead of time so we can both agree on a time and place. Say what you mean, Levi. You want to fuck me again. You want to tie me up and fuck me again so you can straighten your tie and walk around like you’re one of us for a while before you need to unload again.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“If you really need your dick sucked that bad, you need to go find someone else to do it.”
“I’m not a fucking degenerate, Audra. I won’t deny that I want to fuck you again, but I’m not using you to channel all my rage, so I don’t start killing people.” When did I become fucking sociopath in her mind? I had never seen her that enraged and it scared me the amount of resentment I heard in her voice.
“Then leave me alone. Why does it have to be me? What happened to Debbie? Walk down the street, Levi, at least one woman will agree to let you choke her out and put it in her ass.”
Okay. That was enough.
“What the hell’s gotten into you?” I asked.
“You have, Levi. One too many times and I am done. How long before you fly back to New York? Huh? A week, a month? We will never see each other again. I do not want to see you again. Stop coming to my house. Stop coming to my work.” She moved past me to
grab another painting. I held her arm and spun her to face me.
“I came here to talk to you. You think the only thing I want from you is sex?”
“Yeah,” she said. “And you got it, but you won’t get it again. Let go of me.”
“No.”
“This room is full of security cameras, Levi. I don’t need to tell you what this would look like to anyone who saw it.”
I let go of her hand. She was cold. She couldn’t have put it any clearer. She was done, but I couldn’t let her be. Nothing said she wouldn’t scream if I stayed there, so I hadn’t.
I had to figure something out.
New York was going to have to wait.
14
Audra
The first one arrived by courier at my house. It was a box. It was marked fragile. The doorman said it had been dropped off by a courier, but he wasn’t sure of the sender. The doorman, Victor, had signed for me a few times; I had asked him to. I bought my art supplies online sometimes, and he had offered, seeing how late I got home from the office sometimes.
It was heavy when I tried to lift it, so I dragged it into the apartment. It had been delivered a couple of nights before. I hadn’t been in the last couple nights. I hadn’t trusted Levi not to come over. I had made myself as clear as possible the last time we saw each other, but he wasn’t the most receptive to refusal. I couldn’t do it anymore, though. I couldn’t be scared out of my own home because of him. Zahira’s couch was comfy, but she lived in Oakland. Trying to cross that bridge at rush hour was a fucking joke.
My cat sitter had charged me extra for the short notice, but I couldn’t leave them alone that long. They greeted me at the door, probably mad that my clothes didn’t smell like them anymore. The box was full of Styrofoam chips. I’d have fun cleaning those up once I got whatever was in there out. I brushed some chips off the top. I saw black wood. I could probably lift it if I tried, but I didn’t want to try. I got a knife out of the kitchen and sliced the box down two edges so the Styrofoam chips flooded out of it and the front of the box opened out.
Levi (Heartbreakers & Troublemakers Book 4) Page 10