by Kira Blakely
I had the impression that it wouldn’t be that way with Bray. There was no way a man could be armed with the weapon I could see outlined against the moon and not know how to use it. Would he expect more of me? I started to freak a little as I considered this. Was he used to women who knew their way around a man’s body? Who knew when and where to touch? Would he teach me what he liked?
Suddenly filled with insecurity, I felt awkward, especially when I could still see his erection so near my hand. I remembered back to that time, so many years before, when we’d been on the beach at night. He’d been hard and erect then. I remembered my fascination then and how I’d snaked a finger up the inside of his bathing suit leg and touched it. I could still hear his gasp as he lost control and exploded, right into his trunks. He’d begged me to rub it, to give him a prolonged pleasure. I’d been so shocked all I could do was jerk my hand back and stand up, staring at him. He’d gotten a little mad at me that night, even if he’d lied and said he wasn’t. He’d run into the surf to rinse himself and I’d stood helplessly at the shoreline, watching him. I remember seeing his profile against the low moon that night. His erection, still evident, had quickly flattened out as the cold water got to him. He’d whooped and hollered, splashing in the waves. He wanted me to come in with him, but I’d stood there and shook my head. “No, I’m scared,” I’d told him.
I laughed.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
I rolled away from him onto my hip, my face flushed. I could feel the heat. “Was just remembering something.”
He rolled to spoon me, his arm over me and pulling me back against him. “Oh? Something with me in it?” he asked against my ear.
I nodded.
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You might not think it as funny as I did.”
“Take a chance.”
“Maybe another time.” I shook my head.
He sighed with exasperation. “It’s getting late, and I have an early meeting. Let me walk you home?”
I nodded and rolled to my feet. Bray held his hand out to me, and I put mine into his as we strolled back to the guest cottage.
“Can we not call it the guest cottage anymore?” I asked.
“Sure, but why?”
I hesitated but finally got my courage up and said, “Because I don’t want to just be a guest.”
He stopped and turned me toward him, lifting my chin to kiss me. I could feel his erection against my tummy and again, I got the crazy urge to fold to my knees, pull him out of his pants and fasten my mouth over him. As if he knew what I was thinking, he pushed his groin into me and reached down with his free hand to gently rub me. “Agh!” he released his breath in frustration. “God, but I want you so bad.”
I said nothing.
“Do you feel it, too?”
I still said nothing.
“You do, don’t you? I know you do. “
I held very still, afraid to move or speak.
“Oh, honey, just let me touch you, please?”
I held frozen.
“Honey, don’t move, just stand there and I want to touch you. I won’t ask any more than that, I swear. Just let me give you this one final gift?”
I was motionless and he took my silence for approval. I didn’t argue.
He slowly dropped to his knees and lifted the cotton skirt I’d put on that morning. I closed my eyes as his hands touched my inner thighs, pushing my legs apart. We were standing on the walkway, framed against the low moon. Palm fronds blocked the view from the house so I knew we were completely alone—at the edge of the world.
His hands slid upward and fastened into the waistband of my panties, easing them downward. My skirt was lying over his head, tenting his face against my now naked pussy.
“Sweet Jesus!” he moaned in a low sound.
I was hyperaware of him, of his hands touching me. His finger pressed into the crescent of my now-moist pussy, pushing upward into me. The next sensation was of his tongue, licking my swollen nub and then drawing it in between his lips to suck on it gently. The slow, even rhythm stole the strength from my knees, and I collapsed onto the lawn next to the walkway.
I heard the sound from Bray that told me that was exactly where he wanted me. He pushed my skirt up over me now and pushed my knees further apart. I could still see his head as he lowered his mouth and fastened it upon me. He began a slow sucking rhythm, slowly and excruciatingly increasing the intensity and speed. My hips rocked forward and backward on their own. I’d left my conscious mind and my body was drawn to his face, seeking that hot elixir of womanly waters that spilled from my brain into my pussy. I felt it rising and he sensed it. Just as I was about to crest, he pulled his face back and inserted one finger inside me and used the other to rub my clit furiously. I know I called out his name as it hit me; it shot through me over and over and over. When the spasms had subsided, he rolled to the side of me and pulled me atop him, wrapping his arms around me and holding me flatly against him. I lay there in a stupor of ultimate completion.
When my head cleared somewhat, I felt guilty. I reached to touch him, to return it but he whispered, “No! Not here and not now. When you’re ready, you’ll let me know. This was for you. A gift to tell you how happy I am that you’re here and how much I want to make your life unbelievably wonderful.”
My heart melted at his words. “You have,” I whispered.
We lay there, my heart still racing as he stroked my back. Then he rolled to his knees and stood up. He bent and picked me up, carrying me like a child into the cottage. He strode straight into the master bedroom, pulled back the spread with one hand and lowered me onto the mattress. Bending, he kissed me tenderly and without another sound, left.
I lay there in a stupor. The only sound was the whop, whop of the overhead ceiling fan and the call of the waves, luring me into their blue arms. I rolled over and went to sleep.
* * *
I awakened the next morning to a gentle tapping on my door. “Come in?”
There were two grinning faces in the opening. Meghan was peering over Mrs. Sims’ shoulder as she stood, awaiting my invitation to come in while holding a tray full of breakfast.
“I hope you don’t care,” piped up Meghan. “I asked Mrs. Sims to put both our breakfasts on a tray and bring them in to your room. I thought we might eat together. Uncle Brayden already left for work earlier this morning and Captain Bob is back and waiting for us.”
“Waiting for us?”
“Uncle Brayden said we, that is you and I, were going shopping and you’re getting a new wardrobe. Gosh, don’t tell me that’s not true because I was really looking forward to it.”
I smiled. “Of course, we can go shopping. Anyway, you might need a few things, too, don’t you think?”
“Oh, yes!”
Mrs. Sims was smiling and setting up our breakfast on a small table by the window. Meghan pulled up two high-back wicker chairs and I grabbed for my brush in my purse before joining her. There was a bowl of fresh fruit: mango, banana, peaches, oranges, grapes and kiwi. Each piece was decoratively cut and looked absolutely delicious! I lifted a silver lid off a platter and found a selection of small pieces of sweet ham tinged with brown sugar at the edges, link sausage and bacon. Another platter revealed scrambled eggs and a bowl with white linen wrapped within it held fresh biscuits. I could smell the coffee in the small decanter set before my plate and tasted a little orange juice before digging in to the fruit. “Do you always eat like this?” I asked.
“Is there something else you’d rather have?” Mrs. Sims asked in a quiet but cheerful voice.
“Just not used to so much. It looks delicious, Mrs. Sims. I’m sure it’s perfect.”
Mrs. Sims nodded, and I could see she was pleased. She left us to chat.
“So, Meghan, where do you suggest we start today?”
“Well, hmmm… Uncle Brayden said there’s a lady who is supposed to shop for you. We�
��re meeting her at Utopia and then going in to Miami Beach. I think we’re going to start at the Design District and then do the Aventura Mall. There are lots of little shops, and I’ll just bet that lady knows them all. Uncle Brayden always does things with the best. We’re sort of lucky to live with him—at least I am.”
“I think you’re right. We are both lucky to live with him. So, you like shopping, I take it?”
Meghan nodded, munching her fruit. “Uncle Brayden says I have Paris in my blood. He’s going to take me shopping there for my sixteenth birthday and maybe, when I get old enough for college, he’s going to get me into one there and I can learn design. I love clothes.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fashion was never one of my strengths, I’m afraid. I’m good as long as I’m comfortable.”
“That’s the difference between good design and just designers showing off,” she said with an air of knowledge. “The best design is very comfortable to wear.”
“I’m really glad to be having you along, Meghan. I think you know what you’re talking about.”
“I’d better,” she answered, rolling her eyes. “If I’m going to make my living doing it, I’d better know what I’m talking about, right?”
I laughed and nodded. “You say Captain Bob is waiting for us?” I looked at the small clock on the nightstand. “What time is he expecting us?”
“Oh, he’ll just wait. It’s sort of his job to wait. Harper, have you ever ridden in a taxi? That looks so exciting to me!”
I grinned. “Yes, I’ve ridden in a few in my life, and I can promise you that having your own boat and captain waiting for you is even better than an old taxi.”
Meghan frowned. “I think people always want to have what they don’t already have.”
“I think you’re right,” I agreed. “Tell you what. If you’re finished, why don’t you give me fifteen minutes to get ready and I’ll meet you at the dock?”
She nodded, snatched another biscuit from the linen folds and scampered out of the room. I hit the shower, decided on a pair of casual khaki slacks and a t-shirt. I put on my walking shoes. Dressy gowns or not, I wanted to be comfortable looking for them.
Captain Bob saluted as he welcomed me aboard. Meghan was already ensconced in a swivel side chair, a life preserver hugging her torso. “I’m really excited,” she told me, and I could have told that by the light in her beautiful green eyes.
When we made port at Utopia, I wanted to go inside and tell Brayden hello, but Meghan shook her head. “He told me when he left that he had a busy day planned. Might be better to wait until he comes home tonight. Besides, then you’ll have things to show him.”
I wondered at the feminine wiles already developed in this small minx of a girl. I had a feeling, Brayden or not, she would go a long way on her own.
“Aren’t you excited about your new car?” she asked, and I could tell she was desperate to show it to me. I was excited, but it felt extravagant for Brayden to have given me such a gift. I decided it was an advance on salary and if anything happened, I’d return it to him immediately. I still hadn’t brought myself to the point of being as casual about money as he had.
“I can hardly wait! Do you know which door it’s behind?”
She skipped to the door next to where I’d seen Brayden keep his own car. “This one!” She pointed repeatedly, and it was like being with a child at Christmas. Her enthusiasm was contagious and I was loving it. I pulled out the keyring Brayden had given me and selected the key that was smallest and didn’t look like an ignition key. I plugged it into the lock panel next to the garage door and turned it. Instantly, the door began to rise and there, with its grille facing me and a giant white bow with ribbon cascading from its roof, sat a baby blue Mercedes Benz convertible. I gasped.
“Do you love it? Do you just simply love it?” Meghan was dancing around in her excitement. “Get in and see if you fit!”
If I fit? I motioned her to the passenger door and I tapped the key fob to unlock its doors. I climbed in beneath the wheel and sat there, my mouth agape at the instrument panel before me. I’d never sat in a Mercedes before and while the cockpit of a plane has the ability to make a girl hard with desire for all of its buttons and switches, this baby belonged to me! I was beside myself with anticipation and I knew from its reputation that a Mercedes was known for more than its cockpit, so to speak. To answer Meghan’s earlier question, I most definitely did fit behind the wheel. The wheel was leather-bound and as I put the key into the ignition and turned it, the motor found its voice and I felt like I was sitting with the power of a rocket beneath me.
“Put the top down!” Meghan pleaded. I bent forward, searching the controls for the switch, but she’d beaten me to it. I heard a soft whir and the car top lifted and then folded into the trunk. She tapped the sound system and music surrounded us. I reached down and shifted the car into drive. I was right. The car drove like a dream and I fought the desire to press the gas pedal all the way to the floor.
“Where to?” I asked her and she pointed north. That seemed perfectly logical and off we went.
It turned out to be a wonderful day. We met with the personal shopper Brayden had engaged and sat on tufted powder-blue chairs as clothing options were paraded before us. The shopper, Margie, was professional and therefore exactly what Brayden had ordered. Her tastes were a galaxy away from mine, so while I tried to follow her lead, and did in a number of selections, I also followed my own heart and sense of style in others. I don’t think I’d ever had a poor sense of style so much as a poor pocketbook. That was no longer the issue.
Once we’d parted from Margie, we took in some trendier stores so Meghan could do a little shopping of her own. She was approaching that age when she was developing a sense of self, including personal style. It was all about self-expression and from what I could tell, she was well beyond her years.
“I think we need a mani/pedi,” Meghan suggested.
“Lead the way!”
As a teenager, girlfriends and I had given one another manicures, but I’d never had a salon pedicure before. Meghan had, and she seemed innately comfortable in the salon setting. Although she and I were separated by a generation, I discovered she was highly intelligent and mature for her age, and I genuinely enjoyed her company. She was fun; giving me a younger perspective. I think for her, I had a nice mix of youth that let us relate to one another, and yet enough age on my part to be an authority figure. I wondered which of us needed one another more.
“Tell me more about how you grew up,” she urged. I didn’t think she was ready to know more about the seedier aspects, so I touched lightly on who my parents and sister were and how I’d come to know Brayden.
“I’ll bet he was a real jerk in high school,” she commented, to my surprise.
“Meghan! Why would you say that?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Maybe because he can be a jerk once in a while now.”
“You shouldn’t talk about your uncle like that,” I chided her.
“I notice you didn’t deny it, though.”
What was I supposed to say to that? I decided on the least explosive and said, “Let’s get some ice cream!”
I could tell by the look in her eyes that she didn’t buy my subterfuge. “It doesn’t matter,” she summarized. “Sometimes it’s good to have a jerk on your side.”
I marveled at the wisdom in one so young. I also agreed.
Chapter 12
Brayden
I’d thought I was happy. I’d convinced myself that work was what I was meant for and to build resorts, all along the coast, was how I would spend my life. I was wrong, so very, very wrong.
My cell vibrated. I put away the image of Harper, naked and waiting for me in bed, and forced myself back to reality. “Yes?”
“We need you for a number of things. Could you stop by the front desk when you have time?” Gail asked.
“No problem,” I pretended and gave myself a few more moments of dreaming abou
t Harper. Her green eyes were like dark whirlpools in the Atlantic; light and swirling at the surface but the deeper one got, the darker the color and the sense of inviting isolation. I was hard, too hard to make an appearance, so I pulled up a spreadsheet and forced myself to look at some numbers for diversion. We were doing very well; not much negative diversion there. I was about to close it out when something caught my eye. It was a figure in bright bold red, in our liquor purchasing column. How had I overlooked this the day before when I’d gone over last month’s stats? Well, it wasn’t really a question of how I’d missed it. That much was obvious. Recently, I’d been unable to think of anyone other than Harper and where she was or how I was going to involve her in my life. I swallowed hard and remembered that I had a business to take care of. I didn’t depend on Utopia for income. I had plenty to last me several lifetimes. I just didn’t like the idea of having holes in my boat. I wasn’t about to be called on the carpet by my own attorneys and auditors.
Snapping my head back to the present, I immediately left my office and headed to the front desk. Then, my bookkeeping department and I were going to have a little talk.
* * *
I could tell by the look on Gail’s face that she was dreading whatever she had to tell me. Steeling myself, I attempted a smile to give her confidence.
“Hi, boss.”
“Gail… so, what’s up?”
She inhaled deeply for courage. “Okay, first thing is the party from Switzerland is complaining that we don’t offer mineral baths. They’ve booked eight rooms for a month, so thought you might like to deal with them. Second, there seems to be some issue with liquor shipments and accounting keeps looking for you. Third, the heater is out in the pool and even though it’s still eighty-five degrees, some of the guests are claiming to be chilled. Last, the man who says he’s your brother is in the Cabana and has had too much to drink. He’s insulting guests and they’re leaving. I called security but they won’t touch him without your approval, since he’s your brother and all.”