Limits of Destiny (Volume 2)

by Sharlyn G. Branson

  “In Hawaii?” I asked, astonished.

  His hand was gently stroking my shoulder when he said, “Yes, in Hawaii. Why are you surprised?”

  “Isn’t it too far? You’ll have to be away for long stretches of time.” I couldn’t imagine not seeing him for even one day, let alone weeks. And I knew when construction work on his hotel began, he would have to fly out there very often.

  “Why would I be away? You’ll come with me. We’ll visit your family. After all, you always say you miss them a lot.”

  “Yeah, but they don’t live in Kauai. And the flight between Boston and the islands is twelve hours.” Immediately, I noticed that my reply annoyed him, making faint lines appear on his forehead.

  “I know, but tourism on these islands is a growing industry. It would be madness to miss out on such a deal.”

  “I understand, and congratulations on the win. We’ll celebrate it.” I ran my thumb across his perfect lower lip, and my touch relaxed him. “Today, I managed to buy a souvenir for my father and baby clothes.”

  “Baby clothes. What baby clothes?” He looked at me, stunned. His face suddenly turned white as a sheet.

  “Did you forget my dad and Melanie are expecting?”

  “Oh yeah.” He regained his composure.

  “The saleswoman in the store thought I was the future mother and Henry was the dad, but after she found out the truth… Dear God, she was completely shocked…” I giggled, remembering her expression, but Alexander didn’t feel like laughing.

  “I don’t see anything funny,” he cut me off. “You wouldn’t laugh if someone were to take your picture and then the tabloids were to write, Alexander Kraftberg’s girlfriend is pregnant.”

  Shit…

  My smile froze. “Okay, you’re right. I hadn’t thought of that.”

  He settled comfortably on the pillow and pulled me to him. “It’s fine. Just be more careful next time. My mother sent me an email. They took our picture while we were walking along the beach. Probably some paparazzo. The picture was published in Gala.” He selected it on his phone and, looking pleased, showed it to me. “See what a cute couple we make.” He smiled happily.

  “Yes, we most certainly do.”

  The picture had captured a moment of incredible passion, desire, and love. They’d photographed us exactly when Alexander was hugging me. We were gazing at each other with love, like teenagers whose hormones were running rampant.

  “My parents invited us to dinner on Saturday night. My mother said I can’t keep you away from her any longer.”

  “Won’t we be tired from the journey?”

  “I know, sweetie, but I couldn’t say no to her.” He put his full weight on me and showered me with kisses, tracing a path from my ear to my lips. “There’s no getting away now. You’re trapped in the net of the Kraftbergs—a place from which there’s no escape.”

  “Who says I want to escape?”

  “My Alexia. Mine,” he whispered and resumed the kisses.

  * * *

  It was time to get ready for the club. I put on more makeup than usual—black eyeliner, mascara, rouge, and lip-gloss, which was a must for me when going out at night. I brushed my hair after backcombing it slightly and sprayed myself with my Gucci perfume. I played the Pharrell Williams song “Happy” on my iPad to get me in the mood and continued getting ready. While putting on my hoop earrings, which Alexander had given me as a present, I wondered what to wear. On the one hand, I wanted to look sexy, but on the other hand, I wanted to avoid an appearance that would send my jealous boyfriend into a burning rage.

  A silvery fringe dress, as worn in the 1930s, caught my eyes. It was all covered in fine strips and its straps crossed in the shape of an X at the back. I stepped in my silvery Jimmy Choo sandals with six-inch stiletto heels and, when I turned around, saw Alexander leaning on the doorframe, his beautiful eyes fixed on me.

  How long has he been watching me?

  Smiling at him, I went over to him. “I adore this song. Can I have this dance, Mr. Kraftberg?”

  “And I adore you,” he said with a playful flame in his eyes.

  We started dancing to the rhythm of the music, our bodies pressed against each other.

  God, is there anything this man cannot do well? Dancing with him felt sublime.

  When the song ended, Alexander leaned me back and gave me a deep kiss. “I can’t wait to continue to dance with you and in you, but… later, baby.”

  I gave him my most dazzling smile. He looked at me and frowned slightly.

  “With those legs and that body, you can easily give some man a heart attack,” he said in a hoarse voice.

  I started thinking—hadn’t Roberto said similar words to me? Hmm… men.

  “And do you approve of my outfit?” I asked, giving him a twirl so he could see all of me.

  “No.” His expression became serious. “All of your legs are on display, your back too, and to top it all off, you’re not wearing a bra.”

  “That’s right, but my breasts are hidden by the fringe, so I don’t see what the problem is.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss. You’re showing too much skin,” he objected and waved his hand to emphasize his point.

  “I’m not allowed to speak now, am I?” I snapped at him and put my hands on my waist.

  “There’s no point in us arguing. I don’t approve of it. There’s nothing you can say to change my mind.” His eyes were serious, too serious.

  Well, I can stare like that too.

  “You’re suppressing my free speech, is that it?”

  “Excuse me?” He looked at me with confusion.

  “As Benjamin Franklin once said, Whoever would overthrow the liberty of a nation must begin by subduing the freeness of speech. Of course, this doesn’t concern the entire nation, but just me. You’re selfishly trying to destroy my freedom and my right to choose what to wear. And as if that weren’t enough, you refuse to even hear me out. I always have to ask for your approval, which is certainly stifling. I don’t think this dress exposes my breasts or butt for everyone to see, so I dare say you have no right to feel indignant again. The years are passing us by, and one must take advantage of opportunities while one is young. When I’m fifty—if I’m actually lucky enough to live to fifty and I haven’t been stifled by the possessiveness and insane jealousy of my beloved by then—I won’t have the option of wearing such clothes. I would like to note, in my defense, that I see myself as a liberated young woman who simply wants to look sexy while she still has it. Thank you for listening to me.” I crossed my arms and sat on the nearest armchair, feeling that my cheeks were burning red.

  Alexander was looking at me, mouth gaping wide. “Such a speech in defense of a dress—I hadn’t heard something like this in my life. You should’ve been a lawyer. You definitely have the knack for it.”

  “Oh, come off it. I’m not in the mood for jokes.” I cut him off.

  He came over to me, picked me up, sat on the armchair, and put me on his lap. “I’m not joking.” He held me against him, and I rested my head on his shoulder. “You’ve convinced me.”

  Lifting my head, I gave him a suspicious look. Having realized he wasn’t joking, I felt triumphant. I couldn’t believe I’d managed to dissuade him. Alexander Kraftberg wasn’t a man who gave up easily, but I’d managed to convince him and now I was beaming happily in his arms.

  “I want you to dance with me,” I said and stood up to put on the John Legend song “We Just Don’t Care.” I took his hand and we started to dance to its gentle rhythm.

  “You seem very satisfied with yourself.”

  “I am,” I declared confidently, and he smirked in response.

  19

  Henry drove us in the Bentley, Lily and Francesco included, to some skyscraper in the center of Dubai. We boarded the glass elevator and got out on the fiftieth floor—the location of the VIP nightclub Hurricane.

  While we were going up, I peeked down through the huge windows and bate
d my breath. From high up, the city looked covered in countless lights, twinkling brightly in the night. The expansive view in front of me had an unearthly beauty. I felt like I was in a spaceship, towering over some alien fairytale world.

  We stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby to be immediately welcomed by the club owner, who warmly greeted Alexander.

  “Hello, Oman. I’m happy to see you again. Meet my girlfriend, Alexia.”

  Oman was around forty. Or at least that was my guess. I wasn’t quite certain because his face was covered by a beard, which generally makes men appear older than they are. Like every Arab, he had black hair, olive skin, and dark piercing eyes.

  He gallantly kissed my hand and said, “It’s very nice to meet you, madam.” Then he met my friend Lily and shook hands with Francesco, who he already knew.

  Alexander had his arm around my waist the entire time. As a clear sign to everyone and anyone that I belonged to him. In spite of his great jealousy, I was madly in love with him. I knew how much effort it had taken him to agree to my going out in the skimpy dress, and this made me love him even more. I was happy, and our friends contributed to my happiness. It was a delight seeing them gaze at each other lovingly, arm-in-arm, with smiles never leaving their faces. Their eyes gleamed like brown Swarovski crystals. It was a pleasure watching them.

  The club was very classy. My gaze slid across booths equipped with exquisite dark-blue leather sofas. People of various ages and nationalities were sitting on them. Some were smoking shishas, others dancing on the dance floor. Mirrored disco balls of various sizes were suspended from the ceiling, reflecting the light in sync with the music.

  Behind the large bar, three barmen made cocktails—busily and theatrically—shaking the mixers, throwing them in the air, and skillfully catching them.

  Oman placed us in the best booth—near the large windows, where the city, flooded by a sea of lights, stretched under our feet.

  We ordered the club special—cocktail with vodka, mango, watermelon, and thyme—which had a very nice taste and was quite refreshing.

  “Do you like it?” asked Alexander.

  “I’m not sure which one you mean—the bar or the cocktail—but I like them both.” Smiling at him, I put my arm around his shoulder. “Thank you very much, honey.”

  “For what, sweetie?”

  “For everything. I know you’re busy and clubs are the last thing on your mind. I’m also grateful you agreed to my going out like this.” I pointed to my dress.

  “You’re gorgeous and very sexy. Too sexy.” He pouted.

  “I love you. You know that, right?”

  He nodded and replied to my smile. “I know.” He pressed me against his body and our lips merged. I dug my fingers into his hair. My other hand was on his neck, my thumb tenderly stroking his face. I kissed him passionately, and the groan emanating from my throat made him kiss me even more deeply.

  After a minute or two, he pulled back, displeased by his inability to control himself, and muttered, “God, Alexia, when you’re next to me, I can’t think clearly. The only thought going through my head is how take this damn dress off you, and…” He gloomily shook his head.

  The cool tune “Blurred Lines” by Robin Thicke came on.

  “Come on. Let’s dance,” I urged him and, without waiting, pulled him to the dance floor.

  We pressed our bodies against each other and surrendered to the rhythm of the music. Oh, how we danced. Like we’d merged into one. His hand wandered across my back, sending tingles to my fingertips and burning the skin along the way. Even though we were sweating like we would after wild sex, we continued dancing until our legs could no longer hold us up. After the tune “Under Control” by Alesso and Calvin Harris finished, I shouted, trying to make myself heard over the music, “I think I’m exhausted enough now.”

  Alexander looked at me with his gleaming blue eyes and, without saying a word, took my hand and led me to the booth. We sat and then he whispered in my ear, “I can’t wait until we’re back at the hotel so I can get you out of that thing you call a dress. And when we return home, I want us to do it in every room.” His hot breath gently caressed my skin.

  “Home?”

  “Yes, Alexia. You said yes, which means it’s your home too. When the time comes, we’ll talk about it.” He squeezed my thigh.

  “Alexander.” I looked at him and it felt like his gaze went right through me.

  “I’ll give you everything and you’ll be happy. Trust me.”

  “I don’t want us to be hasty.”

  “Nobody is being hasty, baby,” he said and sipped from his glass.

  I was confused. I stared into his eyes, which radiated calm, certainty, and strong confidence.

  “This is neither the time nor the place to have this discussion,” he continued. “As I told you, when the time comes, we’ll talk about it, but not now and not here.”

  Dear God, everything is happening too fast…

  Lily and Francesco arrived, dispelling my thoughts. They sat next to us, both flushed and sweating from dancing.

  Lily came close to me and tried to make herself heard over the music. “Very cool club.”

  “Right.” I smiled at her.

  She smiled back and then turned to Francesco and grabbed him in a passionate kiss. I had never seen her behave so uninhibitedly. She’d probably had a bit too much to drink.

  Well, who cared anyway?

  * * *

  On our way back to the hotel, Alexander and I couldn’t keep our hands off each other. While we were travelling in the car, he tenderly stroked my thigh with his fingertips, sending streaks of fiery lava to my loins and subjecting my body to sweet torture. Which is why, when we returned to the suite and he ordered me to kneel on the carpet with my legs open wide, I complied at once. I was so turned on I couldn’t stand to wait even a second longer.

  He stood behind me. Through the large windows in front of me, I could see the lights of the Palm in the Persian Gulf. I sensed his hot breath in my hair, but he wouldn’t touch me—I only heard his rapid breathing. I grabbed fistfuls of my dress. My breasts rose with effort, weighed down by the thrilling anticipation of his touch.

  “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are, Alexia? There’s no woman who’s more beautiful than you, or at least I haven’t seen one.” His finger slipped under the strap of my dress and it slid down my shoulder. He leaned in and beat a path of kisses from my shoulder to my neck. He would lightly bite my skin and stroke it with his tongue, making my vaginal muscles jealously contract with desire.

  “Alexander.” Moaning, I closed my eyes and savored his gentle touch.

  “See, baby, how much your body needs me? Do you feel it? It’s the same for me.”

  Standing up on his knees, he grabbed fistfuls of my hair and pulled me back. Our lips merged in a hungry kiss. He bit my lower lip and gently pulled it between his teeth. I groaned. At the same time, his fingers slid toward my breasts and started to play with them, making my nipples painfully hard. After a little while, he made his way down my belly and thighs. He grabbed my dress and got me out of it by carefully pulling it up my body and arms and then over my head. With one skillful motion, he ripped my fine lace panties and threw them aside. My sex contracted painfully, free of the tightness of the lace. I was feeling extremely aroused. I wanted him. Now. At once.

  “Please,” I said, my voice a whisper.

  Alexander cupped my breasts in his hands and again started to play with my nipples. He massaged them deftly and lightly pulled the tips. I arched my back and bit my lip, trying to control my breathing, to no avail. It was as if his heavenly touch had reached my soul and injected liquid fire into my veins.

  I heard him squeeze out lube on his fingers. He spread it on my body, sliding his fingers to my labia.

  “Ah,” I moaned.

  Alexander very slowly inserted his middle finger in my vagina, and I sensed the smile on his face when he whispered, “Oh, my precious… You’re
already ready… for me.”

  He stood in front of me. He’d taken off his white shirt and was now wearing only his black Calvin Klein jeans.

  God, how sexy he is and how sculpted his muscles are.

  I gazed at the gracious features of his face and my breath stopped. To me, there was no man more handsome than him. His lips were slightly parted, and the blue of his eyes had become as dark as a stormy sea. I could barely stop myself from kissing him. I didn’t do it because I had the feeling he wanted to take that step. We watched one another, panting, wanting each other.

  Alexander leaned in and pressed his soft lips against mine. I let out a groan in his mouth—I wanted him with all my soul.

  “Open your legs wider, baby,” he said in a quiet, hoarse voice. And I obeyed.

  Alexander slid his fingers along my butt and touched my anus. I instinctively flinched and gave him an anxious and questioning look.

  “It’s okay, baby, relax.” He tenderly merged his lips with mine. “I want to have you every which way. It will feel nice. I promise.”

  He leaned in and kissed me passionately, our tongues merging, and then he slid his finger into my anus while he kept a finger from his other hand inside my vagina. He started to move them in and out of me—again and again… I felt… Oh, what a sensation. I was filled up on all sides. My blood flow throbbed in my ears. I thought I was going to explode into countless pieces. I dug my nails into the muscles of his back. Aroused beyond the limits of my endurance, I lost myself and surrendered, scattering myself like a broken jigsaw puzzle around him.

  While I was still convulsing from the powerful orgasm, Alexander grabbed me and I found myself with my legs open on his lap. I relaxed and rested my head on his shoulders while he held me tight against him.

  When I calmed down, he whispered, “Help me take my jeans off, sweetie.”

  I stood on my knees, undid the button and the zipper, and then got him out of the jeans along with his boxers.