by Alice Ward
So why was I imagining what it would feel like to lay in bed with her pressed up against my side, my arm around her shoulders? Why was I still thinking about the conversation we’d started at the dinner table, the one that had been interrupted by our carnivorous grinding? Why was my cock still hard?
Yes. That was it. I was still turned on. The woman was simply that delicate and innocent. It was one of my weaknesses, women like that. Dropping my hand from the knob, I headed for the gym. I could go back into the guest room and get round two going, of course. Emma had already promised herself to me for the entire weekend. But she was also likely halfway asleep, and we had all weekend. Our first romp had been nothing but a taste of what was to come.
Cardio would help. Stripping and pulling on the exercise clothes hanging in the corner of the gym, I hopped on the treadmill. It faced the window, and I kept my eyes on the view as I ran. One mile. Two miles. Three. Despite it being late, I pushed myself and did another one before quitting and hitting the shower.
Out and dressed, though, I knew right away that I still wouldn’t be able to sleep. All I could think about was the woman down the hall. Was she still awake? Thinking of me?
My office was the only place left that offered a bit of a reprieve. The blinds were shuttered, all of the lights switched off. I turned on the table lamp and settled into the soft leather chair before booting up the computer. Catching up on the news every morning was part of my morning routine, but when I couldn’t sleep at night, I sometimes got up and did a little extra reading to keep up with the world’s affairs — or those that might directly relate to me in some way.
I began my browsing of the usual sites with Chicago’s most easily trusted local news outlet. The article in the middle of the main page, accompanied by a big photo of a man, said Ander Williams’ Rise to the Top.
I immediately stopped scrolling and clicked the article. My eyes scanned the lines, looking for words of interest. Up and coming... Entrepreneur... new to Chicago... millionaire. They were all words I didn’t like to read about in anyone other than myself. According to the article, Ander Williams came from a hotel family and was currently making it big in banking. He was young, attractive, personable. These were all the writer’s words, not mine.
I gazed at the photo of the man, my jaw clenching as I did so. He was young, sure. And rich, okay. Other than that, he probably didn’t have much going for him. And what he did have, he would soon lose.
Chicago was my city. I had worked hard to get to where I was, and I didn’t need others stealing my spotlight.
I picked up the landline phone sitting on the corner of the desk and pushed one button to make a call.
Greg picked up after two rings. He lived in an apartment one floor below me, close so I could keep an eye on him and he on me. “Yes, sir?”
I got right to the point. “Have you heard of Ander Williams?”
“The name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“According to the internet, he’s the next big thing in Chicago. He’s in banking, likely more. Call Pruitt. Find out everything you can about him. His story. His strengths. His weaknesses. Particularly his business weaknesses.”
Pruitt was the private investigator I’d used the last couple of times I needed info dug up on a person. He was the best in all of Chicago. If there was any good dirt to be found, Pruitt could get it, and fast.
“Yes, sir,” Greg said. “Anything else?”
“That’s all for tonight. I’ll be going away tomorrow and may not be back till Sunday. Only call me if it’s urgent... or if you get any leads on this Ander person.”
“Yes, sir.”
I hung up and leaned back in my chair, partially satisfied. The full relief would come once Ander Williams’ Achilles heel had been revealed. Upon knowing just how to put him in his place, I would waste no time doing so. I would do whatever was necessary, even if that meant bringing his growing empire to the ground.
I worked harder than anyone and I refused to let anyone take what was mine.
Mine, dammit.
Opening the blinds, I looked out onto the city.
Mine.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Emma
I remembered where I was even before opening my eyes. There was no confusion, no thinking I was at home, no stumbling to groggily remember last night’s events. I’d gone to bed with it all. There could be no forgetting.
I rolled over and stared at the ceiling. The main thing on my mind had been the events in the dining room. Had that been what Niall spoke about when he talked of pleasure and pain? Him holding onto me harshly, digging his nails into my skin?
No. Surely not. There had to be more.
I bit my lip, taking a moment to ask myself yet again if things had gone too far. Was it time to go back? Surely he wouldn’t stop me if I were to leave the penthouse.
But the answer was no. There was no going back. I didn’t want to. I only wanted to charge on, to discover what more the mysterious man could offer me.
After showering and doing my makeup — though it was a poor job when compared to the work done on me at the salon — I dressed in some jeans and a tank top. Remembering that it was early fall, I grabbed the one sweater I’d packed and pulled it on before creeping my way down the hall. I knew my outfit probably wouldn’t be to Niall’s liking, but I wasn’t putting on the dirty dress and uncomfortable heels from the night before.
Niall sat at the head of the table, his face buried in a newspaper. Fruits and baked goods spread out across the tablecloth, all of it arranged in a colorful way that made anything look too good to eat.
“Hello,” I said, my voice more hesitant than I wanted.
The paper fell slightly. Niall’s eyes peeked over it at me. “Good morning. Have a seat. If there’s anything you’d like that you don’t see, the chef will make you whatever you wish.”
I settled down into my chair from the night before, making sure my eyes avoided the spot on the wall where we’d screwed. “This looks good, thank you.”
He folded his paper and set it down next to his plate. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
With deft movements, he flipped over the upside down cup on a saucer that sat next to my plate then poured coffee from a press pot into it. I watched the bubbles pop up around the edges of the ceramic, watched the steam rise into the air. Anything was easier than looking directly at Niall, although I wanted to.
For some reason, I was just as nervous as I’d been when I’d walked into the penthouse but in a subtly different way. I couldn’t really explain it.
Once Niall finished pouring my coffee for me, he picked his paper back up and starting reading.
No talking this morning, I guess.
It was slightly disappointing. As nervous as I felt, I also wanted to continue our conversation from the night before. There seemed to be so much to the man before me, so many layers that they could never be unpeeled even if you tried. But I wanted to at least yank a couple of them back, see what was kept stored away close beneath the surface of his facade.
I picked out a bagel with cream cheese and munched slowly on it. The minutes ticked by.
I ate breakfast. He read. He seemed to intuitively know when I was finished. He folded his paper and set it back down. “Are you ready?”
“Um...” For sex? Hell, yes.
He stood up. “We’re going on a trip.”
“Where?”
“It’s a surprise.”
He extended his hand, and I took it. Its warmth soothed me, putting me at ease and making my heart speed up at the same time. Before I knew they were going there, my eyes flicked up to Niall’s. He was gazing down at me, a softness in his face I hadn’t seen the night before. He pulled me slightly towards him, and I stood, coming to stand just a couple inches away from him.
I blinked and the softness left his features. He cleared his throat and turned away. “You won’t need to bring anything.”
“Oh. Okay. I need to grab my
phone charger, at least.”
“I’ll be at the front door.”
He hurried away, leaving my head and stomach spinning.
A black SUV took us to the airport. From there, we boarded a small private jet. The whole affair was everything I imagined something like it would be. No waiting in lines. No fumbling for tickets or frantically scanning the screens to see if our flight was on time. We were at the front doors of the airport one minute and on the plane the next. A stewardess greeted us with a smile. Mimosas were served. Classical music started to play. I relaxed back into the seat that seemed more like an armchair than anything else and watched out the window as the jet lifted off, leaving Chicago behind.
Was this Niall’s private jet, or one he had rented just for the day? I thought of asking, but the question felt tacky, even given the odd circumstances we were already in.
“We’re not going far,” Niall said. “Don’t worry.”
“I’m not.”
His head tilted. “You trust me?”
I thought about that. “I guess so. Even if I didn’t, there’s not much I can do about it now.”
He looked almost sad for a second. “You trust most people then?”
I looked down into my mimosa. “My mom taught me to see the good in people. Everyone’s got some of it, somewhere.”
He didn’t say anything to that. Once we were safely in the air, the flight attendant announced through the speaker that it was safe to unbuckle. I did so, eager to go to the other side of the plane to get a view. What passed far below us was the usual stuff. The ground was so far away that you couldn’t make out anything other than blocks of different greens and browns.
“It’s still beautiful,” I breathed out loud.
“What’s that?”
“Oh. I was just thinking it’s still a beautiful sight, even though you can’t see houses or cars or anything.”
“Hm.”
I looked back at him and realized I’d placed myself at the window right next to his chair. For the trip, he’d dressed the most casual I’d seen him yet, in a maroon t-shirt and khaki colored pants. Every bit of him was still tasteful though, from the pressed clothes to the shining watch on his wrist. Niall Lambert probably even used designer towels.
He went on. “I admit I don’t look at it much. I usually take flights to catch up on things.”
“Have a look then.” I shuffled sideways a bit, allowing him room to join me.
For a second, he didn’t move, but then he pushed himself up and came to stand behind me. His breath grazed the side of my neck.
“Hm. It is nice, I suppose.”
A long moment stretched on. My breathing became shallower. I could no longer look at the view in front of us. Not with Niall so close.
His breath grew hotter on my neck. I closed my eyes, anticipating what would come next. It turned out to be his lips, their kisses languidly moving up and down my neck. I sighed, my head dropping forward and hitting the plane’s wall.
Niall worked at my pants button, undoing it and then unzipping them all the way. Once they were down around my ankles, his hands traveled back up, dancing up my side and over my shoulders. His mouth pressed against my ear, tugging my earlobe in between his teeth. One hand pressed against my stomach and the other wound through my hair, pulling my loose waves into a tight twist. He yanked, making my head fall towards him and my back arch. His tongue slipped into my ear, and I shivered.
“I,” I gasped but didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know exactly what I wanted. I was full of a craving, but it was to experience something new, something I couldn’t put a name to.
I pressed my palms against the window glass, pushing my hips back and into Niall. His hard length grazed against me, the feel of it making my ache double. I jumped when he smacked my ass, the force of the strike so strong I cried out.
Remembering the stewardess and pilot were not more than a few yards away, I bit my lip. He struck it again, making me let out another — but this time muffled — cry.
“You’d love it if I fucked you on this plane,” Niall said into my ear.
I whimpered. It was true.
He ran his fingertips lightly over the spot where he’d spanked me. “I’m not going to though. I’m going to make you wait. All throughout the day you’ll be thinking of my hands on you, of my cock inside of you.”
He stepped backwards, putting nothing but air between us.
And he was right. The next hour and a half of the flight was pure torture. I sat in my seat, bottom burning, restlessly thumbing through the spread of magazines, peeking up at Niall every once in a while. He never glanced my way, though, instead remained busy on his tablet.
“Look out the window,” he surprised me by saying after an hour of not talking.
I did as he instructed. I knew the towering skyscrapers right away.
“New York,” I said in awe. “Why are we here?”
“There are few better places to be. At least for day trips.”
The jet landed, and we made our way through LaGuardia to a car waiting in front of the airport. From there, we went to a small boutique store somewhere downtown. The exact neighborhood eluded me, but a salesgirl seemed to be waiting exclusively for us. Upon seeing our car pull up, she hurried to unlock the door and usher us inside. The place was empty, low techno music pounding. Niall instructed me to pick out whatever I liked, but I declined. He insisted. I declined. He insisted, telling me that his taking me shopping was all a planned part of the weekend. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
So I tentatively tried on a few dresses, coming out of the dressing room to model them for Niall. He gave varying positive opinions on them all, telling me which showed off my figure best and which were suited for certain types of events. For a straight man, he seemed to know an awful lot about women’s fashion.
When the salesgirl referred to me as his girlfriend, he looked at her but didn’t correct her, and I went back into the dressing room blushing.
Niall’s girlfriend? Did a man like him even keep girls around? What would it be like, to be out with him every weekend, having dinner and discussing the events of our lives?
From the boutique, we went to another and then another. Niall bought me more clothes than I could carry, filled the back of the always waiting car with them. When he wasn’t looking, I snapped a picture of the load and sent it to Laine and Jess, both to let them know I was okay and to — shamefully — gloat.
After shopping came lunch in a hotel near Columbus Circle. He’d warmed up a bit in conversation, even going so far as to tell me a bit about his past. As a foster kid, school was important to him. He excelled thanks to his ability to remember each and every detail presented to him. Before he graduated high school, he had well-formed plans for his first business and had already submitted for patents for various inventions. From there on, it all grew. The company. The ambition.
Lunch was followed by another stop, this time at Tiffany’s. I’d only seen the place in the movies and found myself way too excited to be there. Clothes were one thing, but was Niall really about to buy me jewelry?
He had me try on several earrings that each had to cost more than a year’s worth of my rent, then made me pick one. I settled on the pink diamonds. Niall seemed to like them as well, and he declared that a matching bracelet be found. The clerks scurried about, eager to please a man who seemed so willing to spend money.
After Tiffany’s came a Broadway show with front row seats. Then dinner in a skyscraper, in a room reserved just for us. The restaurant was just as nice as the one I worked at, so I knew reserving a whole room cost a pretty penny. But I was also learning that for Niall money was an afterthought. Clearly, he fed off making it, and he clearly enjoyed spending it.
By the end of dinner, I couldn’t stop yawning. The day had been non-stop, and I was eager to go to bed. Instead of ordering a second bottle of wine, Niall requested coffee for us both. I slurped down a cup, knowing that he probably had no intentions of
the night ending once we left the restaurant. I didn’t want it to either. My body vibrated each time I thought of what happened in the jet. As tired as I was, I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep until I got Niall’s hands on me again.
The place we were staying in was back near Columbus Circle, in the fancy hotel where we’d enjoyed lunch. The room the porter took us to sat at the very top — but of course it did. That was Niall. A top floor kind of guy all the way.
What I thought would be a standard hotel room turned out to be more like an apartment. The main door opened into a foyer, which went into a living room, which had a bedroom on either side. I walked slowly around the red and gold decorated space, taking it all in. From the main windows, Central Park and the edge of the roundabout could be seen, the sight just another one of the great views that seemed to follow Niall around.
The clothes he’d bought me earlier had been brought up and hung in one of the bedroom’s closets. Laid out on the bed were pajamas: a black lace trimmed tank top with matching bottoms. Presumably, any toiletries I would need were in the bathroom off to the left.
“This is nice,” I said to the bed. “Really nice.”
Niall didn’t say anything, just hovered in the doorway behind me, his presence filling the whole room. I soaked it in, letting his closeness fill me up. Already my hands were shaking, the need to have Niall pressed against me making me nearly crazed.
I turned slowly to face him. He still stood in the doorway, his hands in his pockets and his shoulder resting against the frame. “Is there anything else you would like?”
I laughed. “There’s nothing I can even think of. You’ve already given me more than I could even think to ask for.”
“There’s always more,” he huskily responded.
My heart skipped a beat, all of the promises he’d already given me related to the weekend coming back.
Niall’s hands slipped from his pockets as he took a slow step towards me, then another, then one more.
“You look eager,” he observed.
My chest sharply rose. “Do I?”