by S. E. Law
I kick the speed of the jet up a notch and she throws her head in release. Whitney’s beautiful to watch as her head tips back, exposing the delicate line of her neck.
“Oh Peter,” she moans breathily. “Oh god!”
I smile and watch, but I’m not done yet. As she crests and falls, I rinse the soap from her chest because I want her on top of me, facing me so I can be inside her while I toy with her ample bosom. I lean back against the wall and pull her to straddle me.
I am so close I know this won’t last long. The water hasn’t washed away any of her natural lubricant and she is so swollen and tight it’s like being enveloped in wet velvet. I move a sweet pink nub to my mouth and caress it with my tongue. I try not to bite or suck too hard this time but as she slams down on me harder and faster, it’s getting more difficult to be gentle. I suck and her hips turn from slamming down to grinding back and forth.
“Whitney, I can’t hold off much longer,” is my desperate groan.
Her hips push harder into me, rubbing her most sensitive areas against my abdominal muscles faster and faster.
“Use your teeth,” she whispers in my ear.
I take that sensitive nib between my teeth, applying gentle pressure until she screams my name, shaking with pleasure. I’m gone as well, and I explode inside her. We convulse together, this curvy woman everything that I’ve ever dreamed of. I apply one last tug with my lips and she pulls away, still breathing hard.
“I think they’re going to be sore for a couple hours,” she admits between pants.
“That’s okay, I’ll leave them alone for now,” I say. “Are you ready to rinse off?” She shakes her head, and we both sink into the lukewarm water, luxuriating in the release. “This tub has a heater. Do you want the water hotter, sweetheart?”
She smiles at me.
“No, I need to cool off a bit. You’ve had me all hot and bothered for a week now.”
“Bothered?” I tease.
She smiles naughtily.
“You know that’s a figure of speech.”
I feel the lush woman lean against me and I’m content, not just sexually, but mentally. I’m content in a way that building a food empire or dating supermodels hasn’t been able to achieve. It’s easy to forget that I’m paying for this woman to be here, and honestly, it’s not about the money at all. There’s something more, and I speak while trailing my big fingers over her arm lazily.
“Whitney, I have to go out of town to check on some of the West Coast locations of Shake Place, but will you come back on Friday and stay for the weekend? You can bring Apollo if you want. I’m sure he’ll get along great with Demi.”
She pauses for a minute and suddenly, fear strikes my heart. Holy shit, what if she says no? But then she smiles and my heart begins beating again.
“I thought commercial air travel was restricted?”
Thank god. She’s just being practical.
“It doesn’t really matter if commercial air travel is restricted. I have my own plane.”
She sticks her tongue out at me.
“Of course you do. And I guess you have your own sailboat too, since you told John to tell his dad you would go sailing after the pandemic.”
I grin back at her.
“I do. It sleeps six. Do you like boats?”
She cocks her head to the side.
“I don’t know, I’ve never been on one. It’s funny, we’ve spent a lot of time exploring each other sexually but we don’t really know that much about each other outside of the bedroom or outside of the restaurant business.”
“Well, that’s easy to fix. Let’s get some sleep and we can get to know each other better over breakfast. I admit, I bought fresh blueberries hoping you would be here to make me muffins in the morning.”
She smiles sweetly at me.
“Oh really? Do you have lemons? Lemon-blueberry muffins are a specialty of mine. The lemons cut some of the sweetness.”
“I will make sure there are lemons here. You know, Whitney, I wasn’t kidding when I said I need a consultant. I really could use your help coming up with some new shake flavors for my summer menu. Would you consider it? I’d pay you a generous fee.”
She blushes and takes a deep breath.
“Thanks Pete, I’ll think about it. I’d want to make sure I could come up with recipes that work for your type of restaurant. I imagine there can’t be too many ingredients and it can’t be too complicated because you need to maintain your speedy service. I’ll see what I can come up with while you’re out of town.”
That’s the most I can hope for right now, and I pull her curvy form closer, nuzzling into the softness of her skin.
11
Whitney
My internal clock wakes me up at 4:30 a.m. It’s dark and for a minute I forget where I am. Then the weight of a heavy arm on my hips reminds me that last night was not a dream. He’s huge and muscular against my back, and I smile to myself for a moment. What bliss.
My eyes stray to the large windows by the bed, and I gasp slightly. I’ve never seen New York at this time of the morning from way up here. It’s beautiful. The panoramic windows of the bedroom provide a view of the moon’s reflection on the Hudson that reminds me of the Seine and my time in Paris. While New York is never completely dark, this pre-dawn time is as shadowy as it gets. It’s something I never really had time to appreciate before.
I snuggle back in and hope Peter’s smooth rhythmic breathing will put me back to sleep for a couple of hours. I want to take in the warmth of his body beside me and drink in his clean, spicy scent. His plane doesn’t leave until noon, so I have plenty of time to make muffins. My mind starts racing. I feel guilty about how Peter and I met and all the money he’s paid me. I feel guilty about lying to my parents. The thoughts are stormy, and I realize I won’t get any more sleep like this. I slide out of the bed, trying not to wake Peter.
I don’t want to start banging around in the kitchen just yet, so I head to the library to grab a book. As a baker, I’m highly attuned to smells and all the leather bound tomes on the shelves give this room a special, old feeling among all the modern gloss and shine of the rest of the penthouse. I’m not sure if the library or the kitchen is my favorite room in the house.
I find he has an original copy of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, one of my favorites. But then I put the book down, because it’s one of the ones I like to read around the holidays. There is Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters, which are tempting, but I have my mind set on something a bit more adventurous. I spot my selection with embossed tentacles snaking around the spine: it’s Jules Verne’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. It is one of my dad’s favorites. We read it together at bedtime on a couple of occasions throughout my childhood.
Forty pages into Captain Nemo’s adventures, I hear the elevator ping. I panic, wondering if it’s too late to make muffins. I dash to the stairs in time to see the front desk clerk silently crossing the hall entryway with a bag of lemons.
“Good morning,” I quietly greet him from the top of the stairs, making him jump in the darkness.
“Good morning, Miss Porter. I hope I didn’t wake you. Mr. Coleman left instructions to bring these up as soon as they arrived.”
“Oh, no, you didn’t wake me. I’m Whitney, by the way.”
The young man nods.
“Andrew. Nice to meet you. Again, I’m so sorry to disturb.”
I laugh, trying to put him at ease.
“No, don’t worry about it. I’m always up at this time because I own a bakery and I’m usually at work by now. Sadly, I’ve had to temporarily close SugarTime, but my internal clock did not get the memo.”
The desk clerk cocks his head smiles with recognition, his freckled face breaking into a grin.
“I know SugarTime! My grandmother loves your sugar cookies. My mom would always stop and get her three every Wednesday when she went to visit.”
I stare at him, my synapses firing.
“Wait, your mom must
be Bonnie!”
I marvel because New York is a huge city, and yet it remains a small world. Bonnie is a middle-aged customer I’ve become friendly with in the past year or so. I know that she goes to see her mother every Wednesday and brings her my cookies as a treat. Andrew bobs his head with excitement.
“Yes, Ma’am, Bonnie is my mom. You can rest assured that she’ll be back as soon as you can reopen your doors. It was nice to meet you, but I better get back to my post. I have another two hours before my shift ends.”
I smile happily. Human connection, no matter how small, always warms my heart.
“Thank you for bringing up the lemons, Andrew.”
Andrew nods his head in a silent “you’re welcome” and after he leaves, inspiration strikes. Running to the kitchen, I scour Peter’s pantry and find everything I need for lemon blueberry muffins and sugar cookies. I’m going to make a batch of my signature cookies for Andrew to take to his grandmother.
Why not? After all, it feels good to be baking for other people again. I’ve only been doing my vlogs lately, and baking on camera is just not the same because some of the human element is lost. It’s much nicer to make something that someone’s actually going to eat.
Humming, I smile as my hands get busy. Working in Peter’s kitchen is wonderful compared to my tiny apartment kitchen. The double ovens allow me to put bake both treats at the same time. With timers set, I take a cup of coffee out onto the terrace to watch the sun rise over the river.
While on the terrace, I realize that brief tour yesterday didn’t cover the outside, and it turns out Peter has his own dunk pool off one side of the penthouse. It looks like the kind that has the option of turning on a current so you can do laps; kind of like the swimming version of a treadmill. That explains his muscular, gorgeous swimmer’s physique. I walk closer, marveling at the clear water and the fact that I’m literally fifty stories off the ground, and yet looking at a swimming pool.
“Want to skinny dip?” a low voice sounds in my ear.
His voice nearly startles me into falling into the water. Peter is handsomely rumpled from sleep, coffee cup in hand.
“You weren’t kidding about being an early riser. Cookies and muffins in the oven already?” he grins.
“I’m sorry. Did I wake you? I tried to be as quiet as I could.”
Peter chuckles.
“No, the noise didn’t wake me. It was the wonderful aroma wafting up the stairs that stirred me at sunrise. I think I’ve been taking this view for granted, and you’re right, this is a fabulous place to drink a cup of coffee. How long until those muffins are ready? I seem to have worked up an appetite from last night.”
I feel the flush of heat creep up my neck as I blush, remembering all that transpired the night before. I am saved by the proverbial bell as the timer on my watch goes off.
“It seems your timing is perfect,” I say sweetly. “That would be the muffins now.”
Peter catches my hand and pulls me into a sweet kiss as I pass him on my way back inside. I’m momentarily caught up in flashbacks to the previous evening’s escapades until the cookie timer goes off too. Reluctantly, I break free of the embrace to rescue my baked goods before they burn. The panther stalks right behind me and helps him to a steaming muffin.
“You’re right,” he remarks. “The lemon adds a layer of flavor to the blueberries in this muffin that I didn’t know I was missing,” Peter comments after taking an enormous bite.
“Oh you!” I laugh. “You didn’t even give it time to cool!”
He merely wolfs down the entire pastry before patting me on the butt. I love it, but my insecurities kick in again as I move the cookies to the cooling rack, surreptitiously sneaking glances at the gorgeous, rich man eating my handiwork. What does he see in me? Should I enjoy the ride while it lasts? Will I fall for this guy and get my heart broken? Unfortunately, I think the answer to the last question is likely “yes,” much to my dismay.
But this isn’t the time to open Pandora’s box. Instead, I smile brightly.
“I’m glad you like them, but my cat’s probably starving right now, and I’ve got to get dressed and head home. Poor Apollo. Do you have any Tupperware on hand? You wouldn’t mind me putting these cookies in to give to Andrew, would you?”
Peter looks puzzled.
“Sure, I’m sure I have some boxes around, but who’s Andrew? Someone I know?”
I stare at him.
“Your desk clerk downstairs. His name is Andrew?”
Peter looks startled again.
“You made cookies for the desk clerk?”
I nod.
“Actually, for his grandmother. I was awake when he came in with the lemons, and it turns out Andrew’s mom is a regular customer of mine. Every Wednesday, Bonnie buys sugar cookies for her mother, Andrew’s grandmother. I wanted him to be able to take some to her. I hope you don’t mind.”
Peter shakes his dark head.
“Of course not, sweetheart. I love how you’re so giving and generous. I can box these up and call my car to take you home.”
I smile, shaking my head.
“Oh no, that’s not necessary. I’ll take the bus. I’m a public transit girl, anyways.”
The billionaire grins at me.
“It’s not up for discussion, sweetheart. My driver will take you home.”
I don’t like causing more work for his driver and it bugs me a little. I could easily call a taxi, but somehow, I know Peter isn’t going to budge, and that this it isn’t worth arguing about.
Getting dressed in the same clothes I wore the day before, I brace myself for the walk of shame. Or the car ride of shame, at least. I’ve never done the walk of shame before and it’s kind of exhilarating, come to think of it. I had an unexpected rendezvous with a handsome man. He may be a handsome man I don’t have a chance of keeping for the long-term, but nevertheless, even a one night stand with someone like Peter would be a feather in any girl’s cap.
The handsome billionaire is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, cookies boxed in a Shake Place to go container. He’s so gorgeous that my heart begins to pound. But then I remind myself that I need to place a wall around my heart or it’s going to get shattered into a million little pieces by this man.
“Thank you for everything, Peter,” I say as I take the cookies from him and give him a brief kiss on the cheek. I need to remember this isn’t the start of a relationship. It’s a business arrangement. I stack more bricks around my heart.
He looks at me a little oddly.
“Is everything alright, Whitney? Did I do something to upset you?”
I smile, bright and shiny.
“No, not at all. Everything is fine. I know you have a plane to catch and I have a hungry cat to feed.”
“I’ll see you when I get back then? Maybe we can talk about the shake recipes then.”
I flash him another dazzling smile.
“Yes, of course. Have a safe trip.” I leave it at that and step into the elevator. Before I reach the front desk, my phone sends me a message that five thousand dollars have been deposited into my account. I should be thrilled to get the money, and of course I am. But somehow, I’m disappointed too. I wish … well, what I wish doesn’t matter. My head again reminds my heart that this is only a business arrangement and this is what should be happening.
Andrew is still at the front desk and I hand him the box of cookies. He thanks me profusely and asks me to wait while he gets his mom on the phone. He says she will tan his hide if he doesn’t let her thank me too. It rings, and then he hands the receiver to me. I hear the crack in her voice as Bonnie tells me that I am making her mom’s week. My sour mood, caused by the crashing realization that I need to check my feelings at the door when I deal with Peter, is buoyed by this short conversation. I remind myself: I don’t need a man to make me happy as long as I have my bakery.
Apollo screams at me as I walk in the door to my apartment. The cat is not used to being left alone over
night. The stark contrast between my living space and Peter’s is a reminder of how completely different our worlds are. My cozy apartment with my yards of colorful throws and jewel tone pillows masks a rundown building with cracked plaster and scuffed floors. By contrast, Peter’s penthouse is sleek and new with shiny elevators, modern furniture, and polished granite. I guess our homes reflect our personalities. I am cozy and maybe a little cracked and scuffed, while Peter is sleek and sophisticated.
My phone rings and it’s Alvina. I could use some girl talk right now.
“Hey, girl!” I answer cheerfully.
“Peter Coleman!” she immediately shouts in my face as her image appears on the little screen. “Oh my god!”
“I know, can you believe it?”
“Tell me everything! Do you know he is valued at over a billion dollars according to Forbes magazine? Shake Place has locations all over the world: Tokyo, Rio, Berlin. Did you have sex with him?”
“Slow down, and I’ll tell you all about it,” I giggle.
“Sorry, Whit. This is just the most exciting thing that has happened to anyone I know. Maybe I should be a cam girl and meet a billionaire too.”
I laugh again.
“Allie, I had the most amazing time last night, but it’s not what you think it is. This is just a business arrangement, remember?”
“Why, Whitney? Why does it just have to be a business arrangement? Why can’t you get a happily ever after with a prince?”
My heart drops suddenly.
“A girl like me doesn’t get a happily ever after with someone like Peter. I can get a happily ever after with a plumber that has a good retirement plan maybe, but not a rich restaurateur.”
I can almost hear my friend making a face on the other side of the line.