by Shel Stone
“I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice soft in her ear. “There were so many times I wanted to text you.”
“And yet your attention fleeted pretty quickly.”
“Maybe I just didn’t want you to think I was good boyfriend material, because I’m not. But whenever you’re around, I lose the plot. And that’s a bit unnerving.”
“Poor thing,” she said sarcastically, but she had to swallow hard when he pressed himself a little more firmly to her backside. The feel of him was so delicious.
“Come home with me tonight.”
“No,” she said and heard him groan.
The song started and it was too loud to allow for conversation. He still wasn’t taking his hands off her hips and for some reason, she wasn’t stepping away. Looking around, Trish tried to see if they were observed, but everyone’s attention was on the stage show. As much as she hated it, her insides throbbed for him.
She tried to push away, but ended up turning to him, his eyes deep and dark, solely focused on her, glassy with desire. Oh crap, he was just too damned hot. His body was out of this world and she ached to touch him, run her fingers along his smooth skin, over hard muscles. Definitely, she was not going home with him. That was the line in the sand. Still, he moved closer, his head lowered, searching for her lips, relentlessly coming closer, beseeching her to relent.
Although she should have, she didn’t fight it when his hand came up to cup her cheek and he leaned in for the kiss. He groaned as their lips made contact; she could feel it through her chest. Any thoughts as to why this was such a bad idea flowed out of her mind as the endorphins flooded in.
His body was firm and taut against her as her breasts pressed to his chest. She was on fire and felt like she couldn’t breathe without him touching her. A cold shock assaulted her when he stepped away, still holding onto her hand, pulling her with him as he stepped back. Immediately she knew he wanted privacy. He wanted her.
There was nothing in her mind that said anything other than that she had to resolve this urgent need. She needed to be with him, so she followed. They slowly worked their way through the crowd, her anticipation only growing, tightening her insides further. They were going to strip off and do it in a minute. As soon as they had a place. She nudged on his hand and he turned to her. Again, she wanted to kiss him, to wrap her legs around him and draw him to her. They needed to get somewhere private.
They sneaked through the bar, bringing him out back where the large chillers were and boxes of alcohol. This place was completely deserted as everyone was out there watching Katy Perry perform. Moving down into the room, they walked around a set of shelves to where they were hidden from view. It was cold in here, but Trish didn’t feel it.
Cory tore off his shirt and lunged at her, kissing her fiercely. Her legs finally wrapped around him, urging him to come to her. She needed him desperately. Damn these stockings. They weren’t going to make it easy. His breath was heavy in her ear as her arms wrapped around his shoulders. He smelled so good. He tasted even better. Hands were everywhere, stroking and teasing—not that she needed it, she was soaking her shorts.
Fiddling with the hidden zipper in the back, she finally loosened the costume and it dropped to the floor before she pushed down the stockings and g-string, leaving her naked from the waist down.
The bulge in his pants was firm and large, and Trish ran her hand over it, feeling steel there. “Oh, Jesus,” he said.
“Don’t say that, not around here.” Cory wouldn’t understand why, but it wasn’t a good thing to say during sex in case it was misinterpreted. During the heyday of her crush on her boss, she had indulged enough in uttering that little encouragement with the guy being none the wiser.
Cory had her thighs, pushing her up against the wall. She could feel him at her entrance, pushing in. Fullness followed with the glorious feeling of him completely encased in her. She couldn’t breathe or swallow; the tension was too high and all she could do was meet him as he thrust into her, her orgasm building with every stroke. His cock was perfectly sized for her, filling her completely without hurting.
Every single muscle of his body was straining as he held her up, thrusting into her. Just the sight of it was enough to undo her, the corded muscles of his arms, the tight abs, his hands around her hips, holding her to him. A naughty grin spread across his lips, like he knew exactly how good he was, slowing down for a moment until she felt frustrated, carefully grinding his hips into her. Shots of sensation rocketed through her body and she couldn’t do anything but beg for more, which she was in danger of doing if he kept it up. She had no control now; her body was completely enslaved to his ministrations, tension building to impossible levels. She couldn’t take it anymore as his lips sought out hers—breathy, hungry kisses teasing her even further, making it all that little bit more primal. Her orgasm crept up relentlessly, taking her fiercely, making her cry out as the powerful wave washed over her, helpless against its relentless surge as he kept trusting into her, hard now and the strong convulsions only continued.
Suddenly he stalled and strained, coming deep inside her. It felt so good, maybe even forbidden. She wasn’t supposed to be there with him, but this just felt too delicious to overlook. A shuddering groan had him collapsing into her, undone as badly as she seemed to be.
As she calmed and the world started to revert to normal, she found herself entwined in Cory’s body. She groaned in dismay. Why had she just done this? Her body was still hot and flushed from the fervent and driven exertions, the chill air quickly cooling her down. He set her down and pulled away from her, tucking himself away.
“You alright?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said, picking up her stockings that had rolled up into a figure eight. She started sliding them up her legs, but she really needed to get to a bathroom. “I’m going to be a minute, okay?”
“I’ll wait.”
She almost hoped he wouldn’t as she walked into the small staff toilet at the other end of the storage room so she could straighten herself out. Her make-up had run to bits and she had to clean her face up. Lipstick desperately needed refreshing. She looked like crap, and she wasn’t even willing to examine her feelings on what she’d just done.
A bit of teasing and she’d folded like a wet paper towel. Why was he so damned compelling? Anytime he turned those desire-filled eyes on her, she lost it, seeking his cock like a guided missile. Maybe because the fucking was so good. Even now she felt the thrill tightening her insides.
The barman gave her a pointed look as she stepped out, knowing exactly what she’d been doing back there. Embarrassment burned up her cheeks. Yes, she really was that kind of girl when Cory came sneaking around her. Yay, she said weakly to herself.
Chapter 24
KATY PERRY WAS AMAZING and Cheyenne’s gaze sought out Jesus along one of the walls. Her eyes travelled down his form, taking in his dark suit. Apparently, the man did scrub up when the occasion called for it, forgoing his typical dark jeans that showed off his legs and hips perfectly. His attention was on the stage where the singer danced around in garish costumes.
His eyes shifted to her and she met his gaze, but refused to acknowledge him otherwise. What happened the other week could never happen again. The man was too sexy to be safe and she’d indulged. Dangerous hobby, which she could not repeat, but damn Alexi for leaving her on her own all the time. She needed sex and he wasn’t there to give it to her. No wonder her mind had strayed and her panties dropped.
Placing her arm on Alexi’s shoulder, she stepped closer. Jesus was discreet, which was good. He had nothing to gain by bragging, but there was the issue of that boat rat, the whiny girl. It was an unnecessary and annoying complication, which could end up ruining her relationship if she didn’t play it right.
The music ended and applause exploded across the large club. Katy bowed with a beaming smile before waving as she walked off the stage. The murmur of excited conversation filled the absence and the dancers started agai
n, as did the waiters with trays and trays of caviar and wagyu beef canapés.
“Did you like it?” she asked.
“It was good,” Alexi said, sitting down again.
Cheyenne picked up the open bottle of champagne and refilled their glasses. Alexi fell into conversation with some man who approached, and Cheyenne turned her attention to the room, the top of the champagne flute hanging below her fingers.
Alexi shook hands with the man and settled back again, crossing his ankles. Everyone wanted to speak to him, but Alexi got bored with being the centre of attention.
“Are you ready to sneak away?” she smiled, knowing they would retreat to his penthouse apartment in one of the few high-rise buildings along the coast. Alexi liked being up high, above the clouds if possible—like he ruled the world.
“Not yet,” he said to her surprise. “We stay a little longer.” Apparently, he was enjoying the evening. Cheyenne was delighted, but also concerned at any change in his thinking or behaviour.
“I’ve been meaning to speak to you about one of your employees,” she said, slowly crossing her long, slim legs.
“What employee?”
“That stewardess. I caught her sleeping with one of your guests. I think she’s using your boat as a means of bettering her position by offering herself to your guests.”
A scowl deepened across Alexi’s face and Cheyenne wanted to laugh at how easy it was to deal with her problems.
“You really should get rid of her. People don’t come sailing with you to be harassed by gold-digging staff,” she said lightly, running her red-tipped finger along his wrist. “I just thought you should know.” Cheyenne patted him on the arm, then leaned forward and poured herself another glassful of champagne. Problem solved, she thought with a smile as she sat back. Too bad for the girl, but she should have known better than to barge into offices like that. She was doing Alexi a favour getting rid of someone who really couldn’t get their head around discretion.
Searching the room, Cheyenne tried to catch sight of the girl, but she couldn’t see her. Cheyenne hadn’t seen her since the moment she barged through the door in Jesus’ office. At least the little cow had shown discretion afterwards. Cheyenne was sure Alexi didn’t know.
She’d been furious when Alexi had insisted on inviting his crew. What possible purpose could they serve here? None of them had any value in being seen at this party. All they did was bring the tone down.
As she watched, Jesus walked around one of the bars and spoke to his staff. Always working. Cheyenne respected that. Suddenly she wished Alexi was ready to leave so they could fuck. She wanted it good and hard, him pounding into her from behind, not entirely dissimilar as the last time a man had taken her. But Alexi seemed preoccupied, more interested in talking to boring people.
With a sigh, she had to settle for people-watching, sorting through the crowd and determining where everyone belonged. She saw Katja, the stunningly gorgeous Estonian girl with her frosted blond hair and perfect cheekbones. Katja was the girlfriend of one of the retired American Goldman Sachs executives, draped in Chanel and Bulgari jewellery. They refused to acknowledge each other’s presence whenever they were near, in case that acknowledgement in some way established that they were both playing the same game.
Katja was actually too beautiful to be a model. Too beautiful didn’t work in the industry, had no edge. It was in reality quite boring, as was Katja’s constant resting bitch face. But she was an expensive toy and former Goldman Sachs executives always invested in expensive toys—the modern versions of Vikings who had raided all their lives, then hoped to retire among the crème of society. No matter how rich a person was, they always hoped to get into that part of society that they weren’t quite good enough for—even Alexi. There was always a step up to take, no matter who you were. And sometimes you lost, like that stupid stewardess girl; she was about to lose her sad little position. Too bad. If you played with the big dogs, you sometimes got bit.
Although she was a bit disappointed that Alexi didn’t seek the girl out now, fire her publicly and have the little tart run off crying. Cheyenne would have enjoyed that, but Alexi did these things with discretion. When Cheyenne was in a position to have her own staff, it would be a different story. Staff should know their place, and this should serve as an example to all the others.
Chapter 25
THE MORNING WAS BRILLIANT and there was no series of text messages exploding on Adelaide’s phone signifying something had gone wrong last night. Although it was just another day at the office for most of them. They had worked and there has been no drinking. Somehow it felt like there would be more of an after-effect from such an epic party. And there surely was for some. Everyone had noticed Trish and Cory making out and then disappearing.
Adelaide shook her head, trying to understand what the hell Trish had been thinking. One minute she hated him and the next she was all over him, but then she guessed everyone had someone in their past like that. Trish was just living it now. And Cory; he was a total player. Adelaide didn’t know him well, but that night at Blanca Beach Resort had shown his true character, when he’d been interested in that Aggie girl, and Trish had been persona non-grata. Why would she sleep with him again? Was this some kind of competition for him? He so wasn’t worth it.
With a groan, Adelaide decided she didn’t want to think about it. Trish was fully able to make stupid decisions on her own, and Adelaide knew Trish enough to expect even she would admit that was stupid, but then maybe she just wanted a hook-up, and what was wrong with that?
Adelaide stepped out barefoot onto the lower deck of the boat. The warm sun painted the buildings of Porto Banus golden, and the birds were singing, taking the opportunity before the heat became too oppressive. The birds, like the people here, fully embraced the traditional siesta, and why not? It was a brilliant idea. The Mediterranean life suited the rich well. Rise in the morning, long lunch, rest in the hot afternoon and party in the evening. Nice work if you could get it.
Making her way downstairs, Adelaide made herself a cappuccino on the ridiculously fancy espresso machine. Jens was already there, leaning on the kitchen island, flipping through the pages of a magazine.
“Are we going to sail today, do you think?” she asked.
“Depends on how bad a hangover Sumneroff’s got.”
Then again, Alexi Sumneroff, although he drank, never seemed to suffer for it. The man had a liver of steel. But when he had guests, he drank less, keeping his wits around him, and at his party, where he had been the guest of honour, he would have kept himself sober, Adelaide bet. “I think there’s a chance we sail today.”
“God, I hope he doesn’t bring guests. Least of all that bitch.”
Again, Adelaide felt nervousness twist her stomach. That whole thing still hung over her like a cloud and she couldn’t shake it, knowing that queasy feeling would stay with her all day.
*
Alexi came after lunchtime, dressed in white shorts and a polo shirt. Jens saw him first and they all scrambled to be on deck to greet him. Luckily, they had all half suspected he would come, so everything was in order—every surface polished, the engines serviced, the beds all perfect, and the fridges full.
Adelaide was pleased to see it was only him. Maybe they wouldn’t sail after all.
Alexi smiled as he walked on board, his eyes hidden behind mirrored aviator glasses, his hair shorter than last time and it looked like he was freshly showered. “We sail,” he said. “Just for a little while.”
Captain Borge went upstairs to start the engines and Alexi followed him.
“I guess we’re sailing,” Adelaide said to Jens. It was both an exciting prospect and a promise of more work. When they sailed, they had to wash down the boat after, but that’s what they were here for and you weren’t in the right place if you didn’t love the sea air in your hair and the water spraying across your arms.
Alexi would be up on the bridge for a while, so Adelaide went out the side
and watched as they left port. She really did love this part, when they first sailed out, escaping Marbella and all its complexity to something that was simple and even perfect. When it was just Alexi, everyone knew their place and they all knew their job. They felt like a team with Alexi as the leader, the Captain as the first in command, and the rest with specific roles to perform. It all worked well and it produced a happy atmosphere on the boat.
After an hour, Alexi came down. “I will take lunch on the aft deck,” he said, grabbing a bunch of papers and walking out to the table. He settled down and read.
“Can I get you a drink?”
“Just a soda,” he said without looking up. She went to turn. “First stay. I must speak with you. You’ve been sleeping with guest on this boat, no?”
Adelaide’s mouth dropped open. “What? No. Never.” She’d never slept with anyone on this boat. In fact, it had been months since she slept with anyone, period. There had been that ridiculously hot Hungarian guy who had passed through, which she’d ended up spending a night with, but since then, no one. Where was this coming from? Alexi was watching. And then she realised. This was Cheyenne’s doing.
Adelaide snorted, feeling the bile of a false accusation turn her stomach. “That’s not true.”
“You did not sleep with Quentin Cartright?” Alexi’s eyes pierced her like he was trying to spot her lies.
“I helped him to bed when he was too drunk to walk. He actually had his girlfriend with him, as you might recall. I never even went into his cabin.”
Alexi didn’t say anything, but his expression was harsh. “That is not what I hear.”
“Maybe what you hear might have an agenda.”
“You think the source has an agenda?”
“The source, and I’m positive I know where this is coming from, may be deflecting from her own behaviour.” There, she’d said it. Instantly she felt a weight come off her. She might be fired for indiscretion, but she was about to be fired anyway, from that bitch’s lies. If she was going down, she was taking that cow with her.