But that motorcycle wasn’t happening. They scare me. And Alexander thought snowboarding was dangerous? I made us take the Range Rover instead. After all, I was wearing a dress.
“You know,” I remarked to Alexander as he parked at the bar, “if you really wanted to announce to my parents that you’re a bad boy, you could have also honked at the curb, hit on my mom, punched my dad, or said you were late because you were in detention. You’ve got options.”
“Aren’t we a little old for all that?” Alexander asked, looking at me with an expression that was a little too innocent.
All I could do was shake my head at him. Maybe one day if he had daughters he would understand. I’m sure he didn’t care about things like whether or not my parents liked him. It was irrelevant anyway. We were already on borrowed time.
“Are you feeling ok?” he asked me as he got out of the car to retrieve me from the passenger seat. He’d insisted on being the one to drive. I’d been quiet on the way over. The truth is he still made me a bit nervous. I didn’t know what to say to Alexander; I didn’t want to embarrass myself.
“Yeah,” I replied after I thought about it for a second, “I am actually. My scrapes don’t hurt, I’m not dead yet, I slept a bunch today, and tomorrow we meet to start negotiations. I don’t know if I feel normal, but I feel ok. I’ve seen some pretty awful, sad stuff in Haiti before, and after the shock with Kevin... maybe I’m desensitized?” I shrugged and put on a smile. “How about you?”
“My ribs hurt some when I take this brace off, but otherwise I’m fine,” he replied, “I’ve been worried about you.” He admitted it like it was an embarrassing secret.
“I’ve been worried about you too,” I replied shyly, and he seemed pleased by that answer. We settled into a booth by the window and ordered drinks.
“What do you want?” Alexander asked me, looking directly into my face and wearing an expression that looked so neutral that I was taken aback.
“I just ordered a beer…” I hedged, hoping this was not the opening volley in a negotiation over, well, us. His smirk confirmed my fears.
“Not that,” he replied, reaching out and grabbing my hand so our fingers were intertwined. He squeezed my little hand tightly in his huge one. “This.”
“Oh,” I managed, feeling a blush spread hotly over my cheeks. A couple of days ago I would have never thought I’d be sitting here holding hands with Alexander and having a candid conversation about our torrid affair. The world had realigned so thoroughly and so quickly that I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. Hell, less than twenty-four hours ago I’d been in mortal danger. Just being alive felt like a victory. Making informed choices was a tad beyond my current abilities.
“What do you want?” He repeated, cocking his head to the side as he carefully watched my face. His voice was gentle. Gentler than I thought I’d ever heard him sound. I could almost imagine that he was afraid to hear the answer, even if his expression was just as confident as ever. I dropped my eyes to where our hands were joined.
Maybe he was a little bit afraid, but if he was, it wasn’t for the same reasons I was. He probably didn’t want me to get all clingy and dramatic. Sure, we’d had sex. Sure, we went on a nice date (the part before the assassination attempt was nice, at least). But there was no future for us beyond the next several days. Alexander wasn’t known for monogamy or commitment. I shouldn’t expect that. I knew why I came out with him tonight, but after tonight?
“I don’t know,” I said honestly, “I’m pretty confused.” I shook my head. That was an inadequate answer and I knew it. “What do you want?” I challenged a moment later, working up the bravery to look him in the eye.
“Right now? Right now, I want to take you home. I want to throw you on my bed and fuck you until you can’t stand up.”
Alexander’s voice was calm and low, but so earnest that my knees went weak. His fathomless black eyes tempted me to get lost in their depths. Who just comes out and says things like that?
I swallowed hard.
“And later?” I pushed.
He grinned. “Maybe in the shower?”
“And tomorrow?” I whispered, unsure I wanted to hear the answer.
Alexander shrugged. He was still holding my gaze with a look that was pure, unadulterated lust, but there it was. He didn’t even say it outright. He didn’t really need to explain the terms fully. We were both adults. I knew his casual shrug meant he didn’t know or care what happened tomorrow. His offer was for tonight. The deal was on the table and I had to decide if I wanted to accept it.
That wild part of me, the Madison that had attacked Kevin and fucked Alexander like an animal two days ago, stirred in my brainstem. On a detached, rational level I was aware that this was not wise for my battered heart, but I stifled my doubt.
I took a preliminary sip of my beer and set it down on the table. It was fine, a standard local IPA. A smidge too hoppy but completely drinkable. I didn’t want it. I wanted Alexander.
“What are we waiting for?” I asked him.
19
Alexander
I intentionally picked a bar I thought Madison would like: somewhere nice but not fancy; trendy but not too young; likely to be busy but not crowded. And open on Easter. Selecting it took me a lot of effort, and forced me to try and imagine what, exactly, a woman like Madison would want.
The selection needed to put Madison at ease. I wanted to have an honest, real conversation with her and a proper setting was essential in any negotiation. It wasn’t an easy choice. It took a long time. It was a waste of time.
We stayed there less than ten minutes.
Instead of the genuine, heartfelt conversation I wanted to have, like an idiot, I just told her crudely how much I wanted to fuck her again. And somehow it... actually worked?
It was becoming painfully apparent to me that I had no idea what I was doing with Madison. Being crude, brusque, and selfish worked just fine with most of the women I slept with, but this wasn’t that. At least, I didn’t want it to be. Unfortunately, I seemed to completely lack the skills necessary to communicate that to Madison.
But we were in the car, together, and I knew she wanted me. Not only had she said as much, but she kept looking over at me with her big, bright hazel eyes, promising me passion. That knowledge drove every other thought from my mind. I’d been lobotomized by lust. When I’d put her back in passenger seat of the SUV we’d both felt the sickening déjà vu from the explosion last night. When she sat down and nothing awful happened I kissed her hard, just once.
The kiss was a promise of the night to come. Like lighting a fuse, its echoes sizzled between us during the drive, ticking down the seconds until I parked in front of my house. The moment I reopened the door to the SUV, she pounced on me.
Her momentum carried us both backwards, continuing until my back was flush against the front door. The collision jostled my stupid, aching ribs, but I ignored the pain and let myself be pinned by her tiny little frame. Our mouths found each other eagerly, and her warm, soft tongue twined delicately around mine as I found her as urgent and as breathless as me.
Her hands were everywhere on me, and as much as I wanted to let her explore, I didn’t necessarily feel the front yard was the ideal location to undress. Madison may have forgotten, but the security people were out there somewhere, watching. I didn’t want to share Madison with them at all.
Making good on my suggestion from the bar, as soon as I got the door unlocked I unceremoniously scooped her up and put her over my shoulder. She squealed and then laughed in surprise before relaxing into my arms, and it was a free, happy noise that I’d never heard from her before. It put a smile on my face. I was looking forward to getting her to make a wide variety of new noises for me. I wanted to hear all of them.
On the way to bedroom, I reached up under Madison’s skirt, running my hand up along the inside of her silky soft leg and looking for the hem of her panties. But all I found was warmth and slickness between her legs. No
panties. Oh, so it was like that then? This was her plan all along? I heard her giggling into my back at my little grunt of surprised discovery and smacked her on the ass in response.
“Oh, you think you’re so clever,” I grumbled, giving her firm, round ass another playful swat when she continued to giggle.
Once inside the bedroom I dropped her on the bed face-forward and pressed her down into the oblivion of the mattress with my body weight. She squirmed dramatically for a moment before stilling and I made use of her newfound docility by peeling off her dress and bra. I dragged my fingertips down the long lines of her back and followed them with kisses while she shivered and sighed. Her skin was so damn soft, and she smelled incredible. The only thing that gave me pause were the bandages on her arms. I made a mental note to be gentle with her arms. I wanted to take my time with her, but arousal was starting to blur my intentions.
I flipped her over—she was so petite it wasn’t hard to simply position her however I wanted, which was fun—and restrained her face up instead. She smiled up at me contentedly. The sight of her full, beautiful, teardrop shaped breasts and hard, dark pink nipples transfixed me completely. I vividly remembered fantasizing about Madison and imagining cupping and squeezing her with both hands before torturing her nipples with my mouth after that fateful party all those years ago. Now she was bared in front of me, finally, with no rush, no obstacles, and no ulterior motives beyond our own physical needs. I played out every fantasy I’d ever had about her chest, and they were numerous, pinching, rubbing and sucking deeply until she moaned loudly and rubbed her legs together in desperation.
This was our real first time together. Not the tawdry, too-fast sex I’d manipulated her into two days ago. I didn’t regret that. I’m sure I should’ve, but I didn’t. But this felt so much more real and consequential. Touching Madison now, knowing a bit more about who she really was underneath her plucky determination, I felt grateful and unworthy of her.
“Alexander!” She whimpered, still smiling but flushed, struggling, and pulling pointlessly at her wrists that I’d gathered in my left hand and held above her head. “Please!”
Taking pity on her, I decided it was time to give her something more. Releasing her wrists, I moved downward, leaving a trail of wet kisses down the graceful line of her stomach before parting her thighs wide. She looked down at me wide-eyed and ready, eagerly spreading her legs apart further for me and burying her hands in my hair.
My first taste of her was sweet and wet. She tasted perfect, and her flesh was slick and so soft and delicate. She whimpered beneath me, demanding more and thrusting her hips up to me. I happily gave it to her, using my tongue, my fingers, and all of my ingenuity to discern her wants and needs. With her little, musical sounds to guide me, I slowly brought her closer and closer to climaxing, drawing her right to the edge. When her stomach muscles tensed and her hips lifted off the bed I slipped two fingers slowly within her and felt her orgasm clenching hard from deep within her core.
When I raised myself back up next to her on the bed her eyes were bleary and half-lidded. She grinned at me, the mischievous glint in her eyes acknowledging we weren’t done yet. She had no idea. I was only getting started. After this first taste, I doubted I would ever get enough of her.
As I was briefly contemplating how beautifully pink she flushed after orgasm, she turned and pounced for the second time that night, climbing atop me like it were some kind of victory. Whatever made her happy. Content to let her take charge for a while, I helped her to dispense with my clothes, pushing any concern for my bruised ribs to the back of my mind. I leaned back and guided her hips forward with both hands. She took me in hand and accompanied her slow, controlled descent onto me with a long, sultry moan.
Fully sheathed within the softest, hottest, tightest part of her, my own need was beginning to become unbearable. I needed her to move. Immediately. Thankfully she did, albeit much too slowly.
Grinding on top of me, Madison’s long dark hair flowed around her shoulders and over her pale shoulders and chest down to her waist like lady Godiva’s. She gazed down at me with the softest, most innocent expression on her face, looking like a creature of fantasy, more than a flesh and blood woman who inhabited the same messed up world that I did. I could barely believe she was real, except for the very real, very pleasurable heat and tension ratcheting up within me to an almost impossible level.
Madison’s gentle grinding gradually shifted to a more satisfactory bouncing and I grasped her slender waist and pulled it toward me with each thrust to increase the force and frequency of her movements. Her expression had become wanton and vacant again, and she slipped a small, pale hand between her own thighs to apply extra pressure where she needed it. The sight of her touching herself and whimpering softly while I was inside her pushed me to the very edge and I held out barely long enough to see her tip her head back during her own climax before I was lost in the throes of my own.
In the cooling afterglow where we lay side by side in bed, I looked over at her and saw her smiling up at the ceiling with her eyes closed. My own refractory period was pulling me toward unconsciousness with a demanding hormonal leash, but first I reached out to brush her hair away from her face. The alarm clock beyond her told me it was two in the morning.
“Stay the night,” I said to her, pulling her closer to me and wrapping my arms around her.
“Can’t,” she replied sleepily after snuggling into my chest affectionately, “Colombians at nine.”
“Stay for a while?” I asked.
She nodded. “Ok. For a while.”
20
Madison
Alexander’s promise to the contrary notwithstanding, I could still stand up. I could even walk. More than anything, it was when sitting down that I felt the little twinges the most, and I actually enjoyed the slight soreness. Like a good workout, it felt earned, and reminded me of Alexander every time I moved.
Sneaking out of his house in the early hours of the morning felt surprisingly illicit. It had been a long time since I’d done the walk of shame. For the first time, I caught sight of my hidden security team when a nondescript grey van followed me home at a discreet distance. I hoped whoever was in there had gotten some sleep.
I certainly didn’t get much. Black coffee and a long, refreshing shower helped me get ready for the day ahead. By the time I met my dad at the Clark and Jeffries offices in the predawn twilight, I felt put together and prepared in my skirt-suit and highest, most business-like pumps. There was only one problem.
“Mariana isn’t answering my texts,” I told him, frowning and rubbing my still-bandaged arms in worry, “she’s usually the one pestering me about arriving early.”
“Don’t worry Maddie,” my father reassured me, “She’ll be here soon. She’s probably just in the shower. We’ve got every detail of this mapped out. If she strolls in at eight fifty-five, it will still be fine.”
But six-thirty passed by, then seven, then seven-thirty. The sun came all the way up and there was still no peep from Mariana. I called her hotel room, her mobile, her Skype. Nothing. We’d planned on going through the strategy with the Colombians this morning. I began to get genuinely worried.
This was not like Mariana at all. Despite my father’s easy attitude, I knew that Mariana would never feel comfortable showing up on time. She didn’t believe in on-time; she believed in early.
When I’d picked her up at the airport on Saturday morning, we’d discussed both Alexander and the deal, but neither in great detail. I’d been really worked up about being blackmailed into going out with Alexander. She’d had an entire five-page talking points document that we hadn’t even gotten to.
“Remember Madison,” she’d told me as I drove her to the hotel, “Colombian business culture is much more formal than you’re used to in the U.S. You need to remember to always use proper titles and greet each person from the most senior to the least. Look everyone in the eye and smile. Don’t be surprised if your hand gets tired f
rom all the handshakes, since you’ll be doing it a lot.”
“I read the memo you sent over to me on Colombian business etiquette,” I told her, grinning at her thoroughness, “You really think we’ll spend an entire day just getting to know each other?”
“In South America, relationships mean everything. It’s a more elegant way of living than the rush-rush American culture. Colombians don’t make assumptions about the people we work with, either good or bad. We make up our own minds. We want to know our business partners as people. To ascertain whether they are trustworthy, honorable, and well-mannered before doing any business.”
“And the thing about them never being on time?”
“It’s just a different perspective. The Colombians will be late, and that’s their prerogative as guests. They can be as late as they want, but it’s our job as gracious hosts to have everything ready whether they show up three hours early or three hours late. You should expect a workday from 8:00 to 18:00 with at least two hours for lunch in the middle. Then an additional four hours for dinner.”
If it were so important that we be prepared, why then would Mariana be late this morning? I texted her again. My phone said she’d received it. Why wasn’t she replying?
I looked back through my texts to her. She’d been frantic yesterday after the explosion. When she’d come to visit me in the hospital, she’d been crying her eyes out like it was her fault. The last thing I’d texted her was about the Chacón brothers and my conversation with the FBI. It made no sense that she’d suddenly close herself off.
By the time Alexander showed up with his father, his cousins Nathan and David Breyer, and Senator Ellis, I was nearly frantic. The five of them looked business-like and prepared, but none of them understood Colombian business culture. We were all depending on Mariana to get us through this first day. My father and I dumped them in the nicest conference room with Mariana’s memo on etiquette.
Bleeding Heart Page 11