by Portia Moore
“Let me see them,” he says sternly, and I drop my hands, my breasts trembling as I let my hands fall to my sides. Without a word, he undoes his belt and fly, pulling his zipper down and reaching inside to pull out his long, thick erection. “Come here,” he demands, and I obey, stepping forward to straddle him on the leather seat, the tip of him brushing against the smooth, damp satin of my panties.
He reaches up, burying his hands in my thick blonde hair and pulling my mouth down to his. His tongue plunges into my mouth, one of his hands going to my breast, kneading it and pinching the nipple as I gasp, my hands gripping his shoulders as I kiss him back, moaning with need. I want him inside of me. I’m on the verge of reaching down and sliding my panties aside myself, but I know he wants me to wait.
It’s only moments before he does just that, and I feel his hot, pulsing flesh against my own opening, pressing inside ever so slightly as I reach down and begin to unbutton his shirt, my hands spreading the fabric apart and running over the smooth, muscled expanse of his chest, fingers tangling in the fine hair there as he reaches down, grabs my hips, and with one decisive movement, pulls me down hard onto him as he thrusts upwards.
“Ride me,” he instructs, his eyes fixed on mine. I begin to move my hips obediently, my orgasm already close as I grind myself down on him, bracing my hands against his chest. I can feel the plane straightening out, the knowledge that we are 36,000 feet up in the air, flying through the sky as I fuck him both dizzying and exhilarating at the same time. I look down at him, seeing the glazed desire in his eyes, hearing his groans as I rock my hips, sliding him in and out of me at a quick, even pace, and feel a sudden sense of power. I’m doing this. He’s rock hard, throbbing, and on the verge of orgasm because of me. The expression on his face and the rough grip of his hands and the way he’s drinking in the sight of my body is all because of me. I sit up a little straighter, giving him a better view of my bare breasts, my hips swathed in lace and satin, and I rock down on him, feeling the orgasm pulse out from the depths of my belly, through my thighs and up through my body, and I throw my head back, nails digging into his chest as I cry out, my hips moving at a frantic pace as I come so hard it’s almost painful.
In the next second I feel him grab the back of my head, dragging my mouth down to his, his hand hard on my hip, pulling me down onto his lap. I feel the vibrations of his moans against my mouth, feel him throb inside of me, quivering against me as his own orgasm washes over him.
It’s a moment before I can even move, let alone get up. He gently disengages me from him, giving me a soft kiss. “Your things are in the bag, if you want to get comfortable,” he says gently. “We’ll be home soon.”
Home. I can’t help but feel unsettled at the thought, wondering if what has just happened between us will be the last time.
I’m so relieved that—when after getting dropped off by Vincent’s driver—neither Mallory nor Dena are home.
I go to my room, drop the duffel bag of clothes in my closet, cognizant of how many thousands of dollars’ worth of clothes, shoes, and jewelry are contained inside, and fall into bed. I have only a moment to think of how Vincent kissed me goodbye without a word about the next time he would see me before I fall asleep, exhausted from the craziness of the last few days.
I know I can’t avoid my roommates forever, though. Sure enough, when I get up late the next morning—or technically afternoon—my hair a frizzy mess of slept-on curls, Mallory is sitting at the kitchen table, a sandwich and chips on a plate in front of her.
“Soooo,” she squeals, barely disguising her urgent need to know more. “Spit it out! I want to know everything.”
I make her wait, fixing myself a ham and cheese sandwich from the fridge and piling a handful of chips on the plate before joining her at the table. “Well,” I begin slowly, “after I got off of the phone with you…he asked me to stay with him a little while longer. He said he’d take me out that night. He had to go to some meetings, but he sent a hairstylist over with outfits to choose from, and I basically got made over. And then he took me to his club…”
I tell Mallory the whole story, from start to finish, as she stares at me with wide, unbelieving eyes. “So now what?” she asks when I finish. “When do you see him again? I can’t believe he bought you Louboutins!”
“We probably shouldn’t tell Dena about that part.” The last thing I want is for Dena, who can’t be trusted with our rent money, to know that there are designer dresses, shoes, and Tiffany jewelry in my closet.
“Yeah, of course,” she agrees enthusiastically. “Are you going back to work tonight?”
“I’m on the schedule tomorrow,” I say. “How mad was Benny?”
Mallory shrugs. “He asked about you. He seemed more anxious than anything, really.”
I narrow my eyes. “I wonder what Vincent said to him…” I mutter nervously, and Mallory shoots me a questioning look.
“Vincent called you out?” she asks curiously.
“Sort of. He actually knew where I worked, and I guess he and Benny are business associates…” I trail off, Mallory’s eyes going wider.
“You’re kidding. What does a guy like Benny have in common with your Prince Charming?” She chuckles.
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” I admit quietly. Mallory seeing my nervousness and gently massages my shoulder.
“Don’t overthink it, Rain. It’s Chicago. You know how things work here,” she says with a shrug. Except I don’t know how things work here, or what she really means, but I just decide to fill the silence with a bite of my sandwich.
A few minutes later my phone rings, and I have to calm down my excitement when I see that it’s Vincent.
“Hello, my little flower.” Vincent’s voice comes over the line, smooth and silky. It sends a shiver down my spine. “How are you?”
“Good, now that I’ve had a nap and a shower.”
“Mm, now you in the shower is something I’d like to have seen.”
“You’ve seen it before.” I drop my voice
“I could never see it enough,” he answers without hesitation. “Poppy, I have something for you...”
“Vincent, I think you’ve treated me enough for a while.”
“Nonsense.” He pushes my protests away like I knew he would. “You deserve the world, Poppy. And I can give it to you. I have two new clubs opening this weekend, one in Los Angeles and one in Atlanta. Would you like to go with me? Don’t worry about work, before you make that excuse. I’ve taken care of it, and I’ll make sure your bills are covered.”
“Vincent…” I start to protest. What did he say to Benny, and how does he just expect me to be okay with this?
“If you’d rather stay home and go to your shift at the bar and have your breasts pawed at by horny fifty-year-old men…”
“Alright, Vincent, that was mean,” I say, my feelings slightly hurt.
“I just feel as if you’re arguing with me for no reason. What girl doesn’t want to be spoiled?”
“A girl who’s used to taking care of herself,” I remind him gently. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate all of this, it’s just everything is happening so fast.”
“Rain, I’m not one of the little boys you’re used to dealing with. I’m a man who knows what he wants. I don’t let time constraints dictate the things I want to do,” he says with a laugh, and I feel myself blush.
“I’ll take care of everything, just say yes.”
I bite my lip and let out a sigh.
How can I say no?
Rain Present Day
In the end, I can’t say no to Vincent. And I find myself visiting two more new cities in the same number of days—first the club opening in Los Angeles, and then the one in Atlanta. In LA, Vincent talked urgently in Japanese to a client just outside of the room as yet another stylist curled and sprayed and shellacked me to a shiny finish, and I donned yet another designer outfit—this one a painted-on black dress that plunged nearly to my navel, and YSL p
umps. Diamond chandelier earrings and a matching necklace that cascaded over the bare expanse of skin on my chest were my jewels for that night. Vincent took me to a sushi restaurant that was nothing like any sushi restaurant I’ve ever been to before—raw slices of fish that fell apart like butter in my mouth, rolls that were crisp and sweet and salty by turns…and where I tried sake for the first time. He introduced me to celebrities, and he and I danced and drank, and then before I knew it, we were back on the plane and heading to Atlanta.
What blew my mind more than anything was how proud he seemed to be to have me on his arm. I know I should balk at being paraded around and shown off like a shiny prize, but I never even imagined that I could be someone’s trophy. In Atlanta, Vincent took me out to yet another five-star restaurant, after his stylist made me up and poured me into a hot-pink bandage dress and nude heels that made me look like a Barbie doll. We went to the club, a disco-style affair, and I could see him preening with every man’s gaze that roved over my body, like a peacock strutting around the other males.
By the time we make it back to the jet, I am thoroughly exhausted. “Vincent…” I start to say, but he shushes me with a kiss.
“Poppy, I want you to come to my club downtown this weekend with your friends. I want to meet them, get their approval. Then you’ll see that I don’t mean any harm. I only want to take care of you, to treat you the way you deserve.”
“They have to work on Saturday nights,” I remind him.
“They’ll get the night off,” Vincent promises. “Poppy, do we always have to argue about these things?”
We go back and forth like this, as we always do. “We’ll see,” is as much as I relent. I’ll talk to Mallory and Dena when I got back. They’ll say no, that Saturday is the most coveted day to work, and they wouldn’t want to miss out on money like that.
The next morning, both of them are in the kitchen eating breakfast when I come down. Dena looks up immediately, grinning broadly. “So, I hear we’re invited to the most exclusive club in Chicago tonight. Courtesy of your fancy new boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” It sounds like a case of my protesting too much, even to my ears.
“God, you should have seen Benny’s face last night when Vincent called…and to give us Saturday off!” Dena laughs. “He looked like he was gonna shit a brick.”
“I really wish I knew what their deal was,” I mutter.
“I know,” Dena says. “Benny obviously owes him money. It’s totally obvious,” she says with a sly smile. I frown at her.
“Vincent isn’t a loan shark Dena, he’s a real estate investor,” I tell her, annoyed.
“Oh, and how exactly do you think he got the investment up Rain?” she asks, with a giggle. I roll my eyes at her.
“Hey, I’m not judging,” she says innocently. I bet she isn’t. Dena could care less where a guy makes his money from as long as it keeps her pockets full. But thinking Vincent could possibly be involved in that world makes my stomach uneasy.
“So, you guys don’t want to go?” I asked, feeling anxious.
“No,” Dena said firmly. “We definitely want to go.”
I glance at Mallory and see her hesitate briefly, but then she nods. “Of course, Rain, how could we say no? It’ll be so much fun.”
I wear the black dress that I’d worn on my first “date” with Vincent again, and loan Mallory the hot-pink bandage dress that I’d worn in Atlanta. I wonder briefly if Vincent will be upset that I loaned out a dress he bought for me…but he said it was mine, didn’t he? If it is, then I can do what I want with it.
I let Mallory do my hair and makeup again, and when we walk out of the bathroom into the hall, Dena is waiting for us.
I’ve never really seen Dena dressed up. I’ve seen her in the uniform we wear for work, in the low-cut jeans and barely-there tank tops she favors the rest of the time, and in hoodies and jeans when she’s coming off of a bender—but never dressed the way she is now. She’s poured herself into a dark red, impossibly short dress that isn’t much more than an assortment of straps and applied matching dark red lipstick. She’s wearing six-inch black strappy heels, and her thick dark hair is gleaming as it falls in waves down her back.
She looks phenomenal.
Dena catches my expression and laughs. “Don’t worry, Rain,” she says teasingly. “I’m sure Vincent’s eyes will be so full of you, he won’t even glance at me or Mallory.”
I’m sure that’s not the case because he’s a man and she’s a knockout but then I sadden at the idea of it all. If Dena wanted Vincent could she have him…the thought that I could easily be replaced by some other pretty, shiny toy just reinforces what I’ve been afraid of this whole time—that Vincent will grow tired of me and move on before long. But I remind myself that tonight isn’t that night.
The bouncer checks our names against the list, and lets us in without a word. The music is pounding, and the club packed already. Dena looks coolly unimpressed, but Mallory is looking around with wide eyes, taking in the latex-wearing cocktail waitresses, the flashing neon lights, the dry ice clouds around the bar.
I see Vincent walking out of a back room and stride towards him, Mallory following close behind me. Dena hangs back as she scans the room for possible conquests. It won’t be hard—every eye in the room is on her. Every eye, that is, except Vincent’s.
I shouldn’t have worried about him and Dena. His eyes are on me and only me. “I like the dress you chose,” he whispers in my ear as he embraces me, his lips brushing my cheek. “I remember the things I did to you in that dress.”
A shiver goes down my spine, and I let him kiss me; it’s a modest kiss, but one that promises much more later. I turn towards my friends and gesture. “Vincent, this is Dena Delarossa and Mallory Henson.”
He shakes each of their hands in turn, smiling broadly. “I’m charmed to meet you both.” He glances at me. “Poppy, please excuse me for just a moment. I need to finish my conversation, and then I’ll be back to your lovely companions.”
He drifts away, towards three men standing near the bar, and Mallory looks at me with her eyes narrowed. “Poppy? Is that what he calls you?”
I wave a hand, trying to look unconcerned. “It’s just his nickname for me, that’s all. It’s his favorite flower. Kind of sweet, isn’t it?”
“I mean…you have a name…” Mallory starts to say, but Dena elbows her sharply.
“You’ve caught a real big fish, Rain,” Dena says, and I think I hear a hint of admiration in her voice. “I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you.”
I’m not sure what to say to that. I didn’t think I had it in me, either.
“He seems really sincere,” Mallory says softly. “But I still think you should be careful. Men like him…they can have anyone they want.”
I pause for a second, wondering why she’s just said that to me.
“And I’m not good enough for him?” It comes out more sharply than I intend.
“No,” Mallory says hurriedly. “I think you’re too good for him. And I can’t help but thinking he’s trying to take advantage of you,” she says with a worried expression. I frown at her.
Why is she saying all of this now? She’s just met him and doesn’t know anything about him besides what I’ve told her, and Vincent’s been nothing but kind, sincere, and the best man I’ve ever had in my life.
Dena rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t mind him taking advantage of me.” I watch her as her eyes rake over Vincent as he begins to walk back in our direction. “Jesus, Mallory, take the stick out of your ass. Replace it with something more fun…”
“More drinks, ladies?” Vincent asks, thankfully cutting off what was turning into a tense conversation. “It’s all on the house. Only the best for my Poppy’s friends.”
Mallory cuts a sideways glance at me but accepts one of the drinks from the tray the nearby cocktail waitress brings. “This is amazing, Vincent,” Dena says sweetly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been any
where like this.”
“Maybe I should be working here instead of Funbags,” Dena hints, looking up at Vincent from under her lashes. “I look amazing in latex.”
I wait for Vincent to react somehow, to slide his gaze over her the way men always do with Dena, to return with some flirtatious remark. But he only smiles coolly. “Well, the next time we have open interviews, you should be sure to stop by.”
Dena looks slightly miffed but catches sight of a blond man in a fitted suit staring at her. “I think it’s time for me to try to catch a fish of my own,” she whispers in my ear before she glides away, her hips swinging with every step.
“What about you, Ms. Henson?” Vincent asks. “What do you think of the place?”
“It’s beautiful. Thank you very much for the invite,” Mallory responds politely with a smile.
“Poppy says you’re studying architecture. I’d love to hear your opinion on the structure?” Vincent asks her genuinely, and I see her previous stony smile soften a tad.
If there’s one thing Mallory can talk to anyone about, it’s her studies of her beloved architecture. It’s really astonishing how attentive he is listening to Mallory pour over her thoughts on the building and some of the new structures that are being raised in Chicago. Vincent seems to be knowledgeable enough to entertain her, and I watch them converse. I can see that she begins to soften to him.
There isn’t really any question, at the end of the night, whether I will go home to my apartment or to his penthouse, but since Dena left about an hour before with the blond she was grinding with on the floor all night, I feel bad that Mallory has to go home alone. But the way the liquor is pulsing through my veins and how Vincent’s subtle touches and him whispering in my ear everything he’s going to do to me the minute we’re alone, I can’t bring myself to be the night without him. Vincent, of course, offers for us to take Mallory home, and it makes my decision a lot easier to stay the night with him. When we arrive in front of our building, I let him know I’m going to walk Mallory to the door, and he and Mallory both say their goodbyes. When Mallory and I are alone as she pulls out her keys, she gives me an apologetic look.