Well, I’ll take that as a compliment. I like being wild… as long as he’s with me.
A violent scream climbs up my throat and I purse my lips, throwing my head back against the wall as I order my brain to keep my mouth shut. Even so, I can’t stop a moan from escaping into the cool air of the room, my body burning up with orgasmic violence.
I tremble, shiver and twitch, all of me surrendering to him.
“Good,” he whispers against my ear, his lips seductively brushing against my skin. “Now we can get started.”
Start? Oh, Jesus.
I’ve already came God knows how many times and only now he’s talking about starting? I don’t know if I can actually survive this. Has anyone ever died from having too many orgasms?
Oh, well, that wouldn’t be such a bad way to go. I mean, everyone has to die; if I have to go, why not have it happen while Palmer’s inside of me?
He pulls back, my skin prickling as I feel his cock sliding out, and puts me down. With a grin on his lips, he places his hands on my waist and turns me around. I place my hands against the wall, at shoulder height, and jut my ass back at him.
His hands run down my side, and he moves them over the curve of my ass, grabbing my cheeks hard. He presses his body against mine, the warmness of his skin on mine. With his cock firmly pressed between my cheeks, I start rocking my body, grinding against his cock.
I exhale sharply, ready for what’s to come; I reach for his cock and, grabbing it, push it down. Placing the tip against my innermost folds, I let go of it and place my hand back on the wall.
He eases into me gently, my pussy resting against the tip of his erect cock. As he moves, I have to grit my teeth as he pierces me, my inner walls once again accommodating his massiveness.
When he’s in me to the hilt, he starts to move with a slow and gently rhythm. But I don’t want to move slowly; I want to go fast. I want to go furious.
I start jutting my ass back, moving my hips with a ferocity I didn’t know I had in me.
Fucking me hard, he places his hands on my hips and pulls me in as he thrusts, my mind almost destroyed by the intensity of his thrusts. My back arches as I succumb to his thrusts, my body sandwiched between a perfect man and a slab of concrete, with no escape possible.
And, really, why would I want an escape? He should be the one wondering about escaping, because I’m not letting him go anywhere—at least until my body is utterly and completely spent, that is.
Holding me against the wall, his rhythm starts to grow at a mind-bending pace, his cock hitting me so fast that I can already feel the blood inside my veins starting to boil.
I moan through gritted teeth, closing my eyes as all existence starts to fade away. I can’t see or hear; I can only feel. The whole universe seems focused on the place where our bodies meet and fuse, his cock pounding my pussy without a single hint of mercy.
I come once again, my body completely electrified. I rest my forehead against the wall, hitting it repeatedly as I try to cope with the raging joy that courses through me. It’s perfection, one devoid of any kind of mental brakes or whatsoever.
Just like that I let a loud moan tumble out from my lips. I almost don’t even care if anyone hears us.
He pulls his cock out and places his lips against my neck, kissing me tenderly. Then, he makes me turn on my heels, my back against the wall. My hands go to his chest and, clawing at his pectorals, I smile mischievously.
My hands go to his shoulders and I push him back, motioning toward the bed. He doesn’t complain as I guide him there, making him sit as I look upon him with hungry sinful eyes.
He licks his lips, his eyes never leaving mine, and I climb on top of him, my legs open wide as I sit on his lap. My hands slide down his chest and, once again, his cock is in my hands.
Guiding his thick member home, I let it pierce me like a spear, his shaft going in easily. I don’t give him time to process what’s about to happen; I simply start rocking my body against his, my ass slapping his legs as I go back and forth.
I move wildly, still out of control, and close my eyes as he reaches for my breasts, grabbing them eagerly as I fuck him in abandonment.
I ride him hard, and I ride him fast, punishing his cock with all my might. I feel drops of sweat pooling on my forehead, but these only make me go faster. My muscles are already aching, but I don’t care—I’m a woman on a mission, and I won’t be denied.
I grin as I feel sweat dripping down my back, down my face and into my lips, the salty taste of it coating my tongue.
Suddenly, I get up in a rush and, before he can do anything, I turn my back to him and ease myself down on his cock once again. His hands go down my back to my ass, and he slaps my cheeks hard as I start riding him in a reverse position.
My ass bounces up and down, slapping his body again as I try to survive the onslaught of pleasure that rages through me like a wildfire.
If anyone told me the world would end tomorrow, and that this would be the last time I’d be with anyone… Well, I can say with confidence that I wouldn’t be able to do any better. I’m giving my all here.
I clench my jaw, breathing through my nose as my muscles start to spasm. I don’t even feel the need to scream anymore—my body does all the talking now, my muscles jerking as I come once more.
I might be coming, but I’m too far gone to stop—I keep riding him violently, my ass bouncing up and down as his cock ravages me. Somehow, though, he still manages to resist my assault.
But not for long, I can guarantee you.
Standing up once more, I tower over him like a Queen. He looks at me with a grin on his face, sweat on his forehead, and I grab his hand. I motion for him to lie down on the mattress, and that’s exactly what he does.
Guided by instinct, I immediately plant each foot on the side of his thighs. I squat down, grabbing his cock and pointing it straight up. I brush it against my folds, his tips rubbing against all of my length, and only then do I go lower
I go as slow as I can, his shaft gently lodging itself inside of me. Then I start to jump and down over his cock, moving as fast as I can and pushing through my exhausted muscles.
I might be tired; I might be spent, but I’m not a quitter. I will see this through.
It doesn’t take long.
Before I know it, his cock starts to spasm and I feel a warmth inside of me. He starts to cum, his semen gushing inside of my pussy like a fountain, filling me to the brink and dripping down his cock. It goes on for what seems like forever, an endless torrent of thick cum inundating me as I finally ease myself down and stop moving, allowing myself to savor the sweet ecstasy that courses through us both.
Still coming, he hooks his fingers on my waist and thrusts upwards, I let out a surprised moan as the tip of his cock goes as deep as possible, yanking one final orgasm out of my system. I lean forward, grabbing his ankles as flames of indescribable pleasure crash against my body and turn my mind into ashes.
I roll to the side, completely spent, and smile as I feel thick strands of cum dripping out of my pussy and down my legs. I hear him moving, but I don’t even open my eyes—he kisses me then, his lips brushing against mine with a gentleness that contrasts with the way we fucked.
Because there was nothing gently about these last minutes—it was pure and unbridled fucking.
And God, I loved every single second of it.
I lie down next to him, my eyes closed as I try to catch my breath. After a while, I finally open my eyes and look up at the ceiling. How many times did I stay awake in this same bedroom, wondering about my future through the long hours of the night?
And now here I am, with a man by my side.
A man I’m falling in love with.
Nicole
I toss the tomato chunks into a bowl, and then I place a cucumber on the cutting board and slice it into thin medallions. Looking at this cucumber, I can't help but think about Palmer's huge, thick… no, stop that Nicole, get your head out of the gutter.
I need to focus on the restaurant... the food… my staff... staying afloat.
I can't get distracted. Not now.
Because, if I don’t focus, then I’ll end up thinking about him. Because if I'm being honest with myself, I'm falling for Palmer.
There, I said it. I'm falling for that man.
I can't go a single minute without him being in some corner of my mind—his smile, his touch, something funny he said, the way he makes me feel, or even the way he cooks his food.
It's ridiculous. Palmer's presence in this city might mean the end of my restaurant, but somehow, that doesn't stop me from falling for him.
He could literally put me out of business, and every day I see the signs—raising rents, fancy cars, a new clientele—but as each day goes by, I want him more.
How is that even possible?
The good seems to outweigh the bad.
I look up at the ceiling and give a silent apology to my grandmother. I'm sure she's rolling over in her grave right now.
I'm sorry, nana. I feel like I'm letting you down. You gave me my love for cooking and you believed in me. You envisioned me going far, and here I am, throwing it way for a man that I'm falling head over heels for.
But this man has so many positives.
He's incredible with my family, and they love him. He's charming, and funny, and gracious—and he had my mom and dad in tears with laughter. He even helped peel potatoes, of all things.
He completely won them over.
"OUCH!" I hiss, looking down at my finger. I sliced right into it, and a red bloom appears on the tip.
I run over to the sink and hold the cut under cold, running water. At least it's not deep enough to warrant stitches. I reach for a band aid and wrap it tightly around my finger. Then, for extra precaution, I place a latex glove over it.
"That looks deep," a voice says from behind me, and I jump. Literally, it feels like my feet have come five inches off the ground.
I swing round to see who it is, and find the pale face of Percy Whitman.
How long has he been standing there? Was he there long enough to hear me pour my heart out to my dead grandmother?
"You scared me," I say. "I didn't expect to see you back here."
"I have some great news," he says beaming. He's bouncing on the balls of his feet; he's so excited.
"I could use some good news today," I say, looking around the restaurant and still nursing my finger. "Some days, it feels like I'm drowning here."
"Remember The Pearl on Park restaurant that we talked about? And how you've been so worried about it?"
How could I not? But Percy doesn't know this. No one knows that Palmer and I have been spending time together.
He could never understand how much Palmer and his restaurant has been on my mind.
I shrug, trying to play it casual. I can't let Percy read my emotions. "Sure, what about it?"
"I've just learned that Chef Palmer's investors are backing out after all of the bad reviews he's received."
"Wait, what? You mean Palmer's restaurants are in trouble?" I say.
"You got it—exciting, right? Now you don't have to worry about your future in this city," Percy says, clapping his hands together.
My heart sinks, and my stomach spins the same somersaults I spun as an 8 year old in gymnastics class.
"You really think he's going to shut down?"
"It's a good possibility that he'll have to close The Pearl on Park, from what I can tell. That's the word on the street anyways."
"Wow, that's, uh—"
"That's big news, I know," Percy says, cutting me off. "I was so excited that I had to come over right away and let you know."
"I don't even know what to say."
"I know… you're too excited for words," Percy smiles, petting my arm. There's something about his touch that makes me recoil.
He thinks he's doing me a favor by writing all of these terrible reviews, and helping to shut Palmer down, but now I just feel sick.
"I have to run," he says, giving me another pat on the arm. "But we'll talk again soon."
I watch as he walks out of the restaurant and I feel dizzy; my entire body is churning with emotions.
I'm so conflicted about this whole thing. And now, I feel guilty.
I'm the reason why Percy went after Palmer in the first place. And this guilt feels like a shadow that's following me and pressing on my shoulders. Just knowing that I've hurt Palmer is a huge, black weight on my conscience.
This isn't who I am. I can't let this happen.
I'll never be able to live with myself if Palmer loses his restaurant. And the fact that he didn't tell me… must mean he's been carrying the weight of this knowledge and didn't want to burden me with it.
I have to fix this. I have to find Palmer and explain my guilt to him.
He may hate me, and he may never forgive me… but I have to do it, even if it means losing the best man I've ever had.
But maybe I can convince Percy to help me.
Love’s more important than business, right?
Palmer
"The Pearl on Park is more than just a restaurant," I say. "It's a destination. It's innovative.
“It elevates cuisine, and gives diners an experience that they can keep for a lifetime. This is a restaurant that elevates the culinary world of New York City."
"Some experience that's been," one investor says under his breath, rolling his eyes.
The restaurant is closed today, and my investors and I are sitting in the dining room. They called this meeting last minute, and I knew it wasn't going to be an easy conversation.
It's bad enough that I'm losing money by being closed today, but now I'm forced to listen to a group of skittish investors tell me that my food sucks and doesn't have a future. That's a tough pill to swallow.
"We just don't see it," one man says, shaking his head and scratching his short-cropped beard. "Nothing's adding up."
"The reviews of your food are some of the worst we've ever seen, and that's saying something," another man says. His mid-section is so large that he's using it as a shelf for his hands. "The critic goes so far as to say that an inexperienced child could do cuisine better than you can."
"I can explain," I say.
"There's no need," he says. "We've seen enough. The reviews make it crystal clear."
"Look, I have the money," I say. "I just don't have the liquidity to sustain this new venture without your backing."
"We understand where you're coming from. We really do. And we pride ourselves on taking risks," one man says.
He's trying to sound empathetic but instead it comes off feeling patronizing. "We root for the underdog and fund projects that many banks wouldn't touch within a 10-foot pole. But this is a risk we can't take. It would be suicide. If the food was any good—"
"The food is good," I say, cutting him off. "Those reviews are bullshit. A man who has a personal vendetta against me wrote them.
“I don't know why, or where that's stemming from, or what his issue is, but it's true. Let me prove it to you. I'll cook for you right now—you can taste the food I make here at the Pearl—here, I'll fire up the grill, and I'll share the menu with you and—"
"Mr. Palmer, I'm sorry, but this is non-negotiable," the bearded man says. "We've already made our decision. Save your cooking for another time."
I nod my head. I'm trying to keep my cool, but I'm so frustrated that I think I could flip over every table in this dining room, and Hulk every chair. I could rip down the curtains and smash every plate.
My frustration is boiling over, and it's becoming increasingly difficult to remain calm.
"Thank you for your time," I say, once I know this conversation is over. I did everything I could, but even that wasn't enough. "I'll show you men out."
I watch as each of them push their chairs away from the table, and shuffle their feet to the front door. I unlock the door, walk them step out into the afternoon sun, and wa
lk as they disappear into a nameless sea of businessmen and cars and taxis.
I lock the door behind them and then turn to look at my restaurant.
The Pearl was supposed to be my crowning achievement in life. It was supposed to be my legacy. I've planned, dreamed, and prepared for this day my entire life.
But without investors, I'll have to close this flagship restaurant. There's no way around it.
How the fuck did things get this bad? How could I let this happen?
It feels like I've hit rock bottom.
I walk over to the bar and grab a bottle of Glendronach 18. People ask me what my favorite whiskey is—and that's a tough question to answer because it varies on my mood, but this bottle right here is always in my top five.
Happy, sad, mad, glad—whatever—you name it, and this whiskey works.
I grab a glass, and pour an amber ribbon of the liquid in. I take a sip and let the liquor burn a hot trail down my throat. And then the flavors hit me—sweet sherry, leather, tobacco, and even polished wood dance on my tongue.
I stare at the bottle's label. There's an idyllic sketch of what must presumably be the Scottish countryside. And as I stare at this label, it hits me.
At least I still have Nicole.
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth as I remember her.
With her, I can get through this. I can get through anything.
In fact, I can picture sitting on a grassy hill, in the countryside with Nicole … just like the one on this whiskey bottle.
Just then, I hear a rapid knock on the door. I turn and realize my day just got better.
It's Nicole.
I can't believe she's here. She's wearing a cotton dress that is getting kicked up by the wind, and her hair is dancing about her shoulder.
I walk over and open the door.
"I'm so glad you're here," she says. "I saw you weren't open. I was worried. And I just wanted to—"
"Shh," I say, placing a finger on her lips. "Less talking." I wrap my arms around her delicate body in a full embrace and lift her off her feet. I pull her into the restaurant and lock the door behind us, and then, I lean down and bring my lips to hers.
The Other Brother_A Billionaire Hangover Romance Page 110