Violet In Lace

by Vivienne Hunt

  Justin growled in her ear. “My little muse, my sexy, slutty little muse, do you need a good fucking?”

  His dirty talk was turning her on. She clenched her pussy together. She was already wet for him.

  She nodded.

  She stripped off her clothes. She fingered the folds of her pussy, opening her sex for him.

  Violet screamed out his name while she adjusted to the girth of his cock as he entered her with a single thrust. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head when he reached around to grab her tits and pull on her nipples as he mercilessly fucked her from behind.

  Her orgasm hit her like a ton of bricks. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled over her. She clenched the walls of her sex around his cock. That was all it took to push him over the edge. She continued to milk his cock as he pumped his seed into her. She felt alive with Justin, and she never wanted the feeling to end.

  They lay there on the steps, catching their breath.

  “Food, then more,” Justin said deviously.

  Violet laughed. This was exactly what she needed. He was exactly what she needed.

  “Food, then more,” she agreed greedily.

  Justin impressed her with his culinary prowess in the kitchen. He refused to let her touch a thing, nor did he let her get fully dressed either. She stood propped up against the kitchen island with her shirt unbuttoned, braless with her breasts proudly on show, her pussy lips still red, fat, and wet from their fucking. While he cooked and sipped on a glass of German Riesling, occasionally he would come over to her and lick her nipples or dip a finger into her sex and suck his finger clean, all while shirtless in just his boxer briefs. She had never cooked seminude in the kitchen before. Visions of him eating her pussy while she lay stretched out over the counter played in her head.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked. His eyes were still filled with desire.

  “I’m thinking that I could get used to this.” She opened her shirt a little more, teasing him while she rolled a thick nipple between her fingers.

  He groaned. His hardness was evident. “Food, then more,” he reminded her between promising kisses.

  They sat next to each other and ate dinner while occasionally rubbing their legs and feet up against the other. The food was incredible. Justin had whipped up a vegetable stir-fry with seasoned shrimp and rice. Violet savored every bite. She couldn’t remember the last time she - or anybody, for that matter - had cooked a proper meal in her kitchen. It felt good, no, more than good. As if reading her mind, Justin wove his fingers between hers in contentment.

  Their bellies satiated, he turned, whispering in her ear, “I’m going to go upstairs, find your tub, and draw a bath.”

  “But the dishes . . . we should clean up. . . .” Violet started to clear the table, but Justin stopped her.

  “Fuck the dishes. Go upstairs. You are joining me for a bath. It’s time for ‘more,’” he growled in her ear and then nipped at her neck. His voice sent vibrations straight to her clit. No other man had ever talked to her like that. He was demanding, yet somehow she knew that she was safe with him. His use of control tempered by his feelings for her only further turned her on.

  Upstairs, she took her shirt off, let her hair down, and lit a few candles while Justin filled the tub with warm water and bubbles. When it was ready, she sank down, moaning in delight, until she was fully submerged. Justin climbed in behind her, letting his arms rest on the edge of the porcelain while she nestled against his chest. For a while neither of them said a word, enjoying the silence while the steam filled the room. Violet sighed, content to live in the moment and just be.

  Eventually Justin’s hands started to wander. He began by massaging her breasts and tweaking her nipples. Her breathing quickened as his hand wandered farther down her body until it found her mound. He parted her lips with his fingers as he slowly started to put pressure on her clit, rubbing tiny circles on top of it.

  Violet widened the splay of her legs to give him more access as she gripped the sides of the tub. He continued to play with her while his other hand sought out one of her nipples, which he rolled between his fingers. His hard cock was sliding up and down the crack of her ass while he continued to pleasure her.

  “You do not come until I tell you to come. Do you understand?” His breath was moist and hot upon her skin.

  “Yesss . . . I . . . understand . . . ,” she hissed through gritted teeth. He was torturing her.

  Slow. Steamy. Torture.

  The fire was building again from the tips of her toes as he expertly worked her clit. She didn’t know how much longer she would last.

  “Please, Justin . . . please,” she whimpered, begging him for release.

  “Not yet, little muse. My sexy slut needs to work for it.” His voice was deliciously dark.

  “Please, baby . . . baby,” she pleaded, panting now.

  He clamped his fingers down hard on her nipple and her engorged clit at the same time. “Come,” he commanded.

  Violet let loose a guttural scream as she quaked with pleasure. Justin was relentless, continuing to massage her clit through her spasms while sucking on the curve of her neck.

  “No more,” she implored her senses overloaded, “no more.”

  He released his grip on her, cradling her into his arms. “There will always be more, my sweet Violet,” he whispered into her ear possessively, “because I have no intentions of letting you go.”

  She cooed at the sound of his words, overwhelmed with a deep-seated need to please him. She didn’t want to let him go, either.

  They rose from the bath, Violet still basking in the glow of her orgasm while Justin dried off every inch of her body with a fluffy blue towel. He led her into the bedroom, slowly brought her to her knees, and put her hands behind her back. “Stay here, my little muse.”

  Doing as she was told, she waited while he opened her closet and searched for something. Finally, he produced a silk scarf. Coming over to her, he knelt behind her and tied her wrists together all the while delicately kissing her neck and back. When he was finished, he stood up and came around to her front.

  “Suck,” he commanded her, the head of his cock purplish in color as it peaked out from its foreskin cover.

  Violet stretched up, covering her mouth over his dick and using her tongue, letting it swirl around its tip. Justin’s sounds of approval fueled her to go on.

  He placed his hands on the back of her head, urging her to take more of him into her mouth.

  “Deeper, my slut, deeper.”

  Wanting to please him, and filled with desire, she flattened her tongue, taking more of him down her throat. Only when she bottomed out — her nose touching the base of his cock — did he release her, allowing her to breathe. She gulped for air.

  “Again,” he demanded.

  She repeated the process, and they fell into a rhythm as she deep-throated his cock while he fucked her mouth. Then she felt his balls tighten as he exploded in her mouth, shooting ropes of cum down her throat. She milked the rest of his cum from his cock, licking him clean. The look of lustful satisfaction on his face told her that he was more than content.

  He untied her wrists and brought her over to the bed, pulling back the sheets. She climbed in, snuggling into his arms as they settled into her bed.

  He fell asleep before she did. For a while she just listened to the rhythm of his breathing and took comfort in the steady beating of his heart as she felt it throb against her cheek resting on his chest. Her eyes wandered around her bedroom before her own exhaustion took her. She yawned. She may not have a house to live in, in a couple of weeks, but she had Justin. Right now that was all that mattered.

  Chapter Ten

  Justin

  “Thanks, Anthony. I appreciate you taking the time. Uh-huh. Yes, it’s a relief to know there are options. Okay, I’ll be in touch.” Justin ended his phone call, resting his chin on the tips of his fingers. Anthony Regimain was one of the family’s lawyers who had ties in the real es
tate industry. He had spent the morning relaying to Anthony all the information that Russell had given him pertaining to Violet’s divorce and the town house in the hopes of coming up with a solution that wouldn’t leave Violet homeless. Anthony was a brilliant man, and an even more brilliant lawyer, who had been on retainer with the Averys since Justin was a teenager. If there was anyone who could find a solution, it was Regimain. Justin had every confidence that the man would come through for him.

  He eyed Violet’s empty desk. He had given her the morning off to meet with a moving company that owned a local climate-controlled storage facility in Marietta. It was the best option for her belongings.

  You could move her into your place.

  He sighed. He knew how he felt — he had fallen hard and fast for her. He wanted to take things to the next level. However, he was afraid she would feel that they were moving way too quickly — which they were — but he just couldn’t stop himself, nor did he care to. They fit together like a glove — in and out of the bedroom. There was no doubt in his mind that this was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, but did she feel the same way? He knew their age difference was a delicate subject, and she wasn’t even officially divorced yet, and he was still her boss.

  Justin rubbed his hands over his face. He hated how “life stuff” sometimes just got in the way of actually living life.

  “Boss Man, you’re not going to like this.” Russell climbed the steps and walked over to his desk, handing him what appeared to be the front page of some tabloid newspaper. Russell was rarely an austere, but now his face was nothing but serious.

  What the hell was going on?

  Justin took the tabloid paper from Russell. Stamped across the front page in big red letters were the words: “Avery’s At It Again. This Time He’s Bangin’ The Help.”. Below the headline was a shocking picture of Justin fucking Violet from behind, in front of the window in the living room of his condo, with their private parts blocked out with big black marker lines. The subtitle below the picture read: “Seasoned Chubby Honey Doesn’t Disappoint.”

  Sweet Jesus.

  He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know what to do. He just continued to sit there at his desk like time was standing still, his hands still clutching the paper.

  “Boss? Justin?” Russell asked quietly while snapping his fingers in front of his face. Russell never said his name.

  Suddenly his mind went into overdrive. He thought he had left the paparazzi back in New York. Who the hell had followed him to Atlanta? He ripped opened the tabloid to find the rest of the article. There was a blow-by-blow description of their lovemaking. It even mentioned Violet by name and his boutique. Eventually, he found what he was searching for. In small print at the end of the article, it made mention of a local source with “personal ties” to Violet, who was concerned about her getting caught up with the wrong guy. Justin’s mind clicked away. Russell and Shawn obviously knew about his relationship with Violet, but from the expression on Russell’s face, he would have never betrayed him, nor could he fathom that Shawn would pull such a stunt. No, this was personal. This was vicious. This was . . .

  Son of a bitch.

  Chad.

  “I’m going to kill him.” Justin leapt up from his desk while balling up the newspaper and throwing it in the trash. “I’m going to find Chad, and I am going to beat him to a bloody pulp!” It had been a while since he had felt rage like that. It didn’t suit him.

  Russell covered his mouth and uttered, “oh my God.”

  Justin’s hands were trembling he was so angry. “Russell, I need you to do something for me.”

  “Anything, Justin, whatever you want.”

  He knew he could count on him.

  “Drive up to Marietta. Violet’s at a public storage unit there; the address is on her desk. Tell her what’s happened, and keep her out of the boutique until things settle down. Can you put her up at your place? If the paparazzi know where I live, then I am betting they know where she does as well. Keep her out of the public eye. Can you do that?”

  “Absolutely, of course, but paparazzi, here in Atlanta?” Russell’s voice was filled with disbelief.

  “Oh, believe it. Those bastards will cross whole continents if there’s some smut they can find to smear across their front page. They are relentless. Remember what happened to Princess Diana?” Justin’s cell was already ringing. He didn’t recognize the number. He knew better than to answer it.

  “Are you sure we should tell Violet?” Russell had his cell phone out. “I need to call Dylan.”

  “There’s no keeping it from her. Not this. It’s too big. Once the other tabloids catch wind of this, there’s no stopping the shitstorm that will follow. I’m going to slip out the back door. There are a few things I need to take care of.” He grabbed some files from his desk and started to walk towards a utility door on the back wall, which opened to a second stairwell that led to the street.

  “Dylan, baby, do you remember those extra vacation days you were hoarding from last year? Cash ’em in, baby. Today. We’ve got a Code Red emergency! I’ll pick you up at work.”

  Justin caught Russell’s eye before he left. His designer mouthed to him good luck before continuing to work out more details with Dylan.

  Justin left Chenille, heading towards the parking garage. It was a Code Red all right. He got in his car, slammed the door, and let out a rage-fueled scream as he banged on the steering wheel.

  I’m so sorry, Violet.

  He closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down enough to drive his car. He didn’t have much time. Starting the engine and throwing the car into drive, he peeled out of the parking garage. Chad Hedges was a dead man.

  It wasn’t hard to find him. Justin briefly swung by his condo first; by some stroke of luck, Tessie was working the security desk. She was one of the more talkative guards who knew most of the residents in the building. He flashed her one of his signature smiles as he concocted some bullshit story about some time-sensitive material that he needed to get to Mr. Hedges, and he couldn’t seem to reach him on his cell. It helped that he was a bit sweaty and out of breath.

  Tessie was a sweetheart. She mentioned a few restaurants on the Midtown strip that Chad made references to, places he liked to go when meeting fancy clients that he wanted to impress. Justin could have kissed her. Instead he told her how much of a doll she was and that the next time she stopped by Chenille, he would give her a discount on her next purchase. Tessie was overjoyed. She was a loyal Chenille patron who loved dressing up for her husband, or so he had been told by Chloe after Tessie had left the boutique with shopping bags in both hands right before Valentine’s Day.

  Back in his car, he headed to Midtown and found a parking space on a side street. Walking the strip, he finally found his target at the third restaurant on Tessie’s list. Through the window, he could see Chad sitting near the bar at a high-top table with two other suits. They were having a midday drink and laughing.

  Justin entered the restaurant, swooped down upon the table, and punched Chad square in the face. He knocked the prick clear off his stool and right onto the floor.

  The suits at the table jumped off their seats, shouting at Justin. The entire establishment came to a standstill.

  Chad wobbled up onto his feet, slapping one of the guy’s hands away in an offer to help him up. His nose was bleeding. He took out his handkerchief from his suit pocket, bringing it up to his face. “You’re done now, asshole. I’ll have you on assault before the day is finished.” The prick’s eyes were starting to water.

  “I’ll get you for slander, defamation of character,” Justin said, his voice was low and menacing, “and I’m just getting started . . . asshole.”

  “You can’t prove a damn thing,” Chad countered back. Justin could tell that Chad wasn’t prepared for him to have any grasp of the law.

  “Just the fact that you know what I’m talking about” — he leaned in towards Chad, and one of the sui
ts came in between them — “tells me that you’re already guilty.” He pushed the suit off of him and backed up, pointing at Chad. “I’ve got a whole team of lawyers who would love nothing more than to devour your piss-ass little firm.”

  He was going to leave, but Chad was apparently hell-bent on having the last word. “I hope that fat bitch is worth it.”

  Justin swung around and punched Chad in the face again. This time a couple of the waiters came towards him. He held his hands up, signaling he was done, while walking backwards towards the exit. Chad was lying on the floor, wailing that his nose was broken. Justin turned, smiling. It was a small victory that gave him only the briefest moment of satisfaction. This was far from over.

  He started to head back to his car when his cell phone rang. The screen read Joanna Avery.

  Shit. News travels fast.

  There was no avoiding her. He would have to talk now or confront her later; either way, the conversation was inevitable.

  “Hello, Mother,” he said as he answered the call. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Violet

  Violet was sitting on the floor of Russell and Dylan’s apartment, eating ice cream straight from the container while binge-watching back-to-back episodes of Shadow Descending — some vampire/werewolf series that was the latest craze on Netflix.

  She had on a pair of tacky pajamas from Walmart that had little cartoon fruit printed all over them. It was the best she could do, considering that she couldn’t even get within fifty yards of her town house. The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind. It was almost too surreal to believe. When Russell and Dylan had showed up in Marietta, her first thoughts were that someone had died. After they broke the news to her of what was going on, she felt like she could have died. She demanded to see the tabloid, which Russell begrudgingly stopped to pick up along the way, once they ditched her car in favor of a rental from a local company for the rest of the week. Russell drove the rental with Violet in the passenger seat, while Dylan followed behind them in Russell’s car.