With sexual tension rippling through the air, Hilton moved swiftly. He tugged off the cargo shorts, kicked them aside, and then crouched down.
Impatient and unwilling to wait another second, Milan sat up and grabbed his hand the moment his fingers touched the elastic band of his boxers. She caught a glimpse of his hard muscled thighs and her eyes lingered on his body—a work of art that demanded admiration. Briefly torn between stroking his quadriceps or his intimate manly muscle, she opted for the latter when Big Hammer jutted against the cotton fabric. She slipped her hand inside the opening of his boxers and seized his erect shaft.
“Oh, baby,” she murmured appreciatively as she felt his cock gently pulse inside her fist. Possessively, she reclaimed the dick she’d missed, her grip growing tighter like a blood pressure cuff taking a reading.
She loosened her grasp and slid her cupped palm up and down his solid length. One hand cupped his taut scrotum, deftly rolling his testicles in her palm. Her thumb eased upward and began to trace the thick ridged flesh that bordered the crown. She caressed the smooth globe, using the warm liquid that oozed from the tiny hole in its center to give it a glossy shine.
Big Hammer was gleaming and spitting more liquid and it was an amazing, pussy-pulsating sight. Hilton whimpered when she applied feathery tongue flicks to the sensitive underside of his turgid shaft. Both Milan and Hilton were panting as if they were running a race. Overcome and about to lose all sense of reason, Milan decided to hell with foreplay, she wanted to fuck. Milan drew in a deep breath, prepared to push him on his back, straddle, aim, and thrust down.
But one look at Hilton’s heavily hooded eyes, his slackened lips, encouraged Milan to prolong her control of the situation while she had it. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence for the hot ex-NFL player to allow himself to be seduced.
Working fast, she continued the aggressive role, easing him into a prone position, but instead of connecting her pussy with his dick, she fastened her lips around Big Hammer. She pulled on it for a few seconds and then licked the thin fluid that trickled out. She dragged her tongue over the smooth flesh and polished the oversized glans. Hilton’s toes curled, his eyes rolled into the back of his head as Milan licked Big Hammer lavishly, sending tingles to the many nerve endings of the sensitive area.
Concentrating on savoring the experience for as long as possible, Hilton gently pushed himself in deeper, giving a husky groan as Milan’s lips wrapped tightly around his length. Her tongue sloshed against the tip of his dick, giving him dual stimulation and double pleasure, making it difficult for him to hold his load even though his thrusts were methodical and slow.
Milan’s mouth was hot and entirely too moist. Unable to endure the heat, Hilton pulled his dick out. Hurt and bewildered, her mouth suddenly vacant, Milan frowned, her flicking tongue capturing traces of pre-cum and her expression asking, What’s wrong?
“Come ’mere, baby.” Hilton leaned forward and embraced Milan. He pressed her cheek against his broad, bare chest, patting her head and murmuring, “Lemme catch my breath. I have to get used to you again. Been away too long. I forgot how tight you are with your oral skills.”
Hilton’s chest heaved against Milan’s face. He had no idea that his was the first and only dick she’d ever sucked. And what she did with her mouth had nothing to do with experience. It was all about love. God-dammit! There was no denying it—not even to herself. She loved Hilton Dorsey, but she knew he didn’t love her back. Who could? According to her mother, she was ornery, selfish, and unlovable. Milan believed the hype, accepting that she was entitled to all the things that money could buy and granting herself permission to have everything but love.
Hilton mounted and slowly entered her. Milan wrapped her legs around his back, binding him to her. Wantonly, she threw him the na-na, uttering raunchy sounds, making lewd gyrations as she did her best to mimic the loveless, uncommitted fucks she was accustomed to.
“Slow down, baby.” Hilton slid his dick out of Milan’s pussy. “What’s up? Why are you trying to get me off so quickly?”
“I’m not. Na-Na misses her man,” she replied, keeping her tone nonchalant.
“Na-Na’s acting like she’s trying to make me bust a quick nut.” He unwound Milan’s long limbs from around his back, leaned back on his haunches, and pulled her up. His big hands cupped her small, round ass. “Lil’ Na-Na’s getting out of control,” he whispered as he aligned the head of his dick with her slippery opening. He pulled her close, gripping her buttocks so tight she couldn’t move. “Tell Na-Na that I got this, I’m calling the plays,” he muttered harshly in her ear and then hungrily nibbled at her neck, making her twist and squirm with pleasure.
His gigantic hands covered her ass, maneuvering her slim and limber body in every direction that best suited his carnal desires. He started off bouncing her ass up and down his lengthy pole. Next, he grabbed her waistline and began rotating her around his shaft. Then his hands palmed her buttocks again. This time, he dug his short nails into her delicate flesh, making her flinch at the unexpected pleasurable pain.
Without any show of affection, Hilton worked Milan, giving her the kind of fuck that was about expertise, proficiency, and control. He fucked her senseless and did not stop thrusting until he shot out violent spurts of fluid. She inched closer, keeping her body fastened to his, desperate to prolong the connection until she joined him in breathless ecstasy.
Depleted, his flaccid appendage slipped out, leaving Milan’s na-na bruised and sore.
At some point they crawled into bed and while in the throes of slumber, Milan rolled over to Hilton’s side of the bed. Half asleep and acting on pure instinct, she snuggled up, molding her body against his and draping her arm across his muscular frame, her hand hanging over his bicep. Swiftly sinking into a sound sleep, she didn’t know Hilton’s eyes had fluttered open when her body connected with his.
In a dreamlike state, she murmured contentedly when his lips brushed her dangling fingers. She inched closer, burying her face into his broad back. Now in a deep sleep, she didn’t experience the warmth or feel the beating of his heart when he repositioned her hand, pressing her palm against his chest, keeping it close to his heart as he covered her slender hand with his own.
Milan was accustomed to waking up in an empty bed, but this morning she felt particularly alone and abandoned when she reached over and patted Hilton’s side of the bed, finding it empty. There’d been no kiss on the cheek, no “Thank you, ma’am, for a fantastic fuck,” no hastily scrawled, “See ya later,” no nothing. He’d vanished at dawn, presumably to get in his daily workout. The twenty-nine-year-old ex-football star still had dreams of getting back into the game. He still envisioned himself taking his team to the Super Bowl.
Ha! Keep dreamin’, Hilton!
Milan felt violated and angry. As usual, Hilton had fucked her and discarded her like he’d dispose of a used condom. Someone would have to pay for her bruised ego. In search of a victim, her mind did a quick scan. Maxwell? No, he was too easy a target and, quite frankly, she was beyond bored with the billionaire.
Royce? Ugh! She scrunched up her lips in revulsion. What a crude pig! She really had to be in a severe state of horniness to ride his gross, bumpy tongue.
Sumi? No way! Her assistant was lovesick, moping around the salon wearing her heart on her sleeve. Milan had no choice; it was for her own good that she wean herself off Sumi’s snapping pussy. She recalled that crazed look that had briefly appeared in Sumi’s eyes. Who knew what harm a hot-headed, love-obsessed martial arts expert was capable of inflicting? Milan flinched, unwilling to allow herself to even ponder the dire possibilities. Yes, Sumi would be handled with kid gloves from now on. Good thing she had new assistants to keep her busy. Milan hoped she fell in love with one of the girls because she was weary of being the object of Sumi’s love.
CHAPTER 11
At precisely ten o’clock in the morning, Hilton called to let Milan know he was outside. Making him wait, she stepped outd
oors a half-hour later.
Appropriately attired in his chauffeur’s uniform, Hilton tipped the brim of his cap and gave her a broad smile, showing no sign that he was miffed at having to wait.
“Good morning, Ms. Walden,” he greeted in an affected professional voice.
Milan sucked her teeth, looking as offended as if he’d just said, “’Sup, bitch!” Frowning excessively, she slid into the back of the car. “Where’s Maxwell? Did his car pick him up this morning?” she asked, her voice sullen.
“Yes, the security team confirmed that he was picked up at seven a.m., on schedule.”
“Where is he now?”
“I’m not sure.”
Leaning forward, Milan released a derisive grunt. “You’re not sure? What the hell does that mean?”
“You didn’t ask the security team to tail Mr. Torrance. The detail was complete after he safely entered his car.”
A horrible bout of panic made further inquiries catch in her throat. She coughed as if to clear it. “Did you call his driver?” she asked, finally finding her voice.
“Yes, Ms. Walden. I called his driver. No answer. In fact, I made numerous calls. Mr. Torrance is not at his estate and he’s not at his office.”
“Maybe he’s out on the golf course.”
“No. I contacted his country club. He’s not expected there until Thursday.”
Losing her patience, she blurted, “Hilton, did you speak directly to his secretary? Surely she knows his whereabouts; she schedules his appointments.”
“I couldn’t get through. I spoke to his secretary’s assistant, and she acted real secretive, like she knew something but wasn’t telling.” Hilton looked at Milan in the rearview mirror. “What do you think Mr. Torrance is up to?” He waited for Milan to respond. She didn’t. She sat in silent contemplation. “He probably has a major come-up for you…like a shopping spree in Paris,” Hilton ventured optimistically.
Milan gave him a weak smile, but she was perplexed. Obviously, something had gone wrong. She’d pushed Maxwell too far, forcing him to spend the night in that squalid rooming house. Where is he? She shook her head, convinced Maxwell had finally had enough of her abuse and was now out for revenge. A terrible sense of doom engulfed her. When she noticed her hands beginning to shake, she clasped them together to still the terrible trembling.
Instead of sending a team of lawyers and a sheriff to shut down the dungeon and evict Veronique and BodySlam from their home as she’d instructed him to, Maxwell was probably holed up with lawyers scheming to take over Pure Paradise just for spite. He knew that would be the best way to really screw her over. Taking Pure Paradise from her would really bring the pain and hostile takeovers were Maxwell’s specialty.
Nausea knotted her stomach. How stupid can you get! she chastised herself. The last person she needed to turn on her was the unscrupulous Maxwell Torrance. It was not a good idea to have him on your bad side.
She swallowed a lump of fear that formed in her throat. Foolishly, she’d allowed her kitty to get dick-whipped by Hilton, who was a few steps above being a pauper, while allowing a billionaire to slip from her grasp. She should have kept a close eye on Maxwell. Clearly, he thrived with hands-on discipline; he simply couldn’t hold up under the strain of exile.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! Her desire to get a hot fuck from the driver Maxwell had bequeathed her was a bad business call. Now blaming Hilton for her predicament, she narrowed her eyes at the driver and then gave a loud, exasperated sigh.
“Why are you giving me the evil eye? I didn’t lose your boy.”
Here I go again, letting my heart get me in trouble. She rolled her eyes hard at Hilton, whose cool demeanor and unwillingness to love her was a callous reminder of her ordeal with Gerard. Refusing to give up easily, she picked up the car phone and called Maxwell’s home.
“Mr. Torrance is away on business,” his housekeeper informed her politely. Milan slammed down the phone. She looked off in thought and then called his cell, which went straight to voicemail. Aghast, she covered her mouth, unable to come to terms with the fact that she was in possible jeopardy of losing her generous benefactor. What am I going to do? “Call his secretary,” a tiny, insecure inner voice instructed. She’d always treated his secretary with disdain and disrespect; it would be so humiliating to have to resort to speaking to the woman in an undeserved civil tone. She snatched up the phone again. A girl has to do what a girl has to do, she reminded herself.
“Hi, Barb, how are you? This is Milan Walden. What’s on Mr. Torrance’s schedule today?” Milan asked crisply, removing all arrogance from her voice.
“Mr. Torrance’s schedule is strictly confidential; I’m not at liberty to say,” his secretary happily responded.
“Oh, fuck you, bitch,” Milan spat and then banged the car phone inside its compartment.
A million scary thoughts flitted through her mind. Instant poverty was at the top of the list. She blamed Hilton and gave herself an inner warning to keep the chiseled hottie at bay until she had Maxwell securely back in her clutches. Good dick spelled nothing but trouble and she, of all people, should have known better than to put her heart on the line before she’d acquired a more substantial amount of Maxwell’s assets.
The mixture of citrus and woodsy scents wafting inside Pure Paradise normally put a smile on her face but today the smell seemed heavy and irritating, making her wrinkle her nose in annoyance the moment she entered the building.
“Good morning,” Royce said politely.
Mad at the world, Milan wanted to say, “Oh, shut the fuck up!” but other staff members were within earshot. Keeping it professional, she returned a mumbled greeting accompanied by a sneer that she hoped conveyed her true feelings to her personal pussy licker. Striding toward the elevator, her hard clicking heels announced to anyone within earshot that she was not in a good mood. She exited the elevator on the top floor, thinking that there had better be a large container of cappuccino waiting on her desk or she was going to go ballistic.
Outside her office, in the reception area, Sumi sat on the plush white sofa. “Where’s my cappuccino?” Milan barked.
“On your desk, of course,” Sumi replied sweetly, but her smile was reminiscent of the cat that caught the canary.
“Why are you looking so smug?” Maxwell’s mysterious disappearance had Milan’s nerves frazzled. Seeing her assistant wearing a self-satisfied smile was the last thing she needed.
“I have great news,” Sumi offered, rising to her feet as Milan wordlessly accepted a stack of mail from the receptionist. Sumi followed Milan into her office. “My new assistants, Lily and Harper, designed a new website last night and we have more requests for appointments than we can accommodate.”
“Really?” Milan brightened. Then she frowned. If Pure Paradise became more lucrative, would it become an attractive acquisition if she were on Maxwell’s hit list?
How had she allowed a casual fuck to turn her life upside down? She shook her head, thinking how much she hated Hilton for his part in making her future uncertain. As soon as she got this shit straight with Maxwell, she planned to fire Hilton. That’s right. Business took precedence over pleasure. If she wanted to continue to succeed, she’d have to become more disciplined and tell that good dick goodbye and good riddance.
Milan clicked her keypad and brought up the Pure Paradise website. She tilted her head when she saw the current home page. “Where’s the new design?”
Sumi hovered over Milan, pointing. “Look at the new link at the bottom of the page.”
Milan’s gaze moved downward. At the bottom of the page was the image of a menu with script that read: Pure Paradise Specialties. Her interest piqued, Milan clicked on the link and was taken to an open menu that listed items such as Double Chocolate massage, Spicy Asian pedicure, Caramel-Cream foot bath, Strawberry Soufflé body wrap.
“Nice concept, but why are people clamoring? I mean…we already provide these services without the sickeningly sweet stuff.”
Wearing a smug smile, Sumi said, “Pick one.”
Milan clicked on Spicy Asian pedicure. She gawked and fanned her face when she took a look at the rear view of a ripped Asian guy. His head was turned, giving a glimpse of his handsome profile. He had bulging meaty deltoids that Milan would love to fondle and squeeze.
“The client who selects that service will get her toenails polished by this hot Asian hunk,” Sumi informed.
Her lust fired and her curiosity piqued, Milan quickly clicked all the selections. Double Chocolate were two fine-ass, dark-skinned brothers who’d obviously put in long and rigorous hours at the gym. Milan arched an eyebrow.
“They work together,” Sumi explained. “After giving a client a hot chocolate massage, one licks chocolate from the backdoor and the other works his magic on the punany.”
“Oh, my!” Milan exclaimed, getting instant and stimulating visuals. Sumi’s assistants had outdone themselves. Beneath the menu, Milan saw a single link that read Kaleidoscope Sunshine. She looked up at Sumi questioningly.
“Check him out.” Sumi sounded more smug than ever.
Milan clicked on the link. Kaleidoscope Sunshine was a mean-looking, bald, white, biker-type. His buff body and even his bald head were covered with a rainbow of tattoos. Milan looked up, curious. “What’s his specialty? And why add Sunshine to his moniker? He looks more like a thunderstorm than a ray of sunshine.”
“After Mrs. Tamburro’s session, I knew there had to be a shitload of women who needed discipline. You’re having trouble prying BodySlam away from Mistress Veronique so I told the girls to find a qualified master. Hey, we can’t discriminate against the B&D freaks.”
Sumi had taken a liberty in assuming that Milan didn’t have the power to make Veronique and BodySlam offers they couldn’t refuse. However, being momentarily at a disadvantage with Maxwell MIA and all, she overlooked the fact that Sumi had seriously crossed a line.
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