Slowly, I pushed my tongue out, careful not to allow any water to get into my mouth. As I tickled her swollen clit with the tip of my tongue, she began to thrash, nearly kicking me. I shifted her legs to rest on my shoulders, keeping her firmly in place as I traced my tongue around her entrance. Then, I pushed my tongue inside her, my nose pressed flush to the few soft brown curls on her mound.
I couldn’t hear her moaning, but the telltale twitch of her muscles indicated she was hitting her peak fast and hard. I exhaled through my nose, bubbles tickling against her most intimate area. She struggled to get away from me, and I worried I had done something wrong when she yanked me to the surface.
“Ella?” I inquired gently.
She only moaned in response, forcing our lips together once more and reaching a hand down between us. She slipped my manhood free of the shorts I’d kept on, stroking her hand along my length. I gasped against her, trying to sputter out an explanation that this was about her. As if reading my mind, she drew away and met my gaze.
“I want you inside me,” she said firmly, leaving no room for argument as she pressed our lips together once more.
She guided me towards her entrance, and I hesitated for a moment before grabbing her by the hips. I aligned myself just so, and she wrapped her legs around my waist, aided by the buoyancy of the water. I grinned as the water carried her up and down, sliding along the length of my member.
“What are you waiting for?” she demanded, desperation clear in her voice.
Seeing the expression on her face, I was certain that I had never seen someone so adorably aroused in my life. Before I could offer her a response, she used the leverage from her locked ankles to push me into her. A strangled groan fell past my lips, and I buried my face in her shoulder.
Her tight inner walls clenched around my cock, and I was certain I wouldn’t be able to hold out for long. I hadn’t realized how worked up I had gotten bringing her near to the edge. I swore to myself that I would hold out until her ecstasy came, which would in turn bring me to my own.
Adjusting the way our hips aligned, I rested my back on the concrete of the wall as not to scrape up her back. I pulled her onto my length fully, and her breath seemed to catch in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, shifting her hips until I was only halfway inside of her. Then, without warning, she shoved our pelvises back together. I cried out at the same time she did, and neither of us seemed to need any further instruction as we frantically made love in the afternoon sunlight.
The fact that someone could walk up on us at any given moment only fueled my desire, though she seemed altogether oblivious to it.
“Sure hope no one sees us,” I breathed into her ear, making the possibility very clear.
It was a tossup; she could either panic and break away from me, or get hornier than she could have ever imagined. She moaned gutturally, thrusting her hips against mine even more frenziedly. I thanked my lucky stars that my pretty bird had such a naughty streak in her.
All at once, Ella’s whole body tensed, and she clenched around my manhood. I groaned against her shoulder, no longer able to contain myself. I spilled myself inside of her, absently musing how bad I should have felt for the pool boy who would have to clean our mess.
Seeing her body stiffen with ecstasy, however, the water droplets on her body dancing in the sun…I couldn’t have felt bad if I’d wanted to.
The moment was over all too soon, and she drew away with a dazed smile. I glanced at my watch, thanking God for a moment that it was waterproof. A jolt of surprise surged through me as I realized the final circus performance would be that night. I couldn’t miss practice, not again. Especially when there was a chance that my sensual role could light the fire anew within my lover.
“I have to go. The circus act is tonight, and…I’d love if you could be there,” I said in a rush.
Ella nodded, still in a bit of a daze. It pained me to leave such a beauty behind, but she seemed to shake off her reverie, shifting to grab her soaked clothes and pull them back on as she emerged from the pool. I grabbed my shorts, pulling them on as best as I could manage before leaving her with a final parting kiss.
I know, I know. I should have been thinking about the con. The whole situation felt as if it were slipping away, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Chapter Eleven
Ella
The moment we had shared in the pool had been nothing short of magical, and Paul’s words about fate had me seriously thinking about my future. I wasn’t prepared to abandon my mother altogether, though I could imagine what she’d say if she knew what I’d been up to with the gorgeous circus performer: ‘Darling, if you’re going to act like a whore, you could at least get paid for your services.’
I had no plans to explain the passion I held in my heart for Paul, but I hoped at the very least she could come to see that he wasn’t as bad as she may have expected. I was certain she saw him as little more than a sleazy carnie, but I was also certain that if she saw his performance in the circus, she would be forced to see how talented he was. Failing that, she would at least see how gorgeous he was.
After taking a shower in my room, I dried off and dressed in something I knew my mother would like. It was the gaudiest dress I had brought with me on the trip, but she’d insisted I bring something extravagant to watch the entertainment she had put together. Truly, I didn’t even remember packing the dress, but I wouldn’t have put it past my mother to sneak it into my suitcase.
Rolling my eyes in exasperation, I flattened the sequined dress against my figure. My body still felt as if it were aflame where I had been touched so intimately, but I couldn’t allow myself to get swept up in the sensations. I wouldn’t get much done, lying in my bed and fantasizing all day.
I shook off the thought, feeling myself get flustered at how unlike myself I was being. If my mother had known the things going through my head, I was certain she would have disowned me in a heartbeat.
I was being unruly, altogether acting like the sort of ‘free spirit’ she claimed my father had been—a regular scoundrel. It would break her heart if I continued down this stretch, but for once in my life, I was going to allow myself to be selfish. I didn’t care if she claimed to be heartbroken by my so-called betrayal; I was going to live my life to the fullest.
As I approached my mother’s room, however, my confidence began to wane. She would usually be out drinking around this time of day, but I had messaged her to tell her I was looking for her. She’d replied that she was relaxing in her room, though in all likelihood, relaxing meant feeling sorry for herself.
I tried to remember what Paul had said about fate, about our stories being intertwined. I thought about the sheer adoration in his eyes as he’d made love to me, and there was no longer any doubt in my mind that what we were doing was rooted in love. Perhaps I was being foolish, perhaps I was being naïve, but I wanted so badly to believe in this idea of fate that Paul had instilled within me.
I had to shake off these thoughts before meeting with my mother. She always seemed to notice when I had my head in the clouds, daring to think about anything besides my future potential income. I’d learned to wear a mask of interest when it came to things she discussed with me regarding EBgen, but I could only hold out for so much longer. I continued to hold out hope that watching the event with me that evening would change her mind about free spirits altogether. Perhaps that was the naivest thought of all.
When I knocked on her door, she groaned for me to enter. I hesitated, lingering outside her door for a moment before pushing through. As I might have expected, she lay sullen in her bed, sunglasses obscuring her eyes from view.
“Are you all right, Mom?” I inquired gently, closing the door behind me.
She remained silent for a long moment, lowering her sunglasses to look at me.
“Mommy’s just tired, darling,” she drawled, adjusting the glasses back onto her face.
I could no longer tell if she was actually
looking at me, which I suppose made it easier. I bounced from foot to foot, well aware of how anxious I must have looked, but she seemed to pay me little mind. Maybe she was adjusting to the fact that her daughter had—God forbid—a personality of her own!
“Stop with that dancing and tell me what’s on your mind. You don’t come to see me for small talk,” she said curtly, and I forced myself to fall still. I offered her the politest smile I could muster, clasping my hands in front of myself.
“I was hoping you would come with me to see the show tonight. Paul has one of the leading roles, and I think you’ll be really impressed,” I said, my voice cracking more than I would have preferred.
She chuckled, the sound nearly evolving into laughter before she cut herself off with a pained groan.
“Of course I’m going to see the show, you silly girl. I arranged the whole event, did I not? And though I have my regrets about hiring this Paul fellow, I suppose there’s no harm in watching him perform. That’s what the help is for, after all,” she hummed, sitting up and glancing at the clock.
I swallowed my anger at the implication that Paul was little more than a servant to her, remaining silent as she contemplated the time and God only knew what else.
“It’s starting in an hour, right? We may as well go watch the carnies set up their little act. I’ll have the catering crew begin serving early,” she said, slipping out of bed.
I felt my eyes widen, uncertainty creeping up my spine. My mother was clad in little more than a silk robe, and while I had seen much worse, I had my doubts about accompanying her in public. She slipped on her bedroom slippers, either entirely unaware of my distaste or reveling in it.
“Aren’t you going to wear the evening gown you packed?” I asked gently, and she turned a cocky smirk upon me.
“Oh, you know how it is, Ella. You just have to let it all hang out at these sort of events. What, don’t tell me that I’m more free spirited than you?” she said coolly.
I narrowed my eyes, immediately realizing the game she was playing. All right then, if she wanted to look foolish in front of her employees, it was no skin off my back.
“You’re right, of course, Mother. You’re always right,” I said blandly. “Let’s go, then,” I announced, slipping towards the door and pulling it open.
The evening air was cool on my skin, and I allowed myself to take a small comfort in it. The fire of passion that burned within me had given way to giant flames of rage, and while I felt entirely too hot and flustered to face Paul at the moment, I had no choice in the matter. I couldn’t let my mother see that she was getting the better of me.
We walked side by side towards the entertainment hall, and my mother threw the doors open with a flourish. The circus workers were setting up props for the show, and I spotted Paul in the center. He was clad in shimmering cloth, just enough to obscure his more private areas. His body was painted a beautiful shade of silver-toned blue, and my breath caught in my throat as I laid my eyes on him. He looked like some sort of angel, some mystical creature sent from the heavens to save me from my dull existence.
“Is that him? He looks like a goddam fairy,” my mother said with a smirk.
I refused to let the remark get to me, guiding her to our seats nearest the performing area without another word.
As Paul worked through the preparations for his routine, I watched with a content smile, noticing how the spotlight danced across his skin as if it were where he truly belonged. I sighed longingly, and my mother turned an icy glare upon me.
“Keep it in your pants, Ella, for Christ’s sake,” she bit out. I rolled my eyes, ignoring her as more and more people began to file in.
The crew retreated to the backstage area, and all that remained were the props they had set up. EBgen employees began to fill the room, and my heart pounded in my chest as I took in my mother’s tense expression. I was convinced that when she saw just how much her employees loved the act, she would have no choice but to admit that Paul was, at the very least, a good performer.
The lights dimmed, and I could hear the murmurs of the other passengers as everything went dark. All at once, a spotlight shone upon one of the highest acrobatic swings in the room. Paul stood proudly, seeming to hold no fear regarding how precariously he was balanced. Then, as if ready to accept his death, he plunged from the highest perch.
Gasping, I jolted forward in my seat, just as the rest of the mood lighting hit. Paul was caught mid-air by another man, who flung him across the stage. Paul flipped and turned gracefully, the silken cloth that clung to his form leaving very little to the imagination.
I glanced over at my mother, who—to my shock—seemed rather entranced by the act. She drew her attention from the stage where Paul was putting on one hell of a show, meeting my gaze bitterly.
“This is silly. Ridiculous,” she snapped, rising from her seat much to the complaints of the people behind us.
She barked for them to quiet down, and I felt tears pool in my eyes as she slinked down the hall and out of the entertainment hall. I rose from my seat in spite of how badly I wanted to see Paul finish his act, trailing after my mother like some lost puppy. She stood just outside the door, puffing on a cigarette as if her life depended on it. I approached her carefully, knowing that it would take very little to set her off.
“Why did you leave the show, Mom?” I whispered nervously, and she fixed narrowed eyes upon me.
“Because it disgusts me to see where my daughter might end up someday soon. Ella, do you know how hard I worked to see that you would lead the most privileged life possible? Do you know the agonizing hours I worked? How can you be so willing to throw it away just to engage with some pathetic low-life?” she spit out, stepping closer to me and exhaling a plume of smoke.
I coughed, feeling my fury alight once more.
“You never cared about what I wanted, Mom! My whole life, all you’ve ever cared about was the company. But I like Paul, and he likes me. He’s a free spirit, and being with him has shown me just how little I desire the life you’ve laid out for me. He’s shown me that I’m the one in charge of my destiny. Not you!”
She tensed, looking as if she wanted little more than to slap me across the face. It almost felt worse when she simply turned her back on me and started walking.
“No daughter of mine would act like this,” she muttered, slinking away.
I felt more tears gather in my eyes, a mixture of anger and agony. I slumped against the outer wall, hearing the rounds of applause from inside the entertainment hall. I couldn’t go back in, not now.
I could only hope Paul would forgive me for missing the show. I’d already lost my mother, it seemed. I couldn’t bear to lose him, too.
Chapter Twelve
Ella
It seemed like an eternity before Paul emerged from the show. Dozens of my mother’s employees trailed out of the entertainment hall before him, scarcely paying me any mind in their joyful excitement. From what I could discern, the show had been wonderful, and I couldn’t deny the sense of mourning in having missed it.
I could imagine what Paul would think of me, unable to enjoy his hot bod in action for being a mommy’s girl. I should have simply allowed my mother to leave. I shouldn’t have chased her and I shouldn’t have felt so broken at her rejection.
Was I truly that bad of a daughter? Were my dreams so unspeakable that she couldn’t even accept me as her offspring until I allowed that which she had laid out for me?
God only knew what Paul would think, and he was the only thing I had aside from my absent mother. I knew it was a bit soon to be relying on him for my emotional needs, but I needed someone to count on, to talk to, to love me.
“What’s wrong little bird?” Paul asked, startling me. I quickly wiped my eyes, though I knew it wouldn’t sweep away all the evidence of my weeping.
He was still slathered in body paint, the silver of it and his clothing making him look like a statue of a Greek god. I longed for him with all of my b
ody and soul, but how could he see anything in someone who couldn’t even stand her ground?
“Ella, honey,” he murmured, stepping closer. I realized belatedly that the tears were still falling, and cursed myself for what a giant baby I was being.
“I’m sorry,” I blubbered. Paul looked taken aback, but who could blame him?
Before I could sputter out some other apology, he drew me into his arms and rested his chin atop my head. I pressed myself into his chest, aware of the body paint smearing onto me but not caring enough to pull away. He stroked a hand through my hair, and I sniffled softly, the scent of the paint stinging my nostrils.
“I really wanted to see the show. You were so handsome, and, God,” I paused, my voice strained. “I couldn’t have asked for a better performance, from what I managed to see,” I whispered.
He chuckled warmly, drawing back just slightly to look me in the eye. I could only stare in wonder at just how well the body paint adhered to his skin, even after I had been sobbing against him. I traced my fingers along his pectoral muscles, smirking at the darker shade of blue they had used on his nipples. It was a welcome distraction from the guilt at missing his performance, though that came flooding back as I met his gaze.
There was an unfamiliar sadness in his eyes, and my heart ached at the thought of being the reason for it.
“There will be other shows,” he said soothingly, brushing a hand through my hair.
I took my lip between my teeth, nibbling at it as I tried to discern if he was truly upset or not. I was so used to manipulation from those who claimed to love me; saccharine sweet smiles that prefaced a soul-shattering insult. Such was what made Martha Beck tick, it seemed.
“How can you not be angry with me? I tucked tail and chased after my mother like some sort of child,” I muttered softly, and his expression turned stern.
“Ella, you have every right to miss my shows if it means patching things up with your ma. While I certainly don’t agree with the old broad’s methods, I know you love her dearly. Makes my heart ache to think about how she treats you, but come on, love. I wouldn’t be so cold; I thought you knew me better than that by now,” he murmured.
Steal The CEO's Daughter - A Carny Bad Boy Romance Page 7