by Vera Roberts
“That’s what I like to hear,” he caresses my arm again, “some things aren’t worth bragging about because they’re so intimate and private.”
“Speaking of which…” I get on top of Ian and straddle him. Even though he’s not hard, I feel every inch of him beneath me. Although we’ve never done this position – I’m quite daunted by his size – I feel very comfortable being on top. “…why did you declare me online?”
“Why not?” He casually shrugs like it’s no big deal. “You are my woman.”
I love it when he calls me his woman. It’s so sexy and authoritative to me. “I know how private you are and I don’t want anyone harassing you online because you’re with me.”
“People do that?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Yeah, all the time! Like when Kim Kardashian started dating Kanye and all of sudden, they both got attacked and people were calling her a golddigger and people were calling Kanye a sellout because he wrote that song “Golddigger” and there’s a line that goes, ‘and when he get on he gon’ leave your ass for a white girl’ and…” I look down at Ian’s face and it’s pretty clear he simply couldn’t give two shits. “…my point is, I know when a couple declare themselves online, it opens up to scrutiny.”
“Are people harassing you?” His voice turns serious. “If they are, let me know and I’ll get someone to handle your social media.”
Amazing how a different tax bracket really puts you into a different type of care. “I think I can handle goons and bullies online.”
“I rather you concentrate on your dancing than what other people have to say about you.” He replies. “Just keep the thought in mind.”
“I will.” I nod. Enough about the adventures of Kimye, I have other more pressing things in mind, starting with the long and thick one pressing against me. “Your past?”
“It stays there,” he grins, “but I’m sure that’s not the answer you want to hear so what’s up?”
“You’ve hinted seeing other people have sex wasn’t the first time,” I begin, “care to elaborate.”
“How about this?” Ian adjusts himself and I clearly feel him poking against me. This is going to be a short conversation. “Why don’t you ask the questions and I’ll give you the honest answers?”
“Deal,” I can work with that, “are you exhibitionist?”
“Oh, I think we’ve covered that plenty,” he sexily grins at me, “so are you, I might add.”
I blush as I remember our time in the Rolls Royce. “Yeah, maybe a little,” I pinch two fingers.
“Uh-huh,” he chuckles, “next question.”
“Have you ever been in a threesome?”
“Yes.”
“Two girls or with another guy?”
“Both.”
My eyes widened. “How was that like? With the other guy?”
“We didn’t cross swords if that’s where you’re getting at,” he answers, “we both were too busy focusing on her.”
“Group sex?”
“Yes.”
“How many partners have you had?” I cautiously ask.
“Quite a few,” he answers while avoids the question at the same time, “if you want the actual number, I’ll give it.”
For some reason I don’t want to know. It’s clear he’s had plenty of experience and I’m pretty content with not knowing. “No, it’s fine.”
“Was there anything else you wanted to know?”
“Um…” I thought about what else to ask. I have so many questions and yet I don’t know where to begin. “BDSM? Like the books and the movie?”
“I’ve dabbled in it,” he admits with another sexy grin.
“Oh?” My curiosity is piqued. “What role did you play?”
“Dominant,” he says and yeah, I can totally see him being the perfect Dom. “It’s something to do to spice up the bedroom but I have friends who do that full-time. You’ve met them – Scott and Mariana and Nick and Zerrin.”
Seeing how both men took charge during the filming today, it makes sense they are Doms. “I see.”
Ian lazily grins at me. “Was it something you wanted to try eventually?”
I wonder if this is an appropriate time to ask him to spank me. Already the ideas are floating through my head on what I want to try – being tied up, him using another toy on me, being gagged. Maybe all of the above at the same time?
Damn, I’m turning myself on. “I kinda want to try a little bit of everything,” I slowly reveal, “I do want to try other positions.”
“This is a good one,” he caresses my arms.
“When I’m not intimidated by your size,” I reply, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to take all of it yet.”
His blue eyes slowly blink and study me. I just know he has a few kinky ideas up his sleeve. “I have a feeling you will,” he assures me.
“I also want to practice giving you head but again, the same issue,” I point out. Ian’s the only dick I’ve had but it’s more than enough to last me several lifetimes. Some women wish and dream about having a man with a giant dick and I’m blessed to get one the first time out.
“I’ll help you,” he says, “after all, I think I’ll make a good judge.”
“A-hah!” I point to him and chuckle. “Good one.”
“You like that?” He laughs.
“I like that.” I lean over and kiss him. His lips once again sweeps over mine and rolls on top of me. He deepens the kiss and I feel it all the down to the pit of my stomach. He slowly moves his tongue inside of my mouth and I swore I had an orgasm right there.
Whenever Ian kissed me, it was never just a simple smooch of our lips. He always took control and I gladly let him. He was slow, deliberate, enticing, and commanding. He messed with my mind while his lips played with my emotions.
I couldn’t resist him nor did I want to. I was no longer scared of our future but rather, looking forward and experiencing everything. I want to fly around the world. I want to have lazy Sundays where we did nothing all day but stay at home. I want to have mini-Ians and mini-Dominiques running around and messing up their Sunday best.
I want it all with Ian. I hope he feels the same.
He stops kissing me briefly and looks up at me. “You’re everything I could ever want, Domi.”
It was as if he read my heart and answered it without needing to. I honestly can’t see him not in my life.
Four
“So…” The real estate agent by the name of Rasil shows me and Adrienne the empty space. “…what do you think of this?”
It’s a large 3000 sq. ft studio with bathrooms, a bar, and two entrances/exits. It has open windows, vaulted ceilings, and hardwood flooring, which is perfect. The studio has the potential of becoming a gigantic success if I play my cards right. Who knows? Maybe I’ll hire more instructors, open up different studios, and become a worldwide phenomenon?
“Well, Sister…” Adrienne looks around. “This is the best one we’ve seen thus far and in an area that’s not ghetto.”
I look at my sister and shook my head. “Bitch gets a little money and you think you’re better.”
“Because I am, bitch, I am!” Adrienne laughs and I join in. “Come on, seriously now. What do you think?”
“Well, it’s perfect,” I begin. If I ever wanted a dance studio, this was definitely it. Of course, because I love it, it also means it’s hella expensive. Isn’t that how it always works? The one material thing you love more than anything, is the one thing that costs your first-born. “I’m sure this is super expensive.”
“Ian can afford it,” Adrienne chimes in.
“That’s not that point,” I reply, “I know he can afford it. The question is if he’ll want to pay for it.”
“What do you mean if he’ll want to pay for it? If he wants to keep his girl happy, you damn skippy he’s going to pay for it. It won’t even be a question, Sister.”
“Well, I have to see if he wants to. He’ll need to see this first.” I look arou
nd. Gosh, I hope Ian says yes to this. This studio is actually perfect and I can see myself hosting many dance classes here for years to come. “I don’t have a blank check when it comes to him. He’s pretty frugal with his coin.”
“Well, he has every reason to be,” Adrienne casually shrugged, “given his monthly allowance.”
I slowly turn my head towards my sister. “Monthly allowance?” I ask. “What monthly allowance? I didn’t know about any monthly allowance.”
“Girl, don’t you research at all?”
“I’m sorry that didn’t come up in Google,” I stick my tongue out, “now speak more on this monthly allowance.”
“In the car,” she replies and I drop it for now, “but trust and believe when I say, he can afford this. Pretty damn easily.”
“And again, I know he can, it’s just a matter if he wants to.” I don’t know why the issue of money has come up. It’s never been an issue yet somehow I feel hesitant spending more money than I have to.
I nod over to Rasil. “Thank you for showing me this place. We’ll be in touch soon.” Adrienne and I quickly head back to her Tesla, where we’re about meet with fashion designer, Zoe D’Amato, for a custom-fitting for this weekend’s gala.
Once I buckle in, I start with the questions. No time for bullshit. “Now what allowance?”
“Sister,” Adrienne puts on her sunglasses, “Ian has his own money.”
“I know he does,” I shake my head, “what allowance?”
“Anthony Ferguson is a billionaire. Ian and Gerald are billionaires by default. Ian gets a monthly allowance of two hundred and fifty thousand.”
If I wasn’t already sitting down, I would’ve fell on the damn concrete. “Two hundred and fifty thousand?”
“Yeah, it’s common knowledge with the Fergusons. That’s why Ian was able to travel the world and be an international playboy.” Adrienne shrugs like it’s no big deal. “But that’s just family money. His own money is a bit more than that.”
My eyes narrow at my sister. “What is a bit more?”
“He was part of the start-up of Swipe!” Adrienne mentions. It’s the dating app that Blake is also a co-owner of. “Ian’s made some serious coin from that.”
“Bitch, if you don’t tel—”
Adrienne gently places a hand on my arm. “Ian’s a certified billionaire himself. Between the restaurants, real estate, and the investments he’s made in Silicon Valley, Ian doesn’t need Daddy’s money. He only wants it because of the prestige the Ferguson name brings. Everyone knows who the family is and the name has opened up many doors.” She begins driving. “Ian’s worth about five on his own.”
Adrienne said it so fluidly, I honestly thought I misheard. “Five? Five billion?”
“Yes, ma’am. The Fergusons are right up there with the Rothschilds. That previous fifteen billion figure was just an estimate. The low end of their wealth is really around 100 billion.” I gulped and suddenly felt the need to remove the skin from my arm. “The high end has them trillionaires. That’s why Ian was freaking out when Anthony threatened to cut him off. What’s five billion when you can share part of a trillion dollars? Five billion to Ian is like five dollars to you and me.”
My heart is pounding and I feel dizzy. Sweat pours out of every pore and I feel like I’m about to faint. “Stop messing with me, Adrienne.”
“Bitch, I don’t kid about coin – yours, mine, or anyone’s. Why are you so shocked about all of this?” She stops at a red light and looks over. “Oh shit!” She quickly pulls over around the corner and I bolt out of the car. Lady luck was looking out for me and placed a convenient trashcan not too far from the car. I vomit whatever I ate for breakfast and dry heaved my saliva.
“Hey, hey…” Adrienne comes over to me and rubs my back. She sprinkles cold water on the back of my neck and pats it into my skin, in hopes of cooling me off and calming me down. “…what’s going on? Talk to me.”
I wipe my mouth and sit down on the curb. I don’t know why I’m freaked out by knowing Ian’s family history. I knew he was rich. I knew he was wealthy.
What I didn’t realize he was part of old money. Generational wealth. His fortune will be passed down to generations to come. I’ll be a part of Ian’s forever history. When people look up the Fergusons, my name is going to inevitably come up.
Does Ian really want to be associated with a pole dancer?
“This is just too much for me. I don’t know if I’m the appropriate choice for him.” I shake my head. “He’s a freaking billionaire, trillionaire! I’m a dollaraire at best!”
“Well, technically, you’re worth upwards of ten million yourself, Sister.” Adrienne points out. “All of that art that mom gave to you?”
“Gave to us,” I correct her, “and I still don’t know what the final number on how much that art is worth. It could be less than that.”
“I somehow doubt that but I’ll humor you for now.” Adrienne rubs my back. “And about that other thing, I sincerely doubt Ian gives a damn you’re a pole dancer. He’s the one that encouraged you to find a spot, remember? He’s the one that fired you from being his assistant when you two became official. If Ian wanted you to just stay home and kick it, he would’ve said so.”
“You think so?”
“I know so,” Adrienne sips from the bottled water, “he probably didn’t want you running up his light bill.”
I flip her off and she giggles. “You have a point.”
“Come on, Sister. Ian chose you for a reason. He’s dated many women and yet, it was you he wants. You’re getting ahead of yourself when you two haven’t even been together six months. He just claimed you online and you’re all freaking out for no reason. Give him a chance and fuck’s sake, calm down! Enjoy the ride – literally and figuratively.”
“I still haven’t,” I shake my head, “literally and figuratively.”
“What? You haven’t played cowgirl?” She asked and I shook my head. “Oh dear. I have so much to teach you about sex.”
“Maybe later,” I manage to stand up and she helps me back to the car, “I’m running late for Zoe’s fitting.”
“Well, the good news you’ll probably fit your gown now since you threw up everything,” Adrienne wraps an arm around me, “small miracles.”
~~~~~
Tonight’s gala has a Great Gatsby theme. I decided to switch it up and do a Great Gatsby meets Harlem Nights. Why not? I can be black, bad, and bougie. If someone steps on my pinky toe, however, it’ll be on.
After the shock of my life, I managed to keep a straight face and calm demeanor as I met with Zoe for my dress fitting. We decided to do a nude bodycon dress with sequins. While I’m sure this dress would look amazing on a smaller woman, Zoe had it customized to my size 12 body type (I told y’all I was working on slimming down but I just love food too damn much). I’m filling every inch of fabric and I better not eat too much tonight.
Joy, my fashion stylist, paired it with Van Cleefs & Arpels vintage jewelry, silver Jimmy Choos, and I honestly I’m channeling my inner MJ from “Rock With You.” If the light hits me just right, I might burn someone’s eyes out.
Shelly, my hairstylist, went with a classic chiffon bun. Mario, my makeup divo, went natural with golden highlights, soft nudes, and dusted me with diamond powder. My lips are painted with a vixen red and I have to say, I look damn good myself. If my goal is to be the finest woman at the gala tonight, I think I might have won that title.
“Angel,” Ian knocks on the door, “are you ready?”
“Almost!” I called out. We’ve attended many galas before but for some reason this one seems a bit more special than others. Oh, I know why. It’s the first gala we’re attending where it’s official we’re together.
I feel like I’m making my debut yet it’s not my first time being there.
“I have to say this is my finest work yet,” Mario tsked. He stood back and sighed. “I need to be in the hall of fame or some shit.”
“I
don’t know,” Joy fastened my bracelet watch on me. It’s so shiny and sparkly, I don’t even want to know the price tag. “I might be an honorable mention.”
“This is going to make the angels cry,” Shelly nodded as she put the diamond hairpiece around my head, “when I die and meet Jesus at the Pearly Gates, this will be on the highlight reel.”
“Now for pictures! Everyone get out their phones!” Mario instructed and my glam squad snapped pics. “Be sure to upload these within an hour!”
“Thank you all so much,” I can’t stop staring at myself in the mirror. I look and feel like royalty transported to another time and dimension. “I hope I make you all proud tonight.”
“Sweetie, you already have,” Joy answered in her barely-whisper tone, “now enough chit-chat; your man is waiting for you.”
I step out of my walk-in closet and grab my Chanel clutch. I walk towards Ian, who’s looking hotter than the July sun in a white tuxedo with black tie. He has a silk handkerchief in the top pocket and he’s casually looking at his pocket watch, which is a family heirloom. His goatee is shaped just right.
If I’m feeling like Daisy Buchanan, Ian is definitely my Jay Gatsby.
“Angel…” His baritone purrs and he slowly glances in my direction. Ian was already gorgeous but the way he looked at me was truly heart stopping. My knees felt weak, my mouth started to feel cottony, my heart was pounding, and the only place on my body that seemed to be working just fine was my vagina.
He walks up to me and places a light kiss on my cheek. We’ve been to enough galas for him to know kissing my lips before society pictures was a no-no. “You look absolutely sublime.”
I have to remember what sublime meant and realized it was a fancy way of saying magnificent, majestic, superb, you get the drift. Ian knows how to give a compliment, even if he says very little.
“Are you ready to go?” He asks.
“I’m ready if you are,” I smile.
“Let’s go,” he holds his arm out and I interlock it with mine, “we have a long night ahead of us. The gala should take two to three hours tops.”