by July Hall
Her tone made him raise his eyebrows. Well, well, well. “I said as much, didn’t I?”
She went from pink to red. “I know you haven’t slept with—but that doesn’t mean you didn’t have people…women…over for, for dinner or whatever. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” She bit her lip. It took everything Charles had not to smile. “Of course there isn’t. I’m just saying. Not that I—”
Satisfaction blazed within him. “Are you the jealous type, Miss Dane?”
He could see her preparing to deny it. Then she sighed and looked down at the mattress. “Not usually. Not ever, before I met you. It’s ridiculous.”
For the second time in as many days, he felt like purring. So he wasn’t alone in this. It seemed too good to be true, but Sandra wouldn’t fake it. She didn’t seem interested in lying to boost his ego.
“I haven’t had women in my house, and I want you there,” he said. “Take my word for it.” He stroked her cheek.
She took a deep, unsteady breath. “Okay. Now might not be the moment to say this, but whatever. I’m apparently the jealous type, so, um. Keep not having women over. After Bradley…” She gulped. “I could not take that again. I’m really trusting you. So you’ve got to tell me if—”
Charles moved so quickly that she yelped in surprise. He rolled both of them over until he lay on top of her, looking down at her blue eyes and flushed cheeks. “You can trust me,” he said. Her mouth looked as luscious as the reddest apple on the tree. “I am yours exclusively.”
“Oh!” she gasped, parting her legs so that he could settle his hips between them. She cupped the back of his neck with one hand. “Mine?” She gave a soft, wondering laugh. “All mine?”
Before he could reply, she raised her head to kiss him. He sank into it as he would a warm bath. She was so warm, her scent so intoxicating. Beyond compare.
“I want no one else,” he said, putting his hands on her thighs. She’d changed out of the jeans she’d worn for the morning chill, and now wore a skirt. How convenient. “No one.”
Her eyes closed as he slid her skirt up her thighs. Her lips twitched in a half-smile. “God,” she said. “You’re a machine.”
“This isn’t for me.” He began tugging her panties down her thighs. “I never finished what I started at your consultation in my office.” And he hadn’t paid her back for turning the tables on him last night, either.
Sandra’s eyes flew open again. She licked her lips and squeaked, “Oh?”
“Yes, ‘oh.’” He encouraged her to lift her hips so he could pull her panties down her legs and then tossed them to the other side of the bed.
“Jesus.” She shivered when he slid his hands back beneath her skirt to stroke her bare thighs. “I…I’m glad we stopped, but it almost killed me at the time.”
We stopped, she said, but she was the one who’d stopped him. He’d been so close to giving her pleasure, breaking the shell that had driven him wild since the night they met.
He’d broken it now. Sandra looked at him with hopeful eyes, her bottom lip caught beneath her teeth.
“Is that so?” Charles said, moving his hand over until he cupped her mound, feeling her downy thatch against his palm. She gasped. “I can believe it. You were so fucking wet.” The obscenity made her pulse beat faster in her throat. He dipped a finger between her lips. “Just like…well, what have we here?”
“God,” she choked as he teased her, coaxing the bubble of moisture out over his finger. His blood buzzed when he looked at her, fully dressed but for her skirt rucked up around her thighs, her cunt exposed and slick. He’d barely touched her and she looked utterly debauched.
He met Sandra’s eyes again to see that she was looking at him, too. Then, while he watched, she cupped her breasts and began massaging herself through her blouse. Her eyes fell shut and she sighed.
Charles’s breath left him in a rush. His hand went still. “Keep going,” Sandra murmured, her eyes still closed. A mischievous smile teased her lips. “This is for me, right?”
“I changed my mind,” he managed. She giggled but kept her eyes shut. Her hands continued to cup and squeeze herself. He swallowed. If he removed her blouse, exposed her breasts…all for him to stroke and lick and…
Sandra opened her eyes. “You look kind of distracted,” she said. As if she’d read his mind, she began to unbutton her blouse. “I guess I’d better take care of this before you ruin another one of my shirts.”
“I’ll buy you a replacement,” he said through his teeth.
Sandra grinned. “Now that, I’ll accept.” She opened her blouse, exposing her bra. Simple gray cotton this time. He could see her nipples peaking through it. How could it be more enticing than satin and lace?
“Is that better?” Sandra asked. As he watched, she took her nipples between her fingers and began to pinch and twist them. Her eyes closed again. “Ohh.”
His cock was beginning to fill, growing heavy between his legs. Damn it. She’d pay for this. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked, making his voice soft with a threat she didn’t seem to hear.
Instead of answering, she whispered, “I was so close on your couch. Seriously, one more second and I would have come right there.”
So he had been right. Charles’s mouth actually started to water. He swallowed. “It wouldn’t have been the only time,” he said. “I would have made you come so many goddamn times.” Until she was a flushed, panting wreck, helpless before him. Until that pretty shell was cracked straight through.
“Charles,” she whimpered as he fingered her. She pinched her nipples harder, whined in the back of her throat, and he couldn’t take it anymore. With his free hand, he pushed her hands away from her breasts and pinned them over her head. Then he bent down and began to suck and bite her through the thin cotton. “Oh Jesus!”
Charles kissed her again and again, stroking her until she was fluttering and quivering around his fingers and her breath was a sob in her throat. It didn’t take long at all, it never did. And she always looked so shocked, because she hadn’t known what her body could do.
He’d show her, Charles thought as he unbuckled his belt. She lay trembling and ready before him. He’d unlock all her potential, in the bedroom and out. He’d find out every secret and hidden truth.
And he’d love her. For whatever that was worth. What was left of his broken, wasted heart, she could have, even if she didn’t know it.
When he pushed inside her, as gently as he could, she gave a low sigh of delight. The sound went straight to his cock, to his heavy balls and the tingle at the small of his back that urged him to go hard and fast. Maybe flip her over onto all fours and take her that way, letting the soft heat of her cunt do all the work.
Another time. There would be many other times. Charles moved slowly, taking Sandra in long, deep strokes that had her moaning in bliss and made him bite his lip in restraint.
“I’ll take you on all fours,” he promised through his teeth. Sandra gasped. “And I’ll tie you up. I’ll fuck you everywhere.”
Sandra gulped for air. “In your office,” she whimpered.
“Ah.” Charles fought to keep his rhythm smooth. Suddenly he saw himself at his office desk with Sandra bent over in front of him, her perfect ass soft and bare while he took her from behind. He could watch his cock going in and out of her, getting wetter and wetter while she begged for more.
“Anywhere,” Sandra panted, as if she’d been reading his mind. “Anytime. Whatever we want.” Then she began squeezing him in that measured rhythm designed to drive him insane. “Oh…please…”
Hell, yes. He gave into it, thrusting faster and harder. Her eyes closed, and Charles heard himself speaking as if his voice was coming from somewhere else. “I’m yours,” he rasped while he fucked her, this girl who’d talked of leaving him. She quivered and clenched and moaned. “And as for you…”
“Oh God—” She spread her legs wider and began to undulate her hips.
“No other m
en.” Something else uncurled in him then, darker and more dangerous than passion. More familiar, too. “I’ll end them. I’ll destroy them. Do you hear?”
“Jesus,” she gasped, as he began to move even more quickly. “And—what about me? Oh yes, oh yes. Oh…wh-what would you do to…”
“I’d bring you back,” he panted. “I’d bring you back to me. That’s all.” As gently as if she’d just gone out for an afternoon stroll. He’d embrace her while the blood was still fresh on his hands.
Magisters cherished what they’d been given.
“You wouldn’t have to.” She dug her fingernails into his back. The small bite of pain made him groan. “I don’t want to go anywhere.”
The tingling sensation at the base of his spine spread through his body. His balls began to draw up, to tighten, and he knew he couldn’t stop. “Oh—” She kept squeezing him. The edges of his vision went blurry. “Darling, oh—”
Sandra looked up at him with eyes as blue as the autumn sky. “I love it when you come inside me,” she said dreamily.
Charles gave up. He thrust inside her once more and came, filling her up, lost to everything but his release. He could only let the pleasure take him. She had no pity, no mercy. He made the whole world cower, and one smile from her sent him to his knees.
It was his rightful place. Charles collapsed onto his elbows, reeling. His vixen slid her arms around him with a sigh of pure satisfaction. Who’d caught whom?
“Oh, wow,” she breathed, “I love the way it feels. You’re so big, and you just…you throb in me, and…” Her head lolled back against the bed. He pried his eyes open to see that her mouth had parted in a smile.
“Keep talking that way and I’ll do it again,” he grated.
She giggled. “I bet you could, too.”
Maybe. She’d driven him to do all kinds of impossible things. Charles reverently kissed her shoulder through the damp, crumpled silk of her blouse. He should probably replace this one, too.
“Well,” he grunted, rousing himself enough to slide out of her. It took considerable willpower. “There might be something stopping me.”
He’d meant age and time, of course. But Sandra sat bolt upright, sheer horror on her face while she clutched her blouse shut and looked toward the door. “Warrick?”
Charles stared at her. Then, for the first time in ten years, he burst out laughing. He laughed and laughed, until he fell over on his side and his stomach ached. Tears ran down his cheeks, and Sandra started hitting him with one of the pillows.
He grabbed the pillow, tossed it away, and hauled her down into his arms, kissing every bit of her he could reach. By now, she was laughing too. He felt lighter than air.
He had no idea how he’d lived without her for so long, but he had no intention of doing it again.
***
The sun was beginning to set. It was time for Sandra to return home. Back to her everyday life, which had lost some of its sparkle, for sure.
But not all of it. She and Charles weren’t…breaking up, or whatever. Whatever they were doing, it would be together.
She wasn’t driving her car home. The rental place had already closed, and parking in her neighborhood was a nightmare. Warrick would arrange for the car to be returned tomorrow, and Charles was sending her back to Brooklyn in a black custom-built Jaguar XJR. It was the least conspicuous of the four cars currently in his garage. Charles had also insisted on paying all the rental fees, especially since it was his fault she was returning the car late.
Part of Sandra wanted to say no, but most of her imagined Arnaud’s face when she told him that she needed to be reimbursed extra. So she said yes, and watched Charles’s eyes gleam.
“Don’t get used to it,” she warned.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He put his arm around her shoulders.
They stood on the front steps while Ronny drove the Jaguar around from the garage. Warrick remained at the door, and it was impossible to tell from his face what he thought of the sea change from earlier in the afternoon. Sandra knew that the odd maid or two cast them a curious glance from the windows. Charles had insisted that none of them would snitch. She hoped he was right.
Secrets sucked. But they were better than her name smeared all over Page Six and TMZ. Even a blind item would be a disaster. Guess which Wall Street tycoon spent the weekend in his Gold Coast mansion with his own nephew’s ex-girlfriend? Talk about keeping it in the family…
She rested her head on Charles’s shoulder. Maybe they just needed to give it some time. A decent interval. Charles was well-known in certain circles, even infamous, but those circles were pretty small. He wasn’t a celebrity. After a few months, maybe they could go out to dinner, and it would get a little attention before blowing over.
That was assuming she and Charles were still together in a few months. He’d be screwed no matter when they came out. It wasn’t about the gossip, it was about his family. No matter how much time passed, and even if scandal wasn’t a problem, nothing would change the fact that he was dating Bradley’s ex. Rosalie wasn’t likely to let that one go, to say nothing of Bradley himself. Sandra was pretty much past giving a fuck about both of them, but she couldn’t blame Charles for not feeling the same way. Would he really be willing to put up with all that drama, just for her sake?
And then, of course, there was her own family to consider. She tried to imagine telling Kristen that she was sleeping with the living embodiment of capitalism. She tried to imagine telling her parents that she was in love with a billionaire who was twenty years her senior, and who came with a whole host of other complications besides. She tried to imagine telling her little brother not to make dirty jokes.
Sandra briefly closed her eyes. It was too early to imagine any of that. Don’t worry about it yet. Don’t borrow trouble. Enjoy what you have.
The Jaguar rolled to a stop in front of the steps. Charles let go of Sandra and took both of her hands when she turned to face him.
For a moment, they stood in silence. There were so many questions. Everything still felt shaky and uncertain—but this time the moment seemed full of potential, not loss.
Suddenly, Sandra remembered something. “Your definition of perfection,” she said. He raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Remember what you told me? It was the night we met. You said it was all about opportunity and possibility.”
He gave a short laugh. It wasn’t the loud, joyful laughter he’d given back in the bedroom, the laughter that had made Sandra feel like she had wings, but it was still warm. “And you said it was about everything being in the right place.” He squeezed her hands. “Now here we are.”
“Yeah. Here we are.” Sandra bit her lip. “So we’re both wrong? This doesn’t exactly seem like the perfect situation.”
“Situations are what we make of them. If you wait for perfection, you’re going to wait forever.” Charles traced a fingertip very gently over her cheek. “Believe me, this is close enough.”
Sandra did believe him. He’d changed her mind about plenty of things, and she was never going to settle for just fine ever again.
She looked into his eyes. She should have realized, from the very moment they met, that those green eyes were going to change her life. She raised her face and went up on her tiptoes so that their mouths could meet in a tender kiss.
“Believe me,” she whispered. “This is better.”
EPILOGUE
Bradley
Manhattan was a total bore on Sunday night. People called New York the city that never slept, but that didn’t mean everybody was out partying, that was for sure.
Usually, that irritated Bradley. But for once, he had something interesting to do on Sunday night—in his own apartment, at that.
He sighed and stretched out on his new leather sofa. He’d just had it imported from Italy last week. It wasn’t as comfortable as it had looked on the website. The asshole delivery guys had tried to rip him off on the tip, too.
“My ex-girlfriend is a whore,
” he said.
“Yeah,” his dad agreed, sounding sympathetic over the phone. “They all are, buddy. I told you so.”
“Sandra seemed different.” Was that a scratch in the sofa arm? Already? “But look at this shit. She gets mad at me for prostitutes, and she’s worse than all of them put together.”
His laptop sat on the coffee table, taunting him with the pictures the photographer had just e-mailed him: photos of Uncle Charles’s black Jag turning out of the driveway with Sandra in the back seat.
“He got the photos tonight?” Robert asked.
“Right before sunset, thank God. Otherwise she might have noticed the flash.” The photographer and his partner, professional snoops, had concealed themselves for nearly two days. For a while, Bradley had wondered if he’d been wrong, if he’d misread his uncle’s attitude about Sandra. Now he sneered. “Uncle Charles told me she left on Saturday morning after the rain let up. Seriously. I’m not even kidding.”
“And you’re sure she was there the whole time?”
“I did what you told me to,” Bradley said, annoyed. “I had the other guy watch her apartment. She wasn’t home. She didn’t come home all weekend.”
Too bad they couldn’t get hold of any security footage from the driveway cameras. Uncle Charles’s staff was crazy loyal. He spoiled them—most staff would be happy to work for half of what he paid. Uncle Charles lined the pockets of a bunch of illegal aliens, to say nothing of his douchebag butler, but he couldn’t give an inch for his own flesh and blood?
Robert laughed. “Jesus. I always knew that asshole had to be hiding something, but this is more than I ever hoped for. If you’d asked me last week, I’d have sworn up and down that he didn’t even have a dick. Incredible.”
Bradley gritted his teeth and looked up at the ceiling. He saw a cobweb on the chandelier. Couldn’t that fucking maid do anything right? “Yeah,” he said. “It’s awesome.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Robert said quickly. “I really am sorry, buddy. But isn’t it better for you to know? I know it hurts, if you really liked her, but…”