The Cabin

by Alice Ward

“I’m famous.” He said it in a meekly playful way.

  Okay. I had to laugh, that was ridiculous.

  “Ah good, I got a laugh.” He did a fist pump, which seemed so totally out of character for him that I laughed again. “Score one for KP.”

  The restaurant was amazing, as expected. We were seated, selected items from the menu, and I was at a loss for what to say next. I was relieved when he started.

  “I love how you see the world. I’ve had a chance to look over your work, and while you have some technical refining to do, your instinct and natural talent are remarkable. Your paintings are worth what I’d pay for them if you allow me the opportunity.”

  I started to interrupt, but he held up a finger. I snapped my mouth closed and nodded for him to continue.

  “I want you to have the chance to paint without working at a place with sticky tables and grumbling coworkers. As for my donation to the center, I must thank you for that as well. I had no idea that so many children were being served by this community. Children are the future and most people just abandon the ones who are broken or who don’t meet society’s strict standards of perfection. This place gives children hope, encouragement, and a future. I didn’t really understand how important that was until I stalked you. Actually, I went so far as to read one of your graduated student’s Facebook pages and it was quite glowing and complimentary.”

  It was my turn to hold up a finger and look him dead in the eye. “You know the stalking thing is a turn off, right?”

  “Do you know who I am?” he asked softly.

  “I don’t care who you are,” I barked.

  “I didn’t ask if you cared, I asked if you knew,” he corrected.

  “You’re Kembrough Preston, the famous movie whatever guy. Most people call you KP which I think is… never mind.”

  He laughed. “See, you stalked me too.”

  I bristled. “I didn’t stalk you. Everyone knows who you are. I actually didn’t know anything about you, but everyone else sure does,” I fired back.

  “See, even you had a better chance of dating me than I did of dating you, because at least you knew who I was. I had to resort to stalking… you should feel sorry for me,” he fake pouted.

  He got me again, and I laughed.

  I forced myself to be serious again. “I still won’t have sex with you even though you donated money to the center and bought all my paintings, and I expect you’ll pay for this meal. Even with all of that, I’ll walk away with my virtue. Sex is completely off the table.”

  “Well, if you take my offer to buy your paintings, I might expect you to pay for this meal.” He leaned forward, his eyes sweeping over my face. “I absolutely want to have sex with you, badly, but you’ve said no, so I’m obliged to honor your decision. I’m not into forcing women, nor am I into anything that involves whips and chains. If you think I’m fifty shades of anything, it’s simply selfish. I’m used to getting what I want.”

  My lips parted and his eyes dropped to them. “Oh.”

  “I’ve invited you to lunch for another reason,” he added, sounding like a businessman.

  I cocked my head. “And that is?”

  “I hope the gallery mentioned that I wanted to commission a painting.” He was still businesslike, but softened some.

  I stiffened, still feeling skeptical. “Yes. And…”

  He took a deep breath. He seemed off-center. It was weird to see this commanding and cocky billionaire look unhinged.

  “You see, I have a younger brother. Our family has a lot of money. Actually, an unfathomable amount of money. We have these pretentious portraits in our great room and they are quite, um… impressive, I guess. We have one for every family member going back generations. Typical haunted mansion stuff.”

  I smiled. “I’d heard that families of distinction actually do get portraits with their dogs and golf clubs and things of this nature. The painting is meant to be a reflection of the person and their interests.”

  He nodded. “Right. It’s an unwritten law of sorts that each member of a moneyed family have a portrait prominently featured. Every one of my family members has had one or more portraits made, but him. I want his painted.”

  “That’s weird. Why doesn’t he have a portrait?” I asked innocently.

  “We’ll need to discuss that sometime in the future, if you don’t mind.” Oh, I hit a hot spot. Must remember that for the future: family drama.

  “Why won’t the painter you’ve used in the past do it?” I asked.

  “I want someone with your eye, your sensitivity, and honestly, I want my brother to meet you.”

  “Is there something wrong with your brother?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t rude.

  He sighed and his expression changed. Tenderness would probably be the best word. “Not wrong exactly, but he’s special.”

  Our meal came and we dug in. He and I enjoyed the best wine I’d ever tasted, and by the end of our lunch, I agreed to do the painting. I also accepted his offer to buy my work. I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into, but I was willing to take this adventure.

  Throughout our lunch, KP had shown respect. He treated me with dignity and listened attentively as I talked about the inspiration for my work. I explained how my observations of people in society sparked my interest in expressing their humanity in a raw and sometimes dark way.

  He smiled and said he hoped that I would find some happier inspiration soon. Of course, he was alluding to a possible relationship with him, but I let the comment slide. I hoped he understood that to mean that I still wasn’t interested.

  I made sure to thank him for the opportunity to quit working at the diner. I explained the money would afford me the chance to focus my attention on Gran and shared her health problems. Maybe it was the wine, but I also opened up about school and how I’d been saving to attend.

  “What about your family?” he asked.

  “It’s not something I’m comfortable sharing,” I explained.

  A tiny smile played on his lips. “Another mystery.”

  “Can’t spill all the beans,” I teased.

  “Or even one bean, god forbid,” he threw back at me.

  I smirked. “You won’t talk about your family, and I told you about Gran,” I countered.

  “True. I’m happy the money will provide you time to be with your grandmother and the opportunity to further your career. I’m excited to see where your talent will take you. Your paintings are going in my offices, one at work and the other at home. I find them inspirational. I hope they remind me to look at things with my heart rather than my ruthlessness, but I also pray that altering my temperament doesn’t bankrupt me.”

  “Yeah that would suck,” I added, laughing with him.

  “Suck? Yes, very much,” he said in a sultry way.

  “Don’t do that,” I playfully warned.

  His eyes narrowed. “Then don’t say words that might lead me down that path.”

  “Resist,” I hissed at him.

  He lifted a shoulder. “Fine. We’ll stay on topics like the weather and the painting you’re doing for me.”

  “Exactly.”

  He tapped his fingers on the table. “So, not only am I not having sex with you anytime in the near future, I also can’t talk about it?”

  I threw up my hands. “Oh my god, you’re such a baby. Sex is like a fraction of what people talk about. There are a billion other things to say to one another. What are you? A sex maniac or something?”

  “Not a maniac, no. I’m just very good at it, and also enjoy it a great deal. It’s great exercise.”

  Exercise? He just said that sex was great exercise. What a piece of work.

  “Exercise, really! Okay, I think this might be a good time to point out that this’ll be strictly a business relationship. Imagine if you asked Steven Spielberg about sucking anything… how would he react?”

  “Well—”

  “Think about talking to him like that. Not gonna happen, right? So then
don’t let it happen with me.”

  And that round goes to moi.

  “But I don’t want to have sex with Steven Spielberg. I very much want to have sex with you. And maybe people don’t talk about sex. That’s people, not me. I talk about it a lot. I really like it, and I’d like to show you how much fun it is.” He eyes blazed, threatening to burn into my soul. “I could really, you know? Worship you. Make you scream my name.”

  I was having a hard time breathing. “I know that sex is fun. I just don’t want to do it with you.”

  Bam. I had this.

  “Try it.”

  “Oh my god. You think you’re god’s gift to everything. Just because you want me doesn’t mean I’m gonna drop my panties for you. I don’t want to have sex. I don’t want to fuck, get pumped, done, laid, bent over, or anything else. I’m sure it’s a lot of fun, but I get plenty of exercise. When I find someone who loves me and shares with me the kind of mutual respect and understanding that is uniquely crafted between lovers and soul mates, I’ll gladly make love to that person, every day and in every way we can. You, my friend, and I use that term lightly, are not that person.”

  Whew… okay, there it was, all out on the table.

  “I could be that person, you know.”

  God, I wanted him to be that person.

  “How about we just stick to the weather and painting,” I suggested and fiddled with the napkin on my lap.

  He looked like he was going to argue, but nodded instead. We had reached a standstill and there wasn’t much else to say on the matter, and he knew it. The rest of the meal was quiet, and when we finished, he took me back to my car.

  “I’ll have my lawyer draw up the papers for the sale. I should be able to have a portion of the money sent to you by this afternoon. You can work out how you’d like the funds deposited when my accountant calls you. Also, I know you’ll have to pay taxes on the money, so I’ve made one payment to charity for the gallery, a non-taxable gift, and the other for your services. I hope you don’t take that the wrong way. I just want you to get more of the million than the government. I give them plenty, trust me.”

  I felt myself softening toward him. “Thank you, that makes good sense. I appreciate it. Your generosity will definitely make a huge difference in my life.”

  “You’ve already made such a difference in mine,” he said kindly as the driver pulled next to my beater.

  I didn’t know why I felt shy all of a sudden, or why I suddenly wanted to press my lips against his. I knew that kissing him might send mixed messages, but I felt compelled to give him something. Maybe that thing was a little hope, for both of us. I leaned over and kissed his cheek, not knowing what else to say.

  He reached for me, but his hand stopped in midair. Slowly, it dropped to his lap. “Would you like to start working on the painting this weekend?” he asked gently.

  I nodded. “I’d love to.”

  “I’ll pick you up on Saturday morning, say eight?”

  “That works.” The driver held open my door and I smiled and thanked him as I stepped out, then bent down to look at KP again. “Thank you for everything.”

  His smile lit something deep inside of me.

  As the car drove away, my heart fluttered, and I was glad that I’d be seeing him again.

  He’d made an effort today. Baby steps were good. Despite myself, I liked him. I liked him a lot.

  As I stuck the keys in the ignition and the old car roared to life, it hit me. I was a millionaire. It took a long time before I was steady enough to drive to the hospital and I wondered if Gran would even believe my story.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  KP

  I haven’t felt giddiness and joy in… ever. The last time I came close to feeling this excited about anything was when we won an Oscar for Best Picture.

  When Caitlyn agreed to paint my brother’s portrait, she essentially agreed to spend time with me. Half the battle was already won. All I had to do was woo her and ensnare her. Correction. All I had to do was stop saying stupid shit and she was as good as mine. This thrilling prospect nearly had me singing in the streets.

  People stared at me as I whistled my way into the office. I didn’t care.

  “You’re in a good mood today,” Sandra said, then looked appalled at her remark.

  I gave her a bright smile and watched the tension drain out of her in degrees. “I am. Nothing earth-shattering happened while I was gone I hope.”

  “Nope, nothing out of the ordinary. You have several calls from the ‘Til Death Us Do Part’ director, but Marty got those. Oh, Miss Rachel is in your office.”

  And just like that… buzzkill.

  “Shit. I forgot she was coming.”

  Sandra chewed her bottom lip like she was afraid she’d done something wrong. “She’s been in there awhile.”

  I fought to stay in my nice guy role, but I really wanted to punch someone. “Take my calls, and I’ll check in with you in a few.”

  In all my excitement, I’d forgotten about my thing with Rachel. My cock did an automatic twitch, thinking it would soon get to let out some steam. And maybe I should. Maybe a good screw would level out my head and I wouldn’t have such a hard-on for Caitlyn.

  Damn. Caitlyn.

  That was the rub. If I wanted to be the kind of man who deserved someone like her, then romping around having office sex was most likely not part of that plan. I would be proving to myself — and subconsciously to Caitlyn — that I was exactly the person she feared I was.

  Hell.

  Even though I had no idea how to handle Rachel, I opened the door only to find her completely naked but for a pair of red stiletto heels. Her legs were spread wide, and she was sitting on my desk. I shut the door in a hurry, hoping nobody saw her dripping wet pussy on full display.

  “I’m all ready for you,” she said in a breathless tone, “I’ve made myself come like six times waiting for you to get here. Where have you been?” she asked as her fingers spread her pussy lips apart.

  My cock twitched again in interest, but my mind was fully disconnected. “A meeting.”

  Apparently not noticing my mood, Rachel slid her fingers into her dripping wet center and writhed anxiously on my desk. “Let’s fuck the foreplay tonight; we can save it for later. Come give me that fat cock right now.”

  Despite my best efforts, her dirty talk and readiness for a good, hard fucking had my cock’s full attention. I shifted to make room for it as my erection pressed against my zipper. I was always one to be first up the flagpole when it came to getting a hard-on. Even a cold breeze could set me off.

  Fuck, I didn’t need this right now. But Rachel didn’t notice. She just eyed my crotch and smiled, crooking her finger at me. “Doesn’t look like a blowy is necessary. Come on, bad boy, and pound that fat fucker into me until we sweat. And before you come, flip me over and fuck my ass. I’m needing the ass love tonight.”

  It took everything in my power to resist her. Absolutely every muscle in my body was needed to hold my cock back from taking the plunge. I wanted it more than I wanted anything. All of a sudden, the feisty waitress with a massive social agenda and an eye for suffering meant nothing. That swelled up, juicy pussy was all that mattered in life. I touched myself, trying to rub out the need, but it only made me harder.

  Rachel frowned. “What’s your hold up, cowboy? Jump in the saddle. Down and dirty is fine with me. I brought wine. We can act civilized later.”

  I couldn’t do it. In spite of my body’s obvious reaction, I walked over to her and closed her legs. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I can’t tonight.”

  Why was I letting this moment go? I wasn’t committed to Caitlyn, and hell, she’d never know. I felt like I was on some precipice, and if I dipped my cock right now, there would be no redemption for me. If I had sex with Rachel, a woman I mildly enjoyed and had zero romantic interest in, then there was no way I could remain loyal to someone like Caitlyn one day. The rational part of my brain told me what I was doing was right
and noble. The irrational part of my brain was like, You fucking idiot, take this. It’s right there. Think of your poor wilting member. Caitlyn has been a solid bitch to you since you met her. Give up this fight and go get that pussy now!

  “What?” Rachel yelled as she sat up and spit fire from her eyes. “You mean to tell me that you’ve made me wait here for almost two hours and you aren’t going to fuck me? I’m sorry, what the fucking hell?”

  I handed her the bra lying on my chair. “Sorry. I just can’t.”

  She stared at me in disbelief. “Your dick is right there. I can see it. You are hard as a tree stump.” She sat completely up. “Fine. Just pull it out and I’ll do all the work. Just don’t leave me like this.” Damn. She was nearly pleading.

  I gently grabbed her hand and held it a moment. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  “Why?” she raged.

  I took a deep breath. “It’s better that you and I—”

  “Oh no, you fucking don’t!” she yelled, and damn it if she didn’t claw at my dick.

  I had to physically stop her from ripping my trousers open.

  “We can still be friends,” I offered, my hands around her wrists.

  “You and I are not friends,” she hissed, yanking away. “We’re fuck buddies. We fuck and eat. That’s all we do. You can take your friendship and bestow it on someone who cares. I’m not that girl. All I want is your cock in me now.”

  “Rachel, don’t do this,” I said, feeling irritation sink in.

  I thought I was selfish. She really was a perfect complement to me — driven entirely by desire.

  “Don’t do what? What we have always been doing?” She poked me in the chest. “You didn’t send me a text or an email or anything letting me know that things had changed. Did you find someone else? You have a new fuck friend so you’re off of me now? Fine.” She stood up and faced me full on. “I don’t care. I don’t care who else you fuck.”

  “Rachel, stop—”

  Before my eyes, she changed tactics, and a sly grin spread on her face. “Stop what? Stop swallowing every drop of your cum deep in my throat? Stop letting you shoot it in my ass, my mouth, my ear, wherever the fuck it lands? Stop asking for anything in return?” She stepped closer. “Just remember that I’m the one who can make you hard without even touching you, and I can get you off several times in one night. I can milk your dick even when you swear you’re dry. You want me at two in the morning? You call. You want to piss on me? You call. You want whips and chains… call. Just because we haven’t done those things doesn’t mean I won’t. Be careful what you’re throwing away big boy. You’re not gonna get it this good again.”