by Vera Roberts
~~~~~
When Ian shows up, he shows out.
Around three o’clock, that was when his influence began to arrive in the form of a hairstylist, make-up artist, fashion stylist, and a photographer. Our living room was transformed from a nice little kickback for college students to Glam Squad 101.
I was ordered to take a shower and “scrub as much as I can and everywhere I could feel.” I was given special soap, lotion, and deodorant to do the job. I would’ve been offended but I recognized the name brands of said items and quickly shut up. I was holding around five hundred dollars of toiletries in my hand and they were mine to keep.
After the shower, I sat down in the living room as the stylist fixed my hair, and the makeup artist concentrated on my face. The fashion stylist made sure I was dressed down to even the panties and bra. I was fine with my Vickie Secrets but apparently that wasn’t good enough for Ian.
He chose Agent Provocateur for me. Yeah, that was a mouthful I don’t want to repeat.
The photographer snapped pics I guess to commemorate the event? I’m not even sure. Honestly, it felt like I was getting ready for a wedding or some big Hollywood affair. Not that I minded at all. I actually thought it was pretty cool.
“All done?” The stylist asked the make-up artist and hair girl. “Great! Let’s get you dressed!”
The stylist led me back to my bedroom where she helped me get into the fancy bra and panties and pulled out the Black Halo evening gown. It was a deep purple, almost crimson, with a slit up the thigh that was sexy enough for the ‘Ooh’ factor but not obscene.
“I’ll help you slip this on.” The stylist instructed to me as I put on the sleek gown. I felt like a princess already.
“Ian says you wear heels so here are these,” she pulled out gold Gucci heels with a thin strap, “It’ll match your clutch and earrings.”
“Earrings?” I asked. “What earrings?”
“Ian picked these out for you,” she opened a small box and stared back at me were two of the largest diamond stud earrings I had ever seen. They had to have been five carats and I didn’t even want to think about the cost.
“Wow, Ian must know a lot of people to have this on loan,” I admired as the stylist shot me a look.
“Loan? Oh no, sweetheart, these are yours to keep.” She smiled a warm smile. “This is an early Christmas gift from him.”
My jaw plummeted down to my stomach. Thinking about what Ian has spent put me into a tailspin. This wasn’t a nice hundred-dollar gift so I can go to the mall and get something nice (there’s nothing wrong that, by the way). The earrings were at least in the five figures.
Maybe Adrienne and Blake were onto something…
After I finished getting dressed, I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like royalty. I felt like a princess. My face was beat to the gods and I’d never felt so beautiful. The gown hugged my curves and hid all of my problem areas. My hair was coiffed in a perfect bun. The earrings stood out against my skin tone.
I felt magical.
There was a knock on the bedroom door and Helen and Michelle came in. “Look at you!” Helen took pics with her phone.
“You look so beautiful!” Michelle clamored.
“I feel very beautiful!” I nodded as the make-up artist got my attention. “Yes?”
“Ian’s here. He’s ready for his princess!” He smiled.
Ian’s princess, huh? I love the sound of that.
I made my way down to the waiting Rolls Royce and locked eyes with Ian. He was dressed rather conservatively with a bowtie tuxedo and his hands in his pockets. His brown hair was slightly feathered and he had the most gorgeous smile (complete with dimples!) on his face.
He walked up to me and held me by my waist. I would never get used to this man’s touch. “You look absolutely spectacular, Domi.” He quietly spoke to me as people around us snapped pics.
“You look gorgeous, Ian,” my breath came out as a breathy whisper.
“You make me look good,” he whispered back, “are you ready to go?”
“Ready.” He grabbed my hand and led me inside the Phantom before he walked over to his side. The driver then sped off to our destination.
Little did I know tonight’s date was going to answer every question and raise some more.
Sixteen
“Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
It was how Ian started the conversation once we’d arrived at the charity gala. The blinding light from numerous photographers flashed in our direction as we walked up the long stairs to the Gallery.
There was a lot Ian didn’t know about me. On our way to the gala, we learned of each other birthdays (his is on October 10th while I’m on June 8th. Yes, I already did the mental horoscope readings of a Libra and Gemini pairing), each other’s favorite food (he loves an Italian dish he can only get in Italy, go figure. I’m good with the nearest Papa John’s), and annoyances (in his words, ‘I hate stupid women.’ I think that’s something we both agreed on).
But now the fun and games were over. He wanted to know something more in-depth about me. The fact I often tossed and turned at night and never slept in one spot. The fact I’m a Maury diehard even going as far as predicting which storylines were faker than Kim Kardashian’s butt.
I’m sure none of that interested Ian.
I didn’t want to play all intelligent and S-M-R-T because that’s not why he brought me here. I decided to surprise him with something I know would either scare him off or welcome him into the family.
“My brother is now my sister,” I smiled for the camera as Ian wrapped a hand around my waist.
He turned to me with a smile on his face. I don’t know if it was genuine or if he did it for the ‘Gram. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Her name is Adrienne.” I made sure all of my teeth showed. “Do I have any lipstick on my teeth?”
“No, you’re perfect,” he casually replied. He has a tendency of making life-changing compliments like that as if they’re nothing.
“That doesn’t bother you?” I asked as we held hands and walked inside. “A lot of people don’t like that.”
“I’m strangely curious, yes. I don’t know any transgendered people,” he admitted, “but I would love to meet your…” He paused. “…sister.”
Baby steps. At least he wasn’t disgusted by Adrienne and seemed open to meeting her. “She used to be a sex worker but she’s not anymore. She sells art online.”
Ian picked up two glasses of champagne and handed one to me. “Is she good?”
“I think she is but that’s just my opinion. I’m sure everyone would say the same about their sibling.” I shrugged.
“Not necessarily. I kick Gerald’s ass in basketball while he wipes the floor with me in chess.” He replied. He clinked glasses with me. “To a beautiful future.”
I felt the small zaps of hope popping up all over my body as my heart belted into a chorus of Rihanna’s “Only Girl In the World.” My pounding heartbeat was making me deaf. “To a beautiful future,” I calmly replied as I sipped the champagne. Wow. This shit is horrible. I’m not sure if I even want to speak to the server who gave me this. This shit tastes like fallen dreams and sorrow.
Even Ian noticed the taste. He stared down at his glass as if he wanted the taste to somehow appear. All of this fancy-schmancy glitz and they can’t get the champagne, right? “I want to meet your sister and see her artwork.” He finally turned to me. “I want to get to know you more, Domi. I feel like I don’t really know you.”
“I could say the same about you.” It’s true. I have an idea who Ian is but I really have no clue.
He stepped closer to me and caressed my cheek. “Trust me when I say you already know a whole lot about me than most people, if not all.” He heard his name called and nodded the other person over. “Let’s go mingle with some stuffy fools tonight.”
That man is full of surprises. Just when I think I know Ian and what he’s all about, he hits m
e with another one of his notorious pop quizzes. I better get an A in this class.
~~~~~
The charity gala was just as pretentious as I imagined. Safe comedy with canned laughter and many people with very big pockets bidding on items I could only imagine having.
We sat with the rest of the Ferguson family. Gerald’s wife was equally bored and we talked throughout the night. Her name was Emma and she was a delight. She was slightly drunk but hilarious. Porcelain skin, dark red hair, curvy bod, and a penchant of one-liners that kept me laughing all night.
Now I saw why Gerald was with her. He was so damn stuffy, he needed someone to lighten him up.
“Gerald told me how you threw coffee at him,” Emma began as she sipped her champagne, “this shit is horrible, by the way. I keep drinking it in hopes it’ll taste better but it still tastes like piss and vinegar.”
I stifled a laugh. “I’m sorry for that. It was uncharacteristic of me and it will never happen again.”
“Oh please,” Emma shook her head, “he deserved it. I told him one day someone is going to knock his ass out for some stupid shit he’s said and he kept saying it would never happen. Everyone back in Essex is so polite to each other and would just shade the hell out of each other before coming to any blows. We don’t play that here in America.” She raised an eyebrow. “It wasn’t a knockout but that coffee woke him right the fuck up.” She put a hand to her mouth. “Excuse me for that. I understand why he acts the way he does. Out of the men, he dealt with Lula Jean’s death head on. Anthony, I feel, is still dealing with it. He keeps dicking these bimbos.”
“And Ian?” I had to ask. The thought was killing me.
“Ian is going to do Ian,” she let out a breath, “he loves his family, he loves his restaurants, he loves his life. But Ian doesn’t do commitment unless he sees a future. He keeps dating women who he knows won’t last another week or so. He becomes infatuated and bored rather quickly.”
Geez, that makes a girl feel so much better.
“You’re different, though,” she turned to me, “he likes you even though he won’t admit it.”
“How do you know this?” I asked. “Ian’s rather private with his feelings.”
“Ian is very frugal. He doesn’t spend a lot of money unless it’s Christmas or birthdays. He’s spent a lot of money on you and given you gifts he wouldn’t give a woman he’s just boning. Hell, I doubt he’s even given them a, ‘Thanks for the good time’ note the morning after.” I had to laugh at that as I remembered Toothpick Tanya. “He’s still figuring things out,” Emma raised an eyebrow, “he’s holding out for something but I don’t know exactly what. I’m not sure what his purpose with you is quite yet but don’t give up on him. Just when you think it’s pointless and worthless, he’ll surprise you.”
It was good advice and a lot of clarity. Ian likes me. Okay, that’s a start. I can handle that.
Ian slid his hand on my thigh and gave it a tight squeeze and I turned to him. He locked eyes briefly and he winked at me before he turned his attention back to the Kevin Hart-lite performer on stage.
I like him. He likes me. So why the hold up?
~~~~~
“That was entertaining,” Ian sat in the Rolls Royce with me as we made our way back to my apartment.
I could tell those types of affairs was something Ian only did because the family did them. If he didn’t show up and was spotted traversing with some peroxide-blonde bimbo on St. Tropez, it would cause some serious problems.
Ian preferred being in his restaurants. Even though they catered to a high-end crowd, it was clear Ian treated everyone the same whether they only had five dollars in their pockets or five million dollars. With the galas, he had to put on a pretentious face to keep up with the copious amounts of fake attitudes throughout the night. We both were exhausted.
“I had a good time,” I answered his next question before he asked it, “it was a nice affair.”
Ian shot a look at me. “You don’t have lie to impress me, Domi. I know it was boring as all shit. You saw how wasted Emma got on that watery-ass Sprite they called champagne.”
I chuckled. He was right. The gala was god-awful and boring. At least Emma was entertaining. “It was an experience,” I rephrased.
“Yeah, a bad one.” He chuckled. “I’m glad you came with me. Someone else would’ve raved on and on about everything but you’re real.”
Yeah, I’m real. Real fake.
I thought about how much I wanted to reveal to Ian. That I already started scribbling Dominique Ferguson? That I began studying a little bit of art in my downtime to keep up? That I hoped Ian showing up for Thanksgiving was going to be a regular occurrence?
I felt Ian move closer to me like he always did and was prepare for him to back away as usual. Except he didn’t. His soft lips brushed against mine before he finally devoured them. His tongue swept the inside of my mouth, tasting and exploring me.
It wasn’t just a kiss. It was me yielding control to Ian to do whatever he wanted my life. It was Ian telling me he was firmly in command.
I’d been kissed many times before by forgettable men. The sloppy, drunken, tonsil-hockey that no one dared to speak of. I even channeled my inner Katy Perry once during a frat party. But this kiss from Ian, though, devoured my body, and took over my mind.
The warmth of his lips powered by the control of his tongue as I invited him again and again to explore me, explore us.
His lips trailed down to my neck and he discovered a hot spot I didn’t know I had. A breathy moan of his name escaped my lips as I clutched onto his body. Yes, I needed this. I needed this release. I needed this pleasure.
I writhed and squirmed with anticipation as hot flashes of desire panged my body. I softly shook underneath him as he held me close as his lips explored my neck, touching off my senses, and making me lose control.
No words came out, just soft moans, and mewls from me. My body and voice produced sounds I didn’t know I was capable of and it was all a foreign language of inexplicable sounds and emotions. I was blubbering, blabbering, completely incoherent and lost in a world of orgasmic bliss.
I felt the dampness of my panties, the throbbing inside of them, and didn’t know how one kiss by Ian could create such pleasure, tingling me down to my core and having me all sorts of shook.
His lips were gently possessive, yet not too demanding. He was addictive and I already yearned for more. I wanted to feel him on top of me, inside me, behind me, and all over me. I wanted to feel his lips between the inside of my thighs as he kissed everywhere. I wanted to feel the smooth roughness of his tongue as he pleasured me to no end as I begged and moaned beneath him.
I wanted this. I was also afraid of this.
Ian represented something new and foreign. He was in a different world where money was loud and emotions were silent. Even he said it himself he was dedicated more to his business than to his personal life.
Still, the thought the unknown enticed me. I was willing to try if he was. We could be great together. Or we could become a beautiful disaster.
I caressed his body as my hand traveled down to his zipper when he suddenly stopped me and slightly pulled back. “Not yet.”
It came out as a promise, not a demand. I was disappointed he wouldn’t let me please him but Ian had his reasons.
“When?” I begged.
“When you’re ready,” he promised as he pulled me closer to him. I laid my head against his chest. His heart was pounding. He was so calm, collected, and in complete control, I had no idea he felt the same emotions I did. “You’re not ready yet.”
I called bullshit on that. I was ready. More than ready. Losing my virginity in the backseat of a Rolls Royce? Hells, yeah! Even Harlequin couldn’t write that shit!
I also knew what Ian meant. It was more than just sex between us and that was something we both knew. He couldn’t do this to me and then go onto to date someone else. I couldn’t sleep with him and then return to the interns
hip as if nothing had ever happened.
But now we’ve crossed a line that we can’t get back over. We can’t possibly go back to being just friends, as if we were that, anyway. What happens now is anyone’s guess.
“When do you think I’ll be ready?” I finally asked him.
He let out a deep breath. “You’ll let me know.”
What? Were my moans not loud enough? Were the expensive wet panties not clear enough? I mean…what other way could I let this man know I’m ready right fucking now?
“You’re ready to be my lover,” Ian clarified, “you’re not ready to be my girlfriend. Once you are, you’ll let me know.”