by Holly Hart
Skye shakes her head – as best she can inside my embrace, anyway.
“Not to me. Because he’ll always be my dad, you know? I’ll never give up on him – even when he turns up at my apartment at three in the morning, stinking of booze, and needs a place to stay so the police won’t lock him up. He’ll always be my dad.”
We fall silent in each other’s arms for a few seconds.
A few minutes, maybe. In that moment, it feels like it’s just me and Skye against the world. It feels like every barrier that once stood between us has collapsed in one fell swoop, that we’re completely, entirely open, and at each other’s mercy.
Raw.
“We’ve got more in common than you know,” Skye says, still sounding stifled inside my embrace. “You know?”
I feel her shake her head loose, and she looks up. I pry my eyes open – I didn’t even know they were closed – and look down at her tear stained face.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“We’ve both got exactly the same problem – the same curse dragging us both down.”
My eyebrow wrinkles, and I stare down into Skye’s ocean blue eyes.
“Care to share?” I smile.
Thankfully, an answering smile shakes itself loose on Skye’s beautiful face.
“Control,” Skye says simply. “We both need to be in control at all times. Look at you – you built a multi-billion-dollar company so that your daughter would never, ever, be at risk.”
I stay silent for a few seconds. The truth is, this rings true to me. I do need to be in control. From the very first moment I decided I was going to sleep with Skye, I made it my mission. I even picked the clothes that I wanted her to wear!
But Skye…
My forehead wrinkles.
“What is it?” Skye asks.
“I think I’ve got an answer to your problem,” I say, the words coming out slowly, haltingly. An ingenious – or perhaps devious – plan forms inside my head.
I’m not sure that Skye’s going to go for it. Hell, I can’t think of many women that would.
For my plan to work, Skye needs to give herself over to me, completely. She needs to trust me. It’s going to involve her testing every boundary she’s ever held dear, and then blowing right past them.
“What’s that look on your face?” Skye asks with a hint of worry on her own. “I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to like it,” I say, leaning down and grazing her lips with mine. “But I think you will.”
“Tell me,” Skye pleads. “I don’t like surprises.”
“You’ll like this one,” I say. “I’m no therapist, but I’ve got a funny feeling it might solve both of our problems…”
17
Skye
The flight home is strange. It’s…
… an exploration.
In a way, everything has changed … yet nothing has. Not yet. I’m still the same girl I was before we flew out here, and Harlan’s still the same man:
the same beautiful, gorgeous, sexual man.
But our relationship has changed. Because, I think that’s what this is now, even if neither of us has put a label on it. A relationship.
You don’t talk to a person the way we talked to each other last night without something major changing, after all. So now we’re headed home, back to New York. It’s like I said – everything has changed. The mirror has shattered – yet everything remains exactly the same.
The jet engines whine beneath us as the plane banks to avoid a storm system. We’ve been in the air an hour or so, which means we’ll be flying for a couple of hours still – just us, in total solitude…
…except for the pilots, and stewardess, of course…
I’m lying across Harlan’s lap as he strokes my back. I reach up for a champagne flute that’s bubbling away merrily on the table in front of me. I catch it before it slides with the plane’s banked turn. I swear, when I’m with Harlan, there’s a never-ending supply of bubbles always within arm’s reach.
I’m not complaining.
Between the alcohol running through my veins and Harlan’s undivided attention, a healthy dose of sexual tension has been building all flight long. Goosebumps are sprouting all over my skin, and I can feel Harlan’s own, uh, tension against my stomach.
“What about the stewardess?” I giggle as Harlan runs his fingers up and down my spine. “She might hear something…”
Harlan glances down at me with a devil may care look on his face. “And,” he says. “So what if she does?”
My face burns red. “Harlan!” I gasp. “I can’t… I’m not like you, not yet.”
Harlan looks at me with a strange expression plastered onto his face. It’s as though he’s thinking about something that hasn’t yet happened. I know he’s got some kind of devious plan for me – to fix me – but he won’t tell me what it is!
It’s driving me insane.
“What!” I protest.
“Nothing,” Harlan lies to my face with a cheeky smile. “Only…”
I pinch his firm, toned stomach. “Only?”
“Hey!”
I cock my head. “There’s plenty more where that came from, believe me!” I crow. “You are not in control anymore, remember? At least, not of me…”
“Okay, I’ll tell you,” Harlan says, now running his fingers through my hair. I close my eyes and let them massage my scalp. He leans forward so that his mouth is a couple of inches from my ear.
“The secret I’m planning for –”
I cut him off. “No secrets, remember?” I say.
No, I kind of moan it, because the way Harlan’s playing with my head is spectacular. It’s hard to believe that even though he makes me feel like this, I still couldn’t come last night. What’s wrong with me?
“This is different,” Harlan chuckles. “Believe me, there’s no way you’d let me talk you into this if I just came clean.”
My forehead wrinkles with indignation. “So you’re really not going to tell me? You can’t do that!”
“Do you want to come or don’t you?” Harlan asks bluntly.
“You know I do,” I protest. I slide my own fingers down Harlan’s torso, then squeeze them between my body and his, searching for the – tension – pressing against my stomach.
“Then you’ll just have to trust me on this one,” Harlan says.
“You know you don’t get to come until I do, right?” I ask – copying Harlan’s own bluntness.
I guess he’s rubbing off on me – more than just literally against my stomach – more than I know. A few days ago, talking like that would have made my cheeks burn bright red. Now? It’s as easy as saying the alphabet.
“That,” Harlan groans as I squeeze his bulge, “is why I’m so damn determined to get to the bottom of this problem. Desperate, even…”
“Oh?” I grin, sticking out my tongue, even though Harlan’s eyes are closed. “I thought it was because you wanted to help me? Or is it all about you?”
Harlan’s eyelids spring open. A devilish look burns in his eyes. “A little from column A, and a little from column B, I guess…”
I press my palm into Harlan’s crotch once again, and he winces from the unexpected pleasure.
“I thought you were worried about the stewardess?” He asks.
“I guess you’re a bad influence on me…” I reply.
“In that case,” he growls, reaching over to fiddle with a control panel I can’t quite see. “I think you can do better than that.”
A ping echoes around the private jet’s small cabin.
“What did you just do?” I ask curiously.
Harlan runs his fingernails down my body again, and I tremble with pleasure. I might not be able to orgasm yet, but Harlan sure knows how to please a woman.
“I turned on the do not disturb,” Harlan replies roughly. “Because I don’t pay her enough to let her watch this…”
“Watch what –?”
Harlan digs his
fingers into my hair and lifts me up by the roots. I expect it to hurt – and it does – but not really. In fact, the tiny jolt of pain excites me, but not as much as the hungry look in Harlan’s eyes.
“Watch you suck my cock,” Harlan replies easily, as if it was the only possible answer.
My mouth drops open into a perfect O – a shape that, I guess, is about to come in very useful. My cheeks are burning with a hint of embarrassment, and a whole lot of desire.
I stammer. “I thought you were going to –”
Harlan cuts across me. “Oh don’t worry,” he says, biting his lip. “You don’t get to taste me. Not that way, not yet. But that doesn’t mean you get to skip practice…”
My eyes spring open wide. I’ve never known a man who’s as willing to state his intentions as Harlan fucking Wolfe. I guess that’s how he makes it to the top in business, in life, in leisure, in whatever field he sets his mind to, he sets his mind to win.
Because, you know what I’ve noticed?
It works.
Suddenly all I can think of is the taste of his huge, thick cock in my mouth. Hell, I want to send him over the edge – show him he can’t control himself when he’s around me.
I smile innocently up at my lover, and maybe even boyfriend. “Then let’s put on a show,” I say, talking in a stage whisper.
I slide off Harlan’s body, and he swivels his thick, plush armchair away from the table. I fall down, onto my knees, and kneel in front of My Man.
“I’m going to make you come,” I promise.
Harlan chuckles, and shakes his head. “You can try…”
I fiddle unsuccessfully with Harlan’s belt until he takes pity on me and loosens the buckle himself. Then I unzip his pants, and pull them down around his thighs. My eyes widen instantly.
“No underwear?”
Harlan grins. “I pack light.”
“Didn’t seem to stop you having a wardrobe full of women’s clothes…” I grumble good-naturedly.
“Scout’s motto,” Harlan replies, “‘always be prepared’, or have a killer assistant.” He winks at me. “I think I updated it.”
I can’t contain myself a second longer. I lean forward and kiss his cock, right on top. I’m fascinated with it. None of my boyfriends ever had anything close to Harlan’s size.
After them, I didn’t bother much with men. There didn’t seem to be much point.
Then again, if I’d known men came in all sorts of shapes and sizes, maybe I’d have had a different opinion…
But it’s this particular shape and size that I’m going to make come, if you know what I mean.
I reach out and close my fingers around Harlan’s cock. They barely fit. In fact, I can’t reach all the way around, not without both my hands. It’s hard to believe that something this big could possibly have fit inside me.
But it more than just fit…
“It’s not a work of art,” Harlan chuckles. But even he can’t disguise the slightly labored nature of his breath.
“Maybe not to you,” I reply. “But to me it’s fucking gorgeous.”
Harlan’s skin is boiling hot. I can’t resist it any longer. I lean forward and let the tip of his cock slide into my mouth. He lets out a deep, delighted sigh as I envelop him.
“Fuck…” He groans, “…that feels good.”
I lift my lips from his meat for a couple of seconds. Just long enough to say: “I told you so…”
And then my mouth dives back down. I don’t want to be parted from Harlan’s cock, not even for a second. I want to make up time, make up for all those years I spent denying myself this type of exploration.
Harlan digs his fingers through my hair as if he’s preparing to hold on tight and never let me go. He needn’t bother, because I’m not planning on going anywhere. Not if it means leaving this thing behind!
I swirl my tongue around the tip of Harlan’s cock, and graze my fingernails up the skin on the top of his thighs. I feel his ass cheeks contract, and his hips buck up a few inches, involuntarily. I smile with pride at the effect my attention is having, and take a couple more inches of Harlan’s incredible length into my mouth.
“I’m not going to come, though,” Harlan warns me – even if he sounds a little less sure than he did a few minutes ago. “We made a deal, and I’m not going to break it.”
“Whatever you say,” I… say. At least, I try to. With Harlan’s cock in my mouth it’s more of a confused mumble.
Part of me is doing this because of it’s a game, and the other part because it’s getting me seriously turned on. I’m so wet I know Harlan could fuck me without as much as a drop of lube. But now, that’s me getting ahead of the situation…
…And way, way, ahead of myself. All I want to concentrate on is this moment – right now. Hell, I’m not even doing this in the expectation of something in return. It’s just nice to do something for a man who –
“You’re incredible, Skye,” Harlan pants from up above me. “How did you learn to –?”
“– To what,” I end his sentence for him, tearing my lips away from Harlan’s cock for a few long seconds. “Suck cock like this? Just call it woman’s intuition.”
“I’ll call it whatever you want … ” Harlan growls with glassy eyes. He digs his fingers into my hair and pushes me down, “So long as you never stop.”
I do as I’m told. If Harlan wants to give me orders like that, then he’ll find I’m a very willing student!
I keep going until my jaw is sore. Harlan’s fingers tighten around my head, and I reach up and play with his balls. He jerks when I do that, and I think I have him – I think he’s about to come, but I should be so lucky.
Harlan groans as I pull away for a second time. I look at him with daggers in my eyes.
He throws his hands up in the air. “What?” He protests. But he’s got a twinkle in his eye that tells me he knows exactly what I’m mad about.
“You’re not going to, are you?” I spit. Not angry, more irritated.
“What?” Harlan winks. “Come?”
“You know,” I growl.
Harlan shakes his head and shrugs. “I told you so…” He says.
“Yeah, but…” I grumble, climbing up and off my knees. “I didn’t think – ”
“– think what?” Harlan grins back. “That I was serious? Or was it that you didn’t think I’d be able to resist your charms…”
Yes, that – the second one.
I stay silent. Harlan picks up both our champagne flutes, and hands mine to me. I shoot him yet more daggers as I raise the fine glass to my lips and take a sip. I gladly let the bubbles run down my tongue.
I might like Harlan’s cock, like it a whole lot, but the after taste? Not so much.
“I told you, Skye. I don’t get to come before you do. That’s a promise.”
I scrunch up my nose, “Ass.”
18
Harlan
By the time we arrive in New York, I’m a different man. But as it always fucking does, real-life hits. Sometimes, as much as I suddenly hate the idea, the business has to come first. My plan to change Skye’s life has to be put on hold for a couple of days.
At least until I’ve got my plans in order…
My PA walks into my office, and suddenly I’m catapulted into the real world once more. Just last week, this company was the most important thing – other than Poppy – in my life. Now… now, all I’m dreaming of is the look on Skye’s face when I finally coax her to orgasm.
However, since I can’t do that right now, I glance up at my assistant, and decide to do something else in the meantime. Perhaps … plans to take Skye out to dinner.
I’ve got a place in mind, and I know she’s going to love it. This girl deserves the finest things in life, and I’m going to treat her to them.
“Hey, Jen – get me a reservation at Mabel’s, will you?” I ask.
Judging by the look on Jennifer’s face, she knows as well as I do how hard it’s going to be to meet
my request. Mabel’s is the hottest new brasserie in town, and as far as I know, it’s booked solid for months.
Then again, there are some perks of being Manhattan’s richest man, and not having to worry with mere details like that is one of them.
“Sure thing, boss,” Jen replies, hesitantly. “But –”
I let my head tip forward, until my chin’s resting against my chest. I can feel the heat of Jen’s worried stare on my skin. I run my fingers through my hair, rest my knuckles on my forehead, grimace.
“Ah, screw it,” I mutter.
“Sorry, boss?”
I flick my fingers irritably. My mind races. Skye and I made a deal (even if she did her best to distract me from that particular agreement by getting down on her knees) we made a deal that I was going to stop trying to control her life. I guess this is part of it.
No more springing surprises. No more dinner reservations out of the blue.
We’re in this as a team.
“Don’t worry, Jen,” I say, shooting my assistant a smile. “I just need to ask my friend first. Hold tight.”
Jen’s blonde hair shimmers as she nods her agreement, but I catch her staring at me before she leaves my office. I know what she’s thinking. The Harlan Wolfe that she knows – the one I was before I went away with Skye – isn’t the kind of guy who asks anyone, well…
…Anything.
But I guess I’m not that guy anymore. He’s buried inside me, somewhere deep down – and that’s where he’s got to remain. Locked away, locked away with the man I used to be – a killer, a man who would do anything for his country.
I reach for my cell phone. I chew my lip, wondering whether Skye will be annoyed if I disrupt a session with a patient by calling. I decide to text.
I type: “What do you want to do tonight?”
I guess Skye isn’t in the middle of a session, because I get a reply in just a couple of seconds.
“Since when does Harlan Wolfe ask little ol’ me anything?”