Myka and the Millionaire

by Alexis Alvarez

  It was a strange, sexually charged but dark night, and in retrospect she knew that she never wanted that again. This particular scene had been too close to her line.

  After a week, when she saw him next, he was back to usual, but she remained on guard not to slip up and say something too clingy, because it clearly triggered something in him and took them to a place she didn’t like. The really troubling part was that she didn’t tell him that he’d pushed her to a new hard limit, because she didn’t know how to say it.

  Sure, “Don’t ever ask me to masturbate with a wooden spoon again, it’s a hard limit,” would be clear enough. And she knew that if she told him, he would honor her request. But the real problem wasn’t the spoon, it was that he spent the entire night punishing her because she had let her feelings show, had indicated that she thought of him as more than a temporary fling. It was the coldness that night.

  “So? Did you tell him where to shove his eyelashes?” Lourdes demanded.

  “No. I think I just need to give him some time, you know? To figure it out. To realize that it’s okay to fall in love; the world’s not going to fall apart. That I can be more to him than a booty call.”

  “But you are more. It’s that he doesn’t want to admit it, or something?”

  Myka didn’t know either. “I have no idea. But still, this trip—maybe it will be a turning point for us. Wish me luck.”

  “Yes, luck. But I worry about you. Remember what we talked about? How you put up with stuff because you think it will help you get to your goal faster? Don’t do it here, too. You live in a hotel as it is, a temporary place. Don’t put your emotions and your love into some kind of mental hotel, too. You’re worth more than that.”

  “I’m not in a mental hotel.” Myka’s voice raised. “I’m being patient. And I’m doing what you recommended, anyway—smelling the roses.” She tried to insert a smile into her tone.

  “The roses wilt at the end of summer,” Lourdes reminded her. “It’s stop and smell them, Myka, and then keep going. Not, stop and plant yourself there too and wait for them to fucking die on you.”

  “Lourdes. What the heck?” Myka had never heard her friend talk this way before and wondered if the dark ruminations came from Lourdes’ own heartbreak. “I know you mean well, okay? But seriously, you’re hurting my feelings.”

  “Myka. I care about your feelings. With all of my heart. Does he?”

  There was a pause as Myka didn’t know what to say, and Lourdes added, a weary note in her voice, “Just—don’t wait too long.”

  Chapter Ten

  Myka walked on the wind-tossed beach and enjoyed the spray from the ocean and the cries of the gulls. The sun sparkling on the waves made her happy, and she drew a heart in the packed sand, writing M&G before the cold foam rushed to erase it. Later, she spent a few hours on her laptop, working on jobs remotely while Gabriel met with colleagues.

  The good thing about consulting was that much of it could be done anywhere. A few more jobs like this one under her belt, and she’d be ready to launch her own business. With experience and recommendations from top-rated companies like Aero Logistics, she would have the right background to attract big clients.

  Ever since her punishment spanking from Gabriel over her work habits, she’d been careful to manage her time more carefully. No longer did she stay up for three hours at a stretch after one a.m., obsessively reading and rereading her Aero Logistics presentations and reports, rewording and fine-tuning the smallest words and commas. And instead of the world falling apart, she received the same positive feedback every time.

  Kylee was another story. Although Myka did her best to set clear boundaries with the girl, Kylee still managed to rattle her. She fielded a phone call while Gabriel was at a business meeting. “Kylee? I’m in Maine for the weekend. I told you. Since there’s no concert this weekend, and there are no changes, Christopher approved me to be out of town.”

  Kylee’s voice was cool. “He may sign your paperwork, but I’m the real boss of the tour. You should have checked with me, Myka. Me.”

  Myka bit her lip. “Kylee, I appreciate your dedication to having everything perfect on the tour. Believe me, I want the same thing. Sometimes getting away to recharge my batteries, so to speak, will let me be even more useful to you when I return.”

  Kylee barely let her finish. “Well, I decided I need to change the website again. Instead of the flashing pictures and music, I want it to be a montage of pictures from the most recent concerts. And I want the font styles changed, and I want the blog to have a new header. I want the fan forums to have new categories and I need a better search feature. And I want it by tomorrow.” Her voice was whiny. “And I’m switching my lighting ideas. I want blue to flash more, and I want a rainbow light show at the end. I want to see the mockup by Monday.”

  Myka took a deep breath. The old her would have freaked out, took the first plane back, and worked all night, all weekend, until the changes were done. But instead, she kept her voice calm. “Those sound like interesting ideas. As soon as I get back, I’ll meet with you and we’ll create a timeline to get that done. I’m sure we can accomplish it all before the next trip. I have a great new software program that will help me map out all the steps together so we don’t leave out any critical pieces.”

  “No. Now! The timeline is right now, Myka.”

  “Kylee, I’m on an approved vacation right now. But as soon as I get back, I’ll dedicate myself to that project.”

  Kylee hung up. Myka looked at her phone for a second, feeling an uneasy mix of victory and foreboding, but soon she forgot all about the call, because that afternoon, Gabriel took her out to explore the town. They stopped for coffee in a café with striped awnings and five cats, then browsed a used bookstore cluttered with piles of books in seeming random order.

  A smile broke out on her face when she found a hardcover with the name Jeremy Bentham on the spine, remembering the day she first met Gabriel, and how they’d talked about pleasure and pain. She squealed in disbelief as she read the title: Of Sexual Irregularities, and Other Writings on Sexual Morality (Collected Works of Jeremy Bentham).

  “Gabriel!” she called. “I’m getting you a special present.” She giggled. “Don’t look, it’s a surprise.”

  His voice made her jump; he was one aisle over, talking through the books. “Should I get you a present too?” He sounded happy, humorous.

  “You don’t have to. This is too funny. I can’t resist.” She practically skipped to the register and paid, sliding the book into a plain brown bag.

  He emerged from his own aisle, grinning. “When do I get my gift?” He looked excited, like a kid at a birthday party. “Later,” she told him. “After we eat, maybe.” She laughed. “Come on. I want to see that little antiques store.”

  “I hate antiques,” he told her in a dark voice with a hint of a teasing smile. “Boring.”

  “You promised me you’d try things once, too,” she reminded him in a sweet sing-song, “before you safeword out.” She slapped his ass and danced away, giggling in the stiff wind, feeling alive and energized. “Come on, baby. Don’t be scared. Let Myka hold your hand so the big bad old-fashioned furniture doesn’t scare you.”

  He rolled his eyes but laughed, then grabbed her and kissed her with such passion that she was taken aback with the force, and let her lips open to his. After a minute he looked at her, his whole face smiling. “Okay. I’ll try something new for you. Lead the way, then.”

  His arm was strong under her fingers, and he let her pull him along the breezy walk to the next little shop. She spent a long time looking at strange trinkets in the back room, and came back out to see Gabriel slide something into his pocket, but he just gave her a smile and his hand.

  A quaint 1950s style postcard caught her eye; it depicted a nerdy man wearing thick black glasses and sitting on a rocket, drawn in propaganda-poster style. The title read, “Science Is Neat-O!” “Hey.” She poked Gabriel. “It’s you.” She pointed
at the card and snorted.

  He grunted. “Well, then, this one’s you.” He pointed to a picture of a 1950s housewife in a period dress over her husband’s lap, his hand raised high. The caption read, “If your husband ever finds out you’re not buying the freshest coffee…”

  Myka sucked in her breath and darted a glance at his eyes, which widened at her look. “I meant, because she’s over his lap. Like you are, often over mine. That’s all.” Then he added, “Are you done here? Let’s go.”

  Deflated, Myka nodded. She bit her lip, trying to figure out how to retrieve the sweet camaraderie, and whispered into his ear, “Speaking of being over a lap, maybe we should try out that rocking chair in the cottage we’re renting.”

  His eyes flared. “That’s quite a reasonable suggestion, Myka. Let’s.” He smiled again and grabbed her hand, pulling her as they ran through the windy streets, laughing together like kids, urging each other to go faster. When they reached the cottage, he slammed the door behind them and pulled at her shirt, helping her undress, then she helped him. When they were both naked, he stopped and looked at her, his face soft.

  “Ma chèrie, you’re so lovely,” he said, and tugged her into his arms for a kiss. His hard arousal pushed against her belly and she reached down to stroke him. She loved the feel of his skin, and how her fingers couldn’t close around his width. She squeezed and rubbed the way he liked, and he drew in his breath and kissed her neck.

  She expected him to pull her to the rocking chair for a spanking, like she’d teased him, but instead he took her right to the bed, still kissing her in between movements, and when they both lay down, he continued touching her breasts and thighs, until she closed her eyes in pleasure and sighed.

  “Don’t you want to—?” she questioned, but he kept kissing her.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  Myka wanted to say, Your heart. “I want something soft and sensual,” she whispered.

  “Good,” he murmured, and Myka wrapped her arms around him and ran her hands up and down his body. He touched between her legs again and again until she was wet and ready, moaning and pushing her hips. It was only then that he got up to retrieve something. She expected to see a paddle or crop, but when he returned he held some lengths of soft black rope.

  “It’s bondage rope,” he told her. “It won’t scratch your skin.”

  He tied a length of rope around each of her wrists and ankles, making knots that were as beautiful as they were functional, then fastened each rope around the beams at the head and footboards. When he was done, Myka lay on her back, spread-eagled, barely able to wiggle.

  “Good,” he told her with satisfaction. “Now we’ll play.”

  “I’d tell you to spread your legs,” he teased, “but they already are. And that makes it easy for me to do this.” He produced a small toy that looked like two pink plastic balls, about the size of rubber bouncing balls, attached together by a small plastic string, with a longer plastic loop at the other end for retrieval. He lowered the balls and inserted them into her vagina, and Myka moaned at the pleasurable sensation of his fingers and the balls, filling her.

  He pulled his fingers out and then Myka tugged in her bonds with surprise when she felt the balls start to vibrate. Gabriel held up a small remote control device and smiled. “I can make them vibrate in different ways,” he explained, pushing a button. The balls began to vibrate in a random pattern, buzzing, stopping, buzzing longer, a short stop. Myka moaned again, feeling sweat break out on her forehead.

  With a push of the button, he set the balls back onto the steady thrum, and then reached for another item—a butt plug with a long handle. He coated it with lube and put it at the entrance to her anus. “This time you can’t push back at me,” he instructed her. “So relax your ass cheeks and let me do the work.”

  Myka cried out once as the widest part pushed past her anus, and gasped as it lodged. Having the plug in her ass and the balls in her pussy was incredible; she’d never felt so full. He pushed something on the anal plug and it, too, began to vibrate.

  It felt good, almost too good. With both things vibrating in her body at once, an orgasm rushed in, hovering at the edges of her clit. It was just out of reach—and because she was tied down, she couldn’t rock her hips to achieve the kind of rubbing she needed to tip her over the edge.

  She yelped in frustration. “Gabriel! It feels so good. I need to come. Please let me come.”

  He smiled. “It’s another lesson in delayed gratification, ma chèrie. I like training you to wait.”

  She whined and clenched her thighs. Her whole vagina and anal area was buzzing with arousal and the need to come. “God, it’s so intense. I can’t wait.”

  “But you’re going to,” he told her. He knelt between her stretched thighs, leaned down, and began to tongue her nipples in turn, teasing them with long licks and small bites. Myka lurched against the ropes, and Gabriel teased until her nipples were swollen and distended, the nubs hard and fat.

  Leaning back on his knees, he looked at her with lowered eyes. “If you could see how you look, so sexy, tied down with that black rope against your white skin. I love having you this way, begging for my touch.”

  Myka felt her eyes glaze. “Please. “

  The buzzing of the balls was back to some random pattern, and he did the same to the anal plug; now she was filled with a new driving urge. “God! I can’t take it. Gabriel!” Tears of concentration slid down her face.

  “Just a little more,” he soothed. “Enjoy the sensation of being tormented on the edge.”

  “I can’t take it anymore!” Myka was beside herself.

  “You can. Ten minutes.” His voice was firm. He set an alarm next to the bed. “After that, I’ll let you come.” He reached down and showed her a heavy black paddle. “If you come before the ten minutes is up, I’m giving you thirty. It will hurt quite a bit, so I recommend forcing your body to obey you right now, yes, ma chèrie?”

  “Oh, God,” murmured Myka, knowing she didn’t want that, but not at all certain she could hold out for ten more minutes. Every second was torture.

  Gabriel bent his head and started licking her nipples again, every once in a while sucking hard, then giving a bite, then licking the tip, until she squirmed and pulled. Her tears came harder, not from pain, but from the incredible sensation of being on the edge for so hard and so long. She liked holding an orgasm back, knowing the pleasure would be more intense, but God, she’d never been made to hold one so long against such intense teasing. If she let go, it would come without any further friction at all.

  “I—I can’t,” she sobbed.

  “Five minutes.” His voice was tense, and Myka knew he wanted her. She took deep breaths in and out, trying to do yoga relaxation, to wrestle control of her body. When Gabriel held up a small bullet vibrator, her eyes widened, all relaxation forgotten. “To make the next few minutes more interesting,” he told her, grinning wickedly, and began to run the vibe over her nipples.

  Myka screamed. “Gabriel!” After all of his sucking and teasing, the vibrator gave ripples of pleasure so fierce that they were almost painful.

  When he pulled the vibe away from her nipples she gasped with relief, but tensed as she felt the vibe on her inner thighs. “Hold on,” he whispered, as he moved it deliberately up one thigh. “A few more minutes, ma chèrie.”

  The vibrator hovered at the back of her body, near the anal plug. He pulled it slowly toward her belly, taking about ten or fifteen seconds to get from her anus to the middle of her pussy lips, then drew it even more slowly up toward her clit. Myka wailed, knowing that he was going to rest it there, positive she’d come if he did that.

  It was on her clit, buzzing the pleasure into a fire, and she begged, “I can’t hold it. I can’t.” Her thighs shook and then she felt relief; he’d moved the vibe. It was back at her anus, and he did it again; he pulled the vibe up through her slick wet tissue and paused on her clit. This time her left it there longer, and b
y the time he took it off she was panting with exertion.

  “How many more minutes?” she sobbed.

  “One more time like that, and don’t fucking come.” This time he massaged the vibrator around as he moved it along her body, and Myka cried outright by the time it reached her clit, moaning and beseeching him when the alarm rang out.

  “Thank God,” murmured Gabriel, dropping the vibe. He pulled the balls out of her by their string with a sucking pop and then thrust his cock in deep. He was the hardest Myka had ever felt him. He fucked her hard, pulling out and shoving back in until she could feel his balls slap against her. She couldn’t move in the bonds, and she cried out as the orgasm rushed up, more powerful than anything she’d ever experience before. Finally he told her, “Now.”

  Once she let go, the feeling built and kept building, past anything she’d experienced, and when she finally hit the top, the sensation was so sharp and biting, so amazing, that she screamed and nearly passed out. Waves of pure pleasure washed over her clit and through her body, another orgasm, then another—one barely ended before another began. Gabriel finally came hard into her body, shouting.

  He rolled over and lay beside her for a moment, then untied her arms and legs. Myka stiffly pulled them in and rolled into his side, where he put his arms around her and held her tightly, murmuring in French. He pulled a sheet over her and stroked her arms and shoulders while she floated above the world, and she could feel his heart beating as she fell asleep in his arms.

  * * *

  When Myka awoke, it was dusk, and at first she was disoriented. Then she remembered the vacation, the cottage, the phenomenal sex. She sat up and looked around; he was sitting at the window looking out into the distance, talking on his phone. She wrapped the sheet around herself and walked over, trailing it behind like a robe. As she approached, he glanced over, his eyes wary, and lowered his voice. “No. I can’t talk about it now. I’ll call you later.”