Haze

by Deborah Bladon

  I study the receipts for yesterday's sales. "I should punish her for that."

  "Just look at her now." She nudges her elbow into my side. "Her dress is practically falling open."

  I tap my finger on the front counter. "Isla's sales are still the most impressive, Cicely. Yours could stand some improvement."

  She grabs hold of my forearm as she peers down at the numbers. "I have to take care of everything, sir. It's a lot to manage all the employees."

  "You're having difficulty keeping everything in check?"

  Her body stiffens, her hand darting to the front of her dress. "No, I didn't mean that. Isla is just a handful."

  "Indeed she is."

  She waits a moment before she responds. "I saw her open her dress on the security footage, sir. She just untied it and there it all was. I can show you if you want."

  The fact that she hasn't fired Isla herself is evidence enough that it was a woman Isla showed her lingerie to, and not a man. "I don't need to see it. I'll speak to Isla about it."

  "What's going on with her? Is there something going on between you two?"

  The question irritates me enough that I turn to face her. "Why are you asking?"

  Her arms cross over her chest in a defensive way. "She breaks a lot of rules and never gets in trouble."

  "She has yet to break a rule that would warrant terminating her employment, Cicely," I remind her. "You've broken rules as well. You didn't do your job the morning that refuse was found in the change room. If you had, it would have been a non-issue."

  "What is it about girls like her?" Her hand flies in the air behind her head. "Why do men like you always want girls like that?"

  "I have no idea what other men want." I look past her to where Isla is standing. Her face lit up in a smile as she speaks to a customer. "I can tell you that Isla is not a girl. She's an incredibly complex woman and I'm honored whenever she spends time with me."

  "Whatever," she mumbles as she walks away. "I seriously do not get the appeal."

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Isla

  I scan my apartment one last time before I open the door.

  "Isla." He grabs my shoulders before he leans down to kiss me softly. "You look beautiful."

  He always says that. I think I could be wearing a burlap sack and a pointy hat on my head and he'd say the exact same thing. I'm not complaining. I like it. I'll never tire of it.

  He, on the other hand, looks striking. He's dressed completely in black. This is one of the few times I've seen him outside his penthouse without a tie.

  "This is where I live," I state the obvious out of nervousness. Of course this is where I live. I'm the one who gave him the address when he asked if he could pick me up for dinner.

  I move aside as he brushes past me. "It's larger than I imagined. It's comfortable?"

  "It's no penthouse overlooking Central Park," I tease. "I like it a lot though. I really like it now that my roommate has left."

  "I thought she was moving out on Friday."

  I thought the same until she told me that Nigel's roommate had bailed on him so she was going to move in there. It's financially the best decision for them both and as she packed up what was left of her things last night, I'd given her a huge hug and watched her walk out the door.

  We'll still meet for lunch and dinners. We'll hang out sometimes but our lives are moving in different directions.

  "She had an opportunity to move sooner, so she took it."

  He reaches for my hands, pulling them into his. "You're trembling, Isla. What is it?"

  I glance towards my bedroom. There's no reason for me to be nervous. This is what I want. It's why I stopped on my way home from work last night in a small store I had peered in night after night. I'm not doing this for him. Well, not just for him. This is for me.

  "Kiss me." I perch myself up on my tiptoes. I have yet to put on my heels, or my panties, for that matter. The only thing I'm wearing is the navy blue sheath dress he's never seen me in before.

  He cradles my face in his palms as he kisses me slow and deep, his delicious tongue diving into my mouth, coaxing me. I moan into the kiss as he trails his teeth over my bottom lip. This time I don't pull back when he bites me.

  "What was it for?" I say breathlessly against his mouth.

  "You did open your dress for a customer." His smile presses against mine. "Cicely wasn't impressed."

  "I give zero fucks about Cicely. Zero."

  He laughs then. The sound vibrates through me. How did I get this lucky? What did I ever do in my life to deserve the attention of this man?

  "I want the things we do to be just about us." I stop to kiss him again.

  He pulls me closer, his hands now wrapped lightly around my neck. "They are, Isla. Everything we ever do will just be about us."

  "I bought you a gift."

  His fingers run through my hair. "A gift? For me?"

  I close my eyes, doubting for just a moment whether this is a good idea or not.

  "Show me?" Expectation laces his words. "I want to see what it is."

  "Gabriel." I press my mouth against his one more time, reveling in the sweet taste of his breath and the scent of his skin. "My bedroom is the first door on the left. Please give me five minutes. Just five and then you'll come in."

  He kisses me then, with a low growl. "Five minutes, Isla. Not a minute more."

  ***

  My heart stops for two beats when I hear the door open and the sound he makes. It's not a moan, it doesn't resemble a word. It's a slow, guttural sound that drives every ounce of desire to my core instantly.

  "Jesus, Isla," he hisses as he walks into my view. "This is for me? You did this for me?"

  The only light in the room are the vanilla scented candles I've placed around the space. There may be a dozen, maybe less. I lost count when I lit them with my shaky hands.

  I'd pulled my dress off then, securing the black fur collar around my neck. I pulled the crop from the box I've kept it in since I bought it. I held it in my palms, imagining his strong hand wrapped around the handle as he pulls it over my skin, before he brings it down in a harsh snap.

  "Isla," he says my name softly as he takes off his jacket, tossing it on a chair near the bed. "I've never seen anything more beautiful than this."

  My body is completely on display. My thighs spread not more than a few inches, my pussy wet, wanting, aching for him.

  He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, his eyes never leaving mine.

  I whimper faintly when he lowers one knee to the bed as he scoops up the handcuffs I'd left on the nightstand. He kisses a trail of soft bites up my right arm before he closes the cuff around my wrist. He wraps them around the post of my headboard before a soft line of kisses dot my left arm. When I'm finally bound he leans down. His index finger loops through the metal ring on the front of the collar. He pulls it up, my neck slowly bending with the movement as he pulls me into his waiting kiss.

  "Haze, Isla."

  "Haze," I repeat.

  He moves back to look at me. His eyes focused solely on my face. "You don't know what you do to me. You can't understand what this means to me."

  I nod as I bite my bottom lip, stalling the emotion that I'm feeling. "Please, sir."

  His hand catches the handle of the crop. He brings it up into my view. His other hand stroking its length before it settles on the leather tongue at the top.

  I moan the moment he lowers it to my cheek. He pulls it along, the leather warm and hard. "Slow tonight, beautiful Isla. We'll go slow."

  I nod in response, not even sure that there are words I can form.

  The leather glides along my chin, down my neck and across my chest. I stare up and into his face, watching the subtle nuances as his brows lift when the leather circles my nipple. I'm so aroused that they ache, they ache already and he has barely touched them.

  I cry out when he slaps my right nipple with the leather. The pain only silenced by the pleasure in his breathing
. He moans slightly. It's so soft that if there was any rustling in the room beyond the movement of his shirt as he reaches forward, I'd miss it. It would be lost.

  My eyes close, heavy with both want and need. I listen more intently. I hear his shoes as they shift on the hardwood floors, the sound of my labored breathing woven into the steady and increasing beats of my heart.

  I scream when the leather slaps my left nipple, not once, not twice, but again and again.

  His lips are on me then, his breath in my mouth, his tongue on mine. "I adore you, Isla. I adore you."

  I nod again. This time, knowing that if I tried to speak it would be a twisted mess of emotions I'm not ready to share.

  I feel the soft touch of his hand on my hip as he pushes me to my side. I help, sliding my body over, my wrists still cuffed above my head.

  The leather glides down my skin, stopping at the top of my ass. He circles it over and over again in the center of my back. The sensation hypnotic, relaxing, so calming.

  "Gabriel," I whisper his name against my lips as I open my eyes. He's behind me. I can see the faint movement of his shirt as his forearm circles into view again, and then again, and yet again.

  I moan when the leather inches down across my ass, circling a small space. I push back when it slaps me, my body craving more. I rub my thighs together, desperate for anything that will stimulate my clit enough for me to get off.

  He growls his disapproval, approval, something into the air as the leather slaps me again, time and again.

  I'm on my back now, the crop being pulled along my belly to the place that I crave. He inches my legs apart with the tip. I acquiesce, letting my thighs drop to the bed.

  The leather glides over my folds slowly; it's so painfully slow that I whimper aloud as I close my eyes. "I want to come."

  "You will."

  It's right then that he gives me what I want. The harsh and tight leather circles that spot. He hones in on my clit and I lift my hips from the bed as he touches me, in the most intimate way, with a small piece of leather and only his words.

  "Your cunt is so beautiful. I love the way it tastes. I love the way you grip my cock when you come. I'm going to fuck you so hard."

  "Please, Gabriel," I beg for release. I want the sting of the pain. I want to know what it's like to feel that.

  It moves and I scream out of sheer desperation. My reward is a sharp snap of the leather against my inner thigh and then another and then just as I open my eyes, I feel his weight on the bed. Everything shifts; each sound becomes louder, each fragrance stronger, my body's own need to come is all that I can feel and think about.

  I watch as he pulls a condom from his pocket before he sheaths his thick cock. He leans forward, pulling his shirttails out of the way as he pushes into me balls deep, pulling my right leg up into his arm. The sensation is so intense that I weep as I arch my ass of the bed.

  "So fucking good." The words spill from his lips into mine as he kisses me hard, fucking me even harder. I come fast. It's so fast that it spurs him on even more.

  "I will never get enough of this." The words fall from his lips as he grinds himself into me. "I will never get enough of you."

  I kiss him, wanting everything he can give to me and when his body shakes as he comes, only one word fills the room. Isla. Isla. Isla.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Gabriel

  I open my eyes, immediately aware that I've slept in a bed that doesn’t belong to me. I'm also instantly, and gratefully aware, that Isla is next to me. I feel her lush body pressed against mine. The curve of her ass is visible when I glance down.

  I'd fucked her twice. Once when she was cuffed to the bed and then again hours later after she'd taken my cock between her lips. She was on her knees on the floor next to the bed, the soft collar still wrapped around her neck as she swallowed every inch of my cock, urging me to come in her mouth.

  I wanted it. I fucking wanted it so badly but I wanted to be inside her more and when I guided her back onto my lap, she'd hesitated. I knew what it meant. I was ready. I motioned for her to grab the condom I'd pulled out of the pocket of my pants.

  She'd sheathed me herself, taking care to cover me tenderly, before she inched back into my lap and lowered her slick cunt over me. It was incredible, the angle, the sensations, the sight of her tits bouncing as she rode me hard.

  Her lips were swollen, her body misted and when she came that time, she'd cursed. The words driving me mad, mad enough to circle her waist with my arm so I could drive my cock up and inside of her until I came. I'd dropped onto my back then, pulling her with me.

  She's ruined me. I felt it for weeks now. I've ignored it all but now I feel it in every part of me. I'll never get over this.

  "We haven't had dinner." She pushes her back into my chest. "Are you hungry, Gabriel?"

  No, it's not hunger. I'm in love. I think I'm in love. I have no bearing for that but this feels like love.

  I wrap my arms around her, nestling my face in the softness of her hair. "I can cook something. What do you have to eat?"

  "Mustard."

  I laugh when I realize she's not going to say another thing. "You only have mustard?"

  "It's the fancy one." She kicks her feet to move the blankets. "You probably eat it by the truckload. You know what I'm talking about."

  I pull her closer. "Yellow mustard, Isla?"

  "Ha," she says loudly. "You know that's not it. It's the fancy one."

  "Grey Poupon?"

  "I have that," she says with a horrible English accent. "You're welcome to eat it by the spoon if you like."

  I cringe. "You don't eat it by the spoonful, do you?"

  "I hate mustard." She rolls over, pulling her hand along her face to move her hair. "It was Cassia's, my roommate's. It's not even mine."

  "What would you like to eat? I can order something in."

  "Pizza." She taps my chest with both her hands. "Let's have pizza."

  ***

  "Why haven't you told anyone?" She chews the last bite of her slice. "Have you considered talking to your mom about it?"

  I've never thought about talking to anyone about it, especially my mother. It's a subject that I've kept hidden inside of me for most of my life. At the very least, since I was a teenager when I sensed what was happening.

  "My mother's affairs are her own." I wince at my own choice of words. "I don't know what good would come of it if I confront her."

  "You just told me that you know, for a fact, that she cheated on your dad with at least two men."

  "I also know, for a fact that my father cheated on my mother with as many, if not more women."

  She swipes a paper napkin across her lips. "It's really fucked up. They made vows. They promised one another."

  "There was always a lot of discontent in their marriage," I say softly. "They were always arguing. There was so much back and forth that it was actually a relief when they decided to divorce."

  She leans back against the headboard of her bed. "Do you ever think they regret it? Do you think they still care about each other at all?"

  I love this part of her. It's hopeful and naïve. She may have lived through many difficult things within her own family but she's never been touched by the volatility of a relationship like the one my parents have.

  "I think my mother still loves Roman, my father, in a sense," I say coolly. "There's still something there. She was very upset when he got engaged."

  "I read that his fiancé called it off." She pushes the pizza box towards me. "You should eat more."

  "I'm full." I slam the box shut.

  "If I ever get married, I want it to be forever." She looks across the room at the candles which I'd blown out hours ago when she first fell asleep. "I know that's silly to say, but it's my dream. It's one of my dreams."

  I lean forward to graze my lips across her bare knee. "It's not silly if that's your dream, Isla."

  She pinches the bridge of her nose, her eyes shuttering for a mo
ment. "I wanted the crop to be for just you and me. The collar I was wearing too."

  I swallow back my emotions. "I understand."

  "I know there are others." She closes her eyes again. "I didn't want to be just one of them."

  "There are no other women in my life." I rest my chin against her knee. "You could never be like anyone else."

  She glides her hand over my forehead. "Thank you for tonight. I want more."

  "We'll do whatever you wish, Isla, whenever you wish."

  Her hand stops on my cheek. "Was it special, Gabriel? Did it feel as special to you as it did to me?"

  "It was everything to me. Everything," I say before I kiss her.

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  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Isla

  "I quit." That felt better than I ever imagined it would.

  "Sure."

  No, just no. Fight me on this Cicely. Get mad. Give me something. Throw me a fucking bone.

  "Sure?" I round the counter so I'm facing her directly. "What do you mean?"

  She shrugs her orange fabric colored shoulder. "You quit. I get it."

  I stomp my foot. This isn't happening. I need some satisfaction here. "You're not upset at all?"

  "Are you asking if I'm going to miss you, Isla?"

  I'm not asking that, am I?

  She looks down at a stack of papers in front of her. I follow the movement as her shaking hands scatter the papers about before she pulls them back into a pile.

  "What's wrong?" I reach forward and grab her wrists. "Tell me what's going on."

  Her shoulders stiffen. "I saw Lance last night."

  "Lance?" I try to remember if she ever mentioned a Lance before. No, there's no way. I'm sure I would remember that. "Who is Lance?"