by Robinson, M
“Let’s go swimming,” I randomly yelled, running into the bedroom to change before he had a chance to reply.
I wore my new bikini I bought on Ocean Drive and had to duck his advances to get out of the room. He followed me upstairs to the rooftop pool and had to pay off the security guard to let us go swimming since it was closed. He jumped right in and I followed suit.
“Oh! This feels amazing. We need a pool. A great big infinity pool that looks over the water, just like this one,” I said, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. “What do you think about that?”
He nodded, laying soft kisses on my neck. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”
I giggled as he backed me up against the sidewall.
“What do you want?” I coaxed.
“You.”
“How much?”
“Big much.”
“What do you want to do with me?”
“Everything.”
I smirked. “What do you want to do with me right now?”
He arched an eyebrow and kissed the tip of my nose. “Fuck you.”
“Then what’s stopping you?” I grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him, he tasted like wine, whiskey, and Sebastian. Our tongues did a sinful and alluring dance as he lowered my bandeau top and kneaded my nipples.
“Oh God,” I moaned into his mouth when I felt his dick at my entrance.
The water made it challenging for him to get fully inside, but once he did, he stopped to enjoy the sensation. Water sex was definitely more for the guy, seeing as it was hard to feel the friction through the splashes. It didn’t matter, though; I still loved the feeling of having him inside me. Nothing compared to Sebastian.
He fucked me up against the wall, completely enclosed by him, and his arms rested on the sides of the pool. We looked into each other’s eyes as I bounced up and down on his shaft. I leaned my pelvis forward so that the front tip of his cock hit my g-spot. It was the most sensitive part for him and it made him come almost instantly.
“Fuck…Ysa…the things you do to me,” he groaned, kissing me and coming apart as I rocked my hips to prolong his orgasm.
He growled and roughly grabbed me around my waist, placing me on the edge of the pool. I looked down at him in confusion.
“You know I hate it when you don’t come. I take care of what’s mine.”
His mouth attacked my clit in a forceful sucking motion and I immediately fell back onto my hands. I watched in ecstasy as he devoured my pussy like a starved man, his head moving up and down.
“Jesus, Sebastian…you’re going right for it,” I panted, never taking my eyes off what he was doing.
Our stares locked when he pushed in a finger, aiming it directly and precisely on the spot that drove me wild. It didn’t take long for the tingling sensation to develop all over my body. And when his head moved side-to-side, my head fell back and I came all over his face.
We spent most of the morning in bed, making love and then eating breakfast. I wasn’t nervous about seeing Devon; meeting Brooke, on the other hand, was going to be interesting to say the least. Ysabelle never disclosed any information about her past, I knew what being a VIP entailed, but I never imagined that…I didn’t even know. I needed to play it off like I hadn’t seen my girl and her best girlfriend going at it. The evening fast approached and we met Brooke and Devon at a restaurant on South Beach. Ysabelle looked gorgeous as usual with her curly hair running wild and a tight black dress short enough that I had to make sure I was standing behind her or she would’ve given a show. Brooke and Devon were already there when we were seated.
It looked and felt as if we walked in on something and we both picked up on it immediately.
“Bella, I love that dress. Where did you get it?” Brooke asked.
“I’m not quite sure. I bought it on the island, so it’s not designer.”
She cocked her head to the side. “What are you trying to say? I don’t wear anything that doesn’t have a label on it?”
Ysabelle rolled her eyes. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to say.”
Brooke shook her head, blowing it off. “I was just telling Devon here how he should come by The Cathouse and maybe see about getting a membership.”
Ysabelle choked on her drink. “Oh my God, Brooke! I told you to behave.”
Brooke shrugged. “I am…this is me behaving.”
The night proceeded with the girls chatting while Devon and I observed. Brooke and Ysabelle had an amusing dynamic; Brooke definitely was a wildcard and I could tell she was down for anything, anywhere. I didn’t know if that was who she really was or if it was her being a VIP. We ate and when the bill arrived, Brooke literally snatched it out of my hands, insisting that she was paying. She said it’s a welcoming present. I’m not quite sure what that meant; however, I went with it.
We walked down 7th Ave to a bar slash club as Brooke called it. There was a line around the corner and Ysabelle and Brooke didn’t falter, they both smiled and nodded toward the bouncer and he let us right in. Devon and I followed them up the stairs to a private and secluded area that observed the entire dance floor; there was a bottle of Moet and Grey Goose on the table with mixers, glasses, and ice. A circular white leather couch surrounded us. The bottle hostess introduced herself immediately and stated that she was our private hostess for the entire night. She said she would get us “anything” we wanted with a nod and a wink.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Ysabelle chuckled.
“Just observing.”
“Sebastian, this is Miami, and Brooke still works as a VIP. Not to mention, I was one for a very long time, which leaves me the open card to do whatever I want…especially in this town. They know us. I told you Madam runs everything,” she informed.
“I see that.”
“Would you have preferred to have waited in line and been standing at the bar waiting for a bartender to take your drink order? Because if you’d rather, then by all means, I’ll follow you down there, though I guarantee you that when one of the bartenders sees me, I’ll be attended to immediately.”
Brooke bounced her way over to us and handed me a drink and Ysabelle a glass of champagne. “It’s vodka and soda water,” she added. “Why are you guys over here not having fun?”
“Sebastian is a little taken aback with our pull I think, and I find it adorable.”
She looked back at me. “Awe! Sebastian…Ysabelle’s never taken you out in Miami before? This is nothing.” She paused. “You guys want any party favors?” She wiggled her eyebrows.
“Jesus, Brooke; it’s one thing after another with you.”
“Well…I mean, when in Rome. Anyway, I need to talk to you about something. Let’s go to the bathroom.”
Ysabelle kissed me and they went on their way. Devon was leaning over the balcony with a drink in his hand, nodding his head to the music. I stood beside him.
“Any particular reason you didn’t tell Ysabelle about our confrontation?” I asked, looking straight ahead.
“I could ask you the same thing. I love her and as long as she’s happy, that’s all that matters to me.”
“Well then, we can agree on that.”
“We’re going to be in each other’s lives, Sebastian. I’m not going to take her away from you, I’m not going to fight for her, I’m not a threat to you. But…I will always be here for her.”
I turned to look at him. “Man to man, Devon, I don’t fucking like you and I’m not going to pretend like I do. If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be in her life, and if I were an asshole, I would tell her so…I’m grateful that you protected her and looked out for her when I wasn’t there, but I’m here now and I’m not fucking going anywhere. Let’s agree to disagree and be civil for her sake.”
He nodded and we both went back to ignoring each other.
The night progressed with the girls drinking, dancing, and laughing. It was like they were in their own little bubble. The crazy part about that
was they truly did govern a room; all eyes were on them, men and women. There was this energy that radiated off them that you didn’t see from other women. They didn’t have to try–it was just there. I always thought Ysabelle put on a façade, a performance, a mask she wore for everyone. The portrayal of a VIP, but she didn’t.
It was inherent, it came naturally, they were vixens. They thrived on it; it was a game, a game that they always won. It was never about the client, the money, or the sex. It was about the control and the power. They lured you in without so much as a hello; it could be a look, a smile, a subtle touch, a slight movement in their body. It didn’t matter because it was captivating, and the worst part of it all…is that they fucking knew it. It was a drug to them, a high that compared to nothing else in this world. Ysabelle was mine, but that didn’t stop her from receiving attention. They exuded sexuality, a magnetic pull that forced you in without you even realizing it.
In that moment, as much as I tried to ignore the thoughts hovering, I couldn’t. I remembered Madam’s words about VIPs being born, not made, and until that night, I never took the time to observe what she so precisely stated and informed.
They were made for sin. The way they talked, the way they moved, the way they interacted with others. It was addicting to watch; they were like a drug. You knew it was bad, however, you couldn’t control it because it controlled you.
One more time…
One more taste…
I promise…
It was all bullshit because you were hooked from the second you saw them, everything else was just an added bonus. It consumed your thoughts, actions, and decisions.
As I watched Ysabelle start provocatively dancing with Brooke, my mind immediately went to the video. They were just dancing like all other girlfriends do when they go out, but it was different. Something about it yelled familiarity.
Was it because I watched them fuck each other?
I’m a man; of course, the idea of Ysabelle being with another woman turned me on. I would be lying if I said watching them on video wasn’t stimulating for my cock. That being said, I knew it was tied back to VIP and ultimately Madam, and that made me sick to my stomach.
But…
Was Madam right? Was I enough for her? Was she putting on the mask for me, not the other way around?
Did I truly have Ysabelle or did VIP…
“If you’re dragging me in the bathroom to do drugs with you, Brooke, I’m going to slap you.”
When she said she had to talk to me, that was usually code for, “I have something you know you want.”
“Eww…no. I want to talk about Devon,” she said as I looked at her reflection in the mirror.
“What about Devon?”
“I don’t know; you’ve never talked about him before. Why have you kept him hidden?”
I laughed and shook my head. “I didn’t keep him hidden, I just didn’t want him to know what I was doing.”
“Why is that?” She cocked her head in the mirror.
“Well, for one thing, Madam was adamant about our friends and families not knowing what we did.”
She finished applying her lipstick and turned to face me. “Okay…so tell me about him now?”
I chuckled. “Devon is really not your type, he’s not like other men. He’s probably one of the last nice guys left on this earth. Who would never be okay with his girlfriend being a VIP.”
“Bella, I’m not talking about dating him, I’m talking about fucking him. Is he amazing?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
“You’ve never slept with him?”
“No.”
“Oh…huh…why?”
“Because he’s my best friend and a brother to me.”
She frowned. “I thought I was your best friend?”
I grinned and rolled my eyes. “Okay…he’s my best guy friend. Better?”
She smiled. “Much. How would you feel if I took him for a ride? Literally. I mean, didn’t you say he just got done with a divorce or something? I would totally take one for the team and help him to relieve some sexual tension, and trust me, he’s backed up.”
I jerked back. I hadn’t expected that. “Ummm…yeah, I guess.”
It wasn’t that I was jealous—I was far from it. I knew Brooke and she ate guys like Devon as an appetizer. I didn’t want him getting hurt and God forbid fall for her and then blame me or something when it didn’t work out. I couldn’t lose him.
I wouldn’t.
I watched them closely for the rest of the night. She was coming on strong and it seemed like Devon accepted each and every advance. When they left together, I almost stomped my foot like a child throwing a temper tantrum.
“You’ve been quiet the whole way back. You okay?” Sebastian inquired as I took off my jewelry and placed it in my travel bag.
“It’s just Devon and Brooke…I mean, it’s really bothering me.”
“Why is that?” he questioned.
I straddled his lap when I heard his agitated tone and his hands went to my ass. “It’s not what you’re thinking, silly man. I don’t want him to get hurt, and Brooke will do that and think it’s funny.”
“He’s a big boy, Ysa; he doesn’t need you to be looking out for him. Besides, he looked quite content all night.”
“I’m aware. He’s also just divorced his cheating, money hungry whore of a wife and he’s lonely and I don’t want him to make a rash decision based on how he’s feeling.”
He laughed. “Let me let you in on a little secret. Men fuck. They actually prefer to fuck with no strings attached. I think Brooke coming his way is the best thing for him right now.”
I shoved him harshly, he was pissing me off and he instantly flipped us over with him being on top of me.
“Want to try that again, Ysa?” he taunted with a certain edge to his voice.
“I know how men operate, Mr. Vanwell, trust me. I made a living off it. What you aren’t aware of is that a VIP isn’t like any other woman. He could fuck any other woman, be fine, and I would pat him on the goddamn back. He will fall for her and not even realize it.”
He narrowed his eyes, contemplating what I was saying. “How do you know that?”
You want honesty…well then here it is. “Because we’re made to be the fantasy. It’s an illusion. And even if she’s not getting paid to fuck him, it’s who she is. We don’t say no…to anything.”
I could see the pain in his eyes. I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, but he was offending me by making me feel like I didn’t know what I was talking about. I would fuck with guys like Devon because I could and then laugh about it when I was done. It was a game. He was an easy target, plain and simple.
His eyes glazed over and his demeanor changed. It felt as though he had been thinking about VIP all night, like it plagued him.
Now…who’s the one who’s not being honest…
He urgently grabbed my wrists and held them firmly above my head, caging me in. He wanted me to feel like he was in control and I gladly gave it to him. The truth was, he was. He always is. He had no idea how much control he had over me. And for a woman like me…it was everything. It was more than just my heart and soul. See…control and power were my heart and soul. It is who I am and he owned it now.
I gave it to him the second I told him my name.
He had to know that, right?
“Is that how you saw me? Was I a game?”
It came out as a question, but it was more like an accusation.
What is going on in your head? What are you thinking?
“No, Sebastian, you were different,” I simply stated. “I didn’t understand you from day one. I never had anyone look at me the way you do, I still don’t.”
His other hand grazed my throat. “How do I look at you?” he inquired with an intense stare.
“Like I’m you’re everything. Like you would die for me. Like I belong to you.”
“Do you?”
I didn’t falter.
“Wholeheartedly. I’m yours. I have been since the minute I fell into your arms. Here’s what you don’t understand, I will always be a VIP, except it’s for one person now. YOU. A leopard can’t change its spots, but they can adapt. I pretended to be whatever was requested. I’ve never pretended with you. I’ve never wanted to and that’s what makes you different.” I paused to let my words sink in.
“I love you, Sebastian.”
The penetrating gaze subsided and the storm was gone.
For now…
We woke up early the next morning to go look at a 40ft Cabo Open Bridge fishing boat. It had a front room master bedroom with bath and a spacious living space. The deck was made out of dark teak with two leather fighting chairs stationed side-by-side. All the fishing equipment came with the purchase and there wasn’t anything that needed to be added or done.
“I’ll take it,” I said to the dealer.
“Awesome, let me write her up for you.”
“Do you guys do lettering here?”
“Absolutely, what would you like to name it?”
Ysabelle raised her hand in the air. “I have a name.”
“What?” I asked.
She smiled. “Keeping Her Wet.”
I shook my head and we both laughed. “You heard the lady.”
“Perfect. It will be done by this evening and she will be sailed over first thing tomorrow morning. She should arrive in two to three days, give or take.”
Ysabelle needed to get back to the bar, and although her GM said everything was fine, she was itching to get back. So we decided to have someone else sail her back.
We landed on the island mid-afternoon. She spent most of the day looking over receipts, payroll, and getting everything in order for the holiday season that started in a few weeks. The high time for tourism was October through May, but November through the end of January she was slam packed. The snowbirds wanted to leave the cold and people overseas took holidays for a month due to their employment being closed.
To keep the crowd coming in daily, she set up different themes each day; sink or swim, two for one, happy hour, etc. The girl knew how to throw a good time, that was for sure. The waitresses dressed in bikinis and performed dances on the bar at different times of the day. They’d throw confetti in the air and really get the crowd going. It was like an all day party and that’s what vacationers wanted.