by Eve Bradley
“Spread your legs,” he commands.
I’m wearing a tight silk white dress with both arms layered in diamond jewelry. I’ve had my nails repainted into classic French tips so that they match my ensemble, and my straight dirty blonde hair has been collected into a classy updo. In the reflection on the floor I see my gems glitter, admiring how much Shawn has gifted me. It’s not only about the money, although, I will say that I’m a rotten bitch when it comes to wealth. I would like him even if he didn’t shower me with things like this, I guess you could say this is just a bonus.
I place my silver heels apart, allowing him a nice view of my pussy. He leans back in his seat and lets out a breath as if this very sight alone is comforting.
“You have everything taken care of, I assume?” he asks, dragging his tongue over his lower lip. Just this small gesture sends fluttering sensations downward, causing my slit to clench with shivering sensation. I remember how gifted he is in that arena and can hardly wait for what I know is to come. But I do like his games, and I’ll always play along.
“Yes,” I say and pretend to fiddle with my nails. “And once you give me everything I need to get Penny’s money I’ll send them more. Somehow.”
“What if I told you we’re going to go on a vacation?” he says, and then beckons me with one finger and pats his lap.
I move slowly across the space between us, and slide my body up between his thighs, fanning my hands out over his pants. He sucks in a breath and then grabs my wrists, pulling me up so that my face is near to his. He kisses me fully, and our tongues clash until he suddenly parts us, and he flips me around and forces me to sit on his lap. My ass cushions me against his groin and thighs, and I can’t help but grind myself against him, enjoying the way our bodies mesh.
“Vacation? I just got back from a very rejuvenating stay at La Hospitale,” I say jokingly, and Shawn can’t help but chuckle into my shoulder. His fingers wrap around my waist and then walk down to my upper thighs, his fingers gripping hard into my skin.
“How about somewhere better than that?” he whispers huskily into my ear. “Let’s say…Greece?”
I try to hold in the blissful feelings that tumble through me as he cradles me in his lap and hide my smile at the thought of traveling. I’ve never been out of the country, no less on a lavish vacation to Greece. I twist my face to see his, and he pushes against my thighs, pressing me firmly against his growing hard-on.
“It sounds like any girl’s dream,” I say, and I kiss him once. I then try to readjust myself, attempting to get on my knees before him.
“Patience, sweetheart. Don’t think about me yet,” Shawn says, tone desperately low. “Right now, all I want is to make you come.”
His fingers pet along the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, and I shut my eyes, lost in the sensations. He pulses his crotch up against my ass, and I cannot think of a better way to spend time in a limo. Not only because of the deliciousness of everything that he is, but the fact that I’ve survived a near death experience and almost lost him, and everything else in the process, makes it that much better. And the fact that this can continue? It’s sinfully good.
His fingers wander, teasing nearer to where I really want him to touch.
“Do you like when I do this?” he asks.
I nod my head, keeping my eyes closed as to savor each moment that his strong hands are touching me. There’s something so hot about a man’s hands. The veins running through them, the general largeness, and the muscularity of them makes me weak.
“I like the idea of keeping you wet all night, so that I can touch you whenever I want and know that I could pull you into the bathroom or off to the side of a booth and fuck you quickly,” Shawn says, sliding his fingers down over my slit. He nearly growls in my ear when he feels me.
“I like that idea too,” I say, breathless as his fingers dance.
“Damn, Allie. You’re already dripping for me,” he comments, and I exhale a shaky, needy breath. “Thinking dirty thoughts?”
“Something like that,” I say, trying to control my voice.
“I’m going to fuck you all night, do you understand?” he says, a bit softer this time as he presses his thumb against my clit, causing me to squirm from the intensity of the feeling.
“I want you to remember that I’m always going to take care of you. I’d never let anything happen to you…all I want for you is your happiness. I want you to find pleasure in all things. Not only sex…” he rubs me harder, causing me to whine against his touches, moving my hips to greet his hand. “But I want you to be the most pampered little bitch that ever lived.”
“God, Shawn…” I moan, my body crackling with ecstasy.
He stays silent for a moment, and all that I can hear is the sound of his fingers edging me closer, the low hum of the engine, and the sexual sounds that escape my lips. I’ve forgotten to call him Mr., but right now I don’t think he minds. It only takes a few more moments before Shawn cannot control himself, unbuckles his pants, and hurriedly slams his cock deep inside me.
Shawn takes me into one of his hotels. But this time, he’s not taking me up to the rooms, nor does he stop us at the restaurant. He leads me through a side door that then down a luxuriously painted hall. At the end, there is an elevator.
“So, I told you there was something I needed you to see,” he says, and reaches out to hold my hand. This simple connection makes me almost gasp, because I’m still weak from what happened in the car, and anytime I look at his handsome face I can hardly believe that he wants me. He could have any girl he wants, and still, he chooses my vagina to fantasize about. If that doesn’t do wonders for the self-esteem, I don’t know what would.
“Yea. I’m pretty curious at this point,” I say, and give him a breathy laugh.
We enter the elevator and there’s only one button. Strange as it is, I don’t think much about it until I feel us going down. We’d come in at the first level, so this elevator must be taking us underground. It doesn’t last very long, and as we exit Shawn rebuttons his suit and I watch his jaw clench as he steps forward, his hand at my lower back.
What am I seeing? The elevator doors slide open and I’m met with a shocking view. There are hundreds of computers with people sitting at them, watching camera footage or doing research. There are diagrams on the walls, investigative photos of unsuspecting people, and other charts filled with endless numbers and information that I could only dream of decoding. Essentially, it looks like a massive space where someone from the CIA would do their office work, but since I know him and I know what he does, I know that his, Rhett, and Alexi’s small con group is actually a full-on system of hundreds of people.
I don’t know how or where I remember the word from, but what comes to mind is: kingpin.
“What the fuck, Shawn!” I hiss.
“Remember who you’re talking to,” he glares, but offers me a glowing sweep of his eyes before he loses his small smile and returns to coldness.
“Mr. Van Doren,” I correct myself. But I have too many questions to even fathom what to ask first.
“What is this?” I ask, now jolted out of the dreamy reverie I’d been in.
“This is the reality of what I do,” he says, and raises his arms up as if showing it all off. “We have men all over the country working for us. Some even in Europe. We keep tabs on all the major crime rings and try to take down as many as we can. It helps to have access to all the same tools that they do.”
I’m so shocked that I have to force myself to breathe.
“So…does the government know about you? How could they not?” I inquire, and I can tell that he is impressed with himself. But how could he not be? He’s created an empire off of destroying the evil people in the world and taking all their money, making him that much richer, and that much more of a saint.
A few of the men there address him and he simply inclines his head.
“I know a few government agents, but they’re only trusted because I have coll
ateral. I told you before, we’re not good men. I seek out the worst criminals and plan for months, even years, before executing plans. But you have to remember…what we’re doing here? All of it is illegal,” but even as he says this, I see a coldblooded smirk plaster onto his face. “And I hope that you find that this side of things is that much better. You never know…you may just like it.” Then he leans his mouth closer to my ear, and whispers. “There are many things you haven’t done that you’ll find you enjoy.”
I move forward a few steps, my heels clacking on the dark marble. Taking in the scene, I have to admit that it makes me both terrified and impressed. I glance back at him and smile. This must have been what Rhett meant when he referenced the Ponzi scheme. It does make me wonder…how can they keep this up forever? It’s impossible…isn’t it? Unless he slowly brings everything to a halt and retires. But we don’t have to go into it now.
“So how did Penny come into play here?” I can’t help but ask, trying to keep the worry out of my voice by lacing it with sassiness. God, I’m so awkward.
“I was supposed to take her down. Turns out, she was too good,” he says, and looks away from me. The silence burns me, but I’m okay with it. I don’t feel the urge to know exactly what Penny did, although I know that I will soon find out. There are things that haunt us to the depths of our souls, and who we are and what we’ve done, those are things that will never stay hidden. As much as we want them to, life has a funny way of sorting us out.
“You are as sweet as a cherry. She’s gone now,” Shawn comments randomly, and comes near to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.
I let out a breath, my mind mingling with the unknown past and the unknown future.
“I’m okay with this,” I blurt. “I want to do this with you.”
Shawn pauses, and then he captures me in his gaze. The storm in his eyes shows lust and fire burning brightly together, and I can tell that this has made him very, very happy. With both hands he pushes me back to the elevator, and before it opens, his mouth is on mine, and his hand is gripping my ass.
Coming back to Shawn’s giant house in the hills overlooking LA is like coming home. Even though I haven’t truly known them that long, it’s what I feel. And although I’m aware that this is freakish and definitely not natural, a girl can’t help what she feels. I come into the same brightly lit kitchen, the same expansive living rooms, and the same long hallways. It is funny that I feel like the girl I was when I came here is still me.
Lil ole’ me. The homeless girl who was scooped up off the side of the road. But then, now that I know the reality of things…maybe Shawn planned it that way.
I can’t hear anything in the house, but as I pad back towards the kitchen table, I see that my recovered cell phone is there on the table.
The first text I read is from Alexi.
I’ll be back soon. I had to take some photos for a friend. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone. Then he puts a winky face emoji, the bastard. I text him back…I do what I want, and then I add the winky face too. It’s only fair.
The second is from Rhett.
I’m upstairs in the fifth bedroom on the left. Come join me?
My heart lurches and I almost do a little jig because I cannot wait to see him. I hurry up the staircase and then go down the hall to where he’s instructed and find that he’s sitting there in front of an easel. He’s dressed in a black t-shirt that’s been smudged with paint, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, his feet propped on the stool for support, and his emotive brown eyes narrowed as he scrutinizes his work. Thick brows nearly melt over the cliff of his brow bones as he thinks.
“Oh, is this where you do your painting?” I say, waggling my brows at him.
“The doc said no strenuous activity, so here I am,” he says, stretching out his arms carelessly. “I had the inspiration, anyway.”
I look at the painting, coming closer as I take in the image. It’s a woman’s face, and her features are coming together. She’s got pouty pink lips, and her dark blonde hair has been tossed up into a messy bun. She’s wearing Prada sunglasses and her tits are out. Fuck. It’s me.
“I don’t know,” I say, ambling around him slowly. “Her outfit seems a little impractical.”
Rhett laughs dryly and stands, wiping his hands on a rag.
“How are you feeling now?” he asks me, eyes dragging up and over my body.
“Good and alive,” I shrug, and then stop when I come around to a collection of paints. I let my fingers tumble over them. “And you?”
“Better,” he says, watching me closely.
“You know…you’re really going to have to teach me how to shoot a gun,” I say, pretending to chide him. He raises his brows in surprise and hides a flash of his clean white teeth.
“Somehow I thought Penny would remember,” he says.
“Did Penny ever know how to paint?”
He shakes his head.
“That wasn’t what she was about.”
“Well…Allie wants to learn,” I say softly, and draw myself towards him. He motions to the stool and I seat myself in front of him, looking at a colorful impressionist style painting, or what I assume to be. The image of me is realistic but exaggerated by hues that range from tan, to peach pink, to blues that reflect the shadows. There’s a pallet of paints, the pallet smeared and well used, situated on another small rolling cart beside his station.
“So, where do I start?” I raise the paintbrush, and he fluidly encloses my hand with his own as he presses his lithe body against my back. His warmth soaks into me, and the clean scent of his t-shirt and jeans hijacks my senses, clarifying just how much I’ve missed him, and just how much I feared for him and Alexi.
“Watch,” he speaks with a softness that sends butterflies gushing through my belly, and leans forward, moving my hand with his, so that he is in control of the paintbrush.
He dips into the peachy pink color, and together, we send dainty curves of color over the roundness of my breast. Being this near to him, painting myself, and listening to the quivering silence of the room gives me comfort. Rhett’s an enigma to me, and I wish that I could somehow connect our minds so that I could reach into his and pick apart the pieces I don’t understand.
“Like that,” he says, the heat of his breath on my ear.
I try to control my breathing so that I don’t give away just how responsive my body is, but as he caresses his other hand down my upper arm, I can tell that he feels it too.
“You just have to be patient…” he says and lowers his lips to the hollow of my throat. I gasp and almost lurch back as if his mouth consists of pure fire.
“Paint,” he mumbles against my skin.
I keep moving the paintbrush in the exact place that he wanted, but he can’t possibly expect me to focus with his mouth moving on my neck like that.
“I…Rhett…” I stammer, nearly flustered.
“Shh,” he croons and draws his fingers over both of my shoulders, petting down and around my breasts. I can’t help but arch my back to meet those generous fingers.
“You may be Shawn’s Princess, and Alexi’s girl, but you are going to be my Angelita.”
I forget Rhett was raised in Puerto Rico. Although his skin is naturally dark, he said his mother was from Texas and this most likely lends to his ability to pass as Caucasian. He’s a sexy mixture of ethnicities. Although I want them each, I know that I have so much to learn still. Shawn’s surprise was evidence of this, and it makes me wonder what secrets may come with the others. It’s in this reminder, in the word Angelita, that I see him in a different light.
“Little angel,” he says, and kisses my shoulder in devotion, tugging at the straps of my tank top as if he wants them to fall away and my naked body to be offered to him.
Rhett comes around and crouches in front of me, lifting up to kiss my clavicle and pull at the already low neckline of my shirt.
“I want to promise you I won’t get jealous, but I can’t give y
ou that. What I can give you is the promise that we’ll explore the boundaries of human sexuality together.”
Rhett lowers himself between my legs and slips his fingers into the waistline of my comfy gray leggings, drawing them down as I try insanely hard to focus on the painting, using the same color to outline the breasts, and anywhere there is skin color.
“Just remember…we have all the time in the world. You don’t need to rush your pleasure, little miss. The journey is what makes the end so sweet.”
As he pulls away my leggings and tosses them to the side, I shiver, my core so hot it might explode with one touch. Is it normal to feel so utterly drunk on someone? I can’t imagine living without this, without his effortless alternative take on the world. I try to gather my breath and slow myself down, but when he uses his hands to part my legs, I nearly release the moan that’s gathering in my chest.
Rhett kisses my legs, my thighs, my ankles, my pelvis, all over, leaving trails and mines of delicious tingles. His hands grip my ass as I sit on the stool, and I try to adjust myself so that he has immediate access to all of me.
“Keep painting,” he demands softly. “Okay?”
I can hardly muster a response.
Soft lips nuzzle me, his prickly stubble scratching along the junction of my thighs. He breathes me in, and then kisses, and allows his tongue to slide through. He plays me like an instrument, and I make music for him. There’s nothing I can do but submit to the power of his mouth. So I lose myself in him, enjoying every gentle slide of his tongue, and every moment he overstimulates me he brings me to the edge, and then slows. I let out an exhausted cry, my body quaking with need.
“Rhett…” I gasp, as he finally, expertly, draws me to the precipice and together, we don’t look back.