by Emily Bishop
Natalie’s still laughing. “Well, I want to meet this guy who’s making Isabella Price lose her cool.”
“I’m not losing my cool,” I stress. “I’m focusing on business.”
“Trust me. He’s got you losing your cool. Come on, we’ve talked all the figures. Just tell Auntie Natalie.”
The way she grins at me has me dropping my guard a little.
“All right,” I say, allowing a smile to creep up into my lips. “There is a guy. But he’s just an entitled, arrogant, jerky bad-boy type.”
“So, the sex is great then?”
“There is no sex! And there will never be any.”
“Sure. That’s why he’s messing with your head so much you can’t think straight at a meeting.”
That’s like a punch in the gut. I flop back in my chair and realize it’s true. My mind’s racing and my palms sweat. I’ve started to think about him all the time, even if just to think of how big a jerk he is. He’s a complete asshole. But there is something special about him. Kind of exciting.
Argh. What am I thinking? This is probably one of his ridiculous mind games. He probably did that to all the girls at school. Some special manipulation. I didn’t fall for it then. Maybe I’ve gotten weaker now.
“Earth to Isabella?” Natalie tips her head to one side and frowns. “Are you all right?”
I swallow. Natalie’s much more experienced in dating than me. “What do you do if… you want to stay around a guy…” I can’t possibly tell her about the money and engagement deal. “But you don’t want to catch feelings.”
“What, like, friends with benefits?”
If benefits are millions of dollars, then yeah. “Something like that.”
“Tough one,” she says. “If you do the needy thing, you’re fucked. If you do the Ice Queen thing, more often than not, he falls for you.” She grins. “I haven’t perfected that art yet.”
“But what if the guy is like, really intense?”
“Intense like what?”
I sigh, thinking back to the hotel room. “Intense like he owns every room he walks into. Like he wants everything his way. Like he can say anything he wants. Do anything he wants.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa there,” Natalie says. “Major red flag. Are you sure you want to be around this guy? He doesn’t say anything bad to you, does he?”
I shrug. “Well, he isn’t Prince Charming. But he’s not abusive. It’s hard to explain. I just feel like he’s in control all the time. And I’m trying to play catch-up.” I shake my head. “No wonder I stayed away from him in school.”
“But now you’re drawn to him,” Natalie states. Like it’s a universal fact, and there’s nothing that can be done about it.
“A little.” It is just the money, right? Why does my mind feel like fog?
Natalie gets up and starts organizing the papers, something that’s usually my job.
“Oh, shit,” I say. “See how he’s got me? I’m not thinking straight.” Fury flows through me, and all the fog is gone. I stride across the office, power pumping through me right to the ends of my fingertips. All of a sudden, an idea swerves into my mind. “I know what I’m going to do.”
“Surrender to his arms and his cock?”
“No, Natalie! I’m going to take back control. If we’re going to do this, I’m going to be the one on top. He wants to play games? Well, I’ll play. And I’ll win.”
“And exactly how are you going to do that?” Natalie’s by the filing cabinet. Sounds like she doesn’t believe a word.
But I do. I feel it. Power. “I’m going to sex this thing up. Make him beg for me. Make him fall for me. And then I’m going to get what I want and leave him. Play him at his own game.” And be fifty million dollars richer.
“Ooh, you bitch!” Natalie says through a laugh.
I laugh back like I rule the world. “No more ‘Miss Nice Girl.’ I’m going shopping.”
*
Later, I’m in my apartment in the sexiest lingerie I’ve ever owned, doing what I do best—studying. Only this time, it’s not trigonometry or chiastic alliteration. This time, it’s sex. Sex and power. I’ve already downloaded an eBook—How to Play with Men’s Minds and Have Them Wrapped around Your Little Finger—and have read all of it. It was good, but a lot of it wouldn’t work on Gray. Half of the tips are games he plays on other women. I saw it all in school.
So, I went searching for some other material and stumbled on some stuff about sexual empowerment. This article is hot. Some sex-goddess-looking blogger talking about how to touch herself to charge herself up with personal sexual power.
First, rub your breasts but don’t touch your nipples. A tantric breast massage. I have to have one hand to scroll down, but I can use my right hand. So, I maneuver up against the headboard, the laptop by my side. I pull down the new red lace bra and massage my breast. It feels heavy in my hand. It feels good.
Enjoy yourself, you sex goddess, I read Raven’s words.
When you’re starting to feel horny, graze your nipples gently with the palm of your hand.
So, I do, and hot shivers run through me.
Don’t touch your beautiful flower pussy yet. Not until it’s begging for your sweet touch.
It’s getting hot down there but not begging yet. So, I keep playing.
As you’re feeling more and more sexy, start to pinch your nipple. Take it between your thumb and forefinger and roll it from side to side. Enjoy that sexy body of yours. You’re a powerful, beautiful, sexual being.
My nipple’s already hard. I do what Raven says—I play with my right nipple. my own nipple.
Run your hands all over your body, then come back to those hard, sexually charged nipples. Caress your thighs, but let that sweet pussy beg for your touch. You want you. Let your hot cunt beg for you.
Oh god. My clit is begging. But Raven says it prolongs the pleasure and gives more power if I make myself wait in that sweet horny agony. So, I run my hands all over my body, over my stomach, down to my thighs. I run my hands up close to my pussy but resist that hot temptation.
Begging for it now?
Yes!
OK, run your fingers very gently over your clit and pussy. No rubbing. No pressure. Just light, feathery touches.
I’m doing it. I want to rub my clit so bad. But I’m sticking with this pleasure-torture. Slowly. Slowly. Running my fingers over my clit and my pussy so gently. I shiver. My back arches. A moan escapes my lips, which I didn’t expect. I’ve never made noise when I touch myself.
Good, right, goddess?
Now, pinch your beautiful clit between your thumb and forefinger, and roll, just like you did with your nipple. Pull it, roll it, experiment. Your clit has given you so much pleasure over the years. Thank it. Love that sexy, hot clit of yours. It’s worth more than diamonds and gold. You’re beautiful. Your clit is beautiful.
Oh, fuck. I’m pinching and rolling and pinching and rolling and pulling. I feel so fucking good. So fucking beautiful. So fucking sexy.
Right. Now you’re ready to rub it. Rub that clit. Rub it like there’s no tomorrow.
Believe me, I am. Hot and wet and so, so good. I look down at my pussy as I’m rubbing it. Oh, fuck, this is hot.
With your other hand, play with your nipples, or finger that hot, wet pussy. Pump your fingers in and out. Don’t be shy. Really go for it.
I hurry to get my other breast out and rub my hand over both my nipples. They’re so hard and every touch is a jolt of sex electricity.
Oh, fuuuuck. I feel it. How many times have I touched myself? But it has never ever ever felt like this. I’m flying through the clouds.
But when you’re just about to come, stop.
Ohh. I can just about take my fingers off my clit for long enough to read.
Imagine yourself in space, up among the stars. Look down at the world. You can see it all. You’re the queen. You’re the goddess. You have power. Now, as you rub on that beautiful clit, say to yourself: I am the Queen o
f the World. I rule the world with my heart and with my cunt. Say it. My cunt rules the world. My heart rules the world. I have the power to do anything I want with my life. Power emanates from my heart. Power emanates from my cunt. Go on, powerful goddess. Rub that cunt until you see stars, and tell them whose cunt rules the world. Say it out loud.
My cunt’s like a magnet. My fingers rush to it. I lie back, bouncing my own breasts, grazing my nipples with my palm, while my right hand is on my clit. I push my hot, wet, pussy lips and clit round and around and around, over and over. Oh, fuck. Yes.
I can’t help but moan. I can’t. I’ve never moaned like this. Not even with a man. “Oh, fuck,” I say out loud. I’m imagining the whole world, small in front of me. “My cunt rules the world. My heart rules the world. Isabella’s cunt rules the whole world.”
And then, I’m gone. I soar through the stars. The world blacks out. Yes. Yes. Yes. “Aaaaaaughhhh,” I moan out, and that turns me on so much the orgasm continues. I sound so fucking sexy. I sound so fucking powerful. “Yes!”
I lie there and pant. I can conquer the world. I feel it. It’s real.
I see the phone on the nightstand. Before I know it, I’ve called Gray.
“Isabella,” he says. I can hear the games dancing in his voice. “Miss me already?”
“I just rubbed my hot clit and made myself come, thinking of you.”
Silence. I don’t think anyone’s ever stunned Grayson Fairfax II into silence before.
“Yeah right,” he says, eventually.
“I’m serious.” I roll over onto my front, feeling like the sexiest woman alive. My voice is different. Sexy. Low. Drawn out. “And it was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”
“Oh yeah?”
Ha. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s on the back foot. I can feel it. I’ll just draw out a little silence. Make him sweat. The silence grows for a minute. It feels like fucking heaven.
“Well, glad you had a nice wank,” he says. “And the only place you’ll ever see me is in your imagination.”
He hangs up the phone before I can even say anything. A slow grin spreads over my face. He’s intimidated. I laugh and throw my hair back, feeling like a million dollars. Who’s in control now, Grayson Fairfax?
Chapter 5
Grayson
DAY 4
Touching herself for me, she said? Yeah, right. If it was any other girl in the world, I’d have believed it. But not Isabella Price. Hell would have to freeze over before she’d do that. And the lowest pit of it, where the devil has his hellfire palace, would have to turn to ice before she’d ever admit that to me. She has way too much pride for that.
She thought she was so smart when she called last night. Playing her little game. Well, she’s come up against the master of games. I check my reflection in the rearview mirror of the rental. I should get one once I get my hands on that billion. I could have any car I wanted, come to think of it. I’ll probably get seven, one for each day of the week. A Hummer. A Maserati. A Bentley Bentayga. Boy, that will be fun, driving up in the showrooms and watching the salespeople’s jaws drop.
I look perfect. Shades on. My hair tousled. Women turn to stare as I drive past.
“I’m popular today.” I’m popular every day, but some days more than others. Sometimes, I just seem to have an electric effect about me. Like my aura strikes through the atmosphere and forces women to turn their heads and smile. I’m not complaining.
“They’re all looking at me,” Eddie says.
“Yeah. Of course they are.”
I pull up at the apartment block Isabella gave me the address for. It’s not all that nice, to be honest. There’s trash escaping the overpiled cans outside. The front could really use a coat of paint. The cars parked outside aren’t junkers yet, but they soon will be.
“Not our kind of place,” Eddie says.
I grin. “See where all that propriety and values lands you? In a dump like this.” I feel something weird in my chest as I say it. Was that… guilt? No. It couldn’t be. But it was definitely something. Something uncomfortable.
I get out, climb the couple of steps, and knock on the door. The wind feels good on my face and on the top of my chest where I left my shirt unbuttoned. The girls’ eyes always track down there. Then I notice the intercom. She said apartment number two. I press the button. It makes a horrible, cheap buzzing sound.
“Hello?” She’s crackling.
“It’s me.”
“Who?”
“You know well who.”
“I can’t hear you. The intercom’s…” A crackle cuts out the rest. “Window.”
I step back away from the steps and look up at all the windows. Some are grimy. I know each individual tenant couldn’t afford a housekeeper, but couldn’t they at least pool together and get one for the building?
Soon, I hear a cracking sound. Isabella wrestles with the downstairs window, then pops her head out. Her face is thunder. “What do you want, Gray? I’m drowning in paperwork.” Then, it’s as if someone flipped a switch. A new look lights up her eyes. She pulls the band that was holding her curls in a messy bun on top of her head and shakes them out. I always teased her for them in school, but they’re beautiful. She flashes me a smile. “Stalking me now?” Even her voice is different.
“I don’t stalk women. Women stalk me. Now come on, we’re going to the travel agent.”
She laughs. “What is this, 1998? Ever heard of the internet?”
Eddie’s paying for the tickets. Only until I can pay him back, of course. I thought he’d book first class, no questions asked, like he does when he travels. But he jumped on the iPad and did a price comparison, then rang all the local travel agents. He’s found some for $100 less than online, and he wants to go down there. Cheap bastard. But I’ve chosen to be the bigger man and overlook it. To be fair, we’ve spent a lot of his money drinking and buying cocktails for eager short-skirted girls, so I can’t knock him too hard. God, we’re going to have so much fun when I inherit. The world won’t know what hit it.
“We’re going now. Bring your passport and ID and hurry up.”
I see a flicker of rage cross her face and expect some heated reply. But she smoothes her face out into a smile and tucks some curls behind her ear. She ducks her head a little, her blue eyes flirtatious. “All right. Give me a couple minutes to get ready.”
“I’m not waiting for you all day.”
She really is hot. I walk back to the car, wishing she wasn’t Isabella Price. She might even then be someone I wanted to hang out with. And to fuck, of course.
“She’s hotter than the pictures,” Eddie says when I get back in the car.
I shrug then look at myself in the mirror again. “She’s all right, I guess.”
Eddie grins. “You two have a deal together. But maybe she and I can have a deal of our own.”
“You?” I look at his leering face. “She wouldn’t look at you in a million years. She’ll marry an accountant or investment banker or someone equally boring. And will keep her chastity belt locked tight until then.”
“So you’re out of luck, too.”
“Out of luck? I don’t want her.”
“She’s hot, though.”
“There are three and a half billion females on the planet, Eddie. Probably a billion of the right age. Half of those bangable, I’d say. Maybe five percent of them really really hot, so that’s… twenty-five million super-hot chicks in the world. What do I need Isabella Price for? Except this whole money game for Finky, of course.”
“I don’t know. She’s just hot.”
“You don’t sound intelligent, Eddie.” My voice comes out sharp. Why am I still studying myself in the mirror? I twist it back into place and find myself tapping over and over on the steering wheel. It sounds too silent. I turn on the radio. Some old pop trash is playing. That’s fine by me. Anything to break through this weirdness.
“Oh, shit,” Eddie says eventually. He looks toward the apartment bui
lding.
I look, too. Oh, shit. I think the same but keep my mouth shut. Isabella comes down the steps, a blue dress hugging her every curve. Her hair’s out, big and curly and gorgeous. She has aviator shades and a designer purse and low heels. God, she looks incredible. Is that really Isabella Price?
“Let’s go,” she says, stalking to the back door. She means business. “Drive,” she says as soon as she’s in her seat, before the door is even closed.
“Funnily enough, that’s what I was planning on doing.” I start the car.
Eddie turns in his seat and grins like an idiot. “Hello.”
“This is—” I begin.
“You must be Eddie, Gray’s cousin,” she says. “I can tell by the accent.”
“That’s me,” Eddie says happily. He reminds me of an overexcited dog.
They start talking, and I zone out. I steal covert glances at her in the rearview mirror. She looks so at ease. Not a trace of the awkwardness that was there before. It’s weird, like she’s morphed into a totally different person overnight.
But not overnight, really. What about that call yesterday evening? About how she’d touched herself for me? I thought it was a lie, but now, seeing her like this, I’m not sure it was. She oozes sexiness. Who melted Ice Queen? Did I? I mean, I’ve not pursued her type before. Strong women, yes. Ice women, yes. But they’re always coldhearted bitches with no values. Ruthless career types who would tread on dead bodies to climb the ladder. They’re tough nuts, but I have what it takes to crack them. They take a lot longer than this though. A lot more effort to make them let their guard down.
And yes, I’ve had women call me to say they’ve been touching themselves and thinking of me. Even sometimes the day after we exchanged numbers. But they’re always my other type. The ones who fall at my feet right away and want to give me their pussies and heaps of adoration right along with them.
But she’s neither of those. She’s something I’ve never pursued before. Icy veneer, yes. Coldhearted? No. Despite her veneer, I know she has a soft heart. She’s into all her values, and won’t be treading on anyone with those high heels. She’s doing this deal for her father’s legacy, not to get ahead and flaunt her wealth. I know that for sure. And she’s definitely not the second type, the type to give it all away instantly. Or is she? Maybe she is and has just been hiding it.