Player's Ultimatum

by Koko Brown

  “Ms. Floyd this is Gabe Riggiero. He’s Paolo’s butler. He’ll take care of you here on out.”

  Yvonne turned to Gabe and shook the man’s outstretched hand. Soft to the touch like unused tissue paper, washing dishes couldn’t be on his list of duties.

  “Bienvenuto, Signorina Floyd. Dinner will be served on the veranda. The views are beautiful out there.”

  Yvonne followed Gabe up a winding staircase. Unlike many of the Italian homes she’d visited over the past couple of months, Paulo’s home wasn’t heavy and unwieldy. It was light and bright with tons of windows, coconut-milk colored walls and glossy wood floors.

  On the second floor landing, Gabe led her down an open mezzanine and then a short hallway ending at a set of French doors. Either side of the hall was punctuated with double doors. The first pair was closed, but the second stood ajar and Brazilian Bossa Nova floated into the hallway.

  Her hands started to sweat and her breathing hitched. Was this Paolo’s room?

  Like flies to buttermilk, Yvonne peaked through one of the open doors. Decorated in dark woods, clean lines and leather, the bedroom screamed, “Alpha male!”

  Yvonne’s eyes strayed to the large four poster bed and she gulped. Hand carved, most likely antique, she couldn’t quite appreciate the piece’s beauty. It reminded her too much of their arrangement.

  “Signorina Floyd, through here por favore.”

  Yvonne spun around. Even though he’d caught her with her hands in the cookie jar, Gabe’s smile hadn’t slipped. Thank goodness for small favors! Feeling pervy, she ducked her head.

  Yvonne wiped her hands down the sides of her thighs. Was she ready for this? No, but there was just too much at stake to turn back now. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped through the French doors and her attention was immediately drawn to the estate’s back lawn.

  A flourishing expanse, the lawn was a lush, intimate oasis that combined secluded sitting areas, meandering walkways, covered with creeping vines, a full garden with fragrant roses, a sparkling swimming pool and even a small orange grove.

  “You made it.” At the sound of Paolo’s voice, a spark raced down Yvonne’s spine and her arms got all goose bumpily.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  What was wrong with her? She should be pissed at him for blackmailing her, not responding like a freakin’ school girl. Of course, her body hadn’t received the same memo. When she turned around Yvonne realized she was in deeper trouble than she first assumed.

  Dressed in a pair of dark denim jeans and a black t-shirt, Paolo stood next to a table set for two. As if tailor-made for him, his clothing molded his body to perfection.

  Or was his body just perfect? Relying on memory and the rapid-fire beating of her heart, Yvonne went with the latter.

  Yep. She was in deep, deep trouble.

  “Are you hungry?”

  Famished. “No, I took your advice and fixed sandwiches for Robbie and myself earlier.” Yvonne knew she was being catty, but considering the unfavorable circumstances who could blame her?

  Paolo smiled, but it didn’t quite penetrate his inky, jet black eyes, which seemed to size her up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

  “I’m not hungry either…at least for food,” he said, walking toward her, reminding her of a giant jungle cat.

  Yvonne’s eyes widened and she licked her lips. Nothing, absolutely nothing compared to Paolo Saito’s beauty.

  “S-shouldn’t we at least talk this out?”

  Paolo shook his head. “You’ve already agreed to my terms, Yvonne.”

  A shiver ran down her spine. On his lips, her name seemed to take on a whole new meaning and another tremor rocked through her. Somewhat unsteady, Yvonne grabbed for the railing behind her.

  As if he had all the time in the world, Paolo slowly closed the distance between. Or was she just anxious for him to get on with it? Yvonne couldn’t make up her mind on which one, but she was mad at herself for even thinking she might want him. To prove herself wrong, she ducked around him and hustled in the opposite direction.

  Decorated with lounge furniture, the veranda afforded very few choices to block any more of Paolo’s advances. Yvonne settled on the dining table, it wasn’t conducive to lying back and getting busy.

  Quickly stepping behind it, her eyes flew to a rolling cart stacked with dishes just inside the bedroom door.

  Yvonne looked down at the dining table. A globe-shaped bowl filled with water and floating white chrysanthemums sat in the middle of a white table cloth. Informal place settings of white china and crystal sat on opposite ends. Yvonne stood in stunned silence. He’d tried to create a romantic atmosphere!

  Alarm bells clanged in her head. What kind of game was he playing? The rules had already been established, so why all the prep? Yvonne placed her hands on her hips and watched Paolo come to a stop on the other side of the table.

  “We have to get something straight right here and right now. We made a deal and it wasn’t all of this.” Yvonne flung her arms out and wiggled her fingers at his attempt at romance. His expression hardened, but Yvonne didn’t falter. “I’m already romantically involved with someone else, so this can’t be anything more than sex.”

  “Only sex?” He opened his mouth then closed it. He opened his mouth again, paused to scratch his chin and then smiled. “Forgive me for trying to treat you with the respect I thought you deserved. By all means, let’s get to what you’re here for.”

  Like a jungle cat, Paolo pounced. Yvonne glanced over her shoulder and her eyes fell on the bed. Going backward was not an option. Instead, she moved out and around the table, but he caught her arm and pulled her against him.

  “Allow me to seat you.” Paulo cleared the table with a swipe of his hand.

  Expensive china and glass exploded to the floor around their feet. Ignoring the mess, he tightened his hold around her waist and plopped her in the middle of the table.

  *****

  “Are you insane?” She gasped.

  Damned near close, Paolo thought but said, “perfectly sane.”

  Why did she have to be so exasperating? He’d tried to soften the circumstances of their arrangement, but she’d thrown everything in his face.

  Paolo wanted to release her from their bargain. He’d thought about doing it a half-a-dozen times during the past week and every time he talked himself out of it by putting the situation into perspective. He wanted to hurt Robbie Gutierrez for causing João’s death.

  Even to his own ears, his excuse sounded weak. Fact was Yvonne Floyd had become more than a way to even a score, she’d become an obsession.

  He’d meant to only seduce her, have a few pictures taken by Malfi, who would leak them to the press. His game plan should have been simple as a wall pass. Of course, like any play the execution turned out to be damn near impossible because he hadn’t anticipated the strength of the defense or taken into account his own weaknesses. And above all he was consistently breaking the cardinal rule: never take your eyes off the goal.

  Paolo frowned. The idea of being out played by a woman stumped him. How did this happen and so fast? The women he’d slept with had always been as interchangeable as cleat socks. Extremely superstitious, he wore a new pair every single game for luck.

  His involvement with Yvonne Floyd was complicated at best. Paolo found it harder and harder to remain detached. Every single emotion he’d never associated with a woman came into play with her: anxiety, aggression, jealousy and even neediness.

  Even now when she sat so rigid and distant, he suffered this insatiable need to wring some kind of emotion from her until she lay raw and vulnerable beneath him. No time like the present.

  Snatching up one of the chairs, Paolo placed it between her legs then plopped down on it. He grabbed hold of her booted feet and pulled her toward him, as he hiked up her knee-length skirt.

  She’d come dressed like a librarian or a school teacher in a camel-colored sweater set, matching skirt, dark brown boots and a high ponytail.
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br />   Paolo almost nutted on himself. Her scent, a combination of crisp wool, brand new leather and vanilla scented lotion, aroused him more than any one hundred dollar perfume.

  Sure she’d chosen the outfit to appear unappealing, Paolo smiled. Her plan had backfired. Big time. She was his biggest fantasy come to life. With a certified I.Q. of one hundred and forty-seven, he’d spent just as much time in the reference section as he did on the pitch.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  Paolo glanced up and caught her gaze. Her brown eyes contained a hint of vulnerability, and something else he’d seen many times over the years. Lust. She desired him, but was fighting it. Admiring her tenacity, he decided to entertain her, at least for the moment.

  “Wondering if my dick’s hard as a rock right now?”

  “No!”

  “Want to know how long I’m going to eat your pussy?”

  Thoroughly exasperated, she sighed and poked out her bottom lip. Paolo resisted the urge to take it in his mouth and suck on it until she begged him to kiss her.

  “You want to know why I have these beautiful Japanese features, even though I’m a third generation Brazilian.”

  He must have caught her off guard because she frowned. “Actually that wasn’t my question, but since you brought up the subject.”

  Now it was Paolo’s turn to be caught off guard. Every single woman he’d met had wondered about his heritage. Usually when people imagined Brazilians, they didn’t picture them with Asian features.

  “Brazil has the second largest Japanese population outside of Japan. My great great-grandfather migrated in 1912 in hopes of becoming rich. He ended up working for less to nothing on a coffee plantation. He survived, married my great great-grandmother and the rest is history.”

  Paolo watched her eyes widen. And for some reason he experienced a feeling of affinity.

  “So what was your real question?”

  “It sounds sort of corny now.”

  “Nothing is corny when it comes from your lips.” She rolled her eyes and Paolo chuckled. He should have known by now she didn’t buy his bullshit. It was one of the things he liked about her. He squeezed her ankle, and slid his hand up her calf as he said, “go ahead and ask.”

  She stared at him for the several seconds, then lifted her shoulders and sighed. “I was wondering what you like to do for fun.”

  How random! “I like making love to a beautiful woman.” Her brown eyes narrowed and for some reason Paolo knew if he didn’t come clean, things might not go so well later. “I like playing football…and I love working the earth. The garden. I designed and planted all of it by hand.”

  She turned her head and gazed out at the five or so acres behind his estate. During her silence, time stood still. Paolo suddenly realized he actually anticipated her feedback to his hard work. So much so, he could hear the blood pounding in his ears.

  “It’s beautiful,” she gushed.

  Paolo couldn’t prevent the smile forming on his lips even if he tried. “Do you have any interests or hobbies?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Cooking and traveling, you know the usual, but also doodling, especially when I’m stressed out.”

  Paolo frowned. Doodling? Was that some kind of fetish? Deus, he hoped so! “What’s doodling?”

  “Doodling is like sketching or drawing. I’ve always wanted to learn how to paint. What about you? Anything of interest you’ve wanted to learn for some time now?”

  Paolo answered automatically, “you.”

  Tipping her head back, she laughed. Infectious and slightly husky, her amusement had to be the sexiest thing he’d heard since…well, Paolo couldn’t quite remember. Her laughter made him think of rumpled sheets and half-smoked cigarettes.

  Turned on, Paolo scooted forward. He ran his nose against the inside of her leg and she trembled. Good, his insides weren’t any better.

  “Since you’ve already eaten I hope you don’t mind if I do.”

  Paulo reached inside her skirt and latched his thumbs around the band of her panties. He pulled them down her thighs and over her booted feet. They were black and silky to the touch! Bringing them to his nose, he inhaled. Paolo’s eyes fluttered to half-mast. Her pussy smelled better than he’d imagined!

  “What are you d-doing?” She asked, glaring down at him between her legs. If it was remotely possible, Paolo thought she couldn’t look more beautiful if she tried even with a tiny frown marring her brow.

  “Exactly what it looks like, I’m smelling your panties.”

  “Umm, why?” She’d said, as if he were an imbecile.

  Paolo didn’t care. He’d play the part of an idiot savant if it afforded him this pleasure. Taking one last sniff, he stuffed them in the back pocket of his jeans.

  “Because I can,” he replied, bunching her skirt over her knees.

  “Damn, you smell so sweet. I bet you taste even better.” Paolo heard the slight inhalation as if she was about to protest.

  Before she could utter a word, he dove in and tongued the lips of her pussy. From bottom to top, he licked her entire length. “Mmmm, like tasting candy.”

  Her body shuddered, triggering an aftershock down his legs. Wanting more of the same kind of reaction, Paolo increased his efforts.

  As if he had all day instead of just a few stolen hours, he drew her clit into his mouth and sucked on it. He nipped and licked, worked her with his entire mouth.

  In a matter of seconds, the sensitive button hardened, doubled in size and her sex leaked a milky white fluid. Without missing a beat, Paolo strummed her clit while he dipped down and licked her clean.

  She tasted so damn good. He could do this all day. And she’d probably let him because she’d started to moan and grab at his shoulders.

  Paolo pitched his tongue inside her and up in an effort to hit her G-spot. Finding the general area, he stroked and stroked.

  “Please, please,” Yvonne moaned as she slipped her hands between her legs and ran them over her thighs. Paolo had never seen anything more erotic. Reaching down, he unzipped his pants, giving himself some room.

  “Let me see you touch yourself.”

  Obviously, she’d never done anything like for any of her lovers because her hands stopped moving.

  “Don’t be shy. Look at me while touch yourself.”

  Giving her some leeway, Paolo sat back, but he didn’t release her entirely. He simply replaced his tongue with his two fingers.

  Hesitant but maddeningly obedient, she slid one of her hands downward. She threaded her fingers through the tight curls covering her mound. She hesitated, her fingers resting just inches from her wet slit.

  “Go ahead,” he coaxed. Paolo paused. His voice sounded alien even to himself. “Play with your pussy. Make yourself feel good.”

  With furtive strokes, she rubbed her hand up and down her sex. With each pass, her lips flapped open wider and wider. Paolo latched onto his cock and matched her stroke for stroke. Needing to taste her, he leaned forward and licked the inside of her thigh. She panted loudly while they both worked her body.

  “You are doing such a good job. I’m beginning to think you might not need me. Do you think your hand will satisfy you?”

  When her eyes closed, Paolo almost wanted to shake her. Instead, he persisted in driving an answer from her with both his fingers and his mouth.

  “Nooo…”

  Paolo deepened his thrusts. “No…que?”

  Her hand pumped her clit with vigor. “I-I can’t satisfy myself like you can.”

  He continued to drive into her as he stood up and fished out a condom from his back pocket. He brought it to his lips and tore it open. Not wasting any time, he shoved the latex on, placed both of his hands on her hips to keep her still and slammed forward.

  Shamefaced, Paolo watched her eyes widen and then she giggled. He was so excited he’d missed her sheath. “You missed the hole.”

  Paolo aimed again and slowly slid home. “Que tal, agora?”


  Yvonne’s beautiful brown eyes rolled back and she hissed, “bulls-eye.”

  “Just like the first time,” he groaned, see-sawing his hips back and forth. She fit him better than his custom-made cleats.

  With each stroke, an intense need to claim her seized him. He quickened his pace and deepened his thrusts. Scared he might be hurting her, he glanced down.

  Clearly in the throes of passion, she tossed her head from side to side and met him thrust for thrust. A shudder ran down Paolo’s spine and his balls tightened.

  There was nothing like an active participant! Most beautiful women tended to lie there like blow up dolls. Not his Yvonne. She milked his cock like a woman who enjoyed sex!

  “Ohh, you feel so good!” she cried.

  Not as good as you feel riding my cock. Letting go of her hips, Paolo placed his palms on the table and assumed a wider stance. “Deeper,” he managed to choke out. Anything more and he’d waste precious energy.

  His thrusts were so powerful and so deep; he moved the heavy dining table across the veranda.

  “Yes, deeper!” She cried over the steady thump, thump of the rocking dining room table. Or was that his heart?

  “Deeper,” he grunted between clinched teeth. His balls were so tight, he wasn’t sure how long he was going to last.

  Got to hold on for her!

  Paulo slammed into her over and over again with long deep thrusts. All the while praying he wouldn’t lose it.

  Have to maintain!

  “Ooohhh...yesss!” Yvonne cried out. “I’m going to cum!”

  Since come was the operative word, Paolo shortened his strokes, but not his intensity. His hips pumped against hers in rapid fire succession. Flesh slapped against flesh. Her sex sucked and slurped him. Her back bowed, her lips parted and she yelled at the top of her lungs.

  Despite her release, he kept going. The more she milked him and clawed at his body, the more he wanted to feed her his cock. And drive any memory of Robbie from her body until she admitted she was his, like he was quickly becoming hers.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN