by Hannah Ford
“Fine.”
“Really?” I was shocked that he would give in so easily.
“The location of our encounter isn’t important, Ms. Courtland.” He lowered his voice. “However, I don’t relish having my plans changed at the last minute.”
“If it doesn’t matter, then why don’t you relish it?” I bit my lip, trying to hide my smile.
“Because it conveys to me that you don’t understand the rules.”
“I understand the rules perfectly.”
“And you’re willfully choosing to be disobedient?”
I didn’t answer, my heart beating fast, wondering if I’d gone too far. “Why wasn’t I allowed to bring my suitcase?”
“It won’t be needed.”
“What am I supposed to wear?”
“You have a lot of questions and worries, Ms. Courtland.”
“Well, yeah.”
He lowered his voice even further. “I’m not sure what, exactly, happened to make you feel that way.”
“What way?”
“That you need to be worried or that you need to make sure you plan for every possibility.”
I started to open my mouth, to tell him nothing happened to me to make me this way, but then I remembered his rule about not lying to him. I closed my mouth. I wasn’t sure why I had decided to obey him this time, about this.
I stayed quiet until he spoke again.
“When you are with me, Aven, you don’t have to worry about your needs being taken care of. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“I am wrapping up my meeting, and I will see you soon.”
“Yes, sir.”
I could hear the smile in his voice as he hung up. “Goodbye, Aven.”
I was directed up to the penthouse using a different elevator than the one I’d used before.
Landon opened the door for me. He’d changed since I’d seen him, and now he wore a pair of dark jeans that hung low on his hips, and a simple black t-shirt that hugged his biceps and triceps and shoulders. God, he was sexy.
How could one man look so good in such different styles? One minute he was in a suit, looking like a freakin’ GQ model, and now here he was, standing in front of me in a simple t-shirt and jeans looking just as hot.
(Although, let’s face it, there was no way that his jeans and t-shirt were simple – they had the cut and look of pieces that were impeccably made, the kind of things I’d heard about celebrities wearing. His t-shirt probably cost three hundred dollars. Everyone convinced themselves that famous people were idiots for spending their money so foolishly when you couldn’t tell the difference between their three hundred dollar t-shirt and a twenty dollar one from the mall, when of course you totally could.)
He was barefoot, holding a glass of red wine in one hand. Even though he’d ditched the suit for something decidedly more casual, he still exuded power and masculinity, so strong that it seemed to permeate the air around us.
Suddenly, my outfit seemed all wrong.
“Aven.”
“Mr. Sheer.”
His eyes ran up my body, lingering on my breasts, on my hips, before meeting my eyes and holding my gaze for what must have been only a second but seemed like much longer. I waited to notice any kind of disappointment in his eyes, any sign that I was less than, but all I saw was hunger, raw and real.
He opened the door wider and I stepped into the suite.
The suite was just as I remembered it, the open spaces, the infinity pool sparkling before the city, the hallway that led to what I assumed was the bedroom.
“How many suites like this do you have, Mr. Sheer?” I asked, looking around.
He moved to the bar that was situated in the corner and poured me a glass of the red he was drinking, then brought it to me.
I was grateful to have something to do with my hands, and I seized the wine and took a sip.
“Wow,” I said. It was earthy and fruity, sweet but not too sweet, with no sour aftertaste like the stuff I was used to drinking.
“You like it?”
I nodded. “Is this the same kind you sent to my apartment?”
“Yes. It’s my favorite.”
He was staring at me, and I moved from one foot to the next and took another sip of my wine.
“You don’t have to be nervous, Aven.”
I stayed quiet. Of course I had to be nervous. I didn’t trust this man. I barely knew him. I was partially afraid of him, and yet wanted him so badly it was overwhelming. I’d never experienced that kind of desire before, the kind of desire that made me want to do whatever he wanted as long as he promised to touch me, to stroke me, to kiss me until I was dizzy.
I took another long gulp of wine and then set my drink down on the bar. It wouldn’t do to be drunk, or even buzzed. I was going to need all my faculties in tact to even stand a chance against the enigmatic Landon Sheer.
His presence was making me unsettled, so I crossed the room and stood in front of the curtains, looking out over the pool.
He was behind me, his hands on my shoulders.
“There’s a bathing suit for you in the bedroom.”
“Oh. I mean, I didn’t…”
“I want to swim.” He kissed the back of my neck, his lips firm and sure. “Actually, I want to see you in a bathing suit. I want to see you wet, your tits popping out of your top, the bottom sticking to your pussy because you’re so ready for me.”
“Jesus,” I breathed.
“Go put your suit on.”
Sure enough, there was a bathing suit laid out for me on the bed, the kind of suit that would have been outlawed at the beach in most law-abiding communities.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said out loud as I surveyed myself in the bathroom mirror.
There was no way I was going back out into the suite like this.
The bathing suit was white, and so sheer you could already see my nipples through the material. The bottom was a thong, leaving my butt cheeks exposed. When I turned to look at myself in the mirror, my bottom jiggled and sure enough, I could see the redness from Landon’s hand, where he’d spanked me earlier, just like in my fantasy.
I grabbed a robe off the hook on the back of the door and pulled it on.
When I got outside, Landon was already in the pool.
It was dark out now, but the pool was well lit, the soft glow of the lights illuminating the turquoise water.
My breath caught at the beauty of it all – him, shirtless in the pool, his strong body slicing through the water, the sparkle of the city in the background.
He surfaced at the edge of the pool, droplets clinging to the tan skin of his naked torso, the light bouncing off the water that clung to him. A drop of water started in the concave of his chest and slid down, disappearing into the waistband of his black swim trunks.
I shivered.
“It’s heated.” He gazed up at me, and I knew he wanted to get me into the water. But suddenly, I started to feel dizzy.
I hadn’t been swimming, hadn’t been in a pool since -- I squeezed my eyes shut and willed myself not to think about it.
“Drop your robe, Aven.”
I took in a deep breath. I could do this. It wasn’t a big deal. The pool was heated. There was no ice out here. It was a pool, for God’s sake, not a river or a lake.
It was perfectly safe.
I reached up and uncinched my robe, letting it drop to the floor.
Landon gazed up at me. “Jesus,” he murmured. “God, you are beautiful.”
My nipples hardened again, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the cold or because of the way he was looking at me.
My fear of the water and my anxiety about what would happen once I was in there, with him, both of us half naked, was overwhelmed only by my desire to get out of the cold, and also to hide my body from him.
Out here, in just this skimpy bikini, I was exposed.
The water was warm on my feet, and I slipped in as quickly as possible.<
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I leaned against the cement side, near the built-in stairs, figuring if I was close to an escape route, I would feel safer.
Landon was on the other side of the pool, across from me. He’d topped of his wine glass -- and mine -- and they were sitting on the patio behind him, highlighted against the lights of the city that spread out around us.
“Is the water warm enough?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Thank you.” It was true. The water was warm enough. I closed my eyes and breathed in the scent of chlorine. “What time are we leaving tomorrow?”
“My jet will be ready at 6.”
His jet? “That’s early.”
“I assumed you would want to get an early start.”
“I’m not really a morning person,” I admitted.
“Oh, really?” His eyebrow quirked in interest. “What kind of person are you?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Not an acceptable answer.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Right now I feel like I’m a crazy person.”
“Because you’re here with me?”
I nodded.
He didn’t say anything to this. I noticed he did this often – if he didn’t have something to say, he wouldn’t try to fill the silence with small talk, or ask another question the way most people did. And yet I could tell he wasn’t bored. His attention was still on me, those brooding blue eyes still locked on mine.
“Do you swim here often?” I asked.
“When I have time, which is less and less these days.”
I nodded.
“You?”
No lies. “No. I’ve never been here before. Well, I mean, I was here earlier, of course, but before that I was –”
“Aven.”
“Landon.”
“You know what I meant.”
I shook my head. “No. I don’t swim. I used to.”
“Until?”
“Until my parents drowned.” The d-word. I hadn’t said it out loud to anyone, not Emma, not Violet, not even myself. The word echoed around us. Drowned drowned drowned. Saying it out loud filled me with a panic, like now that I’d said it, it was true, like it was official, even though of course it was official -- I’d been to their funerals, I’d seen their bodies.
“What happened?” Landon asked, his eyes kind, but not sympathetic, which I appreciated. I hated when people found out my parents died, and acted sorry for me. Empathy was one thing. Sympathy was another.
“They were out on a boat,” I said, “with my aunt. My dad, he loved to go out ice fishing, and my mom, she went with him when she had to.” I smiled. “But that day, they didn’t… the boat hit something, I’m not sure what. I think a piece of ice.” I shrugged, as if this was something that just happened instead of the biggest tragedy of my life, as if I were recounting an anecdote that was unfortunate instead of catastrophic, like I was telling a story about my favorite lipstick being discontinued instead of the death of both of my parents.
“The boat went down, and my aunt was able to get back to shore, but my mom and dad –” I trailed off, not able to talk more about it, remembering how it had been, me at the house, waiting for them to come home. I’d been curled up on the windowsill at our lake house – really more of a rustic cabin, a 500 square foot structure my dad had taken a second mortgage to buy -- reading a book and waiting for them to come in.
I was hoping they’d be out longer -- I had school the next day, and if we had to spend the night at the lake, we’d have to leave in the morning. I’d most likely miss first period, global studies, and I was hoping that would happen since we had to give an oral presentation I was dreading.
I’d been playing a game with myself, watching the starfish clock on the opposite wall. If I read ten pages in ten minutes, then they wouldn’t be back in time for us to leave tonight.
I’d been on my third page when my aunt had come running up the driveway, screaming at me to call 911. Her cell phone had been lost in the lake, and she’d run all the way from the crash site to our tiny house, barefoot.
I don’t tell Landon any of this, though.
And I don’t tell him the other secret either, the one I’ve never told anyone, the one that I won’t ever tell anyone, the one that I can’t even think about, much less say about loud.
But just the thought of it, of that secret, starts a panic attack.
My heart starts to beat fast and my eyes start to water and my head gets dizzy and heavy.
And then, suddenly, he was there next to me.
“Shh,” he said, pulling me toward him. “Shh, you’re okay.”
“I need to get out.” I pushed at his chest, trying to get past him, but he was blocking my way to the stairs and there was no way I was going to be able to push by him.
He was much bigger than I was, much stronger.
“Shh.”
He held me to him, and I pushed at him again, but he held me close, not letting me. Then, suddenly, I felt his hands on my hips, his fingers slipping under the sides of my bathing suit bottom.
He stroked my hips softly, slowly, his fingertips setting my skin on fire.
“Don’t fight it, angel.”
His words were soothing, hypnotic, and like some kind of elixir or balm, I started to feel myself relax with each stroke of his fingers.
“Good girl,” he said. “Good girl. You’re okay.”
“Landon,” I whispered. “God, Landon.”
“Give it to me,” he said. “All your pain, all your fear. Let me take it on.”
I clung to him, this man I hardly knew, clung to his shoulders and wrapped my legs around his waist as he pulled me toward him and slid us through the water to the other side of the pool.
Normally I would have been scared to be so far away from the steps, from my escape, but now Landon’s hand was moving up between my legs, over the inside of my thighs, and the pleasure there was unmistakable, and it was starting to overwhelm the fear.
“Good girl,” he said again. “Good, sweet girl.” He placed his hand over the curve of my breast, feeling my heart beat under his palm. “You’re calming down.”
“Yes.”
We stayed like that, his hand on my heart, until I’d calmed.
Then suddenly, his jaw twitched, his eyes hooding. “It’s time to get you worked up again, baby girl.”
He pushed me hard up against the side of the pool, any sign of softness gone. I gasped as his muscular thighs pushed in between my legs, spreading my legs, forcing them apart.
I could feel his cock, rock hard through the fabric his swim trunks, and I sucked in a breath through my teeth and held his shoulders.
“Do you feel how hard you make me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I got hard the second I saw you at the party.” He pushed my hair back from my face and looked at me with an expression on his face that was an intoxicating mix of protection, possession, and desire. “You looked so sexy with your tits hanging out of that dress.”
He slid his hands up my rib cage until he got to the top of my bikini, to where it tied around my neck, and his hands played with the strings lazily.
“You have the most perfect tits.” He began to pull the string slowly, deliberately, like he was unwrapping a present that he wanted to savor. When he finally finished undoing the top of my bikini, my breasts popped free, slapping against the water.
“Perfect nipples,” Landon murmured, as he plumped my breasts in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over the raised peaks. “I can’t wait to put you in outfits that show off these big tits.”
“Landon,” I moaned his name and arched up to him. The dirty way he was talking to me was leaving me on fire. Any fear or panic that had been in my body a few moments ago was completely gone now, replaced only by exhilarating pleasure.
“You’re mine, though,” he said. “These tits are mine.” He pulled a nipple into his mouth, his tongue circling over it before he sucked. I watched in fascination as my ni
pple disappeared into his mouth, the slight stubble on his cheeks rubbing against my breasts, a contrast to the warm wetness that was his mouth. “And this pussy’s mine, too, isn’t it, angel?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
His hands slid down my body, one on each side, skating over my ribcage. My heart was thrumming so fast against it I knew he could feel it, knew he would like the fact that this time my heart wasn’t beating fast out of panic, but out of desire.
His hands were big, so big that they almost touched as he slid them down either side of my body. His arms were all muscles, his biceps smooth and hard against my hands as I gripped them and held onto them for leverage. He was so much bigger than I was, and yet, in that moment, I felt totally safe.
He grabbed my hips and pulled me toward him at the same time he pushed his torso against me.
“I’m going to make you forget everything now, Aven,” he said. “I’m going to make you forget everything but me and how bad you want to fuck.”
His palm rested on my lower belly, his fingers moving lazily over the place where my bathing suit bottom met my skin, right above the mound of my pussy.
“Landon,” I moaned.
“Yes, angel, say my name.”
“Landon.”
“Again.”
“Landon.”
His hand moved down into my bikini bottoms, and when he got to my opening, his finger slid along my slit. His knuckle rubbed leisurely against my clit, and then he began to push his finger inside of me. Instantly, I could feel how tight I was.
And Landon could feel it, too.
“Jesus, your pussy is tight.”
I held his arms tight, my nails digging into his skin. I laid my head against his shoulder and took in a long, shaky breath.
“Aven.” His voice was a rough command, and I already knew him well enough to know that by saying my name like that, he was asking me what was wrong.
I swallowed, knowing I needed to tell him what I should have told him before. “I’m a virgin.”
His hand immediately stopped moving, and I felt him tense in my arms. I held tight to his shoulders, not wanting him to pull away.