by Linda Verji
Another example? Last night she’d come up to read the latest chapter in his book. But then she came wearing a short, white dress that was just begging to be taken off. So of course he did. After a vigorous love-making session right atop the bar, he’d promised that that was the absolute last time he was touching her. To show that he was serious, he’d made her sleep in the guestroom and spent the whole night fighting the impulse to go to her. Come this morning, he’d emerged from his bedroom to call the lobby for some shower supplies, only to find London sprawled out on the couch in just his shirt reading his book. What was a man to do?
“This is your fault,” he complained as he ran his hands to her breasts, caressing and tweaking the tips.
“Yup,” she agreed as she rose over him. “All-” In one slow stroke, consumed him whole. “- my-” She lifted again. “- fault -” Then dropped over him, squeezing and massaging him so hard he had to dig his toes into the carpet so he wouldn’t come.
“Fu- ah!” A guttural groan tore from his lip. He lowered his hands to her ass and squeezed the firm flesh. “Faster.”
“O - okay.” And she did. She lifted her body then dropped down to tuck him deep inside herself, then did it again. And again. And again. The sensation of being inside her was indescribable, beyond words. He lifted his hand to her neck and dragged her down so they could kiss while she tortured him. And torture him she did.
Each rise was like being yanked out of heaven, each drop was like being shoved right back in. He swallowed her whimpers as she swallowed his cock. Massaged, squeezed and lifted her ass to show her how he wanted her to ride him, what pace he wanted.
Fast and hard!
Pretty soon he was doing most of the work. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck, her hot breath washing against his skin, and clung to his shoulders as he lifted and lowered her on him. When it still wasn’t enough, he sat up with her still in his arms then lowered her on her back on the other side of the couch.
All that movement had the effect of ejecting her from her warmth. He lowered his mouth to her pussy to make sure that she was still ready for him. A quick run of his tongue inside her sweetness revealed that she was still very wet and ready for him. He lifted upwards to run his dick between her labia to collect some of that moisture before he pushed into her.
“Fuck,” he groaned in relief once he was in her again. Now he was fully seated in her, tucked in just as deep as he needed. He lowered his body completely over hers and his head to capture her lips again before he started to pump.
As usual once he was in London, everything else around them seemed to lose focus. It didn’t matter that his couch was white and that their activities would probably ruin it. All that mattered was that it was big enough that he could have her as forcefully as he wanted. It didn’t matter that the sunlight was streaming brightly through the window or that that probably meant that he was late for the office. All that mattered was that all that radiant light allowed him to watch every sexy expression on London’s face as he possessed her.
He dug in with deep strokes, over and over and over again until finally the fireworks began. Her trembling and contracting pushed him right over the edge and he came at almost the same time as she did.
Long after they’d come down from their high, he still lay on the couch with London in his arms. She felt right in his arms. He’d held other women before, even enjoyed most of them. But she was perfect there. Her curves fit against his long length perfectly, like the puzzle piece of himself that he didn’t even know what floating around out there.
“Aren’t you late for work?” London asked as her finger drew circles on his chest.
“Probably.” He played with a strand of her hair, now dyed a brilliant purple. “But it’s a Saturday. No one’s waiting for me.”
“Lucky you.” She suddenly lifted away from his arms and sat up. “Unfortunately for me, I’ve got a client coming into the salon at ten sooo…” She lowered her head and caught his lips in a brief kiss. “I gotta go. I’ll see you in the evening.”
“No.” He pulled her back by the wrist when she tried to crawl over him. “Stay. I’m sure Miss Wendy can do your client’s hair when she comes in.”
“And get my money?” She shot him an incredulous look. “You must be out your damn mind.”
“London, you performed last night. Then you came back here and did your whole phone-sex thing.” His voice softened in concern. “You need a break.”
“I’ll take one when I’m dead.” She scrambled over him and started for the guestroom.
He should’ve probably let the subject go, but he was genuinely concerned for her. He’d thought that he was a workaholic but London was way ahead of him on that regard. The woman had three jobs as far as he knew, and he wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that she had more, but barely ever ate. He didn’t even know what she was running on - probably pure willpower and God’s grace. If she continued like this she was going to burn out soon. He trailed her into the guestroom where she was shrugging off his shirt. Once the shirt was gone, she entered the en-suite.
“Mind if I come in with you?” he asked.
She shrugged. “As long as you don’t try any funny business. I don’t wanna be late.”
“No funny business,” he promised. He just wanted to talk to her. Well, that was the idea anyway. But within moments of their showering together, she ended up plastered back to the wall clinging onto him as he drove into her.
“This is the last time,” he swore, as sweat dripped down his forehead.
Her laughter echoed in the steamy shower stall.
It was only once she’d left his apartment that common sense invaded again. What the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he keep away from London? Granted, she was addictive and the most passionate, adventurous and giving woman he’d ever met. But this was all kinds of wrong, and dangerous.
So why did it feel so right and perfect? Why was each moment with her like breathing in a lungful of life? When he was with her, he knew what it meant like to be living, not just existing and going through the motions.
Even as he sat in his office two hours later, he still had a goofy smile on his face. That smile plunged like an anchor into water when his mother called him at exactly thirty minutes past noon.
“I hope you haven’t forgotten,” she said the moment he picked up the phone.
“Forgotten what?”
“Lunch,” Edya reminded him. “We have lunch today.”
“We do?” Zeke didn’t remember making any such appointment. Usually he went to the family estate on Sundays to update his mother on what was going on with the company, so to have a lunch meeting on a Saturday was out of the ordinary.
“You’re leaving for Milan tomorrow.” Edya’s voice held a note of irritation. “So when were you planning to give me your weekly update?”
“We’ve got the Williams auction tonight,” Zeke countered. “I was planning to update you after it.”
“That’s not convenient for me,” Edya retorted. “Meet me at 44 Club. And don’t be late.”
She ended the call before he could let her know whether that was convenient for him, which wasn’t odd. What was odd was the location for the meeting. 44 Club. His mother believed that eating in any other restaurant or hotel was tantamount to saying that they didn’t have confidence in Landa-Heron’s offerings. Treason! For her to be asking for them to eat somewhere else was odd.
Very, very odd.
It turned out that he was right to be suspicious. The moment he stepped into 44 Club, he realized that his mother had deceived him. And had he been any other man, he would’ve walked out right then and there. But Meredith was waving at him so eagerly from one of the tables at the far end of the restaurant that it would’ve been rude to walk out. Zeke wove his way past several other tables, nodding to a few people he knew, and made his way towards the brunette.
“Meredith,” Zeke greeted affably as he got to the table. “How nice to see you
.”
“It’s nice to see you too.” Meredith rose to kiss his cheek. “I confess I was a little startled when your mother called to say that you wanted to have lunch - but I’m very glad you did.”
“Ah!” Zeke kept his expression blank as he helped Meredith back to her seat and pushed it in for her. But on the inside his mind was racing like a rocket. It wasn’t surprising that his mother had ignored everything he’d said and fixed up this date with Meredith. What surprised him was that he hadn’t seen it coming.
He needed to up his game if he hoped to beat her.
The lunch itself was okay. Meredith was a nice enough woman, chatty and classy to the extreme. But there was just something missing in their conversation. It seemed wooden, lifeless - like they were just actors putting on a show for the world. By the time he escorted her out of the restaurant he wasn’t any more inclined to make her his wife than he’d been when he’d walked in.
“Thank you for the lovely lunch,” Meredith said as they waited for her car.
“Thank you for the lovely company,” Zeke returned instinctively. Just then a town-car came to a stop in front of them. The chauffeur jumped out and raced to open the door for Meredith. Zeke said, “This must be you.”
“It is.” Meredith turned to him with a hopeful smile. “Well-”
Zeke knew what she was waiting for. For him to ask her out for another date. He, however, had no intention of doing that. He’d never been a fan of wasting his or other people’s time. So he stepped forward to give her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you around, Meredith.”
Her smile dimmed and disappointment flickered in her eyes, but a lady as always she accepted defeat. “I’ll see you around, Ezekiel.”
And with that, he charred his mother’s Machiavellian machinations.
At least for the day.
ON THE OTHER side of town, London was suds-deep in Shakira’s hair. Around them the chatter of the salon swirled, mingling with the smell of heated hair and hair products.
“Oh, that feels amazing,” Shakira sighed in pleasure as she kept her eyes closed.
“That’s because your hair can finally breathe,” London said, as she massaged her best-friend’s scalp. “You wore that weave for too long.”
“Three weeks isn’t that long,” Shakira protested. “And you try thinking about your hair when Talia won’t even give you time to breathe.”
“Girl, I feel you,” said Misha who was in the seat next to them palming through a magazine. “At least you can put on a weave. Colin pulls on those things like he’s playing tug-of-war. I can’t even wear my hair longer than my earlobes unless I want to go bald.”
That drew laughs from her two friends.
“Speaking of babies.” Misha cast a glance at London. “I’ve noticed some spread to your hips. A bun in the oven, perhaps?”
“What?” Her heart leaping in nervousness, London stopped washing Shakira’s hair to throw a startled glance to her hips. She didn’t see any ‘spread’… but still. Her mind quickly ran through the dates of her last period and when she was expecting her next. Nope! She was on track. But then why Misha saying there was a spread to her hips-
“Don’t mind her.” Shakira’s laughter cut into London’s panicked calculations. “That’s her way of asking if you’re dating someone.”
“Then why didn’t she just say so?” She inched forward to slap Misha’s arm. “You scared me, you bitch.”
Misha laughed as she easily evaded London’s soapy hand. “You looked scared. So I’m guessing there is someone.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Who is it? Huh? Huh?”
“There’s no one,” London hedged, as she rinsed Shakira’s hair. “You know how I do. Bachelorette for life.”
“Lies!” Misha guffawed. “Then why were you so scared when I said you were pregnant.”
Because the last thing London needed right now was ‘a bun in the oven’. Her lifestyle as it was right now was nowhere near suitable for a mini-London, or mini-Zeke as it were.
“I’m telling you I’m not seeing anyone,” London insisted. “If I was you two would be the first to know.” And before Misha could poke her nose further into her business, she called out to one of the other hairdressers, “Aisha, could you start on Misha’s relaxer?”
Perceptive as always, Misha gave her a raised eyebrow. “Are you pawing me off to Aisha so I can stop asking question?”
“No.” London gave her friends a wide-eyed innocent look. “You’re the one who said that you had to go to the police precinct to follow up on that burglary case before four.”
“Mmm. I see you.” Misha gave her a skeptical look but moved to Aisha’s chair anyway.
Once Misha was gone, London thought she’d have some breathing space from all the questions. She was wrong.
“So who is this guy?” Shakira opened her eyes to study her friend curiously
“What guy?” London hedged as she toweled her friend’s hair dry.
“The one you’re being so secretive about.” Shakira sat up in the chair so London could wrap the towel in a turban around her head.
“There is no guy.”
Shakira stared at London for a long uncomfortable moment before she declared in a tone that held no doubt at all. “There is a guy.” Her eyes clouding with concern, she lowered her voice until it was almost a whisper. “Is he married?”
“What?” London made her face. “No way.”
“Then what’s wrong with him,” Shakira asked. “You never hide who you’re going out with - or sleeping with - from me.”
That was true. London and Shakira had come a long way and knew each other’s deepest darkest secrets. But this was different - complicated. London and Zeke had never officially talked about what they were doing, but she instinctively knew that he wouldn’t want anyone knowing about it, not even his brothers.
If she told Shakira about hers and Zeke’s activities, the possibility of it staying a secret was damn near improbable. Shakira and Nathan shared every single thing, and once Nathan knew, Danny wouldn’t be far behind or Misha for that matter. After that it was just a matter of time before someone told the wrong person and that wrong person told the world. Zeke would hate that. As irritating as it was to have to keep this secret, London felt protective of Zeke.
So she told Shakira, “Could we just let it rest?”
Shakira’s opened her mouth as if to protest, but before she could say anything, Misha called out from the other side of the salon. “You guys will not believe what’s on Hush-Hush.” She was staring at her phone in wide-eyed surprise.
“What?” London and Shakira asked, even as every other client in the salon’s eyes were drawn to Misha.
Misha stood up, a portion of her hair still plastered with white cream, and crossed the room to London and Shakira and held out her phone. “Check.”
Shakira grabbed it and London bent slightly so she could see what had Misha so shocked. London expected it to be some celebrity’s newly released sex-tape or even better, someone announcing that were having a sex-change operation. What she found was worse - far worse. Her heart plunged to the pit of her belly as she read the headline of the article. Dancing on the screen of Misha’s phone was;
Billionaire, Zeke Landa-Hollis is engaged - Sorry Ladies!
A lump grew in London’s throat as she lowered her gaze to the image below the article. It was a picture of Zeke and a beautiful brunette, Meredith Weinstein. The photographer had captured the two in an intimate embrace where Zeke was kissing the woman’s cheek.
CHAPTER 15
Zeke glared at the offending article one last time before calling its architect.
“Ezekiel.” His mother answered on the first ring. He had to give it to the woman. No doubt she already knew why he was calling her yet she didn’t even have the decency to hide.
“Mother,” he gritted through his teeth. “What the hell is this story on Hush-Hush?”
“Cursing is uncouth,” Edya hedged.
“Yes.” Her one-word answer was as unapologetic as her tone, and it was enough to set Zeke’s blood boiling.
It took everything in him to keep his voice even as he said, “That was low. Even for you.”
Never one to take insults personally, Edya countered with, “Well, what did you expect would happen with you being so stubborn?”
“I expected you to keep your nose out of my business,” he bit out.
His mother chuckled. “We both knew that wasn’t going to happen.”
She was right. He’d expected her to retreat then return with even more weapons. But not this soon. Zeke closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before wandering from his writing alcove to the living-room.
He’d been in the middle of writing another chapter when his phone had pinged alerting him that there was an article about him online. The moment he’d seen the stupid article declaring him engaged to Meredith Weinstein, he’d just about hit the roof. Now it made complete sense why Edya insisted on 44 Club for lunch. Landa-Heron was very conscientious about keeping the press from bothering their clients. If his and Meredith’s lunch had been at Landa-Heron, there would’ve been no pictures for the press.
He inhaled a fortifying breath before continuing, “Mother, you need to tell whoever it is you have in your pockets down at Hush-Hush to retract that article.”
“Or. What?” she enunciated each word clearly.
He chuckled, but the sound lacked mirth. “If you think this little stunt of yours is going to embarrass me into marrying Meredith then you’re wrong. You’re not the only one with contacts in the media.”