by Xavier Neal
Arik's arms wind tightly around my body as he rocks into me. All other abilities vanish. The only thing I'm capable of at this moment is moaning his name. Pleased growls are proceeded with his grip constricting to a level of suffocation. The intense pressure of his cock combined with the security surrounding me in his arms releases an orgasm without any resistance.
While I shudder in his arms, he whispers in my ear, “I love you, baby.”
His words encourage the waves of pleasure to continue to crash over me. My face buries itself in the crook of his neck as his body worships mine with every passionate plunge. Our cradled bodies oscillate between desire and devotion.
Helplessly, I pant in desperation to come apart again, the feeling of his bare dick against me, intoxicating.
In a husky voice Arik demands, “Tell me again.”
More than willing to give him whatever he wants to get another orgasm, I reply, “I love you.”
The words push his body to work harder, to nudge the little spot inside that causes me to quiver on impact. Sweat seals our bodies together and he begs, “Again, baby.”
“I...I...” My pussy muscles clench around his cock submitting before my mouth can. “I...I...”
“Say it.”
The demand is met with orgasmic screams and my teeth sinking into his neck. Drowning in blinding bliss causes the words to be breathless, “I love you, Arik.”
Suddenly his dick stiffens. Arik's firm grip digs into my flesh at the same time his orgasm seeps out of him and crashes into mine. Mindless, brute moans bounce between us as the battle to find our way back to reality seems to only become more impossible.
At some point, his fingertips loosen and his nose nudges my face. When I finally turn for our eyes to lock, he sighs, “Fuck condoms.”
Giggling, I nod in agreement. “Fuck condoms.”
Seriously! Condom-less sex for the record is the best kind. He's clean, I'm clean, and thanks to my IUD the chances of spitting out his kid before I'm ready are slimmer than slim. Did I just say his kid? How is it possible to go from independent one night stand fan to love struck beyond reason? Is it normal to worry about what happens if we fall out of love, like my parents did? Am I making a mistake going down this road? It's too late to turn back now? God if the time does come I hope I'm stronger than my mother was.
Arik
You know with everything that's been running through my head these last couple of days, not dancing this weekend is probably for the best. Now that I know what the fuck was going on in my head, I'm hoping that I can just settle that anxiety and get back on my game. Might help if I confess to my girlfriend that I'm not a bullshit waiter at some non-existent expensive restaurant. What do you mean more than might? You don't know...And there's no reason to ruin what we have for a night.
“In,” my boss finally calls to me.
When I open the door, I see French sitting behind her desk fingers quietly tapping the keys.
Is it just me or is it forty degrees colder in here than in the hallway?
“French,” I politely say her name. “You needed to see me?”
“Sit.” She points. The moment I'm in the chair across from her she leans forward in her own. “I'm gonna make this quick since we both have shit to do.”
“Yes ma'am.”
“You can't have this weekend off,” the words fall from her mouth without a shred of remorse.
“But I requested-”
“And shit happens.” French shrugs nonchalantly. “It's wasn't a family emergency. It was a request.”
Blood rushes down to my fists. I fold my arms across my chest to resist from doing something I could regret.
No. I'd never fucking hit a woman, but let's just say the shit in this office is another case.
Calmly I try to object, “French-”
“I'm aware what you're giving up-”
“No you're not,” I snap in a whisper.
Bailing on this charity event is much more than flaking on a music gig. It's bailing on the first woman I've ever fallen in love with. It's bailing on a woman who already doesn't have a shit ton of trust in relationships with the opposite sex. It's also bailing on my entire family who apparently decided they needed to come see me perform, which I haven't allowed them to do in years. This would've been no exception but they were fucking officially invited by the host.
“Oh I am,” she states slowly lifting my suspicions. “Completely.”
I fight the urge to glare.
“You will work every day this weekend, like you always do. This may be an inconvenience for you but join the goddamn club. You think it was in my schedule to fire a prince this past weekend?”
Is it fucked up that part of me thinks she does write down shit like that on her calendar? Is it even more fucked up I'm pretty sure she does it with a red pen she made from the devil's dick after she took over?
Unsure of who she fired since I bailed earlier and have been hibernating with my girlfriend ever since, I question, “Who's gone?”
“Prince Q,” she answers with a sigh. Her body hits the back of her chair. “He fucked up. I have rules for a reason, Prince A.”
Slowly, I nod.
To protect her. To protect us. To protect the women who enter this sexual haven to escape judgmental eyes or loveless lives. I've never questioned a single one of her rules. They've always made sense. No. I can't go over all of them. One, I'm legally not allowed to. Two, all you really need to know is what I just said. It's all about anonymity and security.
“His replacement will be in training this week but will not be stage ready until next weekend.”
How the fuck did she find him a replacement so goddamn fast?
“You will fill in the gap.”
I do my best to keep my voice from wavering. “French, with all due respect-”
“Don't,” she cuts me off. “I hate when people say that. What you're about to say is disrespectful. Just fucking own it.”
It's not hard to see why she's HBIC right? You don't know what that stands for. Huh. Head bitch in charge.
“Fine.” After clearing my throat I state, “I need this weekend off.”
French cocks a familiar expression. “You've got a choice. You'll make the right one.”
Confident or cocky? Why is it all the women in my life sit on that line? Ha. Yeah. I sit on it too.
“Get out,” she dismisses me as she reaches for her ringing office phone. Before answering she adds, “Remember to schedule your massage for the week.” Looking down French demands into the phone, “Speak.”
With an angry shake of my head, I exit her office.
What the fuck am I supposed to do? Let down the woman I fucking care about for the sake of a job or lose the security of a job that could be there when she's not? How the fuck did I get in this situation? How the fuck do I get out of it with my life intact?
Ari
I give my headset one final adjustment.
Yeah. I'm aware I look like a 90s call girl with this thing. Before you even ask, yes they do make them smaller, but they are also more expensive. Helen's very particular about what she wants to splurge on and while I could write it off as a business expense it's easier to just use the ones I don't have to worry about. You know, in case they get stepped on or dropped in a bowl of soup. Both of those things have happened on four separate occasions.
A pair of hands slide around the front of my black floor length cocktail dress. “Promise me after this I can see those heels high in the air.”
With a lick of my lips, I glance over my shoulder at Arik. “My place or yours?”
“Mine,” he answers instantly. “There's something fucking sexy about having you wake up in my bed.”
I giggle his compliment away. “Are you sure you want me to come over because it's sexy or is it that you wanna minimize the chance of my nosy best friend slash neighbor interrupting our morning session in the kitchen?”
“Either or,” Arik retorts before dropping h
is lips onto my neck.
With a playful elbow to the gut, I snap, “You can not give me a hickey right now.”
He slides his tongue up to my earlobe and whispers, “I just needed a taste.”
Wiggling out of his clutches, I turn around and point. “Now that you've had it, do you think you can focus?”
My boyfriend gives me a fake iffy look that I meet with a severe one.
“I'm serious.”
He surrenders his hands. “I'm ready.”
Grabbing a folder from the bar being set up beside me, I inform him, “Here is your set list. For the first three hours you will play these songs. Most of these are the ones we've been emailing about and discussing. There are only two that Helen added, but I placed them between classics in case you stumble.”
“I never stumble, baby.”
“Cocky.”
“Confident.”
Rolling my eyes, I continue, “For the final two hours, you are free to take requests or play songs of your own creation. I suggest avoiding the overly sexual songs you've been writing about me lately.”
They're really good, just not the ones I would like my parents to hear.
Arik momentarily bites his bottom lip and shrugs. “You're inspiring.”
“Even so...” My cheeks attempt to blush. “Aim for the romantic ones. Try to keep the mood on par with the other songs.”
“You know you're a bit sexy when you're bossy.”
“A bit?”
“A bit more now...”
“Ugh.” Shaking away his ability to rattle me I finish up the instructions I was giving, “You will be allowed strategically placed breaks, which you will find on your itinerary in the back, high-lighted in yellow.”
Arik finally takes the folder. “Thorough.”
“Not a virgin at this.”
“Thank God for that,” his teasing mumble makes me smirk.
“Smart ass.”
After he smiles, he thumbs through the paperwork and asks, “I don't see a quickie scheduled on here.”
Rolling my eyes I snip, “Take this seriously, please. We're both on the line here.”
To my surprise his green eyes flare with an unfamiliar emotion.
Stage fright? That would be weird. I've seen him perform before. He doesn't get that.
“You have some serious talent. This place will be filled with so many people who can offer you more opportunities to play. Show them why I chose you.”
“Wasn't that because of my cock?”
“I'm done,” I sigh with a hand in the air.
Arik swiftly grabs it and plants a kiss on the back of it. “I'm kidding. Relax, Ari. You being this stressed out isn't gonna help either of us. You worry about the rest of the event. I won't let you down on my part.”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” he sincerely says.
Okay, fine. So I'm little more high strung than normal, but it's not all my fault. Helen's expected tantrums aside, Arik's parents as well as my own parents will be guests. Neither of us have had our parents at our choice of profession for a reason. Now they're gonna both be here...and together? Fuck. This a nightmare. I love my parents. I really do, however they're the last thing I need in a highly intense situation. I know I could never disappoint them, but that doesn't stop the feeling from occurring. What if I fuck something up? What if they see me make a mistake? What if they see Helen do that thing where she chews me out in front of her friends to make her look like she's in charge? Did I forget to mention she does that?
“Seriously though.” Arik grabs my attention. “Can we make out during one of my breaks?”
His eye brows waggle and I cave. “Fine. But only one. I have a party to run.”
Like a child who got his way, he smiles wide, and strolls away like he's king of the world.
Geez...It's sickening how adorable I find that. What's even worse is the fact I can't keep my eyes from trying to undress him. Most of the time he's in workout clothes or jeans. Seeing him dressed to impress in a penguin suit is causing a familiar ache that I can't do anything about for the next six hours at a minimum. Lord have mercy on my lady parts.
**
The event launches without a hitch. Guests fill the room and themselves with liquor. While everyone is busy feasting on my choice of appetizers, I barely have time to hit all the focal points around the room.
There are areas I pre-marked that I need to be at by a certain time. In short, it helps me observe the event from every possible angle and prevent any possible damage that could be caused. It also assures that I check on every aspect of the party from food to the cleanliness of the bathrooms. I take my job seriously. It's much easier when I don't have to do it in heels though.
On my way past the second story bar, I'm abruptly stopped by a familiar face.
“Ari?”
“Greg.” I force a smile on my face. “What are you doing here?”
“Came with my parents,” he answers. Lowering his champagne glass he admits, “When I heard I would finally get to hear my little brother play music, I couldn't resist. My sister's roaming around here somewhere. She shouldn't be hard to miss with the fur scarf she has on for no reason.”
That chick is crazy.
With a hum, I question, “You didn't wanna bring your girlfriend?”
“We broke up.”
Instead of making a joke I sigh, “I'm sorry to hear that.”
“Really?” His surprised expression lifts my eyebrows. “No step back into the wild jokes?”
Haha. That's a good one.
After beating away the urge to smirk I state, “No. One, break ups suck. Two, I'm working so I try to keep a professional attitude.”
“Working?” He has another sip and glances over the railing. “Both of you?”
“I'm the event coordinator.” Unable to resist stealing a peak of Arik, I turn to stare at him on the first level flawlessly working the piano.
Can't wait until his fingers are flawlessly working me.
My bottom lip slips between my teeth.
“You really are in love with him, huh?” Greg chortles to himself. When I divert my attention back to him he adds, “He's that in love you with you too. Not words I ever thought I would say about him. In fact I need another drink now.”
“You get that,” I say, hearing my name over my headset. “I have to tend to something on the first floor. Enjoy the event.”
He tosses back the last of the champagne in his glass and gives me a firm nod.
Quickly, I rush downstairs to check out the kitchen debacle. Inside the area I listen to the pair of caterers squabble over not having enough space to prepare their dishes.
I wanted to just hire one for all the food except the dessert and instead Helen had me hire three and an additional one for dessert. Woman makes it damn near impossible to do my job sometimes.
As calm as I can, I help them sort it out until we've reached a level of compromise that get's everyone working efficiently again.
The moment I walk out of the kitchen I'm greeted warmly. “You must be, Ari!”
Possibly deaf now...
Unsure who the cheerful man that looks like Mr. Clean is I cautiously answer. “I am. May I help you?”
“Helen says you put all this together. It's remarkable,” he compliments and slides a hand in his black suit pocket. “I'm sure she keeps you rather busy-”
“Very.”
“-but I'm wanting to host a huge event like this for my wife's next birthday. No budget restraints. The works. What do you think? Could I enlist your services?”
No budget events are my fucking favorite.
“I'll have to check my calendar and see if I can squeeze that in. Why don't you let me get you one of my business cards and you can contact me later this week?”
“That would lovely,” the man says and finishes his beer. “Darren Cole.”
I shake his now extended hand. “Ari Kent.”
Darren adds, “Pleasure.”
“Let me get you my card,” I excuse myself.
These are great places to make these kinds of connections, like I told Arik earlier, but my problem is Helen. She strings me along so close to her that she doesn't allow time for anything that's not her. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to branch out? Arik has been reminding me that I'm not the same woman I was all those years ago when I got black balled. I'm stronger now. My work obviously speaks volumes. Hm. Something to consider when I have time, which is definitely not now.