“Oh, you guys kissed. Sounds exciting,” I say blandly.
He’s just about to argue with me when she walks into the room and all four pairs of our eyes are on her.
She’s wearing a simple, silky, silver dress that hangs from her body like it’s nothing. Her nipples are erect, and I can imagine what they look like through the thin fabric.
I find myself licking my lips, thinking sensuously of her. She’s more beautiful than I even remember.
Her auburn hair is cascading in curls over her shoulders, and she looks ethereal.
Evan gets up and approaches her first. “My, my, what do we have here? You look absolutely dazzling, Meg,” he says, kissing her cheek.
She walks tentatively into the room and eyes each of us separately. I know she remembers the other night and what that meant to us.
We were all feeling it. There were sparks and connections flying every which way. The question is, who does she feel that the strongest with?
I determine that it’s my time to make my move. It’s now or never. Either I’m going to get ahead this night or I’ll fall behind and will never be able to catch up.
I take the scotch I just poured for myself and walk over to offer it to her.
I kiss her on the cheek and offer her my drink. “For you. Don’t you look lovely? I’ve missed seeing you, Meg.”
Her eyes lock into mine, and for several seconds, it’s like we’re the only two people in the room. She takes the glass that’s now covered in condensation up to her lips and drinks deeply from it.
She doesn’t even flinch at the taste of the harsh liquid. She’s got her poker face on, and so do I.
“Hi, Paul, is it?” she asks.
She has some courage to pretend to forget my name. I know she remembers it, and I know she’s just toying with me. It’s a game that I enjoy but will definitely win at.
I take her hand and kiss her softly, “It’s Paul. Paul Richardson. How could you forget?”
She blushes at my statement, catching her in her lie, and I revel in the moment. Before my brothers have a chance to interject themselves, I offer her a chair and quickly take the seat next to hers.
Now I have her ear for the rest of the night. Of that you can be sure.
My brothers join us around the table, and we all make a toast.
Matt does the honors, and he says, “In memory of our father and of all the family dinners we’ve had at this table together. And also to our new guest, Meg. May she feel as welcome as ever.”
Meg delights in the attention, but she also seems like she feels awkward and uncomfortable. I don’t doubt as to why. My brothers and I are a lot to take, especially for one woman.
There’s a lot of testosterone flowing in this room, and she’s the only feminine energy for us to focus on. She’s definitely worth it. She gets more beautiful by the second.
Dinner is served, and it’s exquisite. My brothers and I chat with Meg, each of us sizing each other up, trying to determine who has the best chance of winning her heart, at least for the evening.
“So, Meg,” Ian is saying, “Where did you attend school?”
“Me? Oh, I went to Dartmouth College. I had always wanted to go there ever since high school, and I got in, so that’s the story with that.”
She doesn’t seem to like being in the spotlight. And I don’t blame her. With four masculine, carnal energies coming at her, it must be a lot to deal with.
“Isn’t that interesting,” I say. “Each of us has gone to an Ivy League school. I personally attended Harvard, Ian went to Yale, and Matt and Evan both went to Princeton.”
I know my brothers and I are all wondering how it came to be that Meg went to Dartmouth and yet she’s serving us as a maid.
It’s a question I put out of my mind as I listen in to what Meg is saying about her life.
“I grew up in California and have always wanted to come to the East Coast. So I came to New York City directly after school. I worked as an intern for a while, and then I developed a relationship, and that kind of took up all my time. We’re breaking up, broken up, I mean. We’re done with pretty much.”
We’re all ears at the mention of a boyfriend. There better not be a boyfriend in the picture with her. I’m happy to hear that they’re broken up or are on their way to getting there.
Whatever their status is, I don’t care. I will have Meg as my own.
“This veal is exemplary,” Matt says.
“It is, isn’t it?” I say privately to Meg over her shoulder.
She looks at me with her dark-green eyes, and for a moment our expressions are the same.
We both have lust on our lips. We both want each other. The sexual tension between us is obvious.
Sitting next to her was the best idea I’ve had in a long time. It means that I own her for the night. I fully intend to take this back to my bedroom.
After we’ve eaten, my brothers move the party to the den where we go after dinner to have drinks.
Instead of following, I take Meg’s arm and give her private offer.
“Meg, would you like to see the view from my balcony? It’s an absolutely beautiful sight this time of night. It’s better than any room in the house.”
She looks as though for a moment she doesn’t know what to do. Should she follow my brothers? Surely they’re expecting us.
But I take her arm and smoothly guide her in the direction of my bedroom. The connection between us is real, and it’s palpable. I know she needs to get off as badly as I do.
And luckily for her, I plan on making her come several times over into the night.
I grab the bottle of scotch, and we escape down the corridor to my quarters. I know this will make my brothers rage, but I don’t care.
I have one thing on my mind this evening.
Meg.
Chapter 9
Meg
Arm in arm, Paul and I walk through the massive home. The vaulted ceilings are still eye-catching in particular. It might take me more than a few visits to get used to them.
The house smells of cedar and patchouli—two scents that give an aged mansion its character. I haven’t spent much time up here yet, but I’m enjoying taking in all the aspects of the house’s ambience.
Paul’s arm around mine is snug and insistent. His firm grip tells me that he’s constantly seeking my approval on the house during our little tour.
And if I’m being honest, I’m happy to give it to him. He’s a very charming and handsome man, with his jet-black hair and mysteriously dark eyes.
His features are a striking contrast to his stepbrothers’, and I think that makes him all the more intriguing.
I freely admit I’m a little jarred by his incessant need to have me all to himself. As if I didn’t already see the competition among the siblings.
His brothers watch my every move, and they undoubtedly saw Paul’s eyes on me tonight. They might’ve felt the sexual tension between the two of us, too—but I have that with all of the brothers anyway.
I’m curious as to whether or not he’ll flaunt himself around the house for winning my attention for the evening. Or will he pretend that our private tour never happened?
I don’t know if he’ll regret it, though, once his brothers realize we haven’t joined their post-dinner leisure.
As I ponder these questions in my mind, which are multiplying by the second, Paul stops in front of his bedroom door.
He looks over his shoulder at me as he turns the handle, offering me a charming grin. A man in real estate has to have some charisma on his level, after all.
I play the game, pretending his beauty and seductive tactics have no effect on me. I want to see exactly what he’s driving at.
Paul pushes the door open to reveal a dimly lit room much larger than my own. It’s filled with antique cherry wood furniture, from the cabinets to the bed.
The walls are decorated tastefully with book shelves, medieval paintings, and deep red curtains hanging from the nearl
y floor-to-ceiling windows.
I’m impressed. Generally, men have no sense of taste in their decor, but it would appear that he has spent a great deal of time in this room despite his travels, enough that he still calls it home.
I scan the walls until my eyes are drawn to the room’s focal point: the balcony doors, which are glass-paned. They allow a gorgeous stream of natural light into the room. I gravitate toward them, letting go of Paul’s arm.
I bring myself to the doors, turn the knobs, and pull them open. A gust of wind greets the bare skin of my face, and I squint for a moment, surprised by the cool air.
When I regain my bearings, I look out ahead of me to see a breathtaking view. The sun is setting, and the wind is rustling the leaves on the trees. There’s a hint of smoke permeating the air from the fireplace of the estate.
“Told you,” I hear from behind me.
Paul’s low voice startles me. I was so enraptured by the picture-perfect view of nature surrounding his home that I forgot all about him.
“You certainly did,” I admit. “I’ll have to give you credit. You’ve earned this bragging right.”
“This bragging right? You mean I don’t deserve them all?” he counters, a grin playing on his lips.
“I can’t check all of your real estate successes, but I can confirm that this is the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen,” I say.
“Well, I once thought this sunset was the most beautiful thing in the world, but I was wrong.” Paul stares into my eyes thoughtfully. “You, Meg, are the most breathtaking view I’ve ever seen.”
Before I can even process his words, I’m swept into his arms. His strong embrace has me locked against him, and I’m instantly wet from all the excitement.
Paul brings his face close to mine. So close that I can feel his breath against my skin. So close that I know what I want to happen.
I lean my head back, tilt my chin upward, and close my eyes. I wait patiently for his lips to meet mine and for us to share a moment of passion.
Much to my surprise, rather than his kiss, I’m greeted by his fingertips. They first caress my temple and run through my hair to push a lock behind my ear.
The touch of his hand sends a shiver down my spine and goosebumps throughout my body. I lift my eyelids, and I find his eyes staring into my own. His face is full of both passion and restraint.
“Tell me what you want, Meg,” he demands. “What do you want right now, more than anything else?” He waits for my response, not moving a muscle until I answer.
I give in.
“I want you, Paul. I want you more than anything right now,” I tell him.
He pulls me even tighter against his body and kisses me. He slides his free hand up my spine and to the back of my head. He crushes our lips together.
The kiss is forced but wanted. So controlled yet so passionate. He’s incomparably the most suspenseful—and at the same time most predictable—man I’ve ever met.
He pulls away, gently releasing me. My eyes widen, and I breathe in hard, trying to process the moment we just shared.
Before I’m able to get a word out, Paul guides my body to the balustrade. Our eyes are locked on each other as he plants me firmly against the railing.
The sun is fading, and darkness descends. It’s evening now, and somehow, that seems fitting for what Paul’s about to show me.
He slowly moves his face to my neck and leaves gentle kisses around it before making his way down my collarbone. He traces down my chest and stomach with his nose, then greets me with his lips again, flipping up my dress and kissing my lower abdomen.
I suck in a breath. Is this really happening?
His fingers loop around my satin panties, and he slides them down slowly, revealing my wet pussy and exposing it to the fresh air that surrounds us.
The air feels good, but it does nothing to fan the flames of my desire.
He guides my underwear off me, lifting one foot at a time to remove it.
I’m trembling with excitement and anticipation. Paul brings his face to my pussy and lets out a deep breath on it, the hot air stimulating me, making my little clit swell and my pussy lips ache.
I reach a hand out to stroke his hair and to bring him to me, hungry for attention. Before my fingers even meet his scalp, his grip surrounds my wrist, and he holds my hand against the railing.
I try to pull away, but he won’t let me.
As I gasp from his interception, he catches me off guard even more by flicking his tongue against my pussy lips, taking in the taste of my juices. He laps at it again, and my muscles all tighten and relax.
I grip the railing behind me tight as he brings his mouth to my clit and starts to suck and flick his tongue against it. I breathe deeply, trying my best not to cause a scene with us being partially outdoors.
I start moaning lightly, but it’s audible enough for him to hear. He pulls his mouth off me and puts his fingers against my clit as he comes up from under my dress.
“Don’t come until I say so,” he commands.
He seals his order with a passionate kiss, inviting my tongue to taste my own pussy.
He spins me around and leans my torso over the balcony. I look down at the pool and at the grounds, but everything’s spinning. He plunges his fingers deep into my pussy and grinds them against my G-spot.
I let out a moan, a cry, a whimper.
I dig my nails into the concrete railing and grit my teeth, moaning and whimpering under my breath. My tits bounce as his fingers pump hard into my pussy.
I’m so on edge from his touch, and I want nothing more than to let myself come all over, but I want so badly to follow his command.
Just when I feel like I can’t hold on any longer, he says it.
“Come for me, Meg.”
And I gush right there. My entire body relaxes, and I come all over his fingers and let out long, intense moans as I climax.
He pulls me inside with him right as I catch my breath. Before I can say a word, he slides his fingers into my mouth, cleaning them.
I swish my own cum around in my mouth and swallow it down while my eyes meet his. My heart is racing, and my head is spinning.
“Good girl,” he comments.
But my head continues to spin.
Chapter 10
Paul
Such vulnerability.
Such sensitivity.
I saw the potential in this woman. I saw it when I first laid eyes on her, and I saw it when we conversed over dinner. She’s truly a perfect, submissive woman, and I’m honestly impressed.
A woman that knows how to let go and have me take over is what really gets my gears turning, my blood pumping—and fuck if it’s not pumping right now.
When you’re negotiating a deal in real estate, the goal is to get the other party to submit to you. And Meg is the finest piece of real estate I’ve had the pleasure to take on.
She’s an absolute knockout, and she’s well aware of her place in her dynamic with me. Having her right here with me, sucking her own cum off my fingers, is so fucking arousing.
It’s taking all the self-control I have not to take her pussy with my hard, thick cock right now. But she needs to wait. She needs to earn it.
Meg is a giver, naturally, and I want her to really want it first. I can see it in her eyes and in her actions that she’s the type to please, and I’ll be damned if I’m not the one to give her the opportunity.
I place my palm on her cheek, and she instantly shudders at my touch.
That’s right, sweetheart. Just give in and let me take control.
I hold her by the back of her neck as I continue to gaze directly into her eyes. She’s trembling ever so slightly, hoping I don’t notice her squirming at my touch.
She’s so flustered with passion and anticipation. I couldn’t paint a more perfect picture of a girl wanting something so badly if I tried.
She’s willing and ready to do anything to please me, especially if it means wetting my cock with her
tight little slit.
I gently massage the back of her neck, and she finally relaxes her muscles, letting my touch take over her and please her.
She bites her lip and leans her head back for me, and I can almost hear her heart thrashing in her chest.
I can’t hold it anymore. I move my hand over her shoulder and force her down slowly. She follows my lead well, getting down on her knees without a fight. She wants my cock in her mouth as badly as I do.
Once she’s on the floor, we both stop moving just for a moment, gauging what the other will do. She waits patiently for an order. I’m only too happy to give her one.
“Touch yourself, Meg. I want you to rub your clit,” I command.
She flips her dress up and reveals her little pussy before she slides her hand down to play with herself.
As she circles her clit with her fingers, I unzip my pants and pull out my throbbing cock. She looks at it, marvelling at the size.
Her eyes widen, and I see her gulp. Her desire for my cock entertains me, and I decide to let her have a taste.
“Suck,” I order.
Without hesitation, she wraps her lips around my cock, taking it in hungrily.
I wasn’t even expecting her to get on it so quickly. I was right—she’s incredibly hungry for it. She swirls her tongue around on it, getting as much of it coated in her spit as she can.
She moans and breathes heavily as her mouth goes up and down my cock. Then, she grips the base of my cock with one hand.
Her mouth is spectacular. If she keeps it up, I’m going to come on her, and I’m not ready to do that yet. I’m having too much fun to let it all end.
Part of me just wants to fuck her face right now and let her know how much of a slut I want her to be. I want to use her talented mouth as my personal fuck hole.
I’m going to go to fucking town on her.
But she needs the teasing. She needs to feel tempted. She enjoys every bit of the suspense I give her.
The way she’s furiously thrusting her fingers inside her tells me everything I need to know.
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