DrillingDownDeep

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DrillingDownDeep Page 15

by Angela Claire


  “And Shelly.”

  “Fine. I’ll go to your father’s stupid party. If you do one thing for me.”

  “What?”

  “Open that locked room at the end of the hallway.”

  He laughed. “You snoop.”

  “What’s in there?”

  “None of anybody’s business. That’s why it’s locked.”

  “No key. No party.”

  He went to the bowl in the hallway and dug his keys out, proceeding to the room, with her following closely at his heels. When he unlocked it and ushered her in, it was the last thing she had expected.

  He leaned against the door jam. “See? I’m very uninteresting. Nothing shocking. Nothing illegal.”

  “What is all this?”

  It was a mass of small parts of some kind, some of them mechanical, some of them electrical it appeared. Tiny tools were set out on all the surfaces, a stool here and there.

  “I build things sometimes. That’s all. If I don’t lock the door, the maid tries to clean it when she comes in and I can’t find anything.”

  “You build things?” She picked up what looked like a miniature circuit and held it up. “Like what? What’s this?”

  He approached, slipping his keys into his pants pocket and taking the motor from her. “This is nothing yet. But someday I hope it’ll help operate a prosthesis.”

  She looked at him blankly.

  “You know, an arm or a leg for somebody who’s lost one.”

  “I know what a prosthesis is. What I don’t know is why you’re building anything related to one yourself. Don’t you have engineers at your company for that?”

  He shrugged. “This isn’t for Reynolds Industries or any of our other companies.” He put the circuit down. “This is for me.”

  She tried to defend against the stab of pure admiration she felt. So she shook her head and said, “Never enough money, I guess. What, sad your fortune came from your daddy? Want to make your own someday?”

  “As a matter of fact, any patents I do apply for, I donate the proceeds to charity. Usually a charity for veterans or families of veterans. They’re the ones who suffer from lost limbs. A lot. You’d be shocked at the statistics.”

  “How do you know how to do any of this? Oh no, wait. Cal Tech, right?”

  His mouth tightened as if the memory of the conversation after the disarming of the bomb hardened him to her.

  “Right. So seen enough?”

  She nodded. “So this is your…your what? Your hobby?”

  “Every man’s got to have one.” He closed the door behind them and locked it.

  “Don’t most rich guys take up sailing?”

  “I like to sail too.” He steered her to the bedroom. “And then of course, there’s my womanizing. I’d be happy to show you that.”

  “I think you already have.”

  “Baby, I’m just getting started.”

  * * * * *

  Vanny looked at Michael Reynolds sleeping naked beside her. Rich. Gorgeous. Built limbs for veterans in his spare time. The man didn’t even snore. He was perfect.

  She didn’t know why she had ever thought she could do this. Sleep with a guy—especially a guy like Michael—and not get emotionally involved. She was probably the latest in a long line of mistresses to fall hopelessly in love with him before he cast her aside. And it had only been a week or so.

  Not that she was in love with him, she told herself hastily. More like lust. And serious crush time. And…okay, enough.

  He stirred and without opening his eyes, flung an arm around her waist. “Can’t sleep?” he murmured in a voice more than half asleep itself.

  “No. I guess I miss my pops.”

  He opened his eyes and sat up on one elbow. “You haven’t been gone that long. Don’t you stay away from him longer when you’re on a rig?”

  “I guess so. But then I’m busy. Things to do.”

  “Have you called him?”

  “No. He’s left a few messages, but I’ve texted back.”

  “Why don’t you call him?” Michael looked around sleepily in the not-quite total darkness, trying to see the lit alarm clock. His blinds were never closed when they fell asleep, faint light from the moon and the other city buildings streaming in, a testimony to his not-quite phobia of dark enclosed spaces. “I don’t know what time it is, but whatever it is, it’s an hour or two earlier, I forget which, in Texas.”

  “No, I wouldn’t feel right calling Pops while I’m with you.”

  He sat up fully and leaned back against the oak headboard that doubled as a bookshelf. She’d checked out its contents earlier, mostly books about business or electronics or engineering.

  “Why not?”

  “You know why not.”

  “You’re a big girl now, Vanny. I’m sure he knows you’re not a virgin.”

  “No, it’s not that.”

  “What is it then?”

  “Ah, I guess because I’m taking money for sleeping with you. I guess that’s what they call a whore. I gave my dad a check with the money you gave me, but I’m not sure any dad, and certainly not mine, would be okay with how I got it.”

  “You’re making too big a deal of that.”

  She said nothing.

  He switched a low bedside lamp on. “Besides, it’s not like you have to tell him.”

  “I didn’t tell him. Not yet. But I can’t lie to my pops forever. I just can’t.”

  “Well, I’m in a shit load of trouble then,” he cracked, making her smile. “He doesn’t have a gun, does he?”

  “He’s in a wheelchair, remember?”

  “Protective fathers can be very inventive. You should have seen my father with some of Samantha’s boyfriends before she married Vik. He went to a lot of crazy lengths.”

  She looked at him sideways. “Well, don’t worry, I’m not telling my pops about this arrangement if I can help it until it’s long over, if at all.”

  “I’ll take you back to Texas to see him.”

  “But I can’t go myself?”

  He frowned.

  “I guess not,” she muttered.

  “There’s the party this weekend. We’ll go after that.”

  “You don’t own me, Michael. It’s not very original, but I have to say it. You wouldn’t even if we were married.”

  Oh shit. What had possessed her to say that?

  She waited for whatever cutting remark he would make to that, but when he spoke, all he said was, “I’ve never wanted to own anyone before.”

  “Maybe we should forget all this. I’m not turning out to be very good at it. If I can’t work on a rig I’ll find something else.”

  He looked at her stonily. “I don’t know what makes you say you’re not good at this. You’re excellent. The best I’ve ever had.”

  She hopped out of bed. “Stop with the flowery compliments.”

  “I didn’t think you were the flowery compliment kind of girl.”

  “I didn’t either.”

  Michael was telling the truth when he said he had never wanted to own anyone. He just left out the last part. Until her. And right now that was what he felt like. As if he wanted to own her.

  The suggestion she might terminate their arrangement left him wanting to chain her to the bed.

  In an incredibly short time he had become what he had feared his whole life. A stupid older man mooning over a younger woman. The thought made his voice harder. “Look, you obviously know your way around a bedroom, so don’t pretend like any of this is new to you.”

  “Women get to have sex these days too, Michael, in case you haven’t heard. It’s nothing to apologize for.”

  “I didn’t ask you to apologize. I’m referencing it because you seem to be so upset about the money thing.”

  “I’ve never had sex for money, you asshole!”

  “Are you honestly telling me that if we had met under different circumstances and, okay, I was nice and wooed you or whatever, that I couldn’t have had you
sleeping with me without this whole arrangement?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “Of course I could have.”

  “Nobody ever accused you of modesty.”

  “We both know it. We’re attracted to each other, have been from the first. How does giving you money now because you need it—”

  “Out of the goodness of your heart, I suppose, not because you fired me and blackballed me!”

  “For planting a bomb,” he pointed out.

  “Which I didn’t do! God, I can’t believe you’d sleep with me thinking I did that.”

  “You don’t know guys then,” he muttered. “I’m surprised that cop back in Houston, lieutenant hard-ass, bought that rationale as a matter of fact.”

  “What if our situations were reversed and I was paying you?”

  “I’d be the luckiest man on the planet.”

  She shook her head in disgust and he laughed. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Vanny. I want you. You want me. I have money.”

  “I need it, is that it?”

  He did want her. No secret there. She was exquisite in and out of bed. But he’d had beautiful, sexually experienced women before. In fact, all of them had been. Yet he’d never been so tied to one, so captivated by one. And he was very much afraid that wasn’t what was captivating him about Vanny Donald.

  It pissed the hell out of him.

  “Maybe you’re feeling guilty because you haven’t been earning your keep,” he suggested calmly.

  “Huh! I’ve had more sex since we came to this arrangement than I have in—”

  “Like that. That’s a perfect example. I don’t want to hear how much sex you’ve had or haven’t had with other guys. I’m not interested in it.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Call it whatever you want. It annoys me. And it’s not a mistress’s job to annoy her lover.”

  “I thought I was the best you’d ever had,” she scoffed.

  “Sexually, certainly. But you could pay attention to a few of the other niceties a little more.”

  “Stop right there, asshole.” She went over to the built-in bar and poured herself some of his hundred-year-old scotch. “I need a drink for this.” And she downed it. In one gulp. And then poured another.

  “No peach margarita for you tonight, eh?”

  “What kind of niceties are you talking about, Michael?”

  She was naked. Beautifully, incredibly so. But he refused to be distracted. He ignored his cock. He was trying to make a point here. He’d been as patient and lenient with her as he had ever been with a lover and still she was threatening to leave him. Taunting him.

  “You want me to get some more slutty lingerie? Because I don’t quite see the point of that. You keep ripping it off me. So I’m not going to try anymore.”

  “Putting more clothes on wasn’t what I was angling for, Vanny. You know, before you, I had a little more control in these kinds of things. Women didn’t challenge me like you’re always challenging me.”

  “Wah wah wah.”

  He laughed, not able to help it. “Again, like that. Do you like this, us, having sex?”

  “No, I’m faking it.”

  He shook his head. “Let’s try things my way for once. The way I’ve done with other mistresses.”

  “I know you said you don’t want to be whipped, Michael, but I draw the line at anything kinkier than a spanking. So no tying me up or anything if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “How do you know you wouldn’t like it?” He got up from the bed and retrieved one of his ties from the closet. Actually, he’d never been into bondage much one way or the other. But all this talk of her ending the arrangement was making it have some appeal for him. “You keep talking about me losing control. How about if you let go of a little of yours?”

  She poured another scotch and downed it as he approached her with the tie. Power red. He snapped it for show.

  “Nervous, Vanny? Need another drink?”

  “I can drink you or any guy under the table, Michael. It takes a lot more than a couple of scotches to get me tipsy.”

  “Such a hard-ass.” He deliberately put his hands to the soft cheeks of her bottom and caressed. “But still so much a woman.”

  He pushed her so she was bent over the bar and then quickly grabbed her hands, tying them behind her with the red tie. The tail of it draped down the middle, right along the crack of her ass.

  She struggled at first and then stopped, straightening and turning toward him. “Is this what you need to prove you’re a man?”

  “I don’t know. Is this what you need to prove you’re a woman?”

  With her hands tied behind her back, he did discover a wonderful little side effect. He could do whatever he wanted to do with her lovely body, control the pace of their lovemaking. He flicked her dark pink nipples, then slipped his hands underneath her arms, around her slight frame. She glared at him mutinously. “How’d you learn to tie somebody up that fast?”

  He ignored the question and crouched down a little to kiss one heavy white breast. Then he opened his mouth wide to suck the rigid nipple. Even tied up, she egged him on, with little moans and hitches in her breath as he switched to the other breast, all the time, rubbing her back until he moved one hand down to delve into a very wet pussy. Three fingers later she was moving her hips that way she did.

  “Ask me to fuck you, Vanny.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “No, that’s not quite right.” He picked her up and set her on the bar and held her legs open. His mouth went quickly to its target, raining just a few light kisses on the smooth soft insides of her thighs on the way. Shit, she was so wet and hot. He tongued the pink lips of her pussy and nibbled lightly on her clit, the taste of her juices so sweet and hot. When he sucked at her little nub, she writhed on the bar, straining against her bindings behind her. God, he wanted to jam his cock up that wide open cunt.

  The fact that he was naked too wasn’t helping on that holding-off thing. In fact, his infuriatingly sexy mistress was proving yet again that he had very little control around her.

  He stood and picked her up in his arms, kissing her as he carried her to the bed. Her tongue tangled with his. When he pulled away, preparing to lay her on the coverlet, he caught sight of them in the full-length mirror, her hands tied behind her back as he held her, the red of her binding hanging down. He looked like some conquering marauder with his captive.

  He had thought to lay her on her back, maybe even untie her arms since he loved to feel her hands on him as they fucked, but suddenly, a more subservient position appealed to him. He wished he could conquer Vanny. What would that be like?

  He set her facedown and ordered, “Get up on your knees with your back to me.”

  “Fuck—”

  “You say fuck you and I’m going to smack your ass again, Vanny. I will.”

  She came awkwardly to her knees and looked at him over her shoulder. “That’s not exactly an effective threat. I was going to ask for another spanking if you didn’t get around to it one of these days.”

  She leaned down over her knees, her bound arms sticking out behind her. “Fuck me, please, Michael,” she said in the meekest voice he’d ever heard out of her. But she followed it up with a taunting half smile over her shoulder. “Is that better?”

  He rubbed the soft skin of her ass appreciatively and climbed onto the bed behind her. “Much, much better. Stick your pussy out farther for me.”

  And she did. She may have been mocking but at this point he couldn’t care less. And neither could she.

  “Please,” she said. “Master. Is that what you want?”

  “Is this what you want?” He gave her his cock, hard and not quite controlled at all, jamming it inside her. Right where he wanted to be.

  She didn’t answer and he thrust again, even harder, the motion pushing her forward on the bed. It felt so good to him that he braced himself on her folded legs and started up a steady rhythm. “Is it, Vanny? Is this what you want f
rom me?”

  With her in this position, she was even tighter than she usually was, so snug that he was reluctant to pull out of her even for the second it took to drive right back into the warmth.

  “Is it?” he prompted when she didn’t answer, pulling her folded legs open just a bit to give him more ease of movement. He reached in front for her plump clit, massaging for a moment before then spreading lube from her onto the nipple of one heavy, ripe breast. He rubbed it into the rigid nub to the accompaniment of her groans and then pulled back to watch his cock again go into her slick channel from behind.

  The curve of her ass like that, spread out before him, shaking with each lunge of his cock, reminded him of their play in his office in Houston before they left for New York. “Or maybe you want my cock up your ass?” he teased.

  His cock throbbed at the suggestion, though that had never been as much to his taste as a woman’s pussy. But the thought of conquering Vanessa with his cock, every orifice of her, was kind of a turn-on. She moaned, and before he could take that as a sign of encouragement, added, “Not now, Master, please.”

  He was pretty sure she threw the “Master” in there to placate him.

  “What then?” He was determined, as he slid in and out of her, flexing against her sweet bent form, that he should get some admission or another out of her. Something more demonstrable than the moist readiness of her body, with her moans and erect tits and juicy clit. He wanted to hear her say how much she wanted him.

  Not that she wanted to leave him.

  “What do you want now?” he urged.

  “Your cock,” she muttered.

  “That’s right.” He thrust harder, as excited as ever by her, by them. “My cock where?”

  Grabbing her hips, he pulled her back as he pushed forward, in a daze of pleasure that shot right down his spine into the rigid instrument jarring her with each movement.

  “In my, ah, my pussy.”

  “That’s right, your sweet, tight—”

  His cock exploded and he let it come, arching his back against the fierce tide of sensation. He never got out the word pussy, too busy as he was shooting a hot stream of cum into it. She came as he did so, her ass rotating wildly, only adding to the hot feel of his own climax.

 

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