by Cat Kelly
She scowled, slipped on her glasses, and dove in to the papers. Of course they might have discussed this on the plane, but they were otherwise occupied. Nervous suddenly, she fumbled over her blouse buttons. Hopefully the people they met with wouldn't sense anything out of place.
As the limo rolled into a circular driveway, bordered by tall palms, a porter was waiting to take their luggage. He greeted Ben with a wide smile.
"Mr. P, sir! Nice to have you back."
Ben shook his hand warmly. "Good to be back, Joe. How are the kids?"
So he remembered the porter's name. Bry was impressed.
"They're doing fine, Mr. P. Just fine. How've you been? Lookin' good, sir." The porter glanced at Bry.
"Joe, this is Ms. Mulligan. My accountant."
"Really?" The man took her hand and shook it. "Brains and beauty."
She laughed. "I don't know about that. Nice to meet you, Joe."
"Well, it all adds up now, sir. It all adds up."
"Very funny, Joe." Ben gave him a large tip and steered Bryony through the rotating doors into the cool hotel lobby.
"What adds up?" she demanded.
"It was a joke about you being an accountant."
"There was more to it than that." The porter had a wily grin and a very wicked spark in his eyes. He'd been altogether too amused at his own joke—even more amused at Ben's hasty reply.
At the check-in she discovered he'd only booked one room. It hadn't occurred to her that she wouldn't have her own.
"Don't worry. It's a suite," he told her calmly. "Plenty of space."
"And only one bed?"
"Of course."
"Do you usually share a bed with your accountant?" she whispered as they stepped into the elevator.
"No." He looked at her, his face unusually solemn. "You're a first."
Well, that was something, she supposed.
Ben was right about the size of the suite. In fact he'd understated. It was three rooms divided by white, louvered pocket doors. One long balcony ran the length of the suite, overlooking endless azure ocean, a curved, pearly-sand beach and a clear, pristine sky. She walked out immediately to feel the sun on her face and that warm, gentle breeze on her legs. "Have I died and gone to heaven?"
He was behind her, one hand on her ass. "That's what I thought when you took my cock in your mouth today."
"Ha ha."
"Truthfully."
Bry glanced at him over her shoulder. This man had suffered the hots for her, according to his cousin Carl, for years. She still didn't know whether to believe it. Why wouldn't he have said something? He was a great believer in being straight-forward and honest. Yet if Carl was right, he'd hidden his feelings from her. That would suggest he wasn't quite as ballsy as he looked and acted. "Aren't we supposed to be in professional mode now?" she asked. "What time is the meeting?"
He checked his wristwatch. "In fifteen minutes."
"So..."
"Time enough for a kiss, Mulligan. Before you go over the numbers with me again."
Surprised that was all he had in mind, she said nothing, just let him kiss her. The ocean breeze ruffled her hair, stroked her legs and rippled the sleeves of her blouse. His kiss did the same to her insides.
Ben Petruska was a very, very good kisser.
She raised her hands to his shoulders and kissed him back, sliding her tongue against his, arching her body, tangling her fingers in his hair.
As their lips finally parted hers felt bruised, swollen. His hand patted her ass and he cleared his throat. "Lets get to work, Ms. Mulligan."
* * * *
The meeting lasted all morning, but she barely noticed the time. It was fascinating watching Ben do what he did best. Well...the second thing he did best. He charmed and joked and demanded attention, very much in control the moment he walked in and sat down. He wanted that property and he meant to get it—at his price and despite the red-tape of bureaucracy. There wasn't much for Bry to do, but sit there and back him up once or twice when he asked for figures. Fortunately she was efficient at picking up facts and could memorize a page of numbers after a few brief scans. Never had that skill stood her in such good stead.
She actually managed to look as if she'd worked for Petruska Industries longer than a few hours. And her mind didn't wander too much, even when he moved his hand under the table and laid it over her thigh for a quick squeeze.
When the meeting adjourned, she knew he had a few others lined up, but apparently he didn't require her for those.
"Go get some lunch," he whispered as she powered down her laptop. "Sit by the pool. Get some sun. Enjoy the rest of the day."
"Oh." She thought he'd said it wasn't that kind of trip.
"I'll join you later."
Thus he disappeared into another room, shooting her a quick smile and a "thank-you" under his breath.
Released from duty—however much she'd enjoyed herself at the meeting—Bry dashed happily to the suite for a shower and a change of clothes. She slipped on a sundress, floppy hat and espadrilles. Since she'd forgotten sunscreen, she had to stop at the store in the lobby and there she was tempted by a sight that would once have terrified her. A rack of swimsuits. It was years since she'd worn a bikini. Fat girls stuck to one piece suits, preferably with thigh coverage, and a large, matching sarong. If they were forced into swimwear and couldn't get out of it.
But the new Bryony 2.0 was ready for anything.
Other women with not-so-perfect bodies were unafraid at the prospect of donning sparkly, sequined bikinis. Why shouldn't she? Besides, Ben liked her body—he'd complimented every inch of her, several times over. So she grabbed a ruffled blue bikini and bought it. There. Done. Her dimpled ass was just as entitled to feeling a little sun as anyone else's toned butt.
She changed in the lobby bathroom and put the sundress back on over her two piece suit. Heart pounding, she walked out to the pool, took a big fluffy towel from the attendant on duty and settled on a lounge chair by the deep end. It seemed appropriate.
There were only a few stray folk around the pool and after a very short time she felt ready to slip out of her sundress. Nothing happened. The sky did not darken with a thunder storm. No one collapsed in peels of laughter. Her pale, brazen thighs shimmered with sun lotion and her old pal, the stomach roll, jiggled as she took a breath of that sweet, hot air. Good.
Even when a tall, skinny person with hip bones walked by, Bryony managed a smile and a cheerful "hi". The skinny person did not have Ben Petruska panting after her, did she? Poor, tiny thing.
What had come over her? Where had all the shyness gone?
She'd lost it somewhere over the Atlantic at around 30,000 feet.
* * * *
He found her by the pool, fast asleep on her stomach with an ass and back that was looking decidedly lobster-like.
"Hey, Bry! I told you to get some sun. Not sunburn." He pressed his iced glass on her back and she woke with a start. He laughed. "How long have you been out here? Where's your sunscreen."
She hitched up on her elbows. "Fuck! What happened?"
"Looks like you took a siesta. Here," he passed her another glass. "Mudslide. Although maybe you should have some water instead."
"No. I'm fine." she sat up, looking pained. Her nose was pink too but not so bad. She pushed her sunglasses up onto her head and squinted, taking a long sip of the creamy cocktail. "That's better! How did the meetings go?"
"Great." He perched on the next lounger. "Thanks for your help this morning."
"What did I do?" she snorted. "I lazed about here all day."
"Nah. You have no idea how great it was to have you with me." That sounded kinda lame, but it came out before he could re-word it. Maybe it was the bikini she wore. Mulligan and her hot body had been on his mind constantly that afternoon and now he found himself gazing at her again like a lecherous schoolboy. He sipped his frosty cocktail. "Don't suppose you had a chance to sign that contract yet."
She laughed sof
tly. "Nope."
"Undecided still about the job?" Ben leaned over and wiped her pouting mouth with his paper napkin. "Mudslide on your lips."
"Oh."
"I thought you'd have a chance to make up your mind sitting out here," he waved his arm toward the shimmering pool. "How can you turn the position down now you know what I' m offering?"
"Hmm. I must say, it would have its perks."
He reached in his shorts pocket and drew out a small box. "Here."
She put down her glass. "What is it?"
"If you open it, you'll find out, won't you?"
It took her a minute. She sat up, fussing with her towel. Finally she took the box and opened it to find the pearl and ribbon thong nestled on a satin lining.
"Wear it tonight," he said, leaning over to plant a kiss on her forehead. "We're having dinner on the balcony and then I'll have another try at winning you over."
He was running out of time. On Monday afternoon they'd be back in New York and she could slip away again. If he didn't get her to agree to his terms now, he probably never would. Bryony Mulligan just had to be his plaything. His exclusive plaything. His personal resort spa. So what was wrong with that? He could give her anything she wanted in return. Almost anything.
She was holding the pearls up, dangling them from her fingers. "You think this is going to fit me?"
"Oh, yes." He grinned. And he would be diving for those pearls real soon.
Replacing her sunglasses she drank her frozen drink, the thong back in its box, no further comment made. Ben ran a finger over her thigh to her knee, circled it and swept down over her shin to her ankle. Couldn't stop touching her. She had great legs and they were satiny smooth.
"You didn't tell anyone you were coming here with me, did you?"
"God, no." She shivered and he wasn't sure it was from the ice in her drink, or out of revulsion at the thought of letting her friends and relatives know about him.
"Am I that bad?"
She chuckled. "You know you are, Petruska. You're very bad for me." He couldn't see her eyes now as they hid behind shaded lenses. "Like all mothers, mine wants me to find a regular, steady guy. A nice guy who won't break my heart."
He wouldn't know about "all mothers". His had walked out on them when he was a boy. From that day his grandmother took over as the driving female force in their household and she didn't talk about hearts. Yelena Petruskaya was a determined, intense, stoic woman who saw only practical reasons for finding a mate. Her grandson had suspected she didn't have a lot of time for romance. But like him, she knew what she wanted when she saw it. She knew what was right and what was good for her grandkids. Maybe he wasn't great for Bryony, but she felt good for him. For now. His selfishness wouldn't allow him to let her go just because he might not be the best thing that ever happened to her. Just because her family didn't approve.
"Nice guys finish last," he said, closing a hand around her ankle.
She tipped her head to one side. "What about nice girls?"
"I've never known any."
Her lips fell open.
"What's up? What's that look for? You know you're not one, right?"
She set her empty glass down. "You're such a horse's ass, Petruska."
"See? Nice girls wouldn't say things like that and they wouldn't fly off with me for a dirty weekend that they planned on no one finding out about."
When the push came he wasn't prepared. He slid off the end of the lounge chair and right into the pool.
Two seconds later she dove in after him, almost losing her bikini top in the process. It was too small for her. He approved. As long as she wore it only when she was with him, of course. He wrapped his arms around her waist and dragged her close for a kiss, squashing those lush boobs against his bare chest. There was no one else left in the pool area by then. It was late. Five or so. People were getting ready for dinner. No lifeguard on duty, no pool attendant left at the towel stand.
Just the two of them.
He slid his hand down the back of her bikini bottoms and the kiss deepened as they trod water together in the deep end. His finger slipped into her ass crack, felt the movement as her legs shifted back and forth with his.
"I want you right now," he murmured, moving his kisses across her cheek to her ear. "Right here. Give me your pussy."
He heard her draw a quick breath. "What if someone sees? Tons of windows and balconies overlook the pool."
But her nipples poked his chest through her bikini top and he knew the thought aroused her. "Just like the plane," he said softly. "When we were watched. Didn't bother you then."
"Right."
"And we're in the water. They won't know for sure what they're seeing." He'd manipulated his shorts to free his erection and it pushed up at her crotch under the rippling surface, as she wrapped her legs around his hips.
"Are you always this primed?" she laughed.
"Only around you." It was true. She would wear him out if he wasn't careful; if he didn't start pacing himself.
She hugged him tighter, her arms around his neck, rubbing her mound on his shaft. Waves splattered against the side of the pool as he rocked her and then he tugged her bikini bottoms aside, just enough to give his cock access. Bry kissed his neck and he eased his excited crest between her labia.
Swimming for the side, he pressed her back to the blue tile. Then, holding her waist, eased her fully down on his penis. She giggled, blowing in his ear. "That feels so good, Ben."
He closed his eyes and moved his lower body under the water, fucking her slowly, deeply. Whenever he released her waist, she was pulled downward and speared further on his thrusting cock. She let go of his shoulders and spread her arms along the side of the pool. Ben leaned into her, pressing his mouth to the pulse at the side of her neck, nibbling and sucking. He pushed his finger back into her ass crack and heard her gasp. Her hips moved faster, fucking him as hard as he fucked her. The string tying one side off her bikini bottom had unraveled and now he felt her trimmed cunt rubbing on his pubic hairs. The water churned around them now, slapping up over the side of the pool. She was kidding herself if she thought anyone watching wouldn't know exactly what they were doing now.
"You belong to me, Bryony," he groaned into her skin. No reply, just her shattered rasping breaths, when he used his finger in her ass, impaling both her holes at the same time. "I'm gonna come in you."
"No," she mewled, but her hips still pushed at him, her pussy still squeezed his cock, not slowing down. Her head was back, eyes shut tight. "Oh, Christ," she whimpered. "Oh, shit!"
"I'm gonna fill you up." He grunted. "Here it comes, baby." He ejaculated in a rush of heat, ramming his cock up inside her and she clenched on him like a vise, milking every drop of his seed.
Chapter Ten
Room service set a candlelit table for them on the balcony of their suite. She tried not to think about the other women he must have brought there. If she worked really hard at it she could pretend this was all just for her. Bry didn't want to wake from the dream just yet.
He was looking out over the beach, his arms resting on the stuccoed wall. When her heels clicked toward him over the tiled floor, he turned and looked at her. She knew she looked good in her black, short cocktail dress. It was the best item she'd ever bought, especially as it was uncrushable and could be packed in a bunched up knot in her suitcase, but still come out looking fresh. Her sunburn was feeling better now he'd given her a pat down with some aloe. It wasn't so bad and now, in the moon and candlelight, it even looked like the beginnings of a tan.
To finish her outfit she wore the scarlet Manolos he'd given her after their first night together. Ben's gaze traveled slowly down to them and a half smile bent his lips. Although it wasn't a full grin, it reached all the way up into those deep green pools that regarded her warmly, perhaps even a little wistfully.
"You look beautiful, Ms. Mulligan."
"Why thank you, Mr. Petruska."
He held the chair for her and sh
e sat.
"So you got your business out of the way today. What happens tomorrow?"
"We can take a drive if you like. Or have a picnic on the beach." He seemed mellow this evening, not his usual self. Maybe he was just tired.
"Sounds great." She looked out over the ocean which was also calm tonight, shimmering gently under the stars, not a white crest in sight. "Wow. So weird to be here. Feels miles away from New York." She paused and then laughed at herself. "Which it is, of course." Must be anxious. She always talked too much and stupidly at times like these.
Not that she'd had many times like these. There were few men she cared to impress enough to get nervous around.
"Listen," he said suddenly, "about the pool..."
She waited. He seemed to be having trouble, so she prompted, "The pool?"
"If anything should happen, I'll help you out. I mean, with money."
It took her a moment and then she realized. "You mean if I get pregnant?"
He nodded. "I should have been more careful. You were right about that."
Bry picked up her fork. "It was me too. We were both at fault. We both wanted it that way."
A curious gleam lit his eyes when they sought hers through the tall candles. "I guess."
Pause. "You're not too worried then?"
"What's the point of worrying?" In fact it wasn't her most fertile time of the month. Not that she should be complacent about it, but really why fret over something that might not happen?
"Earlier, on the plane, you said getting pregnant was the last thing you needed."
"It is. I'm a single, working woman who has bills to pay and lives in a one bedroom apartment. But I wouldn't be the first to be stuck raising a child alone would I? If it happened, I'd have to deal with it." She reached for the bread. "Don't worry, I wouldn't come after you for anything."
His dark eyebrows flew up. "Come after me?"
"You wouldn't have to have anything to do with it. I'd manage."
"It's my child. Of course I'll be there."
The intensity in his face surprised her. "Whatever." She shrugged and continued her meal.