I pulled her plate to sit in front of her. “Dig in.”
“Okay, but you need to answer the same question.” She twirled a piece of pasta around her fork and brought it up to her mouth. Then she parted those plump lips and paused, a wicked glint in her eye. “That, and favorite sexual position.”
Had I not swallowed my drink, I would have choked.
So that’s how the minx wants to play.
“Anything Creole...” I said, then paused, no need to delve deeper “...and you bent over any available surface while I mount you. Take that sweet little pussy fast and hard.”
That fork she held mid bite fell back onto her plate. Beau gaped at me with a mixture of embarrassment and want. Beautiful girl had no idea whether she should be mortified or aroused.
“Seriously?” Another breathy whine.
“Did I stutter?”
“You’re impossible, Hendrix.”
“All your fault.” Skimming her thigh, I teased the soft skin just outside her panties. Could feel the heat coming from her core—coat my fingertips in her wetness. “Now answer the same. Plus, I’ll raise you with the first time you came.”
“Reverse cowgirl.” She reached for her champagne, drained the rest in one go, and held out her glass to me for a refill. Her cheeks were flushed, breathing a tiny bit labored. “Nothing better than feeling a man powerless beneath you while you drive him wild. Take your pleasure while he writhes, and then, when you fall over that edge, he fucks you with every bit of the pent-up frustration he has.”
My heart beat hard inside my chest, and it was for a different reason. Jealousy burned me at the thought of her with anyone else. Ate me alive.
Beau fucked with my mind.
“That’s enough for now.” I could barely recognize my own voice. Anger tinged my tone, and she tried to pull away. Remove her legs from its resting place over mine. “Let’s enjoy our meal and continue after. There’s still plenty of time for me to learn about your first solo experience.”
“It was tenth grade and I was home alone. My sister had a porn stash she kept for her boyfriend at the time,” she blurted out, cheeks now red from embarrassment. “And I know you said wait, but I’d rather get it out of the way. Band-Aid effect.”
“Okay.”
“So basically, I found the old VHS and took it to my room. Mimicked the blonde on the video touching herself. It was all new and felt too good to stop, barely got the first knuckle in when I came.”
Ire from before all but vanished.
Found it disturbingly sweet that she’d share just to ease the tension.
“Eat, sweetheart.” I wasn’t going to make fun of her, and once she realized that, she began to eat again. For the next fifteen minutes no sounds were heard other than crashing waves and the wind as it pushed against the sails.
It was nice not having to fill the silence with mundane chit chat. The quiet was comfortable; enjoyable with someone beside you that understood how the saying silence is golden was true.
“Can’t eat another bite,” Beau groaned before popping half of the last scallop on the plate in her mouth. “Please, no dessert.”
“Agreed.” Just as my fork was set across my plate, the waitstaff entered and emptied the table. I moved back to my original spot, where I placed her on my lap earlier.
From the corner of my eye she watched me.
“We have an array of cakes—” one waiter began, but stopped at the look of abject horror that crossed my companion’s face. “Or maybe not.”
Nodding, I waved them off and just as quick as they came, they disappeared. Alone again.
“It’s so beautiful out here.” Green eyes wandered over the vast water and night sky. Out here, the stars were brighter and the air cooler.
Beau shivered a tiny bit.
“Come here, nymph.” Widening my legs, I opened my arms and waited. This was a minute olive branch; cuddling was not my thing. Not even with...
“Always so warm,” she moaned low and settled on my lap, head on my shoulder. “And smell so good.”
“This coming from the woman I want to eat on a constant basis?” It had its desired effect, and she giggled. Nestled closer as we turned around after seeing the beautiful night lights at Islamorada.
Just like with dinner we remained quiet, but this time hands wandered.
A tug at the back of my hair while she twirled a lock.
My hands caressing her thigh, arm, the underside of her perky breast with each soothing stroke of my fingertips on her soft skin.
We were lulled into a serene moment; drunk on relaxation and full stomachs until an acquaintance of mine approached us as we disembarked.
Old, portly, and bald, the owner of this private charter was a dick. A chauvinist. “Kantor, always good to see you.” Lied through my teeth, but I used him enough with certain clientele to get them on board with my ideas. Had to act civilized even though I knew what was coming would cost me.
“Hendrix, likewise.” Kantor raised a trembling hand to shake mine. “I hope everything was to your expectations tonight.” As he spoke, his beady eyes wandered over Beau lecherously, and I pulled her behind me.
“It was.”
“Can see why...” Kantor whistled, then made a kissing gesture with his fingers “...much prettier than the last one, too. She was so serious. Boring.”
“Enough.” Seventy-four or not, I’d lay his ass out if it came to it. No one spoke ill about her. Never her.
“Lighten up, kid. Just a harmless joke.” Fucker knew what buttons to push, mentioning my past mistake when I couldn’t react. At my glare he snickered. “She’s not offended. Are you, sweets?”
“No. Not at all by men I don’t know,” came from behind me, her voice sure. Beau pulled her hand from mine then and stepped around me. Created a separation, which didn’t feel right. “So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll wait for you in the car, Parker.”
“Feisty.”
“Back the fuck off, Kantor. Last warning.”
“Welcome back to the land of the living, Parker.” The son of a bitch laughed once more and clapped me on the back of my shoulder as he passed. He’d just set foot on the boat, when he paused. Eyes on mine, he stared me down with a serious expression so out of character for him. “Don’t lose her.”
SEVENTEEN
“Is that the last of it?” Couldn’t be right. Where were the rest of her belongings?
The movers had come and unloaded her things within the span of forty minutes. Four boxes, two suitcases, some electronics, and an old-looking trunk that belonged on the curb, not inside my house.
As a matter of fact, they spent more time smoking a cigarette outside near the curb than in my home.
“That’s all of it.” Beau looked confused by my question. “What more would I need for a six-month stay with you?”
Ignoring her jab about the end date on this relationship, I walked over and opened the first box. It was all books. Everything from developmental and speech delays to a few raunchy romances.
Her interest were vast, which impressed me.
Beau didn’t say anything as I grabbed that box and carried it deeper into my penthouse. Into my office and straight for the small desk I’d placed across from mine. Beside it there was a small bookshelf that looked similar to my own.
Empty, just ready for her to fill.
You’re going to a lot of trouble for something with an expiration date.
She followed me like I knew she would, eyed the desk with interest. There was a hint of a smile on her lips, but she stayed mute.
“Where’s the rest of your belongings, Beau?” Placing the books down, I turned and leaned back. Crossed my arms over my chest and waited. Two minutes, and the fidgeting began. “Answer me.”
“Back home.” It was low. A mere mumble, but I heard her as clear as if she would’ve yelled.
“Home.” Fucking word tasted bitter on my tongue. A sick and masochistic part of me wanted her to see this as her home, but at
the same time, was glad she knew the difference. We were no more than a client and his investment.
The worst thing would be her falling for a fantasy.
“At my apartment, okay? That is home, and this is not.” She bristled, walking past me to take the books out from the box while I sat down and watched. In order, and with precision, she began to fill the shelf. Spoke to me with her back turned, a huge encyclopedia of mental health in her hands. “Hendrix, let’s not make this difficult. You stole six months from me, and I accepted my fate. I’ll play along, but will not be giving up my sanctuary on a capricious tantrum. When this is done, that is where I will return. Back home.”
“That I can accept...” I began, then trailed off. Beau was bent at the waist, picking up one of the romances she was placing on the next shelf down that had slipped through her fingers. Tiny shorts rode up; her perky round ass cheek came into view.
Motherfuck.
She whirled around to see why I’d stopped talking and caught me pressing down on my cock.
She bit her lip, doe eyes becoming hooded. “You okay?”
Was I? No. Not even close.
My eyes wandered lower, to her thin white beater, and groaned. That teasing red color of her bra was more pronounced now. Did nothing to hide how hard her nipples were.
“Come here.” Doing as asked, Beau stopped between my now parted thighs. Without permission my hand cupped her jaw, brought her face closer. Lips hovered, I exhaled, and she licked her lips. “So fucking beautiful, my little nymph.”
“Please, I need to finish unpacking this.”
“I know, but before you do...” My mouth slanted over her slightly parted lips and stole a slow, sweet kiss. Fuck me, I was hard, but for once the rush of missing an opportunity to wet my dick wasn’t there. Later. Tonight. Tomorrow. Didn’t matter anymore, I’d get her to give me her sugar again.
Our tongues didn’t fight for dominance—they caressed. Tasted. Motherfucking made me forget the reasons why we were both in this arrangement.
Pulling back, I rested my forehead on hers.
“Tell me what you were going to say,” she said, and my eyes snapped open to find hers closed. “Before you trailed off.”
“Just that I respect and understand your decision, but...” At that the green jewels opened and met mine. Emotions rushed across her face before she could pull a mask of indifference.
“But what?”
“You sleep here in my bed every night. No excuse.” I swallowed hard, and she bit her abused bottom lip. “Agreed?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” With a gentle hand, I moved her aside and stood. The need to get away—out of this room—was urgent. “I’ll be back by dinner. Unpack, and meet me in the kitchen at six...we’ll figure out what to order then.”
Her mouth opened to reply, but I walked out before she could.
I’d reached my limit. Had I not left then, she would’ve found herself on her knees and choking on my dick.
Every step away from her was painful, and I needed to let off some steam. So I took the elevator down and into my private gym. A few hours here would clear my head.
Doubt it.
Fuck.
“Let me grab a quick shower and I’ll be right down,” I called out. Entering the apartment, there was music in the background. Soft jazz, and it was coming from the kitchen. Two steps in, and the faint aroma of tomato and basil hit me. “Did you order already?”
Bothered me a bit. Would much prefer to pick out my own meal.
“No.” Beau poked her head out, a glass of red wine in her hand, which she sipped from. “Got inspired by this massive kitchen and cooked. Nothing fancy, mind you, but I was in the mood for home cooked and got to work. Is that okay?”
“Sure.” There was a pesky bother at the center of my chest, and I rubbed the spot. “Give me twenty minutes to be down.”
“Perfect! Just enough time to pop the bread in and plate.”
I left her downstairs. Took the stairs two at a time to get away. While I appreciated her effort, my ire was mounting.
That workout did shit to calm me. Instead, it made it worse.
Inside the quiet of my private gym, my mind wandered. Reminisced about that short period of time when I was truly happy with her by my side.
Mixed feelings. Felt as though I was betraying our sacred memories. It was too much.
That hunger. Need.
Hated what my nymph represented.
With Beau, things were difficult—she forced my hands and I chased. Forgot about the world when she was near.
All blood ran south, and my dick ruled my convictions. Decided for me. It wanted her.
So, do you? Fuck, I had to get out.
This rage was not her fault, no matter how much I wanted to blame her.
So instead of dinner, I grabbed my trucks keys from the bedside table and rushed down stairs. At my commotion, Beau walked over to the banister with a confused look on her face.
“Dinner first?”
“No.”
“No?”
“I’ll be back some time tomorrow.” Confusion turned to annoyance. Good. Let her be angry. “Don’t leave the apartment. Rules stay in place even if I’m not here. No one...not so much as a friend, is allowed in my home. Got it?”
“Yes,” She spit out. “What about dinner?”
“Enjoy it and head to bed. Goodnight.”
An empty house greeted me after the long drive to the Keys.
Silence everywhere. On the road, inside my car, and now this house.
And in the past, I found solace in the sound of nothing, but tonight it made me remember.
Another life. Laughter. A future that never was.
Dropping my keys on the entry table, I walked directly toward the bar and served myself a glass of scotch.
Ophelia.
That name floated through my head on repeat, a scratched record that would not stop spinning. I tossed back the amber liquid in my glass, then poured another.
Took that one as well before drinking the next straight from the bottle.
The walls seemed to be closing in on me. Everything hurt.
“Fuck,” I yelled out into the empty house; it echoed. With the bottle in hand, I threw the glass against the opposite wall and smiled when it shattered on impact. That glass represented me. Of how inevitably screwed I was.
I took a deep pull while stumbling toward the doors that led to the outside deck. The knob wouldn’t turn, and the lock wouldn’t either. Uncoordinated as I was, I kicked the center once and the French doors gave way.
It was cooler outside.
The fresh breeze coming from the water a few feet away made the effects of the alcohol consumed more pronounced. It rushed through my system. My body suddenly felt heavy.
“Just a few more steps,” I muttered, staggering toward the nearest chaise lounge. Motherfucker felt as if it were miles away. Five steps and I was right beside it, knee on the plush covering and then, I was face down on the flat surface.
In that moment I thanked God for having been too lazy to raise the backing after hosing them down.
Kicking off my shoes, I closed my eyes and tried to calm the wave of dizziness crashing into me. Practiced a bit of the deep breath in and out bullshit that people swore helped them unwind before bed.
The noise level around me dropped—dulled into a soothing symphony that made my body heavy. Lethargic now, the bottle slipped from my fingers, the sound just a mere light thud against the wood below me.
Tomorrow would be another day.
I’d deal with them tomorrow.
Beau is going to kill you.
Just her name brought a smile to my face. “Pretty little nymph.” Because that’s what she was. A demon set out to destroy the peace I’d carved for myself after Ophelia’s departure. Vowed to never let anyone get close again. “Must keep her at bay.”
Besides, our relationship was based on mutual interest; money and my position of power.
Nothing more.
What I needed to do was treat her like any other woman after my dick. Those that did anything and everything in order to gain access to money.
She’s not one of those gold-digging tramps you’re used to, and you know this.
“Did I?” Was the last conscious thought before sleep claimed me. That, and who the fuck kept calling my phone...
EIGHTEEN
Beau
Three days, and not a word.
No call or text.
Hendrix never came home to change and head back out. Nothing. Made me feel as if I had done something wrong by just existing.
It was as if the ground had swallowed him whole, and at that point I was past worried. Now, I was pissed. How dare he do this to me?
How dare his secretary treat me like a nuisance when I called to see if he was in.
Sure, I knew men in his position traveled the world while the trophy wife stayed home, but they communicated. Told them at the least how long they’d be gone and why.
You’re not his real girlfriend.
And that stung. Truth always did hurt the most when it smacked you in the face.
I was tempted to head back to my apartment. To get out of his luxurious penthouse with too much white. Everywhere. Everything.
All expensive. Imported. And white.
His home, while beautiful, was sterile. All clean lines and modern design.
It was cold. Empty. Lacked warmth and comfort.
No splashes of color to give it that lived-in feel that I missed from my own niche in this world. Made me homesick.
Grabbing my keys and overnight bag once more, I walked to the elevator and paused. I’d done that now five times and each time, something stopped me. Maybe it was guilt.
Feeling that I owed him enough to stay.
That this was all for my education, and the payment had been made.
“Where the hell are you?” I whispered, checking my phone in case he’d left me a message. Nothing. Not a peep from a man that hounded—stalked—me until I gave in.
Heading once more upstairs, I opened the door to his room and walked straight toward the bed. Dropped my bag in the middle while taking a seat at the edge. Looked around and sighed.
Craving Sugar Page 12