by Xavier Neal
My hands slide into my pockets. “Why are you ruining my fun instead of my brother’s?”
“He unexpectedly went to meet a doctor interested in joining the research team.”
“Why didn’t you go with him?”
She always goes with him when it comes to foundation business. She’s very hands on about more things than you would expect. Is it selfish to hope that Brie might someday be that way with my program? Yeah. I know it is. She deserves her dreams and own visions.
“I wasn’t feeling very well, so I decided to stay here and rest.” Before I can make a comment in return, she says loudly, “You’re excited to look at napkin rings?! Well go in there, Kellan! I’m sure Cassandra would love to discuss that.”
My eyes narrow and I quietly state, “Payback is going to hurt.”
“Consider us even for tricking me into having tea with Madam Ansunlant, who spent two hours lecturing me on the importance of having children before I’m barren.”
I grin triumphantly.
Beats the hell out of me having tea with her and being drowned in disapproval for choosing an American bride over a Doctenn one.
“Kellan!” Cassandra calls cheerfully. “Come in! Come in!”
“Enjoy your napkin hell.” She winks before bouncing away.
After a heavy sigh, I plaster a smile on my face, and open the door wide. “Cassandra.”
“Kellan!”
The shapely brunette pops up to toss her arms around me. Brie snaps out of her daze and allows a genuine smile to appear. As the two of us hug, I casually brush my finger against the corner of my lip to indicate she has drool to remove. By the time we pull away, my fiancé’s face is clean and bright like she hasn’t missed a word that’s been said to her in the past two hours.
“So, you wanna discuss napkin rings with us?”
“I-”
“Which is lovely because I brought that catalog today-”
“I-”
“-and they have this new collection from Tonee Deevee that’s absolutely brilliant!”
“Actually,” I rush to interrupt. “Brie and I have somewhere to be.”
Her eyebrows drop in confusion. “We do?” When I widen mine to emphasize to play along, she gasps overdramatically. “We do! We’ve got that thing with that person…” She hops up and lets her converse covered feet quickly move her to me. “Sorry to cut today’s meeting short.”
I wrap my arm around her waist. “You understand, don’t you Cassandra?”
She tries to hide her disappointment. “Of course, we just have to make our next meeting twice as long to make up for this one.”
Brie groans louder than I’m sure she intends.
Can’t blame her.
“We’ve really got to finalize the invite list and-”
“Next time it is,” I cut her off quickly. “If you’ll excuse us. We must be going. Brie has to change and I’ve got to make a phone call.”
She nods and gives us a kind wave before she begins to gather her things spread out around the room.
The moment we’re out of earshot, Brie questions, “Where are we going?”
“To play ditchy.”
“Play what?”
“Ditchy.”
Her look of perplexity remains. “Is that like some weird Doctenn sport?”
I shoot her a sarcastic look as we ascend the stairs. “Didn’t you ever play ditchy in school? You know skipped a class? Called in sick when you really weren’t?”
“Hooky. You mean we’re playing hooky.”
“What the hell is hooky?”
She shakes her head slowly. “The same thing apparently.” Brie quickly adds, “And you’re not allowed to teach our future children English. Like at all.”
“Then you’re not allowed to teach them shit about lying. Come on, love! That thing, with that person? What, are you new here? Have you never lied before?”
Her elbow darts into my ribcage. “Clearly, I’m not a professional like you Jim Carey. Where was the heads up for me to be better prepared?!”
“You might have missed it while you were snoring through her presentation.”
I open our bedroom door at the same time she huffs, “You try listening to her rant about poorly chosen guest books and separate programs for the ceremony and reception. I had to talk myself out of shoving a pencil into my ear in an attempt to make the conversation less painful.”
My back leans against the closed door and I allow a smirk to hit my lips.
Brie frowns. “Why are you smiling at my agony?”
“Because you’re adorable when you’re flustered.”
She glowers but it quickly transforms into an eye roll accompanied with a smile. “Where are we going to play hooky?”
“Ditchy.”
“I’m going to ditch you if we get into this again.”
I lightly chuckle. “How about we take the yacht out? Soak up the last of the summer sun and warmth? A peaceful afternoon lunch and a glass of wine-”
“Beer.”
“Beer.” The correction receives a nod. “Just the two of us. No phones. No guards. Just you, me, and what I’m hoping is a teeny tiny bikini.” The second she expands her grin I add, “Or you can be topless if you’re worried about those pesky tan lines.”
Haven’t seen her wet in the water since we left our penthouse in the states. Another reason I love it there more than here, but we’re just going to keep that between us. Last thing she needs is something to feed her ‘Why America is Better’ ego.
“How does that sound?”
“Perfect.”
Good because it’s going to be, especially once we make love in the middle of the ocean. Don’t fret, it will indeed be just the two of us on the yacht. I’ll drive it and our security details will linger quite a bit away on a separate boat. Trust me. I plan to have her screaming my name so loud the ocean floor shakes. Our sex life may have taken a swing back in the right direction, but I refuse to let stress prevent it from staying that way.
While I originally planned for us to leave my cell behind, an unexpected call from Kris led to another with someone who wanted details about my program. During Brie’s shower, changing, and the entire SUV ride there, I’m going over in thorough details our mission statement and our goals. By the time we arrive at the dock, I spend an additional half an hour, convincing them why their money would be perfect for us. Thankfully, after much deliberation, they allow me to forward them to Ava.
Knowing the possible damage I’ve done to our afternoon, I exude every effort to make the remaining portion of our date enjoyable. Brie unfortunately doesn’t say much. I drive us along strictly to the small humming of the yacht. When we’re settled, the two of us end up enjoying just the sound of birds for the majority of our picnic.
I had to take the call…
Brie leans back onto her palms and stretches out her beautiful, brown legs. With her face slightly tilted up towards the beaming sun, she continues chewing, lost in her own thoughts. Her gold and black bikini top is barely covering her nipples, playing treacherous tricks with my mind every time she takes a breath while her bottoms are hanging low on her hips by what feels like a mere thread.
Just seeing her displayed like some new age Princess Leia has my cock constantly knocking against my swim trunks, but then add when she smiles or parts her lips to have a sip of beer, and I damn near lose it. Every. Time. She drives me mad and all I want is for her to do it for the rest of our lives. Is that sadistic?
“Family yacht. Family jet. Family castle….Do you own anything else outrageous?” Her attention lowers back to me. “Perhaps a family submarine? Space shuttle?”
I swallow the last of my sandwich. “How astonished would you be if I said yes to your questions?”
Brie pauses for a second with a skeptical stare. It’s not until I smirk she rolls her eyes and sighs, “Guess you could always put those things on your Christmas list.”
“Nah. No real interest in the moon, ever sin
ce I learned it’s not actually made of cheese.”
We laugh and she asks, “This isn’t the yacht you wanted to bid on at that auction, is it?”
“No. My father actually bought this one as a wedding anniversary present to Kris and Soph. Thought they’d enjoy an occasional little getaway since they hardly leave the country.” Dusting my hands clean I steer the conversation towards a subject I had been avoiding. “Speaking of that night, do you remember meeting the actress Gwen?”
“Bitchy blonde with the Pinocchio nose. What about her?”
I smile at the comparison before confessing. “She dropped her funding to the program earlier this week.”
Brie tries to mask her disappointment at another loss. “I’m sorry, Kellan.”
“It’s alright. I’ve been dealing with it and fortunately for me, a lovely French couple is interested in donating to the program. Well, she’s French, he’s originally from Westburg. Old university mate of uncle’s. They’ve agreed to donate an annual amount which would not only cover her loss but actually put us above the line with room to breathe. Possibly make your art activities something we can permanently provide.”
Her face lights up at the idea.
She’s actually a really good teacher. In fact, I actually stopped by after meeting with a staff member to observe her lesson on texture creation and was impressed to see so many children involved in the activity. She had various bowls of paint colors with odd things sprinkled in them like coffee grounds, glitter, and sand for the children to paint with. There were even preteens and teens fascinated with the fun. Typically, we try to keep the younger minors from the older ones for obvious reasons, but they were working together with such ataraxia, I insisted the program managers just let them be. It was something quite remarkable to witness. Moments like that have me longing for her to stay as a member on this program rather than switch to something else. She loved her time at the Children’s Hospital as well. Perhaps I could convince little Amelia to help me make Brie’s mind up for her.
“I have a brunch meeting with the DuPonts tomorrow and they’ve asked for you to attend.”
“Me? Why?”
“They’ve heard about your art integration to the program and Mrs. DuPont, or as I have to call her, Kitty, loves the idea given that she herself comes from a family of painters.”
“Wait. Wait. Wait. She wants you to call her what?”
I hesitate to repeat the nickname. “Kitty.”
Brie instinct to giggle emerges. “Why?”
“It is the name she prefers.”
As if she can sense I’m holding something back, she prods, “And what’s her husband’s name.”
Another grunt escapes. “Dick.”
Her head falls back in laughter before saying, “That’s awful.”
“Isn’t it?! I mean, honestly, how am I supposed to sit there and beg for their money with a straight face?”
Brie shakes her head. “I’ve got you beat. My sophomore year in high school I had a teacher whose last name was spelled B-a-l-z, but pronounced balls.”
I wince.
“And to make it worse, his first name was Harry. Not nickname, but his legal first name was Harry.”
Shock sprints to my face. “Your teacher’s name was Harry Balz.”
Just saying it out loud sends her into another fit of laughs, taking me alongside her.
Why would anyone do that to their child?
Once we collect ourselves, she asks, “So you want me to come along so you don’t have to fake interest in the subject of art for Kitty?”
I smile wide and do my best to ignore the name. “I’m not going to lie. It will help.”
Brie giggles and reaches for a strawberry. “Yeah, I’ll tag along and keep you out of the Degas doghouse.”
My face scrunches in cluelessness.
“He was a famous French artist.”
“See. Desperately need you.”
Her lips wrap around the bright red fruit and have a nibble. “Love it when you’re desperate…”
I stifle a groan.
She smirks as if it had escaped, leans over, and slowly dips the fruit in the dark chocolate sauce. Seductively, she lifts it back to her parted lips, and uses the tip of her tongue to taste just the end. A droplet of chocolate lands on her chest. Her hand prepares to wipe it away, but I lunge forward preventing the crime from taking place.
With my body covering hers, I languorously lick the lost dessert topping, savoring the flavor as well as the whimper she’s freed.
In a playful voice, she asks, “A demonstration on just how desperate you are?”
My lips fall from her skin and my eyes pin hers in place. “When it comes to you love, I’m always a mad, desperate man right on the edge. Now you enjoy your dessert while I enjoy mine.” She grins and presses the strawberry back between her lips. Eager to see that exact sight at the same time she comes, I command, “Leave that there until I say otherwise.”
Brie doesn’t object.
A first I know….
Her legs part and I bend them so her feet are touching the hard wood floor of the deck. I wedge my frame between her thighs and allow my fingers to stroke the outside of her bikini bottom. She whimpers again, this time rocking her hips against the light touch. My mouth lowers to her collarbone while my fingers toy with the strings on her hip. I take my time swirling my tongue against her hot flesh, allowing it to go lower with each additional lick, as I relish every tiny hitch in her breath. When my lips manage to reach her nipple, I use my teeth to tug the flimsy material out of the way and suck the sweet hardened nub between them. Another stifled sigh is exposed, causing my cock to cry from behind the swim trunk curtain it’s currently confided to. After taking another moment to tease her other nipple, I wriggle out of my shorts, and help lower Brie completely onto her back. I nudge the fabric out of the way and glide into a heat so scorching the sun would be put to shame.
Her muscles constrict around my cock and I groan, “My favorite dessert…”
Brie’s eyes roll closed. The strawberry between her lips seems to slide back and forth giving me the impression she’s sucking on it, substituting it for my tongue. An unexpected savage jealousy takes hold and I lean my face down, using my own mouth to banish the fruit. Her mouth drops to speak, but I quickly capture her tongue and piston my hips faster. Harder. Brie’s pussy suddenly begins to squeeze, blind siding us both with a surprise orgasm. She tries to break her lips free, but I deny the request. I run my hand down to her leg and hoist it higher. Force myself to the hilt. The brutality of my thrusting syncs to the beat of tongue. Without mercy my entire body barbarically ravishes hers in one unified tandem. Underneath me she trembles profusely, struggles to breath, and feverishly claws at my biceps and back in an endless effort to hang on. Another climax rips through her this time taking me with it. Her pussy quivers around my dick, whispering to my orgasm, begging it to come out and claim it. Claim her.
My lips finally falter and I whisper against hers, “Brie…”
As if hearing her name alone was enough to make her explode, she comes again, melding our moans and convulsions together.
When we’re finally able to catch our breath, she teases, “And here I thought you liked strawberries.”
A smile appears on my face. “Not when they’re trying to replace me or parts of me.”
Brie giggles sweetly. “Nothing could ever replace you, Kellan. Nothing.”
The sincerity in her speech swells my heart.
That’s an amazing thing to hear after spending weeks of trying to replace what my family has lost because I feel the same way about her. It’s not as if I didn’t know she felt that way before this moment. It’s just nice to hear out loud. Oh God. I sound like I’ve been watching episodes of Dawson’s Creek. Which I haven’t! Okay maybe one, but Brie had it on and it was hard not to stare at James Van Der Beek’s crying face. I mean…You’ve seen the memes. It’s terrible.
“Have you not seen the peek
of this winter’s collection? It’s all deep purples and very bright greens,” Edith Vanderbelt scoffs loudly at Mildred Masters. “Livinia Love has these ridiculous gorgeous cashmere sweaters that are going to be the height of the entire trend.”