Champagne Brunch: The Stiletto Sisters Series

by Ainsley St Claire

“Mom, what are your plans for Christmas?” Mia asks. “Are you thinking of flying to see Ava?”

  “You know I can’t take that much time away from the office,” her father says.

  We order dinner, and Mia’s parents slowly but surely pick at her to the point that I’d like to grab her by the hand and pull her out of here. My parents were around as I was growing up, but only because it created an illusion of how great they were and how involved they were with us. Mia’s parents seem to take every opportunity to tear down and discount all of her success. Perhaps that makes them feel better. It’s very odd.

  As dinner begins to wrap up, Mia’s father turns to me. “I suppose you like that my daughter is rich.”

  “Dad,” Mia admonishes him.

  He waves her away.

  I look at her and my heart beats faster. I want so much to take her away from here and shower her with love and attention. “She is part of a very small club, and it’s stunning to think she did it on her own,” I tell him. “I appreciate how generous and charitable she is with everything she’s earned, and I may not be in her league, but I’m grateful to make a good income of my own.”

  Her father snorts. I don’t think he has any capacity to understand this, and the way he’s treating Mia really irritates me.

  “Not that it matters, but I’m worth over a hundred million dollars,” I add. “We can live quite comfortably on just my income. We’ll be fine. I’ll share, and she can give hers all away. My only goal is to make her happy.“

  “You can’t make someone happy,” her mother says with disdain. “We’ve always taught our girls that happiness is not a brass ring. If you strive for happiness, you’ll be less successful.”

  I sit back in my seat. Wow. “I think Mia and I have managed to be successful not only in our careers, but also in finding each other.” I look over at Mia, and her eyes are sparkling. I’ve had enough. “Dinner was incredible,” I tell her parents as I signal the waiter and hand him my credit card. “We have some plans this evening, so I’m sorry to cut this short.”

  The table is silent while we wait. Fortunately, it isn’t long before the waiter returns with the folder and my card. I add a generous tip and sign before standing and reaching for Mia’s hand.

  Her parents just look at us. They don’t even seem upset that this is the only time they’re going to see their daughter during our trip. If they’d made themselves available, we would have made other plans to see them. But they did not.

  “Enjoy your trip,” her mother says as we walk away.

  Once we step outside, Mia texts Peter, and he already has the valet getting the car.

  “I’m really sorry about that,” she says with a deep sigh.

  “What do you have to be sorry for?” I reach for her hands and lace her fingers together with mine. “It’s funny. In some ways we come from the same type of parents—people more worried about outside appearances than inside.”

  “My parents mean well…”

  “Yes, and so do mine. But that doesn’t mean they’re doing a good job.” I look into her eyes. “Listen, I’m fine with you giving every penny you have to the Lancaster Foundation. I want to be sure you know that. I don’t make as much money as you do, but it’s more than enough to live very comfortably. Also, you should know I’ll most likely be supporting my sister for the rest of her life.”

  Mia shakes her head. “I love the way you care for your sister, and I don’t care about what we have or don’t have. It’s not important to me. You are.”

  I lean in to kiss her passionately, not caring that we’re standing on a New York sidewalk. “I love you.”

  She turns pink. “I love you, too.”

  The car pulls up, and we climb in.

  “Let’s go back to the hotel,” Mia suggests. “I’ll show you how much I appreciate everything you said and did tonight.”

  Something wakens in my pants. “Oh really? What did you have in mind?”

  She looks at me, eyes sparkling. “I’m sure we can figure something out…”

  When we get back to our suite at the Waldorf Astoria, Mia steps into the vast bathroom to take a quick shower. I don’t know why she insists on that. I love how she smells all the time, but it does give me the chance to order a chocolate fountain from room service.

  I take off my shoes and get rid of my tie. I’m grateful once again that my job rarely requires a suit and tie. A tie is a noose.

  Before Mia has finished in the bathroom, I hear room service knock.

  When I open the door, they roll a cart into the living room and plug in the fountain so the chocolate begins to move.

  “Just let us know when you’d like it picked up,” the waiter says as he departs.

  “I will.” It won’t be tonight.

  I turn just in time to see Mia walk out of the bedroom in a sheer bathrobe. “Wow, don’t you look delectable?”

  “Did I hear you talking to someone?”

  I step aside. “Look what I ordered. I didn’t get dessert tonight, so I thought I’d have you instead.”

  She goes over to inspect the fountain. It’s surrounded by piles of graham crackers, strawberries, marshmallows, bananas, pretzels, mini Rice Krispy treats, angel food cake, and almond brittle.

  “Wow. That’s pretty amazing.” Mia picks up a strawberry and dunks it into the fountain. The chocolate overflows onto her fingers. She looks at me through her eyelashes, and her nipples have pebbled. She takes a bite of the strawberry, and juice dribbles down her chin.

  I hesitate. Do I lick her fingers or her chin? Or both?

  I take her thumb, covered in chocolate, and bring it into my mouth. I lick it from base to tip, then close my lips around it and swirl my tongue. She gives me a sultry look. My dick is so hard.

  “I think I need to taste some more chocolate. Any suggestions?” She looks down at the tent in my pants.

  “I think there are a few things available, both on and off the menu,” I growl.

  Dropping to her knees in front of me, she unbuckles my pants and peels them away, taking my boxers with them, leaving my hard staff waving.

  She stands and picks up a marshmallow. Dipping it into the melted chocolate, she dabs it inside my wrist, testing the temperature.

  I nod.

  She dips the marshmallow in the chocolate again and runs it up and down, caressing my cock. It almost feels like a soft tongue. I unbutton my shirt and drop it to the floor with my pants as she coats my cock in a warm blanket. Once she feels it has enough chocolate, she looks me in the eye and licks the marshmallow. My mouth opens as I watch her eat it. It’s so hot.

  My cock, covered in chocolate, becomes Mia’s mission. She begins at the base, exploring as she takes her time. It’s like a long kiss. She carefully licks away every bit of the chocolate she smeared, punctuating occasionally with moans, sending vibrations along my cock. She doesn’t stop until I’m clean, all the chocolate dissolved by long and seductive strokes with her tongue.

  “Fuck,” I growl.

  She pushes me to the couch and kneels over me, tracing her fingernails up and down my torso. I can feel goose bumps rising, and my nipples harden.

  She leans over to the fountain again and picks up a pretzel stick. She slathers it in chocolate and wipes it across my nipples. The rock salt and hard pretzel scraping causes me to moan.

  She leans in and trails her tongue around my nipples, blowing across the chocolate. I lean my head back and stare at the ceiling. It’s taking every ounce of my control to not blow my load.

  She takes my left nipple between her teeth, and my breath becomes audible. She bites down a little harder and then soothes the pinch by licking the remaining chocolate away.

  She grinds against my groin, and I take a deep breath, inhaling her scent. Fuck. I need her now.

  I stand and lead her to the bedroom. “It’s my turn.”

  I deposit her on the bed and race back to the living room for a small plate of chocolate. When I return to the bedroom, she’s pl
aying with herself.

  “No, no. That’s my job.”

  I layer her nipples with chocolate before I shove her legs apart, bending her knees so she spreads wider.

  My tongue lavishes her nipples, dissolving all the chocolate, and after a moment her body tenses in an orgasm from just the nipple stimulation. I’ve not even begun to fuck her. I feel quite superior, but I know that was only a baby climax. I want them to hear her in the lobby of the hotel, forty-seven floors below us.

  I look down at her wide-open sex and admire her nub, which is visibly swollen and throbbing, slick with her juices.

  Her low grunt, barely audible, lights my insides on fire, and my heart rate goes up a notch.

  I begin to nibble at her thighs, licking long strokes that end so close to her sex—but not quite there.

  I dip my fingers into the chocolate, coating them before transferring the sweetness to her core. I alternate sucking, licking, biting, and kissing her nipples before I finally reach her center and lick up the chocolate with more long strokes, careful to avoid her hard nub of nerves.

  She begins to grind herself into my face, her hips rocking back and forth. I still take my time, but I move closer to her center, and one of my long, slow licks suddenly goes right up her slit, following the streak of wetness. I eat away all the sweetness, leaving her hot button waiting.

  “You taste amazing.”

  My tongue probes her pussy, and her breathy sighs become audible moans as she says my name over and over.

  Her hips are rotating now, and we settle into a rhythm. My hands are on her hips, gripping tightly. She’ll definitely have bruises tomorrow, but she doesn’t seem to care. I replace my tongue with one, then two fingers, twisting as I do. Then my tongue lands on her nub of nerves. I move quickly, lightly across it, slowly pushing harder but never slowing down. Her breathing becomes labored, and I know she’s getting close.

  “I’m…going…to come… You need…to…stop.”

  I chuckle. “Don’t worry, I think we can pull a few more out of you tonight.”

  I renew my focus on her clit, increasing pressure as I go.

  She finally lets go, and her body writhes and jerks beneath me, but I pin her to the bed, continuing my movement. I lap up every drop of her and keep licking and kissing afterward.

  I stand up. “Get on all fours.”

  I move behind her and use my knee to spread her legs. In one motion, I enter her, and we groan together. There’s a mirror I’ve just noticed, and I pull her hair back so she can see everything.

  I start slowly, but before long this becomes a frenzied fuck, hard and fast—an inconsiderate hammering, but she seems to love each and every slam that comes her way.

  My speed moves up a notch as I feel my balls ready to explode. I grip Mia’s hip with my left hand and her hair with my right until, with a final “fuck!” I erupt deep inside her. Only then do I release my grip on her hips and hair. I roll to her side, breathing heavy, and I stare at the ceiling. I’ve never felt like this before.

  Mia moves to get up, but I grab her arm and pull her on top of me so we’re facing each other. My hands go to her cheeks, and I kiss her long and hard. I’ve never been so satisfied and happy.

  Chapter 32

  Mia

  The flight home from the East Coast always seems so short. Despite the challenge with my parents, Axel and I had a nice weekend of baseball and time just hanging out together. We did lots of walking all over New York, and probably as a result, I slept most of the way back. We’re expecting to be picked up at the curb by someone from Clear Security since Peter didn’t park at the airport when we arrived.

  A Cadillac Escalade pulls up as we step out, and I’m a bit surprised to see Jim in the vehicle. Axel reaches for my hand—a sign that he, too, has noticed the change in protocol.

  “How was your trip?” Jim asks as we settle in the car.

  Axel gives my hand a squeeze. “It was a lot of fun. The Braves beat the Yankees, and it always makes for a good game when the Yankees struggle at home.”

  “You manage one of the Braves, right?” Jim asks.

  “I do. Trent Nicols.”

  Jim looks at him in the rearview mirror. “What position does he play?”

  “He’s the shortstop.”

  “He should be on a different team,” I murmur, realizing too late that I’ve said this out loud. “His talent would be better for the White Sox. The Braves aren’t using him to his full potential. Plus, his personality would work well with the seasoned players and coaching staff of the White Sox.” I look over to see if Axel is listening.

  His eyes are wide. “You think so?”

  I nod and walk him through the stats, as well as the culture and current lineups of both the Braves and the White Sox.

  As I talk, Axel begins to smile. “If you don’t mind, when we get home, I want to talk this through. I may be able to get him out of his contract with the Braves, and I’ve never considered Trent for the White Sox, but I can see the advantage.”

  “I’m happy to help. I enjoyed meeting Trent. He might also want to consider losing the girlfriend, as she was watching the good-looking man with the three-thousand-dollar Rolex and Gucci loafers, which just screams that he lives beyond his means.”

  Jim laughs. “Man, does anything get by you?”

  I snort. “Yeah, Viviana did.”

  The jovial atmosphere takes a nosedive.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so—”

  Axel caresses my arm. “You’re fine. Viviana hurt you. But remember, she was trained to hide those tells. Normal people aren’t taught to be that way.”

  I lean my head on Axel’s shoulder. He’s one-hundred-percent right, and I’ve never thought about that before. I could see Viviana’s tells when it came to playing poker. And I knew how she lit up about men. But she had an invisible wall hiding other things that the Russian government had probably been creating since she was a little girl.

  “Where do we go first?” Jim asks.

  “We need to pick up SoBe,” I say. “He’s at Axel’s place.” I turn to him. “I’m just assuming you’re coming to my house. I totally understand if you want a night alone.”

  “No, I want to stay with you tonight.”

  “Then I guess we need to get Peter back to his family first.”

  Jim nods.

  “Jim, this trip was a real hardship.” Peter winks at me. “Nice restaurants, good hotels, and baseball.”

  Jim chuckles. “I’m sure I can come up with something more strenuous for you.”

  “Don’t you dare,” I say. “I’m rather fond of Peter.”

  After we deposit Peter at his house, Jim turns to us. “Can we go to your place first, Mia? There have been some developments with Marco, and I’d like to talk to you both about them before you go home and see Alana and the kids.”

  “Is everything okay?” Axel asks, and I can hear an edge to his voice.

  “I think so, but we need to map out a plan.”

  When we arrive, my house seems a bit stuffy. I open windows to get some fresh air in before I sit next to Axel on the couch.

  Jim takes a seat across from us. “Marco has pled guilty to drug trafficking into the United States. He has pled out his case and will spend the next four hundred and eighty months at the federal prison in Lompoc.”

  The tightness in Axel’s shoulders relaxes. “That was fast.”

  Jim sits forward in his chair with his elbows on his knees. “In the sentencing memo, they took into account that he’d jumped bail in Australia and was being served with a restraining order.”

  “Can he be paroled?” I ask.

  “No. Federal charges don’t allow for parole, but they do allow credits for good behavior. That’s why the memos are always in months and not years.”

  “He just agreed?” Axel questions.

  “Seems like it. The FBI is transferring him to Lompoc in ten days. He’s very angry with Alana right now. He blames her because if
they hadn’t pulled him from the line to serve him with the restraining order, they might not have searched his bag and found the drugs.”

  Axel sits back and sighs. “I was the one who did that. Not Alana.”

  “And he’s the one who chose to bring a brick of heroin and all those Oxy pills. He’s mad regardless, but he should be mad at himself,” Jim points out. “He’ll move his anger to you, to his parents, to anyone but himself, but we want to keep Alana and the boys protected.”

  “What are you thinking?” I ask, hoping we can move toward action so Axel won’t dwell on his former friend and client.

  “Alana needs to keep Nina for a while,” Jim urges.

  “No problem. I think that would be great,” Axel says. “And the boys are a handful, so if it gets to be too much for her, I want someone with the same skills in her place.”

  “Agreed, and I think we can reduce that burnout a bit with a schedule of seven days on and seven days off, split between Nina and another woman I’m talking to who I’d like to bring on.”

  Axel nods. “That works. What else?”

  “Marco knows where the kids are living right now, and he knows you have a place down south in Santa Cruz.”

  “Clay told him about where they were staying,” Axel explains. “He’s six years old; he didn’t know any better.”

  Jim holds up his hand. “I don’t fault Clay for saying anything, but we need to move them. Plus, a yard would be good for the boys.”

  “I’m good with that. I can get them a place.”

  I reach for Axel’s arm. “I think you should buy it with a shell company. That will make it harder for Marco to use public records to find her.”

  “Exactly,” Jim agrees. “Fiona can help you set it up. It’s relatively easy. It takes creating multiple companies, some on-shore and others off-shore. Then you’ll just fund those accounts.”

  “I defer to you and your expertise,” Axel says.

  Jim pulls real estate information and photos out of a folder. “I’d like you and Alana to look at these three homes. They should meet the needs of the kids, and I know they meet our protection requirements. In each home we’d set up the home office as a hub and also a bedroom for Nina and whoever joins her working with your sister.”