"The Rubicons which women must cross,
the sex barriers which they must breach,
are ultimately those that exist in their own minds"
-Freda Alder
CHAPTER 4- LESSONS LEARNED
"My apologies, Emily, we can't continue like this." The Man said calmly as he turned on his heel and headed for the door.
Her face turned the color of fog. Now would be a good time for her to cut her losses; take the out he was offering and run. Fast. That's what a smart female would do.
Apparently she was as smart as a rock.
Emily jogged up to him, tugging on his sleeve and stepping in front of him, pulling up short as he almost bull dozed her over. "Wait! What did I do wrong?"
"'What did I do wrong' she asks?" he scoffed, shaking his head. "You really don't know? You're a smart girl, I'm sure you can figure it out." He glanced at the hand on his arm and plucked his sleeve out of her hold.
"Tell me you, bastard, why are you leaving?" She screamed at him and stomped her foot like an errant child having a temper tantrum.
Silence.
She cocked her head and watched him eat up space with his long legs, pacing between her and the bar... step, step, stroke of the tie... step, step, stroke ... step, step, stroke ...
At what seemed to be his hundredth time of the back and forth he abruptly stopped in front of her; his jaw was clinched tight and lips had tightened into a thin line. "This-" The Man fisted the boy shorts snugly sitting on Emily's waist and yanked them up so high that the crotch disappeared into her folds, "-this is the problem." He snarled, pulling the panties higher into her until the material finally gave way and cleaved in two.
Those little lacy boy shorts revealed more than they covered. They melded to her heart shaped ass perfectly and hung low on her hips barely covering her pubic bone.
Why did she have to be so damned desirable? She tempted him in a way no other woman had and not being in control of his feelings was not an option. He didn't know what pissed him off more: The fact that she wore them or the fact that he hated his reaction to her wearing them.
"I gave you a simple request. Do not wear undergarments." He dangled the expensive rags in front of her. "You couldn't execute even the simplest of instructions." His voice was impossibly cold and the look in his eyes could have frozen the sun. "I thought we had an understanding. I was mistaken. You're free to stay in the room and make use of all the restaurants and shops in the hotel; just give them this suite number. The plane will take you home tomorrow; my attorney will contact you with the details." He dropped the panties on the floor at his feet and continued en route to the door.
She shook her head and her heart was pounding loudly in her ears. "Wait! I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." She pleaded, sliding in front of him again and put both of her hands on his shoulders. It was like trying to stop a tank.
Emily knew she shouldn't have worn the panties so it shouldn't have come as such a surprise to her that he was angry. This was a man, who commanded respect with just a look; one who had a cool confidence and a don't-fuck-with-me attitude.
Since their last encounter, in the Mediterranean, Emily hadn't been the same. Her lover had unlocked her Pandora's Box of inhibitions and released some of her inner demons, now the rest were desperate to join in the escape.
Since then her husband had increasingly become concerned for her well-being. It disturbed him that she was growing more and more distant. He loved his wife and wanted her back, though it might already be too late.
The Man's attorney/ bodyguard picked up the phone call on the first ring as if expecting it. Two phone calls later the travel arrangements were finalized. She was told not to bother packing anything; any items she needed would be provided to her on her arrival.
In that apathetic voice of his the attorney also stressed that she shouldn't wear any undergarments. The request caught her off guard but didn't surprise her.
Once the plane landed in Vegas she was promptly taken to her hotel. She thought she'd have time to freshen up before she met up with The Man; she hadn't expected him to be waiting for her inside her room- big mistake. Then again, it was her my-bad to have assumed she'd have a room to herself. She was, after all, there to share her body with him.
The room was beyond anything she could have ever imagined. The posh ten thousand square foot suite came with a personal concierge, private kitchen with chef, billiard table, fireplace, and an incredible view of the city.
The Man palmed Emily's shaved sex and squeezed hard. Juices oozed out of the folds and trickled on to his hand; she had been wet since she boarded the plane. Pain blossomed between her legs, her hips pushed forward into his hand trying to relive some of the pressure but it only increased as he dug is fingers in more and tugged the heavy mound forward.
He looked deep into her eyes as if he were searching for something. "You will not get another chance. Do you understand?"
She sagged. "God, yes. I'm-"
"Do not speak." He growled in warning.
She pursued her lip. Yep... zipped up nice and tight.
The Man towered over Emily and herded her back, like an unleashed predator, until her back was flush with the massive sliding glass doors that overlooked the glistening infinity pool adjacent to their accommodations.
Placing a paw of a hand on one side of her head and the other at her side; the sheer size of him boxed her in. The nearness of him practically made her dizzy.
Wavering as if she had had one too many cocktails she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. He smelt mouthwatering. The intoxicating smell was not from cologne but the fresh-out-of-the-shower smell from shampoos and soaps; earthy with a tinge of a spice that instantly soothed her. There was a slight hint of mint on his breath as it feathered across her cheek. An unbridled sexuality oozed out of him like he was born to please.
Growling, he cupped both sides of her jaw; his thumbs under her chin to keep it tilted up and locked in place. The chastising kiss had nothing to do with the fact that he had thought of her to the point of distraction. Nope. Nothing. At. all.
He put every bit of his irritation into the mouth-to-mouth action: Nipping at her tongue and lips, his tongue darting in and out from the sword play. He kept up with the punishment until her lips were kiss swollen, her body pliant, and she moaning softly into his mouth.
The Man's fingers lightly wrapped around her throat, her carotid artery thumped heavily under his fingers. He melded his big body to hers so tightly that the simple of task of her breathing had become arduous. Then, when their breath finally synced up, it was as if he was breathing for the both of them.
"You will do what I ask of you when I ask it." His upper lip curled into a feral snarl. "If I tell you to fuck another woman, you will do it. If I tell you to take your clothes off for strangers, you will do it. And, if I tell you not to wear panties, you will not wear panties." He paused for a long moment, "Nod if you understand."
Dropping her eyes she gave him a pitchers nod - and thank God for that. He would have ended up spending the whole day disciplining her with his cock if those incredible green eyes of hers had even so much as glanced at him. And as much as that idea appealed to him he did have obligations that needed tending too.
He put his forehead to hers, "Thank fuck." He said on low exhale. The tension melted out of his face making him look ten years younger.
His body let out shutter, like a car finally kicking into gear. She probably hadn't even realized that her hands were resting on his hips. But he damn sure did. Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces and he was acutely aware of where every inch of her body touched his. How her breasts were flush to his chest; how her thighs were tangled with his; how his chin could easily rest on the top of her head.
Clearing his throat he took a step back and ran his hands down his immaculate tie as if ironing out imaginary wrinkles. "As much as I enjoy watching those luscious tits of yours make Mickey's ears move in that tight little t-shirt of yours-"he winked playfully and flashed rows of straight white teeth, "- I don't think it's appropriate for dinner tonight so I have a few trinkets coming for you."
Emily blinked once...twice... three times... Did he just make a joke? Holy shit! Charles Alexander actually made a joke. She felt like a freaking idiot as a smile the size of the Grand Canyon split her face. If she thought he was attractive before she was wrong; the eye action had her melting like ice cream on a hot summer day. But how could she not? The knowing smirk on his face was devastatingly handsome and a promise of things to come.
"Now, I have to leave for a bit to tend to some work matters." Work, yeah, he had work to do; that was why he was in Vegas for after all. Before he headed back to the daily grind he had to hit the gym and work off some of his frustration. There were only two things that kept him level... fighting and fucking. And when doing multi-million dollar business transactions one needed to make sure their bubble was dead center.
"Pick out your favorites," his blue marbles wondered over her body as if imagining her some of the items. "And wear only those items." He said with a level gaze as if to say do-not-test-me-again.
Noted.
