DrillingDownDeep (17 page)

“But I can’t go myself?”

He frowned.

“I guess not,” she muttered.

“There’s the party this weekend. We’ll go after that.”

“You don’t own me, Michael. It’s not very original, but I
have to say it. You wouldn’t even if we were married.”

Oh shit. What had possessed her to say that?

She waited for whatever cutting remark he would make to
that, but when he spoke, all he said was, “I’ve never wanted to own anyone
before.”

“Maybe we should forget all this. I’m not turning out to be
very good at it. If I can’t work on a rig I’ll find something else.”

He looked at her stonily. “I don’t know what makes you say
you’re not good at this. You’re excellent. The best I’ve ever had.”

She hopped out of bed. “Stop with the flowery compliments.”

“I didn’t think you were the flowery compliment kind of
girl.”

“I didn’t either.”

Michael was telling the truth when he said he had never
wanted to own anyone. He just left out the last part. Until her. And right now
that was what he felt like. As if he wanted to own her.

The suggestion she might terminate their
arrangement
left him wanting to chain her to the bed.

In an incredibly short time he had become what he had feared
his whole life. A stupid older man mooning over a younger woman. The thought
made his voice harder. “Look, you obviously know your way around a bedroom, so
don’t pretend like any of this is new to you.”

“Women get to have sex these days too, Michael, in case you
haven’t heard. It’s nothing to apologize for.”

“I didn’t ask you to apologize. I’m referencing it because
you seem to be so upset about the money thing.”

“I’ve never had sex for money, you asshole!”

“Are you honestly telling me that if we had met under
different circumstances and, okay, I was nice and wooed you or whatever, that I
couldn’t have had you sleeping with me without this whole arrangement?” He
didn’t wait for her answer. “Of course I could have.”

“Nobody ever accused you of modesty.”

“We both know it. We’re attracted to each other, have been
from the first. How does giving you money now because you need it—”

“Out of the goodness of your heart, I suppose, not because
you fired me and blackballed me!”

“For planting a bomb,” he pointed out.

“Which I didn’t do! God, I can’t believe you’d sleep with me
thinking I did that.”

“You don’t know guys then,” he muttered. “I’m surprised that
cop back in Houston, lieutenant hard-ass, bought that rationale as a matter of
fact.”

“What if our situations were reversed and I was paying you?”

“I’d be the luckiest man on the planet.”

She shook her head in disgust and he laughed. “I don’t know
what you want me to say, Vanny. I want you. You want me. I have money.”

“I need it, is that it?”

He did want her. No secret there. She was exquisite in and
out of bed. But he’d had beautiful, sexually experienced women before. In fact,
all of them had been. Yet he’d never been so tied to one, so
captivated
by one. And he was very much afraid that wasn’t what was captivating him about
Vanny Donald.

It pissed the hell out of him.

“Maybe you’re feeling guilty because you haven’t been
earning your keep,” he suggested calmly.

“Huh! I’ve had more sex since we came to this
arrangement
than I have in—”

“Like that. That’s a perfect example. I don’t want to hear
how much sex you’ve had or haven’t had with other guys. I’m not interested in
it.”

“Jealous?”

“Call it whatever you want. It annoys me. And it’s not a
mistress’s job to annoy her lover.”

“I thought I was the best you’d ever had,” she scoffed.

“Sexually, certainly. But you could pay attention to a few
of the other niceties a little more.”

“Stop right there, asshole.” She went over to the built-in
bar and poured herself some of his hundred-year-old scotch. “I need a drink for
this.” And she downed it. In one gulp. And then poured another.

“No peach margarita for you tonight, eh?”

“What kind of niceties are you talking about, Michael?”

She was naked. Beautifully, incredibly so. But he refused to
be distracted. He ignored his cock. He was trying to make a point here. He’d
been as patient and lenient with her as he had ever been with a lover and still
she was threatening to leave him. Taunting him.

“You want me to get some more slutty lingerie? Because I
don’t quite see the point of that. You keep ripping it off me. So I’m not going
to try anymore.”

“Putting more clothes on wasn’t what I was angling for,
Vanny. You know, before you, I had a little more control in these kinds of
things. Women didn’t challenge me like you’re always challenging me.”

“Wah wah wah.”

He laughed, not able to help it. “Again, like that. Do you
like this, us, having sex?”

“No, I’m faking it.”

He shook his head. “Let’s try things my way for once. The
way I’ve done with other mistresses.”

“I know you said you don’t want to be whipped, Michael, but
I draw the line at anything kinkier than a spanking. So no tying me up or
anything if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“How do you know you wouldn’t like it?” He got up from the
bed and retrieved one of his ties from the closet. Actually, he’d never been
into bondage much one way or the other. But all this talk of her ending the
arrangement was making it have some appeal for him. “You keep talking about me
losing control. How about if you let go of a little of yours?”

She poured another scotch and downed it as he approached her
with the tie. Power red. He snapped it for show.

“Nervous, Vanny? Need another drink?”

“I can drink you or any guy under the table, Michael. It
takes a lot more than a couple of scotches to get me tipsy.”

“Such a hard-ass.” He deliberately put his hands to the soft
cheeks of her bottom and caressed. “But still so much a woman.”

He pushed her so she was bent over the bar and then quickly
grabbed her hands, tying them behind her with the red tie. The tail of it
draped down the middle, right along the crack of her ass.

She struggled at first and then stopped, straightening and
turning toward him. “Is this what you need to prove you’re a man?”

“I don’t know. Is this what you need to prove you’re a
woman?”

With her hands tied behind her back, he did discover a
wonderful little side effect. He could do whatever he wanted to do with her
lovely body, control the pace of their lovemaking. He flicked her dark pink
nipples, then slipped his hands underneath her arms, around her slight frame.
She glared at him mutinously. “How’d you learn to tie somebody up that fast?”

He ignored the question and crouched down a little to kiss
one heavy white breast. Then he opened his mouth wide to suck the rigid nipple.
Even tied up, she egged him on, with little moans and hitches in her breath as
he switched to the other breast, all the time, rubbing her back until he moved one
hand down to delve into a very wet pussy. Three fingers later she was moving
her hips that way she did.

“Ask me to fuck you, Vanny.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, that’s not quite right.” He picked her up and set her
on the bar and held her legs open. His mouth went quickly to its target,
raining just a few light kisses on the smooth soft insides of her thighs on the
way. Shit, she was so wet and hot. He tongued the pink lips of her pussy and
nibbled lightly on her clit, the taste of her juices so sweet and hot. When he
sucked at her little nub, she writhed on the bar, straining against her
bindings behind her. God, he wanted to jam his cock up that wide open cunt.

The fact that he was naked too wasn’t helping on that
holding-off thing. In fact, his infuriatingly sexy mistress was proving yet
again that he had very little control around her.

He stood and picked her up in his arms, kissing her as he
carried her to the bed. Her tongue tangled with his. When he pulled away,
preparing to lay her on the coverlet, he caught sight of them in the
full-length mirror, her hands tied behind her back as he held her, the red of
her binding hanging down. He looked like some conquering marauder with his
captive.

He had thought to lay her on her back, maybe even untie her
arms since he loved to feel her hands on him as they fucked, but suddenly, a
more subservient position appealed to him. He
wished
he could conquer
Vanny. What would that be like?

He set her facedown and ordered, “Get up on your knees with
your back to me.”

“Fuck—”

“You say fuck you and I’m going to smack your ass again,
Vanny. I will.”

She came awkwardly to her knees and looked at him over her
shoulder. “That’s not exactly an effective threat. I was going to ask for
another spanking if you didn’t get around to it one of these days.”

She leaned down over her knees, her bound arms sticking out
behind her. “Fuck me, please, Michael,” she said in the meekest voice he’d ever
heard out of her. But she followed it up with a taunting half smile over her
shoulder. “Is that better?”

He rubbed the soft skin of her ass appreciatively and
climbed onto the bed behind her. “Much, much better. Stick your pussy out
farther for me.”

And she did. She may have been mocking but at this point he
couldn’t care less. And neither could she.

“Please,” she said. “
Master
. Is that what you want?”

“Is this what you want?” He gave her his cock, hard and not
quite controlled at all, jamming it inside her. Right where he wanted to be.

She didn’t answer and he thrust again, even harder, the
motion pushing her forward on the bed. It felt so good to him that he braced
himself on her folded legs and started up a steady rhythm. “Is it, Vanny? Is
this what you want from me?”

With her in this position, she was even tighter than she
usually was, so snug that he was reluctant to pull out of her even for the
second it took to drive right back into the warmth.

“Is it?” he prompted when she didn’t answer, pulling her
folded legs open just a bit to give him more ease of movement. He reached in
front for her plump clit, massaging for a moment before then spreading lube
from her onto the nipple of one heavy, ripe breast. He rubbed it into the rigid
nub to the accompaniment of her groans and then pulled back to watch his cock
again go into her slick channel from behind.

The curve of her ass like that, spread out before him,
shaking with each lunge of his cock, reminded him of their play in his office
in Houston before they left for New York. “Or maybe you want my cock up your
ass?” he teased.

His cock throbbed at the suggestion, though that had never
been as much to his taste as a woman’s pussy. But the thought of conquering
Vanessa with his cock, every orifice of her, was kind of a turn-on. She moaned,
and before he could take that as a sign of encouragement, added, “Not now,
Master,
please.”

He was pretty sure she threw the “Master” in there to
placate him.

“What then?” He was determined, as he slid in and out of
her, flexing against her sweet bent form, that he should get some admission or
another out of her. Something more demonstrable than the moist readiness of her
body, with her moans and erect tits and juicy clit. He wanted to hear her say
how much she wanted him.

Not that she wanted to leave him.

“What do you want now?” he urged.

“Your cock,” she muttered.

“That’s right.” He thrust harder, as excited as ever by her,
by them. “My cock where?”

Grabbing her hips, he pulled her back as he pushed forward,
in a daze of pleasure that shot right down his spine into the rigid instrument
jarring her with each movement.

“In my, ah, my pussy.”

“That’s right, your sweet, tight—”

His cock exploded and he let it come, arching his back
against the fierce tide of sensation. He never got out the word
pussy
,
too busy as he was shooting a hot stream of cum into it. She came as he did so,
her ass rotating wildly, only adding to the hot feel of his own climax.

When they could breathe again, he pulled out slowly, rubbing
her back, and then untied her hands, kissing the soft inner skin of her wrists.
He was such a wimp.

“Do you even own any condoms?” she questioned.

He laughed. “One step forward, two steps back. That’s my
Vanny.”

He pulled her into his arms, cuddling her, and kissed the
top of her head, thinking of the conversation that had led to the sex. Not that
every conversation he had with Vanny didn’t lead to sex.

“Look, if it’s the money that’s bothering you, how about I
stop paying you for being my mistress and start paying you for something I
probably need even more?”

“What’s that? A social secretary?”

“No, Miss Prentiss does all of that too. No, what I need and
what you can give me is your expertise.”

“I thought that’s what I’ve been doing,” she noted wryly.

“In the oil business. In Transcoastal specifically.” He got
out of bed and retrieved his iPad, flicking it on. “Remember this?” he said,
hinting.

She looked at him, apprehension in her green eyes, and for a
minute he thought she might finally admit what she had been doing at the Four
Seasons. But suddenly, he didn’t even want her to.

He hurried on, sitting back next to her on the bed. “I know
a lot about business, but all I know about the oil business is what I’ve read
in reports and what I saw on the
Treasure Driller
. So, assuming I take
you at your word that you didn’t plant the bomb—”

“I—”

“Which as a matter of fact, I do.”

“Really, Michael?”

“Yeah. Now that I know you a little better, I can see you’re
not sneaky. If you were going to bomb Transcoastal, you’d probably walk into
the lobby with a lit fuse and announce it to everybody.”