Ineffable (16 page)

But as much as she wanted to gush and brag and ask questions to make sure she wasn’t actually going crazy in love, she couldn’t bring herself to share. She wanted everything that was him to remain hers alone, and they already drew way too much attention. Tommy’s punk ass might put the shit on the internet anyway, with pictures, advertising her feelings neatly packaged to coincide with a fresh delivery of merch at Ineffable or at Saks, her newest gig.

She had a trunk show there to celebrate them carrying her line, one of those evening shopping parties with cocktails and free make up demos and what not. She’d helped customers decide which of her pieces looked best on them and been amazed not only when the entire inventory of product sold out in less than three hours, but at how many people asked where Nori was.

She hadn’t really noticed how many people were following her Instagram feed, but according to Tommy they were the romance of the century. Women swooned over the pictures she snapped of him sleeping, working, eating, staring at her, messing with her jewelry in progress when he thought she wasn’t looking.

And he took snaps of her too. Sleeping, working, in the shower covered only by steam and a bit of frosted glass – he was beyond pissed when Tommy lifted that one from her phone and posted it – cooking, getting dressed, everything. He liked the camera on her phone better than his – which was how Tommy was able to get a lot of pictures – and he’d text himself the photos and then put them on his computer.

“One more naked photo,” Margot told her friend, “And your black ass is toast.”

“Tell him to get his own account,” Tommy kept saying, and when he didn’t she changed the bio on Margot’s to read ‘M n N,’ though she was nice enough to leave Margot’s web address intact, Nori pointed out.

“Thanks,” Margot quipped, rolling her eyes.

“You know, that little snarl of yours is the closest we’ve come to one of those infamous Margot temper tantrums in forever. I thought I was getting this fireball artist with a hot, changeable attitude. But you’re a pussy cat.”

“Hmmmph. Keep talkin’ shit and I’ma claw your ass.”

He just laughed, and pulled her close.

Usually he initiated contact, but sometimes she’d be sitting next to him on the couch and she’d pull his hand away from his laptop and wrap it around her breast or her throat.

Or, he’d be gabbing away into his phone while pacing around her living room, and as soon as he came close, her hands filled with his sleek butt cheeks or caressed his strong thighs until he said a short goodbye and crushed her into the couch.

She didn’t want to interfere with his work, but sometimes her body wouldn’t allow her to let him pass unmolested. She had to reach for his hand, the nape of his neck. Her fingers were programmed to run themselves through his thick black hair at least once every few hours, her nails lured to his skin like bait to a hook.

Of course he liked it. His smile and the sparkle in his eyes told her that. And he was almost always willing to stop what he was doing and oblige her, whether she wanted to make love, steal a kiss or just sniff his neck. He stopped her once in an elevator. He told her later he thought the guy in there with them would have enjoyed the show too much.

“Dude, we’re boring,” she told him one night.

They’d declined yet another party in favor of their usual, working in the living room, followed by dinner, a little TV and sex.

“Speak for yourself,” he told her in French.

“Speak English.”

“Speak French,” he answered, again in his language.

She knew he wanted more. She could see it in his eyes sometimes, and she dreamed of saying I love you. She just couldn’t bring herself to do it. She didn’t give a shit about saying it first. That wasn’t what this was about. She and Nori were beyond that. She couldn’t make her mouth form the words at all. So she let him know how she felt with her body. There at least she was succeeding. Their lovemaking remained explosive, frequent and fulfilling.

“I’ve grown used to you,” he whispered one night as she lay in his arms drifting toward sleep.

“Good,” she whispered back. “There’s more comin’.”

“I welcome every part, Margot.”

Since she couldn’t quite picture the future, she focused on enjoying him in the present. She cooked elaborate meals and abandoned her seat at the table to sit on his lap, feeding him from her hand like the baby he once told her he wanted to be. He waited patiently for each bite, his hands wrapped around her waist or thighs, eyes lazily drifting to her lips or breasts before moving back to her face.

He was always uber relaxed afterwards. Those were the nights when neither said much. By mutual consent they focused on more tactile sensations. Those were also the nights the sex was out of control. We’re talking tears of pleasure, bed torn up, covers on the floor, hand prints on her ass the next day out of control.

She’d never been into pain with sex – not since old bitch ass George introduced her to the concept involuntarily – but Nori made it sooo good. She ended up sore and smiling when he lifted her off his lap and rubbed her hot, smarting butt down with lotion. His little punishments became a semi-regular thing.

Once after his hand fed dinner of Cornish hen and mashed sweet potatoes with a strawberry rhubarb tart for dessert, he sat back, chuckling as he patted his flat belly and kissing her lingeringly when she rose to clear the table. Then he pointed out she’d forgotten to clear away the cloth napkins.

She hadn’t really, she just hadn’t got to them yet. But it was always some trivial thing, solemnly delivered in his deep voice as though it was the end of the world and not a half-assed excuse to turn her over his knee.

Nori was always very urbane right before he punished her. His personal brand of macho was suave, considered, precise. It was what made him the perfect CEO for Ineffable. Not his brilliant business mind or his fabulous skill at negotiating the finer points of a contract, it was his knack for finding beauty and understanding what felt good that consistently filled the company coffers.

He liked male things like sports and beer, but he was also perfectly content to examine the offerings in Top Shop in preparation for a dinner party. He’d pick her outfit, then stand by her side smug as she gathered compliments all night, forced to tell everyone he had picked out her clothes.

Other nights it was like there was a devil riding him. His alpha came out guns blazing and stomped his normal elegance into oblivion. He’d yank her skirt down her legs, and her shirt over her head. He’d unhook her bra and toss it aside in a brash, careless way that screamed, fuck all this shit. I want see skin, and nothing butt – pun intended. She rarely wore panties when he was around, and he showed his approval more than once by taking a firm bite out of her ass.

When the alpha swallowed urbane Nori he could be rough with her. But he never hurt her. If he even thought he’d hurt her accidentally, his manner changed immediately. Became soft and sorrowful until she drove the heat back up between them. Then he forgot whatever little twinge or wince might have given him pause.

It really didn’t matter whether he was gentle or not. Having made love to her constantly for weeks, Nori knew her body almost as well as she did, knew intimately the scent and texture of her skin, the weight of her limbs, her breasts. He’d tested her flesh at length, pinching, slapping, shaking.

His seduction was never strictly physical. All the while he touched her, he whispered. Did she like what he was doing to her? She did, didn’t she? He could tell. Did she want him to fuck her? He thought so. He certainly wanted to, and he would, he told her, in a resolute, “that’s that” voice. He would fuck her, he said, because he liked giving her what she wanted. It was what he wanted too, no?

Every whisper was like a promise against her flesh. His words were like strokes. They teased, conjured, poured gas on a fire that already burned hotter than any pleasure she’d ever known.

“I know you like it when I tease you like this,” he crooned in her ear. “It makes the anticipation build so nicely, no? But first, my girl,” he promised with a long, slide of a kiss along her ear. “I’m going to do my absolute best to drive you crazy.”

Nori was clever. For all her silence and mystery, he understood her. Margot was an artist. Not just in talent, but in temperament, and that had nothing to do with temper, but with her heightened sensitivity to stimuli. An artist takes in everything around them and spits out something beautiful. She did that when she made jewelry. He could do that with her body.

He knew how to play perfect, private games where no one kept score, no one ever lost, and the winners wore Cheshire cat grins at the end of a match. He knew what pushed her buttons, and he ruthlessly used that knowledge for her pleasure.

If she was having a particularly good time cooking and catering to him, laughing as he sat back like a pasha with his favorite concubine and let her get on with it, he knew that night he could push her in bed. Maybe even weave a little story around the sex to add additional spice.

“You’ve made my dinner, fed me, watered me, but your kisses have been far and few in between,” he once said, mid-spanking, disapproval and sex coloring his deep voice like a lipstick red flag. “That’s not right. Is it?”

Squirming restlessly over his lap, Margot shook her head. Panting behind a fast beating heart and an increasingly heated body that reveled in its submissive position, her skin was so sensitive no matter where he stroked or kissed, she felt every touch between her legs.

She gasped when he hit her ass hard.

“Answer me.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“Hmmm?”

“No, it’s not right, what?”

“No,” she whispered. “It’s, not right that, I,” shit. She’d lost her train of thought.

Nori laughed softly, and she cried out when he delivered three more hard hits to her ass and the backs of her thighs. He watched, happy to make her squirm and shudder with need as he caressed her battered bottom and moved gentle fingers between her legs to play in the wetness he produced.

“No, it’s not right that you’ve been so skimpy with your affection.” He gently pushed a long finger in and out until she pushed back, mimicking his movements and wetting his hand even more.

Abruptly he removed his finger, his heart rate accelerating in triumph when she groaned her disappointment.

“Now, now. You didn’t think I would reward you for mistreating me, did you? How will you learn what I like if I don’t punish you when you do something I don’t like?”

Margot took too long to answer and earned herself three more hard slaps. Her butt was pulsing and warm, but it wasn’t hurting, just incredibly sensitive and aware. Fancifully she thought if she looked in a mirror right then she might see her flesh glowing red. The idea of wearing his mark on her body made her clit throb with such intense longing, she instinctively closed her legs, trying to ease herself with some much needed pressure.

“No,” Nori ordered, yanking her thighs apart. “You will not touch yourself. You will not use your body to satisfy that hungry little pussy. That’s my privilege, and I only grant privileges when they have been earned.”

He spanked her seven more times, until she was mindless from the heat and the sound and the sensations that spread through her body like ripples. Helplessly she yanked on her bound hands, wanting to get free, crawl onto his lap, get the hard cock she felt beneath her inside her where she needed it.

“Please, Nori,” she whispered, in the sweet, breathy tone she’d discovered worked nicely to soften him in her favor.

But that night he just laughed, and she groaned. That laugh was full of humor and a hint of devil, letting her know he wasn’t done tormenting her yet. She sighed blissfully. Nori could be so delightfully bad when he put his mind to it.

Chapter eleven

Lado called again to complain that he never saw him anymore.

“You don’t call. You only go to the gym these days at some ungodly hour. I send over papers, they magically appear signed, but you? It’s like you’ve fallen into a big black hole.”

“Or a little brown one,” Nori teased.

Lado laughed. “Filthy bugger. Are you ready to admit you’re in love yet, old boy?”

Nori scoffed. “I don’t need labels with Margot. She’s the only woman I’ve ever met who talks less than I do.”

“Really,” Lado said, impressed.

“She doesn’t nag. We sit side by side most nights and work, and she never tells me that I work too much.”

“Do tell. Are you sure she’s not a man?”

Nori burst out laughing. “Asshole.”

“Well, you’ve got to admit, it is strange. The very idea of a woman who doesn’t like to talk sort of makes me nervous. Makes you question all that’s true and right and obvious in the world. Whatever next? Will the sky cease to be blue, water cease to be wet?”

Nori laughed. “I know how you feel. It is unusual. But she’s so focused, Lado. This partnership is set to be the most profitable artist collaboration Ineffable has had to date,” he said proudly. “And I’m not her only commitment. She has several new contracts and gets private commissions all the time.”

“Lucky boy,” Lado praised. “Sounds like you picked a winner in more ways than one.”

Nori hummed his agreement. “Have you ever –?” He paused, for the first time in their friendship hesitating to share.

They’d always been brutally frank about everything from women to money to sex. But how could he share that, for the first time in his life, some mornings he woke up completely entwined with a woman, so happy and peaceful, it was a wrench to leave her? Surely a man couldn’t say those things, not even to a best friend.

He didn’t want to brag about their sex life, the incredible pleasure he continued to pull from Margot’s beautiful body. He couldn’t say that when there was something on his mind, there was nothing he liked better than to pop one of her brown nipples in his mouth and suck while he worked things out. That sometimes – a very few times admittedly – he’d wanted to cuddle more than he wanted to fuck. At least initially. Once he got her scent in his nose, all bets were off. His passion for her was unstoppable.

“Have I ever what?”

“Never mind,” Nori said. “Not only is she quiet, she cooks,” he offered, as a distraction.

“You’re kidding.”

It was a standing joke between them that women who cooked were as rare as unicorns these days.

“Nope. Most of the time she forgets to eat she’s so busy working, but she can burn in the kitchen, my friend.”

“From scratch? Like, taking actual fresh ingredients, cutting them up and using spices?”

“From scratch,” Nori confirmed. “Last night we had homemade chicken burgers with banana peppers, heavy on the onions ‘cause that’s how I like them, topped with gruyere cheese, baked sweet potato fries and chocolate covered cherries rolled in nut dust. And she made the chocolate and ground the nuts. Tonight we had curry fish tacos. Apparently omega 3’s and curry together are extremely healthy. Something about turmeric, I don’t know, but it was fucking delicious.”

“Damn,” Lado breathed. “My eyes are wide. So when do I get to meet her? A dinner invite wouldn’t go amiss. It’s almost criminal for you to keep all that good home cooking to yourself, mate. You’ll get fat if you don’t share.”

He burst out laughing. Nori swore by exercise. The chance of him gaining weight, let alone getting fat, was as rare as one of them actually finding a unicorn. “Soon,” he promised. “Tell me about you. What have I missed?”

He listened as his friend caught him up on everything that had been happening, and nearly 30 minutes slid by without him noticing. He was laughing when Margot appeared with a glass of the Perrier and lime he favored.

She held up the fabric bags that signaled a trip to the grocery.

“Lado, I’ve got to run. But I’m going to call you next week to arrange something, yes?”

“Dinner!”

Nori just laughed and hung up. “Whole Foods?”

“You don’t have to come. Work.”

“No,” he said, and kissed her until they were both breathless. They walked hand in hand to the store.

“You know? I think I figured it out. You cultivated this reputation of having a fiery temper to disguise the fact that you’re a homebody,” he said. “I don’t think you have a temper at all.”

“No? Did you forget what happened after dinner with your daddy?”

“That was completely justified. From what I’ve been led to believe, it should have been much worse. You didn’t throw anything, break anything, and you didn’t get arrested. You should have tossed drinks at the dinner table and screamed in his face, at the very least. Instead you were remarkably elegant about the whole thing.”

“You know I have a bad temper. I find it amazing how often you seem to want me to lose it.”

Nori just laughed. “I confess I like watching you in action. It’s so much better than anything else I could come up with to entertain me.”

“Jackass. I have a tendency to let things build up, that’s all. Most things I let roll off my back. The problem is, these days triflin’ motherfuckers see not attacking as a sign of weakness. Then they feel confident coming back for more; they keep trying their luck, and there’s certain things you not gon’ try me on. That’s when they get the fireworks.”

“Certain things like what?”

She shrugged. “Like my body. That story about me cussing that movie star out in a bar happened because he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He was saying filthy things in my ear for hours. When he put his hand on my thigh, I had to give it to him. Ain’t no man gon’ decide when to get my pussy.

“Or my time. There was a society chick in New York who wanted me to make her some jewelry. Her husband was some big wig on Wall Street. He was also a controlling, condescending SOB who thought he could tell me how, when and what to create for her. So I told her I was sorry, but I would have to pass on the commission.”

“What happened?”

“He followed me out of the apartment talking shit, saying he was going to ruin my name and all this other shit. I laughed in his face and kept walking. Then he grabbed my arm. I asked him to release me. He didn’t, so I punched him in the face.”

“Did you have to go to court?”

“Yeah, but I won, and I got that bitch to pay for my legal fees plus some.”

“You lost the commission.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“No?”

“Uh-huh. She went behind his back and hired me anyway, at double our original budget. A picture of the necklace and earrings is on my web site. Shit turned out great. We still email. She’s a good customer. Every year she has me design something special for her. She divorced the asshole and remarried someone else much nicer and much richer. Said seeing me stand up to him is what gave her the courage to break away.

“It was her testimony that helped me win my case. She told everyone that he grabbed me first, and relayed how badly he’d verbally abused me. I think she used the whole thing as part of her defense during the divorce proceedings.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. But you didn’t hear all that, see. All you heard was, Margot’s in trouble again. Right?”

“Right.”

“These bitches never tell the whole story. They just tell whatever part of it suits their purpose, and the stories of me as an out of control, temperamental bitch sell better.”

“Does that make you angry?”

She shrugged again. “Not really. Who I am ain’t got shit to do with who the media portrays me to be. My friends and business partners know the truth. Strangers can think what they like.

“Besides,” she laughed softly. “It ain’t hurtin’ my business none. Tommy’s managed to spin these little contretemps into a feminist manifesto. I’m objecting to abuse, not inciting violence or having tantrums. I’m struggling to maintain my independence in the face of tyrants who want to stifle my creativity, and cheat me out of my well-deserved earnings and success, not simply dealing with rich pricks with more money than manners.”

“None of which is a lie,” Nori commented.

“No. That’s the wonderful thing about Tommy. My girl never lies. She just spins the truth to suit her purpose, and when it comes to one of her clients, a good chunk of whom are her friends, that purpose is always positive. I’m pretty even tempered usually, wouldn’t you say?”

He nodded.

“Right. I just can’t stomach assholes, and I won’t tolerate people trying to fuck me – literally or figuratively – then trying to crow about it and make a statement. I been down that road. I’m not letting anybody victimize me, and that’s that.”

He kissed her cheek lovingly. “Good. Since I became CEO for Ineffable I’ve had more time to notice how women are treated in business, and it’s not good. I’m proud of you for not taking any shit. Now, tell me another story about Margot Temper.”

So, as they shopped, she told him about a woman who stood her up twice for an appointment. When she called to set up the third, Margot told her no, thanks. The woman subsequently went on Facebook and told lies that Margot had stood her up, etc.

Margot responded via her blog, asking those in the general public who’d worked with her to write in if she’d ever been late for an appointment and not called. Dozens of people had responded praising not only her punctuality and professionalism but many who knew the woman had publically called her out for being a habitual liar.

“Lesson there? Don’t lie on me. I’m honest and professional to a fault; you ain’t gon’ win.”

Then there was the man who tried to pick her up at the park while she was walking Bootsy, her terrier. She’d politely declined coffee, dinner, another walk in the park, and when he persisted, actually using his body to block her from walking away, she finally asked him was he stupid or just deaf?

That time he lost his temper first, kicking Bootsy who’d begun to growl, and Margot broke his nose in response. Then she instructed Bootsy to piss on him while he was down. The dog had obliged.

Nori burst out laughing. “You got your dog to piss on cue?”

She shrugged. “We were in the park for a reason.”

“Where is Bootsy? I’ve never seen a dog at your place.”

“She died about a week later. Complications from that kick.”

“Oh, Margot.” He stopped and turned her from the milk display and hugged her tight. It took her a moment but she hugged him back, her rather mournful sigh sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. “My poor darling. Will you get another dog, do you think?”

“Yeah. Eventually. But not quite yet. I’ve always had a Bootsy.”

“You name them all Bootsy?” He chuckled.

“Yep. That way I don’t have to buy a new leash and bowl and shit. It’s all monogrammed.”

“Of course,” he said seriously, but his twinkling eyes and the smirk she gave him threw serious to the wind. “Do you buy them as puppies and train them yourself?”

“Yep. I’m good at it too. People have tried to get me to train their animals, since mine never shit or piss in the house, but I never do. They’re just lazy, and I have enough of my own work to do. Well, I think that’s it,” she said, putting some organic cashew milk in their cart.

He laid a hand over hers when it was their turn in the checkout line. “Please, allow me. I eat at your place all the time.”

She stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. He paid and released a breath, happy he hadn’t had to argue. She never allowed him to help out as much as he’d like. Her annoying tendency to be independent got on his last nerve, to quote one of her favorite sayings; it allowed her too much control. He liked her out of control, needy, wanting him. So far he’d only managed to get her that way in bed, but he remained hopeful it would spill over into the rest of their life. Hopefully before he was old, grey and no longer in control of his faculties.

“Thank you,” he said as they were leaving.

“For?”

“Not making a fuss about the groceries. I never know when you’re going to let me help and when you’ll refuse.”

“Well, you do eat at my house a lot.”

He chuckled. “Yes,” he pulled her into his arms for a quick kiss before handing her and their many bags into a taxi. “I do.”

Their lovemaking that night was different. He was still ravenously impatient to get inside her, to fill his mouth and hands with her flesh, but it was also softer.

She was deliciously tight. It was always a tiny bit of a struggle to get in, as though her secrets, the mystery behind her Mona Lisa smile, were connected to that damp, secret flesh, and her body refused to release them easily. But he always got in, and that first sublime stroke always closed his eyes, at least for a moment, as he was overcome by pleasure. He always opened them again, not wanting to miss a moment of her response.

Tonight their eyes never unlocked, nor did their lips. He got in, shuddering at the exquisite clasp of her hot, wet flesh, groaning when she clenched her inner muscles and rolled her slender hips beneath him like the most sensuous wave; he felt calm. The need and urgency that usually drove him to nail her vigorously into the bed was muted by a bone deep happiness and contentment. She was his. He could feed her and fuck her, and eventually he would do everything for her, as she had slowly but surely begun to do for him.