Mr. Wright & Mr. Wrong: A BWWM Romance (18 page)

“
P
reposterous
! Unfathomable!”
Frank Jefferson was not happy. He spun around to face his daughter with an accusatory glance. “How did you hear about this?”

London was sitting in her father’s office, having scheduled an emergency meeting with him and Cleveland. As she saw her father’s suspicious eye look on her, she was glad she had taken the time to go home and change before coming in. She wasn’t absolutely sure that coming in wearing the same clothes from yesterday would answer the question for him, but she was happy she hadn’t taken that chance.

Before she could think of a plausible answer, he did it for her. “Must be Brooklyn and that Alex boy she’s dating,” he muttered.

London hated to throw her sister into the mix like this, but she kept her mouth shut all the same. Brooklyn dating a Wright was acceptable. A partner at
Jefferson & Associates
dating one most certainly was not, especially now.

“It doesn’t matter how I found out,” she said. “The fact is, we know. Now we have somewhat of an edge, since he hasn’t
officially
announced it. I seriously doubt he’s running as a Democrat, so the primaries shouldn’t be an issue. Plus, he has no political experience. Most people think of him as a total joke, even his own—”

She stopped herself before sticking her foot right into her mouth. She had a momentary flashback to that morning when her foot was in someone else’s mouth and she felt her face get hot.

“Don’t underestimate the ability of the voting public to be hoodwinked, London” her father challenged, thankfully ignoring the last part of her statement. “This makes it all the more important for us to be seen as more than just a ‘black’ firm. We need to get out there, make connections, like at that Gala I sent you to.”

She flushed yet again thinking of the connection she’d made. Then got a bit ruffled. “I thought that was to ‘dress up and let loose,’” she said accusingly.

“Do you have any idea how much that ticket cost?!” he cried with consternation, then softened as he saw his daughter’s expression. “Of course I want you to have fun, London. But, frankly, you’re probably the best face of this firm. The one most likely to appeal to the general public. My ugly mug won’t do it and Cleveland, well frankly he doesn’t have your legs.”

“Daddy!” she said indignantly.

“I can’t help it if my daughters got their mother’s good looks,” he chided. “Speaking of which, maybe this connection between Brooklyn and Alex—”

“Don’t you dare use Brooklyn for your own ambition, Daddy,” London warned.

“
You’re
the one who’s always telling me to get more involved in her life,” he reminded her. “Now I’m taking an interest.”

London sighed and shook her head. “Just, let me play interception here, okay? I’m sure I could find out more information if needed.”

“Fine,” he said, giving in. “All the same, we need to start putting ourselves out there. The mayor is having that birthday party of his. He’s a Republican, but that doesn’t mean we can’t start making inroads with him and, more importantly, the people who helped get him elected. If that clown, Wright, somehow ends up as the lead Republican candidate, Lord help this city,” he sighed.

“I’ll get us a few tickets for Dion, his wife and at the very least, you, London,” he said giving her a pointed look.

“Well thanks for scheduling my Saturday for me. No, I didn’t have any plans, by the way.”

“Well, did you?” he asked, knowing full well she didn’t.

She just sighed and shook her head. It was still over six months until the election and she already wanted it over and done with.

“Good then,” he said with a satisfied smile. “Make sure and wear something”—he saw her warning glance—“
nice
,” he finally conceded.

* * *

A
s she was headed back
to her office, she was stopped by Carla, her secretary.

“A courier brought this for you,” she said, handing London a plain white envelope.

London thanked her and began opening it on the way to her office. Inside was one key card to the Roosevelt Hotel and a handwritten note.

S
he smiled
as she read it. She flipped the card around in her fingers. It was definitely tempting. She could show up, completely anonymous, and leave the same way. No one would have to know.

* * *

I
t was 7
:15. Her heels made their way down the carpeted hallway, coming to a stop at room 1247. She quickly looked both ways before sticking her key into the slot. She had walked through the lobby with unnecessary trepidation. The odds that anyone would put her with Michael Wright, here of all places, was absurd. Still, the thrill of it was turning her on.

She had even worn a trench coat, despite the pleasant late April weather. It was a better wrapping for the present she had on underneath. Her clothes for work tomorrow were in the tote bag she had with her.

She opened the door to find him sitting in the chair by the window. He turned and smiled at her when she walked in.

London dropped the bag at her side and untied the belt to her trench coat, opening it to reveal the black corset, lacy thongs, garter belt and black stockings underneath.

“Good evening, Mr. Wright,” she said with a smile.

He blew out of his mouth, thoroughly impressed. “Good evening yourself, Ms. Jefferson.”

I
t was Friday
. They had just finished dinner and were heading up to Alex’s apartment for their final night together before he took off for Paris.

Brooklyn watched him from across the elevator realizing how much she would actually miss him. It had been all of two weeks and already she could feel herself falling harder than she ever had for any of her usual types: older, mature, settled. Alex was none of those things and she loved him for it. She was glad she had taken the time to make tonight somewhat special.

“So I was thinking to myself,” she began as he led her inside. “How in the world am I going to make you remember me when you’re faced with all those French girls throwing themselves at you day and night?”

Alex laughed. “You obviously don’t know Parisian women. I’ll be lucky if they so much as make eye contact.”

“All the same,” she continued, beginning to unbutton the oversized shirt dress she had worn tonight, “I needed something for you to remember me by.”

“Mmm,” he purred, watching as she slowly undid her buttons. “I think I like where this is going.”

“And I thought maybe I’d give them a little competition.” She moved closer to him, guiding him toward the bed, “A French maid’s outfit, perhaps?”

“Go on,” he murmured with a grin.

“But then I thought about it and, well,” she slipped the sides of her dress shirt apart and pushed him back on the bed, giving him a smirk as she hitched both knuckles on her sides, keeping the dress open, “There’s a reason America is the greatest country in the world.”

Underneath she was wearing a sexy bikini/skirt duo. The top was a bandeau in blue with white stars. Across the bottom of it were red and white ruffles. The skirt barely covered her ass and was done in the same style, complete with ruffles at the bottom.

“God bless the U.S.A.,” Alex whistled, looking her up and down a she slid the shirt dress off her shoulders.

She got on his lap, pulling his t-shirt up over his head. “You just remember that when you’re nose deep in champagne and French perfume.”

She pushed him back on the bed, then turned around to straddle him the other way. She bent over to untie his shoelaces, giving him a perfect view to notice that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath the skirt.

“Oh man, you’re killing me.” He groaned. “You know this is my favorite part of you.”

She sat back down and turned to give him a scornful look. “Are you calling me a butterface? Because I can give you a better view of it while I walk out the door.”

He lifted his hips with a laugh to jostle her. “Oh Brooklyn, you know I love every part of you. You’re gorgeous. Happy now? Can you please,
please
get back to whatever it is you were up to down there?”

She continued with the look of scorn for just a moment longer before bending over and just pulling the second shoe right off. After that she rolled off of him and undid the fly to his jeans.

He moved his hands to take over as she stood up above him on the bed, pulling her stretchy top over her head. After he had wriggled out of his pants and underwear she hooked her thumbs into the sides of her stretchy American flag skirt and waited, taunting him.

“That’s not all there is,” she teased, waiting for him to squirm a bit before continuing on.

She slowly slid the cheap fabric down her hips and legs. Underneath was a fuzzy arrow pointing straight down to her slit in the colors red, white (or rather platinum blonde), and blue.

He gave a confused, but very excited, grin. “Is that the French flag?”

Brooklyn looked down with a frown at the progression of red, then white, then blue. It was a perfect replica of the flag of France. She laughed. “I guess it does look like that. In all fairness, do you know how hard it is to get 13 stripes and 50 stars into a tiny patch of pubic hair?”

They both laughed even harder as he grabbed her leg, making her fall on top of him. He brought both strong arms around to embrace her.

“At the very least, it is indeed memorable,” he said, nibbling her lip. “So memorable, I want to get a closer look.”

As he pulled away to move down, she sat up. “What is it you mentioned about profit sharing? I think I should take a page from the Alex Wright playbook and make sure everyone is happy.”

She pushed him over so that he was on his back, then positioned herself over his face.

“Is that view good enough for you?” she teased.

“Closer!” he growled, grabbing her hips and planting her right on his face.

She laughed, then bent over to get a better view of what he had to offer. She was pleased to see it was already at attention, ready and waiting for her eager mouth. She groaned as she felt the first probe of his tongue, then followed up by using her own to circle the large head of his dick.

They mutually pleasured one another until she felt him push her ass away from his face. She pulled her mouth off of his cock and looked back, questioningly. He shifted underneath her and she rolled off of him, sitting up to look at him.

“Are you on birth control?” he asked.

“I have an IUD,” she said. “And I’m clean if that’s your next question.”

“If I told you I was too, could we do this skin to skin?”

She gave him a wry smile. “That depends on if you were telling the truth.”

“Pinky swear,” he said, hooking his little finger in the air. She smiled and reached out to grab it with hers.

“Lie down,” he said, nodding toward the bed next to him.

She lay on her back as instructed. He hitched himself up on his elbow to look down at her then reached one hand out to stroke her stomach all the way down to her hips. He leaned in to kiss her, using the hand to hold her in place as he moved on top of her, between her legs.

Brooklyn immediately brought her legs up around his waist as he guided himself inside of her. She moaned against his lips as he sunk all the way in, pressing her insides open. She felt both of his arms slide underneath her, one hand on her back, the other on her ass. Both of hers went around his back, holding him closely to her.

They continued in unison, indulging in what could only be described as making love.

* * *

“
I
’m
about to be really annoying right now,” Brooklyn murmured into Alex’s chest.

They were still naked, on top of the covers, Brooklyn lying face down, her head resting on his chest as Alex stared up at the ceiling with one arm around her.

“Does it involve ice cubes?” he mused. “Because I kinda liked that.”

She laughed. “Slightly more torturous.”

“Hmm, that sounds intriguing.”

She slapped him lightly on the chest.

She waited a moment then went on. “What are you thinking about?”

“Ouch, that one really hurts!” he winced with exaggerated flinching. “Please…stop…you’re killing me!”

She laughed again, then reached one arm around to pull him back against her. “Seriously,” she urged.

“Honestly?” he replied. “I’m thinking it’s a shame they didn’t install mirrors on these ceilings. It’s so hard to see that perfect ass of yours from this vantage point.”

Brooklyn sighed and shifted around so that she was lying on her back as well, still pressed up against his chest.

He brought his arm around to bring her in closer. “I know what you want,” he said softly. “You want to know if I’ll miss you. You already know the answer to that.”

“And all those chic French girls flirting with you?”

He chuckled. “Like I said, girls in Paris? I might as well be invisible.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” she chuckled, elbowing him lightly in the ribs.

“If you’re that worried, you can always come with,” he said, hugging her closer. “I’ve got a pretty nice apartment lined up.”

“I get exactly 15 days’ vacation, which is more than most people. I wish I had a job I loved like you do.”

“You’re an artist.”

“With art that no one wants to buy.”

“Yet,” he insisted. “Have you even tried putting it out there? If the piece in your apartment is any indication, you really should be.”

She smiled up at the ceiling, then twisted around to face him. “You’re sweet, Alex Wright. Do you know that?” she said kissing the cleft in his chin.

“And you,” he began, “Are a bitter, old, harpy,” he continued as he rolled over to embrace her, tickling and kissing her until she cried uncle.

When they were done, it was him lying on her chest as she stared at the ceiling.

“Seriously,” he murmured into her breast. “At least come out for a while. It should be fun. Call in sick or whatever. Ticket’s on me.”

Brooklyn took it as a sign that he would be missing her as well and she smiled. She brought a hand up to scratch his head.

“Mmm,” he purred. “That gets you an upgraded seat right there.”

She laughed. “And here I thought sex was where my expertise lay. Nice to know for future reference.”

“It’s all about the extras, babe,” he said sleepily. “Trust me, I’m an expert.”

She felt him falling asleep against her chest, his arms around her. She continued to stroke his head.

She would really miss this.

* * *

S
he was alone
in bed the next morning. It was a startling disappointment. She sleepily turned her head around to explore the loft, wondering if he had just gone to the kitchen or bathroom.

That’s when she heard the front door opening. She brought the covers up to her chest as she watched him enter.

Alex was already dressed, she noted with a frown.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he said. “I had to run off and take care of a thing or two.”

He approached the bed and she noted that he came bearing gifts.

“I would have loved to be romantic, but unfortunately I only have two hands. So it was either flowers and coffee, or bagels and coffee, or flowers and bagels. I figured food and caffeine was the best bet.”

“You figured right,” she said, taking the coffee greedily and watching as he opened the bag of bagels.

“I also sent something to your phone,” he said, nodding to the iPhone that was lying on the nightstand.

“Am I allowed to look?” she asked. “Or do I have to wait until you’re gone?”

“Just look,” he urged, spreading cream cheese on his own bagel.

She reached over and grabbed the phone. There was an alert from Air France.

“You didn’t!” she gasped in surprised delight. “I can’t take off—”

“It’s open ended,” he said, interrupting. “I know you can’t be with me the whole month. But maybe you can take a long weekend. Come down with the flu or Ebola or something,” he said with a wink as he took a bite.

“You shouldn’t have,” she said softly, opening the notification.

“If I didn’t, my mind would never forgive me,” he responded. “Frankly, neither would my dick.”

She laughed and punched him lightly in the arm. She reached over to grab a bagel and began spreading cream cheese on it.

“I guess now I have to come,” she said.

“I’ll try my best, but no promises,” he said, turning her words into a double entendre.

It took her a second to catch on, but then she laughed.

“So this apartment is good through the weekend. Just leave the key with the doorman on Monday morning if you stay.”

A free trip to Paris. A free stay in a luxury apartment in New York for the weekend. Another free stay in France.

London’s words ran through her mind. You shouldn’t date someone just because they’re rich.

She realized she’d follow Alex to Paris even if he was living in a van. The thought of being a whole month without him caused a pain in her heart that was already beginning to ache. It wasn’t his money, or cool lifestyle. It was him.

She’d make it a point to google the symptoms of dysentery. There was no way she was going a month without seeing him again.